B4B3

21+ │ Marie │She/They

[cherribxio]

N 4 V 1 G 4 7 1 0 N <3

Hii, ya’ll can me Cherri or Marie (She/They)! :D Whatever fits more to your liking lol

P.S. : I still suck at formatting, still learning, very sorry </3 

T 4 G $

-🌷Cherri Chats - ✄Cherri Rants  - ♥NSFT - 🕸️DC = Dark Content - 📚Recs - ✒️Quotes - ⌨️RB

[liahcharms]

my rifle, pony and her

What's the safest place to hide away from the local sheriff? A brothel, of course! And for a famous female outlaw, Gojo Satoru, the safest place on earth is between your arms. And legs.

written for the Luci's Cowboy Culture event by @sextier

pairing: outlaw!femjo x prostitue!reader

content/warnings: MDNI 18+, wild west au, set in 19th century, wlw, fluff, smut, smut and a bit of plot, scarjo, lesbian sex, oral sex, fingering, scissoring, masc femjo (mmm), happy ending, Satoru is super rich in every universe

WC: 4k

a/n: yeehaw! Forgive me for any mistakes, I was proofreading it at 2 am.

dividers by @olenvasynyt and @strangergraphics

When Satoru visited you for the first time, dusk had already settled over the lively town.

Warm lamps hanging by the brothel swayed in the wind, carrying droplets of crimson sand. The smoke curled around your lips as you stood on your balcony, looking over the drunk cowboys and giggling soiled doves walking through the red-light district. Brothels after brothels, divided by saloons, lined up and blared loud, jumpy tunes.

A heavy scent of alcohol lingered in the air, and you sighed heavily as another client entered the big wooden building where you worked. As another soiled dove, although Madam tends to believe you were one of the most precious petals here.

The wooden floor crooked under your heels. Long, white dress draped in lace took in the dust settling in the corners of a small room, and a few loose strands of hair fell, hugging your overly powdered, too-blushed cheeks.

Another client would arrive any second, so you stubbed out the cigarette and went back into the room. Old whisky stood on your wooden cabinet, and you prepared the glasses. It was always a bit easier when you were slightly drunk, especially with those old, sweating cowboys.

The place you worked at remained one of the best-known among locals, but also… outlaws. Oh, there was no better place to hide from the sniffing sheriffs than under the long skirt of a sweet prostitute!

And so Madam always forced the outlaws to pay much, much more just to let them sleep a few nights. They usually left after a few days, but not before jolling, drinking and fucking with scarlet women who were more than happy to hear their thrilling stories.

Of long, vast travels around the country and of constant cat-and-mouse play with the law. Of nights spent sleeping under the naked sky and of mornings when they woke on yet another farm with yet another married birdie.

Some of them would show their scars – long cuts from knives and bullets that grazed their necks when husbands of those young girls suddenly came back home.

The prostitutes loved listening to those frivolous, lighthearted stories with deep longing coiling in their eyes. As most of them, including you, were simply poor women whose families found themselves in nasty money problems.

And what was the best way to pay the debt without a sweat?

Sell a daughter, of course!

Four years have passed since you found yourself here, with a body used by countless men every day and eyes losing their young, girlish shimmer. There was no telling when you would leave this place, or whether you would at all, as women of your sort were often taken from the sweetness of those filthy walls either dead or crippled.

The gentle knock on the doors pulled you out of dreadful thoughts before they opened with a soft creak.

Madam's old face slipped inside. "My dear, a special client for you," she murmured, and you knew another outlaw had visited the establishment.

A low sigh escaped your lips, and you nodded before walking out of the room. It was too dangerous to keep them in your regular bedrooms, so you followed Madam to the attic, where darkness spilt through the covered windows and only a few small rooms lay hidden behind the old walls.

Your fingers curled tighter around the small lamp as she opened one of the doors with a nasty creak. But before you could enter, her hand grabbed your arm.

"This one is… special. They paid quite a large sum to see you, and, well," something in her eyes glimmered, as if the nature of your client made her a little awkward. "Take good care of them. You've never worked with someone like that, but… well, you're a woman yourself."

And so she pushed you inside, before closing the door back.

The full moon bathed the room in cold kisses, and a few short candles gave it a cosy atmosphere. Heavy, crimson materials draped the walls and the bed, which stood lonely near the wall.

But the moment you entered, your eyes fell immediately on him.

Or… her?

Slim back was covered by a flannel shirt, long sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Lean legs dressed in old jeans, with classic, leather shoes wrapping her calves.

The brown hat lay on the small desk, and you could see the short white hair shimmering like cream in the pale moonlight. At first, she stood facing away from you, but when her eyes finally met yours… heavens.

Your lips fell slightly open as you saw the crystal-blue orbits, with a cheeky, warm smile curving her cherry cheeks.

She was oh so beautiful, with milky skin and the most lovely, sharp face you've ever seen. Multiple scars slashed her face, crossing her cheeks, chin, and lips, with a long, nasty one going right through her right eye. Something cheeky danced in her gaze as she scanned your frozen body from head to toe. Dressed in a loose-fitting white gown without a corset, to allow easier access for the client's sticky fingers.

But her fingers looked clean, kind, and gentle, and thus a sudden warmth spread across your cheeks at the thought of spending the night with her.

"You don't look scared, dove," a low voice filled the small space, as she leaned over the window. "Used to outlaws coming and going?"

You coughed faintly, leaving the lamp on the drawer. Two clean glasses and a half-empty bottle of whisky were already there. You took the nasty liquid and poured it with trembling hands.

"Well, our place is one of the few hideaways for people of your sort. Although…" you looked back at her, noticing the same cheekiness coiling in her gaze. "I've never met with a woman."

She pushed away from the window frame, slowly coming your way. Heavy leather boots clicked on the wooden floor, and only now did you notice how tall she was.

Tall and rather muscular, and if not for the face of a true sweetie and breasts bulging beneath the flannel, you would surely take her for a man.

"Do you mind?" she asked, taking a glass of whisky from your hand.

The crystal cups clinked in silence, and you took a small sip, not taking your eyes off her face. "I don't. I've never been with a woman, but I'm a quick learner."

Her blue eyes narrowed, lips curling with a hum. "Madam said you're the best dove here," she whispered, lifting her hand to curl a soft strand of your hair around her finger.

You could feel the warmth beaming off her chest. The fragrance of bonfire smoke, sweat and something sugary. Wrapping around your heart, filling it with something balmy and pleasurable, making your heart leap a little faster.

You've never taken clients' compliments seriously. They were sweet, yes, sometimes even rather filthy, and those you usually ignored with a smile, but with her, it was different.

In a way, she looked at you – with gentleness, patience, something warm and yet lined with hunger. When her finger brushed your cheeks, you shivered.

"Are you nervous?" she cooed slyly, sending another wave of heat down your spine. "We don't have to do it."

You shook your head, nuzzling into her hand. "That's what you paid for. How can we not?"

"I don't mind. Spending time in your presence is enough," her words carried sincerity, and something in your gut told you she really wouldn't mind paying solely for your company. But you… you were curious.

And when her thumb brushed your lower lip, you gladly wrapped your lips around it, sucking gently as your warm tongue slid down her long digit and along your cheeks. She hummed lowly, and her crystal eyes shimmered as she looked at the way you glanced at her from below, with the sweetest doe eyes and cherry lips sucking on her lone finger.

You pulled back with a pop. "I want to," you rolled, nuzzling into her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours. "But you need to teach me how."

She chuckled, stepping closer. Crystal eyes flicked between the open cleavage of your flimsy dress, with breasts spilling over the white lace, and the eyes, shining like the evening's moon. Round and pleading, with the sweetest innocence she had ever seen in a whore.

There was angelic loveliness in your hearty face, and yet she knew that casting wicked, love-spells must've been your speciality.

Especially with people like her – yearning for the warmth and delicate touch of a woman after months on the road.

"I thought you were supposed to do the job, dove," she brushed away a few stray locks of your hair before cupping your face. "But if you want me to take the lead, I will gladly serve you. My lady."

A second later, with a gentle flicker of a candle, her lips crashed against yours. In a gentle, sweet, yet ravishing kiss as she curled her arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrapped yours around her neck, forcing her to lean down, and closing your lips again, and again, and again, as her tongue smooched the inside of your mouth and throat, drinking in your soft moans.

You could feel her scars bulging under your tongue when you licked her lower lip with a faint moan.

She tasted of whisky and sugar, and maybe it was the first time you truly enjoyed the kiss. It was nasty in its own pleasurable way, making your thighs clench with warmth and breath hitch.

You started walking her back towards the bed until the backs of her knees hit the edge; she sat down. Your hips quickly climbed over hers, rolling the dress up until the thin gown folded around your hips. Long, lacy knee socks wrapped your legs, and she moaned as the fat of your thighs spilled over the flimsy material.

"I can't believe some nasty bastard could have this," she groaned, cupping the swell of your ass. Her long fingers dug deeper, squeezing the skin and rolling your hips against her. "How many clients do you have every night, hm? One, two? I paid for two full days in advance, so no one else will touch you."

You cried as her lips slipped down your chin and neck, licking it gently and sucking on the delicate skin of your throat.

"Mmm–"

"Satoru," she whispered, before placing another kiss under your jaw. "Call me Satoru, dove."

And then, as if a bucket of cold water had run down your cheeks, it finally flickered.

The posters, glued all over the town, with those milky strands peeking from every corner, eyes hidden behind a brown hat.

Gojo Satoru.

The first and most famous female outlaw, wanted for multiple train robberies, bootlegging, gunfights, and, most of all, for the massive accumulation of gold.

It was difficult to tell whether she truly was as rich as everyone said, but the way her fingers gripped you with unwavering confidence, and eyes drank in the softness of your face, told you that she indeed was someone.

She chuckled, sensing a shiver run down your spine. "So you've heard of me, my lady?"

Her fingers tug at the flimsy material covering your breast, and with a single move, it slipped off your arms.

A low, "Fuck," rolled, when she wrapped her lips around your perked nipple. Another hand squeezed the other tit, rolling the hardened bud between her fingers. "Unfortunately, there's nothing to get drunk on," she smiled, looking up from a curtain of long lashes.

"Ah–Satoru, mmmm," you cried, feeling the warmth of her mouth spilling around your breasts. "There's s-still whisky if you want."

She chuckled, biting gently on your nipple till your back arched. "My lady, I wasn't talking about the whisky."

A quiet oh slipped past your lips when you understood. Her hand pulled you closer, letting her face dive into your soft breasts. Warm tongue curled, lapped, and tickled your swollen buds as she moved between them, letting out low pops and groans.

For the first time in your life, you truly started taking pleasure from such intimacy. Your hips rolled against her as if seeking some kind of traction that would let your squeezing cunt spill its sweet juices. Flimsy panties were completely drenched, sticking to your swollen folds.

You didn't know whether to focus on her heavy gaze pinning you down to her thighs or lips sucking on the plush breasts. With low moans and squeezes of your fat, as you tried to push yourself into her mouth.

"S-Satoru," you whispered shyly, trying to push her onto the bed. "Let me take care of you. I should be the one doing it."

But instead of letting her back hit the mattress, she quickly curled your arms around your waist and changed position. Letting your hair spill all over the soft bedding and thighs spread wide open.

"I paid quite a hefty sum, my Lady. Why won't you let me do what I want, hm?" Her thumb traced the drenched material of your panties, pushing the swollen clit through the lace, before rolling them off your trembling thighs. "Fuck, my lady. Are you always this wet?"

"N-no, I've never-ah!," a sweet cry slipped out, when her fingers spread your folds. "I've never felt anything like that."

Crystal eyes flickered to your teary face. "Never?"

You shook your head. "No, I've never taken any pleasure from sex."

And it seemed that your words must have snapped something inside her mind. As a low my god rolled past her lips, and she quickly started undressing herself. The flannel shirt revealed reddened breasts with rosy, hard nipples and multiple scars decorating her chest, belly, and shoulders.

When the trousers slipped down the long legs, you noticed another slash, and your heart squeezed in pain upon seeing how much she truly had to suffer.

And yet, a wicked smile curved her lips as she saw your big, pleading eyes fixed on her heavy, milky breasts.

"Are you okay, dove?" she asked, jumping off her jeans before rolling down the flimsy panties too.

Oh, you were not okay.

In fact, you were rather anything but okay, with thighs still spread wide open, breasts spilling from the tight robes, cheeks smooched with cherries and a lovely gaze looking down at her pussy. You bit down on your lower lip as she moved closer, joining you on a bed.

The white dress slipped off your body, leaving you bare and breathless beneath Satoru's silky fingers.

"So beautiful," she whispered, leaning in to kiss your fallen lips. "The most beautiful dove I have ever seen."

Her lips travelled down your chin, neck, breasts, wrapping around your perked buds again before kissing your plush belly. She bit down on a little roll, making you squirm under her cheeky fingers, spreading your thighs open.

Folded in half, you tried to look down at how dangerously close she was to your leaking cunt. With lips kissing the mound, before slowly, slowly, finally, curling around your clit. Her tongue plastered itself to your cunt, giving her a long, nasty lick.

And it was… dear heavens.

Maddening, mind-clouding, pushing out a high-pitched moan from your lungs, as if you had kept it there for the past two decades. Her soft strands tickled your thighs, and she looked absolutely mesmerising – with her chin already drenched in your juices and forehead creased with pleasure.

As if lapping around your folds and slurping on sugary cum was enough to give her pleasure.

"My lady, fuck, you're so delicious," she moaned straight into your cunt, sending a trembling wave right into your clit. "If the sheriff were to come in right this second, he would not be able to pull me away from this sweetness."

Your cheeks burned upon hearing filth slipping past her lips, but you were too weak to say anything. With mind clouded by pleasure and back arching off the mattress, upon feeling her lips sucking on your clit and tongue gathering the sticky cum.

When a single finger slipped in, you cried miserably, finally lifting yourself onto your shoulders. From this perspective, the view of her creamy, arched back and the swell of her ass was even better.

Starving moans escaping her throat filled the bedroom, as she scooped a hefty cum from your walls and drank it madly. Your swollen clit was ready to burst any second – bending, crying, burning under her tongue.

"S-Satoru, mhmm, so g-good," you moaned, rolling your hips against her plastered tongue. Moving with desperate, aggressive urgency, gripping her hair and pulling her even closer. Although closer was indeed not possible, as Satoru was already nose-deep between your folds. "Breath, oh God, Satoru–ahhh!"

She pulled away with a faint pop, before a second finger slipped in. "My lady, suffocate me with your thighs, I don't care," she mewled, eyes completely lost. As if the sweetness of your cunt truly made her drunk! "Ride my face, dove, come on," she wrapped her lips around your clit, before you started rolling your hips again.

And only then have you noticed that Satoru's second finger travelled down, down her body, right into her leaking cunt. She pinched her clit while wrapping lips around yours, as if trying to synchronise the pleasure washing over both of your spines. A hefty pool of cum was dripping down the bedding, and you whimpered miserably, seeing a waste of such sweetness.

"Let me taste you," rolled quietly, and she looked up. "I want to taste you too."

She chuckled before lifting drenched hand up to your lips. Her long fingers were glued with strings of silky cum, stretching between the slim digits, and when you wrapped your lips around one, another wave of pleasure tickled your skin.

Honeyed delicacy spilt on your tongue, and a cry rolled again, feeling the sudden warmth pooling in your lower belly. "Satoru–mhmm–let me, ahh, let me eat you out."

"Next time, dove," she murmured, before pulling away. Two fingers still abused the soft spot inside you with brutal tenderness. She knew how to drive you over the edge and still caress your body with gentleness. "I have a better idea."

When her fingers suddenly pulled out of your soft walls, a lovely pout twisted your lips. She chuckled, leaning in to give you a short, sweet kiss. "Don't worry, my lady. I think you'll like it."

And before you noticed it, her milky thigh slipped over yours, pushing you into a rather weird yet oh so nasty position. With her drenched pussy glued to yours, letting your juices mix. A little, sweet clit perked from between her folds, and you reached to roll her gently between your fingers.

"Ahh! My lady–" Satoru sighed, allowing you to do it again.

And again, again, till she herself started to wave her hips and seek the friction of your soft pads. The loveliest moans slipped past her lips, and thus, you could finally cherish the crease of her forehead and the beads of sweat coating her bouncing breasts.

But then she pulled your hand away, letting your folds connect once again. Your swollen, trembling clits brushed against each other, and both of you moaned before she started moving.

In harsh, mean rolls, filling the room with filthy squelches and smearing your cunt in her juices. Her sticky, sweet nectar dripped down your folds, clit, before slipping warmly into your tightening hole. You always detested clients who wished to fuck you raw, and yet your spine tingled and the feeling of her warm cum filling your hole,

She spread your legs even wider, allowing herself to sit on your pussy with a full weight, till not even a finger could slip past your connected folds.

Her hardened clit smooched yours in harsh, slippery friction, making your mind spill and toes curl in maddened pleasure. The wetness coiling in your lower belly was dangerously close to spilling, and when she reached towards your nipples, your back arched.

"Satoru, mhmm, I'm s-so–" slipped drunkenly. "Feel so good, s-so–ah–good."

She chuckled, but you've noticed how close she was too. With lips fallen open and gaze fixed on your hearty face, haunted by pleasure. Crystal eyes shimmered, and she would not lie, saying that the pleasure taken from seeing your teary face was already enough to push her over the edge!

"I'll pay for you," she suddenly muttered, rolling her hips even faster. Her clit rubbed against yours, sticky juices coated your cunt with hers, and this feeling alone was loosening the knot in your belly. "I'll pay for your freedom, so fuck, run away with me. I have a small farmhouse, down south. We can, ahhh, live there in peace. No one will find us."

You felt too fucked to truly understand her words, but your heart swelled with hope nonetheless. She wasn't the only client who promised such dreams, but the first to state them with such seriousness.

With this haunting look in her eyes, taking you in like the most precious treasure. With her fingers caressing your skin so tenderly, as if handling something of utmost delicacy, and her lips peppering your skin with the most loving kisses.

And so when her finger slipped down your pussy and pushed your clit for the one last time, you cried pitifully, gushing all over her cunt. Her breath hitched, and a sweet, low moan slipped past her lips, before you felt the wetness of her cum spurring all over yours.

It was messy, raw, with her squirting mixing with yours and heavy breaths fogging the small room bathed in candle-warmth.

The pleasure coiled beneath your skin, biting raw into your feverish flesh. When she leaned down to kiss you, something in your mind forced you to say, "Yes."

