hello! i wanted to make a quick post for my mutuals and those who enjoy my content. tumblr has always been a safe space for me, but recently that has been taken away from me. i've been a getting a lot of mean comments from people in my messages and inbox and i'm not too sure why. it all seems really unnecessary to me and i think these people might just be bored. this has happened before and usually i would just block and move on, but the things people are saying to me are just weird and uncalled for.
i have decided to move accounts but i won't be revealing what that account will be. if you find me again, amazing! i love you all so much and i really hope you do, but for my own well-being i think it's best that i leave this account behind and start fresh.
if any of my mutuals would like to follow my new account, message me and i'd be happy to send it to you.
synopsis: oh, innocent child of blood and bones. you cry as if your heart bleeds fire. has nobody ever taught you to burn them all first? w.c: 13k.
pairing: heianera!ryomen sukuna x f!reader
warnings: childhood friends to lovers, major character death. mentions of cannibalism, violence, and slight gore. ANGST! sfw, but mdni!
a/n: this was requested by this enthusiastic nonie! i hope you enjoy this and that it’s everything you wanted <3 a massive shout to @spookuna for being my biggest supporter and cheerleader, because i genuinely couldn’t have done this without her!
divider / art / ao3 / @ficsforgaza
the first sight of her fate didn’t seem real, like something out of a dream.
she couldn’t understand what – or who – she was looking at.
perhaps it was a fully materialized specter born somewhere from the deepest recesses of her imagination, unknown even to herself. it certainly seemed that way to her; she was only six and knew nothing of the horrors of the world, except for those that came to life in scary stories.
her ghost was digging feverishly into the earth, its fingers curled like claws, like it was searching for something. it was a dirty, scrawny little thing, wearing no clothes except for a soiled fundoshi that looked as if it was strung together by luck and willpower. every so often, it would pull something stringy and limp into its mouth, devouring it rabidly, though she couldn’t make out what it was.
why would her imagination come up with something so… awful?
it wasn’t a pretty, or kind looking ghost to be sure, and she scratched her arms as an uncomfortable itch settled into her skin.
the specter paused, like a fawn that had been discovered.
and turned.
no… it was a wolf, but it was really just a boy.
a boy that stared at her with a basin full of blood in his eyes. a garden that should have been filled with a gorgeous array of ruby roses, was instead full of violence and malice, of death and root rot. this was not a normal, or happy, sort of boy like the boisterous ones in her village.
she still thought she was dreaming, still believed the boy was just a ghost.
because what else could he be? real boys didn’t have a second pair of small eyes beneath their normal ones. even if his were closed, his two pale lids shut tightly like an oyster.
would there be precious little red, red, red pearls underneath them?
a gentle gust of wind swept through the trees, ruffling the boys matted locks of hair, and he vanished from her sight like a puff of dust.
surely now it was a dream.
real boys couldn’t just disappear.
until she felt all the air knocked out from her lungs as she crashed backwards into the earth, sharp fingernails digging into the soft skin of her forearms, and the boy’s crimson eyes were consuming her in his fire.
she knew then it wasn’t a dream, because dreams couldn’t hurt her like this.
she kicked and struggled, her ears ringing from the force of her head knocking into the ground, screaming until one of his dirty hands covered her mouth. she stilled immediately, tears pricking the corner of her eyes, and sliding down the apples of her cheeks.
“you can’t steal,” the boy hissed, his voice sharp and pointed like nails, and he shook her roughly as he repeated like a mantra. “can’t steal, can’t steal.”
she whimpered and nodded frantically, as sharp stones from the earth pierced her skin, adding to her misery. the boy licked his lips, a snake tasting the air with its forked tongue, and bent down closer to her ear.
“i’m hungry” he whispered, a dusting of glee coating his words like powdery snow. “i want to eat you.”
the sky was haunted with the last light of the sunset, like the cries of a mourning mother, swirling with hues of orange and purple. she wondered if she was going to become a ghost that could only existed in her own mother’s dreams.
for the first time in her meager existence, she felt her childish immortality slipping between her tiny fingers.
something uncomfortably hot and wet spread out from beneath her thighs.
the boy sniffed once, twice, with his nose upturned.
then he cried out angrily, his red eyes flashing in the twilight hour, and shoved her roughly into the ground before releasing his grip on her, recoiling defensively infront of his hole of dirt. she scrambled up ungracefully to her feet, her chest heaving, wincing as she tasted bitter soil and salty tears on her tongue.
“yucky! dirty, dirty!” the boy spat indignantly, hypocritically, as if he wasn’t more soiled than she was.
he was rolling in the dirt now, rubbing his face and body with it as if it were soap, as if the coarse earth could wash her touch away from him. she took two steps backwards from him, feeling an eerie charge of energy settling into the edge of the forest.
like the spark of a flame that could ignite into a wildfire.
she took another slow step back.
and then another.
and another.
until she turned and fled, like a squawking bird escaping the grasp of a hawk, her short legs crying out as she sprinted faster than she ever had in her life. she ran all the way from the edge of the forest, up the slight incline of the main pathway through her village, and finally crashed through the doorway of her home, startling her mother who was scrubbing away at dirtied clothes in a bucketful of soapy water.
her mother gasped loudly, alarm rising like a looming mountain, always there and ever present. “whatever happened to you? you’re all scratched.”
lie.
she wailed loudly, messy snot dribbling down her nose and chin and right onto her mother’s worn, muted robes. her mother shushed her gently, bundling her child into her arms and pressing comforting kisses to her forehead.
“what happened, my dearest love?” her mother repeated, whispering softly and soothingly.
lie.
she somehow knew that if she told the truth, it would only invite chaos and misery into her home.
“i p-played in the forest a-and falled,” she finally hiccuped, her bottom lip pouting and wobbling.
her mother cooed, wiping away her tears with a warm, rough thumb. “you fell? my sweet, you’ll be alright. oh, oh. why have you wet yourself?”
more mucus ran down from her nose, and she wiped it messily with her palm as she shrugged her shoulders and said nothing. she let her mother fuss over her, completely unresponsive as she dunked her tiny body into a wooden bucket, washing away the touch of the wolfish, snake boy.
until all that remained of him were the little scratches dotting her arms – rough and ridged, lines carved into the trunks of trees.
she thought of him all through the night, even when her mother had tucked her into bed and tenderly kissed her brow. everything was unknown to her now, nothing was certain. was he actually like an animal, capable of following her scent and finding her here?
would he gorge on her until all that was left of her was red, red, red?
༺ ✤ ༻
the boy had taken over her life – he was everywhere, in everything.
haunting her.
taunting her.
filling her mind with paranoia and warped visions of his red eyes staring at her, always. she saw him in between the boards of the walls and floor, and in every bite of food she took. the wispy tendrils of his hands possessed hers, eating right alongside her. he was in the blood of her scrapes, which always seemed to reopen whenever she bathed, and in her tears as she whimpered quietly, unable to sleep as she hid beneath her blanket.
as if that could save her from him.
it was in the boy’s nature to haunt her with his hunt, to frighten and consume her every thought.
she couldn’t expect anything less than that; it was who he was.
she’d seen it in his eyes, a peephole into the true nature of his soul, and it was full of violence and cruelty and…
sadness.
… and beauty.
he was really just a sad, beautiful little boy.
a boy just as old as she was. a boy who had somehow been put on a path of loneliness, without light, kindness, or love.
it had to be some sort of twisted fascination she harbored for the boy, the same way she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the blood trickling from his scratches, or stop listening to the stories of ghosts and monsters in the night.
maybe it was his strange power that was possessing her, gripping her like quicksand and sucking her further and further down into his madness.
yes, that had to be it.
because why else would she be heading straight towards the edge of the forest, to him?
she tightly grasped a small bowl of rice and vegetables between her little hands, swiped from her own dinner right beneath her mother’s nose. it had long since cold, and she hoped the ghost wouldn’t mind. it was an offering, a desperate plea to break free from his curse that haunted her.
snap!
snap! crackle, snap!
a few twigs snapped loudly beneath her feet – a damning announcement.
she froze, nearly dropping her bowl, breathing quick and shallow puffs of air.
snap!
another one, this time from behind her.
she whirled around, and there he was.
the boy stood beside a thick tree trunk, his head cocked to the side and his eyes widened into full crimson moons. he was even more disheveled than he was a week ago, with mud caked to his skin and hair like dried, flaky clay. his ribs were more prominent too, scarily so, and his cheeks were gaunt like a skeletons.
he was weak.
far too weak, she realized.
she immediately extended her arms out, the bowl teetering on the edge of her fingertips, and breathlessly said, “yours.”
the boy grunted, “huh?”
snap! snap! crackle!
he’d taken a few steps forward, carefully, ever so fearfully.
she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head up towards the twilight sky, her heart beating against her ribcage as if trying to escape, and tried more clearly, “food, for you.”
he was in front of her in a flash, his breath brushing over her cheeks. she cracked open an eye to peek at him, watching as he eyed the bowl with suspicion, sniffing loudly. he gagged offensively when his nose wandered too close to a vegetable, his tongue stretching far out from his mouth.
she half thought he was going to smack the bowl to the ground and lunge for her instead.
he’s going to eat me.
until he snatched it from her instead, retreating back behind the tree trunk.
she blinked, her lashes butterfly wings fluttering in a breeze.
there were the sounds of scoffing, rabid breathing and snuffling noises, and then nothing at all.
hiccup!
had he finished all of it already?
the boy’s face peeked out from behind the trunk, peering at her owlishly.
“why you back?” he asked simply, a touch of softness in his voice, the edge of a knife chipped and dulled.
she shrugged her shoulders. “you’re hungry.”
“but, what if i eat you?”
“tomorrow i’ll give you more, then you can’t eat me.”
he fully revealed himself, crouched low to the earth like a cat, staring up at her with his pupils blown. “you promise?”
she gulped. “i promise.”
“if you don’t, then i eat you!” he exclaimed, lips pulled back over his fangs in a threatening snarl, his hackles raised and shaking.
oddly, she didn’t feel afraid.
the ghost didn’t have the same malice as before; she could see his vulnerability in the way his fingers trembled. she felt it travel through the mountain air, settling onto her skin like a layer of dust. it wriggled like maggots, burrowing into her flesh and making her skin crawl.
her chest constricted painfully.
she felt so unbelievably and overwhelmingly sorry for him.
the boy scrunched his nose. “why’r you sad?”
“i’m not!” she replied quickly, a touch indignantly. she knew he would probably get angry if he knew how much she pitied him.
it was silent for quite some time as he stared at her, and she fidgeted in her spot. she knew she had to let him do this, to stay perfectly still like a rabbit in the reeds, as the wolf made its mind up whether it was hungry or not.
it seemed to work.
the boy huffed and collapsed to the ground in an ungraceful heap, his legs splayed out before him as he seemingly ignored her – a begrudging acceptance of her existing in his space.
she lowered herself to his level, the ground scraping beneath her legs, while maintaining that somewhat safe distance between them. her hands began to search for and pick up various rocks and twigs to play with, because she didn’t know what else to do to pass the time. the boy had his head held to the side, a shade of confusion painted over his cheeks as he clocked onto her every move.
she pretended he wasn’t there, ignoring the rising wave of bitter panic in her throat, and the fact that he was slowly inching closer to her, crawling to her like a prowling panther.
he sat beside her now, clearly observing how she sat with her legs crossed, then glanced towards his own legs kneeling into the dirt. she never stopped playing, pretending to be in her own world, watching from the corner of her eyes as the boy moved his body to mimic her posture and sitting position.
a giggle threatened to bubble out from between her lips.
the boy picked up a twig from her small pile, then retracted, looking at her with wonderful apprehension.
she gave him her full attention. “you can play too.”
another head tilt, and his pink lips curved downwards.
“…play?”
oh.
“have you never played before?”
“no, show me.”
and she did, without knowing how to really explain it. she told stories of how the twigs could be birds soaring between the gaps in the clouds, or the rocks could be fish darting in between the strands of a kelp forest. all the while, the boy was transfixed, and she began to really understand him for what he truly was.
scared and lonely, with an insatiable curiosity for new things – especially for her.
she only hoped she could live up to it.
༺ ✤ ༻
she discovered the boy’s name a fortnight later.
ryomen sukuna.
a strange sensation ran down her spine when she heard it for the first time, like a delicate lash from a whip made of fire.
she decided to ignore it.
they played together everyday since then, against the deep backdrop of the forest, and always during the duskiness of twilight. she would still sneak him scraps of whatever food she could spare, feeling guilty as her mother, who was none the wiser, always praised her for finishing her meals. her father would raise a questioning brow at her whenever she asked to play so late in the day, chiding her for being reckless, even if she passionately justified – albeit, borderline erraticly – that her imaginary friend would be very lonely without her.
“but why now? why can’t you play during the day with your… friend?”
“because he only comes out when the sun goes down.”
maybe sukuna really was a ghost.
she liked to hold onto that superstition. it made her lies a little less white, because he definitely wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
but it was still a lie, a pearlescent river of alabaster, and it had continued to flow strong for three years now.
she was nine years old, and during their time together, sukuna had only revealed glimpses of himself in little tidbits. it was like a sweet bite of plum on a hot summer’s day, satiating her for a time, but always leaving her hungry for more.
“where do you sleep?”
“i dig a big hole, you wanna see?”
“why do you only come after the sun?”
“i’m here all the time, you just don’t see me.”
but sometimes.
just sometimes, and only if she timed her questions right.
then sukuna would indulge her in just a little more.
“why are your eyes red?”
ryomen paused, a wickedly sharpened two-pronged stick in his hand, and shrugged nonchalantly. “i was hungry in my mother’s tummy, so i ate my brother.”
(there was a great clap of thunder somewhere far away, and the great sinful cut of the world bled just a little more.)
they were quiet for a long time after that.
he’d resumed stabbing the earth with his wooden weapon, completely unperturbed.
as if what he’d said was the most normal thing, like it was as easy as drinking the rain that fell from the pine leaves.
sukuna often said twisted things – things that reminded her of who she was really dealing with. although he had somewhat softened around her, he was still as wild and unforgiving as the mountainside he lived on.
she could never ever show him that it put her on edge.
still, much to her own shock, she was growing used to the depravity.
not that sukuna was always wicked, no. he would always ask her things, and she’d try to assume an air like her mother, knowledgeable and benevolent, as she guided him. when he wanted to know how she ate without using her hands, she took a pair of chopsticks from her kitchen and showed him how to use them. he’d sniff her hair, alarmingly too close, and asked how it was so much softer than his.
so one evening, she took him to the river where some of the villagers bathed during the day, and taught him how to wash himself.
“show me,” he’d ordered, his characteristic head tilt an open book of confusion.
he was more perplexed when she became flustered and refused to do it.
the ensuing conversation, in which she explained why she couldn’t just do that, was extremely awkward to say the least.
but she was even more surprised the next day when she came to play, and he was awkwardly standing there, his cheeks as pink as the once-hidden peaches in his hair. she’d stopped straight in her tracks, almost not recognizing her ghost without all the grime and dirt covering him.
he’s so beautiful…
ryomen blinked slowly, catlike, staring at his unusually clean feet with something akin to bashfulness. “what?”
“nothing,” she smiled, gentle like the summer rain that had just started to fall. “let’s play.”
༺ ✤ ༻
it was autumn now.
the leaves of the maple trees had turned into molten gold and burnt orange peels, and the remaining blooms had already died out petal by petal. there was a chill bite in the air, a promise of snow and piercing cold to come. she hated when the weather was like this, she worried about sukuna living in the wild in such conditions, and it only made it harder to go out and play with him in the evenings.
he, however, enjoyed it whenever the weather turned cold – it soothed the fire in his blood.
or so he said.
sukuna was lying down beside her, saccharine on the grass whilst looking up at the sky. he was wearing some washed-out linen clothes, a size too big, that she had managed to steal one day from the village boys bathing in the river. the deep plum wine in the skies mixed with the blood in his eyes – all four of them – the two colors swirling and teasingly touching each other.
two nights ago, the wind had been howling like wolves, screaming of murder and spilled blood in the darkness. there had been a strange heaviness in the air, a sort of static, like lighting biding its time to strike.
when she saw sukuna the next morning, he had a proud grin on his face, his teeth and mouth speckled with blood. all his eyes were wide open, staring at her as if to say ‘look at us, look at us!’
she knew that he had committed some sort of depravity in the night to have earned the transformation.
but he never told her.
perhaps she was never meant to know.
they were always alert, darting between everything and anything that moved even in the slightest – from the leaves rustling high up a tree, to the birds soaring high up in the sky, and to the blades of grass tickled by the wind.
and her.
one always rested on her.
“ryo,” she started, ripping fistfuls of grass. “do you like to play in the snow?”
the eye fixed on her rolled in annoyance. “no, and stop calling me that,” he huffed.
she rolled her eyes, blowing a hot-pink raspberry at him. “yes you do, liar! i know you do.”
she knew that sukuna loved to be teased, but only when he was carefree and relaxed. during moments like now, with the ghost of the permanent scowl sewn into his features unraveled into wispy threads of gold. he was seriously mulling over what she had just said, something she knew he also enjoyed – untangling mysteries and puzzles in his mind, a satisfied gleam in his eyes when he finally figured them out.
“i don’t… like anything.”
she stilled.
a blade of grass fell from her grip, and she gnawed on her bottom lip.
why did she feel so embarrassed?
he wasn’t really referring to her at all – and yet, it all felt so personal.
“okay,” was all she could muster weakly, barely a whisper, resuming her onslaught on the grass like nothing mattered at all.
maybe none of it ever did.
sukuna turned his head and stared at her strangely, but said nothing.
thwack!
he was grinning wildly now. “let me chase you.”
she wiped away the raindrops that had splattered onto her cheek, a slight sting on her thigh from his smack. “i don’t wanna play.”
“but… you like this game,” sukuna frowned, head tilted, rolling over with his elbows digging into the grass. “why not?”
“i jus-ow! stop hitting me!”
“start running then.”
so she did, quite begrudgingly.
her footsteps crackled loudly against the forest floor, as the dark grey clouds darkened even more and the rain fell faster, and the sun dipped further behind a neighboring mountain. sukuna was hot on her trail, and she knew how easily he could catch up to her in an instant, but he never did. it was as if he switched off whatever made him less human during their games. maybe it was to give her a fighting chance, or perhaps it was entertaining to him to know he could always win whenever he wanted to.
if she got to the village fast enough, she would win today.
she swung herself against a tree trunk to propel herself forward, imagining she was an agile deer leaping between the trees.
get to the village.
win.
run, you can wi-
her leg gave way beneath her, sliding up in an arc as she slipped backward. her head hit the ground, and stars and minuscule black moons danced in her eyes amidst the silver clouds.
sukuna appeared above her, his face upside down, all of his eyes on her with what looked something like panic in his irises. it made her heart skip a beat, followed by a swarming terror of bats and a throbbing swell of pain in her left ankle.
and then… sheer, crippling embarrassment.
she started to wail loudly.
big salty droplets squeezed out from her tearducts, running to her temples and mixing with the rain in the dirt. sukuna's face contorted painfully, his mouth pulled into a grimace, his eyes darting over her like a hummingbird flitting between flowers.
"s-stop doing that," he tried to order harshly, but was cruelly betrayed by the shaky wobbling his lip.
snot messily dribbled down her nose as her ankle started to throb more intensely. "it h-hurts!"
"stop crying!" sukuna exclaimed, his fists clenched and shaking. "just stop."
she made the mistake of moving her leg, and cried out as fiery pain licked a smoldering trail straight up to her head. "ryo! please. make it stop, make it stop, make it stop."
his face fell, crumbling into pieces. with a tenderness she had never known, and the sleeves of his shirt falling over his hands, sukuna gently held the sides of her face.
she stilled, a drop of crystal suspended in time.
he hushed her, soothingly. "it's okay. just... please. stop crying."
she sniffled, broken sobs stuttering out from her lips, until they fizzed out altogether. all the while, sukuna never let her go, their foreheads brushing against each other, his peach frizz blowing in the wind. oh, how she wished she could see his face. she wanted to know that he wasn't faking this level of care – of emotion – if nothing really mattered to him.
sukuna lifted his head, his blood eyes glossy and pained, and whispered, "does it still hurt?"
her bottom lip trembled dangerously and she nodded. sukuna sighed, his hands leaving her face and scrunching his hair.
"i-," he paused, nervous. "let me try something."
sukuna looked at her expectantly, eyes widened and pleading. she nodded again, not sure exactly what she was agreeing to, he moved slowly, cautiously, as if any sudden move would set off her pain again. all the while, his gaze was trained on her, settled and pooling on her already swelling ankle.
he breathed out shakily, placing a rough palm over her warm skin, and she whimpered as a piping hot sensation seeped through to her bone. it was nothing like pain, but it felt like sukuna. it was a strange feeling, like little bubbles popping on the skin he touched. she knew then what she was feeling – his power. sukuna was concentrating hard, little grunts escaping his lips every so often, his brow deeply furrowed into a valley of ridges.
the power rose, a tidal wave of fire and blood, and then collapsed into nothing.
he hissed in frustration, sharply pulling his hand back from her ankle, head bowed almost… shamefully.
it was quiet for a heartbeat longer before sukuna muttered, “i’m sorry, i can’t fix you. i’m not strong enough.”
her heart swelled, and she smiled weakly. “it’s okay, ryo.”
he looked up at the dark sky, mouth opening and closing as he chased his words and settled on, “its going to be night soon.”
she looked up too, watching the veil of the silver crescent moon lifting. “mhm.”
she sat up slowly, sukuna immediately turning to watch her. “i-i don’t think i can walk, ryo,” she mumbled. “how can i get home?”
“but… you can’t stay here.”
“i know.”
“the bears will hunt you.”
“ryo, i know!”
his head tilted and a spark lit in his eyes.
“i can carry you!” sukuna blurted out, his chest puffed out proudly. “i’ll bring you to where i sleep. it’s warm there, and then the bears can’t eat you because i’ll be there.”
“… you can fight a bear?”
“what do you think i eat now? i told you I didn’t need your stinky vegetables anymore!”
she blinked three times.
“okay, and then what?”
“and then… i can figure it out in the morning. i’ll keep trying to make you better when you sleep so you can go home.”
without hearing another word from her, sukuna swept her into his arms, eliciting a startled yelp from her. he settled into a brisk pace, taking them both much farther away from the village. the light darkened considerably this deep into the forest, the trees hugging each other so tightly that hardly any of the sun’s waning light could pierce between the leaves.
suddenly, he stopped.
sukuna hunched over, her cheek squishing against his chest, and gently placed her down into a cavernous burrow.
"you really weren't joking when you said you sleep in a hole," she half-heartedly joked, looking around.
he scoffed, crossing his legs and sitting beside her injured side, halfway turned towards the entrance to the burrow. "you don't like it?"
"i never said that! it's just... different."
"not all of us live in a nice home."
the air turned slightly sour, lemons tainting his softness, and they were completely silent. the sounds of the night became louder then; strange animal cries off in the distance, and the rain pelting down from outside, steady drip drip drip of droplets falling from the entrance. sukuna was right, his burrow was reasonably warm. almost, dare she say it, actually comfortable.
he was still beside her, a hand pressed lightly to her injury, his power ebbing and rushing forward like a wave against the shore. as the night grew longer, sukuna seemed to be getting more and more agitated, hissing lowly as he failed at every attempt to heal her. she couldn't sleep regardless of his noises; the enormity of the situation she was in was too jarring. what if a bear discovered their sanctuary? what would her parents be thinking right now? sukuna had to be hungry, as well tired from expending his power. could he really fight a bear if it came down to it?
"ryo?"
"go to sleep."
"but i-"
"shut up, or i'll let the bears eat you."
"ryo! i just wanted to ask you something."
he groaned in annoyance. "what then?"
"earlier, when you said you didn't like anything. did you mean it?"
"well... yes. i don't lie."
"oh, yeah. i know."
sukuna tilted his head, both left eyes rolling towards her. "why did you get sad when i said that?"
heat rose to her cheeks. "did not!"
"you did so! i felt you get sad! you’re getting sad again now"
she fidgeted uncomfortably. "because!"
"because?"
"because, because- ugh! because then that means you don't like me, okay? and that hurts my feelings.”
red eyes flashed in the dark. “why do you care if i like you?”
“because we’re-you… you’re my friend. of course i care if you like me.”
