Blessed (1/2)- Fushiguro Megumi X Fem!Reader
Blessed (1/2)- Fushiguro Megumi x fem!Reader
SPOILERs for up to ch. 235 - canon complient until then Pairing: Fushiguro Megumi x fem!Reader Genre: angst (Part 1), fluff (Part 2), hurt/comfort Word Count: 4 336 (Part 1) Warnings: death, injury, stitches, blood, pain Summary: The battle against Sukuna was won by Gojō, but now it’s up to you to save Megumi. Part Two
“Megumi!“
You stumbled through the rubble of what had once been Shinjuku. Pieces of debris were strewn around everywhere, blocking your path. Some you surrounded, some you climbed over, your heart beating painfully hard in your chest. What an irony, you thought bitterly that Megumi, whose name meant nothing other than “blessed”, had been subjected to all this torture.
The fight was over. Gojō-sensei had won over Sukuna. But Sukuna still possessed Megumi’s body. Your best friend Megumi, the one you had grown closer to than what you would call friendship at this point. It was days’ worth of sparing, study sessions in which you had sat close enough for his knee to press against yours, nights, when nightmares had driven him out of his bed, and he had come to seek comfort in yours. This was not simple friendship anymore, not the way you were friends with Yūji anyway. But you had never addressed it, and neither had he. Now it was too late.
Following the develepments of the battle on the observation screens, you had seen the damage Gojō-sensei had done to Sukuna. Now your only goal was to reach them before Megumi bled out.
There was a way to get rid of Sukuna, without killing Megumi. If you, or anyone else, had trusted your skills any earlier, you would have exorcised Sukuna from Yūji’s body like that. But now there was no time for doubts, not when Gojō-sensei’s energy was as good as drained, and Sukuna too weak to recover.
You had only a few very short minutes to manipulate Sukuna’s soul into healing Megumi’s injuries and then crumbling it to dust, killing Sukuna and hopefully keeping Megumi alive in the process. A few very short minutes before Sukuna would have gathered his strength again, and could wipe you out with less than the blink of an eye. A few very short minutes, before Gojō-sensei had the strength to do, what would be his only option: Kill Megumi to get rid of Sukuna forever.
You made it over a huge block of debris, slithering down its side, not caring about the way your trousers ripped, and the skin in your palms got torn open with your poor attempt to control your way down. But then Megumi’s motionless body came into view, and Gojō-sensei, standing only a few feet away from him.
“Megumi,” you called again, breathless, your voice an octave higher than usual, panicked.
Not paying the faintest thought to your teacher, you rushed towards Megumi, when suddenly Gojō-sensei’s pale hand shot forwards, grabbing your wrist. You halted, less from the resistance of his hand around yours, than the lack thereof. In the way Gojō’s fingers were holding onto you, you could tell just how weak he had become during the fight. He was shaking, barely enough strength left to keep his weak hold on your wrist, the cursed energy you usually had felt thrumming through him from several meters away was almost completely drained.
“Don’t-” he warned. Don’t get to close to him, we don’t know how strong he is. Don’t get too close to him, I don’t want you to get hurt.
The unspoken plea hung in the air between you, his blue eyes fixed on the back of your head as you stared at Megumi’s body, or what was left of it. His clothes were torn and bloody. Scratches and cuts and Sukuna’s violent, black marks littered his torso and arms and his beautiful face. His one hand was missing.
It felt, like all will to fight had suddenly left your body, seeing him like this. There was no way you could safe him. There was nothing you could do. You would have to let Gojō-sensei do what you had always feared would be the destiny that was bestowed upon Yūji: you had to let him execute Megumi so the world could get rid of Sukuna.
“Please-” Gojō’s voice tore through the haze that had begun dulling your senses. It was heavy with pain, weak with exhaustion. And enough to startle you back into the moment.
With a quick motion you drew your hand out of your teacher’s grasp, using more force than needed, putting a small amount of cursed energy into it too, just to spite Gojō, before you closed the last steps and dropped down beside the bruised and beaten body of the boy you held so close to your heart.
But it was not Megumi, who looked back at you. It was a dark and ancient evil, now temporarily too weak to protest, when you collected all your courage and reached out, pressing your palm against a bloody and sweaty forehead.
You felt Sukuna’s soul immediately. It recoiled at your touch, and while the skin under your fingers was almost freezingly cold, Sukuna’s soul burnt as hot as the centre of a star. It didn’t just burn though. It was burnt. You felt the wounds Gojō had inflicted, littered over the metaphysical body of Sukuna’s soul, felt the pain, the agony and terror he was in. The terror was not directed towards Gojō, whose soul you felt standing directly behind you. It was directed towards you, towards what you would be able to do to him.
At the realization of Sukuna’s fear of you, sudden confidence surged through your veins, and quickly you grabbed the remains of what once had been the most powerful sorcerer on earth.
Heal him. It was a command, spoken without words. A direct link from your soul to Sukuna’s, and when you opened your eyes, you saw how the first cuts on Megumi’s familiar face began closing. You forced Sukuna’s last energy into healing that which he had destroyed, and to keep him from dying before Megumi was fully healed, you fed into the healing process with your own cursed energy, acting like a battery for the tool Sukuna had become in your goal to restore Megumi’s body. You felt the sorcerer’ soul wring and whimper under the control you held over it, the sensation not unfamiliar from all the times you had done it with curses before, but even now you felt the power which Sukuna had once held. The part of you that was not glowing white with rage, the part of you, which you had inherited from ancestors so long ago that they had shared food with dinosaurs, this part cowered in fear. But you didn’t. You squeezed tighter, tasting blood on your tongue and the pain and fear Sukuna was radiating. It took you a moment to understand that the blood you tasted was your own, a nosebleed from the sudden exhaustion of draining your cursed energy into healing Megumi.
The unexpected touch of a hand on your shoulder startled you, but not enough to lose focus on the task at hand. You knew it was Gojō, you had felt the same touch hundreds of times, whenever he placed his hand on your shoulder to reprimand you or to calm you down. But you would not be reprimanded this time, would not calm down. Not until Sukuna had healed Megumi, not until Sukuna was dead, not until your friend was safe.
But the scolding you expected never came. Instead, you felt Gojō-sensei pouring his cursed energy into you, fuelling the process you had started. You did not dare look, but from the strain it put on your body, you knew, Megumi’s hand had probably about halfway grown back already. With Gojō-sensei acting as a second power source the process sped up dramatically, while you made sure to keep complete control over Sukuna, who began begging, pleas you only felt, as your soul had tapped into his, holding him down and making sure he was always just one last drop of cursed energy away from crumbling entirely. It felt strange, feeling the now drained power of Sukuna on the one end, and Gojō’s seemingly endless but weakened energy on the other. You felt like a threat in a lightbulb docked into a socket with too much voltage, just a second away from burning out.
“Yūji, leave.”
Gojō’s voice sounded far away, dimmed, like you had cotton in your ears, and the voice that answered, not at all louder, but unmistakably Yūji’s was as stubborn as you felt.
“Are you going to kill Sukuna?”
There was a pause you wanted to fill, wished you had the resources left to tell Yūji: What do you think we’re doing here? Cuddling?
But you were too weak. All your focus was on Sukuna healing Megumi, and slowly but surely the realization that this might very well kill you settled in. You had always expected to be scared in the face of death, but you had evaded it so many times now, and dying to kill the worst evil in history, dying to save your friend, that sounded like a fair way to go out.
It was Gojō who eventually answered.
“He’s never gonna kill anybody ever again.”
“How do I help?”
The moment a second hand, smaller and warmer than the first, landed on your other shoulder, you felt like the threat in the lightbulb you were, started glowing, dangerously close to burning out all at once. A few seconds later you could feel the strange smoothness that told you Megumi’s body had been completely healed, and instead focused you last conscious thoughts on one thing and one thing alone: Crushing Sukuna’s soul.
But this was not your job to do. It hadn’t been you, whose life had been turned upside down by Sukuna.
“Yūji-“
It was but a gasp that left your lips but Yūji understood nonetheless. While healing Megumi, Sukuna had been the tool that had been handled by you, with Gojō and Yūji acting as batteries for cursed energy. Now it was you, who would be handled by Yūji as the tool to destroy Sukuna, Gojō continuing to fuel you, even though you could feel that he was reaching his limit. You had stepped over yours a long time ago, and you knew that you would have to pay a high price for it.
Sukuna’s soul began shivering underneath the burned flesh of the wounds Gojō had inflicted. Its pleas turned into threats and then into screams. You felt Yūji’s grip on Sukuna tightening, felt the force with which he closed his wrist around the curse and squeezed, squeezed, squeezed.
Your body was burning up with the pain Sukuna radiated. You felt it all, felt his consciousness wither and crumble as Yūji used your abilities to wring the life from him, felt the fear, the anger, the rage in Sukuna. The part of you that always believed in the good in people tried searching for anything that might bring Sukuna comfort in his last seconds. But you came up empty, there was nothing in his soul but the endless darkness.
You knew your nose was dripping blood down your face, tasted the iron on your tongue, knew your screams were piercing the eerie silence of the destroyed Shinjuku as your body reacted to what your soul was subjected to-
And then it was over. With one deafening crush that nobody could hear but you, Sukuna was dead.
You had felt souls dying countless times before. Sometimes they sizzled out, like the last embers of a bonfire that got extinguished with a glass of water, other times they popped like a balloon pricked with a needle. But Sukuna's soul was different. It started contracting, pulling in, further and further, like a neutron star that began collapsing in on itself. The moment you began feeling the pull of it, you knew what was to follow. Exactly like with the astronomical object, Sukuna's soul would collapse and collapse until it suddenly would invert and instead blow up, not on a physical but a metaphysical scale, the level on which your soul was connected to Sukuna’s. And when his soul blew up like a supernova, it would take all souls connected to it along with it. That meant Megumi's soul, which was still buried in his body somewhere, that meant your soul. That also meant Gojō-sensei's and Yūji’s souls; since you had tapped into theirs to be able to process their cursed energy.
You knew the explosion was inevitable, and you knew that there was no time to draw back from what just a split second ago had been Sukuna. If you did nothing, everyone would die. You had lost too much already; you couldn't lose your only friends and your teacher too. So you did the only thing you could think off in that split second that was left between the moment of Sukuna's death and the inevitable supernova: You wrapped around the collapsing soul, hoping that when it blew up, you would absorb enough of the set free energy to protect the others.
For a moment an unwelcome voice asked what Megumi would say when he woke up and realized that you had sacrificed your life for his, Yūji’s and your teacher’s. He'd be devastated, especially after what had happened to his sister. You wondered if what Yūji had told you all these hours ago held any truth at all. Just before Gojō-sensei had gone to face off against Sukuna, Yūji had told you that Megumi had confessed to having fallen in love with you. Was that true, did Megumi really cared for you? What would have been different, if you had not been too much of a coward to hide your feelings from him and instead had been honest? Would he have reciprocated your feelings? Would that have changed the outcome of this fight?
The remains of Sukuna's soul grew heavier and heavier, shrinking and increasing in density, and you tightened your hold around it. You could feel that it was almost over, and as scared and in pain as you were, you tried reaching out to Megumi's soul. You felt it lingering, somewhere deep, buried away, still passive, and asleep, oblivious to the battle that raged on, that was almost over now.
You sent a thought to Megumi, not sure if he could perceive it, that you had always admired him, and that you wished you could have saved not just him, but his sister too. And yourself. For his sake. You waited for an echo, a reply of any sort, but his soul stayed quiet, a deep blue, darker even than his mesmerizing eyes, cold, untouchable, and unaware. If your soul could have sighed, it would have.
You had tried. Maybe Yūji would tell Megumi eventually about what you had confessed to him when you had been watching the ongoing fight. He had noticed your hands clenching so hard into your seat, that your nails had almost splintered, had picked up on the way your eyes followed Sukuna as if you could kill him and save Megumi by merely looking at him through the screen. And when he had asked, quietly under his breath if what you felt for Megumi was love not on a platonic but a romantic level, you had not denied. Maybe he would share his knowledge when everything was over, when your soul had absorbed all of the energy set free by Sukuna's death and got torn to pieces. When the others got saved, when Megumi woke up. If Megumi woke up. Right now, his soul was but a deep blue hole of pain and unconsciousness.
And then there was a stir, a shimmer of bright blue in the deep, as if your thoughts had reached him, like waking from a deep dream, Megumi's soul began to shift and shimmer and-
It was over quicker than your quickened perception could follow. One moment Sukuna had been there, the next he was dead, the remains of his soul collapsing and your soul wrapping around it to protect the others, all in the fraction of a split second, and then there was nothing left but the searing pain of your soul getting blown away by what once had been Sukuna.
-
People were hurrying past left and right, dizzying Megumi, and if he hadn’t known his way around Shinjuku station, he would have been hopelessly lost. Annoyed he furrowed his brows, stepping out of the way of an old man, who almost had run into him. How did Gojō imagine Megumi could find this new student with no further specification of the meeting place than “Shinjuku Station”? The station was bigger than a small village, tunnels leading to the subway and connecting subway stations into all directions, several million people passing through each day.
Megumi stepped closer to a column, getting on his tiptoes, and trying to look over the crowd. How was he supposed to find someone who he didn’t even know what they liked like in a place like this? Where would he go if he had been new to Tokyo and thrust into this situation? A pit began growing in Megumi’s stomach as he realised, he would be completely and entirely lost. What kind of evil prank was Gojō trying to pull on that new student, sending them into one of the biggest stations in the world with the promise to get picked up, only for them to realise earlier or later that without a more precise meeting point they’d be lost in the maze that was Shinjuku station. And beyond the exits of it waited Tokyo, vast with its skyscrapers, the busy streets and the crowds of people who all seemed to know exactly where they were going. Gojō really didn’t seem very set on making a good first impression.
