nezrin

[idoratrizeworld]

Telence where the fuck are we

[kxsagi]

“𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚-𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭”

a/n: the interviewer tryna ignore it 😭😭😭

synopsis: inspired by clips of non-media-trained haaland he was hilarious omfg. 

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, kaiser michael, ness alexis

isagi yoichi

isagi starts every interview completely normal. you're thinking, wow. he's actually really good at this. then the interviewer asks, "how did you know where the ball would go?" and he accidentally spends three uninterrupted minutes psychoanalyzing every player on the pitch like he's reading their browser history. 

"well, the center-back has a habit of shifting his weight 0.4 seconds early whenever he's under pressure, the goalkeeper favors his right knee because of an injury from two years ago, and my teammate looked scared so i knew he'd panic-pass–" 

the reporter is blinking. the translator is sweating. his coach off-camera is making the universal wrap it up motion. 

someone asks him if he considers another rookie striker his rival. isagi smiles so sweetly everyone expects a respectful answer. "no. he's kind of just there." 

the clip gets 20 million views overnight because the other striker was standing six feet away doing his own interview, but he heard isagi loud and clear (shown by his very expressive side eye). 

during a live broadcast, the interviewer asks, "who's the hardest defender you've faced?" 

isagi answers immediately. "oh, definitely him." he points directly at the player walking behind the camera. the defender hears his name, smiles proudly... before isagi continues, "because he's impossible to predict. everyone else is pretty easy after 20 minutes." the poor defender doesn't know whether that was a compliment or a violation. 

they ask him for a message to his growing fanbase. he gets nervous and blurts, "please don't argue with people online because of me." the interviewer laughs. isagi doesn't. "seriously. i can see you guys doing it." 

cut to twitter immediately arguing over that clip. 

itoshi rin

every interviewer quickly realizes asking rin open-ended questions is a mistake. 

"how does it feel to score your first professional hat trick?" "... fine." "can you elaborate?" "... i scored three." 

a reporter asks him if he'd like to thank anyone after his man of the match performance. rin thinks for a full 10 seconds. "... no." 

the interview ends four questions early because nobody knows where to go from there. 

sponsors desperately want a marketable superstar, so they coach him beforehand. 

"smile." 

"okay." 

"try to sound warmer." 

"okay." 

"maybe thank the fans." 

"okay." 

the camera rolls. 

"thank you... i guess." 

bro, that's less warm. 

one interviewer jokingly asks, "any weaknesses?” 

rin answers, "interviews." 

the entire press room bursts into laughter. rin wasn't joking. 

itoshi sae

sae somehow gives the impression that he's media-trained because he always looks composed. he's not. he's just naturally expressionless. 

a reporter asks, "how important was teamwork today?" 

sae answers without missing a beat. "very." 

"can you expand?" 

"no." 

PR managers everywhere develop stress-induced migraines. 

someone asks him if he gets nervous before big matches. 

"no." 

"never?" 

"traffic is annoying." 

that becomes one of those random athlete quotes that gets edited over meme music for absolutely no reason. 

they ask him what he thinks about becoming one of the league's newest stars. 

“people say that." 

"well, do YOU think that?" 

"not really." 

his club's social media admin nearly throws their laptop because they'd already drafted three "our rising superstar ⭐" posts. 

the funny thing is reporters slowly adapt to him. by the end of the season, interviews sound like hostage negotiations. 

"one-word answers are okay." 

"good." 

"excellent! that's progress." 

nagi seishiro

nagi forgets interviews exist until someone shoves a microphone in his face and says, "congratulations on the win." 

"oh… thanks." 

they ask him what was going through his mind when he scored an unbelievable volley. 

"dinner." 

"... excuse me?" 

"i didn’t have lunch." 

the clip hits 15 million likes because everyone believes him. 

one interviewer asks him to describe himself in three words. 

"sleepy. hungry. done." 

the interviewer starts laughing so hard they accidentally end the segment early. 

he constantly answers rhetorical questions. 

"i guess dreams really do come true, huh?" 

"yeah…” 

"what?" 

"dreams… they come true." 

the club eventually starts assigning reo to stand just off-camera because whenever nagi starts drifting into outer space mid-answer, reo silently points toward the next reporter. 

mikage reo

reo walks into interviews with CEO confidence and absolutely zero filter. reporters love him because he'll answer anything. PR managers hate him because he'll answer anything. 

someone casually asks what convinced him to join his club. 

"money wasn't really important." 

his agent nods proudly. 

"i mean i already have enough." 

his agent physically leaves the interview frame. 

an interviewer asks if he gets competitive. 

reo nods enthusiastically. "absolutely." 

"with who?" 

"everyone." 

"everyone?" 

"even the GPS. if it says i'll get there at 4:32, i'm getting there at 4:31 or earlier." 

they ask him who spends the most time getting ready before matches. 

he answers: "nagi." 

nagi, walking behind him with bedhead and one untied shoe, goes "huh?” 

his biggest crime is accidentally revealing behind-the-scenes information. 

"coach gave a really inspiring speech before kickoff." 

the reporter is like "really? what did he say?" 

reo, without thinking, answers, “he said if we lost he'd shave someone's eyebrows." 

the club has to cut to commercial. 

by his second season, every interview starts with a PR representative whispering, "remember... some things stay in the locker room." 

reo smiles confidently. "of course." 

five minutes later: "so anyway, here's what happened on the team bus..." 

bachira meguru

bachira is every media manager's favorite person... until the interview actually starts. he walks in smiling, waving at every camera, complimenting the interviewer's shoes, and everyone thinks, finally, someone charismatic. 

five minutes later, he's somehow talking about how defenders "taste different." 

"... what?" 

"like... some taste like spicy ramen. some taste like stale bread." 

"taste…?" 

"yeah." 

nobody asks him to elaborate because they're honestly scared of the answer. 

he's the king of answering questions that were never asked. "what was the key to today's win?" 

"one time, i got chased by a goose." 

"sorry?" 

"i think that's why i'm so good at dribbling." 

people believe him. 

he has absolutely no concept of inside thoughts. 

"your chemistry with your striker seems incredible." 

"yeah! he looked constipated during warmups so i knew he'd have a good game." 

the camera cuts to said teammate looking absolutely betrayed. 

every interview somehow ends with the interviewer laughing instead of getting the answer they originally wanted. 

shidou ryusei (suggestive content… 😔) 

the league has to implement a five-second broadcast delay specifically because of shidou. 

every single interview begins with a PR manager saying, "please... just answer normally." 

"got it." 

30 seconds later: "that bicycle kick made me feel like i was ‘bout to finish all over the field, dude! i thought my soul left my body for a second!” 

"... we'll... use that." 

reporters try to ask him the safest questions imaginable. "how did you celebrate after scoring?" 

"i unloaded the trailer cuh." 

"... pardon?" 

"my toilet saw the chocolate gates." 

one interviewer asks what motivates him. 

"violence." 

complete silence. 

"... on the pitch!" he laughs. 

the clip ends before he can clarify. 

after one particularly chaotic interview, a veteran reporter is heard whispering into the mic, "i need a drink…” 

karasu tabito

karasu thinks interviews are funny because reporters always ask questions they already know the answer to. 

"did you expect to win today?" 

"would've been weird if i expected to lose." 

he accidentally develops a reputation for roasting reporters without actually meaning to. 

"how did you deal with their press?" 

"same way i'm dealin’ with these questions." 

"... how's that?" 

"patiently." 

one interviewer asks him for his biggest weakness. 

"answerin’ stupid questions." 

"... are you talking about soccer?" 

"i am now." 

he has the most disrespectful habit of looking directly into the camera like he's on the office every time someone asks something ridiculous. 

"do you think scoring goals is important?" 

karasu just stares into the lens. "... nah, not really." 

fans love him because every interview feels less like a press conference and more like watching someone argue with customer service. 

kaiser michael

kaiser is somehow both the easiest and hardest player to interview. he speaks clearly, sits with perfect posture, and always looks like he's in complete control... until you realize he's answering every question like he's trying to entertain himself instead of the audience. 

one reporter asks, "what makes you different from other strikers?" 

kaiser smiles politely. "i score more." 

"... anything else?" 

"that was the important part." 

sponsors beg him to sound more humble, like "remember, acknowledge your teammates." 

kaiser responds with, "of course." 

camera rolls. 

"my teammates did an excellent job creating chances." 

everyone in the room smiles. 

"it would've been a shame if i wasted them." 

the smiles disappear immediately. 

an interviewer asks if he ever feels pressure living up to expectations. 

"uh, why would i?" 

"because millions of people are watching you." 

"then they should enjoy the show." 

the clip gets turned into every football edit imaginable. 

he has a habit of accidentally making everything sound like a challenge. 

"any message for the defenders you'll be facing next week?" 

"rest well." 

"because?" 

"you'll need it." 

the opposing club's social media account reposts the clip with 17 question marks. 

ness alexis

ness is trying so hard to sound professional. emphasis on trying. 

his very first interview starts just fine actually. 

"we're all working incredibly hard, and i'm grateful to be here–" 

"what makes kaiser such a dangerous player?" 

his brain disconnects from PR mode so fast. 

"have you SEEN him?" 

"yes–” 

"he's amazing." 

“right–” 

"like... genuinely unbelievable." 

somewhere off-camera, the media manager slowly lowers their head into their hands. 

reporters quickly discover that asking him about literally anyone else gets a normal answer. but asking him about kaiser turns him into the president of the fan club. 

someone asks him to describe kaiser in one word. 

"one?" he pouts. 

"yes." 

"... that's impossible." 

during one interview, he accidentally says, "sometimes i forget cameras are recording." 

the interviewer laughs. 

"wait… they're recording now?" 

the panic on his face becomes one of the league's most-used reaction memes. 

by the end of his rookie season, interviewers intentionally sneak one kaiser question into every interview because watching ness completely abandon professionalism halfway through has become must-see television. every single time he catches himself halfway into another speech– 

"he's just so incredi–" deep breath. "he's... a valuable teammate." 

everyone knows what he was going to say anyway. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[pockyum]

ᢉ𐭩 fem!reader, sukuna has bed head hair

sukuna sprawled out on your shared bed, two arms above his head, one across his stomach, and another lied idly on your thigh. his hair was messy, strands all over the place, and a few somehow shaped into bangs over his forehead. his stomach-mouth was open, softly snoring while showing off his large fangs.

and although he looked so comfortable, and the moonlight softly shone through the curtains of your quarters, you took a minute to leave. softly, you moved his large hand off your thigh, placing it close to where you slept instead.

after you’ve quietly retreated to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, sukuna almost immediately woke up from the loss of your touch.

he softly grumbled when he didn’t feel your body warmth, then he grabbed at what he wanted to be you, but instead met with sheets.

a huff escaped him, and he turned onto his side with a groan, half sitting up and using a hand to prop himself up.

“wife..” he called out, mumbling with his natural rough voice, a frown appearing on his face.

and almost as if you could sense how he already missed you dearly, not knowing how long you’d been gone, you slowly creaked the door open, walking in with a glass of water. as you sat it on the nightstand, your heart ached as sukuna blearily stared up at you with half-lidded eyes. he slowly blinked up at you like a cat, and his hair stuck up in many different directions.

some drool escaped the corner of his mouth, and you smiled. he probably didn’t even notice.

finally, you climbed into bed again, softly mumbling, “i know, i’m here,” with a smile as he already began reaching towards you to pull you closer.

your hand found his chest, and you rubbed comforting circles on his tattoos as you left a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. before you could pull away, he softly nudged your head with his, letting out a soft sigh as his hand found your back.

but you reached up, hand finding his hair as you play with it. he pushed his head into your hand, asking for more touch.

“you have bed head hair,” you whispered as his eyes nearly closed.

but he murmured, shaking his head with a pout, “i do not,” he let out a dramatic huff, glaring at you with all four eyes.

“whatever you say, honey,” you mumbled as you looked down at him, hand still running through his hair.

and within seconds, he’s asleep as quickly as he woke up. this time, he’s lulled to sleep by your touch. he’s right where he wants to be, falling asleep every night in the arms of his wife.

ib this art by sukunaglazer23 on twt he’s so adorable oml

repost from my other acc

[claudialynq]

Tojiiii x2!!

[nez4nezha]

Imagine Naoya banning his wife from make up 'cuz he likes natural women who doesn't wear any— just for his wife to watch him put on his winged eyeliner every 5:30 am on a Tuesday before a solo mission 😂

[alexiroflife]

"do i look like her?" ৎ୭

ask | toji fics

toji fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: You find yourself spiraling into a cycle of negative thoughts that take over you regarding Toji's past, as you have become convinced that the only reason Toji was able to move on is because he pictures you as the woman he lost.

to sum it up: you can't get the image of Toji's ex wife out of your head, which must mean that he can't either.

WC: 8,115

Warning(s): angst, mamaguro, reader is avoidant, mention of depression / anxiety / insecurity, grief and loss, mentions of death

You do not self sabotage.

Or... at least that is what you tell yourself when you are self sabotaging.

It's not your fault. You've been through a lot. You've experienced enough trauma and heartbreak on a repetitive cycle to convince yourself that you should run before things can go wrong, that things will sour at the mercy of your influence, that you are the common denominator for all the negativity within your world.

Despite how others have hurt you. Despite how it was other people who initially led you to think that way.

Your mind always twists it all back onto you.

And deep down, you know it. You that is exactly what you are doing when you are first plowed with that nauseating, neverending, persistent feeling that eats away at your heart and poisons your mind, the feeling that first makes you stop and think, obsess over your insecurities, and question whether you really are good enough.

You know when you feel envy strike, when a sickening sense of inferiority crowds you in the shadow of that woman's loss against your best efforts, against your wishes.

You know it when suddenly you think that Toji's kisses have gone colder, that his eyes have shifted into darkness when you are around, that his mind is elsewhere when he is physically with you. You know it when that air of breeziness falls, and the honeymoon period of feeling as though you are floating gives away. You come crashing back to the ground, back into the land of doubt, the land of fear, the land of inadequacy.

And you know it's you, and only you, because Toji has never given you any reason to second guess his motives or his true feelings within your relationship.

The man had been so guarded when you first met him. He shoved you away enough times for you to learn that when he eventually let his guard down, it is not because he does not take you seriously but because he does, painfully and scarily so. It tore him apart so much to finally reveal himself to you that your self destructive habits fell by the wayside, and true love overpowered - a desire to help him, to open his eyes to the world that he can and does deserve.

Toji has only ever loved you. He has only ever cherished you like you could vanish into thin air at any second, loving you as if every day he has you is his last, never, ever risking the chance of taking you for granted. How could he, when you've become everything to him after he had been so lost for so long? After you brought reason, light, joy, and hope back into his life?

You know Toji loves you. You feel it. You see it.

But the fears come back regardless, so natural to you, you're surprised that they had even left. A shift in tone, an unanswered text, a fleeting kiss are all enough to send the first trigger shooting through your brain.

Then comes a lingering gaze on an old family picture with his ex that Toji forgot he had swimming in the caverns of his camera roll, swiftly swiped past with a blink back to reality.

It's all enough to set your mind off, to provoke the voices that roar in your head that you are not loved, but rather, a mere replacement. A placeholder. An empty husk serving in the space where someone used to be, someone who would be there still if cruel life had not stripped her from this world.

You begin to subconsciously compare yourself to her at every chance your mind gets to torture you. You begin to stare longer at the family picture that still sits on Megumi's window sill, to trace the counters in a daze, wondering if it was her who picked the marble finish in the kitchen - as you know Toji is not the kind of man who pays such things attention. You fall silent as your mind rages, absolving you of your speech, and twisting it into a curse upon your subconscious.

You think. You think. And think until it physically aches to do so, but no matter how much it hurts, you can not stop it. You can not shut it out. You can not make your thoughts go away. They simply expand, grow worse by the day, and if the questions were not already bad, the guilt that swarms you is ten times worse.

How could you obsess so much over a dead woman? Someone who is not even alive anymore? Someone whom this household you have weasled your way into lingers in the unspoken, in the air, behind the corners you turn, in the whistle of a kettle, in the eyes of his son, in the spaces you fill?

Its not right to think of her in such a way. To tarnish her memory by selfishly clinging onto this image that you could never truly know, to disgrace Toji's grief and his devotion to you by swearing that he could only ever love her, that it is not you he loves but the projection of her that he has utilized you for.

It's insane. You know it is. But you can not help it. You've never loved someone like this, nor have you ever loved someone who had not become single on his own accord but by force, by fate. As you sink into comfort, your mind awakes in alert. Its faith and belief in the reality of things slip away, and you are stuck believing lies, believing that you are not good enough, believing that a ghost would serve better in your place.

You've seen the pictures of Megumi's mother. She was radiant and beautiful, effortlessly so. You see the same softness in Megumi's eyes that she once had, and you wonder what Toji thinks every time he looks at the boy, if he has to push down the ache that stems from their striking similarities.

You find yourself looking in the morning and picking at your face, frowning at the reflection that stares back at you. You don't have here wild, raven hair, her smooth, perfect skin. You don't have whatever effect she had that drew Toji to her in the first place, that made him fall so deeply in love that when she faded away, he lost all sense of purpose.

You aren''t her. You could never be her, and you wonder how Toji bears to look at you. How he turns to you and smiles when you know deep down what he really wants, who he really yearns for, who you decide he imagines you to be.

You lay awake at night as he snores in your ear, arms wrapped tightly around your middle, and you wonder if he ever held her the same way. With one leg kicked up over your hips, his hands clutching you tight to his chest.

You wonder every night... is he dreaming of her? Do you really even exist to him if he only thinks of you as another version of her?

The fake version? The temporary?

You don't know when the last time it was when you got a full night's rest. You spend your evenings curled in his arms, staring at the ceiling with dark shadows under your eyes, lips clamped tight. As the second you close your eyes, the voices shout and steal any hope of sleep from you.

He doesn't really love you. You know that right?