“but, what if i don’t care?”
her heart dropped, and a fresh tear prickled the corner of her eye. “you don’t?” she mumbled quietly, a drop in an ocean of naive, childish feelings.
sukuna’s face crumbled again, and he gripped her ankle just a fraction tighter. “no! i mean, yes! i do care.”
he bashfully looked away, mumbling under his breath before he said a bit louder, “i like you.”
she perked right up at that. “you do?”
“mhm.”
“you promise?”
a low grumble. “promise.”
༺ ✤ ༻
for five days and five nights, she was in another world.
a world where all the memories of her past were washed away by the swirling green of the deep forest. it was an almost cathartic experience, a transition from one plane of existence to the next – one drawn in dripping red ink, a solitary existence that belonged only to ryomen sukuna.
or, at least, it was easier to imagine it that way.
otherwise, the painful pangs of guilt would strike her violently whenever her thoughts strayed to her village and family. if she paused and closed her eyes, she could feel the steady thrum of her mother’s grief, like an earthquake reverberating across the distance between them. it was all too much for her young mind to bear.
and so, she willingly slipped through the doorway into a new reality, where it was just her and her crimson ghost.
during that time, she had learned how to read him.
his anger was a lashing snake hidden between the rocks – wickedly sharp and quick to strike her with venomous words. they would spread quickly though her blood, making her huddle into herself, perfectly still, like a mouse meeting its most unfortunate end.
fortunately for her, she was only bitten once, and the snake had only acted out of hunger, not genuine malice.
if sukuna’s anger had been real, she doubted she would have lived to see the next sunrise.
his apology came much later after he had returned from the hunt, a satiated tiger slow to act. the only acknowledgement of his remorse was a silent head pat with a bloody palm.
his fear was iron claws scratching against a rock, piercingly grating and scraping at the walls of her heart. if sukuna was fearful, she knew it by the way he stalked and paced outside the burrow, a whip strike away from pouncing on anything that moved even slightly out of the ordinary.
“there are more people in the forest,” sukuna would mutter darkly during those fearful fits. “they're shouting your name.”
“did they see you?”
he responded with nothing more than a pointed look.
but above all, it was his kindness that was most present.
she first noticed it in the way sukuna corrected himself around her, protecting her from certain aspects of his lifestyle. for instance, when she saw the blood on his hands after a kill, or saw how horrified she was when he offered her raw, dripping meat from a deer he had just killed. it was in the way he had immediately changed his ways – washing his hands after a hunt, and skinning and butchering his kills far from the burrow so she wouldn’t see a thing.
it was also in the way he pretended he wasn’t purposely foraging berries for her, dropping them onto her lap like he had just randomly stumbled across them. it was in his stubborn refusal to give up on healing her every night when he thought she was asleep, and in how he treated her like precious sugar glass – so very careful in how he handled her.
it shouldn’t have been so surprising to discover that ryomen sukuna was neither cruel nor mad.
he was still that lonely boy from all those years ago, still learning how to be kind while yearning and searching for love.
one day, she saw him play with fire between his fingertips as if it were nothing extraordinary.
she saw how the blood in his eyes came alive, like dancing waves of a turbulent red sea. when he looked at her, she didn't expect him to smile so gently as he started a small fire and cooked her meat for her.
after sukuna had shown her more of his power, the cracks in his soul seemed to split apart, and his fire teemed and spilled out uncontrollably. he finally began to open up to her, telling her things she had always wanted to discover, along refreshingly childish ramblings.
“you know, i actually didn’t mind eating your stinky vegetables. yeah.”
“deer aren’t actually that pretty, but watching them when they’re still is… relaxing?”
“yeah, i lied before. i do like playing in the snow, especially throwing it at you.”
but some of the worst things would also spill out – things she would have preferred to never know, because they were dark and cruel enough to change the way she viewed the world.
“i didn’t mean to eat my brother, but i was just really hungry in my mother’s tummy, and she wasn’t feeding us.”
“she called me a demon for what i did.”
“no, i don’t know know where she is now, and i don’t know about my father too.”
“i do… feel a bit bad about eating my brother, because he was hurting.”
there was a stretched, almost foreboding silence before sukuna finally asked the question that must have been on his mind since the day they met.
“are you afraid of me?”
the fire spit and fizzled, and she hissed as a spark danced dangerously close to her skin.
“no, ryo. you’re my best friend.”
“really?!”
“well, duh. you saved me.”
he shuffled ever so slightly closer, their arms just about to touch, and mumbled, “so did you.”
she really believed she could have stayed with sukuna forever.
but her new world was shattered on the morning of the sixth day, as if the cosmic rulings of the world had decreed that they'd both had enough of a good thing.
still, it was all her fault – it had to be.
she was the one who insisted that she was too cold, that the chill in the air was day beyond what she could tolerate. she felt the wet tears clinging to her lashes were about to freeze over, and sukuna could not stand to see her cry. so, despite his own warnings, he lit her a fire for her during the day and watched nervously as the smoke rose high above the trees.
it wasn't long before the hunters came.
they came silently, prowling and closing in on them both.
and sukuna knew it.
he was bristling defensively, his neck hairs rising, eyes closed, and head bowed in the direction of a bush that had rustled unnaturally. the hunters crept forward cautiously, eyeing the boy with barely concealed suspicion, while beckoning for her to come with them.
she stayed put, pretending she was a statue of ice that couldn’t understand a thing.
a hunter tightened his grip on his bow.
another nocked an arrow.
and sukuna opened his eyes.
chaos erupted, a whirlwind of metal and feathers and red, red, red.
the hunters charged forward, consumed by a fear they could not rationally explain – of demons and monsters possessing their hearts and minds. but sukuna was faster than all of them, disappearing in a flash, and reappearing to hurl a hunter against a tree.
the poor souls had no clue what they were up against.
she knew sukuna could – and would – kill them all.
"no! no! no!" she screamed, heaving and desperately clawing at her face. “please.”
somehow, he could understand her amidst the shouts and cries of anguish from the men who had come for her.
(he always did, he always would.)
the boy of blood and fire stilled, dropping his hands to his sides, and the wolves descended upon him instantly.
she screamed once more as a hunter seized her, dragging her away from the fray of madness. all the while, sukuna remained curled in a fetal position, all of his eyes locked on her retreating figure as he endured the the blows to his body with stoic silence.
only his eyes betrayed his pain.
༺ ✤ ༻
her heart was weak.
it could only beat with half its strength, as if it couldn’t be bothered to do what was expected of it.
when she was returned to the village, to the nearly suffocating embrace of her weeping mother, she was hailed as a miracle – a little girl who had somehow survived a demon. she was cherished and fussed over by the whole village, her family showered with gifts of millet and rice, plenty of dried boar to survive the winter, and stone amulets for protection against the evil that had touched them.
meanwhile, sukuna had escaped.
the hunters had said the demon vanished into the highest peaks of the mountains, where they could not follow. they bowed low and deep to her mother, their knees buckling as they vowed vengeance on the scourge of the mountain. but she knew it was all for show. they were completely terrified of him, too proud to admit it, and so the mere memory of sukuna was spat on and desecrated by the other villagers.
oh, if only they knew the truth of it all.
it took a fortnight for her heartstrings to stop aching from the pain of being ripped apart from sukuna, and even longer for her piercing wails to cease every night before she slept. her tears burned, tears of fire and salt, made from sukuna's precious blood that had dripped down his face as he was beaten.
all because of her.
her parents couldn't fathom her sheer anguish, perplexed and frightened by its intensity, and only able to explain it as the effect of a demon. all they could do was pray for her recovery, and the rest of the village did the same.
in the beginning, when she had exhausted all her energy from wailing and crying, she would peer into the darkness of the room. through the gaps in the walls of her home, she willed and prayed so fervently that she would one day see four red orbs peering back at her.
but twelve winters and summers came and went without sukuna, and she began to wonder if had all been just a dream. an elaborate tale of an imaginary friend her mind had tricked her into believing was real. a ghost that was never meant to be, one she ought to bury in the deepest recesses of her memories where he could finally rest.
but, oh, how lifeless her world was without him.
nobody could understand or see how the anguish swirled beneath her skin. she didn’t even have the words to describe it to herself anymore, other than she was not doing well at all and felt sick all the time.
how very isolating it all was.
she was fifteen now, and all her parents could talk to her about was marriage.
“you are a young lady now!” her mother would gush loudly, almost nagging. “one who survived a demon, and every man who passes through the village wants your hand.”
she tried not to think about it at all, but it loomed larger and larger over her head as the years passed, and she doubted she could remain as she was for much longer. in those moments, her thoughts would always stray to sukuna, and how if she could have married anybody, then it would have been him.
it was the only thing that felt right.
she tried not to dwell on that for too long.
but trying not thinking about ryomen sukuna was like telling the sky not to cry.
there were often tales from afar that the traveling merchants told the villagers as they stopped for respite and to sell their crafts – stories full of horrors and atrocities. entire villages, along with all their inhabitants, were found burnt to cinders or encased in a tomb of ice, with no rhyme or reason why, simply there one minute and gone the next. there were accounts of cries and calls from strange creatures in the night, born from suffering and pain. some spoke of certain people being able to wield magic, only to be found mangled and nearly destroyed by others of the same power.
she would think of sukuna after hearing those stories and wonder what kind of life he was living.
was he just as lonely as she was?
or was he happy indulging in the violence of his nature?
then, one fateful day, her father placed a hand on her head fondly and said, “tonight is your omiai, dearest. you will finally meet the man the nakodo has chosen as your husband.”
and that was that.
that night, she stared into the eyes of the man she was to marry.
they were kind, warm – so very plain. he spoke a little to her, mainly about how he could offer her a better life than what she had now. something more comfortable, with a better house, more food, and even kimonos made of silk.
it all sounded… safe.
reliable.
her family was happy she was marrying such a man, and assured her that they would come and visit her in her new home once she had settled in.
she didn’t care about that at all.
all she could think about was red, red, red, and how it felt like the ultimate betrayal.
she could do nothing but nod placidly at them all.
really, she should count her blessings that she was about the same age as her soon-to-be husband, and that he seemed likely to treat her with kindness and respect. maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could convince herself that she would find some measure of fulfillment in her marriage.
she could learn to accept it all, even force herself to be happy.
even if a part of her could never be scrubbed clean from all the red.
the day before she left for her betrothed’s village, she went to the clearing in the forest where it all began. it was midday, the sun high in the air, and the sweet bite of winter kissed her cheeks as she stood there clutching the white silks that had been gifted to her.
“things are going to change for me,” she whispered to the trees that had long watched over her and sukuna, her head bowed low. "and i do not believe i will ever return here.”
desperation gripped her in a suffocating hold, hooking its claws deep into her spine. she wondered if there was a string that connected her to sukuna. a red-stained one, dripping in their blood. would he feel it wherever he was in the world if she pulled it hard enough?
if she tried, would he come for her?
(a gust of wind, a spark of flame, and a ripple of blood.)
she had realized some time ago what she had felt as a child.
but it was still a terrifying thing to admit to herself, even now, in this quiet corner of the world, that she had once been in love with ryomen sukuna.
it was best to bury it here with the trees.
tonight was the eve of her wedding, and all she wanted was to have just stayed there.
it was supposed to have been a night of solitary peace.
the last one she would ever have, with only the sound of the herbal bathwater rippling and the scent of yuzu in the air to keep her tethered to this world.
it had all been overturned in an instant.
the monsters came swiftly down from the mountainside in the night, slaughtering and tearing their way through every home in the village. the night was full of brutal screams, blood moons and snow falling from the weeping clouds. she could see them, but others weren’t so lucky. that brief look of terrified confusion was haunting – blood bubbling from their mouths as their throats were slashed by something they couldn’t see.
she stared at her fiancé, both of them trapped beneath a wooden beam, as his eyes, wide and lifeless, had not a single trace of the kindness they had once held. death had never been so close to her before, she could almost feel the cold kiss of its blade against her throat, beckoning her closer to the other side.
their assailant was a thin creature, broken and bent, with a feminine form. it licked the dripping blood of her betrothed from its wickedly sharp claws, unperturbed to the rest of the carnage unfolding around it.
“i miss you, i miss you,” it hissed in a low, screeching voice. “i love you, i miss you.”
the demon turned to her, eyeless, with only a mouth full of teeth and a thousand tongues, as if it could smell the life and heat fading from her blood. it crawled sideways towards her, its scraggly black hair brushing the ground in front of her face.
it paused, dipping its face down towards her, its reeking, snarling breaths close to her ear.
she screamed weakly as it sank its teeth into her shoulder.
soon, all our ghosts will dance together.
pale pink rose petals fluttered from the sky, falling along with the snow.
how beautiful is death?
“hmph, idiot.”
a flash of a thousand blades, and the world turned red and then black.
༺ ✤ ༻
it was the smell of incense that coaxed her back from the dreams of death.
honeyed rays of light danced behind her closed eyelids, their warmth caressing her brow and lips in golden life. when her eyes finally opened, she was convinced that she must have already been reborn. her body was wrapped in opulent silk sheets, delicately embroidered with intricate gold and silver flowers. a byobu depicting a blooming cherry blossom tree stood a few paces in front of the bed.
this was a bedroom of royalty, dripping with extravagance.
she felt as if she didn’t belong here.
but when she pinched the skin of her forearm, felt her legs moving and toes wriggling, and heard the sheets rustling loudly, she knew that this was all very real. all the blood that had been spilled was real, the kind man who would have given her a good life was truly dead, along with his entire village.
“you're awake then are you?”
she froze.
that voice.
it can't be.
so intimately familiar, yet it belonged to the strangest of strangers – deep as the oceans she had never seen, mysterious and smoky like the swirls of incense wafting through the room.
this was the voice of death.
she felt like she had heard it before, as if she should know who it belonged to.
because it was too beautiful to forget.
“sukuna?” she called out in disbelief, her voice fragile and trembling like leaves.
a low chuckle followed. “you still know me.”
oh my.
“h-how are you here? where have you – but y-you disappeared.”
the outline of shadow loomed large behind the byobu, and she gulped.
“i’ve been everywhere in this country. there’s nowhere i haven’t seen.”
it’s him, it’s really him.
sukuna hummed again, his figure swaying. she could make out the shadow of the bridge of his nose and his lips, as well as the elaborate layers of clothing he wore.
“do you remember what happened?” he finally asked after a prolonged silence.
she clenched her fists tightly. “yes.”
“good. and before you accuse me of it, i had nothing to do with what happened to you.”
“i-i wasn't going to.”
“how quaint. it’s rare that i’m not accused of causing wanton violence.”
she watched his shadow reach over and pour a liquid into a cup, followed by soft sipping noises as he drank from it.
“those... those things,” she began tepidly. “is that what you are?”
sukuna snorted. “no. i'm nothing like those low-grade cretins.” he sipped from his cup again. “although, it’s good that you can see curses. next time, you should run instead of just stand there.”
she was starting to remember him again.
she knew that he was nervous; it was evident in his sharp jibes toward her. sukuna always acted like this in unfamiliar situations, when he was unsure of how to act around her. so he would poke and prod because, at least, he understood pain and anger.
she chose to ignore it.
“i went back to the village,” he said, clearing his throat. “it hasn't changed much.”
a flash of terror struck her like lightning.
“but imagine my surprise when i discovered that something had actually changed,” sukuna’s voice had taken on a goading tone, and she could tell he wasn't pleased in the slightest. “you had left to go and get married, of all things.”
my family.
he scoffed, as if he sensed her shift in emotions. “oh, don't worry. your parents told me quite willingly. they were smart enough to know they couldn’t keep me from you.”
a trail of ice and fire ran down her spine.
oh, how much more dangerous have you really become, ryomen sukuna?
dread settled onto her bones like melted lead, and despite her better judgement, she sputtered out, "why now, after all this time?"
silence.
maybe he didn’t even know why.
sukuna's silhouette swayed back and forth behind the byobu, like beech trees high up the mountains, struggling to stay upright during a blizzard. like them, he was battling, but always against himself. his perpetual internal war against that small part inside of him that was human; full of his pain, fear, and kindness. sukuna’s cup was overflowing, even if he didn’t realize it, spilling and pouring everywhere – but she knew it.
she’d known it for the longest time.
“ryo,” her voice cracked like splintering glass. “answer me.”
he sighed, exasperated, “its been so long” – a sharp exhale – “but i can’t stop bleeding!”
utterly perplexed, she frowned. “bleeding? wha-”
sukuna’s shadow rose like a bonfire, erratically pacing in front of the byobu, and she could have sworn she saw the dancing shadows of four swaying arms.
he snarled, the words wrenched from between his fangs, "they tore you from me, and it made my heart bleed. it hasn’t stopped bleeding, because of you."
bang!
his heavy fist struck the screen, and she flinched frightfully.
“i-i don’t k-know what you mean,” she stuttered fearfully, her breaths coming out in rapid, little puffs. “i don’t understand what’s going on.”
he groaned, collected himself, and rolled his shoulders back purposefully. when he spoke again, his tone was calm, with none of the previous fire that had been spitting out from between his teeth.
“it doesn’t matter,” sukuna said, moving away from the cover as his silhouette disappeared. “you’re here now.”
the hidden implications were not as subtle as he thought. he was just as possessive as he had ever been, and it seemed that ryomen sukuna would not be letting go of her again.
she was still his, and had been for all these long years.
“you must be hungry,” he said, swiftly changing the subject. “come here.”
her heart quickened.
slowly, she rose from the safety of the bed, each step as momentous as it was absolutely terrifying. after all this time, she would see sukuna again. the boy who had once protected her, coveted her, and shielded her from the worst parts of himself. the one who wanted to change his ways and be softer for her.
she rounded the byobu.
and there he was.
her bones shivered as her mind froze her in place, stopping her from moving a single step closer.
sukuna was sitting perfectly cross-legged in front of a low table, his eyes widened ever so slightly and his lips parted. a hand was frozen mid-air, suspending in bringing his cup closer to his mouth.
oh, how much he had changed.
sukuna had grown significantly in height, could quite easily tower over her if he stood. he was no longer a boy, but a man – big, broad, and dangerous. and she had not been mistaken before; he had four arms, adorned with strangest black markings, just like his face. if it hadn’t been obvious before, it was now. sukuna was everything taboo in this world, an embodiment of death and fury itself.
“sit,” he ordered, breaking his gaze and motioning in front of him.
his words were in a refined tongue, the kind spoken by highborn royalty and nobles spoke in – those who were educated and understood things beyond the grasp of people like her. she obeyed, feeling the urge to be as well-spoken as possible.
she had never felt so small or so common in all her life.
there was an array of different foods on the table, each more richly presented than the next. elegant bowls held freshly cut fish, arranged to look like the petals of a flower. at the centre of the table sat a lacquered bowl of sekihan at the center of the table, the red bean rice a sharp contrast to the earthy tones of the pickled vegetables around it. mochi of all colors and shapes were delicately wrapped in oak leaves, and chopsticks of pearl and gold were laid beside each of their settings.
sukuna cleared his throat. “so, marriage.” she nodded silently, picking up a piece of mochi. he continued, “i’m assuming it was arranged.”
“yes. he-uh, arrived one day in the village, he was a merchant. my father and the nakodo approved, and that was it.”
he hummed thoughtfully, a fearsome blaze in his eyes. “and did you want this?”
dangerous territory, tread carefully.
“n-not really, but he seemed… kind.”
a flash of red fury crossed his face, and sukuna pursed his lips. “i see. is that what matters most to you, then – kindness?”
careful, careful, careful.
“well… i did not want to end up with a man who would hurt me.”
a dry chuckle. “and do you believe that i will?”
a flash of a memory – of a burrow, of shared tears and painful farewells.
never.
“no,” she replied firmly, picking up another piece of mochi and chewing.
he seemed to approve of her answer, watching as she continued to eat. “good.”
they were silent again, the only sounds coming from the distant chirping of birds and the gentle trickle of a fountain outside. sukuna’s smaller eyes remained fixed on her, while the rest of his attention was on his meal and sake, his expression intensely contemplative and serious. his earlier heat had subsided into a brooding stillness, and he seemed just as amazed as she was that they were finally in each other’s presence again.
she bit her lip before tepidly trying his nickname on her tongue again, “ryo?”
he stilled for a moment, his eyes glistening with a hint of vulnerability before it vanished, and then made a questioning noise.
“what exactly do you expect from me here?”
“you will receive an education, i will not allow you to remain illiterate. you will learn to read and write, and study the arts and poetry. that is all i ask in return.”
“in return for what?”
“for residing in my residence with me. you will not return to the mountains or the village, and you will never see your parents again.”
this was it.
her childhood dream of staying with sukuna was finally here. perhaps he had really felt her pulling on their red string, felt her desperation and fear, and had come to save her. he wasn’t entirely human, after all; maybe he could have sensed her from so far away, and known about that deep hole within her. and so, he had taken her away from it all, demanding only that she say goodbye to everything she had ever known.
but things were different now.
they weren’t little children anymore. there was a taste of change in the air – something tantalizing and liberating. their dynamics had shifted, whether they wanted it or not. adulthood had brought new possibilities that couldn’t have been there before, the kind that made her heart race and chest flutter.
in the way sukuna’s eyes flashed, she felt that he knew it too.
it was her fate after all, she had just been too young to comprehend it.
so be it.
“alright.”
༺ ✤ ༻
the ink was blacker than raven feathers.
drip! drip! drip!
as beautiful as the depth of midnight, it shouldn’t be wasted.
she bowed her head, pensively holding her brush. the words were right there on her fingertips, straight from the centre of her heart, but she didn’t know how to say them.
or rather, if she could say them correctly.
biting her lip, she lightly pressed her brush to the page, the words flowing out with every stroke. when she was done, she leaned back on her heels and looked expectantly at her teacher.
“your brush technique was incorrect,” uraume chided emotionlessly, their icy aura ever present. “but you were close. try it like this instead, see?”
sukuna’s second had been tasked with educating her and showing her the finer ways of noble life. under uraume’s tutelage, she learned to draw the beautiful curves of hiragana and the straight, angular lines of katakana. she was introduced to the golden literature of her country, where she delved into classic and more modern texts, and learned to appreciate the hidden depths beneath the surface of grand tales and poetry.
once, she had been jealous of uraume. it was unnerving to see how much confidence sukuna placed in the ambiguous and frosty figure, and it hurt to know he trusted someone other than her. but she soon came to realize that uraume’s sole desire was to serve sukuna, and sukuna harbored nothing for them other than respect that surely had been well earned.
“try it again,” uraume suggested, returning to their position behind her and watching over her shoulder as she picked up the brush once more.
moreover, uraume was neither cruel nor haughty about her illiteracy and never treated her like a lowborn. they always guided her with a gentle coldness and a detached tone of instruction. she wondered what they thought about the nature of her relationship with sukuna, and if perhaps uraume had ever been jealous of her. she liked to think they hadn’t been, and if they had, they never showed it or asked any questions. for that, she was grateful.
what she had with sukuna wasn’t something she could describe easily.
he was there now, one of his eyes watching the way her hands moved with the brush. it wasn’t unusual that he was present; sukuna often observed their lessons, seating himself a distance and quietly reading a book or scroll. he never lavished her with praise, such was not his nature, but offered more subtle compliments in her progress: a tilt of his head, a single nod, and a hum of approval.
she would be lying to herself if she said it didn’t thrill her to hold his attention.
they only grew closer as time went on, building new little routines with each other. every night after they dined together, sukuna would tap his fingers rhythmically on the low table, completely silent, as she either read poetry from a book or recited it from memory. these were moments of softness, sukuna's strange way of drawing closer her, as the red thread connecting them weaved them closer to each other with every passing night. his gratitude was silent too: a heavy hand on her head, a quick press of his fingers to her cheek, and a small smile as he left.
it was easy to imagine sukuna as changed in those moments, a regal lord always composed and calm.
but that wasn't the reality of the world.
she was frequently reminded of it.