Megumi pushed away from the pillar he had leant against and let himself drift away in the crowd. He was not sure where he was going, just following wherever his feet seemed determined to carry him. His eyes skipped over the people before him, those pushing past, those following their daily routine in the morning buzz of the city. Sudden doubt overcame him, but instead of stopping and turning into another direction, he kept walking, following an instinct his brain could not decipher.
A pair of eyes met his, and confused Megumi stopped in his track, just as the other person, a young woman, about his age, had done. Other people streamed past him and her as they stared at each other from a distance, the eye contact again and again interrupted by the other commuters walking between them. It felt like half an eternity that Megumi was frozen in place in the middle of Shinjuku station, taking in the features of the girl who was staring back at him. Even from afar he could make out the sparkle in her eyes, that now doubtfully observed him. Strands of hair were sticking out from underneath the hat she wore to keep warm on the cold December morning. The scarf around her neck matched the hat and underlined her features gently. She was beautiful, Megumi noted, but not in the traditional, socially celebrated sense, but rather in a timeless sense, as if she could be thrown in any era and always be considered beautiful, a quiet, unintrusive beauty.
Eventually it was her, who took the first step, breaking the strange moment of contemplation they had shared. Megumi met her in the middle, only stopping when they stood almost chest to chest to not drift apart in the crowd.
“Are you Gojō Satoru,” she asked, having to speak loudly over the murmur of the station. “I was told, I’d get picked up by him…”
Her voice was soothing, Megumi thought, the vowels softly rolling of her tongue, and for a moment he was so focused on the sound of her voice, that he almost didn’t answer her question.
Quickly finding back into the moment, he shook his head.
“Gojō-sensei is my teacher. I’m Fushiguro Megumi,” he introduced himself. “I’m in my third year of middle school, but I’ll start at the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Senmon Gakkō in April.”
The girl in front of him nodded, her features softening into what he realised was relief. Apparently she had been just as stressed about finding him here in Shinjuku as he had imagined her to be.
“I’m (y/n),” she answered. “I think we’re going to start Jujutsu High together. It’s nice to meet you. And thank you so much for coming to pick me up.”
She bowed, and Megumi could not help but notice how precise the gesture was, like straight from a schoolbook. Whoever had educated her, must have been very proud of what a diligent student she seemed to be.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Megumi replied, answering her gesture of a bow with one of his own. Except he was aware that his execution of the same was not nearly as neat as hers. “I’m sorry Gojō-sensei didn’t specify the meeting place any further.”
“I must admit, I did feel a little lost,” she laughed, the sound making Megumi steal a glance at her. She was even more beautiful when she smiled. “But you found me in the end, so it’s all good.”
Megumi nodded, quickly averting his eyes from her face as not to make her uncomfortable with the way he had been watching her laugh. “Right,” he agreed, only half convinced, and determined to have a word with his guardian later about how to plan meeting spots. “Let me help you with your luggage.”
He quickly reached for the handle of the suitcase she had pulled to her side, a travel bag wrapped around the handle, while she carried a smaller backpack over her shoulder.
“Oh, that’s fine, please don’t bother,” she denied, but Megumi shook his head.
“You must’ve had a long journey, please-“
She glanced up at him, before hesitantly letting go of the handle of the suitcase, letting Megumi take a hold of it instead. The plastic was still warm where her fingers had wrapped around it.
“We need to go this way,” he gestured, but as he took the first step into the direction of the train line that would carry him and the girl out of the heart of the city and closer towards Jujutsu High, a sudden pain ignited around his left wrist, and with a hiss he let go of the handle of your suitcase. Irritated he looked down on his hand, try to spot the cause of the pain, then the handle of the suitcase. But the suitcase was gone, and so was the crowd of commuters.
Furrowing his brows in alarm, he looked up. The people were gone, only leaving him and you, you who he knew so much better than he had that first day he had come to pick you up from the train station. At his side you were dressed in the school uniform of Jujutsu High, your hands tightened into tense fists, but unlike his gaze, yours was not flitting around the suddenly empty station, the white ceiling, the colourful markings for the different train and subway lines. Your gaze was instead fixed entirely on him.
“Megumi-” your voice was urgent, laced with panic and desperation. Quickly Megumi turned to you, instinctively closing the distance between you and placing both hand at your shoulders. Another wave of pain raced through his left hand, but this time he ignored it, distracted by the look on your face, one of pain and sadness.
“What’s wrong,” he asked, bending down closer to your face, as if he could read the answer to his question in your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I’m sorry for all you had to go through, for not having gotten rid of Sukuna any earlier, for not having been able to save Tsumiki, for-”
“What are you talking about,” he asked, gently shaking you, hoping to tear you out of whatever trance you had fallen into all of a sudden.
“I’m so sorry, Megumi,” you repeated, tears rising into your eyes.
Panic was slowly but surely taking over Megumi. Why were you crying? None of the things you said made any sense! What was he supposed to do now? Should he hug you? Continue to ask what was wrong?
But before he could decide, another lightning of pain shot through his hand, so strong this time, that he stumbled back and clutched it to his chest. When he looked back up at you, your appearance had changed again. Your hair was dishevelled now, its shimmer dimmed with dust. Scratches littered your face, all of them angry and red, and fresh blood was running out of your nose, dripping from your lips. Your eyes were bloodshot, your clothes torn in places and dusty, your jacket stained with drops of blood..
“(Y/n),” Megumi gasped, stepping forwards again, wanting to take hold of you, but this time you were faster, grabbing his lower arms instead.
“You need to wake up.”
Irritated Megumi shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“Megumi,” the urgency in your voice was so thick, Megumi felt like he could cut it with a knife. “You need to wake up.”
Your voice echoed back from the walls, seeming to grow louder, joined by another voice, a familiar voice, one Megumi had been not sure he would ever hear again. Hopefully he lifted his eyes away from your face, looking up and down the empty corridor in search for Gojō, whose voice had joined the echoes of yours in their strange plea. But the hallway was empty except for you and Megumi, so he turned back to you.
Up close he could see the dark circles under your eyes, how fallen in your cheeks were, how your skin seemed to have lost all its glow. He leant in, intending to wrap his arms around you. He wanted to help, he wanted to wipe that look of despair off your face, but you held him at an arm’s length instead.
“You need to wake up,” you repeated. “Wake up.”
Part Two
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u can run but u can hide
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It was close to 10 p.m. when I went down to the kitchen to make some popcorn. My parents went on a trip and left me home alone. It was common for nights like this to happen, as they always traveled for work.
I put the butter and corn in the popcorn maker and turned on the stove at the same time as the landline in the living room started ringing. The phone was maintained by my parents' work, because let's face it, nobody still uses a landline these days.
“Hello?”
“Hello, who is it?” a thick voice asked on the other end of the line.
“Who are you trying to reach?”
“What number is this?”
“What number are you trying to reach?” I replied.
“I don't know.”
“Well, I think you have the wrong number, then” I spoke simplistically.
“Do I?”
“Yeah, it happens.” I shrugged, even though the person couldn't see me, and hung up the phone without waiting for an answer. I turned to go back into the kitchen when the phone rang again.
“Yeah, I guess I really did call the wrong number.” It was the same voice.
“So why did you call again?” I asked, with a laugh.
“To apologize.”
“You're forgiven. Bye.”
“Wait, don't hang up!” The person exclaimed.
“Huh? Why not?”
“I want to talk to you for a minute.”
“Well, you have plenty of other numbers for that.” I said with a smile, hanging up the phone.
The popcorn had left a delicious aroma in the kitchen and my mouth was already watering. I was stirring the popcorn popper, waiting for the corn to stop popping, when my cell phone rang. It was a private number, so I had no idea who it was, but I answered anyway.
“Hello?” I asked as I looked for a bowl to put my popcorn in.
“Why don't you want to talk to me?”
“Okay, who is it?”
“Tell me your name and I'll tell you mine.”
“Um, no, I don't think so.” I rested my cell phone on my neck to get the popcorn out of the pot.
“What's that noise?”
“Popcorn.”
“Um, I only eat popcorn at the movies.”
“Well, I'm going to watch a movie now.”
“Yeah? What movie?”
“Oh it's just some scary movie.”
“A scary movie? Interesting” the person on the other end of the line paused and I could hear his heavy breathing “What's your favorite scary movie?”
“Oh, I don't know...” I pondered a bit, leaning on the kitchen counter, popping some popcorn in my mouth “I think… Scream.”
“It's the one with the masked killer, isn't it?”
I mumbled an "uh-huh", wanting to end the conversation
“So, do you have a boyfriend?” The person asks.
“Why? Do you want to ask me out on a date?” I asked mischievously, with a laugh.
“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Mm, no.”
“You never told me your name.”
“Why do you wanna know my name?”
“‘Cause I wanna know who I’m looking at.” the person stopped talking and I remained silent, a shiver ran through my body and the joke was no longer funny. “Are you used to being alone at home, y/n?”
“Who's talking?” I asked seriously this time.
“Calm down, there's no need to get nervous” the person spoke with an annoying calmness “You see, it's important to lock all the doors when you're home alone, especially at this time of night. Are you sure everything is locked, y/n?”
“It's not funny anymore. You know I can call the police if you carry on with this silly little game, don't you?” I checked the front door and the door to the living room that led to the garden and both were locked.
“Yeah? And what would you say to the police? Although... I don't think it's a good idea to call the police, sweetheart, especially given the clothes you're wearing, right? You know how disgusting these guys can be.”
I swallowed, going up to the second floor.
“And what am I wearing?” I asked. It was probably just some weirdo trying to prank and scare me. From school, maybe. But even so, I checked the glass doors leading to the balcony, just to be sure.
“Um, let's see... You're wearing a black tank top, and apparently you're not wearing a bra since your nipples are marked on the fabric, and a... what is that? A pair of panties? Shorts? I can't tell the difference, but it's short, black and has a kitten print.” My heart was pounding out of my chest and I wouldn't be surprised if it jumped out “You're quite a sight, y/n.”
“Right, end of joke. I'll call the police.” I ended the call and went to my room. Of course I wouldn't call the police for that.
A cold wind blew in through the open window, chilling my bare legs. I hurried to close it and locked it out of conscience just as I heard a noise in the hallway, only to stick my head out and see nothing. I jumped with a gasp when my cell phone rang again, but fortunately, this time it was my mother.
“Hi babygirl, how are you?” she asked softly and I relaxed at hearing her voice.
“Hey, Mom! I’m okay, how are you?” I lied, I wasn't going to worry my parents on account of some unoccupied weirdo.
“We're fine!” I heard my father shouting "I love you, baby!" in the background and my mother's laughter “I called to see if everything was okay, you're not scared, are you?”
I laughed nervously “Of course not! I'm a big girl, I can stay at home on my own!”
“Huuumm okay, Mrs. Grown-up” we laughed “Make sure you go to sleep soon, huh? Don't stay up till dawn.”
“Yes, ma'am!” We laughed some more and said goodbye.
I was able to relax a bit more and went down to the kitchen to get my popcorn. I went upstairs and turned off the downstairs lights that were on and returned to my room, putting the movie on the TV and lying down on the bed.
[…]
I was almost halfway through the movie, about forty minutes in, when I heard a noise, a kind of thump. I instantly remembered the phone call from earlier, which had really scared me. I decided to ignore it, it must have been the wind knocking something over in the garden or something. I played the movie and snuggled into bed, my popcorn bucket long since empty. But, as my peace wasn't lasting long tonight, I began to hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. I stopped the movie immediately. I tried to convince myself that it was nerves about the phone call that must have been in my head, or even the influence of the movie, but it was too real to be in my head. The footsteps were firm, they didn't seem to want to go unnoticed. A thick, loud voice said "toc, toc" followed by two knocks on my door. I froze, paralyzed on the bed.
“Cat got your tongue, y/n?” it was the same voice from the phone, I knew for sure.
“What are you doing in my house?! How did you get in here?” I asked nervously.
“Come on, I told you it was dangerous to leave the doors unlocked, didn't I?” the guy said, in the same calm, irritating tone of voice.
“Everything was locked, you weirdo!”
“Are you sure?” the door handle began to turn slowly and my body moved on its own towards the closet.
I hid among my clothes, crouching on the floor. I was panting and shaking, tears in the corners of my eyes. I heard the door creak open and footsteps entered my room. I mentally cursed myself when I realized that I had left my cell phone on the bed. Now would be a good time to call the police.
“Do you want to play hide and seek?” he said, laughing before continuing: “All right, it's more interesting that way.”
I heard him open the door to my bathroom and I could see when he turned the light on through the crack in the door. I also heard him open the drawer of my dressing table and play the movie on the television, even though he had turned the volume down.
My heart was pounding loudly and I was afraid he could hear it, so I put my hand over my mouth to stop my panting coming out too loud. I watched as he opened the closet door. He was a tall guy. All black pants, shirt and boots and a white ghost mask preventing me from seeing his face. The fucking ghostface. He rummaged through some hangers, making space between the clothes. My heart beat even faster, he'll find me. He'll find me!
“Boo!” he made space at once between the clothes covering me, a sadistic laugh coming from beneath his mask.
[…]
“What do you want?” I asked in a tearful voice, sniffling.
He laughed: “Let's watch the movie.”
What?!
I looked at him paralyzed, still crouched on the floor of my closet, and he left, sitting on my bed.
