fic warnings!!: dead dove do not eat, extreme bullying, dubcon/noncon, unhealthy relationships, talks of suic1de, attempts at suic1de, delulu satosugu, geto and gojo are really really horrible honestly, major trigger warning for fic and fic chapters, reader is chubby and mentally unwell at times, a lot of angst/somewhat comfort, the boys get a lil better eventually, somewhat fluff? talks of babytrapping, satosugu fantasizing about you, they're down bad and just don't admit it, breeding kink, yan!satosugu x fem!reader, smut!! very dark content, pls be warned!!!
this chapter will be more plot-heavy as I wanted to give reader more depth and the story more depth before jumping to the fun stuff, no smut but there is talk of s3lf h*rm and su1c1dal ideation in this chapter so please be warned if this is triggering material!! Next chapter will include more steamy stuff👀
Life really has only gotten worse since the incident with that guy you liked a couple weeks ago. Everyday just feels like a complete fight for you to even get out of bed in the morning to attend the hell-hole you call a school. The only thing that really keeps you going is the consolation that in about a month, it'll all be over and done with, and you'll never have to see or talk to any of these people ever again, especially those two.
Thinking of them just makes you sick. They're repulsive, and haven't let up even a bit after your humiliating public rejection a couple weeks ago. You honestly can't decide if you want to kill yourself or them more, really. Every second you're at that school, they torment you. From snarky, objectifying comments about you to making themselves apparent in every aspect of your life in the worst way possible, they were the bane of your existence. It makes you sick to see how everyone praises them and licks their boots when they see your suffering plain as day, and none of them choose to help you. You've already decided that once this is over with, you'll never see anyone here again. As soon as the diploma hits your hand, you're walking off the stage and will never talk to any of them ever again. You're just going to keep laying low, not speaking to anyone, and pretending you don't even exist to anyone around you. It's not like you really do, anyways. You're just a laughing stock for anyone around you anyways. The least you can do is just...tune it out like you've been doing.
Nobody can hate you more than you hate yourself, after all.
Satoru and Suguru have noticed your withdrawal at school for the past couple days, your usual snarky and fighty attitude towards them has lowered significantly, and they hate it. Suguru is tired of his snowy haired counterpart being a brat and sulking around like a puppy that's had it's favorite toy taken away. To be fair, though, Suguru is not exactly happy about it either. Why aren't you fighting them so much? What happened to those claws you have that are so ready to dig into their abusers? How boring. Suguru is already trying to pry around for information, trying to see if someone's pushed a little too many buttons, but he can't seem to find any info as to why. Well, that's a shame, but that's what Satoru is here for.
If anyone can push buttons one too many times, it's him.
You're on your way down to the teacher's lounge/office again, not wanting to deal with the loud and overstimulating nature of the lunchroom. That's at least one thing you can be appreciative of, is that the teachers DO notice what's going on. Even if they can't do anything about it, most of them offer you a sort of pity that makes you feel worse about your situation even more, somehow. But regardless of your feelings on that, you do appreciate their small efforts like letting you stay in "teacher only" environments to avoid the bullying and harassment you face constantly.
You're holed up in a corner in an uncomfy leather chair, body scrunched up as to hide yourself even further when you see a fluffy white head ghost by the glass window in the office. You immediately duck down further before he notices you.
The teacher sitting parallel a few feet away notices your discomfort, and immediately sighs. "Dont worry, (y/n). I'll handle him." The teacher sitting there, Mr. Yuin, stands to confront the blue eyed demon as he repetitively (and annoyingly) keeps tapping on the glass over and over again until Mr. Yuin reaches the door.
"What is it, Gojo, This is a teacher only space. You're aware of that." Satoru plasters on a sincere-ish expression on his face before replying.
"Well, the principal wanted me to come down to inquire about where (y/n l/n) is. Apparently, she's being nominated for something on the school appreciation board, whatever that could be." He's a pretty decent liar, at least. That's one of the only positive things you could say about the 6"4 menace. You shrink down into the seat further as you attempt to listen in.
"I don't think she's here, Gojo. Even if she was, I don't feel inclined to believe what you said. If the principal had a concern, he'd call me here in the office, not send one of the most notorious trouble makers here to make an "inquiry"." Mr Yuin scoffs before adding - "Do you even know what that word means, Gojo?" Satoru sighs, rolling his eyes before dropping the act. "Could you just throw me a bone, teach'? Even you know she's trash, why even bother trying to protect her? It's a miracle she's even going to graduate." A blatant lie, but a somewhat believable one, despite your grades. Unfortunately, people don't pick up on (or care) about your grades, it's all about your reputation.
Satoru keeps trying to peek his head into the office, peering around as you feel your skin start to sweat.
Fuck, what if he sees you? Will he just brute-force his way into the office? What then? What does he even want with you today?
Luckily, Mr. Yuin comes to your rescue again. "Gojo, I'm just gonna ignore that comment and ask you to leave. Please don't make me report you." He pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously irritated. Well, at least someone other than you sees how obnoxious Satoru really is. Satoru makes a display of obvious annoyance, sighing loudly and rolling his eyes before complying. "Fineeee, whatever." Mr. Yuin sighs, thanking Gojo for his compliance and goes to shut the door once he leaves, but something just doesn't feel quite right about that whole interaction...why would he give up so easily? That's not Satoru at all.
Oh well, it's over with anyways. All of the stress suddenly leaves your body, and you let out a quiet sigh as your body relaxes more. You quietly thank Mr. Yuin, and go back to picking at your lunch. Suddenly, though, you look out of the corner of your eye to spot Satoru staring a hole into you, smirking ear to ear like the Cheshire cat. He mouths something, but you can't be sure of what it is. You only make out "teacher's pet" before he saunters away with that annoying, pompous attitude. God, he's such a prick. Well, at least you don't have to see him again today. You're allowed to leave after you finish this lunch break, one of the perks of being an A+ student and already having all of your required credits.
It's the next day when you begin to notice something awry in the air. The whispers around you seem louder than they usually are, and the atmosphere around you just feels...odd. You don't know what's going on, but you can only take a wild guess that it somehow involves you, unsurprisingly.
Whatever, rumors are rumors.
You're so used to words being thrown around about you that it's honestly entertaining to you that so many people believe the insane claims that your two tormentors come up with.
At least, that's what you think until you pass by Mr. Yuin's empty office with all of his decorations gone from his desk.
What's going on? Mr. Yuin never misses a day of school. In fact, in the 2 years that you've known him, you don't think you've ever seen the guy not at work, how odd. You look inside, scowling a little at the fact that your favorite teacher that usually lets you hide away from the masses isn't here today.
You find out a few moments later through anonymous whispers in the halls from a bunch of nobodies that Mr. Yuin won't be back, ever.
Apparently because of you.
Allegedly, Mr. Yuin was having an "inappropriate relationship with one of his students and a student saw and reported the incident."
That student being you, apparently.
You want to scream. This is so disgusting, and you know exactly who did it.
Your favorite teacher just got fired because of a stupid lie spread around by Satoru and Suguru out of their pettiness. Mr. Yuin was one of your only protectors at this godforsaken school, and now he's gone. You quickly walk through the halls, trying not to draw attention to yourself since you know probably 90% of these people know what happened and know YOU, which is even worse. As you pass through the halls, you can see the eyes all linger on you, some sneering, some laughing, some just staring. The whispers are really what bothers you, however.
"Can you believe that girl's been sleeping with that teacher? Yuck."
"She's beyond a teachers pet, she's a teacher's whore at this point."
"Imagine being so desperate that you coerce a teacher to fuck you. EW"
"I feel bad for Mr. Yuin. He could've at least banged a hotter student, not that sad lump."
You feel that unpleasantly familiar welling of tears in your eyes. Not now, you can't cry now. Please don't start crying. You're trying to fight the tears coming down your face as you slam open the door to the principal's office. Startled, they immediately turn towards you and can't even get a sentence out before you start:
"Who. Who started the rumor."