"i need to go," he would suddenly say, abruptly pulling her from her focus.
she closed her book and peered up at him through her lashes. “where?”
sukuna smirked, a wild gleam in his eyes. “to quench my thirst.”
he would then disappear, but never for more than a few days at a time. she liked to hope that his brief absences were because he disliked leaving her for too long. when sukuna returned, he was like a predator satiated from the hunt – more at ease, prone to teasing and sending her into a shy fluster. she realized quickly that he was still as he had been when he was a boy; always acting upon his desires and impulses without a shred of restraint.
although, sukuna kept her well away from any glimpse of that side of him.
she was relieved to be spared from it. even though she had accepted his nature, she was far more content to remain his tether to a calmer side, always ready to pull him back into the peaceful river of soothing milk and honey that was her company. yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was all she would ever be to him.
she had to wait three years for the winds of romance to finally shift.
the day after her eighteenth birthday, sukuna began leaving things for her to find.
sometimes the gifts were small, such as delicate hairpins, vibrant silks, or rare fruits from distant lands. they would enjoy the fruits together, her laughter filling the room as she watched him scowl at their unfamiliar taste. other times, the gifts were more extravagant: a retinue of handmaidens to attend to her every need, opulent jūnihitoe crafted by the best artisans, the emperor’s most exquisite jewelry, and the rarest art.
but perhaps the most precious gift of all was his poetry.
she didn’t know why she had assumed sukuna had no taste for poetry. after all, he had ensured she studied it, and seemed to enjoy listening to her recite it. she had thought it was to encourage her to uphold the traditions of noble women studying the arts, to refine herself as a proper lady. given his impulsive nature, she merely thought he lacked the time and patience to write his own poems.
but oh, how he had a way with words.
it wasn’t in the more traditional styles she was used to reading, but it was uniquely sukuna’s. he was never one to follow the rules anyways. they had started off expressing the calming joy he felt in her company, with gentle musings about her being like a light summer rain or the soft morning glow of the sun. those early verses were lighthearted, designed to make her heart flutter with silly little butterflies.
and now?
now they could make her heart melt into a puddle of its own blood, making her body run hot with feverish, burning emotions.
with every poem she read, warmth would spread through her cheeks and chest, her bones shaking from the intensity of it all. it embarrassed her how obviously and hopelessly in love she felt. sukuna, however, was completely unruffled, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched her stumble over her words.
“any particular reason why you have that stupid smile on your face?” he’d tease, ostentatiously chewing on a piece of fruit.
she looked away petulantly, a slight pout forming on her lips. “stop it, ryo!”
it was blatantly obvious he savored this.
how could he possibly expect her to act normally around him after reading something like that? these poems were a gateway to his soul, a window straight through his eyes and into his heart. she could hardly contain herself any longer, and it was almost cruel that sukuna was keeping her in suspense for even a moment longer.
but did sukuna even want marriage?
he never liked being bound to anything, always pursuing whatever he desired whenever he wanted to. perhaps he wanted the benefits of courting her without ever becoming tied to her. she wasn’t sure if she could ever accept the idea of being his concubine. after all they had been through, it would crush her soul.
they were taking a stroll together in the gardens after one of her lessons, but the air was tense. sukuna stood unusually close to her, completely silent as they moved together, stopping occasionally and waiting as she admired certain flowers blooming. she tried hard not to be too flustered, and attempted to diffuse the palpable tension between them by talking about all sorts of things.
“oh, ryo! don't you think this flower is gorgeous?”
“hmm, yes. quite.”
“the weather is so pleasant for this time of year, isn't it?”
“yes it is.”
“look, the koi! aren’t they pretty?”
“for fish, sure.”
she gave up after that last attempt. it was obvious she wasn't going to get much out of sukuna today in terms of conversation – he seemed completely and utterly wound up.
they stopped underneath the shade of a tree, and she gracefully tucked in the layers of her clothes beneath her before sitting down. sukuna stood pensively beside the tree, his side profile solemn as he clenched and unclenched his fists. his movements were slow, methodical, almost like it was the only thing grounding him in that moment.
and then, in a flash, he was crouched right in front of her.
“i have something to say,” he announced, his voice like stone.
she swallowed thickly. “then say it.”
sukuna exhaled, and she heard the sound of his knuckles cracking and snapping before he continued, “i recognize that we two are… different in many ways. i have been bound to you from the moment i first laid eyes on you, and i will forever be yours.” – a sharp inhale followed by a shaky exhale – “however, while i may accept this, i understand that you might not outside the ties of marriage.”
this is it.
“you are the one good thing about my soul,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a vulnerable softness that shook her to her core. “please, say you will accept me?”
she didn’t hesitate for even a moment.
“i have always been yours, ryo, and i always will be.”
༺ ✤ ༻
love was infinite.
it transcended time and space, indifferent to who it dragged into its otherworldly domain, filled to the brim with whiteness and the saccharine scent of roses.
being ryomen sukuna’s wife meant crossing that threshold into another world, one that he had forced to turn into the brightest shade of red. his love was ferocious, nearly crippling in its intensity. loving him meant baring her heart to him, exposed and vulnerable, ready for him to consume it completely. he was a deprived man who had finally been given the key to her soul, and now he was able to come through and show her how deep his love for her coursed through in his veins.
“i want to bury myself into your skin,” he murmured into her ear, his arms wrapped around her bare body. “and settle into the spaces between your ribs.”
and yet, sukuna was tender too.
he would crave the moments of quiet, when it was just the two of them, whispering in the dark about how much she meant to him. wherever they were, a part of him was always touching her – whether it was his head on her shoulder as they sat in the garden, or pulling her onto his lap during her lessons. all the while, his eyes were memorising every little thing she did; the way she laughed, how she breathed, and every different sound and expression she made.
sukuna was immensely proud to be her husband, always devoted to providing for and protecting her.
she never wanted for a single thing.
and yet, he was still larger than life, a force of strife and bloodlust.
she knew what sort of reputation he had, that he was something of a living legend. there was no doubt that history would remember his name, spitting on it and sending shivers down people's spines at the mere mention of it.
“the king of curses,” uraume revealed to her one day, a hint of pride in her voice. “that is what the sorcerers call him.”
and that title did not come without a challenge.
on an unassuming autumn morning, sukuna abruptly interrupted one of her lessons. “i must go,” he said abruptly, clutching his trident like a god of old, a hint of glee in his words. “the fushigawa clan must be brought to heel.”
and heel they must have.
for when he returned, sukuna's face had split into two, with a mouth comfortably situated at his midriff. she knew then that unspeakable atrocities must have been committed, because her husband’s body did not evolve unless he had killed and sinned in the most horrific ways possible.
sukuna averted his gaze from her, his skin drenched in blood that was not his own. `'you cannot love me like this."
“and yet,” she whispered, standing on her toes and cupping his bloodied cheekbones. “i still do.”
she had never expected his true nature to change once they were married. to deny it was to deny him – and his love for her. as long as he kept her far from the sight of it, what more could she ask for?
in those moments, it was easy to forget how quickly darkness could overwhelm a fire.
the twilight moon cast a gentle light as a pleasant breeze wafted through the air, brushing against her cheek in a tender caress. it was one of those quiet, soft evenings, where the world slowed down just enough for husband and wife to savor each other’s company. they sat by the koi pond, watching as the silk ribbons of gold and white fins traced elegant patterns in the water. sukuna’s head rested on her lap, a pair of his eyes closed, as she gently stroked his hair.
nothing was out of the ordinary.
save for the strange man with starlight hair strolling towards them.
her husband sat up, and they both turned to watch the man approach them. the stranger carried the aura of a man assured in his own destiny, radiating confidence in the self-righteousness of the path he was on. when he lifted his head and met her gaze, she couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of his eyes, which held a beauty that well surpassed even that of the heavens above.
she knew then that this was no normal man.
“you were stupid to come here,” sukuna huffed, barely sparing the man a glance as he helped her to her feet. “i prefer not to kill in front of my wife.”
“and yet, you will die all the same,” the man retorted, his hand glowing with a threatening iridescent aquamarine light.
boom!
there was a deafening thunderclap, followed by the loud creaking and crashing of tumbling wood. before she could blink again, she found herself somewhere far from their home, surrounded by trees and nature that seemed to stretch for miles. her husband’s expression was calm, a perfectly still lake amidst the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions inside her.
sukuna softly touched her cheek. “this will all be over soon, my love.”
he pressed a tender kiss to her brow.
don’t leave me, please.
and then, he was gone.
a strong fear settled in the pit of her stomach amidst the eerie silence. she flinched each time the sky lit up in hues of red and blue, once with purple, and she could have sworn that she heard the sound of her husband’s untamed glee carried on the wind. every rustle of the trees set her teeth on edge, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself as the coldness of the night began to settle in.
snap!
she whirled around.
another stranger emerged, this time with hair as black as the night. shadows pooled beneath his feet, ominous snarling and snapping noises of hounds coming from its depths. with a sharp gesture, the man hushed and silenced the shadows, and the hounds ceased to be. he tilted his head curiously at her, as if he couldn’t fathom why she was here alone in this place.
but what struck her about him were his eyes — they were as green as the forests in the mountains.
it made her strangely homesick.
“my husband will never stop hunting you for this,” she finally said coolly, despite the terror coursing in her blood.
“you think that terrifies me?” he scoffed, instantly shattering the image of warmth she thought he had. “no matter what, history will forever remember as the sorcerers who brought the king of curses to his knees.”
a silver blade gleamed wickedly as the man grinned maliciously.
“meanwhile, you are irrelevant.”
she didn't say a word, understanding all to well what was about to happen and why.
would death be kind?
she shook her head, turning away from the man and looking up at the crimson twilight sky, unwilling to face the man or the cruel blade that was to be her end.
(a drop of blood in a firestorm, a scream of agony)
it doesn’t matter, so long as sukuna cannot feel it.
༺ ✤ ༻
death was abysmally cruel.
ryomen sukuna once believed that it would have given him the sweet relief he always craved deep down – something that would have finally extinguished the ceaseless fire blazing in his veins. it was a release he had always longed for, yearned for, and thought he had always been ready for.
especially when the curse, kenjaku, found him suffering amidst the wreckage of his vengeful rampage for the love that had been stolen from him.
“you had your chance, once,” the curse purred, his forehead stitches starkly contrasting with the pallor of the body he had taken. “but you knew that already.”
no, death had hurt him beyond measure.
it was a hailstorm of ice and sleet, beating down at him, surely dousing his fire, but so very slowly. even though his memory now was hazy at the best of times, he would always remember that pain. how he smashed and ground his teeth together, silent as stone as kenjaku worked to preserve his essence into every one of his fingers, because he refused to cry again.
all sukuna could remember was pain.
and her.
he would always remember her – the pain of loving her, and the pain of losing her.
and how he cried for the first and last time when he saw her crumpled body lying there in that forest. how he wanted nothing more than to hold her bones in his arms for the rest of time, to die right there and then with her, and let their skeletons be burned into ash together.
love had made him sick with desire, with hate, with yearning.
it terrified him.
because ryomen sukuna did not like to feel.
he then swore to himself that he would never repeat his mistakes. love was never to be touched again, and he would burn the world before it had the chance to hurt him once more.
and finally, here sukuna was, reborn and made anew, ready to enact that vow.
only, he hadn’t planned on being stuck inside this miserable, pretentious annoying brat.
no matter, this isn’t permanent.
“how you feelin there, yuji?” asked satoru gojo in an irritatingly perky voice.
sukuna’s vessel rubbed his chest tentatively. “i guess it kinda hurts a litt- ow! okay, never mind, it hurts a lot.”
satoru smiled. “well, lucky for you, i know someone who can help with that.”
sukuna rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath. oh, how he wanted to rip the smirk right off his face.
first, i’ll tear you–
a light laugh trickled in from just outside the door.
sukuna froze.
he knew that laugh.
the brat turned around, and through him, ryomen sukuna saw what he had thought he lost a millennium ago.
for a moment, there was nothing but white noise.
sukuna was entranced, captivated by the way her lips moved, the graceful way her figure leaned against the doorframe, and how every single feature of her face had remained unchanged and untouched despite all the time that had passed.
is this some sort of joke?
“ok yuji,” she said warmly, a kind smile on her face as she placed a hand on his chest. “this won’t hurt a bit.”
sukuna felt the ghost of her hand touching his own skin, familiar and warm, and he gripped his throne of bones tightly.
yuji frowned. “will it hurt you?”
“oh no, don’t worry about me. i can absorb as much physical pain as i want without feeling any of it myself.”
“that’s so cool! but, do you really not feel anything at all?”
she bit her lip, an ancient sadness in her young eyes. “well… sometimes i go blind for a while, and all i can see is the color red.”
“what? hell no, what if you go blind because of me? no way.”
yuji shied away from her touch, and she reached out to grasp his hand.
“no, i promise i won’t!” she practically begged. “please. yuji. i–something happens when i go blind, like something is trying to show me what’s missing inside me, and i need to find out what it is.”
"treat me right, i'm still a good man's daughter."
content: ellie x fem!reader, angst, cheating, making out, heavy petting???, no comfort, mentions of panic attacks and slight dissociation.
note: it's 1am and i'm so tired so watch me not proofread this. also, there might not be a part two because i don't know what i'd do for it so read this with that in mind. listen to andromeda by weyes blood for a better read!
she was kissing her. she was kissing her and she was enjoying it by the looks. you know because she's doing all the things she does when kissing you. there's a hand in her dark hair and another on her waist as she pulls the girl closer to her harshly. her fingers grip the loose strands harder in attempt to deepen the kiss and the act has your stomach twisting into all sorts of knots.
you feel your cheeks burn and hour throat heat up with flooding anguish when ellie pulls away and whispers to the girl, her lips reading words like "you're" and "fucking pretty" before she's connecting their lips again without another thought. not another thought of you and certainly not another thought of your relationship.
ellie backs her into a wall, cornering her by the stairs where no one can see them but you catch it all. you catch the slight teasing bite the girl gives to ellie's lips and the smile she gives in return, playfully squeezing her waist beneath her shirt.
you recognize the difference in your heart rate when labored breaths start forcing their way from your lungs and out your lips. you turn away deciding you've seen more than enough and make your way to the kitchen that's packed enough for no one to notice the panic and pain that paints your face like a mask. the air is tight and hot leaving you panting and choking out sobs, hands reaching for the counter for some type of support.
the cold marble is the only sign that you're alive and real at the moment, mind struggling to comprehend what's going on and why you're feeling the way you do.
you start identifying certain sounds and things you can see in attempt to ease you from your panicked state but flashes of her knee pressing between her legs flicked through your mind like a tv show, pushing you further into your current state of distress.
"y/n? honey, what's wrong?? talk to me, love." a pair of hands latch onto your wrists and quickly turns you around causing your head to spin wildly. you see dark hair and recognize the person as dina which leaves you sobbing knowing ellie didn't care enough to notice that you're here tonight.
"baby what's wrong? did you drink something?" you hate the concern from someone who isn't the person you need it to be. dina continued to bombard you with questions and inquires about your situation and what you've been up to to lead to this moment, but you can only sob openly as you catch a glimpse of ellie and the girl from the corners of your eye.
"i'm gonna get ell-"
"NO! no no don't- i don't need ell- i don't need her. i need- i need-"
dina's eyes are wide with cautiousness, slowly backing away from you to give you some space as she finally realizes the gravity of your predicament.
"try and breathe for me. in." you take a trembling breath in. "release." you breathe out another cry.
"fuck!" dina swears, running a stressed hand through her hair before dragging you from the kitchen and through the living room where you close your eyes in order to avoid getting a look at your girlfriend's infidelity.
you only open your eyes when a gust of fresh wind hits your face, blowing strands of tear soaked hair from your face and into the air.
"i saw her. i'm so sorry, y/n." you only stare forward with this feeling of dread and nothingness, feeling as if you've cried all emotion out to the point where emptiness was the only thing to feel.
"wanna go home."
ellie updates you around 2:30am with a message about her arrival at her house two blocks away, stating that she had fun paired with a goodnight message and an 'i love you'.
you read it and tossed your phone aside, staring blankly at your ceiling as if it'd open up and tell you how to solve this problem. maybe tell you why things are the way they are.
knock knock.
"baby girl?" you dad calls from the other side of the egg white door littered with band and movie posters.
you croak out a short answer. "yes?"
"you alright in there? heard something that sounded like cryin'." his heavy southern accent makes his concern prominent, voice laced with worry as a father would if his daughter walked through the halls sniffling and crying.
the comforting voice of your father has you huffing and puffing trying to control the oncoming train of weeping, strong and powerful as if you hadn't cried not a single time tonight.
your dad wastes no time in opening the door, speeding over to your bed to take you in his arms for a hug. "daddy's here, baby girl. don't you cry." his strong arms crush you closer to him, muffling your wails with his t-shirt that he wears for bed.
"is it ellie?" her name alone makes you tremble with sadness, images of her and the dark haired girl plastered on your brain like a missing poster for you to see with every corner you turn.
you wonder what she'll say when you tell her you decided to go and you were there to watch her cheat on you as if your relationship was nothing but a joke to her.
you wonder if she feels guilty for what she's done. if she lays awake tonight regretting her decisions knowing you gave her everything you could have ever given the person you loved.
you wonder if she'll cry or if she'll dismiss you, ending your relationship entirely because she cares that little.
you spend the rest of your night in your father's arms, mourning a relationship that has yet to end.
when you wake up it's to the smell of fresh bacon and pancakes, the aroma floating through the air brings a second of joy before the remembrance begins and you're reminded of last night's events.
you don't cry, but you feel the dull ache in your chest that reminds you that it's very much real and the past several hours were not a dream but a living nightmare.
you don't dare to glance in the mirror when you walk to your bathroom already knowing that you look horrible from the many hours spent crying.
you think about her while you shower, as you brush your teeth, and even when you get dressed. you don't want to but with any waking thought, it starts to her inevitably.
you check your phone to see no messages from her and a few from dina checking in on you to see how you're doing. you don't answer.
"baby girl?" you father hollers from downstairs, most likely hearing the shower run to know you're awake and ready to eat.
you drag yourself downstairs, mind still on her with every step you take and suddenly being awake is more exhausting then it's ever been.
"hungover?" he jokes at the sight of you, sliding you a cup of iced water and a plate of various breakfast foods that make your stomach growl angrily at the lack of food it's received in the last eight hours.
"a little. more worried about the fact that i got cheated on though." you joke back with a humorless laugh. your father frowns from across the table, shaking his head at the idea of his little girl going through her first heartbreak with a girl he wore would do anytning to protect her.
"gonna kill er'. tie her by her feet and leave her for the coyotes, ya hear me?" the seriousness on his face makes you chuckle knowing full and well that he means every word.
"she'd still have a better time than i'm having."
the rest of breakfast is silent and so is it as you clear the table, leaving the dishes in the seat for your dad to clean as he insisted.
ding.
ding.
ding.
your heart rate picks up at the sound of your phone pinging knowing there's even a possibility that ellie is tying to communicate with you.
you hesitantly lift the phone, turning it over to unlock it before reading the messages that are indeed from her.
goodmorning lover
going to the skate park today
wanna come?
the fucking nerve. you roll your eyes, now angry at her audacity, leaving the message on read before walking back upstairs to your bedroom.
you sit on your bed and think. you think about any warning signs that could have prepared you for this moment and most importantly, anything that could excuse her actions but you come up with nothing because what she's done is simply inexcusable.
you ask yourself things like "how long" or "how many times". there's been multiple occasions where you two have spent your weekends doing separate things and your only thought after last night is about the possibility of all of those moments being spent being unfaithful.
you feel shame, embarrassment, and anger. shame because you're now the girl everyone will pity, embarrassment because you said nothing to her in the moment, and anger because there was something to be said about in the first place.
you don't know how you'll go about this issue. while you know you can't stay silent, it's not exactly easy to confront her about something so serious.
there's so many devastate thoughts and emotions rolling into a big ball that sits heavy in your heart, weighing your entire life down.
almost three years you spent with this girl, genuinely happy you felt and you'd like to think she felt the same way. that's why you can't seem to understand why she'd go and do what she did. it had to be out of her own selfishness because you'd never given her a reason to seek out anything in another that she didn't already have access to from you.
love, sex, affection, etc. you gave her your all.
you can still remember the first time you ever spoke to her, back in your senior year of high school you first noticed the very pretty and one of the only open lesbians in your school. you were pretty proud of your sexuality and yourself as well and knew making a move would be no trouble.
from the moment you spoke to each other, you felt such intense likeliness for one another and it just never faded out, even in your sophomore year of college.
you just knew that you'd be together forever, but now you realize that was all just hopeful wishing and not something that was certain.
as time ticks away you find yourself scrolling through your camera roll, looking back on the simple times with your girlfriend, when things were easy and you were sure of the love you felt present.
there's videos of her fast asleep on your chest, her chasing you around your house, and just her making silly faces into the camera before demanding the video be stopped because it's been too long.
there's pictures of her tucking flowers between strand of your hair, her kissing your cheeks, and images of her posing in your clothes claiming that she was in her 'model era'.
so perfect things were. so perfect she was.
ding.
you unintentionally click on the message when trying to slide it off of your screen, thanking god it wasn't ellie, but the two messages before you were so much worse.
hey girly, didn't know she had a girlfriend but this is from last month. we've been messing around since then :( im so sorry
and an image of ellie tucked between the same dark haired girl's arms seeping soundly sits on your screen before you.
summary: you see satoru as if he's draped in a veil of light, unaware of the shadows that cling to the one you cherish — its a war between the whispers of his past, and the promises of a future with you, a tug-of-war where neither side wins.
warnings: angst, no comfort. just the way i like it. no dialogue, just feels and me trying to be a poet. satoru is going through it. no part 2 (maybe)
a/n: erm idk the word count bc i wrote this in my notes. i'm scared to post this bc i know most people, including myself, prefer fics with plots and dialogue , but like guysss i just wanna be sad and make you guys sad with me so i feel better. anyways don't forget to like and reblog if you liked this even a tiny bit :p
when you first met satoru the first thing you noticed was the color of his hair, white like the first breath of snowflakes, comparable to something pure and quiet.
the second thing you noticed were his eyes. the color of a robin's egg waiting, itching to crack, so fragile, yet so much potential.
lastly, but certainly not least, his hands. you'd clumsily stumbled over a comically large crack imbedded into the concrete sidewalk you had been rushing down after waking up a few minutes too late. and yes, you would agree that the whole scene of you crashing into his chest as he gracefully stopped you from falling face first into the hard, man-made material might've been a bit cliche. that is if you weren't so focused on his steady hands gripping the sides of your waist, of course.
they were steady like the roots of an ancient tree, evoking a sense of grounded ness and resilience. untroubled like the glide of a hawk in flight, so graceful and so controlled even when in motion.
you think that things are always prettier when you know you are seeing them for the first time.
a year and a half later, satoru lies still as the earth's breath beneath the hush of night, nothing to see but a silhouette etched against the quiet fabric of darkness. the mattress, as well as you, cradles him, a silent promise of rest, but relaxation doesn't come as easy for him.
his eyes, sharp as steel, remain unclosed, piercing the darkness in search of solace. he finds it laying next to him instead.
your comfort hovers like a distant star, but he doesn't dare reach out for you, fearing his hands may taint your light. inwardly, he shrinks.
the softness of said comfort seems a betrayal, as if accepting it would unravel the carefully woven threads of his burdens, exposed for you to see, for you to bear.
so he slips out of bed, choosing the familiar chill of loneliness. 'your warmth belongs to those who deserve it' he thinks, not to the wound he carries within.
when morning seeps through the curtains like a reluctant whisper, spreading across the the empty spot of your shared bed where warmth once lingered, you instantly feel emptied. you find yourself gasping for the presence that fills that hole, like searching the sky for a vanished star.
and when you walk into the kitchen that is absent of the smell of breakfast or brewing coffee, you know.
you learn that the shade of satoru's hair was something more akin to the ancient bones of a giant, hinting at something timeless and strong, too strong for you to ever comprehend.
his eyes now more similar to the pulse of a starless sky; cold, powerful, and ancient he was.
and then you realize his hands that were steady with calmness were actually steady as the pressure of a storm about to break, holding everything in before unleashing it's fury.

regretful. blind. selfish.
not him, but you. you hate yourself in that moment. you hate yourself for not taking notice of his inner struggles, his silent battles fought in the corridors of his mind.
if you'd caught sight of the smooth and unblemished note he'd left on your bedside table, you would know that he never blamed you for anything as he loved you, through the weight that pressed on his chest and past the confessions locked behind his lips, because just when he felt peace was out of reach, you met him there instead, but time was dangerous. it's a dangerous dance where each step leads further from the shore, further from you.
you wish you knew that things were always prettier when you know you are seeing them for the last time.
synopsis : burdened by the betrayal of your lover's affair, you meet a mysterious man with the strangest demeanor that beholds a scar on his right wrist and has the most beautiful, crystalline eyes. his vulnerability and sincerity stir an emotion you've long forgotten, challenging you to remember who this man exactly was in your past.
content : highly unedited due to wc. mdni. smut. she/her pronouns. afab!/fem reader. reader is smaller than gojo. mentions of suicide, death, miscarriage, and blood. infidelity. gojo has yāndere tendencies. cúnnilingus. creampíe. squirting. unprotected séx. car séx. pet names (princess, angel, baby, sweetheart). fingering. deep thrōating. missionary. manhandling. overstim. mention of baby trapping ? male masturbation. emotional/verbal abuse. mentions of audio/video recordings. Gojo uses a fake name. angst but a happy ending ◡̈ heavily inspired by ‘tears on a withered flower.’ especially with the big plot points/dialogue.
wc : 25k.... i should've split this into multiple parts.... but decided to just put it into one whole post. if it's too much for you, it's written so you can read it in multiple parts ◡̈
from ae : it's been so long since I've written anything... so I hope you guys can enjoy . love y'all !! header @/MJJ_0503 on twt
p.s. : i will not accept any slandering of the reader. if you do, I'll block you. Not all readers need to be boss ladies and independent. it's fictional writing, so become the character.