“Aren't you coming?” he turned to me, as if waiting for me. I got up from the floor, walking slowly over to him and sitting on the bed on top of my legs. He shook his head in denial, clicking his tongue. “Come here, sit down.” he patted his own lap.
I swallowed and looked at him incredulously, even though I couldn't see his face. I stood up and faced him. With surprising speed, he turned me onto my back and whispered against the back of my neck: “Do you know what a safe word is, y/n?” I nodded “Yours is mercy, you'll use it if you need to.”
His big an cold hands gripped my thighs firmly from behind.
“Bent forward and your head on the floor.” he ordered, his voice firm.
I did as he asked, sat on his lap, my clitoris almost brushing against his scratchy jeans, I was hanging off the bed, my torso stretched out and my face almost touching my white fur rug.
“What do we have here?” he said, and even though I couldn't see his face, I could tell he was smiling.
He pulled my pajama shorts aside, the chilly air in the room making my pussy clench around nothing, since I wasn't wearing any panties. He ran one of his fingers between my outer lips, realizing right there that I was wet.
“Did the fright I gave you make you wet, sweetheart? What a pervert...” he pulled my shorts down my legs with a little difficulty due to the position, hooking my ankles around his waist.
His hands roamed up and down my thighs, his thumbs hooking into the curve of my ass. I was all open for him, open and dripping.
“So pretty, babe” his voice was nothing more than a whisper, followed by a slap on my ass. It burned.
One more.
One more.
One more.
My thighs trembled from the slaps and my pussy throbbed and ached from lack of stimulation. I moved my hips down, my clitoris rubbing against his jeans, and I let out a louder moan than I expected.
“Owwn” he laughed “Does that pussy need something, pretty girl?”
I gasped when his icy thumb brushed under my clitoris.
“Come on, beautiful, I asked you a question. Don't be rude.”
“I...” I was dizzy. Maybe because I was horny, maybe because of my position and my blood was rushing to my head. I was nothing but a mess.
“Looks like someone here likes to be scared” he laughed as he rubbed my swollen clit.
I moaned, unconsciously leaning towards him for more contact as his palm slapped my pussy, the pain reverberating throughout my body. He slapped my ass again, my skin was hot and burning.
“Your pussy looks even prettier when your ass is red, that’s funny” but his tone had no humor in it.
When the seventh slap came, I let out a yelp, scrambling to my feet in a failed attempt to ward off the pain burning my skin. He laughed at my attitude, stroking my burning ass. Each time he slammed into me, the momentum pushed me further and further down, rubbing my clit against his jeans, which were probably already stained with my lubrication. Those flashes of pleasure were what kept me there, the pain and pleasure turning me on even more.
“Come on, babe, do you want to cum already?” he asked in a whisper, leaning down.
I turned my crying face to the side, trying to see his figure: “Yes! I... Please!” I was nothing but a humiliating mess who just wanted some relief.
“Very well, then” he pulled my torso to himself, my back against his hard and warm chest, my battered ass pinching under his scratchy jeans.
“You okay, babe? Do you want to use your word?” he asked, his hot breath hitting my cheek. I denied it. He smiled. “That's my good girl.”
He laid me on the bed, my back on the mattress, while he lay on top of me. He ripped off my top with ease, my nipples erect from arousal and the chilly air in the room welcoming them. He tugged on my right nipple with his forefinger and thumb, twisting it and pulling it upwards, eliciting a moan from me. He left a kiss on my belly and started to undress, without taking off his mask yet. His chest was white and toned, with a few spots here and there, as were his thighs. His cock wasn't thick, but it was long and slightly curved upwards. The little pink head was leaking pre-cum and had a prominent vein at the base. I sighed at the sight.
“Enjoying the view, doll?” he asked, head tilted to the side, sliding his right hand in a slow masturbation. I tipped my head back, biting my lip with a stifled laugh. You bet I am. “Come here, sweetheart.”
He said slyly, pulling me up by my ankles and slowly inserting his cock into my needy pussy.
“Oh fuck” I moaned, sinking my head into the sheets. My insides trembled around his cock, feeling full. He sighed heavily above me, muffled by the mask.
He moved his hips back, taking his cock out completely, to shove it in again with force. He did this a few times before he started thrusting hard. I moaned loudly, too sensitive. My pussy was squeezing his hard cock and my clit was throbbing, my ass was burning against the sheets. I brought two fingers to my clit to stimulate it, but they were soon removed and replaced by his.
He rubbed my swollen spot hard with his thumb while I squeezed my nipples. The familiar pressure felt extremely good from my womb.
“Fuck, I'm going to cum!” I exclaimed as I felt my orgasm coming, and he increased the pace of his thrusts, driving deep into my pussy.
My legs trembled as the orgasm hit me and I opened my mouth in a silent moan. He penetrated me a few more times, prolonging my orgasm as he deposited his hot cum inside me.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed as he removed his mask, kissing me for the first time that night, a delicate kiss. I laughed against his lips. “You perverted little thing!” he laughed, slapping my sensitive ass, not so hard this time.
“Rin, babe! That was awesome!” I kissed him with so much love.
“You naughty naughty girl!” he laughed, biting my lower lip as he pushed his oozing cum back into my pussy.
“Yeah and you like it!”
Well, let's see what a coincidence. The weirdo Mr. Ghostface who broke into my house and fucked me happened to be my boyfriend, Suna. He and I always like to do something different when it comes to sex from time to time, and knowing that his naughty girlfriend was a little scared and horny about ghostface and that she'd be home alone all night, he wanted to surprise me. Besides, I would recognize my boyfriend's voice on the phone, which only increased my anxiety and excitement about what he would do that night. And what a good surprise it was!
Just Friends!?
-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-
Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader
Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.
Warnings - Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- his chap, mentions of sex/getting turned on, Gojo being an ass tbh, welcome back Jock Sukuna and say hi to bitchy model Samantha lol, some angst and mutual pining, lots of feelings
Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazinggg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙
<<<Part One - Masterlist
Part Two
Your POV
It was odd, being back in your hometown after years of living on your own, but when your family needed help with their bar, and with student loans piling up - teaching did not pay very well - you couldn’t help but come back home for a bit. The shifts at the hometown bar helped, and staying with your parents for just a few months was definitely a life saver.
It’s not exactly where you saw yourself, teaching lay offs all over, now you have a preschool class here and you love it, but it’s definitely not enough to cover everything. You feel so… just upset, that you’re back here at your first job, grabbing beers for familiar faces, people who never left their hometown, and some that have, but came back like you did.
Despite it being Spring, it was freezing where you lived, some cold spurt that brought on snow in March, so many of the town were curling up by the roaring fire, bundled up laughing and drinking to stay warm. The bar had quite a cozy atmosphere, it reminded you of home, truly, you grew up here, from bussing tables and cleaning to serving drinks.
“Hey love, you look amazing.” You see Suguru and Shoko then, Shoko has a cigarette between her fingers, a familiar smile that makes you beam, as you come out from behind the bar, hugging them both.
“I missed you two oh goodness!” You receive a kiss on each cheek from them, as you hug them together.
“We heard you were back in town, how have you been?” Suguru asks softly, you sigh a bit, peering up at the tall man.
“I can’t believe I’m back here. Layoffs.” They frown then. “I heard you all run a whole dentist office!?”
“Sugu is a hot dentist.” Shoko teases, and he smirks a bit.
“Shoko runs the clinic attached to it. She outranks me.”
“Always.” You laugh with the two of them, hands on their shoulders now.
“I’m so proud of you two, what? Doctors, I can't believe that.”
“Hey now, teaching is important.” Shoko brushes your hair back softly, earning your flushed cheeks at her praise.
“They definitely don’t make enough.” Suguru says, earning your sigh.
“You’re telling me. Let me get you all drinks!” You eagerly bounce back, mixing them up drinks, Shoko loves a lemon drop from what you remember, and Suguru always enjoyed a rum and coke.
“You remember!” Shoko winks as you hand her the pretty drink, garnishing it with a little lemon swirl and grinning. The noise of the bar fills your ears, as you lean across the polished bar table, glinting under the soft lights overhead.
“Of course I remember. Gosh, it’s been four years since I’ve seen you all I think.” You all start catching up, but of course it starts to get busier, and you begin to take care of all the customers as Suguru and Shoko start tossing darts at the black and red circled board.
You smile at them, they’d always been the perfect couple, making that longing fill you too much. You fully expected to be married with kids by now, sure it was quite a homey little dream, that white picket fence, maybe two kids and some cute golden retriever, but that’s what you always dreamed of. Unfortunately, your bad taste and men did not end in high school.
“Speak of the devil…” You murmur nervously, when you see him, Ryomen Sukuna looking just as good if not better than high school, he still wears his damn letterman’s jacket from college, where he’d become an all star player, you hear now he’s even going pro.
What’s he doing back home?
He grins over now, red eyes sharp as ever, and you fully anticipate him bothering you, saying something pervy, as he walks across the crowded bar, stopping to talk to almost everyone, he was quite a name here. The only person more famous from your little town - there is a population of fourteen thousand and perhaps four stop lights- was Satoru Gojo.
You’d seen him on the damn cat walk, recently he was on the cover of Vogue, him and some other really famous model, this little smirk on his face that just doesn’t fit the boy you knew. If you thought he was cut before, his body was damn near godly, so perfect it was intimidating, and he’d only gotten prettier, not that Satoru wasn’t always so pretty.
He just didn’t know it then.
You think of him sometimes, hurt initially back when summer break hit after high school, and he refused all your calls, he refused to see or talk to anyone when you all lived so fucking close. You tried everything you could, feeling awful because it was your party and you didn’t know, could you have done more? Could you have shoved everyone out?
You were fully planning to if he’d just given you a moment. Your yearbook to this day is something you cherish, and reading his sweet words over and over, he’d taken over an entire page, with words of love you’ve never felt before. But to say it was all ‘a joke’ and leaving, never accepting a friend request, shit he didn’t even talk to Suguru or Shoko, his other best friends.
Satoru never spoke of his hometown in interviews, and when you saw his mom recently, you learned he’s never come home. You know things were hard on him, brutal even, but you wish he knew just how much you loved him, cared for him, sure it was more of a beautiful friendship, but you also were attracted to him, though you were scared to ruin that friendship.
If he just gave you a damn moment.
A friendship you built your entire life demolished, and you miss him even now, you miss the quiet mornings you two would study at the library, you miss the cup of coffee he’d have for you every morning. You missed the little sleepovers, playing pokemon games together, battling it out on the Wii, the amount of things the two of you shared, gone in a moment.
Sukuna leans across the bar, shaking you out of your reverie, his familiar, arrogant smirk just a little softer as his ruby eyes drape down your body, you’re just in some jeans and a polo, nothing too sexy for the family bar here. But he seems to take pleasure in every slow inch, murmuring your name.
“Look at you, even hotter than high school, shit.” You heat up a bit under his gaze, tilting your head and running your hand across your neck.
“Thank you, Sukuna. You look good too.” You earn his wide grin, as he swipes a hand through his pink hair, snowflakes melting just a bit as he leans his hip against the bar now.
“I’ve wondered how you were doing, aren’t you a teacher?”
“I am, but… layoffs.” Sukuna frowns a bit. “I’m teaching preschool here for now, but it’s…”
“They don’t pay shit.” On this, everyone agrees,
“Mmhmm, but it’s my passion. So here I am, working the student loans off.” You wink at him, and he softens then, resting his elbow on the bar, a hand in his chin.
“So pretty you shouldn’t be working.”
“Oh… no. Not at all.” You clear your throat, something is so different about him, he’s not the asshole you remember, or so it seems. “But just temporary, I’m finishing up a couple classes to teach higher education.”
“You always were smart, you’ll do well.”
“Oh… thank you, Sukuna.”
“Used to call me Kuna you know.” You giggle now, easing a bit, even under his gaze, which keeps darting down your body. “God you haven’t changed a bit.”
“Say that to the freshman fifteen that never left.” Sukuna chuckles then, when you turn and bend over, grabbing a beer.
“Went to your nice ass-”
“Sukuna!” You glare behind yourself, and he’s chuckling. “Here I was thinking you were all sweet.”
“I am sweet, thank you. Shit I’d love to catch up sometime?” You hand him his beer, sighing then.
“I don’t know…”
“Lunch or something?”
Satoru’s POV
Satoru’s stepping into the bustling bar with the most annoying model ever, cock hungry too, who’s clinging to his arm, looking at the little bar in disgust, while he eyes the familiar surroundings. He scoffs as he sees Sukuna’s letterman jacket, so pretentious really, and eyes everyone around, surely… your parents still run this place, he wonders, do you ever come visit?
“It’s so… quaint.” Comes Samantha’s voice next to him, running her fingers along the dusty bar, grimacing, she’s as tall as Satoru in her heels, perhaps one of the few women who he doesn’t tower over. All models were pretty tall, but typically he still had a couple inches, but Samantha was the best in her field, and maybe longer legs than Satoru Gojo himself.
“Yeah, I guess compared to LA.” He murmurs, the surroundings oddly comforting, despite how much he thought he’d hate it here. Something about shivering in the cold and then coming to this warm, bustling bar was…
Homey.
It gnaws at him, as people recognize him, and they begin to all come up, many who used to pick on him. He clings to that pretty model of his tighter, putting on a bright grin and lowering his black Gucci shades, the two of them are decked out in Saint Laurent and looking like a million bucks. Even in public, you had to make sure you were dressed to kill.
“Holy shit…” Satoru sees Suguru and Shoko then, their mouths drop as they come up to him. He's spoken to them a little here and there, but overwhelmingly has not said much since college was over. “Look at you two!”