The principal and his assistant both sigh, looking at each other before beginning. "Y/N, you know we can't name the student who reported it, it's a violation of privacy-"
"Oh, it's a violation of privacy?? What about MY PRIVACY? You know this isn't true, why did you even let it get out?" You begin to sniffle in front of them, clearly frustrated and upset with the situation. "Violation of privacy" your ass. You know who started this, you just want confirmation so that you can finally go beat his ass seriously, maybe even shove him off the roof and watch him splatter on the concrete. The principal begins spouting out fragile reasoning and diffusion of responsibility, how they "have to take accusations seriously" and "even if it's not true it has to be investigated" and how "we know bullying isn't tolerated but there's not much they can do right now without evidence-" No evidence? NO EVIDENCE OF BULLYING? The entire school knows exactly who causes your torment and any random student could give you at least 3 instances they saw in PERSON of your humiliation and bullying. You feel so fucking sick, this is the final straw. They've already ruined your social life, your reputation, taken away all of your friends, left you isolated socially and continually harass you on the daily both physically and mentally. And now, they've taken away a teacher that you cared about and that protected you simply out of spite of him not bending to their will. You're fucking done, it's over. You quickly wipe your eyes, give all of them a dirty look and exit the office, heading to your locker to pick up your stuff and not come back to this school.
On your locker is a crudely written note with the worst handwriting you've ever seen scribbled on it:
"How was the teacher dick? Was it worth it?"
You quickly crumble it up and throw it away, gathering your things and heading out of school.
Of course your life couldn't be THAT easy, as Satoru and Suguru stand on the sidewalk, immediately locking eyes on your emotionally disheveled state. You don't even speak a word to them, not even a dirty look. Just keep walking, you think.
You hear the heavy footsteps quickly join you, snickering at your state and faux-cooing at the tears running down your face. "Awwww, didn't like the rumor? I can't believe you'd do such a thing, poor Mr. Yuin," Satoru says, leaning down into your face. Suguru isn't far behind, peering at you with that stupid coy smile and uppity expression. "You're right, Satoru. Who would've known you'd do such a thing? He could go to jail because of you, you know, " Suguru adds onto the fire. They both have a loud chuckle at this, being thrilled at finally having you under their thumb again after a couple days of you being so fucking aloof from them. You deserve this, they think. You're the one responsible for this. If you had just continued your role of being their little mouse captured in their claws, you would've just continued your usual route of bullying instead of them having to up it a couple notches. They don't feel bad at all for what's happened, if anything they're elated. God, how they love to see you cry. It's like doing heroin for them, seeing the long streaks of tears and snot come running down your chubby cheeks. It's been a while since you've actually cried in front of them. Lately, you've been trying to just "tune them out" like that'll actually help you, like you know how to "manage" them. You can't manage them, little mouse, YOU are the one under THEIR management, not them. After all, that's one of the main things that gets under their skin. You just think you can deal with it all, that you're so "strong", that it's all just a state of mind, but you're so wrong. What you don't know is that they'll continue to escalate it until you break or agree to become theirs. You're so stubborn it's infuriating. It's a good thing they're so good at playing the long game, otherwise you'd be out of their grasp by now.
Satoru is pulling at your cheeks now, laughing at how snotty and tear covered they are and making crude mockeries of your expressions as Suguru just stands and smirks like he always does. Suddenly, your hand juts out to grab Satoru's wrist. He laughs, getting even further down into your face. "What? Can't take anymore? Awwww I'm so sorry honey." As you grip Satoru's wrist even harder, you don't realize your sleeve pulling up further, revealing cut marks and previous scarring on the inside of your wrist. Both Satoru and Suguru immediately take notice of this, eyes widening as they, for the very first time in their lives, go silent for a couple moments, not being able to even form a word.
It doesn't last long before Satoru begins laughing again.
"Wow, you're cutting yourself too? God you really are so patheti-"
You reel back with all of the might you have in your body and punch Satoru square in the face, hearing a crack as you pray it broke his fucking nose. His head violently turns, as he stumbles on the pavement for a moment, blood is now streaming down his nose and his face is already turning a darker purple-ish brown color from the bruising.
Oddly enough, he doesn't look angry at you. Not even fear, or shock. This is so weird, what is he even thinking right now?
Suddenly, he stares up at you as you stand over him with a bloody fist, his face flushed and pupils dialated so wide that you can barely see the blue. He reaches to touch the spot where you socked him, smearing the blood further across his face where the impact hit.
At least, that’s what he tells himself every morning.
He hates your voice before class, all laughter and glitter, spilling into the hallway like it owns the light.
He hates that you still talk to him even though he’s been short, rude, and dismissive for months.
He hates that you used to be the loud one, the so-called “bimbo” who flirted with everyone and never took anything seriously—yet somehow you’re the only person who gets under his skin.
When you toss him a grin across the room, he rolls his eyes.
You wink anyway.
It shouldn’t make his chest tighten, but it does.
It starts as irritation.
He tells Gojo, “She’s ridiculous,” while you sit three rows ahead taking notes in pink ink.
Gojo only smirks. “You’ve been staring at her ridiculousness for ten minutes, man.”
Suguru glares at the window instead, pretending to watch the clouds. They look like your perfume smells—sweet and distracting.
He hates that, too.
Weeks pass.
You start ignoring him, probably because even you have limits.
He expects to feel relief; instead, the silence itches.
He catches himself waiting for your voice. The way you used to hum off-key. The way you’d call him “Gojo’s girl” and lean too close.
Without it, the day feels hollow, like the static that hums after a song ends.
One afternoon he sees someone else making you laugh. Something in his chest stirs—hot, irrational.
He doesn’t call it jealousy.
He just spends the rest of the lecture glaring at the back of that guy’s head.
Suguru Geto prides himself on control. He believes in calm, in intellect, in distance.
You dismantle all three just by existing.
He finds excuses to pass by your desk.
He notices the gloss on your nails, the tiny hearts doodled in your margins.
You’re still sunshine in human form—bright, clumsy, too much—and yet you’ve started to quiet down. When you look up at him, your smile is smaller now, like you’re afraid he’ll snap again.
He hates himself a little for that.
One evening, he sees you outside the library, headphones tangled, trying to balance a stack of books. He almost walks away—habit—but something makes him stop.
“Give me those,” he mutters, taking half the pile.
You blink, stunned. “Oh. Thanks, Geto.”
The sound of your gratitude shouldn’t feel like an electric shock. It shouldn’t make him want to say you’re welcome in a softer way than he ever talks.
But it does.
After that, he can’t help himself.
He starts looking for you.
He notices the tiny crease in your brow when you’re concentrating. The way you bite your pen cap when you’re thinking. The way your laughter doesn’t demand attention anymore—it just fills the space between people, effortlessly, like warmth.
He wonders if you were always like this, and if he just refused to see it.
When you start dating someone new, he doesn’t take it well.
He tells himself it’s because the guy is lazy, unfocused, not good enough for anyone.
Gojo catches the storm brewing and laughs. “You’re jealous, Suguru.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replies, too quickly.
That night, he dreams of your perfume again.
The realization doesn’t arrive all at once.
It creeps in during quiet moments—the way your laugh lingers in his head, the way your name tastes softer than he expected.
One afternoon, you ask him to help you study. He nearly says no. Then you smile at him, small and careful, and the word yes slips out before he can think.
You’re sitting close, your notes messy, your patience endless.
He explains things twice just to keep you there longer.
When your hand brushes his, he feels something unwind in him that he didn’t know was wound so tight.
After that day, his cruelty dies a quiet death.
He still teases you, but the edges have dulled.
You start teasing back again, cautious at first, then easier—like old times, but different.
One night after study group, you tell him, “You’re not as scary as you think.”
He almost laughs. “You have no idea.”
But you look up at him, eyes steady, and he knows you actually do.
He stops fighting it soon after.
The hate was always a disguise. The irritation was always hunger for attention. The anger was always fear—fear that he could love someone like you, someone who made life messy and bright and full.
Now he catches himself thinking about how you’d look in his sweater, how your hair would smell in the morning, how your voice would sound saying his name like it’s something safe.
He still acts gruff. Old habits die slow. But sometimes his hand lingers too long when passing you a pen. Sometimes his gaze softens before he can hide it. And sometimes, when you grin at him like you’ve known all along, he has to look away before the truth gives him away completely.
Suguru Geto used to think control was strength.
Now he knows it’s just armor.
Because the moment you smile at him like that, the armor cracks—and the man underneath, the one he didn’t think existed anymore, finally breathes.
