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damn-stark · 3 months

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Chapter 28 A song for us

Chapter 28 of Sugar

A/N- Lowkey want some angst already 😅😂

Warning- Swearing, some angst, talks of abuse, FLUFF, talks of death, cigarettes, spoilers!! long chapter, some violence but not really, NFSW, semi-public, wrap before you tap it, a lot of kissing,

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Takes place during- Only the beginning of Chapter 222 of the manga

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*SATORU P.O.V. 11 YEARS AGO*

He’s getting away.

He can’t let Suguru get away, but nothing that he said made him come back. So what can he say now? He needs to think. Think!

He’s getting lost in the sea of people, he needs to think…

Wait…

“What about my sister!” Satoru yells out with desperation as he wonders why he didn’t think of bringing you up before. “What about y/n?”

Suguru stops in his tracks and slowly turns back around to face Satoru.

“You’re just going to abandon her without an explanation?! I thought you loved her!” Satoru throws out even though he never came to like the idea of you, his little sister, and Suguru, his best friend, together. He just needs to find a way to make Suguru stay.

“I do love her,” Suguru says back without hesitation. “I’ve tried talking to her, but Shoko says your family took her. Are you really going to leave her there? How could you let them treat her the way they did?”

Satoru parts his lips to argue but he finds himself in disbelief at what was thrown at him.

How dare Suguru say that? He knows better than anyone how protective Satoru is of you. Besides, he doesn’t understand the family dynamic, it’s different from his. It’s not that simple.

“How dare you,” Satoru spats back. “How dare you accuse me of that!”

“And how dare you accuse me of abandoning y/n,” Suguru redirects a lot calmer than Satoru is right now. “I want to explain myself, I want to talk to her, but even if she wasn’t at your family home it’s not like you’d let us talk, would you?”

“Like hell, I would,” Satoru proved him exactly right, making Suguru scoff.

“That’s what I thought. That’s why I told Shoko to rely her a message for me. I couldn’t trust you to do it, you never liked the idea of us together in the first place.”

Satoru takes a big step forward and further furrows his eyebrows and can’t stop himself from spitting out his next words full of rage. “I don’t want you talking to her! I don’t want you seeing her ever again, do you understand?! Leave y/n out of this!”

Suguru swallows thickly and doesn’t make any promises, or assure Satoru of anything, he just turns around and walks away through the sea of people, leaving Satoru alone.

——

*YOU. NOW*

“What?” You probe your brother who seems to be lost in thought.

“Hm?” He probes back and looks up at you from his seat on the gurney.

“Penny for your thoughts? Or are you suffering from some kind of head trauma?” You say and lean against the bed. “That seems to be it because what makes you think you can walk into my house unannounced in the morning?” You remark and smack the back of his head.

“Your door was unlocked,” he points out. “And it wasn’t early, you were awake.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “My door is unlocked because I forgot to lock it, it doesn’t mean it’s a sign for you to barge in, and two, it’s human decency to knock, or at least let me know when you’re going.”

Satoru doesn’t take you seriously because he snickers. “I was hoping to scare off your boyfriend. Which almost worked, did you see the look on his face? He looked like a deer caught in headlights!”

Of course, it’s his inability to be a normal brother and accept who you’re dating.

“Have you even caught a deer in headlights,” you mumble nonsense as you try not to give in to the frustration slowly boiling within you.

“Have you?” He redirects.

You cross your arms over your chest and look out the door in hopes Shoko is approaching.

But she isn’t. Typical doctor-like behavior.

“Don’t pop a vein, sis,” Satoru says and nudges your arm with his foot, making you scrunch your nose in disgust but continue listening to whatever shit he has to say.

“It’s what big brothers do.”

“Perhaps when we were teenagers,” you throw at him over your shoulder. “But we’re adults now.”

Satoru is still finding humor in this. He’s biting back a smile.

“I’m just having a hard time understanding that you love each other after nineteen days,” he remarks. “I mean I wasn't gone long for things to change that much. I mean think about it, y/n, you’re—-”

Thankfully, he gets cut off by Shoko and Ijichi just as he was growing serious.

“All your labs came in fine, Satoru,” Shoko assures him. “Your blood work is normal, and your sleep doesn’t worry me because that’s something you don’t get regardless. You’re completely sane and healthy,”

“You might want to double-check the sane part again,” you interject bitterly. “He’s anything but.”

Satoru gets you back by poking your side with his toe, so you snap back around and smack his arm. “That’s so gross,” you hiss.

Satoru approaches his other foot towards you, but you quickly step back and pull Shoko in front of you to make her act as a shield considering you don’t have Nanami or Suguru anymore to hide behind.

“Thank you for that,” Shoko mutters.

You rest your chin on her shoulder and shrug. “Better you than me.”

Shoko sighs and reaches back into the correct pocket this time to take out your pack of cigarettes.

“Why is this still full?” She asks as she pulls one out and then offers you one.

“Because I only smoke when I’m stressed,” you remind her and take your pack back instead of taking one. “Where’s yours?”

“I’ll finish yours first.”

You sigh but don’t argue, you just light her cigarette with your fire after you put your pack away, and then pull away to sit beside Satoru on the gurney.

“Damn,” Satoru mumbles. “So it’s just the three of us left.”

“Well, there’s that idiot left,” Shoko reminds him of Suguru.

But it’s not like it’s actually him. It’s just his body. Suguru is gone...

“That’s true,” Satoru agrees and then sighs as he drops his head. “I always thought Nanami was the type that would survive one way or the other.”

“Sorry,” Ijichi catches you all by surprise.

“Why are you apologizing?” You quickly press in utter confusion.

“Nanami is dead so why are you still breathing is how that sounded to me, so—”

“Just how low is your opinion of me,” Satoru thankfully cuts him off. “Ijichi, you still have a monumental task to perform, right? Make sure to give it your all.”

“Yeah,” you pitch in to assure Ijichi. “Don’t put yourself down Ijichi. You’re one of us. Just as Nanami was.” You smile and the timid man nods in comprehension as he hides a shy smile by looking down.

“On the topic of Nanami,” Shoko interjects and drifts your attention to Ino walking over. “It seems like Ino has something to say to us.”

You pay close attention to what Ino has to input about your best friend and his mentor. Which doesn’t take long, but the topic still brings you down and reminds you that no matter what you saw, he should still be here. He deserved to live out his dream.

“Before you get swarmed by people,” Satoru pulls you back into the room after Ino, Shoko, and Ijichi left. “I'm going home tomorrow. I want you and Satori to come with me.”

You know exactly what he’s referring to, he wouldn't have said anything otherwise, but you can’t take this so lightly.

“You scared to sleep alone or what?” You tease him, but he doesn’t laugh because he knows what you’re doing.

“I’ll be there the entire time,” he tries to assure your fear. “And it’s not like they can push you around anymore. You’re stronger now. You’re an adult.”

He doesn’t get it, but why would he? He was coddled, he was their perfect son who could do nothing wrong, while you were their second child, a daughter who could never be good enough. He doesn’t get your reluctance even now as an adult.

“I’ll take Choso then,” you try to make it better for you.

“No,” he quickly puts you down and just makes your refusal to accept that much easier. “No boyfriend. It’s family business. They need to see that you’re as much part of the clan as you were then. And they need to see who will lead them after me. I won’t hide her, nor do I want her to fear them.”

“Then you take her alone,” you try to pull yourself out even if it means having Satori go without you. “I’m not going back.”

“You’ve been back,” he quickly brings up your rendezvous that happened 8 years ago.

“It was different,” you quickly counter. “Plus what if you have kids of your own down the line, what would be the point of presenting her to them.”

“That’s doubtful,” he argues. “But that’s beside the point, you won’t make her go alone will you?”

You glare at him and spat. “Don’t use her. Don’t you dare.”

“Y/N,” he cuts in. “It’s just one day. Just for an hour or two.”

“I have a date tomorrow,” you tell him. “I can’t. You can’t make me.” You raise your voice as your fear and anxiety start to heighten.

“You have a date all day?” He mutters in annoyance.

“Does it matter?” You hide the fact that it’s in the afternoon. “I said—”

“You can’t hide from them forever, it’s time to face them and make peace,” he tries his best to comfort you. “Show them they can’t hurt you anymore, and present your daughter, show them that they won’t take her away or hurt her because you and I won’t let them.”

Tears well in your eyes and you whisper. “You promise?” You sound like that scared little girl all over again. “Promise they won’t hurt her or—or me. Promise me Satoru.”

Your brother grabs your shoulders and nods. “I swear.”

You’ll never be comforted, but you give in to try and do what he said. To prove to them that you’re everything they thought you wouldn’t be. “Fine, but we leave no later than 1 pm, I have a date that day.”

Satoru scoffs in displeasure but he doesn’t say a thing about it. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

He pulls his hand away and opens the door for him to walk out first before letting you follow.

“You better be there in time Satoru or I will not go,” you scold him. “Do you understand?”

He snickers. “Yeah, yeah.”

Yeah, yeah, turns to an hour late, or two. For his sake that better not be true.

“Did you meet the new sorcerers yet?” Satoru swiftly changes the subject as you walk towards your students, child, and Choso, and he follows. “From what I’ve been told they’re an impressive lot.”

“Yeah,” you scoff with a smug smirk. “It seems Kenjaku really screwed himself over considering that they’re helping us now.”

Satoru then snorts and as you steal a glance at him you see a malicious look on his face. “I applaud his dedication.” He snickers like a child. “He chose to be screwed to have a child.”

“Eww,” you groan and push him away. “You’re so gross, why did you have to put that image in my head?”

“We’re adults, we can talk about that,” he remarks sassily.

“That’s not the problem here, I don’t want to hear about Kenjaku’s sex life,” you grumble. It’s like hearing about a parent's or a grandparent's affairs, it’s gross and unnecessary information.

Yet your brother doesn’t see it that way, he seems to find joy in the topic and claps loudly. “Yeah I get it, I mean he’s, like, what? Your father-in-law, slash rival, slash hijacker of your husband's corpse.”

“He’s just my rival,” you correct. “Choso and I aren't married.”

“When do you think he’ll propose? I mean, watch out he might get on his knee on your first date,” he teases. “Talk about a deal breaker.”

You roll your eyes over to him and press him a glare, letting him see that you have no protest or attempt to argue about what he thinks is a bad idea.

“Wait,” he slowly loses that amusement on his face and tone. “You wouldn’t say yes, would you? That’s ridiculous. You just met the guy—”

“I didn’t say anything,” you cut him off before you get pissed off. “And he wouldn’t. Just lay off him okay?”

You walk off as you approach who you’re looking for, causing him to come to a stop and watch with growing disdain as you fall by Choso’s side.

“So are you two ready to train?” You tell Kirara and Hakari. “I'm off sabbatical and!” You point at your boyfriend before he could even think of protesting. “No one can say a thing because it’s the doctor's orders, so I’m ready when you are.” You grin excitedly.

Kirara nevertheless lets out a deep sigh and looks at you with pity before they share a glance with Hakari, and then a nervous glance with Choso.

“What?” You probe and start to frown. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re going to take Choso shopping,” they let you know, and your joy turns to beaming excitement.

“No way, that sounds cool, do we leave now?”

Hakari shakes his head and throws his arm around Choso’s shoulders. “No, it’s just us three.”

You frown and immediately pass Choso a confused and soft pleading look so he can reconsider. “What? Come on.”

“We won’t be gone long,” Choso interjects now and holds eye contact without breaking under pressure to your batting lashes.

“But—”

“No, sorry Master,” Kirara quickly rebuttals. “Next time?”

You look at the three of them and narrow your gaze to a pointed glare as you try to figure out what they’re up to since you can’t tag along. But Kirara and Hakari have a poker face, and Hakari is especially good at those. And Choso…he’s good, he manages to keep their secret and instead approaches you to take you by the arms and assure you…he’s trying to assure you…tsk.

“We’ll be back soon, my love. They’re just going to help me pick something for tomorrow. I can bring you something, anything.”

You try to fight it, but the offer is too tempting, so you give in like a sucker. “Maybe some desserts, like Mochi. Or something like Caramel popcorn, or some Daifuku. Something sweet.”

Choso laughs softly and nods. “I’ll bring it all to you.”

You grow flustered and can’t help but lean in for a deep kiss as if he were a soldier off to war.

It’s just the first time you’ll be apart for a long period since you met. It feels weird not having him close now.

Which you have to admit sounds pretty ridiculous, but maybe it’s your honeymoon stage, or all the trauma you've both been through, or the fact that you’re so overly attached to each other, but you just don’t like the idea of being so far apart…

So maybe it’s just your own trauma and fears…

“Do you need money?” You ask considering he doesn’t have an income.

“No,” he quickly retorts. “The only good thing Noritoshi did before he revealed who he really was, was give us money. I haven’t used it so I have plenty of it. Don’t worry about me.”

You sigh and can’t help but smile teasingly as you wrap your arms around his neck and trace a circle on the back of his neck. “Okay, and if you get a message from me saying how much I miss you don’t come running. I just don’t want you to forget about me.”

Choso shoots you a pointed look and quickly rebuttals. “Impossible. I’ll try not to take long.”

You smirk and lean in to whisper in his ear. “If I send you a photo later make sure not to open it in public, okay?”

You hear Choso swallow thickly and feel his body stiffen with surprise. “All right,” he assures you nervously.

You pull back and flash him a teasing smirk before you press a peck on his lips. He doesn’t think that’s enough to send him off so he steals an open mouth kiss from you that you try to fuel with more desire, but he’s suddenly yanked back by Hakari.

“Neither of you are going off to war just yet, we need to head out.” He scolds you two, making you giggle and wave goodbye at Choso as he’s guided away without falter now.

When you return your attention to the rest of the room, the first thing you spot is Satoru wrapping the black scarf Satori made him.

“You’re like a little old lady now, Sugar,” he tells her sweetly as she’s beaming at him for not hiding the scarf she made with her own two hands. “Where’s my sweater and my gloves?”

Satori sighs. “Well, Belinda’s mom only taught me to knit a scarf. A sweater is too hard. And I couldn’t make you gloves because I don’t know how big your hands are.”

You laugh softly as you watch them from afar.

“I heard you need a sparring partner,” someone’s voice in your ear startles you.

“What?” You gasp and spin around to face your intruder with a glare.

“Oh, it’s you,” you mutter at Kashimo. “I know you’ve been dead, or in the state of limbo for like a thousand years, or whatever, but it’s not proper to creep up on women anymore. You know?”

He looks at you unamused and just simply presses you. “Do you want to do this or not?”

You really have nothing else to do since your students and your boyfriend are gone. Plus you really are curious about his fighting style.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but we’ll have to take this outside.”

He scoffs. “Obviously.”

You roll your eyes and start leading the way out. However, before you can leave the building you finally spot someone you’ve been waiting to meet, the lawyer!

Thus you depart from your set path and approach him with a smile, causing Kashimo to groan and wait for you with his arms crossed by the door.

“You must be Hiromi Higuruma,” you greet him sweetly. “I’ve been waiting to meet you since all I’ve heard from the students is how great you are. I’m Y/N Gojo.”

Higuruma holds your gaze as he narrows his dark eyes on you. He doesn’t smile, but you don’t expect him to, since Itadori says he’s like Nanami, serious, and hard to make smile.

“Yes,” he mutters nonchalantly. “I’ve heard about you. Aren’t you royalty or something?”

You share a small laugh and shake your head. “No, not at all.”

“Hm. But you are that killer right?” He doesn’t fear to spit out, making your smile fall right away. “The annihilator who has massacred innocent villages with her technique?”

Now all that curiosity to get to know him disappears. And all you’re left with is annoyance and cynical humor.

“You’re the one the older sorcerers call the fallen right? You’re her.”

He wants to push you? You won’t push back, nor will you crumble under the pressure of his judgment, no matter if he’s some lawyer, or whatever the hell he is. You’ll spit fire right out.

“What?” He asks with his eyebrows slowly furrowing as you start to laugh. “Is their suffering funny to you? Where’s your mercy?”

You smirk and then lean closer to him, making him look at you weirded out.

“What I did, I did for the good of my people,” you sneer coldly. “For the good of my children, and the future generation of sorcerers. Not that you would know of our suffering, or the way your beloved non-sorcerers treat my people and create the mess we have to kill for them. So if you’re looking for sympathy or a way to tear me down with “my crimes,”, I wouldn’t waste my breath if I were you. I believe in justice, I got justice. And I’ll do it again.”

Higuruma deepens his glare, but you just offer him a sweet smile and a sweet goodbye.

“Have a good day. I’ll see you around.” You wave at him and at last, join Kashimo outside.

“Are you ready, Gojo?” Kashimo finally gets to ask. “The first one to step out of the circle...” He pauses and points at the drawn-up circle around the both of you. “Loses.”

You stretch your arms and huff. “Sounds simple enough. And just so you know I won’t pull back.” You let him know.

He snickers as he swings his staff around in his hand to then point one end at you. “I never expected you to. And please don’t give into your humanity if you ever manage to hit me. Fight like a sorcerer or don’t fight at all.”

Oh well, someone's suicidal.

Nevertheless, you flash him a smirk before you drag one foot back and position yourself in a fighting stance that works best when using all your elements—Which is something you will do in this case, even if it is merely training.

However, from one moment to the next but without actually surprising you, Kashimo makes the first move by shooting a lightning strike at you from his staff.

It moves fast as expected, but you manage to actually duck it by swiftly spinning below it. When it gets past you you notice he can’t redirect it back to you, so it hits the tree behind you and cracks it in half.

“My turn,” you mutter before you pull water down from the sky, and manipulate the wind to spin around you as you quickly stand back to your given height. You then mix the water with the spinning air and shoot it out towards him like a fast-twisting cyclone.

Yet he swings his staff so fast that he breaks the cyclone in half and causes it to splash all around him. He then tries to overwhelm you and lunges forward to now shoot lightning from himself rather than the staff.

But from what Hakari told you he doesn’t have an unlimited amount of strikes, he needs to charge his lightning, so after this, he’ll continue with hand-to-hand.

Hm.

Fine, then you won’t duck it this time. Instead, you stomp your foot on the ground, causing a thick body of water to explode out all around you. You then flow the water up like a growing wave with elegant movements of your arms and let the lightning strike hit the water, which slows it down and starts to break it down. So before it can get out you shove the wave toward him.

Kashimo is clever though, he jumps high and flips over the wave. However, you can redirect your elements, you don’t have a limit, so as you spin around him to be across from him again and avoid being hit, you twist the water back around and manage to hit him right on his chest so hard he’s thrown back.

Yet as he gets close to the edge of the circle he manages to slide to a stop inches away from the line.

“How fun,” he mumbles smugly and doesn’t miss a beat, he moves towards you, but you have the advantage and the luck of not holding back, so you swing your arm and hit him with a wind slash.

Nonetheless, that’s what he needed to get close. Even if the slash hurts his torso, he gets close enough to surprise you with an uppercut to your jaw using his elbow. He then counters by swinging his staff over your knees, causing you to be shot with blinding pain as they both break. When he sees you hit the ground he pulls his staff back in an attempt to throw you out of the circle.

However, you ignore the pain and bask your arm with fire before you smash your fist into the ground and seep the flames in the dirt. You then quickly make the earth and fire burst out like a beautiful natural explosion that throws Kashimo back and makes him laugh when he hits the ground.

Because of course, he’s laughing after being hit, he’s an adrenaline junky.

“I charged up my lightning before just for you, Gojo” he shares as he pushes himself up and wipes blood off his lips and nose.

You flash him a smile as you heal your knees and slowly stand up. “Aw, you were thinking of me? How cute.” You taunt and make the dragon mark glow brightly as you prepare to attack, while lightning sparks around his hand before he points two fingers at you and shoots his beautiful lightning.

You’re prepared though and reveal a technique. “Elemental manipulation; Fire dragon.”

A large snakelike dragon made of red-orange flames blasts out of both of your palms and only grows large enough to counter Kashimo’s attack. It could grow bigger, but for now, you make it small to just blast fire out at the lightning bolt.

