If cruel prince was a slice of life book instead of an excruciating soul extracting political stupid fucking miscommunication romance I'd like to imagine it was about these cool band kids who are lowkey rivals (please don't ask why)
So on one side we have The Shadows
Jude: lead singer and background guitarist (sometimes she unplugs her guitar)
Vivienne: lead guitarist (WILL see Jude unplug her guitar and scold her for it)
The Ghost: background guitarist 2 (Keeps getting taken for granted until he stops playing and everyone wonders why the song sounds so bad)
The Bomb: DRUMMMEERRR (SHE WOULD KILL IT)
The Roach: Bass (Forgets to play because he's staring at the drummer)
Taryn: Keyboard (Absolute shit as solos but SLAYS the chord progressions)
Oak: trumpet (Is always super unexpected and the crowd goes WILD, especially when they play Batameez Dil *coughs in desi*)
And on the other side who are OBVIOUSLY THEIR RIVALS 😍 we have The Crowns
Cardan: background singer and lead guitarist (is always making fun of The Shadow's lead singer for unplugging her guitar but secretly finds it cute)
Nicassia: lead singer (OUR SIREN QUEEN)
Locke: background guitarist (Gets the hardest chords to play when he acts up during practice)
Valerian: Drummer (Likes to take out his frustration on the instrument)
Balekin: Bass (Was overlooked Is overlooked Will be overlooked for eternity)
Dain: Synth board (They didn't actually need him until he busted out the most amazing chords and almost got Balekin kicked out)
And then both bands' signature song is "Hard Times" and when they both have to play it for some sort of show they're forced to merge together and play it because the management said so, and they have the most SICK AMAZING PERFORMANCE and the crowd goes WILD and someone developed a crush on someone's vocals (sideye)
Sorry I needed to dump because I keep imagining Cardan staring at Jude and messing up his guitar 😭 I'm probably going to keep doing this
as an assassin, you know exactly which targets are worth your time and which ones are better left for someone less capable. killing gojo satoru should be easy work, but when you find yourself entangled in his sheets, even you have to wonder whether your own confidence is about to get you killed
pairings: nightwing!jo + ceo!jo (minor toji) x reader
content: mdni cunnilingus, thigh riding, rough sex, dirty talk, attempted murder, violence, power imbalance / control dynamics, coercive undertones 10k+
note: overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer. long fic will be next i'm just extremely busy rn >< see u at the end !!
many people seek you out for your one-of-a-kind weekend special.
it’s written under every promotional poster with your face on it, stylised in glittering gold ink like it’s some kind of luxury service:
50% OFF ALL ASSASSINATIONS—SATURDAY 5PM-12AM ONLY
see, most people have working jobs on weekdays which makes it a little difficult to kill them when there are so many eyes watching. those who work remote are significantly more convenient, but your victims are rarely the private kind of people.
no, it’s typically those drawn to the spotlight and with the inability to shut their mouths, the kind that piss off the wrong rich people that end up on the other end of your favourite knife. saturday nights just happen to be when they celebrate their successes.
which is why you usually find yourself here, just like tonight.
the underground club pulses like a living thing, dim lights flickering in time with the bass that vibrates through the floorboards. neon signs buzz overhead, advertising cheap drinks and forgotten promises you learnt early on never to indulge. bodies grind together on the dance floor in the low haze of smoke, laughter and music bleeding into one indistinguishable blur.
you lean against the scarred wooden bar and pretend to nurse a glass of whiskey while your eyes sweep the room. it’s a bit of a habit now, the way you catalogue people without thinking. you cross off all the things on your list, exits, cameras, security, potential weapons, and just for precaution’s sake, anyone who looks like they might cause a problem.
luckily for you tonight, your gaze slides past them all easily.
the bartender, a man well into his thirties, a ragged scar running down the corner of his mouth, slides another glass in front of you without a word.
when you tilt your head up at him in question, toji only grunts and turns to serve the next customer, waiting for you to take a sip.
as you abandon your current drink and lift this one, you catch the faintest smudge of ink on the bottom of the glass, visible only when the strobe lights flicker across the surface. it’s a small, otherwise unassuming symbol, yet it’s kind that you dread to see, not because it elicits fear but because it means you’ve just confirmed you’ll be working overtime.
everyone has dirty laundry that needs taking out but no one really cares to think about the ones that do the washing.
you sigh, mentally drafting the text you will eventually send to your best friend about flaking. swiping your thumb across the glass, you tip the drink back and let the alcohol slide down your throat in a pleasant burn, your sunday plans disappearing with it.
oh well, that’s a future you problem. right now, you have a job to do.
you set the empty glass down and slide it back across the counter delicately. “that’s all i get? no hello, no welcome back, no you look fucking radiant tonight? it’s been two months since we’ve worked on the same job together, the least i expected was a hey, how are you.”
toji doesn’t even look at you. he drags a rag over the bar like it won’t dirty again seconds later from overly drunk patrons and says, “you got a free drink. that’s welcome enough.”
“a free drink and another job? geez, don’t overwhelm me with your companionship."
“it’s not like it’s my job. it’s something else from higher up.”
“figured. you never change, toji. always the lapdog, huh?”
that gets the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth, gone almost as soon as it appears.
your co-worker finally glances at you, dark eyes sweeping once over the dress, the heels, the hair you had to spend your own money on at the salon because your employers never pay for that kind of stuff. chivalry is truly dead.
“you’re looking expensive today.”
you giggle, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “that’s because i am.”
“bet it’s rented,” he guesses and when your face falls he snickers, grinning. “just don’t get anything on it this time. you know it’s me maki will blame.”
your good mood drops quickly. “you know, this lack of tact is exactly why you can’t settle down.”
“like i want to,” he sneers, flipping the towel over his shoulder, nodding his head as a customer comes up to the bar for a new drink. “tell me you looked over the file at least.”
“i’m a professional, toji. of course i did.”
“i bet you only took the job because the kid’s hot.”
“you think he’s hot?” you question, turning your head to meet his eyes with a lazy smirk. “and don’t call him kid, you’re only, like, eight years older than him. you guys are still in the same decade.”
he snorts, wiping the edges of a clean glass. “and five years older than you so watch your mouth.”
you giggle. “and what’s this about him being pretty? don’t tell me you’ve had your eye on him because then that’ll make us competition which is kind of awkward.”
“i get paid to keep my eye on your targets,” he says dryly, utterly unfooled. that, at least, is one habit of yours he’s long since grown immune to. “and you get paid to shut your mouth and take them out.”
“on a date?”
“you’re really going to make me drop the k word in a public setting?”
“kiss?” you guess incorrectly, just to watch his face curl into an annoyed sneer. “relax, it’s not like we haven’t been subtle about the whole deal. but sure, let’s keep up this facade and talk about work, you downer.”
toji waits until the bar empties out, or at least as best as it’ll clear at 11pm on a saturday night. “we don’t know who leaked his information so you should be careful of a third party.”
“it wasn’t us?”
“no, and that’s all i’ll say about it. even if there’s no other eyes on him tonight, you should still be on your guard. i’ve been watching him for the past few weeks and he never lets anyone get in close. he might even run if you come onto him too strong.”
you look away, letting your fingers linger around the rim of your fresh drink as if you’re deciding whether to order another, as if you’re here for the same reason everyone else is and not because somebody somewhere has decided a certain vigilante has become inconvenient to keep alive.
it would almost be laughable, really. the great nightwing felled not in the middle of some dramatic rooftop fight or after a city-wide manhunt, but in the sticky-dark backroom of a club where drinks are watered down and the bathrooms don’t have functioning locks nor paper towels to wipe your hands. instead, you have to wipe them down your skirt every time which is most definitely the worst part of these nights.
if your boss had been any less generous with the zeros, you might even have been offended on the superhero’s behalf.
you hum, noncommittal. “the file says he’s popular.”
“he is. comes here around ten most nights. but he never takes anyone home. just sits there and talks to whoever comes by.”
you wrinkle your nose. “there’s no way i can murk him in this place. you’ve done good to keep up the numbers.”
“word of advice,” he starts, ignoring you, and you snort softly, keeping your eyes from rolling since the time is drawing close where you have to watch your manners.
“you need to be careful this time around.” toji looks away to give the illusion that your conversation is anything but important. “don’t give me that look. you weren’t there when he crashed the big boss’ shipment. swung in and cracked open three heads before leaving with the precious cargo.”
“what’s the cargo?”
“not in your paygrade,” he says shortly with a lazy grin. “point is, he’s not just a pretty face. if you don’t want to die tonight, you should remember that.”
“i’ll be the one to judge if he’s pretty or not,” you remark drily. “where is he?”
toji jerks his chin toward the back without lifting his eyes from the bottle in his hand. “corner booth, in the black shirt.”
you find him immediately.
draped in the one part of the club where the lights don’t shine down directly, sipping a glass tucked away in a corner booth like he’s trying to seem mysterious and nonchalant. you can’t make out his face from over here, the lighting is no help either, but from the way he has one arm over the back of his couch, the other nursing a glass and his legs spread wide, you can only salivate as you imagine.
“fucking fantastic,” you sigh.
toji makes a sound that might almost be an agreement. “tell me about. the kid’s pretentious."
“i was talking more about the fact that he’s hot as fuck.”
your long-time coworker lets out a disgusted sound. “woman, keep your boner down, you’re going to give yourself away. you’ve killed prettier but this is the one you give a fuck about?”
“don’t be such a prude, toji. i just meant it’ll be a shame to kill him without having some fun first.”
“just talking for the sake of talking,” toji grumbles.
your boss had not been subtle when he handed over the assignment. he had been livid, which on him looked almost elegant, a dangerous kind of elegance, the sort that only rich men with violent hobbies ever seem to perfect. not that you’re here to judge. but if toji had been telling the truth, then three weeks ago nightwing had crashed the shipment halfway through the transaction and absconded before anyone could stop him, then somehow leaked enough information from the seized files and items to bring half a dozen shell companies under investigation by morning. months of work ruined, buyers spooked, shipping routes frozen.
several very important people suddenly became less interested in doing business afterwards.
there was something particularly important nightwing had stolen.
the item itself had never been fully explained to you, but that was because you never asked. as toji had said, that simply wasn’t in your paygrade. all you needed to know was that whatever nightwing stole had cost your employer money, momentum, and face, and men like him could forgive many things, but never humiliation.
so now, you’re here. kill gojo satoru and take back this elusive object.
you set your glass down with care, though not because the drink deserves gentleness. beauty has always been a wonderful place to hide a weapon, and you slip into the role like it was tailored for you, straightening your shoulders, lifting your chin, and letting your smile soften into something men always melt for.
“any pearls of wisdom before i go?” you ask, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from your dress.
toji doesn’t bother looking impressed by your sudden change in attitude. “yeah. don’t get yourself killed chasing a better orgasm.”
you almost break your persona to laugh. “toji, please. i’m a professional.”
you don’t give him the satisfaction of getting one more word in. instead, you slip from the bar and into the crowd, letting the club swallow you in flashes of light. neon catches against bare shoulders and spilled drinks. a body bumps yours from the left and mumbles an apology you don’t bother to respond to.
you don’t need a refresher on how good gojo looks sitting alone in the dark like a creep, but he gives you one anyway, black shirt open just enough at the throat that your eyes flicker down before snapping back up. you’re surprised he doesn’t have a flock of women draped over him, and after scanning the room, it isn’t due to a lack of female attention.
you decide you’re going to be the brave one that tests her luck first.
gojo notices you before you can speak, eyes lifting from his drink and settling on you as you walk up, a flicker of amusement quickly dissipating into neutrality. his eyes drag over you once, catching at your mouth, throat, the line of your waist, before returning to your face completely shameless.
you smile.
“am i too late?” you ask, voice sweet as cut fruit, “or is there an open place for me here?”
“depends,” gojo says, placing his glass down. “are you good under pressure? it’s a little competitive over here.”
so he’s not unaware of all the stares he’s getting.
“pressure?” you repeat lightly. “i prefer being the thing that makes it a little harder to breathe”
he laughs, a low delighted sound that slides over your skin and settles somewhere hot and treacherous in your stomach. “let me buy you a drink then.”
the shitty little file photo clipped to your assignment does not do him justice. a still image cannot capture the way his face moves when he’s amused, or the exact changing colour of his eyes under the low club light, bright and sharp behind those ridiculous tinted glasses and when his silver bangs don’t cover his forehead.
you take a seat. “i thought this spot was a little more exclusive than that. it kind of takes away the appeal.”
gojo leans forward, lifting a hand to flag down a waiter. “it’s just a random booth in a club. doesn’t get any more ran through than that.”
“please, like you haven’t noticed how you’re the eye candy of the night.”
“jealousy already? don’t be, there’s enough of me to go around.”
and god, you usually hate these types, all polished arrogance and self-importance, men so used to being looked at they assume attention will simply be handed to them. but when they look a little something like the man before you, with that mouth and those eyes and all that offensive ease draped over broad shoulders, you find you can spare a little more patience than usual.
“i don’t get jealous of women doing charity work,” you say.
“you’re the one coming over here, sweetheart. i doubt you’re the kind of woman that goes for something that doesn’t catch her eye.”
“maybe i just wanted to see who the community attraction was.”
gojo’s grin turns crooked, brightening instead of fading and you realise you might enjoy messing with him more than you thought.
“that’s harsh. i was hoping for something along the lines of a ‘local legend’. something with a cleaner reputation.”
“it’s cute that you think that but i’ve seen far prettier.”
“but clearly i’m something special if you crossed the room to come talk.”
“i guess i did,” you admit easily enough. “was that a mistake?”
you hear footsteps approaching from behind and, after considering the gait, you already know it’s toji before he talks.
toji sets down a drink at your elbow at the wave of gojo’s hand without so much as glancing at either of you, the picture of disinterested service not that gojo seems to mind. his eyes are locked on you.
“i hope this lives up to your expectations.”
you don’t need to worry about your own safety when it’s toji who has prepared the drink and set it down, so you easily lift it to your lips and take a sip.
it’s smooth and warm, and you don’t know who to appreciate, toji for making the drink or gojo for choosing it.
“so,” gojo says, “did i win you over?”
you reward him with a smile, mirroring him and leaning forward. “let me see, something that tastes expensive. i was just thinking that if i’m going to let a strange man subsidise my evening, i’d at least like it to taste like he’s trying.”
his mouth curves. “and here i was hoping my face had bought me a little grace.”
“your face,” you say, letting your eyes dip to his mouth once more before returning to his, “is the only reason i haven’t left yet.”
he huffs, finding nothing else to comment on. “i’d much rather you call me a stranger than a strange man.”
“you don’t have to be either of them,” you say, and it’s as much as a gesture of approval than simply saying he has you hooked.
gojo doesn’t miss it and smirks. “gojo satoru.”
you enjoy the sound of his name from those pretty, pink lips before offering your fake name as smooth as ten years in the business of pretending can be. he repeats it once, softer than necessary, turning it over like he’s testing the sound of it.
you cross your legs as he gives you his verdict.
“it’s pretty.”
“don’t think i’ll fall for a cheap line like that, gojo.”
“satoru,” he corrects. “and i think you like me more than you want to.”
“weird because i’m still deciding if your face is enough to justify the personality attached to it,” you pout your lips condescendingly. “what i’m actually thinking is that you’re a lot prettier with your mouth shut.”
he grins. “oh, sweetheart, you’re going to want my mouth open.”
you roll your eyes and drag your thumb around the rim of your glass, watching the condensation gather and slip under your nail. “tell me, satoru, is this what usually works for you? sitting in corners, watching from the dark?”
his laugh comes low and easy, entirely too pleased. “is that jealousy again?”
“god, you wish.”
“i don’t know,” he says, leaning back just enough to look relaxed while his eyes stay much too fixed on your face. “you crossed a room for me, you’re drinking what i bought you, and you haven’t left yet. i think my ego’s doing just fine.”
you hum, like you’re considering the point seriously. “that says more about my patience than your charm.”
he chuckles a little. “what do i have to do for you to warm up to me, hm, pretty?”
“tell me about yourself,” you say simply, hiding your grin behind a sip of the drink.
he blinks, resting his elbows on his knees, hands loose between his legs. “what is this, some kind of bad first date? here i was thinking you came over here with intentions.”
you let your gaze drop deliberately to his mouth, then lower. he makes it too easy really, considering he’s manspreading across the entire fucking couch. he shifts under your gaze, making the effort to spread a little wider, lean back a little more alluring.
“i did come over here with intentions.”
“good ones, i hope.”
“but you’ll be wrong to think that i’m easy.”
he laughs under his breath. “you really know how to make a man feel special.”
“don’t give me that, satoru. you’re eating this up, be honest.”
“sweetheart,” he says, the word all warmth and certainty, “if i wasn’t, you’d be halfway to the bar by now.”
you let your foot brush his under the table, casual as an accident, and feel rather than see the tiny stillness that follows. his gaze doesn’t drop but his eyes do twitch, shoulders losing a little of that loose ease, tension replacing it in small, satisfying increments.
you don’t say anything, which leaves it up to him to please you.
“i have a motorbike,” he says suddenly.
you smile encouragingly, this time letting your foot slide up with a little more purpose. “do you?”
“yeah.”
“where do you bike to?”
“just around.”
you click your tongue disappointedly, letting the heel of your shoe slide down.
“around my block,” he corrects quickly. “to the park. there’s events there sometimes.”
“did you travel anywhere specific in the past month, maybe these last three weeks?” your heel creeps up his calf, dragging toward his inner thigh under the table. “or are you not much of a travel person?”
he swallows. “no, i stay around the city. didn’t do anything too exciting recently, either.”
you hide a smirk. what a fucking liar.
in your silence, he tries for a grin but it’s hard to take him seriously when you can feel the hardness of his muscle beneath his pants. “this is new. i don’t usually get interrogated like this when i’m at the club.”
“i like to know what i’m taking home. “you’re quick to reply with and drink in the satisfaction of hearing his breath catch.
all men do is lie, honestly. gojo is lying to your face, talking about some ‘didn’t do anything too exciting recently’ like you wouldn’t kill to drop in on a ship undetected and swipe their goods from under their nose. sometimes you wonder if you’ve chosen the wrong profession, but you suppose you balance out the boring stabbing bits with things like this, like twirling your victim around your pinkie before pulling the ends tight and cutting off their airways.
toji was lying to you considering gojo is not the threat he told you he is. he’s just a pathetic, arrogant rich boy that probably gets off to an older woman telling him what to do. targets like these are exactly what makes your job worth it.
you look up at him through your lashes, foot creeping up. “do you have a girlfriend?”
that, at least, coaxes a grin out of him. “would i be here with you if i did?”
“just making sure there’s no one who’ll get mad at me,” you pout again because he seems to stiffen the most when you look up at him with those big, round eyes. “i’m a very fragile person, you know?”
gojo licks his lips. “i should ask you the same. i’m not very strong either.”
you fight the urge to snort, catching toji’s eyes from across the bar. “no one like that.”
you start to withdraw your foot from his leg but he catches your ankle quickly, pressing the sole of your heel into his skin, not seeming to care what you might have stepped on. “don’t run away. you started this.”
“baby,” you purr. “this is an opportunity for you, not for me. and you’re getting a little boring.”
“you’re the one that asked about me like you’re interested.”
you tilt your head, batting your lashes at him. “is that a complaint?”
satoru straightens immediately, face free of any of that mischief from earlier. “my name’s gojo satoru, age 31, i work in tech, go to the gym in the morning, foster kittens in my free time and i really need you to stop touching me before i clear the table and fuck you on it.”
hook, line and sinker.
you grin, all charm and beauty. “there it is. was that really so hard? i know you’re doing your best but, satoru, really—”
you let your foot slip free of his hand and stand, looking down at him, triumph flushing your face pink, anticipation buzzing through you, hot and heavy.
“try to keep up.”
gojo is an incredible kisser which seems unfair because he already has his superhero charm to woo the ladies. and now he can actually put money where his mouth is and render you dizzy and weak as his lips crash against yours in the hallway of his apartment?
you had barely made it into his apartment before his hands were all over you, roaming your stomach and caressing down your side as his mouth ravishes yours. you gasp when his lips press against yours but eagerly part them to match the intensity. you’re not stupid, far from it when this field requires all five senses to stay razor sharp, but it never hurt anyone to indulge a little, right?
you’re not the only one indulging. his hand slides under your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.
“eager, much?” you tease against his lips and he chuckles, his breath fanning across your face.
“don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted.” his hands slide up from under your thigh, holding your ass to grind you against his boner. “feel that?”
“no,” you tease, letting him guide your movements. “is there even anything there?”
he laughs fully now, pulling back to look at you. his eyes roam from yours to your lips, down to your neck and the cleavage you meticulously pushed up moments before you entered the club earlier that afternoon. manipulating this finicky dress seems worth it now when his eyes are drawn to it.
“oh, you’re going to be fun.”
then, without another word, he surges forward again, crashing his mouth back onto yours with a raw hunger. the kiss is anything but gentle, it’s messy, all teeth and tongue clashing in a frantic rhythm that leaves you both breathless.
he tastes sweet which surprises you considering you were so sure he had been drinking something coloured at the club. perhaps it had just been the flashing neon lights that gave it that shade.
saliva slicks the corners of your mouths, dripping slightly as you tilt your head to deepen the connection, your hands fisting in the collar of his shirt to demand more, sucking on his bottom lip and tangling your tongue with his in wet, sloppy strokes.
if there’s one thing you pride yourself in aside from all the killing, is that you’re also a damn good kisser.
gojo seems to agree as he pants against your lips, chest heaving with each ragged breath he takes between kisses. his hands, those strong, capable hands that you’ve watched swing through the night as nightwing, are now put to work in worshipping your body.
one palm presses flat against the small of your back, arching you into him, before sliding up to cup your face. but that’s not what you want at all, so you take his hand and slide it down to where your body aches for him the most.
he huffs, warmth against your face. “who’s eager now?”
“can you blame me for wanting to get off first since your dick definitely won’t?”
he smirks but doesn’t reject your demand, pulling your dress up so he can slip a hand under the fabric. your breath catches a little when his fingers trace the lace edge of your panties, his thumb lightly brushing over your mound.
“looks like i won’t need to work on making out, at least,” he comments smugly, feeling the dampness.
his fingers don’t hesitate after that, pushing the thin fabric to the side with a deliberate swipe that exposes your slick folds to the cool air of the hallway. you bite back a gasp as his middle finger traces the length of your slit, gathering your wetness to circle your clit with just enough pressure to make your hips jerk forward. the sensation shoots straight through you, a spark that ignites the heat pooling low in your belly and you curse yourself for drinking more than you usually do on missions like this.
“fuck, you’re soaked already,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice rough with arousal.
“don’t let it get to your—ngh, head,” you mumble and kiss him harder in response, dominating the angle, your tongue plunging deep as you suck on his.
it’s agonising how slow he’s rubbing you, how languid, and you buck against his palm, breaking the kiss just enough to whisper, “what’s wrong with you? are you a virgin? do it faster.”
hey obeys with a low groan against your lips, his thumb joining the assault, flicking back and forth over your swollen numb while his finger dips lower, teasing your entrance.
“like this? feel how wet you’re getting on my fingers?” he asks, but there’s a hitch in his breath, his cock straining harder against your thigh through his pants, grinding subtly as if begging for friction.
you’re the one in control here though, and so press your body closer, forcing him to feel every inch of your curves while you rock against his hand.
his finger finally pushes inside you, thick and curling right against that spot that makes your walls clench greedily around him. “shit, this tight pussy's sucking me in—gonna finger fuck you until you're dripping down my hand,” he growls between kisses, but his pace matches yours, thrusting in time with the roll of your hips.
you gasp into his mouth, the stretch burning deliciously as he adds a second finger, scissoring them to stretch you wider, his thumb never letting up on your clit.
he pulls back to laugh. “still don’t think i’m any good?”
you glare up at him but you’re sure it doesn’t look all that intimidating, not when your body is sucking him back in with every thrust. “average at best maybe?”
“really? why are you about to cum for me, then—squeezing my fingers, soaking them with your pussy?” he taunts, his voice strained, eyes dark with lust as he watches your face contort in pleasure. “come in, give in to me. that’s it, pretty girl.”
your orgasm hits like a wave, crashing over you as your walls pulse around his fingers, gushing wetness that coats his palm and drips down your thighs. your legs shake uncontrollably, knees buckling slightly, but you hold onto his shoulders, refusing to let him take over completely.
