The only thing they are good for is bringing their Omegas pain and forced submission. They were dangerous, reckless and cruel. There wasn’t an ounce of kindness in any of them.
She didn’t need an Alpha and she certainly didn’t believe in that True Mates fairytale. That was just some fabricated fable Alphas made up to trick innocent doe-eyed Omegas. She wasn’t going to fall for that.
Not again.
No Alpha would ever get her to believe that love truly exists.
And then, James Buchanan Barnes walked into her life.
You're a normal girl in college, a broke little barista and trying your best to keep your scholarships up - Satoru Gojo is not normal, not at all - he's the six eyes, the clan leader, and about to have to marry and take over. The two of you wish for something different when a rare comet shoots across the sky. And that's when you wake up in his body - Satoru Gojo, a powerful sorcerer a world away, and he wakes up in your tiny little dorm bed, with a pair of tits. The two of you stare in the mirror at unfamiliar faces and wonder if any of this is real, and just who the two of you were - could you get back to your bodies, and was a different life really any better?
pairings - Sorcerer! Satoru x fem! reader
warnings Based on the movie your name obviously - it will be very angsty, but also kinda cute - you will keep body swapping throughout, there will be a time difference - fix it fic. Toru is 22, you're 21. size difference to make it more dramatic and funny, canon adjacent (yes, I'm writing him as a sorcerer hehe) Geto never defected, eventual smut, lots of character and plot, emotional - planning on four parts to this. taglist open <3
art by @3-aem of courssee <333
part one
Life was normal before that comet shot across the sky.
You were just a normal college student – struggling in physics, but doing great in everything else. You had a part time job at a coffee shop in your little town, you had a boy you had a crush on and a few friends, but mostly – you studied. You studied till your eyes burned, till they hurt so badly you fell asleep right on your desk, drooling on whatever text book you had.
You didn’t come from money – your family in fact was too broke to put you through college, but they loved you, they helped you get financial aid and scholarships so hopefully you could do better than they did. You loved them very much, too, there were video chats every day since you lived in the dorm outside of your city.
Days were just that – normal, as you worked on your degree, a wicked hangover on your twenty first birthday, where you finally got your first kiss. Yeah – you could say you were that much of an introvert, you hadn’t even done that yet. You wish you remembered it more, it was something quick and hasty as fireworks went off, it was that time of year when you were born.
Something special, something beautiful, but something was…
Off.
It was off even that day. Maybe your period was coming or something, but everything on the day of your twenty-first felt off – especially when you got that damn letter saying if you didn’t raise your physics grade you’d lose that funding.
Tears blurred your vision as you collapsed onto your bed with that letter, knowing if your parents knew how horribly you were doing they would be so disappointed. You couldn’t help but wish for an escape from the crushing weight of all these expectations – many of which you placed on yourself, rushing to take that invite and get positively drunk at a party.
You didn’t tell the guy it was your first kiss, you just did that – let him slide his tongue in your mouth and press you against a wall, then it was all a bit of a blur – you heading back to the dorm, sneaking away. Crying yourself to sleep even though you technically ‘had fun’.
Why did you feel so lonely, though?
Yet when you woke up, everything changed.
Your body changed.
Your fucking room changed.
You were no longer in your little dorm – you’re in some fancy ass, rich ass room with an enormous bed and black silk sheets. You gasp and worry – did you end up with that dude last night? Did you think you got home but got too fucked up!? Your heart hammers in your chest as you peek down – and then you see it.
You see it and fucking scream so loud, seeing you’re wearing boxers rather than panties – and instead of your pussy, there was a dick. Oh, not a small dick, either – and not a soft one, a fully hard, massive fucking cock was on your body.
“What the fuck!? What!?” You jump up and fall, unused to the lanky ass legs that are currently under you, ones that cannot be yours – pale and muscular and so goddamn long. You’re way too tall, so tall you’d hit your head in your fucking dorm, looking down at everything in shock, stumbling into a dresser.
Even your voice is deep and – sexy!? You rush over to this fancy dresser, gasping as you see a perfect face in a mirror – a man’s face, with beautiful blue eyes and cheekbones to fucking die for. You smack at that face as if reality will hit – seeing chest muscles where your titties should be, blushing in his pale skin as you see that bulge in the mirror.
You're inside the body of the hottest man you’ve ever seen in some fancy ass home you could never afford!
“It has to be some dream,” you curse and rush out, running down spiral stairs – how big is this man’s house?! It’s a whole fucking confusing mansion, you’re rushing through everything, trying to find some hint of who he could be – of what weird ass fever dream you’re having, when the door knocks. “One minute!”
You’re rushing over now, opening it and seeing a dark haired man look at your body, rolling his eyes. “Put on some clothes, Satoru. We have training.”
“Training?” He raises a brow at you, and you struggle to act normal, searching your brain for anything. “Training…”
“Yeah, Satoru – training. Just because you’re perfect at everything doesn’t mean me and Shoko don’t need more practice. We have to set a good example if we wanna teach some day.”
“Teach. Examples…”
The man blinks his amethyst eyes, looking right at you now, too close, so close you fucking blush again. “What’s wrong with you, Satoru?”
Satoru – who was Satoru?
*****
Satoru was exhausted as he trained his fucking ass off, entirely exhausted – he wanted a break, he wanted a vacation, he didn’t want to fight anymore curses, or see anymore of his old classmates die. He didn’t want to take over the Gojo family name, and he sure the fuck didn’t look forward to the inevitable arranged marriage the elders were about to place on him.
Standing in his shower since he was covered in grime from fucking curses exploding, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he was not born a Gojo at all – what would it be like if instead, he had been someone normal? If he was just a normal guy at college, and not training to teach the newbies at Jujutsu high?
If he were a normal twenty two year old man who wasn’t about to have to become the clan leader, and take on all this goddamn responsibility he didn’t ask for? Sure, Satoru loved to be the strongest – but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the constant effort, the secrets, the lies they told – the way everything fell on him and his friends, all the expectations making him drown.
He was a Gojo – they were the strongest, and that’s all there was to it. Day in, day out, everything was simple. KIll everything bad, save everyone he could, but goddamit if he wasn’t exhausted, if he didn’t just want to go be a normal guy – maybe go study physics, study theories of the universe he wishes even he could know more about.
Go look at the stars with a pretty girl and laugh, a girl he chose.
Yet that doesn’t appear to be anything he will get – no, he was born a Gojo, and that was that. Even falling asleep in his silk sheets that night, he could not stop his mind from racing, frowning as thoughts raced through his mind at a rampant pace.
How could Satoru Gojo ever live a normal life?
Well, he wondered what normal meant that next morning when he felt hungover – something he never, ever was. Satoru did not drink, it dulled his senses too much, but every now and then he had gone out with Suguru and Shoko, Nanami throwing back whiskey like it was nothing, but he could barely hold one without getting sick.
And does he feel sick – and he feels sad, more sad than before, like emotional in a way he can’t remember being. He reached out as he felt tears burning his eyes – that doesn’t happen, either. Satoru trained himself not to cry from a young age, but now he’s doing just that, his fingers touching unfamiliar cheeks that were wet with tears he hadn't shed in years.
Unfamiliar.
He looks at this shitty little bed then and screams, plopping out of it – his arms fucking flailing. He can’t even take looking at these thighs – not his lanky ass legs, no, they’re cute thighs, ones he himself would grab and spread if it belonged to a pretty girl underneath him. Cute lil socks on his ankles covered in kittens.
Kittens!?
Satoru stumbles again, bashing his head and feeling hair fall against his shoulders, shocked with that alone, but especially not being white. He stands and rushes to the little dresser – too small for him, everything is too small for him, but he is not six foot four, not one goddamn bit he realizes, looking at his reflection, at the pretty tits half falling out of a tank top spun.
Tits on his body!? He grabs them and squishes them in his hands, confused as fuck now, but he can’t help but keep squishing these pretty tits, as if they could rid him of the fucking stress, looking at the unfamiliar face. Softer features than his, completely different in every way – though she…
He!?
This body was beautiful, this face was lovely, the type of girl he’d flirt with or throw on his charm, but be just a little nervous, a little shy. Her lips are swollen as if she’d been kissed all night, he knows that look from women he’s been with, that hung over, fucked out look – though…
He doesn’t feel fucked – well how would he know!?!? He pulls aside those shorts, blushing and then covering back up, the panties were just a little wet, soaking the matching kittens. And that’s when it hits him, that clenching feeling in his tummy – he’s got a pussy.
And TITS.
Satoru Gojo is a…
Knock knock knock.
Maybe it’s Suguru and this is a joke, maybe this is a curse fucking with him – it’s one of those terrible fucking villains who make his life hell, and he’s cast under something. Or it’s a test – Yaga is fucking with him, making sure he can tell what’s real or not. Some Gojo initiation.
Anything but what this is – when a girl knocks at the door and smiles at Satoru, leaning against the door and crossing her arms.
“How was the first kiss, birthday girl?” She teases, Satoru blinks.
“Um… kiss…”
She says your name then.
Your name, is that your name?
Just who are you?
“Are you skipping physics? Aren’t you failing bad?” She asks now, clearly concerned as Satoru sputters.
HIM failing physics? There was no fucking way – well, that and Satoru IS NOT A WOMAN. “Failing? Nah, I don’t fail any subject.”
“Girl last night you were a mess about it, what’s wrong?” She asks again, he shakes his head, well – your head – and your phone is ringing. “Gonna get that?”
“Yeah.”
What’s your pattern!? What’s your phone pattern!? He tries so many times he gets completely locked out, cursing. “Maybe you’re still drunk?”
“Um yeah, I’m gonna take a shower and… get it together!” Satoru says, trying to get used to the girlie voice rather than his own, laughing as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck – much softer than his own. When she finally leaves he leans against the door, picking up that phone again – a glittery pink one.
What the fuck?
*****
You were wearing this unfamiliar dark clothing – you’ll give Satoru this, the man has taste – it was as fancy as clothing could get. You’re absolutely sure that it costs more money than anything in your dorm put together, even these shades you have to wear must be expensive.
One moment you’re another girl, the next – you’re seeing curses.
"Focus, Gojo,” Suguru is his name – apparently, the man with the long dark hair, smiling tiredly as he smokes a cigarette. “You’re off today.”
“Right, focus…” You trail off and sigh, holding up your hand and gasping when blinding light erupts from your palms, obliterating the practice dummies right in front of you. You stare at your shaking hands – huge ones, by the way, all of this goddamn man was huge. “I did that!?”
“Rub it in,” Shoko teases, laughing as she leans against Suguru, smoking a cigarette and laughing at you a bit. “We know you’re the best, Gojo. Stop acting as if you’re like us.”
“I’m not…” You trail off then, focusing on this insane fucking energy again, feeling it course through your veins.
You don’t even get tired, like something is regenerating you constantly.
What the fuck was this? What was this power, these creatures, any of it they were talking about? You can only hope when you go to bed tonight, everything is fucking normal – that you’re failing physics, and that you’re not a six foot four rich man who seemingly never gets a break.
And you thought you worked hard.
Every moment of Satoru Gojo’s day was taken up – from training, to this driver named Ijichi who takes him all over, to the next meeting where you have to fucking hope you can keep up this act, a room full of doors, interrogating Satoru about his upcoming wedding.
This man is getting married?
There are photos of prospective brides, and all you can do is shuffle through them, curious when the fuck you were going to wake up and not have a dick.
****
“You cheated on this test!” The professor of physics comes and yells at Satoru after he aces the test, he raises a brow at her. “No way you didn’t.”
“Why would I cheat?”
“You are the worst student in my class,” she slams the paper on Satoru’s desk, a blank test with different questions. “Do this, and I’ll watch you the whole time.”
His classmates – well they’re your classmates – look at him, all worried, but he aces the goddamn test again, until she’s sputtering. Satoru can see why you suck at physics, considering how mean she is – but luckily he just knows everything, and she can’t argue a second time.
“Well, I guess you pass.” She mumbles, handing him his paper with a hundred percent. “Barely!”
Satoru is tired when his phone goes off – work at six.
WORK.
He has to go work!?
He re-set your pattern to a fingerprint, so he got your phone open – and found just where you work, a little coffee shop. Satoru was a goddamn barista. He was getting bitched out by customers when he’s used to fighting curses – and that’s the craziest thing of all, besides having tits and a pussy.
He couldn’t see well – in fact, your vision was shitty. You had to wear glasses and these weird contact things, and he certainly couldn’t see curses – they could be all around, and he wouldn’t sense them.
He had to get back to his damn body.
*****
You’re so tired when you come back to the Gojo mansion you plop in the living room chair, yawning and kicking off his dress shoes, eyes shutting with your head leaned back. Your body is sore, and you still can’t sleep – this aching, gnawing feeling of being inside this huge body taking over, wondering just what sort of hallucination you were having.
You fall asleep on that couch, as Satoru crashes face first in your tiny little dorm room, and the two of you wonder…
Will you wake up from this weird fucking dream, of bodies you two can't recognize? Was any of this real?
patreon - comms
as these are short they'll actually be coming out fast hehe - this was eating me UP I can't wait for some juicy angst
a fully hard, massive fucking cock was on your body.
Tits on his body!? He grabs them and squishes them in his hands, confused as fuck now, but he can’t help but keep squishing these pretty tits,
Hmm, yes, very important details, absolutely crucial to the story 😂
Love the start to the story and seeing how both characters have struggles under completely different circumstances. Excited and dreading the promised angst coming up!
❝suguru geto thought he was all alone in the world – until he found you. his muse, his lover, and eventually, his biggest mistake❞
WC 11.2k
CONTENT mdni, heavy angst, smut, some fluff too, vampire au, A LOT of blood, murder, blood drinking, depression, suicidal ideation (implied), trauma, yearning, heavy pining, suguru is obsessed with you, extremely avoidant reader, falling in love, first kiss, making out, oral (f+m receiving), piv sex, timeskips, arguments, love confessions, doomed love kinda, happy ending
A/N this is inspired by "interview with the vampire". art by @/chosoenjoy3r + dividers by @droideplane & @uzmacchiato
What does it mean to be lonely?
Not just in the physical sense. Being alone is a fact of life, an empirical truth that cannot be escaped – but being lonely? That's different.
Lonely is when you lose all hope of not being alone.
When your environment has consistently been empty, devoid of familiar faces and friendly touch for far too long. Then that feeling starts to slowly make its way inside, weave itself in through the very fabric of your being, starting to take hold and germinate like weeds in a garden.
Until the emptiness is fully settled inside.
Empty.
Devoid of hope.
Numb.
A black void of nothing.
The worst thing a vampire could be was lonely.
That's what Suguru Geto used to think.
Back when he roamed the earth alone, destined to walk moonlit streets only, seeking his prey in the dark. It was a life he had grown accustomed to, but every single time he hunted, he was hoping he could find someone else. Just one person.
One person to exchange a kind word with. A soft caress maybe, to breathe life back into this dead body of his.
Just someone like him. Who understood.
The worst thing a vampire could be was lonely, Suguru thought before he met you. Now he knows the pain of heartbreak was far greater.
Because how cruel does this cursed existence have to be, to give one a sliver of hope – and then brutally take it all away again?
You made Suguru realised he wasn't a dark void after all, because if his heart hurt this much, it was surely still there.
Dead, unmoving, but there.
It changed everything.
You changed everything.
You.
In all his years, no – centuries alone, you finally came to him like an angel in the night. Dripping in blood, the red crimson mixing with your skin and glowing under the full moon.
You hadn't noticed him straight away, which he thought amusing. Considering the amount of work Suguru had put into his stealth abilities, he was glad to see it could work even on those of his kind. It also gave him just a few seconds longer to just…watch.
You were pinning down someone under you, teeth deep into their neck as you gorged yourself. Nothing more than an animal at that point, reminding Suguru of the worst part of his condition. But such a primitive, hideous sight was made mesmerizing by you.
You were like a painter.
Blood was your ink. The street was your canvas.
Did you know he was watching? Was that why you took your time in that way?
Suguru always drank with nothing but disgust for himself, swallowing the other person's essence as fast as he could as if a quick death was somehow an apology.
Such a disgusting act shouldn't be made so beautiful.
Where had you even come from?
Suguru had roamed this continent for years and had never met anyone else.
Here you were – the answer to all his prayers. Maybe they weren't going on deaf years after all. Maybe he still deserved a little respite, despite being what he was.
Suguru wanted to cry, but he held it in so to not disturb you. The worst thing that could happen was startle you and have you ran away.
At that moment though, he had decided he'd follow you to the ends of the earth if he had to.
An odd promise made to someone not even aware of his existence yet, but Suguru was desperate – he needed you. Hadn't even met you, but he fucking needed you.
You finally tilted your head upwards, fangs fully on show, red on white.
And then you saw him.
He noticed how your eyes immediately met his, like an invisible thread had pulled you to him. The eyes of a beast, deformed like his were, an unnatural colour that matched the blood you were wiping from your chin.
Suguru saw you get ready to run away, with the way your legs tensed and your posture rearranged. But he was quick to put his hands up, taking a quiet step in your direction.
You cocked your head sideways, assessing. Understanding.
And then your beautiful lips parted.
"How long have you been watching?" you finally asked, the small hint of a prideful smirk tugging at the edges of your lips.
What a beautiful sound it was. Suguru couldn't breathe – your voice was nearly as gorgeous as your beautiful face, now fully visible to him.
You were his salvation. He was sure of it.
An angel sent from above. Or… below, in this case.
"I didn't know there were others" he heard himself say, voice shaking just like the hands he hid in his pockets; too worried of anything that might make you look down on him.
You stared at him for a moment. Taking him in, your head tilted in curiosity.
And then your posture dropped a little, less guarded and more sad. Pitiful, even.
"How long have you been alone?"
That's when the first tears started pouring out of Suguru's red eyes, his body reacting to your question before his mind could.
He felt himself sink to his knees, falling to your feet, tears spilling and spilling like they hadn't in years. Probably not since before he had lost his mortality.
You could have run away. Could have laughed at him, thought him weak like his maker had, and left to find your next victim.
To expect compassion from a vampire was far beyond reason.
But you didn't do that.
Instead, you walked towards him. Slowly, carefully, maybe even wondering if this had been a trap. It didn't hurt to be cautious, not in this world. Not for who you were.
You lowered yourself on your knees – so close, much closer than he had been to anyone he didn't intend on drinking blood from in the past centuries. And then you extended a tentative hand, and cupped his cheek.
"I know what it's like" you murmured.
Suguru didn't mean to throw himself at you like he had, but all reason had left him the second you spoke to him so kindly. His arms crossed your back, pulling you into him and crashing onto you at the same time, crying onto your chest so loud it might alert other people to the crime scene you currently found yourselves on.
But nothing else mattered at that moment.
He had found you.
His angel.
The feeling of arms around his back was foreign to him at this point – how long had it been since someone pulled him in instead of away? Since someone held him?
Your skin was as cold as his, but he could swear his heart felt warm.
And as Suguru cried tears of grief and of relief, you slowly caressed his long strands, shushing him with gentleness a creature like him did not deserve.
Suguru wasn't even sure how long you held him like that. So patient.
You were perfect.
He took you to his apartment that night – you were surprised he even had one. But in all his years alive, or, dead, really, he felt a bit of comfort was necessary. After too long roaming aimlessly, Suguru just wanted a home.
He just never expected he'd actually get to invite someone in, and expose a little more of himself than he had intended. But Suguru wanted to try.
You told him your name. An old sound, not native to this land and maybe, to any of the modern day. But you refused to say more; to tell him who was your maker or how long you had been like this, so Suguru didn't pry.
You wanted to move forward, you explained. Look ahead instead of behind. That sounded great to him – Suguru was never able to look at anywhere but the past. His regrets. The wrong turns he had made. Maybe you could help change that.
Another curious thing about you was that you didn't speak of your vampire condition with hatred at all. To you, living forever was exciting, not a curse. You spoke of lands you wished to see and things you still wanted to do.
The world changed every day and you were changing with it. It was a beautiful perspective, something he had never even considered.
But when he asked of the things you missed, you stayed quiet.
Too quiet.
"What's the point of reminiscing" you scoffed, and Suguru could tell there was a splinter there somewhere.
"I am sorry, I didn't mean to–"
"Don't be" you interrupted, looking him in the eyes once more. If he had a living heart, it would have beat faster, he was sure of it. "Are you hungry?" you squinted, so good at reading him already.
"I try not to over indulge" he explained. He worried you might call him weak for admitting he hated to kill, but you seemed more confused than anything.
"It's almost dawn" you muttered. "Will you be ok until nightfall?"
Were you worried about him?
"I am used to it" he tried to smile.
You were still not convinced.
"You don't like the taste?" you asked, one brow raising as if trying to conceal your judgment.
"It's not that, it's–" he struggled with his words, letting out a long sigh. "I don't like inflicting pain"
Your lips turned into an almost smile, amused. "But you're a vampire" you said, as if he didn't already know.
"Am I?" he teased, letting out a self deprecating chuckle.
You laughed with him. Head falling forwards just slightly, your pointy teeth in full display as you let out the sweetest laugh he had heard in centuries.
"I'd assume so" you teased back. "Fangs, check. Red eyes, check" you paused, humming with a finger to your chin. "Perhaps you are just a deformed human?"
Suguru laughed with you. "I haven't seen my face in years, but I'd hope it wasn't deformed"
"No" you smiled. "It's a very handsome face"
That gave him pause, his mouth hanging open before he could blurt out the next taunt in your back and forth.
You thought he was handsome?
He had heard it often, back when he was alive. But being unable to see his reflection was one of the curses of a vampire.
Truth was, he didn't even remember his human face anymore.
"It is?" he asked, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
"It is" you smiled. And then you brought your hand to his face, a single finger ghosting over his cold skin. You took your time in tracing every curve and ridge of his skin, your eyes tracking your finger like you were making a mental map for later.
"I like the shape of your eyes" you murmured. "And of your cheeks"
Suguru almost pulled you into a kiss right then, but he was left completely frozen under your touch. It had been years, no – centuries, since someone touched him with such kindness. Looked at him like something to admire instead of fear.
"How is mine?" you asked suddenly, dropping your hand despite how much he wanted you to keep going.
"What?" he murmured, like snapping back from a trance.
"How is my face?" you repeated.
Oh, he smiled, unsure of where even to start. Suguru had many words for it. Beautiful, mesmerising, gorgeous.
But instead, he said–
"I could show you"
Your eyebrows immediately drew closer, head tilting to the side in confusion.
"What do you mean?" you asked.
"I can draw" he nodded to the small notebook lying on the table, some white pages scattered around it. "Would you like me to draw you?"
It was your turn to be completely frozen in place now. He could have sworn your lower lip wobbled a little, tears starting to form in your beautiful eyes, though you swallowed them as best as you could.
"Could you?" you asked. "I don't even remember what I look like"
"I know what that's like" he echoed the words you had said earlier in the evening.
Something happened between the two of you then.
One of those things only poets could really do justice. It felt like that invisible thread had tugged the two of you just a little closer.
And in your face, a myriad of emotions – gratitude. Acknowledgment. Kinship between monsters, who didn't feel very monstrous at all in this moment in time.
Suguru pulled out his materials – parchment paper and ink, while his model watched patiently.
"How do you want me?" you asked, sounding a little nervous, if he had heard it right.
There were a million ways Suguru could answer that question.
"You're perfect just like that" he replied.
Your eyes blinked, whole face tensing before it relaxed finally, and you sat back a little more on the sofa you shared.
"It's mean to tease" you complained with an adorable frown.
"It's just the truth" he hummed, starting to prepare.
The first step was looking at his subject. Suguru took his time to take in every little detail of your expression, unable to ignore how you struggled to hold his gaze or how you tried to force your lips to not smile.
How did he get this lucky?
Eventually the pen did touch the paper, tracing dark lines carefully, hoping his hands would be skilled enough to capture even a fraction of your charm.
You waited calmly, the most patient subject he had ever had. It had been a long while since anyone allowed him to paint them like this – not since this cursed had removed him from society and life.
He had long felt unable to walk among the living.
But now with you, he'd happily walk among the dead.
"Let me see" you said as soon as his hands put the pen down. Not that patient, it seemed.
Suguru turned the paper around, and your hands wrapped around it to bring them closer. Your eyes darted from one corner of the page to the other, taking in everything, every single thing.
"It's beautiful" you whispered.
"You are" Suguru agreed.
You turned to him, and he noticed you were crying.
"Is this what I look like?" you asked, holding the drawing close.
It was Suguru's turn to cup your cheek, thumb brushing under your eyes. "I was only able to capture a fraction of your beauty"
You swallowed thickly, lip trembling, and then you turned to the picture again. "They used to say I had my mother's eyes" you whispered, brushing a finger over the drawing. "I haven't seen her eyes in years"
Suguru didn't know what to say to that. He didn't remember his family's faces either.
You looked back at him, clutching the drawing to your chest.
"Thank you" you whispered among the tears.
Suguru couldn't take it any longer.
He leaned forwards, slamming his lips across yours as your hands gladly found his long strands, pulling him desperately closer to you.
How long had it been since he had been kissed?
He couldn't even remember.
Your mouth eagerly parted for him, accepting him, inviting him, your own tongue searching for his as neither of you cared about how messy you were. Lips, tongues, teeth – all slamming together in a dance of pure need.
He only noticed you were bleeding when he felt the metallic taste on his tongue, reawakening his empty stomach. "I'm sorry–" he said, kissing your lips over and over where he had impulsively bitten them.
But you laughed. "Are you that hungry?" you teased.
"I couldn't help it, I–" he tried to explain.
I just wanted you whole, is what he would have said, maybe. I just need you too much.
But your laugh once again interrupted all thoughts going through his head.
He watched you bring your forearm to your mouth, biting right in the middle of it, and extending the dripping red to him.
"You can feast on me" you said. "I'm already dead"
Suguru didn't know if you were taunting him for his comment earlier, but he gratefully accepted. Vampire blood wouldn't fill him up like human, but it would definitely help quench his hunger.
His lips closed where you had bitten your skin, swallowing your essence as his eyes closed and his throat hummed.
No one had ever tasted this sweet.
He was lost in it. Addicted from a single taste.
His hands held each side of your arm, pulling you closer to him as he gorged on you.
And then you made a sound – small, unintentional, and beautiful. Suguru snapped his fox eyes open to look at you, your mouth open in pleasure as the sweetest whimpers escaped your lips.
Suguru's lips immediately left your forearm to find yours again, needing to swallow your symphony. "Did you like that?" he asked, hands traveling to your waist and lower, settling on your hips where you rolled them with abandon, grinding against his.
"Yeah" you moaned, nodding your head and desperately holding his face.
Suguru didn't need any more encouragement.
His mouth traveled to your neck this time, fangs sinking into your flesh in a blink, your whole body convulsing at the contact.
"Fuck–" you whimpered, as Suguru kept drinking from you, stealing your blood like you had stolen his unbeating heart.
His whole body was caging you in, his hands encouraging your hips to keep moving as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him further into you.
"Suguru" you moaned his name, and he was gone.
His hands moved from your hips to your middle, easily tearing the fabric of the clothes you wore, and you looked at him wide eyed with an amused smile, the red still dripping from your neck along the curve of your collarbone.
Suguru repositioned himself, bringing his body lower and forcing your legs to your chest, desperate to taste all of you.
In a quick movement, he was bunching his long hair into a bun, eyes hypnotized by the sight of you, naked, legs open in invitation.
"You're beautiful" he whispered, finally sinking his head between your thighs. He inhaled your scent, so sweet it was intoxicating, and licked a long stripe along your underwear that made your whole body jolt up.
He was sure your strength could match his, but you didn't complain when he pinned you down fully and gave your underwear the same treatment the rest of your clothes had gotten, the tearing sound of the fabric echoing in the room until you were fully exposed.
How long had it been?
Suguru felt something close to anxiety in his stomach, worried he wouldn't know how to satisfy you properly. It had been decades of no practice, after all.
But your hand closed around his, urging him with a single blink of your long eyelashes, bottom lip caught between your fangs like you needed him to.
Suddenly all worry was gone, and the only thing left in the world was you.
Suguru lowered himself, tongue licking a flat strip along your slit, and your other hand searched for his hair, pulling strands off the loose bun he had hastily put together.
He took his time exploring, learning what you liked, paying attention to each little reaction. He was so grateful you let him be here. So grateful you had stumbled into his life.
"Right here?" he asked, smiling against your folds when you let out a particularly loud moan.
"Mmh" you shook your head yes desperately, rocking your hips on his face, and Suguru thought himself the happiest man unalive. "Right there, please, Sugu–"
"You're so pretty when you beg" he smiled, dragging his tongue along the same spot that had you seeing stars.
Your moans kept building and building, echoing through the walls of his small apartment.
"Close already?" he asked, feeling just a little bit smug at how quickly he was making you unravel. Perhaps this wasn't a talent easily lost.
"It's been–ngh–a long time" you explained, hands gripping his shoulders, body folding inwards.
Suguru watched you fall apart on his tongue and it was the most beautiful thing he'd witnessed in all his years.
But not only that – it felt almost a little special, that it also had been a long time for you.He wasn't sure why he had assumed the contrary, but he hated to think life had been as lonely for you as it had for him.
Your nails dug so deep into his shoulders they drew blood now, but you didn't seem to notice in your daze. Gods, Suguru wished he could see you like this every day to the rest of eternity.
He finally stood up, removing each article of clothing slowly, as his smug grin followed each tremble of the aftershocks of your orgasm.
Beautiful.
Your eyes followed each new uncovered inch of him. His defined shoulders, his veiny forearms. How his bun came loose and fell along his broad back, dark strands brushing over the skin of his defined chest.
He was handsome. Perfectly chiselled and perfectly defined like he had been created to bring you to your knees.
And to your knees it brought you. You swiftly pushed yourself off the sofa to kneel in front of this magnificent, beautifully unnatural man, as your fingers hooked to the edge of his trousers, the last bit of clothing that hid him from you.
"You want to take me in your mouth?" he asked, thumb brushing your cheek as you nodded an eager yes. "You're so good to me" he hummed in amusement. Each word from him was a mixture of tender and lewd, his soft tone dripping with desire himself.
You finally freed him of his clothes, a little startled at the sheer size of him. You wanted him so bad, wanted to feel every inch of him–
"Open"
All thoughts disappeared in a puff of smoke, hearing him sound like that.
So you did.
"Good" he groaned, sinking into your mouth. He took his time, slowing down when you gagged around him, holding your head in complete control. A control you relented, considering you could easily bite his member off if you so wished.
But it felt… nice, to not be in control anymore.
A vampire life was calculated, precise, constantly on the look out.
It felt nice to give him all of you.
And the boy who was crying in your arms hours ago, was now rocking his hips against your face with abandon, whispering little praises that motivated you to take him deeper, and deeper, and deeper.
Suguru was close to losing his mind, each thread of reality snapping away at the way your throat constricted around him. He was so close to releasing himself in your mouth, but he didn't want that.
Not before he had felt your orgasm on his cock.
He pulled you away, panting, but didn't give you much time to question it. Suguru was on top of you in an instant, hands on either side of your head, his mouth back on yours.
His body pinned you down on the floor, your legs closed around his waist again – as if neither of you wanted to waste any more time, your hips slammed together in a unnatural pace, all of him sinking into you while your face scrunched at the stretch.
"Too much?" he asked, but you were smiling at him again.
"Not enough" you replied, pushing yourself up to bite his bottom lip, urging him back down towards you.
He was probably the one bleeding this time, but he didn't care, the taste mixed perfectly with your tongue. The urgency with which you kissed him urged his hips to start moving, slamming into yours harder and harder.
His hands came to lift your hips to give him better leverage, while yours held on to his shoulders so you could let him. You had met only hours earlier and now Suguru had you practically folded in half, with scratches all around his back to prove how much you loved it.
"You ngh feel so good" you panted, drawing blood from him again, some of the red dripping against your cheek to contrast your beautiful skin.
Maybe it was because his senses were so much sharper, but he didn't remember sex ever feeling like that. So intimate, so… surrendered. Two deadly monsters rejoicing in pleasure together.
It was the beginning of something he hoped would never fade.
An eternity he finally felt happy about.
"Why do you close your eyes?"
"What?" Suguru's head snapped back to you. There was still a faint trace of red where you had wiped it on your cheek; and he suspected on the tips of your fingers too, where they were interlaced with his. Suguru thought it better to not check, deciding to focus on your red eyes instead, and how they sparkled under the moonlight.
It was a night like any other. Hunting unaware passerby's, walking hand in hand back to your lair as if it was romantic.
You hated when he called it murder. So he didn't.
"When you feed" you answered, the breath coming out of your mouth and forming a haze all around. It was a cold winter, this one. The coldest one yet.
"Do I?" he mused, noticing he had never quite thought about it.
"You do" you replied. "And you avert your gaze when I feed too"
"Hm" his grip tightened around your hand, pulling you in closer ever so slightly. "I suppose it's because I don't enjoy it"
He didn't need to look to see the way your jaw had tightened. "You'd rather go hungry?" you scoffed.
"No, of course not" he replied. His thumb traced lazily over the top of your hand, soothing you – or himself. "Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it"
You stopped moving then, bringing him to a stop before you. You squinted your eyes, assessing him with a slight pout. Suguru's long fingers traveled to your jaw, gently wiping the red still there, letting the touch linger over your cold skin.
Suguru had seen you in every possible state in the months since you had been together – when you were naked and beautiful as an angel on top of him, crying from how good he made you feel; to dripping in blood and looking no more than a beast.
But he always found you beautiful.
Maybe that was a problem.
He didn't care.
"Do you enjoy it?" he asked, fighting against the lump in his throat that didn't want him to ask the question. He was sure nothing you said could make him see you different, but this was walking dangerously close.
To his surprise, you paused, tilting your head so your cheek would rest on his palm. Your eyes met his, but they weren't fully with him, something else clearly on your mind.
"I don't know" you answered, truthfully. "I never really thought about it"
That answer seemed to confuse him even more.
"You never thought about it?" he echoed, brushing his thumb over your skin.
You shook your head sideways in confirmation. "I suppose… it's just what I do" you murmured, and for a moment, you weren't there again.
Too lost in whatever memory your mind had locked you in.
Suguru didn't want to pry, but he also couldn't help wanting to know everything about you. "You never told me about your past" he said, more a suggestion than anything.
It was clearly the wrong move.
Your eyes suddenly snapped back to reality, not tender like they had just been – they locked on his with a hiss, and you stepped back from him like his touch burned.
"I'm sorry, I–"
"I don't want to talk about it" you interrupted, tone final and cold like a dagger right in his unbeating heart. Suguru put his hands up, not wanting to startle you further. If there was anyone who understood regrets, it would be him.
"I'm sorry" he said again, and you finally softened, letting your guard down little by little.
Your lips pursed sideways, annoyed with yourself at how easily Suguru got through your defenses. He half expected you to turn around and brave the night alone, maybe find another victim to take out the frustrations he brought out of you on.
But to his surprise, you moved closer.
A tiny step in his direction, too shy for your eyes to meet. But your forehead leaned in, resting on his shoulder, letting the weight of whatever was on your mind sink into him too.
Suguru tentatively brought his arms around your back, slowly, careful not to startle you. But you let him. Leaned further into him, accepted the embrace and even brought your own arms around him.
Your face was squished against his chest the tighter he held you, but you didn't dare move. Your breath had changed, he noticed as well, but he didn't dare move.
"I'm sorry" you said this time, voice small. Too small.
If Suguru didn't know you better, he'd think you were crying.
His hands slowly brushed your hair back, shushing you softly. Your hands gripped his shirt so tight they threatened to tear at the fabric, and with your strength, he knew you could easily do it.
Here, on this cold moonlit street, you finally let him in a little. Allowed him to see some of the pain you carried, despite not being able to voice it.
To Suguru, it was enough.
He would have held you like this forever, were it not for the police sirens bringing in the reminder of your brutal reality.
"We should go" you murmured, and your voice was cold as ice again.
"Maybe we should go somewhere else" you suggested one night.
You were sprawled over the long sofa, completely naked, your arms stretched over your head where they began to hurt. Holding still wasn't exactly your forte.
Suguru lowered his pencil with a long exhale, looking at you with tired eyes. "You're distracting me, sweetheart" he chided.
You pouted, snapping back into position as he started drawing again with a grateful sigh. Over the years, Suguru had drawn you a million times, in every position imaginable – clothed, naked, happy, sad. All of those now hung proudly on the walls, every inch covered with images of you and times you had spent together.
You thought it was a lovely thing when it first started.
Now you were starting to get bored of it.
The years had passed but you didn't exactly change, did you?
Still, seeing how he focused to get every detail of your complexion right, every little line and crevice and perceived imperfection – it made it worth it again.
Sometimes you wished you could see yourself through Suguru's eyes.
What would it be like to love yourself in that way?
"Suguru" you called. His eyes left the page again, squinting at you, but he seemed to notice something was wrong from the way you called his name alone.
He placed his pencil down fully this time. "What is it?" he asked.
"Do you ever wish things were different?"
The words left your lips before you could really think about them. You saw his desire to come to you straight away, but Suguru wasn't one for unnecessary bursts of passion. No, he always though about what he said. Especially because any wrong move might risk losing you.
"I used to" he admitted, answering your question as truthfully as he could. He also didn't care for going into the long years he had spent alone and miserable, something you surely could understand.
"What changed?" you asked, pushing yourself to a more comfortable position.
"Well" he huffed out, a little shy. "I met you"
You blinked at him, feeling your cheeks warm. "Was that a good thing?" you huffed out self-deprecatingly, but his resolve continued.
"It was the best thing" he confessed.
There hadn't been many love confessions between you two through out the years.
Suguru would have told you a million times over, but he realised soon enough he shouldn't. It's not that it wasn't there, on the contrary – it's that acknowledging it was there would make it too real. Too breakable. Too easy to lose.
Love wasn't meant for creatures like the two of you.
"You mean that?" you asked, and Suguru calmly put his paper down, motioning you for come towards him.
You did, waltzing in his direction with no shame at the lack of clothes – he had seen you like that enough times already. When you finally approached, he opened his thick thighs for you to sit on, a hand already to your waist.
You fit so perfectly on his lap, felt so safe next to him like this. Your leaned your weight on him, resting your head on his as his thumb traced absentminded circles on your lower back.
"Look" he said, picking up the paper again. "Look at how beautiful you are"
Your eyes traveled to the picture, eyeing the person you had seen on paper multiple times but could not relate to in any form anymore.
"It's still the same" you murmured, the words cutting your insides like daggers. This curse had robbed you of ever seeing your face again, robbed you of the natural wonders of old age, of maturity, a body that reflected your soul.
You should have been old now. Hell, you should have been dead.
"It is" Suguru agreed, but he was smiling. His eyes darted all over the page, taking in the perceived beauty of the woman you didn't recognise. Your hands. Your curves. Your mother's eyes. All made beautiful under his pencil, but foreign. Distant. "Isn't that a good thing?"
You tensed immediately on top of him. "How is it a good thing?" you spat. "It's unnatural"
He turned to you immediately, his hand dropping the page and cupping your cheek instead. "Where is this coming from?" he asked, gentle, sweet like honey.
"I don't relate to it at all" you protested. "She's beautiful, yes, but I'm… it's not me"
"What do you mean?" he asked, brows furrowing close. One of his hands tightened around your waist, hoping to keep you close, while the other brushed gently just under your temple.
"I'm not beautiful. I'm a predator, I'm cursed" you kept repeating, your words getting more and more sharp despite how kindly he held you.
"You're not cursed" he argued, bringing your head to the crook of his neck. Despite all the fight in you, you let him.
"I am" you cried.
Suguru felt the cold little drops that escaped your eyes fall on his skin, just under where the bite marks that originally made him this way were. He held you tight, hoping it would be enough.
"You're not cursed" he repeated, kindly. "You're everything"
Suguru couldn't bear seeing the person who had made his existence bearable speak so low of herself. You were the one who made him see this as more – as a gift, even.
But you didn't see it that way.
And the way your breathing suddenly stopped and you pulled away made that very clear.
"Don't pretend you don't think I'm a monster" you growled, before pushing yourself off him completely. "I see the way you look at me"
"The way I looked at you?" he echoed, confused. Surely he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, because you were.
You were fully standing now, towering over him in your nakedness. Suguru could never not find you beautiful, but right now you reminded him of the power you truly held.
"Righteous Suguru, always feeling bad for his prey" you mocked, starting to wander around the room just to do something. "And horrible me, enjoying having my stomach filled"
"I never said that–"
"You don't have to" you scoffed. "You can't even bear to look at me"
How could you think that of him?
