shoko would find so much comfort in you after everything ………….
you meet at a bar, notice how big her eye bags are and all of the cigarettes on the ash tray besides her, but you don’t comment on it.
instead, you start a conversation with her — ask if she has seen how awful that date a few tables down seems because the girl is only smiling awkwardly and the guy is rambling and rambling and rambling.
she turns to look, takes a drag of her cigarette, smiles for the very first time in a long while.
you end up going to her apartment, where she eats you out on her bed — she kisses you, afterward, and aside from the fact she tastes like you, you pick up on hints of menthol and gum.
there’s only ritz crackers and coffee in her cupboards, which she apologizes for, and you tell her it’s okay — that you want to take her out to this really nice café you know about. pay for her dish and maybe take her to an exhibition at the museum you work at.
you start going out, after that — she starts gaining weight because you take her out or order takeout for the two of you, her eye bags seem to fade because she’s always sleeping at your place, she tries to smoke less.
shoko seems like a casual dater to me and occasionally brings girls back to the apartment. as her roommate, you can’t help but wonder what goes in her bedroom, especially when the walls are so thin (you don’t even think shoko is aware of it).
but you lay in your own bed, flushed with heat hearing the way her dates moan, groan, or whimper out her name. listening to the constant babbles of “please, please, please”, and “yes, yes, yes”. notice the way they are reduced to nothing but whiny vowels in the end.
& the morning after, you see the instant difference in their behavior. their eyes in shapes of hearts as they coo and snuggle up into shoko, who always remains unmoved and stoic.
& your skin tingles because you counted how many times shoko got her date off, know exactly why they buzz around her like a bee to a pretty flower.
I just thought of something else: imagine getting up in the middle of the night to get yourself a glass of water (because you are quite literally parched from listening in on another night of shoko’s date). that when you step out into your shared kitchen you don’t expect to see shoko there.
she looks so good; hair in a messy bun, cheeks flushed pink with a dewy glow on her skin. Shes wearing a cut sleeve top (with a hint of side boob peeking through) and her black lace underwear.
she quirks her brow when she sees you, “I didn’t know you were awake”, she points out, slicing up some strawberries and licking the juice off her fingers.
“just need some water” you croak out, and she just nods her head politely.
she pours you a glass, approaches you with ease and a tingle shoots up your arm when she brushes her fingers against your own. your eyes fall to her neck where you notice two little marks blemishing her skin.
“you should get some rest,” she states sweetly, her tone serious. “you look exhausted”
⟣ welcome to gojoath’s 𝒴𝒜𝒩𝒟𝐸𝑅𝐸 𝒴𝒰𝒯𝒜 masterlist! all fics include yandere themes so please read the warnings on each individual fic before interacting :) all characters are written as adults / aged up. minors dni. ageless blogs will be blocked.
listen to the playlist for the series here.
DRABBLES / FICS
˖ ݁ . ࿓ the fics are in a rough order of how they happen (kinda)
hello, you — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. mdni. dark content. you think it’s a funny stroke of fate that you keep running into the same pretty stranger, albeit not in your best moments. little do you know, he’s known you for months before that. wc, 2.6k. [ coming soon ]
i’ll give you my heart — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. mdni. dark content. you think it’s going well with yūta— the new guy you just started dating despite the way you’ve only seen eachother a handful of times. that’s exactly what he wants you to believe though, this is all going according to his plan. wc, 7.2k
ease the ache — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. mdni. dark content. your glad your boyfriend yūta was always prepared, offering you a sleeping pill when you were having trouble was helpful— but why do you feel so needy suddenly? wc, 3k.
two halves of a whole — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. mdni. dark content. sometimes you swear you have two boyfriends, the one that loves you and the one that fucks you. wc, 2k.
just this once — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. mdni. dark content. yūta thinks it’s cruel how good you feel despite the fact he’s not felt all of you yet. he knows that you can feel better, he hopes you’ll give him all of you just once, that should be enough to keep you forever. wc, 2.9k
stay home instead — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. mdni. dark content. you loved your boyfriend, you did. but you think there’s only so much of his.. devoted personality you can take before the cracks begin to show. wc, 6.4k
should i begin to bleed? — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. mdni. dark content. the breakup. yūta doesn’t understand why you’ve been acting so weird. this isn’t you. something must’ve happened because you’re not picking up his calls and why is your door suddenly locked? wc, tba. [ coming soon ]
the part that lingers — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. mdni. dark content. yuta finds it hard to live his life without you, it’s even harder for him to get off when you’re not there. you’ve unintentionally broken him that way. but it’s okay, he still has his ways of ending up wrapped in you. wc, 2.8k.
just as he left you — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. mdni. dark content. your ex boyfriend yūta decides to pay you a visit on his way home from a mission. although he forgot how pretty you look when you’re asleep.. and how hard it is to resist. wc, 6k.
you said forever — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. mdni. dark content. yūta’s never been one to back down easily. especially not after you told him you’d be together forever. soulmates. you can’t expect him to just let you go. wc, 4.3k.
꒰ keisuke baji + yandere au ꒱
it was your cat— well, one of them— that drew baji's attention to your apartment one day. it was lounging on the window sill, staring at him with pleading eyes as if it didn't get enough attention. he walked up to the window and bent down only to dive behind a bush as you walked into the room. with your pretty pink hair and glittering hazel eyes, he wasn't able to look away. he watched you play video games on your laptop for an hour, paying close attention to the way your teeth chewed on your bottom lip when you concentrated. it was always the small things that got him— like your fingers as they knit a scarf the following day. they're so tiny that he doubts they could wrap all the way around his dick. he's jerked off to you more times than he cares to admit, fucking his fist outside your bedroom window as you ride your pillow. one day, he slips a coupon to his pet shop into your mailbox and it's all he can do to keep the grin on his face when you show up the next week. you're as good as his.
ft. kuroo x reader + guest starring : bokuto, akaashi, and iwaizumi !
it’s been a few years since you last went to your lake house. a wholesome reunion with your friends quickly turns into one straight out of a horror film.
pairing: vampire!gojo x vampire hunter!reader
summary: you just want to enjoy your halloween night, but vampire hunting always gets in the way. this night might be different though.
genre: strangers to ???, suggestive
notes: vampire gojo is fun, slight blood, suggestive but no smut
wc: ~1.4k
you blink rapidly as you step through the doorway, trying to adjust to the flashing lights around you.
spending your halloween at a frat party would usually be your top choice, but when you’re there on a mission from the higher ups, you can’t exactly enjoy it. you sigh to yourself as you push past a group of people, nodding faintly when you recognize one from your history class. you take a deep breath when you finally make it to the kitchen, making a beeline towards the drinks and grabbing a can of soda before leaning against the fridge.
you’re lost in thought, wondering how you’re even going to find your target (gojo satoru, which had been spoken out loud with disgust) when you didn’t even want the mission in the first place, when you’re interrupted by a low voice.
“nice costume.”
“huh?” you ask in response, looking over to see a tall figure next to you.
“nice costume.” he repeats, a grin on his face as he faces you. you raise an eyebrow when you notice his sunglasses, barely catch a glimpse of blue eyes as he looks you over. you feel yourself flush under his gaze, his handsome face focused only on you as he takes a sip of his drink. “it’s cute. vampire right?”