As the truth was that even if at risk, the vision of running away with this woman made your heart beat in an unfamiliar rhythm.

She kissed you again, and again, whispering softly let's run, together, I promise to treat you kindly, while her juices were still mixing with yours, and hips rolled slowly. Your fingers wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer as if wishing to hide beneath her skin.

The closeness you shared simply wasn't enough.

And so the next two days you've spent rolling in bed, with your lips between her folds and hers on yours. Sometimes she would push you into the most extravagant position, force you to ride her fingers like a true cowgirl while sucking sweetly on your bouncing tits.

You laughed and talked, inside the small room that counted days of her departure and of your freedom. She told you more about the promised farmhouse – the animals, warm garden, sunsets spreading over the porch, smooching the sky in crimson hues. About all the bank robberies and the times she almost got caught, tracing softly all the scars coating her body and telling the story of each. About her dear friends and all the gold she has gathered, as if still trying to convince you that life with her will be good.

But you didn't need to be convinced, as the single look into her loving eyes was enough.

And so, on the third day, you woke without her by your side. The bed was frozen cold, even though the summer couldn't be any warmer.

Your heart leaped into your throat at the sight of her things being gone. The hat, the flannel shirt, and the small bag she had brought with her.

A panic rose in your chest as you looked around the tiny room. In search of something, anything, just to make sure that she, in fact, hadn't left you here.

In a place where you would surely die.

After a moment, something white has caught your attention. A neat, creamy sheet of paper, lying folded on the bedside of an old wooden drawer.

You took it with shaking fingers before finally releasing a deep, teary sigh.

Everything is settled, dove. Meet me tonight at midnight behind the back door. Don't bring much. My heart needs only you.

Yours, Satoru

And thus the promise of evenings filled with orange sunset hues and hours spent peacefully on a porch suddenly became sharper.

As your young, fair heart needed nothing, no one, but a woman who spent half her stolen fortune to set her dove free.

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

I'm ready to spend eternity with my wife... thank you Luci for creating the event, I had so much fun writing it! <3

permanent taglist 1/2: @mellyrally @1cckedheart @indom-itus @satorupied @msheds0519 @man1cslut @naxinomi @getopilleds @shittypunkbarbeque @mariaflor873 @wiishies @d34dg1rl101 @levisotakug @yailuxe @palanggaaa @valberryboos @sapph22 @magicalpeenpoo @nanadexth @iluvgetosuguru1 @bokenessa @puppyminnnie @tojiswifeyugh @nonchalantnova @sufferingarousal @gentlemonstersworld @tojiswifeforlife @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @ambsbr @millyrossa @cookispark @emotionalasf @adaslvr @colderbookworm @holynachobird @animelover597546 @waltzinthe19s @kingraspberry12-blog @savetimewithlime @theyluvchanel @mimicosmos8 @shunosu @bbydllgothic99 @kuroffe @tojislefttiddies @kvsqkiiii @sugurusbun @crzykitten @soupydumplings

[hotties4gojo]

AISHA’S JJK-WOMEN CENTRIC FIC RECS

a collection of my favorite yuki, shoko, utahime, femjo, femguru, femkuna, femtoji (in this order) fics i’ve read over the years that i want to spotlight, with pieces that include fluff, angst, smut, and more. fics are divided by oneshots/drabbles. please heed all warnings & give all included authors their very much deserved flowers! here’s my own yuki, shoko, and femjo fics 😙

i’ve marked superscript next to authors to indicate if they’ve been included multiple times in this post; note that there are inevitably going to be repeats of the same few writers since there’s so little wlw jjk fics! additionally, i wanted to include as little fics involving men as possible, so there’s exactly 3 fics that have three/foursomes with men, no more than that. this will be updated regularly-ish with new recs! and happy pride! <3

oneshots:

your kingdom in flames, your castle in the sea (yuki) on ao3 ; top 10 fics that ruined my life, number one: THIS FIC. reader is gojo’s older sister and yuki’s new interest, and also someone who has a mask that yuki is able to easily sneak past and into reader’s heart. i love the relationship & dynamic here. the affection between them isn’t loud in the verbal/physical sense, but it permeates each of their interactions and its SO good. the “food as a metaphor for love” tag is always one that catches me hook, line, and sinker, and this fic was no exception :3 every word is so carefully chosen and op writes so, so beautifully— every sentence is moving and leaves me in awe of their talent. do note the angst and major character death tags… sly yet sad giggle…

naked in manhattan! (yuki) by @kentwos-archived ; the summary here is simple yet succinct— you're inexperienced but yuki's there to guide you through it all as you start a relationship together— and what a GREAT take on the experienced gf/inexperienced gf trope it is!! yuki is SUCH a sweetheart here; she’s sweet ofc, understanding, and just as patient/accommodating and eager to comfort/guide as i imagine her to be :,) this is an incredibly sweet yet hot read!

kiss my ice (yuki) by @xo2dee ; FIGURE SKATER YUKI OH HOW YOU’VE MOVED ME… rivals to lovers with yuki is a fun trope for her given how easygoing/lax she can be with people, her duties, and her public image. after the kiss reader and yuki share goes viral, the two of them are paired up for future comps as a figure skating duo. their dynamic here is tooooo good and yuki’s dialogue throughout the full fic had me giggling and twirling my hair cos ugh i want her so bad. I too would let yuki be my downfall

(not so) lyrical genius (yuki ft. choso) by @stnexus ; ahh this fic is a long time favorite of mine. i remember reading it years ago and adoring it, so i was beyond elated when my reread proved to be just as enjoyable as my first read of this fic! yuki & choso are bandmates in a poly relationship with you, and when choso struggles with writer’s block, you and yuki know exactly what to do to help him along… 😏😁 i love me some dommy mommy yuki and subby choso RAHHHH

moon bend the knife (shoko) on ao3 ; to this day, this 2023 fic is one of my favorite shoko fics everrrrr. it takes place in canon, following a bad mission that reader went on before returning home to shoko. shoko wishes to care for reader, and they have the most sugary sweet, tender sex ever like omfg. i wanna melt every time i reread this fic cos it’s touched my heart in a way that few fics can… like. words Cannot describe how beautiful and moving this is. genuinely. this is poetry. it really is

lifeline (shoko) on ao3 ; the centric themes of this fic can be easily explained by these few lines in the fic itself: “You think of her and feel hope, then regret. She’ll see you in this state. You hate to do that to her. You care for her. You love her. You hate to hurt her.” ahhhh this hurt/comfort is like crack 🚬 a mission goes terribly wrong and so reader is escorted back to shoko for some healing, and shoko tends to reader so comfortingly and so sweetly 🥺😢 i adore shoko’s characterization here, same with her relationship with reader!

doctors orders (the woes of a pregnant wife) (shoko) by @manonism ² ; SHOKO FLUFFFFFF SHOKO FLUFFFFFF GATHER ROUND FOR SOME GOOD SHOKO FLUFF!!! reader is pregnant with shoko’s baby and shoko makes it her mission to dote on reader, she’s beyond cute and sweet here ^_^ this is a great read and is very funny & comforting!! love it!!

on call (shoko) on ao3 ; secret relationship trope AND shoko’s possessive?? yeah i’d be pussywhipped too! you and shoko both work at a hospital together, and when shoko’s able to score a bit of downtime with you, shoko wants you ALL to herself 😁😁 y’all know i love a good long-ish fic with in-depth smut so this fic is a winna winna in my book!! the push and pull between shoko and reader is just mmm… chef’s kiss

the tartness of nicotine (shoko) on ao3 ; I LOVE MEET CUTES LIKE THIS MORE THAN ANYTHING I SWEAR ☹️ every day that reader takes her bus, she runs into shoko, who she’s dubbed ‘cigarette girl.’ in turn, she calls reader ‘strawberry girl’ given how often she brings strawberries along with her as a snack, which reader always shares with shoko :,) super cute, fluffy, and feels-good!!

suguru and the girls who ate him (shoko ft. geto) by @macbethinchains (ao3 link) ; the day that i dont glaze this fic is the day that i DIE brah . phy has such an innate talent for writing and choosing theeee most perfect/beautiful words to describe people, places, emotions, thoughts, etc. in a way that deeply immerses AND captivates you. inspired by jennifer’s body (love this movie sfm), shoko is a succubus who, after turning reader into one as well, guides reader down the path of a succubi— and losing reader’s virginity to geto, another virgin. you can FEEEEEEL shoko’s deep yearning and obsession for reader in each scene, that’s her girl fr :,) the smut is soooo mfing good, and it’s even better knowing how it will inevitably end and anticipating what shoko and reader plan on doing with geto 🤭

sleeping beauty (shoko) by @reignpage ³ ; the things i’d do for roomie shoko 🚬🚬 and if that means waking her up every morning with my mouth on her cooch, I’M IN IT TO WIN IT!!! reader here struggles with waking shoko up every morning to no avail, until accidents happen and they discover that the sure-proof way to rouse shoko is with orgasms 😁 shes so hot and flirty in this fic MEOWWWWW MEOWWWWWWWW

cherry (utahime) on ao3 ; i need to start off with saying UTAHIMES CHARACTERIZATION HERE IS SO MFING GOOD RAHHHHHH!!!!! utahime is fairly experienced and has never really had a good kiss, so reader shows her the ropes ;) utahime is sooo yummy in this i fr wanna DEVOUR her cos of how cute yet hot she is, ughhhtjshejdjw especially when some of her snark/possessiveness leaks outta her 🤭 sosososoooo good i simply cannot praise this fic enough

my rifle, pony and her (fem!gojo) by @liahcharms ; SAVE A HORSE RIDE A MFING OUTTTTTLAWAAAWW!!!!!! liah’s femjo in this fic is getting ridden through the mattress til the bedframe breaks and the floorboards below shatter like glass 🤤😋 reader works at a brothel and her new client is none other than gojo herself, a notorious outlaw. this whole fic is SO descriptively beautiful and each word drips with such gorgeous sensuality, its genuinely tooooo good. FEMJO LETS RIDE OFF INTO THE SUNSET TOGETHA 👅

equal rights, equal fights (fem!gojo) by @reignpage ³ ; gojo gets hit by a gender-bending curse and naturally that means some fun is in store for her and for reader 😇 gojo’s competitiveness that shines while trying to show how many orgasms she can give reader as a woman and as a man is sooooohjtkwhrjaj yes im actively kicking my feet and giggling like a schoolgirl!

in harmony (fem!geto) by @indom-itus ; lets all give BLANK her 10s cos oh my gawddddd this story is so lovely and god do i love femguru 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 ESPECIALLY WHEN SHES A ROCKSTAR! cheeky, cute, smug and flirty sugu with a certified #girlfailure reader is a top tierrrr dynamic, especially with all that pining between them… dreamy sigh. you won’t regret reading this fic fs!!

move on (fem!geto) by @suguruss1ut ; conniving ass femguru is truly my achilles heel cos i’d be tripping over myself tryna get on top of her and that strap jhtjwhrjs. geto and reader are best friends and roomies, so naturally when reader gets cheated on, she turns to geto for comfort… and ohhh does she make you forget about the situation FAST 🤭 and shes sooo mean in the hottest way possible ugh #INEEDDATNEOWWW

STREEEEEETCH YOU OUT (fem!toji) by @uzugeto ; FEMJI SAVE ME FEMJIIII LET ME BOUNCE ON THAT STRAP SLOPPY STYLE!!! after reader gives birth to the zenin heir, her STANK ASS incel husband signs her up for a gym membership, where reader meets her new trainer, toji…. and whewwww is the mental picture of a sweaty, bulked up femji a TREAT. i love jade’s humor that she weaves into her fics alongside very real world insecurities and fears, there’s no dissonance cos of how seamlessly she executes her fics. this whole fic, from the yearning/thirsting stage to the eventual smut, is a certified wlw masterpiece cos WHEWWW

express yourself (yuki, shoko, utahime, fem!gojo, fem!geto, fem!sukuna) by @wiinterz ³ ; based on movies such as secretary and stoker, each smut piece features secretary!reader and a super hot boss. all of them are SO toe-curling and scrumptious that i simply cannot narrow down my favorites LOL. you will enjoy every single one of these, truuuust 🤞🏽

drabbles:

edging yuki (yuki) by @kamitv ; smut

phone sex (yuki) by @fushigur0lover ; smut

milf!yuki repaying her gratitude by eating you out (yuki) by @amortoru ; smut

prey (yuki) by @schilders ; smut

guilty pleasure (yuki) by @indiewritesxoxo ; angst, suggestive

yuki really loves her motorcycle (yuki) by @gyarujo ; fluff

yuki thinks about you when she works out (yuki) by @whosepyramidscheme ; smut

i can’t drown you out (no matter what i do) (shoko) on ao3 ; light angst, smut

your first time (shoko) by @moviecritc ⁴ ; smut

angst & miscommunication sex w/ shoko (shoko) by @ieiripie ³ ; angst, smut

lab rat (shoko) by @sugurusbadhabit ; smut

fingering you in front of a mirror (shoko) by @moviecritc ⁴ ; smut

shoko loves your nursing boobs (shoko) by @manonism ² ; smut

nicu nurse reader and ob/gyn hooking up in an on call room (shoko) by @ieiripie ³ ; smut

sex toys (shoko) by @eraserbread ; smut

messy drunk makeout with shoko turns into mutual fingering (shoko) by @gojosconsort ; smut

teeth (shoko) by @mydarlingem ² ; smut

she discovers your breeding kink (shoko) by @moviecritc ⁴ ; smut

your girlfriend and professor shoko helps you with your homework (shoko) by @requiemdesreves ² ; smut

nine in the afternoon (shoko) by @mydarlingem ² ; fluff, suggestive

halloween surprise w/ shoko (shoko) by @ieiripie ³ ; smut

granted for patience (shoko) by @kusahigunanas ³ ; smut

SMS (shoko) on ao3 ; smut

nonsexual acts of intimacy: shoulder rubs (shoko) by @kusahigunanas ³ ; fluff

nonsexual acts of intimacy: playing with hair (utahime) by @kusahigunanas ³ ; fluff

scissoring (utahime) by @kunareads ; smut

just like high school (utahime) by @wiinterz ³ ; smut

kiss it better (fem!gojo) by @wiinterz ³ ; smut

swimmer fem!gojo (fem!gojo) by @mirrrrinda ² ; suggestive

my bitch (fem!gojo) by @mirrrrinda ² ; smut

long distance gf!suguru geto getting you a replica of her cock (fem!geto) by @moviecritc ⁴ ; smut

homoerotic friendship with femguru (fem!geto) by @getozzn

the squirter (fem!sukuna) by @requiemdesreves ² ; smut

lactation (fem!sukuna) by @lilacxquartz ; smut

impatient girl (shokohime) by @cuntphoric ; smut

a man’s place (shokohime ft. gojo) by @reignpage ³ ; smut

girls girls girls (yukishokohime) by @mooniewritess ; smut

dividers © sweetestpeacreates.

[envy-of-the-apple]

DON'T FEED THE WILDLIFE

Dark!Siren!SatoSuguShoko x reader

wc 1.4k

I've always wanted to write a proper horror siren au!!!!

(warnings: yandere, dark, past implied deaths, etc etc)

Life at the lighthouse was a solitary one. Most days consisted of your trustworthy radio blaring out whatever was the most popular. Not many visited your little island. You were always a loner, so you didn't mind the lack of human contact. The pay for occasionally shifting gears around was pretty good. You could do this forever as long as you followed the rules.

Rule number one: never abandon your post.

Rule number two: never shut off the lighthouse.

Rule number three: never get into the water.

The first two were reasonable. The last one perplexed you for the first few days. The island hosted a scenic beach, filled with white sand and blue water. Taking a dip in the ocean after a long day sounded harmless.

And then, those things came along.

Strikingly beautiful. Glistening hair and skin. Bright eyes. Sharp teeth. Fins and scales all over their bodies. Long tails that move powerfully through the water. Utterly inhuman.

Two of them. They knew your language, perhaps through eating whoever you replaced-whoever hadn't followed the rules.

You learned their names unwillingly.

Satoru was the more playful of the two. He'd coo and titter whenever the moon was full and luminous, illuminating the darkened waters. He's more talkative out of the duo. His smile is filled with fangs, eager for a bite as he speaks to you with coaxing words, begging you to come out into the water.

Suguru is more docile, at least, that's what you initially assumed. His voice is quiet, deep, and gentle. His words and eyes are patronizing. He looks at you like he's almost impressed you've lasted this long with them in the waters.

You are the longest lighthouse resident. You haven't quit or 'disappeared' into the sea. You think your resistance for staying this long is something they are quietly influenced by. These recent months, something has changed between them. They look at you less like you're a meal and more like...you don't want to think about it for too long.

Their only redeeming quality is their singing: Low and soft and sweet. Utterly enchanting and beautiful like a well-refined orchestra. You know the song they play is for you, so you can inch closer to the water, let them pull you into their depths. Some nights, you turn off your radio and listen to their melodies.

The lighthouse hinders them somehow. It stops their music from fully entrancing you and forcing you to follow their song into the sea. At least, that's what the notes from the past residents tell you-the only remnant left of their presence.

You follow their teachings. You never abandon the lighthouse, you never shut it off, and you never dare to go into the water.

You were preparing another bland dinner when you saw her from your cabin.

She was bobbing just on the surface of the water. You stare at the glimpses the ocean gives you. Glimpses of brown hair. No fins. No scales that dazzled under the moonlight.

A human. 

A human drowning.

You waste no time. You fly out the cabin with a ring buoy firmly tucked underneath your arm. The wind rushes past your face as you race to the sea. You run and run as questions swirl through your head. How did a human girl get out here? How was she still alive? Was there a shipwreck you weren't aware of?

How long did you have until those two noticed she's also out there?

You stop right at the shallow cliff, right where the water laps at the rocks. You yell to grab her attention before you through the ring buoy.

"Grab on!" You urge, wildly looking back and forth in the water. The ocean was silent. Those creatures weren't out there.

Or maybe they were waiting for the right moment.

Her hand snags on the firm ring and she grabs at it. Good. At least she has some strength left.

"Help." Her voice is soft and almost drowning within the ocean. "Please help me."

"You're okay." You try to assure, hoping your voice is calm and not completely frazzled. "Just come closer. I got you."

She was seconds away from being dragged inside by sharp claws, but you didn't want to make her panic anymore than she already was. You didn't think. The buoy floats closer and she reaches out her hand to yours. Thoughtlessly, you mirror her. You try to swipe at her hand, wanting to bring her up to safety. You grasp at her finger, barely managing to touch her palm. 