Grandma used to tell you stories about the demons that lurk at night. She would bewitchingly share in a calm voice, where even the hottest of summers felt cold during those darkest of nights whenever she told this story with her frail fingers brushing against your cheeks as you stayed hidden under the blankets.
The Devil’s hours.
“They wait for their next victim in the dark,” she warned, her face devoid of playful gestures, yet her lips threatened to twitch when she witnessed your facade flood with a multitude of expressive emotions, “they wait just for the right time for people to become weak, and it’s only then…!” she would startle you, always with the same threat of tickles and peppers of kisses.
“They’ll devour and spit out the bones of any disobedient children that don’t listen to their Obachan,” pinching your nose before placing a soft goodnight kiss on your forehead, “so young lady, I hope I don’t hear of any silly business during the night coming from your room.”
“But Obachan, I always listen to you!” cheerfully retaliating with only your face peeping through the blankets, your small hands grasping against the edge of the fabric.
“Of course, you do, my sweet pea,” your grandma's voice slowly faded, “never trust the devil —”
A distant memory dulled through your thoughts as you heard a familiar ring.
Despite being years since you’ve last heard such a tale, you should’ve known getting a text at 2:37 am never meant any good — it was called the devil’s hours for a reason.
A sixth sense? Or was it your poor intuition?
The whiplash of anxiety that crept through your bones the minute you heard your phone buzz, immediately woke you from any intent of possibly sleeping.
But you guessed it couldn’t be so bad to open it. Demons were nothing but folklore, an urban legend the adults believed.
But… Grandma was never wrong.
And through your ignorance, that night you were faced with three misfortunes.
First, the bright light of your phone burned into your pupils, almost making it seem as if what was your deemed punishment to witness such a scene.
Second.
“Hanako,” a familiar voice moaned out, gripping her body with his face caved into her neck, clinging onto her as if she was his lifeline — his refuge.
You could hear the sinful slapping of their sweaty skin brewing a crimson red as their naked bodies linked as one.
You can almost see the sweat dripping down his temple, his hot breath fanning over her face as her feet pushed his hips further down into her body, his throbbing cock filling her to the core.
It seemed too natural for this to have been any mistake. You wonder if he wore the cologne you’ve bought him, yet she was the one to inhale the scent of your man at night. The red claw marks of her nails scratching against his muscular back, gripping onto his heated body as his cock crashed into her repeatedly in impactful motions, her voluptuous mounds bouncing with each desperate thrust of that man — your fiance.
Your boyfriend embarrassingly in the talks of hopefully getting married in the next year when you’ve paid all his debt, fucking another girl with desperate grunts and needy moans. Though grainy you can see his ignorance of being filmed when he sobs out her name.
And there, clearly visible was her face smiling, taunting as she placed a mocking kiss on his shoulder, the edges of her swollen lips with lipstick smeared turned upward with a lascivious smile, her nimble fingers combing through his hair as she whispered into his ear,
“You’re mine, baby, harder!”
You should’ve known nothing good comes out of the devil’s hour. Approximately around this time was when legend states the devil roams to haunt its prey, gathering weak souls to harvest and devour during the quietest of nights.
“Fuck you feel so good,” he groaned into her neck, biting at her skin as Hanako looked straight into the camera, “‘m close.”
Maybe he was in search of you — a pawn prepped for the demon himself to consume.
While she, as her name resounds, bloomed like a flower, shamelessly opening up herself to whom you supposed was your man.
“feels so good,” her voice elevated in pitch, her body bruised and marked while her breasts bounced with every stroke of your lover’s cock inside her, pushing her tight walls to embrace the length of your man, “you’re so big Kōji,” she bewitchingly purred.
Yes, because surely nothing good comes from receiving a text at this time of day. With your heart thumping in your chest while your hands shake from the horror that you’ve just seen. Your world completely shattering at the crack of dawn.
A text at 2:37 A.M from an unknown number.
It’s never wise to be awake during the devil’s hours.
Force yourself to close your eyes at the least, and maybe the demons won’t rob you of your subconscious.
For the demons lurk in the dark, voraciously starving for their next meal, reeling you into his possessions to harvest for himself.
Ding!
You hoped for an answer to this debauchery, anything to save you from this mess.
But there you receive your last misfortune in the form of a mysterious man and a text.
From: Satoru.
Just ended work ~
See you tomorrow at the bar, angel.
—- months prior.
Your lids felt heavy. Each step up to your boss’s office felt tortuous from the lack of sleep you’ve gotten the past couple of nights. It didn’t help that your fiance hadn’t come home the night prior, nor were you getting any thoughtful response outside of his blunt answers of “busy” or “can’t talk.”
“He’s probably busy,” you reassured yourself, despite the tickling of uneasiness that energetically synergized in your heart, making you feel nauseous, as you scrolled through your last messages with him, “yea, he’s just busy.” You tried comforting yourself — a skill you’ve mastered over the lonesome years.
Kōji Nakamura, your boyfriend of thirteen years, got hired into an established company a couple of months back. It wouldn’t be out of the norm for the new hire to be front-loaded with new tasks and responsibilities, trying to learn the job while impressing his coworkers and higher-ups, attending late company dinners to pour liquor for his boss.
Slightly jolting when you felt your phone vibrate, a short wave of expectation that threatens your mind only for disappointment to shatter all existence of hope when the sender was from anyone but him.
From: Akiyama-san
Hello dear! No need to come in today!
Someone has bought out the whole motel for the night!
I’ll manage the night, so rest up.
To: Akiyama-San
No, it’s okay! I’ll still fulfill my shift —
And before you could respond you received another text from her.
From: Akiyama-San
You’ll still be paid so don’t worry.
“Guess this is good,” you muttered under your breath as you continue your way, quickly responding to the text with a thank you, “Kōji usually comes home early today,” you sighed. Your chest felt heavy, a dull ache that resonated deeply inside from somewhere vacant and dismissed, “M-maybe I can make his favorite dish and surprise him.”
You nervously typed out, carefully curating a message that wasn’t too clingy, yet showed how much you’ve missed him — needed him.
To: My Kōji.
Will you be home for dinner today?
Miss you…
Maybe tonight you could finally confess; surely, he’ll understand. He's always wanted —
“Dress up a little, yea?” Kōji boringly berated you as he examined your clothes, giving you a moment of attention as he lied in front of the television.
“I just don’t have much,” you softly confessed, folding up his new undergarments while sitting on the floor to organize your boyfriend’s clothes.
“You know, guys don’t like it when their women wear shirts that are all stretched out and old-fashioned? Have some decency, will you? It’s embarrassing.”
“What’s wrong with what I have?” you questioned, now used to the cold banter of your fiance, “w-we just don’t have that type of leisure, Kōji…”
“There you go again bringing down the mood,” Kōji disapprovingly sighed, his attention back to the screen, “read the room, it’s not like you’re the only one working,” he murmured just loud enough for you to hear.
Your finger hovered over the send button, biting your lip as you contemplated, your heart rate ricocheting in your chest wondering if he, too, was awaiting your message, or if he’d reprimand you for bothering him while he was busy at work.
You hoped Kōji would come early to simply be with you, for today was rather a sensitive day. A day where it feels more gloomy and weathered than usual, the type of day that pulls you down and strips you of any dignity — left to crawl on the dirt and succumb to the wounds of an unfair world.
Your mind wanders to the last memory of the photo lay hidden in a box — a secret between you and angels that took such sacred possession from you, a tale Kōji has yet to find out.
You didn’t have the leisure to think further when your boss interrupted your inner dilemma.
“Good morning,” he welcomed you in, chuckling, “don’t just stand there, come, come and sit.”
Quickly turning off your phone and stuffing it into your pocket, you figured you could think about it later.
“Ah my apologies,” you murmured, ashamed your boss might assume negatively of your character for standing outside his door without quickly alerting him, “Good morning Ishihara-San,” you quietly sat on the couch, “is there a reason why you needed to see me, sir?”
“Ah yes,” Ishihara-San took a sip of his coffee, “I need you to do me a favor,” he let down his cup as his eyes gleamed with hope, “Not particularly a favor, but a duty?” Ishihara-San formed a crooked smile, “There’s been a request from a possible investor that he meet with someone from our company.”
You were confused as to why that had to do anything with you because your work generally consisted of inputting data, making copies for meetings, and brewing coffee for your project lead.
“Sorry sir, I’m having a hard time following why you would need to consult with me over this, there are many qualified —”
“Well… the thing is,” your boss crossed his legs and leaned back with a gentle smile, “he wants you.”
“M-me?” skeptical of such truth, weighing on the side that your boss probably heard wrong, “Are you sure, sir? I’m not one to know much — ”
“Very,” he grinned, “he was very clear about it.”
“Well, I’m sorry to say but I won’t be able to commit to such an agreement tonight,” quickly looking down as you tightened the nervous grip of your palms, “I have a prior engagement,” you solemnly confessed.
“Is it because of your part-time job?” Your boss bluntly questioned, “If that’s the issue then no need to worry, he stated you’ll be compensated generously for your time.”
“No no, not today sir,” you smiled, “I just wanted to do something nice for my fiance,” you cracked a nervous smile, rubbing your thumbs together as a measure of self reassurance.
“Ah, I see… Well,” exhaling a long breath, “that can’t be helped —” his phone vibrated on the coffee table, illuminating a contact name that you failed to see.
Immediately grasping hold of his phone, “If you’ll give me a second,” his expression eased with what he’d read, “well, it must be your lucky day,” your boss hummed, quickly standing up, making his way over to you. “The investor pushed forward the time, so if you go now, it’ll give you plenty of time to have your date with Kōji-san.”
“S-sir!” Your boss was unwilling to hear it as he pushed you out of his office, and gave a supportive squeeze to your shoulders.
“I’d advise you to go now, don’t want to keep our guest waiting!”
“Who is it that I’m supposed to meet?” you quickly asked, shocked at the quick your boss was to kick you out.
“He’ll find you.” Was all the advise he gave you before sending you off.
And that’s how you end up walking up to a dimly lit bar, on a Wednesday afternoon at the center of Tokyo’s metropolitan area. It was close to the flower shop that you worked at during the weekends, and a few blocks down from the motel you were supposed to spend the night working at. It was oddly strange to come across such a place since you never had the leisure to look beyond the steps that you took ahead for work.
“The map says this is the place,” you murmured, looking up at the sophisticated restaurant sign that illuminated brightly, which contrasted your somber, drained expression. The world looked beautiful, foreign outside your scope of reality. You immediately felt out of touch, isolated and lonely.
The atmosphere itself felt expensive with its polished furniture and reclusive dining options for those in the upper echelon, and it certainly didn’t feel comfortable walking in with your mundane articles of clothing that dampened your features compared to those who dressed eloquently beside you.
You normally didn’t wear much makeup, nor doused yourself in perfume. Living leisurely was a luxury for you. Especially when there was a mountainous amount of debt that’s been accruing interest with each breathing moment.
Everything was shattered — dishes, cups, the beloved lamp that you’ve cautiously stored as your grandmother’s loom laid barren on the floor, lifeless yet chaotic.
You didn’t even have the energy to cry, or the courage to breathe yet tears streamed down your face as you slumped to the floor from the recent distress of loansharks rummaging through your shared apartment, breaking anything and everything they came across.
By default his arms tightly weaved around your stomach, his shaky breath reassuring you as he shamelessly hid his face into the crook of your neck – he too shaken from the abrupt mayhem witnessed not only but five minutes ago.
“I’m sorry, baby,” his voice felt shaky under his breath, “i’m so so sorry,” he repeatedly confessed as you woefully cried in your distress.
… “When we pay this off,” his tears pooled on your shoulder, “let’s get married, yea? I promise… I’ll make you happy.”
That was already five years ago you mindlessly thought while scanning the room, looking for the stranger that you had to accompany for a possible business investment while absentmindedly touching your ring finger still vacant of any promise of marriage.
“Find me?” you questioned your boss’s words, “how does he know me?”
You wondered who this person could be that they were adamant that it had to be you. Was it a past acquaintance? No, you didn’t know anyone in such authority, albeit someone powerful enough to invest money into a company.
Or was it a debt collector? No… they haven’t been showing up since you’ve been paying them promptly.
Maybe it was some old freak that you encountered at work? You come across those occasionally. Asking for sexual favors while drunk, when all you’re paid to do was assign them a motel room and hand them the key, wishing them a good night.
The job paid well, and Akiyama-san was a nice older lady. You were in no circumstance to contemplate if a job was worth sticking through or not when there was a pile of debt to be paid by the end of each month.
You best decided it would be better to keep your guards up, whoever it was… he wasn’t someone to be trusted.
“Found you,” a deep voice whispered behind you.
Quickly turning your head to see a white haired man, looking at you through his sunglasses, the hint of his cologne was hypnotizing.
“My,” his voice was sultry and enticing, like a predator luring in his prey, looming from the heights as you flinched at the sudden attention, his face dangerously close to yours, “you’re even more beautiful up close,” the stranger whispered, his eyes landing to your lips.
“Excuse me?” you fastidiously grasped hold of your ear in shock from the impending behavior of this odd stranger.
“My apologies, I didn’t intend to scare my future business partner,” he smiled, still craning down to meet your height as his face level with yours, his cerulean eyes mildly covered by his sunglasses as he scanned your face,, “let’s just say I like pretty things.” his canines sparkled under the light.
You looked up, immediately locking with his eyes, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest — intense yet soft lazuline and deep, an abyss filled with wonders, tempting you into it. There was something oddly familiar in those eyes that you couldn’t quite pinpoint as he stared back at you, it held something that you couldn’t understand.
Taking a step back, unable to hold eye contact with such intensity as you clutched your chest, you held out your hand to properly introduce yourself. This is work you reminded yourself of. Ishihara-san would be displeased if I was rude to a potential asset to the company.
“Hello, I’m —”
“Acting so formal,” the man plopped down on the counter seat, his veinous forearms showing with his shirt properly buttoned to his elbow, propped out on the edge under his large coat, “sit, I don’t bite.”
Strange. He was most definitely unusual.
“If you’ll excuse me,” you softly stated before carefully sitting next to the man, quickly noticing his features.
He was big — heads taller than you. His stature was prominent, more defined than a models when he simply wore a black dress shirt with a couple of buttons undone, black slacks slightly more fitting on his thighs with a belt that accentuated his thin waist, an expensive-looking watch with shoes perfectly buffed.
His hair was anything you’ve seen. White with a shine that made it obliterating graceful, tempting to run your hands through, the polish slightly undone to create a lightly distressed look, yet still exquisitely showed his forehead.
He was probably in his 30s, yet he could outperform any man in their prime with the stature and face card that he’s got.
But his eyes, you couldn’t get yourself to think outside of the deep depth of power his eyes relayed. It was as if you were the one missing the piece, while he, a total stranger, knew everything there was to be about you. And you noticed, the scar under his right wrist probably feigned a deep, dark memory for him that pained your heart for this stranger.
But again, this was solely business.
“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, “just to make sure…” your heart still pounded, “are you the one Ishihara-san told me about?”
“Depends on what he’s told you about,” he lightly hummed, a small smile forming on his glossy lips.
“That you were looking to invest in our company?”
“An investment you say,” he chuckled as he turned his body around to face you, his cheeks resting on his palm, “well… I guess, you can say that.”
“What do you mean —”
“Yamakage,” he cut you off to introduce himself, “Satoru, if you’d like to get more personal, I wouldn’t mind,” he flirted.
Responding with heat to your cheeks, you gave him your name despite unknowing how to correctly respond to his proactive engagement of flirting in a business meeting, “Nice to meet you, Yamakage-san.”
“Yeah, I already know. It’s pretty,” he admitted. His innocuous tone felt something more as if he was agreeing at the foreknowledge of your name, or if he was simply playing with you, you weren’t sure. “Your name, it’s pretty.”
You couldn’t brush off the fact he felt so familiar, like a lost acquaintance that you should remember. Like a faint memory, his presence teased your senses.
“H-How do you know my name?” you found the courage to ask, quickly embarrassed at the question when Ishihara-san most likely informed him of his employee’s name, “ah I’m sorry for the stupid question… Ishihara-san probably told you.”
“I’m hurt,” Satoru pouted, a faint tease to his voice as he nonchalantly stared at you, “that you don’t remember me.”
“Have we met before?” you cautiously asked, worried that you’d upset him, possibly bearing a hindrance to the business deal.
“Of course,” he sighed, stretching out his long legs, caging your seated form as he easily scooted you closer in, “many times, in fact.” Again, whether it was a habit of his to speak to people so intimately, staring deep into their eyes, it was a fact that he was dangerously too close.
“‘M sorry,” you murmured, shy from the intensity of his eyes, “But I don’t seem to remember —”
You saw his eyes stop at a certain area of your face as you spoke, his gaze shortly fixated on the small scar you had just below your right eye. You swore you saw his jaws clench for a brief moment, before softening up when he answered you.
“The flower shop,” he answered, his face easing up with a sing-song tone.
Your ears perked up at his statement, questioning if someone like him had ever guested the shop.
“You work there every weekend, right?” Satoru continued, “Tell me, what must I do to get your attention next time?”
You distantly remember your coworker speaking highly of a man who would come every weekend, oftentimes pointing him out whenever he would walk through the doors. You faintly remember a white-haired man who would buy a bouquet of roses every time, but if you were frankly honest, you didn’t quite care who came in. A customer is a customer, and time was money. You had Kōji and bills to pay, and that’s all that should matter. Remembering each customer that you’ve met was impossible with the multiple jobs you juggled.
“I-I’ll make it a point to remember you,” you tried making him feel better, the beating of your chest thumping loudly. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he could hear your heart by how close he was sitting, “I hope my rudeness doesn’t impede in your decision to invest in our company.”
“I hear you as making a promise,” Satoru chuckled, amused at your priorities to win over this deal, “promises are a dangerous thing to make, you know?” His words felt like a double edge sword with the way he stared at you so intensely.
“I simply wouldn’t want to disappoint my boss.” you honestly confessed.
“I see,” he hummed, “a businessman never forgets a promise, you know?” his words sounded like a threat, yet his demeanor was far from it.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you answered, “is there anything I can do for you?”
As if he’s been waiting for your invitation, Satoru slides his phone towards you with a cheeky smile, “Your number, that’s a great start.”
You type in your number, handing it over to him as he receives it with a smirk. Simultaneously his bodyguards quickly stand from across the bar, whispering in his ear and briefly bowing before making their way out.
“What a shame,” the mysterious man stated while standing up, a hint of impatience in his voice, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my leave now. I have some rather annoying business to take care.”
“Wait —Yamakage-San!” you quickly uttered, surprised as your hand immediately grasped hold of his forearm, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” he stated, pleased at the physical contact, as he glanced at your small hand grabbing hold of him.
“Is there a reason why you wanted to meet with me specifically?” still clueless as to why he asked for you when nothing was resolved in terms of this deal besides him getting your phone number.
Grasping hold of your hand, it felt warm, mildly calloused yet perfectly groomed and unblemished. Lifting it up to place a gentle kiss on the back, his lips felt soft as you assumed, “I just want to get to know you, that’s all.”
——
Kōji knew it was wrong. He wasn’t brainless to know cheating on you was, in fact, wrong. It wasn’t something he planned on doing when he entered the company. The relationship started on a curious note. She was just so different from you and she itched a part of himself that he’s longed for you to embrace. To a drunken mistake after a company dinner, one thing led to another, and here he was with his cock shamelessly embraced by her warm insides, his hands molding her ass as he fucked her in the steamy car.
It was a shame right before fucking her, it was so easy to eat at your favorite restaurant that he’s failed to take you in years — with an old acquaintance a couple of years shy of both yours and his from college, Hanako Miwayaki.
No one at his company knew he was in a relationship before getting hired. Ever so, he was the handsome bachelor that his superiors tried to nudge him and the pretty, and young Miwayaki-san that feigned interest in him the moment he started, from getting together.
“I—I love you!” she managed to whimper out through their exchange of sloppy kisses, her long fingers grasping hold of his hair as she continued to press her body onto his naked torso, “Kōji more!”
Kōji held her hips close as he watched how his slick-coated shaft would go in and out of her swollen entrance, silently cursing at how warm she felt around him.
“Fuck,” Kōji cursed under his breath, simultaneous to how he gently squeezed one of her mounds, the grip of her pussy suffocating him even more, “keep going, just like that,” he unabashedly confessed.
But all Kōji could think of, despite the woman he held in his arms tonight, was you. It would always strike a nerve whenever he would open his eyes, instead of Hanako who appealed to his desires and easily spread her legs for him, he would suffocatingly see a glimpse of you.
And that made him want to fuck Hanako even more.
“K-Kōji” she would sweetly moan for his name, pleased to see her lover rutting his shaft into her. Such a sight was enough for him to go crazy over, wanting nothing but to do this all night until they had satiated themselves with the reciprocity of love and lust combined.
Hanako had a mesmerizing beauty. And her skin was always perfect under her makeup. She smelled rich and always wore clothes that highlighted her hourglass figure, unlike you, who’d wear loose articles of clothing like an old lady.
Her breasts fit into the palm of his hands, but they seemed to always lack a certain something compared to yours. He thought it was a shame how he’d never noticed her before. Maybe he would’ve if all he’d ever known wasn’t you — his first love since high school.
The car quickly filled with a stench of lust. The windows were tainted with fog as the two of them filled themselves with one another.
Hanako started to mewl at how rough her boyfriend was being, the increase in his pace was too unbearable to last a second further when her impending orgasm was threatening to release.
“Ngh!” she managed to let out, with Kōji's cock pistoling inside her, his movements becoming uneven while spurts of his seed collected inside his condom.
“I wanna feel you without it,” Hanako pouted with her boyfriend’s face buried in the crook of her neck, further planting herself down his member, intentionally clenching on his overstimulated cock. With their chests panting for heavy breaths after their rendezvous, she was pleased to hear his groaning as his arms further embraced her tightly, “don’t you want to feel better, Kōji?” she tried persuading like shaking her spanked ass.
“We’re not kids, don’t be so reckless,” Kōji huffed out, unaware of the irony to his words while looking up at the ceiling, irked that you’d ask him to always wear a condom when —
“You’re no fun,” Hanako lifted herself to cup his sweaty face, her lips feverishly kissing her partner. Her tongue soon entering his mouth where the hot flesh swirled sinfully with his.
She smiled when she felt his cock hardened again inside her. “Kōji,” Hanako bit his lower lip, teasingly looking down through her lashes as she pulled herself from his member, reaching down to pull off the used condom.
“Let’s go up to my apartment.”
Kōji knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t come home the day prior, and you’d probably be stupidly waiting for him.
“I can’t tonight —”
Her lips crashed onto his again, a threatening message that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, “You’re going to send away your poor girlfriend to sleep all alone at night?”
It’s not like you would entice him and want him like Hanako did. So what was the point of keeping some sort of loyalty to you when he’s just fooled around with another woman?
“Fuck it,” he groaned before quickly zipping up his pants, ignoring Hanako’s giggle as she led him up the stairs, practically prancing in her skirt with no panties underneath, uncaring of the person that may have seen such wretched acts he’s committed.
After all, it was shameless what he was doing. And Kōji knew it. Because his thoughts weren’t of the woman he just had sex with, but it was filled with thoughts of you letting him slide his tip along your entrance.
As he mixed his body with Hanako, he thought of ramming his cock inside your tight, warm cunt, squeezed magically by your plush, velvet walls.
And as he kissed her, his thoughts were full of how your breasts would wildly bounce as he continued to hit your most sensitive spot, deeply inside.
Would you let him take you on all fours, just like how he had Hanako currently positioned? Ass up and breasts planted to the mattress?