He's only sleeping so well because he's pretending its her instead of you.

How could you ever think that he would love you after losing such a woman?

How could you even begin to compete with her?

And after a while, after enough self deprecation, after enough sleepless nights, you begin to subconsciously distance yourself from Toji. Not physically, but mentally.

When he kisses you, lips meeting your cheek in greeting, you shrink into your mind, body stilling as though you are a deer in headlights, eyes sharp and wide, lips clamped. Your voice has gone quieter - no longer lively and engaging but monotonous, timid, and almost cautious. Like you're afraid to be in his house. Like you are apologetic for your own presence.

You slip into a depression quite easily, and you don’t even think that Fushiguros realize, as you’re so distracted by your own thoughts. Why would they notice after all? It’s not like you’re Toji’s wife, nor are you Megumi or Tsumiki’s mother. Your emotions would likely just prove a further burden to them. After all, they lost so much when Megumi’s mother passed. You would only be further adding to such stress.

Yet, despite how you spiral into a pit of isolation, they do notice. Almost immediately, actually. It would be difficult to have ignored it. You display such a swift, drastic decline from your ordinarily bright and positive nature. And it worries the kids. It worries Toji.

Badly.

At first, he thinks he’s done something wrong when he notices you freeze at the slightest tough. Perhpaps, as usual, he's screwed up. He's said something stupid without thinking to hurt your feelings. But ordinarily, when you're upset with him, you let him know immediately. You don't go quiet, but in fact, you get loud. You challenge him, and despite his stubborness, he is forced to look within and rethink his actions.

You help him be better in that way.

So he rethinks it, but can not for the life of him understand what has happened, what's gone wrong. Do you resent him now? Have you lost all feelings for him? Has he made you feel trapped?

When he asks, you won't say. You'll simply flash him a smile that does not reach your eyes and tell him that you're fine. Despite the painful softness of your voice when you do that seems to pierce Toji straight through the heart, further emphasizing your lie. Despite that dark circles that run under your eyes, insinuating that you no longer sleep soundly with him at night. Despite the weight that appears to be sinking into your body, pulling your eyeline to the ground, dragging at your feet.

It's killing Toji, whatever is wrong with you, and it takes him a while to think that you could possibly dealing with something deeper that he can not understand. Some underlying darkness, a depression, perhaps, that has snuck back into your life now that you have settled into a new routine, a new happiness.

He never believed in the kind of stuff before. Not even when he was experiencing it himself after his wife's death. When his life veered off track and he no longer knew who he was. When killing became the only thing he felt he could do right in this world.

He didn't even realize that was what depression felt like until, of course, you. Until you opened his eyes to how bad his life had been when you miraculously made it better.

He decides that depression is certainly the problem when he comes home more often to you already laying in bed or staring off into space, in some far off world in your mind, separate from reality. The only two questions that remain are what triggered such an abrupt episode, if anything, and how could he help you out of it?

Or... more so... could he help you?

Toji worries in silent, active ways. He asks more questions, though casually, subtly, and sporadically. He'll ask more details about your day when he gets home from work, he'll suggest grabbing take out if he notices the food in the fridge still untouched by you. He'll grip you tighter in his sleep, waiting to doze just to see how long you'll stay awake as you pretend to be asleep with your back pressed to his chest and his fingers tracing light circles in your abdomen.

You notice the mindless habit as something new, and begin to wonder if he's catching onto you.

His embraces are longer in the mornings, when he prepares to leave for a job. His hands linger on your skin as he makes his way to the door, his eyes catching you a number of times before the door closes and separates you, and you are left alone once more with your thoughts.

His kisses are softer, more tender, more cautious.

You can feel him growing wearier, more hesitant. And while this is due to Toji's uncertainty with how to approach you or make sure you're okay without further upsetting you, you only take his behavior as a further sign of his rejection of you. Of his true feelings finally showing.

It's yet another sleepless night at Toji's.

Despite your daily struggle to stomach being in this home, surrounded by so many memories of a woman you never met, you can't find the strength to go anywhere else. This is your home now, after all. You're a part of the family, of the house, of the life that should be hers, not yours. Though you want to leave with all your heart, she's keeping you here, the impossible standard, the first choice. You almost tell yourself that you deserve this feeling, that you would be a coward to run away from such harsh reality.

You have a blanket from the couch wrapped snug around your body, cocooning you as you shrug a lukewarm cup of coffee to your lips. The house is still, everyone but you asleep, and it took a significant amount of shuffling to manage to rise from the bed without waking your boyfriend. Though he's a deep sleeper, the second he feels you moving to even go to the bathroom, he's awake.

Hell, you're surprised you managed to get away this time. Maybe that's another sign of Toji's growing disconnect from you.

Your eyes sting when you blink. Your skin is cold despite the warmth that captures you, and your mind does not rest, so you give into the insomnia and trek across the floors that she once padded over with barefeet, wondering if yours are the same size, if you could somehow begin to fill those prints.

You feel as though you've internally begun to break up with Toji without trying. It feels like you're in a constant state of mourning, as though the man you love is not still right there before you - yours.

But how could he really be yours when he belongs to someone else?

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you do not feel Toji's presence at the corner. He does not make himself known, as his remarkable skills of stealth are put to use as to keep himself hidden from you until he decides to step into the light.

The dark haired man is quiet as he watches you, your back to him and your shoulders tense. When he surveys you more carefully, closer, he notices the tremble in your hands that sends tremors throughout the liquid in your mug.

Toji's eyes are half open, his hair is ruffled to hell, and his pants hang low on his hips as he stares at you. He woke the moment you moved out of bed, but waited to follow you to reduce suspicion. He wanted to know where you were running off to without alarming you further into isolation.

And now that he sees that you are just standing in his kitchen alone and motionless, he feels his chest tighten with something he can not name. He looks at you like you're a mirror, a reflection of his past self, and the notion only spirals him into further concern.

Toji always swears to protect you, to keep you and his kids safe from physical harm. It was the physical that took his first love away, and Toji refuses to let that happen again. Not with you. Not with the woman he intends to spend the rest of his life with.

He fears now, however, that he can not protect you from the mental dangers. The traumas, the internal voids, the voices in your head that ring without stop like an out of tune church bell.

The corners of Toji's lips tug downward and the side of his head knocks agains the wall. Why are you so unhappy? Is it him? Is he making you unhappy? Is he turning your relationship sour? How? Why? What can he do? Why does he feel so useless?

As if on its own, as if drawn to you, urged by a need to fix whatever is wrong, his body pushes himself away from the wall and inches forward mutely. He steps slowly into the space, closer to you. His brows are tugged together and there is a slight curl on his lips, one you mistake for disgust when you catch his shadow creeping up from out of the corner of your eye.

You startle, hastily setting your cup of coffee down on the counter as your eyes nervously catch the ivy hues that gaze down at you through the dimness. You turn to face him fully, leaning your hip against the counter as you instinctively pull your lips together in a halfhearted, tight line Toji thinks you'd call a smile.

"Toji," you say his name like you don't expect him to find you in his own home, like you're surprised that he would ever come after you. Which makes no sense to the assassin, who would jump from moving cars to get to you. "Hey, I'm sorry. I was trying to be quiet."

And you're apologizing. Again. Like your existence is a nuissance. Like you can't bear for your own boyfriend to perceive you in this light, or in any light for that matter.

It's tearing the man apart.

In a sleepy daze, Toji reachs a calloused hand out to your face once he settles a few feet before you. He's experimenting, testing the space and how much you allow between the two of you before you shrink away.

You hold Toji's gaze as his fingers graze your cheek, but it feels like you're staring through him rather than at him. Your eyes are empty. Cold. Exhausted.

The ivy eyed man tilts his head as he observes you quietly, sternly, and that's when you shift in the slightest. You switch weight on either foot, and your chin twitches down within a fraction of a second as his hand melts over your cheek and his gaze intensifies.

You feel him trying to pick you apart. What is it he's looking at? The flaws in your face? How strikingly different you are from his ex wife? Is he noticing up close now? How you'll never compare?

You expect some kind of insult to tumble from his lips every time he looks at you in such away. But you have become blind to the gentleness in his eyes when your vision greets him, soft and sweet. You no longer see the depths of love under layers of hardness, and the worry that so evidently swirls in his sharp irises that he attempts to stabilize with a blank expression.

You don't see anything but your own inadecuacy anymore.

So when his gravelly voice rasps out the obvious question: "Couldn't sleep?" you are even more confused, immediately searching for the hiding meaning in such an ordinary ask.

You take a moment to respond, like you've forgotten how to hold a conversation. You glance at the oven light and see that the time reads 3:32 am. Toji hates being up so late, especially when he has a big job in the morning.

Here you go, causing him even more problems. You're such a burden. You're sure his wife never would have posed him such inconvenience.

"Huh?"

You realize you've waited too long to say anything. You snap your eyes back to his like a deer in headlights and nod slowly. "Was just thirsty," you say.

He quirks a brow, eyes dragging down to your mug. "For the one thing that'll keep you up all night?"

You tug your blanket closer around your arms. "I just... didn't think I would be going to bed any time soon."

Something shifts in Toji's eyes as his hand falls from your face. He steps closer to you, watching your eyes dart between his feet and his face momentarily. Jesus, it's like you're afraid of him or something. You never have been before. So what's the problem now?

"Not going back to bed," he repeats your words, linking his pink finger around the mug handle and sliding it toward him. "Well, darlin', we both got work and the kids got school in a couple hours. I don't think y're getting away with another night of no sleep."

Toji abandons the cup to open his arms to you, bringing one arm around your shoulder to gently guide you to him. He feels your shoulder tense as you step into motion like a zombie, and he looks down at you out of the corner of his eye.

You don't look at him. You just stare.

The embony haired assassin stops, the two of you in the hall leading toward your shared bedroom. You blink in confusion and look up at your boyfriend as he steps out of your way, gesturing his arm forward for you to walk back in before him. You turn to look longingly back at the kitchen before trudging back into your room wordlessly, clinging tight to that blanket as Toji shuts the door behind you.

"(Y/n)," he calls your name, and you freeze in your tracks. Your nerves shock, your heart skips a beat, and you slowly turn over your shoulder, anxious, timid. God, it's so unlike you.

Toji leans against the door with a heavy exhale, watching you with that sharpness only a man trained to murder could withhold. He crosses his arms, frowning.

"You gonna tell me what's been goin' on with you or am I gonna have to get it out of you myself?"

You pale at the steadiness of his voice, the words that followed, and that dead serious look in your eye. You always imagined this moment, but could never prepare for it properly. Truthfully, you had no idea what to say. You're embarrassed. Vulnerable. Scared. Sad.

The very thought of even trying to tell him what's going on inside your mind chokes you up, for what the hell would he even say to you obsessing over his dead wife? What if he drops his facade of loving you and admits the truth? What if he sneers down at you, shaming you for all that you can not be for him and his kids? What if he leaves you?

You're paralyzed with horror, so uncertain of everything. Toji notices the way your body stiffens like some kind of defense mechanism, and it dawns on him that you are possibly shifting into fight or flight mode.

...How could he have let things get so bad?

He tilts his head, softening his voice into a mumble. "Doll?" your delicate nickname flutters from his tongue into the emptiness of your bedroom, and your heart aches. The nickname addresses you, but you hear its distant ring, its call to its rightful owner, its past life - sweet on someone else's ears before you.

His frown deepens as you shrink further into yourself without any words, but with just a particular look in your eye that makes Toji's bones ache.

He kicks himself up from the door and moves toward you. You take an involuntary step back, and he halts. As if burned.

You see that his face contort when he notices, and you curse yourself. He looks like you just threw fire at him.

"S-Sorry."

"Are you scared of me?"

The question settles into the air, raw with passion, a hiss, a torn whisper, and you hear your heart break. The spell around you shatters for a moment as Toji looks at you so perplexed, wounded in a way that he would only show you, plain in a veil of frustration.

You're shocked by it.

"What?"

"Don't act confused, like you haven't been jumping away any time I'm near you lately." The space between the two of you is thick in the air. You feel so far away, despite being closed within the same space. "Is it me? You don't like how I make you feel? Is that it?"

You know Toji so well. Even as his tone echoes monotonously and somewhat condescending, you can hear the underlying pain in those sentences.

"Are ya quiet because that's it? I'm right?"

"No," you finally say hastily. You see Toji's shoulders relax a bit, though his guard has gone up slightly from the sentiment. You can't believe that he would ever think something like that, that you could actually ever be scared of him. "Of course not, Toji. I could never be afraid of you. Do you hear what you're asking?"

And Toji hears the first semblances of passion in your voice after months of colorlessness, and despite the weight of the conversation topic, hope strikes - gentle and refrained.

"Hell, girl, you're not giving me much else to think," he admits. "It feels like you've been hating me lately."

"Why would I hate you, Toji?"

"You tell me. Y're pullin' away when I kiss you, you're flinching around me like I'm gonna break you, we haven't had sex in weeks -"

"I haven't been feeling well," you interject, not wanting to hear more about how you've been subconsciously treating him.

Toji presses his lips together, scar creasing. "I know. That's why I'm asking now what's wrong with you."

"...Because you want to have sex?"

"The fuck (Y/n)? No. 'Cause I care about you and I wanna get to the bottom of whatever this is." He squints his eyes at you as you reel back slightly.

"Oh," is all you say.

"See, it's shit like that," he murmurs. "I must've done something to make you act this way around me."

You sigh heavily. "No, Toji, you didn't. Really."

"But it's something."

"I..." that image of Megumi's mother on his window sill flashes through your head and you twitch. "It's not you."

You get a far off look in your eye before turning your gaze away. "Then what is it, doll? Huh? You sad? Did something happen?"

"I dunno, Toji. It's nothing," you exhale, turning around to face your bed. You stare at the tussled sheets as your lips tug downward, heart heavy, and a lump forming in your throat. "Let's just go back to sleep."

"You're not going to sleep. You'll be up for hours."

"No I won't."

Toji moves over to you as you start to climb back onto the bed. "What are you lying for?"

"I'm not lying," your voice drops as you clamber up, crossing your legs to sit on the edge of the comforter as Toji stands directly before you, looming over, staring down.

"You take me for some kind of idiot?" he scoffs. "I know you."

"I'm fine, Toji. Really. I - I'm just tired. Can we please," you nod toward his side of the bed, and his eyes catch the empty space for a moment but inevitably land back on you, much to your chagrin.

The assassin falls silent again, letting the emptiness take over you as tension builds. You're beginning to panic.

"(Y/n), when's the last time you got a full night's sleep?" he eventually asks.

He knows the answer already. You're sure of it. Or else, he wouldn't have been asking.

You swallow hard as you look at him with slightly widened eyes. "Um... a couple days ago," you elect to say.

"You're lyin' again."

You frown. "Well then why would you ask me if you already knew the answer?" you snap, tone taking an abrupt iciness.

Toji squints his eyes at you. "Now you wanna give me attitude after months of not tellin' me the truth?"

"I'm not giving you attitude, Toji, for fuck's sake."

"Then what do you call that, huh? I can barely get a word out of you for weeks and now you're cussin at me. You can't tell me I didn't do somethin' wrong if this is how y're talkin' to me."

"I'm telling you it's nothing," you turn away with steely eyes. "Can't you just drop it?"

"You're askin' the impossible of me, girl," he exhales tiredly, dropping down to a knee before you to better meet your eyes. You see the motion out of the corner of your eye, but force yourself to continue looking away. "I can't drop shit that has to do with you."

You sour.

Those words once so sweet to you now only sound like a recycled promise.

You click your tongue and roll your eyes, looking down at your hands as you pick at your nails. "Yeah, right," you utter low under your breath.

"Excuse me?"

You shrink again. "Nothing."

"Uh uh," he reaches up to grab your chin and turn you toward him. Your jaw is set hard as your eyes snap back to his face reluctantly. You find that he is growing agitated with you, as his gaze is harder than before. "Run that by me again. You think I don't care about you?"

"Toji, please," you push his hand away. "We have work in the morning. Let's just-"

"I'm not gettin' back in that bed until you tell me what's wrong," he rests his elbow beside your leg and leans. "You know I'm dead serious. I don't care if it takes all night."

You find that there is no escaping. No lying. You knew there wouldn't be, anyway. This is Toji Fushiguro after all, stubborn as a bull, so much so that he took his ex's last fucking name.

Your heart pangs.

"So?" he pushes, lifting his brows. He nudges your knee. "Spit it out. You wanna break up?"

"Why would you ask that?" you scrunch your nose. "...Do you wanna break up?"

"The hell I do, (Y/n). I'm askin' you."

"But why?"

"Cause you're acting so fucking weird, baby," he emphasizes, eyes earnest and wounded. "You don't wanna split, then?"

"...No, Toji..." you deflate. "But if that's... I don't know, if that's what you want..."

"Don't turn this onto me. I'm not the one acting like your poison any time you touch me."

"I don't-"

"You do," he interjects. "If you don't wanna leave me, then what?"

You struggle to find the words, eyes falling to your lap. "I can't tell you."

"Why? You cheating on me?"

"No!"

"Did someone die?"

"No."

"Are you pregnant?"

"No," You shake your head again.

Toji ducks his head in defeat, finding himself running in circles. "Christ, are you gonna give me a hint?"

"I can't tell you."

"That doesn't make any sense. You're the one always tellin' me I can talk to you about anything. Now the roles are reversed and you wanna shut down. Like I'd ever let you pull away like that. Are you sick? Is your brain scrambled? Is that why you're thinking stupid shit like that?"

You shift, tugging your blanket tighter. "Why are you being so mean?"

"I'm not, (Y/n). I'm lost," he breathes. "And I'm losing it. You're freaking me out."

"Then maybe you should leave me be if I'm causing you so much trouble."

You stand and brush past him, opening the bedroom door to leave suddenly. You're in the darkness of the living space, rounding the corner back to the kitchen, but Toji is hot on your heels.

"I don't wanna fight with you on this," he growls.

