Yandere Satoru Gojo - Blog Posts

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ Speechless ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡ ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡

𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲

pairing: yandere satoru gojo x chubby reader

summary: at the beginning gojo made your life hell when he first sees you because you won't give him attention. then it all changes, he just hated seeing you cry and he'll use all his resources and power to love you and spoil you

word count: 14.7k words

a/n: okay okay! i'm back! with something incredibly longer compared to every other oneshot i've written. i started this before gojo's birthday but it just kept getting longer and longer, then came the holidays and then i got ill too but it's finally finished, yay! i hope you all enjoy this and of course like always make sure you read the warnings before reading x

content warnings: gojo is a yandere!! friends to lovers, hints of stalking, gojo manipulates everyone, mentions of breeding, fingering, rough unprotective sex, cumming inside, gojo calls her 'silly girl' in his head and thinks she thinks to much (kind of like 'you don't need to think or make decisions or earn money because i can do that for you'), dirty talk, dumbification, objectification(?), submissive reader, dominant gojo, petnames: princess, sweetheart, (good girl) (if i've missed anything please let me know because it's very possible with 14.7k words - mdni / 18+

everyone flocks to satoru gojo, girls and guys alike, they want his attention, if only for a second, and want to be noticed by him. he's the beating heart to every social situation, with an ability to draw every single eye in the room on him, feeding off the spotlight and admiration. whatever he wants he gets it, he has since he was a young child so why are you being so difficult?

there's not many who he considers his equal, if he had to pick out one it would be his best friend from childhood suguru geto, two families telling their children to talk to the other in hopes to form more connections. gojo remembers to this day being five years old dressed up in a suit that was too stuffy for any five year old to wear, taken to a party with his parents. everywhere he looked there were elites and politicians, anyone and everyone with power. he remembers the nudge his mother gave him towards suguru's direction, telling her son to make friends. others at the university are lesser than him, but they're entertaining for a short duration, before he gets bored of them and tosses them away for someone else, that is.

then there's the nobodies, the lowest of the low. uninteresting in every way possible with nothing to offer him, nothing to pique his interest and in terms of satoru gojo you're a typical nobody but even the nobodies look his way when they think people won't notice. even the really shy ones or the stubborn ones who always say how much they despise how everyone adores him will momentarily glimpse in his direction when they think no one's looking.

but you... you look right past him, and it pisses him off. do you think you're better than him? even people in long term relationships eyes drift to him, most would break up with their partner for just one night with him. this 'most' mainly means all, everyone wants a chance to be with the man whose sexual escapades are spoken about frequently in such a high regard.

it's not like you don't know about his existence, you do, but you want to keep yourself to yourself. even your closest friends talk about the famous satoru gojo but he gives you the shivers for some reason. you've never spoken to him and you don't intend to, even if it's everyone's dream, it's not yours, something's just not quite right about him. you live in completely different worlds, different universes, and you prefer to dream about things more realistic, maybe dragons and flying saucers on occasion but never satoru gojo. not only is associating with him unrealistic but just the thought of him makes you shudder. he's too cocky, too self-assured, too arrogant, too loud, too... attractive, it doesn't seem right that someone would look that good. it's like he's hypnotised everyone bar you.

first it's irritation when he notices your behaviour, it's clear when you're acting the complete opposite to everyone, then it's anger when he sees you pay attention to someone that isn't him. something must be wrong with you if you're laughing at a joke that he didn't make, a joke told by another nobody, not just a nobody but someone a year younger. his actions are fuelled by his anger and his annoyance towards you. he makes sure every friend and acquaintance you have stops talking to you, it's easy really. all those so called 'friends' leave you alone after 'overhearing' hushed voices talk about how gojo's more likely to talk to someone when they're not friends with someone who's like you. it was easy to orchestrate it, all he needed was two girls who constantly fawn over him, perfect for doing his bidding.

"gojo never talks to yumehara, even though she tries so hard."

"yeah, it's because she's friends with moriyama. associating with someone like her is a no-go."

"moriyama?"

"yeah, you know that girl in class a, the one who thinks she's better than everyone and doesn't care about gojo."

you now sit by yourself and walk the corridors alone- easy. if he was more sympathetic towards you he'd almost feel bad that all of your friends would stop talking to you so readily.

next was your grades. the gojo family funds the university meaning that he had much more power than the average person, even more than people who also come from wealthy families. professors know it's in their best interest not to get on the bad side of the heir of the gojo family, not just for the university's sake but for themselves as well. one wrong move and they'll be fired, blacklisted throughout town unable to get a job. one wrong move and the university could lose all their funding. he wields more power than the headmaster.

you already get average grades, typically b's and occasionally c's but if he plays his cards right he knows he can lower those c's another extra grade down to an f and he knows just who to start with. professor iura: a man in his mid-thirties who's respected by all and he knows you like him. he's been told you try extra hard in his class, taking double the amount of notes in his lectures than you ordinarily do. he knows getting an f in his class first would be more hurtful than over all the other classes.

"professor iura don't you think the girl who wrote the paper on-" he stops mid sentence, what did you write about again?- "something so boring it hasn't even sunk in. i remember everyone else's but not hers." he only remembers his own and there was never any reason to see what a nobody like you wrote about.

the professor's eyebrows furrow before quickly schooling his expression back to impassive. satoru has used his influence before but iura's never heard about him using it as payback for whichever poor soul's caught his ire. "who is it?" iura thought you deserved an a this time, it's disappointing that he'll have to give you an f.

all these things start stacking up and you feel like the universe is against you, you don't understand your sudden drop in grades or why your friends won't talk to you. you do your best to put on a brave face but you feel alone, you have no one to turn to, you don't understand why everyone gives you the cold shoulder and why they pretend you don't exist, your facial expression dropping when someone ignores you for the umpteenth time. you don't understand how your water always seems to spill in your bag all over your things even though you swear you've put on the lid securely, screwing the lid on the bottle so tightly your hands suffer the consequence, almost raw, from how tight you've tried to make it. you can't afford to buy another textbook and you don't have enough time to rewrite your essay.

you don't understand how things go missing every time you look away. you glance to the window when you see a falling leaf, burnt orange and crimson red litter the floor outside. autumn is so beautiful, a season of harvest and abundance but it's a reminder to you that nothing lasts forever, leaves fall and people leave. people talk about how autumn is maturing but omits the melancholy idea that it's just growing old, that burnt oranges and crimson reds are just rotting on the ground. your whole world is rotting with every second, the universe has it out for you and by the time you look back into the room your pen is missing.

gojo takes pleasure from seeing your face at these times, that puzzled look and biting your lip in frustration as you've lost another pen or that pout when your friend ignores you, he thinks it looks pretty on you. not that he'd ever admit that of course.

his pleasure twists though, into a new emotion- a darker emotion. you got another f and you look... sad... distraught. satoru enjoys seeing your pout when something goes wrong for you, he thinks it's pretty but he's watching you like a hawk right now, he can't take his eyes off you, he can tell you're trying desperately to hold it all together but you can't stop your eyes from welling up, it's impossible to stop your waterline brimming with tears, overflowing like a broken tap, hot tears running down your face, you attempt to quickly wipe your tears away with the back of your sleeve in hopes that nobody has seen but it's too late for that. he thought he would take pleasure in seeing you cry but instead it's pure rage. even though he's the one that's convinced all of your professors to give you f's, all he feels is fury for them making you cry. he doesn't want you to cry, he wants to keep you safe, wants to make you all his.

in the following weeks professors leave the university without announcing it to students. leaving studies and classes in a limbo for awhile. not just the professor who made you cry is gone but also iura and several others.

with that limbo period came more group projects to fill in the space of the lack of lectures. a 'little' push from satoru to higher ups and you were paired up together, leaving you no choice to spend time together and have your first conversation with each other. at this point he needed to be near you. you sit across from each other after class and you introduce yourself to each other, even though you both know who the other is, you didn't expect him to know you and he acts like he doesn't. "oh i know you, i really liked your last paper. you got an f, right? i can't believe that, it was the best one." after all your friends avoiding you and all those f's getting validation makes you shyly smile, your cheeks feel warm and you're starting to understand why people like him.

things start to change after that. your f's go back to normal and people are kinder, with everything going back to normal satoru makes sure you're still alone though, makes sure your friends continue not to talk to you. he's the only one that's allowed to do that. your friends still don't spend time with you, instead gojo does and honestly you don't mind that change, you appreciate that change, you don't know what happened with your friends but you like how gojo doesn't dismiss your emotions and opinions like they used to do.

you previously had that inkling that something was wrong with him but his easygoing smiles and playful words make you enjoy your time with him and his once overconfidence that you always used to observe which once bothered you now makes your heartbeat go crazy in your chest, like marching drums hammering away against your ribcage.

satoru notices this change in you and he takes advantage of it. this change doesn't make him lose interest in you, maybe if you were someone else it would but not with you, if anything it makes him more interested because he learns more and more without you, some with your consent and knowledge others without it. he thinks you look so cute when you smile and he loves hearing you laugh. he never really liked music but he's listened to all those music and songs you share to the world like the ones you love that you play in cars and talk to people about them, plus the more secret ones hidden in your likes and private playlists. he loves the things you do that you don't realise you're doing, the soft sighs you make when you put on a warm coat when it's cold or the hums when you drink a hot drink. how you bite your pen when you're deep in thought and linger by the door before leaving the house and locking up, mentally checking you have everything you need with you. the little moans you make when you eat something that you love, at those times satoru has to restrain himself from kissing you. he loves it all. he loves you.

you see each other whenever possible and if you can't you'll be texting, he'll send you emoji's at the end of messages that you don't understand the context to and will send you selfies and photos of cats he's seen while around town.

after the first few times at the library you tend to see each other at café because they're more relaxed and you can talk as loud as you want to. he starts paying for your lunch whenever you're together, you always used to insist to pay yourself but after the first few times you relented, he could buy you breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday for the rest of your life yet it still wouldn't make a dent in his wallet. not only does he buy you lunch now but it's much more extravagant then you could afford for yourself.

you're walking together past a store front window and gojo sees something that catches his eye, stopping where he is and pulling on your sleeve to stop you too. "look at this!"

your eyes scan the window not knowing what he's talking about, all of them are designer clothes but none of them are men's. "what are we looking at gojo?"

he grins and points to a blouse, "that would look so good on you, you'd look so cute!" 'doubtful' you think. you scoff, that is a cute blouse but no way. "hey, what was that for? it's true." he insists.