“fuck, yes— that's it, cumming so hard on my fingers,” he praises, slowing his thrusts to milk every aftershock, his lips brushing yours in softer kisses now, letting you catch your breath. you sigh into him, the greed sated for a moment, and grab the front of his collar to pull him back into a proper kiss.
when you both stop for a breath, he smirks down at you. “should i hope for the favour to be paid back or are you done?”
“i’m not heartless,” you pant, voice still husky from the high. “but it’ll be on my terms.”
you shove him back, mind mapping out the layout of his house and finding the crude drawing toji had made of the apartment surprisingly accurate. so accurate in fact, that you have no trouble kissing and walking him back and shoving gojo down on his bed.
your hands are already working his shirt buttons, his chest heaving as he lets you undress him. his own hands hover over you, waiting for your cue, even as his arousal strains against his pants.
you straddle him in one fluid motion, your dress hiked up around your hips, panties still askewed and soaked. “are you seriously waiting for me to strip you? with these pretty hands?”
“bossy little thing,” he murmurs but complies, shrugging off his shirt to reveal a scarred, toned torso that you wouldn’t have expected with that pretty face. scars from battles no doubt, muscles honed from swinging through gotham’s nights.
you stare at them in awe. it’s not like you’re without scars either, but none in places like these. half of the mission is killing the target, the other is getting out unscathed so you can wear a pretty tight dress the next night for your next victim. it made sense why he has so many, though.
you trace a finger down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath. he arches up slightly, but doesn’t stop you, letting you investigate.
“i also do bouldering,” he says.
you look up at him in disbelief. “what mountains are you scaling? these look like they hurt.”
“worried?” he takes your hand and brings it up to his mouth to kiss your palm, eyes looking up at you the entire time. “that turns me on.”
you scoff, pushing that thought to the back of your mind to look into another day. right now, you have a hot, shirtless man beneath you, and you weren’t stupid enough to let an opportunity like this slip through your fingers.
you grind against the bulge in his pants, feeling it throb under you. “enough to beg?”
he grins. “oh, it doesn’t take a lot to make me beg.”
you unzip him, his cock springing free, hard and leaking pre-cum from the tip. you wrap your hand around it, pumping slowly, thumb circling the head to spread the slickness.
gojo hisses, hips jerking up but you pin his thighs down with your weight. “fuck, that feels so fucking good. look at your hand getting me off—fuck. you’re so pretty.”
he licks his lips, trying for a grin while you stroke him slowly. “think you could give me a little more?”
“do you know how greedy you’re being?”
“just let me see your tits, baby. c’mon, please?”
just because he’s so pretty when he begs, you guide his hands to the zipper on your side and let him free your boobs, his groan all you need to stroke him faster as he leans forward to capture a nipple in his mouth, sucking.
“you taste so fucking good. thought that even when we were just kissing,” he moans against your skin, grazing his teeth over where it’s sensitive and drinking in the small gasp you give him. “snuck a taste of you when you weren’t looking. could get addicted if i’m not careful.”
“do you ever shut up?” you huff, squeezing him just because you can.
he hisses. “you think i’m doing this for me? you’re the one rocking against me, beautiful. don’t act like it isn’t turning you on.”
you bite your lip and stroke him faster, if only to shut him up. his words immediately dissolve into a low, drawn out groan, lips detaching from your tits. “your grip’s so perfect. that’s it, twist it like that. make my cock leak for you,” he all but begs, body tensing up.
his breathing turns a little more ragged and you know you’ve got him, smirking as you let go of his cock.
gojo whines, hands grabbing your waist. “what—why? i’ll shut up, just don’t—”
“no, baby,” you coo, shifting on his lap. “i’m right here. i need you inside me.”
he nods eagerly, the frustration melting slightly as he reaches over and fumbles at his nightstand.
you look over to find him grabbing a condom from the drawer and you intercept it on the way back to tear it open. “look at you. you’re a real gentleman, you know that?”
“don’t be silly, wrap your willy.”
you roll it on him while he grabs the front of your dress where it’s sitting a little uncomfortably above your breasts, and tugs. you’re certain he didn’t exert much energy at all but it gives way easily, ripping it apart and leaving you bare, the rest of the fabric settling at your waist. your tits bounce once at the force and his eyes devour you, cock twitching in anticipation.
“how did you—” you blink, a little taken aback and panicked.
“get on me—fuck, please, need that pussy,” he groans, but you take your time, positioning yourself above him, rubbing the tip along your folds, coating it in your lingering wetness.
the tease makes him growl, hands gripping the sheets instead of you, yielding to your control. you almost pull back, just for a second to recuperate, but he whimpers and you’re a lost cause.
“fuck it.”
you sink down slowly, inch by inch, savouring the stretch as his thick cock fills you up.
“ohgod,” you sigh, eyes fluttering close.
gojo throws his head back with a gasp, fingers curling into his dark sheets deliciously as his hips give a pathetic thrust upward when he decides you’re taking him too slow. he only spares a few seconds for you to adjust to his large size before he’s grinding up shallowly, urging you to move.
“ride me—use this cock, baby. your pussy’s gripping me so tight, fuck,” he rasps, hands rising to lift the rest of your dress to watch where you’re joined but you stop him, guiding his hands to your hips instead.
to distract him, you lean down and kiss him, tongues tangling as you start a languid grind that picks up in speed, bouncing now, the slap of your ass against his thighs filling the room.
your hands brace on his chest, nails digging in, and when he hits that spot inside you gasp, breaking away to throw your head back and properly slam down.
“fuck, pretty, please. harder, bounce on it faster, i know you can,” he pleads, voice breaking.
it turns you on even more and the rhythm builds and builds and builds, your moans mixing with his, kisses turning sloppy as sweat slicks your skin. he really does feel so, so good, that you almost feel bad.
you grab his jaw in your hand and pull him up. he follows the movement eagerly, sitting up so you can wrap your arms around his neck for support to slam back down.
“god, oh god, oh fuck—” he’s moaning freely now, hair sticking to his temples, hips thrusting back up pathetically.
you can feel the climax approaching as your hand slides down under your dress.
this is usually the easiest part, so why do you feel hesitant? you’re probably just missing his cock already, call it anticipatory grief, so you push that unknown feeling to the back of your mind and level the needle at his nape.
you bounce harder, feeling his hands on your hips lift you up and down and up and down, cursing obscenely in your ear, breath hot against your cheek. you glance at his face through half-lidded eyes and almost cum at his expression, that cute little frown as he chases his orgasm, the way his mouth hangs open to gasp in air between every delicious jolt.
“satoru,” you finally let yourself moan, half-sob,half-gasp, clinging to him tighter and he reciprocates, almost squeezing you in a bear hug as he loses himself in your tight, wet heat.
he tilts his head to look at you, leaning in for a kiss that you know will push you over the edge. just before you shatter, just before your lips touch his, and most importantly, just before you press the needle against his skin, you whisper, “sorry.”
then you cum.
a ragged moan escapes your throat, entire body tensing before relaxing into him, clenching and milking him dry like there isn’t plastic separating him from properly filling you. and now that he'll be dead in a few seconds, you’ll never have the chance.
you sigh as you come down from your high, catching your breath in heavy pants. what a shame. you should probably get off him before the poison kills him.
wait a minute, did you even end up piercing his skin?
your eyes snap open as the daze leaves you and you sit up straight, looking at gojo as he watches you with a smirk. his hand wraps around your wrist.
“naughty girl,” he purrs, voice low and laced with dark amusement, but there’s an edge to it now. your blood freezes in your veins, the post-orgasm glow shattering into icy dread.
“what the fuck,” you breathe, yanking back instinctively, but he doesn’t budge.
in fact, his grip only tightens, twisting just enough to make your bones ache, forcing the thin syringe to clatter from your numb fingers onto the bed beside you. he swipes it away and it hits the floor, your payroll for the week disappearing with it.
ah, hell.
“oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, thrusting up once, cock still buried deep inside your pulsing pussy. “you poor, poor thing. you think i didn’t notice?”
pleasure twists into fear because those eyes—god, those eyes—burn with knowledge, stripping every layer of your deception.
“you think i didn’t know since the very second, the very moment you sauntered into that club, batting those lashes, working me up like i was just another one of your men to tease. i knew what you wanted.”
he lifts his hips so his cock grinds against your sweet spot and you gasp, catching yourself on his chest despite the situation. “but i—”
“sure, you wanted to fuck yourself silly on my cock. but you wanted something else, didn’t you? i’m sure that file looked pretty appealing to you. kill nightwing, walk away with a million in your pocket. and you thought a little prick in the dark would be all you needed? that really breaks my heart, baby.”
his free hand trails up your spine, nails scraping lightly, sending unwanted shivers racing across your skin. you try to shift off him, to break free, but he locks his arm around your waist, holding you impaled on his length. “no point running. it’s game over.”
you shiver at his condescending tone and also at reality as it sinks. “fuck. it was you, wasn’t it? you leaked your own information.”
“caught,” he grins easily. “i knew there were a few people interested in my head on a stick. but i had no idea who. so i set some bait and watched it lure you in.”
“dickhead,” you growl. “you can kill me but i’m not the one who wants you dead.”
“oh, i know, pretty. you’re just a pawn. but your mouth still works just fine. so tell me.” in a blur of motion, he flips you onto your back, the world inverting as he pins your arms above your head with one unyielding hand. his body covers yours, heavy and inescapable, cock slipping out slightly just for him to push it back in with a lewd, wet sound that makes your cheeks burn despite the terror.
“tell me who sent you,” he growls, voice dropping to a feral rasp as he pulls out to thrust back in.
“no—ngh—fucking way,” you hiss, bucking up against him as he fucks you proper. “get off me, you—”
but the words die as he slams into you hard, hitting your sweet spot and making your eyes roll back, mouth open.
“ah, fuck,” he groans. “tried to end me while you rode my dick? pathetic. but hot as fuck—ah, shit, you’re so tight. gonna fuck that killer instinct right out of you.”
you try to protest but he kisses you, teeth clashing, tongues invading, swallowing anything you have left to say. he bits your lower lip until copper blooms on your tongue and in one last act of defiance, you bit back. he only laughs into your mouth, the vibration humming through you.
“you are so fun. i like it. i’m gonna mess you up so good, baby.” his hand dives between your thighs, fingers long, calloused from years of vigilante work, rubbing against your clit roughly without preamble.
you gasp, hips jerking involuntarily as he thrusts against that spongy spot inside you with precision, his fingers at your clit only bringing you higher. “stop—fuck, satoru, too soon,” you whine, but he only shushes you, voice against your ear and you only vaguely hear him through the obscene squelches.
“too soon? but look, your cunt’s begging for it. clenching around me and everything. you want me to cum, don’t you? want to squirt all over me and have me fill you up.”
you shake your head but whether it’s just you writhing or if you really want him to stop, you don’t know. “fuckfuckfuck, it’s too much!”
his eyes lock on your face, drinking in every twist of pleasure as he fucks you into the mattress good, hips slamming into yours over and over and over again, fingers working in unrelentless circles. “too much? i think killing me on the first night is too much. but—fuck, okay. you want to kill me? let me ruin you first, fuck you until you can’t get fair. until all you remember is my cock splitting you open instead of whatever bastard wants me dead.”
the pleasure builds up fast, overwhelming, your legs trembling as he ruts into you harder, more erratic, getting close to his own orgasm. “come on, give it to me. soak the sheets like the messy bitch you are.”
it hits like lightning, your back arching off the mattress as you shatter, clear fluid gushing over his dick, dripping down to your ass. you cry out, vision whiting, body convulsing in his grip. gojo doesn’t let up still, working you through it until you’re a quivering mess, tears streaking your cheeks, until he lets out a strangled groan and pulls you down one last time.
he lets out a long, satisfied sigh as he empties his balls inside you and you whimper, mind fucked out and wishing the condom wasn’t there.
“good girl,” he praises, pulling out to take the condom off. he loops the end around into a knot and slaps your throbbing clit with it, grinning when you let out a surprised yelp. “what’s wrong? still want more? come on up here.”
he manhandles you onto his lap, his back leaning against the headboard and all you can do is let him, limbs feeling heavy. he presses your hips down so your clit rubs against his thigh and you whimper, almost collapsing forward if his hands weren’t there to catch you.
“you’ve had your fun,” he says. “tell me who sent you.”
you shake your head, gasping.
“wrong answer.” gojo guides your hips forward along his thigh. “give me a name, sweetheart. i know i didn’t fuck you that good. open your eyes and tell me.”
your eyes flutter open at his command, dragging up to look at him. you part your lips and whisper through the rawness of your throat, “fuck you.”
he snickers, helping you grind as your hips betray you. “trust me, i will. but give me a name first, sweetheart, hm?”
you moan, the feeling of his hard muscle under you too much for your oversensitive clit.
“cute answer,” he coos, brushing your hair behind your ear so he can watch you struggle. “but try again. and this time give me something i can actually use.”
“in your dreams,” you choke out, rutting despite yourself.
“i know, baby,” he coos, and you’re caught between slapping him across the face and melting into that sweet, condescending tone of his. “you’ll be there. poor thing, you just want to cum again, isn’t that right? but i’m not giving it to you, not until you tell me who sent you.”
you lean forward, sinking your teeth into his shoulder, hoping it’ll stop you from spilling the beans when his touch is making him oh so persuasive.
he chuckles low, thumb finding your clit and pressing. “you can bite, squirm, pout, whatever helps, but eventually you’re still going to tell me. come on baby, just tell me their name.”
if he really wanted to know, he shouldn’t be getting you off like this. all you can do is fuck his thigh and thumb as best as you can, biting down to stop yourself from whimpering as if your pathetic state isn’t embarrassing enough.
he growls, pulling you off him and pressing you against the headboard, holding your face against the wall.
“last chance, sweetheart. tell me who sent you.”
you grin despite the tears in your eyes, despite the throbbing of your clit, despite the fact that your mascara is surely running down your cheeks and there may be drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. “you want me to call out another man’s name that bad?” you spit out. “make me.”
you really should learn to keep your mouth shut.
one moment you’re bare and wanting, still hovering on the cusp of that promised orgasm, and the next he’s sliding back into you, hips pressing all the way in and hitting your ass.
you moan against the wood, body jolting forward as he sets a punishing pace.
you thought the file given to you had been clear enough. gojo satoru, some freelancer tech guy who also happens to be nightwing. 6'3", doesn’t have a girlfriend, doesn’t have a drivers’ license, certainly not for a motorbike, travels frequently in and out of cities for work. one thing they failed to mention was his incredible stamina.
he takes you over and over, well into the night, groaning in your ear, telling you how pretty you look, how hot and tight you feel wrapped around his dick, how sweet your moans are, but in the same breath he’ll tell you to watch him fuck you, hand on your jaw to make sure you can’t look away. he’ll thrust into you hard and fast, than make you finger yourself on his lap while he strokes to the rhythm of your hand.
you’ve never known pleasure so good, never felt so swept away in the currents that all you want to do is drown in his waters, to please him with your lips around his cock and whimper and nuzzle into his hand when he pats your head.
his feet find your neglected pussy as you suck and when he presses into you, a cruel mirror to that moment in the club, you’re so far gone that you rut against and finish when he cums in your mouth.
over and over, never giving you a moment to breathe or think or feel anything other than his hands on your body and his dick ramming into your pussy.
you can’t even remember when he had stopped fucking you but one moment you’re moaning around his cock, and the next there’s only darkness and his voice by your ear.
“sweet dreams, y/n.”
fuck, you think, he knows my name. and then you’re gone, swept under the waves of sleep, uncertain what you’ll wake up to next.
you want to credit your assassin instincts for waking you up only a few hours after you passed out. though, you have to question where exactly those instincts had gone when you were moments away from killing your target and somehow still ended the night asleep in his bed.
when did you first begin to lose your grasp on the situation? was it when you had willingly wrapped your hand around his cock and let him suckle and mouth at your tits? was it when he had gotten you off with a cruel press of his fingers, your dress bunched over his wrist as his teeth and tongue clashed against yours? or was it before even then, way before, all the way back to the club when you approached him with the assumption that he was bottom feeder prey and nothing to get your panties in a twist over.
it is painfully obvious now that that had been nowhere near the truth. for one thing, you don’t even know where your panties are.
you crack open your eyes just slightly, just in case he’s the sort of creep who watches women sleep after fucking them stupid. after tonight, you’re not exactly in the mood to make any more assumptions.
the room is still drowned in the dark blue of early morning, the sun not yet risen, the city outside his windows reduced to a few scattered lights. when you don’t hear the slightest change in his breathing, you finally open your eyes properly and assess the damage.
okay, so maybe toji had been right. maybe you had gotten a little cocky over the years. but could he really blame you when all you’ve known is win after win for the past year? then again, none of them had been a feared vigilante, just rich old men with nothing left to do with their lives so they turn to crime. nothing to do late game, as toji had said
speaking of, your co-worker is going to eat this up. that is, if you can even make it out alive to tell him. it seemed one thing about gojo’s report had been right at least: gojo satoru is weak to older women, if the fact that you’re still alive and being spooned by him was any indication.
you test the weight of his arm around your middle and feel him stir, a quiet mumble brushing against the back of your neck. you freeze instantly, muscles locking. but then he only exhales, deeper this time, and settles again, his grip going slack with sleep.
you carefully, slowly, pry his fingers apart. it takes longer than it should, he’s still infuriatingly stubborn even in his sleep, but when you finally manage to ease his hand off your stomach, you grab the nearest pillow and wedge it into the space you’ve left behind.
gojo makes a soft, unhappy sound in his sleep, brows pinching until you find your discarded dress on the floor and pull it over the pillow. then, he nuzzles into the fabric and quiets again.
your feet pad silently across the floor as you gather whatever clothing you can find in the dark. you had to sacrifice your dress for the good of the cause, so you settle for the easier solution, his shirt. you pull it on, wincing slightly at the ache between your thighs as you button it in haste. it falls indecently low on you, hem brushing the top of your thighs, but it’s better than nothing. his pants are easier to find than those missing panties of yours, so you drag them on too.
then, you take the easy way out and descend through his window.
landing on the fire escape, you take a second to breathe in the early morning air and pretend you haven’t just survived the most embarrassing failure of your highly professional assassin career. the city is quiet in that strange hour before dawn, all muted traffic from early morning-goers and the scent of morning dew.
there, now it’s like nothing happened at all. except for the fact that your employer will definitely have some creative choice words for you, followed by an even more imaginative method of ending your life.
with a sigh, you dig through his pants and find a coin, slipping it into the nearest payphone and dialing a familiar number.
it rings twice.
“hello, this is toji from nanami’s bar,” your co-worker says, lazy and dry.
“it’s a wonder how you keep that bar running when you greet customers like that,” you reply, voice hoarse from the lack of use. or maybe from the overuse.
you hear the shift in his voice when he registers it’s you. “congrats on another job. the boss will want to see you this afternoon. get rid of the body and we can talk about the final payment.”
“that won’t be necessary.”
he pauses, a slight tilt of disbelief in his voice. “you don’t want a promotion? that’s a first.”
you pinch the bridge of your nose and lean your shoulder against the booth. “no, genius. he’s not dead.”
there’s a silence as toji registers your words that stretches out for so long you have to check the line to make sure it hasn’t cut.
“the fuck are you talking about? why isn’t he dead?”
“i don’t know if there’s another way i can phrase that for you. he’s still alive.”
toji swears and you hear the ruffle of a towel being thrown down on the counter. the sound of the bar fades as he, you assume, steps out to the back. “you better tell me what the fuck happened or we’re both dead.”
you shrug, twirling the cord around your finger. “what else is there to say? he’s not dead. i wasn’t able to kill him.”
“you?”
“yeah.”
“and you started this call by shitting on my customer service skills? are you fucking kidding me?”
you shrug despite the fact that he can’t see the gesture. “it was just that bad i had to say something.”
you hear a long sigh on the other end, somewhat static-y through the old payphone. “it’s not like you to go all soft but i’ll ask anyway. did you let him go?”
“i didn’t.”
“so you failed because he was stronger than you.”
your mind flickers back, to his hand on your waist hoisting you up like you weighed nothing, to his mouth against your throat fanning warmth that tightens that coil of pleasure low in your abdomen. “something like that.”
“did you have sex with him?”
you lean your head back against the glass of the booth and grin despite the dryness of your lips. “fuck yeah i did.”
“i told you not to think with your dick,” toji growls. “did you think only you would be affected by this? this is our mission, doll, if the boss hears about this, he won’t just want you dead. he’ll want us both dead.”
“trust me, i know. it wasn’t like i wanted to lose my life on a random sunday afternoon.” you let the silence linger to let reality sink in for toji since you’ve already come to terms with the situation.
“so,” you start, awfully casual. “how attached are you to nanami’s bar?”
the silence ends when he swears again and you imagine he running a hand over his face, a gesture he always seems to do when he’s exasperated. “fuck, you whore. not again.”
“come on, it’s not that bad.”
“you know, i actually liked this place a little. they actually give you a break room to have dinner in and it’s relatively clean.”
you hum sympathetically. “say goodbye to that clean room, toji.”
“you fucking owe me. fine.” there’s more rustling as you assume he strips out of his apron and exits through the back of the club. “care what place?”
“just somewhere where the boss won’t find us.”
“i know a guy.”
“oh, how trustworthy. i’m lucky to have you as my partner, huh?”
“you bet your ass you’re lucky. lucky the pretty kid didn’t kill you too.” you hear the sound of a car engine turning on. “give me your location. i’ll come pick you up.”
you tell him and there’s a roar as the car starts, picking up speed down the street. before you can say goodbye and wait for him by the curb, he speaks again, “you do have clothes, don’t you?”
“probably.”
“probably?”
you grin into the receiver, thinking about gojo’s stupid face when he finds you missing from his bed, only your clothes to ever suggest you had been there. “just drive, toji.”
many people seek you out for your extensive coding portfolio. of course, all of it is fabricated. not that you had no experience, you were a computer science student in college before your life was flipped upside down. your coding background is average at best, but average can be made exceptional with enough lying, enough forged certificates from toji’s many i know a guy’s, and enough confidence to pull it off.
a tweak here, a fake internship there, and suddenly you’re the sort of candidate a respectable company such as this one might drag into an interview.
you look up at the impressive skyscraper before you, squinting slightly when the sun glares back down at you. “this is the place?”
toji grunts beside you, equally unimpressed despite the formal attire you forced him into. “can you imagine working in a pretentious ass company like this?”
“you better start imagining because that’ll be us soon, fushiguro.” you test out his new last name and find that it suits him, oddly enough.
he snorts. “does it really count for me? i’m going in as a janitor. you drew the lucky straw showing up as an intern.”
“you’ll have more freedom to move about. i can’t imagine you behind a desk, anyway.”
he looks you up and down, taking in the blouse, skirt, and the pair of work appropriate heels already starting to make your feet ache. “i could say the same thing about you. at least you clean up nice, doll.”
“save your compliments for when you actually mean them.”
toji snorts, patting you on the back hard enough to kick start your stride towards the sliding doors, him following after. “just take it as one instead of complaining. and make sure to not accidentally murder someone while you’re on the job. you made sure to put that life behind us so stick to it, yeah?”
you shrug him off. “yes, mother.”
he grins lazily at that. “i prefer daddy.”
hiding the urge to gag, not for his sake but for any watching eyes (you can leave the assassin lifestyle but can it ever truly leave you?), you roll back your shoulders and straighten your back.
the receptionist greets you with a smile that you return, bowing slightly when she gestures you towards the elevators. the interview for janitors is separate from interns so you quickly part ways with toji, though not without a meaningful look. and then you’re off, ascending up the plentiful stories of your potential new workplace, the taste of a new life on your tongue.
you’ve never once dared to dream of normality before, not after you failed to graduate, and not even during the days living in toji’s car as the two of you travelled to a new city to start anew. you didn’t even dare to hope on the ride here, talking toji’s ear off about anything else just to hide the strange feeling in your gut from leaving your assassin life behind. but as the number above the elevator doors slowly counts up, you start to wonder.
an apartment would be nice. something under your name (and probably toji by extension but you could honestly do worse for a roommate). you imagine coming back from a long eight hour work day of doing normal people things, with some fast food and a beer and slumped into your couch you got secondhand from facebook marketplace to watch a random show on netflix. maybe when you and toji save up enough you could adopt a cat. waking up early on saturdays and baking. hearing toji sing in the shower and yelling at him to turn it down. telling yourself you’ll start going to the gym in the mornings and consistently meal prep. falling asleep under a rooftop knowing you’re safe.
the elevator dings and you straighten, mouth already set into the kind of polite smile that you hope is soulless and kind so that your potential boss-to-be will think you’re exploitable and hire you immediately. first impressions are everything, especially when the whole point of this one is to disappear into it.
the corridors seem to fold endlessly into each other, and by the fourth corner you’re starting to think you’ve looped back on yourself when you finally see it. the last office sits at the very end, larger than the others, tucked behind a stretch of frosted glass that the other rooms don’t seem to have.
you pause in front of the door and take a deep breath in. the smile that appears on your face is partly genuine excitement at the prospect of starting something new.
maybe you should even start crocheting and going to pilates.
with your heart beating faster than it would if you were knowingly walking into an ambush, you knock.
a voice from inside says, “come in.”
you push open the door with your eyes already lowered and something akin to nervousness joining your anticipation.