"Then don't. I'm not fighting," you shrug.

You reach the kitchen again and lean over to grab your forgotten mug, but Toji cuts off your point of contact, stepping between you and sliding the drink further away. You glare up at him.

"Y're taking out all your shit on me," he observes. "You think I don't want you?"

"Oh my god," you grumble. You go to storm past him, but he is quick to grab your blanketed arm, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder to eye him, your gaze coming off much nastier than it should, simply because you're hurting. And Toji is cracking away at your shell to get to the ugly truth.

"Don't walk away from me," he says. "I'm talkin' to you."

"Let me go."

And he does, but very slowly. He regrets it the moment you slip away again, disappearing into the bedroom. He follows you as you toss your blanket onto the bed, as you rifle through your closet for sweats and a jacket, as you leave to shove shoes on, and as you open the front door to step outside.

The air is cold and your breath hits the atmosphere in a visible fog. You hiss through your teeth as you step onto the steps and look around the neighborhood. You didn't grab your keys. You figured you'd just walk.

"(Y/n), get back inside," Toji shouts, shutting the door behind him to continue following you. You don't answer him. You just walk, and you hate how you know that he is behind you. You hate how his voice calls you, how it does not relent. You hate this reminder that he really does love you, and it's all because of her.

Because he sees her and not you.

It takes one last call of your name to make you stop and whip your head around. Your lips are pressed firmly together as tears well in your eyes like sprinkles of starlight. Your forehead is creased with something akin to devastation and your shoulders are so tense.

Toji immediately slows to a stop before you, and when he sees your tears, his harshness is crumbling. "Baby..." he starts.

"Just go!" you shout at him in the middle of the pathway. "Go, leave me alone! I can't be what you want me to be! I can't -" you shiver and choke over your own words. You heave in a breath, looking all around you through blurry eyes in a poor attempt to gather whatever pieces of dignity you have left.

You can't escape this feeling. It drags down on you, clings to you, and poisons you every single time you look at your boyfriend.

You sniff hard, scrunching your eyes tight. Lines of tears slide down your cheeks from your lashes as you huff, a confession bubbling in your chest that you can no longer keep away.

"- I can't be her," you blubber, knuckling away at your eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't. I'm just not. So please, please just... just let me go. It'll be better for us."

Toji knows exactly who you are talking about from the way you emphasize that pronoun. He finds himself stilling with shock, face falling, clouds of his breath floating into the night. Your sniffles and hiccuped breaths are the only audible noise out in the darkness, and Toji finds himself floored by the mention of his ex wife from the woman he intends to marry.

"I'm sorry," you manage again, hands palming at your damp skin. "I-I'm sorry. I just - I know how much she means to you, and I know it sucks not being with her and settling for me. And I t-think that if she hadn't - we would've never - " you can't finish your sentence.

"Woah," Toji starts, stepping close to you as you wipe your tears away and stifle your cries. "Alright, hold on," he murmurs low, gentle. He cradles your wrists softly, leading you to jump, and the pieces finally connect in Toji's head. He finally is starting to understand the issue.

Toji lowers your hands from your face, revealing your flushed, tear stained skin to him as your lips tremble. He brushes way excess tears for you, tucking pieces of hair into place thoughtfully.

"What's all this you're talkin' about my dead ex wife, doll?" he asks slowly, confused and slightly aggrieved by the topic. "Sayin' I settled for you? Are you kiddin? Don't tell me she's what's had you so depressed."

You hear the way he mentions her so breezily. He was never able to do that before, back when you first met him.

"Don't play dumb, Toji. Please," you whimper.

"I'm not playin' dumb, (Y/n). Maybe I am just plain dumb 'cause I don't understand," he says delicately. "Come back inside so we can talk about this."

You shake your head. "I can't go back in there."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's not my house, Toji. You know it's not. It's hers."

"Stop it," he says sternly. "Stop that shit. I don't like it."

"But it's true."

"It's your house."

"It was hers before it was mine. And it never would have been mine if-"

"Are you crazy?" he stops you. "Talkin' about her death like that. Have you lost your mind?"

You feel your heart crumble inside. You've hit a nerve. You know you have. That's why you didn't want to tell him. That's why you're better off just leaving him be. "I'm sorry," you say swiftly, and turn to go, but Toji is not having it. He secures your shoulders and keeps you in place.

"Stop trying to run away from me, girl. You're not going anywhere. Come back inside."

"Toji, you have to let me go."

"Not in a million years."

"I'm not her, Toji."

"You don't think I know that?" he furrows his brows. "Of course you're not her, (Y/n). I never expected you to be. I never asked you to be. Why are you stressin' over her all of a sudden?"

"It's not all of a sudden..." you trail off.

"...Okay." This is an inkling of progress. He'll take what he can get. "How long, then?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes," he says. "You been thinkin' like that since we met?"

"...No."

"Then for how long? Come on, (Y/n). I'm not gonna pry this shit from you all night. It's me," he whispers. Your brows curl with familiarity, with that ache of love. "Talk to me, baby. I'm askin' you."

You inhale sharply as another tear rolls down your face. Toji is quick to catch it on his thumb and swipe it away.

"How long?" he asks again.

You exhale. "I dunno... the last four or five months."

"And you've just been thinking all this shit in silence? By yourself?" You shrug. "Darlin', you're depressed. Look how you worked yourself up."

"Yeah. I know," you murmur.

"You always been like this?"

You shrug again with a wince. "Kinda."

"And this wife shit just set you off, then. Is that right?"

"...Yeah."

"Why?" he tilts his head. "What'd I do to make you start thinking about her so much?"

"I told you, it's not something you did," you sniff. You fall quiet and when you look at Toji, you see him waiting, expecting, as he is not going to continue to spoon feed you your own answers when you can speak yourself. He wants you to express yourself instead of keeping all of this in.

But it's hard. It's hard to give voice and power to what has only existed within your mind.

So you struggle for a bit, struggle to find the words, but Toji waits and hangs on to every silent second you think.

"I don't care how that shit sounds when you say it," he says suddenly. "I just want you to say it. Don't think about how it'll come off. Talk."

So you do.

"It's not something you did," you say again, quietly, timidly. "...It's just something I became aware of after I moved in... I know it's rude to shove myself into your family's grief, and I'm really sorry. I beat myself up for it every day, but... I don't know, somewhere along the line, I just started seeing her in everything," you confess. "And if I was seeing her, then I can only imagine what you and Megumi see... and I just thought that... you know, with how long it took you to open up to me... that you... started pretending or hoping I was her instead. Then I started obsessing even more."

Your confession settles hard into reality, and once the words have left you, you cringe. It's out in the open now. For Toji to scorn, to reject, to accept, to confirm.

Toji can practically feel the way your hear hammers by the pace of your pulse in your neck, and he deflates.

He thinks back to the death of his wife that still looms over his home every day, in every waking moment. He thinks of how the world drained of color, how his heart split in two, and how the blood of targets served in place of her warmth, as it was the only warm thing he could feel at the time.

He thinks of how he neglected his kids, how Tsumiki was left to care for Megumi during every last minute trip, every prolonged job, every bender, every fling. He thinks of how he couldn't even look Megumi in the eye without seeing what he lost, without being torn apart by the grief.

He thinks of how shitty he was when you met him. How many years of friendship it took for him to melt, to heal, to genuinely move on.

He thinks of the first time your laugh made his heart burst, as it was the first time he had felt such a thing in what felt like eons. He thinks of the first time he held your hand, how snug your soft skin felt against his palm. He thinks of your first kiss, and the guilt that wracked him when he knew that he was falling for you. That he was actually, truly, living again. Without her.

Toji frowns because he understands why you would think such a way. He really does. He spent the majoirity of the beginning of your relationship pushing and pulling, battling with the internal conflict, with the dilemma of honoring his ex wife while moving forward. He was so much different back then, so wishy washy, so torn. He hates how his grief could have made you think that his love for you isn't real, that it's only a placeholder, when you are everything.

Yes, his ex is dead. Yes, it turned his world upside down, but you are here with him and that's all he can ask for. You helped him, you saved him and his family, you loved him when he thought that love had died, you brought back color to a lifeless canvas.

You're his. And though he would never wish what he went through on his worst enemy, he can not imagine a world without you in it.

It's strange... that he had to lose someone in order to gain you.

With a heavy sigh, Toji smooths his hand to the back of your head and cradles it tenderly. His ivy hues regard you with love and understanding, face flat, eyes alight. He takes in your tears, your anguish, and he promises to suffer for it. To atone for what he's done to you without even trying.

He gets it. He does. For if the roles were reversed, hell, he'd feel the same way.

"Come inside, baby," he tells you gently. "I don't wanna have this talk with you out in the cold."

You tremble with fear, with looming heartbreak. "...Am I right for thinking that way?"

"No," he responds so easily, like he doesn't have to think about it. "But I - hell, I don't know. I should've known you'd feel some type of way about her eventually."

"Do you... still think about her?"

Toji purses his lips. "Yeah," he answers honestly. "Every day. But not in the way you're thinkin'."

Your stare up at him with such emotion, so fragile that you may break down at any moment as his other hand rests on your cheek.

"Losin' someone like that... shit, it sticks with you. It does. I won't lie to you about that. And you know it. You saw how I was, and... I guess... I'm sorry you had to deal with all that so early on."

"You don't have to apologize for mourning her, Toji. I'm saying I know-"

"You don't. Not really, or else we wouldn't be havin' this conversation," he says, and you clamp your mouth shut and let him go on. "My grief shoulda never made you feel like I wanted you to be her. She's the mother of my kid, (Y/n). We were married and she died. She ain't just gonna go away, but I've grieved her long enough to know that I love you. How I feel about you doesn't have anything to do with her. It's about you and me. And I wouldn't ever disrespect either of you by tryin' to turn you into someone who ain't even here. Hell, if I was lookin at you to be her, we wouldn't be together. You get what I'm saying?"

You nod solemnly, slowly. "I do."

"Do ya?" he cranes his head forward. "I love you. You hear me? I love you so much it fuckin' hurts. If I lost ya, I'd lose my mind. You get that right?" you nod again, but Toji isn't convinced. "Nah, I wanna hear you say it."

"Toji-"

"Come on. Say it."

Your nose flares as you melt. "You love me," you give in.

"So much it hurts."

"...So much it hurts," you finish shakily. "I love you too. I love you so much. I just don't want you to be unhappy. I know losing her really hurt you and I don't know what I'd do with myself if you were still just suffering."

"Grief ain't a straight line, doll. You know this. That doesn't mean a thing about how I feel about you."

You pause. "...Toji?"

"Yeah," he answers mindlessly as he looks over your face.

"Are you still in love with her?"

Toji stills. "(Y/n)," he starts. "She's dead. The love I have for her is somewhere floating around. It's different. It's the past. You're my present, and I love you."

"But if she were still here..."

"I don't wanna think about if she was still here. That ain't the life I'm living right now. I wouldn't have you, and it just - gets too fuckin' weird and complicated to even think about. So quit it. Y're shitting all over the good we have now, and even she wouldn't go for that."

You can't even be mad at his responses, for they're so Toji, so unapologetically full of truth that you remember he would never hide from you. This is your boyfriend, the man who completely changed to be with you. The man who swears to love you, to protect you, to hold you close until the day he dies. The man who promises you as a new parent for his kids, who welcome you with open arms - not despite the past, but because of it.

And the woman who gave Toji his last name still lingers, but in that spiritual, guarding way. She sheds the house in light, now able to rest knowing that you are there to look after everyone.

You've been a fool, acting like this, reliving grievances that the family has long come to terms with. Now that you've expressed yourself, now that the thoughts have left your lips, you can see that love swirling once more in Toji's eyes. You don't know how you had chosen not to see it for so long.

The feelings, however, won't just go away, even with this assurance.

You huff with an incoming cry and bury your face in your hands, overwhelmed, vulnerable, overstimulated.

Toji does not have to think before gathering you up in his arms, wrapping you tight, settling his chin atop your head and staring forward as you cry into his chest, humiliated, relieved, overcome by it all.

He presses his lips firm to your head with a promise. "It's you and only you," he mutters as you tremble.

And hopefully it's enough, enough for you to believe, to carry with you as truth and nothing less. For that's all Toji has for you. Truth, love, and his very life.

He's lost someone before. He won't let it happen again.

Not with you. Not ever.

"Come back inside, doll."

And finally, you let him take you.

[mehcookiehh]

Me when I finally found the perfect fanfiction that doesn’t mischaracterize characters, has more than 50 chapters, and is well written:

[worldchamp-samizaynn-deactivate]

these send me

[naoyas90dayfiance]

After you guys break up, every evening Naoya goes on IG Live while he's doing something stupid, just so he can fish for compliments and attention and look unbothered instead of sending apology messages to you.

[retiredteabag]

Insulting yourself with a fake number

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, Megumi, and special guest… Toge !!

^ in that order

Synopsis: you message them with a different number to see their reaction

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[znaoyamyshayla]

Why jjk Fandom don't talk about these art enough they are so beautiful i love gege for these in jjk s1 outro

[nez4nezha]

*+.🎀 Gojo Satoru x F!student!reader (reader is 19, a third year and a semi grade 2 sorcerer)

*+.🎀 Warning: mdni! 18+ ONLY, The sensei-student dynamic is a fictional trope; in real life, such relationships are unethical, inappropriate, and a violation of professional boundaries. Smut. This depiction is purely for narrative purposes and does not endorse or normalize real-world behavior. 9 years age gap dynamic, aphrodisiac effect, public/secluded intimacy, creampie, mild profanity. Semen as an antidote (this is entirely fictional and does not reflect real life medicinal science!)

At 28 years old, Gojo Satoru is still the strongest sorcerer alive—arrogant, sharp, and far too amused by the chaos he usually finds himself in. Today’s mission was supposed to be simple: escort you, his 19-year-old third-year student, semi-grade 2 and steadily climbing, to investigate cursed activity deep in a dense cedar forest on the outskirts of Tokyo.

“C’mon, don’t look so serious,” he’d drawled earlier, strolling beside you with his hands in his pockets, blindfold slipping slightly down his nose. “With me around, nothing’s gonna hurt you. Promise.”

You’d rolled your eyes, but you knew he wasn’t lying. He’d never let anything happen to you—even if he drove you half-insane with his teasing.

Everything went sideways ten minutes in.

It was a grade 1 curse, ugly as sin—twisted, leathery skin, too many limbs, a mouth split open down its chest oozing thick, glowing saliva. Before you could even launch your technique, it spat a glob of that luminous substance right at you. You dodged most of it, but a splash landed on the exposed skin of your neck, burning hot like wildfire.

“Fuck—!” you gasped, stumbling back.

In the blink of an eye, Gojo moved. Blue cursed energy flared, and the curse was reduced to ash before it could even twitch again. He turned back to you instantly, the lazy grin vanishing from his face the second he saw your state.

You’d collapsed to your knees, forehead pressed hard against the mossy forest floor, body trembling violently like you were freezing even though heat was roaring through your veins like a wildfire. Your uniform clung to you, soaked through with sweat, every nerve ending screaming with overwhelming, throbbing sensitivity. Even the rough texture of the moss against your skin felt maddeningly good, making you whimper low in your throat.

“Sensei…” You called out, breathless, your fingers clawing uselessly at the earth. Everything was too much—too hot, too sensitive, every cell in your body screaming for something you couldn’t name.

Gojo knelt beside you immediately, one hand coming to rest lightly on the back of your neck. His touch alone sent a jolt of pure electricity through you, making your hips buck involuntarily against the ground. He frowned, analyzing the residual cursed energy clinging to your skin.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “That ugly bastard’s technique. It’s a specialized aphrodisiac curse—amplifies every sensation tenfold, overrides your system completely. And the kicker?” He paused, jaw tightening. “The only antidote is semen. The specific frequency of cursed energy carried in sorcerer’s semen neutralizes the effect.”

Your head lifted just enough to look at him, eyes blown wide, hazy with lust and desperation. Every breath you took was ragged, your chest heaving. “You… you’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, voice lower now, no trace of his usual playfulness. “And it doesn’t wear off on its own. It just gets worse until your body burns out completely. You understand what I’m saying, right?”

He waited, giving you space even though he could see you were barely holding on. “I’m not doing anything unless you say yes. Even like this—you have the final word.”

It was true that your mind was fogged, your body screaming with need so intense it hurt—but you knew exactly what you wanted. You’d spent years being attracted to him secretly, and now, with every wall broken down by the curse, there was no hesitation.

“Yes,” you gasped, voice shaking. “God, yes—please, Satoru. I can’t take it anymore.” You whimpered, formality for him as you sense— gone.

The second the words left your mouth, the restraint in his eyes snapped.

“Good girl,” he growled, the sound dark and rough.

He didn’t waste time. He stripped off your uniform in fast, efficient motions, the fabric tearing easily under his hands. The cool air hitting your overheated skin made you arch into his touch, a loud, wanton moan tearing from your throat. He pushed you back against the soft bed of moss and fallen leaves, spreading your legs wide so he could settle between them.

His own clothes were discarded just as quickly, and the sight of him—lean, powerful, skin pale and marked with faint scars—made your mouth go dry. He was big, his cock glistens under the moonlight, tip pink and flush, his shaft adorned by his pulsing veins, you could see that, and your inner walls clenched involuntarily in anticipation.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, running his hands over your body—groping your breasts hard enough to make you gasp, pinching your nipples until you cried out, his touch rough and greedy. “So ready for me. Dripping wet already.”

He dragged the tip of his cock through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal before pressing just slightly against your entrance. The contact alone made you tremble, your hips lifting off the ground to chase more.

“Satoru—stop teasing, goddammit—” you whined, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Impatient girl~.”

He pushed in all at once, and the stretch was blinding—sharp, overwhelming, perfect. You cried out, head thrown back into the moss, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks. Gojo let out a guttural curse, his head falling forward to rest against the crook of your neck.