“yeah,” you respond quietly, your lips twitching in amusement as you look down at your outfit. you had chosen your costume on purpose, intentionally pissing off the higher ups when you had arrived to receive your assignment. the fake fangs in your mouth had earned you a lot of disapproving looks, and you had merely swished your tacky cape around you as you left, giving them a dramatic wave and toothy smile.
there’s a brief silence as you study the guy next to you, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s wearing a wig or if he dyed his hair white. you nod at him when you notice his fangs, letting out a small laugh that earns you a confused expression.
“nice fangs,” you comment, barely loud enough to be heard over the music. “looks like we’re matching.”
you fidget in place as the guy stares at you for a moment, your cheeks growing warmer when you realize that he happens to be one of the most attractive guys you’ve ever seen. you resist the urge to slap your forehead, embarrassed at the fact that you had killed the conversation between the two of you so quickly.
you’re ready to hightail it out of the kitchen, reminding yourself that you’re technically there on an assignment and not to flirt with cute boys, when he lets out a giggle.
“i guess we are, huh?” he asks rhetorically, his eyes shining with mirth as he puts his drink down behind him. he takes a step closer to you, pausing slightly before reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “listen, if i were to hypothetically ask you for a dance, what would you say?”
“hypothetically?” you ask, earning a firm nod from him. you hum to yourself, putting your drink down as well before crossing your arms. “i would say yes. hypothetically, of course.”
the guy nods seriously before chuckling lightly and holding out his hand. “well then, can i take you out for a dance?”
there’s a brief moment of hesitation as you look at him, wondering if you should say yes or no. you remind yourself that there’s urgent matters you need to take care of, but you find yourself pushing those thoughts aside as you slip your hand into his and let him lead you onto the dance floor.
you catch him turning to glance at you every few seconds, his lips pulled into a pretty smile whenever he happens to meet your gaze. the two of you come to a stop once he decides you’re far enough into the crowd, and he wastes no time in turning you around, chest pressed to your back as he sways in time to the music.
his hands are cool as they grab onto your hips, and you don’t hesitate to arch your back a little, your ass grinding into him as he lets out a low groan. you can feel one of his hands leave your hip, reaching up to brush your hair out of the way and giving him access to to press a soft, fluttery kiss to your neck.
“you’re playing a dangerous game right now,” he murmurs against your skin, causing you to send him a sly grin as you turn around in his hold. you wrap your arms around his neck, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull you closer and wrap his arms around you in return to keep you in place.
“am i?” you ask coyly, receiving a nod in return. you throw your head back and laugh, gasping lightly when he leans in to nip at your throat, his teeth lightly scraping your skin before he presses another kiss to the sensitive spot underneath your jaw.
“mhm,” he hums in return, eyes glinting in the dim lights as he catches your gaze. “hypothetically, if i were to ask you if you wanted to get out of here, what would you say?”
you rolls your eyes half-heartedly, not even giving him a response before you’re grabbing his hand and tugging him upstairs. you’ve barely managed to get past the door of an empty bedroom before his hands are all over you, grabbing at your hips and ass as he trails kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. you push him towards the bed, grinning slightly when he lets himself fall onto the mattress and lean up against the bedframe.
your cape flutters about as you crawl on top of him, straddling him as you remove his sunglasses and capture his lips in a kiss. the two of you laugh when your fangs bumps against his teeth, and you lean back slightly when he grabs your chin.
“ow!” he whines dramatically as he lets go of your face. you freeze when his thumb brushes against your lips, and you automatically part them, allowing him to gently remove the fake fangs with a sharp grin at your actions. “lets get rid of those. wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
you’re not given the chance to respond before he pulls you into him, lips pressed against yours once more as his hands grip your waist. you can feel him growing hard underneath you, his hands gently guiding your hips back and forth as they knead soft circles into your skin. you follow his directions eagerly, grinding down on him a little harder as you open your mouth to deepen the kiss.
there’s a small whine that comes from him when your tongues meet, and it only spurs you on, encouraging you to tangle your hands in his hair and tug. his hands slip under your shirt, and you find yourself pulling back slightly, brought back to reality by the coolness of his hands.
“w-wait,” you pant, barely getting the word out between the kisses you exchange. you feel him nip at your bottom lip, earning a cry from you when you feel him break the thin skin. he wastes no time in licking up the blood from the small cut, bright eyes half lidded as he looks up at you.
“what is it?” he asks, continuing to press kisses to the corner of your lip before trailing kisses down the column of your throat. “changing your mind?”
“n-no!” you gasp, back arching when he bucks his hips up against you. “i just- ah! i just didn’t catch your name.”
“my name?” he asks, nose nudging against the crook of your neck as he buries his face into it. you can feel him sucking a dark bruise into your skin, and you moan softly at the feeling. “my name is gojo satoru.”
your eyes widen at his words, and you pull back even more to see him grinning at you, fangs that you’re no longer sure are fake glinting in the dim light. his pupil are blown with lust, but you can still see a hint of the bright blue of his irises as he speaks once more.
“and you’re the pretty, little vampire hunter that was sent to kill me.”
pairing ⛧ creepy medical student! law x gn! reader
warnings ⛧ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. while there’s no smut, this is suggestive, and everything that happens is nonconsensual (law is gross). mentions of masturbation, fucking inanimate objects, bruises, and death. additionally: cum sighting, cursing, knife play, a little blood, some spit, manhandling, and general grimetown weirdness.
word count ⛧ 1132
notes ⛧ this is another installment of the garden of earthly delights series, as well as a contribution to @bastardblvd’s house of slimy horrors collab—my prompt was “pumpkin patch”! the plot is nonexistent… just go with it <3
something isn’t right.
the early evening sky is hazy, the sun obscured by a leaden film that shrouds grimetown’s pumpkin patch in a deathly hue. the barren field before you is more of a squash graveyard than anything else—the vast expanse of dirt is littered with a few dozen orange carcasses.
this is certainly not what you were expecting when your date suggested a fun autumnal outing.
“this has to be the world’s most depressing pumpkin patch,” you grouse, craning your neck to look up at law’s stony expression; as usual, his face doesn’t betray his thoughts. you can never get a good read on him. you don’t know him well enough to tell if he’s simply awkward or if he genuinely doesn’t emote. “we should go somewhere else.”
the jet-haired man places a firm palm on the small of your back, urging you forward. “c’mon, we’re already here. we can’t make jack-o-lanterns without pumpkins. toji joe’s is out of ‘em.”
there’s a peculiar lilt to his words—a faux positivity that makes you hesitate for a split second. but you move forward anyway.
the blustery air ruffles your clothes as you drift across the dark earth with law, searching for a pumpkin that isn’t in some state of decomposition. this is exactly the sort of scenario you hear about on your favorite podcasts and documentaries: a careless person accompanied by a man they barely know in a remote area, not so much as a whisper of nearby life on the wind.
all you really know about law is that he’s a handsome medical student who shares similar interests, namely in true crime and literature. that, and he had been unusually pushy about this outing.