“good morning,” you begin, stepping inside. “thank you so much for meeting with me. i’m really—”
“please,” the voice says, warm and familiar in a way that rips the rest of the sentence out of your throat. “after the night we had, i think you can skip the formalities.”
everything in you stops, your pulse, your breath, your smile. the only thing that moves seems to be the slow swing of the door as it closes behind you, sealing you in the room. your mind tells you that you could try your luck at smashing the windows and jumping out the 50th floor.
instead of breaking your legs, you look up.
he sits behind the desk. not half-dressed in a club booth like a man whore, not sprawled across dark sheets with your name caught in your mouth, not a face on a thin file and the words “caught dead or alive” stamped over.
gojo satoru leans back in his chair, his suit rustling, one hand resting on the folder in front of him the other tapping against his armrest. the folder has your face and name on it, it’s your resume. your fake, careful little life stacked neatly under his fingers. the dream of a domestic, nothing life shatters into a million pieces by your feet.
his eyes move over you once, from the sensible blouse to the neat skirt to the stunned stillness you haven’t managed to hide, and his smile arrives slowly, beautifully, with all the ease of a man watching a trap finally spring.
“well,” your new boss says. “this is awkward.”
a/n: thanks for reading !! i feel like a fraud cause there is barely any nightwing content but i can see this as being a trilogy (?) so please lmk if u gaf ♡ and i'll write a part two ><
After being cheated on by your ex-husband, Sukuna, you were left as a single mom. Eleven years later, you finally chose to return to the club, thinking that you would be too old for the normal dating pool. But don't worry! Newly graduated, guitarist Choso doesn't discriminate <3
contains: younger!guitarist!choso x older!singlemom!fem!reader, choso is YEARNING, sukuna angst as your ex-husband with mentions of abuse, slow slow slow burn, fluff, suguru and satoru as your best friends, you could get cuteness aggression from your daughter, mentions of alcohol (clubs/bars), we sit on his face, sucking him off, cowgirl position, sucking on breasts, overall choso is just a stupid guy in love
11.8k words (IM SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY OKAY)
Sukuna always broke stuff when he was angry.
You tried to stay calm. For the sake of your unborn child, the doctor had told you that extra stress wouldn't be good for your body. You had tried, you really did. But it was too late before you could already feel the tears that were streaming down your face. Too late to stop them.
"Do you think tears will work on me, bitch?" Sukuna sneered, fist still dripping with blood from where he had punched the cot your mother had bought for you on your baby shower. The wood was splintered now, the small planets that hung above the frame askew. The strings twisted around each other. You spotted the small sphere that was supposed to represent Venus clatter to the ground.
"Why are you doing this, Kuna?" You couldn't even try to stop him from breaking the stuff in the nursery, the third trimester weighing down on your body. You were praying that he didn't go for the baby toys- you had collected those from your childhood, looking forward to giving them to your baby girl soon.
"Oh, so now you're playing the fool?" He scoffed, his anger rising. "Don't act like you don't know what you did!" No, no, you could see his fist curling up again. The cot would already require money to replace, money you didn't have by yourself. You knew it would have to come out of your pocket- trying to stop Sukuna from taking his suitcase and rolling out, he had decided that before leaving, he would destroy the pastel pink room you had built together.
"I really don't know," you sobbed, leaning against the wall. Was it the pregnancy that was ruining your memory? Had you done something wrong? You racked your brain to try and figure out anything, even the simplest, simplest thing that could have made your light-switch of a husband mad, but you couldn't remember a single thing. In fact, Sukuna was the one who had cheated on you just a few days ago. "You're the one who decided to sleep with another woman, and I didn't even say anything, Kuna-"
"That's irrelevant right now!" he spat, kicking at the bottom legs of the cot that dared to still remain intact. "This is your fault. All of this is your fault."
"I didn't do anything!" You pleaded with him, taking shaky steps and trying to hold onto his arm, trying to show him how much this was hurting you.
"I always knew you were a lying whore," he roared at you, his voice reaching its crescendo. He raised his hand again, and you closed your eyes tightly, not wanting to see what else he would break. "Destroying this room isn't even enough of a lesson for you. I ought to teach you some manners before I leave."
Your eyes were closed, so you didn't see the hand coming for your face instead.
So, in a way, you could probably thank him. When you stumbled your way to your mother's house, and she caught sight of your red left cheek, she didn't say a single word. She didn't say the "I told you so" she wanted to. She hadn't told you that she'd warned you when you had begged for her approval to marry him. She hadn't told you that you should have left him the first time he had broken a vase five months ago.
She'd hugged you while you cried and cried your heart out, placing your hands on your stomach. As much as you hated Sukuna, you wish he had stayed.
Because as much as you were thankful he was gone, you knew your baby girl wouldn't have the most important figure of her life.
A father.
Yue was everything you could have dreamed of. She was the sweetest, most beautiful baby you had ever laid your eyes on. When you had picked her up, your mom was squeezing your hand after four furious hours of labour, you had thought to yourself that you would have gone through it again and again, if it meant you could have this moment forever.
However, Yue was also an autistic pre-teen. Which meant she currently saw her mother as a slight inconvenience on her road to success, since this month she wanted to be a rock star.
"You don't think I can be one, do you?" She had muttered sulkily to you, eyes hidden behind the shaggy layers of hair.
"Of course I can!" You had sighed, leaning down to her level and tying back her hair, leaving the bangs that covered her eyes, just the way she liked it. "But nothing comes easy, you know."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll have to practice a lot," you hummed, adjusting the guitar she was holding to the proper position. Your mind was foggy, but you could remember the way Sukuna used to hold his own guitar when the two of you were dating, singing you awful songs until you had doubled over laughing. "And you'll have to be on a stage."
"A stage?" Yue gasped in horror, almost dropping the guitar. "In front of how many people?"
"If you get famous, hundreds." You watched as the horror spread across her face. "Thousands. You know, maybe even a million."
"I can't do that!" She blanched, pushing her bangs over her face once more. "I can't be a singer!"
"Don't say that," you stood up, putting on your heels, shooting a grateful look to your friends, Satoru and Suguru, on the couch. They had very valiantly agreed to babysit Yue, being the only people other than her that she would verbalize around. "Just because you don't like crowds doesn't mean you can't work to tolerate them."
"But I can't sing in front of all those people!" She protested. She always got grumpier when you left the house, frowning as you picked up your purse.
"But Yue, your singing is so beautiful." It was true. Your daughter had such a pretty voice that the first time you heard her singing in her living room, you thought she was playing a song from the TV. If she hadn't wanted to become a singer, you would have been more than happy as well, but it was so evident that music was something she loved. The fact that she was shying away from it because of her insecurities destroyed you. "Tell you what, when I come back, Uncle Toru and I will sit and watch you play the song you were practicing."
"Absolutely," Satoru nodded seriously from the couch, scrolling through your TV for Charlie and Lola, trying to remember which episode he and Yue stopped on last time. "I will be your biggest fan."
"As if!" You stuck your tongue out at him, causing your daughter to laugh. She didn't do that often anymore. "I'll always be her biggest fan. Lock the door behind me, Yue."
Hearing the slight click as you stepped into the cold, you took a deep breath and found your taxi. You can do this. You can do this.
Your best friends, Satoru and Suguru, had caught you crying over a picture of Sukuna while you were in high school around a week ago, and they had not let it slide. Unlike your mother, who had held you whenever you burst into unprompted tears, your best friends were completely over him. Hated him more than you did, in fact.
"Girl, I've had enough." Satoru picked the picture from your hand and tore it up before you could protest. "You're going to a club, final."
"What? No!" You had yelped. "Are you crazy?
"We're pretty sane, thank you," Suguru said, grabbing the pieces of paper from his husband, scrunching them up, and throwing them into the bin across the room.
"And you really think I'll find another person?" You scoffed. "I look like the type of person who wouldn't be asked for an ID anymore."
Satoru sighed at your self-conscious expression. "Babe, you're stunning, and we don't know why you refuse to see that."
"Just because Sukuna was too blind of a fucking bat to see it doesn't mean it's true. Any man would be lucky enough to have you," Suguru nodded wisely.
When you tried to protest again, both of them loudly interrupted you. "I don't want to hear another word," Satoru narrowed his eyes. "You're going to the club, and that's final."
"Go get some bitches," Suguru insisted, grabbing the entire photo album from your hand and placing it on the topmost shelf of your cupboard.
"You guys are fucking idiots."
So now here you were, in a line for a nightclub you were sure was made for children with fake driving licenses. There were posters all around the entrance, showcasing bands that would rotate on different days of the week. Surprisingly, the security guard still asked for your ID, slightly flattering you. When you stepped into the club, you were immediately hit by the loud music.
Yeah, you were not made for this anymore. Hitting thirty-one meant staying at home with your kid and coloring, not trying to take shots off the floor.
Approaching the bar, your eyes lit up with recognition at the names of drinks you used to have when you were in high school. You didn't drink much after Yue was born, but you still had the occasional bottle on Satoru's anniversary with Suguru, or your mother's birthday.
"What can I get for you?" The bartender flashed you a smile, her red hair done up in an updo you weren't sure was obeying physics.
"I'll start with a Mai Tai, thanks," you smiled at her, adjusting the straps of your dress. You had forgotten how hot it could get in these places.
Craddling your drink carefully and keeping an eye on whoever's hand tried to drift too close to the rim, you made your way to the edge of the large stage in the center of the room. This was probably for the band that would come on in a few minutes. The space there was far more crowded; people were already pushing against the hardwood of the stage to get a better view.
Aha, there they came.
While they set up their instruments, you watched the different cables plug into speakers and jacks. Would Yue ever like to do this? She hated loud noises and hated people. You knew she tried not to, but she just couldn't help it at all.
But it was okay. You would always love her for who she was, no matter what.
The first strums of the bass boomed, and other people were cheering deafeningly around you. You smiled, downing your glass of alcohol and recalling the way you would shout when your local band used to play ten years ago. In fact, Satoru was the lead singer in it. When Suguru had caught sight of him, he had suddenly wanted to go to the bar far more frequently, especially on the days he played.
You didn't have to find another man tonight. You just needed to have fun. That was the most important part for you. Suguru was right- why were you crying over a man who used to abuse you? Why had you forgotten how to laugh outside the safety of your home?
The melody of the piano and the beat of the drums started to reverberate in the club. You had already started to bop your head to the music without realising it, foot tapping to the lyrics that the singer belted. The lights had already dimmed for the crowd behind you, spotlights falling on the band and the first row where you stood.
Wow, the guitarist was killing it. The riffs he played could make a beginner sob, but he did it so effortlessly. He had piercings, lots of them, actually. One on his eyebrow and one on his lip, from what you could see in this angle. Rings on his fingers that seemed like blurs when the pads pressed against strings rapidly. He looked young enough to still be in college, but good enough to tell you this was definitely not his first show.
About to slip your eyes to the drummer, his gaze slipped to yours. You met his eyes for a few seconds, in which you felt like he had traced your entire face over multiple times. He messed up a chord, which earned a side-eye from the bassist, but he was able to cover it up with another, impromptu riff.
God, he was good. You used to play an instrument back in the day, too, long forgotten, but even you knew that whatever he was doing was extremely difficult.
Five songs, six songs, you could clearly see the others around you getting worse for wear with the amount of drinks that they were consuming. A guy tried to grind on you, but you pushed him away, catching sight of his white hair. You weren't going for teenagers, but you certainly weren't going for your grandpa either.
After at least a dozen songs, probably around eleven, the band took their final bow and started to pack up their instruments, the loud boom of the club's playlist coming back onto the speakers. You moved to find the bathroom, grimacing until you found a neat enough stall that wasn't sticky with unidentified fluids you didn't want to know about. When you came out, drying your hands in the air, you decided this was quite enough for tonight. Your first time in a bar after so long, and you managed to last a whole two hours? That was an achievement if anything.
You were, however, stopped by a man. The man, you realised, who was the guitarist you were just watching. Up close, he looked prettier than you thought, spotting multiple piercings on his ears that you had missed. He also looked very, very drunk, being held up by the band bassist. He had a cap over his head and a very sheepish look on his face.
"Man, come on!" He whispered, giving you an ashamed look. "Ma'am, I am so sorry, please just ignore us-"
"Let me go, Takuma," the guitarist pouted, turning to you with the conviction that only a drunk man could have, and holding up a rose. You did a double- no, triple take at the action, looking at his cheeks flushing pink. "I want to talk to her."
"Choso!" So-called Takuma snapped at him, trying to bat away the rose he held up.
"You are, quite possibly," Choso rubbed at his half-closed eyes to try and keep them on you. "The most beautiful woman I have ever met in my entire life."
Curse Satoru. Curse Suguru. Curse them, curse them. It was so hard admitting that they were right.
"I'm sorry?" You croaked out, pulling at the loose thread on your purse.
"Did I stutter?" He pouted, trying to hold out the rose further to you. Where on earth did he even get that? Takuma had pulled the cap over his eyes, as if he couldn't bear to watch this scene.
"Sweetie, how old are you?" You were not taking this seriously at all, the surprise melting away into amusement. Choso seemed to like it when you called him that, a dopey smile forming on his face.
"Twenty-two."
You choked on your own saliva. "Choso, is it?"
He seemed to like it when you said that, too, nodding eagerly.
"Choso, I'm thirty-one."
Takuma lifted the edge of his hat, sending you a disbelieving look at your words, as if he was thinking back on everything he had ever known in his life. Choso paused for a second, and you assumed he was going to lower the rose, before he grabbed your hand and placed the flower in it.
"Well, I don't discriminate, really."
Before you could even process what he had said, his bandmate had started to drag him away by the ponytails, causing him to wince. "I'm so sorry!" He repeated multiple times, voice drowned out by Choso's sad groans.
It was when you were in the taxi home that you had started to smile, giggling away to glory, earning a weird look from the taxi driver.
Satoru was going to laugh his fucking ass off.
Satoru was laughing his fucking ass off.
"Twenty-two," Suguru was very scandalized. Between the two of them, no matter how much they were laughing at you, they could not hide the pure joy for you in their eyes.
"Who's twenty-two?" Yue asked. She'd been asking more questions now before she was prompted to, and you could feel a proud feeling well up inside your chest.
"Some man that mummy found yesterday," you replied to her, passing her the plate of eggs you had fried for her. Before she could complain, you carefully sprinkled the pepper only on the whites, making sure she was happy with it before moving to Satoru's food. Why did you always have to cook for them when they stayed over? They were full grown adults themselves. "I think you would like him, Yue. He was a rockstar."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up in excitement, tying back her hair and keeping her bangs out. "Did he play the guitar?"
You nodded. "Yes, he did. An electric one."
She gave you a pleading look, one you had come to recognize after a decade of parenting.
"No."
"I didn't even ask yet!"
"I'm not buying you an electric guitar."
"Why not?" Not only Yue, but both Satoru and Suguru protested. You sighed, shaking your head.
"I will maybe consider it for your birthday."
Yue seemed to already have forgotten what was being talked about, eyes staring off into the distance as she thought about the guitar in her head. Her birthday was in two months, so you would have a month to save up for an electric guitar.
You had a bit of extra money that you were planning on spending on her anyway. There was no harm.
With the combination of Satoru and Suguru being the useless people they were, making you use up valuable time making breakfast for them, and the fact that you had stayed up far later than you should have last night, left you late for your job. You practically ran to the bus stop, trying not to scream at the bus driver for going at the speed of a turtle.
Panting, you put on your apron literally seconds before your boss walked in to check the employee attendance. He smiled, satisfied, before making his way back to the storage unit. Letting out a sigh of relief, your co-worker Yuuji gave you a playful grin. He was at minimum at least a decade younger than you, working here part-time from the college next door. "I don't think I've seen you late before."
"I had a late night yesterday," you groggily said, rubbing at your face. You hadn't even had the time to put concealer on your face, so you were sure you looked like an absolute wreck.
Yuuji let out a gasp. "I thought you told me you were never going to a club again?" His eyes snapped to the flower in your hair. You had thought it wasn't going to look that great, but it actually turned out pretty nice.
"When you have two very convincing gay best-friends, it's hard to refuse," you laughed at his confused expression, spotting five people walking closer to the cafe.
"Oh my god, no," You immediately ducked behind the counter, shaking your head with horror. This could not be happening.
"You good?" Yuuji raised an eyebrow at you in concern.
"Just take this order, will you?" You hissed at him, using your seniority card to the max.
"Yes, ma'am." The pink-haired man smiled at the group that came in, his customer service voice turning on. "Wow, it's you lot again today. Why do you come here so often? What can I get for you?"
You could see the scene from the mirror placed upon the wall, watching the band you had seen last night walk in. There was that Takuma guy, still wearing his hat. The singer, the drummer, the bassist. Then there was the guy who had hit on you without a care in the world.
You shamefully put the rose in your hair today while getting ready in the morning. God, you wish you hadn't. This had to be the worst possible situation ever.
"I know what I want," Choso said grumpily to hat-guy, who gave him a glare. "But I'm sure Takuma won't let me have it."
"Okay, man, you've got to let it go," the drummer sighed while the bassist placed his order with Yuuji. "She was nine years older than you."
No, this had to be the worst possible situation ever.
"She didn't look it, Aoi," Choso protested, crossing his arms. His hair was done back in that adorable two ponytail hairstyle. Now that you could see him outside the club light, there was a tattoo running along his nose and cheeks. How much drip did this guy exactly have? "When will I ever see her again?"
Yuuji seemed to have caught onto the situation, starting to struggle to hold back his laugh. He looked away for a split second to calm himself down before returning to write down their orders.
"You know what?" Takuma tutted. "I hope you never see her again. If I were you, I would die from embarrassment. I don't know how you do it."
It was only when a few more customers entered the cafe, and it was nice and packed, that you dared to stand up again. Honestly, you weren't even going to, but your boss had come to check on you guys once more, and you couldn't really explain that you were hiding from a kid who tried to offer you a rose.
Why were you hiding from him? You couldn't tell yourself. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn't been hit on in ages. The feeling made your stomach giddy, lungs contracting till you couldn't take breaths. It was embarrassing to feel this way when you were already in your thirties, but it was just the most wholesome thing that had happened to you in a while. Could anybody blame you?
Don't notice me, you prayed to yourself. The band was sitting all the way on the far end of the cafe. Please do not notice me.
You continued your usual routine, acting like nothing was wrong. Making drinks and smiling at customers. You kept your gaze steadily away from the other table, but your curiosity got the better of you, and you sneaked just a small peek.
Choso was already staring at you.
With the way his head was resting on his hand and he had the expression of a lovestruck puppy, it seemed he'd been staring for some quite some while, too. Takuma shook his head with disappointment, mouthing a sorry to you and smacking the back of Choso's head. Choso didn't even seem to register it; his eyes locked onto your hair, where the rose sat in between your ponytail.
You immediately turned around, cheeks heating up. Why was the stare so intense? His eyes were still half-closed, but not as shut as yesterday. They were wider today, as if he were trying to memorize you.
It's just for today, you shook your head. And they're going to get up soon. Their drinks are almost over.
The man named Aoi had to physically drag Choso out of the cafe like he was a stray kitten. The moment they were gone, Yuuji burst into a laugh that made you smile even though you were angry with him. "Don't you dare laugh, you piece of shit."
"That has to be the funniest thing I have seen in ages," Yuuji chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes, some of the customers looking over curiously. "Did you see the way he was staring at you?"
"Yeah, yeah, I don't need a reminder. Go take some orders or something," you ruffled his hair, shaking your head and moving back to the coffee machine.
Much to your despair, Choso's band returned the next day. And the next. And the next. In fact, there hadn't been a day they were not in the cafe the moment it had opened. Every time they were there, you would immediately go to a different part of the counter, finding anything else to do while Yuuji took their orders. And every time, Choso stared at you from their usual seat. He'd gotten better at making it subtler, realizing on the third day that he was making you nervous with the way you had spilled a cup three times, but you could still feel him staring.
On the sixth day, Choso came alone.
And on the sixth day, Yuuji was on sick leave for a whole week.
Scratch whatever you had said before. This. This was the worst situation that you could be in.
"Hello," he breathed out as you stood at the counter. He was wearing such different clothes from when he was on stage. There, he wore borderline slutty clothes, netted shirts, and ripped jeans. Here, he wore a hoodie that would probably swallow him whole.
"What can I get you?" You asked him, watching as he recited the order you had heard five times over the past week. Instead of going to his usual seat, he sat on one of the counter stools. He watched you make the drink, head resting on his folded arms. When you slid it over to him, he spoke up again.
"Can I have your number?"
You choked on your saliva, much like you did in the club. "I thought I told you I was in my thirties."
"So?" He was not helping your case right now.
"So, you're too young for me," you said decisively, patting the top of his head in an apology. You hadn't meant to; the gesture was instinctive for your daughter, and Choso turned bright red at the touch. "I'm not!"
"You are."
"You couldn't even tell that I was twenty-two when you were checking me out, though."
"When did I ever do that?!"
"When I was playing on stage!" He protested. "I could feel a practical laser coming from your direction."
Now it was your turn for your cheeks to heat up, smacking him with the cloth that you had been using to wipe down the counter (which was perfectly clean already). "Don't talk to your elders like that, brat."
The action seemed to do more against your favour than anything, really. Choso smiled giddily when you had hit him, sipping at his drink and watching you take other orders. When he was done, he spent another five minutes before reluctantly walking out, as if he was being pulled back by an imaginary force.
He repeated the same pattern tomorrow.
Give him your number. He gets rejected. He tries to fight it. He gets smacked or hit in some way, and he settles down, trying not to make the hearts in his eyes too obvious.
"Why won't you give me your number?" He sighed pitifully. putting the straw in his drink sadly. "Are you married?"
"Nope," you sighed. But he knew that already- the only reason he hadn't kept his distance was that he noticed the lack of a wedding band on your finger. "It's not like you don't want to or something."
"And who told you that?" You asked dryly.
He pointed to the rose in your hair. You'd even gone to wax it so that it lasted and didn't cripple. "You've worn that every day to work."
"So what, it's because it's pretty," you muttered, turning your head away before you could catch the triumphant grin that was most definitely on his face.
When he left this time, he didn't pick up his cup. Simply walked out, a usual five minutes later, like he usually did. Picking up the plastic to dispose of it, you caught sight of a chain of numbers on the glove.
Call me please <3
About to throw it away, you caught sight of words below the number as well.
Don't throw it away, I'll be very sad :(
This little piece of shit.
"Yes."
"Absolutely."
"You're supposed to say no!" You said exasperatedly, shooting dirty looks at Satoru and Suguru. When asking them whether you should add his number or not, their reaction was positive immediately.
"Come on, so what if he's younger?" Satoru tried to coax you.
"I bet he has more stamina," Suguru added.
"Ew!" You threw up your hands and returned to your room after calling out to Yue. They had decided to get her ice cream today, grocery bags in hand. When your door was shut, you pulled out the crumpled-up coffee sleeve from your pocket, staring down at the message. You were the one who worked both shifts at the cafe for the extra money, so it had been digging into your pocket the entire day.
You were conflicted. On one hand, he was probably your age when you got divorced. On the other hand, he was so, so cute. And you really wanted to indulge.
You wanted to do something for yourself this time.
You: Hello
Choso: Please tell me this is who I hope it is
You: The one you've been trying to hit on for the past week?
Choso: I'm acc in heaven rn you don't even understand
You couldn't stop the giddy smile that spread on your face, feet kicking slightly on the edge of the bed. You hadn't told him you would be dating, but you were sure you could imagine the look on Choso's face, one he often had at the cafe.
You: Don't you dare rename me as your girlfriend
Choso: How did you know </3
Is "Hot Barista Ma" okay
You: Absolutely not
Choso: You know what, I don't even have to listen to you, it's not like you can do anything to me through my phone
You: I'm going to kick you out tomorrow morning
Choso: Yes maam.
True to your assumption, Choso showed up the next day with the joy of a golden retriever finding a bone. He didn't even have to tell you his order. You were already making it at the machine.