"i don't even need to go in there to see that it's way out of my price range, plus designer brands like that never have my size anyway."

"you didn't say you didn't like it."

"me liking or not liking it isn't the point."

you carry on the rest of your day like it didn't happen and you forget about the whole thing. gojo doesn't.

all of gojo's fans start to get jealous of you, it's been over three months, the limbo period is over and new people have been hired, group projects are finished but you still spend all your days together. his previous relationships have been no more than eye candy only lasting a couple weeks yet you don't even seem to be dating so why is he always smiling when you talk and is walking you everywhere. they can't comprehend it, you're a nobody.

satoru loses it one day. you've gone to hand in your library book, it's overdue and you had forgotten about it, you needed it for when you and gojo were working together but you forgot all about it. gojo's waiting outside for you, you know the librarian likes you more so you've told him it's better if you go on your own, he knows that isn't true but as long as the librarian is kind to you he won't intervene. 'if the librarian knows what's good for her she'll let it go and not upset you.'

someone gojo vaguely recognises as a cheerleader who suguru slept with a few times spots him and goes over to him, leaning against him and pushing her breasts up against him. it disgusts him. "what are you doing here gojo? don't tell me that friend of yours is making you wait for her." she says in a sickly sweet voice and his eye twitches. he doesn't reply, she should get the idea and leave. "if i were her i'd never do that. why don't you come hang out with me? me and my friends are having a party later we'd love it if you'd come. normally i wouldn't come up to you so boldly but i think i'd be able to show you a good time, not like that girl you're always spending time with, you're so out of her league." she runs her hand along his arm but he grabs it tightly making her wince.

"don't ever fucking talk about her again," gojo responds coldly. he squeezes tighter and she yelps. he lets go of arm and pushes her away, almost in revulsion that he touched her. she stumbles and leans against the wall, looking shocked. at that time you push open the door with a relieved look on your face. satoru ignores the girl, acting like she doesn't exist, he smiles brightly at you. "everything okay?"

"yeah, she was surprisingly very understanding," you return his smile and shut the door behind you. when you shut the door you see the girl leaning against the wall staring at gojo and you wonder why. you've seen lots of gojo's fans but none of them have looked at him like that. you turn your attention back to gojo, not really wanting to engage with the girl if you can help it, you've never seen her before but you can tell that she's someone who would make your life hell if you knew each other as teenagers. "is everything okay?" you ask him, vaguely gesturing to her.

he grins and strolls towards you lifting up his sunglasses and lifting up your chin to look at him, forcing you to make eye contact and in doing so you get flustered and frazzled. gojo would sometimes put his arm over your shoulder when your walking together or grab hold of you quickly from behind unexpectedly, making you jump but this is the first time it's ever been so intimate. it's also rare for you to see gojo without his sunglasses on. "everything's fine." he grins and pats your head jokingly making you glare and pout. he snickers as he sees your reaction and lets go of your chin, slinging his arm over your shoulder.

"alright, if you say so, but for lunch i'm getting extra for that, i'm not some pet." you grumble and walk off together. satoru's mind flashes with images with you on your knees, 'i think she'd make a good pet. maybe i should buy her a collar.' he snickers again and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, "what's so funny?"

"nothing," he smirks. as you walk away he turns back around to look at the girl still standing there paralysed and glares hard at the girl. normally people would be swooning when they see his bright blue eyes like the clearest spring days but not right now, they'd all be wrong, his eyes aren't clear like any warm day they're frozen over and icy, with flecks of white and all that girl feels is despair and dread. he looks at her so cruelly, it makes her unable to move- frozen in place.

you haven't seen gojo for the last few days, it's the longest you've gone without seeing him since you became friends. even if you've both been busy previously gojo makes sure to have seen you, even if it's only for a minute, but you've both been too busy. gojo has had basketball practise in the day and in the night his family demands his attendance whilst discussing family affairs and you on the other hand have been busy studying, wanting to make sure you don't get any f's again. you don't realise you won't though, everything could be incoherent with each other word being spelled terribly and you'd never get an f again, gojo's made sure of that. he won't let anyone make you cry again.

you rhythmically tap your fingers, fidgeting on the table where your laptop and textbooks are, 'i want to see him.' satoru's scored another goal, this time a three point line goal, normally he goes for slam dunks but as long as he's the one scoring it doesn't really bother him. he's got a big game coming up and you're going to be there, you're going for him, you've never been to any of the games before, not having any real interest in the sport but now your friend is the star player so you're not going to miss any games. he'll score every single point his team makes so your eyes have no option but to focus on him and after the match you'll compliment him. the coach asks him something but it's all white noise to him, 'i miss her.'

you get a text on the fourth day of not seeing him and when you read the message you smile so wide your face becomes sore. 'the last few days have been so long without you! i know we normally go out for lunch but do you want to go for dinner?'

you don't hesitate responding, 'i'd love too!'

'i'll pick you up an hour before our reservations, i've brought you something.'

'reservations? did you plan tonight? and what's this about buying me something? you already pay for my lunch.'

'i've pulled some strings xoxo see you tonight.' you scowl when you read that he's blatantly ignored your comment about buying you something and if he's went out his way to pull some strings for this meal it must be more than a fast food drive-thru or the equivalent. you didn't really expect him to take you somewhere where you can eat in your car or it's acceptable to wear a three day old top and a hoodie that is a little too small but for him to go to the effort of pulling strings this must be a sophisticated place.

half an hour later you hear your phone again, multiple messages being sent one after another, five buzzes. 'shit.' 'I FORGOT' 'i forgot to send a time!' 'i'll see you at 6.' 'pretend this never happened.' you cover your face with your phone and giggle.

by six you're ready, it's taken you longer to get ready then you'd like to admit but you wanted to look pretty, it would be embarrassing to underdress. compared to gojo anything you or any 'normal' person would wear looks cheap in comparison to all his designer clothes but you spent hours making sure it would be suitable.

it's ten past six when you hear a knock on the door. opening it you see gojo in all his glory, his attractiveness on full display and his wealthiness showing, wearing an all black giorgio armani suit with a white shirt underneath, his sunglasses look different than normal, fancier, you think you can make out a ray-ban logo. he's wearing a rolex watch which is more than double your monthly rent. his hair looks shorter than the last time you saw him, he must of had a haircut in the last few days. it's obvious the way your eyes linger on him, checking him out and gojo grins as you unknowingly fuel his pride and ego.

"awe, you look so cute princess," gojo says playfully, smirking. princess- the first time he had called you that you malfunctioned, your eyes had widened and you forgot to breath. no one else has ever called you a term of endearment before and you didn't expect your friend, satoru gojo, to be saying it. you didn't ask why he called you it, why would you? it made your fingertips tingle and the inside of your chest to warm up. "can i come in?" you nod your head and move to the side to give him enough room to come in and close the door after him. "you really do look beautiful," he says gently, you don't think you've ever heard him speak so tenderly before.

"you look good too gojo, you always do but- but tonight as well," you tell him, bashfully smiling. he grins and his eyes gleam with glee at the genuine compliment. he loves when you compliment him, it feels different than the vapid ones others offer him, even if you compliment him with only a few words it means a greater deal.

behind his back he's carrying a sleek black box with a scarlet red chiffon ribbon wrapped around it in a bow containing his gift to you, your eyes narrow when he hands it too you, although your voice is soft and quiet when you say, "it's not my birthday gojo, why are you buying me things? you don't have to do that," your voice gets quieter with each word spoken.

gojo takes your hand in his and places the box in your hand. "i can buy you things because i can. i have enough money and i want to spend it on you," he tells you firmly and your stomach flutters with butterflies but you don't know why, his hand is awfully soft maybe that's why your heart is racing or maybe it's because he spoke to you firmly like there's no room for arguments. gojo cups your cheek with his unoccupied hand and strokes it, your whole body melts at the action, "just open it 'kay?"

you nod your head and hum, relenting- just like you did when he began paying for your lunch. you delicately unwrap the bow, not wanting to ruin the box, and open it, you didn't know what to expect, you could of been given a hundred guesses and a hundred days to guess what he brought you and you still would have no clue. you pause as you open up the lid, your heart skips a beat and it's almost as if the air was stolen from your lungs like deflated balloons as you breathlessly say, "satoru! what's this?" inside the box is the blouse you were looking at all those weeks ago, the one you said was too expensive, the one you said would never fit.