Despite Hanako being deliciously naked before him, with his aching member ramming inside her, penetrating her tight insides until it becomes swollen and dripping with his cum, he hears your voice, oh so faintly as Hanako breathlessly moans, “I-I love you.”
——
It wasn’t common for Kōji to not come for the night.
You wondered if he was alright as you sat alone in your apartment, with his favorite meal cooked you’ve splurged to make, dipping into your personal expenses — miso soup with grilled unagi.
You felt awfully lonely despite living inside a small apartment, and everything felt foreign and distant without him there with you. There wasn’t much you owned, just the absolute essential. But it somehow always lacked a vital piece that would make you feel more at ease.
Him, you thought as tears coated your eyes.
You would often wonder where things went possibly wrong, and how you could fix it. But every time you would contemplate, you were stuck on finding the answer.
Your phone brightly illuminated the dark room. Your eyes blurry from the tears, you quickly brushed them off with your sleeve. It pricked at your sensitive skin at how tattered the cloth had become.
From an unknown sender
This is Satoru.
It’s a rather beautiful night!
Sends a picture of the brightened moonlit sky.
Hope you sleep well tonight >_<
It was nice to finally meet you.
And just when you were about to save his number, a single text popped up, immediately crushing your heart into pieces.
From: My Kōji.
Gonna be late. Don’t wait for me.
—- a month since meeting Satoru.
If you were to say it was a coincidence that would be wrong because how many coincidences can there be to be a blatant fact that you might have a stalker?
“Yamakage-san,” you breathlessly stated as you almost ran into his chest, carrying multiple cups of coffee for your coworkers.
“You okay?” he chuckled, easily taking the cups from you with his large hands, “but fancy seeing you here,” he stated while looking down from his height at your disheveled self, quickly noticing something.
“Y-you scared me.” Your cheeks felt hot as adrenaline rushed through your body.
“Didn’t mean to do that,” Satoru chuckled as he put down the coffee, leading you to a seat before crouching down on one knee and tying your undone shoelaces.
“I- I can do that!” you tried to quickly swat his hands away, embarrassed at how many people were staring at the modelesque man being such a gentleman.
“I know you can. But let me.” His voice felt warm, caring almost. “Don’t want you tripping and falling over my good looks, do we?” he looked up, winking as he finished the knot. You noticed the scar again on his wrist, mutely blemishing his pale skin. It was hard to notice under his watch, but prominent enough for it to catch your attention.
“It must've hurt…” you quietly mumbled to yourself.
Or the instance when you were checking a customer out at the convenience store, giving them the total only to look up to see a silent man in a dark helmet, tall with wide shoulders, comforted in casual clothing as he slid his phone onto the counter.
Have you fallen for me yet? :P
“Yamakage-san,” you sighed out, “it’s dangerous to ride a motorcycle when it’s this dark. Are you coming from work?”
Your words took you aback.
Were you being too meddling? It’s a bit ridiculous to suddenly intervene when he was a grown adult. You nervously bit your lip if you overstepped your boundaries. Stupid, of course, he’s coming from home, look at his clothes.
“Something like that.” Pulling his helmet off, shaking his messy hair perfectly to look styled. “Then what should I do?” he asked with a playful smile, his hands grasping the counter as he leaned forward.
“Tell me,” he pressed, unbreaking eye contact, “I’ll be good and listen well.”
Turning your face away, you murmured, “Just be careful —” your eyes looking down to see his scar again, ”it’s easy to get hurt at night.”
His eyes immediately locate your attention on his wrist. And that did a number to him that he didn’t quite expect. You probably didn’t see the murderous grip he had on the counter, the throbbing pulse of his crotch suffocating in his pants as he clenched his jaw, doing whatever the hell he could, to contain himself from taking you as hostage and keeping you — all of you — for himself.
But you’d probably not like it. And he couldn’t afford to do that, so that was enough for him to swallow his thick, adrenaline induced saliva down his parched throat as he restrained himself from acting like a maniac.
Completely unaware and unsuspecting of the lascivious thoughts this man had of you, Satoru smirked as he lifted up the hem of his sleeve, showing more of his scar as your eyes widened.
So fucking cute.
His sharp canines glistened as he let out a handsome yet pestiferous smile. Satoru didn’t even bother hiding the corners of his lips from twitching. “It doesn't hurt, you know?” further pulling up his sleeve for you to get a better view, “you can even touch it, if you don’t believe me, angel.”
Lifting your trembling finger to gently touch his skin, “H-how’d you get it?” you cautiously asked hoping you weren’t overbearing.
“I tried killing myself.” Satoru bluntly stated, shrugging as he watched your finger glide against his skin.
In a split moment a static memory flashes before you.
“Onii-chan,” your small hands reach over to grasp the hand of a boy couple years older than you, patched up with bandages with tears welled up in his eyes as he stood over the rooftop ledge, “Obachan said that’s very dangerous! You’ll get a big owie when you fall.”
You're brought back to the present, shocked at the sudden memory you had.
What the hell was that?
Satoru’s face was indiscernible from where you stood. His soft blue eyes still magnificently sparkled, and his lips held the prettiest shade of pink. The wisps of his bangs, contrary to his usual updo style, hid a portion of his expression that you weren’t able to decipher.
What were you supposed to do? What can you possible say?
But before you could register, you asked him a simple response.
With unexpected tears dwelling in your eyes for the man in front of you. “Are you still hurting?”
For a brief moment everything within Satoru became still. The universe felt like it stopped spinning on axis, and the balance of the world had become altered. It was you — you had substantial power over him. And Satoru couldn’t help but feel euphoric, a deep sense of bliss brewing from the most inward portions, like a symphony building up to a fortissimo, Satoru couldn’t help but belted out a laugh.
You weren’t entirely sure if he was crazy, or if he was portraying a trauma response, but despite his rambunctious laughter, Satoru, like you, lived a life masked in pain.
“Yama —” Without waiting for your response, Satoru jokingly wiped off a tear, “I’m joking, princess. I’m too handsome for that.”
“You’re the worst,” you muttered before quickly turning away to finish restocking the aisles, “this is why you don’t have a girlfriend at your age,” you snapped at him.
Following behind like a puppy, wagging it’s tale waiting for his playtime, his height practically swallowing you, “sure… that’s valid,” nodding his head as he pursed his lips. “But, I think,” stepping closer, until completely cornering you so that you were forced to see eye to eye with him, “ that’s a you problem, princess.” Pinching your nose as his minty, cool breath brushed through your cheeks.
“But look at you!” His expression gleaming with his voice raised at a higher, teasing pitch, “worrying about me! I’m so touched!” tightly wrapping you in his strong arms, knocking the wind out of your lungs.
…
Or the other instance, just yesterday, when you met him on a rainy day, outside the flower shop just as you were about to make your way home.
“Are you stalking me?” Your words mindlessly left your lips. You’ve grown rather comfortable with the once stranger, now, unknowingly expecting his presence.
“Would you want me to do that?” He stepped forward, smirking in mischief as his height loomed over you, droplets of water dripping from his white bangs, his words testing you. “It’s quite easy to do that.”
It was undeniable you’ve grown accustomed to this man. Despite meeting him no more than a month prior, he felt rather comfortable. Like an old friend you’ve rekindled a friendship with.
Yamakage-San was kind. He was attentive and thoughtful. His words oftentimes left you speechless with his abrash ways of flirting, but he was nonetheless gentle with you. The way his fingers would lightly brush against your skin felt like a tease. And how he would attentively listen despite when you had nothing interesting to say, made you feel seen.
He somehow was filling an empty void Kōji left vacant, and you subconsciously allowed a stranger you’ve met so shortly to fill that spot.
And how could you forget the texts he sends with unexpectedly cute emoticons even though you rarely respond back?
It was a lie to say he was simply handsome. He looked unreal. With his tall height and slender figure, packed on with muscles under his tight collar shirt, it didn’t take an artist to imagine the intricate details of his finely sculpted body underneath his clothes.
“Mind if I walk you home?” he softly asked, taking a step closer to button up your coat from the cold. You could almost smell his faint cologne as you looked at his feet placed right next to your smaller set.
“Will you leave if I say no?”
“Mhm,” he softly responded, “I told you I’ll listen and be good.”
You looked up at him. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, maybe that’s why his eyes seemed to sparkle even more. And it made your heart rapidly beat in your chest upon seeing his eyes again.
Strange, you thought when felt your stomach tickle.
“Only up to the bus stop,” you murmured, “Kōji didn’t take an umbrella so I have —” You felt a sense of guilt when you said your boyfriend’s name. There shouldn’t be a reason to feel as such, but oddly you felt something tug at your heart when his name left your lips.
“Sure. Guess he forgot his umbrella?” Satoru was quick to respond, “ he’s lucky to have you,” he offered a sweet smile before opening up his umbrella and inviting you over.
Despite his long legs, Satoru walked rather slowly. Unlike Kōji, where you had to catch up to his speed, this man seemed to carefully walk at your pace, maybe even slower to stand slightly behind you.
From your peripheral, you could see his right shoulder drenched from the rain. Yet, not a droplet of water hit you.
“How tall are you?” You managed to break the silence. Kōji was tall, but Satoru felt even taller. “Are you over 6'0"?”
“I haven’t measured myself, but most likely.” He answered while glancing down at you, “Why? Do you know a lot about men’s heights?”
Of course, being together with Kōji for nine years, you knew a thing or two about men.
“Mhm,” you nodded, ignorant of the slight annoyance on Satoru’s face.
“you're making me jealous.” Satoru gripped the umbrella handle, clenching his jaws before you made a stop to lightly tug at his coat to get his attention, innocently trying to make him feel better. “Don’t be! You’re the tallest person I know, Yamakage-san!”
You hear a honk from behind. soon water splashed towards you as a dark vehicle drove by. And in that split second, you're suddenly caged in his arms, your cheeks resting on his strong chest.
That was scary and dangerous for anyone to be driving at such a speed, you mentally scolded the reckless driver.
You felt his voice vibrating through his pectorals, his body pressing against yours. “I’m big, huh?”
Wait. huh? What is this —?
“Excuse me?” Your cheeks heat up when you realize the compromising position you are both in, immediately pushing him when you feel the curve of his crotch firmly outlining against your stomach. “Sorry! Yamakage — ” You quickly removed yourself, your hands pushing against his damp coat soiled from the dirt that the car rudely splashed while driving off.
“No need, just saying that my chest is big,” he teased before wiping a droplet of rain that fell onto your cheeks, “also how about you drop the honorifics? I think we’re far past that, especially when you willingly put your cheeks on my chest and I just sacrificed my life for you.”
“I did not,” you embarrassingly coughed, emphasizing his name, “and Yamakage-san, you’re being ridiculous.”
“Boo,” he rolled his eyes before, “and they say chivalry is dead when I practically saved you just now,” the grown man mumbled under his breath, pouting as he continued to walk at your slow pace.
Satoru could see the bus stop was nearby, but off in the corner, he saw something that piqued his interest. A couple running under the rain, sharing a small umbrella much similar to him with you.
And if there was another thing your grandma taught you was that there’s no such thing as a coincidence. Everything is a result of a decision — good or bad.
“We’re almost here —” your voice suddenly faints when you catch what Satoru was looking at.
The heavy rain may have caused your vision to become blurry, but it was easy to mask the tears that suddenly welled up in your eyes. A rush of emotions and thoughts ran through your head, the insecurities and doubts that you’ve been pushing off to the side, were now forced in front of you to acknowledge.
“Kōji…” you quietly whispered as you watched your fiance intimately running into a shop with a woman tightly embracing his arm.
Your heart hurt, melting into inexplicable pain as you watched him fondle another woman with such care and diligence as he wiped off the rain from her cheeks, and shoulders, smiling proudly with his cheeks a tint of rose from the cold.
You missed him, of course you did. That much more, it was harder to witness him looking so happy, knowing despite your efforts to reconnect and act like nothing strained your relationship with him, the pain was always there, stabbing you to the core.
Yet the only thing you could do was to look away. Trusting that it was simply a coworker Kōji was being courteous too.
And your companion stood next to you, eyes void of emotion despite his impatience brewing as he watched you be soft to that thing when you were hurting because of it. Satoru couldn’t understand why you’d chose to waste your tears on such trash.
Licking his lips, he wished you would cry for him. Maybe if he pushed it further, you would. Then maybe he’ll have a chance at comforting you… but then again, that would scare you, and he didn’t want to do that. Especially not, when it took him so long.
Looking off in the far corner, his assistant stood in the rain, bowing to signal he’s concluded his duties, before taking off in a black car.
——
As usual, Kōji came home late. Throwing down his briefcase, he grumbled at how wet his suit had gotten as he stripped himself to go into the shower, leaving a trail of his clothes behind for you to pick up.
And as he surpassed you, you got a whiff of a fragrant scent that was foreign to you. A woman’s perfume — it’s her, your intuition alerted you.
Ever since you saw him smiling at the other woman, that was the one thing that plagued your mind, and you didn’t have the courage to ask him.
“Did you get a new cologne?” Your lips trembled as you asked. Hoping, internally praying, he wouldn’t say anything to prove your cheating allegations.
“Yea, from a friend,” he bluntly answered, turning the faucet for his shower.
“Kōji.” His name naturally rolled off your lips, and in response, his head whirled towards you in less than a second. “Is it hard at work? Y-you’ve been coming home late these days,” you muttered.
For a brief moment Kōji looked expectant before his eyes quickly dulled out, now purposefully avoiding your gaze. At the moment, he wasn’t feeling guilty in the slightest, but the contortion of his visage as he answered you before going into the shower told you otherwise.
“Took you long enough to ask.”
“Yea… he’s just tired,” you reminded yourself, “I need to do better.”
——
You weren’t necessarily the best at responding to his messages. Hell, he didn’t even expect you to. Just knowing you’ve read them was more than enough for him.
Satoru said he’ll be patient. That he’ll wait until your relationship with your boyfriend came to it’s rightful end. He’s waited till now, what’s a couple more going to do to him — kill him?
But something in him presses as his consciousness, continually scratching at the memory of you secretly trying to brush off your precious tears as you nibbled on your lips to stifle the sob as you watched your beloved boyfriend prance around with his mistress. And that fucking irked him beyond rationality.
Everything dulled out around him. He couldn’t even hear the calling of his name from his best friend as he stared at his phone, drinking his hard liquor as he peered at the delivered message that had yet to alert “read” like usual.
“You good Satoru?” the raven hair asked, curious as to what soured his friend’s mood.
“I’ve been getting ignored.” Satoru dully expresses, gripping his glass cup causing his knuckles to turn white as he wonders why you’ve been getting distant.
“From her?” Sitting next to him as he sighed, Suguru shook his head in disbelief, already knowing the answer, “You gotta let her go man… it’s unhealthy.”
“What do you know,” Satoru hissed through his teeth. If Suguru wasn’t his best friend, his face would’ve been knocked out by now, hell maybe something even worse could’ve happened.
He thought you’d both had gotten a bit closer, but seeing those tears… you were still endlessly soft toward the pathetic fuck. And now you don’t even read his messages.
“You,” Satoru pointed at the well-dressed man standing in the back of the entourage, “have you killed someone before?”
“Uh, no, sir.” His assistant stuttered at the sudden question, “well, I wasn’t informed that I would be involved in anything like that, sir.”
“Boyfriend?” Hanako’s boss curiously asked while sitting at his table. Her boss had an unusual talent to sneak up into places without a sound despite his tall frame. It was even more strange how no one in the company ever saw or heard of him — only Hanako and his assistants.
The rumours that floated around of the mysterious VP that would silently dominate his rivals with his dashing good looks and wicked smile. Forcing them to their knees in submission as he got whatever he wanted.
“H-huh?” surprised at him looking down at her, cutting out a picture, hurriedly throwing a piece of it into the trash, “a-ah yes, sir…” she blushed at her confession.
“You both look good together,” the man smiled, “handsome man, too,” he complimented, stretching out his legs as he sat on her desk, “I didn’t know you were dating all this time, Miwayaki-San.”
The photo looked partially aged, definitely wasn’t within the last couple of years. Hanako looked much younger and brighter, clinging onto a man as she beamingly smiled without a care in the world.
“We’ve kindled our love. I’m hoping that he proposes soon —”
“And the girl in the trash, Miwayaki-San?” her boss lowly chuckled, “is she the third person in the relationship?”
Embarrassed that he’s seen her petty act of cutting out the woman who stood rightfully at her boyfriend’s side, “s-she’s no one!” Hanako stammered before reaching down to grasp the crumbled photo, only for her boss to quickly retrieve it. Handsomely winking, yet his voice sounded harsh, “I’ll throw it away for you. Don’t want anyone to misunderstand, do we, Miwayaki-San.”
“Ah… Thank you Gojo-san.”
It wasn’t like he was never going to find you. But if it wasn’t for his foolish secretary, it might've taken longer him than expected. Guess paying her generously beyond her skillset was worth the investment.
It was easy running a background check on you with a simple photo — your address, your job, friends, family, and the one that pissed him off the most, Kōji.
Guess the gods were finally on his side because It’s been 20 years since he’s last seen you.
“So you can’t?” Satoru boringly stared at the man, his blood fuming inside from the lack of patience that he’d been tested with, his voice venomous to anyone who struck against him.
“I’ve never done anything of such a nature but if I handle it well and receive proper compensation…” This is what Satoru liked to hear. “I’ll do my best to not disappoint you.”
Satoru started maniacally laughing, head thrown back on the couch as he manspread on the seat, the tip of his black socks peeking underneath his tight slacks. Pleased at the newbie's courage, despite seeing him tremble as he said each word, cocking his head to the side as his eyes peered at him. “relax, it’s a joke.”
“Satoru you’re scaring —” Suguru tried to ease the tension, utterly failing when his friend immediately stands up.
“I’m leaving, it’s boring here.” Satoru dismissed himself, before turning back to Suguru, “The bill’s on you.”
Throwing back a middle finger, Suguru sighed as he took a whiff of his cigarette.
“You don’t think he’s being serious right,” the newbie cautiously asked Suguru.
Sighing as he shook his head, “I don’t know…” he honestly confessed.
…
“Fuck.” Satoru threw his head back, his head spinning from the bottles of alcohol he’d just had. Just one response, that’s all he needed to not go completely insane and overthrow all of Japan. He had the power, and it wasn’t like he had any conscience to care for anyone else. All he needed was you.
Closing his eyes, Satoru took a deep breath as he slowly stroked his hardened member, his hand moving on its own accord, feeling every ridge of length as he pleasured himself.
He remembered your plump lips, teasing him whenever you would give him the faintest of smiles. The way your body felt natural in his hold, and almost perfect as he stood besides you. He swore he felt electricity pumping through his body whenever his fingers would lightly graze against your soft skin.
Satoru let out a moan — gluttonous and unapologetic as he continued to jerk himself off faster, rougher as he called out your name.
He remembers the scar on your lower right lid. It looked beautiful to him and made him almost bust a nut when he saw it the night of the reunion. And your eyes still sparkled just like he last remembered.
He would treat you better, crawl on the floor in areas you’ve graced yourself if you wanted that.
You drew him utterly mad — insane and crippled.
You’ve grown so beautifully. Breathtaking. The little girl that followed him around, had become a woman more lovely than the most expensive gem, and more delicate than any flower.
His mind wandered off in thoughts of you letting him slide his tip along your entrance. Would you let him ram his cock inside your tight cunt, being squeezed by your soft, velvet walls.
He wondered how your breasts would wildly bounce as he continued to hit your most sensitive spot. Fuck. Would you scream for him to go faster, guiding him in the right path to find your secret spot?
Do you prefer to be pounded from behind, thighs shaking as he takes you on all fours. Or would you rather ride his hardened shaft, rolling your hips as your juices coated his abdomen.
Do you like it when he’s got you pressed against the sofa with your legs above his shoulders, letting you milk his cock with the tightness of your cunt. Satoru would release his warm seed into you in every position if he could. He would shoot every drop of his cum straight to your womb, no doubt impregnating you if that’s what you wanted.
He would like that.
He would love seeing the residues of his wanton desire for you seeping out of your pussy, using his finger to push back his seeds into you, because he couldn’t afford to waste any chance to impregnate you.
Satoru thought it would be nice to see you cry. The idea of you weeping in his arms as he hugged you till you stopped, adorning you with love as your lips let out the most gluttonous moans. It fueled his blood, causing him to gasp at the closeness of his release.
Would you cry for him? Globular, fat tears streaming down your face as he pumped himself into you. Oh what he would give just to kiss those tears away. His hand feverishly stroked his heated member instead as he gripped a fist and gluttonously moaned in the shower. His white brows furrowed while panting through his mouth.
His stomach clenched, beautifully flexing the tight muscles in his abdominals, the tip of his head now a fiery red as his slit leaked of shiny fluid.
Maybe if he hurt you, you would cry and lean on him.
Looking at his right wrist, seeing the scar on his skin, he remembers your expression when seeing it. A monumental moment — the first time he’s every felt grateful for it. Your worried look as you ever so lightly grazed your finger along it, scared to almost touch him thinking it’ll hurt him — bewitchingly foolish — was more pleasurable than he imagined.
This scar — it didn’t hurt, he has no association to pain anymore — especially when you were the greatest memory he has from it.
But he wondered if he pressed you more on it, would you pity him?
ahh fuck he wishes he could see your face again. Droplets of tears streaming down your face as you kiss his old wound, your tender lips brushing against his skin.
But he couldn’t do that. And Satoru releases himself, hot strokes of cum ejaculating out of his throbbing cock. His precious seeds that should be painting your insides full of him were instead coating the dark, granite shower walls with splurts of thick white.
Satoru would never do that to you.
Chuckling at himself as he rested his head on his forearm, feeling lightheaded from the bliss, “I like you too much to do that.”
And if he couldn’t, then someone else could do that for him.
“Gojo-san,” his secretary walked into this office, “I was wondering if you’ve seen my phone here.” Satoru quickly closes his laptop as he cluelessly looks at her.
Hanako had lost her phone a couple of days back. He’s seen her frantically looking for it the days prior, but with no clue of its last use, Hanako decided to ask Satoru if he’d seen it by chance. She swore she faintly remembered her boss’s office being the last place she saw her phone.
“No, I’m sorry,” Satoru sounded apologetic, even walking around his office to look for her lost phone. “‘It must had some important files in there, seeing you so worried.”
“Uhm yes.” Gojo saw her biting her lipstick-coated lips, bile forming in his throat as he tried his best to compose himself.
“If I see it, I’ll let you know. But if you’d excuse me, I’m expecting a call soon,” Satoru calmly stated with a smile.
“Oh right!” Hanako bowed to her superior, “I would greatly appreciate it if you could.”
Watching his secretary leave his room, Gojo’s eyes immediately go to the multitude of files — videos, and pictures — downloading on his laptop, his interest piquing to a certain shameful video of Hanako and Kōji mixing their bodies as one.
A pleased smile forms, one that incites joy in his heart, causing his fingers to tremble in ecstasy as he implants a tracking and audio recording device into her phone.
His legs shake in anticipation, palms starting to sweat as he waits for the ‘Download is completed.’ message to pop up before sending it off to his beautiful yet unsuspecting recipient tonight.
you.
no, he would never make you cry. never, but he’ll be the devil in sheep’s clothing to get what he wants, because, in the end, he’ll be your savior.
because no one is worth having you, but him.
——
It’s been a few weeks since that rainy day. And though Kōji has frequently come home late, he managed to find time to spend occasional dinners with you.
“What are you cooking?” His arms snaked around your waist, droplets of water dripping from his hair, slightly pooling at your thin shirt as he rested his chin on your shoulder.
“Miso soup.” You stated, unknowingly squirming when you felt his thick crotch press upon on your ass, his firm chest securing you from behind. You couldn’t deny it, he still felt irresistibly so warm.
“Want me to taste it?” It wasn’t unusual for Kōji to taste test your food, he enjoyed doing so. It gave him a sense of domesticity and a brief insight into what marriage would be like with you.
“It’s hot.” warning him before he remotely answered, “then cool it for me,” he responded, his lips gently grazing against your neck as he softly breathed near your ear.
Nodding you blew on the soup, carefully cooling it down before presenting it to your boyfriend to taste.
Taking a sip, Kōji, too, felt warm with you. “It’s good,” he complimented, tightening his arms around your waist as he lightly bit your shoulder, “my girlfriend is sure a good cook.”
“You okay?” worried by his voice as he hid his face into your neck, firmly holding you from looking back at him.