“Look at you, all preening like a peacock.” Shoko rolls her dark eyes, sipping on a drink as she assesses him and his ‘girl’ who is clinging to him, laughing far too fake to ever be taken for as genuine, grating on his nerves.
“How cute, townies!” Samantha says, tossing blonde hair back, and Satoru scowls over at her.
“Who’s the snob?” Suguru asks boldly, making her gasp as Satoru’s muffling his laughter.
“Be nice.” Satoru warns, hands in the pockets of his red dress pants, a ruby so bright and bold it’s ridiculous for a place where people wear jeans and flannels.
“They’re not nice, Gojo. I don’t like it here!” She’s stomping her feet, and Satoru sighs, shaking his head.
“Go get a drink, hmm?” He turns her and smacks her ass, she cringes then.
“Myself!?”
“Become immersed in the small town, it’ll be good publicity, sweets.” He winks as she pouts and saunters off, ignoring the men and at one point hissing at one.
“She’s on drugs or…” Suguru trails off, and Satoru snorts.
“She’s definitely on a good Adderall / Xani combo. Shit… I missed you guys.” He ruffles Shoko’s hair, and shoves at Suguru good naturedly, Suguru smiles a bit, dark hair even longer than Satoru remembers.
“Sure you did. Come back to visit?”
“Uh… no.” He peers at his phone, sighing now. “Our suite for whatever reason isn’t available, I was stopping here and going to call Mom, since I have no reception whatsoever.”
“Why would you bring her to your mom’s, doesn’t she suffer enough with you as her kid?” Shoko earns Satoru sticking his tongue out, picking up the phone and dialing.
“Toru, sweetie!” Satoru sighs, he loves his mom, but to this day she really treats him like a child, even now.
“Hey mom, cool if I stay a few nights? I have a modeling-”
“You’re coming home!?” Satoru winces, pulling back the phone as Suguru and Shoko laugh.
“Yeah, if it’s-”
“I’ll make your favorite, baby, triple stack pancakes with sundae-”
“No, no, too many carbs.” He hears his mom’s sigh of disappointment, and clenches his jaw just a bit, looking over to see Samantha taking pictures of herself on her fancy phone, throwing up a pose now. “I guess yeah, I’ll eat pancakes.”
“My baby, oh I can’t wait, let me get started now!” His mom hangs up, and he can’t help but feel that fondness, the emptiness he’s had for so long just the tiniest bit filled by her voice.
“She’s excited.” He muses, sighing then. “I need a drink.”
Suguru and Shoko eye each other, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrow, studying their odd expressions. “Yes, you should, bartender she’s amazing.” Shoko’s smiling, and Satoru’s lips purse a bit.
“Hmm, guess I’ll see. I’ll be back.” He pats their shoulders again, heading over and passing more and more familiar faces, gosh none of them left, huh?
He leans against the bar, poking around on his phone as he hears Sukuna, asking then -
“Lunch sometime?”
He snorts, eyeing the tall, big man who used to torment him, now eye to eye with him, and damn near his size. Sukuna blinks in surprise a bit when Satoru eyes him with humor.
“Lunch is friendzone territory, ouch.” Sukuna glares now, fists clenching on the bar, and that’s when…
You see him.
Satoru Gojo.
“Maybe I like lunch.” Your voice shocks him then, he eyes you, wide blue eyes going to the face of the girl he loved.
Your face.
You’re so pretty it makes his heart thud out of his fucking chest, you’re just like you were, maybe a bit more mature looking now, but god it was like a blast from his past, the ultimate memory of you couldn’t compare. You’re so beautiful, this fucking glow around you still, that comfort he has been craving hitting him in one instant, as he just stands there.
Satoru Gojo, who got whatever girl he wanted, was just standing there, staring at you, with his lips parted, you are heating up under his scrutiny, unsure of just what he was thinking, biting that lower lip a bit and shifting. He notices now, that you’re not fawning over him, drooling, like women did, if anything you’re glaring just a bit, your jaw set.
“I… you… here…” He can’t compute a fucking word - stupid, stupid - why did you reduce him to pathetic again, after all these years!?
“Yes, I work here again. I know, it’s not what I imagined either.” Your soft, devastated words attack him, making him feel like you punched him right in the gut, as Sukuna raises a brow at Satoru.
“Friend zone, did you just say that?” Satoru’s sputtering now, before clearing his throat, shutting his eyes and taking a breath.
He’s not some ‘nerd’ anymore.
He’s Satoru Fucking Gojo.
He smirks and leans against the bar, eyeing you slowly, pulling off pretentious shades that make you miss his tortoiseshell glasses. But when those piercing, swirling blue eyes hit you, trailing like Sukuna’s had, you feel so shy suddenly, so nervous around him, after so long. Surely he was looking down at you, surely he was so high and mighty that your life seemed sad to him.
You stand a little straighter now, while the two men, who have changed so much, both eye you, a blast from fucking high school if you ever saw one. “Look at you…” He murmurs your name softly, like a caress- shit his voice is deeper, it’s so sure, so cocky and conceited, not the sweet boy you miss. “You look great.”
“Thanks, so do you.” You manage softly, he’s in some suit worth as much as your year of work you’re sure, open with a vest showing of chest muscles, fuck he has red silk gloves, it’s so ridiculous you almost laugh.
He’s gorgeous but…
Who is he really?
“Working here again, huh?” He means it to be casual, but the way it comes off makes you straighten your shoulders, as Sukuna winces.
“All that money, all those women and you never learned.” Satoru scowls at Sukuna now, while you turn away, giving him a view of a body he’s dreamed of, fuck you’re even sexier now, those jeans sitting just right, is none of you not perfect, not beautiful?
“What can I get you, Gojo?” You ask after grabbing another beer for Sukuna, who takes it with a smile, and he tenses at that.
Gojo.
When did you ever call him anything but ‘Toru’?
But, you all are literally strangers now.
“Martini.” He says, earning Sukuna’s snort, Satoru’s scowl heads his direction once again as you start to get the ingredients together, shaking it up in the gold shaker like a pro.
“Little bitch drink.”
“Beer is disgusting, fuck that.”
Sukuna glares as he sips the drink, and you pour Satoru his martini, garnishing it and giving a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “One martini.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” You falter, at his soft voice, at the way he says everything as if it were some caress.
“You’re welcome.” He hands you far too much money then, making you blink. “It’s only ten bucks.”
“Keep the rest, love.” He winks now, and you feel your face heating up, did he think you needed it so badly? Does he pity you?
Does he care?
“Thanks… um, sure on lunch, Sukuna.” Satoru’s teeth clench, like watching history repeat itself. “Even if it’s ‘friend zone’ I’m fine with meeting up.”
“Perfect, here’s my number…” He writes it right on one of the pretty white napkins, and you take it carefully. “I’ll be in town all week.”
“Alright, sounds good.” Sukuna tips you, not the exorbitant fifty dollars Satoru just handed you, but a twenty, with a little nod of his head, as he passes Satoru now, and Samantha comes right up to him.
“Oh look at you, all star for the-” She’s flirting but Sukuna ignores her, winking at you and making you want to giggle, but you barely hold it in. “So rude! Gojo, can we please leave this shitty little bar?”
You scowl right up at the tall, beautiful model who pouts over at Satoru, clinging to his arm, he stiffens, but you see it, clearly they’re… together. “The ‘shitty little bar’ is owned by my family. And you are more than welcome to leave.”
“Oooh, you’re feisty.” She’s giggling psychotically, using her hand to make a clawing motion. “Rawr!”
“The fuck…” You shake your head, sighing as you set back to work, Samantha’s hands running down Satoru’s chest, irritating him to no end.
All he can see is you, and you’re just turning away, the girl he…
He left.
He left you.
No word, no goodbye, and he thought maybe it wouldn’t feel like this, maybe after eight years and endless women in his bed, he could stop feeling like this, stop the love he had. He tried to chalk it up to puppy love, you were the nicest person to him, of course he developed feelings, right?
Wrong.
He watches as you head out from behind the bar as Samantha’s going on and on about some Instagram post, downing the rest of his martini. “We’ll leave in a minute, go wait in the car.”
“I can’t believe we don’t even have a driver, ugh!” Satoru blinks at her, turning her now, watching as you stop and talk to Suguru and Shoko, smiling so sweet, lighting up the whole fucking room.
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Oh fine but…” She drags him down by his tie, whispering in his ear then- “I can suck you while you drive.”
What would once excite him doesn’t compute, he just nods and pushes the crazy woman to the entrance of the bar. “Sure whatever.”
“No pictures, please.” She throws on her sunglasses, as curious people wonder just what this woman is talking about, and Satoru feels your eyes on him then, his catch yours across the room. He watches you tense, as he steps closer, and Shoko and Suguru depart, giving you both one moment.
“Hi.” He manages to say, and for once, the pretentious rich model reminds you of him, the boy you grew up with, the one you miss so badly it feels like he’s a dream.
“Hi.” Your soft voice ends him, you’re shifting side to side, Satoru towers over you, making you feel so small then, as he presses a hand against the wall over your head, tilting your chin up with his other hand. Your eyes go wide then, breath catching, heart hammering.
“I’d love to catch up, I am here for a few days, I’ll be at mom’s.” You blink a bit then, looking down, gently taking his hand off your chin by his wrist, the contact making you both pause. For a moment he pictures it, kissing you, making every move he failed at in high school, taking your lips over.
He pictures so much, up to and including you under him, shit maybe now he’d have a chance with a girl like you, maybe he could taste your sweetness, could inhale that vanilla body spray you somehow wear eight years later. Could show you pleasure he bets you never got before, cock aching just being in your presence, he has to will it to go down.
“Your mom, I just saw her.” You ease his hand down, back resting against the wall just a bit, hair falling across your shoulders, you gasp when he brushes it back, another move he had tried and failed at back then.
That night should have been his first kiss.
You should have been his first everything, fuck.
“Could we do dinner or drinks?” His tone reminds you of what he said earlier, so you smile, a little mean glint in your eye.
“Maybe lunch.”
“Lunch!?” He’s glaring, thin white brows lowered, and you giggle.
“Coffee?”
Shit.
“Or is that too ‘friend zone’ for you, Gojo.” Satoru blinks a bit, hand falling, barely brushing your shoulder when it falls, you try to ignore how good it feels, he tries to act nonchalant, not like the fucking world is faded, aside from you. That the entire bar is just an echo, it’s just you.
And you’re furious, he can feel it. “No, no I mean it’s fine. If you want… coffee we can do coffee.” He can’t believe he’s saying this, he brushes his white locks back, winking down then. “We can do whatever you want.”
“Uh huh. Well, coffee then, if you want to catch up I’m surprised, considering it all though.” Satoru’s jaw clenches just a bit.
“I’d like to catch up.” You soften at his first vulnerable statement, the first thing that feels real. “How about in the morning, are you staying nearby?”
“I’m living with my parents for a couple months.” He frowns at that, you suddenly feel so insecure, a rich model right in front of you, just as he said that day- that he’d make it, and you all…
Would just burn out.
Maybe you did.
“Oh, you are, is something wrong?”
“Helping them a bit, big teacher layoffs nationwide.”
“You teach?” His smile is finally genuine, as you nod, so shyly, his shoulders relax, as his hands slip in his pockets once more. “You always wanted to.” Your eyes shoot up to his now, swirling beautiful blue, a hint of the sweet boy you adored.
“You remember?”
“How couldn’t I…”
“I figured you forgot us all.” Satoru gulps down the guilt, as you manage to pull yourself together, sighing. “Come by my parents in the morning, if you remember where they are.”
“How can I forget, it’s across the street.”
“All right then… I look forward to it.” He awkwardly leans down, as you wrap a friendly arm around his waist, inhaling his cologne, much different than the boy who wore axe body spray and always sucked on lifesavers. His hard body against your much softer one feels a little too good, when he rests his chin on your head.
Nothing has ever felt better than holding you in his arms.
Memories swirl for the both of you, but it’s different, Satoru seems like some bold and pretentious stranger, but for a moment you remember. You remember crying in his arms, over this breakup or that, you remember his sweet hugs during study sessions, you remember laughing and watching the dumbest movies. You exhale just a bit, as a big hand presses the small of your back.
Satoru missed you.
He doesn’t say it, he can’t say anything, pulling back and looking at you then, hand coming to cup your face, opening his mouth to speak when Samantha starts shouting “I’m bored Gojo! I’m so bored!”
The entire bar turns her direction, you fall back a bit, as Gojo internally curses, seeing the brat that is his partner crossing her arms in that fur coat. “I’m coming okay, shit!”
“Your girlfriend is bored.” You’re giggling then, you can’t help it, covering your face as Samantha glares.
“Not my girlfriend, jesus. Um… okay, the morning.” You nod, walking off now, past Samantha, who hisses at you like the psychotic bitch she is, making Satoru grimace with Suguru and Shoko walk up to Satoru.
“You fucked that intro up.” Suguru says, snorting as he puts his arm around Shoko’s waist, and she’s laughing.
“Fucked it up bad.”
“Oh like you’re any help.” They just shake their head, eyeing Satoru’s screaming model bestie.
“See you in eight more years.” Suguru’s words sting, as Satoru feels it then, the guilt eating away at him, but Samantha won’t shut up long enough for him to process, he drags her out into the cold, chilled air, seeing you climbing up into what appears to be your SUV, your eyes flicker to him for just a moment, before you shut the door.
“You like townies hmm? Can’t stop eye fucking girl next door.” Satoru’s eyes make even Samantha falter then.
“Who I like is none of your fucking concern. In.” He plops down in the rental, an audi of course, god forbid Satoru Gojo or Samantha would be seen in anything less, on that they are the same.