“hey, that looks like a good one.” law points to a suitable carving prospect. crouching down to get a closer look, a gasp leaves your lips when you find a hole a few inches in diameter bored into the side of the pumpkin. what appears to have once been a pale cream fluid is now a flaky crust, caking the opening. “is that—”
“probably,” law cuts in, resting a cold, tattooed hand on your shoulder. startled, you nearly topple over, but his strong arms catch you and pull you to his chest. now standing, you jerk in his embrace; he releases his hold and you take a few steps back. “it’s one of kappa upsilon mu’s fall festival activities.”
it’s impossible to hide the disgust that furrows your brow and creeps into your voice. “they mutilate pumpkins and fuck them like fleshlights as a frat tradition?”
law shrugs. you swear you see a glimmer of humor flit through his amber irises. “it’s not even close to the weirdest thing they do. ever heard of a ‘cum fountain’?”
you hold up a hand to stop him. “i don’t even wanna know.”
but something isn’t adding up you think with a frown. “if you knew all the pumpkins were going to be cut up and…violated, why did you bring me here, law?” you tried to measure your words carefully, but now that they hang in the open, your accusation is evident.
your date’s lips curl into an ominous smirk. the familiar chill of dread nips at your heels and paws at your chest. “well,” law starts, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a switchblade. your eyes rivet on the tool—the weapon—as he fiddles with it, nimble fingers gliding along the handle before flicking it open with ease. his bored, yellow gaze unnerves you; his words ooze calculated confidence. “i’m gonna practice my carving skills with you.”
his statement rips the breath from your lungs. unsure of what to do, you chuckle uncomfortably, praying that he’s still talking about the goddamn pumpkins.
law edges closer to you, a hunter testing his prey. you don’t move—you don’t think you could if you tried. your mind is racing in countless directions, but you can’t settle on an action, a plan. and this freak—your date—is one small thrust of the blade from you, crowding your space. so you stare down the predator’s maw.
“you’re beautiful,” law states, though it doesn’t sound complimentary; it’s an observation. there’s a clinical coldness to his words that makes you feel like you’re trapped in a microscope slide. he gestures to you with the knife, the unspoken threat palpable.
you force yourself to think: how do you escape this fucker? you had to take a shitty taxi to get to the pumpkin patch, but the driver could barely keep the car in its lane and tried to proposition you for sex. is everyone in grimetown a slimeball? you don’t realize your nails are biting so deeply into the skin of your palms that blood is dripping onto the dirt.
as though he can read your thoughts, law says coolly, “i wouldn’t run if i were you.”
options dwindling, you remember your lifeline. slowly, you inch a hand toward your back pocket where your phone sits. but your opponent is perceptive; law cracks a wide smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, running his tongue across his sharp teeth. he raises the knife and presses the flat side of the blade against your neck.
it’s an effective warning.
“there’s no signal out here—the only cell provider that services grimetown is slime mobile. you can check, though, if it makes you feel better,” law taunts.
to your horror, your phone reads “no service” at the top of the screen. your skin itches, nerves buzzing with adrenaline. your hands shake, fear and rage coalescing into an unshakeable tremor that has sweat beading at your temples. hot tears of frustration singe your cheeks. but the cold steel of the blade against your throat saps the fight from your body.
your final resort?
“fuck you,” you hiss with all the venom you can muster. and, before you can stop yourself: ptui. you launch a glob of spit that lands squarely on law’s cheek, punctuating your insult.
law doesn’t flinch. rather, he swipes two calloused fingertips through your precious gift. he holds his wet digits up, admiring the glistening pads of his fingers, then pops them into his mouth. the groan he emits while enjoying your taste makes you lightheaded. he pivots his blade so that the honed tip scrapes an angry line up the column of your throat. the pressure isn’t enough to slice your flesh—yet.
you shriek when law forcefully grabs your jaw and pulls you to him. bruises in the shape of his fingers will bloom on your face tomorrow—if you live that long, anyway. for the first time, his wide grin crinkles his hawkish eyes.
his voice is thick with desire as he murmurs, “i’d like to fuck you first.”
disclaimer : these may be released out of order depending on what i write first. each fic will have its own set of tags. happy sinning ᰔ
𝐏𝐑𝚰𝐃𝐄
zoro is a stubborn fool. after many attempts of subtly hinting that you’ve been wanting him, you discover he has a little secret of his own.
𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃
nami has always loved things in excess, and you’re no different. finally getting time to yourselves, she wants to show you how much she truly desires you.
𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓
sanji has always been a little over enthusiastic when it comes to women. and when he finally gets his hands on you, he can hardly control himself.
𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐘
usopp tries not to let himself feel jealous, but when another self proclaimed warrior of the sea pines for your attention, he can’t help but feel a little green devil take a hold of his heart.
𝐆𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐘
luffy could never satiate his hunger. no matter how many times sanji has tried, luffy still had room for more. and his hunger for you? even worse.
𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇
you and law had never gotten along and being eustass kid’s little sister didn’t help. but when you get trapped in close quarters, you find a better way to solve your differences.
𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇
still half asleep, ace longs for your touch. and you just look so pretty next to him, surely it would be okay for him to indulge himself just a little bit.
with songs featuring gojo, geto, dazai, chuuya, and childe !
BEFORE YOU LISTEN . . .
careful, there's gonna be some pretty mature themes headin' in . . . sex, cheating, overthinking, y'know, the usual. it's hard being hot !
WHAT'S THE ALBUM ABOUT ?
well, i heard some guys from jujutsu kaisen, bungo stray dogs, and genshin impact are involved in the drama, maybe you know them !
TRACK 9: NONSENSE
"baby i'm in too deep, here's a lil' song i wrote, it's about you and me"
꒰ pop star!reader x secret lover!gojo
being a pop star is tough, and maintaining a relationship alongside it is even harder. good thing you have a boyfriend to share the nights with, but what happens when those night-time specials start seeping into your daytime routine?
TRACK 10: FAST TIMES
"tiptoeing past so many stages, but what the fuck is patience?"
꒰ coworkers with benefits ft. pm boss!chuuya
being a mafia boss is hard, and the stress that comes with it could kill. so, your boss's solution is to take it out on his pretty little secretary — you. one thing leads to another, and soon it becomes a regular thing. it's okay, it's not like he's gonna fuck you during work hours, right?
TRACK 11: SKINNY DIPPING
"if we could take it all off and just exist, and skinny dip in water under the bridge"
꒰ break up –> make up ft. criminal!geto
when you found out he wasn't who he said he was, you dumped him on the spot, and after that you didn't see him for nineteen days. so what happens on the twentieth day when you run into him at your local coffee shop, and how did it end with his dick in your mouth?
TRACK 13: DECODE
"you're good at impersonating someone who cares, and you had me for a minute there"
꒰ actor!reader x actor!dazai
your co-star is known for his acting prowess, and maybe he's just a little too good, because even when the lights are down and no cameras in sight, you can never seem to figure out if he means what he says. even when he's drunk in your sheets, every word seems carefully calculated to get something out of you — who knows what he wants?
TRACK 15: FEATHER
"your signals are mixed, you act like a bitch, you fit every stereotype, send a pic"
꒰ it girl!reader x fuckboy!gojo
you're everything, and he's just another fuckboy. but even though he's the biggest dickhead you've ever met, you can't deny that he's very, very attractive. so what happens when you have one too many drinks and end up moaning his name all night long?
TRACK 16: LONESOME
"did you think about her face with your hands around my waist? did you even give a fuck?"
꒰ exes with benefits ft. fuckboy!childe
you probably shouldn't still sleep with the boy who ruined your life, but hey, he's the only one who knows how to fuck you just right. even if he made you cry for a week straight, you'd rather be crying out his name than wallowing in self-pity at home. and it's not like you're gonna get back together with him, are you?
TRACK 17: THINGS I WISH YOU SAID
"i saw you met somebody and i'm jealous as hell, that i can't even stomach loving somebody else"
꒰ cheating ft. ex boyfriend!dazai
maybe it's wrong to cheat on your current boyfriend with your ex, but you never moved on and apparently, neither did he. and shit, he's just as skillful with his words as ever, so just one night wouldn't hurt, right?