The lighthouse began its next rotation at that moment. The light drifted over the ocean, over the rocks, over the cliff, and over her.

Whatever mirage she puts on herself melts away.

No part of her is human–you doubted she ever was. Fins frame either side of her face. Golden brown eyes stare straight into your soul. 

You stagger back, falling on the grass as you crawl away from the monster. Her visage changes as soon as she picks up on your terrified expression. You watch as she inspects the hand you touched. 

“That’s a shame, I almost had you.” She sighs, the tremor in her voice gone. Now her tone is bored, laced with the tiniest hint of amusement. 

“You’re so soft.” She breathes out, before her gaze locks back onto yours. “I wonder how other parts of you feel.” 

The adrenaline withers from your veins. You helplessly stare at her as the other two show up. Of course they were around. They were just waiting to drop the charade. 

“You were so close, Shoko!” Satoru chirps, utterly thrilled by the trick. 

“It was just a matter of bad luck.” Suguru agrees, casting his gaze onto your limb form. He tilts his head. 

“For whatever reason, this one always has the ability to get away at just the right moment. Very irritating.” He smiles with glinting teeth. He loves it. He loves the game he plays with you every night. 

You grit your teeth. “Fuck you.” You hiss at all three of them. Your harsh words couldn’t snuff out the tremor in your voice. It does nothing. If anything it eggs them on, considering how widely Satoru smiled. 

“You’re so cute.” He awed, like you were some hissing kitten. 

They were all sick. Inwardly, you curse at yourself for being so stupid. There was never a human drowning. You were an idiot for letting yourself think it was anything but a trick. Like they would ever miss their chance for an easy meal. 

You shakingly get to your feet and make your way back to your cabin. Satoru whines at your retreat. 

“Leaving so soon?” He calls. “Come back, let’s talk some more!” 

“Don’t you want to get to know your new friend?” Suguru calls out. You ignore him. 

You don’t have to worry about them, you tell yourself over and over again. As long as you follow the rules, you’ll never disappear. You can make it through your post as long as you follow the rules. 

“The lighthouse won’t hold up forever.” 

That makes you stop. 

Shoko grins at your hesitance. 

“It’s old.” She shrugs. “Anything can happen: a bad storm, broken circuits, or…it’ll just go out one day. That’s how we got the others.” 

You stare at her. She never breaks her gaze. 

“Don’t worry. You’re not like the others.” Her teeth glint. “When we finally have you, we’ll keep you.” 

You run. You don’t stop until you’re back in the cabin. Your breaths are ragged and heavy as you latch the door shut behind you, barricading yourself. It’s a false sense of safety. The only real security was the lighthouse.

You stare up at the lighthouse as it towers over your meager cabin. The light was swirling and strong. She was lying to you. She was messing with you–trying to put meaningless paranoia in your head. The lighthouse has been standing for nearly a century. It was always there. You constantly checked its circuitry and fixed up whatever seemed the slightest bit out of order. It was just another trick. 

Their song starts up again. You could hear a new voice added to the chorus. Their voices were just as beautiful and enchanting as all the other days. 

For a moment, you swear the lighthouse flickered. 

[indiewritesxoxo]

ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ join me for a super special celebration! i recently hit a milestone that i'm super happy with and wanted to do something fun to celebrate. i had so much fun writing this for @jazzthatonewriterchick i've just been in the mood for more fantasy stuff :3 will be a selection of drabbles + a few oneshots featuring some of our favorite jjk characters <3

✮⋆˙ the merman…starring suguru geto!

✮⋆˙ the mermaid…starring yuki tsukumo!

✮⋆˙ the prince…starring satoru gojo!

✮⋆˙ the mage…starring suguru geto!

✮⋆˙ the priest…starring choso kamo!

✮⋆˙ the jester…starring satoru gojo!

✮⋆˙ the knight…starring toji fushiguro!

✮⋆˙ the dragon…starring ryomen sukuna!

✮⋆˙ the fairy…starring shoko ieri!

✮⋆˙ the thief…starring ryomen sukuna!

✮⋆˙ the villainess…starring you!

୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ CROWN JEWEL ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧

…all coming soon!

div by @tsumiinum !

[honeyoftheisle]

To Arms! To Arms!

Knight!Gojo x Lady Wife!Reader

King!Geto x Knight!Gojo x Lady Wife!Reader Angst

Medieval Au

Tw/Cw~ Some nsfw is hinted at. Religion mentioned.

Synopsis~ Alone in the castle, how can you not dowel on the rumours about your lord husband. For Sir Gojo does not belong to you, he is the vessel of his liege lord - the king.

Author's Note~ This was born of listening to Choosin' Texas bardcore version by Hildegard Von Blingin on repeat and reading Kristin Lavransdatter 1: The Wreath.

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

 It is the duty of a wife to serve her husband, to see naught but good in him. But how were you to serve him if he was never there? You sighed, setting the household accounts aside. You had done what you could with them tonight. Tomorrow you would see if you could haggle a lower ale and wine price and perhaps get the north tower’s roof repaired. But until tomorrow, you are done. You have no husband to please, so you are left to your own pleasures. 

  “Lady Gojo,” your husband’s steward greets you. 

“What brings you Rodrick?” You ask, pushing the parchment aside. He stands awkwardly, putting his weight on one foot and then the other. “Sir Gojo writes to say that he will not return until the harvest feast. The King needs him in an affair involving a castle being seized by the crown.” Ah, that was it. You hadn’t seen your husband since last autumn, he had ridden off before the winter rains came. Both the winter and spring rains had kept him from returning. And even now, at summer's peak, he had yet to return.  

“Very well, Rodrick.” You said.

Rodrick furrowed his brow. “Do you have anything I should write to tell my Lord?” 

You paused. “No, there is nothing I have for him.” You nodded to Rodrick and swept from the room. 

When noon turns into evening, you sit at your bedchamber’s window. Your hair hangs out the window, drying in the sunlight and evening breeze, just as your mother and mother before her had done before her. Light peaks in through the branches of the tree that stands just outside your window. You did not mind the dim light, you had candles lit, besides you did not like being seen while you sat at your window. You closed your eyes, remembering the day before you were wed. Your sisters had washed your hair with extra lye to make it shine, they had scented it, and oiled it, and braided it. Even Eline had come from her convent to tend to you before your vows. It had tasted  sweet to laugh and behave like silly maidens even though most of your sisters were wed and Eline was the bride of Christ. Even though you could not claim the title maiden after those stolen moments in the wood. 

The cold metal of the chain around your neck brings you back to the earthly realm. The key on it is to the box where you lock your jewels and all the other keys of the Castle.

Voices rise up to you from below your window. “Our Lord is not to return till the moon rises for the harvest feast.” The voice belongs to Ingrid, a serving maiden.

“Alfred says the king has called him to arms.” That is Stephanie, your handmaiden. 

“To arms or his arms,” that is Gunnar, another one of your handmaidens. The girls laugh as the move passed your window. You lean your head against the window frame. You should have known. You should have always known. What kind of man seduces the daughter of the man who has offered him a roof? Shared his cup and a place at his table? 

Had you been seduced? No, you had known what it meant when he hurried you to an abandoned gallery while the other men were away on a hunt. He had begged off, claiming an injury to his knee.  You had understood when his kisses grew fervent, when he looked at you like pagan goddess, instead of a virtuous maid. You had understood when he came upon you in the woods. You had understood when he took and claimed you. He would marry you, he had panted into your ear, before kissing it. He would take you back across the channel and to his keep. You would be his pretty bride and he would be your protector. 

   But that had been five springs ago. You had lingered in this castle for four years. Wed to a man who sits at the right and of the King, and more. A smile tightens your face. You would have never met Sir Gojo if King Suguru hadn’t exiled him. Sir Gojo, for you could never think of him as your husband, even alone, had told you almost laughingly that they had quarreled. “Suguru will forget about it in a few months and call me back,” he had said. You should have known. But you had been doe eyed at the champion, even a famed figure in your own land. Your heart had been tender as the first shoots of grass in early spring. 

 You stood. One by one you blew out the candles, except for the one on your nightstand. You carefully braid your hair and bind it with ribbons before sitting on the edge of your bed. Forgotten in a castle. You watch the flame flicker back and forth. Your father would welcome you back, he had Margot after her husband had risen in rebellion and tried to abduct King Kento. Your husband has done no such thing, you think. But technically your homeland was at war with Sir Gojo’s. Surely, your father would welcome you, your mother would and then he would have to. If he didn’t you could go to Eline’s convent. Perhaps being the bride of Christ would be a warmer lighter bed than the one you slept in now. The flame flickers as a breeze blows through your bedchamber. 

   The idea has already been formed in your mind; your fingers have run over it in the years since your marriage, smoothing over the rough edges. But even still, you know the price of leaving one’s lawfully wedded husband is a high cost. Your own aunt, your father’s sister, had left her lord husband for a knight without lands or title. He had coaxed her with promises and embraces. You had no doubt he promised her dimpled babes, sweet scented nights, and passion. Instead she had been exiled from kin and kith. You hoped that she had had a happy fate. That her knight had won fame and land and she had her sweet smelling dimpled babes. But perhaps you will find peace in your father’s halls, or with Eline, or perhaps one of your other sisters. You would not mind taking care of their children. Your husband’s absence had denied you the children that used to haunt your dreams. 

The flame is burning bright, despite most of the candle being melted away. You stare into it. Willing it to give you an answer. But you are alone. And only you can make this decision. 

You will go. You will return to your father’s house and entreat him for mercy for his foolish ill wed daughter.  The pit in your stomach gapes. You squeeze your eyes shut. You remember when your sister Matilda had taken the fancy of a lord your father disapproved of. The lord had abducted Matilda while she was out maying. Your father had been furious and weeks of bloodshed had followed. Now years later, your father treated the lord like a son, despite the blood that had marked your sister’s nuptials.  

You doubt blood would follow you to the shores of your homeland. The man you wed cares naught for you. But what of honour? What would happen to Sir Gojo’s pride after his wife fled to her father’s house?

   As you enter the haziness of half slumber, you remember when he asked for your hand. The day had been cool. Rain had been falling for two days now, and the entire castle was growing antsy from being trapped inside. But not you, you loved the cool stone hall and the warm fires lit. But your Knight did not. You could see by the way his fingers strained as he looked out the turrets, the way his eyes never fully looked at you, the way he read and read again the letter from the court of his king. 

It had scared you, if you were being truthful. That day, all he had done was pace back and forth. You had watched him in between stitches of your embroidery. He had spun to face you, his eyes bright. In seconds he crossed the room and seized your hands. 

“Sir!” You exclaimed as he tugged you. “Where are we going?” You asked, as he pulled you from the turret. 

“Your father, I’m going to ask for your hand.” He said laughing sharply, but you hadn’t noticed, and if you did you had tucked it away. 

He would be your husband! You knew knights kept their word, Eline said only holy men kept their word and regular men were not to be trusted. But your Knight was brave and true. They called him ‘The Honoured One’ in songs, and his feats were told in song and at table. You knew to believe him. 

He led you to your father’s study. He knocked. When your father called for him to come in, he turned to you. “Wait here, when I return we will have a date for our wedding.” He grins at you. Your heart tinges, he doesn’t look like a man in love. But he had a week ago, when he kissed and took again what he claimed was his right. 

You wait. The minutes pass by slowly. 

Finally, the door to your father’s study opens and closes. Sir Satoru Gojo stands in all his glory before you. 

He embraces you. His mouth finds your own, hot and craving, he kisses you. When you part, he pulls back, hands on your shoulders. He smiles at you like he won. 

You will not know what he won, until you put the pieces together. One of them being the letter, detailing King Geto’s favor of one his men-at-arms. You had been wed in spite.  He had never been your knight, and he never really had been your husband. 

[indom-itus]

In Harmony | Geto Suguru

Summary: Assigned to cover the fundraiser by your editor, you found your sights and distraction in the form of a certain alluring bassist, and one look was all it took to set your heart forward to their rhythm.

Tags: fem rockstar!Suguru x fem campus journalist!reader; university au, band au, meet ugly, slow burn, mutual pining, comfort, light angst, suguru is a philo major, reader is girlfailure, fem!gojo feature, HEAVY TENSION, subtle references to Sumiko's Kinioto (The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn’t A Guy At All) tw: mentions of smoking, alcohol, and allusions to self-sabotage.

Word Count: 9.6k

Producer's Notes: Special shoutout to my loveliest Liah (@stberrypuss) for being the biggest enabler and supporter of this work. For the best reading experience, kindly listen to ME2HER - SATOL1GHT during the latter gig scene (trust me on this one).

Daylist | Divider Credits: @uzmacchiato | Taglist: OPEN ⊹˚♬₊⋆

The centre field bustled with life, as students drifted in pairs or groups, occasionally dragging a reluctant professor into the festivities, while the smell hung heavy with fried oil and smoke, thick enough to cling to one's clothes and hair.

A student organiser led you and Nita to the front row, pointing to the seats marked 'PRESS' in bold letters before sprinting off to a fellow organiser's direction to help with the growing queue from behind. You settled in, the stage at a perfect eye-level that you don't have to crane your neck.

"Pretty neat!" Nitta grinned, giving you a thumbs-up.

You turned to her, placing your bag on an unoccupied seat. "Right, you brought spare batteries?"

"Of course!" She huffed, patting the small bag attached to her hip in defence. "I don't intend on repeating last time."

The two of you shivered, recalling the permanent scowl on the editor-in-chief, Nanami's lips, livid upon learning that the documentation cluster lost the footage of Captain Sukuna scoring the winning goal, due to the camera shutting down mid-kick. To make matters worse, the assigned photographer did not bring any spares.

Fortunately, the team resolved the issue, thanks to Jin Itadori—Sukuna's twin—for having a copy of a high-resolution shot, but it didn't absolve the section of their guilt for their lack of contingency and mindfulness. In fact, the incident warranted a lengthy lecture from Nanami himself about preparation, presence of mind, and competence.

The publication learned two things after that day: Always be prepared and never give a reason to piss Nanami off.

"Think they're letting people in now," Your eyes followed the frantic organisers in ushering students to the arranged seats. "So I'll see you later, Nitta."

She salutes while adjusting the camera around her neck. "Roger!"

You watched Nitta walk in the opposite direction before letting out a sigh, eyes staring at the blinking cursor, almost mocking you at your current predicament of being seated in a crowded student event, instead of being back at your dorm tucked under your sheets.

Two weeks ago, you rushed out of your elective class, not even adjusting the bag on your shoulder after reading Nanami's announcement on your phone about your monthly meeting.

A meeting you were about to be late to.

Your sneakers squeaked against the wooden floors of the hallways, occasionally bumping with passersby who got out from the nearby auditorium, earning you heated glares you couldn't care less about. The clock continued to tick; each minute that passed, the more your heart pounded in anxiousness, willing your aching legs to run faster.

Once you turned the corner, you extended your arm to reach for the Press' organisation room, pushing the wooden door wide open, making everyone look up at your abrupt arrival, chest heaving as sweat ran down your forehead.

Nanami, ever the punctual head, gave everyone a slight nod from the end of the table. “Ah, good, everyone is present now.”

You tried to contain the short puffs of breath escaping your lips, which you failed to do, while you weaved through the space until you found where the Features cluster was seated.

“New month, new issue. You know what that means," Nanami announced, hands folded in front of him. "Let's begin with News, shall we?"

Meimei stood up, not wasting another second, before clearing her throat and using her thumb to press on the clicker. The presentation flashed a list of news to be covered for the month's issue, filling the room with the rapid clacking of mechanical keyboards.

Once she finished, she set the clicker down, arms crossed in anticipation, while she waited for Nanami's comment regarding the line-up.

"We'll run an Editorial on the lack of student spaces," Nanami decided, adjusting his glasses after scribbling a note. Then, his eyes drifted in your direction. “Features?”

You stood up, tucking your notes under your arm as you moved to the front. Taking the clicker from Meimei's hands, you caught a nod of approval from Nanami to begin your pitch.

“There’s a fundraiser concert happening soon." You began, your voice steady after your breathing evened out. "Organised by the Bio Org, in partnership with a marine conservation non-profit.” 

Meimei's eyebrow shot up. “Wait, isn’t that more News?”

“Probably," You argued, "But I'm looking at it as a human interest feature. The headlining band is said to donate their entire talent fee as a pledge to the cause.” 

"That's unheard of." She scoffed, shaking her head.

The scepticism in her voice made you bristle, despite thinking the same upon hearing about the first tip. But the facts were verified. It is happening.

“Excellent." Nanami interrupted, voice filled with certainty that leaves no room for arguments. "You’ll be covering it.”

You blinked, looking at him with widened eyes. “Pardon?” 

“Your Head is on leave, remember?" Nanami mentioned, tapping his fountain pen against the leaf of his notebook with a rare, faint smile. "Besides, you’re one of our most competent staff for interviews. I trust you’ll deliver.”

He closed his notebook with a definitive thud, ending the discussion as the next section head stood up to present their own line-up to cover the next month. You catch Meimei's eyes while you sit back down, the unspoken challenge lingering in the air.

The feedback from the speakers brought you back to reality. The lights are dimmed, leaving the device on your lap the only illumination that allows you to see the faint silhouette of the performers in front. Shaking your head, you positioned your fingers on your keyboard, eyes focused in front.

After the drummer's cue, the first beat of the song shook through the speakers, then coloured lights illuminated the stage.

Everyone cheered, whipping their phones out of their bags and pockets upon seeing the band vocalist clearly, swaying along to the rhythm before leaning near the mic to sing the first verse. Despite your eyes being glued to the stage, your fingers didn't stop typing on your laptop, attempting to catch every detail of the opening, while occasionally bobbing your head to the song.

Your fingers stilled when your gaze wandered to the right side of the stage, keys warm under your fingertips as the cursor blinked.

Not the vocalist. Not even the handsome drummer.

Her.

The dark-haired woman wearing a white-fitted camisole with lace trimmings that stopped at her midriff, and a faint glimmer from the big, silver spider pendant resting against her chest, caught your eye.

She swung her feet in front, pressing on the soundboard in front of her, not letting her adept fingers lift from strumming the bass against her frame.

Her stance was laid-back, yet there was an undeniable air of confidence; the woman leaned to the mic, singing in harmony with the vocalist in a lower register, earning another applause from the crowd, enough to make her lips curl in a smirk.