Bully Gojo and bully Geto finding their favourite bully victim at a party...dancing with another guy.
yandere!bully!satosugu x chubby!reader
cw for yandere, bullying/harassment, name calling (fat-related), stalking, obsessive behavior, jealousy
Gojo's heel is nervously taping the floor, as he slouches on the couch. By his side, Geto has his legs crossed, ankle resting on his knee as his hand covers his mouth.
You don't know they're there, observing from a distance.
They made sure you didn't notice them, staying back the entire time. Arriving at the party later than you, making sure to not attract too much attention from the strangers around them, sitting down when they noticed you looking in their general direction.
Everything to not be noticed.
An odd behavior from them, one would think. They are so used to bother you, sling arms around your shoulders, leaning with their full body weight on you while sitting down, even resting their heads on your lap to sneak a quick nap during lunch.
Really, they are so used to just be in your space. However, they reasoned, they never saw you in these surroundings.
They decided, that one evening when the stalkerware they installed in your phone reported you were writing with your friend about a party, to monitor you. Simply because you are a simple creature, naïve, defenseless, unaware of the dangers of a party.
Even your gentle response to your friend betrayed an innocence about the happenings of a party. They remember the afternoon when your friend, from another school, brought you out to find the perfect outfit: how you gravitated towards safety, how your friend direct you towards more bold options.
They even remember the sensations they felt the moment they saw you in those clothes. They had Gojo bite his thumb's nail to stop the impulse of approaching, Geto lean forward as if that would bring him closer.
A little bit like now. They are both fighting the urge to stand up, really stand up with their shoulders straight to show their full height, and scoop you up.
Have their fingers sink in the plush meat of your thighs and your arms, that are left naked by the dress you ultimately chose, and carry you somewhere safe, somewhere far, somewhere only the two of them could reach.
But they stay put, nerves tense as they watch you dance. It's not as carefree as it could, you don't give yourself to the music as you still carry that air of self-consciousness you always have. Yet, you are dancing, to match your partner.
A boy.
From another school. The one your friends is from, to be precise, as she was the one to introduce you to the man who is now busy eating you up with his eyes. A quick introduction that Gojo and Geto didn't even bother to listen to, until he asked you if you wanted anything to drink. You answered you wanted something non-alcoholic; or perhaps something light, you corrected yourself, raising your head to meet his eyes, and looking positively adorable with that look of determination on your face.
If Gojo could have his hands on you, Geto senses, he would squeeze your cheeks at first, laughing about how cute you were. Then his hands would drift, touching places and caressing spots that would have you shake. If Geto had it his way, Gojo realizes, he would have you flushed against his body if you wanted to dance so bad. Then he would have you rest by sitting on his lap.
But there you are, dancing the night away with some guy who just smiles sweetly and doesn't hide his attraction behind a wall of scorn. And you look happy, with a shy smile blossoming on your glossy lips, and perhaps that's exactly why they're so hesitant in that moment: seeing you like that has never been a privilege they were granted, and they could still separate you from that boy as you stayed distant, dancing but in your own spaces.
It allows them to look inside a moment, to see something they can't have. Of course, of course they love when you are trembling and nervous under their gaze, when you become little and meek like a little church mouse, and they adore they way you give into their requests, the not-so-innocent questions that seem like penances to you. However, peeking into something that they are not supposed to see, and that something is the cheerful way you move your hips and chest to the beat of the music, makes them feel delirious.
It's not just intimate, it's forbidden to them.
Everything shatters, though, when a hand rests on your hip. They can see you jolt, surprised, and the boy comes closer toy.
And you let him.
When his hand goes on your other hip, pulling you towards him, it's enough. Gojo shoots up, and Geto doesn't stop him, opting to stand up and following him when he starts to stalk towards the two of you. The boy notices someone approaching fast, so he raises his eyes from you when he senses the movement.
You follow his gaze until your eyes lock with Gojo's, hidden behind the sunglasses.
You blanch.
"Been looking for you everywhere, piggy!" He declares, hand coming to grab your forearm and pulling you in his direction. You resist a bit, but he is too strong for you.
Soon after, Geto reaches you two, placing himself on the opposite side of Gojo so that you are surrounded. You shrink, the positive vibe you had about you moments before leaving your body.
"Why don't we go somewhere quieter?" Geto proposes, and Gojo is quick to agree. When the other boy tries to object, you see both Gojo and Geto stare him down.
They're taller, and bigger, and you see the poor boy back down from trying to keep you there. You wish you had enough bravery to apologize to him, but all you can do is lower your head.
You then remember, with your eyes fixed on your shoes, how you are dressed. The little dress that barely covers anything, that hugs your body in a tight fit, and you feel your face heat up. You have never been dressed like that in front of them, you're suddenly hyperaware of your position between them and the presence of their bodies so close.
One of them must have noticed something, because suddenly you have a jacket draped over your shoulders. It has a pleasant perfume, and you instinctively wrap it closer your your body. You don't even know who has given it to you, but for once in your life you feel grateful to them.
"C'mon, bet no one is on the balcony." Gojo says, while his hands drifts from your arm to the small of your back. He keeps you close as he walks, Geto on your other side.
— minors dni, bully! stsg x reader, dubcon, exhibitionism, óral [ m. receiving ], cóckwarming, facefúcking, pet names (princess, sweetheart, pet)
geto’s cock rests warm and heavy on your tongue, sprinkling the salty taste of precum onto your tastebuds. he shifts again in his seat, tilting his hips to shove his length a little further down your throat again, knowing it’s going to make you choke—and it does. the tip pushes further towards the back of your throat, nearly forcing a gag to spring free, but you just manage to swallow it down. his other hand rubs a gentle thumb over your cheek—a wordless ‘good pet’ for remaining so quiet.
though you’re not exactly sucking him off, geto is perfectly content sitting with you like this, in the heated embrace of your mouth. he finds it a little comfy, to be honest. the library is chilly, and he prefers the warmth inside you over anything his clothes could provide. not to mention, he’s just getting your mouth ready, so there is an actual purpose to you being down there.
that reason would be entirely unknown to you, however. in your mind, this is just the average day of suguru geto being an asshole, cornering you and stuffing you beneath the most secluded desk and basically forcing you into things you didn’t plan on doing. if you were somewhere else, in any other setting, you would have told him to get fucked and leave you alone because he has no right to be making demands like this. but you’re in public, and a library, of all places. there’s too many people around, and it’s too quiet. someone like geto has surefire ways to have you raising your voice in less than a minute, and you do not need the entire building to know he’s trying to have you cockwarm him under the table. it’s easier to just deal with it; comply and hope he doesn’t plan on using you for too long.
so, yes, you are doing this “willingly”, in the loosest of terms. and it pisses you off that while you’re down here on bruised knees and getting fucking carpet burn, geto is leaned back as casually as he can, still reading through the pages of a book as your jaw grows sore. he’s been still besides the few purposeful thrusts of his hips to get you to choke—asshole.
something catches his attention, and suddenly geto is slipping himself from your lips, tucking his length into his pants. you’re confused, but before you can maneuver yourself out of the cramped underside of the desk, there is someone else sliding into the chair—someone worse.
“heya, princess!”, gojo whispers a little too loudly, with beads of sweat rolling down his face. “comfy down there?”
both your mouth and brows droop down into a scowl, the pair of men plainly amused at your cute, little expression.
“open up, sweetheart,” gojo commands. he’s quick to undo his belt and pants, tugging his cock free from its confines. it’s stiff and throbbing already, leaking absurd amounts of pre down the length to drip onto his hand, where gojo gives himself slow, teasing pumps.
he doesn’t give you time to prepare before he’s shoving his tip past your lips, rubbing himself over the wet insides of your mouth.
“you ran through campus with a boner?”, geto snickers over his head, watchful eyes glancing between gojo’s manhandling of you and the vacant library to keep a lookout.
his snowy-haired other half is loud, making things way more obvious than geto did. not that he isn’t aware, no, gojo simply doesn’t give a fuck. he’s good at a lot of things, but practicing restraint is not one of them, and he damn sure isn’t about to start now. especially not with you.
gojo darts a pink tongue out to wet his lips, messily clearing away locks of your hair to get a nice view of your pretty face as he thrusts sloppily into your mouth. “i c—couldn’t, fu—ck, help it. did you expect me to— to take my time after you sent me that?”
his best friend only gives a low, delighted chuckle in reply. you catch geto’s gaze as he gives you a long stare, and then palms over the bulge in his pants.