"Hi, Choso," you didn't have to look up to know who was the first person in.
"Are we dating now?"
Wow, straight to the point.
"No," you gave him a narrowed look, to which he pouted. He reached into the pocket of his hoodie, sat down, and pulled out another rose. The unfamiliar butterflies in your stomach burst again. When you reached for it, he pulled his hand back. "If we're not dating, I don't think I can give it to you."
This was new. He wasn't so playful before. You gave him an annoyed sigh, smacking him with your cloth again as he laughed and handed you the rose. You realised that it had already been dipped in wax, the small, frozen droplets dripping off the edge of the petals. "Thank you."
"Anytime, ma."
"Do not call me that."
"Okay, darling?"
"No."
"Baby?"
"No."
"Doll?"
"I'm going to kick you out."
Your life felt brighter, somehow. At first, you had thought Choso's staring would make you uneasy, and it did. But now, it felt like a warm blanket on a cold day, soft and heavy at the same time. He didn't make a sound, not interrupting with your work, yet he always managed to motivate you to work faster. The faster you worked, the longer a minute you had to talk to him before the next customer came in.
The next week, when Yuuji came back, he was surprised to see you preparing a drink in advance. "Who's that for?"
"Choso."
Yuuji let out a bark of laughter. "I was gone for seven days." He paused, raising an eyebrow. "Are you two dating now? If so, let me warn you that he's extremely messy and practices into late hours of the night-"
"I do not!" Choso protested from the corner, causing you to jump. You hadn't even seen the guy enter. You paused, passing the drink to Choso before turning to Yuuji. "How did you know that?"
Your coworker gave you an impish smile. "Well, you see… he's kind of my brother-"
"WHAT?" You covered your mouth at his outburst, glaring at the two snickering boys. "You're fucking with me."
"Unfortunately, I am not," Yuuji shook his head while Choso gave him an offended look. "The hell do you mean unfortunate?"
Every day, there is a new thing to learn.
True to your assumption, Choso showed up the next day with the joy of a golden retriever finding a bone. He didn't even have to tell you his order. You were already making it at the machine.
"What are you doing tonight?" Choso asked you, eyes watching the rose in your hair.
"I'm working, Cho." You didn't know when the nickname had slipped into your vocabulary in the past month, but it had. Choso had not gone a single day without coming to the cafe. One day, Monday last week, he had been an hour late and showed up with literal tears in his eyes, begging for forgiveness. Yuuji groaned and rolled his eyes while you had to hide your laugh, telling him it wasn't a big deal and that it was okay. He had scoffed and told you that it definitely was a big deal, because he liked to start his days watching you.
Maybe that was when you had started to use the nickname.
"Working?" he frowned. "Yuuji's shift gets over at lunch time."
"Yes, well, I need the money," you hummed out. These topics were usually embarrassing to talk about, but when it was with him, you didn't really mind them. "I have to provide for a child, too."
His lack of an answer caused you to turn your head, watching his shocked expression. Right. You hadn't told him about Yue yet.
"You have a kid?" He whispered out, and for a second, you thought he was going to straight get up and leave. If you had found a man who had a kid when you were in your twenties, you would have definitely had second thoughts.
"What's her name?"
You blinked. "Oh. It's Yue."
"Yue," he repeated, a grin spreading on his face. "That's a pretty name. Did you name her?"
"Yes, I did." Where was this sudden shyness coming from? "Her dad wasn't there when she was born."
"Her dad must be an absolute cunt." His wording made you gape. "Choso!"
"What, am I wrong?"
"Well, not exactly," you sighed begrudingly, passing a latte over to Yuuji. "He was a dick."
Choso hummed in satisfaction, but he didn't seem to say anything. His eyes were fixed on you, but he seemed to be lost in thought. You had to gently pat him and tell him that his drink was almost spilling with the way he was holding it.
"Right, sorry," he licked at the rim of the cup, unfairly distracting you. "I wanted you to come to my show in the evening."
"Oh god no," you shuddered. "I don't do well at clubs, I promise."
"Pleaaaseee," he drawled out. "You've missed like, the past six shows already. How much do you make per shift?"
"I make quite a lot. This boss is very generous." Once more, you sent a prayer up to whoever had blessed you with an open spot in this fancy-ass cafe. Choso pouted, finishing his drink and getting up. "Think about it, okay?"
When you saw that he left his cup on the counter, you shook your head. This was never a good sign. When you picked it up, there was an unreasonably big tip left there, which caused you to let out a gasp. This man could not make that much from concerts alone.
"You should go," Yuuji piped up from beside you. "Every time he comes home, and you're not in the crowd, he lies on the sofa like some depressed crow and mopes around all night. For the sake of my sleep, just attend it this once."
Maybe you should go tell your boss you weren't going to do the evening shift today.
When you showed up at the club again, you had found yourself dressing far better than you usually did. For some reason, you wished to look your best. With the way Choso was always so perfect on stage, you assumed you should reciprocate the same.
Moving towards the stage after downing a Martini, you were surprised to see that Choso was already on the edge of the stage, eyes scanning the crowd dejectedly. When he found you, his face lit up like a spotlight, jumping off the platform to hug you. You realised you didn't pull back, instead melting into the embrace. "There's no way you actually came, are you real?"
"Unfortunately," you said dryly, though your eyes were bright. He made you feel young again, made you feel like you were secretly trying to steal kisses behind the cupboards before the teachers caught you. And god, was it addicting.
The entire performance, you could tell he was struggling not to look at you and stay focused on his guitar, but every time he made a mistake, he was quick to come back. You cheered the loudest, your throat going hoarse. Clapping until your hands were red, you had to find a place to sit down before your heels had carved into your feet.
"How did I do?" Choso was like a spring next to you, hovering around you comfortably as you sat down on the barstool.
"Really good," you told him, watching his face beam. "You know, my daughter wants to be a rock star too."
"Yue?" He asked. How did he remember the name so easily? "Oh my god, that's so cute. How old is she?"
"She's turning eleven this month, actually." Your smile came easily when you were talking about her. "She's been begging me to buy an electric guitar for her."
"Is that why you're working extra?" His hands had started to smooth out the parts of your hair that were out of place. Just like his hug, you didn't move to stop him.
"I always work extra," you reminded him. "I'm just working on weekends now, too. I don't mind it, really."
His eyes softened at your words, palm lingering on your scalp. Your phone chimed in your hands, and you looked down, cursing. The Uber driver who had very specifically promised he would be here at the time you had provided him had bailed on you. "Shit."
"What's wrong?"
"Fucking taxi decided to ghost me." You stuck your middle finger up at the screen. "The universe couldn't stop at my relationships." Choso fought back giggles as you both made your way to the exit. "How am I going to get back? It's so late."
"Isn't your house within walking distance?" He asked, remembering when you had told him which part of town you lived in. He remembered a lot.
"Yes, but I'd rather sleep here than walk another inch in my heels." You took off your red shoes, wincing at the equally red marks that bloomed on your heel. Choso's eyes lit up, and he told you to stay here before taking off. You sent a text to Satoru, apologizing and telling him you were going to be a little late. He replied with a short video of Satoru and Suguru sitting in front of Yue, who was playing the guitar as if her life were on the line. It probably was, considering she cried for ages whenever she got a song wrong after practicing a lot. You smiled at the message, reacting to it with a heart.
When Choso came back, he was holding a pair of black flats. "Megumi always wears boosters to seem taller when he's on stage," he gestured to their pianist, the shy guy who was currently getting asked for a picture from four different girls. "So his feet start hurting too."
"Isn't he going to be mad?" You watched him slip the shoes onto you. They were a little loose, but you didn't mind.
"Better to ask for forgiveness than permission," he grinned, holding up your heels in his fingers from their straps, the two of you running outside the club before Megumi could spot you. "Which way do we go?"
The walk to your house was quiet. Not the quiet that filled the silence when it needed to. The quiet that filled the silences because it could. Because it was welcome, not awkward. Somewhere along the walk, his pinky had found yours, intertwining your two fingers, strolling along the cobblestone near the river. The moon shone down lightly on the surface of the water, playing with the waves and making ripples of white.
You wanted to walk with him forever, you realised. If you could, you would come out every single night just so you two could walk.
When you reached your house, you turned towards him and tried to take off the shoes. He refused, slapping your hand. "You can just give them to me tomorrow in the cafe."
"Okay." You were too tired to argue with him, instead observing the way the white light played along his features. He was already so beautiful, but the lighting made him look like a prince. His ears flushed red at your staring, averting his gaze. "Why are you staring?"
"You're very pretty, Cho." You didn't think before you said it, but you couldn't take back the truth. Plus, watching him blush like a cartoon character was adorable. It was so easy to make him flustered. Before he could recover, you went onto your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him.
If another person had acted as Choso had, you'd probably think they didn't want you. He was frozen to the spot, not reciprocating the touch at all. When you moved away, he pulled you back to give you a proper kiss. There wasn't any tongue or teeth, just the soft press of his lips against yours. After you two broke off, it seemed he was even redder than before, if that was even possible.
"Thank you for inviting me out." You gave him another small peck before opening your door. "I needed that."
Satoru and Suguru looked up to greet you when you entered the house. From the look in your eyes when you arrived, they could already tell what had happened, smirks spreading on their faces. "Look who's getting on her freak-"
"YUE IS RIGHT HERE!"
The next day, Choso arrived with a nervous stride, sitting down on the barstool with dark circles, which proved he definitely needed the coffee today. Honestly, you were kind of nervous, too. It was probably the mild drunken stupor you were in yesterday that made you kiss him. Were you supposed to apologize? Were you supposed to smile? What were you-
"We're like, dating now, right?"
"Ewwwwww," Yuuji groaned from the background, moving to the storage. "I'm going to do inventory, please finish whatever the fuck this is by the time I'm out."
You placed the rag against the counter, sighing. "You're not bothered by… my age or my daughter?" You asked softly.
Choso gave you a look as if you'd asked the dumbest question ever. "First of all," he held a hand up to his chest like he was wounded. "I already told you I don't discriminate. Second of all, why on earth would your daughter bother me? I've never even met her."
You spluttered. "Well, not like that, like you're fine with the person you're dating having a child."
"Of course I am!" He scoffed, frowning at you as you had just insulted him. "It's just another mini version of my girl's heart I have to win over. Don't worry, she'll like me soon enough. I hope?"
My girl. The sound of it made you instantaneously happy. You leaned against the counter, kissing him on the forehead. "Then yes, I'm your girlfriend."
Girlfriend. When was the last time you'd called yourself that? Maybe when you were dating Sukuna. You didn't really remember how it had made you feel, the sensation dulling over the decade. You assumed it had probably felt like something you were feeling right now, fireworks going off in your stomach. Choso seemed to feel it too, getting red again.
Yuuji came back outside with loud noises and huffs. "I hope we're done with our lovers' conversation?"
A month ago, you would have probably slapped him for calling you lovers. Now, you just laughed, lifting a plastic bag with black flats and passing it to Choso.
"Yes, we are."
"Hey, isn't Yue's birthday this week?" Choso asked through bites of the cinnamon roll, crumbs on the corner of his mouth. You brushed them off and gave him your thumb to lick off. "Yeah, why?"
"Can I come?" He asked, licking off the crumb from your thumb before going back for another bite. "I mean, I've never actually seen her."
"Sure, why not?" You agreed faster than you thought you would before pausing, moving back. "Wait, hold on…"
"Something wrong?" He asked, tilting his head.
"She doesn't really verbalize around other people," you gave him an apologetic look. "She's-"
"-Autistic?" Choso completely gently. You blinked, surprised at his answer. "I know. From what you've told me, she reminds me a lot of Megumi from our band."
"You mean the singer?" Your brows furrowed.
"Yeah, he was awful the first time we met him," Choso shook his head while smiling, sucking his fingers clean of the cinnamon. "Wouldn't speak to anybody, wouldn't sing on stage. He wouldn't look anybody in the eye. Still doesn't, really. But Aoi, Takuma, Inumaki, and I managed to coax him out of his shell slowly."
"Oh." Every time you thought this man couldn't get any more perfect, you blinked, and he did. It was like there was a stream of sunlight shining through the window specifically for him. "He seems far better than Yue at socialization."
"He's come a long way," Yuuji spoke up from the side as well. "I remember the first time I went to see their practice, and Megumi literally threw a fit because he wasn't warned beforehand. I didn't know whether to laugh or feel guilty."
"If you don't want me to come, that's fine too," Choso smiled widely at you, picking up his bag and starting to walk out. "But I always feel it's better to ask her. It always surprises you."
So when you went back home, that's the first thing you asked your daughter about.
"Yue, your birthday is next week, not today!" You smiled as she walked around with a crown. "Save the shenanigans for Friday, will you?"
"It's soon enough," she argued back, pushing the bangs in front of her eyes. You moved them a gap so that she could see without getting cross-eyed.
"Do you know who's going to be coming?" She shook her head. "It's going to be Uncle Satoru and Suguru like always. Do you remember the rockstar I told you about before?"
Yue nodded, lifting her arms towards the cupboard. You pointed at different things until she smiled, passing that one to her. This time, it turned out to be the Sour Patch gummies. "Yes, I do."
"Would you mind if he came?"
She let out a dramatic screech. "I'm going to see a real-life rockstar?"
You laughed at her reaction. "Only if you want him to come, baby. If you don't want to, that's up to you."
Yue sat cross-legged on the kitchen tiles, pressing her hands towards her forehead like she was in deep thought. "…What is his hair colour?"
You found this irrelevant to the conversation, but probably relevant enough to her. "It's black."
"Okay, he can come," she nodded eagerly, surprising you. You knelt to her and gave her a tight hug, fighting back the surprising tears that had sprung to your eyes. "What's wrong, mummy?"
"Nothing, Yue." Your hand rubbed circles on her back. "I'm just so proud of you."
"Um…" Yue paused for a second before she copied you, rubbing your back too. "I'm proud of you too, mummy."
You laughed wetly, wiping away the tears with your free hand.
Oh my god, this could not be happening.
Which stupid fuck had thrown stones into all of your windows while you were gone? Thank god you had chosen not to do the evening shift today.
You ran inside your house with lightning speed, opening the door and calling out your daughter's name. She had curled up into a ball in the bathroom, and you pulled her to your chest.
"Yue," you tried to speak calmly. "Did you see who did that?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "There were some boys from my school who followed me back home. They were laughing at me because…"
She didn't have to finish. You already knew what had happened. "Do these boys have football classes after school?"
"I think so," she nodded.
"Tell me their names, baby."
Anger moved through you like some sort of lightning strike. First, you called up Satoru, who arrived in ten minutes. Then, you called up Choso, who arrived in five.
"What happened?" He gasped at the sight of broken windows. You got into the passenger's seat, taking a deep breath. "Choso, do you know the way to Jujutsu Elementary School?"
He nodded, starting to drive without any questions. He realised you didn't really want to answer any. He simply placed his hand on your thigh, a silent reminder that he was still there if you needed him. The feeling of his palm calmed you down a little, and you pressed your own hand on top of his. "…Some boys threw rocks at our windows because of Yue's autism."
The way that the fury moved through Choso's face was electric, as if he, too, had been there when he had heard Yue's cries. "They did not."
When the car pulled up to the school, you could see the boys playing football in the courtyard. Stepping outside with the purpose of what only a mother could, you called out to the teacher who was in charge of them, telling him the three boys you needed to see.
When they had moved to stand in front of you, they had smiles on their faces, as if they knew that you were Yue's mother. If you had your way, you would have probably thrown them all off a cliff for making your daughter cry like that.
You took another breath, trying to calm yourself, but it didn't work. "Do you have any idea what you have done?"
The blonde kid shrugged. "It was just a bit of fun."
"No, it was not just a bit of fun!" You shouted at him, causing his smile to drop. "First of all, now our windows are broken! How easy do you think it is for somebody to climb through a window and enter your house when it's broken? Would you feel safe if your bedroom window were broken?" He shook his head. "Well, that's what's happened for all of our windows. Because of you. Because you cannot handle a girl who is different from you!"
The teacher had tried to move to stop you, but at your words, he stepped aside. "Do you even know how hard it is for Yue to come here? No, you don't, and you never will. She has to force herself to get into a place like this because we cannot afford a school for special needs, and it is one of my biggest regrets that she is classmates with people like you!" One of the boys had started to sob into his hands. "It is so, so hard for her, and when she just started making improvement, you think it's funny to throw rocks at people's houses!"
Choso pressed a small, soothing hand on your lower back, grounding you. "If this is your idea of a joke, then I am scared of what you will turn out to be when you are grown up. Tomorrow, if I do not see my daughter coming back with a beam on her face, telling me that you had apologized to her, I will make sure that all of your houses have holes in them, whether or not illegal. Is that understood?" You gritted out, fighting to keep your hands to yourself. You watched the three of them nod, the teacher giving them a look of his own. Before you walked out, you shot them another glare. "And in case you forgot, Yue doesn't like to speak to people she doesn't think deserve it, so write her an apology in a letter instead of trying to give her a half-ass sorry that you don't mean."
When you were back in the car, you leaned your head against the seat, breathing heavily. Your eyes closed as Choso started to reverse, heading back to your house.
"If it makes you feel any better, that was insanely hot."
Through the fog of your anger, you felt a small laugh build in your throat. "Me shouting at three little kids was hot?"
"Incredibly," he nodded solemnly. "Had to fight not to get a boner in the middle of a children's playground."
"Cho!" You were outrightly laughing now, slapping him on the arm while he grinned. He dropped you off at Suguru and Satoru's house address instead, who had been the angels they always were and had offered to let you stay with them while the windows got fixed. Satoru had already moved all the temporary clothes and Yue there, so they were waiting for you on the doorstep.
"Thank you," you gave another kiss to Choso. "I seem to be thanking you way too much."
"I don't mind," he had that dopey expression on his face again when you kissed him. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"
You nodded, stepping out of the car and blatantly avoiding Satoru's wiggling eyebrows, instead hugging a caring Suguru. "I'm so sorry, Sugu."
"Why on earth are you apologizing?" Satoru had Yue on his shoulders, who had seemed to calm down a little bit. "We practically live at your house, it's time our furniture got a bit worn down too, don't you think?"
It was only once you had finally sat down in your night clothes, Yue curled up in your lap, that you had opened the price for replacing the windows and winced, feeling a fresh wave of agony spill over you. With this much, you weren't even going to last. With Satoru and Choso pitching in as well, as much as you had tried to refuse them, the price was still quite high. You stroked your daughter's hair, watching her with a pained feeling crawling up in your chest.
You were definitely not going to be able to get her that electric guitar.
Thank whoever was up there that your house was fixed before Yue's birthday. Entering the house like it was an unknown place, one day before her birthday, you quickly cheered her up with the specific songs she liked, avoiding ones she didn't. When you had messaged Choso that he could come, he had replied with multiple heart emojis and stickers that you were sure only people of his generation could keep on their phone and actually remember where they were.
No matter how hard you racked your brain, you could not think of a single gift you could give Yue with the amount of money you currently had. As much as it hurts you, you would have to hopefully tell her that it was a surprise for Christmas instead. You were already feeling the awful stab of the pain on her expression.
Choso🤎: I'm already here. Should I go in?
You: Do you see a ridiculously rich pair of white sandals outside my door?
Choso🤎: Yes 😭
You: Okay, Satoru is home. I think it should be fine if you go in. Just message me if something happens
Choso🤎: Yes ma
You trudged back home in the evening, sighing to yourself when you opened the door. You had already prepared a huge apology, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you spotted Yue in the middle of the carpet, smiling widely as she'd just won the lottery with a shiny, shiny electric guitar in her hands. And in front of her was Choso on his knees, showing her the different plugs and cables she had to use.
"Cho?" You slowly took off your shoes and walked in, where Satoru was filming a video while Suguru was baking his first-class cookies. "What's this?"
"It's our gift, what do you mean?" He nudged you with a smile. "I told her to wait till you got here to open it since it's from both of us, but she was just too impatient and ripped all the packaging off."
"It's red," Yue whispered in awe, strumming at the strings messily. Choso tutted, explaining the differences between electric and acoustic guitars, positioning her hand correctly. You sat quietly, watching it unfold, imagining him sitting on the carpet with Yue every day. Every time you thought this man could not get any more perfect, you blinked, and he did.
It had only been two months, but you had utterly fallen in love with this man embarrassingly fast.
When Yue cut her cake (that Suguru had also baked), you swore you had never seen her smile wider, eyes crinkling up. She didn't look a thing like Sukuna, really. She looked nothing like you, either. She looked like a star so blinding it hurt to watch her. And god, she'd made you all stay up till one o'clock listening to her play guitar. You'd gently pulled it away from her when she'd paused to take a break, telling her that the guitar couldn't be played too long, otherwise the neighbours might complain. Begrudingly agreeing, Satoru and Suguru took her up to her room, where they would probably camp out for the night as well, reading her stories.
"It is so late, I'm so sorry," Choso gasped at the clock, searching for his coat. Before he could move another inch, you had dragged him up the stairs. He stumbled behind you. "Where are we going?"
"Be quiet."
Obeying, he shut his mouth until both of you were in your bedroom and you locked the door. Double-checking the lock, you pulled him into a sharp kiss, hugging him tightly. He melted at the feeling, hands moving to your waist. "Oh no, are you crying?"
You shook your head, wiping at the wetness in your eyes. "Choso, you didn't have to do what you did today."
"But I wanted to," he murmured against your lips, pulling back enough that he could talk, but also feel your lips against his. "You looked so sad this past week; it was hurting me, too." You gently pushed him down onto the bed, the two of you moving higher so that Choso could rest against the headrest. You moved to straddle him, still hugging him tightly. You were scared to let go, scared that he would be a repeat of Sukuna, scared that Yue would have to go through such a hard time again.
But one look in his eyes told you that he could never do that. That he could never be a Sukuna. He was purely and perfectly Choso, someone you now couldn't live without.
"Oh, Cho," you breathed out, leaning your forehead against his, "I love you."
There was that usual stunned silence you received when you flustered him before he grabbed you for another kiss, lips moving against yours carefully. You could feel him unbuttoning your shirt, going as slow as possible, as if to give you a chance to smack his hand away or tell him to stop. But you didn't, welcoming his touch and reciprocating as well, pulling his shirt over his head.
"I love you too," he repeated, moving his hands down your body with reverence one could not fake. "God, I love you so much it hurts." He kissed his way through the column of your neck, punctuating each kiss with a quiet "I love you."
When he reached your chest, he carefully undid the clasp of your bra, pushing the fabric to the side of the bed. He dipped his head down, mouthing at your nipples with his lips and tongue, causing you to shiver and tug at his ponytails. "You're so, so pretty. I bet you didn't even know it back on that night I met you, did you?"
You ran your hands up his chest, feeling the hard ridges of muscle you had seen when he wore those netted shirts of his. You could already feel your hips moving by themselves, grinding against his clothed bulge, your pencil skirt lifting higher and higher with each roll. He groaned around your nipples at the feeling, hands stopping your hips and holding them in place.
"What's wrong?" You asked him, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
"This is going to sound really kinky, ma," Choso murmured, his voice entering that begging tone. "But I'm going to need you to sit on my face."
You let out a disbelieving gasp. "Are you crazy? I'll crush you!"
"At least I'll go out with a bang." Even during a moment like this, he had to make you laugh, a smile erupting on your face at his stupid statement. He shifted beneath you with such speed you didn't even realise how your thighs had started to bracket his face.
"We need these off, don't we?" He tugged at your skirt and panties, lifting your legs precariously so he could throw them somewhere in the room. Parting your folds, you could feel his warm breath on your core as he simply drank up the sight of it. You didn't exactly know what he could see, considering that the only light was filtering through the curtains, but he seemed to go still anyhow. "Oh, please, please lower your hips for me-"
"Cho, I've never do-" You were cut off when he pulled your hips down for a fraction of a second, licking a long stripe up your entrance as you bit back your moan. "Ohhh, don't do that-"
"You taste so sweet," he moaned softly as you willingly pushed your hips back down on his face, starting to lap at you like he was a starved man. It had been so long since you'd felt another man on you, usually sticking to your vibrators and such. But the tip of his tongue was swirling so deliciously around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and groaning to send vibrations up your nerves.
You clutched onto his ponytails tighter, riding out his face for all you were worth. His hands held your thighs open, tongue pushing through your rings of resistance and squirming against your walls. Your back arched at the feeling, your high reaching closer every time his tongue thrusted inside of you.