However, the lightning travels past the cursed energy killing flames, and hits the fire dragon through its mouth. But instead of traveling through the body of flames like Kashimo thought, the fire dragon does its job and kills the lightning strike. Instead of disintegrating the bolt like you thought, the lightning strike kills the fire dragon as well. They cancel each other out, causing a bright and beautiful explosion of fire and electricity that blinds you and Kashimo with its mix of bright blue and orange hues before the incredible force throws you both back.

Yet not enough to get either of you out of the fight. You both get close, triggering you to come up with a last move to determine the winner once and for all.

So without wasting any more time, you use the wind and shoot up to float in the sky, and Kashimo hits the end of his staff on the ground and shoots a bolt of lightning into the sky.

You proceed to manipulate large bodies of wind to pick up in speed and gather around you, causing the entire sky to darken and rumble as if an eerie disastrous storm approached. While Kashimo’s one bolt turns to a storm of lightning that crackles and shows flashes of your intimidating figure before you land on the ground so hard that a crater forms under your feet.

That same wind you aggravated flows down and starts forming a large orb over your fingertips pointed to the sky. Water you had so carelessly left abandoned rises off the ground and mixes with the orb made of wind. And to avoid causing any more destruction you avoid bringing the other elements into this, you leave this to the work of the gusting wind, and the surging water.

Thus to finally end this training spar, you blast the orb at Kashimo, and he shoots his lightning at you at the same time. And to try and avoid being hit you both try to swerve, but both of your attacks are too grande, from one moment to another you’re both hit and thrown back several feet.

One of you is drenched and coughing out the water invading their lungs as they heal all the deep cuts they suffered because of the wind's sharp gusts. While the other is basically seizing because of the lightning circulating their body. But one thing neither of you are, is upset. Once the lightning passes out of your body and you’re catching your breath on the ground, you’re the one that laughs now, and Kashimo, well he doesn’t regret wasting his time training with you.

Maybe he isn’t as bad as you painted him out to be. Is he still annoying? Yes, but…you had fun using your elements, it’s usually so hard displaying them at the level you used them today because of how destructive they can be to your surroundings and a person. But you didn’t need to hold back with him, so it was fun.

“I had fun,” you share as you get up to your feet.

Kashimo was already walking away, but stops and faces you. When you approach him you flash him a smile.

“Thanks.”

His eyebrows furrow and he shoots you a pointed look, but he sighs deeply and interjects. “You didn’t hold back…I see now where your student learned his determination and need to give his all.”

You grin and take that as a compliment. “Let’s do it again,” you suggest and walk away with your phone in hand, not realizing everyone inside the building was watching until you get close to the windows.

“Nice fight!” Takaba yells loud enough so you can hear him from inside.

You offer him a soft smile before you beam as you spot Satori on Satoru’s shoulders clapping proudly.

However, before you can acknowledge anyone else your attention is stolen by Choso’s message on your phone.

Choso: The sky got dark and we heard loud explosions. Your students refuse to turn back, is everything okay?

What a cute worrywart.

You: Just training with Kashimo, don't worry lover ;)

You send that first and then smirk as you follow up with something flirty.

You: Did you know lips could get lonely? I didn’t until now as my lips miss yours.

He takes a while to respond, but you know it’s not on purpose, you did your job. You got him flustered.

Choso: I’ll be back soon. Let’s hope this ache doesn’t kill us both.

You giggle and feel your heart skip a beat as you grow flustered too.

Choso: Oh and Kashimo?

He sends after, but you don’t feed his jealousy, you simply brush him off.

You: xoxo

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

It’s weird being back in your childhood home, especially side by side with your brother. It’s like stepping back in time when all you were was the second child, the scared daughter, and nothing more.

Sure you came back before, when you were 20, but that was different, and you were still young and stupid then. You’re old now, mature, stronger, a mother, a widow, and reunited with Satoru.

Not like it all actually matters when you come face-to-face with your father though. Because the moment your eyes met his, you felt like his fearful and immature daughter all over again. You can’t look him in the eyes even if you’re the one who has the high ground as you stand by Satoru.

“You have come back home to us, Clan Leader,” your father's voice brings you chills as he talks to Satoru.

“Hm.” Satoru hums and makes no effort to make this meeting professional. He doesn’t sit in his designated seat, or care to pay mind to the rest of his clan bowing to him. He’s not even wearing traditional clothing like Satori and you—But you blame that on his laziness rather than lack of care since you won’t be here long at all, and he and Shoko are taking Satori to the amusement park.

“All thanks to my sister,” Satoru lies. It was a group effort. “She basically died to get me back.”

You don’t give away your annoyance or the fact that he wasn’t telling the truth, you keep your composure and slowly raise your eyes off the ground to face them all, every single clan member gathered in this room. Not with that timidness you would face your clan before, there’s no innocent gleam in your eyes anymore. Your fire-kissed eyes basically set the room ablaze with your cold sinister glare—Even when you look at your father who still intimidates you.

“But it’s not why she’s here,” Satoru adds with amusement. “As some of you may know, she was never disowned. So this isn’t some announcement to lift a ban that was never on her, it’s more…to say that she will be an active member once again because of my chosen heir. Satori Geto. Her daughter.”

Satori balls the material of your sleeve as she grips onto your arm and hears the whispers spread around the room as some interest are sparked at the sound of the name Geto. While others look disgusted that Satoru points at a girl.

“Does the girl have cursed spirit manipulation?” Your father asks for himself and the other curious members.

“No,” Satoru brings their hopes down and makes your father immediately uninterested in his granddaughter.

“But she’s still a Gojo,” Satoru adds. “And since I don’t have children of my own, she’s the one set to inherit my title and everything that comes with it, as well as everything I own.” He smirks and rubs Satori’s head. “And it’s not up for discussion either if you have a problem,” his voice suddenly grows serious. “Deal with it, or if you’re feeling ballsy come face me. Got it?”

As improper as he just shared that, people still wouldn’t dare oppose him. Not because he’s their leader, but because of the power and strength he wields.

“All right everyone may go,” Satoru sounds relieved to end this meeting even if he didn’t address the very big fact that the Zen’ins are extinct except for Fushiguro and Maki, which bears the question, which other strong sorcerer clan will take their spot in the big three. You know it’s not really up to him, but he’s the clan leader and he still needs to address that problem and so many others, so the meeting was far from over.

Then again, whereas Satoru loves teaching and guiding the next generation of sorcerers, he doesn’t have much patience for all this. He relishes in the power the family name brings him, the money, in his technique, and how strong he is, but he never cared for his title as clan leader. Which leads you to wonder what you would have been like as a clan leader if you were given the privilege to have that title, and your clan weren't misogynist.

You unexpectedly turned out like the rest of them and don’t harbor any love for non-sorcerers, you’re more proper than Satoru is, you’re more responsible, and don’t think being a leader is a burden. You’re everything your parents wanted in their heir.

“Where should we take Satori first?” Satoru asks with excitement.

You peel your eyes away from your father's retreating figure and look at them with a feigned smile. “Why don’t you two go ahead I want to go see something else first.”

Satoru is about to tag along but he manages to detect the trouble behind your eyes and lets you have your time. “All right, but we’ll catch up. Come on, Sugar, I’ll show you some real cool stuff.”

Satori doesn’t argue, she leaves you to watch her and her Tiger cursed-spirit follow at Satoru’s side with excitement. It’s only once they’re both out of view that you walk over to your room.

You don’t expect it to still hold what you left behind. Your room is probably empty and everything you once owned was probably burnt by your parents or cousins, but you just have that urge to at least get near that door. It won’t take away the trauma you endured, but you’ve gotten this far, it’ll heal some of that pain your young self was left with.

Nevertheless, when you do reach that door you bring yourself to open it and find that you're walking into the past. Everything is like how you left it, it’s all untouched and dustless.

It makes you cry. You didn’t want to, but you can’t stop the tears, or that ache from turning to sharp paralyzing pain even if you had let go of that young girl long ago. And even if it’s all unrecognizable to your eyes, seeing everything as if you never left hurts a part of your soul.

It’s why after standing in silence for a few minutes you need to at least hear the voice of the man you love since you couldn’t bring him to provide you with the comfort you needed.

“Hello?” Choso answers after the first ring. “Y/N is everything okay?” He asks right away since he knew you didn't want to come after he let you rant last night about Satoru basically forcing you.

“I’m fine,” you whisper before you throw yourself on your bed and continue. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

There’s a moment of silence, but you know it’s because Choso is blushing.

“I want to show you something,” you fill the silence and pull your phone away from your ear to click on the FaceTime button. And when the screen clears all you see is the inside of your boyfriend's ear. “Cho,” you chuckle. “Pull your phone back.”

“Oh,” he breathes out bashfully and then lets you see his handsome face.

“Look,” you squeal and show him a picture of you and Satoru when you were 6 and he was 7. “It’s little me and my brother. We were wearing coordinating Yukata’s.”

Choso smiles softly before he squints his eyes to look at the picture better. “I forget the eye color you have now isn’t the one you were born with.”

You turn the photo to look at yourself and muster a grin. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? I tend to forget now too. But anyway,” you breathe out and put the photo away to give him all your attention. “I came to my room and it’s the exact way I left it. There’s no dust or anything. The clothes are the only thing that’s gone, but everything else is the same; even my beloved Legolas posters.” You smirk proudly and admire your first-ever fictional husband.

“Hm…was it your brother?” Choso chooses to ignore you fawning over fictional men to ask what you were wondering too.

But, you have to believe it’s your brother. You don’t want to get your hopes up and think it was your mother.

“I think so,” you give your opinion quieter and with your smirk falling to a frown. “But it’s still strange. It’s been 11 years.”

“Yeah but you didn't stop being his sister,” he says softly.

“Yeah…I suppose.”

Choso frowns through the screen as he sees your deep frown and conflicted gaze, wishing from where he is that he could be there to hug you like he knew you wanted.

“Where are you?” You change the subject to avoid ending the call. “Are you still at home?”

“Oh, no, I came with Yuji. I’ll be here until it’s time for our date.”

You smile giddly and probe. “So you’re going to pick me up then?”

Choso smiles sweetly. “Of course, I won’t be the one driving because I can’t, but yes I will pick you up.”

Your heart swoons and before you can respond with something sweet two of your cousins walk into your room with glares they think are intimidating.

“Oh, Choso, honey, I’ll text you when I leave this place, all right?”

He doesn’t need to be with you to know that something unwelcoming appeared because he knows you in more ways than one. He sees the way your eyes focus past the phone and hardens to a glare.

“Is everything all right?” He asks with concern.

You flash him an assuring smile and nod. “Yep. Everything is all good. I’ll see you later.”

Before he can respond you hang up the phone and swing your legs over the bed to stand on your feet and look at your cousins with a smirk and a pointed glare.

“It’s stupid for you to show up here again,” one of them spats while they ball their fist.

You choose to be a tease and count them to point out the missing triplet. “You’re an incomplete set, what happened to the third?”

The second one seethes and steps forward with their jaw clenched.

“You’re a kinslayer,” the first one snaps at you as if that’s supposed to offend you.

“That term is outdated by a couple of centuries, don't you think?” You taunt them and strut forward to be close to them.

“You think you’re funny?” The second one rebuttals and takes a step towards you. “You killed our brother—”

“He came at me first,” you cut him off smugly and omit the rest of the story because it’s too long for right now. “I was in front of the fireplace and he attacked. I countered, but not because it was self-defense…” you trail off and snicker. “It was justice. The friends with him played with fire and got burnt.”

The first one grinds his teeth and gets his fist ready to try and attack.

Which is so adorable that he thinks he can hurt you.

However, he’s interrupted by your brother. “Do we have a problem here Akeno, Atsushi?”

Both men immediately back down, and that only makes your smirk that more taunting.

“No,” The first one, Akeno, mutters as he pierces his glare at you. “Clan leader.”

Atsushi shoots you one last rageful glare before he follows his brother out of your room.

“They weren't at the welcoming meeting,” you interject casually when it’s just Satoru, Satori, and you. “Will you punish them, “oh great leader”?” You mock him and walk back to sit on the edge of your bed

“No,” Satoru lets out with a sigh as he walks in.

“Is this your room mommy?” Satori asks with excited wonder.

“Yeah, take whatever you want,” you tell her and let her snoop around your room to get to know who you were when you were a teenager.

“What was that about?” Satoru refers to your cousins as he stops to admire the pictures on a picture board that hands on your dresser.

“Oh you know.” you shrug nonchalantly. “They’re mad because I broke their set.”

And he knew that.

“Was this…you?” You refer to your room.

“Nope,” he reveals causally, causing you to grow rigid and shocked. “It was mother. She refuses to clean out your room.”

Oh….

Oh.

This isn’t good for your already aching heart. This only perplexes you.

“Why?” You let out in a broken whisper.

Satoru looks back at you as if the answer isn’t obvious. But it isn’t to you. You thought she hated you for being weak, and for who you turned out to be.

Why doesn’t she hate you?

Hating her would be so much easier if she did.

“Where is Mother?” You ask curiously. “She wasn’t at the gathering either.

Satoru lets out a deep breath before he turns to face you. “Mother is sick. She’s been sick for a while now, but after I was imprisoned she got worse.”

You push yourself off the bed and can’t help but look at him with a pointed glare. “She’s sick? Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

Satoru rests his hands on his hips and shrugs nonchalantly. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

You part your lips to speak, but nothing comes out in your confusion. It’s like a part of you is upset that he didn’t at least mention something, as well as worried for the mother who bore you. But then another part of you can’t gather that much will to care either.

“She’s my mother,” you whisper and begin to gnaw on the tip of your nail. “Can…” you shouldn't, but you also want to. “Can we go see her?”

Satoru hesitates as he waits for you to change your mind, but when your head doesn’t rise to take your request back, he gives in. “Yeah, she’s here.”

You let out a deep sigh and nod slowly before you look over at your daughter snooping through photos on your vanity. “Come on Satori, let's go.”

The girl swipes something from the vanity and then runs after Satoru and you as you walk out of your room.

“Look, Mom,” she whispers excitedly and shows you the picture she snatched of Suguru and you when your relationship was very new—“it’s you and Daddy. And you had pink hair.”

You genuinely smile at the picture and nod before you give her some insight. “Yeah, we took that on his birthday. He came to meet my parents.”

Satori looks at the picture in complete awe for a long time before she carefully tucks it into her pocket.

“Do you like the grounds so far, Chipmunk,” you probe. “It’s changed a lot since I lived here, but this was still my home. Do you like it?”

“Of course, there's been remodeling,” Satoru cuts in teasingly. “A couple of years ago a section of our house burnt down.”

You smirk at the mention and press your daughter.

“Well.” She shrugs. “It’s nice, it’s very big, but guess what! Your dad has the same eye color you once had.”

You frown but hide your discomfort. “You met my father?” You ask and burn your glare on the back of Satoru’s neck so he knows you’re displeased.

“Yeah, he was nice to me even if he looks very mean.”

“She met father?” You ask your brother now in an agitated way that Satoru detects, but he does not take you seriously.

“Yeah, we ran into him, he didn’t chat much so don’t worry,” he brushes you off, even if him not telling you before is pretty upsetting.

However, since Satori is here you don’t pick a fight, you just exhale deeply and let it go. Besides, you then arrive at your mother's quarters.

“We’re going to meet grandma,” Satoru announces excitedly. “Is. That. Okay?” He pronouncates each word because he thinks he knows what’s grinding your gears, but he doesn’t have a damn clue and it only works to piss you off.

“Of course,” you sass him between gritted teeth. “I wouldn't be here if it wasn’t.”

“Hm. Just making sure.” He flashes you a smile and then walks in the room so casually, but you can’t match the beat of his drums, you stay frozen past the entrance and dig your nails in the palm of your hands as you try hard not to storm off this property.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Satori’s sweet voice snaps you from your stupor.

Through all the haze in your head, you didn’t even notice she had stayed behind with you rather than following her ever-so-beloved uncle.

“Oh,” you breathe out and assure her with a smile. “Yes. I’m fine.”

She’s like a breath of fresh air much needed in this suffocating place that lets you push yourself just enough to step inside but stop nonetheless behind a delicate wooden divider that blocks the sight of your mother, and of you to her. You only hear her voice as she speaks to Satoru.

“I was so worried I’d never see you again,” she’s basically weeping to him.

“Do you really think they could beat me?” Satoru tries to comfort her through the pain that’s so easily detectable in her voice.

“Y/N saved me,” he still omits the truth. “That’s why I'm here.”

“Y/N?” She asks, but you can’t make out what she feels this time, but you also don’t want to know. “Where is she?”

“She’s here. She’s in this room, but first, Mother, I want you to meet someone,” he says excitedly before you hear his footsteps approach.

“Will you come with me?” Satori asks as she knows what’s about to come.

But you can’t face your mother yet. You only faced your father because he was there amongst the ones welcoming Satoru, but your mother is different and you haven’t been able to build the strength to face her yet.

“Your uncle will be with you,” you hate to turn your daughter down. “I just need a minute.”

Satori pouts, but she doesn’t argue, she doesn’t understand why you’re acting so strange either, but she doesn’t question you. When Satoru appears she just easily finds comfort by holding his hand instead before he walks her behind the divider to show her off to your mother.

A mother you can’t see the face of when Satoru returns to her with a little girl holding his hand, a mother's breath you hear hitch when you hear their footsteps halt by her bed, and a mother you hear move before she asks a question with a gentle laugh.

“Is she yours?”

“No,” Satoru chuckles. “She’s y/n’s.” He announces and you hear silence from her end.

“Mother, this is Satori Geto, y/n’s daughter.” Your brother adds, and you hold your breath to hear her reaction better.

Yet there’s not a thing uttered until you hear Satori break the silence very shyly. “Hello.”

“Satori,” Satoru adds. “This is Junko. Your grandmother.”

“Your name means enlightenment,” you finally hear your mother address your daughter. “Just like Satoru’s. Actually, you have very similar names.”

“My Daddy chose my name,” Satori loves to share that piece of information.

“Hm, well he chose a perfect name,” your mother says…sweetly. You hear the honey oozing off her voice.

“Thank you,” Satori whispers.

Your mother then musters a laugh before she reminisces. “Your mother used to cling onto your uncle just like that when she was a little girl too, you know?”

The corner of your lips twitch to a smile but you don’t let it spread, you just start to gnaw on your nails again.

“Really? Was she my age?”

“How old are you?” Your mother asks.

“6,” Satori reveals with a bit more confidence now.

“Ah, then yes. Do you have a brother or a sister, little Satori?” Your mother is curious to know since Satori is the only one she sees before her

“Hm, I had two older sisters, but they’re dead,” Satori shares so casually, making your mother not respond right away this time. She’s quiet for a moment that lets Satoru finally excuse themselves.

“Well, I think we should get going. Y/N and I have things to do. I just came to let you all know I’m back and introduce this one to the clan.” He’s so dismissive and not at all as polite as he should be.

Not like you actually care when it comes to your parents, he just could have dismissed himself a lot differently.

“Oh I thought you would stay longer,” your mother interjects. “But I suppose duties call. It was an honor meeting you little Satori, I hope you come again. Perhaps I can have something to give you then.”

And she’ll love that.

“Really?” Satori asks as you expected, excited. You can practically hear her grinning.

“Yes. Just come again.”

“I will!” Satori exclaims. “Goodbye, Grandmother!”

“Goodbye, Satori,” you hear your mother's voice quiver now over the simplicity of Satori’s last word. And you know that if you could see her you would probably see her eyes get teary, but you stay behind the divider and wait for your daughter to come running to you.

“Mother did you hear I’m going to get a present!” Satori shares enthusiastically, so it makes it hard to keep a frown on your face.

“I heard. Are you ready to go now?”

“Are you?” Satoru interjects as he walks over to join you and your daughter.

“I,” you mutter and pause to look at the path that leads to your mother and heavily consider just walking away without seeing her. It would cause your heart less stress, but…you’re already here, and…she’s sick. If death comes for her tomorrow and you went on without confronting her after 11 years, then you would regret it. So you face Satoru with the choice to waste a few more minutes in this damned place.

“Just wait outside, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Satoru nods in comprehension and walks off with Satori, leaving you still behind that divider as you hesitate some more. Once again you want to just storm off, every cell in your body is yelling at you just to go, but you can’t, you can’t just go. So you take a few steps forward just to the point you’re able to peek past the divider and see her.