SO, WHEN CAN I HEAR THE STORIES ?
well, hannah'll tell you whenever she feels like it, but who knows what order she's whisper them to you in ? it'll be a surprise ~
CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHEN THE STORY'S OUT ?
there's no taglist or anythin', but you can check back here to see if anything's leaked yet ! ++ maybe follow hannah and her tag, 'cause she said she'll post updates there . . . #✧ — emails i can't send
have fun listening! reblogs very appreciated xoxo
–> signed, hannah
It's been two years, but you still remember that October with clarity. Memories blur at the back of your eyelids each night, carving images into your irises; each time you think you’ll get a full night of sleep, Nanami Kento returns to haunt your dreams, then lingers to steal your waking moments.
The change in him had been gradual, subdued. He’d hidden it well, so well, in fact, that everyone had believed that he was doing fine. Even you, the one who should’ve known him better than anyone, had never gotten him to reveal his darkest thoughts.
His succumb to madness was slow, but it was the consequence of a near decade. The burden of a sorcerer weighed heavily on everyone, but it hit Nanami the hardest, years and years of survivor’s guilt and misery bearing on his shoulders.
Then Halloween in Shibuya had happened; Nanami nearly lost his life, and something in him snapped. It wasn’t long after that he left. You haven’t seen him since.
Close to twenty-four months have passed since he disappeared, but his presence still lingers, twisting your world and your life into a den of chaos. No one is left at the school, and there are hardly any sorcerers left in Japan. Those who are still alive have moved anywhere but Tokyo, and those who stay know it won’t be long before they lose their lives too.
Your breath catches as you listen in silence, recounting every moment that led you here.
There is a scream from the other building, listlessly crying for help, but you won’t reach them in time, nor do you have the power to fight back. Despite your endless intelligence, your technique isn’t built for combat. It isn’t a threat to semi-grade one curses, and it certainly isn’t a threat to Nanami Kento.
You squeeze your eyes shut, slumping against the wall as you hold your arm, a bloodied wound seeping through your sleeve. There is no one here to heal you, no one left to help. Shoko moved away from the school months ago, once she realized that too many sorcerers are dying and Gojo is never coming back.
After that, many of the students left too; save for the few third years that had been determined to stay and fight.
The scream sounds again, before it’s cut off, abruptly. Another student gone. Another sorcerer dead.
You’d been such a fool to think you could take the place of people like Yaga, Gojo, Nanami; that you could bring together the last remaining sorcerers in the city. They’d been ones to look up to, strong and steadfast, but you are neither of those things.
You are the weak one who’d managed to stay alive, and the last person that probably should’ve.
Still, you persist, not giving into death so easily. There has to be an escape route; if you can’t save the students, maybe, just maybe, you can save yourself. There is still hope, as long as just one sorcerer is left in Tokyo. The school can be rebuilt, the curses can be exorcised, and things can go back to normal.
As long as you stay alive.
You listen, waiting for another sound before you move, attuned to your surroundings. The doors are shut, locking you in, and it’s too dark, too empty in the building for you to hide anywhere. Classrooms you’d once shared with Gojo open up like an endless chasm, the vending machine you got sodas from with Geto leers at you, and the hallways you’d kissed Kento in…
The memories are so soured.
You’re so close to the door, though. So close, and you can be free of the ghostly memories, and this time, you’ll leave Tokyo once and for all.
There is nothing left for you here now. With each day that passes, you start to realize more and more that no one is coming back. They’re all gone, and Nanami is not the man he’d once been.
You shuffle along the wall, trying to stay hidden in the shadows, away from the lights that flicker up above, destroyed by the veil of cursed energy. While your entire life has been a cacophony of evil, never before have you felt, so intensely, that you’re in a horror film. You are the final girl, ironically, without an ounce of heroine vigor.
All you have is a sliver of willpower to stay alive; just a few feet away, and you’ll be there, outside, able to escape from this pit of hell.
It’s so close—but not close enough.
“There you are!” a voice cries out, ringing like a jovial song through the hallways. It is eerily familiar, much too high-pitched and enthusiastic for such a brutal warzone. “We’ve been looking for you.”
You turn, shoulders stiff as you try hard not to freeze. Behind you, a young curse stands casually, his blue hair rolling over one of his shoulders, a stitched face smiling at you evilly. He’s pleased to see you, that much is obvious, and he prances over to you, fingers waving in the air.
“Oh, I can’t wait! I have to make you last because we’re running out of sorcerors to play with!” The tone is horrifyingly amused, more frightening than Geto in his final hours, of any of the clan higher-ups, even of Gojo at his absolute worst.
It’s the tone of someone who feels nothing, who cares about nothing, and who will enjoy watching you bleed.
You open your mouth, throat dry as you scramble for words, for a way to defend yourself. Three seconds stretch out into a minute while you contemplate, but Mahito is already upon you, his eyes flashing with excitement.
This would be it, wouldn’t it? How poetic that this wretched curse would be the one to kill you, after he took everything from you two years ago.
He advances; but something stops him, another aura. It’s not as powerful, but it’s much more commanding, much more human.
“Mahito.” The tone is forceful, flat, without any nuance of sound. It comes from behind you, and you stiffen, knowing from the simple string of letters who it is. The sound of the voice has something unfurling in your chest, choking you, rendering you helpless. “Don’t touch her.”
“Why?” Mahito whines, curling his fingers around your hair, his cursed face and energy too close, too frightening for you to move. “There’s no one left to kill. What am I supposed to do now?”
“Find something.” Nanami’s to you in just a few steps, and you can feel his presence behind you, the voice that slowly sneaks up on you. He smells the same as he did back then, and you squeeze your eyes shut, try to remember that he’s not Kento anymore, and whoever he is, you don’t love him.
You can’t.
“I’ll take care of her.”
Mahito grumbles, but after a few seconds of staring down Nanami, he leaves, skipping off to some other corner of the school. It’s disgusting how pleased he is by the murders he’s committed, but why shouldn’t he be? If his goal is to rid the world of sorcerers, he’s done quite well at accomplishing it.
Which meant every one of your students is dead. Which meant any remaining sorcerers are gone for good. There isn’t a jujutsu sorcerer left in Tokyo but you, and even though you need to call for help, no one can get here fast enough to save you.
Nanami, slowly, comes around to glower before you, standing too close, his breath ghosting your shoulders. You feel his gaze like daggers, dragging over every inch of you, regarding you with a thinly veiled disgust.
You’re not ready to face him, not after all the time you’ve been apart, but you don’t have a choice. He’s in front of you within seconds, looking down at you from the bridge of his nose, his hair mussed, but still in the same style that he’d worn two years ago.
It is, really, the only thing about him that hasn’t changed.
“How the hell did you end up back here?” That’s the first thing he says, the tone crazed and so opposite of the flat inflection his voice had always held. The sound leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you twitch, trying to keep your expression from shifting. Not even a simple greeting before he’s already mocking you, judging your poor choices, the ones that will get you killed.
You say nothing, but regard him with a dry mouth, letting your eyes drift across his broad shoulders, down his chest. He’s covered in blood, stained deep maroon—evidence of his murders, the color so different than the gore of curses.
The old beige suit is gone, replaced by an expensive black one, tailored perfectly to every angle of his body. Nanami has traded in the blue button-up for a crisp burgundy one, and though the tie is different, it’s recognizable.
You’d gotten him that tie for his 28th birthday, one of black silk embossed with flowers, tiny white ones woven within the vines. You’d purchased it on your trip abroad.