“You’re so cranky, she’s hot, just… gives those girl next door vibes.”
“Yeah well, she was the girl next door for me. Almost.” He feels her hand now, trailing over his thigh, she leans over and laughs in his ear, making him cringe. “How’d I get stuck with-”
“Let me make you feel so good, should I suck little Gojo?”
“Little Gojo!? It’s not little, Samantha.” He shoves her off, and she pouts again, crossing her arms.
“How’d I get stuck with you is the question, no fun. Now we have to go stay in poorville.”
“It’s the fucking suberbs.”
“Poor. Poor. Poor. Boring, boring.” Satoru almost pushes her out of the goddamn car, no blow job would be worth it, even if it would shut her up for a moment, even if his cock twitches thinking of you.
He pulls up to his home, his mother already has it opened when he walks up, hugging him tightly, kissing his face all over and making him wince. “Mom…”
“My baby, I never thought you’d come home.” She’s got tears in her pretty blue eyes, she visits LA once a year or more, but now the way tears fall from eyes that match his wracks him with guilt.
He could have come back at least once, right?
No, no he couldn’t.
“And this is…”
“Samantha.” She shakes his mom’s hand, tossing back long blonde locks and smiling. “You have such a quaint little home.”
Satoru’s mom blinks rapidly, brows together, this wasn’t a small home, it was four stories and lovely, left to them from Satoru’s dad, but he supposes to a rich, spoiled brat like Samantha, it’s ‘quaint’. “Um, thank you, and you’re staying too?”
“Unfortunately.” Satoru’s mom raises her brows, as Samantha clings to Satoru once again, grinning.
“I get to meet the mom, huh? I’m so special-”
“Let’s eat.”
Satoru finally leaves a snoring, annoying model brat Samantha alone in the guest room, when he walks inside his childhood room, frozen. Time has been frozen, his mother hasn’t changed a single fucking thing, up to and including pictures of you and him all over the walls. He gulps down his emotions, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click, undressing carefully.
He sees his old nerdy ass sweater, one you’d gotten him, still folded on his desk, like he never left. His fingers brush the fabric, as he stares at his reflection, feeling like he’s a ghost in his own room. The connections start to build, the mirror he kissed that night, the endless photos and mementos he kept. He eyes that box now, opening a letter carefully, crumbled and faded ink.
My Toru, I hope you have the best day, I can’t wait for the movies!
Toru, can you believe how the year has flown by!?
Do you want to go bowling Y or N
Your new glasses are so cute I love them!
Bad day today, sorry I’m quiet.
Tears fall down his cheeks, he only notices when the blotches form on the ink, all the times you’d write to him every day, passing little notes in class with hearts all over them, brightening his day. He’d kept every single fucking one, and there were so, so many in this tin box, stuffed inside like all of his fucking feelings.
He wipes his eyes quickly, shaking it off, pulling out his luggage with his own clothes and getting dressed in sweats for the night, curiously pushing on the cd left in the player, sighing then. Your favorite song, it’s that mixed CD he was making you, the one he never gave you. Satoru quickly turns it off, the button a resounding click, walking to the corkboard littered with you.
Knock knock knock.
“Come in, mom.” She does just that, peeking her pretty face, still so young looking, so sweet as she smiles at him. “You didn’t change any of it.”
“No, I always hoped you’d come back, at least for a day.” She walks up to Satoru now, seeing the photos he’s staring at now, Satoru and you sipping a milkshake together with two straws, in the middle of a diner. “You two were so sweet, she’s back in town you know.”
“I know… I’m seeing her in the morning.” His mom’s eyes light up, and he laughs a bit. “Don’t get excited, my life isn’t here mom.”
“Part of it will always be.” She cups his face, smiling up at him. “I hope you have fun with her, she has kept in touch all these years you know.”
“She has?”
“Yes, she… misses you. She asks about you when she visits town.” Satoru blinks back emotion, turning away now, clearing his throat.
You asked about him after all this? After he'd gone out of your life for good? What if he just heard you out, what if he…
“I’m tired, mom.” Mrs. Gojo nods, a hand on his back for a moment.
“Good night, Toru.”
“Night.” He lays in his bed, phone blowing up, his agent with details, a coordinator for the show, friends from LA teasing him on having to come back home, but he quickly turns it off, holding a photo of you, the only one he brought.
He gently touches it, sighing, wondering…
Will you like him now, could he be good enough?
While you lay in bed, tossing, turning, fuming damn near at Satoru Gojo’s audacity, sitting up finally, putting on Satoru’s favorite song, on that mixed CD you had been making him, before he disappeared. Your childhood room is the same as it always was, littered with photos of you and Satoru, your best friend that just disappeared, and came back a different person.
You touch a photo, one where he’s grinning so big with his cute little braces, holding up a science award, and you’re so overcome with emotion you have to hold back your tears, touching the polaroid gently. Was that boy in there somewhere, the boy you knew, the one who deserved the world - he seemingly got it of course.
Would he find you so boring? He hung out with celebrities, he walked runways, he’s clearly got a beautiful - batshit insane but- girl on his arm. Was it some pity, did he feel bad you were in a little bar? Your mind can’t handle it all, as you plop down in your childhood bed, mind racing.
Who was Satoru Gojo now?
Ah why'd I tear up when Satoru goes home? Next part we see just how coffee goes lol
taglist #1- @pinkyvomit @saitamaswifey @kachowness @vraiao @artbligh @psychoartiste @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @bsenpai @simp-for-wanderer @rjreins @emonaculate @myahfig4 @casua11ycrying @psycren @blushedcheri @ureuphoriasworld @frozenmallows @kanaojacksonofc @rcveriees @xlilycoco @yukimaniac @sypnasis @tokina @sharkubi @tztuoo @hyori2 @yesdere @gradmacoco @gamerhere @seikamuzu @xinsonyax @vvaoo @angie420 @ria54sworld @blue-musingss @mysticmyth @asimpinamillion @arabellasolstice @ilovebeansyay @notme000 @emochosoluvr @iv-vee @heh123321 @fushikamo @danilovesboba @spookyy-gracee @satorusleftnut @clqxuds @femaholicc
my HC is that Naruto, being used to living alone eversince, has had a long time believing he's finally coming home to someone like Hinata, especially in the early stages of their married life (**and dating 😌🤌)
...allow the man to fully appreciate the significance of these sweet moments
happy birthday Naruto!
I've set up my ko-fi page (tho needs a few more polishing) sooo I will be open for commissions soon if anyone likes what I draw (my style)...I want to save up for a new art equipment 🙏
madison beer halloween layouts
- pls like or reblog if u save/use !
- follow me for more
- don't repost
𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮; 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, assistant/sugarbaby!reader, playfully mean(to you)!sugardaddy!ceo!geto, ceo!gojo, taped on vibrator, small butt plug (no anal), edging, window sex, masturbation, squirting on the window, control orgasm, calling suguru sir, service sub!reader, bdsm hints, light begging, dirty talking, heavy praise/light degradation, hints at sharing you, spanking, biting
𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: Suguru squeezing the ass of his cute little assistant. He loves hearing her soft squeal when he does it
Oreo: I’ve been fighting a headache trying to get this one done because I have a night need to be fucked like a whore against a window while gojo watches
Suguru looks past Jin, rock hard beneath the desk. You’re beautiful struggling to maintain your composure. Holding up his hand Jin falls quiet. “Bring me a glass of water.” Smirking when you stiffly stand, clenching your thighs together.
Clenching your thighs together, keeping eyes casted down, clasping your hands in your lap. Biting your lip, fighting for your life not to moan when the vibrator taped to your clit pulses faster.
You’re so close to cumming on Suguru’s sofa with one of his employees explaining their concerns. Soaking your underwear, your cunt clenching nothing. Your ass squeezing the small training plug.
“Yes sir!” Your voice is shaking, your whole body burning, cunt throbbing and tingling from the immense pleasure.
Turning away from Jin’s curious gaze. “As you were saying Mr. Jin.” The vibrations stop, the reprieve is welcoming and disappointing. Your sensitive clit twitches from getting worked up so close and the sudden lack of stimulation.
Opening the fully stocked mini fridge built into the wall, pulling out the bottle of water and a chilled glass from the cabinet beside. The toy vibrates on your soft clit, slapping your hand over your mouth, fighting yourself not to moan.
Ignoring Jin’s drawl, purely focusing on maintaining your slipping composure and not spilling the water. Throwing the plastic bottle into the recycle, grabbing the chilled glass of water, trembling. Getting lost in the sweet pleasure, it vanishes.
Taking a deep breath turning around to face your sugar daddy and his employee. Suguru isn’t looking at you, smiling at Jin. “Thank you for bringing that to my attention, I’ll see to it that’s taken care of, please see yourself out.” Pressing the button under his desk for the doors to slide open.
Jin nods his head, clasping his hands behind his back. “Yes sir, thank you.” Stiffly walking past Jin, grateful he finally leaving. Going around Suguru’s desk. Holding out his glass of water, his warm thick fingers brush your’s.
Pushing himself away from the desk. His thick bulge in his black dress pants, “Good girl, thank you for the water.” Squeezing a handful of your soft ass, you softly gasp, glancing over to where Jin stands on the elevator peering with wide eyes through the closing office doors.
Suguru massages your cheek. the toy vibrate on your soft clit. “Don’t cum, not yet.” Standing up, grabbing your jaw, gently prying you mouth open with his thumb. Taking a sip and spitting it into your mouth. “Swallow, but you can’t cum yet.”
Setting the cup down, unbutton your dress shirt. “Please! I don’t know how much longer I cannnn!” Clenching your trembling thighs together, knees buckling, legs weak. You grab onto Suguru’s hard, thick bicep.
Getting off on his massive height, unable to stop thinking of fat cock he has for you underneath his pants. Stroking his cock through his pants. “A little bit longer, you’re so hot squirming, struggling not to cum just to make me happy.” Tugging your skirt down, for you to step out of.
His phone buzzes, whining when Suguru answers, “Nasty pervert, I’ll fuck her against the glass for you to watch.” Putting his phone on speaker on the desk. “She such a slut she will get off on seeing you stroke your cock to her.” Slipping your shirt off, unclasping your bra, he can’t get them off fast enough.
Tears trickle down your face, Suguru wipes away one with his thumb. “Aw my sweet little slut is crying cause she can’t cum yet.” Turning to face the window, grabbing your leg lifting showing Satoru your sloppy wet cunt.
Begging, crying, cunt dripping. “I’m gonna! Please! I can’t hold back! It’s too much.” Grinding your hips back, Suguru’s hard cock pressed against your lower back.
Satoru unzips his pants, dropping them with his underwear, sitting down, squirting lube into his hand. “Fuck she sound hot whining like that.” Suguru turns you to face the window, lifting your legs giving Satoru standing in large window his office a perfect view.
“Cum!” Thick warm cum splashes into the window, trickling onto the ground. Trying to close your legs, shifting trying to get away from the intense stimulation.
Groaning in admiration, gliding two this fingers into you. “Nnn so warm n wet, perfect little cunt for my fat cock to ruin.” Taking the toy off your clit, tugging on the jewel of the butt plugged.
“You’ve been wearing this for two hours let’s give your ass a break. Mm fuck I can’t wait till I can fuck her into a gabbing cum filled mess.” Gliding the plug out of your ass, setting it on his desk.
Suguru crouches, slapping your ass biting your cheek, enticing soft whimpers. Holding onto your hip to steady you. Your head is fuzzy, legs wobbly, you haven’t cummed that hard before. You want more. “Wanna cum again, please sir take care of my needy cunt.” Spreading your legs, and bending over when he dips his head between, lovingly kissing your soft cunt.
Gliding his finger in, getting off on how your soft cunt take his fingers. “You been such a good slut for me, I’ll take such good care of your sweet tight cunt for you. After you can sit in my lap during the meeting. Then we can go home, have a candle lit dinner.” Biting your ass, sucking roughly groaning, pumping his finger faster.
Satoru’s breathy moans coming through the phone. His jerking his cock faster, sliding his hand through his soft white hair, tugging. His mouth dropping open, checks flushing pink. He slows his pace, smirking and winking at you. “You’re such a beautiful dirty whore getting off on watching me jerk off while he plays with your cunt.”
Smiling at Satoru, “I’m a pretty dirty whore who likes it getting fucked in front of you.” Suguru stands up, squeezing your ass, sliding his hand up your waist. Gently playing with your nipple, biting your shoulder. Tilting your head to the side, he trails kisses up
Satoru pleads “Let her press her beautiful slutty ass on the glass. Lemme see your sloppy beautiful cunt and sweet ass.” Looking up at Suguru for his approval, he spins you around on your high heels.
Unbuttoning his shirt, slipping it off. Suguru is beautiful with his thick pecs, sculpted abs, broad shoulders slim waist and fat cock that rests on thick balls. “Let him see what’s gonna be taking good care of my fat cock.” Admiring your sugar daddy, bending over gliding your fingers into your needy cunt.
You want to cum again despite squirting. Suguru and Satoru always bring out an insatiable lust within you. You’d proudly be their cum stuffed whore.
Buzzing the front desk, “Don’t send or allow any calls through until I say otherwise, take a message if it’s urgent thank you.” Pressing your ass to the cold glass, shivering. Playing with your nipples, soft rubbing them, moaning the moment he lets the button go.
Suguru groans, you love the erotic way he sounds. “Nnn fuck send her over when you’re done, I wanna turn. You can put her plug back in. Wanna see her pretty ass stuffed mmm, gonna cover her soft cheeks in cum.” Grabbing Suguru’s cock, when he comes close, kissing his head.