Hearing those words come out of your lips was unbearable. It was wrong.
"I don't like killing, it's true" he tried to reason. "But–"
"You call it killing" you interrupted. "We're feeding"
"It doesn't change the fact these people were–"
"We would be dead too if we didn't" your voice was rising louder and louder, a debate of morals Suguru never wanted to have with you. "Would you prefer that?"
"No, of course not" Suguru said too quick, coming closer to you. But you just kept going, voice rising higher and higher.
"Should we just walk into the sun to protect your conscience?" you mocked again, but the words got stuck in your throat, scratchy. They were meant to hurt, meant to challenge – but there was something far too real about the words you were saying. Like this was the only way you managed to actually utter them out loud.
Suguru understood that too.
"Don't say that" he pleaded with you. Not angry, not confrontational. Just… scared.
His sudden change made you stop pacing.
"You don't even look at me" you rasped out to the floor, like he wasn't even meant to hear it.
"I'm looking at you now" he tried.
But you just shook your head.
"If you can't accept all of me, what good does it do?" you murmured.
"But it's not you" he tried to reason. "If we weren't like this, you wouldn't choose to kill anyone, I'm sure, and–"
"You don't know what my life was like" you spat.
And it's true. He didn't.
"Because you never told me" he exhaled, unable to hide how much that fact hurt him.
How much longer would he have to wait for you to let him in? Were decades not enough?
"You have no right to know" you repeated what you had said many times already.
"I don't understand" it was his turn to lose his composure a little, that wound growing larger and larger now that the two of you were acknowledging it. "I would never think less of you"
"You already think less of me" you hissed, squaring up to him again.
Beautiful, and naked, but not vulnerable. You were strong like this, the way you made the energy shift in a room showing him how much power you had, no doubt accumulated by the amount of years you had spent as a vampire already.
But that was also speculation. Suguru didn't even know that.
"I don't" he said too quick, putting his hands up. "And I'm sorry, just don't…"
He was the one who trailed off this time, struggling with the words.
"Don't what?" you asked, the words biting into the space.
"Don't leave" he finally said.
You seemed… surprised.
Surely after all this time, it wouldn't be surprising.
But what were years for a vampire, after all? For all he knew, you saw him as no more than a chapter in the long novel of your life. Worst than that, he almost expected that to be the case. And Suguru was terrified of it.
"Why?" you asked.
Suguru noticed it was him who was crying this time, but his lips still formed a shy smile. "Because I love you"
Saying it felt easy than he had anticipated, the words he was so scared to utter just rolling off his tongue, sounding just right. But your red eyes grew wider than they ever had, your feet stumbling back like the words cut instead of soothe.
"You–" you almost tried to repeat them, but you couldn't.
Suguru stood there, unmoving, now that he had finally said it. He wouldn't walk back on them, not when it was the truth.
"I love you" he repeated.
Again, you flinched like you had been hurt. But you stopped moving back, just standing across from him in the middle of the room, chest heaving up and down, up and down.
"No one has ever said that to me"
Your voice was too small for how angry you were just a moment ago.
Suguru's hands balled into fists as he tried to control the urge to run to you. Pull you into his arms, hold you close with a gentleness you should have known centuries ago.
You looked like a cornered animal in the middle of the room, completely frozen. Your eyes were crying again, though you made no mention to dry them. The corner of your lips threatened to move, but to a frown or a smile, he didn't know. You didn't seem to know either.
But your eyes stayed lock on his unwavering, decided ones.
Suguru would stand here, unmoving, for another decade if it meant you trusted him because of it.
"How do you know?" you finally said, bringing a hand to wipe under your eyes.
He tried a step towards you then. "Because just looking at you makes me forget all the bad things that ever happened to me" he said. When you didn't flinch, he stepped forwards again. "Because your laugh is my favourite sound in the world"
You almost moved closer, a barely there shift of your weight forwards. He continued.
"Because laying in our small coffin together doesn't feel claustrophobic, it feels…safe" he almost laughed at himself, the ridiculousness of this vampiric love confession.
Maybe love wasn't meant for creatures like you, but he had found it anyway. And that was a miracle in and of itself.
"You make me feel like this life isn't just worth living, but worth sharing" he completed, standing right in front of you now. Your bottom lip bobbed a little where you struggled to contain your tears, but when his hand reached forwards to cup your cheek, you didn't stop him.
"And I don't see you as a monster" he whispered, thumb dragging along your skin to catch the tears. "Seeing you enjoy killing, it just… makes me wonder why"
Your breathing hitched at that, but you still did not move.
The two of you stood so close, your bodies bathing in the moonlight. It was getting late, and it would be dawn soon – but neither of you seemed to be thinking about that right now.
"I think…" you started, struggling with the words. "I think I might love you too"
Suguru didn't think he even remembered what it was like to feel this happy.
His fox like eyes went wide, his mouth hung open – his turn at surprise. For so long he was so worried you'd get bored of him, that maybe you were too wild a creature to choose this domestic eternity.
Even in his wildest dreams, he never dared to imagine you felt it too.
"Can you say that again?"
You smiled, bringing your hands to cup his face too. "I love you"
Suguru slammed his lips on yours, pulling you in for a desperate kiss that you both completely melted into.
This was what pure bliss felt like.
You loved him.
You loved each other.
Even following all your sins and your ungodly existence, he had found it. He had actually fucking found it. The two of you had just gone against all odds and conquered fate.
"I love you" he kept saying, while his pointed teeth grazed your bottom lip, while your hands held tight to his face, and your mouth's refused to part.
"I love you too" you echoed back, crying, and crying, and crying.
Suguru couldn't stop smiling – and you couldn't stop your tears.
Hadn't he been so absorbed in this miracle then, he might have guessed what happened next.
You weren't there when he woke the next nightfall.
Suguru had grown used to your weight on top of his in the tight space, but he felt none of that when he started to blink his eyes awake. He called your name immediately, lifting the lid of the coffin with a loud creak, asking the void if you were there.
There was no response.
How could he have slept if you were not there? He would have surely woken up if you decided to leave before he did. Was he this lost in his own fantasy coming true? Had he slept too well?
The night was still young, you surely couldn't had gone far if you had just left when the sun went down.
Or… did you leave before that entirely?
Suguru's blood immediately ran cold. You wouldn't leave in the sunlight.
You wouldn't.
You knew what that could mean.
He paced the apartment with so much force his feet made the floor boards sink, but he was desperate. He had to find at least some hint, some clue of where you had gone, why you had gone.
Finally, he noticed something that wasn't meant to be there.
A different portrait sitting on the table, matching the walls full of you that decorated the space. But this one was of him – his long dark hair tied into a knot at the back of his head, his eyes looking far ahead, staring at something off the page.
He didn't remember posing for this, so it must have been made from memory.
Despite the years Suguru had spent teaching you to draw, you never seemed quite able to take it. You lacked the patience, you said. But this was a skillful drawing, no doubt something that would take long to master. Had you been working on it in secret for all this time?
What else did he not notice about you?
Suguru flipped the page around, finding the three words he had been so happy to hear the night before hastily scribbled on the back.
I love you
His response was immediate; Suguru's fist bunched up the drawing, and slammed it back on the table before he could damage it completely. It was a gift from you, he should love it. But where the hell were you?
If you loved him – why would you leave?
Because… you had, hadn't you? And all he had left of you was a portrait of himself and hundreds of images on the walls that now seemed to mock him.
He called your name once more, more pained this time. Maybe this was all a mistake, maybe he was just scared… but how did he feel it so deep in his soul, this truth he had spent years trying to deny?
Suguru's red eyes scanned the empty space, hoping for a sign of you, desperately praying to whoever was out there to listen.
But there was only the void again.
All those fears and assumptions he always had proving themselves true.
The worst thing for a vampire was to be alone. But there was also safety in that, wasn't there?
To love and loose was so much worse.
So, so much worse.
His knees gave out before his brain could keep him standing, loudly crashing onto the floor as every memory of you started storming his brain. He had kissed you on this floor many times, had made love to you right there on the first night you met.
Now it wasn't the sweat of your bodies and the blood you shared staining the wood, but his own desperate tears, falling in a cascade of grief he didn't think himself capable of feeling.
In feeling so much pain, Suguru wished desperately for that void again. To just feel nothing. Nothing was so much better than this.
But nothing wasn't an option anymore – you had made his life full only to tip it over the edge, letting it all spill into a wet mess similar to the one he was making on the floor.
Your name escaped his lips when he lowered his forehead down to the ground, his hands balling into fists next to his dark hair, coming loose all around his handsome features. How dare you give him life back, only to take it away again.
He slammed his fist against the floorboards, so loud the pictures of you rattled on the wall. There were so many – portraits that span years but the subject remained the same, remained beautiful, perfect.
How could you hate that? Suguru loved having you immortalised not just on paper, but in life itself.
It was a gift.
You were the one that made him see it that way.
Why had you changed your mind?
Why couldn't things just stay the same?
Forever.
You had made forever sound so nice.
Another fist hit the wood, his knuckles beginning to split. His skin would heal, but the depth of his mistake never would.
What a fool he was for confessing his love to you. Suguru knew what that would mean, how much it would frighten you – he knew, and still did it anyway.
Idiot.
Suguru couldn't bring himself to throw the next punch, choosing to curl inwards instead, into himself, away from everything else.
He shouldn't have said anything.
What a stupid fucking mistake.
Maybe all of this.
All of it was a mistake.
He couldn't outrun fate, after all.
But pretending sure felt nice.
Suguru finally pushed himself up, making a point to look at every image that decorated the walls. He remembered each one, what the conversation had been about, what you had been doing earlier in the night before he decided the moment was too precious not to capture.
Suguru found himself looking for a specific one, though – that first one. The one that had gained him your trust, your love.
He could have sworn it was still inside his sketchbook.
He turned page after page after page, growing increasingly annoyed that he couldn't find it. Despair turning into anger, looking for any form of release it could find. Until he finally noticed a tear at the corner of the page, right where it should have been.
Had you taken it with you?
His breathing stopped, swollen eyes focusing on the careful way the page had been torn from his book, his finger grazing along it with the devotion he would caress your skin.
In the many years you spent together, you had never once mentioned the image – not after that first night.
Did it mean as much to you as it meant for him?
Suguru's hands closed around the notebook, shutting it tight and bringing it to his chest. It was at least one more proof that you didn't lie when expressing your love for him. That maybe leaving was as hard for you as it was for him.
And among the pain in his chest where his heart should have been beating, Suguru understood.
Being alone was far less scary than love.
What he saw as an act of cowardice, maybe you saw as an act of kindness. Choosing you'd rather be alone than to face the end of this love you didn't think you deserved, his hatred you saw as inevitable.
So you left. Your version of compassion, learnt from a world who had never showed you that in the first place.
You wanted him to hate you, didn't you?
He couldn't do that.
This would be his last act of rebellion against this evil world that had made you this way.
This cursed fate he didn't seem able to escape.
Suguru would love you still.
And he would find you.
Time was a blessing as well as a curse. Suguru had an infinite amount – but each strike of the clock dragged longer than it had before, every coming dawn seemed to linger, every passing season reminding him of what he had lost.
The winter you left eventually turned into summer, longer days meaning shorter nights – less opportunities to look for you.
But Suguru didn't give up hope.
He wandered the streets for as long as he could, every single night, just hoping for your scent. He visited places you had gone to together, wishing he'd find you on the park bench near the churchyard, or the cemetery behind it, among the bones of people who had found peace in death, unlike the two of you.
Suguru even visited your known hunting spots, the seedy alleyways just out of town that tended to harbor criminals and people who wouldn't be missed by society. It was a suggestion Suguru had made, and that you had agreed to. It made what you had to do more bearable, but he still hated every second.
When he finally reached the location, you weren't there. Suguru had hoped to at least hear rumours and whispers about recent kills around this spot, some urban legend beginning to grow that he could tie back to you; but still… nothing.
Had you gone back to preying on whoever you could put your hands on? Was his odd moral compass another thing you resented him for?
"You seem lost, boy" a voice came from right behind him, distinctively not yours. The sharp metal sound of a blade came along with it, as Suguru heard the footsteps approaching – slowly, deliberately.
This man clearly had the wrong idea of who prey and predator were.
Suguru took a sharp inhale in, hating this man for interrupting his search. He turned around, slowly, the reds of his eyes making the man come to a halt a mere feet away.
"You sick or something?" the man scoffed, clearly intrigued by his appearance.
Suguru just stood there. His hands had balled into fists as he inhaled he man's scent. He was hungry, so hungry, and hated the way he looked down at him. Had you been here, you would undoubtedly already have a twisted smile on your face, excited to gorge on the stranger's blood.
"That's a nice coat you've got there" the man mocked, making the knife visible now. It glistened where it caught the light, making sure Suguru could see it too.
A pathetic threat, Suguru rolled his eyes internally.
This man sure had chosen the wrong time for this, because Suguru's blood was already running cold with anger. And he caught himself thinking, just for a moment… that he would enjoy this kill.
No.
This was a line he didn't want to cross.
"You deaf or just stupid?" the man laughed this time, closing the distance.
Another breath in, slowly while the man approached. It didn't matter how hungry, angry, lost Suguru was – he couldn't bring himself to enjoy feeding, would never forgive himself if he lost this last shred of humanity he still was proud of. He couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't–
But when the man brought the knife to his throat, it was too easy.
Suguru turned around in the blink of an eye, taking his fangs to the tall man's neck as his body effortlessly pinned him down, bringing the two down to the wet pavement in the process.
Blood, tears and sweat spilled everywhere, while Suguru enjoyed the way the much bigger man thrashed beneath him, helpless.
Is this what you wanted all along? For him to be just like you?
It wasn't merciful, and it wasn't clean. This was rage personified, but in the moment he swallowed the sweet taste, Suguru didn't care.
It wouldn't be the last of his kills like this.
In fact, there would be many, many more throughout the years.
He hated himself for it every single time after, sometimes crying next to the limp body he had just ravished, sometimes throwing it all up again. Suguru felt shame at his lack of control, at this blinding rage that made him the monster he tried so hard not to be.
It took him years before he finally decided he couldn't do it anymore.
You had spoken about wanting to leave this pathetic town before, and maybe it was time for him to accept you probably had.
That after a decade of this, you wouldn't be showing up at your shared home anymore.
The place had been cold since you left, but in every sense it still remained the same. The furniture hadn't been moved, the curtains were still the same though faded and full of spider webs now. And, most importantly – your face still adorned the walls.
Suguru knew you probably had left town entirely, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave this.
The home you two had made, in spite of everything.
Did you still remember? Or did you try not to?
Did you hold on to that first drawing and cry, like he did? Reminisce about the good times and the worst times, miss his touch and the way you held each other in that tight coffin?
In the years that passed, Suguru even tried to hate you. Tried to give you what you wanted.
But he just couldn't.
What he hated was how much he regretted confessing his love, the single greatest mistake of his existence. Was hearing those three words leave your lips worth the years of solitude that would come after?
Maybe.
His long fingers ghosted over your face in one of the drawings – one in which you had a rare, easy smile. Had you found someone else who would paint you like he did?
Suguru knew he was only tormenting himself at this point; it was no use lingering on the thought. If he knew you as well as he thought he did, then he was sure you hadn't just found another person to give your heart to.
He believed what you said that night.
You didn't leave because you didn't love him, you left because you loved him too much. Suguru would have to find some comfort in that.
Seeing the world change was a miracle, one thing that did console him. The streets changed just as often as the seasons did now, every day bringing new inventions and curious new ideas Suguru enjoyed learning about.
He found himself sitting by the park more and more often now, drawing the outline of new buildings that began construction far ahead. The future seemed to look brighter than anyone could have hoped for.
But despite the obvious changes to the outside, his inside world remained the same. In the end, he couldn't bring himself to leave.
He had found some peace in the fact that you could find him there, if you wanted. And it didn't matter if it took another decade, or half a century or more – Suguru would stay right here, waiting.
His fingers dragged the chalk over the page, marking the coming of a new age.
When you returned, he'd show it to you. He documented every little thing about this town just so he could share it, and he was hopeful the time would come.
Can you believe they were building shops in the alleys you used to hunt? And how the church had been rebuilt, much larger, after the fire five years prior?
Life changed all around – beautifully so, tragically so too.
But the seasons always came. Winter, then summer again, and just like he could trust in that, he trusted what would come after too. It was a better position to be in than the desperate animal he had become for a few years.
But he would have never wanted you to see him like that, and so, he changed. He–
Suguru's hands dropped the drawing suddenly, his spine going rigid in the blink of an eye.
That smell. He knew that smell.
He inhaled deeply again, shutting his eyes tight, focusing on it.
It couldn't be.
The scent he had almost feared he had forgotten.
Your name escaped his lips in a sound much smaller than he expected, which turned into a desperate cry as Suguru began to turn around, searching for any glimpse of you.
The scent was present, but it was still far away – he had to follow it. Fast.
The picture he was working so precisely on got scrunched up when he rushed to pick up his belongings, shoving it all in his pockets as he began to ran.
Probably wasn't the best to bring attention to himself like this, but Suguru couldn't stop.
He kept moving, letting his senses guide him as he rushed past the night owls and confused strangers. Turning a corner here, going through someone's garden there – he feared he lost it completely when the smell almost faded at the edge of the city, but he turned around again.
Where could you possibly be going? Were you looking for your regular hunting grounds of almost a century past?
Things were different now, didn't you know?
But no, it wasn't that – the smell faded again, and so he followed it back to the main road, finding it again.
It grew stronger and stronger with each step, until it led to the last place he expected.
Home.
It was undeniably strong, so much so his nerve endings were staring to prickle, like they only did when another one of him was around. Suguru rushed up the steps, jumping two at a time, throwing the door open, and–
There you were.
Was it a dream? Or had death finally come for him?
You looked exactly the same. Standing there, staring at the wall of your face with a much smaller paper held tight to your chest.
Suguru remained completely frozen, struggling to catch his breath. When you turned to him, he noticed you had tears in your eyes.
"You kept them?" you whispered, your beautiful bottom lip trembling slightly. The first words he had heard from you in years, and they were a question you obviously should have expected the answer to.
Suguru finally took a step inside, closing the door behind him. He couldn't bring himself to meet you there, even though everything in him wanted to pick you up and wipe your tears and kiss you everywhere.
"Of course I did" was all he managed to reply, but it only made you cry harder.
You brought a hand to dry your face, and Suguru desperately wished you'd just let him. But he was so terrified of making the wrong move again.
"I'm sorry–"
That he couldn't bear to hear.
Against better judgment, Suguru rushed forwards, towards you, needing to touch you to confirm you were real. His body found yours with too much strength, but you completely gave in to it, closing your arms around his shoulders when he closed his over your waist.
You were here again.
Your feet left the floor when he raised you to his level, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as you did the same, both letting the tears flow unabashedly. Your legs came to lock around his waist, pulling him into you completely, the one thing Suguru wanted most in the whole world.
"You came back" he cried into your hair.
"I needed to see it again" you replied, his clothes bunching up in your fists.
"See what?" Suguru asked, pulling back just a little. His nose brushed against yours, so close he could just kiss you, but he wanted to hear your voice even more than that.
"Home" you replied, looking him right in his red eyes. "I didn't think you'd be here"
His eyes held you tighter, his forehead pressing against your. "Where else would I go?"
"Anywhere that didn't remind you of me" you tried a small self deprecating laugh, but Suguru shook his head, forehead rolling against yours.
"I've been waiting for you this whole time"
You cried, cupping his face with both hands. "Don't lie to me, Suguru Geto" you pouted.
"I have never lied to you" he replied.
It was the truth.
It was you that closed the distance this time, urging his face forwards as you leaned in for a kiss. It wasn't desperate like he had imagined, no, it was gentle. Feather light, almost. Far too small for something that was so huge, but also exactly what you needed.
It lasted for the blink of an eye and for an eternity – just a moment in time where everything was just right again.
"I'm sorry I left" you whispered, breaking the kiss and placing your forehead back on his. "I'm sorry I got scared"
"I know" he kissed your cheek, smoothing your hair back. "It's ok"
"It's not" you lowered yourself down, sinking into his chest this time.
"Shh" he kept smoothing down your hair, holding you tight against him, right where his heart should be beating. Getting used to your scent again was salvation for him, but there was also something different about you, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, tilting your chin towards him. You nodded your head up and down, some sort of shame deep within your eyes. "We still have some time before dawn, if you want to–"
"I don't hunt anymore" you replied, looking down. "Not people"
Suguru's eyebrows knit together, pulling you up to look at him again. "What do you mean?"
To his surprise, you cried. And just kept crying. Harder than he had ever seen.
"I guess I realised–" you tried to say between hiccups. "Maybe someone loves them too"
Suguru's mouth hung open, in complete surprise. You coming back was something he had hoped for and convinced himself to believe in, but this? This he could have never fathomed.
"You–" he didn't even know what to say, choosing to crouch down in front of you instead and pull you down with him, giving your legs some rest so maybe they'd stop shaking.
"I'm sorry, Suguru" you cried, throwing yourself at him. "I'll tell you why, I'll tell you what happened, I'll tell you everything, just please– please, forgive me"
Suguru stood sentinel while you sobbed, holding you tight. Didn't you know? He had never blamed you for it.
He understood your pain far too well for it.
"I would be glad to listen" he said into your hair, arms closed around your back. "If you want to tell me"
You nodded your head, clawing at his back like he was your salvation.
For a very long time, Suguru could only speculate on what had happened to make you the way you were. But right now, he found his curiosity was the last thing on his mind.
"Here" he said, pulling an arm from you to bring it to his fangs. The blood started dripping from it, as you watched from below while he did for you what you had done for him that first night you met. "You should eat first"
You smiled at his generosity, but brought yourself up again to better match his height. You cupped his cheeks again, leaning in for another kiss, realising there was still something much more important you wanted to say and hear.
"I love you, Suguru"
"I love you too" he kissed you back.
In time, Suguru would show you his sketches depicting how this town had changed, his little documentations of every day life he had hoped to share with you. He would listen to every single thing you wanted to tell him, he'd hold you close when it was too hard to say, and he'd shush you kindly whenever you tried to force words you weren't ready for just yet.
There was so much still to be said, and time was, of course, a luxury you both had.
But right now… in this moonlit night in the apartment you had made a home of so many years ago, the silence was just enough.
A/N oof this one really took a long time to write. I started writing this when I was in a very bad place, and found it very therapeutic to just blurt it out on the page – it unfortunately also meant it was extremely hard to go back to it when I started feeling better (which I am!). there's so much of me in both these characters so it makes me a little nervous to post but maybe you relate as well, and if that's the case I'd like you to know you're not alone! hope you all have the most wonderful day or night and thank you for reading my story <3
One year of marriage was not enough for Lord Hades to look into his most beloved Goddess's eyes without turning cherry-red. Yet, surprisingly, it was enough to make Lady Aphrodite pregnant! Although breaking the news to her husband proved to be quite a challenge.
included in Tales, Myths, Romances :: part one
˖𑣲 ݁˖ pairings: ꒰ Hades!Choso Kamo x Aphrodite!Reader ꒱
˖𑣲 ݁˖ content/warnings: ꒰ MDNI 18+, set in ancient greece :: greek mythology :: marriage :: fluff :: smut smut smut :: pregnancy :: dominant reader :: submissive Choso :: not mythologically accurate :: belly bulges :: womb kissing :: pussydrunk Choso :: pregnant sex :: oral sex :: cunnilingus :: blowjobs :: crying Choso :: he calls the reader mommy :: mentions of Heracles!Nanami ꒱
˖𑣲 ݁˖ notes: ꒰ Requested by @olegirldowntheblock (I'm sorry you needed to wait that long! ꒱
art by mochikuyo
dividers by @diviniyae and @uzmacchiato
The wine flowed like a river, dripping dull into the golden cups shimmering in the pale moonlight. Ocean waves curled beneath the cliffs of Mount Olympus, crashing against each other in a distant, main melody.
Warm wind smooched your cheeks – slightly dizzy, already pulsing with pain from constant laughter. Hair brushed your forehead as your head lulled back, falling gently against the hard chest.
Muscular arms curled around your waist, thighs tensed beneath your plush body, and something hard… dug deep into the swell of your ass. Long, pale fingers gripped the hem of your pinkish robes as you pushed out a low giggle.
Narrowed eyes slipped towards the man whose always-so-pale cheeks brimmed with a flush. When your eyes met, he warmed even more – till the tips of his ears sizzled like fresh pomegranates as, after a year of marriage, his gaze somehow could barely bear yours.
"My God, are you good?" Your sweet breath curled around his lobe as you leaned closer. "I’ve noticed that my seat suddenly became harder."
With your plush body on his lap and arms curled around you protectively, Choso could simply shrug and push a shy, "My Goddess, it’s because you said we didn’t have time…"
"That’s because you always insist on eating me out for hours, my God," you gently bit down on his earlobe, feeling a shudder slip past his lips. A little shell-earring swung beneath the push of your tongue, and you looked at it with a warm smile. "And it’s your brother’s birthday, of course, we couldn’t be late."
A low he wouldn’t mind, escaped Choso’s throat, before the deep eyes shyly crept up to meet yours. Squinted, cheeky, dripping with sensuality and lust, wrapping around his senses in a most maddening way.
Oh, and the God of the Dead, the mightiest of three brothers, most feared in all three realms – simply couldn’t look into the eyes of his most dearest wife for longer than a second!
For a fire bubbled in his loins, heart, throat, and the feeling of your plush, silky body beneath his fingers was driving him absolutely mad. His gaze slipped down to your chin, neck, and breast, sitting calmly under the flimsy, pinkish dress, and with a gentle squint of his eyes, he could see a hard areola of your nipples.
"My Goddess, your d-dress, I t-think…" he whispered, looking around the table.
However, other Gods and nymphs were already used to this odd couple, who appeared to nurture their love through a different, yet satisfying, desire to dominate and be dominated. Whenever a young couple attended the feasts, Lord Hades often seemed on the verge of collapse, while Goddess Aphrodite watched her husband with a sly smile.
Such a peculiar couple, indeed, but after some time, the other deities became accustomed to it.
Although a few of them, be they Gods or demigods, looked at Lord Hades with jealousy bubbling in their chests. As none of them could comprehend the spell this slightly miserable man must have put on a beauty like you.
Didn’t understand what you saw in those puppy eyes and that gaze that always yearned to watch the smile curving your lips. His shadow, broad and tall, followed the flowery steps left beneath your feet with obedience – fingers always wrapped around yours, dark robes brushing the flimsy silk of your pinkish dress. He looked quite unmanly in demeanour, with raven hair spilling down his neck and pale skin that looked rather womanly.
But what they didn’t understand most was how deeply in love with him you truly seemed to be. Living most of the time in the Underworld, as if indifferent to the constant darkness spilling over the cold land and the grim souls wandering aimlessly through the deep forests.
The Styx smelt of death, and the beastly dog embodied everything you always hated – brutality, destruction, loyalty.
Tying you down always seemed impossible – as Ares, Hephaestus, Hermes, and even mortal lover Adonis were in awe of your devotion to Lord Hades himself. A figure of a completely different mind and demeanour, and yet the only one deserving of your cheerful spirit and arms wrapped lovingly around his neck.
"They’re staring again," Choso whispered, beads of sweat coiling on his neck. Your hard nipples brushed against his chest, and your hips wriggled on his lap. "Please, c-can you stop–"
"Let them stare then," you hummed, pressing yourself closer to his tensed body. "You have no idea how jealous they are, my God."
Choso, unfortunately, knew. As he was always watching you, noticing all those needy, painful looks from other Gods sent your way. With lust coiling behind their eyes, fingers itching to brush the misty material of your robes, hearts pounding with a virgin bat upon seeing the completely indifferent flutter of your lashes. Irises cold as ice, stripped of any cheekiness and sensuality you always used to surround yourself with.
And thus, other Gods could only gaze upon you with dreamy eyes, remembering the days when Goddess Aphrodite was more than welcome to treat every man on the mountain like her dog.
But now, this grace fell only upon Lord Hades.
You took a sip of pomegranate juice, letting it bloom in your chest with a pleasant warmth. A slight dizziness washed over you, and you nuzzled into Choso’s chest, leaving the God tense and sweating. With slightly drunk eyes that still looked at you the same way they had those years ago – with pure devotion, love, maybe a bit of obsession.
Before you could tease your husband again, someone pulled up a chair beside you and plumped down with a low chuckle.
"My Lord, one might think your face is twisted in pain," Satoru chipped in, taking a big sip of wine. The short tunic barely covered his chest, and a laurel wreath sat slightly crooked on his fluffy white hair. "Shall you take some fresh air?"
Choso coughed, pulling you closer to his chest. A smile tugged at your lips as his muscular arms wrapped around your waist a little tighter.
Such a possessive little minx.
"I’m feeling quite well, just… a bit drunk," Choso muttered, as he simply couldn’t confess that the moment you would slip down from his hips, the loose, black robes would bulge with a big, drenched spot.
Satoru’s gaze flicked between your sly smile and Choso’s puppy eyes before he took another sip. His usually pale face flushed with grape warmth, as long fingers tapped the table.
"Come on, say it," your head tilted.
Satoru’s eyes glimmered, and lips curled into a soft pout. "How did you know I wanted something?"
"How couldn’t I? We’re almost like siblings."
A sharp grimace slashes his handsome face as the relationship between you two could be described in much, much better terms. Best friends, ex-lovers, family… siblings were… well. Some Gods enjoyed it, but not you two.
Satoru was one of your few ex-lovers who truly liked and respected Choso.
Did he enjoy making fun of his constantly sheepish demeanour? Sure.
But his actions were never driven by jealousy, and thus you appreciated that he knew how to behave himself around your husband.
And Choso, who long before your meeting used to slip into your temple and, like the pervert he truly was, watch you and Satoru fuck – also couldn’t quite be against him. In fact, he may have felt a slight gratitude that the God of Light, Sun and Music had pointed at him at a similar feast those years ago.
"How’s your prince doing?" you asked, lips curving into a lovely smile that tugged at both men’s hearts. "My doves suddenly stopped returning from their spy missions."
Satoru’s head tilted, eyes glimmering with mischief. His fingers gripped the golden cup a little tighter as he leaned towards you and Choso.
"The prince recently got himself a fierce tiger, you see," he cleared his throat, coming closer and closer until the three of you were locked in a secret whispering circle. "My Goddess, do you remember when we talked about those…" Blue eyes twinkled like little stars. "Fertility pills?"
Both you and Choso froze.
Satoru tried to, but wasn’t fast enough to add please don’t laugh, and loud, melodic laughter curled like a serpent around the ears of the nearest deities. Their curious eyes slipped your way, taking in the Lady Aphrodite, hysterical with tears, Lord Hades, with ears constantly flushed, and Apollo squinting at the Goddess.
A moment passed before you finally managed to wipe away your tears and look into Satoru’s eyes without bursting into laughter.
"Truly a viper woman you are, my Goddess," he murmured, and you noticed a rosy kiss smooching his cheeks.
"So which one of you wants to get pregnant?" You asked, leaning your head against Choso’s shoulder. "I guess you, since the prince wouldn’t think of such a thing."
Satoru tsked, taking another sip of a wine. "Of course, me," he seemed almost offended by your question. "His birthday is coming up, so–"
"So you want to get pregnant?"
"That’s right," Satoru glimmered, yet warmth and kindness shone in his gaze. Blue eyes dropped to the crystal ring on his finger, shining faintly in the pale moonlight. "I thought I wouldn’t mind seeing a little him cradled in my arms."
And those words… stirred something in your heart. Some thoughts slipped into your dizzy yet conscious mind, and they wouldn’t leave until the end of the feast. The voices sounded almost distant, like ocean waves closing you off behind curling salt, completely separating you from the other deities.
Satoru and Choso chatted casually, sometimes slipping a few questions your way. But your mind and soul seemed elsewhere. Eyes fixed on the softness of your belly, with Choso’s big hand resting on it.
And so you began to wonder how it would look a bit… fuller. Plumper, with a sweet swell bulging beneath your misty robes, your husband’s palm rubbing gently against the skin protecting your dear child.
Your heart fluttered, already imagining the little pale child strolling through the dark fields of the Underworld and playing in the warm water of your beaches. With, maybe, hopefully, the same deep, chestnut eyes as your husband and the same gentleness you wished it would inherit.
Only a few days had passed since you had noticed a sudden change in your body. The sudden tenderness of breasts, the plumpness of your skin, eyes shining with a tender love, much softer and kinder than usual. Hand subconsciously slipping down to your belly, and a sudden spark of divine creation weighing your heart.
This morning, while enjoying the rays of sunlight in your temple on Olympus, your nymphs began to watch you more closely. Your naked body, dipped in crystal-clear water, hair wet and clinging to glowing cheeks, breasts a little swollen, hips seeming plumper. A hand resting gently on your still-flat belly, yet they seemed to know. They noticed.
"My Goddess," one of them chirped, swimming a little closer. With eyes fixed on your relaxed face, she brushed away a few strands. "The sisters had noticed that you might be…" Her head tilted, and her gaze slipped down to your belly. "It seems you’re with child."
A sweet giggle slipped from your lips, and the nymph flushed with fever. The other birdies joined her, gathering around you like a group of ducks.
"Is that true then? Goddess, are you with Lord Hades’s child?"
A warm smile curved your lips, and you nodded, prompting another wave of their shrieks and gasps. Their little hands, one by one, touched your belly, as if trying to feel the child who yet possessed neither mind nor form. But the gentleness of their touch made your heart flutter, and they watched you, smiling at the happiness brimming in their flushed cheeks.
"Does Lord Hades now then?"
Your head shook. "Not yet. I will tell him soon," because you knew your husband would be on the verge of tears and fainting, so you needed to break the news somewhere in the safety of your temples.
And so, on the same evening, as you were returning to your temple after the feast, excitement coiled in your belly. Choso, slightly drunk, with a cherry flush coating his face, wrapped his fingers around yours as you walked back to your main temple.
You would usually stay in the Underworld, where Choso almost daily needed to indulge himself in matters of the dead and death. You didn’t mind living there with him, for you knew how hard your husband tried to make you feel at home.
With the constant darkness of his temple shining with the warm, pinkish candles brought from yours, and walls draped in pearly cushions. The bath was replaced with the jade tub, with dried roses hanging loose from the marble ceiling. Withered flowers wrapped around the grimy columns, and the garden Choso wished to bloom for you was filled with nothing but beautifully parched flowers and the single pomegranate tree.
He tried to make jewellery specially for you, and so while strolling by his side, your eyes slipped down to the bracelets made of black roses.
The nature withered under his touch, yet his heart yearned to show his dearest goddess the utmost love and devotion. And so you soon exchanged the golden earrings for the two pomegranate-shaped ones, and the heavy necklace was replaced with a thin chain ending in a crimson key.
To the gates of Underworld and to my heart, he whispered back then.
As for Choso, he rarely left his domain. You tried to make your temples always feel like a second home to him, yet he simply couldn’t stand the company of all your nymphs, always playing in the waters of the open baths and along the nearby beaches.
He, though, loved the fresh, flowery smell that filled the marble walls and even more enjoyed the fragrance of your skin. Much more intense, sweeter, fogging his mind in the utmost sensual way, till soon after passing the doorstep of your temple, he could only go down to his knees and eat your pussy with a loud cry as you were still standing. With one thigh hooked over his shoulder and fingers pulling his hair, to keep yourself steady.
It’s because you smell so intense, my Goddess, he always mewled, with nose and chin and cheeks wet of your dripping juices.
And so Choso loved to fuck you in your temple. The scent of you was much, much stronger here than in the Underworld, and he took utmost pleasure in letting himself be spiked by your aphrodisiac taste.
This night was no different.
The moment his slightly drunk body stepped through the creamy columns of your domain, he glued himself to you almost at once. His lips met yours in a loving yet desperate kiss, his body already prickling with heat bubbling under the skin as he felt himself grow warmer. And warmer, and warmer, till his fingertips started to tingle from the sizzling heat and a hefty moan slipped into your throat.
"F-Fuck, my Goddess, I’ve been hard this whole time," he muttered, walking you further into the temple until you hit one of the pinkish sofas.
The moonlight spilt through the terrace, and the salt mixed with the sweetness coming from your body. Waves crashed gently against the nearest beach, bouncing off the marble walls, mingling with your giggles.
"Were you, now? Let’s skip the appetiser and go to the main course then," fell slyly, as you spread thighs wide open, inviting his massive body in.
Muscular back, almost fully shielding you from the moonlight’s curious gaze, hips already glued to yours. Soft thighs wrapped around him, drawing him closer until the clothed bulge brushed against your dripping cunt.
"I’m not wearing any panties, my God," you whispered into Choso’s ear, gently biting his earlobe.
Chestnut eyes met yours, and lips curled into a soft smile. "I don’t remember the last time you wore them, my Goddess."
Laughter bubbled in your throat, and he smiled too, peppering your chin, cheeks, lips with soft kisses, until finally slipping down your body. With nose brushing the crook of your neck, teeth grazing hard nipples, fully visible through the misty robes and going down to the softness of your belly.
You moaned, spreading your thighs even wider, already wet and desperate to feel his lips curving around the swollen clit.
"If you hadn’t stolen all of them, maybe I’d still have something to wear," fell with a cheeky giggle, and Choso looked up from between your thighs, already maddened by fever.
"It’s b-because your pussy always smells so good, my love," he muttered shyly, following your slowly rising body.
Breasts finally slipped from beneath the robes, offering him a delicious view of your honeyed aureolas glistening with his saliva.
"It’s because you are a pervert, my dear husband," your head tilted as you brushed raven locks from his forehead and leaned on your elbows.
His face was millimetres from your drenched cunt, and the sheer honeyed fragrance coming from your folds made Choso’s head spin. You noticed the wave of his hips brushing against the sofa and possessed eyes looking up at you with utmost devotion.
"How about we start with the dessert then?"
His wet tongue took a hefty lick of your slick. Nose deep between the folds, forehead creased, and eyes fixed on your face twisted in pleasure.
"Cho–ah!" you cried, rolling your hips against his plastered tongue.
The muscle burned the folds of your pussy, slurping, drinking, swindling with the swollen clit. Lips curled around the little bud, sucking on it gently till another moan spilt from your throat. Your breasts bounced with each roll of yours, and Choso’s fingers slipped up to squeeze the fat of your tit.
He moaned as if he were the one receiving constant pleasure, and slurped the creamy essence dripping from his chin. Droplets of cum fell onto the sofa, and he quickly licked the soft cushion clean, as if afraid to waste any of the sweet ambrosia.
Something in your belly bubbled as you watched his creased forehead and sticking-out tongue, sipping your juices as they pooled under your hips. With lips trying to suck out every drop of your cum soaking into the sofa, till you needed to push him back with a foot.
"Your pussy is somewhere else, my dear husband," you sighed, as his fingers rolled the sensitive nipple. "Don’t act like a dog and stop licking the sofa or chewing on my panties." With a gentle wave, you moved your cunt closer to his lips. "You have a real thing right in front of you."
But Choso was already gone, and despite your feet pressed against his cheek, he couldn’t resist kissing your ankle and calf before slipping back down to the warmth that made his face flush, allowing himself to nuzzle into the wetness of your pussy.
"So sweet, fuck, a-always so fucking sweet," he moaned, feeling your sticky cum drip down his throat. Coat the tongue in sheer, shiny glaze till each bud remembered the exact taste of your cunt. "Push out a bit more, p-please. Give me–ahhh–give me a bit more baby, let me get drunk on your cum."
Your belly tensed, walls squeezed around his tongue, till more of the milky, sticky cum dripped into his feasting mouth. When one finger slipped in, your head fell back, and your thighs squeezed around his head. But his lips started to trace up, and up, through the mould of your cunt, soft belly, up to naked breasts.
It seemed that Choso didn’t notice the change in your body, sucking on an overly sensitive bud with a melting satisfaction washing over your spine. The pain mixed with pleasure, as his teeth grazed the bud and finger curled inside your weeping pussy.
"Cho, be gentler, I’m a bit sensitive," you mewled, brushing the dark locks sticking to his flushed cheeks.
His eyes lifted up to meet yours. "Why? Did something happen?"
You bit your lower lip, with the answer already on the tip of your tongue. However, another sound escaped as Choso’s moan reached the rim of your nipples. He stimulated you from every angle possible – lips around the swollen bud, one hand's fingers playing with the other, while his other hand pumped your pussy with, now, two fingers.
"Actually–ahhh," your finger brushed his hair, pulling him away from your breasts. Long string of saliva connected his pussydrunk face with your hardened bud, chestnut irises mingling in the shapes of two hearts. "I wanted to say that–"
But before the secret could be finally spilt, something, someone, destroyed this precious moment.