Your breath hitched when you heard her voice, an alluring, smoky tone adding a more sensual undertone to the upbeat song. When she lowered her head to nod along the build-up of the song's bridge, your eyes flitted back to the document, which only elicited an exasperated sigh from you.

The set was electric. Each song was intentional, starting with upbeat songs that made the crowd jump along, before shifting into a more sombre one, then ending with a bittersweet single that had you sigh deeply along with the lyrics.

It was entertaining to watch the band in their element, especially the bassist, who responded in between sets to overly passionate comments from the crowd. Despite the band teasing for an encore, the staff signalled for them to exit to give way for the next performer.

"Thank you for having us!" The band's vocalist, Utahime, as she introduced herself earlier, waved her hand. "Enjoy the rest of the night."

You closed your laptop, securing all of your belongings before standing up to look for a student organiser who can lead you backstage. Then, you found a person not too far from you speaking through a handheld radio with a hand tussling through their hair.

"Excuse me." You approached, making the person flinch in shock, almost dropping the radio.

The man adjusted his glasses. "Ah, yes?"

"I'm from the Press," You lifted your Press ID to their view. "I have a scheduled interview with the band that has finished. Do you mind leading me to the back?"

The person blinked, looking from the stage, then back at you.

"Ah, of course!" He nodded, walking in front of you. "Right this way."

"Thank you!"

You followed the guy, leading you to the quiet, cramped backstage corridor, then turning left to see a corner with a piece of plastered paper by the door.

"This is their assigned room."

"Thank you again!"

You lifted your hand, fist rapping against the door, hearing heavy footsteps approaching the door, only to reveal the bassist from earlier, her face shining with faint sweat from the performance earlier.

“How may I help you?” She chimed.

You blink, brain faltering when your eyes lock with her lined ones. “Can I have you?”

A pause.

“... what?” Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“AN INTERVIEW, I MEAN AN INTERVIEW WITH YOU." You stammered, shoving your ID toward her. "I’M FROM THE PRESS DOING COVERAGE.” 

She leaned closer, her purple irises narrowing, which showed the faint silver shimmer on her lids, while reading the information on your ID. Her distance made you catch a whiff of her perfume, musk and amber, making you exhale before she leaned against the doorframe—meeting your gaze with a growing smirk on her faintly tinted lip.

"That’s certainly an interesting way to ask for a quote.” She snickered, amused to see you squirm in embarrassment.

She opened the door wider, stepping back to allow more space for you to walk on, while you fidgeted with the ends of the polo tucked into your trousers, then fixed how the ID fell on your front.

"It's Suguru, by the way." The woman mentioned in a matter-of-fact tone, arms crossed.

You tilted your head in her direction, "Hm?"

"My name, pretty." She laughed.

Suguru leaned closer once more, inspecting something that made you avert your eyes while your hands gripped your front tightly. You felt the pads of her fingers brush against the shell of your ear, making you shudder that you silently hoped she didn't feel, before you see what's in between her fingers.

A pink confetti.

"There we go," She smiled, unaware of the internal turmoil within your head. "All good!"

"… thank you."

She waved her hand, almost telling you it wasn't a problem, while you two walked further in the room. Your eyes flit to the patch of tattoos outlined in red ink against her fair skin that you weren't able to see with all the brightly coloured lights during their performance.

Unfortunately, this doesn't escape Suguru's watchful eyes, which made her raise a brow in your direction.

"Uhm… I wasn't staring." You fibbed, raising your hands in surrender that elicited a dry chuckle from the bassist.

She mused, flexing her arms intentionally. "I didn't even say anything."

"But your expression tells me otherwise." You deadpanned, your tone shifting away from your earlier stammering.

"There we go," She mused. "Knew you had some sort of bite."

"Don't go picking on our interviewer, Suguru," Utahime called out from the dressing room.

"Sorry about her, she's a bit playful…" Utahime turned to you, giving you a sympathetic look. "Mind giving us a few minutes to set up?"

"Of course, there's no rush." You waved your hand, offering a smile.

She gives you a grateful nod before placing both hands on her hips. "INO, REMOVE YOUR SOUNDBOARD OUTTA HERE!"

The man in a bonnet who just entered flinched at the sharp tone of the older woman.

"… I just got back." Ino reasoned, raising his hands in surrender.

"Okay, but we still need space for our interview!"

"I'm surprised you still got a voice after belting out six songs, Hime," Suguru chimed, leaning back.

"Shut up, Suguru!" The vocalist gave her a narrowed look, then pointed at the sticker-plastered case. "And pick up your case, will you?"

"Dammit, it's like I'm babysitting kids."

After five minutes of scrambling and scolding—mainly from Utahime's part—the dressing room had ample space for five chairs and a centre table, serving as a makeshift interview-style setting that is usually seen on screen. You placed your items down and settled into your seat.

"Before we begin our interview," You fished out a recorder from your bag. "I would like to ask if everyone consents to having this interview recorded. Rest assured that all statements and information will only be accessed by me, and it will be treated with confidentiality."

The band, now settled, offers a curt nod before you hit record, the device blinking red. "Alright, we'll start now."

"It's rare for a headlining band to pledge all their talent fee to a cause. Is this a collective decision?"

The responses glide with ease, eloquent while peppering with light-hearted jabs, but Suguru’s gaze felt heavy, as if pressing against your skin. Every time your gaze meets, your words falter, and your hands tremble, almost making you drop your cue cards. You thought that such a tremor would go unnoticed until you caught the corner of her lips curved.

Once the interview ended, you packed your things, checking your seat for any loose items. You zipped your bag and gave your pockets a final pat before sliding the strap onto your shoulder.

"We're heading out for dinner," a familiar voice interrupted. You look over your shoulder to see Suguru with her arms crossed. "We'd be glad to have you over."

"I have plans already." You lied with a polite smile.

"Oh, alright," Suguru pursed her lips, nodding in understanding. "Mind if I walk you out?"

"Uh, sure." She led the way, opening the door for you. Despite the successful interview today, the bag on your shoulder felt heavier as you walked away.

Hunched over your laptop, you transferred the raw audio files from the recorder, tapping your fingers against your desk while your eyes stayed on the screen to wait for the bar to become completely blue. Then, you closed your laptop once it was through, slipping under the duvet and leaning against your pillow to lull yourself to sleep after an exhausting day.

Except sleep doesn't come.

You found yourself wide awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark. With a sigh, you grabbed your phone from your bedside table and scrolled aimlessly through your social media feed, occasionally liking posts of close friends.

Until you stumbled upon the Recommended Section, as if mocking you, there was Suguru's profile, and without hesitation, you clicked.

You expected a private page, but instead, the screen loaded a page filled with public posts, and to satisfy your growing curiosity, you scrolled further: posts with friends, gig stills, solo covers, and the occasional suit posts.

The bassline of KISS' Sure Know Something resonated through your phone's speakers on full volume. You flinched so hard the phone slipped from your grasp, slamming into your face.

"Ow…" You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose, while scrambling to retrieve your device.

Your heart stopped. There, on your screen, was damning evidence of a glowing heart icon—you accidentally liked Suguru's cover from three years ago.

"That's enough scrolling for today," You mumbled, tossing your phone aside, then your phone vibrates once more. 

Against your better judgement, you picked it up once more to see a notification against your lockscreen. 

@sugu.roes: I saw that :))

You buried your face into your pillow, letting out a muffled scream after tossing the phone once more to the vanity.

A week later, while on break, your phone buzzed against the table, which made you stop writing in your notebook. You picked up your phone, then clicked on the notification to see a response on the fundraising article you passed previously.

Scrolling through Nanami's feedback before your thumb freezes at the particular comment around the end of the write-up:

Nanami: "Excellent article as always, but next time, don’t forget to delete personal statements."

The text highlighted? "Suguru Geto is a force of nature that I secretly think is a devil in disguise for being too fucking pretty that it makes my head hurt."

You placed your phone face down, burying your face in your palms before letting out a scream, earning confused and concerned glances from students seated near you.

The feature, particularly the edited version, had been approved for publishing for the monthly issue, which was circulated two weeks following the email.

"Hey Suguru," Satoru sat on the couch, making the cushion creak under her weight. "Have you seen the article about you?"

Suguru stops strumming, and the amp emits a dying hum when she mutes the string with her hand. "Not yet, why?"

"You should check it out, pretty nice." The other grinned, propping her elbow against the arm of the couch.

"Is that so?" She hummed in a non-committal manner, adjusted the bass on her lap. "Who wrote it?"

Satoru grabbed her phone from her pocket, opening it quickly before she brought it closer to squint, then mentioned your name, which made Suguru straighten her posture.

The curve of Suguru's lips doesn't go unnoticed by Satoru, which made the white-haired woman raise a brow in her friend's direction, but the latter only responded with a shake of her head before going back to practising.

The autumn wind howled, making the trees rustle, which bathed the neighbourhood in a series of red and gold. Today was Saturday, which meant an evening class awaited you, but for now, your time belonged to your niece, Nobara.

You hiked your bag higher while lugging a second one, small and shimmering, in your other hand. To your right, your niece clung to your hand while humming a cheery tune and making it a point to stomp on every "crunchy" leaf in her path.

"Auntie, when are you gonna get a girlfriend?" Nobara asked, swinging your hands together.

"WHAT?" You sputtered, your head turning so fast it almost gave you whiplash. "Also, it's not nice to assume one's sexuality, Nobara."

"I overheard you say to mum you'd eat poo more than get a boyfriend." The younger girl gave you a deadpanned look.

You countered, "I never said that!"

That was a lie. You did mention it to your sister during a shopping date, but Nobara didn't have to know.

"But yes, boys have cooties!" She whined, then stuck her tongue out in disgust before beaming at you. "Bleh, I think you'd like my teacher."

"Nobara, I swear-"

"Teacher is very pretty! And the teacher helps us read and colour her drawings."

There was an extra skip in her step when she talked about the 'pretty teacher', which was rare because Nobara, while she is a nice and respectful girl, is not fond of teachers, especially male teachers.

Eventually, the two of you arrive at the school, entering the gate to see other children and guardians already inside and making their way through the classroom.

The classroom looked like every preschool class with decorated bulletin boards, children's paintings, small, colourful chairs and tables, and a mat at the centre of the room. Your eyes landed on a person whom you didn't expect to see, who seemed to be the same as Suguru, who looked just as taken aback as you.

Unlike the Suguru you met during the event—alluring and sensual with her laid-back swagger and bass—she looked different in this setting with her hair tied in a haphazard ponytail, green sweater with white flowers decorating her sleeves, and jeans.

"Teacher!" Nobara races in her direction, already letting go of your hand.

"Hello, Nobara!" Suguru smiled, arms extended to catch her. "Told you that Suguru is fine."

"But the teacher said to call all those who help her teacher, too." She pouted at her, only for Suguru to smile wider and ruffle her hair.

You looked in disbelief, mouth agape at witnessing how Nobara melted under her touch, the same niece who would always wrestle with you to get her way. She perked up when she saw her friends, rushing to them in a flurry of laughter.

"Didn't expect you to meet me here." Suguru interrupts your train of thought.

You blinked in shock, "I didn't know you worked here."

"I only do volunteer work." Suguru crosses her arms. "Mainly helping with reading and music, it's a weekend program after all."

"On top of uni and gigs?" You leaned against the threshold of the classroom. "You're insane."

She mused, "Says Ms Love Is Blind"

You sputtered, recognising the Valentine's article you wrote two years ago, "How do you know that article?"

Suguru responds with a shrug, yet an amused smirk is etched on her lips.

"Teacher, my auntie says you're pretty, and she doesn't like having a boyfriend!" Nobara exclaimed from across the room, making you flinch.

"Well, she did say the teacher is pretty," You replied, a tight smile and narrowed eyes in her direction.

Nobara only smiles innocently at you, eyes gleaming in mischievousness, before running off when she hears her friend call her name. You let out a sigh before someone clears their throat and catches your attention.

Suguru tilts her head at you, "I also don't like having a boyfriend, too."

"Yeah, real funny."

"Who said anything about joking?"

You looked at her, almost anticipating an incoming punchline, except you were met with Suguru looking at you with a blank face. She looks behind her when she hears a thud, then an older woman comes into the classroom, making the children run towards the centre in glee.

"That's my cue," She looked at you with a sheepish expression before lifting her hand to wave.

You are left to settle by the benches where the other parents and guardians are sitting, the window from the classroom allows you to see the view at the centre.

You see her—Suguru, cradling a pink ukulele, which looked small against her stature. She swayed exaggeratedly, eyes crinkling while she played, hearing the children sing along with her, so that you don't notice how your eyes softened seeing that.

The class ended three hours later, and you waited for Nobara by the threshold of the classroom when you saw a ring-clad hand plaster a sticker on the back of your hand, looking up to see Suguru snickering with Nobara in tow.

You spoke, shifting your feet in place. "Alright, Nobara, say bye to the teacher."

"Bye-bye, teacher!" Nobara waves, handing her shimmering bag to you.

You hiked the bag up your shoulder, turning your back to leave, only for Suguru to reach for your arm. She stopped you from walking further, making you turn to look at her with a raised brow.

"I was serious about earlier," She mentioned. "In case you didn't get it."

On your way back home, you looked down at your hand—the same place where Suguru placed a sticker—then you realised how you had only seen the message of the sticker just now.

"You're cute."

You thought about the sticker for weeks. Despite removing it the same day and plastering it on the very back of your notebook, which made you kick your feet, the sensation of the sticker and warm pads of Suguru’s fingers lingered, even when you're settled in your usual seat in the auditorium for your Science Communication class.

The mechanical clacking from your keyboard and the professor's voice were the sounds, at least attempting to listen to, that you don't notice the pout on your lips.

"Ever been told you look like a fish?" Satoru stops typing, giving you a knowing look from her glasses.

You made a face, "The fuck you mean?"

"You're pouting like some kicked dog." She cackled slightly, then made a fake gagging sound. "Kinda disgusting."

"Fuck off."

A moment of silence.

"Alright, who is it?"

"What are you on?" You stopped typing, glancing at Satoru.

Satoru taps her fingernail on her side of the table, and a faint hollow sound follows. "I can hear your thoughts from here."

"I'm amazed you know how to do that," You jabbed with a cheeky grin.

"I will ignore that comment." Satoru tucked her chin under her palm, sliding her glasses deliberately. "So who is it?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Do your worst." The grin on her face widened, almost resembling some scheming cat.

You didn't dignify Satoru with an answer, facing forward as you see your professor move her deck forward to a new module, yet it didn't deter the white-haired woman from egging you on, leaning ever slightly toward your seat.

"So it is a girl," She nodded wistfully, feigning a thinking pose.

Unfortunately, her strategy of getting a rise worked rather quickly. "How do you even know that?"

"We play on the same team, obviously." Satoru sassed in a matter-of-fact tone.

You made another face, continuing to type your notes as a means to fill the awkward pause between you and your seatmate, but you still caved in. "Do you know any Suguru?"

Satoru's brow quivered, but the growing smirk on her lips betrayed her. "You're seriously asking me that?"

"You know her or somethin'?" You raised a brow, facing her with arms crossed.

"As a matter of fact, I do." She chirps, wiggling her pale fingers in front of you in a mocking manner.

Your eyes widened, "No way…"

"We go way back." Satoru leaned against her seat, even going as far as showing you a picture of her and Suguru in high school.

You felt your insides turn cold, the bile rising in your throat while you turned your head away. "I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Oh, we totally are." She snickered, sliding her phone to your side, as if proving a point with a picture of a younger Suguru with horribly chopped bangs gleamed.

You stepped out of the lecture hall, the afternoon light gleaming through the window, which bathed the corridor in an orange glow, and then noticed how crowded it got when students from other classes also exited at the same time.  

While walking, you immediately noticed Suguru leaning against the wall, dressed in a frilly, white blouse and long, plaid skirt, while she shifted her weight between her feet, a phone in her hand and headphones in. You gulped, eyes shifting away from her form, but Suguru saw you from her peripheral view.  

“Hey,” She waved at you, the ends of her blouse lifted slightly, revealing a sliver of skin and glinting jewellery on her belly button. 

You took in a sharp inhale, forcing your eyes away from her stomach, only to be met with dark irises, which made your insides flutter. “Hi,”

Suguru tried to bite back the growing smile on her face. “It’s nice seeing you again.” 

“What brings you here?” You adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

“Oh, Satoru told me to meet her here.” 

“Oh? She told me the same thing.” 

As if on cue, long arms wrapped around both of your shoulders, bringing the two of you closer to the person’s space. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting you two?” Satoru chimed, a knowing smile forming on her lips.

Despite the friendly smile on Suguru’s lips, her brows twitched in irritation—she had clearly caught on to her friend’s schemes. She didn’t catch what you were whispering, but judging from your unease, she may have an idea or two.

Suguru shakes her head, her tone shifting into a gentler one, "You’re always welcome to join us… or just me. Satoru can manage.” 

“Hey!” Satoru feigned a pout at her friend’s statement, eliciting a snicker from you.

Suguru’s lips twitched into a genuine grin, which you reciprocated before tilting her head in the direction of the exit. Seeing this, you walked closer to them. You didn’t notice how Suguru transferred her bag to her other shoulder, intentionally hitting Satoru as a warning, while she linked arms with you. 

This doesn’t get past Satoru’s watchful eyes; her lips curled into a knowing smirk when she saw the shift in her friend’s demeanour. 

Accompanying Satoru to claim her Digimon merchandise took two hours because of the long queue, much to Suguru’s annoyance. Thankfully, you were there to keep her company, which quenched the annoyance a bit. 

Just a bit. 

 Satoru gasped, her eyes widening with feigned innocence. “I forgot, I need to replace my prescription contacts.” 

Suguru saw Satoru mouthing, “better thank me for this,” behind your back. Suguru offered a silent middle finger in response, which only made Satoru snicker before skipping away.

"So, where to now?" You tilted your head, wiping your palm against your jeans.

"Mind going around with me?" Suguru offered, "Unless you have anything to do…"

"Sure, I'm free."

And that was your and Suguru’s cue to slip away to the Department store to scout for a new bag, as Suguru was finally ready to retire her old one.

From the in-store mirror, your gaze lingered on her profile while she swapped between a soft shoulder bag and a structured backpack, then she turned, and your eyes met in the glass.  

"Which one do you think is better?" She asked, shifting both bags on her shoulder.

You studied the two options, then went back to her. "Do you want an honest opinion?"