"Fuck Cho, I'm close," you croaked out, hips moving faster against his face. His eyes were half-lidded again, and he looked every bit pussy-drunk when you came on his face, juices dripping down his chin. You moved back shakily, trying to catch your breath, Choso greedily licking up the syrup on his chin and neck.
"See, you didn't crush me," he teased you, though his breath hitched when you had unbuckled his pants, sliding down his boxers as well with a sense of urgency you didn't know you had. "What are you doing, ma?"
"I can't be the only one who comes, right?" You gave him a cheeky smile before admiring the sight of his cock. It was long and so, so pretty, flushed tip hitting his stomach when it had been freed from the fabric. You ran a few fingers up to length, causing Choso to hiss and a few beads of precum to release. You carefully wrapped your mouth around his tip, closing your eyes to remember which spots were the most sensitive and which would cause him to see the stars. At his moan of approval, you took his entire length into your mouth, tongue licking at the base of his cock while you sucked on him. His precum tasted salty, with more beads releasing per second. You alternated from sucking and pulling back, swirling your tongue around his tip. Around the parts you couldn't reach with your mouth, you used your hand, twisting your wrist with pressure that you hoped was enough.
"Shit," his back arched as you lapped at his slit, feeling his length twitch in your hands, where you twisted faster. "I'm not going to last much longer."
You took his entire length into your mouth once more, squeezing his balls gently as you felt him come deep in your throat, the spurts of seed warm against your tongue. He kept on jerking until the last drop was spilled, already feeling himself get hard at the sight of you swallowing down every drop. "Good boy."
"Please don't call me that," he whined desperately, pulling you up and watching you rub yourself against his cock. His hands grabbed hold of your hips, breath going more ragged than it already was. "…Can I…?"
You nodded, just as desperate, sinking the first inch and biting his neck to suppress your moan. Just because you remembered how a cock felt didn't mean you were any less tight; your hole was not used to the entry. Choso pulled you down as slowly as he could without breaking, panting when you had sat fully down. "Please let me move," he whimpered, head resting weakly against the wood. You started to swivel your hips experimentally, fixing a pattern when you observed how his face scrunched up cutely in pleasure.
His pace had started to pick up as well, hips pistoning upwards to match yours. Your eyes rolled back, gripping onto his hair and pulling out the two elastics that held it in place, letting his black locks fall free onto his neck and shoulders. You could feel that familiar string of pleasure begging to snap inside of you, rising on you like a wave.
"Do I pull out?" he asked quietly, though it was clear that he wanted to do nothing but release inside you. You shook your head, remembering the pill strip you always had in your drawer, courtesy of Satoru and Suguru. Your body went slack when your pleasure reached its climax, head lolling onto his shoulder as you came so hard you went blind for a good second. Choso was easy to follow, letting out a broken, muffled moan as you clenched around him, shallowly thrusting in quick movements before pushing all the way inside you, digging into your cervix as he spurted over and over again. How long could one man come for?
When he had hunted blindly through your unfamiliar bathroom for a towel, he had decided on using his shirt instead, wiping you down softly with the care that you had never received from your ex-husband. When he came to lie down next to you, he pulled the blanket over you with the warmth that you had never received from your ex-husband. When you turned around, you caught him looking at you, staring at you like you had hung the stars in the sky.
"I'm so glad it's you," you mumbled, resting your head on his chest. "You don't understand how grateful I am for you." He had let you believe that it was okay to love again, that not all men were like Sukuna.
"No," he kissed the crown of your head, feeling sleep already take over his body. "I'm grateful you chose to be in the front row that day of my concert."
You were grateful for that, too.
When you woke up, Satoru and Suguru shot you knowing smiles. You sat across from each other at the dining table, eating breakfast.
"So, Choso," Suguru asked casually, watching the man as if it were a normal conversation. "How was the pull-out last night?"
You choked on the coffee you had been drinking, spluttering for air while Choso turned bright red. "I'm sorry?"
"He meant the sofa," Satoru gave him a faux innocent look, pointing to the sofa behind them. "It's a pull-out. You slept there, didn't you?"
"Sure you did," you glared at Suguru, who in return gave you a cheeky grin. You smiled at Choso, who was now the same shade as Yue's new guitar.
"Oh, and you two?" You looked at Satoru and Suguru, waiting purposefully for the two of them to lift their coffee.
"Hmm?"
"The pull-out didn't work last night at all."
It was their turn to choke on their drinks, Choso starting to beam like a Cheshire cat.
in which you take it upon yourself to irritate your newly-made husband, Nanami, during all the day of your vacation, just for the fun of it
contains: husband!nanami x wife!fem!reader, you're on a cruise because of daddy gojo's money 😍, THE POOL WATER IS SAFE GUYS THE CHLORINE LEVEL IS LOW I DID MY RESEARCH, fingering, risk of being found (semi-public), pool sex, some underwater jerking off, nanami is just crashing out
4k
Out of the three years you had been dating your lovely boyfriend, Nanami, you had never once seen him lose his composure past what he wanted to. Every restraint he loosened was because he chose to loosen them. Every extra laugh was because he had decided to let himself feel some more joy. Honestly, you couldn't say you minded it. You loved yourself a reliable man, someone you could trust to remain both stable and secure.
But a girl wants to have some whimsy in her life, too.
The first time you had ever seen Nanami truly let himself go without a backup plan was on your wedding day, when he had caught sight of your white dress trailing behind you. You'd seen the exact moment where the control had snapped in his eyes, tears welling up before he could even stop them. If you weren't about to cry too, you would have probably recorded it and framed it in your house forever. When saying your vows, his hands had quivered for the first time while holding yours, like he was scared you might disintegrate in front of him, and he would wake up at his 9-5 office, sleeping on his desk, as if you had never existed.
For the first time, you had seen your partner lose control. When you had asked him why, he had said that you had just looked so beautiful in the moment that he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. The answer had brought a fresh wave of tears to your face.
Unfortunately, after the wedding, Kento had seemed to slap himself out of it and return to the pillar you were so used to. Even during your honeymoon, you had no sight of the man without his composure. Did you have an absolutely amazing time? There was no denying that. But yet, when you had lost track of your inhibitions, it was surprising that Nanami hadn't.
So, this was currently your mission:
Get him to absolutely crash out during this summer vacation.
Thank whatever spiritual power was up there that Satoru had a slightly concerning addiction to hosting vacations and parties. Your entire friend group knew the man was filthy rich, but sometimes he surprised you with just how rich he was. Now was one of these moments, where he had surprised you with a fully paid 7-day cruise. Normally, Nanami tried to sneakily wire him back what he owed him, but this time, Satoru had put him on the credit card blacklist. Or at least, that's what you assumed, depending on how your husband was giving your credit card a look as if it had betrayed him.
"It won't hurt to just go for free, Ken," you smiled at him, rolling a suitcase to the car. "Plus, I'm pretty sure if you pay him back this time, he'll kidnap you and put you in a mansion without rent."
Actually, you wouldn't really mind that. That seemed to be quite pleasant, really.
"I'll find a way," he grumbled, getting into the taxi after helping you put your luggage into the trunk, the driver starting the engine. You held his hand during your entire drive to the cruise terminal. It wasn't like both of you weren't going to be able to act like a couple on the cruise, but you wouldn't be alone in each other's company for the next 168 hours, that too with Haibara on your side. That man was so hopelessly single that he gazed sadly every time he saw another couple, leaving anybody else too pitiful to kiss around him.
However, you had to apologize to Haibara in advance. You had a mission to do. You would get this stupid rock of a man to crack, even if it was the last thing you ever did.
As if sensing that you were up to something, Kento gave you a wary look. "Are you okay, honey?"
"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"
Day 1
Okay, so clearly Satoru told you it had been a cruise ship.
He just hadn't told you the part where there were a hundred more guests than just your friend group.
"Who are these people?" Yuki hissed into your ear, the taller woman adorning a long grey dress and a sun hat. Your whipped friend Choso was making you sick with the way he was staring at her like a lost puppy. "And where exactly are we?"
"Girl, do you think I know?" You were currently walking on a cobblestone path on an island that the ship had docked in. Nanami held your hand at your right, looking down at the ocean from over the railings of the path. When you asked Satoru where he had gotten permission to come here, he said he owned it.
Fuck him and making you feel broke.
"Listen, I didn't really want them to come," Gojo wrapped a hand around your husband's shoulder, causing him to grumble. "But my dad said that I have to take them along because of some sort of business he wanted to butter up."
"You are twenty-three years old," Shoko tittered from the side, earning nods of approval from the rest of you. "Why are you still doing what your dad wants?"
"Listen, I may have money, but most of this money I use is from the pocket money I still receive. Without my dad's approval, this trip probably would have cost me an extra seven thousand bucks from my own wallet."
"Your pocket money is seven thousand dollars?" You choked on your spit.
"Yes, but it's not per week though! It's per month."
Thank god for small mercies.
You turned to your side, Kento watching the group chattering away silently. He usually did this when he was in group settings. He never really spoke until it was necessary, instead enjoying the company of others. You moved from grabbing his hand to holding his arm, leaning your head on his shoulder while you walked.
Okay, spoiler, you weren't doing this because you wanted to be all mushy. On that morning, you had set out with a very important goal of getting Kento to blush. Picking out the shortest dress you had (of course, with Yuki's help), you paired it with the pretty jewelry he had bought you last month as an anniversary gift. He always did like you wearing the stuff he had bought you. He had clearly noticed, with the way his hand slipped comfortably around your waist, in the way you were both familiar with.
"Where do you want to go first?" He whispered down at you. Looking at the small, touristy type of map all of you had gotten, you pointed to the ice cream shop. You had docked in the morning, but you had already visited so many places that the sun had already started to set, replacing the hot afternoon with a pleasant evening. The sunset had started to dance on the blue waters, turning the waves purple and orange.
"Ice cream?" He teased you. "Are you sure?"
"What's wrong with it?" You pouted up at him. You had already been to the bird section of the island with Suguru and Utahime, the fishing spots with Toji (trust this old guy to come to the cruise ship with no luggage except a fishing pole. When asked if he at least got a bucket, he had replied, word for word, "I don't need a bucket. The fish already heed to my command.") You'd even gone to the very top of the island on a hike you wish you had worn boots for, though the view had been worth it.
"Nothing, nothing at all," he conceded.
"I want to go too!" Yuuji spoke up excitedly from below you, holding hands with Megumi and Nobara, as instructed by Satoru, so they wouldn't get lost. You had compulsive behaviours, but you were pretty sure Satoru had far worse for randomly deciding to adopt three kids one day. The others chimed in agreement as well, so the ice cream shop was your next official stop.
Sitting on one of the chairs next to the edge, you licked at your ice cream contentedly. You had planned to smear some ice cream on his cheek and lick it off, but you were stunned into silence when his thumb met your face. It swiped at a bit of chocolate ice cream on your lip, sucking it into his mouth as if this were just a normal day.
"You had something there," he shrugged absent-mindedly.
Okay, this is not how you envisioned it going. You were the one supposed to be making him flustered.
"Ew, get a room," Nobara jeered from the side. You gave a light smack to the nine-year-old, glaring at her playfully.
It's okay, you still have six more days to go.
Day 4
Your plan was going to the dogs. These past few days, your husband has always been the one to make you blush or beam, like he always did, never letting you repay the favour. It was almost funny how easily you could fall for him over and over.
However, yet again, Satoru presented you with an amazing chance. This time, he'd asked the captain to dock the ship on an island that was predominantly beachy. So, of course, you, Yuki, and Shoko decided to pull out the best swimsuits you had packed for a moment just like this. Utahime, who had refused to listen to your nagging to pack a swimsuit, had grudgingly had to wear a simple shirt and shorts to the beach, grumbling along the way.
It was easy to say that when Choso had seen Yuki, he'd probably passed out in the sand, because the next time you saw him, he was half buried by Yuuji and Megumi, Nobara sitting on top of his sand-covered chest like a queen on a throne. Nanami's eyes had flicked over you multiple times, but he hadn't seemed to lose his composure even once.
Maybe you should have bought a skimpier one-piece? It had seemed smaller in the store light (curse those things, they were wretched), the blue elastic hugging you prettily. Should you have worn your bikini instead?
"Ken, come swimming!" You called out to him, entering the salty water. You loved the beach, but not more than Suguru did- this guy had run out the moment the ship had docked and set up some sort of tanning station where he had been lying motionless. Do what you love, you guess.
Nanami debated refusing for a few seconds before stripping off his shirt and entering the sea resignedly, knowing you would keep persisting. You could see a smile on his face as he entered the water. Nanami always loved the beach. Satoru was tempted to make the cruise captain break water laws (did those exist?) and make him speed all the way to Malaysia just for your husband, but you kindly patted him on the back and told him it was virtually not possible.
"Hold still," he murmured as you tried to swim further, pulling you back against his chest. He held up your hair carefully and started tying it with one of your hair ties that had magically spawned on his wrist. Once again, you felt like you were the one getting flustered, his gentle touches on your neck sending shivers down your spine.
"Thank you," you gave him a quick kiss after he was done, smiling up at him, cheeks tinting red.
You still had three more days. No need to lose hope.
Day 7
You were definitely going to fail.
Satoru wasn't even docking anywhere today, letting the guests fully enjoy the facilities that the cruise ship had to offer. This also mainly included him, who immediately jumped into the huge pool the moment night had fallen.
"At least take off the bathrobe!" You exclaimed, watching him jump in with his slippers. This guy could not be for real.
Today, you had gone desperate, wearing the bikini that Yuki and Shoko had picked out for you, so you knew it was a bikini bikini. The pretty yellow fabric, in fact, even matched Nanami's hair. He wasn't here yet, but you were just waiting to get his eyes on you. If this didn't work, then you were officially quitting trying to break him. Hell, you would break for a girl who was wearing this.
"Oh my god, it's heated," Utahime giggled, dipping her toes along with Suguru. You slipped into the water, sighing contentedly as the water lapped against your skin. The water felt especially nicer in contrast to the cold air of the night. "Where's Kento?"
"He's coming, he's gone to change for the pool," Choso muttered, his eyes fixated once more on Yuki, who was currently playing princess with Nobara on the shallow side of the pool with practical hearts in his eyes. If god wasn't cruel, their wedding would hopefully be next.
Unfortunately, your friends weren't the only people in the pool. Different men and women from Mr. Gojo's guest list were also entering, having the same idea to enjoy the heated water during the dark.
Deciding to wait for your husband, you took a deep breath and started to take a lap around the pool. You refused to do freestyle without your goggles, so backstroke it was. You could see the clips of the stars from where the cruise ship broke into glass panelling, twinkling like small gems.
The unfortunate part of the backstroke was that you couldn't really see what was behind you.
Bumping into a body, you immediately stopped, turning around and gasping. "I'm so sorry!" You apologized to the man you had bumped into. He looked annoyed, like he was about to chew you out more than was needed, but his facial features morphed when he caught sight of you. You didn't realise what was happening until you felt icky hands on your arms, pulling you closer. "Oh, that's no problem, babe."
"Oh, uh," you tried not to punch the man right then and there. "I'm going to have to pull away, I have a husband-"
"And I have a wife, you're not special," he snapped at you, trying to pull you closer. Preparing to kick him hard in the shins, you felt stronger hands pull you back into a chest that you immediately recognized. Thank god.
"I'm pretty sure I heard her saying she has a husband," you were pretty sure that Kento was at least two heads taller than the man who was currently trying to touch you. That much was visible by the look on his face.
"Whatever, man," he grunted, walking away. When you looked back to hug Nanami, you paused at the look in his eyes.
Well, well, well. Who knew jealousy would do it?
"Are you okay?" He asked you, a hand cupping your cheek, before he looked down at what you were wearing, his breath hitching.
You nodded, wiping at the spots the man had grabbed you, ickiness filling your system. "I shouldn't have swam so far. I'm sorry."
"You never have to apologize for something like that," he chided you, pushing you back to your group. When you had narrated the incident to your friends, Satoru went eerily quiet. He lifted himself from the pool effortlessly, lifting his sunglasses (purely for the aesthetic for it, the sun had been down for ages). "Can you point him out for me?"
You gestured to the man who was sitting at the edge of the all the way on the other side, who was still subtly staring at you. Satoru's gaze hardened, and with the way he marched down the length of the pool, you didn't think you would be seeing that man anytime soon.
"I should have beaten him up," Nanami murmured.
"Kento!" When had he ever acted like that?
"No, no, he's right," Choso and Yuki nodded in unison. The support made you feel better, mind returning to your mission. Right.
You looked back at your husband, breathing out a sigh of relief when you realised that small, cracking glint was still present in his eyes. You had to suppress a giggle at the very thought of Megumi sending you a judging look. You couldn't believe that all you had to do was make him protective. It was like finding the weakness of the pyro hypostasis.
Jackpot.
Slowly working around that tension all night, you toed the line between PDA and very, very far from PDA. The three kids had given you "boos" and "bleghs," but were soon ushered to bed by Yuki and Choso. Satoru had come back with a rather pleased look on his face, though he also made his way to his room after a while. Soon enough, it was just Nanami and you in the pool, floating lazily on your backs.
The peaceful silence that filled the space between you was a nice feeling. You closed your eyes, feeling a familiar comfort before it was interrupted, your husband grabbing you by your waist and pulling you towards him.
"Kento!" You wiped off some droplets from your face at the abrupt motion.
"You think they're all asleep yet?"
You were startled by his question, looking around at the windows that surrounded the pools. All the lights were off, except for the very dim pool lights Satoru had left on for you. "I think so-"
You couldn't finish your sentence as his lips crashed onto yours. You let out a yelp before melting into his embrace, fingers carding into his hair. You hadn't even realised you had started to move before your back hit the deep side of the pool, only being held up by Nanami's height. Without him, you'd probably have to paddle to rise to the surface.
"You think you're cute, don't you?" He grumbled against you, biting at your lower lip. "Teasing me this entire vacation as if I have infinite restraint-"
"Ken," you gasped as he started to trail kisses down your neck and chest, hands reaching behind you to untie the strings of your bikini. "We're literally in perfect view of anybody who decides they want to look outside the window-"
"And?" He grabbed the yellow fabric and tossed the sopping material on the edge of the pool, lifting one of your breasts above water and sucking the nipple into his mouth, causing your back to arch. He circled it with the tip of his tongue, watching it pebble in the cold air. "You've been wearing things like this out in the open anyway. Seems like you want to get fucked in public, doll."
The shame creeping up your neck was delicious because the very thrill of it was making you more aroused. The fact that anybody could catch you, but both of you were too out of it to care, was both mildly terrifying and extremely hot. You could feel him untie the string of your bottom piece as well, the cloth going somewhere near your top. Before you could even blink, his fingers had found themselves at your clit. You muffled your moans into his neck, biting at his ear.
"I don't think we need much lubrication, hmm?" His fingers had already started to circle your entrance, middle finger curling deep inside you. It was getting harder to suppress your sounds, but you were imagining the absolutely judgmental faces of Megumi to motivate you on. This technique, however, did not work when he pushed in a second finger, feeling his wedding ring against your walls. He muffled your moans with his kisses, swallowing them up greedily.
Determined not to be the only one to come, you reached out blindly for your bikini bottom on the edge of the pool. Grabbing the pale bottom, you started to rub Kento's length in the water, feeling him shudder. You had started to take off his shorts, pushing them down just enough to take out his hard cock. You used the fabric to squeeze at his tip, which you could imagine was deliciously leaky just about now.
"You were trying to rile me up, weren't you?" His thumb had started to circle your clit faster, the feeling of being underwater adding a strange sensation to your impending orgasm.
"It worked, didn't it?" You could feel him twitch in your hand, and you sped up as well, paying extra attention to the base of his cock. You followed the path of his prominent vein, praying that you didn't come miles before he did.
"You're such a brat," he surprised you by moving his head under water and sucking on your nipples harshly. You closed your eyes in bliss, feeling the taut string snap inside you. You shuddered, wrapping your legs around his waist tighter before you felt his abdomen clench. 101% sure that Satoru would prefer no male bodily fluids in his pool, his rubbed at Kento's tip harshly before you felt him groan into your neck, collecting his release on the cloth. Well, at least as much as you could.
Panting and hoping you were done with whatever this was, you were proved wrong. He flipped you over so that your breasts pressed against the wall of the pool, tiles scraping deliciously against your nipples. But what caused you to truly roll your eyes back was one of the pool jet streams that Nanami had positioned exactly to hit you on the clit.
He wasn't even inside yet, but you could feel another orgasm building.
"You don't even deserve this," he muttered into your shoulder, bottoming out into you in one stroke, both of you tightening your bodies. This was unlike the usual man who made you come at least three times before prioritizing himself. No, he really seemed desperate this time. Maybe he had been restless this week, but he was just too good at hiding it. "You haven't been a good girl at all, have you?"
You shook your head helplessly, resting it against the rim of the pool. He was thrusting so hard you saw stars behind your eyes, the squelching sounds muffled by the water. You hoped that Satoru was rich enough to afford a minimalistic chlorine design, or you were going to have some interesting answers for your gynecologist the next time you went to see her.
"But, since you're- fuck- so pretty," he held onto the edge around your head, caging you in. "I'll let you go this time. What do we say, darling?"
"Thank you?" You tried, clearly the right answer when he'd started to pick up speed. The jet stream hit you so deliciously that it was making you see the same stars as the night sky, arching yourself into the stream as much as you could. Fuck, this was genius. Why hadn't you thought of this before?
"You're on the pill, right?" He mumbled into your ear. By the tone of his voice, he seemed to be close as well. Trust Nanami to still be worried about that during this. You loved him so much.
You nodded desperately, biting into his arm as you came, tightening around him like a vice. Just the feeling of you clenching sped up his release. A few more jerky thrusts, and he was spilling inside of you, hot ropes filling your insides deliciously. You shuddered, moving away from the stream before the overstimulation got too bad. Your pants were the only sounds that mixed with the soft hum of the generator and the buzz of the sea.
"I really want to wash this chlorine off before I get an unknown disease, Ken."
"Good idea."
Deboarding Day
You hadn't had that much fun on a vacation in ages. You and Yuki spent the last few hours gazing over at the sea before the mainland came back into view, and you were dragging your suitcases down to the deck.
You gave polite bows to all the staff that crossed you, including the captain. He just gave you a tight smile before walking away.
"The captain looks tired," you whispered pitifully to Satoru. "How long have you made him sail?"
"Oh, no, I asked him the same thing," Satoru said, turning his head in resigned confusion as Nanami pulled both your suitcases. "I told him in the morning that if he needed rest, he could sleep, but he didn't really want to."
"Then what was the problem?" Choso asked, suspiciously holding Yuki's hand.
"I have no idea. He said something about removing the installed cameras on the deck."
in which you take it upon yourself to irritate your newly-made husband, Nanami, during all the day of your vacation, just for the fun of it
contains: husband!nanami x wife!fem!reader, you're on a cruise because of daddy gojo's money 😍, THE POOL WATER IS SAFE GUYS THE CHLORINE LEVEL IS LOW I DID MY RESEARCH, fingering, risk of being found (semi-public), pool sex, some underwater jerking off, nanami is just crashing out
4k
Out of the three years you had been dating your lovely boyfriend, Nanami, you had never once seen him lose his composure past what he wanted to. Every restraint he loosened was because he chose to loosen them. Every extra laugh was because he had decided to let himself feel some more joy. Honestly, you couldn't say you minded it. You loved yourself a reliable man, someone you could trust to remain both stable and secure.
But a girl wants to have some whimsy in her life, too.
The first time you had ever seen Nanami truly let himself go without a backup plan was on your wedding day, when he had caught sight of your white dress trailing behind you. You'd seen the exact moment where the control had snapped in his eyes, tears welling up before he could even stop them. If you weren't about to cry too, you would have probably recorded it and framed it in your house forever. When saying your vows, his hands had quivered for the first time while holding yours, like he was scared you might disintegrate in front of him, and he would wake up at his 9-5 office, sleeping on his desk, as if you had never existed.
For the first time, you had seen your partner lose control. When you had asked him why, he had said that you had just looked so beautiful in the moment that he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. The answer had brought a fresh wave of tears to your face.
Unfortunately, after the wedding, Kento had seemed to slap himself out of it and return to the pillar you were so used to. Even during your honeymoon, you had no sight of the man without his composure. Did you have an absolutely amazing time? There was no denying that. But yet, when you had lost track of your inhibitions, it was surprising that Nanami hadn't.
So, this was currently your mission:
Get him to absolutely crash out during this summer vacation.