He grabs your hair roughly turning you around, pinning your tits to the glass, keeping your ass out. Lining his fat, veiny cock up, you spread your legs apart pushing your hips back. “If she can walk sure, but you can’t fuck her ass not yet. Im taking her training slow, no reason not to savor perfection.” Spitting on your ass, smearing it with his thumb, gliding it in.
Keeping a firm grasp on your ass, groaning in pure relief. “Nothing else better than being inside you. Nnn making my legs go weak, you’re too perfect.” Grabbing your wrist, holding it behind your back. Offering your other wrist for him to hold together with one large hand.
Oreo’s m.list
As a boy Katsuki never understood why men cried whenever they saw their bride for the first time.
When it came to his turn to stand at the altar, suited up and slicked back hair,he finally understood why.
His heart is pounding violently against his ribcage, so loud that he can hear it reverberate through his head. His palms were damp, and his gaze stays fixated on the double doers before him. The doors that will soon open to reaveal tge love of his life.
His foot meets floor repeatedly in a tapping motion, and his hands are rough as he shifts his collar side to side. His body litters with goosebumps and involuntary quivers.
He's suddenly grateful for this being a small wedding with only close family and friends. Hewouldn't want a large crowd witnessing his nerves get the better of him.
Kirishima smiles though the tears flowing down his face. He's honored to be the best man on his best friends big day, because that means he gets to see the tough Katsuki find pure happiness and put his walls down for the one he loves. If it's loveenough to make the great lord explosion murdered god dynamitenervous, then it's love that should be cherished.
Katsukis stomach flutters when the pianist begins to play your song. It's time.
He fiddles with the cuffs of his blazer and submerges the urge to run his hand through his perfectly styled hair.
When he locks eyes with you for the first time that day. It feels as if time itself slowed down. In this moment, every ounce of anxiety he had been carrying fades away. You are radiant under the soft orange glow of the sun, your skin shimmering like a precious diamond. His precious diamond.
His heart dances swiftly in his ribcage, touching every nerve in his body with pure love.
He catches a glimpse of your hands nervously fiddling your dress by your sides and remembers that he isn't alone. You, the love of his life, are sharing the same nervous flutter of butterflies in your stomach.
He begins to see you more clearly as you approach him. The soft glow of your eyes, your perfect lips and curves.
And when he hears his name flow so sweetly from your lips he can't help it. He chokes out a sob, and immediately your hands reach up to gently swipe away his tears.
The audience give a numerous amount of awww's, which cause a smile to tug its way onto his lips.
His glossy eyes stared longingly into yours. "You look beautiful" he whispered.
Saying his vows was the hardest part. He just couldn't stop crying, and the tears wouldn't stop flowing. You there assuring him and giving him gestures of love. When you started to say your own vows, seeing his redened nose and tear stained face cause tears of your own to flow down your face.
With a gentle yet firm grip his palm finds comfort on the curve of your waist. The minute the officient said you may kiss the bride. Your arms evelop his the soft skin of his neck and your heads tilt to the side as if it's instinct.
This kiss hold a firm yet sweet connection, a silent promise that this love would endure for eternity.
He was finally married to you, his angel, the girl of his dreams. He looked forward to calling you his wife, to starting a family-
Hot tears stream uncontrollably down his face, an eruption of raw emotion he can't contain. His heart swells with overwhelming swarm of love, joy, and deep appreciation, a feeling he once never believed possible.
With a shaky breath, he pulls away softly before resting his forehead on yours. "I love you" he choked "so fuckin much"
You huffed at his cuteness "I love you more Katsuki"
He places one more kiss to your lips, and nuzzles your nose with his.
"Impossible"
♪ 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ♪
༺ Work Night ༻
Oneshot ~ Tokyo Revengers x Female Reader
Summary ~ On the deadliest night of the year, you’re trapped in a flower shop, hunted by five obsessive killers. Survive the night—or become their prey.
Featuring ~ Baji Keisuke, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, and the Haitani Brothers
Extra Notes ~ Jujutsu Kaisen’s Version - Blue Lock’s Version
*Reader is implied to be a foreigner at one point. No language barrier.
This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr, ao3, wattpad, and patreon. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.
l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.
|| Warning ||
You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.
Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.
I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.
There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.
That being said, this story is for 18+ only.
You understood that your employer baited a few naive employees to mandate the merchandise on one of the most dangerous nights of the year—you having been one of the victims of the sly persuasion. You recognized the inducement dripping from the tone of the flower shop’s owner.
“It shouldn’t be that hard to make sure the store is in good condition by the morning. This is a small business, anyway,” she chuckled, hands placed on her hips as she faced the four of you. “I mean, for god’s sake, who’d want to steal flowers?”
Now, you might’ve made a hasty decision in accepting the offer placed on your shoulders, but you were no idiot. You knew the consequences of remaining in a public environment while the duration of the chaotic night played out. Despite the risks that could take place, the price to gain was too enticing to ignore.
Most individuals would simply run around, breaking into banks and wealthier people’s homes to steal cash instead of taking an overnight shift for a boss who’s dubiously obsessed with the product—enough to schedule four of her employees, who had no certifications, as security guards. You weren’t one of those people.
You had no intention of getting slashed across the throat or shot through the head because you were a threat to someone else’s gain. You weren’t one to fight over things of that nature. You didn’t find it worth your life.
You agreed with the owner—nobody would aim for a flower shop. Especially one that attracts minimal business. The boss had already removed the cash from the registers, so the only win would be a variety of flower pots and packaged soil.
Your only job is to clean and mandate the shop.
You are currently leaning over the cashier’s counter, thumb swiping through your social media feed as one of your coworkers, Aimi, sweeps the remnants of fallen petals from the hanging plants, lowly humming a tune as she moved her arms. Chieko had just finished pinning the fabric that conceals the glass windows of the shop, taking a few steps back to admire the work as she rubbed her palms against her jeans.
“This should be good enough, right?” she questioned, turning back to face the assistant manager, who sat on a chair with a leg crossed over, phone in hand.
Jona’s gaze shifted to the covering before he dismissively waved her off, nodding. “Yeah, it’s as good as it’s gonna get.”
You exhaled sharply, setting your phone in your pocket as you stood upright. You turn to face the other employees as you swallow. “Hey, are you sure that nobody has ever tried to break in?” you question, your main focus placed on Jona.
Aimi’s irises flicked over to you before she cracked a warm smile. “Yeah! I’ve taken this shift each year, and nobody has ever tried anything,” she shrugged, setting the broom against the wall.
Chieko walked towards you before placing a hand on your shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve taken this shift for about five years, and I’m still here,” she said, her tone filled with a confident ease that should’ve relaxed your anxiety.
But you couldn’t rid yourself of the heavy pit you felt spreading throughout your stomach.
Jona rolled his eyes before leaning back in his seat, stretching with his arms held in the air. “Relax. Time flies by faster than you think.”
Your eyes shift to the cat-shaped clock that’s set on the wall at the back of the store. It reads nine o’clock, two hours into the dangerous and yet celebrated tradition. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you reach for your phone—
Tap, tap, tap.
Time freezes as you and your coworkers’ attention quickly flies to the entrance of the store. The wooden door’s silver knob rattles, the glass window’s fabric concealing the culprit.
The store is quiet, everyone paused in their positions as they study the area, concern evident in their expressions. Your head turns to Jona as he stands up, shoving his phone in his pocket as he stiffens in his spot.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” You hear the muffled sound of a male’s voice, pleading. The tone is slightly shaky but carries an edge of relative calmness as he knocks against the surface. “Please, I need help!”
You turn to face all of the employees as sweat forms on your skin. “Has this happened before?” you mutter, voice almost a whisper as you try to stay quiet.
Chieko turns towards you, swallowing before she shakes her head in denial. Aimi mimics the gesture as she stares at the door. You can see the unease settle in their presence—fingers twitching, bodies stiffening, and fear radiating off of the women.
Your eyes flick over to Jona, observing the slightly perturbed look on his expression, though contorted with annoyance.
“J—Jona! What are you doing?” Aimi hissed quietly. Her voice is dripping with an apprehensive tone that matches her mien. She attempts to reach out for him, but he moves too fast, standing in front of the door as he lifts the fabric slightly—just enough to peek out of the window.
What the fuck is he doing?!
From the angle where you stand, you fail to see his expression as he stands there for a moment. Eventually, Jona releases the fabric and walks back to the center of the room, facing all of you.
“Listen, that guy out there—he’s bloody as fuck. Nobody is allowed to unlock that door,” he says, his tone flat but edged with caution. His fingers entangle with his short hair as he frowns.
“Bloody? Did he have any weapons?” Aimi questions, eagerness in her tone. She walks closer to Jona, though still at a distance.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t see any, but I’m not taking any chances,” he says as he yanks a small knife out of his pocket. “If he somehow passes through, I at least have this to fight against him.”
You give him a pointed look. “And if he has a gun? What if he just breaks through the windows?” you question, your voice laced with irritation and worry.
Chieko clears her throat. “It’s very rare for a citizen to have a gun here in Japan,” she replies, her tone steady but with an underlying edge of concern.
“Rare, but not impossible,” Jona says before his eyes shift to you. “Look, Y/n. There’s no promise of complete safety. You knew this when you signed up. We work with what we’ve got, so it’s better to just stop asking questions and breathe, got it?”
BANG, BANG, BANG!
“Please! Help me! I—I know someone’s in there! They’re gonna kill me!” the stranger screeches.
All of you wince at the sound of the man’s shouting, his fist against the door growing louder as it vibrates the surface. You can only stand in place as shock becomes evident on the rest of your coworkers’ faces. The tension in your chest grows as the hairs on your skin stand tall. Your heart erratically beats against your chest as your pulse throbs.
“T—they’re?” Aimi repeats, whispering to herself as her hands tremble. “There’s more people?”
Chieko exhales sharply. “They could’ve meant one person, Aimi. We need to relax and come up with an escape pla—!”
The sound was sickening—a roaring rev of a chainsaw, followed by the wet, meaty rip of flesh being pierced through interrupted her statement. It was grotesque, the impact causing muffled gurgles and ragged gasps to escape from the man outside as the relentless grind of metal cleaved through bone.
Suddenly, an eerie stillness settles over the store, a silence heavy with unspoken terror as you all stand, frozen in place.
“J—Jona,” Aimi stammered, fingers gliding against her cheeks as she reached for her hair. “I—I…”
As she trailed off, you swallowed hard, eyes flicking over to Chieko, who was quiet, aside from the shallow, ragged breaths escaping her lips.
Your breathing stopped as you heard a light tapping against the window.
“Oh, Y/n… We know you’re in there! Come out and play!” the male sang, the sound of metal clanking with the glass.
Your body freezes at the sound of your name.
What?
You felt a sudden pit in your stomach as all your coworkers’ gazes locked on you.
“You know them?” Jona questioned, his brows furrowing at your form.
You gasped, shaking your head. “N—no! No, I don’t know anyone aside from you guys!”
It’s the truth. You had only recently moved to Japan after studying the language. You hadn’t had any time to make friends, so it was impossible for anyone to have known you aside from your coworkers.
Before you could defend yourself any further, a crash echoed as the force slammed into the front glass wall, shattering it. You all instinctively ducked in response.
A loud thud landed on the floor, rolling a couple of times before the headless corpse limped on the ground, a ruddy puddle oozing from the gaping neck. You sucked in a sharp breath as you jolted back in quick panic. After hearing Aimi’s scream, your head shifted to her, breaths ragged as you eyed the pieces of glass embedded in her face. Her hands shook as her lips parted in horror.
“My face! My face!” she cried, hysterical as the tears fused with the crimson running down her face. Her fingers barely grazed the sharp pieces as you and Jona stared at her in disbelief.
Your head turned to see Chieko frozen, her form stiff as she trembled, her eyes wide open as she observed the open space of the entrance.
Jona cursed when both of you matched the direction of Chieko’s gaze.
A masked individual stepped over the pointed edge that stuck out from the foundation of the gaping space, the glass cracking underneath their boot. The white plastic concealed his identity, though his blonde-and-black strands draped over his shoulders. Your eyes shift to the metal bat they drag across the floor, your heart rate spiking once the bloody edge comes into view.
Its face was contorted into a somber expression, eyes squinted and nose sculpted to scrunch, while the mouth was drawn into a deep frown. Blood stained the fabric of his clothes, as well as the white of his mask. He stood in place as the rest of the group followed, stepping into the store as the sound of glass crackled.
Your eyes flicked to the man who held the crimson-stained chainsaw, his mask’s expression sculpted into an angry gaze. The mouth mimicked the first person’s shape, but the brows were furrowed. His wavy strands were a solid black, styled similarly to the individual standing next to him. A dry, ruddy substance streaked across his mask, fresh blood covering the majority of his clothes.
Another masked person appeared, slightly diagonal to the first male who entered. His mask was shaped into a theatrical, mischievous grin. His pink hair was pulled into a neatly combed ponytail, one strand flowing over the bloody plastic shield. His glove-covered fingers stretched around the handle of the stained katana.
The other masked individual chuckled. “Seriously? This is what you were guarding?” he questioned, his tone dripping with mockery as he slung the stained machete over his shoulder. His mask was that of a grimace, his purple hair styled in a mullet. He shoved one hand in his pocket as he looked around, blood splotching both his mask and clothing.
The taller man next to him stepped forward, a baton held in the same position as the former’s machete, though his thumb slightly tapped against the handle. His mask was sculpted into a wide smile, one of humor, as he tilted his head. His short, purple hair was slightly disheveled, his clothes streaked with crimson.