'satoru' it's the first time you've ever called him by his given name and it sounds so angelic coming from your lips that he's forgotten to breathe, everything pausing and not moving. "do you like it?" he finally asks.

you nod your head in an almost daze, you're in awe that he'd really give you something so beautiful, that he would go out of his way to buy it. "i- i don't deserve this gojo."

he steps closer to you, "uh uh, what's with calling me gojo again?"

your eyes widen as you realise that only a second ago you called him by his given name, "oh! i'm so sorry! i was just in shock, i didn't mean to call you that gojo," you ramble.

he smoothed out the wrinkles of his forehead rubbing it with his fingers, which is currently caused because he finds your lack of awareness disconcerting. "that isn't what i meant princess, i want you to call me satoru. i want to give this to you."

"oh... okay," you're quiet and you've pressed your lips together to stop yourself from smiling. it won't be hard to start calling him satoru, you already call him satoru in your head. after a long pause of you trying to put your thoughts all together you start speaking again, "are you sure about this satoru? this is bound to be expensive, right? it's- it's ralph lauren isn't it? isn't this too expensive too be spending on me." gojo has to hide a smirk at that, 'has she forgotten how rich i am?' "and, and i don't want you to think that i want to spend time with you because you have money or anything!" 'ah she's adorable, i could just cancel our reservations and have her on her knees the whole night to say thank you for the blouse... i couldn't do that though, not right now... if i don't see her in that blouse in the next five minutes i'll go insane.'

"of course i'm sure about this princess, i know you'd never spend time with me for clothes from ralph lauren." he resists the urge to pull you in by your waist and kiss you, he doesn't want to overwhelm you, not at this moment.

you take the blouse out of the gift box and hold it out in front of you, there's a twinkle in your doe eyes as you look at it in wonder, knowing that this is yours, whispering, "pretty," it's barely audible. "wait, i didn't think this store went up to my size? did you go to a different store? and... how do you know my size." you ask him confused.

"i have my ways," he answers and winks at you, you scoff at the wink and narrow your eyes.

"seriously satoru," you press him. 'ah she could ask me anything and i'll tell her if she keeps calling me satoru.' "actually i know you know my size from when you've seen my coats and jumpers lying around but-" 'oh yeah... that's totally how i know...' "- how did you get it in my size?"

"annoyingly they don't actually make that particular blouse in your size... how ridiculous is that, sadly i don't have enough money and connections to make them ruined and bankrupt." he says nonchalantly, casually waving his arm around. you bark out a laugh thinking that he was joking. he wasn't. if even one article of clothing isn't made in your size it should only be fair for the brand to lose all their money and reputation, no matter what the brand is.

"hold up how do i have this if it doesn't come in my size?" you cock your head to the side quizzically and for the second time gojo thinks about buying you a collar, maybe with a matching lead...

he grins and flicks his eyes back and forth between your face and the blouse you're holding up. "obviously i got it custom made,"

"that's- that's obvious?!" you splutter and he laughs.

"obviously." he reiterates, enjoying your reaction- dumbstruck and lips parted in near disbelief.

"it'll take us thirty minutes to get to the restaurant princess and our reservations in about forty minutes." he lets you know and you snap out of your stupor.

"i'll just get my bag."

"hang on!" satoru rushes out before you can leave to get your bag. "you look beautiful right now princess but don't you want to see how that blouse looks on you?" you shift your weight from side to side, heat rising to your cheeks. 'do i really have time to get changed? i spent so long choosing this outfit too.' before you can say something gojo stops you, not wanting to give you an opportunity to say no or think to hard about it. he wants you to do it, you don't have to have an opinion on the matter, leave that him. sometimes you can't be trusted when it comes to these things. "come on princess, i'm the one who brought you it. just wear it, please. i want to make sure it fits properly."

you yield, "okay let me go get changed."

satoru smirks, 'good girl.'

as you come back out of the bedroom adrenaline bursts through his veins. you twirl around, pausing when you circle back round to gojo and picking up the hem of your skirt playfully with one hand and doing a half curtsy, it's such a happy coincidence that the blouse pairs so well with the skirt you're already wearing, "how do i look?" 'beautiful, stunning, breathtaking, ethereal.'

"perfect," he replies dreamily and you giggle, thinking he isn't being serious and is exaggerating.

"i'm serious satoru," you tell him, it was meant to sound firm and like you won't back down until you get an answer but it just turned out sounding a little whiny.

gojo smirks and leisurely saunters to you, stopping when coming up close in front of you, "you look truly beautiful sweetheart." 'sweetheart' he's never called you that before. you don't know if your heart can keep taking it all. satoru's your friend, your close friend, but at times like this it's hard to remember that.

you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling- admittedly unsuccessfully. the corners of your mouth still quirk up and your round cheeks become more predominate. you fight the desire to cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, instead opting to twiddle your fingers. "sh-should we get going?"

satoru grins at you, "sure thing."

the whole drive you're both stealing looks at each other when you can get away with it while making small talk and satoru's not letting you know where you're going saying that it's a surprise. whenever there's a red light gojo takes his time to admire you and as you step outside into the night you're astonished at the restaurant in front of you. satoru's handing his car keys to a valet to park his car but you're distracted from that, finally knowing where you're eating tonight. you know this place, well you know of this place. never in a million years would you have thought you'd be dining here, it's so lavish that the cutlery is more expensive than buying a house that's already furnished. "are you okay princess?" you snap out of your daze and nod your head. "alright then, let's go inside."

you follow closely behind gojo, nervous as you enter, you don't think you've ever felt more out of place. satoru doesn't even give his name, the man at the desk recognises him straight away, "ah mr. gojo if you'd follow me." the man leads you upstairs and you hear him asking satoru questions but all that's going through your mind is 'please don't trip, please don't trip.' you're quite accident prone and falling down these stairs would be too much to handle. he takes you all the way to the fourth floor and near the window where you can see the city lights shining below. "here you are."

when the man leaves satoru pulls out a chair for you and you're startled by the gesture. you take your seat and he takes his. "you're more gentlemanly then i expected you to be satoru, pulling out my chair for me," you pause for a second mulling your thoughts over before adding, "or is that normal etiquette?"

"i'm very chivalrous, i'll have you know," he replies pouting and you raise an eyebrow at how fake his answer sounded. he throws his hands up with a smirk, "well, i'm not always chivalrous but if a pretty lady is in front of me than i can become very courteous." you chuckle, trying not to hone in the pretty part for your own sanity.

you glance at the table and worry because satoru might know proper etiquette but you don't. you know the general rules and ideas but why are there two knives and forks next to your plate and a spoon as well? why are there two glasses, a wine one and a normal one? why does the napkin look fancy? does that mean it's just for decoration, what if you need it? you're worried that you'll leave smudges in places where there shouldn't be and what if the table cloth rips? maybe this was a mistake...

"hey," satoru says softly catching your attention, when you look back up at him you see his smirk has turned into a frown and you don't think you've seen that expression on his face before, it doesn't fit right. he's taken off his sunglasses and placed them down, hanging them out of his suit pocket. his striking baby blue eyes glinting when the chandelier droplets move in the light. his snowy white hair looking soft and subdued under the glow of the light and the wavering flame of the candle. "sweetheart, whatever you're thinking right now isn't true."

"how did y-"

he cuts you off before you can finish asking. "because i know you and i know that look on your face, that overthinking look, i can see all those unnecessary cogs turning in your brain."

"i just..." you look away from him, not wanting to look into his eyes any longer knowing you'll crumble but gojo's not allowing that. with how long his arms are it's not difficult reaching over the table to you, placing his fingers below your chin and tilting your head around to look at him.

"just what? sweetheart." satoru presses you.

bunching up your skirt into tight fists you take a shaky breath and try again, "i'm worried i don't belong here. this is a really lovely place satoru and i just... what if i embarrass you? i'm not like you, i don't know when to do certain things or say specific things, i don't know why the table is placed like it is or any of it," after the words stop spewing out your mouth you take another breath, this time not shaky and deep. you look relieved to get it out.

'silly girl.' "do you really think i'd get embarrassed because of you sweetheart? nothing you could do would make me embarrassed. i'm lucky that you're with me right now. i don't care if you don't know all the rules and you shouldn't either, all that matters is that we're here together and we get to finally see each other after some hectic few days," gojo tells you earnestly, his body close to the edge of the table, leaning forward further near you, his voice low and intimate, like what he's saying is a complete secret for your ears only. the days were hectic and finally you're getting to see each other. those tedious meetings with his family and hours of basketball that seemed to stretch on and on but finally- you're together again.

your shoulders sag, you weren't even aware that your plush figure had tensed up in the first place. when satoru saw how you relaxed your posture he picks up one of the menus, "everything okay now?" he asks you, his eyes soft as they gaze at you.