It makes you sick. You’re not sure how long you can look at him without expelling the contents of your stomach.
“You know,” he says, not waiting for you to answer as he walks around, swinging his weapon that is now used for evil. “I thought that maybe when I left, you’d decide to do something with your life.” His irises that are now so dark, nearly black, pin you. Gone, too, are the old glasses, exposing his severe, narrowed eyes. “You stayed in Tokyo to rot.”
“What choice did I have?” you ask, wishing you could speak without your voice cracking. Yet, when Nanami stalks you like prey, calculating, the familiar blade in his hands, you feel a flare of fear start up in your stomach.
You don’t know the man before you. He’s beautiful, as handsome as you remember. Yet, he stares at you with disdain, and he’s cruel, so cruel. His lips are hardened into a permanent scowl, seeping through his merciless laugh.
“Well,” Nanami stops pacing and stands in front of you, running a hand down the side of the cursed tool, thoughtful. “I had hoped you’d come with me, but I knew better than to ask. Your moral convictions would have prevented that, darling.” A smile drips with poison as your steadfastness falters, the name sliding smoothly off his tongue, something about it still so sweet, even with his malice. “You always were too good for me.”
That isn’t true, at least, not in your mind. He had been a good man once, the very best. Maybe you could’ve done something to stop this, to help him. Yet, as many times as you run it over in your mind, even you can’t pinpoint the exact moment he’d fallen.
“You’re right,” you say, grateful that your voice sounds a little stronger, a little harder. “I never would’ve come with you. You’ve killed our friends. You’ve killed children, Nanami.”
Something shifts between you; his eyes widen as he takes another pace forward, nothing but inches separating you. Against every intelligent cell in your body, your heart skips, breath catching at his proximity.
“Nanami?” he asks, eyebrows pulling together with a sigh. The air grows stagnant around you as he notices the lack of warmth behind your apathetic eyes. “Here I thought you’d still call me by my name. We did once share a bed after all.”
“That means nothing to me now,” you spit, wishing he would stop staring at you with such hunger. You’ve never been immune to him, and you’re not sure you are now, not sure that you won’t waver at his feet, if even out of panic. He’s so solid before you, a resolute being of power. Perhaps he’s even stronger now than he was before. “Look at you. I don’t know who you are.”
Nanami points the sword at your throat, and though it’s blunt, not sharp enough to do any damage, you still weaken in the knees, stare back at him with something akin to dread. Your eyes are wide, but your breath comes out steady as your hands shake by your sides.
“I’m the person who decided to do something, finally.” Nanami raises his voice, every word punctuated by years of repressed anger. “Sorcerers grumbled for decades, centuries, but no one made any effort to make a change.” His jaw clenches as he drops the weapon back down, sniffing with abhorrence. Nanami’s in your personal space, his breath hot on your cheeks, and you feel tears well up in your eyes, even when you’re not sure why. “Even Gojo Satoru, who claimed to hate the higher-ups, who saved Yuuji Itadori, did little. I’m the person who realized that nothing’s going to change, not unless the system is burned from the inside out.”
A twitch starts from your heels, rising as he glares down at you. His features are tense, every muscle in his body taut. Still, there’s something about him. There’s something about the way he’s wearing the tie you once bought him, as familiar as the tall, strong frame that leers over you.
“There’s none of us left, Nanami,” you say, blinking away those tears, even though he’s already spotted them, the corner of his lips quirking with a crazed glint to his eyes. “You’ve made sure of that.”
“Then a new order of sorcerers can build its way from the ground up.” Nanami leans forward, his face near yours as he cocks his head. “I’ve succeeded.”
You squeeze your fingers into your shirt, twisting them around the stiff cotton tightly. Your heel slips just one inch back, away from him, and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by your ex-lover.
He scoffs, a smirk widening.
“What’s wrong?” Nanami says. A veiny hand snakes between you, and he cups your cheek with a softness that goes against every fiber of what he stands for. “Are you afraid of me?”
Your lips part, but words don’t come out. Instead, you blink up at him with glossy eyes, your heart hammering in your chest.
“You probably should be,” he continues, his fingers brushing your jaw, luring you in, a security blanket that he will snatch away once you get comfortable. “I’ve ruined your life.”
The room feels colder than it did before, as terror starts pressing down on you, your entire body shaking with anxiety. Still, your eyelids flutter at his touch, every cell within you reacting out of muscle memory, weakened by the killer’s touch.
“A life that you once promised to protect.”
He smiles, and it’s so cold, a rival only to the devil's, even though it ignites a flame in your chest. “Why do you think I saved you for last?”
Your eyes burn with tears.
“Still as pretty as I remember,” Nanami hums on the edge of a sigh, and his gaze darts all over your face, searching for a secret buried there. His tone is rough, but, somehow, there’s an ounce of affection there too, like a part of him is still holding onto the near decade you were together. It’s no consolation, but it gives you some satisfaction; at least it meant something. “You have a new boyfriend?”
You turn hot all over at the way he grins at you, watches the flush form on your face as your eyes fly open. Nanami has you in the palm of his hand, easily, and whatever happens, it’ll be up to him. “N-no,” you stutter, his thumb sliding over your mouth, knocking against your teeth.
His grin is wild, predatory. “I knew I’d ruined you for anyone else.”
A breath catches in your throat, and your chest rises and falls heavily from the wave of desire that goes straight to your stomach. You feel as if your knees might give out, that you might need to grab onto him, just to stand upright.
It’s sickening, and you hate yourself, hate how much you want him, even though he’s the one that killed the people you care most about.
“Kento?” you ask in a small voice. “Are you going to kill me?”
“I don’t know.” He softens, just a hair, and easily, he’s back to the man you remember, the sweet, caring one you thought you’d marry one day. “I probably should… but I think I might just fuck you instead.” The words are muttered against your lips, and you stumble forward, gripping his strong biceps, a feeble attempt to keep from puddling at his feet.
His face clears once again, stoic, and harsh. Maybe it’s all a ploy to get you in his arms, to weaken you even further, but you don’t care. You’ve missed him, you’ve missed him so much, and you’d die to kiss him one more time. The blood on his face doesn’t matter; nothing matters except how much you once loved him, the love that never went away, even in the times you wanted to hate him.
You wonder whether or not Satoru would sympathize if he was here. Maybe he’d understand why you never went after Nanami and holed yourself up in the school instead. Although you tried to protect your students, you could never act out of violence, and that had cost you everything.
You know you've made mistakes, perhaps more than anyone, but you can’t control your heart; it’s a heart that is caged by steely ribs, and still the possessor of your fragile mind.
“Kento,” you say, running your hands all over him, the muscles that have only hardened, grown with time. “I miss you.”
It’s nothing more than a whisper, but it still changes his entire demeanor, turns him into something desperate. Kento comes on twice as strong; every caress sends a wave of need through you. When you whimper, toppling under his gentle touches, he kisses you hard, pushes you backwards into the wall.
The taste of his lips is almost too much, a conflict of memories piling onto you, transporting you into a version of yourself that is two years younger, much more hopeful. You kiss him like you’re twenty-two, unsharpened by the world, because despite what you have suffered, life was better seven years ago than it is now.
The illusion is short-lived, though; Kento is rougher than he used to be, and he shoves you hard, bruises your lips. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, sloppy kisses smearing saliva all over your cheeks.
He may not be as kind as he once was, but you’ll never be able to deny your attraction for him.