Thank whatever spiritual power was up there that Satoru had a slightly concerning addiction to hosting vacations and parties. Your entire friend group knew the man was filthy rich, but sometimes he surprised you with just how rich he was. Now was one of these moments, where he had surprised you with a fully paid 7-day cruise. Normally, Nanami tried to sneakily wire him back what he owed him, but this time, Satoru had put him on the credit card blacklist. Or at least, that's what you assumed, depending on how your husband was giving your credit card a look as if it had betrayed him.
"It won't hurt to just go for free, Ken," you smiled at him, rolling a suitcase to the car. "Plus, I'm pretty sure if you pay him back this time, he'll kidnap you and put you in a mansion without rent."
Actually, you wouldn't really mind that. That seemed to be quite pleasant, really.
"I'll find a way," he grumbled, getting into the taxi after helping you put your luggage into the trunk, the driver starting the engine. You held his hand during your entire drive to the cruise terminal. It wasn't like both of you weren't going to be able to act like a couple on the cruise, but you wouldn't be alone in each other's company for the next 168 hours, that too with Haibara on your side. That man was so hopelessly single that he gazed sadly every time he saw another couple, leaving anybody else too pitiful to kiss around him.
However, you had to apologize to Haibara in advance. You had a mission to do. You would get this stupid rock of a man to crack, even if it was the last thing you ever did.
As if sensing that you were up to something, Kento gave you a wary look. "Are you okay, honey?"
"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"
Day 1
Okay, so clearly Satoru told you it had been a cruise ship.
He just hadn't told you the part where there were a hundred more guests than just your friend group.
"Who are these people?" Yuki hissed into your ear, the taller woman adorning a long grey dress and a sun hat. Your whipped friend Choso was making you sick with the way he was staring at her like a lost puppy. "And where exactly are we?"
"Girl, do you think I know?" You were currently walking on a cobblestone path on an island that the ship had docked in. Nanami held your hand at your right, looking down at the ocean from over the railings of the path. When you asked Satoru where he had gotten permission to come here, he said he owned it.
Fuck him and making you feel broke.
"Listen, I didn't really want them to come," Gojo wrapped a hand around your husband's shoulder, causing him to grumble. "But my dad said that I have to take them along because of some sort of business he wanted to butter up."
"You are twenty-three years old," Shoko tittered from the side, earning nods of approval from the rest of you. "Why are you still doing what your dad wants?"
"Listen, I may have money, but most of this money I use is from the pocket money I still receive. Without my dad's approval, this trip probably would have cost me an extra seven thousand bucks from my own wallet."
"Your pocket money is seven thousand dollars?" You choked on your spit.
"Yes, but it's not per week though! It's per month."
Thank god for small mercies.
You turned to your side, Kento watching the group chattering away silently. He usually did this when he was in group settings. He never really spoke until it was necessary, instead enjoying the company of others. You moved from grabbing his hand to holding his arm, leaning your head on his shoulder while you walked.
Okay, spoiler, you weren't doing this because you wanted to be all mushy. On that morning, you had set out with a very important goal of getting Kento to blush. Picking out the shortest dress you had (of course, with Yuki's help), you paired it with the pretty jewelry he had bought you last month as an anniversary gift. He always did like you wearing the stuff he had bought you. He had clearly noticed, with the way his hand slipped comfortably around your waist, in the way you were both familiar with.
"Where do you want to go first?" He whispered down at you. Looking at the small, touristy type of map all of you had gotten, you pointed to the ice cream shop. You had docked in the morning, but you had already visited so many places that the sun had already started to set, replacing the hot afternoon with a pleasant evening. The sunset had started to dance on the blue waters, turning the waves purple and orange.
"Ice cream?" He teased you. "Are you sure?"
"What's wrong with it?" You pouted up at him. You had already been to the bird section of the island with Suguru and Utahime, the fishing spots with Toji (trust this old guy to come to the cruise ship with no luggage except a fishing pole. When asked if he at least got a bucket, he had replied, word for word, "I don't need a bucket. The fish already heed to my command.") You'd even gone to the very top of the island on a hike you wish you had worn boots for, though the view had been worth it.
"Nothing, nothing at all," he conceded.
"I want to go too!" Yuuji spoke up excitedly from below you, holding hands with Megumi and Nobara, as instructed by Satoru, so they wouldn't get lost. You had compulsive behaviours, but you were pretty sure Satoru had far worse for randomly deciding to adopt three kids one day. The others chimed in agreement as well, so the ice cream shop was your next official stop.
Sitting on one of the chairs next to the edge, you licked at your ice cream contentedly. You had planned to smear some ice cream on his cheek and lick it off, but you were stunned into silence when his thumb met your face. It swiped at a bit of chocolate ice cream on your lip, sucking it into his mouth as if this were just a normal day.
"You had something there," he shrugged absent-mindedly.
Okay, this is not how you envisioned it going. You were the one supposed to be making him flustered.
"Ew, get a room," Nobara jeered from the side. You gave a light smack to the nine-year-old, glaring at her playfully.
It's okay, you still have six more days to go.
Day 4
Your plan was going to the dogs. These past few days, your husband has always been the one to make you blush or beam, like he always did, never letting you repay the favour. It was almost funny how easily you could fall for him over and over.
However, yet again, Satoru presented you with an amazing chance. This time, he'd asked the captain to dock the ship on an island that was predominantly beachy. So, of course, you, Yuki, and Shoko decided to pull out the best swimsuits you had packed for a moment just like this. Utahime, who had refused to listen to your nagging to pack a swimsuit, had grudgingly had to wear a simple shirt and shorts to the beach, grumbling along the way.
It was easy to say that when Choso had seen Yuki, he'd probably passed out in the sand, because the next time you saw him, he was half buried by Yuuji and Megumi, Nobara sitting on top of his sand-covered chest like a queen on a throne. Nanami's eyes had flicked over you multiple times, but he hadn't seemed to lose his composure even once.
Maybe you should have bought a skimpier one-piece? It had seemed smaller in the store light (curse those things, they were wretched), the blue elastic hugging you prettily. Should you have worn your bikini instead?
"Ken, come swimming!" You called out to him, entering the salty water. You loved the beach, but not more than Suguru did- this guy had run out the moment the ship had docked and set up some sort of tanning station where he had been lying motionless. Do what you love, you guess.
Nanami debated refusing for a few seconds before stripping off his shirt and entering the sea resignedly, knowing you would keep persisting. You could see a smile on his face as he entered the water. Nanami always loved the beach. Satoru was tempted to make the cruise captain break water laws (did those exist?) and make him speed all the way to Malaysia just for your husband, but you kindly patted him on the back and told him it was virtually not possible.
"Hold still," he murmured as you tried to swim further, pulling you back against his chest. He held up your hair carefully and started tying it with one of your hair ties that had magically spawned on his wrist. Once again, you felt like you were the one getting flustered, his gentle touches on your neck sending shivers down your spine.
"Thank you," you gave him a quick kiss after he was done, smiling up at him, cheeks tinting red.
You still had three more days. No need to lose hope.
Day 7
You were definitely going to fail.
Satoru wasn't even docking anywhere today, letting the guests fully enjoy the facilities that the cruise ship had to offer. This also mainly included him, who immediately jumped into the huge pool the moment night had fallen.
"At least take off the bathrobe!" You exclaimed, watching him jump in with his slippers. This guy could not be for real.
Today, you had gone desperate, wearing the bikini that Yuki and Shoko had picked out for you, so you knew it was a bikini bikini. The pretty yellow fabric, in fact, even matched Nanami's hair. He wasn't here yet, but you were just waiting to get his eyes on you. If this didn't work, then you were officially quitting trying to break him. Hell, you would break for a girl who was wearing this.
"Oh my god, it's heated," Utahime giggled, dipping her toes along with Suguru. You slipped into the water, sighing contentedly as the water lapped against your skin. The water felt especially nicer in contrast to the cold air of the night. "Where's Kento?"
"He's coming, he's gone to change for the pool," Choso muttered, his eyes fixated once more on Yuki, who was currently playing princess with Nobara on the shallow side of the pool with practical hearts in his eyes. If god wasn't cruel, their wedding would hopefully be next.
Unfortunately, your friends weren't the only people in the pool. Different men and women from Mr. Gojo's guest list were also entering, having the same idea to enjoy the heated water during the dark.
Deciding to wait for your husband, you took a deep breath and started to take a lap around the pool. You refused to do freestyle without your goggles, so backstroke it was. You could see the clips of the stars from where the cruise ship broke into glass panelling, twinkling like small gems.
The unfortunate part of the backstroke was that you couldn't really see what was behind you.
Bumping into a body, you immediately stopped, turning around and gasping. "I'm so sorry!" You apologized to the man you had bumped into. He looked annoyed, like he was about to chew you out more than was needed, but his facial features morphed when he caught sight of you. You didn't realise what was happening until you felt icky hands on your arms, pulling you closer. "Oh, that's no problem, babe."
"Oh, uh," you tried not to punch the man right then and there. "I'm going to have to pull away, I have a husband-"
"And I have a wife, you're not special," he snapped at you, trying to pull you closer. Preparing to kick him hard in the shins, you felt stronger hands pull you back into a chest that you immediately recognized. Thank god.
"I'm pretty sure I heard her saying she has a husband," you were pretty sure that Kento was at least two heads taller than the man who was currently trying to touch you. That much was visible by the look on his face.
"Whatever, man," he grunted, walking away. When you looked back to hug Nanami, you paused at the look in his eyes.
Well, well, well. Who knew jealousy would do it?
"Are you okay?" He asked you, a hand cupping your cheek, before he looked down at what you were wearing, his breath hitching.
You nodded, wiping at the spots the man had grabbed you, ickiness filling your system. "I shouldn't have swam so far. I'm sorry."
"You never have to apologize for something like that," he chided you, pushing you back to your group. When you had narrated the incident to your friends, Satoru went eerily quiet. He lifted himself from the pool effortlessly, lifting his sunglasses (purely for the aesthetic for it, the sun had been down for ages). "Can you point him out for me?"
You gestured to the man who was sitting at the edge of the all the way on the other side, who was still subtly staring at you. Satoru's gaze hardened, and with the way he marched down the length of the pool, you didn't think you would be seeing that man anytime soon.
"I should have beaten him up," Nanami murmured.
"Kento!" When had he ever acted like that?
"No, no, he's right," Choso and Yuki nodded in unison. The support made you feel better, mind returning to your mission. Right.
You looked back at your husband, breathing out a sigh of relief when you realised that small, cracking glint was still present in his eyes. You had to suppress a giggle at the very thought of Megumi sending you a judging look. You couldn't believe that all you had to do was make him protective. It was like finding the weakness of the pyro hypostasis.
Jackpot.
Slowly working around that tension all night, you toed the line between PDA and very, very far from PDA. The three kids had given you "boos" and "bleghs," but were soon ushered to bed by Yuki and Choso. Satoru had come back with a rather pleased look on his face, though he also made his way to his room after a while. Soon enough, it was just Nanami and you in the pool, floating lazily on your backs.
The peaceful silence that filled the space between you was a nice feeling. You closed your eyes, feeling a familiar comfort before it was interrupted, your husband grabbing you by your waist and pulling you towards him.
"Kento!" You wiped off some droplets from your face at the abrupt motion.
"You think they're all asleep yet?"
You were startled by his question, looking around at the windows that surrounded the pools. All the lights were off, except for the very dim pool lights Satoru had left on for you. "I think so-"
You couldn't finish your sentence as his lips crashed onto yours. You let out a yelp before melting into his embrace, fingers carding into his hair. You hadn't even realised you had started to move before your back hit the deep side of the pool, only being held up by Nanami's height. Without him, you'd probably have to paddle to rise to the surface.
"You think you're cute, don't you?" He grumbled against you, biting at your lower lip. "Teasing me this entire vacation as if I have infinite restraint-"
"Ken," you gasped as he started to trail kisses down your neck and chest, hands reaching behind you to untie the strings of your bikini. "We're literally in perfect view of anybody who decides they want to look outside the window-"
"And?" He grabbed the yellow fabric and tossed the sopping material on the edge of the pool, lifting one of your breasts above water and sucking the nipple into his mouth, causing your back to arch. He circled it with the tip of his tongue, watching it pebble in the cold air. "You've been wearing things like this out in the open anyway. Seems like you want to get fucked in public, doll."
The shame creeping up your neck was delicious because the very thrill of it was making you more aroused. The fact that anybody could catch you, but both of you were too out of it to care, was both mildly terrifying and extremely hot. You could feel him untie the string of your bottom piece as well, the cloth going somewhere near your top. Before you could even blink, his fingers had found themselves at your clit. You muffled your moans into his neck, biting at his ear.
"I don't think we need much lubrication, hmm?" His fingers had already started to circle your entrance, middle finger curling deep inside you. It was getting harder to suppress your sounds, but you were imagining the absolutely judgmental faces of Megumi to motivate you on. This technique, however, did not work when he pushed in a second finger, feeling his wedding ring against your walls. He muffled your moans with his kisses, swallowing them up greedily.
Determined not to be the only one to come, you reached out blindly for your bikini bottom on the edge of the pool. Grabbing the pale bottom, you started to rub Kento's length in the water, feeling him shudder. You had started to take off his shorts, pushing them down just enough to take out his hard cock. You used the fabric to squeeze at his tip, which you could imagine was deliciously leaky just about now.
"You were trying to rile me up, weren't you?" His thumb had started to circle your clit faster, the feeling of being underwater adding a strange sensation to your impending orgasm.
"It worked, didn't it?" You could feel him twitch in your hand, and you sped up as well, paying extra attention to the base of his cock. You followed the path of his prominent vein, praying that you didn't come miles before he did.
"You're such a brat," he surprised you by moving his head under water and sucking on your nipples harshly. You closed your eyes in bliss, feeling the taut string snap inside you. You shuddered, wrapping your legs around his waist tighter before you felt his abdomen clench. 101% sure that Satoru would prefer no male bodily fluids in his pool, his rubbed at Kento's tip harshly before you felt him groan into your neck, collecting his release on the cloth. Well, at least as much as you could.
Panting and hoping you were done with whatever this was, you were proved wrong. He flipped you over so that your breasts pressed against the wall of the pool, tiles scraping deliciously against your nipples. But what caused you to truly roll your eyes back was one of the pool jet streams that Nanami had positioned exactly to hit you on the clit.
He wasn't even inside yet, but you could feel another orgasm building.
"You don't even deserve this," he muttered into your shoulder, bottoming out into you in one stroke, both of you tightening your bodies. This was unlike the usual man who made you come at least three times before prioritizing himself. No, he really seemed desperate this time. Maybe he had been restless this week, but he was just too good at hiding it. "You haven't been a good girl at all, have you?"
You shook your head helplessly, resting it against the rim of the pool. He was thrusting so hard you saw stars behind your eyes, the squelching sounds muffled by the water. You hoped that Satoru was rich enough to afford a minimalistic chlorine design, or you were going to have some interesting answers for your gynecologist the next time you went to see her.
"But, since you're- fuck- so pretty," he held onto the edge around your head, caging you in. "I'll let you go this time. What do we say, darling?"
"Thank you?" You tried, clearly the right answer when he'd started to pick up speed. The jet stream hit you so deliciously that it was making you see the same stars as the night sky, arching yourself into the stream as much as you could. Fuck, this was genius. Why hadn't you thought of this before?
"You're on the pill, right?" He mumbled into your ear. By the tone of his voice, he seemed to be close as well. Trust Nanami to still be worried about that during this. You loved him so much.
You nodded desperately, biting into his arm as you came, tightening around him like a vice. Just the feeling of you clenching sped up his release. A few more jerky thrusts, and he was spilling inside of you, hot ropes filling your insides deliciously. You shuddered, moving away from the stream before the overstimulation got too bad. Your pants were the only sounds that mixed with the soft hum of the generator and the buzz of the sea.
"I really want to wash this chlorine off before I get an unknown disease, Ken."
"Good idea."
Deboarding Day
You hadn't had that much fun on a vacation in ages. You and Yuki spent the last few hours gazing over at the sea before the mainland came back into view, and you were dragging your suitcases down to the deck.
You gave polite bows to all the staff that crossed you, including the captain. He just gave you a tight smile before walking away.
"The captain looks tired," you whispered pitifully to Satoru. "How long have you made him sail?"
"Oh, no, I asked him the same thing," Satoru said, turning his head in resigned confusion as Nanami pulled both your suitcases. "I told him in the morning that if he needed rest, he could sleep, but he didn't really want to."
"Then what was the problem?" Choso asked, suspiciously holding Yuki's hand.
"I have no idea. He said something about removing the installed cameras on the deck."
in which your poor skating partner hurts themself two weeks before your huge competition, and they bring in cocky hockey player Satoru Gojo to fill in the spot.
contains: some more banter, girly talk is my favourite thing to write, porn with plot, p in v (unprotected but reader is on the pill), eating you out, some degradation, overstimulation, giving him a blow job, some light choking, mirror kink
(completed) part 1 - part 2 - part 3 (you're here!)
5k
Ever since his match, Satoru had been oddly quiet.
He didn't make as many jokes as he would have. Maybe an occasional one here or there, but they didn't deliver with much conviction. And they didn't have the usual flirty punch as they were supposed to. It should have felt relieving, but you couldn't help but feel like you had done something wrong.
Maybe you had been too harsh on him when you shouted at him for the whole volunteer ordeal. At the end of the day, Satoru really was a good figure skater. And it didn't matter who would be your volunteer partner, because Megumi would always be your actual partner on the ice.
Or maybe it was because he was mad you were talking to Suguru? You couldn't quite grasp why. Maybe it was one of those boy things. You had given up trying to understand them in middle school.
Maybe you had shouted at him too harshly in the last practice sessions? You were always nitpicking at his every move, hoping to discourage him so that he could leave or choose to practice less. Now that you thought back on it, that was pretty bitchy, too.
No matter what it was, seeing Satoru with a straight face on the ice didn't sit well with you at all. Maybe it was growing care because of forced proximity or because you had started to notice him more in your physics classes (that you were surprised he even took), but you would much rather take his stupid jokes over whatever this halfway-silent treatment was.
"Gojo," you skated up to him on the ice, where he practiced a near-perfect squat.
"Yeah?" Even his answer was half-hearted. He was literally on his phone right now; you couldn't believe him.
You swallowed your pride, taking a breath. "I'm sorry."
He stood up from his spin, sighing as he dusted off small shards of ice from his hair. "For what, exactly?"
Okay, this was not how it was supposed to go. Isn't it usually supposed to be the girl asking this question? You could feel the Kahoot theme go through your head as you cycled through the three options. The fourth one was all of the above- a valiant choice as well.
"I'm sorry for shouting at you so much about the whole volunteer thing," you attempted to say with conviction, as if you didn't have two backup options in your mind.
"Wrong." Strike one. Once again, wasn't this supposed to be the girl's line?
"I'm sorry for talking to Suguru?"
"Accepted but wrong."
"I'm sorry for being so mean to you when you skate?"
"Wrong."
Wow, it was option e, none of the above. How fun. "Okay, well, I'm not sure what I did wrong," you tried to protest as he crossed his arms. "Can you at least tell me?"
"Pretty sure I've made it obvious, sweetheart." You tried to run through all your recent memories once more, biting your tongue. The only time he'd really seemed irritated at you was in the parking lot when he'd told you he didn't want you to dance with anybody else.
"I'm… sorry for wanting Suguru and Nanami as volunteers instead of you," you tried, cutting him off when he tried to speak. "And I'm sorry for not appreciating your skating skills more. As much as I hate to admit it, you are a very impressive figure skater. Not better than me, though." You hurriedly added at the end as the familiar coy grin started to spread on his face.
He let you suffer for a few more seconds in silence before shaking his head. "You're still not right, but I think that's the closest you're going to get, so I'll accept the apology."
"Hey! What does that mean-"
"Oh, look, Coach Mei is here," he shrugged cheekily, skating away. As much as it annoyed you, you had to stop yourself from smiling. You could tolerate whatever version this was of him, as long as he didn't revert to depressed emo tactics to get you feeling bad.
"Girl, why are you panicking?" Shoko sighed as you bit at your fingernails. You often felt nervous before figure skating competitions, but this one was pulling at your nerves extra, and you didn't know why. You had practiced for weeks with Satoru, down to where even the angles of your skates were aligned. She and Utahime were playing chess on the other side of the room solely because Utahime had gotten offended when Shoko rightfully said that she was better than her in the game, to which Utahime had challenged her to a match. You didn't even know where they'd found a chessboard, but it was evident from the lack of white pieces that Shoko was winning.
"I don't know, I guess that I'm just feeling anxious since this is my first time without Megumi," you shrugged absent-mindedly. Your laptop was open on your lap, and somehow you had found yourself on Satoru's Instagram page, scrolling through his posts. Satoru had practically begged you to give him your ID, to which you were made to follow him back. There was nothing aesthetic or aligned about it, really. More like a haphazard throw-together of all the moments he had spent. On one post, there was a bundle of pictures with what you could only guess was the rest of the hockey team, considering Suguru, Nanami, and Inumaki were in the frame. A few other posts were of his hockey games. Another one about a camping trip, a highlight with all the pictures of his team with a trophy. He looked unfairly pretty in each photo, white hair framing his face like a halo. A halo he definitely did not deserve, considering he was quite the opposite of an angel himself.
You clicked on his newest post, seeing ice, expecting to see another hockey post. Your thumb hovered over the keypad as you realised that it was not. Instead, there was a familiar pair of skates- your skates- gliding across the ice. You zoomed into the post, furrowing your eyebrows as you realised your face was cut out from it, as if someone was taking a video from a lower angle. You scrolled to the next panel- in this one, you were landing a double axel, arms flaring out gracefully, yet your face never showed. Panel after panel, you realised you were performing different moves. Your gaze moved to the title: "Remember for practice!!"
Oh. Maybe that's what he was playing on his phone in the rink all the time.
Keeping your gaze steadily away from the likes or comments, you shut your laptop abruptly and took a deep breath. Shoko paused, the rook still in between her fingers. "You good, babes?"
"Yes," you answered curtly, causing Utahime to raise her eyebrow. You could absolutely not tell them, absolutely not. How would you explain that you were stalking your best friend's prior crush's Instagram without seeming like a creep? That too, finding him hot.
Oh my god, what were you saying? You didn't find him hot. Pretty, at best. That's all he deserved.
This ideal did not last with you when you saw Satoru Gojo in all black the next day.
I mean, could anybody even blame you? He had chosen not to slick his hair back, so the white framing his face contrasted with the deep black of his costume, yet his eyes perfectly matched the silver and blue beads ingrained into the fabric. His shirt was of the billowy type, which made you think if a wind came along, the fabric would move and expose just enough of his neck and-
You shook your head, snapping yourself out of it. You prayed to god that this was all just because you were ovulating- it would go away soon. Hopefully.
"You're not late, Gojo," you said dryly, walking over to him with skates in your duffel bag. You were pretty sure that a dozen people were staring at the two of you in matching costumes on the sidewalk. Probably something out of Alvin and the Chipmunks.
"You're the one late, actually, by two minutes," he raised an eyebrow, opening his car door for you. "And my name is Satoru, not Gojo. Calling me that makes me feel like my dad."
"You're crazy if you think I'm calling you by your first name."
"What, not there yet?"
"Absolutely not."
The drive to Prefectural Jujutsu College seemed longer than it was when Suguru was the one driving you. Satoru's playlist was obnoxiously loud, but your eyes kept drifting towards his hair. His hair, his hair, his hair was probably the most devastating part about him. No, scratch that, maybe it was his neck. No, wait, actually, now that you were looking harder, it had to be his eyes. He was wearing contact lenses today, like on the day of his match, so you could see them clearly. How many shades of sapphire were in there-
"You're staring, sweetheart," he said in an annoyingly sing-song voice to the tune of the song that was currently going on. California Girls, even better. You scowled, looking away. "I was not."
"You totally were!"
"I was not!"
"It's okay to admire beauty sometimes, swee-"
"If I hear another word out of you, you're going to mysteriously disappear."
You were definitely way more nervous than you should have been. You and Satoru were going last, could you believe it? You'd shown up first to the competition, too, even before Coach Mei. Sitting in the contestant's area, your knee was shaking faster than your anxious breathing. It wasn't even that big of a deal; it was a stupid competition, so why were you getting so panicked? Oh my god, you always did this to yourself, stressing out like some stupid toddler, stupid-
You felt a warm palm on your thigh, looking away from the current performing duo with envy, and instead looking down at Satoru's hand on top of your costume skirt. His thumb brushed careful, soothing circles on your leg, fingers drumming a pattern you didn't understand. You could feel him shift closer to you on the bench, giving you a pillar you didn't know you needed.
"Why are you so nervous?" He asked under his breath, a light smile playing on his lips. "I thought you told me you were the best figure skater here."