She’s much older, of course, her hair is peppered with gray spurts, but her wrinkles are still not a prominent thing. She could pass by as younger than she is if her exhaustion and illness didn't leave a clear mark on her face.

“She has your smile,” she breaks the silence without needing you to fully step out before her. “And your timidness.”

You clench your fists and exhale deeply before you step out past the divider and present yourself to her after a decade.

“Other than that she looks like her father.”

How is it so easy for her to speak to you? You can’t build up the courage or think of a word. You can barely look at her.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she continues to try and get you to speak. “Losing not only one child, but two is a devastation a mother should never bear.”

You break away from the spot you stay glued to and slowly approach her. “Suguru and I adopted them,” you let her know. “But no matter the difference in our blood, and the name on paper, I still loved them as if they were my own.”

Your mother hums and when you get close to her side she’s able to see the change in your eyes. She’s able to see that the fearful and soft girl she once knew was gone and replaced by a stronger, more confident woman with even more radiating beauty that looks almost majestic.

“Y/N,” she whispers with tears rolling down her cheeks.

You push yourself forward and sit by her side which seems to let her think she’s allowed to touch you, but the moment her cold fingers make contact with your warm flesh, you slowly drag your hand away.

“Y/N,” her voice breaks as her eyes gleam brightly with tears. “Please forgive me,” she says since she can read your urgency to leave on your body. “I’m sorry.”

Her words hit you like a piercing blade to the heart, they hurt every single muscle and bring tears to your eyes. For so long that’s all you wanted to hear. You wished to hear her admit that the way they treated you was wrong, that she was wrong for letting them treat you the way they did. After all, you were her only daughter, her child, but now that you heard it coming out of her lips you can’t handle the weight.

It doesn’t matter that she’s sick, or that she’s weeping and pleading. You can’t forgive her either, you can’t love her like you once used to. She turned a blind eye and you got hurt because of it.

“I’ll let you see her,” is all you can gather to say. “I’ll let her come with Satoru if he wants to bring her, but I can’t say what you want to hear. No matter how many times I come back.”

You see her heart break at your words, her eyes express that deep ache, but you can't bring yourself to forgive her. You can work towards not hating her, but that’s the best you can do.

“I am sorry,” she whispers.

You swallow thickly and wipe away the tear that escaped past your eye. “I know,” you mumble before you get up and walk out.

“Let’s leave,” you say in a rush, and Satoru doesn’t protest or prolong your stay this time. You finally leave the damned place and only once you've made some distance between you and your family home can you rest your shoulders and let your racing heart ease to normal.

And it’s also after you’ve gotten away that you finally text Choso.

You to Choso: I’m finally out and I’m on my way home.

As expected Choso responds right away.

Choso: How was it? Are you okay?

You could ramble about your experience but all you want is to forget for now, so you deflect.

You: I’m fine, it was exhausting, but we can talk about it later.

Choso: We can have our date another day then I don’t want to overwhelm you.

You smile at his consideration, but just picturing him in formal attire, and playing out how your date could go is what kept you going today.

You: No, no! Please no. I’m looking forward to it, it’s what kept me going.

You: We’re having our date. You’re going to pick me up and we’re going to have the night of our lives today.

Choso: Okay. Good.

You grin and sigh with bliss.

You: I love you.

You just need to hear it—or read it, whatever.

Choso: I love you too. So much.

Choso: Can you talk? I want to hear your voice now.

You: Of course, I can :) but I won’t. It’ll make yearning for each other so much more intense don’t you think?

Choso: Are you teasing me?

You giggle at your phone and prove that it works because this interaction only makes your ache for him that much more intense.

You: Maybe but now you can recall my sweet voice from the moments I would talk in your ear. And picture my soft lips moving with each word.

You smirk and only a couple seconds pass before you see the three little dots as he writes his response, and then quickly sends it.

Choso: Maybe I should go home and we can go from there? I miss you.

You: Nope you’re picking me up remember? Xoxo.

——

*LATER*

It’s been a while since you’ve been on a date. With the last time being with your husband, a man you had known for a decade.

There were always date jitters even after 11 years because it was always exciting going on dates with Suguru, that never left, but this time it's different because it’s with someone else. This date with Choso is the first, and even if you’ve already skipped ahead and had sex, multiple times, there’s always something so intimate about a date. About it just being the two of you, that's especially more intensified on the first date.

You honestly feel nauseous. But that’s maybe because you have yet to see him. Knowing he should pick you up soon has your anticipation all heightened.

You just need to breathe.

Breathe.

Nevertheless, the doorbell rings and you get startled, but super giddy too.

“Wish me luck worm,” you speak to your worm cursed spirit, who just tilts its head before it watches you leave with your desired shoes in hand.

Once you reach the door you drop the shoes and slide them on before you smooth out your long black skirt and open the door to see him, your beloved Choso at the doorstep with his dark brown hair down, a bouquet of red tulips in his hands to greet you with, and a sweet smile on his face to ease your nerves.

“Choso,” you greet with endearment.

“Y/N,” his breath hitches, and his kind brown eyes widen, before his eyes roam your body as he takes in every inch of you in your expensive beautiful black two-piece set to engrave the sight of you in his memory. “These are for you.”

You take the bouquet from his hands but instead of walking in to put them in a vase, you jump on him and trap him in a loving embrace he returns with no hesitation.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers in your ear. “I’m lucky to have you as my date.”

You seep in his fresh and very outdoorsy musk through your nose before you giggle and pull away, but press your hands on his chest and check him out from head to toe, seeing at that instant that he's wearing new boots, and a new everything actually. He looks quite expensive which lets you know he had help picking out what he’s wearing.

“And you look very handsome,” you compliment him as you fix the collar of his coat. “I just might not let you out of my sight tonight or else they’ll steal you from right under me.”

Choso’s cheeks grow a light shade of red and his eyes flicker down, but they quickly find themselves back on you to continue admiring you like one would a beautiful painting or the moon.

“Let me just put these in some water and then we can go okay?” You let him know before you rush inside to do what you said and return to him to finally head out.

On your way to the restaurant, you find yourselves both nervous and just stealing glances at each other, or holding lingering stares that show both of your desires for one another, and your eagerness to fast forward this evening and pounce on each other to start your most intimate act.

You unknowingly both dreamed of just having a round of sex in the car, but neither of you spoke it into existence because you had a chauffeur. So all you comforted yourselves with was holding each other's hand and resting your head on his shoulder to take in his presence after the chaotic morning you had.

“Is this what you went to buy yesterday?” You finally ask him considering he was very guarded about everything last night when you asked.

“Yes,” Choso says with a soft laugh. “Kirara and Hakari helped me pick out a couple of things, and ultimately this outfit. Yuji tried, but uh it seems he’s a bit clueless about how to dress, or at least that’s what Hakari and Kirara told him.”

You chuckle. “Sounds like them.”

“You smell good by the way,” Choso murmurs against the top of your head before he presses a gentle kiss on it. “That’s my favorite fragrance of yours.”

You smile softly and thank him by pressing a kiss on his knuckles.

“We should take a picture together,” you suggest, and don’t wait to take your phone out and take a couple of pictures before you grab his phone and attempt to take more on his to give his camera roll some company.

However, before you can go to the camera app you come to a halt when you see that he has a picture of Itadori and you on his lock screen. Only it’s a very terribly off-guard one of Itadori, and your picture is one of you sleeping. And he doesn't have them as one single picture, no, he collaged them on a grid, which…ugh!

Your heart can’t take it, he's too cute.

“Oh baby,” you coo at his attempts. “Did you do this?”

Choso clears his throat. “Yeah, I didn’t have a picture of Itadori and you so I tried to make it work.”

Your heart leaps and as cute as this attempt is, you first take a picture of him and you together—Which turned out great might you add. You’re smiling and resting your cheek on his shoulder, and he’s not looking at the camera, he was captured looking at you, but his smile is soft and his eyes reflect his love for you.

“This,” you roll out and help him format his phone. “Picture of us will be your lock screen. And this…” you trail off and go on your phone to send a picture to his phone that arrives right away.

“This,” you continue and save an off-guard picture you took of Itadori and him laughing with each other just the other day. “Is your home screen.”

“I like that photo,” he says softly. “It’s better than mine.” He laughs at himself.

“I intended to send it yesterday but I completely forgot. It’ll work as a placeholder until we take a good picture of him and you.” You tell him before you grin and shake his arm. “I got it! A family portrait in matching winter sweaters. That would be so cute.”

Choso chuckles softly and goes shy. “It sounds great if he wants that.”

You tilt your head and look at him with a comforting gaze. “Cho, I’m sure he will. You’re his brother. He’s starting to appreciate that. I see it.”

Choso looks down at your hand caressing his forearm and sighs softly. “Step by step, right? That’s what you said.”

“Yeah.” You assure him before you lean in and press a kiss on his lips. “I guess we won’t be having our first kiss at the end of the date.”

“That’s a ridiculous courtesy anyway,” he plays along with you. “How could any man look at someone so beautiful and not kiss them? It’d be like dying of dehydration.”

Your face goes ablaze and you giggle before you can't hold back anymore, you make out with him and fill your hunger with just the taste of his lips. You ache for more but you somehow manage to think clearly and limit yourself to just kissing until you finally arrive at the restaurant. Which thankfully has your favorite secluded booth open.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Choso interjects almost hesitantly. “How was your visit to your family home?”

You share a nervous laugh and shake your head. “How about I tell you tomorrow?” You ask as you look up from the menu. “I don’t want to spoil the night.”

Choso’s breath hitches and he immediately expresses his guilt and regret for trying to bring it up. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

You reach over and take his hand. “Don’t apologize it’s okay. It really is.” You smile at him before you grin at the menu. “Now, why don’t we focus on what we should eat? There’s so much for you to try, but there’s just so little appetite, hm,” you tap your chin and then point out to different things he should try before you close your eyes and try to picture your perfect meal.

“What are you doing?” Choso gets curious.

“Picturing my food. Should I get some appetizers before my ramen? And what about dessert?” You mumble and then open your eyes to look at him wide-eyed and eager. “We should get some ice cream after.”

“You’ll get cold,” he points out.

You click your tongue in agreement so you then come up with something else that’s desirable. “Boba? Or a coffee?”

Choso laughs at you but you don’t find humor in your indecisiveness, you’re being serious.

“Cho, I’m serious.”

“We can get whatever you want,” he offers no help whatsoever.

“Y/N,” your name is called out in a sing-song voice. And when you look over you see the owner of the restaurant.

“Mrs Kaho,” you greet.

She sets down a bottle of sake that you didn’t order and looks around the booth before she probes. “Where’s my favorite customer.”

You smile at her. “She’s spending some quality time with her uncle and her aunt today.”

“Aww well, you bring her next time.” She says and looks at Choso now with a faint taunting smile. “No Nanami today? Did he finally find a girlfriend? If not I have a niece who just got divorced. They’d compliment each other.”

You choose not to dive into the truth tonight so you have to lie for your sake and the sake of this night. “No Nanami today. But I brought my boyfriend, Choso.”

Mrs. Kaho narrows her eyes on said man and then grins before pouring him the sake she had just brought. “You’re a handsome fella.”

Choso’s cheeks flush and he fiddles with his thumbs. “Oh thank you.”

“It’s good y/n found you, she’s too young and beautiful to be a widow,” she doesn’t hold back from saying. “I feared she’d end up alone all her life.”

You laugh as you shake your head at her daring comment, while Choso smiles at you as he gives her a response. “I’m glad I found her too.”

Mrs Kaho pats his shoulder with praise and finally takes your orders before leaving right away since she said if she stayed any longer she would end up stealing your night by talking with you.

Once you’re alone though the space between Choso and you is quiet. It’s a comfortable silence, and one you almost want to keep because it gives you time to just simply admire him under the soft light dangling over the table, and see the way his brown eyes reflect the sun's hue without needing to be out. They’re so bright and rich, so perfectly brown. And his hair! It looks so soft as it drapes over his neck. And his lips are a paleish pink, thin, but almost always pouty. It makes you want to just kiss it away, they’re so inviting and soft. His skin is soft too and he does nothing specific to have it that way.

He looks nonchalant, but not to you, not anymore, you see every emotion rushing through behind his eyes, in the small and simple movements of his body. Which probably sounds crazy to anyone who doesn’t know you, you probably sound obsessive considering how long you’ve been dating, but after those 19 days of hiding out, living with an ancient sorcerer underground, and now living together, how could you not know how to read him? Or memorize every single detail on his pale face.

If someone asked you to paint him, you would be able to do it blind.

Which…is terrifying. Loving him so deeply scares you because of your current circumstances. You don’t want to lose him because that will truly crush you, but with each running second you are glad to have the privilege to love him too.

“Y/N,” Choso calls out and catches you staring when he drifts his eyes to you.

“Hm?” You probe softly as he swallows back nervously as if he caught you admiring for the first time.

“I…I have something for you,” he shares and reaches in his coat pocket to pull out a small red box decorated with a white bow, and a tag that you see has your name on it when he hands it to you.

“A present?” You quiere giddly. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to get you something,” he rebuttals and watches you with his breath caught in his throat. “I wanted you to own something that I gave you since I had yet to give you something.”

You smile at him with awe and can't argue with that so you give into your curiosity and undo the white bow. Before you can open it you flash him a grin and then close your eyes as you pull the lid off to not spoil the surprise right away. Once nothing else is blocking what he gifted you, you open your eyes, and gasp softly at the beautiful sight.

“Oh Choso,” you muse and pull out a golden heart locket necklace that's decorated with small white diamonds around your October birthstone. “This…” you trail off and look at him with tears in your eyes.

“Turn it around before you open it,” he instructs before you can slide over and kiss him.

“Okay,” you breathe out shakily, and when you do what he says you find yourself with more tears filling your eyes that make it hard to read what was inscribed on the metal. So you wipe away the pesky tears and hold back for now to read the small words.

“For my sun, my moon, my beloved. My y/n.”

You laugh blissfully and keep holding back your tears because if that’s what's on the back then what’s inside is probably only more heart-wrenching.

And alas you stand corrected when you see a small little heart-shaped picture of your students and kids together. All five of them are forever cherished in that frame; Hakari, Kirara, Satori, and your twins, your girls, Nanako and Mimiko.

“I,” you cry. “Oh,” you gasp and cover your mouth as you handle your disbelief.

“Choso,” is all you can say. All your words are lost.

“Do you like it?” He makes sure to ask even if the tears ruining your makeup answer his question.

“Yes,” you mewl and nod at him before you drag yourself around the booth to throw your arms around him. “I love it. Thank you, my love.”

Choso twists around to wrap his arms around you even if it’s an uncomfortable position.

“I love you,” you murmur and tilt your head up to kiss him. And even if you are where you are you move slowly and savor the taste of lips so when you pull back you’re content with what you got for now.

“Could you help me put it on?” You ask and turn around to give him access to your bare neck. “Now,” you add while he very delicately hooks the necklace around your neck. “All I need is a picture of you on that empty spot.” You smile and wipe away the last tears rolling down your cheek.

“I'm sure someone else can fill the spot, like, your brother.” He says making you snort and laugh.

“As if. No thanks.”

You would say he could relate because he has brothers, but he can't. His love for his brothers is too pure.

“No, I want you,” you speak sweetly and turn around when he finishes to kiss him one more time.

“Now,�� you say smugly and pull back to reach for your bag. “Since great minds think alike, I actually got you something too.”

Choso shifts in his seat and watches you more intently now as he actually grows nervous as well as curious.

“You shouldn’t have y/n,” he really means that. You love gifts so you actually loved that he got you something. You actually expected something smaller but still picked out with love, or even a ring, but he really surprised you.

“I wanted to,” you brush off his modesty. “I hope you like it.”

You hand him a small box as well and beam at him.

“Open it,” you press eagerly and start fiddling with the rings you have around your fingers.

Choso exhales deeply as he hesitates before he opens the box and gasps with shock. Even more so than yours.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly but also kind of in a scolding manner since he doesn’t agree that you should waste money on him.

“Pull it out,” you encourage him, but he hesitates once again before he wraps his fingers around the silver chain and pulls out a silver rectangular pendant dangling at the end that has a dragon carved on the front.

“A dragon,” he muses. “It reminds me of you.”

You flash him a grin and swoon over the fact that he thinks of you, but that’s not the most important part. He almost misses what you had transcribed on the back, but before you can guide him to it he catches the cursive and holds the pendant still, finding his breath escaping him once again when he reads all his brother's names on the back.

“If I got one of their names wrong, let me know,” you interject as his lips quiver and tears fill his eyes. “The lady that helped me said it can be fixed.”

As if it was possible the love he has for you in his eyes only grows more, and unlike you who found it easy to embrace him, he can’t even move with how shocked he is. So you lean over and embrace him to comfort him.

“I love you, thank you so much for loving me, Choso,” you whisper in his ear for only him to hear.

“Thank you for letting me,” he manages to whisper back. “And thank you for this gift. It’s spectacular. Thank you.”

You pull back and kiss him again before you press your forehead on his and take his chain to put it on him.

“Who would’ve guessed huh?” You add with amusement and pull back. “It’s like we read each other's minds.”

“It seems we did,” he teases. “But now I don’t know how to thank you beyond simple words.”

You smirk and lean over to whisper teasingly in his ear. “I can think of a couple of ways.”

Choso swallows thickly and meets your gaze with his pupils dilated before he laughs at you and presses a kiss on your cheek.

“You’ll have to feed your stamina first then,” he remarks, making you gasp and chuckle.

“Choso!” You pretend to scold him. “How dirty of you.”

He smirks and you can’t help but laugh some more and then dive into more lighthearted humor that makes you both laugh to the point it’s hard to breathe. You almost forget about the food until it comes and that’s all you can think about until it’s done.

After that, after you’ve enjoyed your meal, and dessert (mostly you), each other is all you can think about. The warmth of your hands as you have them intertwined together. The sound of your breaths as you enjoy a quiet stroll towards the next destination Choso had planned out for tonight. And the simplicity of each other's presence.

You could think about the intimacy of each other's lips, of wanting to find an escape to have a quick pleasurable moment, but as of now, as you walked through the chilly evening, all you thought about was the joy of having one another.

“Did you like it?” You finally remember to ask. “I mean I did promise a good meal, so was it good? And say the truth it won’t hurt my feelings.”

Choso lets your hand go, forcing your palm to be slammed with the cold running air. But just as you’re going to ask what he’s doing he pulls his coat off and carefully drapes it over your shoulders to provide you more warmth since he knows how cold you get.

“Thank you Choso,” you whisper and offer him a sweet smile before you take his hand again and repeat your question. “So tell me.”

Choso meets your gaze and his lips tug to a small grin. “I’ll say this.” He clears his throat, making your eyebrows knit together. “I won’t let you eat it alone. If you’re committed I am too.”

He remembers your joke!

“Great!” You laugh and gently nudge him to the side before you hug his arm. “You remembered.”

Choso’s grin turns smug and he nods gently.

Soon thereafter you arrive at the spot where the room is all covered in screens to make you believe, in this instant, that you’re in the deep blue depths of the ocean watching the sea creatures swim all around you. And considering the room was rented by the hour you paid more to use it as long as you wanted and be given the privacy you needed; so no security cameras on, and a locked door. Choso insisted on paying the rest, but you beat him to the punch.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why the ocean?” Choso asks as he admires you watching a pod of whales with your eyes glimmering with awe.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because I can manipulate water,” you muse and smile as the whales start to sing. “Or well I do,” you clarify and drift your eyes to him. “It’s beautiful for one, especially in the most isolated parts of the world where all you see is water, because at night when the water is calm it’s like being in space. The way they reflect on the water is beautiful. But that’s not it, the ocean is also mysterious, it surrounds us, and personally, it holds the most beautiful animals in this world,” you murmur and grin brightly as a whale swims around you behind all the screens that surround you.

“People are like the ocean in some ways if you think about it,” you continue. “We’re rageful, deep, mysterious. Beautiful. Our lives go up and down like waves, and most importantly we can be ugly too, terrifying, like some parts of the ocean.”

Choso tries to answer with words, but all he responds with is a soft hum as he’s completely captivated by the beauty of your words, by the way, you smile so beautifully at the school of blue and black fish as if they could see you.