“fuck, suguru got you all nice and loose for me.”, gojo pants, licking away a dewdrop of drool at the corner of his lips. he lets out a low groan, and you see geto’s head snap up to give someone a very menacing glare. “look at him makin’ this nice and easy for us. thank him after i’m through, yeah?”
you don’t respond, can’t respond when gojo’s tip incessantly prods at the back of your throat. gags and chokes are ripped from your throat, muffled and low but surely noticeable by anyone nearby. you expect to be caught and kicked out any minute now, forced to do the walk of shame with these two dumbasses.
gojo slams you down on his cock, and he holds you there. your chest stutters, body heaves as you struggle for any breath of air through the fabric of his shirt pressed against your nose, or the white hairs at his base tickling your face.
just as quickly, he’s pulling you away, and you barely breathe in a single gasp before gojo is shooting ropes of cum to paint your face. you squeeze an eye shut as he almost spurts into your eye, him giggling childishly as he thumbs it away and pokes the same finger into your mouth for you to suck clean.
gojo tosses his head back to catch his own breath. he shoves his cock back into his boxers, straightening out his clothes before rubbing his hands through your ruffled hair.
“ ‘kay, let’s go.”, he says proudly, grabbing you by the upper arm to pull you to your feet. “ up, now, we’re going to your dorm.”
you’re puzzled. apparently, they’re not done with you. “…why?”
— bully!geto x fem!reader, bully!gojo x fem!reader
c/w: noncon, sexual assault & harassment, noncon filming, panty stealing, forced blowjob, inexperienced reader, reader is in love, gojo being soft? possessive gojo
a/n: hey!! this is pt2 hihihi sorry for the late update bc i have so many things going on and yeah! thanks for being patience. yesterday i fainted during my marching practice :')
Walking quickly, clenching your teeth, hugging yourself as your breathing quickens, you’ve been walking across the hallway carefully making sure your ‘friends’ aren’t there to harass you. Your eyes went from left to right, observing your surroundings until people started to creep out by your behavior, “Why is this nerd so weird?”, they said. You immediately flinch as soon as you feel a sudden tap on the shoulder. “Oh no! I-Is it them??”, you thought and slowly turned to meet them, preparing yourself for the happy reunion, although you’re not so happy about it.
“Y/N, are you okay?”, Nanami asks, quirking his brow, he’s so worried about you. Why are you so scared? Nanami is your first friend and your first person who loves to be with you, unlike other students who only talk to you regarding assignments and hard-level subjects you aced. Only Nanami is willing to be with you, eat lunch together, walk to class together even though he’s in a different major (he takes law whilst you take physics). He even introduces you to Haibara and Ino, those two are nice and love hanging around with you. You love them dearly.
“Oh! I-it’s nothing… Kento…”. The way you pronounce his first name so sweetly made his cheeks flutter which he hides it with a cough. He seems to not trust you because to him, you’re a bad liar but he just ignores it, hoping to investigate it by himself rather than asking you. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He’s such a gentleman, no wonder you find yourself yearning for his presence but not this time.
“I have to go—”, you huff but before you can walk, Nanami speaks up.
“Let me walk with you”.
You want to accept it but… you’re scared, scared that Nanami will judge you or worse hate you because what if you accidentally met your bullies on the way? and let your bullies have their way with you or the way you’re too weak to defend yourself. You don’t want Nanami's help, you don’t want to be too dependent on him, he always helps you and protects you. He did so much for you. You’re afraid that he will find you annoying and leave you.
“It’s fine”, you flash him your usual smile with a hint of sorrow in it. Nanami sighs, he knows something is wrong but just keep it to himself and maybe he will secretly follow you to find the truth. He cares about you.
You take a few steps, finally away from him and you can see the door of today's class, calculus. It’s one of your favorite subjects. You look at your watch, it’s 7:30 a.m, 30 more minutes before class starts. Wanting to grab the doorknob and twist it and suddenly, a hand (which is bigger than yours) grabs the doorknob. Looking up to see who is it, your eyes widen and your throat dries. No, it can’t be, you make sure to observe your surroundings — keeping sure they’re not here. But you’re wrong.
“Good morning, princess”, Geto smiles. His smile which people find sweet and cute but to you, it hides so much sinister. He frowns, not getting any response from you as you are shaking from his presence, and the worst is that he is holding your hand, not giving it any announce of letting you go.
“What? Cat got your tongue?”, he glares. Before you can say anything, he pulls you towards the store room, away from everyone. Struggling and squirming, trying to break free from his grasp as he slams the door.
Geto’s soft eyes turn into a glare as he looks down on you, his yellow eyes shine with mischievous and gladly form a smirk. His hand slowly creeps into your cheek and cups it to bring you closer to him, your face is a few inches away from him. He has the urge to kiss your pouty lip but decides not to.
“P-Please Suguru…”, you plead as tears start forming in your eyes. You hope he didn’t do anything adverse.
“Shhh…. I will not hurt you but I want something. No, I need something from you”, his gaze went from your crystalized eyes to your breast and to your soft plump thighs. He grins.
“Gimme your panties”.
Your heart quickens. “What-?”.
“I don’t need to repeat it myself. Gimme your panties or….”, he comes closer and whispers into your ear. “I will have to rip your clothes and you have to walk around naked inside the campus hmm”, he threatens as his hot breath fanning your ear, making you weak in the knees.
“N-No… please…”, tears run down your cheek as you squint, trying to control yourself from becoming a sobbing mess. Lifting your skirt and slowly sliding down your pink panties. Geto gladly takes it and sniffs your panties which causes you nausea. He puts your panties inside his pant pocket and grins upon seeing your cute hands tugging your skirt as down as possible to make sure it is long enough to cover your bare cunt and ass.
-
Take a deep breath and sit on your seat, closing the gap between your thighs to cover the fact you’re not wearing anything, your heart beats faster than usual, hoping nobody notices your shuffling and squirming on the seat. A sudden chair is dragged by someone beside you, and decide to take a seat. You nervously glance towards the person and your heart drop. It was Gojo, smiling at you as if you were his best friend, maybe for them but not you. You didn’t expect to see him here in the same class and same major as you.
“Why are you tugging your skirt hmm?”, Gojo innocently tilts his head and tries to grab your wrist to which you quickly pull it away and sweat nervously, avoiding his eyes. He frowns, he seems to hate the idea of you avoiding his touch — Gojo is a touch-starved person, he loves hugging and giving you surprise kisses, on the other way, you dislike it because he’s too rough with his touches.
Gojo went back into his usual self and smiled widely, feel uneasy by his sudden mood swing, you decided to maybe just listen to him.
“I know”, he mutters to which you tilt your head quizzically. “Suguru told me”. Your eyes widen, of course, he knows, they’re close enough that many consider them as more than best friends, some might wonder if they had fuck already but that’s none of your concern.
“You’re whore for giving him what he needs, you like him more than me hmm?”. You swear you saw Gojo’s eyes darken and his words feel infuriated. Is he mad? Or jealous that you prefer Geto more than him, the honoured one, Gojo Satoru. There is no way he’s jealous right? He waits for your answer to which you can’t gather the courage to speak, too afraid that your answer might be not what Gojo wants to hear.
After class ended, he drags you into an isolated hallway — you couldn’t do much due to his strong grip on your arm as if he wanted to break your bones but he’s not gonna do it because he loves you, you’re his best friend.
“On knees”, he commands and you obey him, not wanting to further his mood swing. The sound of unbuckling belt sends a chill down your spine, oh… is it what you think is it? No, it can’t be, no way he will let you suck his cock out in public, it’s…. too risky! The thought of getting caught by the students and the lecturer caused your tears to slide down your eyes and begin to sniffle. And… what if Nanami saw you? Will he hate you because you let your bully torment you?
Hearing your snorting turns him on even more, Gojo loves seeing your crying face and your mouth shivering, begging him to stop. He smirks as his cock spring free from his boxer and his tip instantly hits your face. He’s so big and thick.
“Suck it”.
“B-But… someone… might… see”, you sob. He yanks your hair and pulls you even closer to his throbbing cock.
“I said suck”.
That was his last warning.