“Shit—you’re so fucking tight,” he gritted out, his voice wrecked. “Like you were made just for me.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust. His pace was brutal, fast and hard, every thrust hitting deep inside you, brushing against that sensitive spot that made your vision blur. The aphrodisiac only amplified everything—every drag of his cock against you shapes your cunt, every vein dragging along your spongy walls, every grind of his hips, every rough sound he made—it all felt ten times more intense, pleasure coiling tight and hot in your gut faster than you could process.

The forest around you faded into nothing but sound: the rustle of leaves, the slap of skin on skin, your broken moans mixing with his curses. He was everywhere—his hands gripping your thighs so hard you knew you’d bruise, his mouth biting marks into the soft skin of your throat, his scent wrapping around you completely.

"You've thought about this before, yeah?" He groans, "'s why you agreed f'me to fuck you easily?"

You could only moan, every movement of his body driving you closer and closer to the edge. When he shifted his angle, hitting that deep, sensitive spot over and over again, your legs shook violently, giving out completely as you came apart with a loud, broken cry. The pleasure was blinding, white-hot, rolling through you in waves so strong you couldn't breathe.

Gojo's hips stuttered as he felt you squeeze his cock, his rhythm turning erratic and rough as he drove into you one final time, burying himself to a hilt.

“Fuckk— take it—all of it,” he groaned, his voice raw.

He spilled inside you, hot and thick ropes of cum, filling you completely. The moment his release hit your system, you felt it—the burning heat fading, the fog in your mind clearing slowly, leaving only the heavy thrum of satisfaction and the weight of him pressing you into the soft forest floor as your body twitch from beneath his.

He stayed there for a long time, his breathing evening out as he rested his forehead against yours. When he finally pulled back to look at you, the usual arrogance was back in his eyes, but softened by something warmer, something real.

“See?” he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Told you I’d take care of everything.”

[sweethearticism]

It's been five years since your husband passed.

"I can be him."

One year since you returned to the jujutsu world.

"If you just let me. I can be him. You can call his name. Pretend he's touching you."

Six months since 𝓨𝒖𝒕𝒂 started pursuing you.

The setting sun over jujutsu tech glared you down as your back pressed into the bridge's wooden beams. Was Satoru's glare in the horizon? Was his judgement in the sky? Were his chastises whispered in the wind that kissed your cheek?

His eyes were above you.

His hair tickling your forehead.

His hands on you.

His. But not his. Not your husband. Not Satoru.

Just the man who wore his skin.

Yuta shedded his a long time ago. A miscalculation. A medical horror. Returning to his body became impossible and so, he remained in the man who was once yours. Now twenty three, and all he wanted?

You.

Before you, he stood. Looming over you the way that Satoru did. Caressing your cheek the way that Satoru did.

Whispering to you the way that Satoru did.

"I have his memories," he said, thumb tracing a familiar line on your cheekbone. "I know how he touched you. I know how he loved you. I can love you the same."

He leaned closer. Diminishing both the space between you and your shame.

"We can play pretend," he promised.

The same way Satoru had promised that he would come home.

The same way you had promised him that no one else would ever hold your heart, your body, your soul.

You broke your promise.

All it took was a kiss. From lips you remembered. From a mouth that worshipped you every day of your short marriage.

Your downfall were his hands. Familiar. Once yours. The wedding ring he still wore out of reverence for his sensei.

A kiss. A touch. A memory. That's all it took.

All it took for the sheets to welcome your back. For your thighs to welcome his head. Your hands greeting white hair that you once stroked so tenderly when the world caved in on him.

Your Satoru.

Not your Satoru.

Satoru's body.

Your Satoru's body.

Between your legs. Worshipping you. As he always did. With big, scarred hands spreading you apart. With a tongue that knew every inch of you. A voice that praised you.

The same way your husband would.

"So sweet, taste so so good, sweet girl," the groan soaked into your slick. An aphrodisiac of its own. Seeping into your veins. Dizzying your mind.

"Toru," you whimpered.

Toru.

Satoru.

Your Satoru.

He's not your Satoru.

But you moaned for him as if he was.

Tugged onto his hair. Ground into his face. Whimpered his name— as if he was.

Two orgasms on his tongue alone. Yuta proved that he had committed to his sensei's memories. He knew exactly how to fuck you on the pink muscle. Where to touch. What pressure.

His thumb stroked along your slit. Tracing the quivers as his lips occupied your clit. Sucking on its pulses and worming out another devastating orgasm out of you.

Three. You came three times.

The same number Satoru worked you up to before he kissed you. Held you. Fucked you.

Yuta committed to the routine. Kissed you. Spread your thighs.

Pressed his dick to your twitching cunt.

Shushed your cries.

Held you.

Fucked you.

Your body forgot, but your mind didn't. The stretch burned and tears pricked at your eyes— but your mind keened. Slipped. Soaked in the memory of him.

Of your husband.

Of Satoru.

As Yuta's hips engraved new memories into your thighs.

As his fingers blossomed new bruises.

As his mouth kissed you with a new hunger.

Your arms hugged around his neck. Breath stuttering. Voice breaking. Every plunge of his cock stroked the fire deeper into you. Unravelling your mind into a messy heap of tears and needy.

Rough pants fanned above you. His brows pinched at the centre. One hand gripping your thigh and the other cupped beneath your head. Yuta's thrusts were as nasty as Satoru's. Deep, fast, taking you apart from the inside out.

"That's it. There you go," he huffed, white lashes fluttering. "There's my girl."

"Sat— toru," you sobbed. Because maybe crying would make it real.

Maybe it'd wake you up from this terrible nightmare.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart." His voice slipped into your ear. Clenched your heart. Squeezed your cunt as your nails raked down his back.

"Toru," you whimpered. "T-Toru, toru please. I need— I need you. I need you."

His thumb found your clit, your back bowed into the pleasure. Another sob shook from your lungs. Reaching out for him. Not Yuta. Not his body. Him.

But it was Yuta who cupped your face. With Satoru's hand.

Yuta who bottomed out. Fucked you deeper. With Satoru's cock.

Yuta who whispered to you. With Satoru's voice.

"I'm here." He lied, so sweetly.

As his hips drove faster— and faster. Grinding into all of the sweetspots that Satoru knew. That were now at his disposal.

"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart." He lied, so gently.

As he hugged you close. Took you higher— and higher. Perfectly choreographed to the memory he committed to.

Playing with your clit, with Satoru's fingers.

Praising you, with Satoru's words.

Kissing you, with Satoru's lips.

"I'm gonna cum," you cried, and he licked your tears away. Cradled your face. Whispered tenderly.

"Cum," eyes so blue, eyes once yours, stared deep into your soul. Deceived you with promises that had already been broken. "Cum for me. Cum for 'toru, baby. C'mon."

The heat, the need, the memories— they all rushed into a knot that snapped in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes rolled back. Body arched. Tensed.

"Satoru— t-toru. Toru, miss you. I miss you."

You sobbed his name when you came.

Clung to his shoulders.

Squeezed his cock.

But you knew.

That it wasn't him that held you.

Wasn't him that smacked his hips into yours.

Wasn't him that groaned deep, even if it was his voice.

Wasn't him that stilled, that moaned your name, that filled you to the brim and kept pumping as you shook with whimpers.

Eyes so blue. Eyes once yours.

But in your heart, you knew. Satoru was dead.

Knew that the thing wearing his skin wasn't him.

And that the only one who caressed your face, kissed you, told you that he loved you— wasn't your husband.

But Okkotsu Yuta.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised.

[w0rm3y]

Shadow Puppets [ T. Zenin ]

── .✦ pairing || Best Friend! Toji x F! Reader

── .✦ summary || Before we had Toji 'I love my wife' Fushiguro, there was Toji 'I love my girlfriend' Zenin...

── .✦ overall content & warnings || MDNI. wc. 16k. a bit of angst-- Toji and Reader's childhood. mentions of child abuse. friends to lovers. roomates. Toji is sweet and awkward the whole time. so much fluff. first kiss. first love. sexual tension. Reader and Toji are inexperienced. sexual content. making out. dryhumping. vaginal fingering. period cramp relief (he's a good friend like that). handjob. mutual masturbation.

── .✦ author's note || omg, I've been sitting on this one for a while, debating if I should post or not. There was supposed to be a part two (it's called Shadow Puppets for a reason, i swear), but I haven't even started on it. Anyway, if sweet, awkward, inexperienced Toji isn't your thing, this one prob isn't for you. But if that's up your alley, I hope you enjoy <3

The Zenin Clan’s property sat on a large plot of land, spanning miles upon miles of rich farmland, with the closest city being an hour's commute to Kyoto– and that’s only if you were lucky enough to have a car to use. Public transportation never reached this area, and your family lacked the funds to own a car, which meant you were stuck in place, like the stagnant air you breathed in your tiny home, all while knowing how well the Zenin Clan prospered.

To say you were bitter was an understatement, but you knew better than to think that they had a life you truly wanted.

When you were younger, you would sneak away from your home, travel through a strip of trees and a thin creek to observe them in the back gardens of their estate. You always wondered why the women were forced to walk a few paces behind the men, and why everyone moved around with perfectly straight posture like they had a stick lodged up their asses. Your mother told you it’s how proper folk held themselves, but if being proper meant carrying around a holier-than-thou mentality, you weren’t interested. 

Aside from being unfamiliar with their status, you really had no reason to dislike them. They’d never done anything to you. In fact, you were sure they didn’t even know you were there, always perched on the wooden fence, watching them from between the cedar trees. The branches always kept you hidden, so as long as no one ventured this far away from the gardens, you knew you’d be safe.

And you got away with it for a while– for years, to be exact. It became your secret hobby, observing the notorious Zenins like they were animals in a zoo. And in some cases, they acted as such. Aggressive, possessive, always fighting for dominance with each other while forcing the women to maintain the home and watch after the kids. They bred like rabbits, you noticed. You thought that maybe they needed a new hobby of their own.

Your parents told you to keep your distance from them, though they had no idea that you liked to sneak off and get as close to the family as you could. If they had, you’d no doubt be punished for your idiocy. Even as a child, you knew your parents had a good reason for ordering you to stay away from the Zenins, but it wasn’t until you saw the true extent of how cruel they could be that you finally understood it for yourself.

Aggressiveness, fighting for dominance– those weren’t things the adult men reserved for use against each other. No, they involved the children, too, not only forcing them to fight for their entertainment, but retaliating against them as well. 

But why? What was the purpose? As an eight-year-old little girl, you couldn’t figure it out; it confused you. Your parents were strict at times, doling out punishments as they saw fit, but… never to this extent. 

The boy running through the garden looked terrified, glancing over his shoulder as the other chased him down. The one in front tried his best not to trample the flowers, yet the one behind him didn’t seem to give it another thought as he ruined them. Both of their yukatas were smudged with dirt, even ripped in a few places, too. It was evident by just their appearance alone that they had been doing this for a while, only now deciding to bring it outside.

While trying to mitigate flower damage, the boy ended up tripping, and just as quickly, he turned over to defend himself from the other, muttering, “Jinichi, I never-” A harsh kick to his ribs had the boy groaning and curling in on himself. “Whatever Ogi said isn’t true-”

“No?” Jinichi questioned in monotone and laid another kick to his ribs. “Hear that, Uncle? Toji says you’re a liar.”

A man who you hadn’t noticed stepped into view, spectating the debacle with a critical glance. The boy– Toji, as you learned– shook his head, raising his eyes to meet Ogi’s. “I didn’t say you’re a liar, but whoever told you that I-”

Before you could blink, the man moved so quickly, pressing to Toji’s mouth the end of a long cane he was toting around. The boy fell silent, eyeing the wooden stick with a bit of fear. 

“Are you calling my attendants liars, then?” Ogi never gave Toji the chance to answer before he handed off the cane to the other boy and said, “You may continue as we’ve practiced. I trust that you won’t kill him, but don’t be gentle either. The conniving runt isn’t worthy of your mercy after what he’s done to you.”

As the man stalked off in the opposite direction, heading back toward the house, you watched Jinichi reaffirm his grip on the cane with a determined look on his face. Toji used his arms to pull himself backward, but not far enough that the tip of the wooden rod couldn’t ram right into his face when Jinichi finally swung for him.

You gasped a quiet sound, heart thumping faster and faster in your chest when you heard his pained groan. He angled his face toward the other, scared but not backing down. Blood dripped from his temple, down his reddened, battered cheek to fall off his jaw– the sight of it made you feel sick. To the other side of Toji’s face, Jinichi gave him a matching wound, then stood back to assess his work.

He twirled the cane with a precise, practiced move, gruffly offering, “I’ll make it quick if you just confess.”

With the back of his hand, Toji wiped away the blood that had dripped into his eye, smearing it down his face. “We’ve been brothers for ten years now. How long do you think that lie is going to work on me?” 

His brother didn’t respond and instead swung the cane for his side, hitting his target with a loud cracking sound. The noise that left Toji was painful, calling to you like a cry for help, yet you were frozen. Never in your life had you witnessed such violence. You gripped the fence just a bit tighter, noticing then how shaky your hands were.

Toji rolled onto his stomach, curling into himself to protect his injury, but in doing so, he was risking his back to an attack. When Jinichi took the opportunity, whipping the cane across his spine, you had to bite your own tongue to stop from making a noise. The boy fell flat on his front with a cry of agony, sobbing, “I didn’t do it, Jinichi. I haven’t been in your room since the last time you caught me, I swear.”

“I don’t believe you,” his brother insisted, taking the cane to his back again, and then once more. A redness began seeping into the white yukata Toji wore. “Uncle Ogi wouldn’t lie-”

“Uncle Ogi,” Toji began, voice lifting a few decibels, “does whatever the hell he wants to keep himself entertained, and if you think for one second that doesn’t apply to you, then you’re an idiot.”

Even you knew that for a boy in Toji’s position, saying something like that wasn’t the right move. Unsurprisingly, it earned him three more lashes before his brother managed to snap the cane in half. While the boy writhed on the ground, Jinichi inspected the jagged end of the broken wood, contemplating something before tossing it away, only to bend down and grab Toji by the back of his yukata.

The boy groaned in pain, pleading for him to stop, and fighting against Jinichi with what strength he had left, which wasn’t much. He dragged him across the yard, ripping up what flowers hadn’t been destroyed during their chase, and dropped him on the edge of the koi pond. 

If you felt sick before just to see them fighting, it was nothing compared to the churning in your stomach to see his brother step over Toji’s body and stand above him. All too quickly, Jinichi guided Toji’s head to the water and held him under. He fought against his brother, digging his nails into his ankles to draw blood, yet Jinichi never stopped. 

If he kept going, Toji would surely die.

Somehow, some way, you defied your own fear in that moment, and in the next, your hands were pushing at Jinichi’s back with such a force that he toppled forward, into the pond. How you managed to cross the field so quickly, you weren’t sure– running was never your strong suit, but then again, you’d never tried while hopped up on so much adrenaline.

You lowered yourself beside Toji, careful not to touch his back or move him in a way that might cause him pain. Though, really, it wouldn’t have mattered after the beating he had taken. Deeming his shoulders safe, you grabbed him there, helping to bring him off the ground until he could balance himself on shaky arms.

Jinichi broke the surface of the pond while Toji worked on catching his breath, keeping his head cast down as the water droplets fell from soaked tufts of his black hair. The clear water took on a reddish hue as it rinsed the blood from his face. He spat out what collected in his mouth, heaving in deep breaths. 

“Didn’t go in your room,” he muttered, spitting out more bloody water. You assumed he thought you to be his brother, hence his rambling, but Jinichi was actually standing on the other side of the pond, staring at you with a bewildered expression. “Ogi is a liar. Not me.”

You reached down, placing your hand over the back of his own. “I believe you.” 

The heavy breathing stalled instantly, Toji going stalk still when he heard your voice– one that doesn’t sound like his brother’s at all. Clearly, you had startled him, but that was something you could apologize for later, after you dealt with the Zenin across the pond, who had yet to move. 

“You could have killed him, you know? What is the matter with you?” you snapped with enough bite that Jinichi flinched and took a step back. Then another, and another, until he fully turned around to run into the house. You watched him go with a disapproving shake of your head before giving your attention to the one who needed it the most. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond to you, but he did move, shakily pulling his hand out from beneath yours. When he pressed it into the dirt, he tried to push himself to stand. He stumbled around a bit, but managed it eventually. There were a few seconds when you both were unmoving, still reeling and trying to adjust to what just happened.

Then, Toji spoke. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You stood, too, taking a moment to dust off your yukata and smooth it out straight. “I know, but he was hurting you.”

He never once spared you a glance, keeping his eyes cast away as he moved on the same path as his brother. The most you received from the interaction was a few words that sounded a lot like a threat.

“You should leave before they hurt you, too.”

You took a few hurried steps toward him, latching onto his wrist to make him stop. “But what about you. Your back is-”

“I know you like to watch us,” he interjected, shaking off your touch. “You sit on the fence. You think no one can see you through the branches, but I can. So I know that you know what happens to girls here.”

Only then did you start to feel scared. After all, you had just been caught. If your parents found out, they’d be pissed, but worse was whatever the notorious Zenins might do to you for such an offense.

With nothing else to say, nothing for you to deny, you apologized. 

“I’m sorry.” It came out as a whisper, barely loud enough for you to even hear it. “Please, don’t tell anyone.”

Sensing your fear, Toji turned around. He didn’t smile, his face seemingly stuck in a flat expression, but the look in his eyes changed. It was a subtle difference, but one that you noticed. Toji blinked a few times before saying, “I don’t mind. You’re not hurting anything. Besides, I know what it’s like to be somewhere you’re not supposed to be. I go into my brother’s room all the time.”

A quiet gasp passed your lips, causing a smile to form on Toji’s mouth. You could tell that with the amount of pain he was in, it was forced, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“As long as you don’t tell on me, I won’t tell on you. Okay?”

You swallowed thickly, giving a firm, singular nod. “Okay.”