“Fuck.” Kento unzips his slacks, palming at the bulge that already lies within the tight material. “Look what you do to me, baby.” It catches you off guard; he’s never called you that before, never sounded so lewd instead of loving. “Think I started getting hard the second I saw you. Remember the last time I was inside you?”
You groan against his lips, breathing heavily as you thread your smaller hands in his hair. He tastes like alcohol, and you know that he’s always enjoyed a drink, but it was never this prominent on his tongue. That observation alone makes you wonder what else about him has changed; if he sleeps on the same side of the bed now that you’re gone, if he likes to read just as much as before, if he still takes his coffee with just a splash of milk.
The thoughts hurt, searing a hole through your chest. You try to ignore them.
As you kiss, Kento manhandles you backwards, his fingers spread over your collarbones. Your back hits the wall, a ghoulish crack reverberating throughout the room. It hurts, but the pain is outweighed by the feeling of him all over your body, the sheer anticipation for him to touch you like you need.
“Want you,” you say, as his hands clamp around your delicate wrists, pinning them against the wall. Kento’s palms are so much bigger; he’s so strong that it’s devastating. You have no choice but to let him take from you, to kiss down your neck and leave a bruise you won’t be able to cover up in the morning. “Please.”
“Dirty girl,” he laughs, breathless against your throat, the sound vibrating against the strained tendons there. Hastily, he spins you around, forces your face into the wall, your chest pressed into it. Your cheek is cold, smashed into your bone against the plaster. “I’ve killed everyone in this building, and here you are, begging me to touch you.”
The rough tone sends desire coursing through you, and you cry out against the wall as arousal bleeds out of you. Kento kisses you, across your shoulders, his cock pressing up against you, hard and thick.
A groan releases into your ear, and you squirm, rubbing your thighs together in anguish. Begrudgingly, Kento lets one of your wrists go so that he can drag your skirt down, leaving you with shivering legs in the cool October evening.
You reach back to grab at him, desperately needing him inside of you; but he stills you with his hand, laughing eagerly into your skin.
“So impatient. Thought I taught you better than that.” Though, he drags your panties down quicker, lets them pool at your ankles along with the dark-colored skirt. It’s obvious he wants you just as much; he wastes no time dragging a hand down his cock, the tip already beginning to leak.
“Kento,” you say against the cold wall, throbbing, swallowing down all your need for him. It’s too dark for you to see every one of his pretty features, but his shadowy eyes gleam ruthlessly in the moonlight. “Let me kiss you again—”
Kento tsks and shakes his head, brushing your hair over one shoulder. “Now, that can’t happen. You’ll fall in love with me again too easily.” A laugh forces its way out of his chest, and you hate that the sound creates pressure in your body. You’re already in love with him, but his grip is too tight on you; you can’t kiss him, even though you want to.
A finger runs between your folds as Kento reaches between your legs, gathering slick in the process. His skin is cold, and you whimper; he used to be so warm, a natural furnace. Yet, he’s teasing you now, listening to your breathy little whispers as you lean back into him.
Without thinking, you grasp his hand with your own, slide it forward as the veins and tendons flex under your palm. This time, he complies; he lets you push his fingers into your cunt, much thicker and longer than your own.
“Oh sweetheart,” he says, full of scornful sympathy, so contrary to the soft kisses on your neck. “You’re soaked. Have you really missed me that much?”
Your breath grows hot, heavy as he sinks his fingers deeper into you. You think about how much you loved him two years ago, and how much you still do.
Everyone you care about is gone, everyone but him. Perhaps Kento is the only one who’s truly ever mattered, because even if you’d been asked to kill him, you never would’ve done it, never could’ve; you’re not strong enough.
That’s where you and Satoru differ.
Kento slides his fingers in and out, stretching you, brushing against your swollen clit that’s begging to be touched by him. He bites down hard on your shoulder, blooms a bruise there and marks you as his forever, even if you’d never be anyone else’s anyways.
Already, you feel your climax building; you’re breathing heavier, crying out his name in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own. “I’m c-close,” you manage, and that is the wrong thing to say. He stills all at once and slips his fingers out of you, a web of arousal smeared over his knuckles.
Between your legs, you’re sticky, cold, but you barely notice. Your attention is directed on how aching and empty you are when his hands leave your body.
With a whine, you force your hips backwards, hating the chill that surrounds you all at once. “I wanna cum—”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Kento smiles against your neck and drags his cock against the small of your back, swollen and hard. “But I know you can ask much nicer than that.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, “please, Kento, please, please, I need you, I—”
“There’s my good girl.” A breathy laugh leaves him as he angles the tip against your entrance, slow, pressing into you. “Fuck,” Kento groans, loudly, drawing out the syllables. “Squeezing me so tight, baby, you’ve been waiting just for me?”
“Ken—” you say, and it’s all you can manage, the little nickname that no one’s ever called him but you. Kento buries himself inside you, his hot, muscular chest pressing into your back, pinning you against the cold wall. He’s so much bigger and wider, and his body encases you, shielding you from the agony that he’s dealt with his own hand.
You’re not sure if you can stand on your own — not under the weight of your solid and forceful affection for him.
“I know, I know," he says to the sweet sounds that escape you. "I’ve got you.”
Kento reaches around and cups your breast, squeezing hard. His thumb flicks over your nipple, the nail dragging against it cruelly as he swirls over the padded bra. Still, his blanketed touch is electrifying; your fingers curl into the wall, smooth, clawing without anything to grab onto.
He fucks into you, slowly, his strained cock rough against your walls. It’s just as you remember, and you long for your old life, wishing that there was a sorcerer out there whose technique could somehow turn back time. Then, you’d do something different, even if you’re not sure what.
With each thrust, his speed increases, hitting deeper and deeper inside you. Kento’s groans are so pretty, and tears roll down your cheeks at the feeling of him within you, surrounding you, the man you still touch yourself to at night, even when he’s a cold-blooded killer.
“It’s been a while since anyone’s fucked you like this, hm?” Kento says, cooing, almost sorry, even if he doesn’t realize how true that is. You feel dizzy with him, the sound of his syrupy voice, so deep and invigorating. “Need to cum so bad, don’t you, pretty?”
“Please,” you say, and you almost tell him you love him, almost let it slip, even though it can’t. This is nothing, this is nothing, this is nothing, you try and tell yourself, but you’re too distracted by the sounds, the utter sin that you’ve committed here in this school.
You’ve betrayed everyone, and you’re still betraying them now, your weak heart nothing but a burden.
Kento says your name, groans it around your ear as he presses harder into your body. His cock angles upwards, forces itself past your aching walls, and, he’s buried in you completely. There’s a lingering sting, a bitter pain, but Kento feels like home. Your stomach tightens, bursting with energy.
“You’re so perfect, aren’t you? So beautiful. Always take it like you were made for my cock,” he groans, and you suck him right back in, clamping around him tightly. “I missed this pretty pussy; maybe as much as I missed you.”
Tears well up in your eyes then, and you sob, reach around to grab his hair. You need to feel him all around you, remember what it was like for him to love you in return.
He hits a spot within you, and you arch into him, crying, a mess between your legs and on your face.
“There?” Kento says, but he already knows the answer, grinning as he kisses your cheek, your temple. “How could I ever forget the sweet sounds you make when you’re about to cum.”
You press his head closer, feel him kiss your neck again, softer this time, lovingly. He runs a delicate hand across your ribcage, your stomach. “You going to let go for me, angel? Surprised you lasted this long after two years. Think my sweet girl deserves it.”