"yeah, i think so." you lick your lips, wetting them after getting dry, the intense spike of emotions throwing your body threw a little bit of a loop, dry lips, moist eyes, with shaky fingers.

gojo grins and leans back on his chair, seeming more casual than a minute ago and hands you a menu. "what are you thinking about getting? i might go for the lobster."

you're browsing the menu but when you hear him you put it down momentarily to reply, "oh please, like you care about the lobster, you just want dessert," you say grinning wide.

gojo gasps and places his hands on his chest in mock offence. "dessert? i think you mean desserts." you laugh, eyes crinkling in amusement. "i want you to enjoy this meal just as much as i'm planning to, that's why i intend to get the lobster, i don't want you to feel like you have to rush while eating just because i want dessert and i don't want you to even think about a silly thing like money." 'so he's ordering one of the biggest and expensive dishes? ...that does sound like satoru actually.' although you would be none the wiser about the prices of these meals, it's one of those high-end restaurants that doesn't have the prices on the menu, satoru must have been here often enough to know how much the lobster costs compared to other dishes.

"i don't know what to do about drinks, i hear they've got a fine collection of wines, maybe we should order a couple bottles? do you like wine?" he already knows the answer to that but you don't know that. "they've also got a wide selection of spirits and non-alcoholic drinks too, i believe."

you both order what you want, making idle conversation while waiting.

by the time your food arrives satoru has tried to convince you that you should've ordered a bigger meal, you're content with your choice in the end though and it's not the most surprising that when your food does arrive there's also a side dish for you to which you didn't order.

"i didn't order this satoru," you raise an eyebrow.

gojo smirks, "i know you didn't, but i did. i didn't want you to be hungry and we haven't had lunch together in days have you been eating properly?"

"are you suggesting that because i'm eating food in my price bracket instead of yours that it's not good enough? the food you pay for is definitely better but poor people food taste good too."

he chuckles and smiles at you fondly before replying, "that's not what i'm saying and you know i'm not. I am however asking have you been eating three meals a day?" you wince. "i thought not."

"i've been busy with studies, i didn't have time to eat three meals a day every single day," you try to justify.

"that's exactly what i mean. i won't take any excuses though, you shouldn't have skipped any meals." satoru lightly scowls you but don't take it too seriously, you should have though. 'silly girl, she really can't look after herself properly. it's a good thing i'm here to keep an eye on her. she just can't be trusted on her own.'

you pout at his reasoning, it's not often that gojo reprimands you or anyone you've seen for that matter. knowing that you don't have a leg to stand on you keep quiet.

when you eat the first bite of your food you hum blissfully, so close to being a moan and it's music to satoru's ears, 'god she's adorable.' he doesn't even realise that he isn't eating until you noticed that he's unmoving. "satoru are you okay? you're not eating."

"i'm fine sweetheart just thinking about something," he responds with a smile.

"okay- if you're sure but make sure you eat soon or it'll get cold."

"yes ma'am," satoru gives you a cheeky smile and picks up his fork.

your face heats up in embarrassment and you lose any composure that you previously had. you avert you eyes and focus on the tablecloth, suddenly finding it very interesting, focusing on the material. you never knew being called something would make you feel so strange, it was the complete opposite to gojo calling you princess or sweetheart.

even though satoru picked up his fork and began eating he didn't take his eyes off you at the corner of his eye, he wanted to see your reaction to that name. he wanted to test how docile you are, his theory that you are submissive and it seems he was right, although even if he wasn't and his theory was proven wrong he'd just mold you into what he wants. 'of course she's so perfect that i don't need to change her, she's such a good girl.'

quickly ma'am leaves your head with the more delicious food you have but you can't help some negative thoughts enter your mind. everything starts to feel too good to be true, the twinkling lights and the flickering of the candle on the table, the scenery and the ambience, the delectable food and the amazing beverages, the dream company with someone who you care so very much about, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else and... it just all feels too good to be true.

'how many girls does gojo come here with? they knew who he was without giving his name. i know i'm not his girlfriend. it's not like i'm jealous it's just- i want this so bad to be special. am i one in a long line?' you have to ask, you have to know. if you're not special you need to know.

"satoru-" you start by getting his attention.

he looks up at you and sees the pensive look on your face, he puts his cutlery down and ceases eating, directing all his attention to you, "yes princess?"

"can i ask you something?" you ask, hesitant and more meekly now you have his attention.

"of course you can princess," he smiles and waits for you to ask whatever it is. he truly doesn't know what it could be right now.

"am i special? i mean- wait- not special. i mean do you take lots of girls here? they seemed to know your name already so do you? i know we're friends so it wouldn't be the same as you taking other girls here but do you take lots of girls here?"

he doesn't even try to stop the smirk that creeps onto his face, you're jealous and what's even better do you even know that you're jealous. satoru can barely contain his excitement.

not once have you brought up other girls, not once. you've never asked if it's true that he doesn't date anyone for longer than a month or that he's gone through half the school. you've never asked about the crude gossip about how big his dick is and how he's the best anyone has ever had even though he knows you've definitely heard those rumours. but right now? right now your words hint of jealously and insecurity.

satoru tells the truth as he replies simply "i haven't brought any girls here." gojo dangles the small piece of information in front of you, it isn't a question of if you'll take it and ask further questions he knows you will but he wants to hear you ask for more, it thrills him.

"you-you dont?" you ask for more explanation.

he grins, "nope," he pops the 'p'. "i go here with my family and on occasion suguru but only sometimes with suguru because it can be kind of intimate with two people," he explains and you giggle at the thought of the two of them sitting across from each other here. he carries on his explanation, "i would never go here with other girls, of course you're special," he tells you honestly and your lips part, hanging onto every word spoken.

'i'm special.' you press your lips together but the corners of your mouth still manage to lift up into a small smile. your brain then fully catches up with everything he said and your heart beats erratically, just now satoru said a dinner here between two people is intimate, he didn't word it in that exact way but if a dinner for two with suguru is intimate, a dinner for two with you might be considered intimate too. overall you're pleased with the answer you were given, gojo thinks your special and he doesn't take other girls here.

you eat the rest of your dinner without incident, enjoying every single mouthful and letting gojo know that it's tasty, thanking him. when you order dessert it's no surprise that satoru goes a bit overboard nearly buying the whole dessert menu, not that you would ever complain about a thing like that, the more time you've spent with gojo the more of a sweet tooth you've become yourself.

satoru doesn't attempt to hide the bill, he enjoys the look on your face when you see the amount in the corner of your eye. for him the money is trivial sum but to you it's shockingly high. he gets a power trip when he sees your eyes widen at the money.

"do you want to come back to mine?" satoru asks you while you leave the restaurant and you agree not thinking anything of it. he's been to yours before but you've never been to his. you don't think there's anything behind his question, you don't even consider he's suggesting something and gojo's well aware that you don't realise.

you don't speak much on your way back, you're leaning against the window and watching the city lights, it's starting to drizzle and you feel at ease in your current company, your eyes fluttering, slightly drowsily, as you hear the rain. gojo taps his fingers on the steering wheel and smiles thinking about how adorable you look right now.

the journey back to satoru's could've taken ten minutes to an hour for all you know as your mind wanders and your eyelids get heavy. when you arrive and he parks up and you get out of the car, you shiver a bit as the cold air hits you, giving you a shock and getting rid of any lingering tiredness and satoru walks around the car to be next to you. he pouts as he bends down to look at you, his sunglasses still in his jacket pocket, "pretty ladies aren't just supposed to have their chair pulled out for them, they're meant to have doors open for them too."

you giggle and bump against him, "flattery will get you nowhere mister." it does. luckily you'll be able to blame your flushed face due to the bitterly cold if gojo questions you on it.

"let's get inside sweetheart, it's cold." 'sweetheart' something else you can luckily blame on the weather. you're not expecting satoru to randomly touch your face though so you think you're going to be okay.

you follow him inside and the size of his place is a large as you thought it would be, you're learning to expect everything he owns is extravagant. the interior however is something you take note of, you've only entered one room but it seems barren. the walls are drab, painted slate grey and off white with only the bare necessaries of furniture and nothing more. devoid of any human presence. you're not even sure if he's lived here long and when he looks at you he can see those unnecessary cogs turning in your head again. "is something on your mind princess?"

"um-" you don't really know if you should bring it up but your curiosity gets the better of you. "have you lived here long?"

"a couple of years," satoru leans against the wall and smirks.

"i just- there's not a lot of stuff in here, it looks like you still have unpacking to do."

he pushes himself off the wall and goes over to you, "do you think i should get more stuff? like cushions for the the sofa and posters on the wall?" you feel gojo's breath against your skin as he leans down to talk in your ear quietly, it's so intimate, your mind draws a blank finding it hard to think with him so close to you. satoru is playful and he's teasing and you've heard rumours that he's a flirt but he's never been this close to you before, you've never been able to smell his cologne and been this close to feel his warm breath against your neck. "maybe we should go shopping together and you could help me pick out some stuff?" you're holding your breath, not being able to breathe anymore. "or maybe it would be better if you just stayed here and brought your stuff along? you do always complain about your rent being high."

you take a sharp intake of air and move a step away from him so you can look back at him in the eye. mentally shaking your head to forgot about his remark. 'did gojo just say about me being his roommate? i'd get to see him everyday... wait... i'd have to hear him all the time when he brings home girls and does he even clean after himself properly?'