"Lord Hades, Lady Aphrodite, I’m s-sorry for the disturbance, but…"
A shaking voice filled your temple, and within a second, Choso sobered up and covered your naked body with his. The dark, heavy robes blanketed you up to your neck, his muscular chest pressed against yours, as he turned towards the child standing at the entrance to your temple.
You didn’t mind being seen naked, as many believers sculpted statues of your body draped only in soaked robes. Most male deities on Olympus had been captivated by the soft touch of your thighs, and your daily attire revealed almost everything, leaving little to the imagination.
Yet, your always-so-calm husband hated sharing what was his. The very idea of someone else worshipping you as he did made him furious.
And so with a slightly tightened jaw and eyes beaming with a deathly gaze, a harsh, "What?" fell past his lips.
You giggled at seeing him all agitated, with a single vein pulsing on his handsome forehead.
But the nymph who stood mere metres from you, unfortunately, couldn’t share the happiness. She fiddled with the hem of her robe, eyes avoiding the God of the Dead's heavy gaze. So you lifted yourself up, peeking over the sofa’s back with dishevelled hair and a trace of Choso’s saliva coating your lips.
"What is it, sweetie?"
"My Goddess, my God, something horrible happened!" She cried, looking back and forth between you and Choso with rising panic. "Cerberus had been kidnapped!"
That day marked the start of an unsettling nemesis that appeared to trouble your days. While Choso swiftly returned to the Underworld, you remained on the mountain to gather more information about the sudden tragedy.
And when he came back an hour later, tears streaming down his cheeks, you knew that Cerberus had indeed disappeared. Your heart swelled with pain as your husband’s crushed face nuzzled into the softness of your breast. He wept for half the night, letting your gentle touch coil his shattered nerves.
You knew how much Choso loved his dearest dog, having raised him since Cerberus was only a few months old. With all three heads a bit too heavy for the small body, he lay on Choso’s laps day and night, purring under his gentle petting.
The only friend, family, accompanying him through the last few years, long before you joined his side.
And so you spent days trying to find the culprit, until all the signs led you to a silly little nymph living far down in the depths of Mount Olympus. The poor birdie who foolishly challenged Zeus’s demigod son and pulled all the deities into her mess.
It seemed that the kidnapping of Cerberus was one of the quests given to the relentless man who was ready to challenge the Lord of the Underworld himself to win the heart of his most dearest nymph.
To challenge you, known to be oh, much worse than the God of the Dead himself. His ferocious wife, ready to turn the world upside down at the sight of her husband’s heartbreaking tears. Tears that were not caused by her!
Something pulled at your heart when you saw the sad face of the poor nymph. Her body kneeling before you, lower lip trembling, as she mumbled apologies in a messy stream of thoughts.
And because Cerberus returned safely after a few days, you could only sigh and give the child a gentle scolding.
Life regained its peace, and your husband’s gentle tears no longer dampened your skin each night. Instead, you smiled as he nestled into Cerberus’s soft fur, hugging the beast with almost tearful apologies. They looked like a father and son, with three large heads attempting to embrace Choso’s chest as your husband gently scratched each of them.
To guarantee Cerberus's eternal safety, Choso enlisted a small, wandering ghost as his companion. You both knew Yuji well, as he often visited your temple to gaze up at the most beautiful goddess and softly touch her misty robes. The child of no parents or relatives, buried with a coin by his only mortal friend and sent to the clutches of the Underworld far too early.
Choso felt a sort of brotherly warmth towards him, and thus he allowed the poor, agitated soul to lurk in Cerberus’s cave whenever the child felt bored. That’s why you both decided to keep Yuji by your side and let him take care of your family beast while you or Choso were outside the domain.
And when you thought that another chance to break the news would soon come… someone else did instead.
Someone you should eliminate the first time you hear of her attempt to coax your husband into marriage. A viper, a sweet birdie getting on your nerves more than anyone else, the small goddess whose disappearance would not influence the world at all.
And so one afternoon, while napping peacefully in your temple, with the ocean’s breeze caressing your sun-kissed cheeks, a shadow suddenly fell over your naked body, dipped in a pool.
Your eyes opened to your husband’s furrowed face and a grimace that could only mean one thing – he knew.
"I don’t need a reprimand," you murmured, closing your eyes again. "She deserved it."
Choso sighed, squatting right next to you. Pale fingers brushed away locks of your hair, eyes never straying from your slyly curved lips. "I don’t see why Persephone deserved to be turned into stone by Medusa."
You giggled, remembering your wicked chit-chat with a gorgon friend. "She annoyed me and tried to force her way into the Underworld, so I gave her a lesson."
Choso hummed as he sat by the pool. His long legs dipped into the crystal-clear water, and you found yourself between them. Fingers dug into his muscular thighs, your cheek pressed sweetly against his big hand. His thumb brushed your lower lip, and you gave it a gentle kiss, feeling a shudder run through his spine.
"What did she do to make you angry, my Goddess?"
Your lips curled around his finger, sucking it gently as a sheen coated his skin. Fingers squeezed his thighs, then parted them a little further, and further, giving you a better view of a small, wet patch glistening on his robes.
You whispered, "She wanted to take what’s mine," as you began rolling up his tunic. Revealing his pale thighs, strong hips, and a thick, trembling shaft pressed to his abdomen. Pearls of cum already coated the long cock, and a cheeky smile played on your lips as you saw Choso’s flushed face. "My most beloved husband."
A shuddered breath escaped his throat when your lovely face leaned closer towards his fatness. Plush lips slightly parted, as you wetted them with a tongue. As if ready to devour him whole.
"But s-she knows we’re m-maried," he barely choked out, already feeling the sweetness of your body curling around his senses. "Why would she–"
You giggled, giving his pulsing, red head a fist, kitty lick. His fingers grabbed the pool’s edge, hips slightly rolling closer to the warmth of your mouth.
"She’s been in love with you a long, long time, my God. Unfortunately, I snatched you quickly enough from her drilling clutches." Your soft fingers grabbed his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. Hot, sweet breath hit his leaking tip, and he jolted once again. "So she descended today to the Underworld with a wishful thinking of meeting with you." Warm tongue licked his fat shaft from the base up to the head, leaving a drenched trail burning through his skin. "But instead, she met with me."
Choso cried when your lips finally curled around his mushroom tip. Sucking gently on the pearly droplets of cum, before pressing the head to the softness of your cheek.
His fingers gently brushed through your hair, allowing him to get a better view of your plumped cheeks and eyes mingling like two hearts. The beautiful curve of your brows bent into a sultry gaze, as you took him a bit deeper. The saliva dripped down his shaft, and his lips fell open, seeing your attempt to take his cock fully down your throat.
As you pulled away with a heavy breath, a long strand of crystal-clear saliva stretched from your swollen lips to his burning tip. Choso almost lost his mind.
Your fingers pumped his cock in fast yet gentle strokes, cheeks pressing wetly to the side of the burning shaft. You licked one of the bulging veins, and he needed to do everything in his might not to pull you out from this pool and fuck raw on the marble stones of your temple.
"My Goddess, y-you could just cast her out," he cried, rocking his hips to bring himself closer to the wetness of your mouth. "You’re the Queen of the Underworld. Why won’t you–"
"I started the Trojan War just for the pure amusement, my God." A foxy smile tugged at your lips. "Why cast her out if I play with her for a while? At least all the other deities will remember who you belong to."
His chestnut eyes went glassy as warmth bubbled in his abdomen. Another moan slipped past his lips as you took him back in, rolling the globular tip with soft strokes of your tongue.
"My Goddess, you truly are s-such an evil w-woman."
Your minx eyes clashed with his teary gaze, fingers digging painfully into his thighs. His hips began to roll faster and faster, chasing the pleasure tingling his spine, though Lord Hades truly needed only a single glance from you to cum, his back arching into a delicious bend.
The warm, salty liquid spilt deeply into your throat, while Choso’s soft moan echoed off the crystalline pool’s water. His fingers gently pressed into your hair, guiding you further down his shaft until the drenched head reached the back of your throat. The milky droplets slid down your tongue, leaving a glossy, salty sheen on your cheeks.
You pulled back, only to be immediately drawn back towards his lips. The kiss felt needy, almost desperate, yet left a loving aftertaste on your skin.
You smiled before whispering, "Isn’t it why you love me, my God?" right into his lips.
Finally lifting yourself out of the pool, you straddled his hips. The dark robes slipped completely off his body, letting you press both palms to his naked, muscular chest.
Wet, throbbing pussy was right above his slowly hardening cock, and Choso could already feel heat dripping down his shaft.
He nodded as you brushed away a single tear running down his cheek. With a flush rising to his face, he shyly admitted, "It is."
Because the truth was that nothing made Choso lose his mind more than the devilish side of yours. This cheekiness that always bloomed on your cheeks, a cruel gaze snapping towards your foe, a mind plagued by the most trickster punishments one could imagine, just to give your pampered self a bit more fun.
And as embarrassing and unkind as it was to admit, upon hearing the tragic news of Persephone’s punishment, Choso felt a heat bubbling in his belly. This pride was ripping his heart, cherry flush climbing up his neck at the sheer thought of his most beloved wife being such a cruel minx.
His heart-shaped eyes took in the beauty of your face, fingers gripping the plush of your hips. "You’re always full of surprises, my Goddess–mhmm," he moaned, feeling your pussy roll against his cock.
Fluttering hole catching on his flushed tip, the honeyed juices already dripping down his shaft, drenching it in the sticky glaze. You bit down on a lower lip, already imagining his monstrous size moulding your cunt with a sweet, ripping pleasure.
Your head tilted, as the it’s time thought slipped into your mind.
You’ve been waiting far too long, and the excitement mixed with anticipation already bubbled within your heart.
"I have one more surprise for you, my God," you whispered, finally feeling his reddened tip push into the warmth of your pussy. "But promise me not to faint when you hear it."
Choso’s doe eyes bulged, brows slightly furrowed as he felt the tight grip of your walls. The pulsing heat wrapping around his ready-to-burst cock, as you sank yourself lower, and lower, with wet hips held by his big palms, and perked nipples plastered to his chest.
"I promise," he mumbled, giving your exposed neck a sweet lick. "Tell me, my Goddess. What surprise do you have for your dearest husband?"
You moaned, feeling the tip's curve brush against your swollen G-spot. "You always wanted a big family, right, Cho?" he hummed, nuzzling the spot beneath your chin. "Well, it looks like the first little god is already on its way."
And then… he pulled back.
Suddenly, with a breath knocked out of his lungs and fingers gripping your hips a bit tighter.
His eyes fixed on the loveliness of your face, the divine halo clinging to you in beaming gold. The heat radiating from your body melted him at your touch, and the walls pulsing around his shaft only deepened the sudden dizziness that plagued his mind.
"My God," you giggled, seeing the mix of maddening pleasure and concern twisting his face. "Are you ok– mmm!"
Before you could even finish, a warm sensation spilt deep inside your womb. A creamy essence clung to your insides, coating the walls with heavy, thick ropes of cum. Until your lower belly bulged under his feverish tip, leaving you feeling stuffed and full.
"My God, did you just cum?" A giggle rippled past your lips, followed by the soft oh.
Choso’s lips clashed with yours, muscular arms swiftly changed your positions, till you softly hit the marble floor.
"F-Fuck, my Goddess," he moaned, kissing you nastily, messily, with tears dripping down his cheeks. Cock still buried deep inside you, but hard and ready to stuff you with another wave of cum. "We’re going to have a child? A baby? Fuck, y-you’re going to be a mommy?"
And with a soft nod of your head, Choso completely snapped.
His palms hooked you under your thighs, pushing into a mating press. Gentle enough not to squeeze your belly, yet deep to allow him to give you a sharp, hearty push. With a fat shaft sliding inside the clamping walls of your pussy and a pitched moan slipping past your lips.
"My mommy, fuck–mmm–my sweet, beautiful m-mommy," he mumbled, peppering your cheeks, nose, and forehead with kisses, wetting your skin with tears of joy. "I’m so happy, m-my Goddess. I can’t believe we’re going to have a baby."
The brutal thrusts of his hips didn’t match the softness spilling from his lips, and so you could do nothing but push out another sob. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, and closer, till his nipples brushed against yours, and hips stayed buried deep within the sweetness of your walls.
One of his fingers slipped down to press against your swollen clit and roll it gently, ripping another moan from your throat.
"My Goddess, I’ll be so good to you, mhmmm, I’ll take care of you both," he whispered, nuzzling into your neck. "I can’t wait to see you all plump and round, to d-drink your milk–ahh, it’s going to be so sweet."
"Cho, mhmm, you’re such a pretty crier, baby," a mewl spilt from your parted lips, droplets of silver already dripping down your chin. He quickly pulled up, licking the skin clean. "Are you that happy to be a daddy?"
He continued to pump you hard, with hips hitting yours in a nasty squelching and a pulsing cock pushing the warm cum back into your cunt. Cramming the smoothing liquid into your womb, although you were already stuffed heavy and full.
A faint yes yes yes, s-so happy, slipped past his lips, with his fingers rolling the swollen clit even harsher. Your back bent in a delicious arch, eyes crossed upon feeling the familiar warmth already bubbling in your lower belly.
The pleasure washing over your spine was maddening, far more intense than before, and you began to wonder how pleasurable sex would be in the months ahead of pregnancy. With your round belly fully obscuring the view of your tight cunt and breasts overflowing with milk.
And it seemed that Choso wondered too, as his lips curled around one of your perked nipples, sucking it with a miserable mew.
"Cho, I’m, fuck, I’m going to cum," you moaned, tugging on his hair. "Baby, fuck fuck fuck, come on, make your mommy cum."
And as Choso was far too weak for your pleadings, with a last intense flicker of your clit and a crying send tremble down your sensitive breasts, finally stilled.
The throbbing tip pressed against your womb, pumping it with another wave of creaminess. Your moan echoed off the marble columns of the temple before you finally squirted all over his fingers and abdomen, splashing the sweetest nectar onto the floor until you had to stop Choso from pulling away and licking it up.
Your gazes met, his eyes still slightly wet, taking in the bewitching loveliness of your face. His heart swelled with affection, deep love and devotion spilling past the walls of his heated muscle. You could feel it beating against your chest, sending tremors down your spine, and so you lifted your fingers, brushing his cheek gently.
"Surprise, my God," you muttered, pulling him into a soft kiss. "Shall we think of some names, hm?"
His warm cum spilt from your pussy, pooling beneath the hips. With short thrusts, he pushed it deeper, till a soft crease appeared between your brows.
He nuzzled into your hand, as another wave of tears filled his reddened eyes. You giggled, brushing them away. "My crybaby of a husband, I’m glad you at least didn’t faint."
"I almost did, but your pussy was too warm," he mumbled, pushing a snort from your throat. "I want to name her Harmonia."
Your head tilted. "Her? Harmonia?"
"Mhm," Choso nodded, then lowered himself to lie on your breasts. "I know it’s going to be a girl. The most beautiful in the world," he muttered, then lifted his eyes to meet your squinted gaze. "Without counting her mum, of course."
You hummed, brushing the hair sticking to his damp forehead. "And what about the boy?"
Choso thought for a moment, settling himself on your plush breasts. "Eros." You snorted again, and this time his chestnut eyes narrowed in offence. "Why? I think it would suit a future God of Love."
"The God of Love? Oh my, husband, you’re already thinking too far ahead."
But Choso shook his head, wrapping his arms around you tighter. Sniffing the sweet fragrance of your body, enjoying the sun kissing his pale, naked back. Calm settled over his mind, and as his eyes closed, a little sigh slipped past your lips at the peacefulness of your husband’s handsome forehead.
The most beautiful God in the whole pantheon.
"My Goddess, the child born from our affection could only become a divine being of love. But who they are doesn’t really matter…" he murmured, his cheek pressed gently against your breasts as his voice grew sleepy. The birds chirped in the trees above, while the salty air from the nearby ocean tingled his senses. "As long as they carry your eyes."
And so, with a sweet tune of your voice and fingers brushing through his hair, Lord Hades slipped into a deep slumber.
With ear plastered to your body, already awaiting the melody of not one, but two of his hearts.
beat of my heart (hiatus) ➔ drummer! satoru x psych major
꒰ slow burn. college au. darker themes ꒱ 🌸💦💔🥀
.ᐟ long fics (mini series) ──
love hard (complete) ➔ nerdjo x reader
꒰ holiday au. catfishing trope. fake dating ꒱ 🌸💦💔🤭🌟
off the record (ongoing) ➔ undercover ceo! satoru x reader
꒰ fake dating. slow burn. ꒱ 🌸💔🌟
.ᐟ oneshots ──
signed in sweetness ➔ sorcerer! satoru
꒰ canon adjacent. classmates to lovers. prison realm. ꒱ 💔🌸💦
mine to see ➔ invisibleman! satoru
꒰ dark content. yandere. psychological horror ꒱ 💦🥀🤭🌟
behind the screen ➔ au coworker! satoru
꒰ phone sex. online dating ꒱ 💦🤭
masked affairs ➔ au dom rich! satoru
꒰ established relationship. 50 shades of grey ꒱ 🌸💦
cursed in color ➔ sorcerer! satoru
꒰ girl dad. established relationship ꒱ 🌸
unwrapping you ➔ sorcerer! satoru
꒰ bday boy. established relationship ꒱ 🌸💦
echos of time ➔ sorcerer satoru
꒰ time travel. friends to lovers ꒱ 🌸💦
.ᐟ drabbles (teasers, headcanons, blurbs) ──
○ arranged clanhead satoru 💔💦🌟
○ supermodel satoru 🌸💦🌟
○ long distance satoru 🌸💦
○ gaming nerdjo 💦
○ try again 🌸💔🌟
○ the last bite 🌸
○ on the move 🌸
○ little things like this 🌸
○ you'd win 🌸
i want to be the defenseless human that researchers know is the monster’s emotional kryptonite so i get used as the Reward for good behavior. until of course the monster is tired of their games and kills them all and takes me with him back to his den. his permanent reward for a job well done
The mission in space was every physics teacher's wet dream. And yet, when you found yourself alone on a spaceship, dread filled your mind. Fortunately, it turned out you weren’t quite alone. As a weird creature you’ve met by accident seemed to be quite happy in helping you finish a mission and keep a warm company.
𖥔 ݁ ˖pairing: ꒰ Alien!Gojo Satoru x Physics teacher!Reader ꒱
𖥔 ݁ ˖content/warnings: ꒰ MDNI 18+ : fluff, fluff, fluff : also a bit of angst : mutual masturbation : use of sex toys : happy ending : women in stem, doomed to never being able to touch each other : prepare some tissues : space : aliens : Satoru is a brat in every universe : alien's D : mates and mentions of mating ꒱
𖥔 ݁ ˖WC: ꒰ 15k ꒱
𖥔 ݁ ˖ notes: This story is based on the movie Project Hail Mary. Shoutout to @indiewritesxoxo whose story The One That Got Away inspired me to write a space-based fanfic!
dividers by @diviniyae
art by daichichirou on tt
"Miss, what's the space like?" a little girl with round frames asked you once during the class.
What's the space like? You wondered for a moment, with similar glasses resting on your nose.
Little models of planets swirled under the ceiling, clashing against each other with warm beams of sunshine curling around their painted bodies. The classroom stilled with silence, heavy and curious, marked by a dozen little eyes glancing up your furrowed forehead.
"Unfathomed," slipped almost in a whisper. But the kids were too young to understand this word, so you tried again. "It's endless, deep, mesmerising, silent, like–"
"Like a night?" a boy from the first row asked, playing with the wooden spaceship, all the children in the class had just finished painting.
You chuckled, playing with your own little toy, brushing the little silver window with a thumb.
"Much, much quieter," the spaceship landed on your desk, right next to the little, soft ball painted like Earth. Your eyes shimmered as you looked around the class of a dozen munchkins. "What do you hear while sleeping?"
Something began to coil in their little Einstein heads, with soft foreheads furrowed in thought. A flicker of an idea – a spark, their young minds were yet to discover and nourish throughout their lives.
You watched them with a smile, something warm spreading beneath your chest. Not everyone was born to be a teacher, with the day-to-day tiring work of preparing materials for classes, conducting lessons and checking all the foolish assignments that neither you nor the children liked. The education system truly was a shit hole from the very first steps those young minds took.
"Miss, that's a silly question," a little girl without one front tooth giggled. "We can't hear anything while we're sleeping!"
You hummed softly as you picked up the small earth ball. It yielded gently beneath your fingers, and the woollen toy, crocheted by your mother herself, felt pleasantly soft against your skin.
The bell would ring soon, and the afternoon sun was high in the sky, creeping through the tall, clean windows into the small classroom. Summer break was almost here, and the sweltering heat lingered in the stuffy air, filled with children's coughs and soft breathing.
"Exactly," you said, sitting on the desk and tossing the ball into the air. "That's what space is like. You can't hear anything."
"But what if I close my ears?" another boy said, pressing his hands to them. "I can't hear anything now, miss!" he screamed, setting off a wave of sweet giggles from his classmates.
The small green ball flew his way, and the boy caught it in one hand, scowling. "Hey, miss, that's not fair!"
"That was not, I do admit," you slipped off the desk, walking around the classroom. All small pairs of eyes followed you like puppies. "But you see, in space, there would be no need to cover your ears, because there is no air or matter for sound to travel through. Even when you're sleeping, there's always something out there, right?" Your eyes met a few nodding Einsteins before drifting towards the window. "You can hear the crickets singing under your window and the wind swirling between the leaves. But in space, there's nothing. Simply an empty, endless realm stretching beyond our comprehension."
A few droplets of sweat coiled on your temple, and you quickly brushed them with a thumb. Glasses sat crookedly on your nose, hair slipped away from a pin-up, and so you pushed them behind your ear.
"Miss, the space sounds so scary," the girl with round frames sighed. "I don't want to be an astronaut anymore."
You chuckled, coming to the previous boy and stealing a soft lump of earth from his sticky fingers. "The space may feel lonesome if you're there alone. But now, astronauts usually go in groups." The ball landed back on your desk, brushing gently against the wooden spaceship. "But even if you were alone, I think the view would be worth the night spent in loneliness."
And as it would soon turn out, nothing was worth the years spent alone. On the huge spaceship, with endless darkness spreading across the little window and years spent somewhere doing God knows what.
"The sun is dying," the government envoy had said. "Can you help us save the world?"
She caught you right after one of the classes, with a half-empty cup of instant noodles and cheeks peppered with crimson chilli-oil kisses. Arrived with a tall, muscular man and a printout of the PhD dissertation, placing a copy on your messy desk.
Your forehead crinkled, eyes landed on a neat, Times New Roman formatted title, An Analysis of Water-Based Assumptions and Recalibration of Expectations.
"That's not mine," you mumbled, going back to the cup of noodles. You hadn't eaten anything for a whole day, and your stomach was already pressed against your spine, with hunger twisting your weary mind.
"That's your name, isn't it?" she said, pressing a neatly trimmed nail against the smaller letters beneath the title.
You didn't even spare her a glance and simply shook your head. "No, I think you've mistaken me for someone else."
Both she and the man sighed, rolling two small chairs from the children's desk to sit in front of yours. With eyes fixed on your face, grimacing in ignorance, and a few locks of hair slipping into the cup.
"I'm Yuki," she said, crossing her legs before looking at the man with the dullest, most bleary eyes you have ever seen. "And that's Choso. We're from a… well. Now you only need to know that we work for NASA."
And that meant one thing – trouble.
Seeing your utmost disinterest, she continued in a warm tone. "Listen, we know your dissertation was a fantastic breakthrough that the supervising committee didn't appreciate. But–"
"A small correction," you interrupted, with eyes still glued to an almost empty cup. "They did not not appreciate me, but completely failed me. My research was proven wrong, and I spent almost five years chasing something that was never there. So no, it wasn't a breakthrough or anything."
Her long fingers clenched into a fist, and a tongue nervously filled a creamy cheek. "Listen, in our current world situation, we believe that your research wasn't pointless. The hypothesis that life can exist without water–"
"Which was ultimately proven that it cannot," slipped in a whisper, gaze still following anything but those two.
"Right," she sighed, staying shockingly patient. "But the thing is, it actually may."
And for the first time in the past five minutes, you finally looked at her. With eyes hidden behind librarian-like glasses, a white shirt neatly pressed against your body, and chilli oil still coating lower lip. You brushed it quickly with a tissue before clearing throat.
"You have five minutes."
But Yuki needed just a second.
"There are some… microbes, the nature of which we aren't yet sure, that are slowly eating the sun. If we don't do something, in thirty years the global temperature will drop enough to kill every life on Earth."
A long, heavy silence stretched between the three of you, though she was the one doing the talking. The man in a suit sat in silence. He was rather handsome, with dark hair falling long down his neck and purplish under-eye bags framing his deep, doe-like eyes.
Feeling your eyes fixed on his face, Choso wriggled in place. "We believe that you are one of the few scientists who can help in research on those microbes."
A deep sigh slipped past your lips as you took off your glasses and closed eyes. A pulsing headache was filling your mind, weighing down an already overstimulated brain. A few short strands of noodles clung to the bottom of the plastic cup, looking up at your weary eyes, pleading to go home.
You finally murmured, throwing the cup into the bin, "I don't see how that's my problem. I'm just a physics teacher, the academic environment pushed me away, and I believe there are many more qualified scientists for this role."
Yuki's forehead furrowed, lips pressed in a line. "Not your problem? The world is dying, and you think it's not your problem?"
You could almost see a grey smoke drifting above her head, eyes shining like two coffee beans. Golden hair brushed against her suit-covered breasts, with a few straight strands sticking to soft cheeks. She appeared magnificently commanding, exuding a dominant aura of someone beyond the law. Even sitting on a small children's chair, you felt goosebumps cover your bare shoulders.
You leaned back in a chair, the hard backrest digging into your spine. "I just don't understand why it should be me. This," you pointed at a three-hundred-page dissertation, "was just a foolish fantasy of my younger self. And trust me, I felt how stupid it was," your eyes fell to your fingers, playing with a soft, earthy ball. "No one treats me like a scientist anymore."
And then, Yuki stood up.
Suddenly, reaching over the desk right to your shirt, before pulling you closer with a single move. Eyes fixed on yours like a deadly viper, and a sweet note of heavy perfumes hit your nostrils.
"Try it," she gritted through her teeth. "Accept my offer till I'm still begging. I don't want things to get messy, but I really need your help on this one."
And so, feeling rather threatened, you nodded swiftly and followed the kind smile that lifted up her lips.
Now, three years later, reflecting on that time, you never felt as happy and alive as you did then. Surrounded by the world's most exceptional scientists, working on alien, new microbes – the freshest discoveries in current scientific research – spending days and nights fuelled by bitter coffee, sitting in the labs.
The time didn't matter, as long as you could work on your research. To once again feel like a valuable input to the academic environment and a student from your PhD days, when the world was most beautiful under the microscope and while collecting the newest data.
Your heart raced during the meetings as your fingers carefully noted each idea, each plan that other scientists put forward. The greatest minds in the world, flooding your own with plans and speculations you could've never thought of. Your brain fired multiple times a day, always running, always getting fed with new questions and solutions.
Why is the sun dying?
How can we stop it?
How to produce enough fuel to go all the way right to the sun?
Is that even possible?
But then it was revealed that an alien microbe was composed entirely of water, and your world collapsed. Because it finally confirmed the very point you've been secretly trying to reject for years, proving to you that cells cannot survive without water.
Your heart broke, and a wave of shame washed over your spine. The shame connected to your younger self, foolishly believing in a greatness of discovery no one has ever made. Something worth the international conferences, massive grants, Nobel Prize, and yet, you needed a single, alien cell, something not belonging to the human world, to finally prove those old geezers from your committee right.
The white, big lamp of the lab flickered; darkness spilt over the endless night. Nothing but a faint buzz of mosquitoes filled the lab, hitting the window again, and again, and again. Hungry and relentless, looking at your body hunched over the failed experiment and slightly trembling lip.
You haven't noticed someone else's presence until something cold and wet touched your cheek. Turning the head around, you noticed a can of soda and Choso's pale fingers wrapped around it.
"Thanks," escaped in a whisper, as you took the drink.
He nodded, sitting on the stool right next to you. Your lab partner, who's been through your highs and lows for the past few weeks. The biggest encouragement and life support, always reminding you to eat well and drink something other than a third coffee in a row. He was another government body, Yuki's closest friend, yet – you liked him.
He felt the most normal here, and thus, your head rested on his shoulder, while hair covered the slightly wet cheeks.
"Are you crying?" he asked quietly.
Your head shook, and a second later, a loud sniff rolled. Choso chuckled, offering a tissue.
"Thank you, Cho," you mumbled, trying to hide the streaming tears behind the wide glasses.
He nodded, waiting for you to calm down a bit. The white lamp buzzed quietly, and the screen of the computer shone bright with your PhD dissertation. The thick letters of the title, with your name written right below.
Three hundred pages of bullshit born from your silly dreams. The Nobel Prize? Dear heavens, you barely deserved to be part of the current team.
"That's not the end of the world, you know?" he said, then pressed his cheek with tongue. "Hm, no. It actually is."
You laughed disgustingly, with a snort slipping out of your nose and another wave of tears streaming down your face. "I'm sorry," slipped almost silently. "I'm sorry, I proved you all wrong."
Choso sighed, looking at your sorry state. He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and brushed away a single tear with a soft thumb. "No, you didn't. Now that we know what it's made of, you can think about another solution."
But there isn't another solution, you wanted to say, and instead bit down on your lower lip. The words bubbled in your throat, but a thin thread of hope still pulled at your heart. A faint wish that maybe this discovery wasn't a disaster. That the alien cell, made almost entirely of water, could somehow help with the mission.
That you could still prove yourself as a true scientist.
"Hey," Choso whispered, turning your face towards him. Deep, warm eyes shimmered with kindness as he offered a soft smile and gently pinched your cheek. "You are one of the smartest people I have ever met. I'm sure you can figure this out. Yuki believes in you. I believe in you." Staring into his eyes, you nodded with a pout. He chuckled and opened your soda with a quiet hiss. "Alright, let's call it a day and get back to it tomorrow. We still have time."
But the fact was that – you didn't.
And it was painfully obvious in how Yuki glanced into your lab every few days, asking about progress and results in halting the spread of alien microbes on the sun. Her neatly plucked eyebrows furrowed whenever you shook your head, and a short, stressed sigh escaped her rosy lips.
Try to hurry up, she would usually say, pulling a not-so-comforting smile.
Weeks went by, and everyone's stress increased. Yuki decided to set up a deadly mission, sending a team of astronauts to collect data personally.
The catch? They wouldn't return.
While there was enough fuel to reach the star teeming with alien microbes, there wasn't enough to return. Their goal was to collect the microbes, find a way to stop them from consuming the sun, and send all the data back to Earth.
The first time you heard about it, your knees almost buckled. It sounded outrageous, absolutely crazy, and the chance of finding someone mad and healthy enough to meet the requirements perfectly was already impossible.
And as it turned out, you were wrong.
The four astronauts were more than willing to sacrifice their lives for the greater good – to venture into the vast, endless space and perish there, in the company of strangers and eerie silence. To become saviours on a mission that could save the entire world.
Except, there was a risk the mission would fail.
Except, no one knew if they wouldn't lose their lives for nothing.
Because if that happened, if it turned out that all the money and sacrifices the government has invested in it would go to waste, the world would truly descend into shambles.
You stood against it from the very beginning, but Yuki had already decided. And so there was nothing left to do but help the spaceship travel the twelve light-years towards the only star that was also dying, devoured by an alien microbe.
One hundred and thirteen trillion kilometres.
An unimaginably vast distance a simple mind could not grasp, yet you had to find a way to make it work. To figure out how to gather enough fuel to propel the massive, metal spaceship through every single kilometre.
And after a few weeks of getting yourself filled with coffee and nights spent outside the NASA base, gazing up into the endless darkness, you finally got it.
"The alien microbes possess unimaginable power," you said in one breath, looking like a madwoman. With hair twisted into a messy braid, hands shaking from too much caffeine, eyes glimmering as if possessed by Einstein himself. Your fingers gripped the black marker before drawing another black dot on the whiteboard. "You see, what we can do is allow the engines to feed the alien microbes into a reaction chamber and boil them to the point of natural breeding. This way, the cells will multiply and multiply, allowing us to use them in a much more efficient way," the black marker swooshed all over the board, drawing a crooked picture of the spaceship.
At least thirty pairs of eyes, seated in a conference room at NASA headquarters, stared into it with furrowed yet hopeful gazes. Yuki and Choso, among them, tried to understand the point you were making. The crazy discovery you had made mere hours earlier, before quickly asking for a meeting.
"Our ship doesn't need turbines, generators or heat exchangers, because there's no conventional fuel. It works as a sort of ship driven by light energy–"
"That's impossible," someone among the other scientists interrupted. "You cannot fuel a ship of such dimensions with light alone."
You nodded, whispering like a psycho under your breath, head buzzing with numbers. "Yes, you cannot do it with the sources we have here, on Earth. But," you turned back towards the whiteboard. "Our ship is not like the others, and the microbes allow us to actually use the light force as a fuel. Look, for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. Newton's third law, we all know it, right?" A few heads nodded in unison. "Well, our ship will emit light in one direction, while Newton's law will push it in the other. I know it used to work only in theory, but with the amount of power packed into a single microbe, we can use it for our good. In short, the alien power goes into the ship, the light comes out, and we can move forward."
A long, heavy silence filled the room as you finished your little drawing. Black lines coated the board, crossing the black dots and twisting around the childishly drawn ship. You pushed your glasses up your nose and tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear.
That was it. Nothing else could've been done on your side. If none of the scientists and governmental bodies believed your crazy plan could work, there was no other way to put the ship on a direct course towards that star.
Yuki sighed and looked around nervously. While people whispered, shook their heads, or took notes, no one offered you a warm nod or made direct eye contact. But it also seemed that no one else had a better idea.
"Are you sure it can work?" Yuki asked, a heavy gaze lingering as warmth crept up your cheeks. "It's over a hundred and thirteen trillion kilometres. Are you sure the ship can be fuelled only by this alien microbe?"
Something weighed on your heart. Fear, panic, years spent believing you weren't good enough to become a real scientist. Those snickers from the PhD commission stating your research was useless. The rejections from one scientific conference after another, as no one wanted to accept your proposals.
Days spent on crying and staring at your dissertation, as if looking at it long enough would suddenly make it all worth it.
And then, under the cold light of the conference room, with thirty heads staring at you in blank mimicry, you needed to make a decision.
The one that would soon turn into a weight on your life.
"Yes," finally slipped. Strong and confident, as you corrected glasses slipping off your nose. "I can make it work."
But then…
But then the catastrophe came.
The betrayal.
Yuki apologising with utmost sincerity. Choso sitting quietly in the corner of her office. Three men keeping your body down.
From the moment you saw the space crew, one thought kept lingering in your mind. You dismissed it with a casual "they'll figure it out" wave, ignoring the instinct that indicated something was off – something that should have been clear from the start.
Why didn't the space crew have the scientist?
And a day before the departure, you finally discovered why.
"I'm sorry, I'm really so so sorry," Yuki said, trying to calm your wriggling body. The man's hands dug deep into your spine, keeping the hands and knees in place, with a cheek pressed to a dirty carpet. "We don't have any choice, and you wouldn't agree if I asked–"
"Of course I wouldn't!" you screamed, trying to bite the soft hand that reached towards you. "It's a fucking suicide! I'm a simple teacher; I can't go to a fucking space–ah, can you be a bit more gentle?!" But the men's fingers were already wrapping your hands with a thick rope. "Yuki, you can't do it to me!"
The woman didn't say anything. She merely opened her office door and beckoned someone inside. Wearing a white robe and holding a syringe between their fingers.
Your mind raced, breathing became almost impossible, and your throat clenched as you fought the sudden urge to vomit on the carpet. You tried to meet Choso's gaze, but he sat in the corner with his head in his hands, avoiding your gaze since you entered the office.
"Choso," you cried, as the doctor came closer. Long, thin needle shimmered under the office's cold lamp, sending a shiver down your spine. "Choso, l-look at me. You fucking coward, you bastard!" Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as the man sat like a stone figure. "You knew about it from the beginning, right? How could you do this to me?!"
Deep, warm eyes that you spent days gazing into finally looked up. Slightly wet, a bit hazy, while taking in the miserable state you found yourself in. Your glasses slightly crooked, lying a bit away from teary face. A few strands of hair sticking to your cheeks, arms twisted painfully behind back.
His fingers dug into the leather chair, as if trying to force himself to stay back.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't… I couldn't bring myself to tell you…"
"That I'm going for a fucking suicidal mission?!" you interrupted, still trying to kick the men off your body. "I thought we were friends! I trusted you! And you simply sold me away?"
Yuki shivered, her gaze shifting between coldness and heartbreaking warmth whenever she looked at your writhing body. She slipped her trembling hand into the pocket of her jeans before giving the doctor a small nod.
"N-No," you cried, when the man in white bent down. A sudden, sharp pain washed over your body, tickling the ends of your fingertips. "Please, I d-don't want to, I can't…"
And then, a weariness slowly filled your mind, lulling it into a deep sleep. Your body relaxed, eyes half-closed, as if weighted by the countless sleepless nights you had spent in labs.
The men lifted you up, keeping your head steady, but you didn't feel a thing. Your feet felt funny, light, as if blending into feathers. Some hushed voices started to argue, someone's warm hand brushed your cheek, and a heavy, musky smell filled your nostrils.
And before you lost consciousness, a silent save the earth sneaked into your ear.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖
"Amazing," a low sigh slipped past your lips as you watched a massive ship slowly follow yours.
Monstrous, at least twenty times larger than the spaceship you called home for the past three years, which couldn't be contained within the small window you looked through. It appeared incredibly bright, almost as if it were made of glass, yet you couldn't see anything beyond the thick walls.
It's been shadowing you since yesterday, and it has been following you since yesterday, regardless of how long you travelled or how fast you went; it remained right there. Always in your line of sight from your window, constantly mirroring every move you make.
It was… fascinating. To say at least.
A little frightening? Sure, as you were alone on a ship, with the crew long gone and drifting silently through the vast emptiness of space.
But still – fascinating. It marked the first time a human saw an object outside Earth. Majestic and otherworldly, it looked somewhat familiar yet vastly different. A faint cosmic glow shimmered on its diamond-like walls, casting short beams through your solitary window, as if attempting to communicate. As if the creature within tried to contact.
Still drifting slowly, you bit down on your lower lip. "Maybe I should stop?" you thought out loud, as another flicker of light hit your window. "What if they'll attack me?"
But at this point, already being alone on an impossible, suicidal mission, it seemed that an alien attack would be the least of your problems. In fact, maybe it would even sweeten your life a bit, and before meeting death, you would still have a chance to make the first human contact with life outside Earth.
"Okay," You took a deep sigh, pulling down the engine handle. "Let's see what you want from me."
Your ship stopped, and the monstrous glassed vehicle followed right away. With your forehead pressed to the window, you waited.
And waited, waited, till ten minutes passed and the ship stood still. Your tongue pressed against the soft cheek as you walked back and forth, awaiting any sign of activity. Yet, the vast galaxy outside remained tranquil, a gentle glow reflecting off the smooth, wall-like surface of the enormous ship. It lacked doors and windows, being just a glassy, shimmering exterior that–
"Oh no," your throat tightened as it drew closer. And closer, closer, swooshing towards you, something long slowly sliding out of the ship's tall wall. "Oh, that's bad, fuck."
A panic squeezed your heart, thoughts rushed through a tired mind, and there weren't enough cuticles on your nails to bite them all. The window was too small to see the thing clearly, but it seemed to be heading straight towards your ship's door. A long, shining tube swooshed closer and closer until your ship suddenly vibrated, as if gently brushing against a foreign object.
Your fingers fidgeted with the plush fabric of the shirt, while droplets of sweat made your glasses slide down your temple. With unsteady legs, you cautiously moved toward the astronaut's suit and started pulling it over your body. The zipper felt heavy under your touch, and the bubble-shaped helmet was more suffocating than usual. The oxygen backpack almost doubled your load as you headed toward the door, with heavy pounding in your chest.
Your heart was always perfectly healthy, and yet for the first time in your life, you tried to remember all the possible symptoms of a woman's heart attack.
Chest pain, severe shortness of breath, nausea, radiating pain in the neck and jaw, you counted in your mind, marking each and every sign in your current state.