Suguru tilted her head, lips twitching in a lopsided grin. "So you have plans on not being honest?"

"Don't you wanna know?" You crossed your arms with a brow arching in mischief, making her throw her head back in laughter.

"Personally, I'd say a backpack because the weight is evenly distributed, but it does ruin the outfit sometimes. A shoulder bag is cuter, but consistent shoulder pain is not cute, but it's convenient since you bring your equipment…”

You paused, raising your hand to scratch your cheek. “I'm talking too much, am I?"

"No, not at all." Suguru shakes her head while placing the shoulder bag down. "Also, I don't bring the equipment often."

"Perhaps you might bring other non-musical equipment, you know?" You mused.

Suguru chuckled, "I'm under the Philosophy program."

"… oh… I didn't know that."

She turned a corner with both bags in hand, then you stood up to follow, effortlessly hooking her old bag on your shoulder; you didn’t even notice the giddiness she was trying to contain when her ears perked up upon hearing the jingling of her keychain.

"I don’t blame you, honestly." She mentioned while returning the shoulder bag to its rack.

You hummed, murmuring under your breath, “You strike me as someone who’s in the Arts.” 

Of course, she caught it. Suguru looked over her shoulder, looking at you through her lashes with a coy smirk, “I’m flattered you think so.” 

She bought the backpack. You noticed how her step seemed to have a newfound spring when you left the store. You watched her transfer her old charms to the new bag, her fingers meticulous and focused, similar to when she plays with her bass. Then, she caught your gaze, making you look away, but her grin deepened before nudging you in a teasing manner, eliciting an unrestrained laugh, which made her face brighten. 

On the way home, you and Suguru sat beside each other on the bus, shoulders brushing against each other. 

"Yeah, we also read Shusaku Endo's Silence. I'm not inherently religious by any means, but I think it's a good illustration of Levinas' point on how human suffering is a resilient paradox where the worst brings out our best… I also thoroughly enjoyed the book, and I even watched the film!"

You offered a nod, though your focus drifted elsewhere. Guilt crept through the seams because you knew you should be listening, yet you could not help but be enamoured by Suguru—her mind, her brows furrowed in concentration, and the sharp glint in her eyes. 

You just hoped she wouldn’t notice you ogling at her with heart-shaped irises.

Then a mechanical buzz interrupted your train of thought and Suguru’s tangent, and she fished out her phone from her pocket; her eyes widened before she bit her lips, her shoulders shaking from trying to contain her laughter. 

“What happened?” You asked, leaning closer to her. 

She didn’t answer, only turning her screen towards you. The text from Satoru was succinct and dramatic: ‘TRAITORS!’

“We left Satoru behind,” She replied, eyes glinting with mirth.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, then the tension broke. The two of you looked at Satoru’s message once more, the sulking blatantly obvious, before bursting into fits of laughter that earned annoyed looks from other passengers.

The bus finally pulls up to Suguru’s stop. She wraps her arms around you in a firm hug before hopping off into the evening. The spot near her rib where you were pressed against lingered against her skin.

Instead of walking away, she stood by the waiting shed, watching the bus pull away. She raised her hand to wave, watching your lips curve into a smile as you waved back through the glass. 

When the tailgates flicker out of sight, her shoulders finally drop. She pressed a palm against her sternum, feeling her heart hammering against her chest. She pulled out her phone from her pocket, while the grin on her face wouldn't budge. 

Suguru: I had fun today. Suguru: Text me when you get home!

That wasn’t the last time you and Suguru would be together, though you didn’t imagine meeting once more out of dire need.

Suguru was knee-deep in her reading materials when a knock rapped against the door. She looked up, blowing the hair that fell from her face before she pulled the door open. There you stood, a deep frown on your face, with a laptop tucked under your arm. 

The end of her lips curved upwards at the sight of displeasure and exhaustion on your face, and she leaned against the threshold, a brow arched in amusement. “So, what brings you here?” 

You willed your eyes to meet her gaze, but they involuntarily dip toward the hem of her shirt, riding up a bit to reveal a portion of her tattoo near her hip. Then you look back at her once more. 

“This is not how I envision crashing into your dorm.” You murmured, frown deepening. “But desperate times call for desperate measures.” 

The black-haired woman chuckles at your comment, watching you rub your temple in irritation while the other arm secures your device. 

“My roommate has a guy over, I’ll start there.” You grunted, your shoulders slumping in defeat. 

Suguru’s grin only widens at your explanation, but she also offers a sympathetic nod, her eyes softening to coax your irritation. 

“Being sexiled is not fun.” She mused, stepping back while pulling the door wider for you. “Come in.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, back straightening as the tension on your shoulders relaxed. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

“You can take my bed.” She offered, already making her way back toward her desk

“No, it’s okay. I’m already imposing as I am.”

“It’s fine, just take the bed.” Suguru insisted, waving her arm and gesturing towards her bed. “I’m pulling an all-nighter.”

As she pulled her chair forward, going back to her books, you noticed the silver glint of multiple piercings along the curve of her ear, visible from her hair being tied back. The sight made the room feel small—almost too intimate for just friends. 

“Mind if I…” 

She averted her gaze from her books, tilting her head to anticipate your request, while you stood halfway to her bed, “... borrow your blanket?” 

“Go ahead. Make yourself at home.”

You climbed in, and the scent of detergent, faint perfume and soap greeted you as you wrapped the sheets around yourself. You don’t even know how your eyes felt heavier; drifting off easily, and the last thing you remembered was the low hums and whispers of Suguru, who was reading her notes to herself. 

The next encounter came a few days later, on a cold Wednesday noon, wearing a thick red jacket with her hair tied up. She rushed in your direction, snow crunching under her boots until you felt the weight of her gloved hand on your shoulder.

 “Hey!” 

You looked over your shoulder before turning around to face her properly. “Oh, hey! How are you?”

 “Better since exams are outta the way.” She laughed. The apples of her flushed cheeks were more pronounced after a cold breeze passed. “How about you?” 

“I’m good,” You smiled, tilting your chin up to free your nose from your scarf. “Thanks for asking.” 

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you; the only sound was of students walking through the snow lingering in the air. 

“Do you wanna grab lunch together?” Suguru interrupted. Her usually steady voice softened in volume. “Cus, you know… I thought you’d like to do that…”

“I like being with you…” She looked down, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket.

 Your eyes widened at her timid admission. The sudden shift from her laid-back confidence caught you off-guard but your eyes softened into fondness. You nodded, and the moment you accepted her invitation, Suguru looked up in surprise before rushing to your side with a bright, relieved grin. 

“Also, if you don’t mind taking a detour?” You turned to her, falling a step beside her. “I have to submit something to my editor.” 

“Sure,” She nodded, her steps lighter than earlier. “Lead the way.” 

The Newsroom was rowdier than usual; most of the staff were hard at work when you pushed open the door, greeting you with the faint yet familiar scent of paper and ink.

You stepped inside and glanced behind to see Suguru standing by the threshold of the door. You waved your arm, urging her forward; she took the cue and followed, sticking closely so that you felt her presence. 

The rest of the staff looked up from their screens, immediately recognising Suguru’s presence. Some exchanged knowing looks, which were immediately shut down with a narrowed look, even as your fingers were shaking inside your pocket. 

“Nanami, here’s the edited version.” You called out. 

 Nanami looked up from his manuscripts, his gaze on the extended printed copy. He received graciously, but as he reached for the pages, his eyes landed on your linked arms. A knowing smile formed on his lips before he looked back at you. 

Nanami crossed his arms, “I believe you two have somewhere to be?” 

You feigned a sound of clearing your throat at his gaze, while Suguru’s ears turned a dark shade of red. 

“You can say that,” You laughed lightly, trying to ease the nerves.

But Suguru didn’t wait; her grip on your arm tightened, and before you could say another word, she steered you back in the direction of the door. She moved with sudden haste that left you stumbling in your steps.

“Whoa– Suguru?" A noise of confusion escaped you while she pulled you back out to the hallway, leaving an amused Nanami and a smirking newsroom staff behind.

The library near the Philosophy Department was silent with finals in full swing; a few students, exhausted and weary as they buried themselves in their coursework, typing on their devices with ferocious speed, while the air conditioner hummed faintly, filling in the silence 

You just finished the paper you’re working on, which you just submitted to the portal for grading, and then, you stretched your arms, making your bones crack while a light groan escaped you after hours of slouching.

“Hey,” Suguru whispered. Her elbow leaned against the table, palm pressed against her cheek. “Are you busy?” 

You finished closing the tabs on your browser, looking up from your laptop to meet her gaze. “What’s up?” 

"Mind taking a look?" She gestured to her open laptop. "You're a better writer after all."

You leaned back, lips twisting in a wry smile. "I'm not as knowledgeable in Philosophy."

"Just read it from a technical standpoint," she insisted. 

Neither of you avert your gazes from each other; Suguru was insistent, her stubborn resolve resisting your stern expression, which meant she wasn’t giving you room to deny her request—deny her even. 

However, one thing was certain, which you swore you’d take to the grave: you have always been a weak woman towards Suguru Geto. 

Hence, the feigned exasperated sigh that left your lips, which made her lips curl in satisfaction, as if expecting such a reaction from you.

"Well,” You pulled her open laptop to your direction, “I won't hold back then."

"By all means."

Your eyes skimmed through the document, nodding your head when you read arguments emphasising good points, while occasionally typing to edit sentences that become convoluted. 

Despite the burning exhaustion settling beneath her eyelids and bones, Suguru watched as your lips pursed and brows furrowed with newfound intensity—one that she usually sees when you write your articles or papers, you were particularly passionate about.

She lets out a faint laugh, shifting closer to you before placing a cold hand against your arm, which made you shiver a bit from the temperature. 

Of course, her proximity didn’t go unnoticed, especially with how you immediately recognised the familiar undertones of amber and musk from her perfume. 

Suguru interrupted, her tone almost inaudible in the hum of the room, followed by a rhythmic tapping of her finger. “Do you have plans for the break?” 

“None that I know of,” You replied, not looking up from her decorated laptop.

“The band is releasing an album.” 

You paused, finally looking up to meet her eyes. “Oh? Congrats, Suguru! That’s amazing.” 

“Thank you,” Suguru held your gaze, smiling at you before she straightened her posture once more. “I… I wanted you to come.” 

The offer hung in the space in between, fragile and heavy all at once.

You looked at Suguru, then to the blinking cursor, and then back to her. A slow, genuine smile curled on your lips. “I’d love to go,” 

She cleared her throat as heat rose on her cheeks. “Nice… nice, I’ll send you the details soon.” 

You both laughed, soft and jarring against the stillness of the library. Then, your eyes flitted back to editing her paper, but the words on the screen blurred. Suguru tucked against your side, but instead of watching the cursor fly across the document, her eyes are glued to your face, tracing the contours of your expression with quiet intensity. 

She noticed how you made no effort to swat her hand, nor did you shift away from her touch. The realisation settled in, her chest skipped to one akin to relief and something far more dangerous. 

There’s no turning back now.

The air was thick with stale alcohol and cigarettes when you arrived at the bar. You looked down at your phone once more, confirming the address Suguru sent while navigating through a throng of bodies as the plastic VIP wristband chafed against your skin.

The main area was decorated; a tarp with ‘LISTENING PARTY’ was plastered against the wall, and a small platform was situated at the centre where the microphones, amps, and soundboard were set up.  

While everyone was dressed in denim, sequins, and leather, you only looked down at your more vibrantly coloured knitted cardigan. 

You truly never felt out of your element.  

Darkness enveloped the room, making you take in a sharp inhale as a loud cheer erupted from the crowd when you heard the speaker's reverb.

A pause.

Clack-clack-clack!

Bright purple lights immediately illuminated the stage, making the crowd cheer as the melody of the first song reverberated through the speakers. Your eyes darted across the right side of the stage—the direction where Suguru was standing. 

Unbeknownst to you, despite Suguru’s laid-back swagger, her fingers tremored with uncharacteristic nerves that made her miss a beat, which made Choso raise a brow in her direction. 

Suguru’s eyes darted with uncertainty from the sea of denim and leather; her heart beating uncharacteristically with a foreign sense of dread while her restless irises scouted for your familiar stature. 

And she did. 

Among the crowd, you immediately stood out with your vibrant cardigan, which made her heart leap from her throat in exhilaration when she saw you look up at the stage with an awed expression.

With a newfound confidence, her lips curled into a smirk while she adjusted her bass against her frame. The initial tremors vanished, only replaced by fluid, effortless confidence as her fingers glide through the fretboards, anchoring the rhythm of the song with ease, while occasionally stealing glances to see if you were watching her. 

You are. For Suguru, that’s more than enough.

After four songs, your loud cheering didn’t go unnoticed despite being mixed along with the crowd’s hollering that was enough to shake the small venue, while everyone watched in anticipation as the band geared up for the last song of the album preview. 

What no one expected was for Suguru to take centre stage, eliciting louder screaming and fawning from the crowd. She adjusted her hold on her instrument, then leaned closer to the mic. “This one’s our last song for tonight.”  

The crowd reacted while your eyes widened, which she caught, making her let out a dry chuckle. 

“This one is really close to my heart,” She admitted, her fingers already strumming the bass notes of the song, then she locked gazes with you. “So I hope you’ll like it.”

After a curt nod to her bandmates, she closed her eyes as she faced forward once more, letting out an exhale that the mic picked up faintly before the sound of the bassline changed into a more upbeat tone.

Without missing her cue, she leaned closer to the mic to begin the first verse enough to fill the speaker with her voice—the same smoky tone you’ve grown familiar with, except this was different. 

She wasn’t doing support or layering with Utahime’s voice. 

No. She was singing. 

With a feeling that was raw, grounded, and unmistakably vulnerable. 

The screams blurred; only you and Suguru held each other’s gazes, enough to make the space feel smaller, almost more intimate, that no one else was in the room, even after shifting certain notes from the bassline, melody or inflexion. 

You stilled in your spot when she leaned closer to the mic, giving you a closer view of her bearing all of her unspoken truths with each lyric. Eyes widened when a gnawing feeling gripped your chest—almost a sickening realisation that she was talking to you. 

That this song, this particular song, is her bearing her heart open to you. 

Then the final note settled, allowing the bass to murmur. It was met with unsettling silence, yet you can hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears loud and clear. 

The venue exploded. 

Suguru didn’t move from the centre, the light shining on her form enough to reveal a slight sheen on her forehead. But she never averted her eyes from you; the usual confident smirk on her lips faded into an uncertain quiver while she watched you blink at her. 

Sound felt muted, as if it made your head spin, palms damp and cold against your sides and the vibrant cardigan you donned felt heavy pressed against your skin. 

Suguru likes you back.

The confirmation was both exhilarating and overwhelming enough that it left you stunned and breathless. Your lungs burned, not from the cigarette lingering in the air, but from the sickening clarity of your reason to keep her at arm's length, for the last thing you want to be is someone who exploits her vulnerabilities. 

Because you like Suguru. 

Too much. But you needed air. 

She sees the last flash of your vibrant, knitted cardigan vanish in the crowd with frantic urgency. Then her shoulders dropped, eyes shining lightly with unshed tears, and the weight pressed cold and laden.

“Suguru,” Choso called, his tone low but loud enough for her to hear. 

She felt his steady hands help her remove the strap of her bass from her neck; her hands shook too much that she didn’t notice how she almost knocked it off.

“I think,” She draws out a shaky breath, looking down at the callouses on the pads of her fingers. “I just ruined it.” 

The album dropped a week later, and it was well-received and adored by loyal fans. Me2Her was a fan favourite, especially after finding out that Suguru composed and produced the song itself.

While the band was thrilled with the success, Suguru couldn’t shake the dull ache settling between her ribs because after the listening party, radio silence followed.

No calls. No texts. Not even sudden, in-person meetings. 

Just silence. 

She couldn’t feel any sort of accomplishment, for the same song everyone adored—the same song she sang—bearing her heart open to you was a constant reminder of her audacity and the day you slipped away. 

You two fell back to your routine: class, doing your thing (covering stories and playing on stage, respectively), doing coursework, going back, and repeating. 

On the other hand, you weren’t doing well either. 

Sleep didn’t fall easily, especially when your treacherous mind decides to replay the scene over and over again. 

The longing gaze. 

The raw, unspoken truths from the heart in song lyrics.

Oh, how your heart squeezed both in affection and guilt.

You avoided the library near the Philosophy Department, even walking twenty minutes away to another cafe, so you won’t risk the chance of running into Suguru or reliving moments when you two would grab something to drink and talk for hours, the usual comfort shattered by distance. 

Yet, the universe worked in mysterious ways when you found yourself at the centre of a frat party with over-the-top strobe lights, nursing a drink in your hand, one that tasted sickeningly sweet.

“That’s your third one,” Choso mentioned, a cigarette hanging from his lips, yet concern flashed in his irises. “Are you okay?” 

This breaks Suguru from her trance, looking back at the older man before flitting her gaze back at you, situated at the centre with the guy who was too close for comfort. She sees you laugh at him, making the guy grin in a way that seemed more sleazily than boyish. 

“Yeah, just peachy.” She dismissed, taking a deep drag that made the cigarette glow a bright ember, but the grip around the butt didn’t go unnoticed. 

Then, Suguru sees you offer a polite smile to the guy before walking away from the dance floor with a wrinkled nose, but the guy couldn’t get the hint, so he followed not too far behind. 

Her jaw clenched, temper flaring enough for the dull ache she was nursing to morph into something dark and jagged. She didn’t discern anymore; her feet moved on their own as she made her way to you.

To hell if you weren’t on talking terms. 

She ignored the concerned calls of her name from her bandmates while continuing her strides towards the direction of the dance floor. Eventually, you bumped into each other, the familiar smell of cigarettes palpable enough to recognise who the person was. 

Your shoulders sagged in relief, then a familiar arm looped around yours, leading you out of the house party for much-needed air.

Unbeknownst to you, Suguru looked over her shoulder with a quirked brow, then a smug smirk formed on her lips, enough to provoke the guy who followed you into a cursing fit.

The evening breeze brushed against your skin, making you shudder slightly once you two exited the frat party where the bass thumped faintly from outside. Despite the initial closeness when you were being led out, there was now a respectable distance between you two.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Suguru pointed out, exhaling smoke from her lips before stomping the butt under her sole. 

You averted your gaze from her, opting to look down at your shoes. “I’m not,” 

“You are,” She answered once more, albeit the tone was frank, it was still gentle. “Two weeks, I may add.” 