"did you have too much to drink tonight satoru? you know you shouldn't drink and drive," you reply with light tone, reminding yourself not to think too hard about the situation, almost being successful in your mission.

satoru just watches you and smirks as he sees you try to ignore his comment. "anyway i don't think you need a roommate." 'roommate? yeah i don't need one of those...'

"and for all i know you might steal my food from the fridge and not wash up the dishes. plus i always forget my towel when i shower." you say the last sentence flippantly, but satoru's mind fills with thoughts of you... 'walking out of the shower into the living room with a small towel on, barely covering your body, body damp with water dripping down your neck, onto your shoulders down to the valley of your breasts...' he's getting hard just imagining it.

"are you okay satoru? you're a bit red." you question and the topic of conversation changes.

satoru moves back away from you, "i'm okay princess, probably thirsty. do you want a drink?" he's glad of this change, he'd like to tease you more but there'd be a real chance you'd see his erection, he could probably tease you about it if you'd notice it but he doesn't think you're ready yet. he wants to make sure you're relaxed and comfortable. you've got a long night ahead of you.

"sure."

following him into the kitchen you take a seat on one of the kitchen counter stools. "what would you like to drink?"

not wanting to ask for something he might not have or cause a fuss you respond with, "whatever you're having is good with me."

'she's so predictable.' he pours both of you your favourite drink, he knows all your preferences, of course he's stocked up on everything you like. he hands it to you and you smile wide, "this is like my all time favourite drink, i didn't know you liked it too."

in situations like this he switches his answers up from time to time not wanting you to get suspicious. "do you like these too? the amount i get through weekly is crazy." he makes sure to separate things into two categories, things you've told him and things you haven't but he knows anyway. he wouldn't want to mention in conversation about how he remembers that you like these drinks when you've never told so.

satoru likes when he tells you things that subtly suggest, 'look how much we have in common. we like all the same music and drinks!'

he prefers when he tells you he remembers something you told him, you quietly replying to him once about how much it means to you because "no one has ever cared about me to remember something so mundane about me." he swears that he'll remember everything about you, he swore he'd never forget a single thing.

gojo takes his place next to you, sitting on the stool and purposely brushing his hand against your rib, under your breast, and he gets pleasure from seeing you straighten up your back.

you both enjoy your drinks and kick your legs in the air. "i feel bad because you've been driving me around all night. when i go i'll get an uber or cab or something."

gojo frowns, "are you going now?"

"n-no! unless you want me to?" you don't want to overstay your welcome and you have a feeling that if gojo wanted you to go he'd let you know and you want to look around the other rooms if you have a chance, perhaps not his bedroom for privacy reasons but you want to see if his other rooms have plain decoration and if the bathroom has any noteworthy products in, you have always wanted to know how his skin looks so good all the time.

"i'm definitely not telling you to leave princess... in fact why don't you stay the night? you can stay in the spare room. no pressure though. you don't have to but there might not be anywhere you can get a lift because of how late it is and how it's the other side of town adding that all onto it's now pouring down. i'd offer to take you back myself but i'm not a huge fan of driving in the dark, especially if the roads are slippy 'cause to the rain. it's your choice. i'm sure you'll get someone to take you eventually but it might be less effort to stay here and leave tomorrow?"

he knows you don't want to wait forever getting home, he knows you want to take him up on his offer but something is stopping you, he doesn't know what is it for a moment until he figures it. "it's absolutely no bother, i don't mind and i've got clothes that you can wear, i think i wore them to lounge about in on tuesday so i haven't had time to wash them yet but i don't think that's a huge problem. i wear them a lot but they're too big on me, you should fit in them."

that small comment might have upset you more if it came from someone else but you don't think gojo meant it maliciously, you think it came from a good place, however you couldn't help thinking about it, the words 'they're too big on me, you should fit in them' ring around your head, about how you should fit in them. you know that satoru didn't mean anything by that but you've never worn someone else's clothes before so it gives you a bit of anxiety and satoru can see that.

gojo speaks again in an attempt to stop you from other thinking. "if you did want to go i'll give you the money to get a cab but if not you can stay, it's no problem, in fact i would enjoy it." your eyes snap up to look at him and you see a soft smile adorning his face. "we could watch that new film you were telling me about and i don't mean to brag but my shower is amazing, nothing compares, even five star hotels." you crack a smile but your mind still lingers on the clothes. satru can see that still not fully convinced and there's something stopping you, "is this about the clothes?" you shift your eyes away nervously not wanting to admit how you clung to a few words. gojo stops himself from sighing in exasperation. "if you'd feel more comfortable keeping the blouse and skirt on you can, you do look good in them but you shouldn't overthink about wearing my clothes. i know i said they're not clean but i've only worn them once since they've been washed it's not like they're diseased." you giggle and satoru gets less exasperated after hearing you laugh.

"they'll fit you if that's what you're worried about and honestly even if they are a little tight you'd still look good in my shirt, it would just hang onto your hips a bit." your mouth parts, the previous throwaway remark being swiped away like smoke by his hand, instead being replaced by insurance that it will fit and if by the off chance it doesn't then it's not the end of the world. he hopes it doesn't fit.

it quells your mind and you agree to stay. "thank you satoru, i'd appreciate staying, over the hassle of getting home."

he grins at your answer, hands itching to take off your blouse. "do you want a shower now so we can watch that film?"

"sounds good." you follow him into the bathroom and it looks like the living room, crystal clean, newly moved into, the only difference is his electric toothbrush on the side and moisturiser. gojo doesn't leave when he shows you into the room, he doesn't leave when he makes a quick explanation about how the shower works, in fact he didn't tell you at all. instead of telling you he turns the shower on, adjusting the handle to change the temperature to the one you prefer and pressing a button next to the handle, keeping his finger on it for a few seconds before removing it, changing the water pressure. "here you go princess," he grins and turns back to you. you think to yourself about how you could of figured out how to work the shower but you don't vocalise it, you've been in enough showers to know how they work but satoru's one is probably different if he did it himself.

"oh, the shower wash and shampoo is there, i don't know if you want to wash your hair but it's there if you need it. you'll have to use my one." he then leaves, before placing a towel on the sink for you to grab when you get out. he owns all the soaps and scents you use but you can't use them, he doesn't want to share. if he gave you them you'd be suspicious and there would be less for him to use when he misses your smell, groaning in the shower after he gets home from basketball his hands massaging your shampoo into his scalp, one hand in his hair the other fisting his cock. he'll buy you new perfumes and soaps for the holidays, he would never change any of your signature scents but you deserve more expensive products in his eyes.

a part of you still can't help but think about the clothes but when you step into the shower your eyes close and body relaxes, somehow it's the perfect way you like your showers. all of it melts away and as you pick up gojo's shower wash your body heats up inside. you're going to use the same soap as gojo uses and once you recognise how you reacted you shake your head to get away from all those thoughts. everybody at your university would likely have the same reaction as you but you're not just anyone, satoru is your dear friend and he deserves more respect than you just gave him. you don't spend long showering, wanting to not use his soap for a long period and you end up not washing your hair.

you dry yourself but panic as you can't find clothes anywhere, did satoru forget? maybe the plan was for you to put your clothes back on until he's gave you them. opening the door ajar you peek outside, you're planning on seeing if you can hear satoru, asking him about the clothes but before you can you see a shirt on the floor next to the door. picking it up, you close the door quickly and breathe deeply, glad that you noticed the shirt before calling out to gojo.

when you start to slip into the shirt you feel a repeat of the shower, it smells so much like him. you didn't realise when you agreed to this you'd have to be concerned about this but you are and it's making you feel guilty. like you're no better than those girls who throw themselves at him, only based on appearances alone. you put it on as quickly as you can and try to ignore the smell but the entire room is filled with it. it smells different to the soap, it smells more like him, 'his natural scent?' you ponder. it effects you differently than it would his fans though, they'd be filled with thoughts that are less than appropriate, like being pushed into his pillow while he's taking them from behind or not wasting time with getting completely nude but to you they're innocent, the smell is comforting like when he surprises you by suddenly grabbing you from behind or crowding your space as you worked on projects together. it's not the smell of satoru gojo, famous 'womaniser', 'manwhore', 'heartbreaker', with a reputation that would make a nymphomaniac blush, it's the smell of satoru gojo- your gojo. and annoyingly your gojo, your friend, smells really good.

satoru was right about the shirt. because of how tall he is it reached down to your thigh, you were slightly worried about accidentally flashing him but it was long enough not to worry too much about it. he was also right about how it clung to you. even though it clung to you it didn't make you feel uncomfortable, the fabric stretched a tad around your hips and chest but it didn't make you feel uneasy, you doubt satoru would even notice. he, of course, does. and takes great pleasure in it.

you fold up the towel and leave it in the laundry basket. exiting the room you hear satoru and go to him. he hears you near him entering the room and looks up from the sofa, "you okay?"

you smile sweetly and nod your head, "i'm okay, it was a good shower."