"Fuck, okay," trembling, glove-coated hands squeezed the handle of the massive, metal door, before you pushed it. It opened with a low, soft creek, inviting you into the endless tunnel filled with darkness.
To your surprise, gravity worked here, and thus you dropped heavily onto the hard floor. A soft oh filled the helmet as you lifted the flashlight a bit higher. Something shimmered at the end of the darkness, yet you weren't sure what.
Your steps didn't echo from the thick walls as you slowly approached the entrance to the alien ship. Thoughts clashed painfully in your mind, questions rose one by one as you breathed with a squeezed chest under the weighty kilograms of a spacesuit.
How many of them were there?
What did they look like?
Were they friendly?
How quick and painful would your death be?
Your mind tried to ignore the last one, as the chance of a cardiac arrest before meeting an alien seemed much more likely. Fingers clutched the flashlight tighter, feet moved carefully, one step after another, sticking to the tunnel's crooked surface.
"Hello?" Your voice bounced off the walls, lined with terror. "Whoever you are, I come in peace!"
Oh, what a cheesy line, you thought, biting down on your lower lip.
After a few steps, the glimmering thing came fully into view, and only then did you notice it was a thick glass wall. Or at least something similar to glass, with a hard surface that stopped you from going any further.
Glove-clothed hand touched it, helmet bumped against it, as you tried to light the darkness spilling behind it.
"Hello?" slipped a bit louder, with your fist knocking on the glass. "Anyone there?"
A silence, dull and endless, filled an eerie tunnel. Looking back, you took a note that your spaceship was still there – safe and sound – and you let out a deep sigh. It's not as if it would suddenly float away, but–
A heavy thump suddenly shook the tunnel's floor.
Your head snapped back, breath hitched, fingers squeezed with a tremble around the flashlight.
"H-Hello?"
The light reflected off something towering and shimmering, slowly moving toward you in a relaxed, unhurried manner, nearly as tall as the tunnel itself. A bluish halo beamed off the creature's body, filling the dark space with a soft aura.
You stepped back, trying to direct a flickering beam straight at the thing coming your way, but your hand trembled too much. The heart was on the verge of stopping, and dread haunted the mind as it drew closer, revealing its height. At least two and a half metres, brushing the ceiling of the tunnel's crooked walls, filling the narrow space with its wide body.
And when the light caught on their face… oh.
The pale blue skin shimmered softly under a luminous glow. It appeared unnaturally smooth, soft, and a sudden, foolish wish to brush it with your thumb swirled inside your mind. White, snowy hair touched the handsome forehead, while nearly inhumanly pale-blue eyes gazed down at your spacesuit-covered body. You looked tiny and short in comparison, with a gloved hand once more resting on the glass wall.
The creature was dressed in a white suit, clinging tightly to its body and digging deep into the hard muscles bulging under its skin. Alien's head tilted, knees bent down, and within a second, it found itself on eye-level with you.
White lashes decorating endless, luminous blue fluttered, as if trying to take in the terror twisting your face.
"⊑⟒⌰⌰⍜," a low, manly voice crept past the glass.
Your eyes bulged like two porcelain plates, fingers pressed closer to the wall.
So he was a man.
Well, you could already figure that much based on his looks, but the warm tone slipping under your bubble helmet was evidence enough.
Your mind didn't register the language at first, but when his soft brow travelled up, and lips curled in a smile, you thought that maybe he was awaiting an answer.
"Oh, um," you took a step back, waving your hand clumsily. "Hello."
The creature's head tilted again, and he mimicked your gesture.
You blinked twice, still struggling to believe the situation you're in. "Uh, okay, what now?" you whispered. "I am..." You pointed at your head and said your name clearly and loudly. "What about you?"
"⊬⍜⎍ ☊⏃⋏ ⏚⍀⟒⏃⏁⊑ ⊑⟒⍀⟒," the creature said, and a wave of different sounds and tones once again hit your ears.
You sighed, pressing tongue against your cheek. "Right, it's not going to work."
He looked at you, and you looked at him. You, with a slightly furrowed forehead and your mind rushing through all the possible ways to communicate with the alien. He, with lips curled cheekily and pale eyes fixed on your face.
"I wouldn't mind your cooperation, you know?" you mumbled, but he tipped his head left and right, like a curious puppy.
"⊬⍜⎍ ☊⏃⋏ ⏚⍀⟒⏃⏁⊑⟒ ⊑⟒⍀⟒," the same sounds once again slipped past the glass wall.
His head was tipping and tilting, and a second had passed before you finally understood that he wanted to say something.
"What? I don't understand," you said, mimicking his movements.
And thus both of you were shaking and tilting your heads, going over and over the same ⊬⍜⎍ ☊⏃⋏ ⏚⍀⟒⏃⏁⊑⟒ ⊑⟒⍀⟒, and I don't understand.
His brows furrowed as if irritated, and large hand touched his chest. He took a deep breath – first and second – then pointed at his head and finally at yours.
Oh.
"You want me to..." you gestured as if removing the helmet. A quiet chuckle escaped him, and eyes glinted. "But I can't breathe here."
He didn't understand and thus pointed at your head once again. "⏁⏃☍⟒ ⟟⏁ ⍜⎎⎎."
Your head shook. "Whatever you say, I cannot take it off. Because I will…" Your hands slipped up to your throat before a wave of trembling convulsions bent your body. It wriggled, shook, before, with a theatrical cough, you fell down the crooked floor.
The creature was staring at you with a furrowed forehead and a gentle flicker of amusement coiling in his spectral eyes.
"Not the best first impression, I know," you muttered, swiftly standing up. "My point is, I can't breathe without it."
But it seemed he either didn't understand or was simply relentless in his pleadings. As the long fingers hit the glass wall, pointing right at your head. Another deep breath slipped past his lips, and he nodded, as if trying to say it was fine. Whatever he filled the tunnel with, you could breathe here.
And thus, the thought of what if slipped quietly into your mind.
What if he was right?
What if he really did fill your half of the tunnel with oxygen?
But what if he was wrong, and the moment the helmet would go off, you would die in inhumane suffering?
Light blue eyes shone with anticipation, lips curled into an encouraging smile, and a finger pressed harder into the glass wall.
You took a deep breath, feeling the droplets of sweat coiling at the nape of your neck. He seemed to be a highly intelligent creature, with the ability to communicate as well as you and a rather comprehensive understanding of the differences between your species. For some reason, trusting him felt almost natural, and the assuring look of his spectral gaze made you drop your head with a sigh.
When fingers hooked on the helmet's edges, your heart was nearing its death. Chest squeezed painfully, eyes closed till the eyelids dug deep into your balls. The sweat was now dripping down your spine, wetting the nape of your neck and shirt that clung to your body under the heavy spacesuit.
"Okay," you whispered, both to yourself and him, and it seemed that he was rather amused by the agony twisting your mind. When he chuckled, your brows furrowed. "Don't laugh. There's a rather big chance this air will burn me from the inside."
And so it happened – your fingers slowly unclasped the neck ring, allowing the pressurised seal to loosen with a soft puf. The bubble helmet was lifted unhurriedly, as if your lungs were still trying to grasp the rest of the oxygen swirling inside it.
With still closed eyes, you took the first breath. And the second, and the third, and then, looking back at the alien, a sweet, loud scoff slipped past your lips and flushed cheeks.
"⌇⟒⟒, ⟟ ⏁⍜⌰⎅ ⊬⍜⎍," he chuckled, pressing his forehead to the glass wall.
Still in shock, you stepped closer, also touching the warm, crystal surface with your brows. "Sure, whatever you say."
You looked at each other for a while, with beaming smiles and foreheads almost brushing as you leaned in, a rather intimate gesture. It seemed that the first meeting with another species broke down some specific walls for both of you. The curiosity and fascination with one another blurred the lines of proper manners, breaching all the careful first steps you surely should think of.
His eyes flickered, suggesting a new idea had just come to him. He raised a finger and gestured for you to stay put. After your gentle nod, he vanished into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving you alone with your thoughts swirling in your mind.
Five minutes passed, then ten, and as you sat on the crooked floor and took off the heavy spacesuit, he finally came back, with something gripped by his hand.
You looked closer, noticing the collar-like device and a small earplug. He placed it inside his ear while wrapping the collar around the pale neck. A faint, crispy sound filled his side of the tunnel, and milky brows furrowed as he pressed onto the device in his ear.
And then, with a gesture, he asked you to say something.
"Um," your head tilted, and he sat right in front of you, waiting with a soft smile. "You are rather pretty for an alien."
His fingers still pressed the small device, and after a second, cheekiness flickered in his eyes. "Am I, question? You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."
To say you froze in shock would be an understatement.
Your lips parted, eyebrows nearly touching hairline, as body leaned forward before your hand pressed against the glass wall. You didn't know whether you were more surprised by either his ability to speak your language or the casual compliment that caused your cheeks to heat up.
"You can…" You shook your head, barely breathing. "But how is it…"
He pointed at his ear. "This device recognises your language," then gestured to his neck. "And connects with this. Whenever I speak in my language, this collar converts it into yours."
A soft ah slipped past your lips, eyes fixed on the thin, crystal band made of a sort of rubber material. Your finger brushed the glass wall, as if trying to feel the device beneath it.
Your brows furrowed when another issue started to bite into your curiosity. "But how do you know my language? How did you build this translator? Our species never made contact."
He sat closer, pressing his forehead to the glass again. At this point, you started to wonder whether it was a sort of typical signal from his species, carrying a special, unknown meaning. And when he beamed with joy, you noticed little white droplets shining faintly, sprinkled around his cheeks. Was this an equivalent of a blush?
"You didn't with us," he pressed a finger to yours, and only then did you see the true, monstrous size of his hand. "But the Reds had been studying you for years."
The reds…
"Oh gosh!" A gasp ripped out of your throat as you covered your mouth with a hand. His head tilted. "The Reds, you mean, Martians?"
"Why are you shocked, question?" he asked, carefully eyeing as you quickly stood up and started walking back and forth between the walls.
Your mind pulsed, trying to comprehend everything that had happened over the past hour. The strange spaceship, the first-ever human contact with life beyond Earth, the final confirmation that aliens did, in fact, kidnap people and conduct experiments on them.
"I'm shocked, because humans never made any contact with life outside our planet," you said, biting down on a fingernail. "How long have you known the Reds?"
A low hum slipped past his lips, and smooth, blue forehead creased. "Five hundred years, I say."
"What?!" Your knees buckled as you once again sat in front of him, with hands and forehead and breasts pressed tightly to a glass wall. "Five hundred years? How is that possible? Are your planets close to each other?"
His head shook, but forehead remained wrinkled. "Humans are very underdeveloped."
You chuckled softly, noticing small, adorable language mistakes the translator made here and there. It's still, robotic voice muffled the creature's deep tone, and something squeezed your heart, as you surprisingly discovered that the honeyed warmth of his tone wrapped your mind in a rather pleasing manner.
"Yes, it seems so." Your head turned, with flushed cheeks pressed to the wall. "But till now I had no idea how far behind we are."
He stayed quiet for a moment before tapping gently on the wall. Your eyes slipped back to his, noticing the droplets sprinkled across his face, radiating adorably like flickering stars.
"My name is Satoru," rolled quietly, as the shimmering dust coated his cheeks ever wider. "Your name, question?"
When you said it slowly, he nodded, still tapping on the surface. Right against your pressed hand. "That's a very beautiful name."
"Yours is not bad either."
He hummed, as if in agreement.
Your head grew heavier and heavier, and the warmth was gently trying to coax you into sleep. As you yawned, Satoru's ghostly eyes carefully followed the exhaustion clouding your forehead.
"Are you tired, question?"
His throat bobbed when you giggled. "You don't have to add a question at the end of each ask, you know?"
You assumed that, because of his grammar rules, he needed to emphasise the difference between normal sentences and inquiries. You've noticed that his language sounded much more melodic than yours, yet it lacked the upward pitch humans use.
"But I am tired, thank you for asking." Looking over your shoulder, you've noticed that your ship was, fortunately, still there. "How about I go to sleep, and we'll get back to our talk in a few hours?"
You slowly stood up and grabbed your heavy spacesuit. Glasses slipped off your nose, and hair stuck to still-warm cheeks, as you lifted up the flashlight and… oh.
It seemed that you missed the sudden sorrow deepening between Satoru's brows. Eyes widened in panic, big palms plastered to the wall with lips just slightly opened, as he looked with a fearful expression at your attempt to move away from the wall. From him.
"Satoru–"
"Can you please sleep here?" His voice trembled, although the translator's robotic tone remained unwavering.
You looked around the tunnel, feeling the crooked ground bending beneath your feet and the dark walls emitting a deep, earthy smell. "I don't think that's a good idea, Satoru." A warm smile lifted your lips as you turned towards your spaceship. "But don't worry, I'll be back. Sleep for a bit, and before you'll notice, I'll–"
"Please," the anxiety filling his shaken voice stabbed right through your heart. "Please let me watch you sleep."
You glanced over your shoulder, seeing him in the same position. With hands pressed against the wall and eyebrows furrowed deeply.
"Watch me sleep?"
He nodded. "I… I didn't watch my crew sleep. The crew died. Satoru has been alone for the past forty years." Your lips fell open, but he quickly added, as if afraid you'd refuse again. "I watch you sleep, you won't die."
Seeing his face – filled with anxiety, pure fear, and misery – you could only smile softly and nod. As the mere thought of this man spending over forty years in space all alone tore your heart apart in the most inhumanely painful way.
"Yes, okay," barely pushed past your lips, before you cleared your throat. "Just let me bring my stuff."
You quickly changed into pyjamas, gathered a few blankets, a pillow and enough water for the night, before going back to the warm tunnel.
And then, as you drew closer to the glassy wall, you noticed a slight change in its shape. As during the five minutes you were gone, Satoru had prepared a special shelf for your body to lie right next to him. With his own feather-like blanket, he lay on his side, waiting for you to slip into the long space and hug him.
You giggled, filling the space with your own things. "That's quite intimate, Satoru."
His body was much taller than the width of the tunnel, and thus, he curled his legs a bit before trying to get even closer to you. "What does intimate mean, question?"
With head hitting the soft pillow and blanket covering your body, you turned his way. Nothing but a thick crystal wall kept you away from brushing noses with each other.
"It means that you're trying to be romantic with someone," but then you thought he might also not understand what romantic means. "Hm, it's when you do nice things for a certain person that you wouldn't do for anyone else. For example, make a special bed to be closer to someone."
A soft crease wrinkled his forehead, and the peacefulness of his eyes told you that he was deeply thinking. "I wouldn't do it for anyone other than you."
The sincerity beaming from his eyes was enough to assure you of the innocent truthfulness of his words. So you sighed, nuzzling deep into the pillow, hoping he didn't notice the warmth on your cheeks.
"That's very romantic, you know? Something you would say to your special someone."
"To your mate, question?"
You hummed, softly closing eyes. His presence somehow made your body tingle with a pleasant warmth, allowing the sleep to haunt your mind in a much softer, calmer way. In a way, you didn't feel for a long, long time, spending days in loneliness and a maddening need to feel someone else's warmth again.
You couldn't feel Satoru's heat, yet your heart fluttered fondly as his gaze truly watched you sleep.
"Yes, although humans don't mate."
"Why, question?"
When you giggled – sweetly, kindly – droplets coating Satoru's cheeks lighted up. Solely for a second, but it was enough to make him slip closer, and closer, and closer, till the glass wall was digging painfully into his body, and his heart still rushed your way.
You bubbled something under your nose. An answer he could not hear. With your lips falling open and a crystal string of saliva dripping down the soft pillow.
His finger pressed against the glass, as if wishing to brush it away.
And when another five minutes passed, a soft snoring filled your side of the tunnel. Breath calmed down, and body drew closer to his. Trying to curl into his – big, burning hot, utterly dangerous for yours.
"I watch you sleep," he whispered, brushing the glass with your pressed cheek. "You never die."
𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖
Satoru was much more intelligent than you expected.
It's not that you treated him as beneath you, but the true power of his mind exceeded your expectations.
And as it turned out, he was in the same situation as you – researching the alien microbes that were also eating his sun. Except that his species discovered the problem forty years before yours, and thus a wave of panic washed over your mind. Because if a creature like Satoru couldn't find the solution to the problem that apparently touched not just Earth but the whole universe, you wouldn't do it either.
One difference between you and Satoru was that, as an engineer, he could actually do things himself. Simply produce them, with all the glassed walls and tiny models of planets made from a strange, gluey substance that rolled off his fingers. He wasn't a scientist like you, so when he heard that you were the "brain" of the crew, his eyes flickered.
"We can work together," he proposed, already considering the path to the only planet not consumed by alien microbes. Since it wasn't infected, it suggested there was something in its atmosphere that enabled it to withstand the lethal bacteria. "You will be the mastermind of the entire operation, I will develop the sources. Also, I have spent forty years here, so I know how to navigate."
His eyes were fixed on creating another little planet, rolling the gluey strings between his pads, moulding them into a ball and waiting until the substance dried into a crystal orb. After a few days, your glassy wall had advanced enough to have a small opening for a shelf where you could exchange little presents.
Although you forgot that Satoru's atmosphere was close to boiling lava in temperature, when your hands accidentally brushed, a nasty, red bump was left on the skin of your thumb.
He put the ball on the shelf and moved his hand away so you could grab it.
"Which planet is it?" you wondered, brushing the crystal surface.
He tsked – something he learnt from you mere hour ago – and mumbled. "The earth, of course."
A scoff escaped your lips, and warmth spilt over the heart. "We're not that small."
"I believe you are."
"And we have more greenery."
He wondered, this time building a small spaceship. Your spaceship. "I would like to see it."
Some things have become clearer after spending the past few days in Satoru's presence. His planet was one of the closest to the sun, wrapped in a dense atmosphere that protected its inhabitants from being burned alive. As Satoru said, the days merged with the nights, and it was always rather dark – hence the pale, almost spectral eyes he and other inhabitants had. There was little to no greenery, and the water system had long been sustained by technologies developed by engineers like him.
"A lot of sand", he once said, and you wondered whether it would look like anything close to the climate of Arab countries.
His head tilted then, and eyes flickered with curiosity. "How do Arab countries look, question?"
You tried to describe the endless desert plains, the crimson sun, the curling droplets of sweat on your neck, and the nights filled with beaming joy as best you could. The feel of warm sand under your feet, sea brushing the skin sweetly and fresh dates melting on your tongue in sugary pleasure.
He listened, with eyes following the curve of your lips and fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.
"I would love to see it," he muttered, poking the glass wall with his finger. "It sounds beautiful."
You giggled, following the pale blue of his skin. Soft and shiny, it reminded you more of a region bitten by cold than of the merciless atmospheric temperature of over two hundred degrees Celsius.
"You're rather pale for someone living right next to the sun."
He scoffed, with fingers still creating the small spaceship. In the meantime, you leaned against the crooked tunnel's wall, with a laptop on your thighs, trying to plan the route towards the only "safe" planet.
"I'm not pale. I'm blue."
"That was a joke," you shoot him a glance, seeing the irritated squint of his eyes. "It means that the thing I say is supposed to be funny. You should laugh."
A low, awkward chuckle rolled off his lips, and you couldn't help but burst out laughing. Satoru knew how to express his joy, but it seemed he didn't quite possess the humour you did.
The moment has passed, and a comfortable silence stretched between the two of you. He was mapping the galaxy, while you tried to work out whether your ship still had enough fuel to travel that far. It would take you months to reach that planet, but there seemed to be no other choice. After that mission, the fuel will run out, and you, just as planned, will die here – somewhere in the embrace of endless space.
A low sigh slipped past your lips, catching Satoru's attention. "Are you tired, question?"
Your head shook, and a few strands of hair fell loosely from a pinup. "I would love to invite you to my ship. There's a room where we can watch movies and stuff. I'm sure I can find something about Egypt."
And so…
You've also learned over the past few days that Satoru took everything seriously.
In the most genuine and firm understanding of this word.
Two weeks have passed since your meeting. One morning, as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, dressed in nothing but panties and a loose shirt while brushing your teeth, a deep, gravelly rumble shook the entire spaceship.
Your heart leapt into your throat, eyes bulged, and you dashed out of the room with wet hair and bare feet. With all the prayers you've learnt as a child repeating in your mind over and over again, as you run towards the entrance of the ship.
Did you somehow get unsealed from the tunnel?
Did something hit the ship and cause the irreparable damage that would cost you your life?
Fuck, did–
But when you finally got into the room connected with an entrance, with toothpaste smeared all over your cheek and glasses falling crookedly off your nose, a low gasp slipped past your lips.
"Satoru?!"
Because the pale-bluish creature himself stood in the middle of your spaceship, locked in a…
"And you're in a ball?" Like a hamster, wanted to join, but he probably wouldn't know what a hamster is.
Standing right in front of you, fully upright, with long legs wrapped in a white suit and a muscular back bulging under the stretched material – he appeared even more monstrous than usual. A creature over two metres tall, looking all over your place with amusement shining in his eyes, his gaze following all your dirty panties spread across the floor.
"Yep, so I won't die in your atmosphere," long fingers knocked the crystal ball, before lips curved in a cheeky smile. "Can I smell it, question? I want to know how your body smells. Put it to the shel–"
A sudden warmth had hit your cheeks, and throat tightened around the remnants of the toothpaste. "Absolutely not! It's very not polite of you to ask such things."
He started walking around in a large ball that barely fit the corridors of your spaceship, its hard walls brushing against each and every machine, piece of furniture, and console on its way. He strolled freely, dropping different comments here and there, while you followed him and picked up all your clothes.
"So dirty," he snapped, pushing a loud scoff from your throat.
"I didn't expect the guests!"
But he ignored you, as your bedroom appeared somewhere within the line of his sight. Blue cheeks shone with crystal droplets, and white, fluffy hair almost stood on end with excitement. Before you could stop him, long legs swiftly moved towards your bedroom, taking in every little, dirty, detail – more panties, a small mattress, a few books lying scattered all over the floor.
"Is that our nest, question?" He looked around before parking his ball next to your mattress. He sat down, leaning against the floor, and finally shot you a look. "I like it."
With a deep, weariness-filled sigh, you returned to the bathroom, cleaned yourself, and re-entered the bedroom. Soft light reflected off the glistening droplets on his cheeks as he probed the fabric of your panties with his finger. Only then did you realise that the ball, despite being firm, was quite flexible, enabling him to slide his fingers through its surface, which was covered in a sticky, shimmering coating that shielded his skin from the oxygen.
You took the material away from his curious gaze and pushed it back into your bag.
"Satoru, what are you doing here?" slipped rather harshly as you sat down on your bed.
He seemed to be confused by your tone, tilting the fluffy head with a furrow. "Are you mad, question?"
You knew that getting angry with him, while he was still learning to recognise human emotions, was silly. Stupid, even, and you felt as if you were shouting at the poor puppy. Except that this puppy was much taller than you and probably weighed twice your weight.
With a sigh, you fell back on the mattress and covered your face with an arm. "Sorry, I'm not mad. Just… surprised. I didn't expect you would come up my ship."
He tried to roll closer, but the space was too small to allow him any other movements than going back and forth from the entrance to your mattress. So he stayed in place, trying to observe the expression on your face.
"I can't see you like that," he noted.
Another thing you've learnt about his species was how important contact and intimacy are. Not even sexual ones, but rather a simple need to always be with someone. To communicate while looking right into their eyes, to feel their skin on theirs, and to follow the movements of their lips. To feel the presence of another creature next to them, even if the only thing you did was sleep next to each other.
So another sorry slipped past your lips, and you sat again, showing Satoru your face. He slightly lightened up before pressing a hand to the crystal ball.
"You said, and I quote, I would love to invite you to my ship," he noted with utmost seriousness, and you rolled your eyes. "So I came."
Well, he was right. You did say that, and you did wish there were a way to bring him into your ship. Travelling together would be much easier if both of you were on one ship, so amidst the pure chaos and shock he caused, you quite enjoyed the fact that he could live here.
With you.
"Okay," your hand pressed to the ball, filling half of his palm. "But we need to set up some rules first. First, we don't sleep in the same bedroom–"
"But I must watch–"
"Satoru," you interrupted him, seeing the pale eyes slip into the sorrowfulness. "You have excellent hearing and even more excellent sight. I'm sure you can watch me sleep while staying next door." A grim twisted his face, and a low mumble filled his little bubble. Too quiet for the translator to catch, so you chuckled sweetly, seeing his brattiness surface. "Okay. The second rule – you can't sniff my panties. It's something… reserved only for mates."
And, well, if that didn't fire him up – with eyes suddenly beaming in excitement and droplets twinkling one by one, like a tiny mingling stars. You felt as if you had challenged him, and thus quickly added. "And because we are not mates, you cannot do it. It's too intimate."
"I want to be intimate."
A sudden flush hit your cheeks, and warmth spread beneath your chest. "No, Satoru, you don't understand. It's about sexual intimacy. Something you share while…" saying it out loud felt like giving a biology lesson to elementary school kids. "Mating… with your special someone. When you, well, have sex and stuff. Do you know–"
He chuckled low, a sly smile lifting his lips. "I know what mating is."
Something in your lower belly bubbled, seeing him like that. Tall and strong, spreading a slightly possessive and dominating aura. With eyes full of bratty cheekiness and something, something, slightly sensual dripping from his voice.
"Well, so you know that we can't do it," You moved back, taking your palm away from the crystal ball. "Let's work on our plan and try to find a way to save the world."
And with a slight dissatisfaction, Satoru finally agreed.
But the next months spent in his presence were… interesting. To say at least.
Every day brought new surprises, which sometimes ended with your body blushing from head to toes, sometimes him getting shy and flustered, while still trying to keep up the cocky demeanour.
He was nothing less than excellent when it came to engineering and helping with the travel itself, also being an amazing companion for the long, daring journey.
Soon he resigned from constant stay in a ball and filled the interior of your spaceship with long corridors of crystal, making himself at home. Whenever you were – he was right next. Be it a bedroom, control room, kitchen or…
"Satoru!" You quickly covered your breasts with your hands, seeing him walking into the bathroom with the most casual demeanour.
A plate of some weird substance, he was always eating for supper, and a white suit half unzipped, showing off his muscular, blue chest. He leaned against the door, spectral eyes slowly following your naked body. From legs up to hips, staying longer on the gentle swell of your ass and the mould of your pussy, before going up, and up, to the breasts covered by your trembling fingers. "Sweetheart is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."
"Sweetheart" because he really wished to call you something human pairs use for each other. Even though at least three times a week, you needed to remind him that you, in fact, were not a pair.
A muffled, surprised scoff escaped your lips. You pointed to the exit with one hand, forgetting it was clutching one of your breasts. When the silky swell smoothly slipped from your grasp, bouncing gently before his eyes, he moved closer, already pushing a finger through the stretching wall.
"Can I–"
You smacked it, once again showing the exit. "Satoru! You can't walk on me while I'm naked."
"Why, question?" he asked, relentlessly trying to get closer to your body. With a finger poking the wall, that unfortunately couldn't stretch enough to even brush your skin. "Come a bit closer."
Something in your belly bubbled, warmth spread across your chest, and a single, dirty thought of letting him touch you bloomed in your mind. After all, sexual needs and anatomy were among the things all researchers wished to know about foreign species. And because Satoru was of the same, curious kind as you…
"It's too early, out!"
His head tilted, and lips curved into a foxy smile. "It's eight in the evening."
"No, I mean, we're not close enough to do such stuff."
He knocked on the crystal wall. "Sweetheart, but I can't get closer."
Oh god.
You sighed, finally letting the other tit bounce softly too. Leaning against the small shelf, you glanced at him with a frown. He, however, looked anywhere but into your eyes. Rude.
"Our relationship is not on that level…" yet. "What you want to do is too intimate. Sexual." And then, a sudden curiosity spiked your mind. "Satoru, how does the… mate thing look like among your species?"
His eyes finally slipped up to yours. "We choose one mate for a whole life."
Well, that was rather clear.
"What about the, you know…" You gestured awkwardly, partially at your still naked body.
"The mating," he finished. But as if feeling the spike in your curiosity, with round eyes ogling his naked chest and slipping shyly towards his hips, he bubbled a low chuckle. "Come closer, and I will show you."
What a brat!
With the last tsk and a dirty look shot his way, you turned back towards the mirror and finished your quick, morning "shower". Even while using rinseless soap and water pouches to clean your body, you still felt Satoru's presence behind you.
Deep blue eyes following the curve of your body, back muscles working beneath the soft skin, and when you bent over to rinse your face, a sudden, sharp breath escaped his throat.
You didn't have to look back to know that he was looking straight at your pussy.
"It's wet," he mumbled, coming closer. And closer, until his finger once again tried to evade the stretching wall, too short to even brush the swell of your ass.
You hummed, trying to hide an embarrassed warmth kissing your neck. "It's a natural lubrication. It usually happens when a woman is…" oh fuck it. "Excited."
He seemed charmed, completely bewitched, and some part of you wished the difference in temperature between your bodies wasn't over two hundred degrees Celsius. As the moment Satoru's hands touched your skin, you weren't sure whether calling it the third-degree burn would be enough.
"Why is sweetheart excited, question?"
With your body leaning forward and hands resting on the shelf, you looked back, eyes slightly hazy, wetness dripping down your thigh. A silken droplet swirled down your leg, and Satoru's always oh-so-attentive eyes, of course didn't miss it.
"I want the taste," he mumbled, and only then did you notice a bulge, trying to rip free from beneath the white spacesuit covering his hips.
You took a deep breath, bending yourself lower and lower, till he could clearly see your cunt shining with silky wetness.
"I'm excited," you started, voice dripping with sensuality. "Because of you."
As if awaiting this exact answer, his eyes, for just a second, ripped themselves away from your soft pussy and looked up. To cross with yours – slightly teary, a bit too warm.
"I want to–"
You turned around, once again leaning against the shelf. A low groan escaped his throat, as he no longer could see your pussy in its fullness. The little pout twisting his lips made you giggle, but a tricky, dirty thought has slipped into your mind.
"How about this?" You took a step, then another, until you stood right in front of him. Much closer than before, but not close enough to let him brush your skin. "I will let you touch me. Watch me…" You coughed, feeling this wind of bravery leave your body as quickly as it had come. "Masturbate. And you'll let me do it too."
Satoru's lips fell open, eyes sparkled in excitement. "I thought the intimacy was only for mates. Are we mates then, question?"
"Let's call it friend with benefits."
His eyes narrowed. "We don't do such things with friends."
You scoffed, pushing your hip to the side and biting the inside of your cheek. "Well, we do, so you can either accept it or not."
And seeing that this time his bratty stubbornness wouldn't work, Satoru nodded.
A few minutes later, you found yourself in the most embarrassed, going-straight-to-the-grave position you could imagine. With elbows supporting your body on the bedroom's mattress, legs spread open, and pussy pressed against the crystal wall. The slippery juices coated the surface, making Satoru breathe much, much harder than before. With fingers wrapped around the biggest, most monstrous cock you've ever seen.
You needed a moment to take in the sight that sprang up in front of your eyes after he took off the rest of the suit. Massive, veiny shaft, with a swelled protrusion at his base, probably used while mating. The blue skin was peppered with similar droplets sprinkled on his cheeks, and shimmered faintly whenever he looked down at your cunt.
Small and fluttering, with your hole squeezing around nothing and clit swelled from excitement.
The penetrative gaze of his made you warm up even more. "Satoru, touch me," slipped like an order.
His long finger brushed the crystal wall and pushed – gently, carefully, till he felt a soft button under his pad and heard a low moan escape your lips.
He dreamed of feeling the gummy structure of your pussy. To roll the clit between his fingers, without any surface protecting his body. To lower himself down and smell, lick, taste the dripping cum that in his mind was sweeter than anything he had ever tried.
And it should be noted that he had quite refined taste buds.
His other hand pumped his massive cock in slow strokes, enjoying the sight spreading in front of him much more than the feeling of his fingers wrapped around the dripping shaft.
"Does it feel good, question?" He asked, hearing another moan fill the small bedroom.
"Y-yeah, ahh, try to make gentle circles," slipped faintly, as you started to roll nipples between your fingers.
His thumb pressed against your clit harder, making your feet curl and legs spread even wider. As if trying to invite his massive cock, that would surely rip you in half.
Maybe the fact that you couldn't touch each other wasn't that bad. Because if he somehow found a way to fuck you with this size, you sure would feel it up in your throat.
And thus you enjoyed the sight spreading in front of your eyes – his beefy thighs bulging whenever you jolted under his thumb, pearly cum dripping down the blue skin, long fingers squeezing the veiny meat as he still oh-so-carefully rubbed your clit.
"It's getting wetter," he noticed, biting the inside of his cheek. "I want to taste you."
His low voice made your body melt under his fingers, forcing your thighs to spread wider and wider, while chasing the pleasure bubbling in your belly. Your hole fluttered around nothing, and a sheer sight of his cock spun your mind in crazy wish to get yourself stretched around it. To feel every vein scratch your tight walls, till the drenched head would kiss your swelling womb.
"Fuck, wait, I have an idea," you backed out, crawling towards your bag.
Crazy, stupid, nasty plan slipped into your head, as you took out a mid-size, creamy dildo. With a sucking pad at the end, and a slightly curved head. It wasn't yours, as you somehow found it among the things… oh well, does it really matter? It was clean and had been bathed in antiseptic spray multiple times; thus, using it was not disgusting at all.
But when Satoru saw it, his breath hitched. Eyes slipped down to his cock, and forehead furrowed. "Why is it so small, question?"
You chuckled, sticking it to the crystal wall. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that's the average size of a human's dick."
He followed your body as you once again spread your legs open and brushed the silicone cock through your folds a few times. Drenching it all in your juices, and Satoru, since learning the meaning of jealousy, felt something unpleasant bubble in his heart. Because he wished to be the one making your pussy flutter around his head and push it inside, till your sugary walls would clamp around his fat cock.
Your forehead furrowed, eyes glistened from prickling tears as his thumb once again landed on your clit. But this time, the pleasure was twice as intense. With a silicone dick stretching your tight pussy and his finger rubbing you in slow, maddening circles.
"I could make you feel better," he groaned, hearing another pitched moan slip past your lips. "This pathetic thing is not worthy to be inside my sweetheart."
With rising irritation, he pressed your clit harsher. Till a tremble washed over your body and back hit the mattress, as you rolled your cunt to feel the dildo go deeper. But Satoru was right – his cock would indeed make you feel better.
Your hands slipped up to your breasts, pinching the hard buds and chasing the maddening pleasure bubbling in your lower belly.
A deep frown creased Satoru's forehead, and he gently squeezed your clit. "I can't see your face."
"R-right, sorry–ahhh," A cry rolled off your tongue as you once again leaned on your elbows. "Satoru, it feels so good, mhmm."
His cock was more flushed than before, with a cherry tip spilling the heavy, thick droplets all over his hand. He pumped it madly, never once taking his eyes off your lovely face. With pleasure twisting your brows and teary eyes fixed upon his.
"S-Satoru, I, fuck, I'm going to cum," the silicone cock kissed your cervix, smooching it wetly with hefty, gluey cum sipping from your hole.
You tried to imagine getting split open on his cock. Being filled by his cum, with creamy saps stuffing your swelling womb and pumping your belly full. Getting manhandled by his muscular arms and wide back, as he would fold you into a mating press and push into the mattress. Till each and every spring would painfully dig into your spine.
So with a final cry, you came.
With a loud cry, spine arching into the sweetest curve, and a sprinkling of sweetness gushing all over his thumb, although it was a true pity that he couldn't feel it. Your body trembled and lips fell open, seeing a furrow cloud his forehead and fingers tightening around his cock.
And then, an idea slipped quietly into your mind.
"Wait a minute, don't cum yet," you muttered, taking a pair of panties lying on your bed. With a single, dirty move, you rubbed them against your drenched folds, gathering all the creamy cum and honeyed sweetness.
Satoru… dear heavens.
When a flimsy material landed inside the shelf, quite similar to the one he installed in a tunnel, Satoru's fingers snapped forward and snatched it. He brought it closer to his nose, lips, feeling your precious wetness and the rich flavour burst right onto his tongue, as a low, primal groan escaped his throat.
"Mhmm, s-so, ahh, tastes so sweet," a muffled cry was almost incomprehensible with your panties filling his mouth.
The head of his cock pulsed, massive balls constricted whenever his tongue took another lick of your fresh cum and eyes… oh, eyes stayed on you.
On your breasts coated in sheer sweat, thighs still spread open and a little, minx smile twisting your lips. Satoru was sure he could cum only at the sheer sight of your angelic face, and thus, after a few more harsh pumps and muffled cries, he came. Loud and heavy, with creamy ropes shooting all over his glimmering skin and fully emptying everything he has been keeping far too long.
What a waste, you both thought, wishing it landed somewhere far, far sweeter and warmer. Deep inside your womb, preferably.
A moment has passed, with a small bedroom filled with your heavy breaths and shy glances, looking everywhere but at your cum-coated bodies. With a faint cough, you finally closed your thighs and covered yourself with a blanket.
Blooming loveliness crept up your cheeks, and suddenly looking at Satoru required far more courage and calm than it had merely thirty minutes ago.
Before you could ask whether he needed a towel, his low voice spoke first. "Are we mates now, question?"
He said sheepishly, lifting your panties with a finger.
You groaned and fell on a mattress with his chuckle tickling your burning ears.
You didn't want to destroy this moment, even though you knew your mission would end with you dying in space. That he would go back to his planet safely, while you would float and float and float, while eventually dying of hunger.
And so, sharing this sweet moment of intimacy, with warmth spreading beneath your chest, you nodded. "Yes, Satoru. Let's become mates."
𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖
The next few months were filled with nothing but joy.
With movies playing on repeat in the small, cinematic room, Satoru watches each of them with his lips agape. Enjoying the landscapes of Earth, you could project them into a closed space, with a blue sky spreading across the ceiling and tall Scottish plains stretching beneath your feet.
With the golden sand of Thai beaches shimmering in the sun and coconuts falling from the palms, the chirping of birds perched high in the lush trees of the Amazon Forest, and the endless plains of the Sahara Desert.
When you joked that the three pyramids in Giza you were just looking at were believed to have been built by aliens, he only hummed and nodded as if in agreement. A scoff rolled off your tongue, and his head snapped towards you.
"Why are you nodding? Of course they weren't!"
Plush, bluish lips curved in a sly smile. "Is sweetheart sure, question? It looks like something we have on our planet."
An unbelievable shock crossed your face as you stared at him, speechless. "No, you don't!"
"Yes, we do."
"You're fucking with me."
His head tilted. "I thought we can't fuck."
You rolled your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder. Or at least against the crystal surface he was pressed against. "Forget it."
"I can't, my memory is excellent."
And that was indeed true, as Satoru seemed to remember every single thing you said or did over the past few months. The plan you devised to obtain a sample of the planet's atmospheric gas to discover why it was immune to deadly microbes was etched into his mind with meticulous precision.
Truly mesmerising creature he was, especially as he also remembered which buttons to push, to make you cum faster.
What you had also discovered was that Satoru loved to talk about your future.
Particularly during the late nights, when you were curled up under the warm blanket, lying on a mattress in a dimly lit room, with him cuddled up against your side.
He couldn't brush your soft cheek pressed against the wall, but it was fine.
For the look of your lovely face, he watched with warmth blooming in his chest, was enough.
On such nights, when both of you longed for each other's warmth, he enjoyed dreaming. Of you returning with him to his planet, building you a small, private island with oxygen, and fulfilling all your wishes. You teaching the children of his species physics – as you did on Earth – and him continuing to serve as the most valued engineer on his planet.
Of you and him living together in a small seaside cottage, spending days loving each other and lying on the soft beach till darkness would spill over the ocean's horizon – the only his planet had, the one he was ready to fully give into your hands. Having sex all day and night, to which you responded with a sweet, faint giggle, as sleep slowly slipped onto your eyes.
"And how would we do it, hm?" you mumbled, pressing against the crystal wall.
A soft furrow haunted your forehead, and he imagined calming it with a gentle roll of his thumb. "The atmosphere of my planet allows us to use a special technique," through the glass wall, he traced the curve of your lips. "It wraps my body in a thin barrier, but I would be able to touch you," soft lips touched to the point where your nose pressed. "And kiss you. And hug you, make love with you, although we wouldn't have children."
You understood why and giggled softly, slowly opening your sleepy eyes to meet the endless, pale blue. "You really want to get even closer, huh?"
It was a joke, and yet a warmth bloomed behind his spectral eyes, forcing your heart to skip a beat. His hand pressed to the part where your chest met the wall, before he leaned his forehead against "yours". "If I could, I would make you live inside me. So nothing in this universe would ever rip us apart."