“When…” Kōji muttered, a strange wave of emotion fueling from his core as he held onto his beloved fiance — the boring, kind you who would do anything for him. “When the debt is all paid, let’s get married.”
Kōji didn’t say those words out of guilt — far from it, he meant it. The reason he said words he normally wouldn’t say, wasn’t because he felt shame for being unfaithful with another woman… but he felt a void when he saw you standing alone, cooking up a meal in the tiny, godforsaken kitchen for him when he used to always be by your side, bothering you that it took much longer to prepare food.
He remembers the hopeful promises he’s made to you. But now, he can’t help but feel insecure in the life he’s given you.
“You’ll wear a beautiful wedding dress and your ring,” he stated while kissing your cheeks, cupping your face as he tenderly nudged his nose with yours, “I’ll get you a really expensive one, one with a huge diamond.”
“And once we get married, I’ll give you a big kitchen!” Kōji tightly hugged you, spinning you around as you giggled in his loving embrace, “a backyard with lots of space for running around.”
“I don't need a big one, Kōji!” Dwelling in his arms, you looked up at him, eyes crowning like moons in happiness. “Nonsense, you’ll need a big one for our family silly —”
You felt his hands gently grope your stomach, shaking you out of your memory as he swiftly made his way under your shorts.
With his lips parted, he knew his tongue could do a better job at playing with your swollen clit, lapping and sucking your juices as he fingered you just enough to hit your spot but for now, this will do. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “You’re so warm.”
Your nails immediately dig into his forearms, desperate to hold anything because this was dangerous to do in front of the stove but your mind wandered off into an euphoric abyss. You were seeing stars as your fiance palmed at your warm core, casually pulling down your pants as he pressed his hardened bulge on the crevice of your naked ass.
“Say you want me.” Kōji enticed, his voice condescending and lustful as he undid your bra, the clasp easily snapping off for his hands to perfectly grasp hold of your plump mounds.
“I-I want you…” you mewled, feeling your core heat up when he further pressed his throbbing cock, the heat of his member radiating against your sensitive skin.
“Good.” Kōji was satisfied with the wanton look that shined in your eyes when he leaned in to kiss you, the enticing urge of your dilated pupils as he grasped onto him for any ounce of support. “You’re so wet.” The thick squelches of his fingers playing with your sopping cunt embarrassed you. “Did you feel lonely because I’ve neglected you for a while?”
Kōji didn’t have plans to fuck you. Instead, he was planning on heading over to Hanako’s later in the night, rolling around in her silk covers as he made love to her. But something in him sparked, making him feel warm, and dizzy when he remembered about promising a family with you.
But… but that was impossible. You said your body was too weak to consume children… that it would be difficult.
“Mmph —! A-aah!” you moaned when he lowered you both to the hard floor, pressing his body against yours, intoxicating you with skin to skin contact before he pressed his lips back together with yours.
Despite the tension you and he faced for months prior, you still allowed him to undress you, kissing you in places that he’s once labeled as his, leaving you bare of any clothing as he pressed himself down on you.
Your hands shook while trying to unbuckle his belt, gradually making your way to barely manage to unzip his pants and pull it down, just enough to expose his toned buttocks and free his heated member out of his briefs. He was already trailing soft kisses along your jawline while cupping your sore breasts to give a wanton squeeze.
Rubbing his reddened tip at your entrance, his eyes fully blown out in lust, he seethed through his teeth, “I’m going in.” It’s been close to forever since he’s felt your tight walls pulsing against his cock. Heavenly, absolutely magical. Hanako couldn’t compare to the warmth of your cunt.
“Ah w-wait Kōji!” you huffed, the thick air of the cramped room barely enough to provide oxygen for two needy bodies, “c-condom… it's dangerous…”
Rage.
Fucking red was all he saw.
“Fucking shit,” he grasped hold of your cheeks, it hurt in the way he pushed his fingers against your skin, but nothing hurt more than the utter disgust Kōji looked at you before spewing out his next words, shredding your heart into a thousand pieces.
“You can’t even get pregnant even if I dump my cum in you.”
“No! No — that’s not true!” you wanted to scream out and grasp hold of him but the shock of his words dug deeper into your heart than you’d acknowledged, paralyzing you with an agonizing pain. Because soon Kōji was immediately zipping up his pants, stomping his way out of the apartment, and leaving with a loud thud to the door.
And in your loneliness, a tear dropped from your eye as the faint steps of your lover slowly dissipated into the air.
“Nonsense, you’ll need a big one for our family, silly.”
“Family?” your cheeks felt warm at Kōji's words. “Our family. It’ll be me, you, and maybe one or two babies that will have your eyes… and maybe my handsome good looks?” his laugh rang euphorious to your ears. “That’s my dream.”
Family… that’s all you’ve wanted.
Your phone buzzes beside you before your mind slowly fades away to complete darkness...
The day felt gloomy. The air was humid and skies were downcast to further impede the depressive halls of the hospital. Being inside a cold room all day with the monitors constantly beeping and people showing their fake sympathy made the rage he felt inside that much more unbearable.
It wasn’t hard sneaking out of his room. The nurses were too busy gossiping – most likely talking about how sorry they felt for him. All he wanted was some silence from the suffocating room he was forced to be in for the past month.
So he sat on the edge of the hospital’s rooftop, breathing in the thick air as his casted feet dangled with his crutches thrown aside.
They say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die. So you can make peace with your entire life in those few, brief seconds.
Does that mean they reflected back on their lives? Is that why they just left without regrets?
He wondered if he jumped, would his mind finally feel silent?
Would the guilt of being alive finally surpass him?
Why did he have to be alone?
Why did it have to be them?
Why… why couldn’t he just die?
Why? Why? Why?
After the surgery, he barely spoke after waking up from a long slumber. The day he opened his eyes, grandma was silently crying while grandpa stoically sat next to the window. An ominous anxiety crept over when they weren’t there.
“Obasan,” his voice barely audible, “w-where’s Okasan… and Otosan?” And after a long hesitant pause, Obasan told him the truth.
“They’re gone –” The boy didn’t hear the rest, because the sudden loud rasp of the oxygen mask rang through his ears.
His mind was still full with memories of his parents. It still felt so fresh, as if they would come back tomorrow and tell him this was all a bad joke. It was so vivid – his last meal, his last laugh, his last hug, his last birthday celebration, his last car ride to school with his parents before having them tragically stolen from him.
He prayed to god, to anything out there, each night that he wouldn’t wake up the next morning. Because if remembering them would be this painful, maybe forgetting them would ease the agony.
But as if the deities had another plan, his wounds recovered quickly and the blunt pain in his chest no longer hurt.
It was unfair, the injustice of it all was maddening.
Ironically, the boy found the answer as he stepped along the ledge of the hospital rooftop. He was the only one suffering. The dead have no regrets, it's those alive that have to burden the pain. Only the living must say their farewell – the balance has always favored the dead.
“They look like ants,” the boy commented, his voice void of any emotion as he looked down upon the people that entered in and out of the building. Some rushed in as they tried to muffle their cries, while others took their time exiting. Some spent time outside on the benches, while others strolled around, wheeling a patient.
The boy felt jealous of them. At least they all had a purpose – a purpose to be alive.
And maybe this was his purpose.
So in peace the boy stepped forward to embrace his fate. The breeze felt nice as it ran through his white hair. Maybe it won’t be so bad, the boy thought. If he could pay the price for doing what he wished, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much –
“Onii-chan,” a girl called out to him, barely grasping hold of his hand, “that’s scary…” she muttered.
“Let go of me.” The boy warned, “mind your own business and get lost.”
Tugging harder, “Come play with me, Onii-chan. If you get hurt, you can’t go home!”
Home.
Did he even have one anymore?
And for the first time since his parent’s demise, the boy had tears streaming down his face. His blue eyes once filled with pain and apathy, had life brought back onto him the moment this foolish girl held his hand. Looking back, the girl no taller than his waist was looking up at him with a missing tooth and chubby cheeks, looking awfully sad as her small fingers barely wrapped around his hand. Her touch felt oddly warm.
“You have an owie!” the girl muttered, lightly jumping on her feet as she hurriedly searched through her small bear purse, before taking out something small and handing it over to him, her soft fingers gently grazing over his wrist. “A bandaid!” She cheekily smiled, “Obachan said bandaids are for owies. So don’t cry!” only for her smile to slowly dissipate when the boy’s tears continuously flowed, dripping down his chin with some pooling on her arm as he reached over to take her gift.
Why did she look so sad for him? Why were her eyes pooled with tears, soft and gentle as she looked up at him? Why did her hand need to feel so warm? Why did his heart beat, pounding in his chest, from this little girl?
“Why’d it have to be me?” the boy muttered, his tears muffling his words as he fell to the floor, his body falling limp and mind hazy as the young girl sat with him, “why am I still alive? Why couldn’t they just kill me too?”
“Maybe…” her small hands wrapped around his fingers, “so we can go home together! So let’s be friends Oniichan —”
Her voice faded into a far distance as the boy sudden saw black.
“You’re a good girl.” the boy heard his grandma speaking with someone. Despite his eyes barely open, he could see a girl sitting next to his bed as his grandma patted her head. “Can you stay here for a bit, darling? Obasan needs to go take care of something.”
“Mhm!” She ecstatically responded, bouncing in her seat. “Oniichan is my friend. I’ll take care of him!” And the door closed.
“Hmm…” the girl hummed, playing with his wristband that was too big for his thin wrists, “Oniichan’s name is… ” sounding out every letter, “G-O-J-O S-A-T-O —”
“I thought I told you to get lost,” the boy muttered, “You’re not my friend. Especially not with those that can’t read.”
“That’s okay,” the girl giggled while putting her hands on her cheeks while leaning on his bed, swinging her short legs as she stared back at the boy, “you’re my friend.”
….
Has it been another month since he’s been at the hospital? The boy wasn’t sure, but what he did know was that this girl followed him around everytime she visited the hospital. And here he was, sitting at the rooftop balcony, handing her an icecream as he sat feeling the night air.
It wasn’t like the girl was sick — well, she didn’t look sick. Curious, the boy decided to ask. “Toothless, why are you here?”
“Because Oniichan is my friend.” Furrowing her brows in a pout, the girl answered while eating her icecream, “and my name isn’t Toothless.”
Awkwardly scratching the back of his head, he corrected his sentence. “I— I mean… are you sick?” but he couldn’t help but laugh when the girl did, in fact, have a missing front tooth with air whistling out whenever she talked.
“No —” the girl mumbled, “Obachan is…” her voice was faint, almost as if she was going to cry before quickly stopping herself, fastidiously blinking to pull her tears back in, “but Obachan said she’s getting better, so it’s okay.”
The boy was sure he’s seen her grandma in the oncology department. But, he guessed… miracles can happen — for some people.
“Oniichan,” the girl suddenly asked, “do you think we can play together when you get better?”
“Not sure,” the boy shrugged, wondering for himself when he’ll be discharged.
“Or! Oniichan!” the girl suddenly shouted, “let’s get married!”
“What?!” the boy almost choked on his spit, his cheeks radiating a rosy hue from her abrupt confession, “Do you even know what that word means?!”
Nodding her head, as she looked at him with her eyes wide, “Obachan said when you marry someone you can eat lots of yummy food together and have fun so everyday will feel so happy!”
“Well,” he laughed while ruffling the top of her head, “I’m too old for you. Maybe when you grow all your teeth, we can be friends.”
With a pout, she asked. “You promise?”
“Hmm…” the boy stood up, quickly patting his clothes from the dirt, and wiping his hands off before reaching out his hand to help the girl up, “ I promise — but c’me on, let’s go, your grandma is probably waiting for you.”
Hopeful the girl took the boy’s hand, giggling as she led him to the exit, “I’ll make you happy Oniichan!”
“Sure,” the boy chuckled at her absurd declaration, oddly feeling a sense of joy tickling his insides from her pure diligence in wanting to marry him despite not even knowing the significance of such sacred word.
Opening the door, the girl excitedly turned around to share, jumping on her toes that she failed to notice the stairs. “And I’ll share all my food with you, Satoru-kun —”
“Watch out!” the boy yelled, quickly pulling her into his arms before both bodies painfully rolled down the flight of stairs. The boy felt a rush of warm liquid drip down his temple as he held the small girl in his arms, noticing a cut just under his eyes that started to bleed. All his attention was focused on her face that he failed to feel the gashing wound on his back.
“Toothless, you okay?” though his voice was faint and his head starting spinning, he tried to wake her up, only for her response to be silence. And with all the strength he had, he pulled her limp body closer, whispering before he too fell weak. “It’s okay… I’ll give you a bandaid later —”
“What the fuck?!” you quickly woke up, “shit,” you clutched your head feeling dizzy from getting up so fast. Your back was drenched with sweat and your hands trembled from this dream you’ve just had.
Trying to steady your breath, you tried recalling what you’ve just dreamt. “Who was that?” Your chapped lips stung as you tasted a hint of blood.
In a flash you briefly remembered a boy with soft white hair and the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen, bandaged and bruised as he cried next to you. “Oniichan…” you whispered. Your head pounding making you feel nauseous as a name repeatedly rang through your ears.
Gojo... Who are you?
You decided maybe a cup of water would help relinquish your parched throat and help cool you down. So by habit your hand immediately reached for your phone, hoping Kōji messaged you after the fight you both had, as you carefully stood up to reach from the fridge door, only for it to be, again, someone else.
From Satoru.
The weather is so cold >_<
Dress warmly!
——
To say Kōji was frustrated was an understatement. The level of anger that entered his body when he heard your words eroded his common sense and blinded him from thinking rationally.
He wanted to hurt you, absolutely destroy you because you were the one who was a constant reminder of his failures, and in that, he wanted to spite you.
It didn’t help how a man bumped into him as he made his way down, further fueling his rage. Instead of apologizing, that son of a bitch smirked, and his blue eyes pierced straight into Kōji's soul. And that fucked with his mind even more.
So in his resentment, he found himself in Hanako’s apartment, pushing her against the wall, heaving up her heavy moans while her fingers naturally became tangled in his hair, the moment she opened her door for him. Slamming his lips against hers with a harsh kiss, taking in her fragrant scent that muted all emotions, stripping any ounce of rationality from him — Kōji felt numb to it all.
For Kōji, there was no passion, only carnal violence as he prepared to fuck her. But for Hanako, it was the complete opposite. The roughness and the eagerness of his fingers as he ripped off her clothes, caused her to further believe that this man was hers.
It didn’t take much time for Hanako to be completely stripped off in bed. She mistook his rage for wanton desire by allowing him to pull on her hair to deepen the kiss, shoving his tongue inside her mouth as it stripped them both of air, shamelessly moaning out his name to further claim Kōji as hers.
Nothing else ran through his mind except for the image of your pained expression when he assaulted you with painful words. Hanako, with her breasts exposed, completely unaware of her boyfriend’s rage, laid bare as she pulled him in, wrapping her legs around his small waists while her dainty panties dangled at her ankles.
“F-fuck,” he groaned, “Let me just rub it, I don’t have a condom —”
“It’s okay,” she reassured, further pressing her legs into his waist as Kōji stared at her, “I’m safe today.”
Her words made his mind short-circuit.
He wasn’t thinking right when he rammed his unprotected cock inside her cunt, because in a split second he was fucking her raw as she loudly mewled in pleasure, her legs trembling from the force of his thrusts.
“Y-you’re so big!” Hanako shuddered, thighs trembling at how far Kōji perfectly nestled inside her, with his balls pushing against her ass and his hips pressing against her swollen, needy clit.
He held Hanako close as her body jostled from below, his teeth sloppily marking up her soft skin, the puffs of his exhales forming sweat bubbles on her temples. Blinding them both from their sins as their fates entangled as one.
Clouded by wrath and lust, rutting his hardened cock into his mistress with forceful movements had her thighs shake in pleasure, and blissful tears to well up. For a brief moment, Kōji wondered when was the last time he's seen tears of bliss as he fucked you — surely days, weeks, months?
But when Hanako suddenly clenched on his length, her tight, warm pussy provoking him to hold her closer, his eyes immediately saw red the moment he realized, under him was, in fact, not you. But, his mistress.
“K-Kōji —!” her whimpers were sensual, “Just like that!” she screamed out, her nails painting harsh lines of red on his back.
Fuck. Fuck. It’s not like it was his fault that you couldn’t conceive. You promised to have a family with him, and now, you’re telling him that don’t want to?
Fuck that.
And if he could have sex with Hanako without any caution for a possible baby that could grow in her womb after this, he would do it. He wouldn’t have used protection all this time if he had no guilt behind fucking her raw.
Or at least, that’s what he foolishly thought, a decision fueled by his anger until he actually did do it.
But it was already too late because he already released thick ropes of cum, into a woman that clearly wasn't you, when he woke up to his senses and realized what he had done.
Immediately he pulled himself out of Hanako’s cunt to ejaculate the rest of his seed out of her, ignoring her needy whines as she pouted at the sudden emptiness she felt from Kōji's cock not filling her to the brim.
What the hell was he thinking?! There was no such thing as a safe day. Especially not when you were supposed to be his future. The rightful one to bear his children.
But underneath him was a smiling and panting Hanako, blissfully fucked as she mistook her boyfriend to be fingering her to force his leaking cum back into her. Foolishly wrapping her arms around his neck, she sealed the deal with a soft kiss to his lips.
“I love you.”
——
You didn’t have much growing up. It was just you, mom, and grandma. Well, that was until your mom passed away when you were in high school. Since then money has always been tight. Especially when trying to pay for Obachan’s medical bills, juggling multiple jobs after school was normal for you, getting wrecked by the cruelty of the world was a part of your daily life.
You worked through school, and college was nothing but an elite dream you not even dared wanted for yourself. That was until you met a strange boy, one who nervously pranced as he confessed his feelings to you on top of the school’s rooftop.
Kōji Nakamura changed your life.
Kōji was a kind boy. He listened despite you not talking much and would remember the smallest of details about you. Though awkward in his profession of love, he still cared for you deeply. It was in his actions as he held your bag and waited to walk you home after your part-time job. It was in his sweet gestures to pack you lunch, waking up extra early just so he could catch you before leaving for the day.
There was a sense of timidness you felt whenever he held your hand. As if he was scared you would break if he held it any harder.
He taught you to dream and enlightened your once dull days into something worthwhile. His smile illuminated your future, and to him, you entrusted your everything.
But it wasn’t until Grandma passed away you felt alone. A loneliness that ate up your core, slowly devouring every aspect of you, crippling you from freedom. The days when you sat alone at home, stomach grumbling from having little to eat as you waited for your beloved Obachan to come back home… only for her to never return deeply traumatized you.
So you vowed, that if Kōji was the next best thing in your life, you wouldn’t let him go. The thought of feeling lonely again struck fear in your heart, causing you to cling to him even more.
The relationship was never this bad… it wasn’t until the debt started to fuel your fights. Nights that were once full of cuddles and warmth slowly became cold and hostile with backs turned to one another. The bags under Kōji's eyes would increasingly darken, and his sighs deepened whenever he would see you in old clothes that were out of style.
But still, it was easier to deal with the neglect than to be alone again…
It’s a shame how even in the turmoil, you seek out what’s familiar, even when it eats you up from the inside. And somehow in the pain, you felt a sense of comfort.
But maybe this dream, like a glass menagerie that’s so fragile that seems to always taunt you, always feeling too far away to protect, wasn’t what you’ve thought was worth protecting.
And it scared you that he was nothing but a mirage, a foolish dream, of your delusions that one day better days will come…
But strangely so, you foolishly find comfort, again, in the man that you’ve recently met as he sits in front of you while boldly looking into your eyes. He’s smiling as if he, too, would protect you. Carefully listening to your few words as you spill the story about your miscarriage to him, he offers a smirk without any irreverence to life,
“Want me to kill him?” Satoru asked while sitting next to you, his cheeks feeling cold from the night. “I mean it,” he reiterated with a blank expression while looking forward.
“I wish,” you chuckle, feeling a load off your shoulders as you confess about the miscarriage you’ve suffered almost a year back. It was much harder then compared to now. It was hard to sleep with the debt collectors constantly threatening and trashing your apartment, your anxiety heightened every morning when you woke up. You didn’t mean to keep it a secret from Kōji, the day you found out you’d lost your baby was the first day he didn’t sleep at home. “I guess I’m just afraid to bring it up to him.”
“Leave him and come to me,” the older man confessed, “I’m rich, handsome, and believe it or not,” he turned to you, “I’m very good in bed.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his childish boasting. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was wrong to be here, feeling a sense of warmth in your heart while talking to another man who wasn’t your lover. But was it a crime to be selfish, just for once.
“Hm… Yamakage-san, can I ask you a question?” you hummed out his name, holding onto your beer can as you took a sip for courage.
“Sure, if you call me Satoru.” He smirked at you, pushing his hair back which exposed his chiseled jaw and pretty neckline.
“You’re silly.” Shaking your head before continuing with your question, seriously asking. “Why are you so nice to me?”
“Like I said when I met you, I just want to be friends with you.”
“Why?” curious as to why someone like him would even want to spend a minute of his time with you.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re probably popular with girls, you're rich, and most likely have your life set for you.”
Cocking his head in confusion, “So, if I’m popular with girls, am rich, and have a bright future, I can’t be your friend?”
“No.”
“Then how about your lover?”
“You already know the answer to that, Yamakage-San,” laughing when you see him roll his eyes and mumble under his breath. “Yea, sure whatever, you’re still with the asshole.”
The cold must’ve gotten to your senses. Because you couldn’t help but look at his glossy lips pouting, wondering how soft it would be to kiss his lips, and feel his touch as he tenderly held you for an embrace.
Would it feel different from Kōji's?
Furthermore, you couldn’t help but daydream, maybe if the universe was fair to you just once… if you had met Yamakage Satoru before Kōji… would your life have been a bit different?
Maybe if you made a decision, your fate could change.
So without much thought, you softly asked.
“Then can you kiss me?” in your thoughts.
——
Kōji nervously sat in his living room, biting his nails as he waited for you to come back home. You were always quick to come home after work, ready to greet him despite whatever you were doing. but when he arrived, you weren’t there.
With no letter updating him like usual, or the freshly made soup and rice prepared for him for breakfast, the apartment felt vacant, absent of any life.
Guilt started to eat up at his core, especially after last night’s mistake of fucking Hanako raw and cumming inside her. What the hell was he thinking?
He didn’t mean for his affair to go this far. He just wanted a little fling to distract him from the frustrations he felt when he saw you — a constant reminder of his failures.
It was amusing at first when Hanako hit on him. The underclassman that used to follow him around in college, had now become a woman. And was willing to fulfill his sexual desires and stroke his ego as he wanted.
As the days passed, Kōji couldn’t help but feel enticed by the dichotomy of both women in his life. Hanako looked like she grew up privileged and loved, it was in her expensive articles of clothing and perfume she showered herself with. She was quirky and vibrant, ready to cutely embrace and shower him affectionately. While you wore nothing but baggy clothes that did nothing for your figure and were boring like a wilted flower.
“Ahh,” Hanako threw her arms around him, her cheeks planted on his firm chest as he listened to his erratic heartbeat as both naked bodies cooled down from the intense sex they’d had prior, “I’m so happy I think I can get married at this instant if it’s with you,” she giggled while snuggling herself closer to him.
“Marriage?” Kōji scoffed, a pang in his chest thickening when he immediately thought of you. Hanako didn’t know he was still with you, nor was it that she cared to ask. The conversation never flowed in that direction. And even if it did, what difference did it make when they’ve already fucked.
But unlike him, Hanako was serious about her relationship with Kōji.
“You don’t want to get married with me?” Hanako pouted, “You should be happy your young girlfriend is even mentioning of getting married!”
Trying to change the subject, Kōji asked, “Did you find your phone?”
“Yea! It was on my desk in the morning with a letter from my boss saying he found it!” She exclaimed while perched on her elbow, her voluptuous breasts littered with kiss marks, shamelessly laid out for Kōji to see.
“Be careful.” His chest was relieved, “and delete those videos, what if someone sees them.”
“Hmph,” pouting as she pinched his nose, playfully glaring as she cupped his face to land a fat kiss on her boyfriend’s bruised lips, “no one will see, and who cares! We’re dating anyways!”
“But back to what I was saying, you’re at a good age to get married Kōji. Don’t you want to settle down?” Resting her chin on his sternum, looking up through her wispy lashes, she asked with the expectation that her boyfriend would want to have a future with her.
Marriage. Kōji once wanted that.