“K-kento,” you whisper, but his name doesn’t get far; it’s cut off by your moan as he rips the orgasm from you, and you clench around him tightly, shaking.
“That’s it,” he says and shudders, grunting as he forces out the words. Your body jerks involuntarily into him as you slump against the wall, trapped between it and Kento. Already, you’re so sensitive, and your tears don’t stop falling as he pushes his cock into you again and again.
Kento’s heart is heavy within his chest, pounding against your back. You feel sick, helpless, missing him endlessly, even with him right at your fingertips. You can’t believe that you’ve lasted two years without him; how can you survive a lifetime?
“Take me with you,” you plead, your eyelids fluttering close as you try and remember the feeling of him, memorizing it in case this is the last time. “Please.”
“Can’t do that, sweetheart.” Kento jerks back into you, forcing your cheek further against the wall. His hand is stiff against your head, even though he strokes your hair gently, encouraging. “I’m supposed to kill you, remember? I’m supposed to rid the world of every last sorcerer.”
“I need you, Kento,” you cry, feeling close to another orgasm already. Tears are running down your cheeks, your lips wet with spit as your mouth parts. “Just like it was before. I love you; I love you so much, I’ll be so good, I’ll—”
Kento groans your name and cums inside you, thick ropes painting your insides. It’s too much, everything about this is too much, and you’re squeezing him again, painfully sensitive as you orgasm once more.
Nonsense spews from your lips, and you grab at him in desperation as he finally drags out of you, the absence of him shattering you completely. Your inner thighs are sticky and wet, and his cum drips down your thighs, leaving you nothing more than a cold, ruined mess.
Kento shushes, soothes you with sounds that are closer to taunts as you spin around, grab at him, claw at his wrinkled red shirt. There’s still blood on his face, but even then, you accept him; you’ll forgive him for every wrongdoing he’s committed if he lets himself love you once more.
“I want to go with you,” you say, and though his face is hard, he’s caressing your cheek with an opposite sort of touch, sadness in his weary eyes.
“I know you do,” he says, and there’s a conflict within him as his features contort. It’s the only evidence that maybe, deep down, he cares about you still. “But I’m not the man you want. Not anymore.” It’s a whisper, a prayer, and goodbye.
You nearly slap him as he straightens, inches away from you. You feel that you’ve been pushed into a pit of inky chaos, left soaked and naked from the way down, humiliated. Your cheek is red from where it was pressed into the textured paint, stinging from the pressure.
“Kento, please,” you beg, and he takes a step back, hardening his eyes. “You can’t leave me again. I’d rather die. I’d rather you kill me.”
You’re not sure which of the statements snaps him back into himself once more.
Kento blinks, then lets a cold smile filter onto his face, one that lingers darkly on every corner of his expression. A smear of blood remains on his sharp cheekbone, and he wipes it clear, grazing his eyes along your body in a way that makes you feel so small. You’re nothing to him, then; even though you had been once.
“Oh, I decided I won’t kill you this time,” he says, pushing his hair back into place as his spine goes rigid, straightening like a marionette string. “I want to make sure I have a pretty girl to come back to every now and again.”
“What?” It leaves you forcefully, and you’re choking in shame, because you hope the words are true. You can’t stand a life without Nanami Kento, even if that life is nothing more than seeing him in the cracks of moonlight, the shadows where no one knows he’s lurking. You’d take that before a lonely existence, void of the sweet lips of the devil that you pray to.
“I’ll leave Tokyo,” you shout, red-faced and teary eyed, your words nothing more than empty threats. “I’ll leave the country. You’ll never find me.”
Nanami grins, laughs at you coolly, a sound that chills you to the core. “Oh, I’d find you.”
You don’t have time to formulate a response. A breath forces its way out of you, but the wretched curse reveals itself from the corner of the room, stopping any words from escaping your lips. His eyes hungrily roam every inch of you, lingering on the lower half of your exposed body; you wonder how long he’s been there, watching, not saying a word.
“Are you done yet?” Mahito asks, dragging his lurid gaze away to face Nanami. “You’ve had your fun, let’s kill her now.”
Nanami’s eyes flash. “Leave her,” he says, scoffing. “She’s already as pathetic as it gets. Killing her won’t make a difference.” He spits the words coldly, and turns, following the curse out of the room
(>◡•́)— ★ authors note. IM BACK BITCHES. WITH THE HORNY SHIT AKAKKAKAKA . kinktober day one! masterpost here.
⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ content warnings. dumbification, reader is a bimbo - ditzy, hypersexual, huge airhead vibes be warned. they are obedient and listen to what geto tells them. reader wears feminine clothes, has a 'clit', and is referred to as a 'girl', no use of she/her (ahahaha i love gender things). cock sucking throat fucking all that nasty gluk gluk shit y'eard?
You’re not stupid.
Forgetful, yeah! Occasionally uneducated, of course. But dumb? You’d surmise that conclusion to be a bit of a stretch; despite how often you find yourself trying to convince people of the contrary.
It is typical of humans to forego their ‘common sense’ on occasion, though it never seems to be a problem when anyone else does it! When Gojo eats all his candy and doesn’t share with anyone at the party, it’s cool; but when you do that, you get all kinds of pushback: “What’s wrong with you?” Nothing! The chocolate was gonna melt if you didn’t do something about it! “What are we supposed to give to the trick or treaters now?” All the twizzlers you left behind, duh.
Shoko gave you a look and sipped her sake, Gojo’s pointed barks of laughter chasing you back to the comfort of the kitchen. There you see Geto; your boyfriend, whose presence settles amicably in the gaps of your expression when he looks up at you with that beckoning fondness. He crooks his fingers and you bound over quite thoughtlessly, much to his evident amusement.
Despite how much you insisted on matching costumes, Geto struck out of his own accord, the fake knife accompanying his Ghostface costume down on the counter. The real knife he was using to cut up the peppers is set aside as he busies himself with the sink.
You’re wearing one of those sexy school uniforms. Mini bordering on microskirt, paired with a cute number that shows your midriff- the dip in your chest. Your gogo boots click noisily on the floor a little as you sidle up next to him.
Geto pats your head when you get close enough, hands damp after a fresh rinse, and you preen from the contact. “Hey babyyy!” You gush a little, setting down the rest of the candy on the counter. “Can you get me a bowl?” He tilts head at you a little, looks down at the bag a second.
“Babe, didn’t I tell you to get the big bag?” Geto asks and shuffles over to the cabinet as you wash your hands to pick up where he left off. “Yeah! I did, doesn’t it look big to you?”
“Yeah… of course it does. But remember that conversation we had about eating things that aren’t yours?” He brings back the bowl, but also a sternness to his grin, which all of a sudden doesn’t meet his eye. “Well yeah Suguru!” You’re looking down now, cutting vegetables with sudden interest and precision, sweeping it up into little piles. “It's not like I'm stupid …” His figure lingers in your periphery as the words leave your lips, the air about him suddenly feeling … tense.
Then his hand is on yours.
“Look at me honey.” He gives you a squeeze, and you go to look up on instinct. Hesitate.
“What?” Your grip on the knife softens, and it soon clatters atop the cutting board. “What, I said.”
“I never said you were stupid.” Your eyes met his before you realized, and the indignant scowl you want to make shrivels up inside you like a dried cocoon. “You just have a hard time saying what you mean right?” He blinks owlishly at you. “I know you don’t wanna lie to me.”