“... can you at least hear me out?” 

Silence. 

You inhaled sharply, enough to make your sides hurt. “Look, I know leaving wasn’t… the best, but I needed time and space.” 

Suguru directs her full-attention to you, her eyes never faltering from your form—calm and patient, despite the undeniable confusion and hurt lingering beneath her irises. 

“Because how do you… you let the fact sink in that the girl you like also likes you back?”

Her eyes widened, the sound of her heart ringing against her ears, while her hands attempted to reach out to yours, but stopped midway to allow you to ground yourself, which you found by wringing your hands together. 

“I kept my feelings under wraps, kept you at arm's length, because I was afraid, Suguru… I was afraid that I felt too strongly that I’d become selfish… I don’t want to make it seem that I preyed on your vulnerability by becoming your friend, then telling you later that you were the object of my affections all along.”

“… Because frankly, I value you. Both you and our friendship.” 

You swallowed before looking her in the eye with newfound conviction, even when your voice shook. “But after that… that song, I realised that I don’t want to be just your friend, Suguru.”

Suguru only stood there in stunned silence, while you looked down as your chest heaved as you tried to keep your tears at bay, and you wrung your hands tightly to the point that your nails started digging into your skin.  

God, the confession was a mess. 

You actually had a long, heartfelt letter tucked in your notebook—the one you intended to give Suguru when you made amends with her, not whatever this alcohol-haze mess was.

Especially not this messy alphabet soup because Suguru deserved better than this.

In the midst of your spiralling, you don't hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching you, until you feel the warmth of her palm and the calluses of her fingers brush against your cheek, which willed you to meet Suguru’s gaze.

"I don't write songs to just anyone, you know?" Suguru started, her voice resembling a whisper as she inched close that you felt her exhale against your lips. "In case I have to spell it out for you: I love you."

"Love?" You furrowed your brows at her, which made her lips curve in amusement at your reaction. 

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Dunno. Isn't it too soon?" 

"I'm surprised you didn't pick this up" Suguru shook her head with a knowing chuckle before she looked at you with same raw intensity. "Always been an all or nothing person…"

Her eyes glistened a bit, rounded in a softness you usually see when you two were together, enough to make your chest twist. You found yourself smiling at her, eyes crinkling with undisguised adoration.

No more hesitations. 

No more uncertainties. 

You reached out, fingers tangling with the hair on her nape and pulled her in, pressing your lips against hers. She made a sound of surprise before her eyelids closed as her thumb brushed against your cheel, tilting her head a bit. 

The kiss was hungry and desparate, almost as if making up for lost time. You felt Suguru exhale against your mouth, her hand now on the back of your neck, pulling you close while she coaxed her tongue through the seam of your lips, until no air was left between you two. 

It was raw and vulnerable, fueled by the memory of a dedicated song and sheer relief distances being closed. 

You eventually pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, as another exhale escaped your swollen lips, only for the tension to snap, replaced by an abrupt, incredulous laughter as you felt Suguru bury her head against your shoulder, pulling you into a tight embrace, which you also reciprocated.

She murmured against the fabric of your clothes, “You’re not running away, are you?” 

“No, not this time. Not ever.” You answered, arms tightening your hold on her. 

You felt the smile forming on her lips after that. 

Your press ID hangs in front of your chest, distinct and recognizable, as you adjusted yourself in your seat where you sat front row, center, cradling the device on your lap.

"Seems like Suguru's more than ready to give us a performance," Utahime smirked against her mic, her eyes darting in your direction, which earned a rowdy cheer from Ino’s direction. 

Suguru looked up at Utahime after swinging her feet to her soundboard, leaning close to the mic that her long hair spilled over her shoulder.

"Obviously, my girlfriend is watching me." She rolled her eyes, her voice dropping into the familiar smoky tone, though the smile on her lips said otherwise. "I did promise her I'd always give her the best performance."

Choso signaled the band, and as the first chord of Me2Her resonated through the speakers, earning a loud cheering from the crowd. Then Suguru looked at you, a knowing smirk present on her lips before shooting a wink in your direction, enough to make you shake your head. 

All rights reserved, indom-itus.

[lemonswirlss]

i could fuck you better ˙⋆✮ cw - darcyphilia 18+!

shoko had always been curious about you. every time she saw you at one of those parties, you were always the main focus of her night. above the cigarettes, above the alcohol, above the buzz of everything else around her. that was quite impressive.

it was a shame you always gave yourself to those meathead-frat boys that didn’t know how to please a woman. whenever she’d see one of them lead you to the bedroom, she’d grip her solo cup so hard it’d crunch in her hand. leaving nothing but a mess of alcohol and jealousy.

she heard your moans from upstairs, but she wanted to know how they’d sound in the shell of her ear. she wanted to see how you squirmed, what your face looked like when it crumpled with pleasure, what your slick felt like on the pads of her fingers.

it was a promise to herself that’d she’d get your hands on you. and she did.

you were sprawled out, sweat gulfing down your forehead and bite-marked breasts, cheeks stained with tears. shoko had gotten her hands on you for sure, though it was closer to torture than sex. she was captivated by the way you squirmed, the way you teared up when things got too sensitive.

a cigarette graced the beautiful, pink hue of her lips, chapped and parted. smoke curled around her face, making her seem more ethereal than you already perceived her. she was a goddess, nothing less.

her other hand occupied a dildo, in which she was fucking in and out of your syrupy pussy at a leisure pace. you came twice—once from her fingers, the second from riding her thigh so hard it left a bruise on her soft skin.

“such a sensitive thing, just how i thought you’d be.” she smiled at the squelching sounds your slicked cunt made for her. the toy was slammed inside you particularly hard, her eyes lighting up with fascination at the way you squealed and choked on a cry. she took a puff of her cigarette, blowing smoke into the air. “i wonder if you get this way for suguru as well.”

you shook your head, sniffling and making no attempts to wipe at your salty, endless tears. you were overwhelmed, in a hazy, dizzying way. and yet, you loved every second of the sexual torture she was inflicting on you. even if it was for the sole purpose of her curiosity and jealousy. “n-no..haaah—shoko. only youu!”

shoko looked pleased, though her expression conflicted with her words. “i don’t believe you. but you’re still a good girl for trying.” she crooned, waving her cigarette lazily. “i know i can fuck you better anyway. you were crying before i even thought to use a dildo.”

a pathetic whimper crawled out of your throat at her words, as well as the change in pace. every stroke hit that perfect spot inside you, the one that made you kick your legs and twitch helplessly. your pussy was a mess of slick and need, sopping out juices around the base of the toy—coating it with a new layer every time she plunged it back in. she didn’t need to be rough, she knew how to make you crumble without excessive force or speed.

“this is better though, mhm? i knew you’d look so pretty crying for me.” she held the toy deep inside your cunt, so deep you could feel it in your guts. “pliant and desperate just how i want you.”

you moaned and bucked your hips against the toy. she started to fuck you with it again, hard and quick just so she could see you fall apart. she held her burning cigarette near your neck, it hovered over you like a threat. the heat permeated against your sensitive skin, and you jolted in fear of being burned. once again, she looked allured by your reaction, and put the cigarette in its righteous place between her lips.

she pulled the cigarette away, refraining from blowing out smoke she’d trapped in her lungs. her lips found yours, pressing a messy kiss against your own. she exhaled the smoke right into your gasping mouth, her tongue massaging against yours experimentally. it was wet and filthy, something you had quickly learned she loved.

at that, you couldn’t help yourself. you cried out into her mouth, eyes squeezed shut and forcing out more tears. your third orgasm hit you hard, spurts of your release coating the toy like honey.

shoko broke the kiss, the saliva connecting the two of you snapped onto her lips. her tongue darted out, licking it up in a way that made you shudder. it was evident in the way her eyes had blown themselves wide that she was satisfied, but she never pulled the toy out.

she sat up, pressing her cigarette against your lips and letting you take a puff. “such a good girl cumming for me. stay put, let me see what else i have to play with.”

tags!! <3 @sugurusbadhabit @suguruss1ut @xqce @cherrys-wrld @satorusdollie @heavenlyrestrained @killakuna @iheartanzai @liliklei @getopilleds @florcosmi @bride0fchucky @valberryboos @3lliesr1fle @uzugeto

[moviecritc]

+18 older gf!shoko ieiri pre relationship headcanons ˚.✦

older gf!shoko ieiri who you always visited late at night at the infirmary when everyone’s asleep to have quiet conversations. She asks you about your day and training as she fidgets with the rings on your fingers, you helped her stop smoking by letting her play with your jewelry while you talk. 

older gf!shoko ieiri who, before even being together, loved the sound of your voice and complimented you in the subtler way possible. Saying things like, “Your hair shines today.” or, “Is that a new perfume? Let me smell it, please.” And instead of going for your wrist, she pushes your curls to the side and sniffs the scent from your neck. 

older gf!shoko ieiri who knows you’re too young, maybe even a little naive for her, but so endearing she can help herself to fantasize about you warming the left side of her bed. 

older gf!shoko ieiri who thinks of the best way of asking you out, only for you to do it first. “Ieiri-san, I was wondering if you would like to go out some time. I know a nice pub with good music… well, I don’t know if you like to dance.” Shoko takes a while to answer, you are already thinking the worst, that you embarrassed yourself. But she gave your arm a squeeze, nodding. “I’d love you, sweetheart. But I want to be the one taking you out, not the other way around.”

older gf!shoko ieiri whose heart skips a beat when she sees you out of your Jujutsu uniform for the first time, with a full face and your hair as gorgeous. You’ve always looked pretty for her, but seeing you make an effort for seeing her was something else. 

older gf!shoko ieiri who dances with you all night, buying you drinks and showering you with compliments. You two end up in a corner of the bar just making out with her knee shoved between your thighs. She confesses her feelings, you confess yours and neither of you go to Jujutsu Tech the next morning. 

older gf!shoko ieiri who keeps you in her apartment all day, making breakfast together, fingering you on the counter. You decide to go back to the bedroom, she lets you eat her out until you feel confident, then she scissors you nice and slow, your clits kissing and your pussies fitting together perfectly. 

older gf!shoko ieiri who takes aftercare very seriously, hugging you tight and showering together, kissing every part of your body. 

older gf!shoko ieiri who mentions the age difference shyly, you tell her that you don’t care and that, in fact, it turns you on even more. 

older gf!shoko ieiri and you, who start to secretly date right away.

a/n: i've never written a request so fast omfg art credits: enargeia5525 on twt

[megumiangel]

✴︎ with a temper like you ⋆˚࿔ pt. 2 ⤷ suguru, yuuta, toge, toji, choso, hiromi, takuma, shoko x fem!reader

syn. when you're fighting but they still care. angst to fluff, comfort

pt. 1 ଓ (ft. megumi, yuuji, nanami, gojo, sukuna)

all roughly 600-800 words !

ෆ g. suguru

you misunderstand him asking for space

you and suguru rarely argue.

when you do, it's small things. small things that get resolved within the hour.

but this time it's different. tight words, clipped tones. neither of you willing to back down. the kind of quiet disagreement that builds quicker than you can stop it until it feels too heavy to carry.

you’d both been sitting on opposite ends of the couch, voices overlapping, neither of you really listening anymore. just waiting for your turn to speak.

and then he'd said the words: “i think we should take a little space.”

calm and measured. like always.

but you were nothing but calm. you’d gone still.

“space?” you echoed.

he nodded once, already standing, then already by the front door, already reaching for his coat, “we’re both getting frustrated.”

you didn’t say anything. just watched him leave.

the door clicked shut softly behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening.

you've been replaying that in your head for the past hour. curled on the couch, in the same spot he'd left you, knees to your chest, cheeks wet with tears and eyes trained on some stubborn mark on the coffee table as you tried to piece it all together.

space.

space.

what does that even mean? people don't usually ask for space unless something's wrong, right?

unless he was pulling away— or trying to let you down gently.

your throat closes at the thought.

no. nonono, he wouldn't just leave like that, would he? suguru was always so communicative, surely he'd at least tell you if he really was breaking up with you.

space didn't mean forever. did it?

but what if he was just trying to soften it?

your thoughts move faster than you could grab at them.

the conversation played in your head again as hot, stinging tears well up in your eyes. you psycho-analyse every part of it. every pause. every breath that now sounded suspiciously like a sigh of annoyance. every look on his face. was it disgust? anger? or was he tired?

did he seem distant recently? had he already been pulling away without you noticing it? did you miss it?

your body jolts when you hear the lock click.

the door opens again. and suguru walks in, holding two to-go cups of warm beverages, and his small smile back on his face, "hey." he says.

your head snaps up. and all you can do is stare, mouth slightly agape in confusion. he's... back?

he blinks when he sees you. really sees you.

your tear-streaked face. your curled posture. the way you look at him all furrowed brows like you weren’t expecting him to return.

his expression softens instantly.

“…oh, sweetheart.”

suguru sheds his coat and shoes, and finds his spot beside you, putting the cups down. one in front of him and one in front of you.

his hands are gentle as they come up to your face, thumbs brushing under your eyes.

“i was only gone for an hour,” he murmurs. “what happened? have you been crying this whole time?”

you stare at him, lost. “you…” your voice trembles. “you said… space.”

“i did.”

“but… but you’re back…” your lips wobble, “i—i thought you were leaving for… a long time.”

his brows knit together, something like guilt flashing across his face. “…is that why you think i wanted space?”

you hiccup, looking at him with wide, watery eyes. “is… it not..?”

he frowns, “no, baby,” his voice is quiet and wrapped in silk, fingers brushing the tears from your cheeks. “not at all.”

you sniff, your breathing uneven as you try to process it.

“i just saw we were both getting frustrated,” he continues, “and i didn’t want us to say something hurtful.”

you blink at him. then your shoulders sag. like something heavy finally slipped off them, “…oh.”

he smiles softly at your realisation, a breathy chuckle leaving him. he exhales softly, thumbs still tracing slow, soothing motions against your skin, “i’m sorry,” he murmurs sincerely. “i should’ve explained that better. i thought you understood what i meant.”

a small sniffle escapes you and you shake your head, "no. it's okay." you mumble.

"come here."

and you do. then you sit there. silent, face in his shoulder, and his arms looped around your back, gentle hands stroking your skin comfortingly.

once you're calm again, there’s a pause. then suguru reaches forwards for one of the cups, pressing it gently into your hands.

“drink."

you take it, fingers still trembling slightly. it's your favourite order from the cafe nearby.

you swallow, feeling the hot liquid chase its way down your throat, warming your chest and soothing you. your head finds its usual spot on his chest and you sigh. "i'm still mad at you." you mumble, reminiscing the earlier fight that had still gone unresolved.

suguru only smiles. "me too, baby. we'll talk later, hm?"

ෆ o. yuuta

you forget your phone at his place

you're halfway down the elevator when you realise your pocket feels way lighter than it should.

empty.

you pat it, and frown. then check the other pocket. your jacket. your bag. then your pocket again for good measure.

"...ugh." a quiet groan escapes you.

your phone. you forgot your phone. up there.

in that apartment. with that boyfriend. the one you'd just stormed out on.

the one who's probably still standing at the door, staring at it like you might come back. which now, you're forced to.

he gets like that after arguments. quiet and wide-eyed and apologising profusely even if he doesn't quite understand what he did wrong. like a kicked puppy.

and you... always cave. but you hadn't this time. mostly because you'd fully managed to avoid eye contact all the way until the door.

you had succeeded. if only you hadn't forgotten your phone in the heat of your annoyance.

the elevator dings at the ground floor and the doors slide open. you grumble and instead of getting out and going home like you're supposed to, you press the button for his floor, and glide back up.

yuuta blinks at you as he opens the front door, clearly confused why you're back so soon, eyes round and a little red around the rims. you immediately snap your gaze to ground. if you look at him for too long, you'll feel bad and give in.

"shut up." you mutter, pushing past him and inviting yourself into his house.

yuuta hadn't said anything. but he chooses to listen to your warning. he stands there, idly, watching you stalk around his living room, searching for something. he wants to offer to help, ask what you're looking for... but he's not quite sure if he's allowed to exist in the same space as you right now. even if this is his own house. besides, you had just told him to shut up.

you stand straight, back rigid. you can feel his gaze on you.

it pisses you off. because you know what face he's making even without looking at him: he has his head tilted to the side, his lips pressed together and his eyes wide and questioning and nervous. and he looks way too adorable for someone you're supposed to be mad at.

"say it." you mutter.

"huh..?"

your head snaps to him— big mistake. but you were absolutely correct with your prediction. he was making that exact face. "whatever you're thinking."

"...what are you looking for?" he almost steps forward, but his foot hovers before he retracts it, choosing to stay in his spot. as if one step would make you coil away in disgust.

"my phone."

"oh..." he scratches his nape, trying to think of when he last saw you with it. nothing comes up except for flashes of the argument and you walking out that make his chest hurt a little, "uh... do you want me to ring it?"

you pause. jaw flexes and unflexes and yuuta swears he sees a vein in your neck pop. before you sigh, "fine."

he fumbles and pulls his phone out of his pocket. and presses a few buttons and rings. a faint 'bzzt bzzt' accompanied by your ringtone reverberates from the couch. you walk over shoving your hand between the cushions and fish out the noisemaker.

you head for the door again, and yuuta simply watches, unsure if he should walk you out. he decides you probably wouldn't want that. "text me when you're home," he says instead, "...please."

you pause, your hand on the handle and your heart squeezes.

his voice is quiet and unsure like he's not sure if he's been given permission to ask that from you. you close your eyes, head tilting forwards and you almost groan. how the hell were you supposed to stay mad at him now?

with a turn of your heel, you step back into his space, and throw your arms around him in a hug. yuuta stiffens instantly, clearly not expecting the turnaround. but just as quickly, he melts, holding you, cheek pressed into the top of your head. "i will." you mumble into his shirt.

he nods against your head, "okay... bye..."

there’s a pause, you can feel it; the hesitation— like there’s something else he wants to say.

but he’s holding it back. perhaps because he doesn’t want to push you. or because he thinks he’s not allowed to.

you pull back slightly, looking up at him. his expression is soft and a little uncertain.

you roll your eyes, but there’s no bite to it now. just affection, “love you,” you say for him.

his eyes widen just a little.

like you’ve just given him something he wasn’t expecting.

“…love you too,” he says, quieter. relieved.

you huff softly, stepping back again, grabbing the door handle. “i’m still mad at you,” you clarify, just to be clear.

he nods immediately. “i know.”

“we’re talking about it later.”