Slowly, his smile fell. “You should go now.”

“But what about your back? It’s bad– you’re bleeding-”

“I’ll be fine. They’re nothing but a few scratches.”

But they weren’t just a few scratches; they were deep, seeping wounds that Toji felt throb in time with his heartbeat while he watched you walk away, making sure you made it back between the cedar trees before letting go of the pained whimpers he had been holding back. The boy stumbled into the home before being swept up by one of the attendants to have his injuries assessed. Just as the woman finished cleaning the wound, the shoji door slammed open to allow Ogi to enter.

He didn’t speak– neither of them did. It wasn’t needed, for they both knew what was in store for Toji. He wasn’t only in trouble for his fight with his brother, but also for letting you walk away. While he had talked with you, he felt their eyes stabbing into his back, waiting for Toji to make the right move, yet he didn’t. 

And for that, he would be punished along with you, though you weren’t aware of that yet.

“What did you do?” your mother hissed quietly, dragging you out of your room and into the living area, which you noticed was taken up by a few familiar faces– Zenins, to be exact. 

Jinichi sat between two men, stoic, just as you remembered him to be. The one on his left, Ogi, and the one on his right was someone you’d never seen before. Though with a mustache like that, you doubted that you’d ever be able to forget him. Naobito was his name, as you had soon learned just after your mother forced you into a deep, respectful bow.

The conversation didn’t come as a surprise to you; you had screwed up, got caught by this powerful family, and were now about to reap the consequences of your actions. However, the action they were accusing you of wasn’t trespassing, as you had assumed it to be. Instead, it was something they must’ve manifested in their minds. In other words, it was a lie.

“It seems there was an altercation a few days ago. Your child stepped onto our property and tried to drown our Jinichi,” Ogi spat, earning the room two horrified gasps from your parents.

Unable to help yourself, you were quick to argue, “I never did that!”

“You didn’t push him into the koi pond?” A tense silence fell over the room as you slumped back down, trying to come up with something to defend yourself, yet you had nothing. You had, in fact, pushed the boy into the pond, though you weren’t trying to drown him. 

You brokenly sputtered, “H-He was the one trying to drown someone. He held Toji’s head under the water-”

“Why would he do that to his own brother, hm? Jinichi, you love Toji-kun, don’t you?”

“Very much,” Jinichi replied, meeting your stare unyieldingly. “I would never try to hurt my own flesh and blood.”

“Then why did you whip his back with that cane? You made him bleed.”

It didn’t matter what you said; no one believed you, not even your parents. They brushed it off on you, spending too much time in the sun that day, confusing brotherly roughhousing for an attack, but you knew better.

Your parents promised them that a proper punishment would be doled out, and the Zenins warned them against letting you wander too far again, for they wouldn’t be so lenient next time. You were spanked for your crimes that night, sent to bed with a sore behind and an empty stomach, with a long list of chores for you to complete the next day.

You gave it a few months before curiosity got the better of you and led you back up the hill toward the gardens of the Zenin property, only this time, there was a tall privacy fence in place. You paced the perimeter of it, running your fingers along the sturdy, wooden grooves until boredom struck, and you retreated back to your own home.

Months continued, turning into years. 

Sometimes you’d venture up the hill just to have a walk through the woods when you needed to clear your mind. And sometimes you found yourself lingering a little too long near the fence, just listening to what went on on the other side. Maybe that was creepy, but as always, you were just curious. You lived so close to the Zenins– everyone in the area knew them, everyone talked about them, and you were lucky enough to be within walking distance of their home.

Besides, what else was there to do? Your little farmhouse could only keep you entertained for so long, and it had since run out of inspiration– about ten years ago, actually. Life in your childhood home was boring, stale, so… dull. So, yes, you indulged your curiosities every once in a while, prying into the lavish life of the Zenins, even if it would end up getting you in trouble.

Autumn had struck, the leaves were dying, but the sun reflecting off of them cast an orange hue in the air. All life had been stunted, it seemed, save for the green moss growing on the wooden fence. You ran your finger over it, picking off some sprigs and letting them sprinkle to the ground. The wind carried a chill, rustling the dead leaves, but the scent it brought was a nice one. You wondered if the city smelled just like this, and you found yourself hoping it did, for it would be the only thing you’d miss about your home if you ever moved away.

You ventured further away that day, straying too far from the normal path, which you would need to take to get home. The distance made you feel a little giddy, and the uncharted territory felt fun. You wondered why you hadn’t done it sooner, until you were reminded of why– staying on the normal path ensured a quick escape back to your home, should you ever get caught stalking the Zenin’s property again.

And, unfortunately, you had just been caught. You were sure of it the second you locked stares with familiar green eyes that were perched at the very top of the fence. While yours widened in shock, his remained the same– dull, almost lifeless, yet you knew he was seeing you because they followed your movements, unblinkingly.

You weren’t sure what to say as you looked up at him, wondering how he took on such a relaxed, nonchalant position while balancing on top of a tall privacy fence. It scaled taller than your own house and would definitely ensure a few broken bones if you were to fall, though he seemed to be at ease.

“You usually don’t come down this far,” he said, breaking the silence with a voice that was far deeper than you remembered. Granted, it’s been years, so you suppose it checks out.

“You were watching me?”

“Only sometimes,” he offered with a shrug, standing to his feet on top of the fence.

“Hey,” you gasped, “be careful!” 

But he was already moving, jumping from the top of the fence and catching himself on a thick branch of a tree. He let himself dangle there for a moment before dropping to his feet, landing with grace right in front of you. And as he stood to his full height, you were made aware that his voice was not the only thing that changed about him, but his body, too; most notably, a wicked scar on his upper lip. Part of you wanted to ask about its origins, but another part of you knew better than to pry for that information– it seemed personal.

“That’s really dangerous! A fall from that height could have broken a bone!”

“But I caught myself on the tree,” he argued playfully.

“And if you hadn’t?”

He glanced up at the fence, gauging its height before shrugging. “I’d reckon I’d still be fine. I’ve fallen from higher places.”

You held a chastising finger at him, muttering, “That’s bad. Very bad.”

“M’not a dog, so don’t scold me like one.” He rolled his eyes, though he didn’t sound too irritated. “Anyway, what are you still doing coming up here? Ain’t you tired of looking at the same old fence yet?”

“No. The area is nice and peaceful.”

“And it isn’t nice and peaceful on your own property?”

With a tilt of your head, you asked, “Why does it feel like you’re trying to make me go home?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you being this close to my home. If you were smart, you wouldn’t like being this close either. Especially, after what happened last time.”

“You still remember that?”

“‘Course, I do. And probably just as vividly as you do, too,” he scoffed. “You shouldn’t come this close anymore. You’re just gonna get in trouble again if you get caught.”

You placed a hand on your hip, entirely unthreatened. “Are you going to snitch on me?”

He exhaled a quiet laugh. “No. So long as you stay on your side of the creek from now on, I’ll have no reason to.”

“Hmm…” You dropped your hand from your hip to cross your arms. “Well, I’m not going unless you come with me. I’ll need an escort back.”

“An escort?”

“Yes,” you stated firmly. “As you know, I’ve never been this far from my usual path. Who knows if I’ll be able to find my way back, rather than wandering further onto your property?”

He chuckled, bewildered by your suggestion. “Need me to hold your hand, too?”

“Yes, actually.” You held it out for him to take, making him lose his grin. He eyed your extended palm, watching as you flexed it, wordlessly prompting him to grab it, yet he didn’t. “Come on. We don’t have all day, do we?”

His eyes slid up to meet yours. “But I was only kidding-”

“I wasn’t.”

Toji’s lips parted to spew some kind of excuse, but nothing came out, and his mouth closed, opening once more to bite out, “Fine.” 

Hesitantly, he grabbed your hand, taking it in a tight fist. It wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it did startle you a little, especially when he tugged you to follow him. With a huff, you wrangled him back and forced him to take your hand properly. 

“Never held someone’s hand before or something?” you asked, interlocking your fingers. You let your connected hands fall between you. “There we go. That’s how you do it.” 

When you looked back up, he was glaring down at your hands, confused more than angry. And when he started pulling you away again, you didn’t miss the way the tips of his ears were starting to turn red.

“You want to be friends?” Toji questioned you one night, brows furrowing deeply as he pointed to himself. “With me?”

You frowned, thinking back on the week you both had, where you’d meet every evening at the creek to hang out, wondering if you’d read the situation incorrectly– weren’t you two getting along? Or was he really just coming here out of some obligation? 

“Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with you? You’re cool.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course, I do.”

His confusion was palpable as he questioned again, “Really?”

You scoffed and reached over to flick his cheek. He reeled away with a surprised hiss, rubbing the growing red mark. “You’re cool, Toji. How many times do I have to say it?”

His hand went still on his face as he stared at you, probably trying to figure out if you were being genuine or not. Finally, he dropped his hand. “Okay. Yeah, sure. We can be friends. If you want.”

When silence ensued, inching toward something awkward, you reached forward and poked his cheek. “Hey. Don’t be all weird now. That’s not cool at all.”

With a smushed cheek, he mumbled, “I’m not being weird.”

“Swear?”

“Swear.”

“Good.” You dropped your hand with a satisfied smile and relaxed back on the ground, closing your eyes and paying no mind to the crunch of the leaves below your head. “Lay down, too.”

You didn’t see him move, but you heard the leaves crunch as he relaxed beside you, just close enough to barely brush your shoulders together.

After a few minutes of quiet autumn breezes, he asked, “You really think I’m cool?”

“Toji, the fact that you keep asking is making it weird.”

In only a few months, the two of you had grown close. No longer were you two just friends; you were best friends. 

Even as the season chilled into winter, you two would still frequently meet at the creek, though when the snow started falling, your hangouts were often cut short due to the cold, and sometimes, you didn’t meet at all. 

But that was fine; you missed him, of course, but you knew that he didn’t want you trekking through the snow, just like you didn’t want him to do that either.

Toward the end of that year, a winter storm blew in. He told you the week before it happened that you shouldn’t meet at the creek. And you agreed with him, with the exception being the evening of his birthday, of course. He implored that it was fine, that you didn’t need to risk your health and safety for such a stupid reason, but you insisted, and finally, he relented. Toji promised to meet you out there on his birthday.

Yet, as you stood at the creek on the 31st of December, bundled up and shivering, you realized Toji might’ve forgotten– which was fine. It was his 16th birthday, after all, and he was probably busy with family obligations. 

Okay, it hurt a little bit that he forgot, but you tried your best not to let it get to you. You only wanted to give him the gift you made for him– granted, it was a silly gift, but you thought he’d appreciate it.

But it was fine. You could always give it to him another time.

You retreated back to your house, stopping just inside the door to peel your many layers off. You snuck past the living room, where your parents were bringing in the new year with their friends, playing card games, drinking, eating, laughing. You crossed your fingers, hoping they didn’t stop to ask why you were back so soon. As far as they were concerned, you were going out with a friend– a friend who was a girl you met at school, and not an infamous Zenin boy, who you were forbidden from talking to.

Once you made it to your room undetected, you changed into your pajamas, turned on quiet music, and started working on the project you left behind a few hours ago: a half-knitted sweater. Well, half was an overstatement; you’d barely finished one of the sleeves. Knitting wasn’t your strong suit, and it wasn’t all that fun, but it kept your hands busy.

Entirely immersed in your work, you were almost dead to the world, which is why when your bedroom window was abruptly pushed open, you screamed– 

Until you realized it was only Toji, with a finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet. Quickly, you slapped your hand over your mouth, and your other over your racing heart. You both stayed silent, listening for your parents' concerned questions, but the loud chatter of them with their friends let you know they hadn’t heard a thing. 

Only then did you speak, and it was to harshly whisper, “Jesus! You scared me!”

“I was throwing pebbles at your window for five minutes. Should’ve known you were… knitting?” He waved a confused hand at the mess of tan yarn in your lap. “Since when have you known how to do that?”

“Since two weeks ago, but that’s not important. What are you doing here?”

He drew his eyes away from your lap. “You didn’t wait for me at the creek.”

“I did. For two hours. Figured you were busy with your party or something, but it’s no big deal. You didn’t have to come all the way down here on your birthday. I could’ve given you your gift later.” You placed your yarn and knitting needles aside to slide off your bed and retrieve his present. 

When you stood in front of him, holding a small box behind your back, he eyed you suspiciously. “You got me a gift?”

“Of course, I got you a gift. It’s your birthday. Now, close your eyes.” He cocked a brow, hesitating until you snapped, “Close them. Now.”

And he did.

Once you placed the gift box in his hand, you added, “It’s nothing crazy. You might even think it’s stupid-”

“What? No, I– shut up, you didn’t-” Your brows furrowed, and he instantly backpedaled. “Sorry. Don’t shut up. That’s not– I just-”

“Open the damn box, Toji.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled the lid away, placing it on your nightstand before reaching in to grab the gift. Between his two fingers, he held up the woven tendril of green strands, inspecting it with a frown. “A bracelet?”

You nodded and held up your own wrist, displaying the one you made for yourself. “A friendship bracelet.”

“Oh,” he murmured, still looking it over with curiosity. 

Your stomach started to churn with nerves, which led to you blurting out, “I told you it wasn’t anything crazy, I said it was stupid-” His eyes flicked to yours, widening just enough as you continued, “You’re probably used to the fancy stuff– gold and silver and diamonds, which is fine. I mean, your family is loaded, so that’s to be expected. Just give that back, I’m sorry-”

When you went to grab it, he jerked it out of your reach. “No way. It’s mine.”

“It’s stupid, Toji.”

“It’s not stupid at all. It’s cool.” You slowly dropped your hands. “I’ve never had a friendship bracelet before; no one has ever… you really made this for me?”

“Well, yeah. And for me, too.” His eyes slid to your wrist, and he took your hand, bringing you closer so he could look at yours, too. The contact brought warmth to your face. “You like them?”

“Mhm, I do. You did a good job on them.”

“Thank you.” The warmth on your face only got hotter, but the praise was nice. “Do you want me to help you put yours on? They can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

He lowered your hand back to your side and handed his bracelet to you, offering you his wrist next. After securing it, you glanced at his face, taking note of the small smile that was on his mouth as he ran his finger over the woven pattern.

“Thank you. For the gift.”

The slight nervousness in your chest faded, and you smiled, too. “You’re welcome! I was really hoping you’d like it! I wasn’t sure what else to get you. I know you probably have everything you could ever want already.”

“...almost everything.”

“Hm?” 

You tilted your head in question, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he glanced at the clock on your nightstand, then looked back at you. 

“My family is doing fireworks for the New Year.”

Your eyes lit up with excitement. “I love fireworks!”

“Wanna go watch them?” he asked. “The roof would be the perfect spot.”

“The roof? Like, the roof of my house?” When he nodded, you asked, “How are we supposed to get up there?” 

He slipped out of his coat, handing it to you, then moved toward the open window. As you slid your arms into the warmth, sufficiently wrapping yourself up in it, he inched outside, far enough that it worried you. 

“Hey, Toji, that’s not safe. You could fall-”

But your warning was too late. He somehow managed to pull himself off the windowsill using the gutter of your house, and then proceeded to defy gravity by vaulting onto the roof. Naturally, you were concerned and rushed over to the window, only when you peered up at the roof, he leaned over the edge and offered you his hand.

“You’re insane if you think I’m doing that.”

“Come on,” he tutted teasingly. “Don’t be a chicken.”

“You could drop me.”

“I swear, I won’t. And if I do, I’d be down there to catch you before you hit the ground.”

Your eyes widened, head shaking in disbelief. “What? You think you’re a superhero, or something?”

He snorted. “Definitely not, but I trust myself enough not to let you fall.”

“You can trust yourself all you want, but I’m the one who needs to trust you right now. And I definitely do not.”

He clicked his tongue. “You should.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you mean a lot to me, and I’d never suggest anything that would get you hurt.” You stared at his hand again, watching him flex it open. “Come on. You made me a friendship bracelet and everything. You have to trust me at least a little bit, right?”

“Toji-”

“And it’s my birthday, so you kinda have to do everything I say.”

Your lips pressed into a flat line as you eyed the distance from your window to the ground.

“Damn you.” 

With a groan, you grabbed his hand, squeezed your eyes shut, and braced for the ground, but the fall didn’t come; Toji lifted you onto the roof as if you weighed nothing, letting you stumble right onto his lap. You gripped the fabric on his shoulders, peering behind you and over the edge of the roof– such a long way down. 

“You’re very bold, you know that?”

He chuckled and pulled you off his lap, placing you beside him. “One day, you’ll finally trust me.”

“Maybe so, but that day is not today. You’ll have to prove yourself a few more times.” You moved closer to his side, noticing his thin, long-sleeved shirt. “Hey, aren’t you cold?”

“I’m fine, really-” You slid back onto his lap, sitting back toward his knees so it wasn’t entirely inappropriate. “Really, I’m not-”

“Do you want to catch a cold? No, you don’t. So put your arms in here.” You opened the jacket, shivering as the cold air chilled you through your pajamas. “Hurry before all the warm air gets out.”

Sounding flustered, he muttered, “Where am I supposed to-” You grabbed his arms, led them inside the jacket, and wrapped them around your waist. “Oh.”

“Isn’t that better?”

You heard him swallow before humming, “Mhm.” 

He relaxed into your touch after a few moments and even pulled you forward to get closer. Despite your initial thoughts, straddling his lap this closely didn’t feel inappropriate at all. It felt comforting and safe, like you wouldn’t mind staying there for the rest of your life.

The fireworks started a little while later, lighting up the sky with bright flashes of vibrant colors. Both of you watched them in contented silence– it was nice. Really nice, even.

“You know, these are really good fireworks, but have you seen the ones they do in Osaka. For the summer festival?”

“No. Have you?”

You giggled, “No, but I saw them on TV last year. They’re super cool. We should go sometime.”