He clicked his tongue. “That’s what you thought would keep you safe?” the male drawled, a smirk evident in his tone. The edge of his baton pointed in the direction of Jona, who stood with caution, holding out his pocket knife. “How pathetic.”
“Enough talk,” the man with the chainsaw said, his tone slightly cocky but firm. “Let’s wreck this place already.”
A chuckle spread throughout the quiet room. “Let’s see how fast they can run,” the blonde-streaked male said.
Instantaneously, everything moved at a quick pace.
You immediately ducked your head as the brisk swing of the baton barely missed your head, the male having taken long strides toward you before you could escape your frozen state.
He chuckled. “Pesky little thing. I’ve been curious about you for a while, Y/n.”
You made eye contact through the mask, purple irises piercing your form before he swung again. You jumped out of the way, just in time for the end of his baton to crack the register, the device flipping over and falling against the counter with a noisy thud.
How does he know my name?
A scream caught your attention, your head shifting to the right where you saw Aimi attempt to make a run for the exit, only for the gloved hand to snatch her by the back of the collar, shoving her to the floor against the corpse. Just as the pink-haired man stepped over her, you rolled out of the direction the edge of the baton smacked, bouncing against the floor.
“I’m curious if you’re worth my time. I’ll see if you make it through the night,” he said, his tone dripping with sick amusement.
You stumbled as you lifted yourself up, just as your gaze switched to Jona, his hand holding up the knife as the purple-haired man walked toward him. “This is too funny,” he chuckled.
CLANK!
The loud sound that echoed throughout the room caught your attention as your gaze shifted to the left. You sucked in a sharp breath as you saw the finishing impact of Chieko’s head being forced to the side, blood splattering in the air as she landed on the ground. She groaned as the male lifted his bat, slamming the end of the metal against her skull over and over. The sickening crunch of the broken bone caused bile to burn your throat, a burning lump caught as you felt the tears prick your eyes.
This is really happening. We’re all gonna die.
“Chieko!” Jona screeched, though the distraction only caused his eventual demise.
I should’ve been more prepared. I should’ve known.
The ear-splitting rev of the chainsaw started up just as the masked male snuck behind the man holding the pocket knife, the metal piercing through his waist at an agonizingly slow pace. Jona’s lips released choked gasps as he stood in place, his head slowly turning toward you with his eyes wide open. You watched as crimson gushed down his chin, the sound of the drops from his cut torso splatting on the ground as his body split open.
Your fingers twitched as you moved, the edge of the baton grazing your shoulder as you jumped out of the path just in time, landing painfully on the messy ground. The palms of your hands slid against the liquid pooling around the area. Your head lifted in time to see the male with the katana place his foot on Aimi’s chest.
Her hands shook as she braced herself. “Please! Please, don’t kill me! I’m not ready to die!”
The man crouched over her, katana across his lap as he leaned against his knees. He brought his free hand to his mouth, index finger pressed against his lips as he shushed her.
“I’m doing you a favor, you know? With that ugly face of yours and all. You should be thanking me,” he mused, a grin evident behind the mask before he stood upright. His arms raised with both hands wrapped around the katana before he lifted the blade over his head.
You stumbled over the slick blood, picking yourself up just in time for the blade to slice through the head of your former coworker, the grotesque sound of flesh splitting meeting your ears. The man with the baton stared down at you while you ran for the gaping hole in the wall.
Before you could escape, your arm was yanked back, a tight curl of the male’s fingers holding you in a painful grip. “Where are you going? The fun’s just begun,” the male with the bat taunted.
He tossed you on the ground, your body landing with a thud before you scooted back, crimson spreading across your skin as you surpassed the corpses, eyeing the men whose attention was now placed on your trembling form.
Just as you attempt to pick yourself up, the male with the chainsaw in one hand crouched in front of you. Before you can stop your reflexes, you ball your hand into a fist before back-handing the man with an upward curvature, his mask flying off as the strap slides off his head.
Your breathing is ragged as you hear the whistles and snickering in the background, the black-haired male slowly facing you with piercing brown irises. His gaze is locked on you, expression contorted in an irritated and yet amused look. His free hand reached for the cheek you hit.
Your eyes goggled in recognition. “You—!”
The customer.
One of your regulars.
The only difference is that his hair is down and his glasses are vacant.
“B—Baji?”
He smirked. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said before his free hand shot to your throat, fingers curling tightly around the surface as you reached for his hand.
You attempt to peel his fingers off your throat, but he only tugged you upward to match his height as he stood upright. Your nails pierced his skin as you struggled to breathe.
This is it.
“You have any idea how long we’ve been waiting for this moment?” he said, his voice dripping with impatience and a wicked grin planted on his face.
He held you in place for a moment as his eyes flicked over your expression, the sharp gazes of all the men grazing into your skin as they studied you like predators observing their prey.
“Hey, Baji, how about we have a little fun?” The pink-haired man drawled, closing in on your space as he walked forward.
The black-haired man chuckled. “What do ya have in mind?” His grin widened as he stared at you.
You continued to struggle, your heart beating against your chest as your feet dangled in the air.
“A little chase, huh?” he purred, head tilting. “Sounds fun to me.”
“Oh shit, that sounds like a great idea!” the male with the bat said with enthusiasm. “Let’s give her a head start.”
The man with the grimace on his mask hummed. “Sounds fun enough,” he shrugged.
The man with the baton chuckled. “Let’s see how far this bunny can jump.”
Suddenly, your knees met with the hard surface of the floor as Baji leaned over you.
“You get a ten-second head start. If one of us catches you…” he paused as he leaned closer. “You’re mine.”
—𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.
wc: 1355
Your breathing is ragged as the platform of your shoes slams against the pavement. The night is surprisingly quiet aside from your heavy steps as you rush down the street.
“Please, please, please,” you plead to nothing as the breeze kisses your skin, the chill of the night causing goosebumps to rise from your hair follicles.
The adrenaline in your veins pumps as the heavy beating of your heart erratically thumps against your chest. There’s a tight constriction in the pit of your stomach and an ache that’s spreading throughout your calves.
—
somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this isn’t how it should be.
your living room is dimly lit, illuminated only by the tv in front of you, and the moon is glowing a pearlescent blue. flimsy strings of moonlight spill over your floorboards, reflecting off the windows, and whatever you’re doing isn’t what you should be doing. you shouldn’t be awake this late, shouldn’t be gorging on sweets before bed, shouldn’t be having a rendezvous with an enemy — shouldn’t be watching movies with your ex of ten years.
most of all, you shouldn’t be feeling nearly this content.
getō is seated right beside you, legs comfortably spread, popping a macaron into his mouth. chewing it slowly, savouring the flavour — or lack thereof, you suppose. he can’t taste much, anymore; one too many curses digested. or so he says.
this time, he brought pastries with him. expensive ones, you can tell, just from the package alone; a soft pastel pink box, wrapped up in velvet and silk, golden letter etched into the front. mont blancs, macarons, two slices of strawberry shortcake. suited to your tastes.
(you aren’t actually too fond of sweets, anymore, but how is he to know? he hasn’t seen you in years.)
”would you like me to make us some tea?”
when you turn your gaze towards him, getō’s wearing a smile. laid-back, the slightest upward curl, tilting his head in a manner you’re far too used to, eyes shining with something keen. somehow, it feels difficult to tear your gaze away from his own.
but you manage, turning forward, grasping control over your sleepy vocal cords. ”no, i’m good.”
a low hum. he’s still looking at you. ”coffee?”
”the sweets are more than enough.”
this time, a smile, one you can’t see but still somehow sense. a little bit amused. geto gazes at you with a knowing look, watches you glance at the box of pastries on your coffee table — studying you under the monochrome flicker of the tv-screen.
”understood,” he finally quips, leaning back into the leather couch, exhaling a little breath. ”eat as much as you’d like. i bought them for you, you know.”
you nod, nibbling at a macaron. not glancing his way.
being alone with him still feels a little awkward. a little tense, to be curled up on the same couch, watching the same movie, just like your old sleepovers in high school. there’s an elephant in the room that neither of you have addressed — not since he first showed up, just a couple weeks ago, waltzing up to your apartment with a plastic bag of dvds after a decade of estrangement. wearing heavy robes, and a familiar smile. asking to be let in.
and despite every single circumstance telling you not to, you did just that. you’ve yet to refuse.
(satoru would hate you, if he knew.)
so he’s there, right beside you, and you don’t talk about it. not his choice, not your work, not anything except the movie playing on the screen in front of you. this time, it’s one he’s seen before; beautiful, he called it, and for once you think it might be a romance — if the kiss between the main actors is anything to go by.
you wonder if that’s why he says it.
”say, do you hate me?”
…
it’s sudden, but not unexpected. he’s always been like this; breaking the illusion of peace before you can find any solace in it.
you bite back a groan, and shoot him a glance out of the corner of your eye — but he isn’t looking at you. only at the tv, at the two men, holding hands and standing on a bridge in the rain, watching the stars twinkle in the sky. and you sigh, turning your head to look at him fully, parting your lips. your voice comes out frustrated.
”do you really want to have this conversation now?”
”when else?” he chuckles, meeting your gaze with one brow raised. amber eyes gleaming with mirth, and something else, something less practiced. ”you don’t have to answer. i’m just curious.”
you gulp down the last of the macaron, licking your lips for any leftover crumbs — unaware of how his eyes follow the movement. ”are you?”
a hum buzzes in the back of his throat, a tiny rasp. you wonder if he’s tired. ”i hadn’t expected this, you know.” he taps at his knee with the pads of his fingers, rhythmic and controlled. ”i thought it was just wishful thinking… that you’d let me come this close.”
you feel his gaze on you. it’s heavy, heavy like lead, like a loaded gun. you feel it dissect you from afar, and can’t find it in you to reach for another pastry.
”… would you have preferred being kicked out?”
”not at all.” a little grin plays at his lips, something in his voice betraying the face he’s making. ”are you avoiding the question?”
another sigh. you’re painfully aware of how resigned it sounds, spilling out into the open air, already filling with a sense of dread; any leftover nostalgia bursting at the seams. you want to tell him so many things, but every thread inside your mind feels all tangled up.
and, as always, getō beats you to the punch.
”that’s fine, too.” a brief pause, a twitch of his pinkie. he closes his eyes, a flutter of his lashes, and inhales a breath. ”— because i’ll keep waiting.”
for a second, you consider not taking the bait.
… then you’re giving in. because that’s what you always do, whenever he’s involved. you watch him in the dark, pale skin enveloped by moonlight, raven hair spilling across the headrest. he looks beautiful, just resting his eyes.
”… for what?” you whisper, and his answer comes without a hitch to his breath.
”for you to love me again.”
…
getō tilts his head, opening his eyes, a golden brown dragging you into their depths. he looks expectant, selfishly awaiting a response, and you’re tired.
(unbeknownst to you, he resists the urge to intertwine his fingers with yours, to trace every ridge and dip of your knuckles with his thumb. to squeeze your palm like a promise, something concrete.)
when your mind has managed to untangle itself, something in your gaze turns sharp. frustrated, impatient, disappointed, looking at him with a raised brow. ”you really are stupid, aren’t you?”
as fast as it came, your gaze returns to the screen in front of you. monochrome, flickering, two beautiful men. one of them is holding a gun to the other’s temple, and the victim looks appeased. the movie’s almost over.
(how very like him, to find such violence beautiful.)
quietly, you swallow down the bile building up in the back of your throat. a decade of bitter flavours. clenching your teeth, nails digging into the couch beneath you, leather on your cold fingertips. it’s a little peeled.
you wonder why you even bother being honest, when he never quite seems to return the favour.
but the room is dimly lit, and the moon is big and bright, and your ex of ten years is sitting right next to you. in your apartment, on your couch, watching a movie on your tv. when he could, should be anywhere else. he’s with you, and he pulls the words out of your throat without trying. puppeteering your heartbeat.
”… as if i ever stopped.”
silence.
you hear a gunshot ring out. low, muffled, a crackle of static. one of the men falls down to the ground, and you can’t tell who's who. the actors are forgettable, but the soundtrack is pretty. it rings in your ears like a lullaby.
getō says your name.
it sounds the same as you remember. honeyed syllables, spilling from his parted lips, silky and sweet. he says your name like he’s asking to marry you, and you can hear the smile he’s struggling to repress.
”will you look at me?”
it’s less of a question, and more of a demand. you wonder why he even bothers asking — but you’ve never really understood the way his brain works. never understood why a burglar would bother asking the shopkeeper for permission before reaching for the register, when they’ll be leaving with the money either way.
and you’re paralyzed, stuck in place on the couch, gaze glued to the screen in front of you. but you aren’t watching, not really, just looking. and you don’t want to see what kind of face he’s making. so you whisper;
”.. no.”
”no?” he mimics, something like a coo on the tip of his tongue, lightly amused. as always, you can feel his gaze, travelling down your face like a trickle of honey. ”and why is that, my dear?”
you bite down on your lip.
a long, long moment passes, and neither of you say a word. he’s looking at you, and you’re looking down at your lap, at your clenched fists. a little meek. it’s quiet, the calm before the storm, and you know exactly what’s going to happen — because it’s already set in stone.
”because you’re going to kiss me,” you exhale, finally, resignation on your breath. ”and i’m going to let you.”
