SATORU GOJO :: fratjo and his curated instagram profile!
(18+) :: content – frat!gojo x fem!reader, college au, smut, switch!gojo, p in v, riding, pussydrunk gojo
frat!gojo is one of those guys with a heavily curated instagram profile.
it’s not that it’s overly nonchalant, or so quiet that it looks painfully intentional, but so effortlessly busy while maintaining an air of carelessness that he makes it look like a modern day art form.
it’s all witty captions (“siri, set an alarm for those sleeping on me”, who even thinks of that?), vaguely motion-blurred pictures of neon lights and solo cups, polo clubs and martinis, late nights at the frat house, and highlights of well-shot travel pictures and selfies.
it just seems like he always knows exactly what kind of picture to take in what setting, exactly what makes him look good in front of the many people (many.) that are hungry to see what’s going on in satoru’s life. it doesn’t even seem like he’s actively trying to show off how cool and interesting and luxurious his life is – he just fucking does it.
the cherry on top? an absolutely lethal follower-to-following ratio. satoru doesn’t even follow back half of the thousands of followers he’s got.
in short: he’s got it down to a science. you’d think you knew exactly who he was simply based on the curation of his profile.
at least, that’s what you think when your sorority friends first show you his account.
you – well, you’re the type of person who’s seen it all before.
you think you’ve got it down to a science too, because you’ve always been able to accurately predict exactly who someone is based on what their social media looks like. and the minute your friends show you satoru gojo’s instagram, you don’t know whether you should laugh, scoff, or clutch your pearls tightly.
“no. he’s definitely an asshole,” you clock immediately, shaking your head. “if I tell you guys I’m bored, at least give me someone nice.”
“he’s nice!”
“I mean, someone who isn’t the definition of ‘lights on, nobody’s home’, maybe?”
your friends look at each other like they’d expected the less-than-positive reaction, but they keep pushing anyways. “just try talking to him. if you’re bored, gojo’s the person to go to. Look at his profile: he’s rich as fuck. fine as fuck. good in pictures. he passes his classes–”
you groan. “yes, because that makes him the epitome of academic excellence–”
“–just fucking text him already!”
against your better judgment, you click on that well-curated profile, and you text.
and he texts back – quickly, you might add, for someone that chronically looks like he ghosts people simply because he doesn’t have time for all of them.
it's not just that. the thing is, you and satoru keep texting – for weeks on end.
it’s not even you holding the conversations together, but him. satoru does the most; he sends you pictures of him with his brothers, him in his car, him walking to classes you didn’t think he attended.
you wanted to stop replying. you want to doubt him, call him a slut, find him annoying. but he’s really not.
you: gojo it’s getting late yk
gojo: but i wanna keep talking to you :((
you almost scoff.
you: how many girls did u JUST text that to be honest
it’s mostly a joke, partially your own morbid curiosity kicking into action. it’s late on a friday night, you’re trying to find any reason not to be intentionally texting someone who probably doesn’t give half of a shit about you, and amidst the darkness of your own bedroom, you’re fucking entertaining this. satoru’s probably off convincing some other girl she’s the only one, calling her up, coercing her into letting him come over at this hour–
gojo: [1 attachment]
it’s just you beautiful
he sends a screenshot of his recent fucking DMs.
and he’s not lying – it’s just you (pinned?), a couple of his frat brothers’ dump accounts, absolutely nothing incriminating that could justify your premature judgments about satoru.
suddenly, you’re in it now; your lip is caught between your teeth, trying to process this revelation, and he’s still fucking typing. like he doesn’t care if it looks desperate. maybe he just thinks he’s incapable of looking desperate?
gojo: soo will you keep talking to me now
i miss you its been 30 secs
you: ur so stupid
fine
okay. maybe satoru isn’t anything like his profile at all.
one day, he finally asks you to come over. it’s not even in a weird, frat fuck, booty call way either; you get home from a pretty late exam, and you somehow get into texting satoru about how you’re pissed, you think you flunked, and you hadn’t eaten anything in hours.
before you can even think about setting foot in your building elevator, he’s sending you a picture of a shit ton of sushi (he remembered you saying you liked it?), luring you into his place like a mouse trap, and threatening to make you feel better with free food and bad movies.
it’s irritating how saying no didn’t even cross your mind for a second.
even if there was a 70% chance satoru only wanted to fuck, you kind of didn’t even mind that.
and you learn that satoru is 100%, most definitely not an asshole.
he doesn’t even actually look that much like what you’d see on his profile – other than being absolutely delicious-looking, because of course that doesn’t change.
he’s tall, but half of all the bicep and muscle he loves to show off on his story highlights is hidden behind a faded digimon hoodie. satoru’s got a pair of black, thick-framed glasses perched on top of his head, pushing his snow-white bangs back, leaving a few strands to rest over his forehead.
he even smiles sweet, out of the corners of his lips, all “let’s stay in my room” and “you got any movies you like? I have all of them!”, drawing you in without even knowing it.
your heart is in your throat when he leads you to his bedroom, where he’s laid sushi and snacks out as if eating was the first thing on your mind.
you have two thoughts: first, that he’s nothing like the fuckboy he seems he is on his instagram, and second, coming over to his house, just him and you, may be the best idea you’ve ever had in your life.
so you think it takes way too long, because satoru’s way too nice.
in fact, it takes you shuffling close into his side on the bed and tugging at his hoodie string with your fingertip midway through detective pikachu for him to even notice you wanted something.
“hm?” satoru hums, his arm absentmindedly wrapping over your shoulders in a motion that makes your skin warm. “yeah? is it too cold, or–”
oh my god. you bite the inside of your cheek. “maybe you wanna keep me warm?”
“oh, for sure, i’ll go get another blanket–”
“gojo.”
and satoru dares move to get up. “i’ll be quick, don’t worry–”
“satoru.” and you’re tugging him back down, giving him half-lidded eyes, gazing beneath your eyelashes like he’s one more word away from being eaten alive.
and finally, finally, you see his eyebrows raise like something’s clicking into place, and there’s a faint grin starting to tug at the corners of his lips. maybe he is kind of an asshole – but you barely get to berate him before he’s clicking his tongue and tugging you into his lap.
⭑.ᐟ
“fuck, beautiful–”
you don’t even realize just how little satoru matches his instagram profile until he’s the one beneath you, hands roaming your waist, trailing up to pinch desperately at your hardened nipples, all while you press your hands to his bare chest and ride his huge cock.
it’s hard to remember how you ended up here, his back against his own mattress, glasses hitting his own headboard, with your legs hooked over each side of his hips, watching the frat boy’s face contort in absolute pleasure.
all you know is that every sound that leaves his lips, every flutter of his lashes over those blue fucking eyes – heat pools between your legs. it doesn’t help that satoru’s so big, each drop back down on his dick making you see stars behind your eyelids.
“s–shit,” you gasp out wantonly, a loud squelch resounding between you as your pussy clenched around him. he’s just so deep, stretching out your needy cunt so perfectly with each roll of your hips. “so fuck– fucking big, satoru–”
he hisses. “baby, you’re – oh my god – you’re killing me here. c’mon, let me take care of you–”
it’s cute how easy it is to get him, of all people, to shut the fuck up.
all it takes is a shaky scoff from your parted lips, as you lift your hips all the way up, sliding your wet entrance over his tip for a second, just to relish in the way the white-haired man below you practically whines, aching for the warmth of your pussy around him. and then you drop down fully, letting out a broken little cry as his cock splits you open again, the stretch achingly delicious.
“haah–” satoru sounds so pathetic like this, fingertips clutching at the skin of your waist tight like he needed to bounce you on his dick until you were sobbing in his hold. “come on, please, just– just let me fuck you properly, pretty.”
“mmh,” you breathe out airily as you grind down onto his cock, eyes rolling back. “but ‘s so good.”
“could make it even b–better,” satoru groans. “shit. shit, do that again,”
you almost grin, albeit cockdrunk and absolutely dripping on him, at the little whimper that escapes his lips when your fingernails claw into his chest, timed perfectly with a greedy little roll of your hips, shifting him deeper into the warmth of your cunt.
you lean forward, tits pressing against his skin as you press your lips to his. and satoru takes this opportunity as his only avenue of control — his tongue breaches your mouth, a dazed little whine escaping your lips in response, shoving the muscle as far down your mouth as it would go. as if taunting you.
but he’s fucking gone, at the end of the day, and all it takes to have his mouth dropping open is for you to slam that ass back down like your life depended on it.
“don’t be a — ah! — an asshole, satoru,” you murmur into his skin, devastating, manicured fingertips prying his hand off your waist. “be good.”
“f—fuck,” he sputters out amidst the wet plap! plap! plap! of your ass against his pelvis. “fuck, ‘re the asshole here, pretty—”
your teeth sink into his plush bottom lip, and the low, broken sound that escapes his mouth is almost enough to have you creaming around his dick right then and there. “you’re so — ngh — ungrateful. ‘m literally bouncing on your dick—”
“haah—” both of your words are messy, making it out through strings of saliva against each other’s lips, resounding across the space of satoru’s bedroom. “baby…”
“haven’t even said please.” you mumble, and the white-haired man keens at how easily you can pretend to be so innocent, voice soft and wrecked and sweet like you don’t even realize what you’re doing. “just say please for me, satoru.”
you swear you see something hot flash in those blue eyes.
he doesn’t say anything.
“satoru,” and there’s no way he can say no to that voice. not like that. not when your voice is so candied, so sweet, so intentional in trying to get him to beg to fuck you. you press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, and he hisses like you’ve just bitten bruises into his shoulder. “play nice for me, okay?”
“shit, baby…”
“pleaaase. say it.”
he tries rolling his hips into you, chasing the sweet warmth of the pussy you’re denying to let him fuck. all for not much, considering you slam his hips back down and leave him whimpering beneath your touch. so adorable. so desperate, it was almost comical, considering how satoru looked, how he presented himself.
so much for the fuckboy with an allegedly long list of girls in his DMs.
because—
“please!” satoru whines out, arms flexing by your thighs, a large hand meeting your waist, fingertips gripping loosely. “fuck, please, please let me fuck you properly, you’re so tight, so good–”
he’s babbling. about your pussy. satoru’s punctuating each little plea with a pathetic gasp ripped from his throat.
the man behind the curated ig that featured countless hookups, countless parties, and he’s utterly pussydrunk as you ride him to insanity.
“yeah?” you whisper against his mouth.
“haah— yeah, fuck, yes. been thinking about it — shit! — ever since you texted me.” satoru gasps.
you find it in yourself amidst the haziness to glance down at his face, the way his lips are slicked with your drool, the way his eyes are half-lidded behind white eyelashes, so utterly destroyed. the absolute picture of intoxication, all by the hand of your cunt lewdly squelching around his length.
he’s not what he seems at all.
because the white-haired man would have never looked like he begged this pretty beneath someone like you.
and you’re just as far gone, because you kiss him hard after the admission, legs shaking as you slam your hips up and down like you wanted his tip bruising hearts into your cervix. it doesn’t take much — you’re biting at those plush lips, letting his tongue saunter down your throat, and he’s whining, stuttering into your lips as his dick twitches inside of you, pumping you full of his cum.
it’s filthy, between the gasps from his throat, warm liquid seeping out of your hole and coating your pussy lips, dripping down your asscheeks, staining his sheets. you’re not exactly any better, whimpering at the sticky feeling of his cum deep inside of you, your own wetness soaking his entire cock in a pretty sheen.
satoru’s spent for a moment, and so are you — heavy breaths are exchanged between kiss-bitten lips, his hands gripping your waist tight like you’re his only lifeline. like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t bruise your skin.
the afterglow lasts about five seconds longer. because you realize just how fucked you are when you feel the frat boy grin against the corners of your lips, long fingers moving down, down to grasp your plush thighs.
“satoru,” you mumble, somewhere between a warning and a request.
“shh,” his voice is wrecked. “said please for you, baby. promised i’d get to fuck you properly.”
“satoru—”
he presses down on the bulge where his cock is buried deep inside you, earning a soft little moan from your mouth.
and that voice makes you shudder. “you be good for me now.”