You immediately open your mouth as wide as possible to take his big size and slowly descend lower into his length. Gojo laughs the way you wrongly give him a blowjob, he didn’t expect you to be good at it, no, you’re just too innocent and nerdy to even know this kind of stuff. So, he just lets you do it yourself without his guidance, he wants you to find it by yourself, and do your own research. He wants you to learn. It’s way hotter, to him. Bobbing your head up and down until his tip instantly hits your throat, it feels so painful and it’s worse since you’re not used to breathing through your nose only, causing you to gag further.
Gojo hisses as he feels his cock embraced by your warm mouth, even though your blowjob skill suck, he still loves the way you’re trying your best to make him feel good. He has to reward you for that. Smiling, he grabs his phone and opens the phone camera to hit the record button. He makes sure to record his cock disappearing deep inside your mouth, slurping and squelching sound just can’t wait to show it to Geto and Shoko later on.
Upon noticing the camera, you quickly cover your eyes with your palm, feeling humiliated, you never thought to be doing this inappropriate stuff in public and you did it with your childhood bully whom you loathe. It was supposed to be with someone you love like Nanami- damn it!
It feels painful, his cock so big and long making your mouth sore and your throat feel as if it’s been scraped. Tears flow down your pretty face from how hurt it is. Being forced to give your tormentor a head which you’re not experienced and being recorded by him, god know what will he do to that video. Gojo immediately notices your discomfort and the way you vigorously tap his thigh, he carefully pulls out and kneels down to your level to wipe away your tears. You eventually lean onto his touch to receive comfort from him that you didn’t know why you do it. His big hand slowly caresses your cheek while looking at you with those soft eyes.
“Shhh… It’s ok, baby”, he sweetly mutters. A few minutes ago, he’s been so mean and harsh on you, harassing you the way he likes but now he becomes soft as if they’re completely different person. Why?
AN: thank you for continuing, these are still under edit so please be aware
Warning: Yandere behavior oncoming please continue with caution
And the saga continues
The boys had been buzzing with excitement at the prospect of meeting the Satoru Gojo, bombarding you with questions for weeks—how did his technique work? How strong was he? Was he really the strongest?
You loved your brother, but their admiration seemed to border on idolization, perhaps even surpassing your own.
While it was initially flattering, it quickly became annoying. And finally, you arranged for them to meet. If not just to shut them up.
Yet, when they came face-to-face with Satoru and his upperclassmen friends, their initial excitement dissolved into…intimidation.
Watching their shy, flustered demeanors made you giggle, just a little bit—they stuttered over their words, fidgeting nervously, trying to make a good impression.
It was almost endearing.
However, when you introduced your two new classmates to Satoru, his reaction was anything but impressed.
It didn’t help that you had been endlessly talking about your new "friends." for weeks now. You’d been gushing about how adorable you found them, and how well you all got along—much to Satoru’s growing irritation. He hadn’t meant to come off so protective but he just couldn’t help it.
It didn’t escape Satoru’s notice that the two boys were a little too…comfortable around you.
They didn’t hesitate to touch you during conversations, brushing against you casually, their tone toward you too familiar for his liking.
And the more he watched, the more his irritation grew. One of them casually draped an arm over your shoulder, another brought you your favorite snacks (for the three of you)—each little gesture, a silent declaration of how at much they liked you.
It was all too much, and Satoru couldn’t help but roll his eyes at their “obvious” flirty moves. His cute little sister was too sweet to shove off their advances—no doubt mistaking it as nothing more than friendly. The closeness, the comfort—all of it—he couldn’t stand.
What did you see in them? They weren’t particularly strong—actually, they were pretty fucking weak, in his opinion.
Satoru hadn’t realized it before, but now he understood just how much you’d changed. You weren’t the small, helpless child who used to follow him around the estate looking for midnight snacks.
Or the baby who clung to him late at night after having yet another nightmare, proclaiming that only being with Satoru would make you feel better.
You’d, unfortunately, filled out a little too much in his opinion. Grown into your squishy cheeks in a way that made him uneasy. You’d started showing more skin, wearing shorter skirts—tighter outfits (In reality, you were simply wearing the standard school uniform for that time of year, which was hardly revealing at all—)—Becoming a little too friendly, and that…that bothered him.
The fact that you had the two boys constantly at your side, eyes locked on your every movement—seemed to eat away at him, itching at his conscience in ways he couldn’t ignore.
Those boys were absolutely not worth your time. Satoru was convinced you were far too good for some high school kids who still picked their noses when they thought no one was watching.
Nasty boys who snuck peeks in the girls' changing rooms or even stole your underwear when you invited them over—Okay, maybe that was pushing it a bit far, but that’s all to say: Satoru didn’t like the type of attention you were attracting.
He was certain you were leagues ahead of them in every aspect. They could never protect his sweet little sister the way he thought necessary. They’d never measure up to the high standards he held for you in his eyes.
He only hoped you would see it too.
So—no. He couldn’t help but grip their shoulders just a bit too tightly. Refusing to let go even after they winced.
And—no. He couldn’t control the icy look in his eyes, the sharp, cold furrow he gave any boy who dared get within a few inches of you.
And he had no intention of stopping his "antics" of placing himself between you and your classmates—jokingly—any time soon.
Nor could he stop the "teasing" that bordered on outright bullying. Why the hell were you always surrounded by boys, anyway?
Did this school even bother recruiting female sorcerers anymore?
And you know what?
He felt a such a sense of relief when Suguru seemed to pick up on their overly familiar behavior, too. Made him feel a little less crazy when he too noticed their blatant offenses.
But Suguru.
Fucking Suguru.
He did nothing to ease his best friend's growing paranoia. In fact, he seemed to feed off it, taking every opportunity to stoke the flames of Satoru’s irritation.
It wasn’t entirely deliberate—it was just…impulsive.
A reflex.
He felt protective of you too, though not in the same obvious way Satoru did. Maybe it was a shared bond, a need to keep you safe from anyone who got too close.
But Suguru couldn’t deny the unease that twisted in his gut whenever those boys so much as spoke to you.
And not to mention the way they looked at you, the way they touched you…it made him…restless.
These nasty feelings formed an itch, urging him to push Satoru into action. It became a daily occurrence, provoking him like this. Hoping to achieve his one goal.
To make Satoru do something drastic.
So he’d lean in, just close enough for his breath to brush against his ear, low and soft—quiet enough for only Satoru to hear, but loud enough to burn. Whispering just the right things to set him off.
“I’m positive he’s flirting with her. Did you see how he brought her favorite snack today? Cute little gesture, don’t you think?” Suguru’s words were practically dripping with mock sweetness. She doesn’t need his fucking snacks.
“Why’s that kid sitting so close to your little sister, huh, Satoru? Is he that desperate?” Suguru’s voice was almost playful now, laced with the right amount of indifference to feign nonchalance. Why the hell was that shrimp blushing so much?
“Why’s she grabbing his arm like that, huh? Seems a little too…close, don’t you think?” Suguru teased, letting the words linger, his eyes glinting in that usual teasing way. Why touch filth like that?
“I think I just saw him peek up her skirt, Satoru. What do you think about that?” The words weaponized and angled. He’d better keep his fucking eyes to himself.
And a final blow.
“Who do you think she’d marry out of those two losers, Satoru?” Suguru leaned in, his voice so low it was almost conspiratorial. Satoru only saw red. Red.
It wasn’t hard to rile him up. Not when it came to you.
And Suguru wasn’t stupid.
He knew exactly who could stop those two parasites from staring at you with such longing. Who could make an impact—without you getting too upset. Without shutting him out completely. It didn’t take much to figure it out—the damn near possessive, overprotective streak that ran deep in Satoru. One that you tolerated well.
You were just so unbearably sweet.
And no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the idea of you with those two boys tore him apart, twisting his gut into something ugly. He hated it. He hated the way they were always lurking around you, always so close. Closer than he could ever get.
Suguru would watch these minuscule, fleeting interactions you had with them—those light touches, those knowing glances. As to put it plain and simple, he couldn’t fucking stand it.
So, as usual, Suguru did what he did best—he prodded, poked, and nudged Satoru in the right direction. Subtle. Calculated. Sneaky as hell. All of it was done carefully, out of your earshot.
After all, Satoru was protective in his own way—overprotective, really to a fault—and Suguru had a feeling he’d agree easily, knowing it needed to be handled somewhat discreetly. You were just too innocent to call those boys out yourself. You’d never do it, no matter how obnoxious they got. You were too good-hearted for that.