he returns your smile, "i'm glad."

satoru doesn't hide his staring as you move to the sofa to sit down next to him. you're so cute and you're so hot all he can do is stare and he's so thankful that you agreed to come to his and stay. he's never let anyone wear his clothes before, it's a boundary that he doesn't cross. his previous relationships weren't allowed to wear his clothes, if it was cold outside and someone didn't bring a coat he wouldn't give them his, he never cared about them that much to do things like that but when you walk in wearing his clothes his heart jumps with joy. he never thought about how much he'd love seeing you wear his shirt, it's not just a shirt it's a statement, you're his, he owns you. it barely covers your thighs and he knows if he gets you to move and bend down, even if only slightly, everything will be on display. his shirt is clinging to your curves and he's practically salivating as your hips look so grabbable.

you're none the wiser of this and when he turns on the film you previously spoken about he was paying more attention to you than the television, every so often shuffling a little bit closer to you. he doesn't wait long, it's been about twenty minutes through the film before he puts his arm around you, he slings his arm around your shoulder when you walk together sometimes so it's not the first time this has happened. this is regular behaviour in your eyes.

forgetting his arm is even around you you become invested in what you're watching, you were right to mention it to gojo, it's exceeded your expectations. you have no reaction to satoru taking his arm off your shoulder and instead placing it on your plush thigh. he has more of a reaction that you do, biting his lip to stop any noises that could come out because you would likely notice if he groaned. after a couple of minutes of his hands being still he starts moving, making small patterns on your skin and stroking you. his hand gets higher, reaching the hem of his shirt before stopping and leaving his hand there.

as the film ends you become more aware of where gojo's hand is resting but you choose not to say anything. you're flustered but you think he's put his hand there absentmindedly while watching the film so you keep quiet.

"did you enjoy the film princess?"

you smile brightly at him and respond, "i did! did you?"

satoru starts making patterns on your skin lightly again. tapping his finger on his chin with his other hand like he's thinking and making a noise, "hmmm i did enjoy it although i was distracted through most of it."

that catches your attention wondering what it was that he was focused on instead. "oh, what was it?"

he smirks, "it's hard to pay attention to anything other than how pretty you look right now."

satoru had called you a pretty lady earlier tonight but this feels more personal, your brain refusing to work and it's exhilarating for him to see it happen.

he cups your cheek in his hand so you're making direct eye contact with each other, he doesn't want to look away from him. "do you want this sweetheart?"

your heart is pounding in your chest like a hummingbirds wings and you worry that satoru can hear it, swallowing before replying, "w-what do you mean?"

he leans closer to you and feel like your body is buzzing, tiny zaps of electricity shooting through your veins at his proximity to you, "do you want me?"

"i-i," you're stuttering over your words and nothing makes sense. do you want him? want him to do what?

"sweetheart do you want me?" he reiterates putting more emphasis on the 'want' and slivering his hand up further along your thigh, inching under your, his, shirt. you wait with bated breath, wondering if he'll go further, wondering if he'll say more.

"satoru are you... are you coming onto me?" you're quiet when you ask, you're unsure, you worry that you're wrong and gojo can't help but laugh.

"obviously i'm coming onto you. i thought that was pretty clear."

"you are?" you're still quiet.

"yeah," he smirks at you however your eyes drift away from him feeling shy but gojo's not having that, he pats your cheek before saying, "look at me princess." you do what he says and make eye contact with him again, "there she is, "he smiles at you and kisses your nose making your whole body heat up, your lips part open in shock and he smirks.

"i'm going to ask again, do you want this?" lowering his voice he continues speaking, "because i want this."

'he wants this. he wants me... but do i want him? everyone wants him. do i want him? if we do this it might never be the same again, we might stop being friends... satoru is really attractive, he's hot, he can get anyone he wants but will this mess everything up... i don't know.'

he can see those unnecessary cogs again, how silly, how useless.

he doesn't wait for you to answer, he's given you time and instead of answering you're thinking, overthinking, not being a good girl at all. instead of waiting any longer he closes the space between you two and slots his mouth against yours, licking your lips in a silent request to open your mouth, you oblige his request without any more thought and just simply do what feels right, do what feels good, and kissing satoru feelings good.

his lips are soft, probably softer than yours but you can't tell with them against each other. imaging the kiss you'd think gojo would kiss someone slowly, languidly. you imagine he wouldn't put a lot of effort or passion in the kiss but it would still be the best kiss anyone has ever had. you never thought he'd be a passionate kisser. you know from rumours that his relationships don't last long, it seems to you that he's never been invested in any of them so what's the point in kissing someone like you can't get enough of them when he's going to move on to the next person in a week, so what's the point of kissing passionately but right now that theory is blown out the window. his movement is rushed, it's hungry, it's unexpected. you didn't think he'd be so greedy. his skilled tongue is against yours and he's completely dominating the kiss. satoru's not even stopping for air and he's not letting you either, he's been waiting for this for so long now and a stupid reason like needing to breathe isn't going to stop him.

satoru's leaving wet kisses down your jaw and pulse point anywhere that's visible he's kissing. leaving little nips in his wake and trying to find a good space for him to start leaving marks and hickeys so everyone will know you're his.

the hand that was holding onto your thigh squeezes gently and a shiver runs down his spine because you feel so soft. he pushes you down on the sofa and he's above you looking down, knocking your thighs open and kneeling between them. he's swears he's never seen a more beautiful sight. you get nervous when you look at him, the way he looks at you tenderly with those vibrant blue eyes, that unbeknownst to you hold so much love for you.

you're gasping at every new sensation gojo's giving you, never having felt like this before as his continues his path up your thigh moving the shirt up along with it and now he's finally touching your plush body he thinks he may be in heaven with a gorgeous goddess with him and the more he moves the shirt up the more he thinks so. both of his hands moving to your hips and pressing his fingers into your skin watching them spill over and it's making him dizzy. never has he felt anyone with your body before and it's driving him crazy. he wants more, he needs more.

satoru brushes his knuckles over your underwear making you whine and he smirks, "feel good princess?"

"uh huh," you reply nodding your head up and down rapidly, head fuzzy and wanting more, wanting him.

"yeah?" he asks smugly. " ' course you do." he taps your hips just above the line of your underwear, "lift up for me sweetheart." you move up so he can pull down your underwear and he pockets them in his jeans saving them for later. he doesn't waste anytime as he unzips his jeans and takes them off, pulling his shirt off after, the only reason of the shirt being off is that he wants you to see how hot he looks and to check him out, he knows he looks good and he wants you to know it too.

he presses two fingers into you and you moan. "i'm going to prepare you sweetheart." it wasn't a question but you nod your head anyway. his slender fingers are longer than yours, reaching placing you can't, he's leisurely taking his time, watching as you squirm, eyes starting to glaze over.

only after four minutes and he's had enough of this leisurely pace fingering though, he just has to have his dick inside you now. he would promise to go slow but he knows he can't promise that. you don't see his dick before he goes into you, if you did you'd say something but instead you feel it. more girth than most and nine inches long thus as he starts to thrust into you you let out a moan that soon fades into a silent scream.

with each inch you feel that it must be it but then there's more, he knows he should've spent more time getting you ready for him but the idea of waiting even a minute longer was torture.

at the same time of being fully inside you, you wince, and satoru places a chaste kiss on your lips. there's a fleeting thought as you wince about how you think his cock has broken you, so far he's in your guts. he keeps his hold on you as he thrusts shallowly a few times testing the waters and playfully pinching your nipple to see your reaction.

you try to speak but the words get caught in your throat and it doesn't take long for gojo to speed up, not even a minute and he's already thrusting hard and fast into you, a creamy white ring already forming at the base of his cock. his pace doesn't falter, in fact it gets more rough as satoru sees your face. it's hard for you to even think, you've never been this full before, you're eyes are glazed over and you've got your mouth open drooling a bit, he thinks you look so adorably dumb. "look at you princess you look so dumb right now, so stupid. you don't even have one thought in your head do you? it's so fucking hot. not thinking or worrying, all that matters is this, you don't need to think i'll do it for you."

satoru lifts up one of your thighs and puts it on his shoulder, at the new position it feels like he's reaching even deeper. you whine so loud that people walking outside would hear. "my cock's making you lose braincells huh?" he grins, tapping your cheek gently to get your attention. you look up at him in a daze and he sniggers. "not a thought behind those eyes."

at the new angle you try to grab hold of his arm but struggle to focus losing grip straight away, squealing, "ah it feels s' good 'toru!"

satoru is pleased that you've spoken something, that you've been able to form an legible sentence, he's even more pleased at how good you sound squealing, knowing that he's the one who's made you sound like that. however more than all of that he's overjoyed that you called him 'toru' it sounds so perfect from your mouth.