“okay.”

you open the door and step out. then pause. “…don’t just stand there,” you mutter. “go sit down or something.”

he blinks. “oh... okay.”

you shake your head, a small smile slipping through despite yourself. then you leave.

ෆ i. toge

clingy bf final boss

you’ve been ignoring him since last night, which, in theory, should’ve made you feel better.

it doesn’t.

it just means you’re on the track with nobara and maki, supposedly training, grumbling through your annoyance while pretending you don’t feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of your head.

“hey, y/n?…” nobara tilts her head slightly, squinting past you. “i think you have a fan.”

you don’t evem need to look. you know. “don’t acknowledge him,” you mutter. “i’m mad.”

maki snorts under her breath, arms folded. “i think he’s sorry.”

“i don’t care,” you say immediately. “he can be sorry from over there.”

behind you, a certain presence stays exactly where it’s been for the last ten minutes. quiet. still. watching. not paying the slightest bit of attention to anything his training buddies panda or yuuta have to say to him on the other side of the oval.

toge doesn’t move unless you move first.

and even then, it’s not really moving, it’s copying.

when you pace the track, he does too from his side. when you stop, he stops.

when you glance over your shoulder, he’s already looking at you.

expression unreadable. but persistent.

nobara eventually laughs, “this is insane.”

"i feel like that must take more energy than actually training," maki adds.

“ignore it,” you repeat, firmer this time, like that’ll fix your heartbeat.

it doesn’t. he knows exactly how to make you feel guilty. although you really can't tell if he's doing it on purpose or not.

you’re mid-sentence, telling the girls you’re going to go into the city for lunch— just to get space, clear your head, avoid the feeling of being watched wherever you are.

then you feel it.

a presence at your side.

you don’t even need to look.

you already know.

he reaches for your hand gently.

“salmon?” he asks, almost a little pouty. like he’s daring you to turn him away.

you glare at him instantly. “no. you’re not coming.”

he pauses.

blinks.

then tilts his head.

“okaka.”

you groan loudly and turn away, already walking. “i don't care,” you mutter. “i said no.”

he follows anyway.

it’s the worst game of 'what’s the time, mr wolf' you’ve ever played.

you walk. he walks. you speed up. he matches you instantly. you slow down. so does he.

and every single time you stop and turn around—

he’s stopped too. just standing there. looking at you.

like he’s waiting for you to keep walking. like you're just a normal couple out on a normal walk on a normal day. like you're the weird one for stopping all of a sudden.

you whip around at him once, frustrated. “s-stop following me!”

he tilts his head, “…tuna?”

you groan again and keep walking.

he follows again.

by the time you reach the restaurant, you’re fully done.

the hostess at the door smiles politely, holding up two fingers. “for two?”

you exhale through your nose like your soul has left your body. toge nods for the both of you, and then you're seated.

you sit across from him with your arms crossed.

he sits across from you like he didn’t just trail behind across half the city like a clingy stray caught on your scent.

for a few minutes, there’s silence. you refuse to look at him, even though his eyes are on you.

then the food arrives.

he watches you for a second. then picks up a piece of food, and holds his chopsticks under your chin in offering.

you immediately turn your head away. “no.”

he doesn’t move.

you glare at him. “i don't want it.”

he blinks slowly, “salmon.”

you refuse.

he waits.

ten seconds. twenty.

you try continuing with your meal, but he doesn't put it down. you can feel him still holding it there out of the corner of your eye.

still waiting.

you groan, rubbing your temple. “isn't your arm tired?”

"okaka."

"that was a rhetorical question."

"salmon."

your jaw tics, half in humour and half in annoyance "you don't have to respond to everything i say."

"salmon." he keeps holding the food up.

you finally snap, just to make him stop. “fine!”

he smiles, satisfied. you take a bite and chew, a little more aggresively than usual, as if you imagined his head being ground repeatedly between your teeth.

he watches you eat like he’s won something.

ෆ f. toji

you don't ask him for help

you’re still mad at him. which is why you’re doing it yourself.

because he doesn't deserve the sweet, soft; “baby, can you grab that for me?” nor the batting of your lashes like you usually do just to see that stupid smug smirk tug at his mouth.

no.

you drag a chair across the kitchen tiles instead.

deliberately scrape it a little louder than necessary to get him to look up from the tv.

you climb up without looking at him, reaching toward the top cabinet for your favourite mug— the one he always gets for you.

behind you, the couch creaks.

he’s noticed.

you smile faintly with your back turned, enjoying the idea of the annoyed grimace that must be present on his face now.

toji doesn’t say anything at first. just watches. eyes narrowed slightly.

you stretch a little higher, fingertips just brushing the shelf.

the chair wobbles.

just a little, but that’s enough.

“oi.”

his voice cuts through the room, low and irritated.

"what? you ask haphazardly, reaching again.

the chair shifts once more as you lower cup after cup onto the counter to clear space for you to grab your favourite one. you swear he hides it at the back on purpose just to make sure you ask him every time.

heavy footsteps cross the room in two strides.

then suddenly, you’re airborne. clean off the chair like you weigh nothing.

“hey—!” you yelp, grabbing his shoulder on instinct as he sets you down on the floor like you’re the problem. “when the hell did you get there!?” you snap, glaring up at him.

he doesn’t even look fazed.

“shut,” he mutters, already reaching up to the cabinet.

he grabs the mug easily.

you cross your arms, still annoyed. “i could’ve gotten it.”

he shuts the cabinet with a quiet thud and turns to you.

“…yeah,” he says flatly. “looked real stable up there.”

you huff. “i wasn’t gonna fall.”

he steps closer. too close. close enough that you have to tilt your head up to keep glaring at him, “don’t care,” he says, tone rough but quieter now. “don’t like it.”

your irritation falters for half a second, but you recover quickly, scoffing, “well... i don't like you. and i don't need your help.”

he snorts. "yeah?"

"yeah."

"then how come every morning all i hear is—"

"don't mimic me." you grind out through tight teeth, already feeing the mocking tone coming.

he bats his lashes at you, "ohhh toooji." he trills in a high-pitched voice impishly made to resemble that of yours, "it's too high, i can't reeaaach."

you grit your teeth, lips pursing and head whipping in the other direction, looking away quickly so you don't laugh. now would be the worst time to laugh. it would only vindicate him and his ego. "shut up."

then he presses the mug into your hands.

firm.

final.

“drink your tea,” he says smugly.

"don't tell me what to do."

minutes later, you glance at him over the rim of the steaming mug.

he’s back on the couch like nothing happened.

controller in hand, leaned back, game unpaused.

ignoring you again. except his eyes flick to you.

just once. quick. checking. making sure you’re not climbing anything else you shouldn’t be. and he gives you that infuriating sharkish grin.

ෆ k. choso

clingy bf final boss pt. 2

you don’t go to bed afterwards.

the argument had fizzled out hours ago— no real resolution, just quiet tension and too many things left unsaid. he’d gone to the bedroom eventually, slow steps, softer than usual, like he didn’t want to push you.

you didn’t follow.

instead, you'd curled up on the couch with a blanket and a pillow, the tv casting soft light across the living room. some random movie plays that you’re not even really watching.

it’s late. really late. your retinas burn a little, a warning that you should just turn it off and rest, but you don’t move.

you’re still mad… at least you think you are. but too much of that madness is diluted by sadness and guilt and also how badly you miss his puppy dog eyes.

the hallway light flicks on.

soft footsteps.

you don’t look. because a part of you still feels the need to keep up the act.

choso appears in the doorway, hair loose and messy, sleep shirt wrinkled, eyes still heavy with exhaustion. his eyebags even more pronounced than they already usually are.

he pauses when he sees you. really sees you.

the blanket. the pillow. the way you’ve set up camp like you’re planning to stay there.

his brows pull together slightly.

“…you’re not coming to bed?” he asks, voice quiet, careful. and sad. undoubtedly sad.

you don’t answer.

just stare at the screen.

he steps closer anyway.

you hear the soft clink of glass before you see it—a cup of water placed gently on the coffee table in front of you.

“you should drink,” he murmurs.

still nothing from you.

he lingers.

waiting.

you don’t look at him.

don’t acknowledge him.

don’t give him anything to work with.

a minute passes. then two.

you expect him to sigh. to leave. to go back to bed. anything but stand there watching over you in the dark like the babadook.

he doesn’t.

"if you're gonna stay there, can you sit?" your voice croaks from exhaustion and unuse, "creeping me out."

"oh." he whispers. the couch dips beside you.

you finally glance over. he’s sitting there.

quietly.

hands folded loosely in his lap. watching the movie like he’s been invited.

but choso doesn’t move. doesn’t talk. doesn't snuggle into your side or join you under the blanket, even if he's a little cold and the blanket is definitely big enough to share. just sits with you.

the movie keeps playing. some backstory scene you don’t care about. but now you’re aware of him. the warmth beside you. the quiet presence. the way he glances at you every so often like he’s checking if you’re still there. watching your reactions to every line. the way your eyes follow the captions at the bottom of the screen and your lips press together to suppress a snicker when a character makes a dirty joke.

he smiles when you do. not because he heard or processed the joke but because you're smiling.

time passes. ten minutes. twenty. you shift slightly under the blanket.

he doesn’t say anything.

just adjusts the edge of it absentmindedly so it covers your shoulder better.

you notice, but you don't move.

fifteen more minutes.

eventually, curiosity gets the better of you.

you look over, expecting to see him watching the screen or you. he’s slumped slightly now, head tipped back against the couch, eyes closed, breathing slow and even.

…he fell asleep.

you stare at him for a second.

then sigh. soft. fond.

“you’re so stupid,” you mumble under your breath, but there’s no bite to it. you nudge him lightly. he stirs with a light whine but doesn’t wake.

he was already half-asleep when he came out here.

you shift, pulling the pillow out from under your head and sliding it beneath his instead. you tug the blanket up, draping it properly over him, tucking it around his shoulders.

his hand moves in his sleep. fingers brushing your wrist. then curling around it.

you stare at him, laying with the pillow and blanket you'd brought out for yourself with the intent of sleeping away from him and can't do anything but sigh again.

✴︎ BONUS! (my apology gift for dragging this pt. 2 for like 3 months OOPSIE DAISIES)

ෆ h. hiromi

he forgets to exit lawyer mode

you’re halfway through ranting about your coworker when he starts doing that thing.

that lawyer thing.

the one where his brows knit, his fingers fold beneath his chin, and suddenly he sounds less like your boyfriend listening to you vent and more like a man preparing cross-examination notes.

“well,” hiromi says slowly, “did you instigate the exchange at all?”

you blink, “…what?”

he continues, maddeningly calm. “because you do have a habit of responding sarcastically when agitated, and that can escalate—”

“hiromi.”

“i’m just saying there may have been contributory—”

“hiromi.”

he pauses.

looks up.

you stare at him in disbelief from across the kitchen.

“i’m your girlfriend,” you say flatly, grabbing your coat from the hook by the door, “not your defendant.”

his mouth opens.

closes.

you yank the coat on with a furious huff.

“where are you going?”

“for a walk,” you snap.

the door shuts behind you before he can answer.

the cold air does help.

a little.

mostly because it gives you something else to focus on besides the fact your boyfriend had just tried to assign legal fault percentages to your workplace annoyance.

you walk for twenty minutes. then thirty. rounding the block and angrily murmuring to yourself.

by the time you come back, your anger’s dulled into that grumpy stubbornness where you’ve already decided you’ll be silent for the rest of the night.

you unlock the apartment.

step inside.

and stop.

the lights are dimmer.

soft jazz hums quietly from somewhere in the living room.

there’s a mug of coffee on the table.

your coffee.

made exactly how you like it.

and beside it—

flowers.

you blink.

“what…”

“in here, sweetheart.”

you turn.

hiromi appears from the kitchen, tie loosened now, sleeves rolled up, looking deeply sheepish in a way that almost never happens.

almost.

he walks over carefully, like approaching a witness he’s already intimidated.

“before you say anything,” he starts, “i’d like to formally state that i handled that conversation very poorly.”

you fold your arms.

and stare

he winces. “yes. deserved.”

you try not to smile.

try.

he notices anyway.

of course he does.

he steps closer, taking your coat from your shoulders and hanging it up for you.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, voice softer now. boyfriend voice, not attorney voice. “you wanted comfort. i gave you a deposition.”

that gets a snort out of you.

you hate that it does.

he smiles faintly, relieved.

“i should have just told you your coworker sounds insufferable and that you were right.”

you narrow your eyes. “…i was right.”

“you were absolutely right.”

“and she’s annoying.”

“unbearably.”

you hum, accepting this.

he offers you the coffee and you take it. still grumpy, but less committed to the bit now.

“are the flowers part of your apology strategy?”

“yes.”

“did it work?”

he looks down at you, mouth twitching, “the jury seems undecided.”

you sigh dramatically. then step into him.

he wraps his arms around you instantly, warm and secure, kissing the top of your head. “for the record,” he murmurs, “i am on your side.”

you grumble into his chest, “that should be your default.”

“noted.”

ෆ i. takuma

accidental pervert

it happens so casually that it throws you off.

you’re both lounging around his place, tv playing something neither of you are really watching, on your phones, when he glances over at you and goes—

“…hey baby, what’s your bust size?”

you blink. slowly turn your head.

“…my what.”

takuma doesn’t even look phased. he’s still half-focused on his phone, like he just asked what your favourite colour was.

“your bust size,” he repeats. “like, the measurement.”

you stare at him, “…why.”

he shrugs. “just asking.”

just asking.

you sit up straight, narrowing your eyes. “why are you asking me that like it’s casual conversation.”

he finally looks at you properly, confused. “because i need to know?”

that does not help.

“takuma.”

“what?”

you chuck a pillow at his head, “what's wrong with you?!”

"ow! what?"

“why are you asking me that out of nowhere, you freak?” you ask, incredulous.

he opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again. as if this is absolutely not where he saw this conversation going.

“i'm going to bed,” you cut him off, grabbing your phone, "sleep here.”

“wait—”

“shut up.”

you stand up, already walking off, leaving him on the couch blinking after you like he just lost an argument he didn’t realise he was in.

he doesn't argue against you telling him to sleep on the couch of the house he pays for while you get his bed.

and you don’t bring it up again. the next morning is a little awkward, but you're fine again quite quickly.

even if he does act a little… awkward for the next couple days. like he wants to say something, but remembers how that went last time and decides against it.

a week later, a package arrives, addressed to you.

you frown, turning it over in your hands. “did you order something for me?”

takuma freezes. just for a second. then scratches the back of his neck. “…open it.”

you narrow your eyes suspiciously. but you do.

inside is a dress.

not just any dress.

a gorgeous one.

soft fabric, the kind that has to be tailored, your exact style like he reached into your brain and picked it out himself.

your mouth parts slightly. “…kuma.”

he’s suddenly very interested in the floor.

“it’s… custom,” he mutters.

you blink. look at the dress. then back at him. then back at the dress. “…custom.” you repeat

“yeah.”

realisation hits you like a truck. your jaw drops.

“takuma.”

"so... sorry if it doesn't fit right," he winces, “…i tried asking for your size,” he says, voice quieter now, “but you didn’t take too kindly to that.”

you stare at him. then at the dress. then back at him again.

“kuma, why would you ask me like that?!” you burst out. “if you told me it was for this i wouldn’t have gotten mad?”

he frowns, defensive now. “well i didn’t know it was weird!”

“how did you not know that was weird?!”

“because i didn’t even know what bust meant!” he blurts.

you pause, “…what?”

he rubs the back of his neck again, embarrassed. “i was just reading it off the website. it said bust, waist, hips... i thought it was just a regular measurement.”

you stare. “…you didn’t know what it meant.”

“not until you got mad at me and i googled it,” he admits.

you blink at him.

once.

twice.

then you start laughing.

he groans, face heating up. “it's not funny..."

“oh my god.”

he crosses his arms, sulking. “i was trying to do something nice.”

your laughter softens. you look down at the dress again with a grin. run your fingers over the fabric.

“…it’s really pretty,” you say softly.

he glances at you. “…yeah?”

you nod. then step closer, hugging him. “thank you, baby,” you mumble into his chest. “and… sorry for yelling at you.”

he huffs. “you’re still mean.”

“you asked me my bust size out of nowhere!”

“i didn’t know what it meant!”

you laugh again.

he sighs.

but he’s smiling too.

“…try it on?” he asks after a second.

you pull back, grinning, “yeah.”

ෆ i. shoko

she ate your cupcake

she's being dramatic. at least, that’s what you claim.

it’s just a scraped knee. you’ve had worse. it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.

still, you’re sitting on the cool metal of the bench in her office, arms crossed, refusing to look at her because you’re still annoyed about the cupcake situation.

“it was in the fridge for a week,” you mutter. “i was saving it.”

“mm,” she hums. shoko doesn’t even look apologetic anymore.

she’s crouched in front of you, hair slightly messy, gloves on, disinfectant-soaked cotton ball pinched between a pair of silver tweezers, dabbing lightly at the broken, bloodied skin.

“i didn't think you wanted it anymore,” she says simply.

you glare at her, “so you just assumed it was abandoned?”

“yes.”

"it was waiting for me.”

“and you never arrived. poor cupcake.”

you huff.

she reaches forward and gently takes your leg, pulling it closer so she can clean the scrape at a better angle.

you flinch slightly.

“don’t move,” she says flatly.

“i am moving because you’re attacking me with alcohol.”

“i know. you're very brave.”

"haha. really funny. you proud of that one?"

she doesn’t respond. but smirks lightly as if to affirm, yes, she is in fact proud of that one, and presses the cotton pad to your knee again.

you hiss softly. “ow.”

“don’t be dramatic.”

“i am literally injured.”

“you’re alive.”

you narrow your eyes at her. “my cupcake isn't.”

“because i put it out of its misery.”

“it was my cupcake, shoko.”

she finally glances up at you.

“…you’re more upset about a cupcake than your actual wound.”

“because the cupcake was important.”

she sighs. like she’s tired. like she’s always tired. but there’s something softer in her eyes that only ever appears when you're around..

she finishes wrapping your knee with practiced ease, fingers light, careful.

then presses her lips to your bandaged knee gently.

“done.”

you look down.

“…you’re surprisingly gentle for a thief.”

“i'm not a thief,” she corrects. “i rehome neglected cupcakes.”

you snort.

she stands up, tossing the used materials into a bin before walking over to her desk.

you watch her. still sitting there. still mildly grumpy.

she grabs a small box from her drawer and places it graciously onto your lap.

you blink. “what’s this?”