And you hadn’t noticed. At least that’s what they thought. But of course you had. One of the boys confided in you about how terrifying your big brother and his best friend were.
How they glared at them both with pure vitriol, though neither couldn’t figure out why. How they’d found some of their school stuff mysteriously torn to shreds—books, assignments—how everything they left in the hall would vanish, only to sometimes reappear ruined, as if someone was sending a clear, hostile message.
And, of course, how they wanted absolutely nothing to do with you, your brother, or the rest of his friends.
This confession only came after you cornered questioned them, demanding requesting to know why they’d been so distant. Why, after everything, they had suddenly gone cold.
You’d watched them for days, racking your brain to figure out if it was something you’d done—if you’d somehow messed up—but nothing made sense. Sure you weren’t the most social, but you didn’t think you were that bad.
And, funny enough, you didn’t take this news well.
Satoru was genuinely shocked when you came storming to his dorm room, looking like you were ready to knock the damn door off its hinges. He had no clue what was coming, but he knew it couldn’t be good.
“Satoru, open up!” you hollered, your voice sharp with frustration and something deeper than anger, maybe even hurt. You were fuming, practically vibrating with a storm of emotions. Frustrated with your loss of friends, the betrayal, the fact that your brother was always so…so—
Satoru didn’t even have time to process before the door swung open, and you stormed past him like a whirlwind. The door smacked right into his face, and he instinctively stumbled back, rubbing his nose as he tried to regain his balance.
“What’s wrong now?” he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and mild irritation, though his tone softened the moment he saw your eyes.
You didn’t hesitate. “What did you and Geto say to my friends? They’re barely talking to me anymore!”
Suguru, sitting across the hall in his room, perked up at the sound of your voice. Not able to help pick up the conversation.
“Not much,” Satoru mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
He shifted his weight awkwardly, glancing away. “Just told them to stop making those big, dumb heart eyes at you… and maybe to keep their hands to themselves. That’s all.”
He almost whispered the last part, his confidence faltering for just a moment as he realized just how mad you really were. Satoru wasn’t great at lying to you—he never had been, no matter how hard he tried. He’ll just leave a few bits out.
You scoffed, your cheeks flushing a furious shade of pink, not from embarrassment but from sheer indignation.
“They are my friends!” Your voice dropped to a dangerously low level, forcing Suguru to press his ear to the door to catch what you said next. He’d never heard you so upset.
“And just because my focus isn’t on you all the time doesn’t mean you can take it out on them.”
Your words were sharp, each one cutting deeper than the last. Satoru flinched—actually flinched—at your tone. You’d never been this upset with him before, and it threw him off completely. You two had always been close, so this sudden, biting anger felt like a knife twisting in his chest.
Satoru wasn’t weak—far from it. But if he had one weakness, it was you.
He swore he could hear the crack in Satoru’s voice.
“I… I’m sorry, imouto,” Satoru stammered, his voice softer now, unsure. He almost sounded small, an unusual vulnerability creeping into his tone. “I didn’t think it would upset you like this.”
Suguru’s leaned closer. Was that hesitation he heard? Maybe even guilt? Satoru Gojo wasn’t one to crumble, yet here he was, faltering under the weight of your anger. Your dynamic was just so…interesting. You practically had him eating from the palm of your hand.
“I just didn’t like the way they were getting so close to you,” Satoru admitted, glancing at you like he was bracing himself for the backlash. His voice dipped, barely above a whisper. “Do you really have to hang around them so often?”
For a moment, silence filled the room, heavy and unrelenting. Suguru, still eavesdropping the room over, had to strain to hear your response, his curiosity getting the better of him.
He could practically feel the shift between you and Satoru, and oh, if it wasn’t keeping him on edge.
Suguru thought he heard you let out a sigh.
“Toru, c’mere,” you said, the soft command in your voice.
Suguru could picture it clearly—the way Satoru must have hesitated for half a second before stepping closer, his usual confidence giving way to something more careful, more tentative. He could almost see the two of you in a loose, familiar embrace, the tension between you softening just enough to make room for understanding.
Maybe it was jealousy creeping in, though Suguru quickly shoved it aside. It was ridiculous to feel that way, wasn’t it? This was between you and Satoru. Nothing more. Nothing less. He wasn’t here to be jealous, after all. He was here to observe—just an outsider, listening in on the sibling bonding he had no place interrupting.
“They’re going to be my classmates for the next several years,” you explained with a heavy sigh, your voice carrying a softer tone. As though you were comforting a child. “I need to get along with them. Besides, I’m not interested in someone weaker than me and uglier than you.”
At that, Satoru let out a soft, genuine laugh. “Yeah, well, how will we ever find you a husband like that? Can’t you just stay with me forever, imouto? I’ll make sure no one hurts you, and I’ll buy you anything you want.”
His teasing tone was back, playful as ever, yet soft. So soft and Suguru could hear something deeper in it—something protective, maybe even a little desperate. It wasn’t loud, but it was there, tucked beneath the layers of humor and charm that Satoru wore so well.
The comment made you laugh, light and airy, but Suguru caught the tension that still lingered just beneath it. Your laugh had always been warm, but this one didn’t quite sit right. And somehow, that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He could tell Satoru’s comment dug at you a little. But his mind kept a shifting back to your previous words.
Weaker than her and uglier than Satoru?
Was that really all it took? If anything, Suguru fit that description perfectly. He shoved that thought down quickly. He’d deal with it later. He reminded himself to pull Satoru aside to tell him to stop spoiling you so damn much.
But before he could spiral too far into his own thoughts, your voice broke through again, quieter this time, but with a weight that made Suguru pause.
“Satoru, I can’t stay with you forever, you know that.”
“Yeah, well,” Satoru shot back, “I’ll sure as hell make sure you don’t have all these trashy men crawling after you.”
That made you laugh again—though this one sounded more genuine.
“You’re really somethin else.”
Suguru leaned back against the wall, sighing as he rubbed a hand over his forehead. What was he even doing?
This wasn’t like him. Not at all.
And yet, he couldn’t stop listening.
p.1 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ p.3
come home
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
yandere!bully!satosugu x chubby!reader
cw for mild yandere themes, bullying/harassment, name calling (fat-related), implied stalking
For once in your life, short as it may have been until now, you do feel cute.
You admire your figure in the mirror. The new yukata hugs your body in such a way that you have to wonder if it was crafted right for you. The color compliments your complexion, showing you that your mother did listen when you sighed happily about the Color Analysis test you took with the allowance you saved.
You smile sheepishly, fidgeting with your fingers as you twirl one more time to see how the bow sits well on the small of your back. You have to admit, walking in traditional geta aren’t as comfortable as the shoes you wear every day, but you feel it would be a pity to not complete the traditional look.
Your mother bought this yukata for you as a congratulation gift for your results in the last test in school. Seems like trying to escape from the clutches of bullies by locking yourself in the library or opting to never really go out, even during the days off school, paid in some way. Your mother gave you the gift and she smiled proudly, telling you to wear it for the upcoming summer festival that will be held nearby.
A small thing, really. Just something to enjoy the summer as people walk around food stands and watch the fireworks. Enjoying yourself for an evening won’t invite bad feelings or attract the two people who could ruin it for you. You live far enough from your school that you can’t imagine Gojo and Geto being interested in attending such a small event.
One evening, it’s all you want for yourself. So you wear your pretty yukata, and you say goodbye to your parents at the door. They tell you to have fun. You start your walk towards the festival, knowing you are approaching when you hear the chattering and the music, the colors and the smells, all mixed into the warm air of the summer and welcoming you into the joyous festivity.
You can’t help the slight smile stretching on your lips watching people going on with their evening, merry. There are many things you could do, but first you want to enjoy a calm stroll to see all there is to see. You feel a bitter aftertaste when you think how you are all alone to experience this, but the last year has been heavy on you; your friends, in an attempt to avoid being targeted by bullies too, have stopped talking to you.
It makes your stomach knot, rethinking about it, as if you could relive those exact moments of terrifying loneliness in the grasp of Gojo and Geto. You swallow past the lump in your throat, returning to the happy present. You breathe; the warmth, the stillness of the heat of the day left behind, the thrilled noise of children’s laughter as they try hard and long to catch a fish in the barrel.