⭑.ᐟ
frat!gojo's profile is a heavily curated one.
he’s got it down to a science.
so no one realizes anything is out of place — even when he posts a carefully-shot picture of you, passed out on his bare chest, hair splayed out to obscure your face. it’s provocative enough for everyone to know exactly what he did, but barely enough for anyone to question its place in the life he showed off online.
barely enough for anyone except you, who sees that story, dressed in an oversized t-shirt, while satoru’s waking you up with gentle pecks over your face.
yeah. he’s not what anyone thinks.
@ ttakdoll, 2026
kind of just wanted this one out of my hair,, i'll do smth better soon!
he's had his nose buried in textbooks for the last two hours, droning incoherently to himself about quantum physics or his latest assignment. exam season's been draining the life out of your tall nerd of a boyfriend, insatiably sucking the devotion to his studies from his very veins.
thus, he's given up. spinning in his desk chair, he finds himself staring at you, his angel sprawled ever so beautifully on his bed, in his dorm room. his perfect reprieve.
“babe. you’re staring again.” you mutter, blowing a bubble with your gum before popping it between your molars, dragging your gaze from your phone to your boyfriend’s face.
yeah, he’s weird.
his cerulean irises are swallowed by his dilated pupils from behind his glasses, gaze fixed straight on your lips. he doesn’t even blink. you’re not sure if he even has in the last five minutes.
then, he moves, sitting on the foot of his bed, his hands reaching out to gently rub up and down your thighs, absentmindedly feeling. memorising the weight of your flesh in his palms.
“is that a new gloss? lip stain? lipstick?” his eyes don’t stray away from your mouth. “lip plumper? or like.. a lip oil?”
“you don’t even know what half of those are.”
“don’t need to. they all make you look pretty, so they’re working.”
you roll your eyes, setting your phone aside on your bedside table before shifting to cup his cheeks. unintentionally, your fingers brush the longer white hairs at the nape of his neck, to which he shivers sensitively. you run your fingertips along his cheekbones, watching as his eyelashes flutter in response to your touch behind his glasses.
"what happened to studying, baby?" you murmur, carrying an awfully mock-sympathetic lilt to your voice, expecting a reply.
yet, his gaze never once leaves your lips.
“satoru, you keep staring at my lips.” you raise a brow at his lack of reply, smushing his cheeks together in reprisal, earning you a displeased grunt, but no sign of denial.
“mm, yeah. guilty.” he sighs softly, eyes squinting in concentration. you fight the urge to snort.
then, he moves. he crawls between your legs, dropping his chin on your chest, the plushness of your chest cushioning the fall.
for a second, his hands settle on your waist, dipping under the hem of your shirt to cover as much skin as he can, before they slide up to your jaw. his fingertips bury themselves in your hair, tangling in the strands to find purchase.
“can i kiss you?” satoru whispers, finally tearing his gaze away from your lips to meet your eyes, his thin white brows pulling into a soft frown.
aw. you nearly melt.
he looks like he needs it.
when you don’t reply, his frown deepens. he bites the inside of his cheek, gathering the strength to ask again.
he's a little pathetic, you can't help but feel bad.
“baby..” he whispers, voice carrying that familiar breathless whine.
ah, hell.
you offer a small, drawn-out hum for the sole purpose of torturing him further, one that he eats up desperately in hopes for a proper response. he echoes the soft hum subconsciously, craning his head just slightly closer. enough to have the tips of your noses touching.
"okay," you smile, coy and saccharine before leaning in.
as soon as the word leaves your lips, satoru presses his lips to yours and seals the permission between you. inadvertently, you breathlessly laugh against his mouth, and he groans, displeased with your flippancy.
you take pity on him, however, and kiss him properly. your neck mirrors his earlier crane, nose bumping against his as you switch position to steer the kiss. it's slow, sweet, and needy, driven by a lazy messiness only a burnt-out satoru can offer.
the bridge of your nose touches cool metal a couple times before you register his wire-rimmed glasses. without giving it much thought, you pull back. you push his glasses to his forehead, simultaneously using it to brush his soft tufts of hair back, before kissing him again.
a hand to his jaw, the other on his chest, satoru is kissed stupid. the pressure of your lips is the only feeling he wants to remember, physics be damned.
he chases your lips desperately for a few more beats before whining from low in his throat when you pull back. there's a satisfied smile on your face, but it only makes him physically deflate.
"s'not enough," he slurs (courtesy of your kiss), leaning forward slightly too fast and causing his glasses to drop back down on the bridge of his nose, his frown deepening. ".. come back, angel."
if possible, your smile widens.
"you can get another when you finish studying. your final's in a week."
"you just-- baby-- you can't do that!" he sputters, groaning when you deny him. his large hands slide down to your hips, absently squeezing the flesh. "come on, just one more."
"finish studying. I promise I'll give you more after an hour." you mirror his pout, raising a hand to ruffle his hair.
you're not even surprised anymore. two minutes later, your boyfriend's hunched over his desk again, reciting ridiculously long formulas to a polaroid of you on his wall.
omg i'm so late to this but thank you nonnie <3 this is so sweet of youu. i've highkey been ia but hopefully i can put out new writing eventuallyy thank you for the support xx
currently thinking about idol!reader x timeskip!suna... suna who doesn't get the appeal of idols until his fangirl little sister forces him to take her to idol!reader's concert...
A loud knock jolts you from your focus, your stationery practically shakes from the force. You murmur to yourself, “What now?” Irritation evident in your voice as you push yourself out of your seat at your desk and head towards your dorm door.
You’re met with a very groggy, very out-of-it Satoru.
“Satoru? What are you doing here — why have you got gauze in your mouth?”
He pushed past you with a groan and flopped down onto your bed as if he owned it. “Just got my wisdom teeth removed, sweets.” His words were slurred, almost incoherent. You stared at him, pondering why on earth your fuck buddy was coming to your dorm out of all places after just having his teeth extracted.
“Aren't you going to cuddle me?”
You snorted at his garbled words, the idea being so foreign that the only reasonable reaction was to laugh. “Satoru, we never cuddle after you visit, we high five and one of us leaves after getting dressed.” The white-haired man’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at your words, “But… why would I not want to cuddle my girlfriend?”
Hold on, girlfriend?
How many painkillers was this guy on?
You moved closer to him, sitting at the edge of the bed and rubbing your hand up and down his shin. “We aren’t dating, Toru. We just hook up sometimes, remember?” You tried to sound as kind as possible, lowering your voice so as not to embarrass him. Satoru however just shook his head, drool slipping from the sides of his mouth as he sat up.
“Nuh uh, we are dating because I’m sooo in love with you, pretty girl.” He tried to smirk but his cotton-stuffed mouth prevented that, instead, he ended up looking a tiny bit lopsided.
You froze, eyes wide, mouth agape at his confession. “You don’t mean that, you’re practically high from how many meds you’re on.” You tried to get up but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back onto the bed with him. “No, I love you.” He repeated in a sing-song voice, nuzzling his head into your hand.
“My girlfriend, let me love you...” You felt him starting to fall limp against your hand, eyes wavering as he fought a drug-induced sleep. You signed, leaning closer in to press a soft kiss to his damp forehead. “We can talk about whatever that was tomorrow, Toru.”
“Let me love you… don’t you give up, nah-nah-nah…”
“You listen to Justin Bieber?”
“Suguru played it in the car, told me to serenade you…”
idk if any of my mooties play wuwa but goodluck with your pulls!!! i got insanely lucky (literally got phrolova at 30 pity—my first pull on her banner like HELLO) i got denia at 70 pity after (i won two 50/50s in a row bless up) and currently farming for chisa <3
what happens when no one gets the ending they were promised?
synopsis: in a college built on stories older than memory, where descendants of legends are raised to inherit endings that were never theirs to choose, the book of ever after waits to be signed—ink binding fate, sealing love, deciding who gets to exist and who fades into nothing. no one questions it. no one refuses. not until the beast’s son doesn’t kneel, not until cupid forgets how to do her job, not until a perfect prince hesitates, a quiet observer starts asking the wrong questions, a “monster” chooses not to be one, and a man with no story at all refuses to disappear. one by one, their names remain unwritten, their futures uncertain, and something begins to fracture—because if destiny can be broken, then so can the world that depends on it.
content: mdni, college ever after high AU!, fem-bodied reader pining and yearning, angst and smut, piv sex, choking, oral (m! + f! receiving),
chapter index:
ACT ONE:: starring:: beauty and the beast's son sukuna x cupid reader:: fade into you
ACT TWO:: starring:: snow white's son gojo x evil queen's daughter reader:: we can't be friends
ACT THREE:: starring:: rapunzel's son geto x cheshire cat reader:: a royal and a cheshire
ACT FOUR:: starring:: storyless toji x mad hatter's daughter reader:: welcome to my world
ACT FIVE:: starring:: big bad wolf choso x red riding hood reader:: closer
ACT SIX:: starring:: cinderella's son higuruma x queen of hearts daughter reader:: love you twice
I'm SO SO excited for this! i already have the first two chapters written i just need to proof read and fix the issue i've got with my tumblr and they should be out! lmk in messages or comments if you'd like to be tagged♡
summary : turns out the guy you’ve been bickering with on voice chat for months is pretty popular on twitch.. if you’d consider an average of 50,000 viewers per stream popular—then you are too! cause apparently you’re his main clipfarming tool..
content : [3.5K] mdni. f!reader, smut, exhibitionism(?), blowjob, face fucking, missionary, unprotected sex, pussydrunk gojo, a lot of references to games i kinda nerded out when writing this soorry
! art by @/reinnyz on X !
'CHKCHKCHK..’
"YEAH HOW ABOUT THAT—" you're about to celebrate your ‘victory’ and throw out the hundredth insult of the night when..
"BOW!"
the screen starts to dim as pieces of dirt and gravel float over your character. asshole had some type of SMG that would fire a grenade while he reloaded, took all the health you had left in one blow.
every time you die and fall victim to the reactions that man wants to drag out of you, you wonder why you're still playing—why you choose shooting aimlessly over something with real emotional depth, something that made you think instead of frying your brain.
story games have always been your 'thing.' so just how did you manage to rack up 83 hours on a shitty 3rd person shooter game with no plot whatsoever?
the answer turns out to be quite simple really, you gained a newfound love for competition from it.
after having replayed cyberpunk 2077 five times, trying out every character in borderlands 3 and hunting down achievements in assassins creed valhalla, you had come to the conclusion that it was time for something new.
off to the wasteland of the 'filter low to high' page you went. it's not like you wanted to, there's so many games you still haven't got the chance to play—but $80 for a game? in this economy? no chance. you figured you'd simply have to wait a year or so before you could afford to see leon kennedy's face again.
you watched the cover art of countless games blur together, haphazardly scrolling looking for something to try out. a shiver went down your spine when you ended up stumbling across genshin impact, it was the first ( and last ) gacha game you had ever played.
the story was alright for the most part, if you hadn't lost your last 50/50 you would most likely still be playing.
in the end it turned out to be both a blessing and a curse, as that's what made you stop and take a closer look at the game next to it.
the art style is what drew you in, it reminded you of the lalaloopsy dolls you used to play with as a kid—only there was a few small differences..
they were creepier, stitches that were still healing around the eyes where buttons had been sewn, detached limbs, some looked like sid from toy story got a hold of them.
it was messy, there were all kinds of dolls on the cover—boy dolls, girl dolls, animal dolls, inhuman dolls. the developers could do well with a different graphic designer.
despite the eyesore of the overwhelming amount of yarn blending together on the screen, you gave it a chance; 'RAGSHOT' downloaded with the simple click of a button.
that click would turn out to be the reason all your hair is about to turn grey and fall off, like a timelapse of a flower wilting.
the conniving bastards voice comes in over your speakers, "didn't see that one coming, did you?"
his doll doesn't fit the color scheme of the game one bit—it's too light compared to the darker aesthetic. the white hair blinds you, and the fact he chose the glowing blue for the buttons tells you all you need to know.