“Somethings wrong with us,” you point out and finally take a seat on the blankets Choso brought so you could comfortably enjoy the sight of the scenery.

“What is it?” Choso probes as he mirrors you and sits beside you with the inability to keep his hands to himself, or his eyes off you. He needs to be touching you, he needs to be looking at the most beautiful thing in this room, and to him that’s you.

“We tend to view the world behind screens or illusions, or whatever Tengen made us see underground,” you share with a laugh and pull your hand from under his to instead lay your head down on his lap. “Once this fighting is done, once our lives have calmed down we will see the world. Or parts of it anyway.” You grin. “Since the world is big. But I digress. You, me, Satori, Itadori…” you make sure to name him because that’s one of the most important people in his life. “And my students will see the stars in a place where it feels like we’re in space. We’ll see ice caps that polar bears play on, and then the most beautiful ocean.”

Choso laughs softly and gently caresses the scar across your torso with his thumb since it’s exposed by what you’re wearing.

“I would like that,” he commits to your plans, causing you to beam at him. “What else do you want?” He proceeds to ask in a very gentle manner.

You raise your brow and poke him. “What do you want? What do you want to do?”

Choso shakes his head softly and his smile only seems to soften more, making the gleam in his eyes shine brighter. “I have what I want. My brother’s safe and protected with Yuji. I have Yuji who sees me as his brother, and you. I don’t need anything else. But you,” he whispers and lifts his hand to start caressing your cheek. “What do you want, my love? Say it and I’ll give you the world.”

You giggle and lean into his touch to press a kiss on his palm before you answer. “I want to learn how to paint. I see all these beautiful paintings at museums, and online and I’m jealous of the skill. I want to learn. But you can’t buy me skill.”

“No,” he chuckles. “I could get you the things to get you started though.”

You smile. “You can be my model.” You suggest teasingly making him scoff shyly before he continues to press.

“Anything else?”

You let out a deep breath and feel your grin soften to a smile as you think about the next thing. “A sunroom, only instead of clear glass windows, I want a sunroom made of only stained glass windows.”

Choso’s eyebrows knit together making his confusion plain to see. “Stained windows?” He asks for clarification. “Why would you want dirty windows?”

You stare at him in silence for a moment before you sit up and burst out laughing. “Oh, my sweet, sweet love. No,” you draw in for air and grab his face to clarify yourself. “Stained glass is…uh, colored glass. I want colored glass so when the sun is out, the room is basked in beautiful dancing colors.”

Choso doesn’t seem to understand that explanation either so you show him an example and he then gets it.

“Oh. Oh, well now that’s something I can get you,” he says now. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You’re cute,” you coo and lean in for a kiss that you don't have to pull away from at that instant. You move slowly, and hold him close, letting him indulge in open-mouth kisses that he slips his tongue into and lights your body on fire with desire.

Yet as you start rubbing your hands on his chest and work them down to pull his shirt off, he pulls back with a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” he whispers against your swollen lips. “Not yet.”

You playfully roll your eyes and try to push him away, but as your fingertips hit his chest he actually catches your wrist and pulls you back towards him, to the point your lips are grazing over each other’s.

“Dance with me,” he says and stands up, leaving your lips once again cold without the company of his next to yours, or on yours.

However, this time you don’t mind. Your eagerness gets the best of you and you accept his offer.

“You didn’t learn with someone else did you?” You tease him whilst he remembers where to put his hands. Albeit, this time you guide one hand on your waist down to grab your ass.

Choso of course blushes even if he’s seen you naked, shares the same bed, and takes showers with you.

“No I just remembered from last time,” he explains as he lets a song play on his phone that wasn’t the same one as before, but romantic nonetheless. “And,” he adds while you start to dance. “Remember. I have knowledge of things, I just haven’t lived those things myself.”

“I know,” you assure him. “I was teasing.”

He sighs with relief and laughs at himself for a moment before he meets your gaze with a small frown.

“With this battle we’re fighting most likely concluding next month,” he shares right as you were going to ask what got him down. “All I want is for you and Satori to go far away. Somewhere not remotely close to Japan.”

“Choso,” you whisper your protest, but he cuts you off and explains himself softly.

“I almost lost you more than once. I don’t want to lose you for good. I can’t lose you. Last year after I saw you, you’re all that I could think about, you gave me hope after a century of darkness and thinking I would forever be stuck as I was. And when I saw you again in Shibuya,” he says and makes you both dance a lot slower. “All I wanted was you. To be near you, to protect you from all the evil in this world. That means this. So please just think about it.”

You let out a deep sigh and don’t comfort him by saying that you will think about it. You can’t lie to him because your mind is made up. Even if you have a reason to stay out of the fight to come, how can you betray yourself too? Ever since you lost a part of yourself to that non-sorcerer who tortured you, all you wanted was to help the next generation of sorcerers; you wanted to protect your people. You can’t do that by avoiding the fight, so your answer is clear and it has been for a while.

“Choso I can't and I won’t, I'm sorry,” you do explain yourself sweetly. “My goal is to help the next generation of sorcerers, to help our people. I can’t do that by hiding and letting others risk their lives. I know you’re just trying to look out for me, I appreciate your sentiment, but I can’t betray myself. And no matter how much you plead, I won’t change my mind. I’m sorry.”

Choso blinks repeatedly in disbelief before he drops his head and stops dancing, making you take his jaw and tilt his head up.

“I won’t let you just dedicate yourself to protecting me either,” you explain. “But I’m strong. I know that.”

Even in your moments of doubt, in the back of your head, you know that to be true. “Even if I had my close encounters with death, next time won’t be the time I die either. I will live for my girl, for my people, my family, and you. I will live so I can continue loving you. Do you understand?”

His eyes fill with tears as he nods softly.

“Good,” you murmur with a sweet smile before you wrap your arms around his neck and lay your head on his shoulder to continue swaying to the music chest to chest.

However, you don’t last long in that position because Choso then pulls back and surprises you by spinning you away from him, and then quickly spinning you back and dipping you ever so carefully so as to not drop you.

“Choso!” You giggle with surprise, and he pulls you back up and presses you close to his chest with a grin.

“What a lovely surprise,” you murmur against his lips as you can’t help but keep glancing at them.

“Did you like it?” He asks with a hint of smugness behind his voice.

“I loved it,” you assure him and lean in to close the gap left between your lips, but stop since you do want to keep dancing with him with your head on his shoulder.

However, Choso is the one who can’t wait this time, he slams his lips on yours and takes no time to slide his hands up to secure your face against his by grabbing your cheeks.

Many other times you pull back to laugh in surprise at his eagerness or smile at him, but this time you fan your passionate flames and kiss him back with hunger. As if it was the first time, or you were one of these horny couples from the old times who had been aching for a kiss, but could only feed your desires with longing stares and stolen touches until now.

You should hold back since you are in a semi-public place, but there’s no windows here, you paid to lock the doors, and shut down the cameras, so no, you don’t hold back, you guide him to sit, and straddle him before you slither your hands to the back of his head and grab a fistful of hair.

Choso is so lost in your passion that he lets out a pleased groan that makes his lips break away. But he’s only off you for a second, he doesn’t even catch his breath before he presses a kiss on the corner of your mouth and leaves a wet trail of kisses down to your neck.

You find that those kisses burn you up more so you can’t help but moan softly in his ear, while you work your hands down to the hem of his shirt to pull it off without protest, breaking the connection of his lips on your neck. Yet you don’t go long without the feeling of his lips on you, you grab his jaw and lean down to kiss his lips again.

This time Choso slowly roams his hands down to your back to grab your hips for a moment before he brushes his hands over your torso, fueling your fire. He then caresses your breast over your top, making your breath shudder, and then lands where he desires, on your cheeks to pull back.

“No,” he says between heavy breaths. “I want to be on you.”

You smile with relief after thinking he was going to break this apart to be considerate.

“Wait,” he blurts before he can flip you around. “Not here. We can’t here.”

You peer back and double-check that the door is locked before you look up at the camera and make sure that the light is not flashing. “We can if no one finds out. No one has to know,” you tempt him in a silky voice that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

“Just one round?” He asks and leans in to touch your lips with his, letting you both feel your breaths unfurl over the top of your lips.

“One round,” you reassure him and draw in a deep breath before you grin brightly and let him flip you around so you’re on your back with him between your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers with his eyes darkened with desire.

“You are too,” you redirect, making a timid smile break on his face. “Now kiss me or I will flip you around and ride you.”

He snickers and talks against your lips, making you squirm. “Save it for home.”

You try to laugh, but you’re so lost in your desire at the promise of more that it comes out more like a breathy moan.

“I hate making love to you fast,” he keeps talking. “But it has to be done, or—”

“Shh,” you cut him off before you lift your head to trap him in a heated kiss.

Choso laughs in your kiss but doesn’t let it last long because he’s then moving in sync with you, and feeling his member hardened.

He usually likes to explore your body with his lips and his tongue, but there was no time now, he saves that for later and instead helps you take your skirt off. And instead of working to reach your high, he stops to admire part of the red lace lingerie that you wore for him.

“You,” he breathes in and lets his eyes roam your body. “You are a piece of art.”

You laugh softly and grab his hands to press his fingers on your panties so he can pull them down and see your soaking pussy. However, he shakes his head and lets your hands go to instead grab your leg and lean towards it.

“What are you doing?” You probe and look over by propping your elbows on the ground and lifting your head.

However, he doesn’t say his answer, he responds by kissing the side of your knee and slowly grazing his lips up. Which is a move that steals your breath and leaves you like a puddle.

“Keep them on,” he says against your thigh.

You shiver and smile like a lovestruck fool.

“Choso please,” you groan and grab his shoulders. “Any more of that and I’ll cum without you inside me.”

Choso chuckles and moves back over you, but not to kiss you, or take your top off, he’s too impatient to sink into your warmth to worry about stripping you. Instead, he presses a kiss over your clothed clit and then hooks his fingers on your panties and moves them aside, realizing at that moment how wet you are for him.

“Beautiful,” he praises you and presses a kiss on your bare clit before finally moving up to let his face hover over yours. “Ready?” He makes sure to ask.

You nod softly and initiate a slow and sloppy kiss while he lines his cock with your entrance and lets the tip of his cock kiss you before he very, agonizingly slowly sinks into you.

And you can’t say he isn’t usually slow, because he is, every time. Even if you are both eager he likes to feel every inch of your walls with his cock, as if trying to map it out. He likes to see your jaw slowly go aslack, like now, as his fat girth slowly splits you open, and your needy pussy swallows him whole to the point he can’t push in any further.

“Choso,” you cry in his mouth as you feel his tip, every vein on his member, and his smooth cock itself grazes your gummy walls.

“One round,” he reminds the both of you and grabs the back of your knee to lift your leg and hook it over his shoulder before he pulls out until his tip is the only thing your pussy is embracing.

“Choso,” you whine, but he shuts you up by pressing his lips on yours and taking in you for a kiss he slides his tongue into.

And even if you haven’t been having sex long he already knows everything you like. He knows how to make you scream, he knows what to do to make you close your eyes, and scratch his back. He knows how to tease you, and how to make you squirt (which he just learned the other day). He knows every detail about you just like you know every detail about him.

So considering you are on a time crunch he uses what he knows to make this fast, and that's going slow. You like it fast, and rough because you last longer that way, but this way you can’t hold back, it’s too agonizing. So he slowly slides back inside you, causing you to break away from the kiss to tilt your head back and roll your eyes back.

“Choso,” you plead. “Please.”

Said man plants kisses on your neck and pulls back halfway before sliding in and slamming the tip hard against you.

You groan and find stability by holding his muscular shoulder, going unaware of his left hand until you feel his fingers run a strip over your clit before he starts to rub circles over it, bringing you close to the edge already.

“Choso,” you moan to the screens long forgotten and pull your hands away to dig your nails on the floor.

He whines at the feeling of your fluttering pussy around his cock, and even if he’s starting to lose himself in the feeling of you, he manages to find your hand and interlaces his fingers between yours before he starts thrusting in and out just a bit faster. Yet not fast enough, he’s still teasing you by moving slowly and rubbing his thumb on your clit.

You try to meet his thrusts to pick up the speed, but he presses his body closer to you and traps you under him.

“You feel incredible,” he praises you and groans. “My beautiful girl. Mine.”

You find his lips and match the speed of his thrusts with your lips, feeling him groan against your mouth as you tighten around him, your pussy fluttering and your leg pressing closer against him as you near your release since he’s being a damn tease.

“Choso,” you mewl and hold his gaze to bat your lashes at him. “Please rougher.”

Choso smiles and drops his head on the crook of your neck to not give in to what you want since he tends to do what you asked for with a simple bat of your lashes and a look at those eyes he loves so much.

“So—Mhm,” you groan and squeeze your eyes shut as he starts hitting your g-spot. “Good. You’re doing good.”

Choso chuckles. “Don’t,” he can barely mutter between breaths as he feels his release creeping in.

“So close,” you announce and he picks up his pace, making lewd noises of skin slapping as he chases his release and helps you find yours.

He doesn’t hold back anymore, he starts drilling into you so hard tears start to form in your eyes, and you arch your back off the ground, but it's too late for you. Your stomach twists and you're a moaning mess along with Choso who sucks on the skin of your neck and sloppily rubs your clit now.

“I’m cummimg!” You cry out and clutch onto his hand.

Choso slides his lips off your neck and meets your gaze. “Me too—me too,” he shares and goes back to slowly rocking his hips, but that triggers you. A shiver runs down your spine and from one moment to the next you see stars as you squeeze tightly around him and squirt all over his cock.

Choso fucks you through your release and lets out a mess of whines and groans as he can’t hold back anymore, he comes undone, and his seed spills inside you. Rope after rope painting your walls before it leaks out of your hole and mixes with yours now pooling on the once clean blanket.

“Fuck,” you murmur and let his hand go to gently caress his back as he pulls out before he goes two more rounds.

“You were perfect,” he whispers on your lips before he gives you a chaste kiss and then crawls down to drop his head on your chest and rest on you.

“That was,” you chuckle and throw your arm over your eyes. “Great. I really don’t like it when you go slow though.”

“I know.” He retorts smugly.

You sigh with pleasure nonetheless and take advantage that he’s on you to brush your fingers through his hair.

“We should go home,” he says and rubs circles on your side.

“Yeah.”

You pull your arm off your eyes and use both hands to brush his hair while you start to watch the ocean once again through the screens above you.

“Choso,” you can’t help but get all mushy as you come off your high.

“Hmm?” He queries.

You swallow thickly and smile as you see a manta ray swim past you.

“Do you want to know why I love you?” You continue with a honey-filled voice.

“Yes,” he says and lifts his head off your chest to meet your gaze with curiosity.

You grab his shoulders and guide him up to his knees as you sit up without breaking eye contact. “I love you because you have a good heart. Because you’re beautifully human even if you still doubt it. Because as my world went dark when I lost those I loved, you never left my side. And you haven’t since Shibuya. That’s why I love you.”

A wobbly smile tugs on his lips but tears don’t escape, he presses a gentle kiss on your lips before he presses his forehead against yours, and cups your cheeks.

“And you,” he interjects. “Have a strong heart. The strongest I know. You kept fighting after losing your daughters and your best friend. It would've been impossible for a lot of others, but you kept your heart strong. I admire your strength.”

Rather than kissing him, you stay as you are, you smile and grab his jaw, and bask in the intimacy of the moment.

No one could ruin this moment or change your love for him. Ever…

A/N- You best know Choso has that ring on the ready!

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest @natakina

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fillinforlater · 2 years

Text

You asked for it

Male Reader x Im Yeojin

Length: 3645 words

Tags: degradation, self degradation, spit, vibrator, anal play, teasing, begging, crying, doming, name calling, dehumanizing, mind-break, rough sex, slaps, breeding kink, daddy kink, slave play, spanks, harsh, hardcore, stand and carry, missionary, slave!Yeojin / master!Reader

TW: ofc spoilers, but this one is very hard. Massive degradation, dehumanizing, slave/master dynamic, mind break, spitting at idol

Inspiration: Her outfit. Yeah.

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for co-writing. Thank you, it was a pleasure!

(A/N: another collab with Sooya! And this time, we went berserk. Poor Yeojin)

“Uhm, hey…”

You never really noticed Yeojin before, but her hair, the outfit and especially the outfit—this was a new Yeojin.

"I've heard what you've been doing with some of my bandmates and I want what they get from you, Daddy. Isn't that what you like to be called when you are dicking down my Unnies?"

You gulp. All the things you've done with the four H's, how does she know them? They were supposed to stay secret, and as their dorm's trusty cleaner, staying there almost daily never caused suspicion.

Or did it?

"Yeojin, what are you even saying?" you speak slowly to sound convincing. It is futile however.

"Stop playing dumb and innocent, Daddy," Yeojin groans, grinding her hips and butt on your jeans covered thigh. The moment you saw those outfits you were ready to plow her members in them, but Yeojin's looks exceptionally hot. The others are quickly forgotten.

"I know how you love to cum all over Heejin's abs," Yeojin sultry says, while her hands rub over yours, "I know you fuck Hyeju from behind, while kneading her tits. And the cat stuff with—"

"Fine, fine! Fuck, shut up. We don't have as much privacy as you might think."

"Give it to me! Those girls, even Haseul and Kim Lip, always get attention from boys and fans. I often feel like I'm just in their shadow, so I wanted to prove that I could attract with my visuals too. Do you like my outfit, Daddy? You want me to be your little baby girl and fucktoy?”

Yeojin's hands straddle your body, her hips still grind on your leg, but her crotch is not moving to the growing problem in your now tight pants. A tease that works.

You answer her wordlessly. Aggressive hands move to her skirt and immediately underneath it. A yelp and a giggle, and then vise-versa when you pull her panties down and go down as well.

"Shut up. Don't moan too loud," you hiss before planting your face under the blue garment. A strong sniff, a remarkable scent from her drenching slit.

"D-Daddy—"

"Yeojin? Why are you already this wet?!"

"For you, Daddy, all for you. I wanted you for a long time. Plus, you've never fucked me before and I can promise you this: my pussy is the tightest of them all, an unclaimed pussy, doesn't that turn you on, Daddy? This pussy, any of my holes belong solely to you, so stuff it with your cock, your cum!”

You rise to your feet again, significantly taller than the small idol. She probably thinks her offer sounds irresistible to you, especially with all the kinky promises spread throughout. However, her needy eyes reveal how desperate she is to get what her friends get: your cock.

"I'll do what I want to do. And we shall see how tight you are, bitch. Now follow me. And don't dare to pull your panties back up. If you stumble, you stumble."

Yeojin tries to carefully, yet quickly follow your pace as you lead her into a special area, down a rarely used hallway, to a designated bedroom where you defiled her other members before.

"Wait, has this room been here for the whole time? How come I never noticed it before?"

"You must be dense. Oh well, your body still looks hot as hell."

Yeojin doesn't respond to your words, visibly mesmerized by the soft blanket on top of the bed. At this moment, she is not paying enough attention, and finally trips over the panties around her ankles.

"Wahhhh!"

You could catch her. All it would take is stretching out one arm and putting a little effort in it. To your own amusement you decide against it, and watch the small idol fall on to the antique, smelly carpet below.

Yeojin winces in pain, holding her wrist. She does not look seriously hurt, after all, the fall wasn't particularly heavy. Not that you care.

"You are so stupid. My God, you are even more dense than I imagined."

Removing your shoes, you walk next to her. Like a vicious god from above, you look down to an insignificant creature below. You can do anything to her.

"I don't care how mean you are," Yeojin hisses, trying to get up despite her restraining panties,"I just want your cock in my pussy."

"You have no idea what you want… you can't even handle me. If I had to take a guess you're totally inexperienced, aren't you? Why such a need to prove yourself to anyone?"

With a light stomp on her back, you let Yeojin fall back to the ground. She shrieks and shivers, and it only increases when you lean down and rub her bare skin, spine upwards to her nape. With a rough grab, you force her to look at you, confused, fearful eyes.

"I... I just want what they have. You must be so good, having multiple members. I want your big cock to... to..."

"Fucking hell! So needy!"