“But I’m not-” Geto interrupts with a shake of his head. “Maybe one time I could forgive you, but twice? To my face?” You feel the sun in your face, fire hot heat setting you ablaze with embarrassment, feigned ignorance. A nagging feeling to obey. “I… I..”
“You?” He chimes cloyingly. You stiffen your upper lip. Hone your resolve.
“M’not lying! Now lemme go!” Your arm budges when he wants it to, so you’re not quite moving until a few agonizing seconds pass, when Suguru lets out a low whistle and sigh, shaking his head at you dismissively, before you’re allowed to resume cutting vegetables. He dumps the candy into the rest of the bowl and takes his leave, chattering with his friends in the living room before coming back, empty handed.
The silence is maddening. He comes back, shuffles around the kitchen, then stops somewhere just beyond your sight, and craning your neck to look back at him would beckon his scrutiny. So you refrain. Stir fry the vegetables, and refrain. Feel a bead of sweat crest on your forehead and slide down your cheek from the heat. Refrain.
The breath against your neck is sudden and swift as Suguru fixes himself behind you, knocking his head gently against yours as a grasping hand slides over your stomach. He goes for the gas on the stove before you can get a protest out, his other hand teasing the rim of your skirt, smoothing down a short pleat till his palm can grope your thigh.
“After a little deliberation … I’ve decided I forgive you. For the lying.” His fingers dimple the skin he touches, sliding ever so slowly under the fabric. “Because I know you’re not a silly girl. You can be quite attentive when you want to be, can’t you?”
“Yeah… yeah I can.” Your breath quickens a little as you press your ass back into the thin fabric of his hood, the feeling of his cock growing to hardness making you quiver with anticipation. His right hand on your thigh stills, tracing around your side and to your hip - growing stiff and heavy. The left dips boldly under your costume, a finger or two stalling in the spot right above your clit.
“Gojo and Shoko offered to get more candy - I can finish cooking after we’re finished here.” His lips press teasingly against the shell of your ear, and your resistance dwindles a bit. “Right now, all I want from you is a favor.”
“Favor? I can do that - I can..” Geto chuckles. “I know you can sweetheart. Shh, sh. It’s my turn to do the talking now, okay? Listen.” You nod sharply.
“Turn around.” You do. In an instant, stretching out your spine cat-like to press your chest up against him, your nipples hardening like pebbles beneath your blouse. You close your eyes and lean in for the kiss that should be inevitable - but no warmth meets your lips. Instead, an apathetic gloved finger. “Mmph?” Your confusion is apparent. You blink your eyes open and are greeted by a wry smile.
“Sometimes I wonder why it’s so hard for you to just listen. Then it came to me - an epiphany. Little girls like you just have a certain kind of skill set. Forgive me, okay? I just wasn’t giving you the right direction. But it’s okay! It’ll never happen again.” With those words, his expression grows less compromising - resolute, grim, determined. Almost makes you want to leap out of your skin - the fright of him not being happy with you bearing down greatly on your mind.
His hands come up to your shoulders and apply downward pressure.
“On your knees.”
You follow without hesitation.
His mirth wrinkles the corners of his eyes as you squirm down there. The floor is cold and your knees are getting dirty, and he knows that stupid look you make when you’re thinking to complain; though he’s never seen this level of restraint from you before. You’re quiet as you dig your fingers into your skin, and he knows he’s proud.
“Good girl.” Something blossoms in your chest when he says that, profound yet airy, a lightheadedness emblazoned into your forehead while the blood settles in your cheeks. Then that damn hand comes down again; which you thought was gonna muss your hair a bit more, but settles rather firmly against the back of your head.
His loose costume he’s wearing isn’t big enough to hide how hard his cock is, but it’s like he’s making you wait for it - want and yearn for it. Because he doesn’t move for a moment, just gets used to the look of you down on your knees as your fidgeting starts to feel more and more uncontrollable.
“Hey! Are you just gonna leave me high n’ dr-” A white finger presses to his lips as his other hand keeps holding your head. “Quiet now, girl. Be quiet.”
You’re good! A little impatient, but you’re good, goddamn it! Trying to be, for him - the love of your life, who’s got you down on your knees, fixing to ruin your pretty makeup for the afternoon.
Quiet.
Quiet.
Too damn quiet. Too much fucking silence. He’s looking at you, you think - because your eyes are shut tight and the embarrassment is beginning to dawn on you, and everything’s hot, and scary, and Suguru - is he mad at you?-
The sudden feeling of his hot hard cock flopping against your cheek makes you leap like a fish to water. Your eyes bulge open a bit, and your mouth gapes open in that instant, tongue lolling out for purchase on his heated flesh, heady scent weaseling into your nostrils and making your thighs clamp down around your own hand - which you hadn’t noticed snuck between your thighs. Your twitching fingers reach up to grab it …
“Stop.” You whine loose and loud, eyes flickering up to his face to communicate your desperation, and confusion. “Just use your mouth.” His hand reaches towards the base of his cock and flops it onto your lip proper; and you suckle on the head like it’s the sole thing providing you oxygen. “See? There are things you’re damn good at … Oh fuck -” All you can hear besides his voice is your heart thumping in your chest and the saliva building in your mouth, the sloppy ‘schlorp’ as you take him to the base - deep into your throat - and back out again, the salty taste of his cock and precum something you’ve missed terribly.
A little voice crawls along the back of your mind. At home, it says. This is where you belong.
Or maybe that’s Suguru’s wheedling. Words are falling from his lips, but you’re drowning in an effortless dream. “Good girl. … easy … taking me so well.”
The grip on the back of your head has grown tighter, as he shifts and adjusts his hips to help your further along. Your wet slurping is undercut by the sound of his balls slapping against your chin, fuzzy, familiar and pleasant.
Then it’s as stern as a pinch. You can feel his cock bulge out your throat, cheeks hollowed as you take him to the base. Tears sting your eyes a bit, but it’s a liberating pain. His grunts grow in their intensity, and you feel soaked to the bone, sitting on your hands so they can’t jump up and fondle his balls - you won’t disobey! You refuse, refuse, refuse -
“Close, haah, close your eyes, precious.” Your tummy flutters as you weld them shut. Suguru’s hips stutter, pause, then pull back.
A schlicking sound, then your prize. You open your mouth as you realize he’s cumming all over your face - streams of it making it into your happily awaiting maw, while the occasional strand undershoots - getting some on your chest and cheeks. Suguru sighs happier than you’ve heard in a while, and a part of you feels effortlessly at ease. Reset and pleasant and whole; besides the aching nag between your thighs. “You can speak now.”
You try, throat fucked raw and a little raggedy. “A-are you going to fuck me now? Please? I can’t - I can’t wait anymore!” Suguru smiles gently, but insincerely. “No, of course not. This was a lesson, not a reward.” He tucks himself casually back into his costume. “Besides, we have guests, honey.”
You pout, feel like you wanna cry a little. “Don’t give me those crocodile tears. You’re a big girl, remember?”
“...I guess.” You sniffle. Suguru nods and helps you back to your shaky feet. “Not ‘I guess’. You are.” He grants you a chaste kiss on your lips, licking a bit of himself off of you, then pulling back.
“Now, go clean yourself up.” He starts towards the sink, eager to resume dinner. “Those two should be back any second now.”
* all fics marked with the little star are dom!reader
Special thanks go out to @crybabylisa @liquorishblack @littleoanh @nanamis-wifey-reye and @virtue-and-beneviolence for helping me with all this, supporting me and keeping me sane/motivated 🫶
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