"didn't see that one coming diid youu?!" you repeat back in a high pitched tone, watching the time at the top of the screen go down slowly—theres only 4 minutes until the next round, enough time to plan out how you'll sneak up on him.
your mic has been forcefully muted since you died, so you can't continue going back and forth with him to your hearts content. being someone with the attention span of a 5 year old, you pull out your phone and open tiktok.
man raving about 'traditional women.' — not interested.
news. — you would have watched it on tv if you cared.
some OF model clickbaiting. — you can get porn for free literally anywhere else.
clip of hot streamer talking to his chat. he's playing ragshot, cool, finally something you don't have to force yourself to sit through.
"i'll get her on stream one day, and if i don't i'll gift chat 100 subs." he looks kinda familiar, maybe like a real life version of a cartoon character.
" 'do you even have her as a friend ' " he laughs at the message, "you know i actually don't, i somehow keep finding her in every lobby."
right, so theres clearly some sort of lore here you aren't aware of.
it's still managed to peak your interests within about 7 seconds, and you find yourself scrolling through the comments trying to piece together information.
hold on.
why is your username in every comment?!
no, this can't be right—your brain is just messing with you. some other girl probably has a similar username—why would they be talking about you?!
your finger quickly swipes right to check out the page, tapping on the most recent video.
it opens with your voice, "STOOP TARGETING MEEE!!" a clip of one of the many times he's pushed you to your limit.
"you're just an easy kill." he chuckled while continuously firing at you.
this is really you in the video. having a temper tantrum for hundreds of thousands of people to see—and THIS is the guy you've been straining your vocal cords over?!?
sorta wish they were being strained for a different reason.
that's besides the point, you need to get these mortifying videos wiped off the internet.
you've got quite the recognisable voice and aren't too keen on people you know in real life hearing you get this worked up over a video game.
doesn't help that there's tons of evidence, the videos of you raging go on and on—if you can't get them taken down you should be entitled to a portion of the money he's made from you.
you've become almost like a celebrity within his fanbase, all of his most popular posts are some form of you raging. as you scroll through them and pay no mind to the active round his voice can be heard through your headphones resting on your shoulders, "pay attentionnn.."
you look back up to your screen and see that he's killed you. again. what a shock.
not like you were planning on playing another round after all this anyway, you'll be heading straight to twitch to watch his live reaction when you confront him.
you're on his instagram in no less than a minute seeing as it's linked to the tiktok page, and typing out a very angry DM even faster.
6:55PM: TAKE THPSE CLIPS DOWN OR YOU WONT B.STREAMINF AGAIN
you don't bother fixing the spelling mistakes in hopes that they'll further communicate your feelings.
it's all making you feel very stalker-y, his virtual doll was just shooting at yours, and in just a few minutes you've got his insta opened on your phone and his twitch stream up on your computer—especially with the way you're watching his phone buzz and seeing him reading the message in real time.
you expect that he'll be able piece together that it's you given that you use the same username for everything, what you don't expect however, is that he reads it out to his audience with a big happy smile on his face.
"chat, she found me." it only makes you angrier that he doesn't refer to you by name, just says 'she' and everyone automatically knows who he's talking about.
"she says to delete the videos or i won't be streaming again," he cackles like it's funny, "what do i say?"
his chat immediately goes wild, tons of messages flooding in all at once—while you read every single one, only a few stick out to him.
ihateportals: is she hot show us the insta
shakabrah420: say L bozo plzz
28stabwounds: yoo get her on stream
"i'm not telling you psycho's her insta but.." he trails off, disinterested in the countless pleads from his chat and more interested in you—the phone isn't the only thing that lights up his face.
he also seems to forget he's still on stream and becomes completely engrossed in your photos.
glory2arstotzska donated $5.00 - whys he lagging
the donation makes him jump and he comes to his senses—clearing his throat, he chokes out, "yeah, yeah she's..i'll get her on stream."
no chance. the whole reason you're texting him in the first place is to remove yourself from the whole situation, what makes him think you'll show your face on his stream?
6:58 : come on stream and i will
looks like he's bold enough to actually send the text too, just hilarious isn't he? why would you ever—
6:58 : i'll pay u
well.. you have been eating nothing but struggle meals for the past 2 weeks so you'll take what you can get. you can get back to playing real games with that money too, so win-win..?
after an excruciating long and boring conversation where you two exchanged information about the stream and whatnot, you found out that he lived only a half an hour away from you, so all this time you could've beat him up whenever you felt like it.
it was also entirely your fault that the conversation was so boring, you refused to make small talk or be decent to him in general. half of your brain still held a grudge and the other half had the 'nice guys finish last' mentality.
you'd be lying if you said a part of why you agreed wasn't for the chance to bang him. it's either that or take your frustrations out on him a different way—with a belt or your bare hands.
maybe you'll let yourself be greedy and do both.
on the way over your uber driver wouldn't stop talking, which for once was a good thing. your nerves were through the roof and listening to her blabber on about whatever passenger from hell she had before you took your mind off of the whole ordeal.
it wasn't as awkward as you had expected, when you arrived you hid your unease by bantering with him and eventually put up the facade for so long that your anxiety had waned in.
he took some time to show you around his place and offered you some food before the stream started, to which you declined, afraid that you would throw it right back up in front of him.
now you sit in beside him a spare chair he found laying around. the hard part of starting the stream and letting the viewers have their fun is already out of the way, now you're letting him do all the work.
he didn't make the connection that you might not have been so good for clip farming in real life as you are behind a video game character, but his chat was very happy to see you anyways. almost a little too happy.
you're idly twirling with a strand of your hair, feeling extremely bored with the same things being said over and over, "stream her going to anger management," some form of "shes hot," and "they r 100% cracking after this." while they're repetitive, the last one gets an idea to pop up in your head.
"hey, satoru."
"yeah?" he takes his eyes off the game to look at you, "i'm gonna go use the bathroom, its that door there, right?" you point toward the slightly ajar door only a few feet away from you.
"mhm, go ahead." he responds, none the wiser.
from the way he's been looking at you ever since you stepped inside the house, you're able to gauge that he wouldn't be opposed to the idea of you giving him a blowjob under his desk. what a way to liven things up, right? enough of you being the laughingstock, it's his turn!
his bathroom door clicks shut and you aimlessly walk around in circles for about 30 seconds or so while doing a few throat exercises, hoping he actually is into you and you aren't imagining things that lead you to embarrass yourself.
when satisfied, you quietly open the door and waltz back over. making sure you're out of view from the camera you—THUMP!—drop to your knees.
it catches him off guard, he looks over at you with nothing but a startled expression and confusion in his eyes—only when you start crawling under the desk does he start to catch on.
bolognaincident donated $5.00 — wtf was that? she fall in the toilet??
"uhh, earthquake." trying to make it as subtle as possible, he acts as if he's aimlessly fidgeting around on his chair to 'get a bit of blood flow going' as he plays, when he's really making room for you to get under the desk.
once you're as cozied up as you can be in the dark and cramped space, you rest one arm on his knee and use the other to pump the air, prodding your tongue against your cheek in time with your fist.
despite him already having a clear idea of what you were going to do, the motion still makes his eyes widen and a lump form in his throat.
doesn't take you long to grow tired of your little 'show' and raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for any indication that he'll let you suck him off on stream.
he gives you a sly nod which is all you need to get started. you waste no time and hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down and eyeing his bulge. his huge bulge.
there's no way you're fitting all of him down your throat, but it's too late to go back now.
you palm him through his boxers as he mumbles something to the viewers about whatever strategy he's using. unsatisfied with his lack of reaction you apply more pressure while staring up at him, waiting for something.
fine. you make quick work of pulling down his boxers and letting his cock spring free—it slaps against his stomach, the veins bulging from it give you a clear path on where to lick. you also take notice that he shaved for you, cute.
the feeling of you licking a long stripe from base to tip has his dick twitching, he grips extra hard on the mouse and nearly breaks the thing when you take him in fully.
your lips stretch around the soft flesh as you watch his body tense up—he's utterly failing in his act to be as normal as possible, not acknowledging his audience one bit as he pours all his focus into attempting to regulate his breathing and keep his face still.
tahitiancowboy2 donated $5.00 — i think she snuck out u got no game loll
he so badly wishes he could retort by simply standing up and showing everyone that you've got his dick in your mouth, but unfortunately for him he's forced to swallow his pride.
"d-dunno what girls do in there. maybe she's—" he's cut off by you tightly wrapping your two hands around the base to make up for where your throat can't quite reach, "taking a shower!" he squeals out. your panties are getting wetter and wetter with every little slip-up you cause.
exoticbutterss: am i tripping or
3-2tomorrow: HE'S GETTING STRAIGHT TEETH LMFAOOO
everyone is thinking the same thing and everyone can hear the slurping noises, but he isn't too concerned with his chat right now.
you keep on giving little kitten licks to his tip and it's driving him up the wall. he wants to be a gentleman, he really does—but he just can't help himself from pushing his hips up and your face down. he's gave up on trying to play properly with one hand, just lets himself get shot down while his doll spazzes out.
not thinking he'll be able to take much more of this, he grabs a fistful of your hair and bobs your head up and down his length to take control. tears begin to well up in your eyes as he pushes his cock further and further down your throat, hardly able to breathe with the speed he's moving at.
y1kesf0rever: is this allowed on here . .
definitely not. which is why he chokes out some bullshit excuse, "she's n-not feeliing too well so i'm ending—mmph.. stream here." and slams his hand down, mashing a few buttons on his pc.
you're finally able to get a bit of air into your lungs as he lunges your head back, "y-you trying to kill me?" he says, his voice hoarse.
"just getting you back for all the times you've killed me."
so..who's winning now?
with him burying his cock deep inside you and your walls gripping him tight enough to cut off his circulation, neither of you are sure.
his balls could burst with how hard he's been holding back, he had refused to let you finish him off from the overwhelming need to have you squirming under him—yet he's moaning more than you are. didn't turn out as well as he expected, but at least he'll have more than enough cum to stuff you full of.
the various plushies scattered around his bed bounce around each time he drives his hips into you, he grabs your thighs to push further and further into your cunt.
"t-this your apology for being such—hhmn—an asshole?" you wouldn't be staying true to yourself if you didn't throw some kind of snarky comment at him even in this situation.
but unlike his usual self he doesn't taunt you, solely focused on how your pussy keeps sucking him back in each time he pulls back, and the borderline pornographic sounds coming from it every time he so much as breathes. who would've guessed that gamer pussy would be this good?
his face is painted with pure bliss, if your eyes weren't so glossy you'd double check if there's any hearts in his. they roll to the back of your head as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over again, you wonder how no one's snatched him up yet—a man with a cock like that is hard to find. even harder to find one that knows how to use it.
you're obsessed with the feeling of his veiny cock dragging along your walls, the longest one so prominent you think you've memorised the exact length and shape of it by now.