"i know, i know, you're so good for me princess, such a good girl." he keeps slamming into you at a brutal pace and he wants you to come undone around him soon before he cums. "hear that princess, your pussy is so wet and sticky for me. she knows what she wants huh," he grins and starts pinching your nipples, watching as your eyes roll back.

he's fucking you so rough that your body is moving up and down on the sofa, jiggling with each thrusts, and as he watches your body bounce he gets closer and closer. he normally lasts so much longer but he can't help it with you, it's impossible for him to keep his regular time when your warm wet walls are wrapping around his cock, when he's inside you.

satoru can't wait any longer removing his hand from your nipple and bringing it to your clit, rubbing harshly as you shriek from the sudden extra stimulation, as you get tighter around him he sucks his teeth so close to cumming, "are you going to cum for me sweetheart?"

you don't say anything, you don't have time to answer him because instead the coil in the stomach that has been winding up for the last half an hour snaps, with the added help of gojo touching your clit, you arch your back, and your eyesight goes fuzzy seeing white dots. you've never had such an intense orgasm before, it drowned out noise and made everything hard to hear, you didn't even know cumming could do that. everyone was right about sex with satoru.

feeling you spasm around him was even for him to finish as well, a few more thrusts into you and he lost it cumming too. if he was a better man he would've pulled out but satoru knew that he would never pull out when it comes to you. he's seen birth control in your bathroom before and when he saw it he frowned, he hopes that you missed it today. either way he's making sure to bury himself in you as deep as he can get hoping that even if you did take birth control today it won't be good enough to stop his intention- his deep desire to breed you. thoughts racing through his head, 'silly girls don't need to go to university they should just stay at home. i've got more than enough money to look after her. she'd look so good, her body even softer than it already is. she'd make such a good mama.' as he comes his body goes taut and he groans loudly saying your name and stilling.

you're both catching your breathe, not speaking for a minute, recovering for the most mindblowing sex both of you have ever had.

he wants to stay where he is but he knows he can't. when he moves you whimper, feeling empty all of a sudden, and it makes his ego rise, "sorry princess, i'm going to get you a towel okay." satoru kisses your forehead before rising and getting a towel from the bathroom, coming back and kneeling, swiping the towel gently over your inner thighs and pussy. kissing your hip and looking back at you, "are you okay?"

you're breathless as you reply, "yeah."

satoru smirks, "that's good."

you cover your face with your hands, timid with the way gojo's focused on you. putting the towel down he holds onto your hands and removes them from your face so he can see you again, smiling at you sweetly and kissing your forehead again.

"satoru what's going to happen now?" you're almost silent, if he wasn't so laser focused on every movement and thing you do he might not have heard.

"we could watch another film but it's getting late."

"no... i mean with us..."

satoru furrows his eyebrows, not understanding the question. "us?"

"yeah i-i mean are we s-still friends?"

"friends?" he looks at you like you've grown an extra head and your stomach sinks, if you knew this would've been the outcome you would've done something differently.

you don't want to lose gojo, you really don't want to lose gojo. you don't want to cry in front of him, you don't want it to get misconstrued and him to think that you're trying to manipulate him or change his mind but the idea of not having satoru in your life is heartbreaking. wait... heartbreaking? however the tears still come and the words get lodged in your throat. you manage to get some words out but it's barely audible with how erratic your breathing is becoming and how you keep swallowing every five seconds. "can i do anything to make us be friends again? i don't want to lose you." you're sniffling and you know you sound needy and probably desperate too but that's not your main focus right now.

"lose me?" he squints and gently wipes the tears from your face. "why would you lose me?" he cups you cheek, "princess how do you feel about me?"

your mouth parts open, you're glad that he's suggesting that you're not going to lose him but that's completely overshadowed with the question he's asked. you stay silent, not moving a muscle, how do you feel about him?

'satoru's my friend, my best friend! so... i feel that he's my friend? did i feel this way about my other friends? i lost my other friends and it was awful, i hated it but if i lost satoru... i think it would be worse than awful. maybe soul crushing is accurate... heartbreaking sounds more accurate. can someone be heartbroken about a friend? can i?'

you can't say anything, you don't know what to say, all your thoughts are muddled and you feel lost. gojo's still cupping your cheek, now stroking it with his thumb. "alright then princess, let me tell you." you don't know how he's going to tell you, you don't even understand yourself. "you don't see me as a friend anymore." he says simply and your eyes widen, and he holds onto your elbow with no force with his other hand to stop you if you try to draw away.

"do you know why i know that princess?" satoru asks you, his voice tethered, borderlining on husky. unsure you shake your head. "because friends don't act like you do. they don't get jealous about the thought of me taking girls out to restaurants, they don't check me out when they think i'm not looking. friends don't make a photo of us together as their lockscreen and wallpaper-"

at that you interrupt him, "you have me on your lockscreen too!" but he puts his fingers to your lips to gesture for you to keep quiet.

"not finished yet sweetheart. friends don't send each other good morning texts as soon as they wake up and they don't memorise my order at cafés we go to. friends don't stare at my lips and compliment my eyes all the time. friends don't look at me longingly. friends don't go to romantic restaurants alone together."

he pauses watching with rapt attention as you look down at your lap, he doesn't make you look up at him this time and waits for your response. when you decide to look back at him you calm your breathing as much as you can, "b-but you do those things too satoru..."

satoru grins brightly, "yeah i do, sooo... that would mean what?" he presses you to answer him.

"do you- do you- am i more than a friend to you satoru?"

"bingo!"

you feel like you're dreaming, nothing feels real. you could never of guessed that gojo feels that way or that you're his type. "is that why we had sex?"

satoru chuckles, not answering but instead replying, "you're so cute!" it makes your face heat up. "do you want me to tell you a secret?" you're nervous and dubious but you nod your head softly. gojo moves even closer than you, "you're more than just my friend princess," he leans closer to your ear and whispers "i love you."

you blink at him- once, twice, three times. you understand now that gojo is more than a friend to you and you recognise it's been this way for a very long time but through all his speech you didn't consider he felt the same. maybe that's why you didn't understand your own feelings, because if gojo acts the same as you do and calls you his friend you never questioned about if you really felt friendship towards him.

how long as satoru known all this and has kept you in the dark? what if he choose not to ever tell you? would you end up in a relationship with someone else only to break their heart when you finally realise that you're in love with satoru. your mouth is dry and you lick your lips swallowing to wet them, your voice still sounds a little hoarse though as you say, "why didn't you tell me?"

"because you'll understand and accept your own feelings and mine. i wanted to tell you but i know you, i knew that you would just deny it and ignore your feelings and it could result in something changing with us and that was the last thing i wanted sweetheart, it would kill me but i knew that it was time. i knew that you'd accept both of our feelings," he asserts and he's so close to you that you can feel his body heat.

you know what he's saying is true but you can't help but pout. "how do you know me better than myself satoru?"

satoru chuckles. well he does spend a great deal of his time loving everything you do...

"plus i couldn't keep it in any longer princess, i swear i was going mad. i would probably have folded soon and tell you," he whines and you giggle.

you take a deep breath and look at him straight in the eye, your whole body feeling fuzzy, "satoru i love you."

'yeah i know.'

gojo grins and wipes his forehead dramatically, "thank god." he holds onto the nape of your neck and pulls you to his lips so he can kiss you hungrily, as he pulls away he asks "do you still want to sleep in the spare room tonight? my room is more comfortable... and there may be some boxes on the bed that i haven't moved."

your eyes widen, "say you're joking 'toru!"

he throws his hands up and grins "well..."

you don't stay mad at him long, you've both confessed your love to each other it's not like you can be annoyed at him, you grin back, "i can't believe you."

"i swear it wasn't planned just a happy coincidence... that i chose not to tell you about... but it's okay because we can just use that room for any of your extra stuff when you move in."

you open your mouth wide in disbelief, "i cannot believe you satoru!"

"aw come on you know you love me!" he chuckles and you glare at him before be pokes your cheek and you start laughing too.

Swinging.

Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader, light Suguru Geto x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, sexual themes, smut, handjob, masturbation, voyeurism, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, fingering, oral sex; fem receiving, overstimulation, forced squirting.

Summary: Gojo's incessant begging to his best friend about swinging partners finally pays off.

W/C: 4.6k+

“Are you sure about this?” You ask Geto for the fifth time in the morning. “I already told you, if you don’t want to do this-” “It’s not that.” You interrupt his assurance. “It’s just… weird.” You repeat, glancing to the other end of the hallway that leads to the entrance of the students’ dorms, anxious for Gojo’s arrival. “We’ve already talked about this, it’s only going to be one week, but you can call it off whenever you want.” Geto places his hand on the side of your face, directing you to look at him and caressing your cheek lovingly.

“I know.” You sigh. “And don’t worry about me, have some fun yourself.” He smiles. You hear a door being kicked open and jump into Geto’s chest who instinctively wraps his arms around you, being startled at the sudden sound and seeing that understandably; Gojo’s the one to blame for the dramatic entrance, his own girlfriend following behind. Gojo’s mouth starts moving in what you assume is a greeting but all you can focus on is the girl clinging to his arm; the one you’ll be switching places with.

You take a look at her while she stares at your boyfriend, eyeing her bigger chest, slimmer waist and shorter stature, starting to feel a bit self-conscious and wondering if Geto will even miss you. You think back to the start of the situation and remind yourself that Gojo’s the one who wanted to swing partners, not Geto, and that the only reason why you and Geto said yes was to stop Gojo’s weeks of pestering to swap partners, whining about how he’s ‘always wanted to try it’.