Through the sound of the distant explosions, you heard your parents and their friends count down from ten, and when the clock hit midnight, you didn’t hesitate to press your lips to Toji’s cheek. It wasn’t much, a gentle peck at most, but it was something that meant so much to both of you. 

Though at the time, neither of you was truly aware of the significance.

“Happy New Year,” you whispered when you pulled back to rest your cheek on his shoulder.

You weren’t sure if he said it back. 

If he did, you definitely couldn’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing through your head.

Toji moved off the Zenin property a few months after he turned 18. He came to see you when he could, but after being cut off from his family’s funds, he was stuck working a few part-time jobs, barely giving him any time off. You pretended it didn’t bother you too badly, but the reality of it was that without Toji there to keep you company, the place felt small and lonely. You were going stir-crazy, and the subtle comments from your parents, suggesting that you look for a place, were grating on your nerves. 

Which is why when Toji came to pick you up the night of your 18th birthday, you slumped down in his car with a box of items. He eyed them suspiciously, gaze flicking to you and your pleading look. Hesitantly, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Mind if I stay with you for a few days?”

He blinked a few times, inhaling deeply to ask, “Um, like… starting tonight?” He worried his bottom lip between his teeth when you nodded. “I’ve only got one bedroom. And it’s not on the nice side of town either.”

“Toji, if you don’t want me to stay, just say so-”

“No! That’s not it,” he rushed to say, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s just that… it’s kind of a shitty place, and I’m messy, and you’re not gonna like it.”

Catching sight of his reddening cheeks, you offered a soft smile. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It can’t be that bad. Besides, it’s just for a few days. I trust you to take care of me for a few days. And since it’s a one-bedroom, I can take the couch.”

“Well, I don’t have a couch. When I left the estate, I only brought a few changes of clothes, and the new place didn’t come furnished.”

“So, where do you sleep?”

The answer to that question: the fucking floor.

“Toji,” you sighed, taking a look around the bare space that was somehow messy, despite being almost empty. “You couldn’t have grabbed a futon before you left the estate?”

“Was kinda in a rush,” he sheepishly said. “Figured I’d get whatever I needed when I had time, but… sort of short on that, too. Plus, s’not like anyone else lives with me anyway, so it doesn’t bother me.” When you cast him a cool look, he winced. “Well, it bothers me now that you’re here.”

You let your eyes slip around the room. A dirty old rug, a basket of unfolded clothes, a foldable, metal chair, a scratched-up side table he probably picked up for free on the side of the road, and a gun– wait- 

“What is that for?!” You pointed at the weapon, and Toji followed your direction until he, too, spotted it. Quickly, he grabbed the gun and slipped it behind him, tucking it into his waistband as if that would magically erase the last two seconds from your mind. “Toji.”

“What? It’s a bad part of town, I told you already.”

“So, you have a gun, to do what with? Shoot people?”

He blinked a few times, lips parting in surprise before he forced them closed, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “No. I would never.” He eyed your unimpressed glare, offering up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “I swear.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, frown deepening before you dismissed it, muttering, “You better not. It would piss me off.” 

Toji let out a sigh of relief and moved aside, letting you venture deeper into the apartment. He let you explore, not that there was much of that to be done anyway. You found the bathroom– small and dingy– the kitchen was just the same. And when you were finished, you stood in front of him again, hand on your hip. 

“You were right. This place is shitty.” You gave the room another glance. “I’m not leaving until it’s at least somewhat suitable.”

“What?”

“What?” you countered, directing your stare at him. “You can’t live like this.”

“Yes, I can. I’ve been doing it for months now.”

“Well, I can’t live like this,” you argued, catching the way confusion flickered in his eyes. 

“You?”

“Me.” With a lazy wave of your hand, you explained, “My parents not-so-subtly suggested that I move out.”

Toji’s face slackened. “They kicked you out.”

“No, they suggested it was time for me to get my own place since I’m an adult now, so I thought I’d stay with you until I find an apartment. Just a few days.”

Toji cocked a brow. “You think you’re going to find a nice apartment to move into in just a few days?” When you nodded, he asked, “With what money?” With pursed lips, you shrugged, bringing him to sigh, “You’re not going to find a place in just a few days with no money.”

“Why not? You did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t? We’re in your apartment right now-” It clicked for you then. “This isn’t your apartment, is it?”

“It is.” He swallowed. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

He chewed on his bottom lip. “Well, not officially.”

“You’re squatting here,” you surmised, making him wince again.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but you couldn’t be mad at Toji for it. It wasn’t like he expected you to throw yourself and all of your problems into his lap. However, that didn’t mean you could continue letting him live this way, squatting or not.

You let out a huff and rubbed at your eyes, feeling tired already. “Okay. It’s fine. We can just… figure it out tomorrow.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. You need a place to live– a real place that is your own– and so do I, so we can start looking tomorrow. Or better yet, I can start looking tomorrow, since you’re keen on living in squalor. But once I find a place, you’re moving in with me. No more of… this.” You motioned to the space around you. “Now, is there anything else you wanna tell me? You’re technically homeless, are you jobless, too?”

“No. I… work.”

His tone was hesitant– less than trustworthy now that you’ve seen all of this.

“Is it ethical?” He didn’t answer, but he did look guilty, and you had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay,” you sighed again. “Last question, do you have enough money to buy dinner? I’m broke.”

You moved into a new apartment only a few weeks after leaving your house. It wasn’t much better than the previous place, but at least it was in a better part of town.

You quickly found out that living with Toji wasn’t bad at all. You both respected each other’s privacy and kept communication open to voice concerns about your living arrangement. When you had friends over, you made sure to keep out of Toji’s way, and he kept out of yours. However, he never brought people over– you suspected he didn’t have any friends other than you, but there were a few times you overheard him talking on the phone to someone named Shiu.

The bills were split equally, with you handing over your share to Toji, so he could pay them off with the landlord. At first, your friend insisted that he could cover the expenses, but you wouldn’t let that slide– you couldn’t just live with him and not contribute; this was a shared space.

You each had your own bedroom, which was sort of a moot point, as Toji so rarely slept in his room, often opting to crash on the couch when he’d come back from work instead. He usually stayed out all night and slept all day, and while that concerned you, you didn’t bring up what his job consisted of again– ignorance is bliss, and all that.

Well, as it turns out, ignorance is bliss until you’re forced to see first-hand the very thing you’d been turning a blind eye to.

You had left work early that day, not feeling the greatest after having just gotten over a cold. You attempted to tough it out since your job wasn’t really grueling at all– the little antique shop didn’t get that much business, which left you sitting at the counter, bored out of your mind as you worked through your puzzle book. But after listening to you sniffle and groan one too many times, your boss sent you home with strict orders to rest up.

With a headache pounding behind your eyes and a grumbling stomach that was practically begging for something warm, you relented. Miso soup, a bit of knitting, and a nap sounded heavenly. But when you stepped into your apartment, you quickly realized that a relaxing afternoon was not in store for you. 

The first clue was the trail of red droplets staining your rug, leading you toward the kitchen. The next clue was the bloodied wrap and towels lying on the floor, and next, pieces from the first aid kit strewn across the counter, as if someone had messily searched for what they needed and left the mess behind.

You weren’t dumb. You knew what all of this was, what it meant, and who had caused it. And all of that was proved correct when you found him in the bathroom, standing and leaning back against the sink, shirt pulled up his torso and held secure in his mouth, as he sewed up the large, seeping gash in his abdomen. 

Time froze for a moment.

You stared at him; he stared back. Both of you were equally as shocked as the other.

And then he opened his mouth, his shirt falling to cover the wound as he broke the silence to ask, “What are you doing here?”

“I– um…” You continued to stare at his torso, even if you couldn’t see the marred skin anymore. “Came home early. Wasn’t feeling well.” You raised a shaky hand, pointing at his abdomen. “What happened?”

“Just had a little accident. Nothing to worry about.”

Your bottom lip quivered from the stress. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Not lying, it’s really nothing.” The guilt on his face only worsened. “Please, don’t cry. I’m fine-”

“You’re bleeding.” 

“It’s not as bad as it looks. I swear-”

Neither of you had realized you crossed the bathroom until you stood right in front of him, holding a tight hand over his mouth to make him shut up. His eyes widened, but he didn’t try to push you away. With your other hand, you pulled his shirt back up to inspect the wound.

“Wh-Who did that to you?” You removed your hand so he could answer, yet the most you got was a choked-back groan. “Answer me-”

“I don’t know. You think he gave me his name before he shoved a knife in my side?”

You felt tears roll down your cheeks when you blinked, which Toji wiped away with his knuckle, muttering, “It’s okay. Really.”

“It’s not-”

“It is,” he insisted, pulling his shirt out of your hand to cover the wound again. “Trust me. Please.”

Doing so was a mistake– you knew that. 

But you couldn’t help it. You did trust him.

So, when he asked you to forget about it, when he told you that it wouldn’t happen again, you believed him.

You trusted his promise to you, knowing that it was empty.

You knew that it would happen again, but you also knew that when the next time came around, you wouldn’t be there to see it. 

Toji would make sure of it.

“How’d you get that scar on your lip?” you asked him one evening after years of wanting to know its backstory. Originally, you thought it might be too personal, but with a few drinks in your system, the question came out easily. 

Thankfully, Toji didn’t seem to mind it either. He nursed his nth beer bottle in one hand, the other resting behind you on the back of the couch as you both watched some stupid TV show you’d heard about from your friends. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he answered, “I tripped and fell. Smacked my face off the wall.”

“Mm. Seems pretty tame compared to the other scars on your body. I thought that one would be more… significant, you know?”

“Significant…” he mused, leaning forward to set his bottle on the coffee table, dragging back with him a new one. “I think you mean dramatic.”

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

As he twisted off the bottle cap, he chuckled. “Okay. What if I said that my family threw me into this special room? And that this room was filled with things that want to hurt you, but they’re invisible.”

“Like ghosts?”

“Mhm, like ghosts. And what if I said that these ghosts are how I got this scar? Would that be significant and dramatic enough for you?”

Your nose crinkled. “That would be too much, actually. Ghosts aren’t real. And your family sucks, but… they’re not that cruel, are they?”

He snorted. “You tell me. You stalked our backyard for years.”

“Yeah, but I never saw anyone get dragged into any haunted dungeon.”

“Right,” he mused, bringing the bottle to his lips. “A haunted dungeon isn’t very realistic. The walking into a wall thing makes way more sense.”

You squinted at him as if that would help decipher what he was trying to say. “You’re being weird tonight.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You leaned into his side, soaking up the warmth. 

Minutes later, his arm inched off the back of the couch to rest over your shoulders. When his arm dipped lower behind you, his hand splayed against your waist, you tried to pretend like it didn’t bother you much.

But the reality of it left you with heated cheeks and a heartbeat that was too fast to be normal.

It was only in this moment that you realized the feelings you harbored for your friend strayed far past platonic.

The revelation of your new feelings was nearly debilitating. No longer could you talk to Toji for longer than five minutes without stuttering over your words or blushing like an idiot. If he noticed, he never pointed it out– thankfully, and in turn, you never pointed out when he was flustered either, which happened more often than you’d think. It used to be over the little things, like a simple hug, an accidental touch of hands, or when he’d let you borrow his jacket because you were too stubborn to grab your own, even after he told you it was cold outside. 

But things escalated, much like they always do.

You were running late that morning. All you needed was your work outfit, which you’d forgotten to grab from the dryer before taking your shower because again, you were running late, leaving you in a frazzled state. You did remember your underwear, though– lucky you.

Your washer and dryer unit occupied a small alcove in the hallway beside the bathroom. Depending on where you stood in the kitchen, you would be able to see down the same hallway. 

With this knowledge in mind, you made sure to call Toji’s name before you stepped out of the bathroom, just to make sure he had enough time to cover his eyes. 

When you received no response from him, you hurriedly rushed to the dryer, holding an arm to your bare chest for coverage. Bent at the waist, you filtered through the mess of dried clothes to find your outfit, freezing in place when you heard his sharp intake of air. You stood straight just in time to see him pulling his earbuds from his ears and turning around. 

“Jesus,” Toji breathed, “Warn a guy next time.”

“I called your name.”

“Apparently not fucking loud enough since I just had to see your tits.”

“Oh, like that’s such a bother,” you scoffed, bending over to look for your clothes again.

“It is a bother. It’s going to bother me for the rest of the day now. Maybe even the rest of the week.”

“I had them covered with my hand!”

“Barely!”

You snorted, mumbling, “God, you act as if you’ve never seen boobs before.”

“I haven’t. Not in person anyway, and definitely not yours-”

“Wait.”

“What?”

You slammed the dryer door shut, clothing in your arms, and stood straight to face him, though he couldn’t see you with his back turned to you. “You’ve never seen boobs?”

“Not in person,” he reiterated tersely. “I mean, I used to have this magazine-”

“Stop. I don’t need to know that.”

“Okay, so…”

“Are you a virgin then?”

Redness crept up the back of his neck as he defensively said, “So are you.”

“How do you know?”

“Maybe because we’re from the middle of bumfuck nowhere, so unless you managed to screw one of my cousins without me knowing about it, you’re still a virgin, too.”

“I could’ve brought someone over here, you know? It’s not like you’re here during the night that much anyway. How would you have known?”

Toji’s shoulders tensed.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel like arguing anymore. It was stupid to begin with. Now, you were just poking the bear and wasting time when you’re already late for work.

Lowly, he asked, “Have you had someone over?”

“No. Not for that.”

“Good. Don’t. Ever.”

Your frowned. “Why not?”

“Because this is our apartment, meaning it’s my place just as much as it’s yours. How would you like it if I brought over a woman you didn’t know, and I didn’t run it past you first?”

“I don’t know.” 

You hated the idea, actually. Loathed it, even.

“Okay, well, I do know that if I catch some man in here, it’s going to piss me off. So, just… just tell me, or something. I’ll make sure I’m not here, and you can let me know when he’s gone.”

“Or we could just-” 

You cut yourself off before that word vomit could spew from your mouth. But the beginning part was already out there. Toji heard you.

“We could just, what?”

Fuck. We could just fuck. Each other. Together.

But you were smart enough to know why saying that would be idiotic.

“Nothing! I didn’t mean to say that! And I’m late for work! So, I have to finish getting ready!”

You trapped yourself in the bathroom after that, making sure that you heard Toji’s bedroom door shut before even thinking of leaving for work for the day. You had wasted an extra half hour in the bathroom, so by the time you made it to work, almost an hour late, to say your boss was less than enthused would be an understatement.

The realization of your crush on Toji, paired with the acknowledgement of just how attractive this man was, was a lethal combination for your sanity. You tried your best not to let it bother you, and for the most part, you had succeeded. But there were moments where you couldn’t help it– you would end up flustered beyond the normal amount, and having him watch you stutter your way through some half-assed explanation as to why you were suddenly going shy on him only made it worse. 

Thankfully, he never picked on you for it– not excessively, at least. Most of the time, it was a subtle acknowledgement that he noticed you acting timid, and then he’d allow you to escape from the situation with the small bits of your dignity that you had left– a simple kindness, really. It was the least he could do, or so you thought. 

However, there were times when your friend wasn’t feeling very merciful at all.

You had been sitting on the couch, knitting away with a blank mind, when you heard him call out your name from the hallway.

“Yeah?” you responded, not even looking up from your knitting needles.

“Remember that shirt I let you borrow last week?”

 One of his work shirts that you had taken to sleep in that night. You were feeling bloated, and your tight pajamas weren’t the least bit comfortable.

“Uh huh.”

“And do you remember when I said not to dry it?”

Your hands went still as you thought back on the interaction you’d had with him a few days ago– did he tell you not to dry the shirt?

“Uhh-” You looked up when a shadow fell over you, wide eyes settling on Toji’s exposed abdomen, which the shirt– the very tight, very small shirt– didn’t cover. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he retorted. “You ruined it.”

“Ruined? I wouldn’t say that.” When you finally managed to drag your eyes up to his face, you were met with an amused look. It was only then that you realized your mistake– openly checking out your best friend. It brought a scorching heat to your face. “That’s not– I didn’t– what I meant– I just-”

No mercy wasn’t granted then. 

Toji let you stutter it out, watching you nearly combust in front of him with a grin on his face.

You just barely managed to collect yourself enough to choke out, “It doesn’t look bad. Really. It’s… fine.”

“Just fine?” he pried for more, knowing you were too embarrassed to realize it for yourself. 

“It’s good. Really good. Great, even.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Yeah.” You swallowed thickly and forced your shaky hands to start knitting again. 

“Well, if that’s the case, maybe I should just wear it to work then. Since it’s not as bad as I think it is.”

“Oh, you should. You definitely should.”

You pretended you didn’t hear his quiet laughter as he grabbed his zip-up hoodie from the front door. He slid on his shoes and grabbed his keys.

“I’ll be back later than usual. Probably after midnight.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

“You know who to call if you need me, right?”

“For sure.” 

You heard his laughter one last time before he stepped out the door, closing it behind him. Once you were alone, you dropped your knitting needles and covered your face, letting the mortification creep in while muttering, “Oh, my god,” into your palms.

You weren’t the only one getting flustered in that apartment. Toji had his fair share of moments, too, and you ate each one up like it was candy. 

Like the time you were cutting his hair and flashed your chest on accident.

Or the time when you were bent over in the kitchen, cleaning out one of the lower cabinets, and he happened to walk in behind you.

Or when the electricity in your apartment had cut out during winter, and you asked for cuddles to keep yourself warm.

All of these moments were innocent– mostly innocent, at least.

The only time it wasn’t completely innocent was the day you asked to kiss him.

It was out of the blue, a spur-of-the-moment type of deal– you were feeling impulsive and curious, and Toji was just there, oblivious to the thoughts going through your head as you approached him in the kitchen. 

With a light tap on his shoulder, he briefly glanced back at you and smiled before returning to the task of restocking the first-aid kit– something that happened quite frequently. 

“Need something?”