"fuuck.. she doesn't want me to—ngh—leave..look at her.." his voice is so raspy you swear you can feel it in your own throat, or maybe it's the consequences of having his dick shoved down it earlier?
the blush on his cheeks decorates his face, you wouldn't be surprised if he started drooling all over you with the way he looks right now. eyes locked onto where your two bodies meet and mouth held open in an 'o' as he pistons his hips in and out of you.
you can feel your orgasm build as he increases the speed of his thrusts, "mm—gonna c—"
"gonna cum?—“ he cuts you off, pleasepleaseplease, wanna feel it.. wanna feel it so bad." he's not sure himself what words are leaving his mouth, his brain occupied with only one goal in mind.
if he could barely take it before, he definitely can't bear it now with the force your walls clamp down on him. he doesn't even recognise the fact he's cumming until he sees it spilling out of your hole, he fucks it right back into you until a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock.
his body topples over onto yours, he stays there a while as you two share labored breaths, pressing a few light pecks to the skin below your collarbones before pulling out and running over to get a towel to clean you up with.
but when he returns you're already asleep, curled up beside his link plushie.
the morning sun is near blinding as you wake up, needing to shield your eyes you lazily roll over onto your other side as your muscles ache as a result of your actions from the night before.
satoru's awake, staring right at you with a smile he tries to hold back. "hey you. you're finally awake." he giggles.
ah. so this is why he's single.
note : i hope at least 1 person catches the ref at the end or at least any reference i put in this lolol
upd: this did not end up how i wanted and the finished draft lit got deleted so i think it's a mess but i wanted to post smttt :(
ryomen sukuna lived in a completely different world from yours.
where your friday nights were spent snuggled in fluffy blankets in your dorm, nose buried in whatever book you'd decided on for the night, his were spent getting wasted at whatever frat was throwing a party (usually his), with teammates from the hockey team or girls that wanted to get in his pants.
still, your eyes can't help but drift towards him when he's in the room. in class, the halls, library, the hockey games yuki and choso drag you to. your eyes always find the pink-haired boy before you can help it.
you suppose you can blame it on his magnetism, and maybe the curiosity one tends to have for someone the complete opposite of them. plus, observing sukuna was interesting. despite his popularity, he maintained an air of nonchalance and indifference. he was distant, in a way.
even when he was surrounded by other people, talking, laughing, his eyes seemed to hold this faraway look.
it was just an observation though.
not like you liked sukuna or anything—he just happened to be the centre of attention, like, all the time... plus, sukuna... it's just...
he's really good writing inspiration! i mean, c'mon, probably most popular guy on campus, in a frat, captain of the hockey team, annoyingly attractive and well-built—he had pink hair, for god's sake. pink!
if life was a book you're pretty sure he'd be the main character. you would probably be a nameless side character. sukuna wouldn't even know you existed. even now, he doesn't know you do. you tell yourself it's better that way. easier to observe and get your notes.
which is why you flinch when red eyes blink up to meet yours from across the room.
your eyes widen and you choke on your drink—pulling the red solo cup away from your lips as you turn to the side and cough. god, this is what you get for watching him like a creep. your cheeks warm as you try to subtly peek back at sukuna, who's attention is now on one of the girls tucked under his arms.
yeah. he probably wasn't even looking at you. you compose yourself, bringing your freehand to your chest to regulate your breathing. you grimace to yourself, maybe it was time to stop drinking.
you set your cup down on a nearby table and lean back against the wall, pulling your phone out of your cardigan pocket. regret flares in your stomach, feeling very out of place in your polk-a-dot mini dress and cardigan—a far cry from a typical party outfit, definitely.
you sigh to yourself. you'd only come because yuki begged you to, promising sukuna would be there and it would be great story material, and promised she and choso would stay with you. but instead, you're alone in a darker area of the party, clinging to the wall like a lifeline. you see yuki going crazy one the makeshift dance floor and you're 90% sure choso's getting stoned somewhere, too.
you contemplate texting your groupchat and going home, sure that they would have plenty of fun without you.
your eyes flick back to sukuna before you can help it and he seems invested in whatever everyone over there's talking about. lost in thought, your thumb moves to where it's hovered over the messages app to the notes app.
you eye sukuna, noting his slouch, the way his legs are manspread, arms hooked over the back of the couch carelessly, the hand placement when his hands hold one of the girls, the small twitch of his lips when someone says something he finds funny, the way he runs a hand through his hair.
sukuna's so naturally attractive, in that compelling way of his. one of the girls run a hand over his chest and your breath hitches, tearing your eyes away to turn back to your notes, fingers flying quick across the keyboard.
a draft idea makes it to your head, head buzzing you lower the brightness of your phone, glancing to see if anyone was nearby before you started typing—words streaming from your fingers to your phone before you could help it.
you go into focus unintentionally, the party fading from the back as the ideas flow.
you imagine a girl, the complete opposite of you, with enough confidence to walk up to a guy like sukuna, enough charm to pull his attention from the two girls glued to his sides, a girl who would know all the right words to say and the right things to do to intrigue someone like sukuna—someone interesting and mysterious, and perfect and not like you—
two fingers pinch the top of your phone and you gasp, eyes following the hand up, up, up until sukuna's scowling face registers and your cheeks heat as you lunge for the device. he dangles it in front of his face, tilting his head in mild interest.
your heart is beating frantically in your chest, "give it back!" you manage, though your voice holds no power, it's shaky and nervous.
sukuna grins and you have half a mind to book it right now. "is this about me, sweetcheeks?" he looks amused, you know that look. the same face he makes when gojo does something stupid or someone tries to threaten him. "quite the story you got here," he continues, eyes shifting from the screen to you.
"give it back." you repeat.
"aw, but the story was just getting good—let's see," his eyes trail back to the phone. "ooh," he whistles, "is this the type of girl you imagine me with? the type of girl you think i'd like?"
you stand perfectly still, fists clenched to your sides. sukuna thinks your glare is more cute than anything. he hums again and because your cute, he holds your phone out to you, only to pull it away when you reach for it. "i'll give it back," he says when you frown. "just humor me for a bit, just think of it as payment for stalking me."
he starts walking and gestures you to follow, and because he has your phone held hostage you follow, albeit reluctantly.
"wha— i wasn't— huh?!" you sputter as, not knowing how to defend yourself when you really had been watching him for a few weeks now. "god, you're so full of yourself." you settle on and sukuna lets out a laugh—a real, genuine, laugh you can tell. you fall into step behind him with warm cheeks and a nervous heart.
to your shock, he turns around from where he's walking in front of you, canines glinting when he smiles. "you get a big head when a pretty girl stares at you for weeks."
you flush more, if that was even possible as you bite your lip to avoid sayig something stupid. he turns back around when you don't reply and keeps walking.
by the time you realize where he's taken you, it's too late. you're standing stiff in the middle of his room. "w-why're we in your room?" you stutter out, watching confused as he shuts the door and moves past you to flop on his bed.
"'s too loud downstairs." like that's the most normal reason to take a girl to your bedroom, "can't exactly have a proper conversation." he says casually. he pats the space next to him, telling you to sit without explicitly telling you. and because you don't know what to do, you listen, sitting up, back straight, rigid, and awkward on the very edge of his bed.
"yer gonna fall off." he yawns out, stretching his arms behind his head to peer up at you, your phone still in his grip in a way that can't be comfortable. "anyways," he adds in your silene. "you never answered my question."
"what question?" you ask too quickly, eager to leave. the hockey captain lets a small laugh out under his breath.
"if you really think that type of girl is my type." he repeats, eyes locked on yours as your mouth opens and closes like a fish, trying to think of what to reply.
"uuum..." you cringe, wondering if and how you can play this. "i-i guess?" you admit honestly, not even knowing what to say in this situation. he hums again and you hate how you can't read him. "i just think you would like someone on your level, like, ah, yorozu.. maybe?" you ramble, blinking as you recall the sorority president sukuna was usually seen with.
"yorozu?" he scoffs, incredulous. "sweets," he starts with a deep breath. "don't tell me y'been observing me for weeks 'n you think i'm into yorozu." he cringes, pulling a face that probably would've went triple premium in your notes with how rare it was.
"well... you are kinda with her... a lot." you supply, and he lets out another scoff at your answer.
"not by choice." he mutters. but he moves on, "so, what else do ya think of me in that pretty little head of yours?"
vaguely, part of you is wondering why he's interviewing you but you supposed you don't have much of a choice but to answer. "that you're popular..." you start cautiously, watching his reaction. "and um, you're good at hockey?"
"aw, c'mon. everyone knows that stuff. tell me something i don't know."
"but we're literally talking about you..." you mutter, eyes narrowing at the pink-head. you decide to humor him anyway when he gives you a face. "umm... hm," you pretend to think, as if you haven't been committing his little quirks to memory these past few weeks. "well, you're actually smart and pay attention in class—despite how you look... you like spicy food, even though you act annoyed you love the hockey team," you trail off, peering at him from the corner of your eye.
he's watching you too, you notice. his lips are pressed tight. "and?"
"sometimes, even when you're surrounded by people you look like you aren't really there." you finish, he hums low, turning his gaze to his roof. a silence settles for a second and you pretend not to notice how his hand moves to pinch your cardigan sleeve between his fingers, toying with the fabric.
he grimaces, "well? all those observations and you still believed yorozu of all people was my type?" there's a teasing lilt to his voice that brings the warmth back to your cheeks as you huff.
"well so-rry," you exaggerate, a bit annoyed he keeps bringing up your writing and earlier conversation. "what exactly is your type then, huh?" you challenge, your urge to retort overtaking your nerves. he laughs when you raise a brow at him, slipping his fingers under the fabric of your sleeve to run over your wrist. you pretend not to feel it.
"well," he starts, pretending to think even though he knows his answer. "i like quiet girls." you tilt your head at him and his lips twitch. "i like quiet girls who always have their nose buried in a book, who take little notes in their notebooks or phone, who wear cute little dresses to parties they definitely don't belong at," he pauses, and your breath hitches.
"girls who think they have everybody all figured out but can't even tell when somebody likes them." he finishes, eyes locked on yours as you feel your pulse pick up.
"h-huh?" you question dumbly. it's enough to pull a real, genuine laugh out of sukuna, who sits up then, smiling at you like he knows something you don't, almost. you flush. again. shit.
"i— um... well..."
sukuna watches as you fumble with your words, "what's wrong, miss writer? shouldn't you have a way with words, or something?" he teases. when you stare at him dumbfounded he lets out a little 'pffft' that embarrasses you further. he takes your phone and presses it into your hand, squeezing your fingers closed around it.
"i put my number in there." he says casually.
"right," you nod rigidly. "'kay, cool. cool, cool."
"very." he replies, nodding at you.
"well i—i think i'm gonna go now." you stand abruptly and sukuna lets you, eyes following your every movement like you'd been doing to him for weeks. "t-thanks... um, bye. yeah." you fumble around, clutching your phone to your chest as you nearly trip over yourself scrambling out of his room.
oh my god?
oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god... oh my god??
maybe, just maybe, your worlds aren't as different than you thought.
╰┈❥ ⋮ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⌗ MDNI :: oral f receiving :: hurt/comfort :: unprotected piv sex :: kissing :: fem reader :: ever after high x jujutsu kaisen universe.
synopsis :: In a world where every story is already written, Suguru Geto was destined to spend his life locked away in a tower, waiting for the princess who was meant to set him free. You, the Cheshire Cat’s daughter, were never meant to follow any story at all.
7.2k
art creds to @/owwllly
a/n:: I LOVE THIS ONE. i wrote it like 2 weeks before gojo's chapter, so it might not be lore accurate tho and i had to rewrite it since i deleted it the first time... ENJOY!
The late afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows of Suguru Geto’s dorm room in the east tower, painting the stone walls in warm gold. The space smelled faintly of jasmine and whatever herbal shampoo he was using this week. Geto stood in front of the large mirror above his dresser, sleeves rolled up, working through his six-step haircare routine with the kind of focused patience most people reserved for casting complex spells. His hair was fussy today. You had already lost count of how many times a strand slapped him in the face while another tried to choke him.
You were sprawled across his bed on your stomach, tail flicking lazily behind you, cat ears twitching at every small sound. Your grin was wide and mischievous as you watched him in the reflection.
“Aren’t you going to tell him?” you asked, voice light and teasing.
Geto didn’t look away from the mirror. He ran a wide-tooth comb slowly through a section of his long dark hair, de-tangling with careful strokes. “Nah. Let him suffer a little longer.”
You rolled onto your back, kicking your legs in the air with a soft laugh. The sheets were still warm from when he’d napped earlier, and you buried your face in his pillow for a second just to breathe him in. “You’re so mean. He’s been pacing around the quad like a lost puppy for days.”
Geto hummed, not disagreeing. He squeezed a small amount of leave-in conditioner into his palm, rubbing it between his hands before working it through the mid-lengths. Step two. His movements were precise, almost meditative. You loved watching him like this—completely in his own world, yet always aware of you in the room.
You rolled again, this time sideways, tangling yourself further in the blankets. Your tail swished across the duvet, knocking one of his neatly folded towels onto the floor. “Oops.”
He glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “You’re going to mess up the bed I just made.”
“That’s the point,” you said sweetly, grinning wider. Your sharp canines flashed. “Makes it more fun when we mess it up later.”