A faint oh rolled past your lips as you bit on the soft inside of your cheek. "Satoru, I don't know how long your species live, but… I don't have as much time as you think."
A sudden panic swelled behind his eyes, and thumb slipped out of the crystal wall to brush your lower lip. "My best friends have been mates for the past hundred and sixty years. How many can you give me, question?"
Something ripped through your heart. Cut it with painful slashes, till a crease on your forehead deepened. "Not a lot, Satoru. Maybe seventy years?"
His thumb paused, an ache spreading across the vast, pale blue plains. "I've lived three hundred years without you," he said, warm lips pressing into the wrinkle between your "brows". "I won't survive another seventy."
But the endless honeymoon couldn't last long.
For there was a reason why both of you found yourselves in space. Why the mission was tagged as suicidal, and why there wasn't enough fuel to get you back to Earth. And while Satoru's dreams indeed sounded tempting, you knew that it simply wouldn't work out.
For you breathed oxygen, and he needed ammonia gas.
Your body stayed cool at thirty-six degrees Celsius, while his was burning up to over two hundred.
He was three hundred years old – you twenty-seven.
But he didn't have to know all of that. Over the past twenty-seven years, no one had made you laugh, enjoy, and love life as much as he did. Even if those brief moments of happiness were only meant to last a few months, they were enough.
After the mission, he could go back safely to his home, and you… well.
And you would need to watch him die.
It was truly unpredictable, and none of you could foresee how the situation would turn out. You finally arrived on the planet, prepared to collect the necessary samples of the antidote. You didn't know, however, how dense its atmosphere would be.
How the wind would violently hit your ship, tossing it sharply left and right as you stepped outside in your spacesuit and carried Satoru's sampling device back onto the ship.
He told you to leave it. When you almost fell off the ship, he begged you to come inside. Hit the wall with hands, screamed right into the speaker inside your helmet, pleaded to leave the sample and just come back.
But you simply couldn't do it. Because leaving it here, after Satoru spent decades in space trying to seek the solution, would be simply foolish. Egoistic, and thus, after a few harsh currents, you grabbed the box filled with antidote cells and went back to the ship.
But then, it started spinning. And spinning and spinning, wish wind smacking it in violent currents, and you found it almost impossible to get back onto the normal route. Every single light inside the control room shimmered red. Satoru tried to calm you down, but there was nothing he could truly do from behind the glass wall.
You pushed and flickered every button, every controller, but after one sudden, brutal tug of the ship, your face hit the console.
Eyes filled with red, a nasty crack came from the nose, and the gaze became a bit hazy. You tried to push one last button that would help the ship get away from the planet's strong current, but you were simply too weak. With blood slowly covering your whole face and belts still pinning you to the chair.
Satoru shouted something, but you couldn't hear him clearly. Was it because of the red lamps and an alarm filling the control room? Or maybe because of the sudden sleepiness that blanketed your eyelids?
His fists hit the glass wall, spreading the dull echo around the control room. A soft sweetheart sweetheart sweetheart rolled past his lips, but you simply had no energy to look up. As if you did, the sigh of his trembling, panicked face would rip your heart apart.
His large fists wanted to break through the wall, eyes looked at the blood dripping down your face, body filled with helplessness and desperation, trying everything in his power to get close to you.
With a single finger, you still strained to push that last red button. To get the ship back on track, at least allow Satoru to be safe, and finish the mission that would help save his planet. But your body couldn't handle the gravitational force caused by the spin, which pressed you into the console. The slow crushing of your lungs, mind filling with fogginess, throat crushed beneath the flickering buttons.
So with a soft, almost inaudible I'm sorry, your eyes closed.
A second has passed, a minute, with mind registering the crying alarm and… and a shatter of glass.
A sudden pain washed over your body – burning and stinging every nerve. Someone lifted you up, carefully, slowly, trying to wrap you in blankets and clothes, anything to keep you from the lethal touch.
Quiet, you'll live, sweetheart will live, sweetheart, sweetheart, keep your eyes open, amid violent waves of coughing and painful moans, filled the corridors of your spaceship. When your eyes opened a little, you saw nothing but thick steam evaporating from something.
Someone.
"Satoru?" slipped out in a whisper as, from beneath the curling steam, a blue, familiar face looked down at you, wet-cheeked. "Satoru, no, y-you'll die–"
"Shhh, sweetheart, it's okay, it's okay, sweetheart will live," he repeated like a mantra, hugging your wrapped body closer to his.
Fiery skin burned through the thick layers of blankets, leaving burns all over your bloodstained skin. Your body hit something, and before you noticed, an automated medical care robot soon filled your vision. The mechanical arms pressed the oxygen mask to your face before an IV needle slipped beneath the skin of your arm.
"Satoru," you mumbled weakly, trying to find those familiar, pale eyes.
And he was right there, offering you the most painful, heart-tearing sight. Tears ran down his cheeks, white steam curled tortuously from his body, and gaze slowly grew weaker. He could barely breathe, yet still stood right there.
Over your barely warm body, making sure that you would live.
"I watch you–"
"No, S-Satoru," barely pushed through your squeezed throat. With crystal tears swirling in your eyes and fingers trying to push him away from the table. "Go back, p-please, or–"
"No, I watch you sleep." his fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt. "You won't die".
You were too weak to fight him. In too much pain, with your head pounding, skin burning from his touch and anaesthesia slowly kicking in.
And so, with a last look into the eyes your heart laughed for, you fell asleep.
There was no way to tell how much time had passed. How long you stayed under the mechanical clutches of the medical robot.
How long Satoru needed to suffer, to make sure you would be alive.
But when you finally woke up and ripped yourself away from the needles, he wasn't there.
He wasn't in your sight, but something else, something burned, marked the floor. Dark traces of blue dust led further inside the spaceship. Still weak, with the last traces of blood dried on your cheek, you followed them, your heart pounding. And a little grain of foolish hope bloomed inside your heart, fresh tears already swirling in the corners of eyes.
The ship was back on a normal route, carrying you through the galaxy at a slow, peaceful pace. Thanks to Satoru.
The blue dust led you through the control room, down into the basement, kitchen, bathroom, and finally to the bedroom, as if he tried to, for the last time, see every part of the ship. Just to make sure everything was working. That after waking up, you wouldn't have to bother yourself with anything.
And so another wave of crushing sob bubbled in your throat. A pain ripping you open as you entered your shared bedroom and saw him there – curled on the mattress, the upper part of his body already slipped inside his crystal corridor. As if he didn't have the strength to crawl in fully. Too busy watching you sleep.
"Oh, Satoru," a cry finally escaped your throat, as your knees bent beside his body. "You fool, so stupid, you're–oh!" A hysterical lament filled the small bedroom as you touched his cold body. "Satoru, how c-could you leave me alone?"
Face, always beaming with so much warmth and joy, lay in dead silence. With your loving, blue eyes closed behind the curtain of white lashes and lips more pale than usual.
Gathering every last ounce of strength still boiling in your body, you brought his ball back. In such a tight, ammonia-filled space, the chance of his recovery was much higher.
Opening it was almost impossible, so you cut a hole big enough to, with pain ripping through your muscles and sweat dripping down your spine, somehow push him inside. And then you glued the walls tight, with a prayer dripping off your lips, and your body cuddled into his crystal ball.
"I'll watch you sleep," you whispered, brushing the surface with his pressed cheek. "You won't die."
𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖
The sun spilling through the curtain tickled your cheeks. The chirping of birds made you sigh deeply, and the gentle sea breeze coated your skin with soft kisses. The shoulder, the soft line of the spine, the slightly sweating neck, with a salty fragrance slipping sweetly into your nostrils.
You tried to stretch, waking up your stiff body from a deep slumber, but something locked you in place.
Something heavy and long, curling around your waist and pulling you closer to another stony wall.
Or, maybe you should say, stony chest.
Looking over your shoulder, you've met with a cheeky smile curling your husband's lips and still-sleepy, pale eyes. He pulled you closer, until your head found itself under his chin and your legs entangled with his.
"Good morning," you giggled, turning in his arms. "Did you sleep well?"
Satoru hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The thin barrier wrapping his body glimmered under the spilling sunlight. After years on his planet, you no longer needed a translator to understand his language. And so you kissed his blue neck, tracing the kisses up, and up, along his jaw and chin, until finally locking your lips with his.
"Apologies, I didn't watch you sleep."
You chuckled, biting gently on his lower lip. "Were you that tired after last night?"
"Mmm," a soft, satisfied hum escaped his throat when you felt something hard poking your belly. "Forgive your husband, he didn't realise he had a tigress and no wife at home."
You chuckled sweetly, forcing his lips to curl in a sly smile.
"Does my wife need anything? Do you want Suguru to lower the temperature?"
Tracing the sharpness of his jaw, up to the curve of his lips, your head shook. "No, it's warm enough. Maybe you can ask him to lower the birds' chirping a bit. I think they're a bit louder than yesterday."
He nodded, pulling you even closer. Till your bodies tangled in one, and a slow, peaceful pounding of his heart beat against your breasts. "Mhm, sure. But let's sleep a bit longer, and then you can jump on me as much as you want, hm?"
So with the last, soft kiss between your brows and heart swelling from feeling the heaviness of your body on his, Satoru allowed you to cuddle into his muscular chest and watch him slowly slip into a deep slumber.
ooh but what if there's like strict omega-handling protocol in rescue hero work because an omega in distress is like primed to instinctively trauma-bond to whoever saves them. so heroes are supposed to like, call it in when they find an omega in like, advanced distress, because if they're an alpha and they go near the omega, they're likely to trigger this mutual, problematic situational bond that can be hard to shake after without destabilizing the omega further
and when bakugo finds an omega like nearly shut down from distress in a disaster scenario he radios it in like he's supposed to - but then his ear comm crackles that it'll be thirty minutes before the recovery team can make it there, and the disaster is still like...very ongoing. he keeps his distance while he can, trying to follow protocol as he calls to you periodically to tell you he's there and help is coming...but when the wind shifts and the environment turns suddenly more dangerous, the choice is made for him. like, what is he going to do, just leave you to die instead of risking some temporary whatever that probably won't even happen since he's got his alpha shit so locked down? nah.
he waits til the last possible minute, truly he does (he's not looking forward to the getting-chewed-out he'll get for breaking protocol like this), but when the structure you're stuck in groans in warning, he snaps into motion without much conscious thought.
and yeah, you're....yeah. you're an omega, sure enough, and panting, wide-eyed, bone-still with instinctive distress. you're stiff like a board when he carefully extracts you from the rubble, your breathing tight and shallow, and shit, maybe he shouldn't have waited so long, he thinks, as he tucks you against his chest and figures how best he'll get you out of here without bringing the building down around him.
he's relieved when he feels you notice him. when he feels you sense his presence, his buried alpha-nature, because your breathing deepens and you soften in his arms. shifting, curling towards him and wrapping yourself around him as best you can. easier to hold as he works the both of you out of this death trap, as you huff softly at his neck and make plaintive whines at his throat.
it'll be fine, he tells himself, as he clutches you tight and just manages to clear the building before it begins to crumble to pieces. he's just making those responding, low chuffs to your soft whines to comfort you, alright? normal hero shit. and yeah his heart is beating oddly hard as he finally gets away enough to pull you back from him to look you over, to see if you're bleeding or if you have anything broken, and when you make a pained sound of protest at being separated, he clutches you back against his chest, his arm wrapped tight around you as he moves as carefully as he can to not jostle you as he moves through the wreckage and barks into his ear comms for a med team.
you're trembling and whimpering against his throat as he finally gets you to the perimeter of the disaster area to where med teams are waiting, and his hands are hard on you as he holds you close to keep you from scrambling up his body to get even closer to him.
the first emt he reaches freezes when he sees bakugo appear with you in his arms, his eyes widening. "oh," the emt says. "she's - she's in distress, you can't be - you shouldn't be - "
and bakugo just snarls, his heart fucking pounding in his chest (why? why is his heart racing so hard?), growling at the emt to fucking help you, obviously it'll be fine, and what did the emt want him to do, leave you so the recovery team could find a corpse instead?
but when the emt reaches for you in his arms, bakugo's entire body stiffens. going rigid, a low, ragged growl rumbling up his throat and through his clenched teeth. and bakugo is still growling, his hackles raised as the emt takes a step back and radios over comms that they need a recovery team at the med tent asap, his eyes wide as he takes a step back from where bakugo is clutching your softly whimpering form to his too-tightly, all but baring his teeth at the emt.
bakugo wakes up in the hospital a few hours later, his neck aching from the tranq they had to stick him with, and when he blinks up at the ceiling and feels a deep, aching flutter in his chest that tells him, as surely as if spoken aloud, that you're in the next room over, and you're still in some amount of distress, he scrubs his palm over his face and mutters, "fuck", before he feels another aching flutter and is on his feet in an instant. unable to stop himself as he goes to you, his alpha pacing and grumbling in a way that he knows won't settle until he has you back in his arms and is soothing you.
apocalypse - one
undergroundboxer!kuna x reader [soulmate au]
warnings [mdni] - angst | implied trauma | mean sukuna
wc - 7.3k
series masterlist
∞
ryomen sukuna knew three things about his soulmate.
she drank too much caffeine, she slept curled on her side whenever anxiety crawled beneath her skin and whenever she read for hours on end or colored, the noise in his head quieted enough to let him breathe.
it was fucking irritating.
the first time she got under his skin, it was in the middle of his first match.
he’d nearly put his fist through the guy, rage sitting ugly beneath his ribs as blood pooled in his mouth and sweat dripped down his spine.
then suddenly, he was overcome with serenity he’d never experienced before.
a calmness that wasn’t his own, never his own.
something soft slipped beneath his skin then, warm and quiet in a way he wasn’t used to. like somebody had pressed cold hands against the back of his neck after years of burning where he stood.
he’d won that match.
“again?” toji muttered from across the gym, cigarette balanced lazily between scarred fingers.
sukuna rolled his jaw once before slamming another punch into the heavy bag hard enough for the chains overhead to rattle violently.
“fuck off.”
toji smirked, tongue peaking out to lick at the scar against his lip.
the gym smelled like rust, sweat and the metallic ting of blood that both men were used to. it was a shitty set up buried beneath the city in the lower levels of an abandoned parking structure. it barely looked legal from the outside and the inside wasn't much better.
the concrete floors, flickering lights and men all too violent to exist comfortably above ground.
and it was the place ryomen sukuna felt alive.
sukuna had been fighting since he was fifteen and filled with a rage even he couldn’t understand.
toji found him bloody outside a convenience store after some older guys tried jumping him for gambling money.
it was clear they didn’t get the money but sukuna took that fire in his gaze out on them.
sukuna still recalled the way toji looked down at him, droplets cascading down his sharp features and dark hair, damp cigarette hanging from his mouth while blood dripped steadily from sukuna’s split brow.
“you fight like an animal,” toji began, taking a drag of his fading cig before tilting his head at the salmon haired boy, “what if i told you that you could beat the shit out of guys every day and get paid for it?”
a fucking dream is what that was. he gets to utilize his anger and he could finally get out of his father’s house.
how could sukuna even say no?
somehow, it turned into this.
years later, ryomen sukuna had become the name whispered through underground rings across the city. not because he was the biggest or the strongest, but because he was cruel.
there was something deeply unsettling about the way sukuna fought.
controlled, almost lazy sometimes. like violence came so naturally to him that he didn’t even need to think about it.
people feared men who fought emotionally.
they feared ryomen sukuna more because he never did.
most nights, he fought beneath screaming neon lights while crowds chanted his name loud enough to shake the walls.
they bet on him like he was a sure thing and fuck, did he get a shitload of money from it.
he’d leave each night, beaten and bruised with a duffel of cash hanging off his shoulder.
he was living the dream.
that was until he arrived home, in his apartment downtown, and sat in silence while somebody else’s emotions bled quietly into his chest.
a girl he’d never met yet somehow knew like the back of his hand, all too intimately.
he knew she liked coffee because of the bursts of energy he’d feel during mornings where he usually slept in because his fights usually carried into the night.
he knew she did yoga often because his muscles weren’t as sore as they would get when he was younger and god knows it wasn’t his doing. he didn’t stretch nearly as much as toji nagged at him to.
he also knew that she despised him.
that one was obvious.
their bond always sharpened after his fights. her irritation sat bright and hot beneath his ribs every time he came home bruised and bloody.
sometimes he couldn’t differentiate between his own rage and hers.
maybe they were more alike than he thought.
truthfully, sukuna didn’t know how to do things any differently and frankly, he didn’t care enough to.
he hated this whole soulmates shit. why would the universe ever pair two people together with the utmost certainty that they were perfect for each other?
and what fucking masacre did this girl commit to be bonded with him of all people?
violence was the only thing sukuna had ever been good at and he wouldn’t change that for anyone, especially some girl who was almost a mere figment of his imagination.
he did that sometimes. pretended that he was a non-existent and that he was merely hallucinating her.
non-existents made up a very small part of the population and they were essentially humans who didn’t have soulmates. like toji was.
lucky bastard.
sometimes sukuna believed toji was lying because he’d get this distant look on his face some days, kind of like himself when he felt his own soulmate torment him.
so maybe he was a late bloomer?
either way, he was in a better situation than sukuna was.
“your girl’s pissed again?” toji commented dryly from where he leaned against the boxing ring ropes, head tilted with a knowingness sukuna hated.
toji was the one sukuna had to confide in because who else did he have?
when he was overwhelmed as a young teenager about his soulmate, toji would be the one he would reluctantly go to. the older man had taken him under his wing, so yes, he did trust him more than anyone.
he also knew that toji cared about him in his own fucked up way.
sukuna’s knuckles ached tonight, phantom annoyance curling beneath his skin that didn’t belong to him. it was her.
probably studying somewhere in the city while silently wishing death upon him.
the thought almost made him grin.
throughout the years, pissing her off became a hobby of some sort, though he knew she didn’t find it nearly as amusing as he did.
“at least you know she’s got personality.” toji stated once more as sukuna finally stopped punching and turned to shoot the man a glare.
“shut the fuck up.”
toji huffed out a laugh, “god help you both when you finally meet.”
the thought made sukuna freeze momentarily.
it was almost sad.
usually, at least from what sukuna knew, people usually couldn’t wait to meet their soulmates.
then there was sukuna, filled with dread at the mere idea.
sukuna hated even talking about the bond.
he hated how aware he was of her.
because despite everything, the distance and never seeing her to begin with, she felt woven into him already, like a haunting.
some nights, when his insomnia clawed violently at his nerves after fights, he’d feel her wrap her arms around herself beneath warm blankets god knows where.
and sleep came easier those nights.
he couldn’t explain it and truthfully, he didn’t like to think about it.
he hated talking about her because the truth was ugly.
that he didn’t particularly hate her. which is exactly why he knew meeting her would ruin everything.
naturally, his solution was to sabotage everything which is why he started to sleep around with non-existents whenever he got the chance.
and he knew what it did to her.
good. he hoped it made her despise him enough to never want anything to do with him, whether they meet now or twenty years down the line.
sukuna didn’t want anything to do with her.
∞
you hated downtown on friday nights.
it was always too loud and all too crowded.
neon signs bled into rain-slick streets while bass-heavy music spilled from every open doorway along the block.
girls stumbled across sidewalks in tiny dresses and tall heels, drunken laughter cutting through the humid summer night air while taxis lined the streets endlessly.
the city looked beautiful after dark, but you still wanted to be everywhere but here.
“stop looking at people with that judgy look of yours.” shoko muttered beside you, nudging your shoulder lightly as the three of you crossed the street.
“i’m not judging, i’m just looking around…” you defended with a huff as you hugged yourself protectively, little kitten heels clicking against the pavement.
“you are judging,” utahime confirmed, “it’s your classic disgusted and glare-ey look.”
“well excuse me, you’re the ones who brought me to crackhead-ville.” you glared at the two girls as shoko rolled her eeys before hooking her arm through yours anyway.
she pulled you towards the entrance of yet another overcrowded building downtown.
apparently, tonight’s party was being held somewhere above an abandoned old bar. or beneath it.
either way, something you found entirely too ominous but you were too distracted when shoko was explaining to actually disagree.
your soulmate had spent the entire evening restless beneath your skin. not angry but worse.
aware.
you felt him constantly tonight.
a steady pulse of adrenaline humming through your bloodstream that didn’t belong to you.
your chest had felt tight since leaving the penthouse, some strange tension settling low in your stomach like your body was anticipating something before your mind could catch up.
it was unsettling.
you blamed the lack of sleep, or rather, you blamed him. you blamed him for it all.
“ew, ew…” you muttered as shoko pulled you through the door into what you could only describe as chaos.
warmth and noise hit you instantly.
bodies crowded wall to wall beneath flashing lights while music shook violently through the floorboards.
cigarette smoke lingered in the air despite the open windows somewhere deeper inside the space.
you physically recoiled.
“oh my god,” utahime muttered beside you, laughing softly at the expression painting your features, “you look horrified.”
“i am horrified!”
shoko snorted, “rich kids.”
you threw her a glare before the three of you squeezed through the crowd until you reached a quieter section tucked near the back of the room.
a curved leather couch sat half-empty beneath dim red lights, thankfully far enough from the speakers that your skull stopped vibrating the second you sat down.
you exhaled deeply, chest deflating as you blinked up at your friends who were looking at you with amusement.
“drinks?” utahime questioned as shoko nodded eagerly while you merely hummed, shoulders tense as you gazed around the sea of bodies.
utahime disappeared toward the bar while shoko took a seat beside you, the leather beneath you sticky in a way that had you shuddering, sitting at the very edge of the couch.
fuck, you hated this and you couldn’t explain why.
yes, you hated parties in general but you just felt wrong.
“you’re being weird tonight.” shoko observed, eyes narrowed on your tense figure.
you frowned faintly, “i know…i feel weird.”
your skin felt like it was buzzing, chest vibrating in a way it usually wasn’t.
it wasn’t necessarily bad, but simply off.
you felt your soulmate more than ever tonight, you were almost hyperaware.
he felt electric.
every emotion coming from him felt sharper somehow, close enough that you could almost mistake them for your own.
your pulse kept jumping for no reason.
fuck, you hated this.
“is it devils dick?” shoko casually asked as your eyes closed momentarily.
how would you explain that it was both yes and no.
yes, the bond felt different tonight.
but no, it wasn’t muscle aches or phantom pain you were feeling on his end, though you didn't want to speak too soon.
it was a friday after all. friday nights usually meant bruised ribs by saturday morning.
“oh my god, guys!” hime stood before you, handing shoko her drink before placing a water bottle in your hand, “everyone’s saying gojo and his crew are gonna be here!”
your eyes rolled gently, very much aware of utahime’s obsession with those random illegitimate fighters.
underground fights happened constantly throughout the city.
illegal betting rings buried beneath clubs and abandoned buildings, violent enough that respectable people pretended they didn’t exist despite everyone secretly knowing otherwise.
your father even told you how known politicians and well known figures even placed bets they hid from the public.
and lately, there was one name that everyone kept talking about-
“do you think sukuna would show up?” shoko questioned, eyes wide with excitement, taking a sip of her cherry vodka as you looked between the two girls.
ryomen sukuna.
you’d heard it constantly from utahime the past few months.
uathime, shoko, sora and percy often went on double dates to these underground fights you had zero interest in.
you were very much used to fifth wheeling alongside your friends, that wasn’t the issue. the issue was rooted in the prospect of spending the night in a filthy underground boxing ring riddled with people and violence alike. yuck.
still, amongst all the fighters utahime gushed about, ryomen sukuna seemed to be the most known.
the undefeated underground fighter with pink hair and a snake tattoo across his shoulders and collarbones.
people were terrified of him just as equally as they were obsessed with him.
“percy says sukuna knocked his opponent unconscious in under thirty seconds last week!” shoko stated, taking another sip as utahime nodded frantically.
“he’s insane!” utahime gushed, “like, gojo is obviously a show off and just cares about the clout he gets but sukuna? he’s terrifying…”
utahime continued, you were sure. you could see her mouth moving but you didn’t-couldn’t register the words she'd uttered.
the world around you turned hazy, just enough to feel like everything slowed in a way that definitely wasn’t normal.
your heartbeat stopped, not metaphorically, but physically.
a sharp wave of adrenaline crashed violently into your chest hard enough to steal the breath straight from your lungs.
you went still, every muscle in your body tightening instinctively.
you could see both of the girls leaning towards you, brows furrowed in concern, mouths moving and uttering words you knew were dipped in concern. you couldn’t hear any of it.
you swallowed hard, eyes darting up and around you, as if a siren was luring you towards the crowd, come to me, come, come.
fuck, were you drugged or something?
your heartbeat stuttered painfully beneath your ribs, once, twice then again.
you felt like you’d been dropped underwater while everyone else remained above the surface.
the bond felt raw and entirely too overwhelming.
it felt like standing at the edge of something life-altering, like your soul had recognized something before your mind could catch up to it.
for the first time since you’d first felt your soulmate, he didn’t feel far away.
you had grown used to the idea of him, something intangible and not truly real.
merely a ghost haunting the edges of your nervous system, phantom bruises in the middle of lectures and an adrenaline rush at three in the morning.
he was the deep-seated exhaustion that riddled your body but didn’t belong to you.
but this felt real. close enough to touch.
the sensation crawled slowly beneath your skin, winding around your ribs like invisible string being pulled tighter and tighter and tighter until you thought you might choke on it.
the realization hit your bloodstream like a drug.
he was here, you knew it. you could feel it in your bones.
your eyes darted towards the door that had swung open, summer air rushing inside alongside four figures dressed almost entirely in black.
the first thing you noticed was height.
they all carried themselves with the same dangerous sort of confidence, the kind that came from men who had never truly feared consequences before.
one of them had snowy white locks, the tallest of the bunch, bright enough to catch beneath the flashing lights, sunglasses balanced lazily across his nose despite the fact that it was nearly midnight.
another stood beside him, quieter with shoulder length black locks with stretched gauges in his ears and sharp eyes that swept across the room once before settling into bored indifference.
the third one was shorter than the rest but still tall, black locks in two spiked buns with a joint resting between plump pink lips, eyes hooded in a way that exposed that joint not being his first of the night.
they were all attractive in a way that felt almost unfair and dangerous.
people moved out of their path without being asked.
your eyes turned to the one trailing just a step behind them and your breath caught so violently, it hurt.
the salmon colored locks gave him away.
ryomen sukuna.
tattoos curled dark against tan skin disappearing beneath the collar of a black shirt that stretched across broad shoulders.
even from where you stood, you could see the dried blood and bruises across his knuckles.
he looked nothing like what you’d imagined from shoko’s descriptions.
and simultaneously, exactly like it too.
something deep inside you snapped taut, your stomach dropping.
you could tell he was dazed too, jaw locked and eyes blinking at a slow pace, eyes looking around the sea of bodies.
the soulmate bond surged so hard beneath your ribs, you physically recoiled, fingers gripping the edge of the leather couch.
oh god. no, no, no.
oh my god…
“oh my god,” utahime whispered beside you, though unlike you, she sounded impressed rather than horrified.
shoko looked moments away from passing out entirely.
“that’s him!” she breathed out quietly.
you couldn’t answer, breath stilling and hands trembling.
because sukuna had stopped walking.
fuck, the realization came slowly enough to feel cruel.
maroon eyes met your own and the room around you dissolved entirely. the music became muffled noise, lights blurring and the crowd disappeared.
all you could see was him. him. him. him.
he was all you could see, feel and you knew all he could see was you.
sukuna felt it the second he stepped through the doorway.
you.
the bond snapped violently alive beneath his skin hard enough that his entire body locked for half a second mid-step.
he almost thought someone had drugged him until he remembered he hadn’t even drank anything yet.
then what was this feeling?
his eyes locked on yours and he felt the most alive he’d felt in his life.
something even the ring and the violence couldn't offer.
there you were, all too pretty and wide eyed.
he barely heard gojo speak beside him anymore, the lanky man rambling on about some idiot from last week’s fight who apparently called him out on twitter after.
sukuna ignored him completely because across the room sat a girl staring at him like she’d seen a ghost.
and in some ways, he was your ghost.
he haunted you and lived under your skin in ways he was sure you didn’t appreciate in the slightest.
his soulmate.
years of phantom feelings crashed together all at once so violently, it almost made him sick.
because the realization hit him harder than he’d anticipated and yes, he had anticipated this.
the moment he’d meet his soulmate.
well, he dreaded more than anticipated it.
it hit him hard because he realized that he knew this girl.
sukuna had never met you, yet, he bet he knew you more than the two girls hovering over you. more than fucking anyone.
you were the girl whose stress bled into his bones during finals week, the girl who wrapped her arms around herself at night and somehow lulled him to sleep from miles away.
you were real.
and you looked soft.
that was the first thing he took note of.
soft skin, soft wide eyes, soft pink shimmery gloss coating your plush lips he recognized only through phantom warmth he’d felt against his own skin before.
his soulmate was a pretty little thing, so pretty it almost made his chest ache. in your tiny skirt and halter top.
far too fucking pretty to belong anywhere near him.
“sukuna?”
choso’s voice cut through the haze faintly and sukuna snapped out of it, gaze finally leaving hers to glance at his friend who tilted his head towards the other side of the room.
sukuna resisted the urge to glance at you as he made his way across the room.
fuck, fuck, fuck!
this couldn’t be happening, this was a fucking nightmare.
just as he made it across the room, he felt it.
warm fingertips brushing his own skin despite his hands at his sides.
his pulse stuttered once.
his gaze snapped to yours once more and your eyes widened instantly when you noticed his hand drift to his neck where your own hand was resting.
slowly and carefully, sukuna lifted his own hand.
his fingers brushed lightly against the side of his jaw, a barely there touch.
yet, across the room, your breath hitched sharply as warmth bloomed against your own jawline seconds later.
not imagined or coincidence. it was all real, so so real.
your stomach twisted violently.
oh no. no no no no.
shoko was gazing at you, “what’s wrong?!”
you couldn’t answer, eyes stuck on a pair of crimson that held you hostage.
her eyes narrowed as both her and utahime followed your gaze before catching sukuna’s eyes on you.
then they both looked between you both a total of five times before realization hit.
“wait,” shoko whispered harshly, hand shooting out to grip your arm, “WAIT.”
utahime’s jaw physically fell open, “holy shit…”
your heartbeat pounded so violently, you thought you might faint right then and there beneath the flashing red lights.
what you despised most is that it made sense.
of course it was him. a violent and dangerous underground fighter, fuck, that explained everything so perfectly.
if fate was a person, you’d have her by the neck right now.
because sukuna was still staring at you, as if he knew you already and perhaps, he did.
then horrifyingly, he smirked.
and suddenly, you understood exactly why the entire city feared ryomen sukuna.
sukuna moved before he could really think about it, jaw clenched but determined.
one second he stood on the other side of the room and the next, his body was already weaving through the crowd toward you like the bond itself had wrapped invisible fingers around his spine and dragged him to you. you. his soulmate.
people moved instantly to let him pass.
you took note of that immediately.
you noticed the way conversations died around him, the way bodies shifted out of his path and nobody dared touch him, even accidentally.
it was fear, you realized. people feared him.
the recognition made your stomach twist.
“oh my god,” shoko whispered harshly beside you, nails digging into your arm, “he’s coming over here!”
“i can see that.” you hissed back faintly, though your voice barely sounded like your own.
fuck, you should leave. you should absolutely leave.
except, you couldn’t move, body drilled to where you sat, frozen in place while ryomen fucking sukuna rossed the room toward you like some predator chasing prey.
closer and closer and closer.
until suddenly, all his 6’4 glory was towering above you.
your breath caught embarrassingly hard.
up close, he was worse.
taller than you’d imagined and broader too.
there were faint bruises scattered along his jawline beneath the dim lights, on the very spot that you woke up feeling sore. fresh cuts healed across his knuckles.
and his eyes, god, they looked at you with the same recognition burning through your own chest.
sukuna looked down at you for a moment too long.
fuck, you were even more ethereal up close.
that thought hit him first and annoyingly hardest.
his pretty little soulmate sitting curled into the edge of a leather couch looking at him with wide doe eyes, almost expectantly with a mix of fear and restraint.
“hey.”
his voice slid down your spine like smoke.
low, dangerous and rough in a way even your mind couldn’t conjure up.
fuck, was this really happening?
your throat tightened instantly, “hi.”
the word left you horrifyingly softer than you’d intended and sukuna’s lips twitched at the sound.
your voice was his favorite sound, instantly.
“um,” shoko hummed, eyes wide as she shared a glance with utahime, “we’ll give you two a second.”
you almost wanted to yell in protest, but the two girls were already shuffling away, shooting you encouraging looks.
as you glanced up at the dangerous man once more, you felt your heart still in a way you hadn’t ever felt before.
not in fear or apprehension but calm.
he made you feel calm, your body stilling and quieting in a way you hadn’t expected.
regretfully, fuck, you despised it, but when that gentleness overcame you and you looked up at him…
his disheveled pink locks, his handsome rugged features and his dark eyes, all of it was him.
and you felt stupid for trying to deny that this man was your soulmate.
who else would it be?
“i’m sukuna,” he stated lowly, moving to take a seat beside you, leaving an appreciative distance between you, “ryomen sukuna.”
your name left you softly with a nod.
as you gazed at each other, the same realization overcame you both.
even with barely an introduction, you knew each other.
while sukuna had only fond memories of what you’d done for him, your mind was riddled with poisonous ones.
this was the man who often trained in the middle of the night, filling you with soreness and a rush of adrenaline that left you sleepless most nights.
he was the one who fucked other girls knowing what that put you through.
your heart clenched.
beyond all those things, he was the one who hugged himself to sleep after that one night of utter hell.
he was the one who held a hot water bottle to his stomach when your cramps left you nauseated and pained in bed.
as much as you wanted to forget those things, to snap yourself out of the sad patheticness that riddled you, how could you?
how could you when those were the only memories that kept your hope that he wasn’t a total monster alive?
your eyes travelled along his bloodied knuckles, “you get those a lot.”
sukuna’s fists instinctively clenched at the attention.
“and you burn yourself with whatever you do your hair with at least twice a week.”
your eyes widened instantly.
“and you get punched like every other day!”
sukuna’s mouth twitched and you hated how your eyes drifted towards the movement and your heart stuttered.
“barely.” sukuna stated cooly, a small smirk painting his features.
your eyes drifted toward him again before you could stop yourself.
and then you remembered.
every phantom feeling, every sleepless night and every ache.
all attached to him.
the violence, the pain, the girls.
your jaw tightened, "you’re not exactly the best person to be connected to, you know.”
sukuna’s expression didn’t shift much, still cool, but you felt it.
the hollow drop in your stomach that wasn’t yours. guilt.
real and immediate, it almost made you laugh in disbelief.
of course he felt guilty, he had to know he was a fucking nightmare.
sukuna leaned back slightly, jaw working once as his gaze flickered away from yours for half a second, “yeah, i bet.”
your brows lifted, “that’s it?”
his eyes returned to yours, low and indifferent.
you scoffed, anger bubbling up so quickly, it nearly startled you, “that’s all you have to say?”
sukuna let out a breath through his nose, “what do you want me to say?”
“oh, i don’t know,” you let out a sharp little laugh that held not an ounce of humor, “maybe sorry would be a good place to start?!”
sukuna’s head tilted, “sorry.”
you stared at him in utter disbelief before a laugh left you once more, this time softer and dripped in something worse than anger, “wow…”
sukuna’s eyes borrowed, “what?”
“you’re unbelievable is what!”
“you asked for sorry.”
“not like that!” you nsapped, voice rising just enough to have your cheeks flushing, “not like you’re apologizing for stepping on my shoe!”
his expression hardened slightly and you felt it immediately, the irritation beginning to curl beneath his skin.
ugh, you hated how the closeness made both your emotions so heightened.
“you have no idea what you put me through,” you continued, voice trembling despite you rbest efforts, “none.”
sukuna’s gaze darkened, “don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“act like i wasn’t there too.”
you blinked at him, something hot and ugly twisting in your chest.
was he for real?
“you were there?” you repeated quietly, “you were there?”
his jaw clenched, “don’t-”
“no, please,” you leaned forward slightly, anger sharpening every word, “explain it to me. because to my knowledge, you were the one making my life miserable while i was the one trying to keep us both sane!”
sukuna looked at you for a long moment, jaw clenching and unclenching.
the lights washed over his face in flashes of red, making him look even more unreal than he already did.
“you think i wanted this?” he stated more than asked and your heart clenched.
hurt shot through you, your eyes growing glassy against your will because you knew he wasn’t referring to the pain he’d put you through.
he meant the soulmate thing in general, fate as a whole.
he didn’t want you.
you bit the inside of your cheek, willing your tears to stay in your eyes before breathing out, “no. but neither did i.”
silence settled between you then, not peaceful but loaded.
sukuna could physically feel your hurt and his eyes dropped briefly to your hands where they trembled in your lap.
your fingers curled instantly, too proud as you hid the movement.
it was too late. he’d seen it.
even worse, he’d felt it.
“i didn’t know.” he stated lowly and you froze.
your eyes flickered up, “what?”
his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, expression unreadable.
“at first,” he clarified, “i didn’t know what it did to you.”
your chest tightening, knowing what he was referring to and his words didn’t soothe you in the slightest.
“and after?”
in fact, it made it all worse.
especially as he said nothing.
your face fell slightly, all the anger in you cooling into something quieter and melancholic.
“after, you knew.”
his gaze remained on you as his fingers flexed once against his thigh, “yeah, i knew.”
your eyes burned and you hated yourself for it.
you hated that it still hurt despite knowing already, you hated that hearing him say it aloud made it real in a way the bond never had.
“why?” you asked, the one word absolutely humiliating as much as it was devastating.
sukuna looked away first and somehow, that hurt too, “because it was easier.”
your lips parted faintly, “easier?”
he lout out a grunt, “if you hated me, you wouldn’t look for me.”
the words settled between you like something deadly.
for a second, you genuinely couldn’t speak.
then you did, “that is the stupidest, shittiest thing i’ve ever heard.”
hsi eyes snapped back to yours, scowling, “careful.”
“oh, fuck you!” you hissed lowly, “you don’t get to do that! you don’t get to hurt me on purpose and then act like it was some noble sacrifice.”
his jaw tightened, “it wasn’t noble.”
“yeah, no shit.”
“it was necessary.”
you laughed once, incredulous, “necessary? well, congrats, you got what you wanted, i absolutely fucking despise you.”
sukuna’s jaw clenched, eyes glaring at you, “good. because you don’t know shit about me, this saves us both the hassle.”
“i don’t know you?” you shot back, “i know you more than anyone, probably. i know your body hurts more often than they don’t. i know you clench your jaw when you’re mad. i know you can’t sleep because of your nightmares and unless somebody practcially forces your nervous system to shut down, you could go days without it. i know you’re so angry at the fucking world, it makes you so hateful.”
sukuna went still, too still.
you swallowed hard, eyes burning once more, “and i know that for years, i was the one cleaning up the damage you left behind.”
his eyes darkened, “cleaning up?”
“yes,” your voice cracked despite yourself, “me. i was the one hugging myself to sleep because you wouldn’t. i was the one stretching every morning because your body always felt like fucking concrete. i was the one coloring like a goddamn toddler at three in the morning because it was the only thing that made your anger stop choking me!”
sukuna said nothing and you hated that even more.
you wanted him to argue back, to answer, to fucking care.
“do you know how pathetic that feels?” you whispered, “taking care of someone who kept hurting me?”
his expression shifted, barely, but you felt it again.
the guilt, even deeper this time.
sukuna looked at you like he wanted to say something cruel and couldn’t quite manage it, settling with, “you didn’t have to do all that.”
your laugh came out watery, tears now trickling down your heated cheeks.
fuck, you felt nauseous, you felt so fucking sick.
“yeah, i know that now.”
something passed across his face then, a flicker of pain so quick, you almost missed it.
but the bond didn’t allow you to miss anything. you felt it bloom in your own chest, sharp and unwanted. his.
for one terrible second, you almost let it soften you.
almost.
because there it was again.
that tiny, stupid sliver of hope you’d spend years nurturing because it was the only thing that kept you mildly sane.
the one that whispered that maybe he wasn't all cruelty. maybe there was something beneath all that violence and pain.
maybe the boy who held a hot water bottle to his stomach when your cramps got bad had to exist somewhere inside the man sitting in front of you.
you looked at him then, through your blurry vision, really and truly looked.
the hard line of his jaw, the coldness in his eyes and the casual arrogance sitting across his shoulders like armor.
and that hope crumbled quietly inside your chest.
not dramatically or all at once, but piece by piece, like something old finally accepting it had been dead for a long time.
utter disappointment filled you then. you should have known better.
this shouldn't be surprising.
sukuna had spent years telling you exactly who he was, painting you the worst image of himself and you had hoped it was just that.
the worst of himself.
except the worst was all of him.
sukuna was cruel. not because he didn’t know better but because he did.
because he’d known what hurt you and decided hurting you was easier than wanting you.
you swallowed around the ache in your throat, suddenly exhausted in a way a thousand years of sleep couldn’t fix.
all you wanted was to be home now, cuddled up with ani in your room alone.
