(warnings: dark content, implied kidnapping, implied noncon, masochism)
I really like the idea of soulmates in the JJK world. They're rare, but the reason why they're so coveted is because they are the only person in the world who is immune to their soulmate's cursed technique.
Being Gojo's soulmate would be like hitting the jackpot, at first. You're a regular person, with no cursed energy. Maybe you and Satoru's hands bump into each other while you're at a cafe, grabbing your respective drinks. To you, it's just an accident. You apologize, make your way out.
To him, it's like submerging himself into an ice bath. For the first time in years, someone had gotten past his limitless technique. It was so unexpected, and real, and so warm.
Your hands were warm.
It's the thrill of it that gets him first. The unexpected. No one's ever come close to him. He is the summit of the mountain. The strongest. And yet, there you were, effortlessly able to bypass his barriers without even trying. With women, with Geto, he'd always have to turn his technique off. He'd have to let them do something to him. You could do anything to him, and his powers wouldn't even stop you. You could kick him, punch him, bite him. Anything you wanted, and for once, he'd be powerless to stop you.
He can't detect you with his six eyes. It makes the hunt even better when he catches up to you. It's days of stalking and harassment and the touching that finally makes you snap and slap him.
It hurts.
It hurts and he fucking loves it.
He already made up his mind days ago, but this only cemented it. When he finally takes you home, to his bed, it's euphoric. You scratch and bite and scream and hurt him over and over again. Hours later, when you've passed out from sheer exhaustion, he has more bruises than you do. They'll fade eventually, but that's okay.
someone requested this!!!! but i deleted it cuz im stupiddddd im so sorry!!!
basically they wanted a reader who kinda treats living with shouto as a job. like clock in and out kinda thing. I thought the concept was pretty cool!
Day Shift
(Yandere, implied kidnapping, dubcon touching)
7:00 am. He always woke up first.
You’d stir when you feel hands, one warm one cool, drift down your back, up your arms, placing themselves on your shoulders. A finger would trail to your chin.
“Too early,” You moaned, shuffling back into the warmth.
Shouto smiles. He nudges you again.
“We have to eat breakfast,” His voice is low in the mornings. It sends pleasant tingles down your spine.
“Later,” You whisper.
Warm lips press against your neck. There’s a hint of a smile on your nape. You nearly scream when a cold hand brushes against your bare waist.
“Okay! Okay!” You squeal, “I’m up!”
The hand retracts and Shouto’s laughing. Your eyes crack open, hoping you’re glaring as hard as you can at him.
“Jerk,” You mutter.
He doesn’t respond, pressing his mouth to yours. You tilt your head, letting him explore. Morning breath sucks and you’re pretty sure you’re lips are still swollen from last night, but you don’t bother voicing your complaints.
It’s not like you could say no, anyway.
He pulls away, sliding out of bed with you lazily trailing behind him. You stretch your arms, arching your back as you try to shake away your drowsiness.
“What do you want to eat?” You ask, padding into the kitchen.
You hear him shift in the living room, probably catching up on work.
“I’m fine with anything,” He says back.
You give hum of acknowledgement. He says ‘anything’ but you’ve had enough punishments to know better. You decide to make something simple, but fresh. A favorite of his.
“Apparently a building was attacked, last night.”
“Really?” You say, “Do they know who it was?”
“No,” He sighs, “My guess is a rookie villain trying to score some points. I’ll probably have to check it out later.”
“Was anyone hurt?” You ask, “I don’t really keep up with the news anymore.” You can’t. Shouto doesn’t allow TVs in the house.
And then you’re flinching because you know you’ve said something wrong. Quietly, you wait for him to come into the kitchen, for a sharp reprimand because what you said was wrong.
There’s a pause that makes you hold your breath.
“No, no one was hurt,” He’s finally saying, “It was just property damage.”
You’re sighing in relief, and you hope he takes it as you being glad of the lack of casualties.
“That’s good,” You’re smiling pleasantly, “And that’s less paperwork for you, right?”
He hums when you bring out two plates. You nestle beside him, pushing his laptop away and hand him a dish.
“What time are you going in?” You ask.
Shouto’s glancing at his watch, before looking at his computer.
“So much happened while I was off-duty,” He says, “I will probably have to start in an hour.”
You’re nodding, leaning into him. Throughout the years you’ve known him, Shouto doesn’t initiate touch that much, but he’s extremely accepting of it. It puts him in a better mood. And it hurts less when Shouto is in a better mood.
“Gotta’ get ready soon then, hm?” You murmur.
“Maybe,” He’s musing. You’re suddenly very aware of the hand trailing up your leg.
“Or maybe not.”
You’re whining, trying to look annoyed rather than fearful, “It’s too early,” You’re saying, “And you’ll be late.”
“We’ll be quick,” He’s softly saying into your neck, placing butterfly kisses on your throat. You want to argue more, but his grip on your thigh makes you stop. A warning. You watch his hand trail higher and higher and higher-
The ring of his phone makes him pause. He’s stopping his movements, grabbing his device to read the message.
Then, he’s sighing.
“Not in an hour,” He says, “Right now.”
He leaves a kiss on your neck, and you giggle, watching him slip off into the bedroom. He comes back out in his hero outfit, to see you cleaning the dirty plates.
“Ready to go?” You ask.
He’s nodding, pulling you forward to leave a hot kiss on your lips. He reluctantly breaks it first, frowning.
“Don’t be like that,” You smile, “Have a fun day at work!”
Shouto pulls away to the door. He glances back at you.
“Love you.” He says.
“Love you, too.” You wave.
The door clicks shut. Your smile drops. You glance at the clock.
8:32.
Shouto wouldn’t come back until the evening. You were off for 7 hours.
You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to cry. You thought you’d be used to it by now, but his touches are still too sharp. The desire to scald yourself with hot water, scrubbing until there’s only irritated skin left, is overwhelming, but you don’t pursue it. It isn’t worth it.