“I do,” he agreed with his lover, tightening his hold on her waist as he pulled her closer, “I just don’t think it’s the most feasible especially when it’s so hard to take care of myself.”
“Have you thought of wanting children, Kōji?” the woman cautiously asked, imagining how good a father Kōji would be for their future children.
“Mhm.” He’s thought many times about it. Too many that he’s often dreamt about it too.
“Tell me,” Hanako giggled, her love for this man growing in her heart.
“Nothing much. I just a child that looks like my wife and I.” His mind colored with a hopeful dream filled with you. “And maybe live in a small apartment where we can on weekend trips and eat lots of good food.”
Kōji knew having a child with you was a luxury. But he couldn’t help but feel disappointment when you confessed it would be difficult. But you were always quick to remind him, if things got better...
He wondered if he was the cause of such misfortune since he had no money. And in his insecurity, he fueled his rage on you.
“Kōji,” the younger woman called out his name, drawing circles on his chest as she looked up with eyes brimming with tears, “don’t give up on that dream, okay?”
I’ll make sure to make it happen for you, Hanako internally promised as she held onto her stomach, unaware that she was already steps into making it come true.
…
Days had passed since the incident of him walking off on you. It’s been plaguing his mind as the memory of your pained expression haunted his every moment. You were supposed to be waiting for him like always. The kind and boring you that would do anything for him; strangely, now, you weren’t here.
It’s been hours since he’s arrived home, and he’s been looking at his phone every minute hoping that you would message him, check up on him, and care for him like usual.
But outside of Hanako’s useless messages, his phone was silent.
His guilty conscience couldn’t take it anymore as he lifted his phone to dial your number, rushing out to get some fresh air from the balcony. Despite the cool wind, his heart felt stuck, encaged by his poor decisions that ultimately caused his relationship with you to turn sour.
It was all his fault and he knew it. You weren’t deserving of such treatment, but the anger… his insecurity that brewed knowing he’s failed to protect the woman he once passionately loved, shamefully overcame him.
He had no one to blame but himself, but you were willing to take his wrath… so he let you.
The number you have dialed is not available, please leave —
Kōji dialed your number again and upon the third ring, he was faced with a scene that would embark on a new trajectory of his sanity — or what was left of it.
He was sure it was you. There was no denying that Kōji wouldn’t be able to identify his girlfriend of almost a decade coming out of a stranger’s car, smiling and laughing as she held onto a large bouquet too grand for her to carry.
Kōji couldn’t help but recall a memory when he took you to the mall, excited to buy you something nice only to leave disappointed when you wouldn’t let him buy anything not even a singular rose saying he needed to save money. He remembered you telling him that you didn’t like flowers. But there you were beautifully smiling with dozens in your arms.
Who the fuck was that? Kōji's eyes then zoomed onto the man, and for a brief second, it felt as if he’d seen the stranger before. But he decided to ignore it because his main priority was you.
It wasn’t until minutes later Kōji heard your keys rattling to open the door. He wasn’t sure what he needed to say, what he needed to do — but the moment he saw your face, he immediately ran towards you and pulled you into a suffocated embrace.
“Where you’ve been?!” His voice sounded muffled into your neck, “I’ve been waiting for you this entire time!”
Usually, you would console him, and apologize for making him worry. But today, all Kōji received was a slight nudge as you pushed him away, “sorry, I can’t breathe.”
“Sorry,” Kōji murmured, awkwardly standing at the doorway as he watched you take off your coat, and prepare the roses into a vase.
Like deja vu, Kōji snaked his strong arms around your waist, holding you tightly as if he needed you to know, you were his. “Who gave you those flowers?” Kōji cautiously asked while kissing your neck. His heart momentarily stopped beating when he noticed that your neck was bruised just above the navel of your neck.
“A friend.” That was all you stated before making your way into the bedroom to sleep, ignoring him for the rest of the night.
— the night prior.
Occasionally, men would shamelessly ask for favors while drunk as they checked in. Usually, all you had to do was deny their request, hand over their key, and simply wish them a good night’s rest as you stay safe behind the plastic barrier.
It didn’t bother you when they did, because how are you going to argue with a person that’s incoherent to the point they can’t give you the right transactional card because they’re too drunk. It was a waste of your time to stress about it.
The money was good, and that was all to it.
And usually, despite being drunk, they would stumble up the stairs, eventually making their way to their motel room, ultimately forgetting their actions in the morning as they sped back to their waiting wives.
But today, one customer seems to be the outlier.
“C’me on,” the drunken man slurred his words, eyes faded as drool leaked from the corner of his stubby chin, “I’ll g-give you a good time!”
“I decline your offer sir,” you sighed, “But please, if you can provide me with your credit card, not your business card.”
“You fucking gold digger,” he cursed at you, “why do you need my card? You’re trying to scam me?”
“No, sir I —”
Intruding, a man suited in black walked up to the front, presenting his credit card with a simple request, “If you’d excuse me. I would like to buy out the rest of the empty rooms.” And with that the drunken man was easily escorted out with the help of the odd stranger.
Your shift would usually end at around 5 am, but since all rooms were booked out, Akiyama-san excused you to leave early.
Packing your bags you wondered if Satoru would be there waiting for you like always. Leaning against the pebbled wall as he boredly kicked rocks to waste time until you ended. And to no avail, he was.
But today, standing in front of you, with his height domineering above you, Satoru had a bruised lip and cheek as he stood under the dim street light.
“What happened?!” you immediately shrieked before cupping his face, pulling him down to meet your level, before quickly blowing on his wound to ease the possible pain.
Satoru liked that, the worry in your eyes as you cared for him, your small hands holding him in place as you examined his wound, completely angered that someone would dare assault him.
“A grown man like you going around fighting people.”
“It’s really not my fault,” he pouted, his hands sneakily finding rest on your waists.
“Come here.” Your hand locked with his as you led him inside to use the first aid kit, ordering the grown man around,“and sit down.” Your hands felt warm despite your fingers barely grasping his four fingers. It was cute, adorable even, how you easily controlled him on a tight leash.
“Yes ma’am .” He obediently listened, spreading his legs out so that you could comfortably position yourself to place ointment on his wound. He had a clear view of your face — enticing and pure, with your delicate and soft features as your lashes fluttered and brows cutely furrowed while carefully placing the medication on his lip.
Ahh if you would care for him like this, Satoru thought, then he would glady get beaten up if he could be pampered by you…
“Fuck, what the hell?!” the drunken man found himself on the floor, knees scraped from the sudden brute force. “Do you want to fucking die?!”
“Me?” Satoru eyes gleamed brightly in the dark, chuckling at how pathetic the drunk man sounded, “not really. But —”
The old man screeched out when a wad of his thinning hair was abruptly pulled, “I wonder who’s the one that wants to die between you and I? Come on, guess. I’ll give you one chance.”
“Are you crazy? — Ah! My hair!” the main yelped in pain as Satoru’s grip got even harder.
“Hm.. you seem sober enough.” Satoru hummed, crouching down as he peered into the man face. “Hit me.”
“You must be out —”
“Hurry.”
Angered at the younger man’s provocation, the man swung his plump fist, cursing as he almost lost balance from the force, “it’s people like you who are ruining the future generations, you fucking punk!”
The punch echoed through the quiet alleyway.
“Good.” Spiting out his blood, Satoru fixed his posture to hover over the man, taking out a pair of black gloves from his pocket as he swiftly wore it, hiding a prominent scar he had just under his right wrist. “Do you know who I am?”
“What the hell are you saying? How am I supposed to —”
“You dont?” His blue eyes pierced straight into the man’s soul, burning his mind so he wouldn’t dare come across you any more. “Then, it’s your lucky day because you'll remember me even in your dreams.”
Crack!
Thud.
… Maybe it was the position that you were in, but you noticed while tending to his wound, Satoru was dangerously close — far too close that you could feel his soft breathing as he observed your features, his azul eyes noticeably landing on your lips.
“you’re so pretty,” he confessed, his eyes softening up as he sees a change in your expression.
“and you’re crazy.” you tried pulling away, only to immediately fail as his strong hands pulled you in closer, your palms resting on his chest.
“let me ask a question.” Satoru brushed his mildly calloused finger under your eye, “this scar— where did you get it?”
“to be honest, I don’t remember… Obachan told me it was from an accident when I was younger.”
“oh— I see,” his voice sounded mildly disappointed, “it’s beautiful nonetheless.”
“I think something happened to your head when you got hit—“
“I’m being serious,” his lips hovered over yours, his minty breath fanning just below your nose, cooling your nerves, “you make me go fucking insane.” he sulked, placing his cheek on your chest as he looked up at you.
It felt as if your heart was going to burst out of your chest. It was amazing how Satoru didn’t say anything about the loud thumping despite his ears placed directly over the beating organ. “Don’t look at me like that.” You stated while pushing his hair out of his eyes, a visible grin formed on his lips making your heart flutter. His looks were enticing, absolutely cruel of him to look at you like that.
“Like what?” Satoru challenged, a smirk growing on his lips as if he’s found a way to the golden prize, trailing his large hands up to cup your face as you shly removed your gaze on him. “Hey,” he whispered, “Look at me.”
And you do, and his expression is gentle. “Tell me, like what?” He asked again, his voice an octave lower.
“Like you love me.” you honestly answered, and his lips come crashing onto yours and you’re immediately pulled up onto his strong thighs, saddling his clothed crotched with one hand placed behind your neck while the other mounded your ass.
The kiss was vigorous. Passionate. Sloppy as your tongues couldn’t meet in perfect coordination, but both of you didn’t care.
“I’ve always loved you.”
His lips trailed kisses along your jaw, steadying you in place as he took the lead, allowing you to feel his hot breath on your skin. “S-satoru,” you mewled out his name.
“Fuck,” he groaned, “Say that again,” his lips murdered yours, his fingers organically slipping under your clothes. His kisses felt tender and deep, tracing the outline of your lips with the tip of his tongue as you breathed each other in, occasionally leaving open mouth kisses to smother you with soft kisses around your chest, shoulders, and neck. Your skin stung when he sucked on your clavicle, swirling his tongue with his saliva after he’s marked you while your hips moved in tandem to ride his strong thigh, feeling his hardened bulge sadly trapped in his slacks.
You felt his fingers unbutton your top. Was he planning on taking it further? Your mind raced, bouncing around with thoughts that challenged your morality or if it even matter at this point.
But you decide on the former, not wanting to dishonor Satoru like that, but also to keep your dignity to break up with your estranged lover before possibly starting a new relationship.
“S-satoru —” You pulled at his hair, using all of your resolve to get his attention, “wait for me,” you huffed out and his lips immediately stopped making love to you. A trail of spit connecting your lips together as he clenched his jaws to pull himself from absolutely fucking you senseless right here — if you’d wanted to.
Placing your forehead to kiss his as you gulped down a wad of your saliva down your parched throat, trying to steady your erratic heart.
“until I break up with Kōji… wait for me.”
“I'm good at waiting,” Satoru promised with a gentle kiss placed on top of your scar, “it’s all I’ll ever do for you, princess.”
——
Kōji has been unusually antsy these past weeks. He rarely came home late, and followed you around like a neglected puppy trying to get your attention. It was as if the roles were magically swapped between the two of you, where he was now the one painfully waiting for you to return home to him.
But it’s now been days since he’s last seen you. Where have you gone? When all of your belongings were still in this crappy apartment? Where can you be, when he was here?
At first he assumed you were at work, until you didn’t show up to the apartment anymore. Regret filled his conscience when he had no where to look nor call, because he’s never asked where you’ve been working at. All he did was expect you to pay off his debt.
He regretted ever putting his relationship with you on the line. It was a foolish decision, one he’ll take his whole life trying to rectify and own up to his sins.
He was sure of it that you’d forgive him — he needed you, without you there was no sense for him to live.
The sight of the love mark he’s seen on your neck crippled him. It drove him mad to think someone else possibly touched you. All you needed to do was pick up his call. He’ll make it right. He’ll do better.
He’ll end things with Hanako. That’ll be easy because she wasn’t worth much to his life than a simple fuck, compared to you who’s been with him for over a decade.
He’ll find another job if that’ll mean you’ll stay with him forever. He’ll fulfill his promises to you and make you happy — one chance was all he needed.
Pick up. Kōji nervously bit his fingers, his naked feet loudly thumping on the hard floor, causing the neighbors below to retaliate in annoyance. but he didn’t care.
The line continued to ring — just one chance was all he needed.
Ring.
Ring.
how many times has he called? Surely it was close to a hundred.
Ring.
Rin — “Hello?” he heard your sweet voice on the other line.
“Baby!” he urgently shouted, his chapped lips now bleeding, “where are you?” he felt a wob of anxiety pooling at the base of his throat, gripping onto his phone in anticipation of your words.
“I’m not coming back Kōji.”
“what do you mean? you can leave like that. no— Baby, where are you —?“
“Hanako.” his mind fell blank when he heard his mistress’s name on the line, his Achilles heel that would ultimately kill him upon strike. “I know everything, Kōji…” he heard you deeply sighing.
No, no, no! this wasn’t it. you weren’t supposed to know!
“Baby no — no! Listen to me,” Kōji panicked as he heard your sniffles, oh… how he desperately wished this was a prank, a nightmare he’d wake up to and have you rightfully in his arms.
“With what you’ve done, I didn’t think you needed proper closure… but I do feel like I owe you this one thing. If you look underneath my clothes, there should be a box. take a look inside, and it should be self explanatory what it is.”
Box? what fucking box, he thought while rushing into your once shared bedroom, rummaging through your side of the closet. It was then he noticed most of your clothes weren’t there anymore — and there it was, a small pink box hidden in the corner.
“Kōji.”
He opened the box as you relayed your last words to him.
And there he saw a sonogram of a baby in his hands, dating back to a little over a year…
“ I hope you can find happiness in your life without me now, Kōji.”
… just around the time his affair started.
“goodbye.” And Kōji didn’t know those would be the last words he’ll ever hear from you.
hook, line, sinker.
The onus to his failure — you, his beloved flower that’s withered under his unruly demise have finally found freedom from the one that’s plucked all of your beauty away.
——
You’ve contemplated for days wondering how you should end it with Kōji. Despite the pain he’s put you through, he was once someone you’ve loved and dreamt a future with. You knew him longer than living without him, and he was all you had for years of your life.
All you’re firsts you’ve experienced with him, and with him you’ll experience this one last thing.
“I gotta do this,” you muttered to yourself, staring at your phone that’s been ringing nonstop for the past couple days.
To simply let go of a relationship, a person who you’ve known for so long is often a quite difficult thing to do. The world you wanted with Kōji, the future family and promises that were made between you and him, the sacred bond of love that once burned so fiercely was nothing more than a fever dream that has shallowed out into a distasteful nightmare. And it was time to let go.
Broken pieces can’t put themselves back together. They’ll always stay broken. And Kōji has broken you.
For a few weeks, he followed you around, begged – absolutely begged — on his knees that you would forgive him for saying such hurtful things to you. That he loved you, cared for you, wanted only you.
Lies. lies. All of it were lies.
He didn’t love you. If love was what he had, then you wanted no part of it.
Because the same day that he knelt on the floor groveling in his self pity, you saw him sneak out at night, receiving a phone call from Hanako as she waited for him at a nearby park. Kissing him with tears in her eyes.
And the self proclaimed man that continuously boasted you were all he’ll ever need, your first love and companion for over a decade, did not push his mistress away, but instead embraced and solemnly confessed that he was sorry.
That was all you needed before closing your chapter with Kōji, forever locking it up to be thrown into the pits of hell to perish for all of eternity. and along with him, would the memory of your lost child accompany him.
Not a single tear fell from your eyes for Kōji — you won’t allow it. But instead, it fell for the stupid man that’s stolen your heart.
Was he crazy?! It’s been over 20 years —
Your lungs felt heavy as you ran down the stairs, the dimly lit path almost dangerous as you breezed through, your legs speeding up in desperation to meet him — he was going to be there, always waiting to walk you back home.
The exit was close, just a couple more steps and you were free to hold him, kiss him, love him.
And opening the door, standing at his usual spot just underneath the postlamp, was no one.
Your eyes feverishly looked around, your head spinning from how fast your eyes trekked to look for Satoru. Your eyes becoming blurry from the tears that welled inside.
Where is he? He’s always there —
You panicked when you couldn’t find him anywhere, he was supposed to be there! He always was —
“Who are you looking for?” he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning against your cheeks as tears threatened to spill. “Is he handsome? Because you’re making me jealous —”
Unabashed you mark him as yours. Forcing your lips on his soft, sweet ones, throwing your arms around his neck as you carelessly jumped into his embrace, knowing he’ll catch you. With your legs wrapped around his waists, your cheeks felt warm and the kiss tasted salty as you heard Satoru groan into the intimate kiss.
His lips chased after yours as you lean out to catch a breath. “I didn’t know you were into voyeurism,” Satoru teased with a thin line of spit connecting you both together.
“There’s literally no one here to see us, Satoru.” It was close to midnight, and the streets were empty of people besides you two.
He deadpanned with a lifted brow, “am I not a pair of eyes?” he scoffed as he carefully placed you down.
“Whatever,” you pouted, rolling your eyes as you nuzzled your face into his chest, his arms immediately wrapping around your body. “Where were you?” you softly asked, the confidence in your voice shaking, “you were supposed to be here, stupid.”
“Sorry,” you felt his chest numbly vibrate as he spoke, “had to throw something away,” Satoru murmured with his lips pressed onto your head.
“Hm?” you looked up through your lashes, resting your chin on his sternum, “throw what away?” you curiously asked.
A rosey hue immediately painted on his cheeks, “okay, you can’t just do that,” he muttered while cupping your face, nuzzling the tip of his nose lightly against yours, “you’ll kill me looking so cute like that.”
There was no denying that those were the same pair of eyes that you’ve fallen for years ago. The same pair of arms, once lanky and thin, now strong and secure … that saved you as you fell down the stairs.
“Satoru.” You hummed out his name, basking in his warmth as he, too, hummed back a response, “yes?”
You wanted to desperately ask. ‘How have you been? Have you been happy? Have you fulfilled your dreams?
“Does your scar ever hurt anymore?” Your voice lightly cracked as you pulled his wrist close to your lips, kissing his skin as your vision started to become blurred from tears.
“No,” he professed, his eyes softening from the realizing you’ve remembered, “not since I’ve met you.”
Your heart pounded. It felt like a knot formed at the base of your diaphragm, making it difficult to breathe, to let out the words you’ve been dying to ask since you’ve had the dream. Everything around you felt loud, blaring into your ears and overstimulating your senses.
What if you’re wrong? What if he isn’t who you thought?
Satoru intertwined his fingers with yours, breaking you from your thoughts as you followed him from behind, looking at his broad back as his veinous hand swallowed yours. “Let’s go home, angel.”
And everything went silent. Like morning dew, his voice replenished your soul, anchoring you from insanity. His simple, couple of words fueled a courage for you to ask —
But even if you’re wrong … would that change anything?
Your hand tightly held his as you stopped in your track as you longly breathed in his scent. The chilled air tasted oddly sweet in that moment, and your hands could still barely wrap around his — just like years ago.
And for once in your life, you decided nothing mattered anymore. From all the times the world trampled and left you broken and bare, you decided today you’d find liberosis to it all.
“Satoru.” His name came out in a sob, your lips trembling while he, too, stopped himself.
“... are you still open to marrying me?” you could see his breaths become staggered, waiting for you to continue forth with your sentence. “And I’ve grown all my teeth…and could properly read out your name, Satoru Gojo?”
Turning around, a solid tear fell from his majestic blue eyes, the whisps of his lashes damp with tears.
“Took you long enough to remember me, Toothless.”
——
You couldn’t erase the past, nor could you predict the future. But with your lips intertwined, you found solace in the simple act of being together with him. And as you held each other tight, the gravity of your connection pulled you to kiss him again — again, and again.
You don’t recall much before finding yourself entangled in his arms, his lips sloppily kissing yours as he mindlessly pressed his thumb into the scanner to finally get you both through his door.
Satoru brought you to his home, silently driving with only a firm grip on your thigh, finding solace in the small physical contact alone. Anything else would’ve enraged a monster inside of him, making him completely mad, as he sped through the street in his Daytona — mentally noting that he’ll need a more spacious car asap.
Once more, you met his lips in a deeper kiss. His lips moved in tandem with yours, and the taste of his tongue fueled a warmth in your core, your panties pooling with warm slick, longing for him to touch it.
“S-satoru,” you moaned out his name, your fingers grasping at his hair as his tongue traveled down the navel of your neck, peppering hushed kisses along your skin. Slipping a hand between your legs, rubbing your clothed core with the tip of his fingers, Satoru purred as he pushed you down onto his couch.
You could feel his mischievous grin because his teeth grazed your skin, too late when you realized that he had his fingers doing circular motions against your clothed clit. “You’re so wet already,” he excitedly proclaimed, the hard rut of his erection rubbing against you.
You squeezed your legs shyly as you nodded. “Yeah.”
“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he shakily let out a breath, his pupils dilated as his palm pressed up down on your stomach up to your breasts, “and I wouldn’t mind that too much,” he murmured under his breath before latching his mouth onto a nipple, continously stroking your heated cunt with his vacant hand.
It was as if your bodies were moving on its own, and you allowed it to dictate whatever action it desired. Forget everything for now, was all you could think of in your head — Kōji, Hanako, your child, all the pain, all the disappointment. Everything.
In your mind, it was all Satoru. He was the man you loved.
He sucked the rounded mass, squeezing it before swirling his tongue around your nipple. All that you could do was let your hand grab a fistful of his hair until he moved to your right breast to give it the same attention.
Your breasts felt mildly sore with how he sucked on your bud, the slight pain felt even pleasurable as his fingers slowly moved your panty to the side, the thick slick of your sobbing cunt desperately wanting to coat his long, pretty fingers with your cum.
Though slow, you were at least successful in unbuttoning his white shirt. The heat of his defined abdomen felt like a sin to touch, as his stomach flinched at the plush of your fingertips grazing against his exposed skin. You then tried finding access to his zipper but with the rush of impatience and pumped adrenaline, your hands trembled, utterly making it impossible for you to even unbuckle his belt.
“Relax, angel,” he chuckled, his mouth releasing your tender breast with a sultry pop. With his arm caging you from above, kissing you while his hands swiftly grasped onto your wrists, he led your palms to cup the mold of his hardened, clothed cock. Satoru hissed at the contact as he pulled on your lower lip, “I’m right here, sweetheart.”
You were laying underneath him with your legs spread open, submitted under complete bliss as you watched him unravel with his cheeks flushed while his brows deeply furrowed. Something about the way he desperately needed your touch, his hand forcing your palm to hold him harder, cup his throbbing cock as his hips started to thrust upward.
You avoided his eyes, his blue eyes much too intense as if he could read through your soul.
“don’t be shy on me now.” he commanded, quickly sitting on his knees, his legs caging you at your waist with his crotch pushing against your entrance. Now grasping both your wrists, prompting you to pull down the zipper, pulling your hands into his briefs to pull out his cock. He was warm, your hand barely fitting in from the utter size of this man. Satoru grinned as he witnessed your small hands trying to wrap around his pulsing length. “we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”
You gulped as you tried to laugh it off. It was ridiculous how big he was. Criminal that he was even pretty down there.
The next thing you knew, he was pinning your wrist on either side of your head concurrently to when he latched his mouth back into yours. Your attention forced back onto the man that had you digging your nails into his skin as you felt himself lowering down. He was smothering you with soft kisses around your chest, stomach, and down to your inner thighs. By spreading your legs further apart, you could feel his mouth moving closer and closer to your cunt until his tongue found its way to delve into your slit.
Holy shit. Was this how it feels to receive oral? Kōji’s never done it like this, especially not this well —
“A-Aaah! S-Satoru—!” you yelped as his hot tongue took a long stroke up your pussy.
His kisses were tender and deep, tracing the outline of your folds with the tip of his tongue as he breathed you in. Expertly parting your folds with his fingers so he could do a better job at lapping his tongue inside of your core, breathing you in and sucking your juices, allowing the squelching noises to tickle your ear like a sweet melody. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “You taste so good.”
Your nails were digging onto the couch, thighs pushing against his head, desperate to hold anything as you stared at the ceiling, seeing euphoric stars on his living room ceiling. It was in the way Satoru stroked his tongue around your clit, sucking at it tenderly as he teased his fingers at your entrance, coating up his fingers to easily enter inside your plush walls that made you tremble.