"That was before I saw the amazing girl in red," you admitted, leaning into his touch gratefully.
"The girl in red didn't land the triple axel perfectly," he pointed out, jutting his chin to the way her skate was shaking. "Her leg's all wonky, look."
"That's not helping; that could happen to us!"
Satoru placed a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle his laugh. "Sweetheart, you're spiralling right now. Have some self-respect for yourself, will you? You could do this in your sleep, and so could I."
You hadn't even noticed your knee had stopped shaking until you felt his hand move away. Instinctively, you reached out to place it back. There was a small moment of silence before your ears turned red, turning your head back to the performers on the ice. "Sorry," you muttered quietly.
"What for?" His hand went back to where it had been resting, continuing the placating motion. "I don't mind it."
You could already feel your spine loosening, your hands uncurling, and resting on top of his. Suddenly, you could see all the flaws that Gojo had been pointing out earlier that you hadn't been able to see. A slight twist of the hip in the wrong direction, arms spreading in a way that didn't quite look as graceful as the performer thought it did. All of these didn't seem to be big changes, but the judges were often brutal with the scoring. You could see deductions everywhere. This couple was never going to win. Why on Earth were you nervous about them beating you? He was right- you ought to have self-respect for yourself. There were still nine contenders to go on before you, so why were you already shaking like it was your turn? Turning to Satoru, you realised that he was definitely nervous, with the way his shoulders were tight, but it was expected of him. He was a newbie.
You were not.
By the time your turn had come up, you were miles calmer than you usually were in your other performances, which always resulted in you getting silver. You had never gotten a gold medal before.
You could see Shoko and Utahime cheering like mad dogs when you and Satoru entered the rink, hands holding each other's tightly as you took a bow. You turned to each other, waiting for the first notes of the Merry-go-round of Life to ring out in the stadium. The crowd went silent when the ballad started to play, and both of you spun in synchronicity, praying to god that for some reason, your memories wouldn't be wiped midway and you would forget what you were supposed to be performing.
Every moment of the song was excruciatingly painful, your bodies stretching to their limits to appear as graceful as you needed to be. In one spot, Satoru landed slightly off center, and a judge scribbled something in his notepad. He whispered hurried sorries in his ear, to which you could only nod an "okay" before you had to scramble to perform your own twirl. When he picked you up to spin you, the air shot out of your lungs, arms bending as far as they could.
Who knew a three-minute cut-out song could be so long?
When the music ended, both of you were panting and holding your last pose for as long as you could. It was only when the crowd started to cheer that the relief flooded into your body, Satoru's face beaming as he placed you down steadily and you took your bow. Your eyes drifted to the scoreboard, waiting for it to change. You had to beat at least 140 to win. You'd never actually gone past 110 with Megumi.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
151
The students attending from your college screamed, but your scream was probably the loudest. As the second and third contenders made their way to the podium to get their awards, Satoru's grin could probably cut through the worst of any moods. Coach Mei was actually smiling. Could you believe that? There was a one in a million chance of that actually happening.
Your eyes snapped to Megumi in the crowd, crutch in his lap, cheering harder than anybody else. He was smiling too, making your heart swell even further. You don't know how he did it. If it were you, you'd probably be guilty, filled with envy that you hadn't been on the ice the one time your school finally won a gold medal for figure skating. Putting the medals on your neck felt like a dream.
Oh, and the check for 300 dollars felt pretty good too.
When you got off the ice, both your best friends were waiting for you, pulling you into a tight hug. "You did it!" Utahime exclaimed, smiling at you as if you'd just won the Olympics, not a college competition. "With that dick of a man, too!"
"He's not that bad," your voice was muffled into Shoko's shoulder, who was holding you there like you were a son who was back from war. "Aha, you've got the hots for him now, haven't you?"
"What?" You gasped. "No, psh, what are you sayin-"
"You know, since I own the internet I use, I can see all the Instagram accounts you stalk, right?"
Oops.
"Okay, it's not what it looks like-," you opened your mouth, but were met with a hand from Utahime's side, shaking her head. "Listen, girl, we've all had a Satoru Gojo stage. Believe it or not, Shoko liked Satoru in primary school-"
"I THOUGHT WE PROMISED NEVER TO SPEAK OF THAT AGAIN!"
"-and now it's his turn to break your heart. Don't worry, we'll be here for you. Just shoot your shot or whatever." Utahime nodded, wise beyond her years. You hadn't even noticed how the weird panic you'd been feeling in your stomach had utterly disappeared at her words. It was comforting to know that you had the best friends who would always stay by your side.
When Shoko and Utahime had turned around to grab their purses, someone's arms encompassed you from behind. You let out a shriek as Satoru spun you around in an arc, dragging you to the other door of the stadium. You could see Utahime and Shoko tutting, but both of them had amused expressions on their faces.
"Where are we going?"
"To get ice cream. You're paying this time, remember?"
While licking at your cone, your eyes narrowed at the sheer number of girls that had approached Satoru in just the line to get the ice cream. Now, they were asking for pictures. Pictures. He was a college student, for god's sake. You could never understand this behavior.
Satoru's thumb came up to your forehead, soothing the furrow between your eyebrows. "You look jealous, sweetie."
"First of all, stop with the nicknames." Your voice didn't really have any heat behind it, still giddy from the win. "Second, I'm not jealous. It's just crazy that somebody wants an autograph from a college student."
Once again, you had started your ambling walk across the campus. This time, instead of going outside, you'd just started to walk around the rink, ice cream finishing with ease. Both of you needed the sugar rush after the performance.
"You liked my post."
You choked on the waffle cone, coughing violently into your hand. He came up to pat you on the back, reminding you of the day he had asked you to come to his game. "What- what do you mean?"
"My post, you liked it," he said smugly, eyes twinkling underneath the stage lights. He had long since finished his ice cream cone. "The one I had of you."
Shit. Had you accidentally liked the post without realising it? "Look, let me explain-"
"Just admit you were stalking my Instagram because you think I'm hot," he shrugged, but paused when you didn't reply. He raised an eyebrow at you while you licked away the remnants of the cone from your hand nervously. "Well? I'm waiting for a string of insults."
"I'd be crazy to think you weren't hot," you shrugged, hoping to soft launch whatever attraction you had towards him. This, however, did not work, instead leading to him gripping your wrist tightly, pulling you around. "Whoa-"
"Do you mean it?" You'd never seen Satoru look at you like that. Instead of bending down to your level playfully, he was looking down at you from six feet, head tilted low like he was trying to strain his ears.
You gnawed at your lip, contemplating what to do, when Utahime's words popped up in your mind. Just shoot your shot, huh? "Of course I do."
Satoru didn't reply immediately, though his shoulders relaxed as if he'd been put out of some sort of misery. "…Do you want to act on it?"
"What does that mean?" He showed you exactly what it meant by pulling you into the hockey team's locker room, coincidentally right next to where you both stood, and coincidentally unlocked. You hated coincidences. He tilted your chin up, breath ghosting over your face. "I mean, do you want to act on it now?"
Looking up at his eyes, tracing the hues of sapphire, you didn't seem to really care. Why not?
When his lips crashed onto yours, you could taste the remnants of the blueberry ice cream he had been licking just a few minutes ago. He let out a groan into your mouth when you carded your fingers through his hair, the white strands you had so desperately wished to touch in the car. He picked you up by your thighs, pinning you to the wall and bringing you face level, biting at your lips for access into your mouth. Your breath easily turned heavy with the way his tongue moved against yours, pushing into your mouth like it was his birthright.
Your hands fumbled with his costume, pulling the shirt over his head, and you had to disconnect your lips from his. They went back a second later, placing open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You had to bite back a moan when he found your pulse point, starting to lick at it while he searched for the zip of your costume. The mirrors at the back of the room gave you a wonderful view of his back muscles, rippling when he lifted you further.
"Gojo, someone might walk in," you murmured, though your body didn't seem to care less. When the cool air hit your skin, and Satoru had thrown your costume somewhere in the room, you could already feel the wet patch blooming on your panties.
"That's not my name," he mumbled against your skin, kisses going lower and lower, moving you up inch by inch until he was at your naval, thighs resting on his shoulders. He toyed with the edge of your underwear before groaning, pulling it down, and throwing it in the same general direction that the costume had gone. You were thankful that the ceiling was so high, with the precarious way that he was holding you. His breath fanned against your clit. He was teasing you, the fucking bastard, blowing onto your clit.
"Don't tease me," you grumbled, trying to push his face closer by his hair. His head held still, resting on one of your inner thighs and staring up at you with the prettiest sapphire eyes once more. He wasn't smiling, but you could see the smirk present in his eyes. He was going to make you work for it. "Come on, say it."
"Satoru, please," you tried as sweetly as possible before gasping as he lapped at your folds with surprising speed, as if he was barely holding himself back either. "Oh my-"
Your back arched off the wall as you bit back your whimpers, hoping nobody walked by. You tried to think of any hockey games that could happen today, but all thinking really went out of the window as his tongue plunged inside of you, collecting your juices as he swallowed them greedily. Your eyes were screwed shut, hair already coming loose from whatever updo you had put it in, the hair-tie falling somewhere to the ground.
He replaced his tongue with his fingers, letting out a bark of laughter at the way your eyes rolled back. "Fucking teasing me this past month, I don't see you speaking so much anymore." Well, he was right. Even if you wanted to speak, you probably couldn't, not with the way his fingers were pressing all the right spots. "You didn't even notice me in your Physics class, how stupid can you be? You don't know why I don't want other people dancing with you? I'll show you why."
You bit into your arm to muffle your moans, your other hand grasping onto his hair as tightly as you could. His fingers reached knuckle deep, lips sucking on your clit to pull you into one of the best orgasms you've ever had. Your body literally soared with pleasure, tears prickling at your eyes to remind him to pull away, because overstimulation existed. He didn't seem to care, though, continuing to stretch you open on his fingers. "Aww, do you want me to give you a break?"
You nodded weakly, feeling another rush of pleasure course through you, this time with the pain of overstimulation. It hurt, but it hurt so good. "That's too bad, no?" As if to prove a point, he doubled his efforts on your clit, the tip of his tongue moving rapidly just to make you arch your back once more. Another orgasm was dragged out of you, your legs shaking. This time, Satoru was courteous enough to stop, sitting down on one of the wooden benches and pulling you onto his lap so as not to hurt you.
He unclipped your bra swiftly as you sank down to your knees, pulling down his pants hungrily. His cock jumped up when it was freed, the bright pink tip slapping against his abdomen. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose when your hands wrapped around it, giving it kitten licks. The beads of precum tasted salty on your tongue, circling it around his crown. His hands had already found their way to your hair, pushing you down his length further.
You bobbed your head, tongue tracing the underside of his cock, hands holding onto his thighs for support. He had your hair bunched in a make-shift ponytail, his other hand resting behind him so he could lean back, letting out the softest, most sinful sounds you didn't know someone could even make. You could feel it twitch inside your mouth, his abs flexing, and you doubled your efforts, sucking harder than before. Your hands moved to cup his balls, squeezing them in tandem with your tongue licking. Your moans around his length sent vibrations straight to his core, pushing him to the edge. Your eyes couldn't leave his face, feeling yourself getting wet again with the expression he made as his hips bucked, releasing down your throat.
It was only after Satoru was sure you had swallowed down every single drop that he pulled you back up, kissing you to taste his own release on your mouth. He flipped you down on the bench, nipples pressing hard against the wood. You only realised that you still had the gold medal around your neck when Satoru tugged on it, choking you against the strap just enough not to hurt but to make your mewl instead. He forced you to look at the mirrors in front of you, catching sight of your ruined lipstick and your tugged-on hair. Your face looked deliciously flushed, chest heaving. "I'm on the pill," you quickly said as you watched him hesitate, desperate to feel him inside you.
Satoru leaned over you, his head on top of yours as he aligned his tip with your hole, teasing it. Not entering just yet. His hand remained taut around the medal, his other tracing your face and placing a thumb inside your mouth. You suckled eagerly, moaning around his finger as he pushed just his tip inside you, breaking the first band of resistance. "You know why I didn't want anybody else volunteering for you, sweetie? Because I've had the biggest crush on you since freshman year. Then I realised you didn't even know I was in your Physics class." He panted, slowly bottoming out as you arched your hips against his. "That's hurtful, don't you think? Don't I deserve an apology?"
"I'm sorry, Satoru," you mumbled around his fingers, drunk on whatever feeling of ecstasy was going through you right now. "I'm really sorry-"
"I don't think you mean it," he pouted, pushing into his first thrust with an almost scary amount of pressure, leaning onto his forearm for leverage. His chest pressed against your back sinfully, sweat mixing with sweat.
"I do," you whimpered, holding onto his bicep weakly as he started to move. That was all you could get out, really. Anything other than that was bound to be gibberish.
"Mmm, I don't think so," Satoru let out a sound of disbelief, pulling the medal tighter. "As an apology, you're not going to take your eyes off this mirror till I finish inside of you, and if you take them off for a single second, I'll stop moving. Is that clear, sweetheart?"
You whimpered. Wasn't that a little too cruel?Despite that, you felt your pussy clench around him because of his words, causing him to bite back a moan. "Yes, Satoru."
"Oh, good girl," he smiled against your hair, hips moving at an inhumane pace. "You liked that, didn't you? Clenching around me like you're already brain dead."
You were so tempted to close your eyes just once, but you knew that Satoru would keep his word. If he stopped moving now, you think you would probably die. So you kept your eyes open, watching the sight unfurl in front of you.
Both your faces looked so fucked out it would have been funny if you weren't feeling waves of joy radiating from within your skin in every corner. You reached your peak far too soon than you wanted to. "Satoru, I'm gonna-" you bit onto his arms, muffling the moan that broke free from you. You could feel the frothy ring that was starting to form around his cock that refused to stop plunging.
"Think you can take another one for me?" He whispered, starting to beg when you shook your head. Your legs were starting to shake with the all too familiar overstimulation. "Please, sweetie, I know you can. Just one more, okay? I'm so close."
God knows what tactic he used to get you to agree, but you felt your body become putty in his grip. He was starting to twitch inside you when you came once more, the pleasure of the orgasm drowning out the prick of overstimulation. The oxygen was starting to cut off slightly, leaving you light-headed and giddy. You glanced down to see the bite marks you had left on Satoru's bicep, which only seemed to fuel him on more.
It was quite embarrassing to say that you could already feel another orgasm building. When he groaned and released inside of you, you came a third time, surprising yourself. Hot streams of cum splattered against your walls, painting them white. He held you down firmly through every rope of seed, making sure that he was truly and utterly spent until he pulled out, rolling you over and resting on your chest. Both of you panted deeply, eyes closed with happy exhaustion.
"…I think we should leave before somebody catches us, or we'll never be able to participate in a competition again."
in which your poor skating partner hurts themself two weeks before your huge competition, and they bring in brash hockey player Satoru Gojo to fill in the spot.
contains: no smut (yet), some more banter, girly talk is my favourite thing to write, Reader is booksmart but not flirting smart </3 (lock in reader we say in unison) 4.1K
part 1 - part 2 (you're here!)
4.1k
Apparently, 'stalker' was now your official nickname.
This did not help with the fact that you could not bear Gojo's presence, in fact, making it far worse than it already was. It was annoying enough that he had gotten the hang of figure-skating so fast, but he was even starting to match your level. In just two weeks, Satoru Gojo had gone from a baby fawn to a graceful stag, and it was fucking infuriating that now you were starting to get compared to him by your sweetest Coach Mei.
"Get off the ice and come put on your jersey!" The ice hockey coach called out from the edge of the ice rink, sending a glare at you. Like it was your fault, Gojo spent all his time practicing with you instead of training for the match on the weekend. Like it was your fault that Coach Mei made him rent a new rink outside of the school so that you had more time to train.
"I'd rather prefer it if you went to practice ice hockey," you said to him, frowning as he landed a triple, though very shakily. "In fact, I'd appreciate the peace from your constant falls."
"Come on, stalker, don't act like I'm not good at it now!" He skated alongside you, pointedly avoiding Coach Sukuna's calls. "I've practiced so much, I barely fall that much anymore." This was, unfortunately, true.
"Just go," you pleaded. "Let me have an hour to myself, will you?"
Satoru went quiet for a few seconds, looking at you silently before smiling widely, eyes lighting up with an idea. "Tell you what, I'll leave you all alone for the next three days until my match."
Hope fluttered in your stomach at the thought of the quiet that you would have. "Are you being serious-"
"Provided that," he interrupted you. "You come to my game on Saturday."
Your mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"
"I'll give you a second."
"You want me to come to your game?"
"You heard me."
"The ice hockey game on Saturday?"
"I'd never have guessed."
"The game held in Prefectural Jujutsu College?"
"That's usually how it works, yes."
"Your game on Saturday?"
"Look at you go!"
"Absolutely not!"
"Why not?" He whined, skating circles around you rapidly as you skated towards the edge, giving you a headache. "If you don't come, I'm training with you all day without breaks."
"Why are you doing this to me?" You felt like slapping him across the face. "How will I even get to Prefectural Jujutsu College? It's way too far from the student dormitories. And it's way too expensive."
"I have three free tickets," Gojo took out three pretty pieces of paper from his pocket with surprising speed, as if this was his evil plan all along.
"I still can't drive there, I don't have a license yet." You winced at that thought- still a sore subject that you'd failed the driving exam so many times, the instructor looked at you like he had known you his entire life.
"I'll drive you!" He immediately offered.
"Hard pass."
"Why not?" He tried to ask before rethinking, quickly giving up on the argument. "I'll ask Suguru to drop you."
Your ears perked up at his words. What kind of person would you be if you didn't want to be in a car with Suguru Geto? "Done."
"Oh come onnn, plee-" He cut himself off, frowning, realising that you had agreed. "That's kind of suspicious how easily you agreed."
"Take the win, Gojo."
"Do you have a thing for Suguru?" He crossed his arms in offense, Coach Sukuna getting redder and redder in the background. "Seriously? That's so offensive, considering I'm literally your ice skating partner."
"How is that even offensive?" You got off the ice smoothly while Satoru stumbled, gripping onto the walls for support. He narrowed his eyes when he noticed you didn't deny his accusation. You grabbed your water from your bag, gulping gratefully. For such a cold sport, your muscles got hot every time you practiced.
"I don't know, aren't ice skating partners supposed to fall in love or something?"
You choked on the water, coughing violently as Gojo's eyes widened in panic, going to whack you back with enough force to probably kill an elephant. It didn't help, only causing you to cough more. You held out a hand to him, telling him to stop, but the dumb man gave you a high five, continuing to hit your back.
It took a good minute for you to get up and stop coughing, sending him a glare. "What did you say?"
"What did I say?" He gave you an innocent look, clearly taking your reaction to heart and choosing his survival over stupid questions. "I don't remember. Last thing I recall is you agreeing to come to my game because you're in love with my best friend."
"I'm not in love with Suguru!" You gasped, taking off your skates and placing them in your duffel bag. "And I wouldn't blame anybody who was."
"What?"
"Bye," you walked out of the ice rink as Gojo scoffed behind you, carrying your duffel bag over your shoulder and ready to share today's awful situation with your girlies.
---
"That prick," Utahime mumbled, though she stared at the silver paper otherwise. "…But I will be in Prefectural Jujutsu College on Saturday."
"What?" You furrowed your eyebrows. "Why?"
"Me and Shoko have-"
"Shoko and I," she corrected from her designated couch.
"Okay, Grammarly. Shoko and I," Utahime repeated mockingly. "Have event planning there for the ice hockey team, actually."
"Oh," you shouldn't have felt a bit left out, but you did anyway- because you were so busy with training, Shoko and Utahime usually went out a lot without you, including doing extracurriculars. It wasn't like they were doing it on purpose, but sometimes you thought about how it would feel if you didn't have to constantly rely on your ice skating scholarship to remain in this college. It wasn't even that good anyway- your physics Professor Yaga was constantly talking to little creepy dolls on his desk like a schizophrenic, and it freaked you. "Were you guys already going to go to the game?"
"Utahime was trying to get tickets, but they were all sold out-"
"I was not!" Utahime snapped at Shoko, flustered. "I was simply looking at the seats because we were planning for the event anyway-"
"Seats right next to the rink where we can see sweaty men passing a puck wearing the most hideous sportswear known to man?"
"You're impossible," Utahime muttered, eyeing the tickets in your hands once more. "You are planning on giving those to us, right?"
"No, I was planning on giving it to Professor Yaga and his pet panda doll."
"Har har, you're so funny," Shoko sighed as you handed out the tickets to them. She frowned after a second, "But how are you going to get there? Don't you have English Literature, like, half an hour before the game starts?"
"Suguru Geto is going to drive me," you said smugly, to which Shoko and Utahime let out outraged gasps.
"You're kidding me!"
"That's not fair!"
"I don't know, this seems like the perk of having a hockey player with a hot best friend as your ice skating partner," you shrugged, revelling in the glare that Utahime shot the ticket in her hand.
"I dumped that specific hockey player, by the way."
"Babe, I'm pretty sure he dumped you."
"Shoko!"
"Am I wrong?"
---
When you approached the rink the next day, you took a deep breath, pressing your temples to prepare for the bullshit your partner was going to spew. However, when you entered the rink, you were surprised to find it empty.
Right. He wasn't here for three days.
Joy coursed through you like a child eating candy for the first time. You skated freely along the ice, practicing your moves as many times as you possibly could. Coach Mei arrived after an hour as well, frowning at the sight of only one person on the ice.
"Where's the boy?" She asked.
"He's training for his match on Saturday." You stopped the music abruptly, slowing down to approach the edge where your Coach stood.
Coach Mei let out a tch of disapproval before sitting down on one of the plastic seats. "Play the music. Let's observe your form."
The nervousness that always entered your system when Coach Mei was watching did not fail to arrive. You played the music anxiously, starting up your routine.
Other than the occasional "Straighten your arms!" Or the iconic, one and only, "Spin faster!" It seemed that she had nothing to say about your form. She also seemed quite upset that she had nothing to say. She gave you a side eye, as if you were managing to cheat yourself through this.
"Better than before," she muttered gruffly before suddenly having to walk her pet fish, making her way out of the rink and probably somewhere to analyse your moves with the efficiency of somebody solving a math equation, trying to find a fault she could pick on.
---
You had honestly thought that the three days of peace would do you good, but by the second day, you felt the unexpected and irksome feeling that you missed Satoru. Missed his dumb smile when he managed to land a perfect axel, his dumb nickname that managed to piss you off no matter how many times he used it.
You couldn't even believe yourself. You missed that dad joke-loving, living, breathing contradiction of a man? How could you even be thinking about him right now? You let out a sound of irritation as you spun more agressively that necessary, skidding on the ice and letting out a spray of ice.
You did not miss him. You missed your partner. Of course, it would get tiring to practice a duet alone. You just missed the feeling of having a partner next to you during your routine.
You stopped playing the music, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes and sighing. God, Megumi, when will you get back?
---
The dreaded day of the match had arrived.
After your English Literature session, you practically sprinted back to your dormitory. You spent longer than you liked trying to pick out an outfit. Your room was a disarray of clothes by the time you were done picking out something, sending a silent prayer to thank whatever force was there that managed to keep Shoko and Utahime out today. If they had seen you fussing over this to go to a match that you were invited to by Satoru Gojo, you would almost definitely get slandered. One hundred percent insulted.
At the end, you managed to settle on a blue sweater and a white shirt underneath with a beige pleated skirt, the color of the hockey teams' jerseys. Wait, was this trying too hard? You really didn't want to make Satoru think you liked him. No, absolutely not, that would be the worst out of the worst outcomes. You honestly considered taking it all off and starting with another outfit, but you had no time, and you definitely didn't want to be late either.
Well, at least you got to be chaffereud there by the finest man on the team. You couldn't even complain about that.
"Oh, are you Satoru's friend?" Suguru asked as you made your way towards him, clutching your bag tightly.
"I wouldn't call him my friend, per se."
The car ride wasn't as awkward as you thought it would be. Shoko should probably learn from Suguru how to fill in silences as smoothly as he did.
"How long have you known Satoru?"
You shot him a puzzled look. "What do you mean? I guess I knew about him for quite some time, but I've not really known him."
Sugure shot you an equally puzzled look. "Really?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well, Satoru told all of us who wanted to volunteer for the figure skating competition to back off since both of you already knew each other, and it would be better if you were partnered with him anyway-"
Your eyes widened with indignation. "He did not!"
Suguru fought back a smile, placing his free hand to cover his mouth. "I clearly remember telling me to strike my name from that list."