Geto shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched. He went back to his routine, applying a smoothing serum next, fingers gliding through the lengths with practiced ease. The quiet between you felt comfortable, familiar. You had been doing this for months now—slipping into his room between classes, teasing him while he took care of his hair, stealing his hoodies and teleporting away before he could grab you back.
You watched him start step four, the deep conditioning mask. He sectioned his hair with clips, movements smooth and unhurried. The silence stretched pleasantly until you got bored of rolling around. With a playful glint in your eyes, you disappeared.
First your abdomen faded, then your limbs, until only your wide grin remained floating in the air above his bed for a few cheeky seconds. Then that vanished too.
Geto didn’t even flinch. He’d grown used to it.
A moment later your grin reappeared right behind him, floating near his left shoulder. Then your face followed, ears perked, followed quickly by the rest of you. You pressed against his back, arms sliding around his waist as you peeked over his shoulder into the mirror.
“Hi,” you purred, tail curling around his leg.
“You’re going to make me drop the mask,” he said, but he didn’t sound mad. His free hand came down to rest on your arm, thumb brushing your wrist.
You reached past him for the small ornate bottle you’d brought earlier. “I got you something from Wonderland. Special oil. The caterpillar said it works wonders on stubborn strands.” You uncorked it and poured a few drops onto your fingers. The scent was warm and slightly floral, with a hint of something magical that made the air shimmer faintly.
Geto watched you in the mirror as you reached up and started working the oil into the section of hair he hadn’t gotten to yet. Your fingers moved gently but firmly, massaging it from root to tip. Almost immediately the strands seemed to relax under your touch, settling smoother, almost leaning into your hand. A few loose pieces even curled lightly around your fingers, wrapping softly like they wanted to hold on.
You smiled wider, ears flicking. “See? They like me better than you.”
“They have good taste,” Geto murmured. He set down the conditioning brush and let you take over, leaning back slightly into your chest. Your tail flicked happily behind you, brushing against his thigh.
You continued the massage, working the oil through with both hands now. The long dark hair felt silky under your palms, still slightly damp from the earlier wash. Every time you stroked downward, more of it seemed to calm, the usual restless movement slowing until it draped peacefully over your hands. A thick lock curled affectionately around your wrist, holding gently.
Geto let out a slow breath, eyes half-lidded in the mirror. “That feels good.”
“Yeah?” You rested your chin on his shoulder, purring softly near his ear. “Good enough to tell him?”
He chuckled low. “Still no. He can wait.”
You nipped at his earlobe, playful. “Cruel. I like it.”
The two of you stayed like that for a while. You massaging the oil through the rest of his hair while he finished the remaining steps around your help. Step five was a heat protectant spray. Step six, the final serum. By the end his hair looked glossy and perfect, falling smoothly down his back. Your hands were still in it, though, fingers combing lazily now that the routine was done.
You teleported again suddenly, appearing sitting cross-legged on the dresser in front of him. Your tail curled around a bottle of his shampoo, tail tip flicking against the glass. “You know he’s going to figure it out eventually. Especially with Legacy Day coming up.”
Geto stepped between your knees, hands settling on your hips. “Maybe. But watching him spiral is entertaining.” His thumbs traced small circles on your sides, eyes warm as they met yours. “Besides, I’m more interested in what we’re doing right now.”
You leaned forward and bumped your forehead against his. Your cat ears brushed his bangs. “And what are we doing, exactly?”
“Whatever we want,” he said simply. He kissed you then, slow and deep, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck. You melted into it, purring louder, tail wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. When he pulled back, his lips were slightly shiny. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Only if you’re lucky,” you teased, grinning against his mouth.
He kissed you again, harder this time, hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you off the dresser. You wrapped your legs around him instinctively, arms around his neck. The two of you moved back toward the bed in a clumsy, laughing shuffle. You teleported mid-step just to mess with him, appearing already lying down with your head on the pillows, grin floating above you before your body followed.
Geto rolled his eyes fondly and crawled over you, caging you in with his arms. His freshly oiled hair fell around both of you like a dark curtain. “Cheater.”
“Always,” you said proudly. Your tail flicked up to brush along his spine.
The mood between you shifted easily from playful to something warmer, more charged. His fingers traced the edge of one of your ears, making it twitch. You arched up into him, hands sliding under his shirt to feel the smooth skin of his back. The afternoon light was fading outside, turning the room softer, more intimate.
Geto pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then lower. “You’re going to wrinkle my shirt.”
“You’re going to take it off anyway soon anyway,” you countered, already tugging at the fabric.
He laughed quietly, the sound vibrating against your neck. You helped him pull the shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere across the room. Your hands roamed over his chest, admiring the lean muscle and the way his hair now spilled freely over his shoulders. You reached up and ran your fingers through it again. The strands curled happily around your digits, holding on like they never wanted to let go.
“See?” you whispered. “They missed me.”
Geto hummed in agreement, kissing you once more. The weight of him above you felt perfect, grounding. Outside, the campus continued its usual rhythm—students heading to evening classes, the distant sound of someone practicing flute near the fountains. But in here it was just the two of you, the familiar teasing, the easy affection that had grown stronger over the past months.
You nipped at his bottom lip. “Still not going to tell him?”
“Not yet,” he murmured, smiling against your skin. “Let him figure it out on his own.”
You laughed, bright and unrestrained, and pulled him down again. The oil from Wonderland left a faint pleasant scent on your hands as you tangled them deeper in his hair. Whatever secret he was keeping could wait. Right now, with his body warm against yours and his hair wrapped gently around your fingers, everything else felt far away.
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the bed. Geto’s routine was long finished, but neither of you were in any hurry to leave this moment. There would be time for confessions and Legacy Day drama later.
The last drops of oil glistened on your fingers as you gave Suguru’s hair one final, slow stroke. The dark strands had gone completely calm under your touch, draping smoothly down his back and curling affectionately around your wrists like they refused to let go.
Suguru let out a low, satisfied hum, eyes half-lidded in the mirror. He turned around slowly, hands settling on your hips where you still sat on the dresser. His thumbs traced small circles over the fabric of your skirt.
“You did a good job,” he murmured, voice lower than usual. A small smirk played on his lips. “I think you deserve a reward for helping with my hair.”
Your ears perked up, tail flicking behind you with interest. “Oh? What kind of reward?”
Instead of answering with words, Suguru leaned in and kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours until your head felt pleasantly fuzzy. When he pulled back, his eyes had darkened with clear intent.
He lifted you off the dresser like you weighed nothing, carrying you the few steps to his bed. He laid you down gently on your back, crawling over you until his long hair spilled around both of you like a curtain. “Let me take care of you,” he said softly against your lips. “You’ve been such a good girl today.”
Your breath caught as he kissed down your neck, then lower, pushing your shirt up and tugging your skirt and panties down in one smooth motion. He settled between your thighs, strong hands spreading them wider. Your tail curled nervously-excitedly against the sheets.
Suguru looked up at you through his lashes, a rare soft smile on his face. “Relax.”
He leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your slit, tasting you with a pleased sound. Your back arched instantly, a soft mewl escaping your throat. He didn’t rush. He took his time licking broad stripes over your folds, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it gently between his lips.
“Fuck— Suguru,” you gasped, fingers threading into his hair.
The moment you tugged lightly on the dark strands, his hair seemed to respond, wrapping loosely around your fingers like it wanted more. You pulled again, a little firmer, and he groaned against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. He licked deeper, tongue pushing inside you before returning to your clit with focused, wet strokes.
You writhed beneath him, hips rolling against his mouth. Every gentle pull on his hair made him work harder, sucking and licking with perfect pressure. Your cat ears flattened against your head in pleasure, tail thrashing wildly beside you on the bed.
He slid two fingers inside you without warning, curling them just right while his mouth stayed on your clit. The wet sounds filled the room, filthy and intimate. You moaned louder, gripping his hair tighter, guiding him exactly where you needed.
“Right there— don’t stop—”
He didn’t. He kept the steady rhythm until your thighs started shaking around his head. Pleasure coiled tight in your belly, then snapped. You came with a broken cry, tugging hard on his hair as your walls clenched around his fingers. He worked you through it, licking you gently until you were twitching and oversensitive.
When he finally pulled back, his lips were shiny and his eyes were dark with want. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking unfairly composed except for the flush on his cheeks.
You were still catching your breath when he shed the rest of his clothes. His cock was hard and flushed, curving slightly upward. He climbed back over you, kissing you so you could taste yourself on his tongue.
“Want you,” you whispered against his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist.
Suguru groaned softly. He lined himself up and pushed inside you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. You both moaned at the feeling. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in.
Then he started moving.
At first his thrusts were deep and steady, hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that made your toes curl. Your hands stayed in his hair, pulling gently every time he hit that perfect spot inside you. His hair kept reacting, strands wrapping around your wrists and fingers like living silk.
“Feels so good,” he murmured, voice rough. He kissed you again, messy and desperate, as his pace gradually picked up. The bed creaked under you. Skin slapped against skin. Your tail curled around his thigh, holding him closer.
Suguru fucked you harder for a while, chasing the pleasure, then slowed again, grinding deep and slow like he wanted it to last forever. Every thrust dragged against that sensitive spot inside you until you were whimpering into his mouth.
He came first this time, burying himself deep with a low groan, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. The feeling pushed you over the edge again, clenching around him as another orgasm washed over you, softer and longer.
For a minute you just breathed together, bodies sticky and warm. Suguru stayed inside you for a little while longer before carefully pulling out. He disappeared for a moment to grab a warm cloth, then came back and cleaned you up with gentle hands.
Aftercare with Suguru was always like this.
He pulled you against his chest, spooning you from behind. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other sliding under your head. His long hair, still slightly scented with that Wonderland oil, draped over both of you. Several thick strands curled around your body like a second blanket, wrapping loosely around your waist, one thigh, and even gently around your tail.
You purred, sleepy and content, pressing back into his warmth. Your ears twitched lazily as he kissed the back of your neck.
“Comfy?” he asked quietly, voice soft with affection.
“Mhm.” You nuzzled into the pillow, eyes already half-closed. “Your hair likes me more than you.”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm against your skin. “Can’t blame it.” One of his hands stroked slowly up and down your side, soothing. “You’re warm. And you smell nice. And you help with my routine.”
You smiled, tail curling around his calf. The two of you fit together perfectly like this—his taller frame curled protectively around your smaller one, his hair acting like a living embrace. The room had grown darker as evening settled over the campus, but neither of you made any move to get up.
Suguru pressed another kiss behind your ear. “Thank you for the oil. And for calming them down.”
“Anytime,” you mumbled, already drifting. Your voice came out slow and sleepy-cat soft. “Even if you won’t tell him yet.”
He laughed quietly. “Still no. But maybe soon.”
You didn’t push. You were too comfortable, too full of warmth and the pleasant ache between your legs. His fingers kept tracing lazy patterns on your hip. His hair stayed wrapped around you, gentle and secure, like it never wanted to let go.
Outside, the towers of Ever After High stood quiet under the emerging stars. Inside Suguru’s dorm, the world felt small and safe. Just the two of you, tangled together, breathing in sync.
You purred again, softer this time, as sleep finally pulled you under. Suguru stayed awake a little longer, holding you close, his hair still lightly curled around your body like a silent promise.
Whatever secret he was keeping could wait until tomorrow.
For tonight, this was enough.
The lecture hall for Advanced Destiny Theory was only half-full, the usual morning chatter mixing with the scratch of quills on parchment. Suguru Geto sat near the center, posture relaxed, his long dark hair tied in a loose half-up style after last night’s routine. You were supposed to be three rows back. Of course, that rule had never applied to you.
Right as Professor Baba launched into a lecture on narrative binding, your grin appeared beside Geto’s left shoulder, floating cheerfully. Then the rest of you materialized, dropping into the empty seat next to him with a soft pop of displaced air. Your cat ears twitched happily, tail curling around his ankle under the desk.
“Morning,” you whispered, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his jaw.