Your head felt dizzy as Satoru did more by flicking his tongue on your nub, soon replacing his mouth from ransacking your sweet pussy as he palmed your whole genital with a cocky smirk, when he felt your hips thrust upward, growing impatient at his lack of quickly fucking you.
“S-satoru please,” you begged, the heat of your body feeling as if you’ll explode if he touched you any further.
“Shh… I know, pretty,” kissing your inner thigh as he settled himself besides you, his arm snaking underneath to use as a neck rest, his hand holding your face to kiss him as he started to play with your pussy. Making short circles around your hardened bud, quickly holding you closer when he felt you clench as he pushed one, then two fingers, and ultimately three into you.
He placed a gentle kiss to your temple, yet his fingers pressed harder on your clit,” let me play with you for a bit.”
Your muscles start to tighten, and the ache between your thighs become increasingly unbearable as the coiling tension inside your stomach burned a fire within you that was ticking to erupt. “You gonna cum?” Satoru breathed into your ear, his teeth nibbling your helix, the padding of his fingers intentionally grazing past your magical spot as he fingered you so erotically.
“P-please Satoru — ‘m close!” you desperately begged as tears welled up causing your impartial sight to feel even more suffocating.
“Aw —” Satoru felt his eyes roll back from your dulcet moans, oh how he longed for you to cry out his name as he’s got you pinned under him. And your tears, god you looked so perfect crying for him.
“Then cum.” He ordered before angling his fingers to finally poke at your g spot, the squelching, sultry sounds of your pussy echoing through his living room as your muffled cries were swallowed up by his lips.
And moments thereafter, your bottom felt damp as warm liquid squirted out of you. “Such a good girl,” Satoru praised, his deep breath heavy and lascivious as he slowed his pace of fingering you.
You were left breathless, your throat feeling dry while Satoru continuously kissed your body. “C’me here,” Satoru prompted, wrapping your arms around his neck before quickly holsting you bridal style, his lips never leaving yours as he walked up the stairs.
You were so engrossed with the feeling of his lips that you didn’t even realize he had your legs wrapped around his waist. And with your arms around his neck, it was impossible to break the kiss as he led you to his bed, trails of clothes littered to leave an evidence of love.
With each step he took, your kiss only got deeper and deeper. You had never felt such intensity throughout your relationship with Kōji, maybe you’ve had… but Satoru was intoxicating, leaving you drunk by his touch alone.
You were gasping on his mouth, had his lips completely enveloped with yours. His lips inch around your jawline. Your neck. Your chest. Stumbling onto his bed, Satoru was quick to nestle in between your legs, his lips having no mind to stop kissing you even for a moment to breath, his hands feeling every inch of your heated body as he hardened bulge pressed against your tummy.
You feel the soft sheets on your back, the plush of his duvet lightly embracing your body as he settled himself on top of you. It was hard to look in his eyes, shy that you’ve just squirted in front of him — first try — when Kōji’s never been able to do that for you. But more importantly, when that thing between his legs looked so angry and wanting.
Would this even fit — Kōji’s wasn’t as big as Sato —
“What’s wrong?” he asked, grazing his thumb on your scar as he rested above you. You could feel his hard member brushing against your thigh while he gazed down at you in both worry and desire. “Look at me.”
“Y-youre really big,” you stammered, blinking your eyes from the shock of speaking out your intrusive thoughts.
“Big?” emphazing your words while he chuckled, peppering kisses against your neck to ease your tense muscles. “never heard someone flat out say that about my cock. Most girls drool over it.”
“You fucked other girls?” you pinched his shoulder, obviously doing no damage from the sheer muscle he had packed under his skin.
“What can I do?” he gave you a wink, “I’m just so irresistible.”
“Whatever —” you murmured while rolling your eyes, “... Are you like … eight inches?”
“Probably a little over seven?” He hummed with both arms caging the sides of your head, spreading your thighs out so he could properly weave his body on top of yours. You can feel his heavy cock purposefully resting on top of your stomach as you felt him lightly grind his hips in a slow up and downward motion.
“you’re definitely not just a little over seven,” you gasped, caving into his touch, feeling your fiery core unbearable as you readied yourself to welcomed him in.
“I like to round down,” he teased, his soft lips landing on your temple. “But guess you’ll have to measure for yourself,” he soothed as he now rubbed his head against your wet folds, stroking his member as he made himself available for anything you’d want. “There’s two ways to measure,” his hand traveled to your throat, lightly grasping it before taking it down to your plush stomach, “your choice, princess.”
Wrong. In fact, there were three ways to logically go about measuring Gojo Satoru’s cock.
Get a ruler and measure.
Feel him deeply down your throat, gagging as his balls tickle your lips.
Feel the tip of his head pumping inside you, your palm locating just how far he inches inside.
Gojo felt his heart rate pick up as he watched you, and it didn’t help how enticing you looked as crawled in between his legs, looking so dainty in between his thighs. You lean down, without giving him the leisure to breathe before pressing a soft kiss to the tip, and he groans, cock twitching slightly at the gesture.
It was if he’s been bewitched by dark magic when he heard your soft giggles, hypnotizing his mind to think he was hallucinating from seeing you play with his needy head as you watched his cock twitch whenever you swiped your tongue under his frenulum.
This was better than whatever he could’ve imagined when he fucked himself to sleep thinking of you these past nights ever since finding you.
Your lips perfectly wrapped around his aching length, and he’s choking on curses at the sensation of your warm mouth.
“Fuck— you’re perfect,” his hand finding refuge on top of your head as he leads you in a slow pace. He truly had the prettiest cock that matched his beautiful angel-like face. You giggled again — god it sounded like heaven to his ears — as it twitched from your hold before you swirled your tongue around the pink tip, immediately tasting his precum that leaked so wonderfully out of his slit. It was salty, musky, but also a tad bit sweet?
Gently sucking his head earned you a raspy moan out of him, so you teased him more by allowing his tip to reach your inner cheek as you tightened your mouth around his shaft.
“God—fuck, mhm like that, baby,” he moans, a hand finding the top of your head, while the other rested on the base of your throat. Hollowing your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down his shaft as your hand rubs his tense thigh. “feel so good, sweetheart, let me in deeper,” he rasps, and you feel pride swell in your chest at his praise.
Your hand move to fondle with his balls, massaging them gently as his hands fist his crisp white sheets, a loud grunt ringing through the room as he curses. Your tongue runs over the vein on the underside of his cock, and his knuckles go white from tensing around the sheets, his harsh grasp turning tighter and tighter as he tries to ground himself.
“g-gonna cum, baby,” he chokes, “fuck, fuck, fuck, that feels good.” you bob your head up and down his length faster, swallowing around him a few more times before his back arches and his hips raise. You let him in deeper, forcibly closing your eyes as you gagged whenever his hard tip hit further into your throat.
“Fuck princess —” Satoru released a harsh groan, his pupils dilated and iris’ dark as he concupisciently fucked your throat.
Thrusting into your mouth as he whines, quickly squeezing your neck to feel just how far he was rummaging your throat, his eyes rolling back when he noticed the prominent bulging of your neck before thick spurts of cum painted your throat, deeply and fully with his cum. “fuck—that’s it, sweetheart.”
His voice cracks as he lets out strings of curses, with a few more ropes of cum, his body slumps over you, leaving him panting into the room as you pop off of his cock.
“You’re spoiling me,” he rasped out with his lips barely formimg a smile, tired from how well you took his cock, “Best fucking head I’ve ever gotten.”
—
Satoru Gojou could last for hours.
His arms caressed the smooth skin of your back, his lips feathering kisses along your bust as you saddled yourself on top of him. His cock brushing against your wet pussy, warming himself up as you meticulously moved your hips slowly in response.
Trying to muffle your moan that escaped your lips from being too loud, Satoru wouldn’t dare let you do that. Placing a finger into your mouth, playing with your hot tongue, he ordered, “stop that — I want to hear you.”
“Ngh!” you immediately let out, the temptation to just force his cock into you much too unbearable. But Satoru knew that would be foolish — he would easily break you if he’d done that, and how could he? When he’s finally gotten you all for himself.
“Let me get a condom —”
“—Wait!” you stopped him from reaching for his night stand, his drawer partially opened to peak a box of XL condoms waiting to be used, “It’s okay…” you muttered.
Brushing his finger against your cheek, making sure if it was entirely okay with you,, “are you sure? It’s not a big deal for me to wear it.”
“Yes,” nodding your head as you leaned into his touch, “yea, I’m sure.”
“You think you’re ready?” He whispered while soothing your thighs, massaging your muscles as he laid soft kisses along your neck.
“Mhm — yes. I’m ready ah —,” your moans left breathlessly out your lips, music to his ears as he changed positions, turning you over so your back laid comfortably on the mattress.
“Baby,” reaching out for a pillow to place under your hips, “let’s start with the tip, I’ll go slow.”
“I can take it —” his kiss stopped you from continuing. “Don’t make this harder for me,” he warned before kissing you, his lips easing your starved cunt, drooling for him to fill you up.
You can feel Satoru soaking his length with your slick, moving his member repeatedly through your wet folds as he prepared himself to enter. “Relax for me,” Satoru cooed when he felt your tight hole repelling his entrance, “ you gotta let me in, angel.” he cooly chuckled, yet voice wasn’t anything near passive — it was impatient and starved.
The once cool room now felt hot, filled with the smell of lubricious sex as you both laid bare on his mattress. The slight pain of him pushing his head inside was quickly masked into pleasure as his hands massaged your breasts and his lips left longing stamps of love all over your body.
“Good, just like that,” Satoru's breath was warm as he continued to slowly press his length into you, often losing composure when he pushed a little too impatiently when you clenched down on him. “Fuck you’re so tight —” he groaned, gripping on the sheets to keep his sanity before possibly splitting you open.
It was cruel how warm you felt inside. It was as if his cock was meant to be wrapped by your plush, sultry walls, and it was destined that he would be the one to fill the empty space up to your cervix, linking you both into one body.
You felt full, and your mind felt cloudy to clearly tell if Satoru was all the way inside you. “A-are you in all the way?” you sniffled back the tears.
If he was the devil, you were his angel that’s tempted him to total damnation, abolished from the heaven’s for his idolatry of loving you despite the gods that created him. Because there was no way, any person would not go utterly mad when they could see what he saw.
“Almost.” Satoru answered with gritted teeth, barely holding on by a threat as he continued to push himself deeper inside you. “Ahh!” you squealed, throwing your arms around his neck, unintentionally pushing him further into you.
“S-shit,” cursing under his breath as he started to pump his cock, forcing his way inch by inch through your tight walls, until he’s finally — in what seemed like tortuous ages — kissed your cervix. It was absolutely insane how your hole perfectly stretched for him, perfectly embracing his cock as he continued to fill the void inside you.
Satoru’s member was warm inside you. Your bodies were tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking in the dimly lit room. And when you pulled away, your eyes brimming with tears were locked in a silent exchange of yearning as he looked at you with the same longing.
Without a word, Satoru reached out and gently cupped your breast, his touch sending electricity down your spine. You leaned into his touch, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt the heat of his body pressing against yours.
Your lips met once more, a tender exploration of each other’s mouths, and he was taking that chance to increase his pace. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he began to enter you again — with more grit, and force that you were clawing at his naked back, drawing harsh marks of red on his skin. You were whimpering under him, melting into his passionate movements as he fucked you in missionary.
Your hands explored his body — his firm chest and defined six pack, to the perfect v-line down his pelvis to his pretty cock. And when you reached further down, grasping his buttocks, it felt sculpted and perfectly round, just like how his back was now angry with his muscles bulging from the extraneous use.
Feeling you touch him, a smirk grows on his lips as he stripped you from being able to touch him, his cock pressing further in as he sat on his knees, his hands pushing your thighs to your chest. “You like what you see, sweetheart? It’s all yours.”
Nodding as you reached out for him, “‘m cold Satoru, hold me,” you whined from the absence of his body heat made you feel suddenly empty.
He couldn’t deny your request because he quickly pressed his weight onto you, easily folding you like a chair as he fucked his cock into you, “see —” he placed a hand on your stomach, “aren’t you lucky girl, because this” he harshly rammed his cock into you, “is also all for you.”
Mine. like a hypnotic spell, a taunting melody, Satoru drilled it into your head that he was in fact all yours.
You have had sex with Kōji countless times before, but it was never this emotional. It was never this passionate. But with Satoru, you could tangibly feel the difference in the way he kissed you, with the way he looked at you, with the way he touched you. Everything felt surreal when you were with him.
“S-satoru!” you yelped when his thrust penetrated deeper inside you, knocking your cervix as his hips slammed into your ass.
The sound of his deep chuckle slithered through your ears as he jolted his hips forward, sending you to a state of euphoria with every deep thrust. You were barely gripping onto his back, hoping it would give you some form of stability. “Focus,” he growled, the speed of his cock unforgiving as he rutted himself into your cunt, “think of me, only me.”
It wasn’t like you didn’t want to. He was just too much. It was only half past midnight and he’s already come twice. It was insane how he was still so hard, his libido still strong, as he pounded you with every bit of his strength to create more friction against your moistened cunt.
While your legs were tangled around his waist, his mouth latched onto your tit when he gave each bosom a lavish suck—even going as far as circling his tongue around your nipple. It was until he began increasing the speed of his thrusts when you could no longer contain your wanton cries, “A-Aah! S-Satoru, p-please d-don’t stop!”
“Cum,” he whispered on your ear, knowing full well that your orgasm was building back on your lower abdomen, “Cum for me, honey.”
“Satoru…” Breathless and overstimulated, your nails ended up scratching his back as you clenched around his girth, milking yourself around his cock followed by your helpless cries. Your chest was rising and falling heavily after you climaxed.
I missed you, he reasoned as he continued to pistol his cock inside you, now resting both your ankles on his shoulders as he watched your breasts rhythmically bounce around with each thrust.
“S-satoru, I slow d-down! I just came —” Your moans came out louder than you initially expected, even louder than the skin-slapping noises from when his pelvis hit your ass. Your entire body was being pushed and pulled as he mercilessly drilled your hole with harsh jostles.
His room was dark, but even if you couldn’t see his face, you were certain that he had a million-dollar grin displayed. “Say my name.” he devilishly taunted, his voice leaving goosebumps over your body.
His shaft was already coated by slick and the squelching sounds only added to the intensity of your arousal. You barely managed out his name. “Sa-tor-u!”
“Good girl.” A wave of pleasure washed over your body when he quickly flipped you over, as the feeling of his hot breath tickled your spine. Your legs were shaking while your head fell on the cushion, leaving your ass up high and your face down low.
His fingers were teasing your entrance despite already being stretched by his fully erected cock—satiating your clit with circular movements in synchronization with his penetrative actions. Satoru just adored how you clenched around him even through his words alone and that dominance he had over you was fueling his God complex. You could feel him trying to angle his cock better as he watched how it was disappearing from the cavern between your plump folds. And for him, nothing could look more perfect, more beautiful that your cunt stretched out so nicely to fit his cock.
“Ngh! So good… so good,” you whimpered in a breathless voice, upper body pressed against the mattress as he worked on destroying your pussy. Despite his devilish being, Satoru certainly fucked like a god as he sent you to seventh heaven when his tip rammed your g-spot. “Aah—ah! Fuck!”
Conniving. So wretching cunning. He certainly wasn’t lying when he said he fucked well — too well, was the problem.
Pulling his hips back so that he’s just almost pulled out completely before he slams back into you, pressing against your sweet spot with his tip in the way only he would ever allow you to know. He’s gone through countless simulations as he fucked his fists thinking of how’d you look when making love. He knows where to kiss and hold and touch to make your eyes flutter shut, and your mouth fall open, wanton moans falling past your lips without a care in the world who can hear.
“so tight, baby,” he whines, “god you’re so perfect—my perfect girl.”
“so full,” you gasp, desperately holding onto the pillow for dear life, “feel so good —fuck.”
“'m getting jealous of a pillow,” he warns, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he pulled the pillow away, a vein bulging from his temple, “but look at you, it’s a shame you can’t see what I see. Then you’d know why I can’t keep my hands off of you and so jealous — it’s fucking impossible.”
The increased roughness and speed in his pace caused you a shockwave of intense sensual gratification that sent you to euphoria. The moans and the salacious sounds that came from his rough pace drowned your room with a surge of bliss because Gojo never once stopped from plowing your cunt with his hardened member, deepening and hitting your most sensitive spot each time he penetrated you.
You can’t speak—all you can offer him as he’s bullying his thick girth into you is a pathetic whine as his veins drag along your walls, as his navel bumps along your clit and has your head thrown into the mattress.
“P-please,” you begged, doing whatever you could to reach back and holding onto him.
You could feel a thick slick smeared along your inner thigh, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you, ringing in your ears along with his deep groans as he pants harshly against your ear. You can feel his breath against your skin, can feel the goosebumps and the flutter of your walls every time he makes a pretty little sound for you as you squeeze around him.
With each thrust, you can’t help but be reminded when he pushes into you like he was always meant to fit right there, like he was always meant to feel you as you feel him too.
“Love you,” he says between moans, face digging into your neck as your hand cradles the back of his head, his arms forcing you up, back arching into a bow as he continuously fucked you. “You’re my perfect, perfect girl. Can you feel me?” he gathers your other hand, covering your lower stomach to push down for you to feel a hard lump that angrily moved inside you, “this is what you do to me?”
You nod between sharp gasps and he holds you in wonder, at the way your lips look when they murmur that sweet little cry of his name, at the way your pussy sucks him in and hugs too tightly around him, at the way you look so good with the slight sheen of sweat on your face as you took his cock perfectly in.
His hips roll, a little sloppy in rhythm now still fucking you just as hard and deep, just before letting you both fall onto the mattress with his weight pressing you down. Despite this being the first time he’s fucked you, he can sense it—the way you’re just about to fall apart on his cock, just like you always did in his dreams. So he pushes a hand underneath, pressing a thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you clench on him harder as you cry out moans that sound so mellifluous to his ears.
Biting your lip, you closed your eyes and absorbed the pleasuring feeling of his member that was plowing your velvet walls. Your dulcet moans with the combination of his sexy grunts echoed through your shared room in overflowing titillation. You wanted nothing else for him to fill you up again, just like he did with your throat hours ago.
“you close, sweetheart? gonna cum for me?
“yeah,” you breathe, kissing him with hot, open-mouthed kisses that he returns, “ ‘m so close—f-fuck, so close, baby.”
You know he is. It’s in the way his cock twitches and the way his hips are desperate in the way they roll into you tells you he’s just as close to falling apart as you are. You push your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt before you feel the coil snap as you cum—hard. Your walls flutter around him, spasming and squeezing around him as he inhales sharply.
“I’m near,” he announced, spreading out your thighs with his knees, his balls slamming onto your buttocks as he has you pinned down from above, fucking you like his sex doll. He fucked at an animalistic speed, forcing you to grip his forearm as his force pushed you into his headrest — your body lower region feeling sore from the sheer amount he’s fucked you.
“You’re so beautiful, baby,“ he said it with a chuckle, his thrust unrelinquishing and you couldn’t help but absolutely adore just how he stared at you, held you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And it only took a couple seconds for that softness to fade into lust as though the sex god in him manifested before you. “Feels. So. Fucking… Good!” His breathy grunts were released when his hips fell out of rhythm.
“f-fuck, baby—’m gonna…” he doesn’t get to finish before you feel his cock twitch and his cum fills you. It’s hot and thick, sticky with every rope he fucks into you, leaking past his tip and painting your walls white.
You can feel the mess he makes—can feel the drops leak and drip along your inner thighs as he slams into you with choked whines of your name. “god—” he gasps, breathless as his face digs into the crook of your neck, hugging you with his weight pressed on top of you as his arms tremble.
Hot spurts of seed were shot straight to your womb, ensuring that every drop of his cum were loaded to your cervix. When he pulled out, you could feel his warm semen seeping out of your entrance because you were clenching naturally, twitching to keep his cum in. As you gasped for air, Satoru was very much proud knowing just how much he had cum inside of you.
Panting, “I love you,” he confessed, pecking your bruised lips.
Your mouth vibrated against his. “Mm— me too.” you tiredly responded back. Every inch of your body felt sore to even move.
It’s silent for a bit. Only the harsh, labored pants as you both tried to calm down and catch your breaths echoed in his bedroom. Satoru still had his nose buried against your neck, shifting his weight to the side as he slowly flipped you over on your back, hugging you tightly as your hands soon rubbed over his back tenderly.
You notice a indent on his left scapula, your fingers tracing the scar most likely caused from the impact of falling down the stairs years ago. You kissed his shoulder as you weaved your fingers through his sweaty scalp, confessing your love for the first time, “I love you.”
“Yea I know,” he grunted before lifting himself up to cage your head between his arms, his heavy body intimately pressed on top of your smaller frame, “You were obsessed with marrying me when you didn’t even have your front teeth —”
“Shut up,” you pinched his cheeks, getting an exaggerated ow! from your lover. “You never said no to my proposal, so you’re just as obsessed.”
“I never denied it,” his expression changes before he pressed his lips onto yours, deepening the kiss.
“Satoru.” his name breathlessly flowed out your lips, music to his ears from the years of his silent yearning for you to call him. “We need to shower, your sheets are dirty —”
“we need to clean up—” another kiss “— and oh god your couch —”
“just one more,” he insisted, his tongue making his way into your mouth.
Pushing him away, you’re met with an obviously offended look. “You have work tomorrow, and I have a night shift after work,”
“I’m rich, I have more than enough money for you to quit your jobs,” he obviously stated, “and that fucktard isn’t not your responsibility anymore. So look at me, take care of me, I’m needy and need your kisses now.” he tried pushing himself onto you.
But you press a hand to his mouth, blocking his lips from touching yours as he pouts against you, but he still presses himself closer thinking that’ll make you succumb to his desires.
“Nope.”
He grumbles, muffling something incoherent against your palm. You roll your eyes, amused at how you’ve come to love this manchild, moving your hand to cup his cheek as you stroke his lips with your thumb.
“If you’re good,” you press firmly on his bruised flesh, inciting a small painful flinch from your lover, “I’ll kiss you all you want if you do as I say.”
“No,” he moped, “you’d still kiss me when I’m bad, so what’s the point?”
“So you admit you’re bad,” you raise a brow, making him grin cheekily, “I thought you’d always listen and be good.”
“I can be,” he shrugs, “but fucking god I love it when you put me in my place.”
“you’re ridiculous,” you tiredly sighed, releasing control to give him what he wanted. It only makes him chuckle, leaning in again as his lips hover over yours, making you inhale sharply as you feel his breath fan over your mouth before kissing you for the millionth time. “Heh I’ll always win.”
With him kissing you, you’d think everything that had happened last night was nothing more than a fever dream. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, it all felt surreal — like a glass menagerie teetering on the edge of shattering. You wondered if it would be okay to stay here for now — to be loved by and to love him deeply. To forget about the rest of the damn world and its burdens by simply remaining in his arms, resting in his comfort as you stared at his beautiful face, listening to his slow and steady heartbeat.
At that exact moment, as you moved together in perfect harmony, breathing each other’s air while being intimately held in each other’s arms, you felt his heartbeat radiating to your chest, beating oh so loudly as it healthily pumped blood to his body, signaling he was indeed alive. And it was in his presence alone, that he fills you with comfort.
And in that, with Gojo Satoru, you knew that you were finally home.
—
Hours later when you were asleep in his arms, Satoru receives a text.
From: Ijichi
Mr. Nakamura and Miwayaki-san have both been notified of their termination. Furthermore, as instructed, all and any neighboring companies would be promptly alerted if they ever submit their applications for a job.
Miwayaki-san will have her apartment stripped from her, and all debts of Mr. Nakamura will be doubled to account for interest and all payments made on his behalf would be returned to the original payer.
author's note: wow... if you've read up to the end, I just want to say thank you for giving this a chance. I was hesitant on releasing this, especially with the wc being so long ... but if you've enjoyed it, then that's all that matters. have a good one (o˘◡˘o)
it’s blatantly clear who he prefers by the way he fucks.
uraume does not rub it in your face — but their pretty eyes linger on you for a little too long before they enter his bedroom, the gentle bite marks all over their breasts let you know how tenderly he is with them. their moans — beautiful little gasps of pleasure — tell you everything.
and it’s everything you crave — the softness, the quiet love.
he fucks you like he hates you — his teeth sink into the flesh of your neck roughly and carelessly draw blood, his kisses are feverish, and when he fucks your mouth you’re always on the brink of passing out.
he rubs it in your face — that you’ll never have with him what he has with uraume.