Yank her head down and pull her skirt up. Don't hold back, and slap the cute, exposed butt harshly. Yeojin wiggles and cries out, but she does not dodge or move away.

"What if I don't want your pussy? I could just let you stay a virgin. The last virgin of Loona, probably."

"No, please! Do what you want, just... deflower me."

"What are you even saying? Such slutty behavior will be punished."

From underneath the bed you pull out your favorite toy to use on Hyunjin: a pink vibrator. Although it's actually small in size, compared to tiny Yeojin it looks big.

"Spread your ass, stupid whore! And stop talking like that. Call me Master and only talk if necessary."

"O-okay, Ma-Master."

Turn to her face, grab it in one hand furiously and get uncomfortably close to it.

"That was not necessary, bitch."

"Heejin, Haseul, Hyeju, Hyunjin, those are the ones you know about and I have respect for them. But you? You're just a needy virgin slut way over her head coming to me. You know why your other members are my sluts? Because they are fucking good at what they do and are good partners, you… what can you even offer me? Pathetic."

"I will g-give you my precious first time—"

"Shut up," you shout at her, "I don't fucking care that it's your first time and precious to you!"

With your glaring, fiery eyes on Yeojin, you spit into her face. Full of shock, she touches the spot where it hit her. Before another reaction comes from her, you grab her miniscule body and spin it around.

Yeojin's skirt does not cover her leaking entrance, but it was never your destination. In rage you tear apart the garment hiding her small breasts, they jiggle in the cups of her bra. Seemingly uncontrolled, you strike at the hard nipples on top of the mounds.

Yeojin screams in pain, despair and fear in glistening orbs that release a couple of tears. Luckily for her, no words leave her gasping mouth. Only a wince at every hit and eventually, high pitched moans.

"This is your punishment, whore! If you apologize, I'll ram something in your cunt. Do it!"

"But… but… I-I didn't do anything… I didn't do anything wrong! I—"

"That's it!"

No further warning: you raise her legs, spread her tight ass cheeks just a little and mercilessly shove the vibrator up Yeojin's puckered hole. In a shadow crushing scream, she exclaims the pain shooting up her body.

You will not leave it at that: turn on the vibrator, to turn shock and pain to a punishment of pleasure that makes her tiny frame twitch and jerk all over.

Yeojin screams in a mixture of pain and pleasure as her body is rocked by the humming of the vibrator, she starts to leak.

"Leaking on the bed? The bed preserved for my girls? Disgusting. You're getting your juices everywhere!"

You spank her ass with the toy still shoved in.

"Naughty filthy bitch, staining my sheets like that."

"S-stop, please! I-I want it in here!"

Through the uncontrollable movements of her body, Yeojin somehow manages to trace a trembling hand down her toned midriff and spread her glistening, almost spraying pussy.

"P-plug me up!"

"No, slut!"

You spank her again, this time on the exact same spot, in a fast rhythm that makes her ass turn a deep reddish color. Yeojin sobs and cries, like she doesn't know a solution to end it.

"Apologize, you idiot! Stupid whore, it can't be this hard!"

Click. Realization kicks in. Yeojin doesn't want this to stop. She likes it too much. She loves all this rough, violent behavior you considered punishment. It's not effective, not teaching her a lesson, not showing her her place.

But it's too enjoyable for you as well.

"You're, you're rough with the other girls, but you like them. You care about them, but with me you don't have to like or care about me. I’m just a toy for you to fuck and use. Be as rough as you want with me, break me, ruin me. Please fuck my virgin pussy hole and claim it as yours and only yours!”

Her words trigger you. A fuck toy? You didn't have to keep a relationship going with her? Yeojin offers herself as nothing but a cumdump, a fleshlight for your own pleasure. Finally, she found something that spikes your interest. She might regret these words.

"I'll fill you everytime I fucking want. I don't care if you are in the mood, or tired or already full of cum. If I call, you are coming and you will kneel or bend over. You won't get kisses or cuddles, and don't even think about love. Your orgasm doesn't matter; you don't matter. Do you understand that this is the life of a fucktoy?"

Stare at her melted, needy face in devilish seriousness, before pushing the vibrator into the furthest depths of her rectum.

"If you say 'Yes, Daddy, I'll be your fucktoy slave' I'll use you as a cockwarmer, an anal cocksleeve, a slapping bag, a stress reliefer. Hell, if I want to ruin and end your career just for fun, I will. Are you desperate enough to accept it, sex toy?"

"Yes, Daddy! I'll be your fucktoy slave! I need to… I don’t care about my career, I only care about your cock, your pleasure—so fuck me! Own me, Master!”

The one hand that used to shove the vibrator in Yeojin's asshole now reaches for her throat and gives it a passionate squeeze. If her tongue was out before or came out at that exact moment is an irrelevant factor. It would have been a nice mechanism: choking leads to ahegao.

Yeojin's hands try to tear off the remains of clothing hanging on her body, but she ultimately fails. The penetration of your rock solid cockhead into her tight, unused cunt brings her entire focus to the one thing she always craved.

"Master's cock! It's filling me up!"

"Shut up, toy! Only speak when spoken to."

Not a second thought, the palm of your hand crosses her face, leaving a red imprint on the tiny, lustful face. The idol smiles through the sting, the harsh treatment of her make-up covered features, and continues her “defiance” with a wave of devoted screams.

"Mhmm, Master! Master! Fuck me harder Master, fuck me, ravage me, break me!"

Slap after slap hits her face. She is too far gone, too broken to understand your commands. Nevertheless, you continue to drill into her. A hand spreading her legs makes it easy for your hips to push and push, with the force of a tank. Yeojin might have been a virgin seconds ago, but her pussy is slick and wet like she does get this pounding daily. These hard thrusts make you feel every inch of her insides. From lips to cervix, your cock attacks it with an unrivaled power. It's not surprising anymore that Yeojin starts to cum with shrieks and squirt.

It motivates you to go faster, break the soundbarrier. Overstimulate her, flick her clit, she is nothing but animalistic sounds. In her eyes you see nothing resembling decency, control or human.

Yeojin is broken. From a cute, little idol dreaming of stardom to a cockloving, mindless sex slave.

"Bitch, I'm going to fucking explode in you. Don't you let a single drop go to waste. And if I happen to breed you, you'll carry that child like a good whore won't you?"

Yeojin nods. Or is it her head rocking back and forth from you fucking her into the bed? Her eyes flicker, tongue spills drool all over her face, depending on how her neck bends in orgasm. The tiny rest of mascara is everywhere, just like chestnut strands.

The girl is a sweaty bundle. You pick her up, just to try a little stand and carry. You have never finished with one of the girls like this, although Hyunjin is perfect for it. However, the cat girl is visibly scared of taking you in this position, and because you care for her, it’s a pass.

For Yeojin, you don't have to care. Even if the company fires you, she will crawl to your house and serve you with her body. Even with her face, more red because of your slap then from arousal, she yearns for more and even with her completely destroyed pussy, probably hurting from being deflowered with your massive rod, Yeojin is ready for her life as your private slave.

"You're so small but you take my cock decently, you little whore. How ruined is your pussy right now? Hm? Still fucking mean what you say, my toy?"

"Hmmmm, y-yes, Master."

Yeojin squeezes out actual words through her mewls, even as her eyes roll into the back of her head. An orgasm of mind-altering dimensions. As wave after wave of galactic pleasure jolt through every cell of her tiny body, the thought of being an owned toy, a slave is connected with pure joy and satisfaction.

You continue to hold onto her small body rocking on your cock and you don't relent pumping into her pussy. As you continue to carry and fuck her, you reach for a phone and hand it to her.

"Prove it! I want you to call someone from the company right now and tell them you'll quit your idol life to be my cocksleeve."

Yeojin's hand looks like it's lagging from all the convulses and shivering. Her orgasm is still overwhelming her, and moans from overstimulation put you further into heat. If she does it or not, it doesn't really matter to you. You will fill her with cum, until she, consequently, will be bred.

Ironically, her body seems to fight back against the prospect of calling. When you try to start the call, the phone firmly pressed to her wet, flushed cheek, her pussy grips. A next... level of tightness makes you yelp in surprise. Scorching, like the shape of her walls are imprinted onto the skin of your throbbing cock, you still manage to start the call. How will a silly-fucked Yeojin respond properly, though?

You stop your thrusting waiting with a smirk as the phone rings and a voice of a manager picks up on the other line.

"Hello, Yeojin-ssi? Why did you call me? Is everything okay?"

"I, ahh!"

You buckle your hips and legs, while simultaneously pressing her slender body onto your shaft. A few slow, hard pumps, and Yeojin squeals and moans into the phone. Put your ear next to the phone to hear what the confused and panicking manager is saying.

"Y-Yeojin, what is happening? Are you... h-hurt?"

"F-f-fuck! I need... I want... I cum!"

With perfect timing, you pull out of Yeojin's tight pussy grip, only the tip parting her folds. Immediately, she starts crying, wide open eyes full of fear of losing what she craves the most. Her attempts on getting your cock to penetrate her slit again are erratic yet futile. Easily you hold her back. She breaks completely:

"I don't want to be an idol! I only want my Master's cock! Please, fill this needy, useless hole and use it as your toy!"

"W-what a-are you s-saying?! Yeojin, are you having s-sex right now?"

You can hear the manager heavily sweating from the other side, and if he isn't hard already, the lewd sounds of Yeojin's wet core being fucked again should do the job.

A piercing scream later, and both you and Yeojin finally cum. Yeojin’s tightness went above what you ever expected, and so your load is pumped fully into the velvet cavern. The manager on the other side has stopped talking, but he is definitely still listening. You whisper to Yeojin:

"Tell him Yeojin, tell him what you want and why. Tell him if he doesn't execute your wishes...you'll leak to the higher ups about this call and he'll be fired....tell him what you want my slutty slave."

"I am a bitch, a cockslut, my Master's toy. I only love his cock and want to serve him. B-but if you tell the boss... I'll make you lose your job. U-understood?"

Her intimidation attempt is laughable, but with the Manager groaning on the other side and saying 'Yes, of course!' It seems that Yeojin's career might not be over. Yet.

You take the phone and end the call. Seconds later, the manager tries to call back, but you just turn off the device and look down to Yeojin playing with her folds. She spreads them apart and watches the cum slowly run out of her. Amusement, covered as rage, makes you shove three fingers into the leaking snatch and push all the white goo back in.

"Never do that again, slave! Stand up, and keep it inside yourself!"

The small woman obliges with whimpers. She waddles on her sore legs, unable to stay upright properly. Your stern eyes roam her body and stare her down. Yeojin avoids them, looking down with a lowered head, as your vicious plan unfolds.

Gravity lets the cum fall out of her, no matter how tight she is and tries not to. Tiny globs of your stickiness run down her thighs and legs to stain the carpet. In horror, she looks up, tears at the corner of her adorable eyes.

"You failed. Turn around and bend over."

You slowly rub your cock on the rim of her pussy.

"Master, please… I need your cock!"

"No, you deserve nothing. You deserve no pleasure, because you're a useless slave. You can't even be my slave because you're still an idol, so what good are you to me?"

"Master, I'm not an idol anymore. And, although I need your cock, I only deserve—"

Yeojin raises her hand, and with an unexpected harshness, she slaps her cute, red butt to make the new coloring seem permanent.

"—spanks. Spank me, until I can't sit, Master. I deserve this."

"You mean you want this. Maybe I just want to leave you like this, and lure all your friends here to see you in this position, craving for nothing but my cock."

Yeojin gasps. Yet again, you found a turn on for her. She is like an open book to you, never before has someone been this easy to look through. As your fingers fondle the soft, beaten skin of her bottom, you realize the vibrator is not inside her twitching puckered hole anymore. It must have fallen out at some point during the fucking.

"Pick up the vibrator," you command, pinching her thigh for emphasis, "and shove it up your whorish ass. Only wear your skirt and top, no underwear, no bra."

Your wish is her command and through her task, you see a diligent, delightful side of Yeojin. She is ready to do everything for her Master. Maybe it's only because she doesn't know what's next.

"You actually did that well, slave. Now, for your real task: go about your day."

From below, a confused look on her face. Roll your eyes in annoyance and fiercely bunch up her hair. You guide her to the door, open it and point out into the vacant hallway. Yeojin's breathing gets heavier. You feel it as you bend down to her and make her look at you. Pull her hair painfully, then spit into her face.

"Stupid bimbo! Go about your day as usual. Let my cum drip out of your cunt, bend over to show off, moan when you are randomly alone with someone. Give them hints about how you are a slut for me. And if someone notices and tries to confront you, masturbate in front of them with your vibrator. I'll always watch you. They don't get to fuck you. You are my toy after all.

But they should see what a big slut you are. Nothing but a lusty object."

A hand on her sweaty back shoves her out onto the hallway. She is not hidden by soundproof, closed doors anymore. A tiny movement and her skirt flies upwards, revealing bare cheeks and folds.

Yeojin stumbles. After a couple of meters, she looks over her shoulder. She looks too afraid to plea and too ashamed to walk towards one of the doors where people do their jobs, stylists, producers, idols.

Your gaze is unimpressed. After the fuck session from before, a trembling Yeojin leaves you unfazed. With a cell phone pressed to the side of your head, you wait for the person you saved at ‘1’ to respond.

The words you whisper into the speaker barely reach Yeojin.

"Haseul, tell the girl's to come to the long hallway behind the stage.

Your maknae has something to show you."

(A/N: I know this went wild and hard, but FUCK. Yeojin makes me feral!)

#kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #yeojin smut #im yeojin #yeojin loona #loona smut #male reader smut #male reader #male reader insert

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visionsofmagic · 1 year

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make you regret. | miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader

[ao3 | masterlist | part 2]

summary: “keep talking shit and i’ll show you the other things i can do with that mouth of yours.” & “aw, it hurts? too bad. you’re gonna keep taking it until I’m satisfied.”

part 1 • wc: 2.4k • warnings&tags: nsfw, minors dni!, fluff (so little), chocking, oral > m!receiving, kissing, pet names, explicit language, angry and mad!miguel, SPOILER FOR THE MOVIE, biting, licking, squeezing, dominant!miguel, mentions of miguel’s features such as his teeth, brat!reader, no use of y/n, growling, moaning, getting used, roughness, harshness, and more in the story. enjoy! • couldn’t resist to write about him since I saw him in every app I use and well, I have a thing for him like the rest of you, so, hoping you will like this one. part 2 will come soon! [credits for the prompts]

miguel was angry. you knew it. the moment you entered his personal room to give him a piece of information about the spot and miles morales, a spiderman from earth-1610 dimension, both are anomalies, and miguel needs to stop them before all things crash into each other. he thinks he has to do it - to keep everything in line, in order to prevent any unexpected event happen in a non-canon way.

however, you don’t agree with him, not after you and gwen talked about miles, seeing how she believes in him - how she has a soft spot for him. you know she tries to save miles, nothing wanting him to get hurt. you see your own reflection in her eyes. she cares for miles and you care for miguel but still, you believe he isn’t right completely, no, you believe there is another way to make everything right without hurting anybody.

so, he is mad at you and you know it from the way he looks at the door, then when sees you, he rolls his eyes, turns to the window, and looks outside.

“what is it?” he asks, clearly wanting you to leave soon because, well, you know how he acts when he is mad like this - nothing soft, just roughness that he chooses to show within his body language by fucking you hard and well, you are in a state in which you want him to devour you because you need it too, so, you tease him.

“what a beautiful greeting you have there pretty boy.”

“don’t call me that.” he nearly growls in annoyance.

chuckling, you get what you want; a miguel on edge, ready to make you regret speaking to him like that. “oh, you liked it yesterday, though, when you were -“ pointing to your thighs after sitting on his big bed. “between my thighs.”

only the memory of it made your stomach twist in pleasure and anticipation. he looked so pretty with his cute and teary eyes, looking up to see your face overflowing with the pleasure he was giving to you. your mind goes from his presence to last night and your thighs press into each other to feel something – but you stop when you hear his voice so closely than before. looking up, you see him right in front of you, his tight suit is on like yours, but you believe his suit is the best of you all – probably because of how his body looks thanks to it. his arms folded on his well-built chest, making him look bigger than before. his one eyebrow raised as he talks, “you have guts to come here after you tell me I am doing wrong in front of every fucking else and keep talking about last night?” he is more furious than he looks, you realize and well, it doesn’t help at all, especially when you feel the excitement. luckily, you are his ally, maybe more than that as you hope, not his enemy.

“yeah, I kinda do,” you say with a smirk on your face, being a brat, totally. “the expression on your face at that moment was surely worth seeing! I should take a photo of it only to put it on my wall and see –“

“huh,” he interrupts you, realizing what you’re trying to do and it makes him calmer now but you know he will make you going to pay, and when he says, “you sure have bravery today, not that I complain,” he smirks, holding your chin with his two fingers, making your head raise up as he kneels a little closer, “keep talking shit and I’ll show you the other things I can do with that mouth of yours, pretty girl.”

the air in your lungs decreases each second as your nose can’t find a source of air to breathe because of his words that made you freeze in your place, looking up at his determined face – he is about to make you regret.

“m – miguel – I.” you try to say when you see his eyes getting darker with each passing time and his fingers play with your parted lips.

“shh, keep it,” his fingers travel to your hair, playing with it softly, “you will have all night to say you’re sorry – that you didn’t mean to get me so angry, right, my pretty girl?”

gulping in both excitement and fear, you let him hold you by your neck, kneeling down to your level, pulling you closer, and beginning to kiss you passionately – reliving a lust through his lips mixed with madness on it as well which can be felt clearly since his hold on your neck become unsteady, making your hands grip the sheets of his bed.

moaning into the moan, you realize your legs begin to shake due to the weakness you begin to have – only because of knowing what will come next, still excited as hell for it to come sooner but you can’t say it aloud, not when he only acts to give you pleasure full of pain. “miguel! I – fuck –“ you moan when he bites your bottom lip, his teeth begin to appear slowly, alerting you that the night will not be easy.

“yes, like that, take everything I give to you while just moaning like a dumb for me,” he chuckles, that dark side of him taking some control of his soft side. fear and passion can be felt at the same time by you. “I bet you wanted it even before coming in here, didn’t you?” he asks, not seeking any answer to his questions – he just loves to talk in order to make you weaker each moment before him. “thought about it, planned it, wanted to make me wanna use that mouth of yours with the way I like most.”

he was right – he knew you more than you knew yourself and when words left his mouth, you came to the conclusion that you did it all on purpose all along the moment he looked at you with an angry expression and left you in there and still, letting you go after him no matter how he was angry with you. the bond you have is a complex one, both you and he knew it; him being what you need fully and you being his blood – the only taste he finds amusing to have.

“then, I will make your dreams come true,” you look at him with hope but his smirk only grows wider and darker, “In my own way, of course.”

oh, shit – you thought, he was going to do it roughly.

taking a little back, he looks down at your body, making you close your thighs together but he stops you, putting his legs between your thighs, opening them wider as you go back a little, palms behind you – on the surface of the bed, head raising up. “wider.” he commands, the voice turns into something that gives chills down to your spine as you open your legs wider – wide open that he can look at right into thighs, watching how the suit cling to your body fully, leaving lots of specific parts of your body visible to his eyes – another thing you did on purpose before arriving into his room.

“good – “ he says, “good girl.” so, he begins to use pet names now, well, it is a sign that these are the times he still acts soft before turning into a beast.

“miguel,” you try to say before his hands found your breasts over your suit, gripping them with his big hands. you can’t feel the warmness of his hands though and it only makes you want more, to feel him closely, not over your suit and not when his gloves are still on, “please. let me – let me take this off.” you point to the suit, hoping he will let you before it continues to give you half pleasure and half annoyance.

“huh,” he chuckles, playing with your hardened nipples, squeezing them not so gently. “did you believe I would be – nice enough to let you get pleasure so easily like that? oh, how delicate of you,” he kisses you again, biting it again. you sure he will leave a few red marks on there. “to think that I will be soft tonight.”

he then goes back, standing with his all glory, taking his hands back to put them on the lower part of the suit, and before your mind can make a comprehension of his actions, he opens his zipper, freeing his half-hardened thick and long cock right into your shocked face. saliva begins to appear on your half-open mouth when you see it. your hand makes an attempt to hold his cock but he is faster, gripping you from the wrist, tightly. you look at his face, “not hands. mouth.” he is not smirking or teasing no more, he just stands there, waiting for you to use your mouth.