Geto exhaled through his nose, but the corner of his mouth curved. “You’re going to get us written up again.”
“Worth it,” you said, already digging into your pocket. You pulled out a small silver spoon you’d lifted from a tea party yesterday and slipped it smoothly into the back of his hair. The dark strands shifted on their own, wrapping around the spoon and tucking it neatly out of sight.
Geto reached up, fingers brushing the hidden lump. “Stop treating my hair like your contraband vault.”
“But it likes it,” you purred, scratching gently at the base of his neck where the strands met skin. Several locks immediately curled around your fingers in response, holding on softly.
Across the aisle, Gojo leaned over, sunglasses perched low on his nose. “You two are sickeningly domestic. Not even a little scared about disappearing if you skip signing the Storybook? Legacy Day is right around the corner and you’re playing hide-and-seek with stolen goods.”
Geto shrugged, calm as ever. “Nah.”
You grinned wider, tail flicking. “We’re fine.”
Gojo raised an eyebrow. “That’s all? I’m over here losing sleep about apples and losing the love of my life to a prison of mirrors and you two are just vibing. It’s almost insulting.”
You teleported again, vanishing completely except for your floating grin lingering near Geto’s ear for a dramatic second. Then even that disappeared.
A heartbeat later your grin reappeared on his right side. You fully materialized and dropped a shiny golden button into his hair. The strands welcomed it instantly, folding over the button and hiding it perfectly.
Geto sighed, but tilted his head slightly to help. “You’re impossible.”
“Your hair disagrees,” you said sweetly, running your fingers through the front sections. The dark locks wrapped around your hand, almost vibrating under your touch.
Gojo watched the exchange with growing frustration and amusement. “You know most people are panicking, right? Sukuna’s probably planning something dramatic to stay with his pretty cupid girl. I’m trying to get my story straight and you two are out here acting like the rules don’t exist.”
Geto glanced at him. “Maybe they don’t. Not the way everyone thinks.”
You teleported onto Geto’s lap this time, legs draped sideways, arms looping around his neck. He caught you automatically, one hand resting on your thigh. His hair shifted again, a few strands curling around your waist like a living belt.
Professor Baba cleared her throat sharply from the front. “Miss Cheshire, please return to your assigned seat or I will have to separate you two.”
You gave the professor your sweetest smile and teleported back to your original chair. But not before slipping a small crystal charm into Geto’s hair. The strands swallowed it eagerly.
The rest of class passed with you blinking in and out of existence every few minutes, each time adding another tiny stolen treasure to Geto’s hair. A thimble. A tiny key. A playing card. Every single item disappeared into the dark lengths, hidden flawlessly while the hair itself seemed to preen under your attention.
When class finally ended, the three of you walked out into the bright quad together. Gojo couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Okay, seriously,” he said, falling into step beside you. “What’s going on? You’re both way too relaxed about Legacy Day. Everyone else is terrified of vanishing and you two are just… dating in public and turning Suguru’s hair into a smuggling operation.”
You leaned against Geto’s side, purring softly. “We have inside information.”
Gojo stopped walking. “What kind of inside information?”
You teleported in front of him, grin appearing first, followed by the rest of you. Your tail swished. “Wonderland kids have known the truth for generations. The Storybook of Legends doesn’t make you disappear if you don’t sign. It just loses its power over you. You step outside the main narrative, but you still exist. My mother told me years ago. All of us from Wonderland know.”
Gojo’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking.”
“Nope,” you said cheerfully. “So when we say we’re not worried, we mean it. I told Suguru months ago.”
Geto slid an arm around your shoulders, calm and unbothered. “And I decided it was more entertaining to watch you scramble.”
Gojo stared at his friend, betrayed. “You’ve been letting me stress about this for weeks because it’s funny? LEGACY DAY IS IN TWO DAYS AND I'VE BEEN PUSHING MY GIRL AWAY FOR NOTHING?”
“Pretty much,” Geto confirmed, not even pretending to feel guilty. His hair shifted, letting the silver spoon peek out for a second before tucking it away again.
You laughed, pressing closer to Geto. “He finds your suffering amusing.”
Gojo ran both hands through his white hair, groaning dramatically. “I can’t believe this. My best friend is hoarding the one piece of information that would stop me from having a breakdown every night, and his cat-girl girlfriend is enabling him while using his hair as a treasure chest.”
“Very effective treasure chest,” you added, reaching up to pet the dark strands. They curled happily around your fingers.
Geto kissed the top of your head. “She’s right.”
Gojo pointed at both of you. “You’re both terrible. I’m telling everyone.”
“Go ahead,” Geto said. “They won’t believe you. Most people here are too attached to the idea that the book controls everything.”
You teleported onto Geto’s back, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. He adjusted his grip on your thighs without missing a beat. His hair wrapped gently around your arms and waist, securing you in place like it had done last night.
Gojo shook his head, but he was smiling now, the heavy tension in his shoulders finally easing. “I hate you both. But also thank you. I think.”
You rested your chin on Geto’s head, purring. “Anytime.”
The rest of the morning passed in easy chaos. You kept teleporting around Geto during breaks, hiding more random shiny objects in his hair. He pretended to scold you every time, but never actually stopped you. His hair, on the other hand, actively helped—shifting and curling to conceal everything perfectly while reaching out for your hands whenever you got close.
By lunch, Gojo had mostly recovered from the betrayal and was bombarding you with questions about Wonderland lore. You answered between bites of stolen pastries, tail flicking happily as you sat half in Geto’s lap at the dining table.
Geto watched the two of you with quiet amusement, occasionally feeding you bites from his own plate. Every so often a student would stare at the way his hair moved on its own or at how openly affectionate you both were. Neither of you cared.
When the bell rang for the next class, you slipped your hand into Geto’s. His fingers laced with yours immediately. His hair brushed softly against your shoulder, warm and familiar.
“Still not telling him everything?” you whispered as both you walked back to his dorm. He had asked a little someone to erase every conversation he had today from Gojo's mind. For funsies he says. Because it's apparently going to entertaining to see Satoru push away his girl just to realize everything in two days.
Geto smirked. “Not yet. Let him suffer just a little longer.”
You laughed brightly, the sound carrying across the quad. Whatever Legacy Day brought, you and Geto would face it together—playful, unbothered, and completely unafraid of a book that no longer held power over you.
The moon hung high over Ever After High, casting silver light across the west tower dorms. Only two days remained until Legacy Day. The campus felt heavier with anticipation, but inside Suguru’s room the atmosphere was quieter, more intimate.
You had teleported back in earlier after paying a visit to your mother in Wonderland without your usual dramatic flair. No floating grin lingering in the air, no cheeky comments. You were curled up on his bed now, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the wall with a small pout you kept trying to hide.
Geto had just finished his evening hair routine. He turned from the mirror, dark strands falling smoothly down his back, and looked at you. Something was off.
Your cat ears were drooping, pressed flat against your head. Your tail, usually in constant playful motion, lay still against the sheets, barely twitching. You were pretending to flip through an old storybook on your lap, but your eyes weren’t moving across the pages.
He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed beside you. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”
“I’m fine,” you mumbled, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. You rolled onto your side, turning your back to him a little. “Just tired. Legacy Day stress or whatever.”
Geto watched you for a long moment. He reached out and gently ran his fingers along the base of one drooping ear. It flicked weakly under his touch but didn’t perk up like it normally would. Your tail gave one half-hearted swish and went still again.
“You’re not fine,” he said softly. “Your ears are down. Your tail isn’t moving. Talk to me.”
You stayed facing away, shoulders hunched. The silence stretched until you finally let out a shaky breath.
“I’m scared, Suguru.”
He shifted closer, one hand resting on your hip. “Scared of what?”
You turned slowly to face him, eyes glassy. “That you’ll get tired of me. Of all my shano— shena— whatever that word is. The teleporting, the stealing, hiding things in your hair, driving you crazy every day. Two days from now everything changes. If we don’t sign… you’re giving up your whole story. And I keep thinking… what if you regret it? What if you wake up one morning and wish you had followed your destiny instead? You could be in your tower, waiting for your rescue. With Manami. She’s the one the story picked for you. She’s supposed to be your fated one. Proper. Calm. Not chaotic like me.”
Your voice cracked on the last part. You looked down, ears flattening even more. “I keep imagining you realizing you made a mistake by choosing me. That you’d rather have the scripted ending than this… whatever we are.”
Geto was quiet for a second, processing the weight of your words. Then he reached out, cupping your face with both hands, thumbs gently brushing under your eyes.
“Hey,” he said firmly, voice low and steady. “Look at me.”
You did, reluctantly, golden eyes meeting his dark ones.
“I would never regret choosing you,” he said. “Not for a single day. Not for a single second. I don’t want the tower. I don’t want the scripted rescue. And I definitely don’t want Manami.”
You sniffled. “But she’s—”
“I don’t like her,” he cut in gently but decisively. “She’s boring. She follows every rule like it’s law. She talks about destiny like it’s the only thing that matters. Every time we’ve been forced to interact for rehearsals, I spend the entire time counting down the minutes until I can leave. She doesn’t make me laugh. She doesn’t challenge me. She doesn’t sneak into my room and turn my hair into a treasure chest or teleport onto my lap during class.”
A tiny, watery smile tugged at your lips, but doubt still lingered in your eyes.
Geto leaned in closer, forehead resting against yours. “I love your shenanigans. I love how you teleport around me just to mess with me. I love that your grin appears before the rest of you. I love coming back to my room and finding random shiny things hidden in my hair because you decided they belonged there. I love how your tail wraps around my leg when you’re happy. I love all of it.”
He brushed a strand of hair from your face, voice softening even more. “The Storybook doesn’t get to decide who I spend my life with. I choose you. I’ve been choosing you every single day since you started popping into my life with that floating smile. Two days from now, when we don’t sign, I’m not going to wake up wishing for a different ending. I’m going to wake up next to you — or with you teleporting on top of me — and be glad I’m free to do exactly that.”
Tears slipped down your cheeks. You wiped at them quickly, embarrassed. “Promise?”
“I promise.” He kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then your lips — slow and lingering. “I’d rather spend the rest of my life figuring things out with you than live out some perfect tower rescue with someone I don’t even like. You make every day interesting. You make me happy. That’s more than any destiny could give me.”
You let out a shaky breath and finally uncurl, shifting closer to him. “I just… I got scared. Everyone keeps talking about what they’ll lose if they don’t sign. I started thinking maybe I’m the thing you’d lose by not signing.”
“Never,” he whispered against your hair. “You’re what I gain.”
You climbed into his lap, straddling him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Geto held you close, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back while the other stroked gently behind your ears until they finally started to perk up again. Your tail began to sway, wrapping around his waist.
“Better?” he asked quietly.
You nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry for being pouty.”
“Don’t apologize. I like knowing what’s going on in that chaotic head of yours.” He kissed the side of your neck. “Even when it’s worrying about things that will never happen.”
You stayed in his lap for a long while, just breathing each other in. The fear that had been gnawing at you slowly eased under his steady reassurance and warm hands.
Eventually Geto shifted you both, lying down on the bed and pulling you with him. He spooned you from behind, chest pressed to your back, arms wrapped securely around your waist. His long hair spilled over both of you. Several thick strands moved on their own, gently caressing your cheek, brushing softly against your ears, and curling lightly around your tail like a protective embrace.
You purred, the sound low and content, pressing back into his warmth. “Your hair is cuddling me again.”
“It likes you,” he murmured, lips brushing the back of your neck. “Almost as much as I do.”
Your ears twitched happily. The gentle caress of his hair against your skin felt soothing, almost like it was trying to wipe away the last traces of your insecurity. You intertwined your fingers with his where his hand rested on your stomach.
“Two days,” you whispered.
“Two days,” he agreed. “Then we start writing our own story. No towers. No rescues. Just us.”
You smiled in the dark, tail curling more firmly around his leg. The fear was still there, small and distant now, but Geto’s presence — his words, his arms, his hair gently stroking your cheek — made it feel manageable.
“I love you,” you said softly.
“I love you too,” he replied without hesitation. “Chaos and all.”