“Possibly.”

He hummed, “Well, if it’s a plain, boring bandage you’re looking for, I hate to disappoint.” He reached into the drug-store bag on the counter, pulling out a box of themed bandages. “They only had pink princess ones, so-”

“I don’t need a bandage.”

“Something from the cabinet then? Just gimme a second, and I’ll move out of your way-”

“Toji.”

Hearing your tone, he paused and then set down the first-aid items to turn and face you. When you stayed quiet, his brows raised in concern. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked cautiously.

“Nothing’s wrong. Not yet, anyway. I suppose it depends on how you take this.” Your short explanation seemed to only concern him more. “I just… well, I wanted to talk to you about something. And if you’re not okay with it, that’s completely fine. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, or upset, or– or… ruin our friendship– I don’t want you to hate me, or think I’m weird, or crazy-”

“Did you do something bad?” he interjected, placing a hand on your shoulder. “If you did, it’s okay. Just tell me what happened, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Huh?”

“You look guilty. If you killed someone, just let me know where the body is, and I-”

“Toji, I– no! That’s not-!”

“Then you need someone taken care of? All I need to know is what they look like-”

“No! No one is dead, no one is dying!”

He raised his voice just a little to ask, “Then why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Like what?!”

“Like you need me to do something for you. Whatever it is, I can get it done. You don’t have to be afraid to ask. I won’t be mad at you-”

“A kiss! I was going to ask for a kiss!”

There. It was out in the open for the universe to mock you for. 

You wanted to kiss Toji. 

And now he knew that you wanted to kiss him, too.

The silence that ensued was terrifying.

The bewildered eye contact might’ve been worse.

“I– um…” He laughed nervously. “What?”

You took it back. The silence and eye contact were the least of your worries.

“A kiss, Toji. You kiss me.” You pointed between yourself and him. “Unless you don’t want to-”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Well, you didn’t say much of anything, actually.” While you stood there, watching such a redness bloom over his cheeks, you sighed, “I’m only curious. I’m twenty and have no idea what it’s like.” 

“And you think I do?”

“I– no? I guess not. Look, it doesn’t have to mean anything. If you’re saving it for someone else, that’s fine. Just say so. Or if you don’t want to do that with me, I understand. I just thought that since we’re friends, it would be easier to do it together. More comfortable and stuff.”

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed. “No, that uh– that makes sense. We should… do that.”

You smiled, trying your best to be as comforting as possible, but really, you were freaking out on the inside. You’re sure Toji was feeling the same, though he was less subtle about it than you were. 

“Okay. Go on,” you prompted.

“Go on and do what?”

Your face slackened. “Kiss me, stupid.”

“S-Sure.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you heard him stutter– if he’s ever even done it before. You also pretended not to notice him not-so-subtly wipe his palms off on his pants. 

To help, you took the initiative of wrapping your arms around his neck to reel him in closer, letting him almost stumble into you and place his hands on your waist to steady himself. You felt the tips of his fingers sink into your skin, and you swore you could see his heartbeat in his chest.

“You seem nervous,” you lilted, hoping to lighten the mood, but it didn’t. Not for Toji, anyway; he was still just staring at your mouth.

And then, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

You snorted, “Really? I didn’t know.”

His green eyes flicked to yours. “It’s gonna be bad.”

You shrugged. “Probably, but I’m not expecting fireworks or anything, okay? If it’s the worst thing ever, then who cares? It’s not like there’s anyone here besides us, and I’m not going to judge you for a bad kiss. But if it’ll make you feel better, I can close my eyes.”

He nodded, entirely serious. “Okay. Do that.”

“I was joking, Toji.”

“I wasn’t.”

You giggled, “Fine. I’ll close them.”

You felt him lean in closer. You felt the lightest bit of breath brush over your face. You felt his hands tighten on your waist. 

You felt his lips against your cheek.

With a small grin, unable to help yourself, you mumbled, “You needed me to close my eyes for that?”

And then you felt his lips press against your own.

It took you a moment to realize it for yourself, to process that this was it, you were kissing him. And once you came to terms with it, you kissed him back. Soft and slow, timid almost, like you were both too shy to push for something more. 

But that was okay; this pace was perfect. As a matter of fact, the whole thing was perfect.

When you parted from one another, you forced your eyes to open and were lucky enough to witness the deepest blush known to man covering Toji’s face. 

“Oh.” You stifled your laugh behind your hand. “Your cheeks are so red.”

“Shut up,” he groaned, tugging you forward with the hands on your hips, only to press his face into your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” you cooed condescendingly. “No need to be embarrassed.”

“You’re the worst.”

You sighed in content, leaning into him for a sloppy sort of hug. “It was a good kiss, though.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “I liked it a lot.”

“Me, too,” he said quietly, voice muffled in your shoulder. Just barely, he leaned back to ask, “Can I– can we, um… do it again?”

You wrote it off as practice; it’s what kept your friendship intact, to make sure that the kisses, while intimate, would never damage what you already had together. And after a few months, you were certain your plan was flawless. A few pecks here and there– in the morning, before bed, random ones throughout the day if you were feeling confident enough; it was nothing crazy, but it was nice.

The kisses also seemed to be a gateway to be more… touchy-feely. Of course, the touches weren’t inappropriate in the slightest. Cuddling on the couch, leaning into his side in the checkout line at the supermarket, holding his hand as you walked around the block, it was all so innocent. 

The kisses couldn’t change the fact that he was still your best friend.

They could, however, make you question why you two were still only friends after everything you’ve done together, but you didn’t like to think about that part very often. 

You were sprawled out on the couch, legs resting over his thighs as you flipped through the channels. You’d been at it for ten minutes, and you’re sure Toji was getting tired of your indecisiveness. If you were being honest, so were you. With a sigh, you swung your legs off his lap and tossed the remote down beside him. 

“You pick something while I’m gone.”

He clicked his tongue and grabbed your arms as you passed him. “Where are you going?”

“I gotta pee. Let go.”

And he did let go.

Right after tugging you back down onto the couch just to be annoying.

“Ass,” you cursed without any real heat, getting up once more and only making it as far as you did last time before he pulled you back again. This time, he brought you down for a kiss, a quick one.

“I can pick whatever I want?” he asked so nicely, sliding his grip on your arm down to your hand. 

It caught you off guard– the sweetness of it.

“Huh?”

“On TV,” he amended, moving your hand, pressing the tips of his fingers to yours. 

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want.”

“Really?”

He traced the tip of his finger up the inside of your wrist while waiting for your answer. 

“Really.”

The look in his eyes when you said that turned into something smug, knocking you out of your stupor.

You realized your mistake then.

“Wait, no. It’s Saturday.”

“It is Saturday.” Toji grinned and let go of you completely to grab the remote. “Which means the horse races are on all day-”

“No!” you protested, launching over him to grab the remote, forgetting entirely about your full bladder. “Horse racing is sooo boring!”

“Come on now, it’s so cool.”

You writhed in his lap, fighting for the remote that was always just out of reach. “You don’t even bet on them! What’s the point?!”

“I bet on them. Mentally.”

“Oh, my god, you’re twenty-one. Stop acting like such an old man-” 

His movements were always too fast for you. There was no way for you to get the remote out of his hands unless you caught him off guard, which you had learned wasn’t that difficult.

With a hand on his jaw, you angled his face enough to lean forward and kiss him. You didn’t wait to slip your tongue into his mouth the first chance you had, knowing that would only throw him off even more. And your plan worked well. 

Seconds after you kissed him, he was kissing you back, pulling on your waist to situate you over his lap. You let him think you had no other intentions with the kiss, allowing him to slide his hand to your hip and squeeze just enough to feel it. Though he still held onto that remote with his other hand. 

Feeling a bit daring, and maybe curious, too, you rolled your hips forward against his slowly. His mouth went just the slightest bit slack on yours, and he groaned when you moved against him again.

From beside you, you heard the remote hit the couch cushion, followed by his hand settling on your hip, sliding down to guide you to move again. You felt him getting hard between your legs– this was nothing new for you. There were many times when you were simply kissing that you accidentally brushed against it.

This, however, was intentional.

You let him do it again and again until you were sure he was so caught up in you that he forgot about the horse races completely. Once you were certain he was distracted, you pulled back, grabbed the remote, and slid off his lap to stand in front of him.

“No,” he whined, leaning his head back and covering his face with both hands. “That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair. Especially when your best friend was going to subject you to horse racing torture.”

“It’s interesting! And you promised!”

You clicked your tongue and tossed the remote into his lap. “Fine. But my favorite show comes on at two, and we’re watching it. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. 

You gave the top of his head a few pats.

“Good boy.”

As you made your way to the bathroom, you didn’t notice the way his face warmed at those two words.

The kissing was good. It was great, even.

But it wasn’t satiating that urge, which left you outrageously horny.

It usually wasn’t an issue. Toji wasn’t there most nights, so you were free to do whatever you needed to without the fear of being overheard.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Toji’s job– whatever that was– didn’t require him at the moment, which meant he'd been there for three days and three nights, giving you no time at all to get the job done yourself. And to top it off, PMS was kicking your ass with the cramps, so there were no orgasms to help with that, nor did you have your heating pad because it finally kicked the bucket.

“I can go get you more pain relievers. It wouldn’t take that long,” Toji offered from the threshold of your room. He had come to check on you after you disappeared just before dinner, finding you on your bed, curled up on your side to hold your stomach.

“It’s fine. They aren’t the worst. They’re just making me tired and nauseous.”

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“Mm, you can lie down with me. We can take a nap.”

He exhaled a laugh. “Alright.”

Cuddling on the couch wasn’t a new concept. Lying down in a bed together definitely was.

He didn’t even get underneath the blanket, and made sure he kept a couple of inches of distance between you to maintain some friendly boundary. But boundaries be damned– consensually, of course.

“You can come closer if you want to,” you said, looking back at him to see that he was staring at the ceiling, his hands folded on his stomach. “You know I don’t bite.”

“Just… trying to be respectful,” he defended lightly, moving closer until his shoulder brushed your back.

“I appreciate that, but come closer. Like how we do it on the couch.” It took a moment, but you finally felt the bed shift behind you, and then his hand was sliding over your waist, pulling your back to his chest. You let out a sigh, wriggling back to get even closer. “This is nice.”

“Mm, it is.” 

His thumb stroked your waist, right at the bottom hem of your shirt. The sound of his breathing was light, comforting in a way. Had your guts not been trying to rip your insides apart with cramps, you almost could have enjoyed the moment.

When you sucked in a breath on a particularly sharp cramp, the tips of his fingers dug just a bit deeper into your side, a show of his concern. 

It was cute. You appreciated it.

But you wanted more.

Taking his hand, you guided it to your lower abdomen, letting it slip under your shirt to settle on your skin.

“Can you hold me right there? Is that okay?”

His face leaned into your shoulder, warm cheek pressed to your neck. “If it helps you, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you.”

Rather than replying verbally, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

And that contact was great.

For all of five minutes before your hips twitched, arousal was building between your legs, and all from a simple, innocent touch. 

You squeezed your thighs together, squirming a bit in search of friction. If only you could slip your hand between your legs to grind against your fist, you’d be fine. 

But Toji would definitely notice that.

You tried to keep the squirming to a minimum; you didn’t want him to take his hand away. 

“I know you don’t mean it,” Toji finally choked out, trailing off as your writhing slackened. “You’re moving around...”

“S-Sorry, it’s just…” With no excuse, you added, “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” he mumbled, probably growing tired in the warm, dim room, just like you were. “It’s just frustrating for me, too.”

“Sorry,” you said again, and stopped moving.

That is, until another cramp had you tensing up, and that hand on your lower stomach smoothed over your skin, just barely dipping into the waistband on your shorts before settling in the right spot again. You couldn’t help it; your thighs squeezed, and you squirmed.

“Baby-”

“I-” You swallowed down the whine building in the back of your throat before reaching back for his cock. He jerked at the feeling, thrusting toward you with a choked groan. Slowly, you tilted your hips back, pressing against him before cautiously asking, “Can we? Just this once?”

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew it had to be beet red. But teasing him about his inexperience wasn’t what you wanted to do at that moment. What you wanted was to get off, to stop the cramps for at least a little while, and to sleep.

A tired, nervous chuckle vibrated against your shoulder blade as he pulled his hand away, tilting his hips away from you. “Um, I don’t know how to do… that-”

You drew back, the sting of rejection prickling all over. “Sorry. You’re right, that’s a lot-” 

“Don’t be sorry. I want to help, but I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t… want to screw it up.” 

“O-Okay.”

Awkward silence gathered quickly in the room.

“Can we try something else?” he asked quietly, reaching out for you again.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

His hand trailed out from behind your legs, moving to your hip to give it a gentle nudge– not to push you away, just to tilt them in a way that he had more access to your ass. He grabbed the waistband of your shorts, stopping to ask, “Can I take these off?”

You swallowed thickly, still feeling confused, but you nodded anyway. Toji helped you out of them, tossing the pair aside and situating you again. You were nearly lying on your stomach, but with your hips still propped on your side. You grabbed your pillow, pressing your face into it to hide your embarrassment– you’d never been this bare in front of anyone, let alone Toji.

And he was still right behind you, holding himself up on his side while running his other hand up and down your bare thigh. His touch disappeared for a moment before coming back with two wet fingers swiping up and down your slit. You tensed, gasping quietly as he leaned his forehead onto your shoulder, groaning under his breath, “fuck me.”

“T-Toji.”

“Can I?” He traced his fingers over your entrance. “Right here?”

“Please,” you begged, “please, please, please-” He started with one, pressing inside before drawing back out to add the second, reaching so much deeper than your fingers ever would. With a whine, you brought one of your hands between your legs to play with your clit, circling it slowly to match the pace of his fingers. “Yes, fuck…” 

You felt his heavy breaths against your shoulder; he was getting himself worked up, too, despite receiving not a single touch in return. He wasn’t even grinding against you, but just the sounds he was making clued you in that he was feeling good, too. 

It was cute how easily you affected him, but this didn’t occur to you in the moment.

You arched your back just enough to prop your ass up more, taking his fingers in an angle that was just a bit deeper. The movement must’ve flared a little insecurity in him because he stopped to ask, “Is this okay?” 

You barely managed a nod and slurred into the pillow, “M-Mhm. S’good, Toji.”

He hummed, pleased with your response, and lowered his face to your neck again.

After so long in your position, your hand began to cramp, but with you being so desperate for an orgasm, you needed something more.

“Can you talk to me?”

“Um, about what?”

“I-I don’t know.” You swallowed thickly, suddenly very self-aware of your predicament and really nervous about it. “Anything. Your voice. It sounds nice.”

You heard him groan behind you, felt his exhale brush over your shoulder, creating goosebumps in its path. And then, against your skin, he mumbled something that you couldn’t hear. 

“What?” Your fingers on your clit slowed.

He anxiously laughed, and then a little louder, repeated, “Can’t talk– I mean, I shouldn’t…”

Your brows furrowed, confusion sinking in. “What do you-”

“I just… I don’t know what I would say– sorry-”

You smiled into the pillow. “It’s okay. Can you kiss me instead?” And then to specify, “My neck. It’s sensitive. Feels nice.”

Toji followed through with your request, pressing his lips to the side of your throat, gently sucking and nipping his way to just below your ear. Your limbs softened, insides going gooey.

The second you really started sinking into the moment, your pussy tightening around his fingers, pressing your ass back into his hand for more, you felt his shuddering breath on your neck and then his teeth sinking in just a bit deeper than before. You tensed, whimpering out a soft sound, clenching your thighs together when it stirred up butterflies. 

Having obviously felt it, Toji snickered quietly and jokingly muttered over the bite, “Freak.” 

You couldn’t help it– his voice, his breath hitting the wet indents his teeth left behind– you moaned, clenching around his fingers once again. As if realizing just the effect his voice had on you, the playfulness in him receded with a whispering, “Oh.”

“Oh?” you shakily questioned.

“You just…” He pulled his fingers out just enough to thrust them back in, which was a different feeling entirely than the gentle internal petting he had been doing. 

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, taking it between your teeth when he did it again, and then again. The sound of your arousal wasn’t very subtle– Toji practically stopped breathing when he pressed them inside again, listening to the slick noise. 

He groaned and moved his hand quicker, just to hear how wet you were. 

You weren’t sure if he knew what he was doing, other than mapping you out and learning from the moment, but his innocent exploration of your body was getting you off. 

Quickly. Very quickly.

You arched into it, pressing your ass up to take his fingers, while you angled your face into the pillow. Maybe it was to hide or to stifle any sounds that would knock him out of the moment. 

Or maybe it was to save yourself from spontaneously combusting– because, holy shit, your best friend was fingering the fuck out of you and it felt otherworldly, but also, holy shit, this was Toji, your best friend.

“So fucking wet,” he breathed, “Feels so good, baby. You feel amazing.”

Your eyes widened, and you froze, because, again, this was your best friend. Your best friend, who now knows what your wet pussy feels like. Your best friend who thinks you feel amazing inside.

“T-Toji,” you stammered, using both hands to grab at the bedding.

He seemed to realize the situation for himself, too, and immediately pulled his hand away from you, apologies instantly falling from his lips. 

“S-Sorry, I didn’t-” During his rambling, you flipped onto your back to face him. The abrupt movement and close, face-to-face proximity had him reeling back, but before he got too far, you fisted the front of his shirt to drag him back. He winced away from you, as if you might hit him. “That was too far, I know-”

“Toji-”

“M’sorry. I won’t say those things again-”

To make him shut up, you kissed him. Hard. 

He gasped and hesitantly kissed you back for all of two seconds before you pulled away just enough to speak. Your tongue traced over your bottom lip, swiping up your combined saliva. He followed the action with his eyes, nearly panting.

“You didn’t have to stop.”

His lips parted to take in a breath, his brows furrowed in confusion, and he looked at you as though you were speaking a different language. “What?”