“c’mon, open it,” he orders, and you listen to him without wasting any time, opening it widely enough but still, he is bigger than you can take. however, it isn’t like he used your mouth before – gently of course, but now, it doesn’t seem so gentle. “yeah, like that. a cock dumb – I will make you a cock dumb.”

you already are – just for him. however, you can’t tell it when he gives a few strokes to his cock, making it hardened and put it right into your open mouth in an instant, making you choke on his cock.

“m- mi – guel!” your voice is blurry as you close your eyes when he makes you take it all as much as you can.

“can’t speak freely when you have my cock in your wet mouth, huh?” he smirks again, taking his cock back, leaving so much salvia on your mouth that even a few of them connects your mouth with his cock, dripping into your suit from there and you only can cough in pain. pain – it is what you get a minute ago but still, you want to take it again. so, you look up at miguel’s face – satisfied expression on.

“again,” you say, confident of yourself. “I want it.” then, you open your mouth wider than before, leaning closer to his cock enough that its tip touches your lips from time to time as he strokes his length.

he chuckles, a little surprised by your words. “you are already a cock dumb for me, don’t you? fuck – I want to ruin you without even making you suffer. but, it should wait,” he puts his hand on your cheek, caressing it and then, moving to your back hair, pulling it roughly, earning a low growl from you which he enjoys – always. “I need to fill up that mouth of yours first fully.”

he nods to you and you know what you should do. firstly, you let your tongue slide on his cock from tip to the end, even giving a few licks on his heavy balls, making him growl – coming like melodies into your ears that you keep licking more and finally, you take half of it, trying to get used to it but miguel has other plans with you – rough and harsh ones; he holds your hair, pushing you forward. his cock touches the back of your mouth and you literally begin to cry in pain, choke on his cock, gasping, you try to take breaths but it is so hot – he is so hot.

salvias appear in your mouth, dripping from your lips onto his cock, making you move easier than before and you know he will not stop until he cums, so, you let him have his way with you; holding you from the hair, pushing your head forward and backward rapidly – roughly, moaning as he looks down at your pathetic face, his cock disappearing inside your wet eager mouth, earning beautiful sounds from you too.

holding his thick thighs, you try to find a source to stay still, not to fall into the ground because of the impact of him – fucking your mouth without thinking about the air you need, the pain you get, blurry vision because of tears running from your half-closed eyes to your cheeks, finally finding their places on his cock.

“m – mi –!” words can’t go out of your mouth which is getting used by miguel.

his gloomy eyes found yours, and the sight he sees makes him go deeper, want to remind you that silly actions and talks mean no good for you, not when you use them against his, even if they only have a purpose to be in a state like this, but apparently, you didn’t wait for him to be this rough. he didn’t too. nevertheless, he is having one of the best moments of his life.

“aw, it hurts? too bad. you’re gonna keep taking it until I’m satisfied,” he says, closing his eyes again as he throws his head back, feeling your warm mouth and lips around his cock. your nails scratching his thighs. “you gonna make me cum hard.”

and you do. it doesn’t take him any longer when you begin to moan in pleasure rather than pain, sending radiations to his cock, hands hug to his wrists, and you literally bounce on his cock. his hands hold you from the cheeks.

moaning, leaving a few growls, he says, “fuck, fuck – so good, so fucking good – !” and he cums into your mouth.

he stays still for a moment before looking down, seeing you look at him too. his one hand leaves your cheek while the other stays to caress it. he slowly takes his cock back from your mouth, letting all his semen stay in there too. when he takes off, you close your mouth, gulping a few times in order to leave no semen to go wasted, not after he gives you all.

breathtaking voices come from both of you. hotness spreading through your veins, keeping you warm. he says, “open your mouth.” you do, opening it. he nods in a satisfied manner.

your chest raises up and down while you are taking deep and rapid breaths to calm yourself down and miguel’s fingers find your eyes, cleaning tears away, getting softer.

“you look so pretty now,” he says, kissing your forehead, “but you will look prettier when you have my cock buried deep inside your walls doll.” he gives you a smirk and you realize it is not over – you're not even close to it.

“still wanna make me regret my words?” you ask, smiling, knowing damn well this is going much better than you think.

“no, not at all,” he shrugs, “I just want to put you in a position that you forget what you were having regret for.”

to be continued.

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thedreamlessnights · 6 months

Text

Liability - pt. 1

Astarion x NB!Tav

Synopsis: Two hundred years after being sentenced to prison by a corrupt magistrate, Arden is abducted by a nautiloid and subjected to a tadpole insertion. Little do they know, that very magistrate is on the same ship - and shares their uncomfortable affliction.

Warnings and tags: Brief mentions of violence and death. This fic follows the events of Baldur’s Gate 3, so there will be spoilers. Enemies to Lovers, Barbarian!Tav, Drow!Tav, Multi-Chapter, Upcoming NSFW.

Word Count: 2k

It all starts with burning sand and a mouthful of salt water.

Arden hasn’t seen the beach before, but the taste of it on their tongue is not a welcome one. It’s rancid. Raw. Stinging at the cut on the inside of their cheek. Long after they’ve spit it out, it lingers.

Everything does.

The throbbing of their head, the persistent squirming of that thing behind their eye. Even the grit of sand won’t seem to come off of them. It’s like every terrible sensation has been taken in and amplified by ten.

Everything aches as they move, stumbling to their feet, taking in the sights around them. The flaming remains of the ship. The deep, clear water. The distant greenery.

Well, Arden thinks, giving a bitter, half-smile that no one is around to see. At least I’ve learned something new about myself.

They give one last glance toward the shore then set off, a mantra echoing through their thoughts.

I fucking hate the beach.

If things were different, joining with a worshipper of Shar would be insanity.

Shadowheart may act as though it’s private information, but her loyalties are as clear as day. A follower of darkness. A pawn for the lady of loss. The presence of Shar is like a shadow that never fades - a wound that never heals - and Arden knows it.

Still, they’ve never been in less of a place to discriminate. The two of them have tadpoles in their brains, after all. They know each other from the ship. Shadowheart seems to trust them after being freed from that horrific pod.

Given the circumstances, this is the best either of them can manage, and Arden is certainly not about to complain.

So here they are. Wandering through the landscape together, a quiet but implicit trust placed between them. A common goal, intertwining their fates.

Are there more? Arden finds themself thinking. Are there more like us?

If the number of pods on the ship was any indicator, then there must be. The gith might be out there somewhere. Others, too. How many souls are wandering about, counting down the time until they’ll be changed into monsters?

Arden doesn’t even want to know. The further they get from this place, the better, but the circumstances aren’t making it easy. It’s blazing hot, and the headache that’s been there for hours is only getting worse.

Splitting. Throbbing.

It’s the reason they nearly miss the disembodied arm coming out of the rock, waving around in the midst of swirling purple light as if that’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

“Hello?” a voice says, accompanying the arm. “A hand? Anyone?”

It’s likely not a good idea to touch a random hand in a magical rock, but, with the day they’re having, Arden is long past that. They let out a sigh and reach out, taking hold of the hand and giving a sharp pull.

It doesn’t work.

For one, their palms are embarrassingly sweaty, and the voice on the other side isn’t exactly helping. Then there’s the matter that whoever is in there is almost… held back. As if he’s being continually sucked in while they’re trying to get him out.

“Harder! Come on, put your back into it!” the voice calls.

Arden has half a mind to let him go and walk away, but they don’t. Instead, they grit their teeth, tighten their grip, and yank. The arm loosens but still doesn’t give.

“Ow!” the voice says. “Careful!”

“Here,” comes Shadowheart’s voice, somewhere behind Arden. “I’ll help.” She steps closer, grabs onto their arm, and nods.

“On three,” Arden says. “One, two…”

Three.

The two of them give a heave, and the next thing Arden knows, they’re on their back in the dirt, and their ribs are being crushed by whoever was in that rock.

“Hells,” they mutter, squirming, lungs increasingly aching for air. “Get off!”

The weight above them shifts, then lessens. “Ah - apologies,” the man says, quickly getting to his feet. “As is likely obvious, that didn’t go as expected.”

He offers them a hand up, and they take it. Their ribs only ache a little now, but they scowl at him all the same.

The man simply smiles in response, taking in a breath as he briefly surveys the surroundings. “Gale of Waterdeep,” he finally greets, holding out a hand again.

He’s handsome, which isn’t something Arden ought to be noticing in times like this. Long brown hair, grey streaks, dark eyes.

A bad idea, they think.

Which, unfortunately, has never stopped them before.

“Arden.” They quickly shake his hand, and he has the decency to avoid grimacing at the sweat on their palm. If only it wasn’t so bloody hot out.

“Arden,” he says, his smile widening. “Pleased to meet you. Thank you, by the way. For a moment there, I thought that place might be the end of me.”

He pauses, and something flickers in his eyes for a moment. “Say - but I know you, don’t I? You were on the nautiloid as well.”

Arden thinks, for a moment, back to the horror of the ship. The pods, and the terrified faces trapped inside of them. The fear. The smell of rot and blood in the air. There had been so many of them, and it had all gone by so quickly…

“I was there,” they manage to reply, grimacing. “Shadowheart, too. We both received the, er, insertion.”

Gale frowns. “As did I. A rather unwelcome procedure, if I may say so. I take it you know what this ‘insertion’ will do to us, left untreated?”

Arden huffs. “That it’ll turn us into mind flayers, you mean? We’re aware. We were looking for a healer before we found you.”

“Were you?” Gale asks. “A strong course of action, and… perhaps the only one, in our case.” He hesitates. “What would you say to us working together? We could lend each other a hand again, so to speak.”

Arden shares a glance with Shadowheart, fighting the urge to chew on the inside of their cheek. Shadowheart simply raises her brows, looking neither opposed nor in favor of Gale’s proposition.

“Alright,” Arden answers, shifting from one foot to the other. “I don’t see why not. If I’m honest, we need all the allies we can get.”

“Excellent,” Gale says. “You won’t regret it, if I can help it. Shall we proceed?”

And just like that, they’ve become a group of three.

Arden is just thinking that the day might turn out alright when everything falls apart.

Gale is a chatterbox, but his words are a welcome distraction from the horrific spiral of their thoughts. Shadowheart’s snark has them smiling, and even the sun’s brutality has let up.

They’ve all agreed to end one another should one of them begin to turn, but it’s clear none of them want to resort to that if they can avoid it. Who would?

Aside from the occasional squirming, the tadpole is silent. Arden isn’t sure whether or not that’s a good sign, but they don’t feel like a monster. Not yet, at least.

And then Arden sees him.

It doesn’t come together at first - the sight of him. It’s like a word out of reach on their tongue, a riddle they can’t quite solve. Their strained mind can’t put the picture together, even though all of the pieces lay at their feet.

White hair. Pale skin. Something is off, not quite right. Something is familiar, but it’s not what it was. He looks them in the eye without a hint of recognition and waves them closer.

“Hurry,” he says, his voice pressing, almost frantic. He looks out toward the nearby field, then points into the distance. “There, in the grass. I’ve got one of those brain things cornered. You can kill it, can’t you?”

And it finally clicks.

His face. His voice.

It can’t be, they think, dizzy with something that’s somewhere between blinding fury and complete elation. The man responsible for the life they’ve lived for the last two hundred years is standing right in front of them. For a moment, they’re searching for his name, and then - it’s there.

Astarion.

“Well?” he asks impatiently. “Can you kill it or not?”

There’s a beat of stunned silence. Then they lunge at him.

Everything becomes oh so loud in the chaos, the blissfully rageful animal that Arden has become. Ears ringing, their heart pounding in their chest, the impact as the two of them hit the ground. The scrape of the dirt against their knees. They manage to get in one good punch to his face, and he yelps.

“Gods damn it!” he exclaims, fighting to get a dagger out of its sheath on his belt.

“Arden!” someone is yelling. “Arden, what in the hells are you doing?”

There’s a swift, sharp tug - a yank around their waist that knocks the wind straight out of them. Then they’re on their knees in the dirt, and a mace is at their throat.

“I don’t want to use this,” Shadowheart says, her voice trembling with something that might be anger. “But I will. If you’re turning.”

Arden finds themself trembling, bleeding and furious, barely able to think. “I…”

Their voice breaks, and they ball their hands into fists, sucking in a breath to calm themself. How the hells are they meant to explain?

“Gods,” Astarion hisses, stumbling to his feet, smoothing out his wrinkled clothes. “What in the hells is wrong with you?”

If Gale and Shadowheart didn’t look two seconds away from killing them, Arden would attack him again. “I’m not turning,” they insist as calmly as they can, keeping their gaze on Shadowheart. “I swear.”

For a moment, Shadowheart just studies them, internally debating. Then, finally, she lowers the mace.

“Tell me,” Astarion snipes, stepping a little closer. “Do you always do that to people in need?

His words are too much. Too ironic. Arden stares up at him, fuming, digging their fingers into the dirt so they don’t do something stupid. “And how do you treat people in need, Astarion Ancunín?”

Their words take him off guard. His eyes widen and he steps back, his gaze turning analytical as he looks them over.

“I… Do we know each other?”

They grit their teeth. “Yes. We do.”

But his face is blank. As they stare at him, they swear they can see fear in his eyes, but... nothing else. No recognition.

Gods. His eyes.

Arden is absolutely, positively certain that they’d been blue before. Blue. But they’re a dark, glimmering red now. If they didn’t know better, they’d say he was a vampire. But he’s in the sun. If he’s truly a vampire, he’d be burnt to a crisp now.

“Really?” he asks. “My deepest apologies, but it seems I’ve, erm… forgotten?”

They stare at him in sheer disbelief. Gods. He doesn’t even remember?

“Forgotten?” they ask sharply. “Interesting. And here I was, wondering how you’d managed to live with yourself after what you’d done. Do you forget everyone you’ve hurt, Astarion?”

Something flashes in his eyes. “Tell me who you are,” he spits.

Arden pushes to their feet, shaking, towering over him. “You were the magistrate for my case. Ten years in prison. I was innocent, but you didn’t care. Don’t you remember?”

They’re looking for their words to spark more anxiety in him, but - rather strangely - they seem to do the exact opposite of that. All of the tension bleeds out of his face, and he lets out a small, surprised laugh.

“Gods,” he says, relief palpable in his voice. “You’re angry over that?”

Arden doesn’t have any time to feel rage. Their tadpole squirms in their brain with a vicious intensity and a sharp, blinding pain, buckling them over.

Something flashes through their vision. Something that does not belong to them, forced unwillingly into their mind. Dark, familiar streets of the Lower City, but their limbs are not their own. Their actions, even their thoughts, all belong to the man in front of them.

There, he’s thinking. If I could just-

And then the memory is gone.

In the aftermath of the fading image, Arden suddenly feels as though they’ve lost something they’ll never quite get back. They stare at Astarion: similarly wide-eyed, two fingers pressed to his temple - and suddenly understand.

He has the tadpole, too.

#astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x mc #astarion #astarion bg3 #nonbinary tav #mywriting

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baronessblixen · 7 months

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Prompt: 23. "No, you won't understand, ever."

A different kind of post-episode fic for "The Unnatural": After his and Scully's baseball date, Mulder runs into Diana. (spoiler alert: this is an MSR fic) wc: 1,226

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 21: No Longer Stuck In The Past

He sees her waiting in front of his apartment, leaning against the door, and he stops for a moment, feeling like he’s stepped into the past. Back then, something odd years ago, this exact moment has happened. Except back then, his heart had soared, his lips had twisted into a smile, and her sight was welcome. Today, none of it applies.

“Diana,” he says as a way of greeting. “What are you doing here? It’s late.” He unlocks the door to his apartment and she just walks past him. Her perfume isn’t the same as it was back then, so it doesn’t carry any memories for him. All it makes him think about is Scully. Her softness and her subtlety. The exact opposite of everything Diana is.

“I came to see you, Fox.” She’s smiling and he looks at her, trying to find that part of him that was in love with her. “Were you out playing baseball with some friends?” Her smile is wavering. He knows why she’s asking. And what she really wants to know.

“In a way,” he replies, not wanting to give her what she wants. “What do you want? Is it a case? Did anything happen?”

“No, nothing of the sort. I wanted to see you. I called but… I miss you, Fox.” She’s walking closer to him and he’s rooted to the spot. “You’ve always loved baseball.” She reaches out and touches his jersey. The one that has Scully all over it. Diana blurs in front of him and turns into Scully. Into the moment when they said goodbye. She touched his arm as if unsure if she should let him go. He felt the same. But tonight wasn’t about jumping on trains or breaking into government facilities. Tonight was a new beginning. The start of a new iteration of them. Without saying a single word, they both decided to go home alone. Now he wishes they hadn’t.

“You couldn’t tell me that at work?”

“That’s hardly a conversation for the basement, is it?” She tilts her head, giving him all her best moves.

“You could have called.”

“I told you that I tried. You weren’t picking up.”

“Because I was busy,” he says.

“That’s why I came here.” She’s always been like this. Took whatever she wanted. Even if it meant being pushy. The one time he pushed back, she disappeared into the night without a single word of goodbye. Now she’s standing here, claiming she misses him. She’s the same Diana she was when he was in love with her. But he’s not the same Mulder.

“I’m tired, Diana. I had a long day and I’d like to go to bed.”

“Oh right, you have a bed now. When did that happen?”

“How did you even know I’d come home tonight?” His words hit her unexpectedly, that much is clear. She recoils as if he just hit her.

“Where else would you have gone?”

He laughs. There’s no humor in it whatsoever. “That’s so you. You really think that I- Diana, please leave, okay? Before either of us does something we might regret. We can talk tomorrow. We can meet for a coffee or-”

“Coffee?” She spits the word. “I don’t want to drink coffee and reminisce, Fox.” No, he thinks. That’s not what she wants. She wants to push her way back into his life. Into his pants, and into his mind. He’s never seen so clearly. It’s as if someone has removed a blindfold. Scully, he thinks. It must have been Scully. He thought she was just jealous; that may have played a part. But he sees now what she must have seen in Diana in the beginning. His heart breaks all over again, like it did back then. This time, however, it breaks for what could have been. They could have become friends, allies. It’s not what she wants. At all.

“I was playing baseball, Diana. But I wasn’t with some friends. I was with Scully.” Diana snorts.

“I don’t understand what you see in her.”

“No,” he says, a half-laugh slipping from his mouth. “You won’t understand, ever.”

“She doesn’t get you, Fox. I see the way she undermines you.” Diana is pleading with him. She must know that what she’s saying is far from the truth. But she doesn’t give up. They have that in common.

“You don’t know her at all. Or me, for that matter. You did – once. When I was younger. I’m no longer the same man.”

“Clearly,” she says, derision in her voice. “You’d pick her. After everything we’ve been through?” She takes a step toward him and he lets her. “After everything we’ve done?” Her hand is on his chest and she looks up at him, her eyes begging.

He thinks of nights when they sat here together, talking about the X-Files. Nights where they were wrapped up in each other. Nights full of passion. They’re a part of him, but they’re in the past. And for once, he has no desire to revisit it. He touches her hand and sees hope bloom in her eyes. But he removes it from his chest, holding it a moment longer.

“I’m grateful for what we had, Diana. And I’d like to be friends. That’s all we’re going to be, though.”

“Friends.” There’s hurt in her expression and her whole demeanor. She thought she had him. She thought she could convince him. Mulder knows her. He can read her all too well. He doesn’t know why he was so blind before. Maybe he didn’t want to see. He closed his eyes and turned away, refusing to face the truth.

“You’re choosing her?” To him, it’s not a choice, but he knows Diana wants an answer so he nods. “You’re not even together,” she says lamely, making Mulder chuckle in spite of the situation.

“My relationship with Scully is not your business, Diana.”