You drifted toward sleep like that — safe in his arms, wrapped in his warmth and the living silk of his hair that continued its gentle, affectionate caresses against your face. The weight of Legacy Day still loomed, but for tonight, it felt far away.
Geto stayed awake a little longer, holding you tighter, his hair continuing its soft ministrations until your breathing evened out completely and your tail stopped twitching in your sleep.
Whatever came in two days, he knew one thing for certain: he had already made his choice.
And it was you.
The morning of Legacy Day dawned bright and tense over Ever After High. The grand hall buzzed with nervous energy, students filing in wearing their finest ceremonial clothes. But Suguru Geto and you had chosen a different vantage point.
You both sat on a wide stone balcony overlooking the courtyard that led to the grand hall, far enough away to avoid the ceremony but close enough to watch everything unfold. Geto leaned against the railing, long dark hair loose and flowing down his back. You were half in his lap, tail curled comfortably around his waist, fingers idly playing with his hair.
“You’re really not going at all?” you asked, twisting a thick strand around your finger before letting it go. The hair immediately curled back toward your hand, seeking more attention.
Geto hummed, eyes fixed on the crowd below. “No point. We already know how this ends for us.”
You grinned, teleporting briefly so your floating smile appeared in front of his face before you reappeared fully, now straddling his lap facing him. “Good. More time for this.” You buried both hands in his hair, massaging his scalp gently. The dark strands wrapped around your wrists like they always did, warm and affectionate.
Down below, the ceremony had begun. Headmaster Grimm’s voice carried faintly on the wind as names were called. Geto’s gaze stayed sharp, focused on one figure in particular.
“There he goes,” Geto murmured.
You turned slightly, still playing with his hair, and spotted Gojo walking up to the podium in his pristine white suit. His hair was neatly styled for once, but you could see the tension in his shoulders even from this distance.
Sukuna had already gone. The four-armed figure had stood on stage, refused to sign, and remained completely solid when the minute of silence passed. The shock still rippled through the crowd below.
You watched Geto watch his friend. Your fingers never stopped moving through his hair, braiding small sections only to let them unravel again. The strands kept reaching for you, some of them brushing playfully against your cat ears.
Gojo stood at the Storybook of Legends now. The quill hovered in his hand. The entire courtyard seemed to hold its breath.
Then Gojo set the quill down.
His voice rang out clearly, even from where you sat. “I won’t sign it.”
A fresh wave of gasps echoed below. Geto’s shoulders relaxed. A small, genuine smile curved his lips as he watched Gojo step away from the podium and walk straight toward his girl—in the audience.
Suguru turned his head to look at you. His dark eyes were soft, warm with quiet satisfaction.
“I’m glad I didn’t let Cupid bind me to Manami,” he said quietly.
You paused your hands in his hair, ears perking up. “Yeah?”
He nodded, one arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. “I would’ve ended up in that tower, waiting for a rescue I didn’t want, with someone I never chose. Instead I get this.” His free hand came up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, thumb brushing the soft fur. “I get you teleporting into my room, hiding random things in my hair, making every day unpredictable. I get to be free with the person I actually love.”
Your tail swayed happily behind you. You leaned in and bumped your forehead against his. “Sap.”
“Only for you,” he replied, smiling wider.
Below, the ceremony was descending into controlled chaos. Students whispered frantically. Some looked inspired, others horrified. Gojo had reached the evil queen's daughter and pulled her into his arms in front of everyone. Even from the balcony you could see the relief in his posture.
You giggled softly, nuzzling into Geto’s neck. “Look at him. He finally did it.”
Geto’s hair shifted, several thick strands curling gently around your shoulders and waist, holding you securely against him. “Took him long enough. He was spiraling for weeks.”
“Because you thought it was funny to watch,” you teased, nipping at his jaw.
“Exactly.” He tilted his head to kiss you properly, slow and unhurried, like Legacy Day wasn’t happening just below you. When he pulled back, his expression was peaceful. “No regrets.”
“None,” you agreed.
You stayed like that on the balcony as the sun climbed higher. You kept playing with his hair, braiding and unbraiding, letting strands wrap around your fingers while your tail flicked contentedly. Geto watched the scene below for a little longer before his attention returned fully to you.
“Think they’ll try to force us to sign later?” you asked, grinning.
“They can try,” he said calmly. “Won’t work.”
Your grin widened, sharp and mischievous. You teleported for a second, leaving only your floating smile in front of his face, then reappeared sitting behind him on the wide railing, legs dangling on either side of his body. You draped yourself over his back, arms around his shoulders, chin resting on top of his head.
His hair immediately reacted, wrapping around your arms and brushing softly against your cheeks.
“I love you,” you whispered near his ear.
“I love you too,” he answered, reaching up to squeeze your thigh. “Chaos and stolen spoons included.”
You laughed brightly, the sound carrying on the breeze. Below, Legacy Day continued without you. Students made their choices. Some signed. Some didn’t. But up here, none of it touched you.
Geto leaned back into your embrace, completely relaxed. His hair continued its gentle caresses against your skin, like a living reminder of everything you’d chosen together.
No towers.
No forced destinies.
No regrets.
Just the two of you, watching the world try to follow its script while you wrote your own.
And as far as you were both concerned, this was the only ending worth having.
saw this tiktok and felt a certain way | tw: mental health mentions, unhealthy family dynamics
you spent all your childhood birthday wishes on prayers that your parents would love each other. hoping that god, or whoever was up there would give you the type of family where your parents would just love each other, be affectionate. the type that kissed in front of their kids and showed them what true love was—gave you a chance to go ewww when they stared at each other with so much love it left no questions to be asked.
"toru," you whisper, staring up the ceiling. you know he's half asleep, his arm that had been wrapped around your shoulders had gone limp awhile ago.
still, he's conscious enough to let out a sleepy hum, stirring slightly to press himself closer to you.
despite his warmth, how safe you feel in this man's arms, your thoughts wander. you feel cold, tears well in your eyes as thoughts flood you—ones you shouldn't be having. but you can't help it.
you take a shaky breath, hoping to stop your tears from flowing before you speak. "what... what if we stop loving each other..?" it's barely above a whisper, words that seem to twist in the silence of your bedroom. you know your not being fair, your husband is tired, long day at work. overtime. he'd been putting in extra hours in preparation for your baby. you know this.
you have no right to question his love—no need. but you do anyway. your fist clenches on your belly, your unborn child squirming as if she feels what you feel, too. guilt makes the words catch in your throat. "i... i don't want her—i don't want her to grow up the same way i did." you stutter, and the tears fall.
gojo's awake now. he pulls you to his chest and squeezes you. knowing him, he's thinking of a million ways to reassure you, to tell you, to show you that you don't have to worry. but he knows you need this, need to let your emotions out. voice your insecurities so they don't eat you from the inside out.
"i spent so many nights... just wishing i was never born." you mumble, sobbing under each breath. "i knew i was the reason they couldn't separate, you know? and i felt that deep in my stomach, everyday. my dad was an asshole.. you know. he cheated in my mom—constantly. but... she— i— my mom... she knew i still loved him. so she stayed anyway. even as i watched her cry when she thought i wasn't looking. and when i asked, she just told me i deserved a complete family. that it was okay that they didn't love each other—because they loved me."
you're shaking now, that same guilt you felt all those years ago consuming you whole, coming back in heavy waves that shook your very core. the tears stream down your face as gojo pulls you flush to him, rubbing circles on your arm.
"it's not your fault, baby." he whispers in your skin. and you wish you could believe him.
"i'm sorry—i know your tired. i just i—" you sub, trying to rub the tears away. "i don't want her to feel the same way i did.. or.. or what if my history affects her? they say depression.. anxiety whatever—it's genetic." you hiccup, clutching onto his sleep shirt now.
"hey.. hey look at me. i need you to calm down," he grabs your face, steadying you with his hands cupping your cheeks. "breathe. that won't happen—"
"i never wanted to get married..." you whisper. "i didn't want to fall in love, or have kids, have a family." you admit. "because i thought of all this—thought of all the worst parts of it. but then i met you, and i love you—a lot. but i'm scared. i'm so scared. what if i mess up and everything ends up just like my family? what if you get sick of me, and we hate each other, and then our daughter hates herself—"
"that won't happen." gojo cuts in. his face is serious, uncharacteristically so. blue eyes stare firmly into yours. "i love you. that won't change. i can't prove it to you now, but i promise. i'll show you—every single day, time and time again. i love you. and that is not a question, it's a promise."
he takes a deep breath, then he smiles, soft and loving. "i know you're scared—i am too. we're not perfect, both of us. but we can make it work. i know we can. we're not your parents... i know.. i know i can't prove anything to you now, but i made those vows on our wedding day, and i have every intention of keeping every single one of them."
his thumbs slide under your eyes, wiping away your tears as your lips tremble. opening and closing your mouth, trying to find the right words to say. gojo watches you in silence, letting you process your emotions on your own accord.
your words are lost on you, escaping in the form of your tears. "i love you." you say instead.
gojo smiles wider, pressing soft lips to your forehead. warmth spreads in you from where his lips touch your skin. "i know, baby, and i love you. always."
he hugs you tighter but still comfortable enough that you fall asleep in his arms, exhausted from your tears. he watches quietly, still wiping your tears away, touch featherlight. he eyes stay on you until your eyes fall shut and your eyelids relax, until your breath evens out.
only then, does he let his own eyes shut. whispering i love you into your hair, before drifting back to sleep.
he may not know what your future holds, but he knows he'll be there for you, every step of the way.
note: ty for requesting this pookie! i'm still currently accepting requests for the celebration, so, feel free to send some in if you'd like!
⊹₊⟡⋆𝐫𝟎𝐭𝐭𝐧'𝐬 𝟓𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧⊹₊⟡⋆
the tv cast a soft, shifting glow over the living room, the movie long since reduced to background noise. you were tucked into the couch like always, blanket half-draped over your legs, but tonight everything felt different—thicker, warmer, like the air itself was holding its breath. he was so close, closer than he’d ever been, and it felt impossible to think straight. satoru sat right beside you, his thigh pressed firmly against yours. the heat from his body seeped through the thin fabric of your leggings and his sweats, and every tiny shift he made sent a spark straight up your spine.
at first it had been easy, the way these nights always started—him showing up at your door with that familiar lazy grin, a bag of mochi already half-eaten, complaining about traffic while you laughed and pulled him inside. you’d picked the movie together, something light and silly you both pretended to care about, and settled in like always. but somewhere between the opening credits and the middle part, the space between you had started to shrink. his arm had found its way along the back of the couch, casual at first, until his fingers began brushing the exposed skin of your shoulder where your hoodie had slipped. he’d been doing that for the last twenty minutes—light, almost accidental touches that weren’t accidental at all. you didn’t move away, though. you didn’t want to. your heart had been beating too hard since the moment he’d shown up, and now the nervousness made your cheeks feel warm.
you kept your eyes on the screen, or tried to, but every so often you felt his gaze linger on you instead of the movie. the silence between you stretched, comfortable yet charged, broken only by the low hum of dialogue neither of you was really hearing. his fingers traced a slow, absent pattern along your shoulder, dipping just a little lower each time, and you found yourself leaning into it without meaning to, your breath catching quietly. he noticed—of course he did—and the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile, but he didn’t say anything. the tension kept building, slow and steady, until it felt like the smallest movement could tip everything over.
satoru shifted again, his thigh pressing a fraction more firmly against yours. he turned toward you slowly, his knee nudging between yours just enough to open the space. those bright blue eyes held yours, and the air between you pulled tight. he couldn’t look away, not when you were looking back at him like that, soft and unsure and so damn pretty it ached. his hand lifted, fingertips grazing your jaw with a gentleness that made your breath catch. he tilted your chin up, thumb tracing your lower lip like he was memorizing it. your lips parted on instinct. his gaze dropped there, darkening, and the corner of his mouth curved into the smallest, softest smirk.
he leaned in, giving you every chance to pull back, the space between you shrinking inch by careful inch. but you didn’t. his mouth brushed yours once—soft, testing—then again, deeper, the faint scrape of his teeth against your bottom lip pulling a quiet sound from your throat. your fingers curled into the front of his shirt without thinking, tugging him closer.
satoru exhaled shakily against your lips, voice low and rough with everything he’d been holding back.