Rather than saying anything else, you gently guided his hand back down between your legs. You even pressed his two middle fingers to your entrance, just barely pushing the tips of them inside. Still, he didn’t move– even if your gesture was an obvious invitation.

“Toji,” you began, bucking up into his hand. “I want you to keep going.”

You couldn’t blame him for his hesitation– he was just as new at this as you were; he was just as scared to fuck up, too. But in this moment, the only thing that could ruin anything was if he pulled away and didn’t finish what he started. 

You leaned in, tracing your lips over his own, hoping he’d just kiss you. 

“Please, Toji.” 

The redness on his cheeks flared, but rather than succumbing to his nervousness, he endured it. Without the kiss, he pressed his fingers inside, watching your face with widened pupils as if searching for anything that would tell him to stop. But he could search for as long as he wanted; he’d never find anything on your face that said you didn’t want this.

“Yes,” you cooed, dragging your fingers through his hair. “Just like before– it was good. You were doing so well.”

It took only a few pumps of his fingers inside of you before the heat of the moment caught back up to both of you. With you practically panting against his mouth, he groaned and finally– finally– kissed you again. 

The angle of his fingers, with you now on your back, was so much better than before; the curl of them now inching so close to something new, something you’d never felt on yourself. And all it took was you spreading your legs just a bit more for him to find it.

All at once, you tensed up, gripping his hair tighter, moaning loudly into his mouth. 

“Again,” you keened, “do that again.”

He listened without hesitation, pressing right into that spot– pressing right into it every single time. 

You broke away from his mouth with a sharp gasp and propped yourself up on your elbows to watch his hand between your legs. The way his forearm flexed, the way his palm was glistening with your arousal, the way he was watching it happen with you– 

“Fuck, Toji. T-That feels so f-fucking good.”

“Does it, baby?”

And the way he said that– it wasn’t insecure, it wasn’t hesitant or apprehensive. It was sarcastic, borderline condescending, but in the best way possible. It was confident, smug, like he knew he was making you feel good, and fuck, he really was.

You dragged your hand down between your legs, rubbing your fingers over your clit, and that combination was so mind-numbingly good. 

The realization that you were going to come– that Toji was about to make you come on his fingers– was jarring, but at the same time, it’s like this was what you had been waiting for for so long.

“So tight,” he murmured, more so to himself than you, but you heard it. And then he asked, “Are you close?”

“M-Mhm. Please, please-”

“Please?” You felt his grin against your neck. “I should be saying that to you; show me, please.”

You were practically writhing, right there at the edge, and despite that, you brokenly giggled, “You wanna see me come?”

“God, yes.” You felt his hips shift toward you, wishing desperately to grind against your thigh, but unable to reach you. “Fuck, please show me. Please.”

Your head tilted back lazily, letting you take in more air for those gasps and cries and whines that you couldn’t help. 

When your breathing turned into short, quick pants, and your thighs started to twitch, hips bucking for more, eyes daring to roll back in your skull, finally, your orgasm washed over you, brutally good and unrelenting. You clamped down around his fingers, thighs closing shut on his hand and your own as you rode out the blissful feeling.

Somewhere in that moment, you pulled Toji in, eagerly slotting your mouth right over his, and he responded just the same, kissing you hard until the orgasm faded, leaving behind only the residual beads of dopamine and oxytocin that flooded your brain. Your legs parted, and you drew your hand back, using it to hold onto his shoulders to keep him anchored at your side. 

His lips slowed, but the heat never wavered; the tension was still there. When you broke for air, he moved the tentative kisses down your jaw to your neck, gently fingering you in slow strokes to coax you back down from the high.

You panted, squinting and blinking in the dim room, thinking nothing but holy shit, you just did that. And then you felt his hips shift beside you, a subtle and probably subconscious grind of his cock against the inside of his pants to ease the tightness. 

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, all while staring at the bulge in his pants.

“Mm,” he hummed over your pulse, soaking up his own dose of endorphins– the oxytocin he was definitely drowning in from just being this close to you. You wondered if he somehow felt high just like you, even without the orgasm. 

And speaking of his lack of orgasm.

You pulled him over you, which was surprisingly easy given how pliant he was. Thankfully, his bones were entirely made of jelly, so he still kept himself from crushing you. He pulled his fingers from between your legs, pressing that hand into the bed to hold himself up. While guiding his mouth back to your own, you trailed a hand down his torso to tug at his waistband.

Instantly, he tensed and grabbed your wrist, pulling it away. He parted from your lips to ask, “What are you doing?”

“You’re hard.”

You weren’t sure if he assumed you just hadn’t noticed, like he hadn’t been rutting it against you the whole time, but he flushed at your words. 

“Sorry.”

You grinned. “Don’t be sorry. Just… can I return the favor?”

His eyes widened. “Oh. You don’t have to-”

“Toji,” you huffed, a borderline scold, “I want to. If you’ll let me.”

After everything that just transpired, he still hesitated in his answer. “Okay. Yeah. If you want, just…”

While waiting for him to finish, you brought your hand back down to his waistband, but before slipping inside, you prompted, “Just, what?”

“Uh… just don’t expect me to last that long.” You held a straight face for as long as you could before you broke out into a series of giggles, earning his groan. “It’s not funny.”

“Hm.” You kissed him once, leaning back just enough to mumble, “It’s a little funny,” before kissing him again. 

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his pants, slowly pushing them down, along with his boxers, until his cock sprang free. It dipped low with its weight, tapping your stomach. You pulled back from his mouth to look between your bodies at him, which he let you do for all of five seconds before he pressed you down, blocking your view of his cock.

“Don’t stare.”

“I just wanted to see really quickly.” Your lips twisted, holding back a grin. You reached down to wrap your hand around him. “You’re pretty big.”

His pupils dilated more as he sputtered for a response to that, but you didn’t give him the chance to form words before you stroked the entire length of him. And when he finally found something to say, it was a groaning, “God– yes,” as he leaned his face into the crook of your neck.

You bit back a smile. “Is this good?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good enough to make you come?”

He chuckled, then rasped, “Fuck, you could probably make me come by just breathing on it.”

You snorted. “That easy, huh?”

“You have no idea, baby.”

You knew you had to be doing something right because the precum dripping from his tip coated your hand; it was plenty to keep the friction to a minimum. 

He pressed a hand to your waist, just to slide over your skin, squeezing at the soft curve of your hip. It slipped underneath your shirt, trailing up the side of your ribs, stopping right at the swell of your breast before retreating. You only let him do it once more before slowing your hand on his cock and asking, “Do you want to see them?” 

“Hm?” He raised up from your neck. You pulled your shirt up to your chin, letting him get a look at your bare chest. “O-Oh.” His cock twitched in your hand, so you started stroking him again, just to hear another, softer, “o-oh…”

It was cute.

“You can–uh… touch them. If you want. Just be easy; they’re sore. You know, ‘cause of PMS and stuff–” The man gave you no time to process it; quicker than you could fathom a human being ever moving, he had moved down your body and taken one of your nipples into his mouth, making you gasp out in surprise. “O-Okay, yeah. That’s… good.”

You couldn’t reach his cock anymore, but apparently, you didn’t need to. With one hand between his own legs, he started jerking himself off while mouthing at your tits. 

Unsure of what to do with your hands, you propped yourself up on one elbow and carded your fingers through his hair, gently pulling on the strands to bring him closer. His eyes closed, and he exhaled a shaky moan, clearly getting off on the hair-playing. “Fuck,” he cursed when he pulled back, only to switch to the other. 

When he accidentally sucked just a bit too hard, you jerked beneath him, giving his hair a harsh pull, and scolding, “Easy.”

And Toji faltered, looking up at you, eyes laden with so much lust. He listened, slackening his tongue to soft, wet caresses, but still watching your face to make sure what he was doing was okay. 

To spare him the worry, you smiled, nodding and brushing your fingers through the hair that hung over his forehead. “Good, Toji. Much better.”

His eyes widened just a bit, cheeks flushing red, his movements slowing for only a moment before he abruptly pulled back. He looked down at himself, stroking his cock faster, breathing harder. The hand he was holding himself up with fisted the bedding so hard, you almost wondered if he could rip it that way. 

And then you felt it, hot ropes of cum hitting your bare stomach, pooling over your abdomen. He groaned, a guttural sound, something so sexy and primal that it had arousal flaring between your legs again. As his hand started to stop, you noticed the tension in his shoulders, which were barely moving as he breathed.

Before he could start to overthink– because you knew that was bound to happen with him– you placed both your hands on the sides of his face and forced him to look at you. 

There was the usual flush to his cheeks, and his eyes were still blown wide, but there was a new lax look to his features that you really liked. You thumbed at his swollen lip, feeling yourself smile as you asked, “You okay?”

His breathing stopped when his eyes flicked to your mouth. And then, he snapped out of it, clearing his throat. “Yeah. M’good.”

“You sure?”

He nodded and pressed forward, claiming your mouth once more. During the series of kisses, when both of you were still coming down, trying to get comfortable, you felt his hand slide through the cooling cum on your stomach, making him reel back.

“Shit. Sorry.” He was already pulling himself off the bed, tugging up his pants. “I’ll go get something-”

“Don’t bother,” you quipped, pulling your shirt off over your head. You messily wiped off your stomach before tossing it away. “Now, get back here. We’re supposed to be napping.”

He gaped at you, mouth wide open. Toji was quick to point out the obvious. “You’re naked.”

“Yes. But is it anything you haven’t already seen and/or jizzed on? No. So, get into bed.”

His nose crinkled. “Don’t say jizz.”

“Toji.”

He relented then. “Fine.”

author's note: First, I want to thank everyone who sent me messages and asks during my break-- you all are so sweet. There were quite a few, so I won't respond to each one, but just know I truly appreciated them <3!

Second, there was supposed to be a part two to this, but I don't know that I'll get around to writing it, nor do I think that anyone would want to read it anyway. It's canon compliant, so... we know how that ends. But if I cut it off right here, no one has to be sad, and it's a happy ending :)

And third, updating of any kind will be kinda slow for me right now as I work on other projects, so I really appreciate your patience. It means the world to me <3!! If you're interested in the other things I'm working on, they're on my ao3-- they are not x reader fics, but they are JJK, so please keep that in mind :)

Okay, thank you for reading!! <3!!

[nez4nezha]

*+.🎀What happens if you refused a make out with Zenin Naoya? Art by: @sso_xxxxx on X

*+.🎀Warnings: mdni! +18 ONLY, making out, dubcon, naoya being an arrogant asshole, suggestive.

The moment you pull back, the atmosphere in the room doesn’t just cool — it curdles.

Naoya’s hand, which had been reaching for your waist with the casual entitlement of a man reaching for a glass of water, freezes mid‑air. For a split second, his face is nothing but pure, unadulterated confusion. He stares at you as though you have suddenly started speaking a language that does not exist.

“What was that?” he asks. His voice drops an octave, losing its usual smooth lilt. He does not move, simply waiting — giving you the chance to “correct” what he sees as your mistake.

When you repeat your refusal, his eyes narrow, and a sharp, jagged smirk spreads across his face. He lets out a short, dry huff of laughter that holds absolutely no warmth or amusement.

“Ah, I see. You have decided to be tedious today.”

He takes a step closer, intentionally invading your personal space. He moves so fast you barely even register the motion; one moment he is standing a foot away, and the next his shadow looms over you, his face only inches from yours. He does not touch you this time, but the sheer weight of his presence alone feels suffocating.

“You think this makes you special? Playing hard to get?” He tilts his head, those golden‑brown eyes tracing over your features with a newfound, mocking coldness. “It is a pathetic look on you. You are part of the Zenin clan — or at the very least, you stand inside a Zenin household. You should know better than to believe your little ‘will’ matters when someone like me feels bored enough to even give you attention.”

He straightens up abruptly before turning his back on you. He busies himself picking at a tiny, invisible piece of lint on his sleeve, his whole posture radiating nothing but performative boredom and disinterest.

“Get out,” he says flatly. “I have no time or interest for someone so remarkably dim‑witted that they cannot even recognise a favour when it is being offered to them. Go find some corner to act all ‘independent’ in — just make sure it is far enough away that I do not have to lay eyes on you.”

As you reach for the door, his voice follows you — sharp, cold and venomous.

“And do not expect me to ask twice. People like you are a dime a dozen… but there is only ever one of me.”

*+.🎀

Later that evening, the air inside the estate feels heavy and stifling. Naoya does not come looking for you with an apology. Instead, he finds you walking alone along one of the secluded hallways, his footsteps completely silent against the wooden floors. He steps directly into your path, blocking your way — carrying that same jagged, tense energy that makes it obvious he has been stewing in his own frustration for hours.

“You have been looking incredibly smug all afternoon,” he starts, his voice low and dangerous. He has already discarded his formal outer robe; he looks more dishevelled than usual, yet his eyes remain as sharp and piercing as ever.

“Did you actually think your little display of ‘spirit’ changed anything? That you won some sort of meaningless victory?”

He closes the distance between you in the blink of an eye, pinning you firmly against the wall with his forearm pressed against your chest. He does not use his full strength, but the sudden speed leaves you unable to move — his Projection Sorcery making the whole world feel like it is stuttering and slowing down, while he remains perfectly clear and in focus.

“It is irritating,” he hisses, his face now inches from yours. The boredom he showed earlier has completely vanished, replaced by this burning, petty intensity. “The way you look at me now… like you actually have a choice in any of this. You are a Zenin — everything here belongs to the head of this clan. Your time, your attention… even every single breath you take. It all belongs here.”

He is simply venting his frustration, desperate to take back control over the dynamic between the two of you. He starts picking apart everything he believes to be your flaws, his words sharp and cutting like a whip.

“You are weak, your technique is unremarkable, and your background is questionable at best. And yet… you still have the audacity to turn your nose up at me? You are nothing but a child playing pretend at being someone important.”

But even as he rants and insults you, his grip on your shoulder tightens, and for just a split second, his gaze drops down straight to your lips — a tiny crack finally appearing in his perfect mask of superiority. He is frustrated because his massive ego simply cannot accept the truth: he wants your attention, even more so now that you have denied it to him.

Before you can even react, he shoves you into a cold, dark storage room meant only for cleaning supplies, backing you up until your back hits the wall. His hands find their way to your waist in the darkness, pulling you until you are pressed flush right against him. His hot breath fans across your face, and then he closes the distance completely — his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that is not soft or passionate, but rough, impatient and filled with nothing but the raw possessiveness of the proud heir he is. He grinds his hips against yours, and you can physically feel it — clear proof that your rejection had affected him far deeper than he would ever dare admit.

His hands slip underneath your kimono, palming gently at your breast, and he lets out a low groan right against your lips.

Just then, the door to the storage room swings open. A young servant girl had come to fetch a mop to clean the living room. Her eyes land on the tall figure of Naoya, widening in shock the moment she realises what she has walked in on. She immediately bows her head low, trembling as she hurries to apologise.

Naoya clicks his tongue loudly, his gaze cold and sharp as he stares down at the servant girl kneeling at his feet. He does not bother saying a single word, simply shoving past her and leaving you there — your clothes dishevelled, your face burning bright red, your chest still heaving — as you watch his retreating figure disappear into the shadows.

[nez4nezha]

*+.🎀 Thinking about an Arranged Marriage between Zenin Naoya x F!Reader where— "Naoya-sama" turns into "Naoya-kun" to "Naoya~" and finally, into "Nao~" overtime.

*+.🎀: Fluff, 13+, first fic, enjoy!!

The tatami mats of the Zenin estate always felt cold, no matter the season. In the beginning, you were a ghost in his halls, your voice a mere whisper of "Naoya-sama" as you bowed to his retreating back. He liked it that way—the hierarchy was clear, and you were a silent ornament to his status.

The shift happened six months in, over a game of Shogi.

"You’re overthinking your move, Naoya-kun," you said casually, sliding your silver general into place.

The air in the room curdled. Naoya froze, his hand hovering over a piece. He looked up, eyes narrowed, searching for the mockery in your face. "What did you just call me?"

"Naoya-kun," you repeated, meeting his gaze with a steady, bored calm. "We’ve been married half a year. Surely the 'sama' has expired by now."

He let out a sharp, jagged laugh, leaning forward until his face was inches from yours. "You’re getting bold. Don't forget who provides for you." But he didn't demand you change it back. He just watched you more closely after that.

As the seasons bled into one another, the formality eroded entirely. "Naoya~" became your favorite weapon. You used it when he was posturing in front of the servants or when he was grumbling about his cousins. It was a sing-song lilt that acted like a leash, tugging him back from his arrogance.

"Naoya~, come back to bed. The clan can survive without you for another hour," you’d call out from the doorway, watching his shoulders drop as he realized he’d been caught in a mood.

Then came the rainy afternoon in the private library. Naoya was uncharacteristically quiet, slumped against a bookshelf with a rare look of genuine exhaustion etched into his sharp features. The weight of the Zenin name was a heavy shroud, even for him.

You sat beside him, the scent of old paper and rain filling the space between you. Without a word, you reached out and pulled his head down, guiding it until it rested firmly in your lap.

He stiffened, a protest dying in his throat as your fingers found the roots of his dyed hair. Your touch was gentle, tracing the shell of his ear before smoothing back the strands from his forehead.

"You're wound so tight, Nao~," you murmured, your voice barely a breath.

The nickname was the ultimate desecration of his dignity—shorthand, sweet, and utterly domestic. Naoya let out a long, shuddering exhale, his eyes fluttering shut. He didn't snap at you. He didn't move away. Instead, he turned his face inward, pressing his forehead against the fabric of your kimono, hiding his expression from the world.

"Shut up," he muttered, but his hands reached up, gripping your sleeves like a drowning man. In the silence of the library, the "Sama" was a distant memory; here, he was just Nao, and he was finally home.

[thatsallitchief]

The twins! There’s nerdjo 🤭and then there’s fratjo too ig, I was really excited when i saw nerdjo trending so I grabbed the opportunity to draw him hehe