“You really have changed,” she says, picking up her purse. The pain of rejection is still evident, but he thinks there’s admiration in her voice, too. “Well, I’ll be going then. You know where to find me if you do change your mind. You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

He remains quiet, biting his lip. He does know what he’s letting go. And he’s ready. His arms tingle with the memory of holding Scully. Her soft form pressed against him. The trust she put in him to help her hit each ball that was flung at them. Her laughter. The sweetest sound he’s ever heard. And he wants to hear it again. And again, and again.

“You’re not even listening, are you?” Diana says. “I’ll see you at work then.”

“Goodbye, Diana,” he says and she just throws him a look, not saying another word. He doesn’t wait until her steps recede outside and grabs the phone. He dials her number by heart and she picks up after just a few rings.

"It's me," he says, smiling and wishing he could see her.

“Mulder?” she asks, perplexed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay, Scully. I was just missing you.”

“You saw me an hour ago.”

“I know.” He grins. The memory of Diana’s visit is fading already. “But it was a long hour. A very long hour.” On the other end of the line, Scully laughs.

#fictober23 #okay this is my new favorite #i loved writing this SO much #i hope you guys like it too <3 #just cause i like it so much #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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ladamedusoif · 6 months

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It might be the cold meds talking, but I feel like I need to have a ramble about writing - partly because I’ve seen a few “you write for YOU and whatever you WANT” posts over the last few days, some of which have been spot on and some not so much.

To clarify: this post isn’t about me. Or at least, it’s MOSTLY not about me. It’s just some observations about fic.

This is a lovely and important message. Ultimately, we do all write for ourselves. Of course we do.

But saying “write for you and only for you!” is easier when you’re someone who routinely gets hundreds of notes on a fic within the first couple of hours. Or when you’ve got a massive audience already. Or when you write something that seems to get more attention than anything else in terms of popular characters and tropes (ahem Joel age gap smut ahem).

Trends come and go in literature of all kinds, whether properly published works or fics. That’s par for the course.

But the problem is when it feels like only a certain kind of story gets any attention. When stories with real heart and love and care and feeling seem to be routinely ignored because they don’t fit the bill: they’re slow burns, they don’t involve popular tropes, but they’re proper stories that could exist without any connection to the fandom they’ve been written for.

And, worse, when the people writing those stories start to feel deeply disheartened and as if it’s just not worth it.

We talk a lot about anon hate (spoiler: don’t do it) and nine times out of ten that seems to be based on the idea of people writing potentially triggering or taboo topics saying they’ve received “hate”. (Sometimes this is actual hate and sometimes it’s genuine, considerate questioning around warnings etc.)

Thing is: the people writing the ‘unpopular’ stories get hate - genuine, real, nasty hate - too. This post isn’t really about me, but as an example: I’ve not turned on anon asks in months, because of the last shitfest. And I’m not alone, because I know what people have had sent into their inbox in response to the most inoffensive, sweet stories. It baffles me.

All this is to say - I wish people would be a little bit more open in what they want to read, and would recognise that “anon hate” isn’t just about puritanical prudes trying to “tell people what to write” as seems to be the general assumption. People keep trying to put a bit more diversity out there in the fic buffet, to write loving and carefully crafted stories, and for all the “write it for you” posts it still feels like it doesn’t matter. Like no one wants it. And that’s when writers start to think they’re awful, their ideas are bad, their style is weak.

Worse? They get shitty, mean-spirited asks and comments. (Even if it’s not “hate”. I’m still baffled by the people who say they couldn’t finish a one-shot of mine because there wasn’t a significant age gap between the Reader and the male character… but I don’t think that’s strictly hate, as such. Dispiriting, though.)

And what happens then? They stop writing. The stories cease. And the fic buffet becomes more and more one-note, more and more dictated by prevailing winds and a particular kind of purple prose style. And the readers - who might have found those stories if more people had engaged with them and reposted and shared them - wonder why no one seems to write for them.

A while back I wrote a tag that was something like “there’s room for everything”. Unfortunately, that “everything” remains a little limited, at least in terms of what actually seems to get picked up and gain traction. And “there’s room for everything” doesn’t mean that all writers are above reproach, either.

Try something new, people. Give a soft story a go. Who knows, you might like it.

#rambling rose #writing #support your local fanfiction writers #if there’s room for everything then there’s room for everything #does not mean you can’t take any criticism ever #it should mean more engagement with a wider range of stories #unfortunately that does not seem to be the way #fanfiction

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oh-katsuki · 1 year

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leave the light on (gojo x reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Summary: What Gojo Satoru has in innate talent for being a sorcerer, he lacks in intimacy and human connection.

"None of this is to say that he’s cruel by nature. He is, but you don’t think it’s because he tries to be. Satoru gets no pleasure from maiming. Hurting people, he says, is all just part of the game. It’s part of being the strongest. The weak get hurt and Gojo Satoru is anything but weak. But you don’t think that he’s cruel. At least not by choice. You’ve seen the regret, the flash of pain that crosses his features when he is reminded of the seemingly unending horrors he’s committed. That gentle side to him, which he rarely shows, is apparent to you even when he is locked deep behind the false facade he calls Gojo Satoru.

Still, he has redeemable qualities. They’re there, just as present as the others though perhaps more well-guarded. Gojo is sensitive. His feelings are fragile when it comes to love, kept close to his chest where no one can touch them. You like that about him. You like that he feels so deeply, that he loves so much he doesn’t know what to do with it. There’s tragedy there, in Satoru being so caring and so feeling but needing to carry out horrors you couldn’t imagine. You love that about him too, his tragedy."

Content Warnings: jujutsu kaisen manga spoilers, heavy angst, relationship problems, toxic relationship, very light smut, afab reader, slight mentions of depersonalization, resentment, mentions of obsession, implications of codependency but like... they’re not REALLY codependent

Word Count: 8k

A/N: let me know if i forgot any tags because i didn't know how to tab for this LOLLL also sorry in advance

Your boyfriend—or fiance, or soon-to-be husband—is a genius. He’s brilliant. If asked, he could exorcise any curse without really needing to put up much of a fight. You wouldn’t be the only person who would venture to say that he is the strongest sorcerer of your generation. You use the word “strongest” because he is not the “best”. The word “best” implies skill. It implies a desire to do good and take the action necessary to achieve it. Gojo Satoru was born this way and you wouldn’t describe him as is someone who does good.

The word “good” is so weighted. That’s not to say that Satoru isn’t. Good, you mean. He is, fundamentally so. But he’s not good. He’s not a good guy. You think that he tries. You think that some part of him wants to become the man you know that he is, but for all of his strengths, he is self-sabotaging to a fault. For every good thing he does, there is an equally reprehensible thing, like a scale forced to balance itself out. True Neutral, he incorrectly calls it. He tells you that someone with this much power can’t pick sides and that he needs to remain unbiased. You think that it’s just self-sabotaging. You think that “true neutral” is an excuse to keep himself tucked away behind the padlock he keeps around his chest. An excuse to be cruelest of all to the only person he claims to want to protect.

None of this is to say that he’s cruel by nature. He is, but you don’t think it’s because he tries to be. Satoru gets no pleasure from maiming. Hurting people, he says, is all just part of the game. It’s part of being the strongest. The weak get hurt and Gojo Satoru is anything but weak. But you don’t think that he’s cruel. At least not by choice. You’ve seen the regret, the flash of pain that crosses his features when he is reminded of the seemingly unending horrors he’s committed and the unignorable desire he has to protect those around him. That gentle side to him, which he rarely shows, is apparent to you even when he is locked deep behind the false facade he calls Gojo Satoru.

He’s smart, admirably so, and can keep up a conversation incredibly well. Very little truly gets by him, even if he pretends it does to protect your or his own best interest. And though he’s got a penchant for being irritating, he’s the furthest thing from boring. You think that Satoru might be the most interesting man you’ve ever met, if not the most deliberately annoying. He’s affectionate, or at least he used to be.

When you first started seeing Satoru, he had his hands on you at all times. There wasn’t anything someone could do to keep him from you. His affection, once he was willing to face it, bled from him like ink through paper. Now, the affection feels tired. It’s not as if it is gone, but you’re noticing with each day that it’s always the same. It should be a comfort. It would be if he were anyone else, but Gojo Satoru is Gojo Satoru and when he is stagnant it is cause for worry. You’ve learned that if he stays the same, it means that he’s putting on airs.

You don’t think this means that he doesn’t love you. In fact, you think he truly does. You think that Satoru loves you as much as he’s capable of loving any one person right now, but you’re learning that, between the weight of his title and the elusive qualities of his personality, it might not be much. You think, as minutes tick by to hours, that maybe he’s not capable of giving you the good love you deserve and that, in your devotion to him, you might be settling for less.

It’s nearly 2 am and the light in the living room is still on. You can see it coming in through the crack beneath your bedroom door. The space in the bed beside you is empty, still half-made from when Satoru left this morning.

He’d asked you to leave it on for him but said that you shouldn’t wait up. Satoru had told you after a quick kiss in the morning that he’d be back late but that he’d see you tomorrow. Still, it’s 2 am and the light in the living room is on. Its yellow-orange glow bleeds onto the bedroom carpet of your shared apartment. It paints the white of your comforter in a soft, late-night glow. You wiggle your fingers in it, looking at the way it deepens the silhouette of each individual finger and you ignore the empty feeling of the weightless bed beside you.

You hear the soft rustle of something in the kitchen, the clink of glass against the marble countertop, and you know that he’s arrived home. Satoru must have warped instead of using the door. You can hear him dragging his feet a little.

You rise from the bed, the soft carpet hitting your bare feet. It’s a little cold, like the air conditioner in the room is turned up too high, but you stand on it nonetheless, allowing your legs a moment to get used to the weight of you.

As you pad to the bedroom door, you can hear him sigh and you take a deep breath before you slowly turn the knob. The door lets out directly into the living room, an open space with high ceilings, carpeted because you prefer it that way. You can see the empty living room, a white couch facing a dark flat-screen TV, and a clear glass coffee table behind it. To your right, the kitchen, with its white marble shining under the light fixture’s nighttime glow.

Satoru is standing by the switch, his hand on the wall. His eyebrows perk up a little when he sees you come in and he tilts his head to the side. He’s taken his blindfold off, his finger hovering over the switch as if he were about to press it.

“You’re still up,” He says softly, his gaze softening when he roams it across your tired figure.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“I wanted to see you,” you speak softly. “How was the mission?”

Satoru shrugs his shoulders, giving you a little smile. “Fine, how was yours?”

“I didn’t have one,” you bite the inside of your cheek, “I was at Jujutsu High today, remember?”

He nods a little, white hair falling beside his ears. “Oh, that’s right. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “Doesn’t matter. Come to bed.”

Satoru switches the light off and you hear him move through the dark to you. When he reaches the doorway you’re standing in, his hand comes to your hip, long fingers brushing by it as he leans forward and kisses you softly. He tastes like copper and you furrow your brows at him as he moves past you and into the bedroom.

You watch as he takes off his shirt in the dark room, the way his muscles flex as he raises his arms above his head. It’s dark, but you’ve seen him enough times to know what it looks like by heart. You know him like this, naked and as vulnerable as he allows himself to be. You can make out the lines of his abdomen in the dark before he turns back to give you a soft smile. Satoru tilts his head toward the bed and you nod wordlessly, crawling into it as he steps into the bathroom, turning on the light and shutting the door.

The shower starts, a soft pitter-patter and hum of water through pipes. The sound makes you sad hearing it this late at night. Satoru showers after he’s killed someone and it’s with a heavy heart that you turn over in bed and close your eyes. You listen to the sounds as you lay in bed, the wet slap of water on the tile as he shampoos his hair and then the squeak of the knob as he turns the shower off. Then, you hear the soft rustle of his towel as he dries himself off before he opens the door to the bathroom and switches the light off again.

You turn over to watch him put on boxers to sleep in, following the way he steps into them before he pads around to the other side of the bed and pulls the sheets from where they’re tucked beneath the mattress. You go to him instinctively, crawling into his arms and onto his chest as he wraps them around you.

For a moment, you lay there quietly, feeling the deep inhale and exhale of his chest as he stares at the ceiling. His warmth, something only you are privy to, bleeds into your skin. It’s a reminder that he tries, that his vulnerability, while minimal, is ever-present when he is with you.

“Did you kill someone today?” You ask, watching the wall opposite you.

You feel him nod before he inhales and turns onto his side, pulling your face into his chest with a wide hand on the back of your head. “Yeah, but what does it matter?”

“I think it does,” you say softly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m the strongest, why wouldn’t I be?” The strongest, not the best.

You give up on getting anything out of him. Satoru has never opened up to you about this type of thing. He lets those casual cruelties roll off of his shoulders. You’re not privy to what he feels or thinks about it.

It used to bother you. You used to yell at him for it, tell him that he needed to tell you things. Satoru would always insist that there was nothing to tell. He killed someone because he had to. He does it because he has to. You remember fighting with him about it, pushing for answers until you were completely defeated, until you wanted to cry from how little he shared with you. Now, you just feel numb. You know that he might be the same but you think it’s different to feel numb about something you have to do and about someone you love.

You do love him, more than anything. Satoru is someone who you love so deeply you feel it in your bones, but you also feel sorry for him. You resent him for his carelessness and the way he treats you, though you’ll never let it show. But you love him. For better or worse, he’s yours and you’re his.

His obsessiveness only spans across the superficial plane. You think that even if he loves you, he doesn’t have the capacity to love you properly. There’s no room for anything but what he is—or what he doesn’t know he is.

Laying next to him, it sometimes feels like you don’t know him. Satoru is so far away all the time. He’s always wandering off, lost somewhere deep in his thoughts and the facade he puts up. He’s so caught up in being beyond human that he’s forgotten that he is one.

You can feel it when you hold him, that indescribable wall he puts up between himself and the world. A long time ago you thought it was charming. You found his desire to be so far away from everyone else emotionally alluring. You wanted to be the only person he let in and now, even after being let in, you still somehow find yourself on the outside. This time, however, you’re too close to go to anyone else and too far to feel near to him. It gives way to a heady, aching feeling in your chest and beside you, Satoru stirs like he can feel it.

It’s through no fault of his own, you know that. Satoru is the way he is because of the circumstances presented to him and you don’t blame him—or you try not to. You know he loves you, you can feel it in his hesitance, in the heavy regret that sits on his tongue on the rare occasions he decides to share a little more with you. Satoru’s way of loving is through regret only. Loss is the only way he knows how to meet love.

Satoru falls asleep first, leaving you alone once again. He rolls to the other side of the bed, facing away from you with his arms secured around himself. You mirror his position and find that the bed feels the same whether he’s in it or not.

—

“You like me that much?” Gojo teases, tilting his chin back and angling his head towards the sky.

He’s looking at you over the apples of his cheeks through his eyelashes, his lower lash line hidden behind the round swell of flesh below them. Barely 16 years old and somehow managing to shine like polished silver.

You roll your eyes, huffing and turning away from him as you turn back to the textbook you’ve been pretending to read. “Fat fucking chance, Satoru.”

Satoru laughs, taunting further as he leans forward on his haunches, sinking into his weight and tilting his head to the side. “Then why are you so concerned with what I’m doing?”

“Because the way you’re tapping the pen on the table is insanely annoying, much like someone else I know,” you respond, clicking your teeth in exasperation.

There are times when you enjoy your borderline-hateful banter with Satoru. Today is not one of those days. Instead, his voice grates on your ears. It’s a rich tenor, not coming from the bottom of his chest, but the top somewhere near his collarbones.

For the most part, Satoru gets on your nerves. He has for the past year and a half. What makes it worse is that you can’t really figure out if you hate it or not. Satoru is someone who seems oddly far away despite his affinity for skinship and ceaseless talking. It’s like he speaks only in pre-thought-out, pre-recorded sentences that he’s deemed to fit the person that is Gojo Satoru.

Part of you wants to be closer to the real him, to dig past whatever it is he has mucking up the surface of him. Sometimes, you think it comes out. Only rarely and only in small snippets. Still, sometimes you’re able to see the flash of emotion that crosses his face when something happens, only a sliver. To you, it’s like light under the crack of a door—barely there, but casting the entirety of the room in a low, warm glow. You think it is exceptionally beautiful like the rest of him, like the intricately carved mask he wears.

Everything there is to like about Satoru is locked tight behind a door with a big, heavy lock. Some part of you, the more twisted part that believes there’s nothing you can’t fix, wants to unlock it and organize the boxes in there. You want to know more about him, to see Satoru in full for what he is. To dust off those boxes and clean them up so that he can breathe a little easier and the room can stay unlocked forever.

—

There’s a distinct sadness in realizing you’ve lost yourself to love. All of those little sacrifices, all of those small choices, all of those minuscule surrenders that start to add up. They change how you are made. People have often tried to sell romance to you as meeting in the middle. Don’t give to much and don’t give too little. Find the middle ground and stay in it. They don’t tell you that it still means fundamental change. It still means painting your face when you’d rather lay yourself bare. At least with Satoru, you think it does.

You don’t do it because he’s asked you to or because you think he wouldn’t love you otherwise. There’s no doubt that if you did lay yourself bare, he would accept you for everything you have. You think that even at your craziest, he would be as devoted as ever. You do it because you feel that somehow the truest part of you would become tainted if you let him touch it.

You’re not sure when that vague concept started to take shape in your mind, but it’s been there for quite some time. It’s a small voice, the one that tells you that you need to protect what you are or you’ll lose that too. You want to protect it, to take care of it the way you know Satoru is incapable of, so you paint your face around him. Only a little, emotional rouge and mascara, but it’s enough to offer you a wall of your own. You find that the longer you love Satoru, the more you match.

Today, you don’t recognize your reflection. The person looking at you doesn’t match who you perceive yourself to be, tired eyes half-lidded from years of emotional giving and reservation. You raise your fingers to your face, feeling the warm skin there and wondering when it took on this particularly dull, unrecognizable tone. You swallow your resentment for the man responsible, though you know it isn’t his fault. It’s thick going down, angry and bile-coated. It makes the back of your throat taste rancid, swelling with the weight of who you used to be as you choke it down. You put up less of a fight nowadays, swallowing yourself like medicine.

He’s been gone for days now and the apartment you share has remained largely empty. You spend your time at Jujutsu High, tending to his paperwork and occasionally his students in his all too frequent absences. He loves them too. You can see it when he talks about them, the way his expression takes on the more gentle quality he reserves for the people close to him. You love that about him. You think that when he looks like that, you could go on loving him like this forever.

The halls are empty this afternoon and your shoes click against the wood floor. It’s a dull, soft thud. The wood is old, worn over the years, and covered in scuff marks from the students who’ve passed through these halls, you included.

You can remember meeting him here, with Shoko and Getou and Nanami. Your ghost lingers here, haunting the halls in the last place you can remember being yourself. Satoru’s ghost lives here too, you think. All of yours do.

You think that Satoru lost the first half of himself when Toji Fushigurou killed him. His first real taste of failure. The second part, vanished when he was forced to kill Getou Suguru. Another failure of an entirely different kind. You ache for him when you remember. You ache for the losses he’s been forced to shoulder and the heart too big and heavy for the man that he is. It makes your resentment, this all too familiar anger, even more vile to you. It’s not his fault and you need to remind yourself of it every day. You think that if you didn’t, you’d lose your mind.

Satoru’s desk is disorganized and you heave a sigh when you walk up to it. You think that this place would smell like his cologne, the expensive one on his side of the bathroom counter, but it doesn’t. He’s not here enough. It’s the same way your apartment smells, vaguely empty and unlived in.

You sit in his desk chair, sifting through the paperwork before starting on the first. The important information is filled out, the curses he’s exorcised, the missions he’s been dispatched on. All of them are typed up into neat documents. Incident reports and death certificates and witness reports. Half of them are brutal. Half of them include death. Dangerous things he’s never told you about. The things that Satoru has bottled up in fear of scaring you off or burdening you with too much, all kept from you to protect you. It makes him feel like a stranger and, as you scrawl his signature across the bottom of each page, your heart sinks deeper into your chest until you don’t even bother to read them anymore. You can’t do it.

It’s late in the evening now and the sun has set, casting the office in a pale blue tone characteristic of the late hours of the night. You haven’t turned on the light in the room yet, eyes accustomed to the dim glow emanating from outside. It makes everything look soft. Even the hard edges of the desk in front of you recede into a fuzzy, red-blue line.