“you have no idea how long i’ve thought about having you like this.”
the words sank deep into your chest, warm and overwhelming. your cheeks burned as you whispered back, voice small and sweet, barely above a breath, “toru, i—."
before you could even finish, he was kissing you again—hungry now, years of tension finally snapping. his hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your head as he tilted you exactly how he wanted. you opened for him, tasting the faint sweetness of mochi still on his tongue, and he groaned softly into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. he had pictured this moment a thousand times, yet nothing in his imagination could have prepared him for the real thing—for the way you tasted, the way you pulled him in like you never wanted to let go.
he guided you down onto the couch cushions, his body following, careful but insistent. one knee settled between yours, the solid weight of him pressing you into the pillows. his free hand slipped under the hem of your hoodie, palm warm against the bare skin of your waist, thumb stroking slow circles that made your hips lift toward him on their own. you felt so good under his hands, softer and sweeter than he’d ever let himself dream, and it made his chest tighten with something tender.
satoru broke the kiss only to trail his mouth along your jaw, teeth grazing that sensitive spot beneath your ear before he sucked lightly. your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling a low hum from him that went straight through you. he lifted his head, forehead resting against yours, eyes half-lidded and burning.
“tell me to stop,” he whispered, voice raw, “and i will. but i’ve wanted this—you—for so damn long… i don’t know if i can pretend anymore.”
your heart stuttered. you looked up at him, shy and sweet, cheeks flushed as you brushed your thumb gently over his cheek. “don’t stop,” you murmured, voice trembling just a little. “i don’t want you to. i’ve… i’ve been scared to say it, but i want you too, toru.”
you pulled him back down then, kissing him harder, hands sliding under his shirt to feel the warm skin of his back. the movie kept playing somewhere behind you, completely forgotten. all that existed was the way his heart hammered against yours, the way his breath trembled every time you arched into him, and the slow, aching slide of his hands exploring you your body.
he kissed you again, deeper, slower, like he was savoring every second now that the line between friends and something more had finally blurred.
SYNOPSIS - just when sukuna thinks it'll be another round of boring post race interviews, here you come practically calling him a loser on live national tv! wc 1.3k
AUTHOR'S NOTE - the poll winner as a bday gift from me :P ur girl's bday is tmr so i wanted to get this out ASAP thank you so much to everyone who voted :3 not proof read (i need a beta reader omg) enjoy!!
CREDITS - pictures from pinterest, sukuna fanart from @-to00fu, divider from @-cursed-carmine
even with the blinding, and rather unflattering, lighting and flashing cameras of the media pen, sukuna looked as cocky as ever. as a matter of fact, he looked like he thrived in the lime light.
a wave of reporters raised their hands and called for his attention but sukuna was drawn to you. the only one who wasn't hollering over others but there you were, front and center against the barricade. he struts over to your side, stopping just before the mic before he juts his chin in your direction as he spoke into the mic, "the pretty lady with the cute notepad in the front.'
you give him a bland smile that did not reach your eyes. “charming,” you say. “rather impressive drive today, from twelfth to p2. that overtake in lap 11 was impressive, but some are questioning whether it was truly necessary so early in the race."
"what can i say? my instincts told me to follow through, and it paid of," he shrugs.
"you nearly locked up and lost the rear," you challenge.
sukuna's eyes narrowed a fraction, unnoticed by others but not by you.
"that's racing," sukuna says, "if i don't take the gap, someone else will."
"so you believe it was worth dropping two seconds because your tires overheated? and of course, you ignored the recommended pit stop." your voice remained steady, your face seemed almost bored; as if you were lightly scolding a child for something so obvious. had it been anyone else, sukuna would've been annoyed and taken the fine just to cuss them out. but for some reason, he only grins at you in response.
"i still got podium though, now didn't i?"
you hum, as if in thought, "well, they do say second place is the first loser." reporters around you mutter in shock at your sharp words, the other drivers sweat dropped as they stared at sukuna to gauge his reaction, one of the drivers even scooting away from sukuna in a not-so-subtle way.
but instead of blowing up in anger, sukuna only laughs. the sound shocks everyone, it seemed so unnatural coming from him given the tense setting. he didn't seemed offended in the least, in fact, he seemed intrigued.
"you always this nice in your interviews?"
"only to the ones that ignore strat calls."
"i was right in my call."
"you were lucky."
the two of you keep your gaze on the other steady, never once breaking eye contact. sukuna's smirk was now permanently cemented on his face as he analyzed you. ever since he started racing, these interviews were always so bland to him. he enjoyed the fame it got him but that was about it. the questions were always the same and so were the reporters; just any other boring asshole asking the same damn questions. it felt like routine at this point. so it was only natural for him to be so interested in you, the first reporter to ever have the balls to call him the "first loser".
sukuna leans closer the mic as he offers you a question, "you saying im a bad driver?"
for the first time, you return a a coy look at him; almost as if you were silently saying your words not mine. "now, i never said that mr. sukuna."
the other reporters then took this as their chance to try and get his attention to ask their own questions. his team press officer comes up to him and ushers him to another section of the pen, trying to direct the attention away from the interaction the two of you just had on live tv in hopes of preventing a possible pr nightmare. even as he walked away, sukuna couldn't tear his eyes from you until you broke eye contact first and exited the pen, heading to interview another racer. the rest of the interviews were boring as always, but now even more so in comparison to the one he just had with you. he practically sped through the rest of the questions; offering short answers and even blatantly ignoring some reporters. his pr manager could chew him out for it later. for now, he was determined to find you.
by the time post race interviews were over, he was the first to slip away and evade his team in hopes of finding you. he eventually does find you and tries to appear as casual as possible as he watches you do your sign off in front of your camera man's rolling cam. by the time he reaches you, you signal for your camera man to cut it and he puts the camera down, almost shrinking at the sight of sukuna. you turn ever so slightly to look at him, barely even acknowledging him before telling your team to go ahead without you. leaving just you and sukuna.
"anything i can help you with?" you ask him, not angling your body to face him. and though you would never admit nor would you ever show it on your face, you were a little intimidated now that he was standing so close. and with his ridiculous height, he was practically leaning over you.
that snarky grin returns to his face like it was his nature. "y'know, most reporters try pretty damn hard not to insult me on live television."
"now when did i insult you?" you ask.
"i seem to remember you calling me 'the first loser'," sukuna repeats, even if he didn't seem the least bit insulted by your earlier jab.
"i don't believe i was calling you that directly," you justify. "merely referencing an old saying."
"eh semantics," sukuna shrugs. "besides, i'm not here to reprimand you for insulting me."
"then why do you seem like you're waiting for an apology?"
"i'm not, just.. interested," sukuna replies honestly. "not every day someone has the guts to say the stuff you did."
"would you have preferred i say it behind your back?" you offer, the corners of your lips pulling into a small smirk.
this pulls another chuckle from him as he steps even closer to you as he looks down at you with a calm expression-too calm. "you really don't care if the drivers like you, huh?"
"i don't get paid to make you like me."
"no, but wouldn't it make your job so much easier?"
"i wouldn't say that," you say. "you seem pretty intrigued by my methods so i'll take it as a job well done."
the grin on his face widens; this was refreshing to say the least. not only do you insult him, but the way you hold this banter with him was just so easy. perhaps he was still coming off the high from the race. that's what he'll blame it on should this go downhill from here.
"what do you say to a date then? to see how effective your methods really are. and ill show you mine," he suggests, his voice dropping into a low, sultry tone at the last word.
to no surprise, you don't back off. rather, you take a step forward and look up at him alluringly. "then i'm afraid ill have to decline. i don't go on dates with losers."
sukuna barks out a laugh, grinning proudly as he says, "is that so? well don't you worry your pretty little head. my next race is next weekend so clear your schedule for me, yeah?"
you pull away from and turn to walk away. but not before throwing a smile over your shoulder. "win first then we'll see, sukuna."
YAY i hope you guys liked thisss !! also sorry if any of the f1 terminology is off.... i had to larp for this fic :((( i will prob make a part two tbh (about how their date goes and MAYBE some smut if im up to it) lmk how we feel and if you wanna be added to the taglist :D
first kiss with boyfriend!choso except he doesn’t know what a kiss is ᝰ.ᐟ fluff, fem!reader
“do you think it’d be weird if i kissed him?”
maki had looked at you like you had two heads when she asked, “why would that be weird? he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”
“well, yeah… but, isn’t the guy usually supposed to do it first?”
“choso wasn’t even a fully conscious being a year ago.” she scoffed, “your boyfriend is essentially one of those expanding pill toys we used to soak in the sink as kids. there’s nothing ‘usual’ about you two. I say go for it.”
you nibble the inside of your lip as you think back to the conversation you’d had with your friend just a few hours earlier. she was right, there is absolutely nothing normal about a jujutsu sorcerer and a death painting being in a relationship, so perhaps it isn’t fair to apply the same expectations you would a normal guy to choso. and though he was different from any guy you’d been with before, you could say with utmost certainty that no one has ever treated you as well as your sweet boy does, even if his methods were a little unconventional at times and he still referred to you as his ‘mate’ instead of his girlfriend. but that was just something you’d gotten used to.
the two of you are sat under a tree on a breezy day with your back against the bark and choso’s head tucked in your lap contently. he has his eyes closed but you can tell he’s not sleeping, just resting, his pretty lashes kissing his cheeks. chest rising and falling slowly. if anything, his relaxed stature should mirror onto you but it only makes you more nervous.
gently, you move to hold his face in your hands, thumbs dusting over his cheeks which makes him exhale a breath through his nose a little heavier in response. though no longer a stranger to your touch, it still makes his heart skip all the same. choso and affection had never crossed paths until he’d met you.
and slowly, you lower your face to his, eyes drawing to a close when you carefully slot your lips over his own. you remain there for a beat before you pull away to see a pair of alerted, intense eyes staring directly into yours.
“what did you just do?”
he’s so matter of fact. you still aren’t quite sure if you’re used to how much weight his voice has when he uses it. how it feels like he’s speaking into you instead of to you.
“um, I-“ you swallow, hard. “it was a kiss. i kissed you.”
you hadn’t really thought this through, you realize as your mouth runs dry. feels like it’s been filled with sand.
“why? what is a ‘kiss’?” he’d paused to taste the word, like he’d never spoken it before. because he hadn’t.
“it’s what you do when you like someone. when words aren’t enough to show it. you put your lips on theirs, and… move them.”
you were going to kill maki.
he nods, but he still seems to be thinking on it. “what does it mean?”
“it’s kind of hard to explain. but it’s supposed to be a good thing, you know… that couples do.” he shifts slightly, arms coming up to cross under his head instead. his knuckles brushing against the skin of your thighs, the feeling of his hands making you fidget a bit. they were almost hot.
“how’d it make you feel?” you ask.
“do it again.”
“what?”
he repeats himself, “do it again. you caught me off guard the first time.”
so you do as you’re told. once. just a peck, barely a second. then again, but this time, you stay long enough to feel his lips tentatively start to move against yours. to feel them press deeper into yours when his chin tilts upwards.
a breath is shared between the two of you, lips ghosting against each other’s before you pull away completely.
your heart is beating fast and you know he can sense it.
“so? now how do you feel?” it comes out really soft because you’re nervous and you truly can’t read him right now.
he looks… confused. curious? you don’t know, but there’s a harsh line between his brows while he mulls on his answer.
“warm. like my blood is about to burst through my veins any second now… like—“ his lips close, then part again, but it takes a few more seconds for words to escape and for the first time ever you hear choso trip over his words. “like the feeling you get when you’re getting ready to fight someone. but… different. more intense.”
“cho, it’s okay if you didn’t like—“
he doesn’t let you finish.
“give me more,” and he tacks it on for good measure because yuji’s told him he needs to work on his manners. “please.”
blakekathryn
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turnnoffyourmind
tangentwithtanner
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