“replacement.”

you open it. inside is a cupcake. perfectly frosted. freshly chilled. your favourite kind. you stare at it.

then at her.

"forgive me?” she requests.

you smile despite yourself. “hm. i suppose.”

“you’re so charitable.”

all dividers by da best @anitalenia !!! saur kyoot

tagz 😛 @sigmaskibidifortnitebattlepass @luvs-angel @perkypeony @newpersonsameoldmistakez @ryokoisstar @gentlyflowing

THANK U SM FOR THE SUPPORT ON PART 1!! I APPRECIATE IT SOSOSO MUCH

[yutanology]

yandere crown prince!satoru × private tutor!reader

cw: 5 yrs age gap between satoru and reader, mentions of grooming, manipulation

after graduating as the top student of your university, you got recommended to be a royal tutor. teaching crown prince!satoru is absolutely a pain in the ass. during lessons, he'd purposely misbehave, lean in too close, and ask inappropriate questions just to watch you blush and get flustered. breaking your composure brings a genuine smile on his face.

he would feign sudden sickness, leaning to your touch when you check his temperature and lays his head on your lap to take a short rest. when you suggest him to get checked by the physician or rest in his room, he'd hold you down and demand you to take care of him instead. he wants your undivided attention to be solely on him.

if another person, wether a royal servant, knight, or a noble so much as looks at you for a second too long, he'd either have them whipped on their back til it bleeds or banish them to another country. the next day, you'd be left wondering why people had been avoiding you when you greet them.

crown prince!satoru would ensure you'd be dismissed from tutoring other noble kids by paying you three times your usual salary. doing so would make it easier for you to accept because you needed the money, and it's insulting to the crown if you refuse being his exclusive tutor.

if you ever try to resign or leave, he will orchestrate a crisis for you. your family would fall into a sudden debt, your mother would be struck by an illness that's expensive to cure, or your father would be accused of treason. you wouldn't have other choice but to continue working with him.

when it becomes too heavy, he'd lend you a hand so you'd owe him big favors. he wouldn't ask for too much though. being a crown princess is easy enough, no?

the moment crown prince!satoru's education is officially over, he would instantly declare you his betrothed and refusal isn't an option. the royal council would of course disapprove of this because you're a mere commoner and he's the sole heir of the royalty. they would accuse you of grooming him during his lessons, which would be a hot topic for the people.

he would find the accusation hilarious because, in reality, he is the apex predator who hunted you. he'd use the rumor to his advantage, letting it circulate just enough to ruin your social standing. overnight, you'd be entirely left alone. no allies and no career left. your fiance is all you had left to protect you.

when the royal council demands for your execution or be banished for corrupting the royal bloodline, he would stage a coup or political standoff. this would force the council to obey his wishes, one way or another.

when his parents attempts to betroth crown prince!satoru to a foreign princess for political alliances, he will quietly hasten their demise. a sudden illness or a typical carriage accident would clear his path to the throne, allowing emperor!satoru to decree his tutor as his empress.

[sugarbunnyluv]

── ౨ৎ ʀᴇᴛɪʀᴇᴅ sɴɪғғᴇʀ ᴅᴏɢ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪs ᴘᴜᴘ ( ʀᴇǫ ) ⋆ . ࿔ ˚

ᴄᴡ : satosugu x reader , fluffノrev comfort , hybrid au ⟶ dog! gojo , puppy! reader , owner! suguru , toru's a lil traumatized :( , shy! reader ( as ever :p ) , changed the request a little bit , reader is briefly described to be smaller than satoru , art by @/lau_wang99 on 𝕩 , ᴡᴄ : 𝟸.𝟸ᴋ

ʀᴇǫ : " i know this might sound kind of strange but i was thinking : owner!suguru who took in retired police dog!gojo and then much later on took in puppy!reader . . . "

it's been years since satoru has been on the force, discharged due to a bullet wound to the leg after an investigation went south — a criminal coming back to retreive the drugs satoru was sniffing out, let's just say he wasn't too pleased when he found satoru right where he stash was… the injury never properly healed, leaving him with a severe limp that made moving around quickly quite difficult. he wasn't kicked off the force, he decided with the guidance of his previous handler to leave. it was hard to keep up with the other sniffer dogs, and the pain he felt on the daily was too much.

now satoru spends most of his days on the sofa with his new owner, suguru — someone he's known since the beginning of his career. they were both rookies together at the police academy, but suguru ended up quitting the force as well, instead studying to become a defense attorney. satoru's life is much calmer now, keeping his owner company while he works on cases late into the nights and living a much more tranquil life than what his life was like on the force.

but there's an emptiness that lingers within satoru, a longing inside that craves for work, for purpose. he was so active before that now it's hard to sit still for longer than five minutes. he's always getting up after five minutes of cuddles just to wander around the apartment, and when he finds nothing to do, his tail tucks every so slightly and his ears flatten, soft, quiet whimpers leaving him until suguru coaxes him back over for more cuddles. with how busy suguru is, it's hard to give satoru the enrichment he needs, so he decides it's best to get him a companion.

it's something suguru has been wanting to do for a while, but he's hesitated due to satoru's close attatchment to him. they've been so close for so long, introducing a new person is a sensitive subject. that's why he's careful when bringing it up to satoru.

౨ৎ

the bedroom is quiet, suguru has his pup draped over his chest, his hand massaging his velvety ears as satoru listens to the steady thumping of his owners heartbeat. this is as still as satoru has been all, corteousy of the calming chamomile tea the two of them usually share in the late evenings and the melatonin satoru's been perscribed due to his insomnia. his memories tend to keep him up at night. his chest rises and falls slowly, his pretty lashes brushing his cheeks with every slow blink he takes. he's calm, maybe this is a good time to strike?

"hey… i have a question," suguru starts, his every so slightly longer nails scratching satoru's scalp in the way that always makes him preen. the hybrid hums in response, tilting his head up to look at his owner, tail gently thumping against the mattress as he meets his gaze.

"how would you feel about us getting another pup?"

the shift is instant. satoru's tail stills, his body stiffening as he takes in a sharp breath. a new pup in the house… what would that even be like? it's been him and suguru for so long, even when he was with his old handler, the two have been so close. how would introducing a new person even go? he can't deny though, it's lonely when suguru goes to work. the apartment is so quiet, he can only sit and stare out the window at all those outside, spending time with others while he's isolated.

"…mm… who?" he asks, his brows furrowing softly as his bottom lip juts out, those soft puppy eyes coming out in full force. suguru is always weak to them, his pup sure is pretty. satoru's ears stay flat in trepidation, fingers digging into his owner's body as he holds onto him tightly, like if he let go suguru would find some other puppy to look after, leaving him behind.

suguru sighs, pulling suguru closer, rubbing soothing circles into his back while his other hand stays buried deep in his white, fluffy tresses. he presses a soft kiss to his forehead, guiding satoru to rest his head onto his collarbone.

"not sure yet, wanted to ask you first before i started looking…"

satoru hums again, nuzzling into the column of his owner's neck, breathing in the calming, natural scent mixed with the fresh eucalyptus scent of his body wash.

"mh… maybe,"

౨ৎ

finding a new pup proved to be a much more difficult task than suguru expected — and he expected a good amount of difficulty going into it. at first, suguru decided to take satoru with him to the shelters, after all he should have some input into who his new companion would be. however satoru decided to be a little… difficult. he wouldn't interact with the other hybrids and he kept telling suguru that he didn't like them. every. single. time. no matter what.

suguru would respect satoru's wishes if he just said he didn't want a new companion, but the pup kept saying that he was open to it, so suguru perservered. this time without satoru. he felt bad, but it was just too difficult lugging around the stubborn, possesive hybrid. it made it a lot easier to trial the hybrids.

they had a few come close to being adopted, even having a few stay for a couple nights at the apartment, but things never seemed to work out. some of them were too energetic, some were too disengaged, one was a little too aggressive and suguru had to send him home early. he took a break after that, he didn't want to overwhelm satoru with all the hybrids he kept having to meet.

turns out, taking that break was exactly what he needed, because once he came back to trying to find a new pup, he found perfection.

he found you.

so soft and delicate, shy but eager for affection and companionship. you wouldn't overwhelm satoru at all, you're exactly what he needs: someone who can keep him calm but still provide him with the right amount of stimulation. you were hesitant when meeting suguru, it took a little coaxing to get you comfortable, but once you were you just couldn't get enough of all the pets and cuddles he was giving you.

it was hard to part ways with you when he first met you, he could tell you were upset too, holding onto his hand right up until he had to leave. he could hardly sleep that night, terrified someone would get to you before he could take you home. he thought about it overnight, would it really be such a good idea to take you home before you even had a home trial? he thought about it all night as satoru slept soundly next to him, he just couldn't bear to leave you all by yourself.

it was love at first sight, what can he say?

he picked you up early the next morning, filling out the paperwork as quick as he could and taking you home with him. just as he expected, you were the perfect fit. introducing you was so much easier than suguru was anticipating.

satoru fell in love with you just as quickly as suguru did, giving you heart eyes as soon as you walked into the apartment all shy-like, hiding behind suguru, trembling with your little tail tucked between your legs. satoru was enchanted, and that hasn't changed a bit for the few months you've been living with them.

౨ৎ

nowadays, satoru isn't so restless. infact, he's the complete opposite. he'll spend all day on the sofa with you, grooming your silky ears with his rough tongue as you watch copious amounts of television together. he may be a little too attached, keeping you close to him as much as you allow him to (which is practically every second of the day), but at least he's not on the verge of depression, laying at the door for suguru to come home every day.

however, your addition to the household hasn't solved everything.

satoru holds you to his chest, the rest of his body draped around you from behind, his grip tight. almost too tight. his breath fans heavily against your neck as he sleeps a little less than peacefully. since having you as his companion, satoru has finally started sleeping in his own pup bed, but only if you're in there with him. sleeping on his own is difficult these days, he needs the warmth of another person to relax enough to sleep, but the occassional stress doesn't evade him.

your eyes flutter open at the feeling of the white haired pup's fingertips digging into your waist, something wet dripping onto your neck. satoru's grip is constricting, feeling like he's nearly cutting off your airways. quiet yips leave his throat, his tail patting the mattress with every cautious wag it takes, legs jolting, joslting your body in his arms. at first you think he must be having a very active dream, your mind still drunk on sleep, but then his whines get louder, and you realise the wetness forming in the crook of your neck is due to the copious amount of tears pouring out his pretty, closed eyes.

his dream sure is active, active like a horror movie is.

you hear the bedroom door click open, a tired suguru coming into a blurry view, your eyes still bleary and welling with slightly panicked tears of your own. you've never seen satoru like this, so distressed and out of himself. however, your owner is experienced, and gets to work quickly. the first thing he does is pry you out of satoru's arms, tucking you into his side and rubbing comforting circles over your hip where the other pup's had been hurting you. next, he coaxes satoru awake.

the pup jolts awake at the feeling of his owners hand on his cheek, eyes blown wide and frantic, hand flying down to the healed bullet wound on his hip, the scar throbbing with the memories of that fateful day. he wipes his cheeks, surprised with the wetnes he finds there, lifting his head in an attempt to come back to the land of the living.

"it's okay, sweet boy… nothing's gonna hurt you," your owner soothes, voice as smooth and sweet as caramel, coaxing satoru's head to lay against his chest. he's still trembling, sniffling while letting a few stray whimpers that muffle into suguru's t-shirt. you reach forwards, petting his flattened ears with your shaky hand, wiggling in your owner's hold to get closer to him once again.

you lean fowards, crowding against his back, your warmth enveloping him in safety as you hesitantly lave your tongue over his ear, just like he does to you. he softens below you, letting out one of his grumbly purrs. the three of you sit like that for as long as it takes for satoru to stop shaking, at least for the most part.

suguru presses a soft kiss to his temple, scooping him up in his arms as he stands, grabbing your hands as you follow his movements. the weight is hardly a struggle for your owner to carry, much too used to having to manoeuvre his pup around like this. it reminds him of the early days when satoru came to live with him, with his injuried hip and his resitricted mobility.

"c'mon princess…" your owners voice is still gruff with sleep as he takes the two of you back to his bedroom, laying satoru down before guiding you down with him. you decide to be the big spoon for once, curling around his back despite your size difference, your arms wrapping around satoru's waist while he rests against suguru.

satoru mumbles something incoherent, voice all wobbly, like he's trying to explain himself but just can't quite get the words out properly. suguru shushes him, tucking his head under his chin. you don't quite understand the situation, but all you can do is make sure your companion is okay, rubbing a gentle hand over his pained hip, feeling him relax in front of you.

thankfully, it doesn't take long for satoru to fall back asleep, letting his soft breaths puff against suguru's bare chest. a good night's sleep is rare for satoru, but when he does sleep good, he's out cold. knowing you far too well despite the small amount of time you've been together, your owner coaxes you over to lay on his other side, tucking you close just like how he's holding satoru. you need those cuddles too, maybe not as much as satoru does right now, but still enough for your owner to take action.

"get some sleep, i'll explain in the morning," he plants one final kiss to your lips, letting you lay your head a little lower on his torso, your legs intertwining with his. the bedroom falls back into a soft silence, much calmer than before. satoru's hand unconciously reaches out, managing to find your hand curled up against suguru's chest, clumsily linking his fingers with yours.

it makes getting out of bed the next morning a little difficult for suguru to get your breakfasts ready, but it's a sweet image nonetheless. he manages to wiggle out from underneath the two of you and makes sure to snap a little picture he'll forever store in his heart after a tough night of tears.

ᴀɴ : i know i changed the request a little but i hope my requester still enjoys nonetheless !!

© sugarbunnyluv, all characters belong to gege akutami, no plagarism, reposting, translating, feeding into ai

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[satoruined]

geto used to kiss you after missions. deeply.

greedy, almost juvenile in his fervour—palms cupping your face, lips on yours before you even had time to say hello. your lips, your breath, your touch: his reward. like a child choking down bitter medicine, then chasing it with something sweet.

but something changed. he’d press a hand to the nape of your neck, lean in like he meant to kiss you… and then, at the last second, his lips would skim past yours. a chaste peck to your temple or cheek. the corner of your mouth, if anything. anywhere but where you wanted him most.

ingesting curses had always been part of his technique. but lately, it had become unbearable. the aftertaste coated his tongue like bile-soaked gauze. but what he feared most was the association: like some sort of fucked-up classical aversion. what once brought him comfort—you—could be irrevocably rewired into revulsion. (no, he wouldn’t allow something so foul to embed itself in the memory of you. that would be desecration.)

kisses became rare. only when he was sure the aftertaste was gone, when he’d cleansed his mouth with tea or menthol rinse, waited hours. only then did he allow himself the indulgence.

you were so sweet and understanding about it, too. never once complained, though he could see the hurt in your eyes each time he shied away.

years later, standing alone in his temple, he presses two fingers to his lips and realises with a pang of regret:

he should’ve kissed you more.

[satomiu]

۫　 ܸ  ❤︎ ׅ ۫ toji might be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life . . . you tell him this all the time, but much to your dismay… he refuses to acknowledge the truth.

hot? sure. sexy? well definitely. but no one has ever called him “beautiful” except you. in truth, toji often gets quite shy whenever you call him “pretty boy” or “handsome”. he’ll start to use his muscle to shrug you off him—while you cling on to him for dear life—with a gruff: “the hell are you talking about?” . . . which only makes your adoration for him come crashing down on you tenfold. thoroughly amused by how such a “big scary sorcerer killer” often acts like a tsundere protagonist. especially towards someone he constantly calls “the love of my life” . .

you yap on and on about how pretty his sacramento green eyes are whenever it’s just you and him. how his jet black strands suit him so well, especially when freshly washed — a light hint of cedarwood and a soft and subtle musk that your nose learned to pick up whenever you were close enough to him. & how his scar only adds on to the rest of his charm, even if he wasn’t a fan of it . . . either way, no matter how many times he clicks his tongue at you, turns his head away from you to hide his reddening ears, or how he tries to turn the tables on you by fawning over you instead; but you don't plan on stopping. hoping someday he’ll believe it too.

[novasdrabbles]

Loving Tao is easy for you.

The compliments flow easily, along with the constant affection you shower her in whenever the two of you have free time together.

At most, a small noise of acknowledgment is all you get in response, but you know deep down Tao wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her love is a quiet, subtle thing. It shows in the way she grumbles at the kisses you pepper along her cheek in the early morning, muttering protests under her breath even as she tilts her head ever so slightly for you to continue your ministrations.

There’s a shine to her eyes whenever she speaks to you in particular. She doesn’t flinch when you climb into her lap, simply moving her newspaper around you with practiced ease.

She’ll always make time for you, even if she has to let Alma tag along.

When she catches you eyeing some of her food, she’ll offer it to you, if only to see the eager sparkle in your eyes as your lips close around it.

She says nothing when your fingers brush along her prosthetic, carefully tracing the material before you take it in your hand and lift it to your lips. She knows that you know she can’t feel it, yet you press a kiss to the faux knuckles regardless.

So when she leans forward and kisses you breathless, she naturally pins the blame on you.

Tao isn’t sure what she ever did to deserve you, but she’ll be damn sure to love you for as long as she can.

[okaygojos]

marine biologist! gojo who found u, a mermaid, and keeps u in his lab!!!!!!

u were injured. and had come up to his boat for help! so he has to keep u to make sure u heal properly.

he's been trying his best to get you a proper tank, with rocks to sleep on and a cave to hide in if you felt the need, but for now you are unfortunately stuck in a tank where you have just enough room to stretch your tail all the way out and turn over.

gojo hates it. you aren't an animal, you are a living being with a need for space, but it's the only option he has until your proper tank arrives.

marine biologist! gojo who sleeps beside you, on the floor, in a sleeping bag.

marine biologist! gojo who thinks its the least he can do

[okaygojos]

more of this

thinking about how gojo would he seething once he realizes that you have mated with someone who isn't him. so so mad, and plotting so hard.

adopting a pup isn't unheard of in mer culture, but it only happens when one of the pups parents passes away. so if the black haired man was removed from the picture, the obvious choice would be for satoru to take his place. right?

since you're pregnant, and used to satoru's tactics, you've been more cautious around him. you make sure there's another handler with you during feeding times, watching your proximity to the edge of the platform. and you warn suguru not to come visit you anymore, despite his being an experienced handler as well. you don't want to risk it, especially once gojo starts exhibiting more aggressive behaviour.