The only sound in the room is that of your breathing and the scrawl of the pen across paper. It sounds hazy in the pleasant way pen on paper does, spilling a thin line of black ink across the blue-cast paper marked with Satoru’s official seal.

Knock, knock. “You’re still here?”

You raise your head, half hoping to see Satoru, half knowing that it isn’t him. Nanami stands in the doorway, his gray suit brighter in the dark of the room.

“Yeah, finishing up some paperwork,” you mumble, glancing back down at the work in front of you.

“For him?” Nanami says it somewhat distastefully. It’s got a bite to it, as well as the characteristic downturn of gloomy understanding.

You shrug your shoulders, glancing up and offering him a little smile. “Who else would I do this for?”

Nanami gives a short laugh, nodding his head.

He lingers in the doorway, quiet for a moment as you continue your work.

“Need something?” You question, accustomed to Kento’s silent lingering. You’ve learned that it means he wants to ask you something. Lately, a lot of people hover this way.

“I was just curious if you’re alright?” He says, not stepping in further, his weight evenly resting on both of his feet and his hands at his sides.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You don’t look up, signing one paper and then the next.

Nanami gives an exasperated exhale, “It’s 10 pm and you haven’t even turned on the light in here. I’ve never seen you so eager to sit and do paperwork.”

You smile down at the paper you’re signing. “Do I have to keep the light on? I can see just fine like this.”

“It just seems like you’re hiding. That’s all.” Nanami says matter of factly, his tone even and as straightforward as ever.

“And what are you doing here?” you say, putting down the pen on the desk and looking up at him. “Like you said, it’s 10 pm and as I recall, you hate doing overtime.”

“I’m filling in for Satoru,” he offers cleanly. You know it means that he knows Satoru hasn’t been home in days.

“Sucks,” you respond bitterly. It’s petty, the way you feel yourself taking your anger out on him.

“My apologies. I was just worried.”

“You don’t need to be,” you say rolling your head on your shoulders. “Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”

You pause, feeling a lie come to the front of your mouth. It swells there, heavy and lead-laden. Nanami eyes you for a moment, you can make his features out in the dark of the room while he stares.

“Satoru and I are fine,” you add quietly, unable to keep looking at him.

You’re not quite sure why it feels like a lie, even though you know that it is. Maybe it’s because it hurts to admit that you’re not, that the romance you thought would be undying has taken on a sour and stale feel. That resentment, with its dull point, bores into the center of your chest like a boulder does to the soft earth it sits on.

“Sorry, but I don’t believe you.”

Nanami, before Satoru, was your closest friend. You shared everything with him and he begrudgingly listened. He took whatever weight you couldn’t manage without complaining. After Satoru, however, you found yourself distant, spending the recent years in a somewhat uncomfortable stalemate of things to say.

“So what, Nanami?” You laugh a bit, trying to keep the defensive edge from your voice. “You want me to spill all my relationship problems to you like we’re in high school again?”

Nanami shakes his head, “Not particularly.”

“Then what?” You breathe out, losing steam rather quickly.

“How long has it been since he’s been home?”

You purse your lips, jaw tensing as you debate on how to respond. How do you respond without letting on too much? You know it would kill Satoru to know you were having this conversation in the first place.

“This is the fourth day.”

Nanami nods a little, “did he tell you how long he’d be gone?”

“Does he ever?” You laugh. It’s not a real one, pitiful in the middle, and it gives away what you feel. Then, you stand from the desk, gathering the papers and organizing them into two semi-neat piles. “I should go home.”

“Why are you with him?”

You turn your head sharply, shocked by the bluntness of the question. Nanami simply peers back at you, his sincerity showing on his face. You know he doesn’t mean harm in posing the question, neither to you nor Satoru, and it doesn’t sound jealous. Instead, it comes across as quantitative and somewhat analytical, like his curiosity has been genuinely piqued. That, or he’s just good at hiding the affection you know he has for you. Probably both.

“Because I love him.”

You don’t even have to think about the answer. It’s instinctive and definitive. You love him and you always have. There’s no room for doubt because even through the hurt you feel at times because of him, love consumes the most space. It’s rich and heavy in your chest, slightly soured, but still ever-present.

“Even through this?” He says softly.

“Especially through this,” you offer, though not gently, “I would love him at the end of the world.”

Nanami nods and then laughs a little. It’s rare and the mood in the room lightens immediately.

“You’re a better person than me,” he says incredulously, gently.

“I don’t think I am.”

Nanami shrugs.

“You should head home too, Kento.” You say, placing your hand on his shoulder. “It’s late.”

—

Gojo’s face is in your chest, his shoulders rising and falling in steady breaths. He hasn’t spoken for almost an hour, instead he just sits against your chest and tries to gather his thoughts.

It’s been a year and a month since Satoru seemed like a person. Since he felt alive the way he was before he met Toji. Before Suguru defected. Instead, he’s been somewhat hollow, emptier than you’ve seen him before. These days, it seems like if you unlocked the door he hides, it would be empty. At least at first glance it would be.

You can feel your pajama shirt growing damp with his breath, your hands beginning to sweat where they rest against his thick shoulder blades. He’s trembling slightly like he’s afraid.

You don’t quite know how to deal with this side of him, though you know that what you feel is affection. You know that, somewhere between hating him and looking up to him, you’ve fallen in love with him. It’s undeniable, this fondness in your chest that blooms only when he’s around. Only when he looks at you, only when he smiles, only when you catch that sliver of light under the door.

“Why are you here?” you mumble.

He’s come to your dorm in the middle of the night. He knocked on the door and let himself in, talking you out of your sleepy haze before growing oddly quiet. Then, he collapsed into the position he’s in now, silently clutching you around the middle.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he offers, quietly. It’s barely a whisper, spoken hoarsely.

You open your mouth and stutter then fall silent without saying anything. You sit on his words, the way they must taste on his tongue, the admittance behind it. Your heart hammers in your chest, though whether it’s because of your nerves or because of your sadness for him, you don’t know.

“Okay.”

It’s all you can say. The simple word is the only thing you can muster.

You raise your hand to his hair, playing with the fine locks of white. You wrap them around your finger, enamored by their near-transparent beauty. Beneath it, you can see the way the skin of his collarbone catches the light. Satoru’s so fair-skinned. On more occasions than one, you’ve asked him if he needs an umbrella to keep from frying to a crisp when he walks to the convenience store. Tonight though, you think he looks exceptionally beautiful, almost glowing like a ghostly-pale spectre.

Suguru defected a month ago, leaving Satoru alone in a world he feels far too large for. You can tell that much from the stark change in his mask since Suguru left. It’s like there’s a small chip in it, the edge jagged and catching his skin when he moves too much.

Something in your chest blooms while you sit there. You feel privy to something no one else is. It’s like you’ve been let in on a secret and you almost feel privileged to be able to see it. This part of Satoru, the sensitive one that you’ve yet to see in full until tonight, is remarkably powerful. Tonight, Satoru is far easier to read.

You feel him swallow absentmindedly and brace yourself for the silence to be broken. When he inhales, it sounds like it bleeds. Satoru bleeds onto your chest and stomach where he lays, letting himself spill out into your lap like water in a basin.

“I think…” he starts, voice thick and laced with something you’ve never heard on him, “I think I love you.”

The lock on the door drops to the floor and light, warm and rich, floods out from the room that is behind the mask called Gojo Satoru.

—

When you return home, the kitchen light is off and you flip it on with a tired sigh. The apartment is still empty. You don’t know when Satoru will be back, but you do know to leave the light on. He doesn’t mind the bill, as long as he knows that he’s coming home to you.

You think about your conversation with Nanami, however short it was, and wonder if Satoru is truly rubbing off on you. It shouldn’t have been hard to indulge Nanami of all people in how you’re feeling, but even the little information you gave him felt like an insurmountable summit.

Maybe it’s because saying it will mean admitting that it’s real, that you two aren’t how you used to be. Speaking out loud that things are hard means speaking them into existence. You know that if you say it out loud, it will only get harder. You’ll be forced to mourn the loss of something you haven’t had in a long time.

You wouldn’t call it falling out of love. It’s just different now. The touches linger but they don’t feel the same. There is a quiet but pervasive distance between the person you know you are and the person you are living as. The real you is loud and obsessive, boisterous and nosey to a fault. It’s possible that the real you is even borderline psychotic about the people you love.

You and Satoru matched back then, wearing jealousy and possessiveness like a badge. Your obsession with each other, which still runs deep considering neither of you have the heart nor mind to pack your bags and leave, burned the brightest out of any of the emotions you experienced. You loved his subtle insecurity, the slightly dangerous edge he had to him when you pushed him to his absolute limit on jealousy. It was fun, it was exciting, and—though you feel it now, you don’t have the energy to indulge anymore. You’re too tired from trying to feel it deeper, to connect on a more personal level, to understand Satoru despite the fact that he doesn’t understand himself.

You used to grow worried when he’d vanish for so long. You used to obsess over it, drive yourself insane with a need to see him safe and sound back at home. Now, though the worry is still there, you know he’ll be back. There has never been a time he hasn’t returned home to you, though you hate to see him blood-drenched and battered. You know he will be home, returning to the kitchen whose light has been left on with sore feet and tired eyes. He’ll trudge in, dragging his bare feet on the carpet, and collect you in his arms. He’ll bleed affection, tell you that he missed you, kiss you goodnight, and then head to sleep without ever giving you the privilege of emotionally supporting him.

Satoru doesn’t come home for another four days and you’re reminded again that it somehow always feels like you’re worrying on your own. You’re tired of doing it alone.

—

The press of his body against yours. The smooth, almost-untouchable expanse of his chest slipping against your own. His hands laced with yours, long fingers curled beside your head around your smaller ones. You can feel the heat of his body radiating from him, droves of it pulling a thin sheen of sweat from your skin.

Satoru’s brows are knitted together, pulling up in the center and gently twisting his face into an expression of desperate, focused pleasure. You run your free hand along his jaw, carving out the contours of it with your fingers.

He groans into your hand, letting his head fall down against it as his hips continue their pace.

“I’m fuckin’ obsessed with you,” he breathes, blowing sticky hair from his forehead with his exhale.

“Oh yeah?” you whine softly, pinching his face in your hand before navigating it down to rest on his shoulder which moves fluidly with each thrust.

“Mhm,” he responds, raising his head so that his mouth hovers above yours, “I need you- all the time.”

Satoru kisses you, wet and warm. His tongue slides across yours, greedy in its endeavor to claim what lays behind your teeth. It clicks gently in the silence of the room, music of its own kind. He untangles his fingers from yours, reaching up to angle your face so that he can kiss you deeper, take you further.

You let him, malleable under his touch, warm with the lack of his ever-present infinity.

“Tell me you need me too,” he pulls away, lips brushing yours when he speaks.

“I need you, Satoru,” you respond, tipping your head back as he presses deeper between your legs.

You feel the swell of him there, the way he twitches inside of you with the rise of his emotion. Satoru presses on the most intimate part of you, the part you can hardly reach on your own. He sends you spinning and syrupy. Romantic in the way his body roams the expanse of your own, in the way he claims with his hands and mouth.

There’s a rise in your stomach that comes with a deep inhale of sweat-saturated air. It swims in your lower belly, turning over as he pistons his hips intentionally.

“Almost there?” he asks, mumbling under his breath. His tone has its characteristic upward lilt but is laced with a breathy desperation you find he reserves only for you.

You nod, tangling your fingers in his hair and Satoru obliges your need for closeness. He leans down, putting more of his body weight on you. If you could, you would crawl inside of his chest and live there. When it comes to Satoru, there is nothing more tempting.

“Together then,” he chokes, half delirious as red creeps up his neck to his ears and cheeks. “M’never gonna let you do it alone.”

You crest and spill over.

—

He comes back in the evening on a Saturday and you are home in the living room when he does. Satoru uses the front door this time, supposing that you are home and striving to not startle you, but you startle nonetheless when he pushes it open and takes off his shoes. You watch wide-eyed from the couch, quickly looking up and down his figure to ensure that he’s uninjured. Force of habit, a small reminder of your overpowering emotions for him.

Satoru takes a moment to figure out where you are, eyes scanning the room before they land on you with their distant cerulean stare. He’s unharmed you think, pale skin pristine and uniform completely untouched. You see the slump in his shoulders, the weary creep of exhaustion which he only shows in the confines of your home before he straightens out.

“There you are,” he breathes, features softening a little as he looks at you. “I was worried that you might be out.”

You don’t rise from the couch, glued to the seat with your back straight as you look at him. You’re not sure what’s different, why this return in particular is causing all of your resentment and anger to flare up at once. Maybe it’s your conversation with Nanami, whose perceptiveness has haunted your mind for days.

But more than resentment and anger, you’re sad. It’s an overwhelming feeling, starting in your chest and radiating out until it consumes your entire body. It spreads like water across a smooth table, filling you up with a heavy and sullen feeling that you’re been pushing off for the better part of a year. Satoru tilts his head a little at your expression.

“Did you miss me that much?” he teases, lips quirking up as they form around the syllables. He’s Gojo today, not Satoru. The difference to you is obvious. He’s wearing his mask.

You look over him, taking in all of the things about his figure that you’ve come to memorize. The way he shifts his weight forward on his hips, the way he always has his head slightly tilted, the blindfold clutched tightly in his left hand and the right one tucked deep into his pocket. You stare, dumbstruck by the swell of emotions in your chest, mostly bitter but some sweet.

“What’s wrong?” He says, voice dropping a little. He’s unable to feign ignorance any longer because by staying seated, you’ve broken the slowly-crumbling mask of normalcy you both wear.

“It’s been over a week.”

Your voice comes out small. It’s shell-shocked and hardly recognizable, thick and heavy with your regret.

“I told you I’d be out on a mission,” he defends, not moving from where he stands.

You peer at him, mouth pulling down in the corners against your will, and shake your head. Satoru told you he’d be gone, but not how long. You left the light on without even knowing when he’d be back. Your expression and the slight movement of your head tell him that you’re done pretending to be fine with it. You feel the silent admittance settle between you, thick in the air like smoke.

Satoru raises his eyebrows like he’s shocked before they settle on his face, expression falling flat before a look of deep regret takes over. It’s so strong that you can feel it coming from him in waves, guilt and sadness and confusion rolling steadily against your skin and lapping at your feet like waves on sand.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, head tilting towards the floor and voice weighted with the genuineness of his words.

Your chest tightens, fingers and toes numbing with the words as they ring in your ears. Emotion swells in your chest, threatening to crack it open and spill onto the floor and cushions beneath you. Then, your shoulders tighten and your face scrunches up as tears swell behind your eyes and spill over in one shaking breath.

It’s a quiet cry, silent but intrusive in your chest. You bring your hands to your face and sob, finally letting it out. You’re crying because his apology means that he feels it too, the gap between you two, the unhappiness that lingers in the halls of your home. It breaks your heart to acknowledge what you both have become, to look at the void between you head-on with him and finally see its existence for what it is.

Ugly, sticky, black tar clings to your skin. It makes it hard to breathe, alive now after being acknowledged and threatening to consume you both as you sob. Each breath comes like you’re trying to steal it, as if it would shake the rot from your skin.

Satoru doesn’t move, unable to deal with the emotions you’re currently showing him. He stands there as you cry, eyes so soft that it makes your chest ache.

“What happened to us?” You choke out, barely able to force the words from your throat.

Satoru’s mouth pulls down, eyes beginning to gloss over. He swallows thickly like he’s trying to bury the emotions, eyes watery as he shakes his head. His mouth is open, but there is no sound and his shoulders are stiff at his sides.

“I don’t know,” he breathes.

You sob again, aching and aching and aching. There’s only the ache, only the love you feel that has gone untouched for such a long time, unacknowledged.

“Do you still-” he starts, afraid, “do you still love me?”

“How could I not?” You say from across the room through a thick cry. It’s quiet, painful.

There’s a pregnant pause as Satoru collects his fears from the ground and you gather your thoughts.

“But it’s hard,” you admit quietly, sniffling and wiping under your eyes. “It’s hard to love you, Satoru.”

He only nods like he knows. His shoulders droop, body weight finally too much for him as he lets go of the ever-present facade for the first time in a long time. You say it out loud and Satoru takes it like he’s been waiting to hear it.

“What can…” he breathes, voice quiet and unrecognizable. “What can I do?”

You shrug your shoulders, watching the glow of the carpet under the kitchen light. “Do you love me?”

“More than anything,” he says and the emotion in it pulls your numbed gaze from the carpet to his face, which is wrought with an expression you’ve never seen on him.

“Then tell me,” you plead.

Why do you always have to guess and settle and soothe yourself? Why does it have to be this way? Where did you go? Why do you always have to leave the light on?

“I love you,” he says firmly and you feel it in your chest, but it’s not what you meant. Still, he wears that same look that makes you feel like you could go on loving him this way forever.

“I know,” you cry, “I know you do. I love you too.”

The words come from deep in your gut, coated in hurt and the tar that’s made its way into your lungs. You feel the poison in it when you breathe and in the words, you find a remnant of who you both used to be. You find the ghost of burning passion, of the undying adoration that has morphed into blind devotion.

“It’s not enough,” you say and Satoru, unequipped and uncertain, breaks.

His expression twists, his knees give out slightly under him.

“H-how can I-” his voice trembles and you finally, finally feel like you’re looking at the real him. “How can I fix it?”

You shrug, shaking your head. You don’t know. You don’t know how to work back everything you’ve both done to poison this. You’re uncertain if there’s an antidote for it, but you’re not ready to let go. You don’t want to let go of him.

“Do you want to make this work?” He says, dread creeping into his voice, that obsessive desire rearing its head.

You cry again, only having just collected yourself and losing it again to the fact that you both need to make it work in the first place.

“Of course,” you cry. “Of course, I do. B-but I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how I can- how I can keep doing this without losing everything I am.”

Satoru takes the first step towards you, moving hesitantly towards the couch before he finds your eyes.

They are so familiar. Everything about him is. He is so comfortable to you, so home-like in his presence. You bleed for it, you spill out at his feet as he approaches you and reaches a shaky hand toward your face. Then, when you press the weight of your head into his hand, he collects you in his arms and sits beside you, trembling with vulnerability. Both of you are.

“I don’t know what to do,” you weep into his arm, “Where did we go, Satoru?”

Your sobs come from the pit of your stomach like grief. You feel like you are mourning. Like you are grieving the loss of something and someone that is still right in front of you. Years of build-up come down at once in a violent press of emotions that you feel against your diaphragm and Satoru beside you shakes as he tries to choke back cries of the same manner.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. You weep.

How long has it been since you’ve been this vulnerable with each other? How long has it been since you’ve felt that Satoru was showing you the human side of him rather than having to dig for it?

You can feel the way grief and sadness crowd your chest. Love side-by-side with two ugly emotions as you reckon with his apology, with this conversation in comparison to the meaningless ones before it. You wonder why you always leave the light on.

That’s right, it’s because you love him. You love him so much that it hurts, that you don’t think you’ll know how to breathe if you can’t keep loving him.

Gojo Satoru is cruel, but he’s not a bad person. It’s unintentional. Little cruelties that build up and become a massacre. You’ve lost count of them— of the unwitting, unknowing blows the padlock around his chest has unintentionally delivered. But he’s not wicked. He’s not evil. Just cruel. It breaks your heart.

You know he tries. You know that he wants to try. Behind the eyes of the mask called Gojo Satoru that he wears, he mourns that he doesn’t know how. He dreads learning because no matter how much he tries, he can’t handle coming up short. Satoru doesn’t know how to fail and get back up again and you reap the consequences every single time. At least, outwardly you do.

So he hurts you even if he doesn’t mean to. The tragedy that is Gojo Satoru breaks your heart again and again. But you’ll stay. You’ll try to find yourselves as many times as you need to. Even if it breaks you, even if he’s cruel, even if the mask has been on so long that it is sewn into his skin, and even if there turns out to be nothing underneath it.

All because you love him. For all that he is and all that he isn’t, you’ll leave the light on anyway.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #tw: angst #tw: toxic relationships #[ 📕 – writing ]#tee hee this hurt my feelings to write #ANYWAYYY SORRY HOPE U ENJOY

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