…
for a second, you wonder if his silence means he understands. if he can hear the desperate plea in your voice, if he can translate it correctly.
but his fingertips graze the lines of your jaw, his palm sneaks under your chin, and he keeps you in place. turning your head to meet his gaze, his amber eyes, dripping with something hungry; something pleading.
this time, he doesn’t ask for permission. he leans forward until there’s no space between you, tips your head back, and kisses you with bated breath — as softly as he can manage, which is still too intense for your liking. still brimming with desperation, something carnal, like he wants to pour his everything into the kiss but knows he shouldn’t. he tastes like tobacco.
and it’s over.
you know it is, because your senses are flooded with him, him, him. nothing but him, the strands of his raven hair ghosting your skin, his greedy tongue licking along your teeth, large palms resting on your spine and the back of your head. you’re pliant, surrendering yourself to his touch. he’s cradling you like he loves you, and you feel like you’ve done something awful, because you have.
because you’ve let him come so close, again, invited him inside — inside of your home, your ribcage. and he won’t bother making a home for himself there, because it’s already waiting for him, untouched, between your fourth and fifth ribs.
you never bothered to get rid of it.
(that’s your sin.)
getō hums, muffled by your lips. he sounds pleased. he sounds like he’s been waiting for this for decades, and you suppose that he has. he murmurs praise that you do nothing but swallow down.
everything feels too perfect, too normal, and it’s too much, too much, too much. your lips pressed together, your chests pressed together, your noses meeting in a tender touch. you choke down the noise that threatens to push past your lips, and he kisses you like a starved man. like he’s trying to drown in you.
he only pulls away once he realizes that you’re crying, and by then it’s too late. his widening eyes don’t matter, your cold hands don’t matter, the tremble of your erratic heartbeat has never mattered less. he looks at you with remorse, and it doesn’t matter.
(he’s yours, again, and you’re his.
you can’t stop crying.)
”… i’m sorry.”
in the background, you hear the sound of gentle whispers, an ending scene. the men are talking to each other, speaking softly, and your eyes burn with tears. geto catches one of them with his forefinger, and leans forward to plant a kiss against your nose. chaste, this time. still mumbling apologies.
it doesn’t matter, because a tiny sob still breaks past your throat — and you know the sound must hurt him.
you hate that. you hate that you always hurt him, hate that you care, hate that you feel nothing but guilt when he’s around. you hate the movie still playing to your left, hate that he doesn’t hate it, hate that he loves you. hate that you love him, that you probably always will.
you hate that you blink up at him with glassy eyes, swallow down a shaky breath, and kiss him again. hate that it’s still the only thing you know how to do well.
he doesn’t pull away, only biting back a noise of surprise — but he makes sure to kiss you gently, as if you’re made of porcelain, slow and tender, cradling you closer still. he wipes away your tears with his thumb, one after another, and you hate yourself because everything feels so deliriously right.
somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that what you’re playing is a losing game.
(he’s yours, and you’re his. it’s already set in stone.)
fury | e.yeager
eren yeager x fem!reader
!!: SMUT, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), pet names like (bitch, whore, slut, princess, baby), degradation, humiliation, orgasm denial, slight reader x jean kirstein, eren’s so fucking mean (sorry not sorry), making each other jealous, rough sex, dirty talk, jealous eren RAAAAWR.
Eren didn’t even need to say anything and yet you knew he was fucking pissed.
You almost stopped what you were doing due to his intense stare from half-way across the busy room—but, you held out. Knowing this whole debacle had a high risk, yet high reward. If it worked in your favour, that is.
You were currently situated in the sweaty, loud house party your friend had thrown—tipsy as fuck and feeling disgustingly cheeky. Your cheeks were flushed red as you pushed your bottom half back against the male behind you. You knew your boyfriend was watching you mindlessly dance with your ex-boyfriend, Jean Kirstein, who you knew Eren despised.
You were only grinding against the tall, mullet-headed male to piss your boyfriend off for starting a meaningless fight in the car before the party. You were petty, Eren knew this, but he never knew you’d take it this far.
Jean’s hands rest against your liquid hips as you swayed deliciously to the beat, your body on fire as Eren bore holes into Jean’s hands against your soft skin.
“Someone doesn’t look to happy you’re with me, huh?”
Jean’s voice snapped your attention away from Eren’s dark, hooded eyes to his familiar voice. You knew exactly what he meant as you swallowed thickly.
“He can sulk all he wants, I don’t care.” You lied—knowing you did care what he thought as you wouldn’t be with Jean if you didn’t.
Jean chuckles breathily as he runs his hands up to your waist and back down again, choosing to not reply as you continue to dance with him.
You knew you had gotten to Eren but until he approached you, you weren’t gonna stop. However, you knew Eren was stubborn as shit, so if it took you all night to make him give in, then so be it.
“Looks like the score board is one nil now.”
Furrowing your eyebrows, you follow Jean’s eyes as he laughs evilly, watching something intently. However, your stomach drops when your eyes fall upon Jean’s entertainment.
Eren, leaning up against the wall, not bothering to watch your childish acts any longer, standing infuriatingly close to a girl whom he smirked down at as she whispered sweet nothings into his ear.
You could kill him.
Eren only turned back to you as the girl littered kisses against his tattooed neck, smirking like a fucking asshole at you.
Jean laughs lightly against your ear, whispering delicately into it, “Well, now that our audience is back, let’s put on a show, hm?”
Jean half expected you to just continue dancing with him to piss Eren off further, but you knew that wouldn’t faze him anymore.
So, when you turned around to face your ex-boyfriend and pulled his neck down to smush your lips together in a feverish kiss—both boys were taken aback. Eren twitched angrily as he shoved the girl nibbling at his neck off him, huffing loudly in rage as he watched you shove your tongue down your exes throat.
Before you could even get a proper taste of Jean, you were ripped away from the kiss and dragged through the bustling crowd. You could’ve laughed at the sheer grip Eren had around your wrist as he dragged you through the house and into a deserted room, slamming the door behind him.
“You think you’re fucking funny, huh?” He spat, the angriest you’d ever seen him in your life. “Think you’re fucking cute?”
“N-no, Eren—“
His body flew to yours in lightning speed as he pushed your body against the wall, hands forcing your own against the cold brick, gripping them in place roughly.
“Had an awful lot to say earlier, didn’t you? Where’s that fucking bitch attitude gone? Jean kissed it all out of you?” He growled, his dark gaze glaring down at you.
Words failed at you as your jaw fell slack at the sheer fury that laced his words, his voice low and indignant due to your actions. Your heart rate picked up so fast you thought you were going to go into cardiac arrest at the thought of what he was gonna do to you.
“Speak, bitch.”
His words stung as you whimpered slightly, “I-I’m sorry, baby, I swear.” The sweet nickname you slipped in doing nothing but pissing him off further.
“No, you’re fucking not,” He snapped, slamming his fist next to your head, his anger sending shockwaves of excitement to your core, “God, when did I get with such a fucking whore?”
The disgustingly degrading nickname should’ve offended you, but, your pearly white teeth couldn’t help but sink down into your pink lips as you rubbed your legs together to get some sort of sweet relief.
Eren noticed your antics, pushing his knee between your leg, forcing you to stop. This only ripped a needy whine from your throat which you instantly regretted as you met his eyes.
Uh, oh.
He dragged you from the wall and pushed you roughly onto the plush of the bed, as he ripped his t-shirt from his body, then slotted himself between your spread legs.
“You fucking disgust me,” He spat, his hands coming down to attack your breasts in your dress, tugging at your nipples roughly as you whined. “You’re nothing but a fucking slut—good only for making me cum and whoring around, aren’t you?”
His hands ripped at your clothes like his life depended on it—tossing them aside as he stared menacingly down at your naked frame. He wasted no time in undoing his belt and pushing his jeans to the floor.
“Get on your knees.”
You practically threw yourself to the floor as you kneeled in front of him, staring up at him through your lashes as he glared down at you, nothing but anger and disgust in his expression as he pulled his achingly hard cock from his boxers. His tip dribbled pre-cum as it bobbed in front of your face.
Eren didn’t ask your permission, not that he needed to, before forcing your mouth open and shoving all eight inches down your throat. You gagged and spluttered around him as the abruptness of his actions took you by surprise. Tears welled up in your eyes as he didn’t stop to let you adjust to his size, only continuing to slide his heavy cock across your tongue.
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” He growled, his hand nestled in your hair, pulling at the hair so hard you thought he’d tugged some out as you whined against him. “Don’t resist me, baby, you know this is what you deserve.”
Your nails clawed at his thighs as he thrust his hips feverishly against your mouth, balls slapping your chin as his pace never faltered. Tears fell quickly down your flushed cheeks as he abused your throat, putting your gag reflex to use as his tip smacked against your uvula.
“Eren, please!” You begged, as he pulled you off him briefly as you caught your breath, spit and tears covering your face as you heaved for breath.
“What? You think I’d fuck you nice and slowly after your behaviour earlier? I’m not Jean, the weak, vanilla piece of shit.” He spat, laughing darkly, “You wanna act like a slut, you get treated like one.”
He forced you back down onto his cock with a loud, gargled whine from you as fucked himself faster down your throat. He grunted lowly in pleasure as he planted a harsh slap to your cheek, forcing more tears from your eyes.
“Fuck, gonna make me cum down that stupid fucking throat if you carry on gaggin’ on me like that.”
You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, moaning on him as you provided yourself some sort of action as he fucked your throat mercilessly.
Eren didn’t like that.
He kicked your knees apart angrily, “Don’t you fucking dare.” He snarled, pulling his cock from your mouth as you whined desperately.
Eren dragged you up to your feet by your hair, shoving you back on the bed harshly as he followed you. You barely had time to think about what was going on before he forced your legs apart and planted his hot tongue against your sex.
You cried out, your hand flying to his messy bun, threading your fingers through his hair as he sucked your clit frenetically, groaning against your pussy. The rumble of his moans against your throbbing clit had you climbing towards your orgasm quicker than expected.
“Can’t even let me cum because you just want to yourself, you selfish bitch.” Eren snapped, pulling his mouth from your hot core, spitting on your pussy lewdly, and planting a rough slap to your aching clit, eliciting a loud, scratchy whine from your abused throat.
“Eren, please!” You cried as you felt him slip two long fingers inside your soaking wet hole, back arching off the bed as he pumped his fingers in and out of you as he lapped at your clit. Goddamn did that man know how to please you.
“‘M gonna cum!” You wailed, eyes squeezing shut as you could nearly taste your orgasm, Eren continuing to suck your clit like a thirsty man in the desert.
Just as your coil almost snapped in your tummy, your pussy felt awfully empty as Eren ripped his mouth and fingers from you just as you were about to cum. You didn’t even hide your annoyance as you burst into tears, wailing loudly as your pleasure faded away as he ripped it from you.
“E-Eren, please! Please—hiccup, please I need it. I’m so sorry, Rennie, please, please make me cum, please!” You begged, hands flailing at him, attempting to pull his stiff body down towards you as you sobbed into his shoulder, gripping onto his shoulders, nails piercing the skin.
“Jesus Christ, you’re pathetic.” Eren breathed evilly, shoving you off him, your body bouncing off the bed, your tits jiggling with every movement that had Eren’s cock twitching. “You don’t fucking deserve it, okay? I gotta punish you somehow, hm? You did this to yourself.”
“B-But, that girl!” You fought back, feeling anger bubbling in your chest as the reality of the situation hit you, “Wasn’t just me.”
“She came up to me—you willing went out of your way to find that asshole and stick your slutty tongue down his throat.” Eren bit back, pushing your legs up, folding you in half.
He leant down to spit on your pussy once more, catching some of the slick on his cock as he nudged your entrance, jerking the lubricant over his aching boner. You whined loudly as he pushed his tip inside you, knowing the second he prodded the sweet spot inside you, you’d soon build your orgasm back up again.
“If you so much as even think about cumming, I’ll stop and never fuck you again, and I fucking mean it.”
His threat played with your heart strings—feeling awfully sorry for yourself as you threw your head back in irritation, crying out loudly. Eren’s hand flew to your neck as he pushed himself fully inside you, again, not letting you adjust to his length, revelling in the way you wailed in wanton at his size.
Eren’s pace was evil.
You’d never been fucked like this before. Your legs practically behind your head, his large hand choking your neck, cutting off your airflow, and his cock drilling into you at such a speed you thought you were going to pass out.
You tried not to enjoy the way he was treating you—but, you secretly had never been more turned on in your entire life. Your pussy wetter than it’d ever been, evidently as Eren was cursing himself mentally at how incredible you felt—but, he wasn’t about to praise you right now.
“‘Ren, p-please!” You gasped out, nails carving up his back as he fucked you up, revelling in the way you whined his nickname loudly every time.
“Gonna cum so fuckin’ hard.” He warned you, his voice hoarse as his eyes rolled back, “Open your fucking mouth.”
You did as he asked as his pace quickened as he chased his orgasm, groaning and grunting against your leg. He pulled out quickly and forced his dick down your throat once more, crying out in pleasure as he lolled his head back.
-
Jean furrowed his eyebrows as he felt two tiny fingers tap his shoulder, ordering him to turn around.
He felt even more confused at the sight of you in front of him—eyes red and tired, cheeks stayed in tears with a red handprint on display on one, hair a total mess and your neck littered in bruises and another large handprint around the circumference of the front of your neck. Behind you, resided your smug boyfriend, smirking blissfully at your ex-boyfriend.
“What the fuck is this, Yeager?” Jean spat, feeling suddenly a bit threatened by the presence of your boyfriend.
“Open up, princess.”
Eren’s words confused Jean as he looked down at you. But, they soon made sense as you lolled your tongue out for Jean to see, secretly loving the way his jaw fell slack at the pool of cum resting on the pink muscle.
Jean’s eyes shot open in shock as he watched as you peered up at him so innocently as some of Eren’s cum rolled off your tongue and onto the floor.
“Wanna kiss my girlfriend again, Kirstein?”
this is for you @jaegsnicotine 🤗
meow
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