It’s an evening to feel light. To feel at peace with yourself. Your school life has to be a forgotten memory at least until tomorrow, you think.
You walk for a few minutes, maybe something close to half an hour before you decide to taste something. You let your instinct guide you, looking over all the food stands that are under your eyes. Every vendor smiles, trying to charm with the delicious smell the next client. Something that agrees both with your stomach and your wallet, you think, as you approach one of the stands.
The man behind the counter beams at you, quickly asking if you would like something, and you order something simple, tasty for sure, but easy to carry around and nibble on as you continue your walk. A bun, with meat, rich in taste and puffy in presentation. You pay for the hot bun keeping your fingers warm, and the man thanks you, wishes you a good evening.
You return on your steps, walking back from where you came from to see if there is anything else you could do. You take a bite on your food; juicy, you think, as the meat rolls around your tongue. You close your eyes as the hot bite slides down your throat, leaving behind a burning trail in your chest.
“Is eating all you know how to do?” A voice sounds louder in the crowd, simply because you recognize it. Your blood turns cold, contrasting with the warmth from before. You feel the lights of the festival dim, sight hazy and liquid with the tingling of tears as you open your eyes. Unmistakable, Gojo is walking towards you with his arm raised in waving. At his side there is Geto, silent but sharing with his friend an air of amusement at your reaction.
You consider, for a moment, turning around and running, but they’re upon you in what feels like a second. Even with everyday outfits, out of their uniforms, they still look the same; yet, you can’t help but notice the expensive clothes, and you feel even smaller than usual. It’s as if your position in the chain is remarked, is underlined. They’re above and all you can do is either look up at them or avert your eyes, but always in their shadow.
Gojo doesn’t stop when he reaches you like Geto does, but he takes the opportunity to walk around you in a tight circle and whistle once he has given you a once over. It makes Geto’s smile grow larger, with that fake politeness he has reserved to you and other victims. You just happen to be their favorite lately.
“I didn’t think you would look this cute in one of these.” Gojo says from behind you, hooking a finger in the bow of the obi. He pulls lightly, making you take a step back so the whole thing won’t come undone. You can hear the light chuckle it elicits.
“How did you think they would look?” Geto asks. To answer, Gojo doesn’t say anything, but mimics what would be his impression of a fat boy, with his arms open and curved to simulate the stomach, and blowing his cheeks to make his face bigger. He then proceeds to walk with fake clumsiness from behind you to Geto’s side, as he grins maliciously at the display.
You don’t say anything; the only thing you manage is looking around you, to see if the display attracted attention, but everyone is too busy walking around, enjoying the festival. A privilege not granted to you apparently.
Before you can react, you feel a hand, a finger slip under your chin and raise your head to meet Geto’s eyes. He smiles, and you know many other girls would be happy in your position, but you can’t help retracting a bit from the touch.
“Cheer up, he’s just joking.” He says. Then he turns to Gojo, “Aren’t you?”
“Of course!” Gojo, all of the sudden, is incredibly near. His arm is around your shoulders, pulling you towards his body. You try to push against his chest, trying to wriggle away from this unwanted side hug, but as soon as your hand comes in contact with his body, Gojo laughs, “Getting bold now?”
You look at him, just to drop your gaze and your hand when you realize he’s teasing you for touching him back. You feel heat climbing up your neck, settling on your cheeks and ears, as you feel Geto playfully kicking Gojo’s leg, “I’m trying to make things better, and look what you do.”
There is no bite in Geto’s words. On the contrary, you can hear the smirk even with your eyes averted. You hope this will at least make Gojo let you go, but instead his hand drops to your hip and his other arm snakes in front of you, settling on your hip as well. You are pulled in a sort of hug, the kind of hug a child would give. You can feel the heat on your cheeks grow in intensity, and you thank the dim lights on the festival and the darkness of the night to hide most of your shame.
“They don’t mind.” Gojo affirms, without asking and without even hinting at the possibility of taking into consideration your comfort. Maybe you feel some consolation in the knowledge this position must be uncomfortable for him, curved to adapt his height to yours. Maybe.
Geto hums, in pretend contemplation. He looks at you, scrutinizes you even, and you know that growing smile is because he can clearly see your discomfort. You brace yourself for what could happen next, but you couldn’t prepare fully for Geto reaching out to grab your wrist and pull your arm towards him, the one still holding the hot bun you barely tasted.
He hunches over to do this, but he extends your arm until it’s in range, and takes a bite from the bun. He makes sure to take a good chunk of it, and you are left with your arm in the air, held by Gojo, as Geto gulps down the bite.
There are a lot of thoughts rushing in your head; from the petty consideration that he ate something you paid for to the disappointment of having to dispose of your food before you could even enjoy it. That is, until your gaze shifts from your hand to Geto’s eyes. He is still ginning, linking his lips while looking at you, “Tastes good. Where did you buy it?”
You consider your options: maybe you could just point to the stall among the many others, give them directions as accurately as you manage, hoping their interest in you for the evening is just passing. Or you could just succumb to the embarrassment and the fear, mumbling something incoherent as you try to keep your thoughts in order. And you are about to do just that, but Gojo releases you from his hug, while keeping his arm still around your shoulders, “C’mon, show us.”
You are maneuvered by Gojo to walk back from where the two of them saw you come. Geto follows close behind, then opting to walk at your side. You try to wriggle your way out of Gojo’s touch again, but the slack hold he has goes suddenly hard and unbreakable as you try to raise his arm. He even pulls you closer to him as if to make his point come across better.
You don’t try again.
You walk for what seems hours from your perspective. Gojo and Geto idly chat in the meantime, addressing you from time to time. When you don’t answer out of shyness or because your thoughts lead you somewhere else, Gojo blows directly in your ear. He laughs at the way you yelp the first time, cooing about how cute you are.
When you reach the right stall, you suddenly stop. Which makes them stop, and look at you with the tiniest bit of confusion. You point at the food stand and, with a meek, tiny voice, you point out it’s the right one. You remember the kind man working there, and the fragrant aroma of meat being cooked.
“Right,” says Geto. He exchanges a glance with Gojo, and then he is off to buy the buns. Two of them. He offers one to Gojo when he is back, “You have to pay me back.”
“Man, for a few pennies...” Gojo complains, taking the hot bun. He looks down at you, who still has your own food in your hands, growing cold by now, “Now we match, piggy.”
His grin is wide, and you swear you can see the mischievous glint in his eyes despite the dark glasses he is wearing. He bumps his bun against yours in something that looks like a toast, and then pulls you further into the festival, “Let’s go find a place to watch the fireworks.”
Pulled and pushed around, you can only follow their whims as they find a spot. It seems like an impossible task; nothing pleases them. Too crowded, they say. You wander for what seems forever, still kept close, still sandwiched between them, until they find it: a plot of grass, a bit away from the festival, where no one would venture simply because you wouldn’t see much of the fireworks thanks to the trees obscuring the way.
You are forced to sit down. You wonder if this will ruin your new yukata. Hopefully you can wash away the dirt at home, you think. Gojo has to let you go now, at least, but they don’t give you too much space as they sit so close, impossibly close. It’s suffocating.
“By the way,” Gojo starts, taking a bite from the bun. His eyes are fixed on you, but you can barely withstand the intensity, “Why didn’t you call us when you decided to come here, huh?”
You freeze.
That’s right, they warned you to shoot them a message when you felt like going out. You have their numbers, after that one time they took your phone from you and deleted your entire contact list just to add their own numbers. Getting everyone’s contact back was something that took you a while; even then, when one of them found you texting with someone else, they were quick to ask who it was.
They wouldn’t accept any answer that wasn’t your family. Going as far as ordering you to delete the number, something dark clouding their eyes. Under their surveillance, you deleted the contact, and that something that burned right behind their eyes would sedate.
You look away. Mentally, you chastise yourself for feeling a twisted sense of guilt at their question, but you repeat to yourself it’s an emotion poisoned by fear and intimidation. No matter what, though, you have to placate them someway, before they decide your transgression is enough to reiterate.
You mutter a feeble apology before rambling about forgetting, about it being something you decided on the spur of the moment. You don’t know how they’re taking it until you feel someone’s hand on your cheek; tender at first, as if to coax you to look back at them, but then Gojo pinches the pliable skin.