You took a deep breath, pressing your temples deeply. If you didn't think Satoru could guess worse, you definitely thought wrong. "Do you mind telling me who put their names down?"
"I did-" You bit back a groan.
"I'm pretty sure Nanami was going to-" Your future plans as a loved housewife flew out of the window.
"And I think Inumaki was thinking about it?" You placed your forehead on the dashboard sorrowfully, feeling waves of disappointment crash over you. You could have had that cute mute as your partner, and you got the loudest jackass in all of history.
"You're lying to me right now."
"I promise I'm not!" Suguru laughed as he caught sight of your face. "I genuinely thought both of you were childhood friends."
"I pity anybody whose childhood had to be filled by that fool."
"He isn't that bad." As the car parked, Suguru picked up his duffel bag filled with his equipment and stepped out of the car. "He could be worse, come on."
"Please show me anybody who's worse than him in telling dad-jokes."
"Point taken."
---
You were embarrassingly early to your seat, considering one of the players had dropped you off. So early that you could even see the opposing team warming up, not bothering to hide your gaze over number 8, squinting your eyes to read the name on his jersey. Takuma.
Well, maybe this day wasn't all that bad.
Satoru spotted you from the opposite side of the rink, doing his warm-ups as well. He frowned as he followed your line of sight to some beanie-clad kid who was definitely three heads shorter than him. Maybe he should tackle him a bit extra in the match. Just for fun, though. Just for fun.
When the seats started to fill up, Shoko and Utahime took their seats beside you, sandwiching you snugly in the middle. Gojo looked up from the ice, searching for you in the bleachers before your friends could properly take their seats. He waved at you with his stick like a little kid, and you couldn't help the instinctive wave you returned, causing a wide smile to bloom on his face and a frown to bloom on yours.
"Sooooo," Shoko sat down. "How was the ride with the campus Rapunzel?"
"He told me Gojo told the others not to volunteer for the ice skating position because he wanted to do it himself," you sulked, crossing your arms, staring at Nanami near the goal, and thinking about what you could have had. You didn't even bother to answer the multiple questions and gasps thrown to you from both sides, shaking your head. "I don't want to talk about it. Toge could have been my partner. Toge Inumaki."
Shoko's question was cut off as the referee held the puck up in the air before dropping it swiftly on the ice. Satoru and a man whose jersey read "Todo" stood in the middle, eyes moving with the puck as their hockey sticks moved wildly, trying to claim the puck first.
Your side of the crowd let out a groan as Todo managed to take the puck first, passing it to his teammate from across the ice. The match went so fast that you honestly couldn't even keep up. Your eyes were either on Satoru when shots were getting passed, or Nanami when he was protecting the goal. Shot after shot after shot, you cheered when your side cheered and booed when the other side got a point. You couldn't understand half the cards that the referee held up, but you definitely understood that Inumaki and a player from an opposing team had gotten a foul. When said player tried to cuss him out, Inumaki, being the mute diva he was, gave him a simple finger to his face.
Perhaps the part of the match you understood the best, really.
You were embarrassed to admit that in the middle of the match, you were pulling out your phone to type up hockey terms. This was currently how your history looked:
What is the winning score for ice hockey? (This was quite stupid- a timer was literally going on in front of your face)
How many players can be on the ice at the same time?
How many players can be on the ice at the same time IN ICE HOCKEY?
Can a player come back from a foul in ice hockey?
Can a player come back from a foul if it literally wasn't their fault?
What is a goal called in ice hockey? (Surprisingly, the same thing)
Is bumping into another player legal in ice hockey?
If someone ever went through your history after today, they'd probably be very confused why a bunch of ice hockey terms were typed up in between searches for Alhaitham edits.
In the last minute of the match, you would be lying if you weren't sitting on the edge of your seat along with Shoko and Utahime, though they tried to be more nonchalant about it. Both teams were tied, and Satoru kept missing shots, probably due to the pressure of the last few seconds.
"Lock the fuck in number 6!" A stranger shouted from behind you, and a wave of agreement shot up like a tsunami, the three of you being part of the crowd and screaming at Satoru to focus.
He shot a playful glare at the crowd before returning to the game, and you managed to notice the nervous furrow between his eyebrows. He tapped his hockey stick impatiently on the ice as he followed the puck that Suguru was evading from an opponent, watching with the focus of a snow leopard. When the puck was passed to him, you couldn't even catch it in the blur. Gojo shot it into the goal with such speed that even the goalie blinked for a few seconds, trying to figure out what happened.
The buzzer went off.
Your side of the crowd stood up and screamed deafeningly, stamping your feet like you truly understood what was even going on. You cheered loudly, clapping until your hands were red.
"That's my ex!" Utahime shouted over the crowd, screaming like a mother watching their child do a chore right for the first time in their life.
After the match, you were acutely aware of how excited you were in the match, quite ashamed of the fact that you had gotten so worked up on a game you couldn't even understand. You walked out before your two friends, trying to find the ice cream stall that you swore you had seen before the match had started. When you reached the line, you dug around in your purse for your wallet but let out a sorrowful sigh at realising you had forgotten it altogether.
"So, how did I do?" The voice you so irritatingly missed came from behind you, and you jumped around, met with the sight of your partner leaning down to your level with a shit-eating grin. He held out his hand when you opened your mouth. "Before you say anything, I saw you cheering like a maniac when I shot that goal. There is nothing you can say that will defend you anymore."
You shot him a glare, upset that his words were very accurate. "You weren't that bad."
He fist-pumped, looking at the flavours the ice cream cart had to offer. "You should come to my games more often-"
"Don't push your luck."
"It doesn't hurt to ask," he smiled, managing to push to the front of the line with you due to his player privileges, other college students moving out of the way for him with proud smiles. "What flavour do you want?"
"Cookies and Cream," You said absent-mindedly, staring at the ice cream longingly. "I'll come back for you next time, dearest."
"What on earth are you talking about?" A cone was shoved in your face, some of the ice cream getting on your nose. You blinked, holding the wafer carefully. "My treat. Since I won, I think I should be allowed to."
"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" You frowned, having to walk fast to keep up with his strides.
"Tomato Tomaato, same difference," he shrugged, reaching out with a tissue to wipe the ice cream that got on your nose. "This is probably the only time I'll see you out of that god-forsaken ice rink."
You blinked at his soft action before reminding yourself you were angry with him, scowling. "Why did you tell everybody that we knew each other so they didn't volunteer?"
"What are you talking about-" Satoru narrowed his eyes at Suguru from across the room, who gave him a wide beam and a thumbs up. "Cats out of the bag."
"Well, explain yourself."
"There isn't really an explanation, stalker," he muttered, stuffing his face with the blueberry-flavoured ice cream he'd bought himself to avoid answering. "I honestly thought you were smarter."
You let out a frustrated sound at his antics. You couldn't believe you'd missed this man. "What does that even mean?"
"Use that head of yours, and maybe you'll find out," he poked his index finger on your forehead, before muttering sullenly. "You and Suguru sure talked a lot, huh?"
"Yeah, we did. Mainly about how you convinced your teammates not to volunteer!"
"Let it go, will you?" He sighed. "Plus, I'm already such a good figure skater. It would have been a waste if anybody else got the part." He paused before looking down at you as you both walked into the parking lot. "Do you like him?"
"Who?"
"Suguru."
"I mean, he's better than you-"
"I mean it seriously," he interrupted you, a pout making its way onto his face. "Do you like him?"
"You're diverting from the actual topic!"
"Answer my question, and I'll answer yours.
You stopped for a few seconds, honestly thinking about it. "He's hot and all, but he's way out of my league. I don't think I can date somebody like that without thinking about the possibilities of how they're too good for me or whether I'll ever unsatisfy someone. I'd probably like someone who I can just laugh with till I cry, not somebody I put on a pedestal-" You stopped yourself, realising you were already oversharing, some sort of shine entering Gojo's eyes. "Your turn."
"I didn't want anybody else to dance with you," he mumbled, diverting his eyes to his car. Shoko and Utahime were starting to approach, and you really didn't want to be seen talking to Satoru out in broad daylight.
"First of all, figure skating is a lot more than dancing. Second, why? We just met each other a month ago-"
"No, we didn't," he glowered offendedly. "We've been in the same Physics class for ages."
"You take Physics?"
"You say that as if it's an alien assumption."
"Okay, so what if we're in the same Physics class? That doesn't mean-"
"You really are fucking stupid, it's unbelievable," he shook his head, sighing up to the heavens as if he was given an impossible task. "Just forget about it. I'll meet you at practice tomorrow."
You tried to open your mouth and ask him for a proper explanation before shy fans surrounded him, asking him for a picture. You scoffed- he was literally a college team player. Maybe all his stupid fans were the reason his ego was as inflated as the birthday castles booked for children's birthday parties.
You stomped back to Utahime and Shoko, entering the back seat of the car and looking out of the window grumpily.
"What happened this time?" Utahime sighed, taking off her jacket.
"Well, Utahime," Shoko started, to explain, reversing the car out of the parking as you locked eyes with Satoru through the window. He looked away before you did, turning back to his approaching teammates with a smile. "It all starts with a white-haired poser boy who thinks he's the shit-"
in which your poor skating partner hurts themself two weeks before your huge competition, and they bring in brash hockey player Satoru Gojo to fill in the spot.
contains: extreme banter, mention of ankle injury, coach is a bitch 💔, not freaky yet, but it'll be in a few chapters (hopefully </3), lot of girl talk because we love the girlies
part 1 (you're here!)
3.3k
The rink was like your own little paradise.
You couldn't remember exactly when you had started skating, but your first memory was of your father on the ice with a four-year-old daughter between his legs, feet wobbly on the thin lines of metal. You had been crying then, scared sounds coming out as you slipped on the ice, and a deep laugh in return, steady hands holding your upper body.
Now, your tears were not because of fear, but because of the speed you glided along the ice. Frost blew against your face, causing your eyes to water deliciously. Your partner matched your speed, flying with you through your routine. You spun with him as the music played on the rink's speakers, your coach watching with a scrutinizing gaze. You both knew your routine was down to a T, but when she watched you, it always made you feel like you were back in the middle-school skating team tryouts.
"Fushiguro, spin faster!" Coach Mei barked, noting something down on her surely haunted notepad. Megumi attempted to spin a quadruple as she had ordered him, but he fell harshly on the cold surface. You skidded to a stop, fighting the urge to glare at your coach as you crouched down to your partner. The music ceased, the last note reverbating in the huge rink.
"A triple is enough," You said softly under your breath, holding out a gloved hand for him to take. He shakily stood to his feet, brushing off flakes of ice from his hair. This had been the third time he had fallen just today, and he seemed pretty worn out.
"Tell that to Coach," Megumi sighed, skating back to the center of the rink, waiting for the music to start once more. You didn't mind practicing for hours, loved it really, but it was only enjoyable when Coach Mei wasn't constantly on your back for doing a triple-half instead of a quadruple. She treated every inter-college competition like it was the fucking Olympics. With how Megumi's legs tremored slightly on the ice, it was clear he wasn't taking it well either.
You'd honestly thought she would finally end it there, but no. Megumi fell thrice, four times, five times more, and she kept you all going. Hell, the hockey players were standing at the edges of the rink, complaining that the figure skaters were taking up their time.
The faint sound of the hockey team arguing with Coach Mei was heard over the ice. You and Megumi relaxed slightly- perhaps, if she was distracted, then Megumi wouldn't have to jump like she constantly asked him to. Getting ready to do his basic triple, your speed increased, and your skates glided forward.
"Fushiguro, I said, spin faster!"
Already mid-jump, both of you registered the command only when you were close to landing. Behind you, Megumi pointlessly attempted the quadruple and landed on the ice with a sickening crack.
Even the hockey team went silent.
"Megumi?" Worry crept into your voice as fast as you crawled over the ice to look at an ankle he was holding gingerly. Megumi wasn't one to cry, but you could tell he was close to tears.
"I think-" He carefully took off his ice-skate and sock, pressing a finger gingerly to the already swelling flesh. "I need five minutes."
"No, you need a doctor!" You gave a glare to Coach Mei as she approached you both in the center of the ring, as well, inspecting the ankle. She crouched down, rolling the ankle while Megumi hissed. She sighed, placing it down on the ice and standing up. "He's probably torn the ligament."
"How can you say that so casually?" You argued with her, standing up to face her. Though it really made no difference- the Coach was freakishly tall for someone who got no sunlight.
"Do you think this is casual, child?" Coach Mei sighed into her hand. "We've lost our star ice-skater. We're not even going to qualify for the competition."
"Is that really the important thing to you right now?" You bit back any more insulting comments when she gave you an icy look, but you still gave her the dirtiest glare you could muster.
Yet, unfortunately, Coach Mei was right.
After visiting Megumi in the hospital, where he sat like a dejected puppy and apologized profusely, you reassured him, telling him that you could still win the competition and you would share the win with him.
Then you went to the site details and realised you could not.
February Figure Skating Contest!
Come compete for an award of 300 dollars and a unique trophy for the 2026 College Competition!
Eligibility:
Must be a pair figure skating display
All Participants must be above the age of 18
All Participants must be enrolled in a Jujutsu Tech Branch College (or exceptions listed at the bottom of the list)
All Participants must have a unique song (Any same musical background will be disputed by a judge)
Held on February 25th, 2026, At Jujutsu Tech College, 5 PM - 10 PM
To apply, please consult your ice skating TA or call the number below!
Good luck to All Participants!
Well, shit.
You bit at your nails, truly contemplating whether you should go onto LinkedIn to find a possible partner, but immediately changed your mind when you remembered Coach Mei would probably reject each one. It was almost comedic that the moment the competition poster came out, all the other ice skaters suddenly had something else to do. Shoko was suddenly invited to a family event in Miami (which was completely unbelievable because first, she didn't even have enough money to buy four consecutive subway tickets, and second, she was the dorm neighbour that you had caught sneaking out in the middle of the night for instant ramen). Choso suddenly developed a sickness that he himself got to name because it was so rare, and he couldn't walk or skate for some time. (This again was untrue because he had been at the party where he'd done seven backflips in a row to avoid taking a shot). Even Nobara decided to kill off her third grandma to leave the ice rink. You and Megumi had stuck on like fools, excited for the prize, before remembering that Coach Mei was going to be managing you. Unfortunately, it had been too late to develop the funeral of a distant uncle, and you were stuck with her.
Honestly, a small part inside of you was guiltily happy. Of course, not because Megumi got hurt, but because you couldn't possibly participate anymore. Coach Mei couldn't call back Yuuji from his said first-class student exchange program (one more lie, you'd caught him trying to awkwardly flirt with a sophomore at the same party as Choso, who gave him a pitying look and broke his ego.)
That night, when your head hit the pillow, you dreamt of an ice rink where you were free of the chains of Coach Mei's incessant screaming, and you were able to simply skate on the ice for the love of it.
---
"You're LATE!"
God, why was she still even here? You rubbed your eyes to stare up at your Coach who you'd prayed dearly to disappear just for today. "Late for what, Coach?"
Coach Mei frowned as if you had insulted her entire career. "The practice for the competition, child."
She must be crazy if she was trying to make Megumi train again. Your sleepiness cleared a little, eyes opened wider. "Coach, you can't possibly make Megumi come out of the hospital-"
"No child, I cannot depend on Fushiguro and his poor set of skills anymore," Coach Mei sighed irritably. "Your partner will be someone from the hockey team. It's our only option."
Poor Coach Mei. How had she not seen any of the other ice skaters walking around in broad daylight? And honestly, the hockey team didn't even sound that bad. You were fully expecting her to choose number 9, Suguru Geto. The first time you'd seen the man, you knew that if he ever wanted to join ice skating, he would be welcomed with open arms. He managed to make the rest of his team seem like ogres every time he slid across the ice to pass the puck.
But yet, Coach Mei lived only to further ruin your day. No, she didn't even choose Nanami Kento- no, from behind her came probably the roughest hockey player on the team.
"Coach, this oaf can't even skate in a straight line!" You protested, giving a contemptuous look to number 6, which he returned with even force. "That's not true at all, have you ever been to one of my games?"
"Where you fall flat on your face!" You retorted, already taking a few steps back. Coach Mei let out a sigh that sounded as if she was being tortured, giving you a stink eye. "He's not an oaf. He's the only one who volunteered from the team to join."
"Yeah, hear that?" The white-haired man gave you a petty grin. "Don't hear you complaining anymore."
The shock from the fact that he volunteered took over your features for all but a second, but they melted into adamance. You picked up your skates stubbornly and sat down on the bleachers. "I'm not skating."
Coach Mei looked at you with an appalled expression. "Excuse me?"
"I refuse to skate with him," You sat obstinately. "Give me one reason I should."
"I'll remove your ice-skating scholarship."
That definitely had to be illegal.
---
Skating with Satoru Gojo didn't feel like how it usually did when you skated with Megumi. There isn't as much joy as being on the ice, and there isn't the delicious burn of the wind in your face because Satoru is going at the pace of a toddler.
"I could skate better than you when I was in first grade!" You snapped at him, half-heartedly giving him balance as he struggled to do a basic sit spin. He gritted his teeth and fell before he was even halfway down. "I'd like to see you shoot a puck into a goal seven times straight."
"I'm sure you're good at your own sport, but right now we're not doing hockey." He really was an awful figure skater- for someone who was the fastest on his team, he couldn't do a proper spin. "Coach Mei made Megumi do a quadruple, you can't even do a single!"
"Learning is a process, sweetheart," He grumbled, using the railing of the rink to get up and brush off his torn ego. "I can't be perfect in one day."
"It's okay not to be perfect, but you're skating like you're still in the womb." You glanced at Coach Mei, and you could tell her patience with Satoru had already dissipated in the first five minutes. Her head was turned away, and she was scrolling mindlessly on her phone. For somebody who was supposed to be a coach, you were the one doing all the coaching right now.
"Yeah, well, the standards for figure-skating are crazy," He said irritably, trying to follow your lead and managing to land a simple turn. "Why are you guys bending your bodies to the point of breakage? It's not like you're a rubber band. At least in Ice Hockey, when a teammate gets stretched to his limit, you have an extra to sub in while he rests." His words made you pause for a good second, reflecting on the unnerving meaning. You glanced at Coach Mei once more. Did she really think that pushing Megumi to do a quadruple without breaks would lead to improvement?
"See, you agree with me!" The smug smile returned on his face.
"I do not!" You snapped back. "For someone who just fell a few minutes ago like a disabled pigeon, I don't think a smile should be on your face."
"You do!" He scoffed, practicing another twirl. It was surprising how well he'd gotten the hang of it. "There was a different look in your eyes for a second, where your entire energy wasn't focused on hating my existence."
"You misunderstand, my hating your existence is passive," You attempted a triple, landing a little shakily than before. "No matter what I'm feeling, that is on default."
"Why do you even hate me so much?" He shook his head like a disappointed cashier when you order a single banana because you can't afford anymore. His eyes laid on you for a few more seconds, tilting his head quizically.
"What?" As much as you hated him, anybody could admit that his gaze could turn the ice in this rink into water. Your ears heated up involuntarily as he let out a gasp of realisation. "You're Utahime's best friend!"
"Stop talking and start practicing!" Coach Mei's voice came from the edge of the rink, not helping the growing resentment in your stomach. "Really, you don't say?"
"That's why you hate me, oh my god," He scoffed. "You know, I broke up with her three years ago."
"And you were a jackass back then, too."
"You seriously can't dislike me for something like that! How are we going to skate together if you're stuck on something stupid like that?"
"Here's the thing, wise guy, I don't want to skate with you at all!"
"Children, Children!" Coach Mei's voice rings in both of your ears. "Can you continue your lover's quarrel outside of the rink?"
"We're not lovers!" Both of you snapped at her at the same time, quickly sobering up at the glare she gave you both for raising your voices at her. "Raise your voice again, and I'll make you guys perform three in a row quadruple axels."
"That's not even humanely possible," Satoru muttered under his breath, twirling another single.
"The only thing that's come out of your mouth today that I agree with."
---
Three years ago
How much longer was Utahime going to sob over some stupid guy?
"God, you won't even show me his face!" You snapped at her, trying to grab your roommate's phone from her hand, which she was clutching to her chest like it was her heart. "No man is that beautiful."
"You don't get it, he really is!" She wailed, putting her face into her pillow. They'd literally only been dating for maybe half a year or so- it wasn't even dating. Utahime had made it clear to you and Shoko that she just wanted him for his looks and that he wanted her for biology notes. Now, apparently, he'd figured out how to cheat far more efficiently in exams without her.
"Why are you so heartbroken? There are so many other hotter guys in this school. You were so unserious about him, you didn't even tell us his name." You wrestled with her for her phone, causing the device to fall onto the bed. "Just show me his face, Utahi-"
Your words died in your mouth at the picture of the boy on her screen. Your silence filled the room as you stared into the digital blue eyes, staring back at you with the force of almost 6.
"Let me get this straight, Utahime," You took a deep breath, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. "…Your boyfriend was SATORU GOJO?"
"AND SO WHAT IF HE WAS?"
"SATORU GOJO, AS IN SATORU GOJO OF CLASS C?" Shoko yelped from the other side of the room, putting down whatever Instagram hate post she was making and jumping onto the bed to grab the phone from you.
"Utahime!" Both of you groaned at the same time. She gave you both a glare. "Why would you date this man? Are you fucking stupid?" Shoko gave her a disappointed look.
"There's nothing wrong with him, persay--"
"You're the one who wrote an essay about how he's a player!" You snapped at her. "Be so for real right now."
"And why on earth are you CRYING?" Shoko asked the same question you did. "I promise you he's not that great, honey."
Yet, to no avail, Utahime continued to cry like an abandoned puppy. You'd be damned if you said the next three days hadn't gotten on your nerves. You'd really been ready to kick her out of your shared dorm, or better yet, move out yourself into another. Unfortunately, Shoko shared with Yuki, so there wasn't even a place to go.
It was only when she had finally stopped crying had the both of you opened his Instagram to stalk what he was doing (which you could clearly see was Utahime's choice.) She promptly started crying again at the sight of his story, where another girl hung off his arm.
"…That's probably the 'more efficient way to cheat on exams,'" You couldn't help it, rightfully earning a pillow to your face.
It was with this knowledge in hand that you already knew breaking the news to your dorm mate would not go well.
"You're telling me that prick is your new partner?!" Utahime let out a gasp, eyes glazing over like she was remembering the three days of tears she'd shed over the waste of a man. "What happened to cute old Megumi?"
"Coach Mei pushed him too hard, and he hurt his ankle pretty bad." You pointedly chose to ignore the "cute" and "old" adjectives that Utahime had used, instead raising an eyebrow. "And apparently, Satoru was the only one who volunteered to join."
"That's so not true," Shoko said, shovelling some chips into her mouth. "Suguru would be the first to sign up for that."
"I know, right? I called bullshit the moment I heard it," You shook your head, but there was nothing you could do anymore. "He's good enough, I guess."
"Plus, he's hot as fuck, tell him to hit on one of the judges or something before the show."
"Shoko!"
"What, I'm not wrong," She shrugged, getting up to stretch and open the window. "If he wasn't such a bitch, you can bet fifty dollars I would have been in his pants since freshman year."
"I dated him in freshman year!" Utahime scoffed.
"You snooze, you lose, Hime."
---
After four days of practice with Satoru, he made a visible improvement. He now did not look like a baby fawn while spinning, though it was only a single. Entering the rink early in the morning, you were hoping to avoid Satoru for an extra hour or so before he entered. To your annoyance, he was on the ice already. You kept your sigh silent as you sat down to wear your skates, eyes following his slender figure. Surprise filled you when he landed a double axel damn near perfectly, arms reaching out gracefully. There wasn't any music, but he moved as if there were.
A double spin shouldn't be as impressive as it was, especially considering the fact that he already had experience on the ice, but the way he moved as if he had been figure-skating all his life gained your attention. How much earlier had he gotten here, and how much had he practiced?
You were guiltily hoping to watch some more, but the slide of your skates on the wooden panels beneath your feet gave you away. His head snapped to yours, eyes reflecting the frost of the ice. For a few seconds, he looked more peaceful than he usually did. Then again, it was only for a few seconds- his smug grin locked into place as quickly as you had caught his attention. "Watching people now, are we?"
"I literally just got here," You snapped back, ears reddening as you entered the rink and skated towards him. He held out his hand with faux-politeness, waiting to start practicing your routine. "Shall we, stalker?"
The twins! There’s nerdjo 🤭and then there’s fratjo too ig, I was really excited when i saw nerdjo trending so I grabbed the opportunity to draw him hehe