“right,” you whispered, nodding once to yourself.
sukuna’s brows pulled together slightly, “right what?”
you pushed yourself to your feet, smoothing trembling hands over the front of your skirt because you needed something to do. anything that didn’t involve looking at him.
“this was enlightening.”
his eyes narrowed, “sit down.”
the command sparked something sharp beneath your ribs, the thorn twisting in your heart.
you let out a hollow laugh, “fuck you.”
his jaw flexed, “don’t make a scene.”
your name left him then and you hated the way your stomach fluttered at the melody of it in his voice.
fuck, your heart hurt.
because he was your soulmate. yours.
because some sick, twisted part of you had expected the universe to redeem itself when you finally found him.
you expected the first moment to feel like every story you’d grown up hearing, witnessed amongst your friends.
warmth, recognition and relief.
instead, you were standing in front of the man who had turned your body into a battlefield and your heart into collateral damage.
“i hope i never see you again.”
something flickered across his face then and you didn’t stay long enough to decipher it.
you turned around, the crowd swallowing you almost immediately as you walked away.
music slammed back into your skull, bodies pressing close as you pushed through them with shaking hands and blurred vision.
your chest felt too tight, lungs too small for the oxygen your body ached for.
behind you, you felt sukuna rise before you saw it. the immediate pull.
his presence growing closer and your heart stuttered stupidly.
some miserable, pathetic part of you sparked alive at the thought before you could kill it.
maybe he did care.
maybe he was going to take back all the words he regretted, that he would stop you and apologize properly this time.
he would say what you’ve been waiting years to feel.
the thought was so humiliating, it almost made you sick.
“fuck are you lookin’ at?!”
you heard his voice aimed at the crowd of people that were watching you both, probably since your conversation on the couch.
you shoved through the door and stepped into the narrow hallway outside the main room, the music muffling instantly behind you.
the air was cooler here, damp with rain and cigarette smoke, blue neon bleeding through the cracked windows at the end of the corridor.
you took in a breath like you hadn’t breathed in days, eyes shutting as your heart hammered against your chest, trying to simply process everything that had taken place.
“hey.” his voice followed you out and you froze, heart stilling.
stupid, traitorous thing.
you turned slowly, eyes fluttering open.
sukuna stood a few feet away, tall and shadowed beneath the hallway light.
away from the party, he seemed even more dangerous. less like a person and more like a warning your body had spent seven years failing to understand.
he was an enigma.
for one breath, neither of you spoke.
your hope stood there too, fragile and shaking, fucking pitiful.
waiting.
sukuna’s gaze dragged over your face once, catching on the wetness beneath your eyes and his expression tightened faintly.
say it, you thought bitterly.
say sorry! say you didn’t mean it!
say something!
his jaw worked once, “no one can know.”
your brows furrowed, the hope dying cleanly.
“excuse me?”
sukuna stepped closer, voice lower now.
his mouth opened to clarify when his gaze met your own once more.
your wide glassy eyes. your pretty face that was streaked with tears, your plump bitten lips.
the little sniffles that left you, making his ribs ache.
and suddenly, he froze, the words stuck in his throat.
fuck, he had to get it together.
“about this.”
your lips parted faintly, “about us?”
the word us felt absolutely pathetic in your mouth.
all too soft and hopeful. undeserved, even.
something in his eyes shifted at the sound of it but it was gone before you could hold onto it.
“there is no us.”
oh. you actually felt that one.
not through the bond, nor as some phantom ache borrowed from him.
the pain was yours, all yours.
you laughed once, quiet and disbelieving as you took a small step back, “wow…”
sukuna followed you, taking one step forward as his jaw clenched, “listen to me-”
“no,” you shook your head slowly, voice trembling, “no, i think i understand perfectly.”
sukuna’s eyes darkened, “you really don’t.”
“oh my god,” you shook your head, “i can’t believe i thought-”
you stopped, humiliation burning up your throat.
sukuna stared, taking a step closer, his chest now brushing your chin, “thought what?”
his voice was almost desperate and you swallowed, blinking hard, “nothing.”
his face tightened and he felt it anyway, of course he did.
the hope and hurt.
the fact that some tiny, unbearable part of you had wanted him to come after you because he simply couldn’t let you leave.
sukuna looked away first as you took a step back. fucking coward.
“it’s dangerous.” he stated as you stared at the side of his face.
“dangerous?”
“yes.”
“for who?”
his gaze cut back to yours, “for you.”
you almost laugh but he continued before you could.
“people know me and if they know about you, they’ll use you. you make me weak.”
the words landed colder than you'd expected.
sukuna watched you closely, as if waiting for the fear to register and maybe it did.
somewhere deep, deep down, but anger got there first.
“so that’s what this is?” you whispered, tears leaving you without you noticing, “damage control?”
his silence was answer enough and you nodded faintly, tears burning hot once more.
“right.”
“you need to keep your mouth shut about it.”
you flinched before you could stop yourself and sukuna paused, regret flashing through instantly.
“don’t talk to me like that.” you stated lowly and his jaw clenched.
“i’m trying to keep you safe.”
“oh, how big of you.”
the hallway seemed to shrink around you both.
outside, rain tapped gently against the glass.
inside, bass thudded like a second heartbeat through the walls.
you looked at him then, this man that fate had tied to you with an invisible string and cruelty dressed up as destiny. and for the first time since you’d felt him at sixteen, you stopped wondering what it would be like to find him.
because now you knew and god, you wish you didn’t.
it felt like losing something you’d never even had.
“is that all?” you questioned lowly, clearing your throat once.
sukuna stared at you, nose flaring and throat bobbing once, “yeah.”
another piece of you gave out as you nodded, “okay.”
the word was so calm, it made his eyes sharpen.
you turned away, walking past him but his hand caught your wirst before you could take full step.
skin met skin and the bond went silent, completely and utterly silent.
no buzzing or aching or distance.
just him, all warm and real. terribly real.
your breath hitched at his touch. it was the first time he’d ever touched you.
sukuna froze too, fingers wrapped around your wrist like he’d touched fire and couldn’t make himself pull away.
for one second, just one, all the cruelty fell quiet.
and you felt him beneath it, scared and lonely, wanting and waiting.
you felt it and you hated him for letting you feel it now.
slowly, you looked down at his hand then back up at him, “let go.”
his grip tightened by a fraction, “this is the best thing for the both of us.”
your face crumpled before you could stop it.
you pulled your wrist free and this time, he let you.
“oh, trust me, not having to be stuck with you? i couldn’t agree more.” venom laced your words as sukuna’s expression changed, tightened and you felt the hurt then.
sharp and immediate and you were glad for it.
you turned and walked away then, tears streaming down your cheeks and a sob left you as soon as you were out of his vicinity.
for the first time, the bond didn't feel like a thread pulling you closer…
it felt like noose.
∞
an | was so late with this but had the worst past few days so SORRY! anyways PLSSS lmk what u think cuz i'm iffy abt the direction of this BUT this is lowk my fav thing i've written omg! this is kinda like a prologue pt2, next chapters will deffo be longer! i cannot wait to write more of these two and sukuna's a dick but bear w him ! also each chapter in the masterlist will be titled a song and i recommend listening to it while reading for the vibes 🫡
also lowk need toji BAD i wanna give him some lore so lmk if u want a one-shot of him in this au!
ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ join me for a super special celebration! i recently hit a milestone that i'm super happy with and wanted to do something fun to celebrate. i had so much fun writing this for @jazzthatonewriterchick i've just been in the mood for more fantasy stuff :3 will be a selection of drabbles + a few oneshots featuring some of our favorite jjk characters <3
🥀 Daughter of Faith, Son of the Night (Vampire-Cowboy!Sukuna x preacher's daughter reader)
In a town built on faith, the arrival of three strangers brings whispers of blood, disappearance, and something far worse lurking beneath the surface. Drawn to a man she cannot understand, the preacher’s daughter finds herself caught between light and darkness, until the truth reveals itself, and everything begins to fall apart.
🌵 Mariachi!Sukuna x reader (headcanons)
After returning to her family’s estate in Mexico, a young woman finds herself trapped in an arranged marriage she doesn’t want. Amidst family pressure and obligations, she forms a deep connection with Sukuna, a loyal worker and talented mariachi musician. As their friendship grows into love, they navigate grief, family expectations, and the challenges of starting a life together.
⛓️ Endless Night (Pyramid Head!Sukuna x Reader)
When Yuji receives a letter from his long-lost love, he returns to Silent Hill searching for answers. You follow him into a town where grief becomes monsters and memories twist reality. In the fog, a towering executioner watches. As Yuji’s guilt surfaces, you begin to realize that in Silent Hill, punishment is never random.
More Works
🦊 The Fox With Blue Eyes (Fox Mask!Gojo x Reader)
You refused the arranged marriage the moment you heard about it, so you left. But the fog-covered village won’t let you leave, and a strange man wearing a fox mask keeps appearing to guide you through the nightmare. What you don’t realize is that the man behind the mask is the very person you were meant to marry.
💥 Superhero/Villain × Reader AU
A collection of short stories where JJK characters are placed in the DC/Marvel universe.
JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
🐴 Echoes of the Past (Diego Brando x disabled!reader)
Once close, you and Diego Brando were torn apart by a bitter past. Years later, the Steel Ball Run brings you together again—stubborn, proud, and facing a road full of danger, rivalry, and unspoken memories. Every mile tests more than just your skill—sometimes, the hardest battles aren’t against the race, but each other.
⭐ Suzi Q & Jotaro Kujo Headcanons
Headcanons about Jotaro caring for his grandmother, Suzi Q.
Invincible
🧪 The Cost of Legacy (Grand Regent Thragg x Invincible!reader)
After a brutal war leaves the Viltrumite Empire on the brink of extinction, you try to return to a normal life on Earth, but Thragg has other plans. Bound by blood you never knew you had and choices you can’t take back, you’re pulled into a dangerous power struggle where duty, control, and survival blur into something far more personal.
using you to get close to his target seemed like a good idea - until toji ended up the one with a bullseye on his heart instead
synopsis: you were paid to pick up after Satoru's messes. toji was paid to put a bullet in him. but doing his job is a lot more difficult when the lines between personal and professional get blurred. just how far will he go to get the job done without losing you too?
pairing: hitman!toji x f!reader
wc: 10.6k
content: smut, light angst, YANDERE TOJI, he's a hitman so murder lol, stalking, obsession, jealousy, oblivious reader, falling for each other, he's lowk crazy lol but he is hot!!, mentions of drinking, flirting, he wants us bad, semi-public sex, fingering in a bar bathroom, making out, shower sex, light spanking, pulling out, toji is a problem solver lmfao, comfort
a/n: toji art is by @ackshuallyvalerie !! this was a commission for the lovely @chewiebee
For a pretty penny, he could put a bullet in anyone.
Toji had been doing it long enough now that pulling the trigger didn’t bother him. The things that did were dulled with booze, gambling whatever he was given and riding on the high until he crashed and couldn’t afford shit anymore.
Then he did it all again. And again. And again.
“This one is-” Shiu started, and the hesitation in his voice irritated the shit out of him. Like he couldn’t fucking handle the same job he’d been doing for years.
“How much?” Toji interrupted, bringing a lukewarm beer to his lips, watching some boxing game on the bar’s tv. The sound was muted, but it wasn’t like anyone would be able to hear it over the rumble of drunken girls giggling and grown men arguing over which athlete was better.
Shiu slid over the contract, tapping over the amount being offered.
It was more than his past six jobs combined.
“I’m in.”
Shiu made a weak attempt to try and talk him out of it. Tell him he’d end up in jail at best, or buried six feet under at worst. That the target was high profile.
Toji didn’t care who it was a death sentence for. It wasn’t like there was much worth left in living anyway.
Flipping through the file, headshots of some smarmy-looking CEO, the kind of guy who made millions in a day just by existing, probably spending more time spinning around in his office chair than actually doing a shred of the work he was paid for. Blessed from the time he was born to be rich and beautiful, rolling around in dollar bills and women with big tits.
Satoru Gojo had never known a single day of struggle. Of suffering.
Honestly, he’d probably do the job even if he wasn’t being paid for it just to see the look on his face when the gun went off. Watch the life drain from him out and stain his custom-made suit.
He spent a few days doing research he hated. Copying down schedules and figuring out the holes in his security system. When he worked, who he spent time with, where he liked to frequent.
To find the answer to the question: how did a man who thought he was untouchable like to live?
Lavishly.
He went to the nicest gym in the city, the kind that probably cost more than Toji's rent did every month. Followed it up with treat shops, always leaving with a bag of desserts with enough sugar to give him cavities. No trips to the dentist though.
But the most interesting part of his routine was one that hadn’t been in any of the notes he was given. Not a blip on anyone’s radar, apparently.
You.
“I got you a coffee,” you offered, your short little pencil skirt riding up your thighs as you chased after your boss through the lobby of his fancy office building in the center of the city.
“Thanks,” he grinned at you, grabbing it just to place all the papers he’d been holding in your hands instead, pushing even more on top while you awkwardly opened and shut your mouth to stop yourself from saying anything.
He took a small sip, scrunched his nose up while Toji struggled not to scoff out loud from where he was pretending to read a magazine in the corner next to the other waiting clients, all of them eagerly hoping to meet with the not-so-great Satoru Gojo.
“It’s not sweet enough,” Gojo criticized, masking his attitude with playfulness, acting like a child while you apologized to him as if you’d done something wrong by thinking of him.
He wasn’t listening. Just kept moving towards the elevators, pulling his phone from his pockets to make a phone call to some other prick, probably.
You scrambled behind him, folders stacked up in your arms, the coffee cup precariously balanced on top of the pile.
God, what kind of fucking loser didn't carry his own stuff?
His pretty little assistant he used more like a pack mule.
It didn’t take long to find out your name.
From there, everything else was easy.
Finding out where you lived was as simple as following you from your car to your shitty little apartment, poorly paid and scraping by while your boss lived in his luxury penthouse on the opposite side of the city. Figuring out what foods you liked from what you spent too long looking at in the grocery store before you sighed and tossed a bag of rice in your cart instead. Snapping photos of you from afar like a fucking secret admirer through your window once you got back home, time stamped and saved to a special folder on his laptop, watching you shed your coat and clothes, trading them in for t-shirts and pajama pants.
Toji wasn’t a stalker though.
Of course not.
He was just doing what he was paid for.
And what easier way was there to get to Gojo than through his cute, clueless assistant?
You weren’t even aware when he trailed behind you on the street, head trained forward, always in a rush, scampering from place to place without stopping. Running errands for a man who couldn’t care less about you.
And in this city, you might be the only person as alone as him.
Toji couldn’t put his finger on when studying you had become less of a chore and more of a habit. Day four? Week two?
Watching and waiting for the right time to approach?
For all his expertise, his ability to move through the world unseen, unnoticed, it worked against him for once when you ran straight into him trying to leave your usual coffee shop, turning when he hadn’t expected it and smacking into his chest at full speed.
The coffee – something cold and sugary and sweet – splashed over both of you, your white shirt soaked through to see a pale pink bra underneath, your face flushing for the wrong reasons as you immediately started rattling off apologies.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you muttered, trying to use the few napkins you grabbed to dab at his t-shirt, rubbing uselessly despite the fabric already being black. “I wasn’t paying attention, and-”
“S’fine,” he grunted, yanking one from his hand to wipe off your shirt instead.
You didn’t stop him.
Just froze, standing completely still as he dragged the napkin over your chest while it heaved, listening to you suck in a sharp breath.
When was the last time you’d even been intimate with a man if him cleaning your shirt had you practically pressing your thighs together in that prissy skirt of yours?
Admittedly, there was a distinct disgust churning in him at the image of you being intimate with someone else, despite how quickly he rejected it.
It wasn't like you were more than a mark to Toji.
He squinted, eyes narrowing as his attention shifted to your face just to find you openly gawking at his broad chest, lips still parted mid-apology.
“Oh, um, thanks,” you practically squeaked, looking up at all with big, surprised eyes.
“Whatever,” he tch-ed, digging out his last ten dollar bill from his wallet and holding it out despite the urge to just toss it at you to see what you’d do.
You shook your head, oblivious to the fact he was well-aware just how strapped to cash you really were, biting your bottom lip. “I can’t, I mean, that was really my fault, and-”
“Don’t make me put it in your purse, doll,” he huffed at you, even if he almost said bra. Tempted to tuck it in, wondering if you’d let him.
Did you even have it in you to stand up for yourself?
How the hell did a pretty thing like you survive so long on your own like this?
“A-are you sure?” You stuttered, glancing back over him again.
His pride took a fucking hit at your uncertainty.
Did he seriously look like he couldn’t spare a ten dollar bill? Was it the sweatpants?
He showered this morning, bothered to spritz on cologne when he usually couldn’t give a shit. Toji ran his fingers through his hair, jaw locking as his eyes narrowed.
“You got a pen?” He grumbled, wagering that you definitely did. Maybe he hadn’t seen the inside of your purse, but he’d been watching you long enough to know what its contents were.
In a not creepy way.
“Yes?” You blinked, somehow cuter when you were confused.
Still though, you were obedient, anticipating him asking for it and just digging it out from your bag to hand to him. The tip of it had been bitten, another little hint of how nervous you were by nature.
He took it from you, his calloused fingers brushing against your much softer ones, a jolt of electricity traveling up his arm at the simple touch, the soft way your breath paused. You had to feel it too.
Toji scribbled his number down.
His personal cell.
You were beaming before he even finished writing the last number, standing up straighter, sticking your chest out more.
“I’ll buy you a new shirt,” he grunted, giving you the pen before the dollar, holding it out over your head, your stare flickering from his face to the money. “Text me.”
He wanted you to reach for it.
To chase him.
But three more days passed – and he hadn’t heard a peep.
Toji knew what you were up to, tracking you instead of his target, taking notes on everything you did instead of texting him. You stared at your phone at home though, left the dollar bill sitting on your kitchen counter, running your fingers over his writing as if you weren’t sure what to do.
He supposed he’d have to help you figure it out then.
Especially considering Shiu was starting to get on his ass about getting the job done.
Because that was what this was supposed to be about – a means to an end.
Faking a name tag was easy. Digging up the old utility overalls he’d seen some of the other maintenance workers wear at your office, the sort of position no one ever paid any mind to until they were needed for something. He didn't get much sleep, trading in his night shift watching you go to sleep for snooping around your office. And in the morning, after going back to his car to put on some cologne, he walked back in through the lobby like he was supposed to be there, not even getting courtesy nods from your coworkers.
Toji had memorized your schedule.
So he knew to be in the third floor break room at ten, pretending to fix something in the ceiling when you walked in to make a cup of coffee.
For yourself this time.
He was climbing down from the ladder he stole from a storage closet when you sighed and started cleaning up the mess the last person had left by the coffee machine. You didn’t notice, didn’t even turn until you went to grab a mug from the shelf, frowning when you realized they had all been moved to the top shelf.
A nice touch, in his opinion.
Setting everything up to be the one to take care of it for you, stepping behind you, close enough for you to feel his chest on your back as he reached up to get it for you.
“Here,” he grumbled, and you slowly spun around to face him.
Stuck between his sturdy body and the cold counter, frozen in surprise at him being here. He wondered if you’d be scared, suspicious.
It was funny to watch you get so flustered instead, completely frazzled as you tried to find the words to say.
“Um, you, uh, work here?” You finally managed, and he just raised a brow, the scar over his mouth twitching as he gestured towards the name tag on his belt.
You blushed again, your attention drifting to something else by it, the bulge he hadn't meant to be sporting.
“Mhm,” he hummed, a low drawl that made you smile at him.
It was sunny. You were. Bright, not bitter. Absolutely unaware that the world revolved around you.
“Sorry,” you apologized, even though you had no actual reason to. Maybe for not messaging him back. Maybe for stealing glances at his dick.
He paused, a weird strained feeling taking over his chest, constricting his lungs when you tilted your head to the side.
“I haven’t seen you around before,” you added, holding your breath.
“I’ve seen you,” he shrugged, and your entire face practically lit up at the idea someone had been paying attention to you.
You swallowed hard, trying to stifle it. To keep it contained, to make yourself smaller in front of him, like he wouldn’t like you if you weren’t soft-spoken.
“Do you think you could take a look at the phones in my office? Well, Mr. Gojo’s,” you corrected yourself, toying with your fingers before cringing. “Only if you're available, of course. I put in a ticket but-”
“Sure,” he grunted.
As long as the actual maintenance guy didn’t come, you’d never know the difference. After all, that was why he’d broken in last night. Disconnecting the phones himself, creating a couple issues with a few of the computers in the sales team downstairs that the real department would be too busy to handle any of your problems. If you ever pieced together he didn’t actually work there, it wouldn’t be until long after he was gone.
He'd prefer it if you never knew any better.
And Shiu never said he couldn’t have some fun first.
He followed you back to your office, not hiding his stare, enjoying how you were already squirming, nervously shifting and looking over your shoulder at him every few feet.
“You didn’t have to do it now,” you mumbled, embarrassed, but he shrugged.
Rolling his shoulders back to remind you how broad they were, catching the flash of you biting your lip before you faced forward again.
Everything about you was far more fucking adorable than it had any right to be.
Toji had never really gotten the appeal of stuffed animals. He never had any when he was a kid. No softness, no warmth, nothing small and sweet to hug. But you reminded him of one.
Or maybe that was just the urge to pick you up and squeeze you hard.
“What’s wrong with ‘em?” He gruffly asked, gesturing ahead as you hit the button for the elevator to take you both to the top floor.
“They just ring, and um, nothing happens,” you tried to explain, smoothing down your skirt self-consciously.
He nodded, like he knew what the problem could be, and he did, actually. Because he caused it.
The elevator doors opened, thankfully empty. There was something annoying about the idea of sharing you – even for a minute.
Toji told himself that you were just less irritating than other people. That it had nothing to do with you in particular, just how disgusting the rest of the world was.
But he was still observing how you pushed the button, how quickly you went back to fiddling with your fingers and picking at your cuticles. Clasping your hands in front of you, maybe just remembering the fact you forgot your coffee back in the break room. Left it by the pot you brewed, your lip gloss staining the rim from the single sip you'd taken and the drink inside growing cold.
Did you confess?
Admit you wanted to go back and grab it?
Nope.
He knew you wouldn’t. All that meant was another excuse to go back and get it for you himself, maybe make you a fresh one to cement his spot in your good graces, to get your guard down.
The elevator dinged, opening up to wooden floors and soft lighting. Wall art he had briefly contemplated stealing the night before, although he skipped since it’d be a bitch to sell.
Besides, he’d have more than enough money to cover anything he wanted to buy soon enough.
“Um, the phone’s over here,” you shyly said, leading him over to your desk.
Toji nodded, a low grunt of acknowledgement leaving his throat while he pretended to work on it, messing around with cables.
You were watching him, taking your seat and clicking away on your keyboard despite your eyes constantly flickering over to his.
He pretended he didn’t notice. Setting his jaw in a firm line while he unplugged stuff just to put it in different outlets. He considered tapping the lines, just to listen in to whatever you were saying during the day, but then he'd have to justify that expense to Shiu, and he really didn’t fucking feel like getting a lecture.
His handler would tell him just to take out the target already. Stop wasting his time getting close to a liability.
But of all the risks Toji had taken, you were the easiest one of all.
Would you let him find an excuse to get under your desk? Maybe catch a peek at whatever pair of panties you picked out today?
Your personal phone rang – and you were scrambling to pick it up and answer.
“Hello?” Your voice lilted up, all pure and sweet, and Toji immediately loathed whoever you were addressing.
It wasn’t anything he could control, just instinctual irritation, a cheese grater to his patience watching you sit up straighter in your chair while you listened to whoever was on the other end.
“Of course, sir,” you chirped. He had to stop himself from snapping the cord he was holding when he caught how you were subtly twirling your hair. Glancing down at your lap and sucking in a sharp breath before you mumbled, “Sorry, Satoru.”
Toji had to look down to make sure he didn't somehow electrocute himself when the edges of his vision tinged with red, annoyance rolling into a tight ball of anger. The hard kind that couldn't crack, just rolled around in the pit of his stomach, demanding something be done about it.
“Okay, see you in thirty.” You smiled. A soft one, biting it back before plastering a practiced expression of professionalism, probably remembering Toji was still here.
He scowled at the realization Gojo coming back meant he should probably skip bringing you that coffee. Didn't want to risk running into him too soon.
You hung up, and he shoved the last cord back in the correct place.
“Try now,” he growled, picking the phone up from the receiver and passing it to you.
You took it from him, your fingertips brushing against his again, all gentle as you cradled it between your shoulder and ear, nails clicking on the keypad. Relief flooded your face when it worked, looking up at him like you were thankful.
Gratitude wasn't something Toji knew how to receive.
He was used to the exchange of cash, of cold demands that ended in death. Your warmth was alien.
What had a guy like Satoru Gojo ever done to deserve it?
Was this jealousy? Bitter and begging to be addressed, his skin itching at imagining the man getting your company all day long, having you at his beck and call.
Whatever it was, Toji was going to fucking squash it.
“Thank you, it was really nice of you-”
“What are you doing after work?” He interrupted before you could finish rambling, making all the reasons why you were easy to take advantage of excruciatingly obvious. You were too sweet. Too nice. Acting like he was a saint for fixing your phone, unaware he was the sinner who broke it to begin with. Who'd break your boss too, the second he got the chance.
“Um, nothing?” You blinked. Your lips were still parted, but you didn't say anything.
“Wanna grab drinks?” He grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. Toji wanted to lean across the desk, put his palm flat on top of your useless papers and peek at your cleavage, but you were the sort that scared easily.
The confusion on your face was cute.
“Like, as coworkers?” You were clueless. “Are other people coming or-”
Did you seriously fucking think you were just getting left out of some after work hangout?
“Like a date,” he clarified, struggling not to contain his urge to bend you over your desk and show you just how not-platonic his interest was.
“With me?”
You were gawking, but there was an unmistakable air of giddiness to your face, a grin you couldn't suppress even under all that shock.
“Did I stutter, doll?” Toji gruffly said, walking around your desk until your eye level was at his mid-riff. Your hand tightened around the armrest, slowly dragging your stare up like you could see the truth in his face.
“Um, sure,” you nodded, still unsure of how serious he was. “If you want to.”
“I want you,” he easily shrugged, making his point clear.
He wasn't delicate. Wouldn't skirt around shit like your Satoru did. Being blunt was the only way to get it through that pretty skull of yours anyway.
“I'll be waiting for you out front at six.” That was when you usually scampered out anyway, frazzled and exhausted from handling a man child's chores all day.
“Okay,” you spoke softly, betraying your feelings by covering your mouth with your hands, hiding a smile behind them.
He turned to leave, but he kept his eyes on you all the way to the elevator.
You watched him too. He might have a job to do.
Toji was just going to fuck you first.
Was this how it felt to have a crush?
Well, one that wasn’t hopeless and unattainable?
You’d been wasting years wishing Satoru noticed you. And in a matter of days, someone else had snuck up on you. A spilled coffee. A phone number. And now, a date.
When was the last time you'd even been on one?
You frowned at your reflection in the mirror, fingers working to undo another button of your shirt and hike up your skirt a little higher. Half of you was disappointed that he hadn't asked you out on a different night, or given you enough time to go home and get changed into something a little more sexy and less like you just stepped out of an investor meeting.
But the rest of you was just glad he wanted to go out with you at all.
You tried to tell yourself you had less time to overthink this way. That you wouldn't be distracted for days until the date, waiting for him to cancel.
But when you walked out of the building at six, leaving a sticky note for Satoru whenever he stepped out of his office letting him know you couldn’t stay late tonight, Toji was true to his word, waiting for you in a beat-up black car.
It wasn’t sleek, wasn’t shiny and freshly glossed like Satoru’s, but it looked fast. His window was rolled down, his arm resting on it while his defined jaw unclenched at the sight of you standing there and staring.
“You comin’?”
Was it wrong to hope he’d make sure you did by the end of the night?
You scampered over, glancing around to see a few of your coworkers looking your way before you pulled open the passenger door and climbed in. His eyes raked over you, that white scar that ran across the corner of his lips twitching up as he smirked.
He was broader than Satoru, stockier. All muscles, all man.
His dark hair was shaggy, not carefully styled, his sturdy fingers running through it as he measured you the same way you measured him. He must’ve gone home and changed, in a dark shirt that clung to his chest, made you take note of his biceps bulging underneath his sleeves, probably big enough to make them burst if he strained hard enough. Wearing jeans, no name tag hanging on his belt now.
But you already memorized his name.
Toji.
It had been on the forefront of your thoughts all day, right there with the rest of his words. He saw you. He wanted you.
Invited you out like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
You were so distracted by, well, everything about him that you forgot to buckle your seatbelt until he stretched across the center console and did it for you. There was something kinda funny about a gruff guy like him taking care of something so small like that for you, grunting under his breath as it clicked into place.
Maybe just an excuse to be close to you, to touch you again.
You didn’t mind.
His attention was nice.
You didn’t know what to say though, awkwardly glancing between him and outside the window, wondering what a typical conversation looked like on a first date.
“So, um, do you like your job?” You heard yourself ask, almost immediately wishing you hadn’t just from his soft scoff, the subtle arch of his thin brow while he pulled out onto the road.
“It pays the bills,” he shrugged, and you tried to nod sympathetically. You were about to spout out something polite, but then he opened his mouth to talk again, giving you that dangerous bit of side eye that made your heart skip a beat. “But it ain’t so bad. Gotta meet you because of it, didn’t I, doll?”
And there it was again.
Doll.
Satoru sometimes called you sweetheart, but that didn’t send a shiver down your spine, didn’t have that low rumble to it that gave you goosebumps. When he said it like that, you wouldn’t really mind being a pretty toy for him to play with.
“Y-yeah,” you stammered, blushing hard as you tried to swallow your anxieties.
You were overworked. Exhausted. Barely making it by on caffeine and four hours of sleep most days. But you were here. In a hot guy’s car being flirted with on the way to a bar.
He briefly looked at you before turning back to face the road, but you could see the satisfaction in the crook of his smile.
“Relax a little, baby,” he hummed, reaching over – and for a second, you thought he was going to grab your thigh. You hadn’t realized it was hope until he just turned up the radio instead. But with a second flash of that scar and that smirk, you were smiling back at him. “We’re gonna have fun tonight."
It still took two glasses of wine for you to start to unwind, a pleasant buzz floating around in your chest, coloring your world in warm hues as he leaned in next to you, his barstool dragged close enough for his muscled thigh to be constantly brushing against yours. A massive palm casually resting on your side, pulling you in every time someone got into what could be considered your personal space.
He didn’t talk about himself.
Or that much, really.
He’d ask a few questions, then let you ramble. Sometimes, his expression would shift, his harsh and blunt edges softening when you talked about the future, about how you wanted to quit someday, find a job that wouldn’t burn you out. But it hardened a few times too, scowling when you mentioned Satoru, glaring when a drunk guy bumped into you.
And yeah, you got it. Your boss was a bit of an…acquired taste.
It didn’t surprise you that he managed to piss off one of his employees, especially when you spent most of your days cleaning up the messes he made.
“When did you start?” You cleared your throat, trying to change the subject back to him. To get to know him properly. To be the best date you could be – or at least good enough that he might want to take you home.
“A while ago,” he shrugged, another vague answer as he polished off the last of his whiskey.
He didn’t even seem buzzed.
“I feel like an idiot for not noticing you there before,” you admitted, tugging down the hem of your skirt self-consciously, shyly looking up to meet his open stare.
“S’fine,” he grunted, unbothered.
You didn’t know what to make of him past the fact he was ridiculously attractive.
Toji was abrasive. The rough side of the sponge scraping up your silverware, the hard counter edge you bumped into when you weren't expecting it, the sharp rock that sliced open the soles of your feet when you forgot to wear shoes outside. But being around him left you hoping to get cut by him. Fingers crossed that he’d be interested enough to peel you apart and stay long enough to stitch you back together – even if it was sloppy.
After being surrounded by people who only ever plastered on fake smiles and feigned politeness, he felt like the first breath of fresh air you had in forever. Something raw and real in a world full of plastic.
He wasn’t polished. Wasn’t perfect.
But you’d never been either. And you were tired of pretending and playing along.
You took another long sip of your wine, the last drop lingering on your tongue as you pushed your empty glass forward too.
He chuckled, almost appreciatively. Snagging the drinks menu and sliding it back over to you, letting his fingers linger on top of it like he wanted to remind you how large they were.
“Pick your poison.”
“I think I should probably get a water,” you murmured, a little worried he might think that was lame.
He ordered you one anyway though, chuckling when you wiped away the ring of condensation from the counter after they took your glass away.
“Don’t wanna get drunk with me?” He taunted, butterflies in your stomach fluttering when he cocked his head to the side. “I’m hurt.”
He wasn’t, not really. But you got the feeling he liked teasing you.
“I just don’t wanna think this was all a dream tomorrow,” you laughed, forcing it to sound lighter than it really was. You really just refused to let yourself get so wasted that you might black out an entire date or embarrass yourself in front of him.
His eyes narrowed, like he was the one that couldn’t discern if you were being serious.
“You callin’ me dreamy?” He dryly mocked, and that pretty jaw of his clenched, like it was a joke.
“I mean, it’s just kind of hard to believe a guy like you wants to go out with someone like me,” you murmured, offering a small smile to the bartender when he pushed a glass of water over to you.
“A guy like me?” He challenged, and you cringed at your ability to stick your foot in your mouth. You didn’t know if you actually offended him, if that was even possible, but you slipped your hand over his.
“Y’know,” you drawled, tracing your fingertips over his veins, holding your breath. “Attractive and-”
He snorted.
“So what does that make you?” He raised a question you’d never really been able to answer. There were labels you assigned yourself, but all those really amounted to was what roles you played for other people.
Lately, all you felt like was Satoru’s assistant.
Barely your own person.
“I dunno,” you shrugged. “Just me?”
“I like you,” he easily said.
“You don’t know me,” you pointed back out, bringing your water glass up to your lips to take a sip. Maybe he thought you were pretty. Maybe you’d caught his eye. But there was a difference in that and knowing what your favorite-
“You stay late even when you’re exhausted. You think of everyone else when no one gives a shit. Show up with coffee and pastries for other people when you can barely afford to pay for your parking pass. You never take your lunch break-” He was listing facts like he was bored, proving his point with the overhead lights glittering back in his green eyes. You almost choked on your water, and he slipped his hand out from your other one to drag his thumb over your lips.
It felt scandalous. Like he was just waiting to commit some grave sin with how slowly he brushed it over your bottom lip, pulling it down just enough to make you wonder what his mouth would feel like, how his taste would compare to his touch.
But then he let go, dropped his hand down just to make you miss it.
“You kinda sound like a stalker,” you giggled, unable to stop yourself from grinning at being seen.
There was some faint alarm bell you knew should be ringing, but your head had been emptied out to make room for more thoughts of him.
He chuckled, and your chest tightened.
“What’d you think I was giving you my number for?” He sarcastically asked, dark eyes narrowing under the dim lighting as he brought his own glass up to his lips.
You stifled another smile. “To pay for my shirt?”
“I was thinkin’ about getting you out of it.”
Toji was shameless.
And every flirt, every searing gaze of his that stuck to your skin and stoked that fire in your stomach? You were falling for it. For him.
Would you be a whore for sleeping with him on the first date?
Maybe, but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it mattered.
You were about to suggest maybe returning to your apartment, but your phone started vibrating, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to hold back your disappointment.
“Hold on one second?” You nervously asked, and he nodded.
“Sure,” he barked, all gravelly, not helping the simmering heat still burning under your skin. You pulled your phone out, glancing around the bar for some semi-quiet spot to take the call.
You settled on a hallway that led to the bathrooms, heels clicking on the floor as you hurried over, grateful that Toji had chosen a hole-in-the-wall sort of place, one that wasn’t packed with people to navigate through.
“Hello?” Your voice waivered, face flushing at the mental image of what your boss was probably doing on the other end. Scowling down at the note you left him?
“The hell are you?” Satoru whined on the other end, apparently not happy at your absence.
“I’m on a date,” you whispered back into the speaker, just for him to scoff back. The sound of it, even tinny and crackling through the line, fucking stung.
As if it was actually so absurd that you could be with someone.
“I need you here,” he huffed. “We’re supposed to be preparing for tomorrow’s meetings.”
You tapped your foot, glancing back to the end of the hallway, picturing Toji sitting on the stool waiting for you.
“I already prepared all your slideshows. Anything you need should already be labeled and on your desk,” you muttered, doing your best to still sound professional. Collected. Calm. Put-together instead of just a weak-willed pushover.
Toji wasn’t wrong. You spent all your time thinking of Satoru when he really couldn’t care less. You were just convenient to him. That was what he paid you to be.
“I can’t find it,” he grumbled. Lied.
“I also emailed everything to you,” you added, and he didn’t bother to hide his whine of annoyance.
Irritated that you had a life outside of him. That your existence wasn’t solely devoted to making his easier.
“Who are you even ditching me for?” Satoru was pouting. You could hear it in his voice.
“If you really must know, he works in the maintenance department and-”
He laughed at you.
“Leave that loser.”
Was that what he thought? That the best you could get was a fucking loser?
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Satoru.” You hung up on him. Slipped your phone back in your purse, looking up just to see Toji leaning against the wall across from you.
Startled, you stepped back, blinking and trying to figure out how someone as big and broad as him managed to sneak up on you.
“He botherin’ you?” Toji grunted, gesturing towards your purse.
“No, um, just work stuff,” you lied.
You didn’t want to tell him the CEO of the company basically called him a loser. It felt mean, and you were worried he’d somehow think you shared the same impression.
“Yeah?” He angled his head down to look at you, and his proximity made your pulse race, wild thumps roaring in your head as he took two steps closer.
“I hung up on him,” you admitted, even though he hadn’t asked. Feeling bold just by being with him, as if you were already getting away with something.
“You wanna give me all that attention instead, baby?” His voice was deep, a gruff purr that had you nodding.
Your obedience earned a pleased hum.
And even better, a kiss.
The kind that knocked the air from your lungs, his calloused hands cupping your face as he claimed your lips for himself. You kissed him back just as hard, craning your neck up into it, tethering your fingers through his dark locks while you sucked on his lower lip.
He tasted like whiskey. But his lips were soft enough to make you overlook the feeling that came with wondering if this was a mistake.
If Satoru would fire you for wanting to get fucked instead of running back to fuss over him.
Toji wasn’t the sort of guy who’d let you linger on silly worries though. No, his canines were already tugging at you, nipping at the spots you’d bitten out of stress, one of his rough palms travelling down your body, settling on your waist to pull you flush against his hard body.
You wanted to touch him.
To pull off his shirt and trace your fingers over all his muscles, map them out and drag your tongue over them. His was busy, already in your mouth, muffling your surprised gasp when his grip on your side suddenly squeezed tight.
“Fuck,” he groaned into your mouth, an intangible thread in your stomach pulling taut at the sound.
He dragged you back inside the bathroom, the employee one, like he wanted the thrill of fucking you in public with less of a risk of being walked in on.
It was sleazy.
But the exhilaration of his hand now on your hip, the way his fingers dug in and wrinkled your skirt as he pulled you through the door, your back being pushed against the cold sink as his mouth latched onto your throat next, it outweighed any rational thought your brain could conjure up.
You wanted him.
The world could wait.
This was more real than anything else your reality had to offer. His tongue licking a clean line up from your collarbone to your jaw, going back to leave messy hickies, claiming you as his. For tonight, at least.
Hopefully longer.
But you kept that thought to yourself, only letting small whines escape as his hand ventured under your skirt, toying with your panties underneath, slipping two fingers underneath it, testing how much the band could give.
You didn’t want to scare him off. Push him away before he'd even put his dick inside you.
He seemed like he specialized in one-night-stands. Like he was used to getting who he wanted when he wanted. And really, you were just so fucking sick of being single.