Pulling, he forces you to turn your head towards them. You see the both of them, amused. Something in you relaxes, but at the same time you feel the humiliation of knowing such a little thing could make you panic.
“Don’t worry, we forgive you,” Geto says with that honeyed voice of his. His smile is genuine, but not sweet, “If you won’t forget next time.”
You nod. Gojo lets your cheek go, and you rest your hand on it, feeling the heat of your face seeping skin to skin. You think they are satisfied at first, but Gojo comes up with an idea, “I will forgive you only with a proper apology.”
You aren’t sure what he means by it as you did spell out your apology. He grins wide, takes another huge bite from his bun, then talks with his mouth full pointing down, “You have to bow.”
You blink. Your gaze shifts to Geto, hoping he will be more reasonable and will talk Gojo out of that idea. He just shrugs when he notices you silently begging for mercy, starting to eat his own bun as well. You wonder if you refused what would happen, what could they possibly do in public that would be so terrible?
However, memories of seeing them torment other students resurface when you ask yourself that. They were physical with other boys usually, but you distinctly remember some girls who had their reputations tarnished by them with little to no hope of living a quiet school life. You bite your lip at the thought. You’re already not the most popular person, if you add the smear campaign they could build to bury you, you would never find peace until the end of the year.
So you move, shifting your weight so that you have your legs tucked under your body. Setting at your side a handkerchief, you leave your bun there. Bowing slowly, knees on the fresh grass as your yukata collects dirt, arms coming forward so that your hands are under your forehead. You aren’t sure if Gojo wants you to look at him or if he prefers you keeping your head low, but you can’t phantom the thought of his eyes looking into yours while you’re in this position.
You repeat your apology.
“You’re sorry for what?” He asks, entertained enough by the sound of his voice.
You admit you forgot to call them, as you should have, to go together to the festival. You add you will remember to do so in the future, if it happens you feel like going somewhere.
“And you are sorry to…?”
You say his name, their names.
“No, no. You have to apologize like you mean it,” Gojo points out. You are confused for a second, before he explains, “Say our name. First names.”
You quickly raise your eyes to understand if he is truly telling you to forgo all formalities in such a demeaning position. But you only find two boys, eager to hear you say their names. You swallow your pride once again, lowering your head.
And you say it. You say you’re sorry to Satoru and Suguru.
You stay in position for a few seconds as you hear them snickering. Then a hand reaches out for you, cupping your chin and forcing you to raise your head. Gojo has his hand squeezing your cheeks, almost so strongly that it hurts. With a song in his voice, he smiles again, “All forgiven.”
“But you have to stay on your knees.” Geto adds, laughter still blossoming on his lips.
“Oh, yes! Good idea.” Gojo chimes in with enthusiasm.
You feel yourself making a face at the imposition, but you don’t move to sit in a more comfortable position. You just straighten up, body weight on your legs as your yukata continues to get dirty. You observe the two boys, jovial, eat their food as you go to look at your bun on the handkerchief by your side.
The way the evening is going, you lost your appetite. Moreover, you couldn’t muster the courage to bite something one of them ate or you would be teased even worse for the borderline indirect kiss. You are sure it would taste sour now, despite how delicious it looks.
“You don’t want that?” Gojo’s voice catches your attention again. You realize you were staring at the bun without talking or paying attention, a crime neither of them would let you commit if they have any say in it. And they will find a way to be heard.
You shake your head. Gojo grins, looks at you over the rim of his glasses, then he reaches out again. You feel yourself go rigid, squeezing your shoulders and leaning away from his hand as if he will grab your face again, but you watch as his hand lands on your stomach. He pats the spot he is touching, “Good idea, piggy.”
You press your lips together, your mouth a thin line. Gojo moves his hand to grab your bun and eats it almost in one single bite. To distract yourself before you could feel tears in your eyes, you grab the handkerchief and hold it tight on your lap, fingers sinking in the soft material.
It’s still slightly warm from the contact with the bun. Maybe it will be useful to clean the yukata, you muse as a distraction, as you hear Gojo and Geto talk about useless things.
With your pitiful mood, you don’t even register the fireworks starting. They’re partially hidden by the trees, but you are staring at the grass under you. Your legs start to hurt, but you stay in position.
Gojo and Geto must have called you and tried to get your attention, but you didn’t hear them. You return to the present only after they slip closer to you, one for each side, and Gojo waves a hand in front of your face.
You blink. They’re close, pretty much pushing their weight on you. You are about to slither away from their grasp when Geto grabs your chin and forces you to look up at the sky. You see the colors, and then the noise. The booming makes your heart tremble, feeling it deep in your body.
“You were about to lose the show.” One of them says, you aren’t sure who. You can only think how unfortunate it is that you had to meet them. These fireworks would have been breathtaking if you were alone or with your former friends.
Or maybe with a nice boy, someone different from the two who are pressing you between their bodies.
When Geto lets you go, your head almost drops low again. You feel the tears coming, you know you shouldn’t let them see you in that condition, but you can’t stop when you feel them chasing each other down your cheeks.
You look down. The first one to notice you crying is Geto, lowering his head to your level and, with no tact at all, questions you, “Fireworks get you that much?”
You sob. Your hands shoot up to cover your face, and you cry into the handkerchief that is still being clutched between your fingers. At this point, Gojo notices too, “C’mon, they aren’t even that pretty.”
You wish you had enough self-respect to stand up and leave them behind, even if it meant incurring their ire later on, but the scenarios in your head keep you anchored down to the ground. Your thighs burn from the position you are sitting in, your yukata is ruined, the pacific evening you had planned turned out to be just another moment of torment for you. You just want to go back home, the last place left for you to find comfort.
You try to stand up, but your legs hurt. You stumble. The two boys get on their feet quicker than you, and they hook their hands under your armpits, forcing you up. They don’t let you go when you are standing, grabbing your arms and holding your hands as if they were truly worried about you falling.
“Careful now,” one says.
The other adds, “We got you.”
Your words are weak, unsteady on your tongue. You tell them you’re just tired.
“You get this emotional when you’re tired?” Geto asks. You hear Gojo laugh besides you. Geto pats your back, between your shoulder blades, “You’re such a baby.”
But they start to move, walking towards the festival without letting you go. You are compelled to move with them, almost not touching the ground under your feet as they hold you like something fragile, but of little value at the same time.
You avoid looking up when you find yourself among the crowd in the festival. You couldn’t take the humiliation of being carried as if you were a drunk or ill, as Geto coos nastiness and fake concern in your ear and Gojo tells you they are bringing your home.
You leave behind the noises, the smells, the joy of the festival to enter the darkness of the streets that lead you to your house. By the time you reach your destination, your tears are dry, your nerves are fried, and you still have no fight in you.
“Here we go.” Says Gojo as he finally relents his grip on you. Geto still has his hands on you and, when you test the resolution of his grip, you find him squeezing hind fingers in warning. You let him.
Gojo smiles again, but maybe this time you can detect a hint of sincerity behind that arrogant air he has. You know he wants to ask for something, you know that look all too well. As a matter of fact, he bends down and taps a finger on his mouth, “I want a kiss as a thank you for bringing you home.”
You stop yourself from sighing exasperated. You figure it’s quicker to just give him something he wants than fight them at this point. You, however, don’t kiss him on the lips; you leave a gentle peck on his cheek, and ignore the way he is pouting when you are done.
Gojo then points at his friend, “Suguru too.”
You turn to Geto, who is grinning placid and loose, but he doesn’t bend down like Gojo did. He tilts his head slightly to give you a better angle, but he coerces you into standing on your tiptoes to leave an equally chaste, non-committal kiss on his cheek.
Only then Geto lets you go.
You finally feel like you are on the ground again. You look down at your yukata; two big, dirty spots are on the cloth, from your knees down. Grass clings to it. You hope you will be able to clean it, but a bitter thought comes that you won’t have another occasion to wear it anyway.
Gojo flicks his fingers between your eyes to get your attention, and you yelp. A few minutes more, you tell yourself, you have to entertain them just enough to say goodnight and then you can go back in your room and sink into a deep sleep.
“See you tomorrow.” Gojo waves at you, and you reciprocate. You even go as far as pretending to smile as you see the both of them walk away.
You drop your hand when you see them far away enough, and you turn towards your house, with all intentions to walk in.
You don’t move though, as a thought crosses your mind.