Of being lonely.
The hand that had still been on your face moved back, suddenly cradling the back of your neck, squeezing enough to make your head tilt back and give him easy access to more of you.
There was a vulnerability to it, letting him sink his teeth into your throat, marking you up enough that the bruises would bleed through your concealer tomorrow.
But then Toji was tearing your panties off, easily rolling the flimsy fabric that you truthfully paid too much for, shoving what was left of it in his pocket before prying your thighs apart.
You spread them further, your lungs freezing half-full of air as you watched him drag his eyeline down to your exposed cunt, already embarrassingly wet after just a couple hours spent in his company.
He hiked your skirt higher, appreciatively admiring it, clicking his tongue as he shoved a thick finger inside you. Clearly, he’d taken note of how much you noticed them.
You were gasping before he even made it down to the knuckle. Eyes widening, your hands immediately shifting to claw at his shoulder blades for some stability when you tried to contain your reaction.
But Toji wasn’t going to let that slide. Refused to let you hide every lewd reflex – shoving another finger inside to join the first just to force out a strangled moan at the feeling of him stretching you open.
Scissoring you at a tempo that bordered on lethal, only pausing his onslaught of kisses to watch your face when you said his name, all pitchy, almost pathetic. Putty for him with just a couple fingers.
“Ya’ like that, pretty?” He grumbled, fraying with impatience, already itching to add another – or maybe trade his fingers out for something bigger.
“Mm, mhm,” you murmured, nodding as you reclined your head back, the cold edge of the counter digging into your skin as he pulled you closer to him just to make you jolt again at the next pump of his fingers.
“You wanna tell me why you’re runnin’ from me then, doll?” He dared, his eyes dark, his lips pulled into a thin line as you shook your head the other way.
The intensity he came with was a double-edged sword. Drawing you in one second and threatening to spear you the next. Chasing the high of being fucked full just to run from the burn, the stretch, the pleasure when he pushed you right on the edge of a cliff the next. Finding yourself teetering a tightrope you never meant to walk on.
“S’too-” You sounded slurred, even though the only thing you really felt drunk on was him.
“Hm?” He waited for you to finish, stalling his next thrust with his fingers buried deep enough to reach a spot that was a little too sensitive, knowingly swirling against it while you squirmed.
You were a wreck and he hadn’t even managed to make you cum yet.
The too much that had been about to leave your lips replaced with a desperate plea for more.
Your skin was hot, sweat sticking to your brows as he dug his fingers deeper, felt the sinful way you squeezed them, panting as tears started to form in the corners of your eyes.
There was no running. Being spread and stuffed on a bathroom sink by a handsome man who might as well be a stranger, fingers poking and prodding at all your sensitive spots, readjusting his hand so his thumb could rub over your clit.
“Thought you had something to say?” He wryly mocked, and you were pretty positive you’d forgotten everything except his name.
“T-Toji,” you whined, body stuck, all your muscles wound too tightly, hips arching up to meet his hand.
He kissed you again, harder, rougher. Crashing into you like a tidal wave, dragging you under, lost between him and the pleasure, being tossed around with each thrust of his fingers. Climaxing without even meaning to, not even a conscious choice, just being pulled into the motions as he massaged rough circles over your needy bud.
And then you were sucking in air, his fingers pulling back out with a filthy pop! before he brought it up to his mouth and took a taste. Sucking on them and groaning at the second-hand flavor of you on his tongue.
“Do you wanna come back to my place?”
You should’ve known making you cum once wouldn’t satisfy him.
Or twice.
He had you up against the wall of his shower, your face pressed against the cool tile as his hips smacked against your ass, pounding into it as he continued to leave more hickies.
“That’s it, pretty,” he grunted, his thick cock throbbing inside you, swollen tip nudging and grinding against your cervix like he owned it. Dragging himself along your walls, making sure you felt every vein, every ridge, warm water pelting both your bodies. “Look how good you're takin’ me.”
His hand ran over the curve of your ass, softly patting it. It wasn’t a spank, but you wanted it to be.
You shivered as he bottomed back out, leaning against him, mostly held up by him by now. “M-more.”
“Greedy fucking girl,” he chuckled, but his voice was raspy too, running his hand back over your ass. “You want me to spank you?”
You nodded, embarrassed to admit it.
“Say it,” he groaned, and you squeaked. Surprised at the sudden stall of his cock, feeling yourself squeezing and squirming for him to keep going.
“Please?”
His hand came down, leaving a harsh smack that made you clench around him more, a moan escaping that echoed in the cramped space.
Toji rubbed back over it, his fingers still damp, murmuring something low you couldn't make out under the shower running. But then he was back to thrusting, faster now, like he wasn't finished imprinting the shape of him into you.
It was all moans, all skin-on-skin, lewd sounds and heavy pumps, his strokes only getting sloppier when his hand slipped over your clit. Intent on making you cum for him again, his jaw clenched when you tensed up. Planting kisses up your throat, teeth marking you with an unspoken mine when you shuddered and finished, white splotching across your vision as your limbs threatened to go limp.
Toji pulled out, finishing on your back just for the water to wash his cum away. Down the drain with the soap suds.
He whispered your name into your neck, soft lips tracing back over the mess of hickies he'd left. You were in a haze, brain foggy and chest still full even after your cunt was empty again, leaning against him when he cleaned you up.
You never would’ve guessed he used the same brand of shampoo or conditioner as you. It was funny how many products you mutually had. Even the hand soap was a familiar bottle, new too, hardly used.
He dried you off with a patchy towel, wrapping it around you and shutting off the shower. Pulling you back to his bed, half-made navy blankets in a mostly-barren room. The lamp by his bed was crooked, but there wasn't all that much personal stuff laying around. No posters decorating his wall.
Nothing else to learn about him from his possessions.
“Tired?” He grumbled, tossing you a t-shirt of his.
“Mhm,” you yawned, dropping the towel to pull it over your head. No panties, but you figured you didn't really need any to sleep in anyway.
You still felt nervous getting into his bed, waiting for him to get in with you. He hesitated, staring at you strangely before he grabbed a pair of boxers from the top drawer of his nightstand and pulled them up his thick thighs.
Toji got in next to you, stiff, awkward, before holding out his arm, like he was waiting for you to snuggle up beside him.
Maybe he wasn't as much of a man whore as you initially thought.
He was acting new to this, holding his breath when you scooted closer, laying your head on his arm.
You wondered if he’d ever been soft before. If he was capable of it.
Even now, you were left with the vague impression this…tenderness wasn’t exactly that. An impression. A mask, maybe, something he wasn't used to wearing.
But the afterglow was warm. Wrapped in the heat his body radiated, his strong arms sheltering you from the rest of the world as you sighed in contentment, resting on his bicep as you looked up at him.
Your phone started buzzing inside your purse on the floor, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.
“Sometimes I wish he’d just fucking disappear,” you mumbled, sighing as you tried to push off his chest to answer it.
“Stay,” he growled, grabbing your waist to keep you in place.
You pressed your palm flat against him, pushing your lips together in a pout. “I have to answer him.”
Or he’d throw a fit and make tomorrow hell for you.
Toji begrudgingly let you get up, glaring when you bent over to fish your phone from your bag, his scar twitching down as he frowned. “You ever think you’d be better off if he dropped dead?”
You laughed, staring at the name on the screen as you shrugged.
“All the time.”
You were trouble.
Fucking you was supposed to make it easier. Satisfy the stupid urges he’d been plagued with since he saw your face. Since he heard your voice and felt your fingers on his skin.
Instead, it sealed his fate.
Yours too.
Because laying in bed the morning after, watching the subtle rise-and-fall of your chest, finding himself tracing shapes on your skin for the excuse to keep touching you, a fuzzy feeling he couldn’t snuff out was suffocating him.
Smothered in the scent of soap and sex and your sweet perfume. Sniffing the shampoo in your hair, sighing at the way his heart beat faster every time you tossed and turned.
How long had it been since he slept next to someone?
Shared more than a fast fuck? A quick make-out session that never made him feel anything?
He snuck out of bed first, readjusting your head to rest on the pillow and pulling up his blanket to cover you before he caught himself.
What the hell was he doing?
You weren’t his girlfriend.
But maybe you could be. If he played his cards correctly.
And really, was there anything better than making a bet he knew he’d win?
He found his phone in his jeans, a few missed calls from Shiu waiting. He deleted them. Walked out into the kitchen, opening the door to his mostly-empty fridge, staring at the eggs in there, the few cans of energy drinks, before moving to the pantry. There wasn’t much there either. Rice. Ramen.
Stuff for a single guy who didn’t give a shit about taking care of himself.
“What’re you doing?” You yawned behind him, all sleepy and sweet, and he glanced back over his shoulder to see you walking over, clutching his blanket to your chest.
“Lookin’ for something to make you breakfast,” he grunted, folding his arms across his chest.
You giggled, like it was fucking cute.
“Got any coffee?”
He made it a week of pretending to be a normal guy in a normal relationship before the fractures started forming.
Donning his fake uniform and driving you to work and to your place, narrowly avoiding being spotted by your boss and undermining all those pesky security systems to set up for what he was really planning. Using a couple of his contacts to get his hands on something that couldn’t be traced back to him. Moving all the pieces into place while playing boyfriend.
He might’ve dragged it out longer – went another few days, pushed back Gojo’s death date again – but Shiu wouldn’t shut up.
Toji was supposed to be waiting for you outside, wishing for a cigarette and reading your message that your boss was making you help him with one last thing then you’d be down to get lunch with him when his own handler called.
“The hell is taking so long?” Shiu scoffed over the phone, almost as annoyed as he felt.
“Covering our fuckin’ asses,” he growled back.
There was no way he was risking his fucking neck this time. He wasn’t going to jail for this shit – and he sure as hell wasn't going to let you either.
“The client expects this done-”
“I’m handling it,” Toji interrupted him, a gruff growl from the back of his throat.
He had the stuff with him, everything he needed to make you his – and send Satoru Gojo to an early grave.
“Take care of it.”
Shiu hung up on him.
The soles of his boots were heavy on the ground, tapping his foot as he checked the time again. Two more minutes, and he'd call you. The seconds tended to drag by without you there.
He heard your voice, faint, still far away, but he turned anyway.
You were walking out the main doors of the building, Gojo walking close behind you, his brows drawn tightly together, scolding you. He grabbed your wrist, but you shrugged him off, Toji’s blood boiling at how handsy that asshole was, touching something that didn't belong to him.
All the stares of people passing by, coworkers or not, shifted towards the two of you.
Your sad little pout, your chest puffed out and trying to stand straight, while he glared at you.
“Maybe I should just fire you,” Gojo scoffed at you, and you flinched. Toji could feel the vein in his forehead throbbing, fist clenching while you did your best to bite your tongue.
But then you surprised him – and Gojo – by beginning to speak up, “I’m-”
“You’re replaceable.”
Your face crumpled at how sharply he cut you off. Struggling not to cry, to hold yourself together while he turned on his heel and stormed back inside. Other people pretended to not be eavesdropping, avoiding eye contact when you walked away. Head hanging low, rubbing your eyes, barely paying attention to where you were going until he caught you.
You didn't even say anything when Toji pulled you in for a hug, squeezing you against him as you automatically hid your face in his chest.
He was shit at comforting people. Had never really known what to say. How to make anyone feel better.
But you didn't seem to mind, a few muffled sobs snuffed out when your mouth was pressed against his broad muscles.
“H-he said he’s gonna-” You tried to choke out, but Toji just softly patted your head.
“Don't worry about him,” he grunted.
He wouldn't be alive long enough to actually fire you.
Toji didn't say that though. He let you cry in his car, listened to you vent about your latest argument, wiped away some of your tears with the calloused pad of his thumb.
And when your break ended, and you were supposed to go back to finish off your shift, he walked back in with you. Made up some excuse about putting off taking care of the next maintenance ticket, like he hadn't already disabled all the cameras in the building earlier.
Usually, he preferred a bullet and brute force. Didn't see the point in a delicate touch and careful preparations. But he'd make an exception for you.
This one time.
“I think I'm gonna make him some coffee,” you murmured, still sniffling as you grabbed the stuff you needed for it.
Like it would be a truce instead of a death sentence.
You didn't know any better. Just scurried around the break room, not noticing when he poured a little packet of powder into the cup the moment your back was turned.
“You’re too good for him.”
You glanced back at Toji, smiling even though it didn't reach his eyes. Not really believing it, but still appreciating the sentiment.
“You're probably the one person that thinks that.”
You picked up the cup of coffee, pouring a ridiculous amount of sugar in, enough to cover the slightly bitter powder. You even snagged a can of whipped cream from the fridge, swirling it on top as if your efforts would be appreciated.
Two birds. One stone.
Or really, two fools and one cup of coffee. That was all it'd take for you to be his and both your problems to be solved.
And if it didn't?
Well, his gun was still tucked inside the band of his jeans.
“Are you sure you're not going to get in trouble?”
Toji had gotten on the elevator with you, his hand still slung too low on your waist to be purely polite, brow arched up at your concern for him slacking off.
“Just wanna make sure you're alright,” he grumbled, huffing and looking back at the buttons lit-up on the elevator.
You weren't really sure what he was to you.
A boyfriend? A lover?
But you didn't mind. His proximity was nice. His presence in your life was welcome.
Even if it was causing problems with Gojo – who had made it clear he couldn't stand sharing your attention at all. Hated you having a life.
You weren't delusional enough to think maybe he'd change his mind if he met Toji.
But your fingers were still unsteady as the elevator dinged and let you off on the top floor.
Gojo was sitting at your desk, legs propped up and feet on your paperwork. He was pretty as always, white hair tousled, one of those sharp brows of his casually raised as he glanced between you and Toji. “Is this seriously the guy?”
He laughed like it was an insult. Ignoring your frown when you walked over to hand him his coffee. He took it though, bringing it up to his mouth but not before scoffing again.
“Satoru,” you hissed out his name, a low warning that he was rolling his eyes at.
He took a long drink, whipped cream sticking above his lips like a mustache before his face paled. The next few seconds slowed, crawling by as you watched him drop the mug, ceramic shards shattering as he choked.
You were staring, your brain refusing to process what you were seeing, Toji’s voice registering behind you but the words not making any sense.
What the hell was happening?
Somewhere, the vague thought hit you that something was seriously wrong, that Satoru was dying, but nothing would connect, your body refusing to respond to even the notion of it.
Your mouth fell open, but your scream was muffled by Toji’s hand. Knees buckling, just for him to catch you in his arm, one arm wrapped around your midsection to hold you up.
“Hey, hey, I'm here,” he gruffly muttered, and you clung to that.
“W-we need to call someone,” you stammered, your panicked gasps turning into hyperventilating. This was bad. Really, really fucking bad.
“It’s okay,” he soothed in your ears, turning around so you couldn't see Satoru anymore. Wouldn't have to look when-
You couldn't even finish the thought.
“Just breathe, baby.”
“I-I can't.” You were trying, but no air would enter your lungs, throat constricting more with each attempt.
Toji paused, his palm pressing harder against your back before he stiffened.
“We need to go.”
You let him lead you back out, his hand on your spine still guiding you forward. One step, and another. Focusing on the rhythm in them, the pattern of the elevator carpet, a crack in the sidewalk, whatever was beneath your feet to stop the image of Satoru from flashing in your head.
Was he dead? What could even cause it? An allergic reaction? Poison?
Oh God no.
He led you back to his car.
Toji had parked it further down the street than usual, opening the door for you to get in and buckling you in again. It didn't feel quite as romantic as the first time.
“Where are we going?” You asked, voice cracking as you forced the words out. All you really wanted was to sleep, to go somewhere that you didn't have to think anymore.
“Don't worry about it, doll,” he casually said, shutting the door behind him and walking around to the driver’s seat.
“Is he-”
You couldn't get the question out, and he didn’t answer.
“The cops are gonna think-” You started, only just starting to swallow the bitter pill that you were screwed.
“They’ll frame you for it,” he scoffed, and you recoiled. Surprised at yourself for forgetting what you already knew about the man in front of you.
He wouldn't sugarcoat it.
Make fake promises to you that this would be fine.
“But I-”
“Do you want to spend the rest of your fuckin’ life behind bars?” He growled, and you hated how much of a point he had.
You shook your head, fingers trembling as he stilled them with his own.
Gojo had a lot of enemies. Any one of them would be happy to let you take the fall.
All you'd done was give Gojo a fucking cup of coffee – and now he was dead.
“There’s cameras,” you murmured, ones that would catch you running away from the scene of the crime.
“They've been down half the day,” Toji grumbled, and you had no idea if that was even a relief.
Your feelings were all jumbled, guilt, horror, disgust, regret, even affection and adoration tangled up in there with Toji trying so hard to keep you safe.
You stared at him, still shaking, and he leaned across to spare you a heated kiss. Grounding you here with him, his calloused palm caressing your cheek as his pretty eyes narrowed.
“I'll protect you.”
Toji meant it.
The motel was shitty, far enough from the city you dozed off on the drive, but there weren’t any cameras.
No one to watch him carry you from his car and no one to care after he tossed enough cash to cover a room at the strung-out receptionist.
You woke up still in shock. Reeling from what you’d seen – or rather what you’d done.
“Someone’s gonna come-”
“No one’s gonna find you, baby,” he promised, and it was one he intended to keep.
You curled up on the bed, and he crawled in next to you, letting you bury your face in his chest to muffle the faint sounds of crying. Stroking your hair at first, eventually untucking your shirt from your skirt to trace soothing patterns over the bare skin of your back. Maybe you were scared right now, that was natural.
The first kill was always the hardest.
Once you were somewhere safe, once you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, you’d relax. After the news cycle covering your former employer’s death died off, and the investigation went cold, you'd realize that you wouldn't get caught.
And if you adjusted better than he hoped, maybe you could be his assistant.
Or if not, maybe he could leave this life behind. Find something more stable. Part-time work, or something he could do from home to spend more time with you.
You fell back asleep on him, lashes fluttering as he ran over his next steps.
He'd gotten rid of both your cells and tossed your wallet on the drive, slipping the sim cards out and destroying them when he got gas and paid in cash. Someone had probably found the body by now. He'd need to switch cars to pick up the payment from the drop off point, but that wouldn't be a problem.
There was a payphone outside, one he could see from the window. He'd call Shiu from it in a few minutes, let you dream on him for a bit longer.
The pay for this would be enough for fake passports, to buy some place off grid – and install a state of the art security system. To keep intruders or officers investigating out.
And more importantly, keep you inside.
There was nothing better than a bonus for a job well done - especially one as pretty as you.
CHAPTER 7 (LAST CHAPTER) - WEAR YOU LIKE A NECKLACE
When you accidentally get caught in the crossfire of an attack on the new clan head, Megumi Zenin, your world gets flipped upside down. Suddenly, you are part of his dark world and are getting much closer to the Yakuza boss than you both ever wanted. But living together with Megumi lets you see the man behind his cold mask, and what starts as an arrangement to keep you safe becomes a lot more.
Masterpost ++ 1 ++ 2 ++ 3 ++ 4 ++ 5 ++ 6
Warnings: 18+, female reader, fluff/smut/light angst. Modern AU, Yakuza-related crime and violence, Megumi kills to protect the people he cares about, alcohol, forced proximity. Happy ending. Megumi and Reader are both in their mid/late twenties. Minors don't interact. Word Count: 6k
The fanart in the header was used with permission from the artist koonya911 on Twitter. Credit for the divider @/cursed-carmine.
What you realize in the next few days is that things between Megumi and you don't dramatically change after your mutual promise to commit to each other fully. It's more like the two of you have already grown closer step by step during the long weeks of living together. Even before that night when Megumi drove you to the safe house and back home again, you had already crossed an invisible line, both feeling a lot more for the other than you had ever planned. And now you can finally explore that.
Neither of you said "I love you" out loud yet, but it always hovers there between you unspoken, as if it doesn't have to be put into words, because it's already obvious in the way you treat each other. It's in the soft smiles you share. It's in the casual affection that seems to become more natural to Megumi now that he knows you want to be his.
The way he doesn't hold himself back from touching you, allowing himself to wrap his arms around you any chance he gets, or holding your hand on top of the table and gently playing with your fingers. The way he pulls you against him when you sit on the couch in the evenings to read, and he smiles that soft, beautiful smile when you ruffle his hair and snuggle against him. It's in the way those usually so cold, dark blue eyes are so much softer and warmer when they look at you.
But of course, things aren't magically just sunshine and fairytale-like with a happy ever after. Not when Megumi is still the head of the Zenin clan. Not when he is still a crucial part of Tokyo's underworld.
Megumi's work is always dangerous, and he often returns with various injuries, collecting new scars almost weekly. Most of the time, it's nothing dramatic, and Megumi can reassure you that he is fine. But there are also other incidents, which make you sick with worry.
Like tonight, when Megumi returns bloody and beaten, staggering into the penthouse, a hand reaching out to steady himself on the wall. His jaw is clenched in pain, his beautiful face bruised and with several cuts oozing blood.
You gasp loudly, the smile that found its way on your face when you heard that Megumi was home, frozen on your face. You drop the dish towel you were holding, hastily sprinting over to Megumi with a worried,
"Oh my god! What happened?"
To your horror, he slumps against you when you wrap your arms around him, his tall, strong body almost knocking you over. You manage to lead him to the couch, making him lie down while your heart is racing with anxiety.
You hate seeing him like that, bloody and beaten. His face cut and bleeding, his knuckles bruised, exhaustion making him unable to stand. You reach out to touch him carefully, scared to hurt him as you inspect the cuts on his face. Megumi's low voice comes out strained even though you can tell he is trying to hide it,
"It's not as bad as it looks. Those are just shallow cuts. Let me catch a breath for a minute, and then I'll clean them."
"No! The hell, you won't! You will stay right there on the couch!"
You glare at him, voice loud and firm, and you see Megumi's eyes widen in surprise as you shake your head indignantly,
"I won't let you get up! You are injured and in pain, Megumi! Don't you dare move a finger!"
You let out a shaky breath, trembling slightly as you get up and add in a softer voice,
"Let me take care of you, just like you always take care of me."
Megumi doesn't say anything, but you think he looks almost guilty. Someone who is so used to always doing anything for others that he has forgotten that there are people who want to take care of him, too. It breaks your heart, and you quickly turn around before you break out in tears.
You march to the bathroom, quickly grab the first aid kit, and return to Megumi. You kneel down in front of the couch, meticulously cleaning and disinfecting the cuts on Megumi's face. He was right, those cuts looked worse than they are, but as you make him take off his shirt, you gulp hard, staring in horror at another cut, just as shallow too, luckily, but at a way more serious place. A slash across Megumi's throat.
You draw in a sharp breath, eyes wide with worry as you dazedly trace the long scratch with your fingers, your lips pressed together to stop yourself from crying.
You know it was a close call. Megumi must have been able to fight off the attacker or kill him before the other guy managed to kill Megumi, but the blade had already been in the right position, had already started to cut.
A broken sob forces its way out of your mouth, and you glare at Megumi, eyes wide with terror,
"You said it wasn't that bad. But this is bad! What happened? Did you get ambushed by Naoya's men?"
Megumi averts his gaze, staring at the ceiling as he answers in a low, gruff voice,
"Those weren't Naoya's men. I got tipped off that some guys were selling drugs in my pachinkos."
"So you went after them?"
"Yes."
"On your own?"
Megumi still refuses to meet your eyes, but you can see his Adam's apple bob as he gulps hard and nods. Your voice trembles with emotion when you press out,
"Do you not care about your own life?"
And to your horror, Megumi slightly shakes his head and answers softly,
"Not really."
It's like a switch was flipped in your head, and suddenly you can't hold back the tears from streaming down your face. Your hands are balled into fists, fingernails digging painfully into your palms as you glare despairingly at Megumi's side profile, shocked to your core at how little worth he puts on his own life.
"Well, but I care about your life, Megumi! I care about you! And I hate the thought of you risking your life so foolishly! It makes me sick with worry! I know your work includes high risks, but at least try to be careful! Take Maki with you or solve things differently! Don't go out there ready to sacrifice yourself for something like that! It's not fair! Because I worry about you! And I need you!"
And finally Megumi turns his head to look at you again, dark blue eyes wide, astonishment written all over his bruised but beautiful features,
"I... I didn't think about it that way. I'm sorry."
He looks so distraught that you smile at him through the tears, reaching out to cup his jaw gently,
"You always take care of others, but please take care of yourself, too. You are such a wonderful man, and I hope you will see that one day. But even if you don't want to do it for yourself, then do it for the people who care about you. Take care of yourself for Tsumiki, and for Yuuji, and for me. We all would be devastated if something happened to you."
Your voice breaks at the last part, and more tears well up in your eyes. But Megumi cups your cheek, elegant fingers gently wiping your tears away as his dark blue eyes meet yours, earnest and open. His voice sounds rough when he says,
"I am sorry. I was selfish, but I promise I will try to better myself."
You laugh softly at that, a tender smile lifting your lips,
"You are the most unselfish person I know. But yes, please be more careful. Put more worth on your own life. Please always come back home to me."
Megumi's answer is a long, deep kiss.
It's a random Tuesday night, when the unspoken feelings between the two of you find a voice.
You are snuggled into Megumi's side while you both lounge lazily on the couch, both with a book in your lap, reading and silently enjoying each other's company in the quiet of the night, occasionally gazing out at the beautiful full moon hanging in the night sky above the city.
But more often than not, your gaze travels to the man beside you, quiet and beautiful, a comforting, reliable presence in your life, a guiding light even in the darkness of the night, just like the moon casting its soft light over the night sky.
You see Megumi's long eyelashes flutter and drop closed for a few seconds, before he slightly stirs and wakes up again, midnight blue gaze trying to focus on the words in his book again. And suddenly your heart almost overflows with tenderness.
You put a hand on Megumi's arm, feeling his firm biceps under your fingers, and lift your head to press a soft, lingering kiss to Megumi's temple. The affectionate smile is clearly audible in your voice when you say,
"You are tired, darling. Don't force yourself to stay up because of me. Let's go to bed, ok?"
And Megumi turns to look at you, dark blue eyes full of wonder. His expression is so tender, the aloof mask gone completely, the kind of face he only has around the few people he trusts fully.
You see him gulp hard, see him lick his lips, which is such an uncharacteristically nervous gesture for Megumi that it makes you blink at him in slight alarm. But suddenly a soft smile lifts his lips, and his arm around you tightens, long fingers sprawling over your waist possessively but gently, touching you as if you are the most precious thing that ever belonged to him.
Megumi's midnight blue eyes wander slowly over your face, until they look deeply into your eyes, making you drown in the deep blue pools of his irises, and Megumi says the words that flip your world upside down in the most beautiful way,
"I love you."
You can't stop the huge grin from breaking out over your face, heart beating so fast you feel lightheaded, and you fling yourself at Megumi, wrapping both arms around him, hugging him tightly as you tell him with a voice thick with happy tears,
" I love you too."
"Could we go walk Shiro and Kuro down in the park?"
You are standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living area, gazing out over the beautiful park beneath the apartment, a hopeful twinkle in your eyes as you turn to look at Megumi.
His jaw tenses, regret washing over his features as he slowly shakes his head,
"It's too dangerous for you to go out. I'm sorry."
You know he only means well, but this time you feel a restlessness in you that simply won't go away, and so you stand your ground, walking over to Megumi until you stop right in front of him, tilting your head to look up at his beautiful face, a pout on your face, as you ask,
"Is it also too dangerous if you are with me? You used to work as a bodyguard... so I thought maybe... I really want some fresh air, or I think I'll go crazy one of these days. I promise I'll be good and follow all your orders. Please, Megumi?"
And you see something wondrous happen. The stern expression on Mergumi's face melts into one of slightly helpless panic, and suddenly the powerful and dangerous Yakuza boss stands in front of you with his mouth opening and closing again, but no words coming out, like a schoolboy who forgot what he was going to say because he got nervous in front of the class.
Finally, Megumi sighs, looking away as if he is too embarrassed to meet your eyes, his jaw set and face schooled into his typical aloof expression as he grounds out,
"Alright... but you stay by my side the whole time, and do anything I tell you!"
You beam at him, nodding enthusiastically and throwing your arms around Megumi's tall figure, hugging him tightly as you promise him to be good.
Being outside is wonderful. The lush green of the grass, the trees, and the flowers in bloom are so pretty that you momentarily forget about the danger you are in. The dogs are on a long leash, happily chasing each other and playfully pushing their heads against you and Megumi anytime they run back towards you.
Megumi is beside you, but you can tell that he cannot relax. He is in his bodyguard mode, highly focused and alert. One strong arm is wrapped securely around you, his tall body brushing against you, as if he is a human shield.
A large group of people is on the path in front of you, a tourist group, from what it looks like, but Megumi stops, giving the dogs' leashes a light tug and commanding them to stay close to you as you carefully make your way around the group.
You grin to yourself when you take in Megumi's outfit, the tailored black suit and white dress shirt, and the way he is glaring at everyone around you, making the tourists hastily move out of the way. The two of you probably look like some important man's daughter or young wife with her assigned bodyguard who has to accompany the young lady on her daily walks. You snicker softly, shaking your head when Megumi casts a questioning look at you.
You make it to a lovely fish pond, and you laugh when the dogs jump into the water, clearly enjoying themselves, but your happy laughter ebbs away quickly when Megumi's arm tightens around you, his strong fingers digging almost painfully into your skin. You look at him and see the way his dark blue eyes narrow as he fixes a point across the pond.
"Megumi? Is everything ok?"
His answer is a tense, "Let's go back."
His hold on you doesn't ease all the way back to the apartment, and when you ask if he saw something, he looks torn between not wanting to worry you and wanting to tell you the truth, and in the end tells you in his calm, low voice,
"I thought I saw someone I know, a Zenin henchman, but I don't know for sure."
He ushers you into the apartment complex, greeting the man at the reception desk curtly before quickly leading you to the elevator.
Once you are back in the penthouse, Megumi lets out a deep breath, but his broad shoulders are still tense, and the way he repeatedly runs a hand through his unruly hair also shows you that he is still high-strung.
Guilt washes over you upon seeing how stressed Megumi is over the short trip to the park, which he only agreed to because you whined about having cabin fever. You bite your lip and put a gentle hand on Megumi's arm,
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you for this. It was a stupid thing to do."
Megumi turns around to look at you, dark blue eyes stern,
"Don't apologize. It isn't stupid of you to want to leave the house and do normal things."
His jaw is tense, but he reaches out to wrap his arms around you and pull you against his tall body, holding you reassuringly in his embrace, but you can tell there is a storm going on in his mind. When he pulls away again, his eyes are hard, brimming with a dark conviction.
"I have to leave again for a few hours. There's something I have to do."
Alarm bells are going off in your head, and you look up at him with narrow eyes,
"What does that mean, Megumi? Where are you going? What do you have to do? Please promise me you won't get yourself into trouble!"
For a moment, you think Megumi will brush you off, but he exhales slowly and then puts a hand on the back of your head and pulls your face against his chest. He leans down to place a lingering, tender kiss on your forehead, his soft lips staying on your skin, murmuring against it,
"I can't promise you to stay out of trouble. But I promise you that what I want to do will take a lot of trouble off us both..."
He trails off, just standing there for a moment, holding you with your face buried in his chest, his sexy, fresh cologne filling your senses, before he continues in a low voice,
"I promise you that I won't go on a suicide mission. I... I know that in the past I would have done that. I never cared about my own life. And I still don't hold myself in high regard, but... but I want to come back home to you. I don't want to die because I know it would hurt you. I want to live. For you."
You feel the tears run down your face before you are even aware of it. You pull away enough to be able to tilt your head back to look into Megumi's eyes, overcome by emotions. Scared because of what you know he will do, and deeply touched because of the promise he gave you.
Megumi Zenin, the man who is always so ready to sacrifice himself and throw his life away carelessly, is telling you that he wants to live for you.
"Megumi..."
You cry softly, reaching up to cup his jaw. You caress his pretty face gently, smiling a bittersweet smile at him,
"You're going out to find Naoya, right?"
For a moment, Megumi says nothing but just leans into your touch, eyes closing for a few seconds, basking in your loving touch. His hand cups yours, and he opens his eyes again to look deeply into yours,
"Yes. I want to finally end this. I want to give you a life where you can walk the dogs with me in the park every day."
More tears well up in your eyes,
"Please, you don't have to do that. I don't want you to risk your life for that."
But Megumi shakes his head, turning his face so he can place a gentle kiss in your palm before he interlaces his long fingers with yours and pulls your hand away from his face,
"I know. But I have to do it. I know we will always live a dangerous life with me being the head of the Zenin clan. But it will be a lot safer for us when my cousin is gone. As long as Naoya lives, we will never be safe. He could attack us both any day."
Megumi gives your hand a gentle squeeze, a heartbreakingly tender gesture considering that you know that these elegant, gentle hands want to kill tonight.
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and nod softly,
"I understand what you mean. I'm not happy about it, and I will go crazy worrying about you... But I understand. But please be careful."
You get on your tiptoes, kissing Megumi gently, smiling sadly into the kiss, when you feel his strong arms wrap around you, hugging you tightly, returning the kiss just as gently, both of you putting all your love into it. A kiss that has to be a precious loving memory in the worst-case scenario that Megumi won't make it back to you.
When you finally part, you both smile matching sad smiles at each other. Your voice is choked up, thick with tears when you say,
"Come back home to me, Megumi."
And he gulps hard and tells you softly,
"I promise you I will do anything in my power to come home to you again. I love you, my little bunny."
He says the pet name in such a soft, loving way, his dark blue eyes filled with all the emotions he usually hides behind his indifferent mask, that it makes you sob softly, almost blinded by the fresh tears welling up in your eyes.
"I love you, too, baby."
You gaze into each other's eyes for a long moment, as if committing each other to memory, and then Megumi turns around, grabs his car keys, and leaves with long, sure steps, not looking back again.
You hug yourself, fingernails digging painfully into your skin to keep yourself from making a scene, which is the last thing Megumi needs right now. You wait until the elevator doors have shut behind Megumi's tall figure before you slide down on the wall, until you sit on the cold marble floor, hugging your knees to your chest and crying until you don't have any tears left in you anymore.
You think you will go insane from how worried you are about Megumi. Nightmarish images haunt you, making you see Megumi bleeding out in a dark alley with your name on his lips. And you bury your face in your hands, sobbing quietly, drowning in anxiety.
That's how the dogs find you. They whine softly, clearly noticing something is wrong, pushing their heads against you, instinctively wanting to comfort you. And you pet them both, grateful for them and their affection, grounding yourself by combing your fingers through their soft fur over and over again, forcefully pushing back all the dark thoughts and instead repeating the same sentence over and over again, first just in your mind and then out loud,
"He will come back. He will come back. He will come back..."
And a soft, hopeful voice in your mind whispers, "He said he wants to live for me, and Megumi always keeps his word."
It's hours later when Megumi returns home. The elevator door slides open to reveal his tall figure with blood splattered all over his face and his clothes, making his white shirt look almost completely red. There's a borderline insane grin on his beautiful face, even while his eyes are dead. His low voice comes out monotonic when he tells you he was finally successful, just a short sentence, muttered without any emotion,
"He is dead."
You are already running towards Megumi, so relieved that he made it back alive and seemingly even uninjured, but Megumi stops you before you can throw yourself at him. His elegant but strong hands placed firmly on your shoulders, keeping you at arm's length as he shakes his head,
"No, don't. I have his blood all over me. I don't want you to get dirty."
Megumi's midnight blue eyes bore into yours, his voice is hard, and you know he isn't just talking about getting your clothes dirty. It's as if he is scared that his sins will taint you too.
It makes your face scrunch up in pain. Pain for the man in front of you, who knows nothing but darkness and who always does what needs to be done, relentlessly, reliably, even if it means he has to pay with his own soul for it.
You duck underneath his hands, freeing yourself from his restraint, and throw yourself at Megumi despite his warning, wrapping your arms tightly around him, hugging him so tightly that your whole body presses against his. You can feel Naoya's blood seep into your clothes, but you don't mind. You cling tightly to Megumi, refusing to let him push you away. Refusing to let him be in this alone.
Megumi's arms hang by his side, his low voice is exasperated,
"What are you doing? You are getting blood on yourself."
"Don't be an idiot! I don't mind the blood. I love you, and I was scared you would die tonight, and I am so happy you are back, and I feel so sorry for what you had to do. But you are so brave for doing it, and I won't let you isolate yourself after this! I got blood on my clothes, so what? I am holding the man I love, the man who is my biggest hero. I don't care about getting dirty!"
You tilt your head to glare up at Megumi, staring deeply into his eyes, wanting him to see how serious you are. And then you feel him stir. His strong arms finally wrap around you, hugging you back as he hunches over and buries his face in your neck, breathing in your scent almost greedily, warm lips trailing over your neck, low voice whispering against your skin how much you mean to him, how much he loves you, how glad he is to be back with you.
You turn your face to capture his lips with yours, kissing him gently, lovingly, wanting to give Megumi something pure and tender in this violence-filled night.
And Megumi kisses you back, almost desperately, as if this kiss is his lifeline, as if you are his lifeline.
You take his hand in yours, leading him to the master bedroom, while still kissing him, slow and gentle. Your fingers unbutton his shirt, and your lips kiss every inch of his skin that you can reach.
This isn't the first time Megumi fucks you after killing someone, with the blood of his enemies still on his skin, but it is different this time. You don't want him to use you to fuck his pent-up rage into you. You want it to be sweet. You want to show Megumi that he is still capable of tenderness, even after a night of bloodshed. That he still deserves to be loved gently.
You touch him with the utmost tenderness, pushing him gently onto the bed, undressing him slowly, caressing every part of his skin that gets revealed to you, trailing tender kisses down his gorgeous body, tracing his tattoos with your lips and tongue.
Megumi's strong hand is tangling in your hair as he gives himself to you and lets you take control. His breathing becomes heavier when your lips hover over his hard length. You see his hips buck, a silent plea, and you take his twitching, swollen cockhead lovingly into your mouth, suckling sweetly on it, smiling when you hear the sharp hiss coming from Megumi. Your hands massage his strong thighs, as you take him deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head slowly, lovingly while looking up at Megumi with love written all over your face.
And Megumi watches you with wonder-filled eyes, his head falling back, long eyelashes fluttering, as he allows himself to let deep moans spill from his lips while you make love to his cock.
He only stops you when he is close to cumming, pulling you gently off his hard length, with a low, "Not like that. I want to be inside you. Want to feel you cum on my cock."
He takes you in missionary, deep and intensely, but so tender. Not fucking you, but making slow love to you.
Megumi's full weight is resting on you, pressing you down into the sheets as he moves slowly on top of you, his gorgeous, long cock spoiling you with slow, deep strokes that send butterflies fluttering in your pussy and stomach.
It feels so intimate, so loving. Megumi's tall, firm body is covering yours completely. And you wrap your legs around his narrow hips, wanting him even closer as if that's even possible, moaning his name, your fingers digging into his muscular back, leaving your marks on him as his cockhead caresses your sweet spot slowly and his lips kiss yours in deep, tender kisses.
Megumi moans into your mouth, while rolling his hips slowly against you. He grabs your hands, fixing them on the pillow above your head, interlacing his fingers with yours, holding hands with you while he dicks you down so lovingly, it makes you cry.
You are so impossibly close. Megumi is so deep inside you, your bodies entwined so intimately, breathing into each other's mouths, your foreheads resting against each other.
You both tense up at the same time, eyes locked in a deep gaze, when your orgasms wash over you. Your pussy clenching around Megumi's orgasming cock, milking him with your own orgasm, making him spill every last drop of his cum deep inside you. Being so close to each other that it feels like nothing will ever be able to separate you.
Megumi sits on the bed afterward with his naked tattooed back to you, the black silk sheets pooling around his hips while he's looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out over the nightly city, lost in thought.
You admire him silently for a moment, his ruffled black hair that's standing up in funny places, his broad shoulders and narrow waist, his lean but defined muscles, his tattoos, the blue eyes of the large wolf on his back, the same shade as Megumi's eyes. And your heart feels so warm for this man who is so beautiful both on the outside and on the inside.
You reach out and trail a gentle hand down Megumi's muscular back, asking him softly,
"What are you thinking, babe?"
Megumi looks over his shoulder, dark blue eyes soft. He reaches out to place his hand over yours, long, elegant fingers touching you so carefully, so tenderly. Hands that have killed and will kill again, but which are so gentle when they touch you.
His low voice is soft, filled with wonder, as if he can barely believe all of this is real,
"Usually, I don't think about the future. Especially not when I'm in a fight. I just live in the now and then, only caring about winning this fight I am in, or if I don't see a chance of winning, thinking of ways I can cause the most damage to my opponents by taking them down with me. I don't ever think about what will be after the fight. I don't give myself the luxury to even imagine getting out of it alive. I never really cared if I lived or not. But tonight, as I fought Naoya, I kept thinking about the future. About the time after the fight. I kept thinking that I wanted to live for you. That I wanted to come home. Not to my apartment. To you. Because that's what you are, you know? My home."
"Oh Megumi."
You hug him tightly, snuggling against his broad back, smiling happily against his tattooed skin,
"Thank you for everything you do and most of all for wanting to live for me. I promise you I will always be here for you to come home to. I can't imagine a more beautiful way to live than being what you call home."
And you know, this is what you want for the rest of your life. This is the role you can play in this whole Yakuza boss thing. You can be Megumi's home. His safe space, his refuge, where he can take off his mask and just be Megumi, the guy who loves dogs and non-fiction books and actually has the softest smile in the world when he doesn't have to glare at everyone around him.
Megumi blesses you with one of those soft smiles and turns around to wrap you in his strong arms, gently but firmly pulling you down onto the bed with him, hugging you to his body.
You snuggle against him and whisper in his ear to get some sleep, gently petting his soft black hair until you hear his breathing become slower, the exhaustion from the fight winning.
You can't sleep yet, but you wouldn't want to anyway, too caught up in letting your gaze slowly trail over Megumi's sleeping face, happy about seeing such a peaceful expression on his beautiful features.
You want to ensure he can wear this expression more often in the future. That's how you want to spend your life from now on. Help Megumi find something worth living for.
You know Megumi hates his life as the head of the Zenin clan, but you can make it more bearable for him. You can fill his usually so cold life with warmth. You can fill his darkness with light. You can fill his silence with happy laughter. You can chase his loneliness away and wrap him in your love. You can silence his demons and let him see all the good things he deserves. You can give him a thousand little reasons to want to live a long life.
And that's what you promise to him silently as you watch his sleeping face tenderly.
You reach out, careful not to wake him, and brush Megumi's unruly black hair out of his face to place a gentle kiss on his forehead, whispering softly to him,
"I will love you so much that you will learn to love yourself too."
Megumi's POV:
The traffic light turns green, and Megumi presses the gas pedal, continuing his drive through the city that partly belongs to him now. The thought still makes him clench his jaw. He never asked for this, and if he had the choice, he would hand over his position as clanhead all too gladly.
But he has come to terms with it. He will carry this responsibility. And after all, he isn't alone in this. He has someone to come home to after work. Someone who hugs him all the same, even if he comes home with bloody hands and one more life added to his body count.
Megumi's left hand wanders to the pocket of his suit jacket, patting it lightly. A soft smile spreads over his face when he feels the outline of the small box that's inside. The small box that contains the most beautiful, custom-made diamond ring. The ring that Megumi wants to put on your left ring finger.
He planned this moment for months, and tonight it's finally going to happen. He will get on one knee and propose to you, with your favorite flowers and this ring, and he hopes he will remember to tell you all the things he wants to say to you. How dear you are to him, how he wants to spend his whole life with you by his side, how his love for you will always be his guiding light.
Megumi's heart flutters. He will really do this. He will ask you to become his wife.
The thought makes him a bit lightheaded. Not because he is scared, but because the sheer thought of you being his for life makes him completely stunned, asking himself how he ever got so lucky.
He never believed he would find a love like this for himself. It always seemed impossible that he could let himself be vulnerable enough to be with someone. But he isn't scared to give himself to you. He isn't scared of his emotions anymore. You taught him that it's ok to let himself feel. You showed him that his heart is safe with you.
You made Megumi softer. And the biggest change is that he isn't as careless about his own life anymore. You telling him you want him to stay alive for you changed Megumi profoundly. It changed the worth he puts on his own life.
Knowing that you need him makes Megumi take better care of his life. He promised you to be careful, he promised you to live for you, and that's exactly what he plans to do.
He wants to have a life with you. He wants to take you to the park every day to walk the dogs and hear your loud, happy laughter. He wants to take you to every bookshop in the city and watch you browse through the bookshelves for hours. He wants to feel that warm, reassuring feeling when walking into a room with his hand on the small of your back, showing everybody that you belong to him.
A smile tugs at Megumi's lips at the thought. He truly is greedy when it comes to you, but he finds himself embracing that kind of greed. Maybe because you tell him it's ok. Maybe because you want him to be greedy when it comes to you. Telling him you are his forever. Telling him that you are going nowhere, even when you had the chance to leave his dark life behind and start over new.
But you stayed. You chose Megumi, and you tell him again and again that your place is by his side. That you belong to him. And it makes Megumi's chest feel so full that he thinks he will burst from it one day.
And he is so utterly yours, too, it's almost insane. He thinks he couldn't live without you. But it's ok, because for the first time in his life Megumi knows that someone truly and fully belongs to him, and only him. He doesn't have to live without you. You are right there beside him, and you will always be.
Of course, he knows that you will never be 100% safe as the wife of someone like him. This cruel, dark world could snatch you away from him every day. But Megumi will do anything to keep you safe. His angel, his little bunny.
Megumi will be your husband and your bodyguard. He will have a strong arm around you at all times. He will be the guard dog who kills everyone who poses a threat to you. Because he is the man who loves you more than anything he has ever loved in his life. He is the man who wants to come home to you every night. He is the man whom you led out of the shadows and into your light, and that's exactly where Megumi wants to stay for the rest of his life.
You make him see a future for himself, when before you, he never could imagine himself becoming old. But now Megumi can see his future self with grey hair, still holding your hand in his. Holding your hand that has wrinkles from old age, but is still adorned by the shining diamond ring Megumi put there.
-The end -
AAAHH this was it 😭💗 Thank you so much for staying until the end! I hope you enjoyed the ending and the story as a whole!! I am so happy that I could finally give Megumi his own multi-chapter story. It's what he deserves! I put all my love into this, and I hope you can feel this love when reading 💗
I feel like this whole "I want to live for you" thing is so beautiful when it comes to someone like Megumi, because he is the type of character who is canonically always ready to die (and kill) for the people he loves, so I think getting him to want to stay alive for you is really special and shows how much he cherishes you. Sighhhh I feel so soft for him 😭😭
I am so happy that this story turned out the way it did. I had a plan, of course, but when it comes to multi-chapter stories, I always change quite a lot of things along the way because I let the characters lead me in the direction they need, and I am so happy that Megumi wanted to go in this direction. I am crying so much 😭😭 Yes, King, this is the happy end you deserve!! 💗💗
Thank you so much to everyone who stayed with this story all those months! It means a lot to me that you always came back to continue reading! And super special thanks to all of you who left nice comments or screamed in the tags in the reblogs or sent me asks, etc. It made this whole experience very sweet. I am sending all of you lots of love! 💗😘
꒰ summary ꒱ when a misunderstanding leaves your family convinced you’re bringing a plus one to your cousin’s wedding in Japan, the last person you expect to volunteer for the role is your infuriatingly observant intern, Satoru. it’s supposed to be temporary. professional. strictly off the record. but with your mother already sold on the idea of your mystery boyfriend, and Satoru proving far too good at the role, pretending starts to feel a little too dangerous. also, why is your “intern” secretly the heir to gojo corporation?!
꒰ tags/warnings ꒱ fake dating ⚹︎ undercover ceo! satoru ⚹︎ accountant! reader ⚹︎ satoru is 29, reader is 26 ⚹︎ lots of family pressure. reader has a complicated relationship with her mom ⚹︎ forced proximity ⚹︎ one bed trope ⚹︎ slow burn ⚹︎ mutual pining ⚹︎ wedding chaos ⚹︎ angst and fluff ⚹︎ some suggestive content but no explicit smut ⚹︎
꒰ authors note ꒱ hi cuties! this is a commission piece, and it is about 12k total. this first part is just shy of 6k and the second part will be out next week. i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻 (art by @/hanamin_0123 on x)
"Oi. Boss lady."
“No.”
One problem at a time, and the spreadsheet in front of you wins by default. Because Column F is wrong. It’s been wrong for forty fucking minutes, and if it stays wrong for forty seconds longer, you may actually die here at your desk — hunched over, half-blind, and found by Shoko on a Monday morning with your face pressed into a pivot table like a cautionary tale.
"But… you don't even know what I was gonna—"
"—the answer is no, Satoru."
Unlike the human embodiment of a headache currently lingering on the other side of your desk, the spreadsheet in front of you is at least pretending to be important.
The chair beneath him creaks, and then comes the silence you know too well. It’s the one that comes right before he decides to be a problem on purpose. Attention is gasoline and Satoru is, structurally, a fire hazard. Still, your eyes flick up, and—
"No fair…” he huffs, that ridiculous pout tugging at his lips. “You didn't even let me finish the question."
Your eyes roll back down.
“Mhm.”
"And it was such a good question.”
You turn a page. "Really?”
“Yup.” He’s draped over the corner of your desk now, like gravity has wronged him, whining. “It was such a thoughtful… personal… deeply relevant… extremely genius level getting-to-know-you tier question that—”
You scowl. "—Satoru, enough. Just do your job."
It lands harder than expected. The sigh he lets out is deeply, theatrically offended. And when you glance up again, he’s sprawled over that same corner of your desk you made the mistake of clearing for him on day one because you’d thought, foolishly, that giving him a designated surface might contain him.
It had not.
Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.
Snowy white hair falls against his brow, sleeves rolled to his elbows; looking far too expensive and far too comfortable for someone whose official title is intern. His coffee is sweating beside your open planner — the one with a date next week circled in red: WEDDING, scrawled across the margin in your own handwriting. The condensation trails towards a stack of vendor invoices and—
…
Wait.
Are those the same vendor invoices you asked him to file yesterday?
Fucking great.
“Oh, c’monnn,” he grumbles, blinking at you over the rim of those absurdly expensive sunglasses he insists on wearing indoors. “One question. Just a tiiiiny one. It’s completely harmless. Humor me, yeah?”
You narrow your eyes.
“Satoru, you’ve been trying to ask one question for the last four months.”
“Yeah,” he says. “And you’ve been dodging it for four months. Imagine that.”
Technically… four months and four days. But who’s counting?
With an exhausted groan, your eyes fall shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. Noise drifts in from the hall — the elevator, the printer, a phone trilling somewhere nearby. But when you look up again, it all seems to fall away.
He’s gone strangely still. The smug grin hasn’t disappeared, but it’s softened at the edges, hooked at one corner with his head tilted slightly. And those eyes…
Oh.
That’s — no. You’ve seen his eyes before. Obviously. Four months of them. But right now, with the morning light doing something cruel and unhelpful behind him, they catch in a way that makes you forget you were mid-thought. The kind of blue that doesn’t ask if you’re looking. It already knows.
Which means of course, you look away first. “Fine.” Your hand drops as you mutter. “One question. But if it’s stupid, I’m sending you back to HR.”
It’s not much of a threat. It’s his last day, after all, and for reasons you still don’t fully understand, Satoru has always seemed oddly immune to consequences — which, frankly, feels statistically improbable given the amount of shit he’s managed to pull in the few months of being here.
“One question?” his grin sharpens. You point your pen at him. “Don’t make me regret this.” Yet his pleased chuckle is already making you. “Awhh… look at you. Finally yielding.” His pen twirls between his fingers, nodding with false solemnity. “Okay. So, here’s the thing… throughout these four months working beside you, I’ve seen a lot—"
“—that’s not a question.” You deadpan.
But ignoring you, he reclines back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head.
“Liiiike… I’ve seen the exact face you make when Mei-Mei emails you,” he smirks. “Even noticed you work through lunch more than you should. And I’ve noticed that little line right here—” he gestures vaguely between his own brows “—every time the budget goes sideways.”
Lips parting, you blink.
…why is he so observant?!
For someone who acts like he doesn’t give a shit, he’s strangely attentive.
You clear your throat, huffing. “Okay… what’s your point?” Your hands straighten a stack of papers that doesn’t need straightening. “Is there a question in here somewhere, or are you just reciting my habits back to me for fun?”
His grin is far too pleased. “Relax. I’m getting there.” And leaning forward, his voice drops, like he’s unraveling a conspiracy. “I just find it interesting how you answer work calls before the second ring. Every damn day. Doesn’t matter who it is.” His head tilts with a smug grin. “But for whatever reason, for the past month, your personal phone’s been ringing off the hook, and you never pick up. Not once.”
Heat creeps up your neck. Not because he’s wrong — but because he’s right. And he said it like it was nothing. Like noticing the pattern of your avoidance was just something that happened to him between stamps.
Oh.
Way too observant.
Shit. He couldn't have settled on what's your favorite color!? Or, what superpower would you have!? No. Of course he had to go for the fucking jugular.
His eyes drop to the planner lying open beneath the invoices. The circled date: WEDDING. And his grin sharpens. “Ohoho… I get it now,” he whistles, leaning back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “What’d your fiancé do to screw up this bad? Is the wedding off?”
Your head jerks up. “F-Fiancé?!” And he rolls his eyes with a scoff, still grinning. “Knew it. God, he must be really in the doghouse. Or maybe he’s just clingy as hell to be calling that much.”
You blink.
Okay. Nevermind. He’s wrong. That is not even remotely what’s happening. The most committed relationship you’ve had is the one with your coffee machine. And yet… part of it feels almost cosmically cruel.
Because somehow, this is the second time in a month that someone had looked at the scattered pieces of your life and decided a man must be hiding inside them. Except the first time, you never even got the chance to correct it.
After all… how do you tell your mother she’s wrong?
Last month, you still answered her phone calls.
Not because you expected anything different. But because somewhere between the second ring and the third, there’s this gap — this stupid, paper-thin gap — where you still believe she might ask how you’re doing and actually wait for the answer.
Some habits taste like smoke. Some burn like liquor. But yours, unfortunately, had always looked a lot like hope.
Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.
“Oh—uh, hi mom!”
Your phone was wedged between your ear and shoulder while you stepped out of your car, juggling your purse and what was left of your sanity. You were already behind schedule, and your mother was calling — which meant the day had already made its intentions very clear.
“What’s up?” the door slammed shut with your hip. “I’m actually about to—”
“—Trish sent the venue photos,” she blurted, launching into a conversation like always.
Blinking, you shook the bitterness away. Striding toward the towering glass of Gojo Corporation. “That’s—yeah, that’s great,” you muttered, badge in hand as you pushed through the front doors. “But I’m actually heading into work right now? So—”
“—It’s such a beautiful venue,” she ignored you. “Very traditional, very grand. But you know the Zenin family—they never do anything small.” And as she sighed in awe, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
The rational part of your brain told you to let this go to voicemail. But the rational part of your brain has never once won this fight. Because…
Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.
"Mom, I'm sure it's lovely, really… but I'm kind of—um, excuse me…" you pivoted around a man in the bustling lobby with a sigh. “Sorry. I’m literally walking into the building right now? But maybe we can revisit this later and—"
"—have you booked your flight yet?"
Your mouth flattened.
Clearly, your half of this conversation is optional.
“No… not yet,” you mumbled, as patiently as you could manage, jabbing the up button harder than necessary. “It’s been a crazy ass week so I haven’t had a chance to, but—”
“—every week is a crazy week for you.” The huff she let out sounded almost offended by the inconvenience of your life. “Why can’t you just book it now while we’re talking? I mean, it literally takes five minutes.”
A miracle, really, that your blood pressure isn’t a medical emergency.
Every week is a crazy week?
Yeah. No shit.
Two managers resigned last quarter. Another got escorted out by security. And their work didn’t disappear. No. It landed on your desk. Because that’s how it goes. That’s how it’s always gone. Group projects. Internships. End-of-quarter disasters no one else wanted to touch. If something needed fixing, it found its way to you.
You’re the one people relied on.
Just… never the one people chose.
“Mother. I’m at work,” you said, stepping into the elevator as the doors slid open, dropping your voice as you stabbed at floor fifteen. “Look—I’m about to walk into an eight a.m. meeting. But I’ll book it tonight, promise.”
“…eight a.m.?” she repeated slowly, before letting out a small, unbothered laugh. “Oh! Right. It’s eight p.m. here. Silly me. I keep forgetting.”
…
Keep forgetting?
She keeps forgetting that she’s ten thousand miles away? Forgetting that twenty years ago she abandoned you in another country to live abroad in Japan—handing you to your grandparents like a detail she'd get back to later?
How convenient that she forgot that.
The elevator slid shut, and you watched the numbers tick upward. “Um. Yeah…” you managed, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. “Anyways. I’ll book it tonight. After work. Okay?”
"Okay, okay. Sure. Sounds good. But are you bringing anyone?”
Squeezing the strap of your bag, you swallowed the lump in your throat. This again? The last thing you needed was to walk into your shitty eight a.m. meeting looking emotional.
No thanks.
“I… uh…” you cleared your throat. “I um—actually—haven’t decided yet. But anyways, I gotta go, so—”
“Waitwatiwait. Haven’t decided? Does that mean… you actually found someone?!”
Her voice pitched up so fast it almost startled you, and your mouth dropped so low it could’ve hit floor one.
Shit.
“I-I—I didn’t say—"
“—oh, thank God. This is incredible!!” she squealed. “We’ve been so worried. I mean—Trish is younger than you and she figured it out,” her tongue clicked. “People have been asking questions, you know. Your aunt Sara keeps bringing it up every time I see her and—”
“—Mom, I—"
“—It’s about time,” The laugh she let out was relieved, like a problem in her life had finally begun resolving itself. “You can’t keep putting love on hold forever, because men aren’t going to wait around forever. You’re already twenty-six—not getting any younger, dear.”
Love?!
Who has time for that?
And why the fuck is twenty-six the age a woman expires?!
“What’s his name?” she pressed, practically beaming through the phone. “What does he do? Is he from there, or—oh, is he Japanese? Your father would love that, he always said—”
And she was off.
Spinning an entire man out of thin air. An entire future, really. Building him in real time from a tiny slip up you had because you were too tired and cornered and desperate enough to answer the phone in the first place. And you stood there, letting her. Because interrupting her has never once worked in the history of your life.
“—actually, never mind,” she chirped a moment later, as if she was being considerate now. “You have work. I’ll call tomorrow and you can tell me everything, yes? Okay, bye-bye honey—”
Click!
And just like that, the elevator went quiet. You were left staring at your reflection in the metal doors, phone pressed to your ear, listening to the silence where your mother’s voice had been.
‘We’ve been so worried.’
…
If they were so worried… why had you spent most of your life learning to take care of yourself? And yet, the second there might be a man, suddenly you’re worth getting excited about?
Funny how that works.
Scoffing, you lowered the phone, shoving it into your bag just as the elevator chimed open. Itadori Yuji’s head snapped up behind the reception desk.
“Morning, boss,” he waved, radiating sunshine as you walked towards the conference room. “Kento’s asking if you’re still good for the budget review at eight… or if I should just tell him to panic.”
Your smile softened, burying the sting. “Yes… I’ll be right there.” And as you stepped through the polished glass doors, you played the role you’d always played.
The reliable one. Twenty-six years old, with two master’s degrees, a career at one of the most competitive corporations in the world, and a team of seven that would quietly fall apart without you.
But…
None of that glitters quite like a diamond ring, does it?
“Oi,” Satoru frowns. “You’re makin’ that face again.”
“Huh?”
Blinking out of your spiral, your eyes trace back to the man across from you. His chin is resting in his palm, those impossibly blue eyes fixed on you with a quiet stillness that makes something in your chest trip over itself — like a lock turning in a door you didn’t know was closed.
“Oh.” You clear your throat, forcing the pen back into motion. “…what face?”
“The one you make when something’s wrong,” he says quietly, gaze unmoving. “When you’re upset and trying to act like you’re not.”
For a second — one terrible, unguarded second — you don’t have a single thing to hide behind. It’s just him, looking at you like your well-being is something he’s been keeping track of in a column you didn’t even know existed.
But then the sarcasm kicks in, right on time. "Wow," you say, forcing your hands back to the papers in front of you. "So… now you read faces?"
“Mm... nah. Just yours, sweetheart.”
And that grin — god, that fucking grin — hooks at one corner like he knows exactly what just detonated inside your chest. You don’t acknowledge it. Acknowledging things have consequences, and consequences with this man are not something you can afford.
"…that’s highly inappropriate," you mutter, shoving it down. "Let’s maybe redirect some of that insight toward the invoices, yeah?"
“Sorry, sorry.” He leans back, hands up like he’s the picture of innocence. “Wouldn’t wanna start shit with your dear future husband.” His grin goes sharp as he twirls his sunglasses between two fingers. “Though, wow. Tough look for him. Whatever he did, he clearly fucked up bad.”
Why does he sound… bitter?
No. You must be imagining it. This is Satoru. Satoru, who treats everything like a joke until proven otherwise. Satoru, who doesn’t care enough about anything to sound bitter over a man who may or may not exist.
You scoff. "You’re making some wildly stupid assumptions right now…"
He perks up at that. "Oh?" With his grin hooking higher, almost hopeful. "Wait. So, there’s no fiancé, then?"
Your lips purse.
What does he care? He’s not your mother.
“I wish you’d be this interested in your actual job,” you sigh, arms crossing. “Those invoices have been sitting there all week.”
“Uh-huh.” He tips his head. “And yet somehow, I noticed you still didn’t answer me.”
You frown.
What the fuck are you supposed to say!?
Oh. Um. Actually, Satoru, there is no fiancé. That’s the problem, actually! My mother invented him the other morning and I haven't worked up the nerve to call her back.
Yeah. No. You'd rather die at this desk.
“Maybe because it’s none of your business.”
“But I—”
“Drop it.”
He stares at you for a beat, then he flops back in the chair with a dramatic huff, long legs kicking out in front of him, mouth dragging into a sulky pout.
“Well, damn,” he grumbles, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, rolling his eyes. “No wonder you’re single if this is how you shut people down…”
The second the words leave his mouth, he blinks. His gaze flicks up to yours like he hears it too late — like he realizes, all at once, how shitty that sounded.And it only feels worse the moment he sees your face.
God.
Of all the places to hit.
“Oho… wow. Okay. This?” you say with a thin, self-deprecating laugh, chair scraping as you shove back from your seat. “Yeah. This is exactly why I shouldn’t have let you ask, Satoru.” You reach for your planner, your purse, anything to do with your hands besides let them shake.
He straightens, watching you scramble. “Whoa. Wait. I—"
“—because you don’t know when to stop!” The words come out louder than you mean, blinking at the sting behind your eyes. “You just keep pushing and pushing and pushing until you get what you want. Well good. I hope you’re happy.”
Before you can turn away, he’s on his feet. “Wait—” And the moment his hand catches yours, you freeze, breath snagging.
His voice is quieter now. His grip is firm yet gentle, and the air between you shifts, while something warm and uneasy twists low in your chest. The kind of feeling that makes you want to lean in and run in the same breath.
Though your eyes stay down. “Satoru… let go.”
“I didn’t…” he starts, then stops, gaze flicking to where his fingers still circle your wrist — before climbing back to your face, slower this time. “I’m… sorry. I just—” His mouth tightens. “I see how hard you work, okay? I see it. And every time that phone rings, you get this look on your face like it’s already ruined your day before you even touch it. And…” His brows pinch. “Fuck. I dunno why, but it pisses me off!”
Your gaze hesitantly drags to his, and the look in his eyes is softer than they have any right to be — all that blue, stripped of its usual sharpness, turned careful. Like he’s stepping toward something breakable and knows it. Like… if he asked once more, something in you might actually give.
“Satoru…” your breath hitches. “I-I—"
“Oh, finally.”
Shoko’s voice trails in, and your head snaps up so fast your neck almost goes with it. She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, coffee in hand — looking like a woman who arrived exactly on time for something she's been expecting all week.
Her gaze flicks down to where he’s holding you, and the corner of her mouth twitches.
"Sooo… not to interrupt whatever this is," she says, taking a sip, "but Kento's one eye-twitch away from a medical event. He needs you to sign off on the variance line before he starts reconciling his own will and—"
You're already jerking your hand back. "Yup—coming!" And as you step away, heat floods your face, but you don't look back. Not once. Not even when you feel him still standing there, watching you go.
Because looking back would mean acknowledging that something just shifted. And you are not — not — doing that today.
Unlike those invoices, perhaps some things are better left… unfinished.
You’re gone in a blur of heels, nerves, and professional self-preservation, leaving Shoko trailing behind and Satoru staring at the empty doorway like maybe the conversation might wander back through it.
It doesn’t.
And it’s not long before his mouth is pulling into a slow, petulant pout—just before he flops back in the chair with all the elegance of a man personally betrayed by the universe.
Un-fucking-believable.
He’d almost had you! After four months and four days of being stonewalled, redirected, and professionally shut down, you’d finally looked like you might give him something. A crack. A sliver. And then Kento had to ruin it with his stupid reconciliation sheet, his stupid earnest face, and his stupidly impeccable timing.
…
He could fire Kento.
Should he fire Kento?
As tempting as that thought is, Satoru settles for glaring at the empty doorway a second longer before dragging a hand down his face and raking it back through his hair. There’s no point. This performance will end soon. Because by this time tomorrow, he’ll be on a flight back to Tokyo. Where he can resume the slow, agonizing process of preparing to inherit a company he didn't actually give a shit about.
'Grow up, Satoru.'
'Apply yourself, Satoru.'
'You have no idea what it takes to run something like this, Satoru.'
Right. Because apparently, the heir to a multinational corporation needed to learn humility. Alphabetize files. Sit in a cubicle. Fetch coffee like some goddamn spreadsheet slut with a trust fund and nowhere to put it.
Four years of business school, two years shadowing his father; and yet, this is what they had for him?!
He scoffs. And when his gaze drops to the wreckage of your desk, he’s pulling the stack of vendor invoices toward him with a sigh that sounds put-upon even to his own ears. You’ve been nagging him about filing them for the better part of the week and… the least he can do is clear one thing before he goes.
The stamp thuds against the first page. Then the next. Then the next. And with muscle memory taking over, his face goes blank in the way it always does when boredom finally wins. It’s mindless shit. Still, he’s used to it. So naturally, when the phone on your desk buzzes, he doesn’t think twice; snatching it up, tucking it between his ear and shoulder as he reaches for the next invoice.
It’s probably another budget nuisance. Or Mei. Or one of the other thousand little crises that seem magnetically drawn to your extension.
“Yo,” another stamp echoes. “Satoru speaking.”
There’s a sharp inhale. “…who?”
His brow lifts. “Uh… Satoru?” Another thud of ink slams against the paper and he huffs, annoyed. “What do y’need?”
The line goes quiet for a beat too long. Before the woman on the other end finally murmurs, “Satoru…” Sighing in awe. “What a lovely name. Is that Japanese?”
"Uh… yeah?” he snorts, flipping to the next page. “I mean. Last I checked.”
“Mm… I thought so!” She giggles. And her voice pitches like she's just unwrapped a present she didn't know she was getting. “So… Satoru. Why exactly are you the one answering her phone, hm?”
…
Why the hell does this woman sound so invested? And why is she asking questions that should be obvious?
Frowning down at the invoice, he stamps it harder.
“Because it rang?” He says it like it’s obvious. “And uh—sorry, but. Maybe because I’ve been with her for months, so… why the hell wouldn’t I?”
"Months?!” A soft gasp crackles, far too delighted. “You've—you've been with her for months?!"
"Mmm… four months and four days, technically."
He’s been her intern for that long.
That’s the question, right?
"—technically?!" she squeals, like the word personally seduced her. "Ohmygoodness—oh, this is perfect. Four months and four days—that is so specific.”
He blinks. But she doesn’t give him time to process.
“Look at you Mr. Devoted. Keeping track. I was starting to worry she’d never find someone like you. Every time I asked it's like pulling teeth. But I knew there had to be someone. I told her father—I said, there is a man, I can feel it.”
Pausing mid-stamp, the words slowly begin to catch up. Satoru straightens.
"…sorry. Who is thi—"
“—everyone is so excited to meet you at Trish’s wedding. I already reserved your seat and—"
Her voice keeps going… and going… and going. He pulls the phone away slowly as her voice echoes on the receiver, staring down at the phone in hand to see:
📞 Mom
Oh.
Oh, shit.
This is not your work phone. Your work phone is currently sitting at its dock twelve inches to his left. And it dawns on him that he accidentally just spent the last sixty seconds answering your personal phone like an absolute jackass and—
"Uh…” he backpedals. “Wait. I—"
"I told Sara, I said, we have to meet him and—”
"Stop. I-I really think—"
“—Satoru, what are you doing?’
His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, mouth dropping as he sees you standing at the doorway, eyes wide in horror.
Oh, fuck.
“Who is on the other end of that phone,” you hiss.
He winces, pulling the phone from his ear like it’s toxic — and you’re snatching it right out of his hand. He lets you have it without a fight, sinking back into the chair like he’s trying to physically dissociate from the situation he’s just created while you press the phone to your ear.
“And I mean…” she rambles. “I certainly was never one to wait around at twenty-six, believe me. But—"
"Mom."
"Oh! Honey!” She gasps. “Oh, my goodness, hi—I was just having the loveliest chat with—"
"I'm at work. Gotta go."
"—okay! I can't wait to meet Satoru, he—"
Click!
The phone sits in your hand like evidence.
And Satoru — to his credit — has the decency to look like a man standing in the blast radius of his own stupidity. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Like he’s rehearsing an apology in a language he hasn’t learned yet.
You stare at him.
He stares at you.
And somewhere ten thousand miles away, your mother is already calling your aunt Sara.
“Sooo… funny story…”
“—what did you do?!”
Satoru flinched, and now, the tears were already rolling down your cheeks — hot, fast, completely unauthorized. Not the kind you could disguise as allergies or blame on the air conditioning. No. The ugly kind.
Great. Fucking great.
You were standing in the middle of your own office, in the building where you work, crying in front of your intern. And Satoru felt the weight of it all at once. In the last four months, he had seen you in every flavor of workplace misery there was. Pissed off, stressed out, one spreadsheet away from actual murder.
But cry?
Never.
And this had his fingerprints all over it.
"Shit," he breathed, panic flashing across his face. "I—fuck. Okay. Please don't—I can fix this. I can—"
"Fix this?" A splintered laugh ripped out of you, and you hated how thin it was. "Fix what, Satoru? You just confirmed a boyfriend to my mother, a boyfriend that doesn't exist—and she is, at this very moment, probably already—"
Another break in your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your hand to your forehead hard like you could hold the tears in by sheer force. But it only made it worse, because now you could feel the wetness on your own face, the heat of it under your palm, and the mortification landed like a second wave.
God. How fucking humiliating.
"Hey, hey—it's okay,” his voice softened. “We'll just… call her back. Right? Tell her it was a misunderstanding. Easy."
“Easy?” you scoffed, the word coming out strangled. “Y-You don’t understand my mother, Satoru,” you managed, voice gone thin as thread. God, you sounded like a child. “If she thinks something is true, then it’s true. That’s it. That’s—there’s no correcting her, there’s no walking it back, she’s already told my aunt Sara by now and Sara’s told Trish and—oh, fuck—”
Another sob tumbled out, and your fingers dug harder into your temple.
God. Stop it.
Stop it stop it stop it.
Think.
Think logically. You're good at this. You solve problems for a living.
But every time you tried to grab onto a thought, it slipped — replaced by the echo of your mother's voice, high and delighted. The happiest she'd sounded talking to you in years. Maybe ever.
…what look will she give you when you show up alone?
"I can’t," you whispered, and the word came out waterlogged. "I-I'm supposed to get on a plane to Japan in a week and—do what? Tell them there's no one? Tell them I'm still—"
Single.
The word sat in your mouth like a stone. You didn’t realize you’d gone silent until the silence itself started ringing — your sniffling, the hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled life of the office continuing beyond the door like yours wasn’t actively coming apart at the seams.
And through all of it, you could feel Satoru looking at you. His stillness; holding you with an expression you'd never seen on him before and couldn't categorize if you tried.
"Um…” he looked down, scratching the back of his neck. “Soooo... the wedding's in Japan?"
You blinked. “What?” And as you wiped your face with the back of your hand, his gazed tentatively flicked back up. “The wedding…” he repeated, voice careful. “It’s in Japan?”
"Yes." Your brow furrowed, not understanding. "Why?"
He didn't answer right away. Just looked down at the floor for a second, jaw shifting, like he was turning something over in his head — something he hadn't fully assembled yet but could already feel the shape of.
"Huh… okay."
Okay what?
You watched his expression change in real time — from guilt to calculation to something else. "Right then!" He said, clapping his hands once, bright and sudden. "No biggie. I'll just go with you."
No biggie?
Your mouth dropped.
That wasn’t even an option, was it?
…is he crazy?
“You’re kidding,” your laugh was awkward and breathless. His eyes rolled with a smug grin. “Sweetheart, c’mon,” and he was gesturing between the two of you like the answer was sitting there in plain sight and you were the only person in the room committed to not seeing it. "Your family thinks you're bringing someone? Cool." A hand pressed to his chest with theatrical solemnity. "I'm someone."
You stared at him. Genuinely stared.
Oh. He wasn’t kidding.
Yup. He’s crazy.
"You are not 'someone,' Satoru. You are my intern."
“Yeah. For like… another six hours?"
He checked his watch with a shrug, and your lips flattened.
"…that is not the point."
“Mm… feels a little like the point."
He smirked, but it faded faster than usual, dimming at the edges as his blue eyes hesitated on yours. Something shifted in his posture; the performance pulling back, like a tide going out. "Um… look…" He pushed off the desk, stepping closer. "It’s really no hassle." He said, hands sliding into his pockets. "I already have a flight scheduled. My family's in Tokyo. And I was going back after this internship anyway, so… this just moves my timeline back a little."
He was shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t agreeing to fly across the world with you and walk straight into the disaster that was your family.
…
His family’s in Japan too?
You barely knew anything about him. He kept his life sealed off with the same practiced deflection you kept yours — jokes in place of answers, charm in place of honesty. You never bothered to ask, because asking meant caring and that was a door you never intended to walk through with anyone.
But…
"Just… let me come with you. I’ll be your boyfriend for the weekend. For the wedding. For… whatever you need,” he said. And this time, when he stepped closer, there was no grin to hide behind. "I can be useful. I caused this. So… let me fix it."
Heat creeped up your neck, and you scoffed, weakly.
"Okay… but you can't fix my mother."
"No…” he murmured, tilting his head. His hand came up and brushed a tear trailing down your cheek with a careful gentleness. “But… I can make sure you don't have to walk in there alone?"
Your breath hitched, and when your eyes finally lifted, the morning light was being cruel again — catching in that impossible blue and turning it soft. Like stained glass dipped in sunlight. Like something holy made dangerous by the simple fact that it was looking straight at you.
“Mhn. So, do I get the job, boss lady? Because that look you’re giving me…” a slow smirk curls up the corner of his mouth. “Very encouraging for my boyfriend résumé, by the way. Might get addicted to it and wanna make it a full-time gig.”
“Shut up,” you mutter, looking away too fast to be convincing.“That was not a look. I was just—” You grimace. “…never mind.”
He’s chuckling as you brush past him. And his words are what scared you the most. Which was bad. Very, very bad. Because your mother was one problem. Japan was another. But Satoru looking at you like that?
Shit…
That felt like the kind of complication that didn’t stay neatly contained. And you knew better than anyone. Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.
a/n: hehe. this has been fun to work on! i am excited to share the next part. clearly i love these fake dating/fake marriage tropes aha 🙂↕️ bc this is like... what—my third time doing it? soooo i tried to change things up and make it feel less standard/generic :) but anyways, like i said pt 2 will be out in a week, pls lmk if you wanna be tagged 💖
a collection of my absolute favourite jjk one shots, drabbles and series! most of these are sukuna-centric but there are a couple for other characters too
this list includes a mix of ao3 and tumblr fics, for even more recommendations take a look at my #fic recs tag!
series
hesitance, defiance and controller by @yenayaps
what you know and hold me like a grudge by @starmapz
vault boy, slim pickins and broken hearts by @indiewritesxoxo
feathers and lace by @feyrinnn
tamed by @bluukive
spiracle by @5yzygy
i wanna be your endgame and to the end by @yuujispinkhair
forgotten souls, accidental sins and chained by killerpoultry
blackmail by vinus
remember the time by pasteleclectic
pride. by kettlescorn
the butcher by bunnythot
one shots
love and company by @/starmapz
friday night lights and dark but just a game by @epicderpface
she's my collar by @liahcharms
pretty please and sleep tight by @madamechrissy
the one that got away and it's not me it's you by @/indiewritesxoxo
help, the angel and devil on my shoulder keep watching me goon! by @/bluukive
rocking around the christmas tree, blood vow and baby, come back to me by @/feyrinnn
not so secret admirer by @spideyyeet
ponyboy by @shokocide
dungeons & dragons & d*ck?! by @iamsoclone
heaven knows and veni, vidi, vici by emphistic
drabbles/headcanons
history, facesitting 101 with athlete!sukuna and nerd!reader by @macbethinchains
group project with athletekuna by @cupidstrace
sukuna jerking off while watching his fav cam girl and arguing with sukuna during sex by @gojodickbig
pornstar!sukuna by @ryoride
trueform!sukuna making his maid bathe him and full nelson babytrapping w sukuna by @gradeonefreak
☕︎ Pairings: Baby Daddy!Gojo x f!Reader
☕︎ Content warnings + tags: 18+ MDNI, modern AU, friends to lovers, complicated relationships, angst with a happy ending, unplanned pregnancy, eventual smut, drinking, pining, emotional turmoil, gojo has a girlfriend at first, mutual but poorly communicated feelings, bad decisions at 2am, reader has a cat, lots of feelings, shoko being the only one with a brain
☕︎ Synopsis: Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be more than your best friend. Sure, you had history—too many lines crossed—but it was always complicated. He had his life together: the fancy law degree, the penthouse, the girlfriend. You? You had a coffee shop job, a cluttered apartment, and a cat. After one drunk, regrettably unforgettable night, things get messier than ever. A month later, you're staring down a positive pregnancy test with no idea how to tell the man you haven't even spoken to since. You thought heartbreak was bad. Turns out, secrets are worse.
How to Ruin a Friendship in One Easy Step!
Step Two: Make it Worse | Step Three: Run Before it Sinks in
Step Four: Pretend You're Fine | Step Five: Show Up or Don't
Step Six: Make Space for the Impossible
Step Seven: Sit with the Weight of Wanting More
Step Eight: Change Your Mind
Step Nine: Learn to Live in the In-Between
Step Ten: Let the Truth Rot in Your Hands
Step Eleven: Call It What It Is
Step Twelve: Say It's Love When No One's Looking
Step Thirteen: Hold What You’re Afraid to Lose
Step Fourteen: Smile Like You Chose This
Step Fifteen: Wait for a Promise that Never Comes
more to come…
art by: @kazh5y on Instagram | divider by: @strangergraphics
yakuza!sae who you've tried to stab more than once, but he's deflected every time. you're with a rival family and he should make an example of you, but instead—he marries you. it effectively stays your hand and serves as a punishment.
it's a cold marriage, a bleak winter's day. your bed stays empty; sae keeps to his own rooms after the initial wedding night. he's aloof. unbothered by your bared teeth.
until the affair.
sae kills your lover with his bare hands.
he's ruthlessly efficient with it; he doesn't even tell you he's done it. that falls to one of your attendants. he waits until you know, and then he goes to you that night.
you're trembling when he enters. you throw yourself at him with something akin to a wail; he grapples you into submission. pins you under him.
when you start to cry, he sighs. he loops an arm under you and pulls you up to sit in his lap, cradling you to him. you're warm against him, your hands fisting in his haori.
"i hate you," you hiccup between sobs.
he cups a hand at the base of your skull. he uses the grip to tilt your face up to his. his teal eyes are sharp; they slip beneath your skin.
"that's fine," he says. "but you're mine."
"i'm—"
"mine."
"you don't even like me," you breathe, confusion painted across your face.
something flashes across his face, too quick for you to identify.
"you're too smart to be this stupid," he tells you.
he kisses you then, hard and possessive. his fingers tighten against you, pull you in closer still. his tongue is hot when it slips into your mouth.
you bite.
sae doesn't even flinch.
when he pulls back, there's a smear of crimson against his lips. he licks at it.
"little animal," he says, but there's almost something fond to it. "i suppose i should have expected that."
you bare your teeth at him. "i'm not yours," you say.
sae reaches down. he lifts your left hand into the air. your wedding ring glints in the low light.
"yes," he says. "you are."
A Mega-Introverted, Out-of-touch Millennial @otomesunshine - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