You look back up to your boyfriend with a soft smile, feeling reassured and taking in his words. “Remember, just one week.” He says. “I know, I know.” Gojo rushes out, trying to get on with the situation. “I’m serious Satoru, I don’t want you to then turn around and say two weeks.” Geto starts speaking in a stern voice, further assuring you. “Okay, I get it, are we doing this or not?” Gojo responds in an annoyed tone while looking away nonchalantly.

Geto looks down at you lovingly and gives you a soft smile, holding your face in his hand and stroking your cheek tenderly, before gently pressing his lips against yours in a long soft kiss, unaware of how Gojo rolls his eyes behind his glasses while sticking his tongue out at the display of affection. After pulling away, Geto leans in your ear and whispers loud enough for only you to hear while holding you close to his chest.

“Remember, Gojo will most likely try to bed you in the first night- if he waits that long.” He pulls away. “You can come back whenever you want.” He repeats out loud. “After a week.” Gojo adds to which Geto gives him a dirty look. You finally pull yourself away from him and take the few steps between you and Gojo, ignoring how his own girlfriend walks to Geto a little too eagerly for your liking.

As soon as you're in within arms reach of Gojo, he restrains himself from yanking you to him into a kiss and instead wraps his arm around your lower back while leading you to his dorm, visibly pulling you as close to him as possible while giving Geto a smug smirk to which he gives a glare in return. You nervously look to your moving feet at the sound of Geto’s temporary girlfriend telling him all the things she wants to do with him before night while Gojo guides you through the opened door of his room.

The door closes after walking in and you hear the ominous noise of the lock clicking while you look back at him, suddenly feeling small under his piercing gaze despite his pitch-black round glasses. “You mind taking a shower?” He suggests, the lack of a smirk on his face having you thinking he doesn’t mean it in a sexual manner. “… I just showered.” You meekly respond. “Well, then shower again.” He insists in a stern tone, making you feel uneasy at the absence of his loud personality.

“… Okay.” You quietly agree, walking to his bathroom. “Make sure to brush your teeth.” Gojo adds, making you glance back to catch a glimpse of his bright eyes staring at you through the side of his glasses before stepping in the bathroom and closing the door behind you. You’d always notice he’s a clean and pretty well-groomed young man, but you had never actually thought he could be that picky about germs.

After going through his cabinets, you find a spare toothbrush and make sure to brush your teeth thoroughly and scrub your tongue, washing the leftover paste from the brush and setting it next to Gojo’s brush afterwards. You absentmindedly unclothe yourself and step in the shower, pulling the glass door shut and starting to wash yourself, feeling your thoughts wander to Geto and what he must be doing by now with Gojo’s girlfriend.

Before you know it, you’re scrubbing your body for the last time, having zoned out and been staring at the wall ahead of you until you were left staring at the floor with an emotionless expression, your hands settling on either side of your neck in deep thought. “Why’d you stop?” You hear a low cocky voice ask. Startled, you let out a small noise of surprise with your head snapping to your side to see Gojo leaning against the wall by the door, facing you with his arms crossed and glasses hanging low to let you see his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You rush out of your mouth, an arm over your breasts and a hand over your lower region in attempt to cover yourself. “Isn’t it obvious?” He asks in the same low tone. “I’m enjoying the view…” He responds in a seductive tone while you continue to stare at him, the water suddenly feeling awfully cold. “Go on, don’t mind me.” He coaxes you to further your actions, making your cheeks start to burn.

You return your gaze to the floor with wide eyes, slowly starting to remove your hands from your body to rub more soap on it. You start with your shoulders, slowly rubbing with your hands past to your arms and leaving your body completely bare for him to stare at, dreading what comes next. Your hands reach up for your breasts with hesitation, holding the mounds only to hear a soft somewhat relieved moan from the door.

You fail to keep your eyes to yourself and take a small peek to your side at Gojo, seeing how his hand slowly slips into the front of his pants to a painfully prominent erection, slowly rubbing himself. You quickly avert your gaze while your hands subconsciously rub at your peaked nipples, continuing with the rest of your breast and dipping in the underside. One of your hands work over the rest of your torso as the other one reaches behind your shoulder, spreading the soap along your back.

Soon, both hands are drawing slow circles on your lower back, exposing your front again and having your back forming a small arch that pushes your tits further out, an audible sigh making its way to your ears to which you force yourself to keep your eyes on the floor. Your hands keep moving lower until they reach your ass, rubbing softly at the cheeks and pressing on the underside to Gojo’s delight before moving to the back of your thighs.

With your body starting to bend over as your hands stroke at the rest of your legs, Gojo finds himself unable to decide whether to keep his eyes on the curve of your ass or on your tits and the way they start to hang obscenely from the new angle. He bites down on his lip after his tongue briefly lolls out past his lips while jerking his painfully hard member against the wet patch of precum on the front of his boxer briefs.

You finally finish at your ankles and move to stand straight again with your hand reaching to the knob to turn the water off. “Ah ah ah.” He protests, interrupting you before you can touch the knob. “Aren’t you forgetting a spot?” He points out, pausing his movements. Your breath hitches in your throat with your hands lightly trembling, a shiver running up your back with a small whimper getting stuck in your throat.

You bring your hands back to your body and slowly run them down over your stomach to your lower area, stopping briefly in hesitance before feeling a finger brush against your clit to which your body responds by clenching your thighs together despite your opposing orders. “Good girl…” Gojo praises in a small moan as he starts to jerk his length again, this time successfully eliciting an audible whine from you that in turn makes him groan.

Skimming your hand lower, your fingers run through your folds, rubbing the last of the remainder of the soap on them while your other fingers tend to the outer lips. The pad of your finger reaches your entrance while soft pants start making their way to your ears through the running water, your body continuing to respond to Gojo’s actions judging by the way it releases a wave of wetness onto your fingertip.

Before you can notice, you’re slipping a finger through the plush walls of your insides as deep as you can, trying to reach your g spot to no avail. A grunt coming from your right interrupts your movements and draws your attention to the sound, seeing him with his eyes clenched shut and head thrown back against the wall, hand still in his pants yet unaware of how tightly he grips the base of his cock to keep himself from cumming, refusing to empty himself anywhere but inside you.

His eyes crack open to the sound of a familiar creak with the water being shut off, seeing you step out of the shower onto your pile of clothes and wrapping his towel around yourself as he catches onto his breath, pulling his hand out of his underwear. “You’re acting like you didn’t just finger yourself to me fapping to you.” He comments after letting out an airy laugh regarding the towel. “Well? Come on.” He waves his hand over with a grin, waiting for you to approach him.

He places a hand behind your shoulder to lead you to his bed and manages to sneak a small squeeze to your covered ass cheek, getting a feel of it before going further. You crawl over his bed with him slightly bending over to get a peek of your pussy that his towel fails to cover before you turn around to sit on the center of his bed with your knees to your chest.

Gojo removes his glasses and sets them aside with a confident expression, shows off his eyes for a small moment and then proceeds to follow you onto his mattress. Crawling on top of you, he forces you to lay back onto his pillows and soak the covers with the water left on your skin before he sits back on his calves, slowly running his hands between your ankles over your bottom and the back of your thighs, spreading them open in a quick motion that has you letting out a noise of surprise.

He sighs in relief at the sight of your cunt that followed with your legs and spread open slightly, taking in the way your clit is barely covered by the lips and the way your folds leave your opening exposed. You feel his hands grip at your waist and pull you harshly into his crotch in a fake fucking motion that makes you moan in surprise, keeping you pressed to his hardened cock. “A little help doll?” He asks while grinding down on you hard.

After some hesitation, your hands move forward to slip your fingertips in the waistband of his underwear, getting him to stop humping you as you press him further into you, pulling him closer to reach better his button and zipper. Slowly pulling open his pants, you eye with a nervous expression the more prominently visible bulge hidden by the dark thin fabric of the underwear, subconsciously hooking your ankles behind his thighs to keep him close.

Gojo watches carefully how you pull down the waist agonizingly slow, uncovering his lower abdomen and staring at his v-line that trails your sight lower to a soft patch of white hair starting to peek over the underwear. You stare at the tufts of hair with your mouth suddenly going dry, continuing the slow pace of uncovering him and despite his desperation, he stays composed and lets you give yourself a show at unveiling him.

With his cock still sitting on the mound of your cunt, you finally manage to see the base, revealing the thickness and pulling the cloth lower to further expose the length of his erection until the neglected cock eventually springs out of its confines standing proud against his lower stomach with a string of precum dripping onto your own sex from the almost red tip of the swollen head. “Enjoying the view?” He asks in a low tone, grinning widely at you.

You swallow thickly at his words with burning cheeks just before his arms reach behind him to grab at the back of the shirt of his uniform and pull it off over his head, showing off his toned arms and torso with a smug expression. After a small pause, he pushes his pants along with underwear down to his knees and manages to kick them the rest of the way off, leaving himself completely naked to your eyes.

Taking a hold of his pulsing cock to lay it flat over your pubic bone, his heavy balls press tightly against your swollen clit, showing you how deep he’ll reach once inside you, making you let out a shaky breath at the sight. His free hand slowly trails over your stomach under your towel and slowly spreads it, reaching for your covered tit with a pleased moan and groping it harshly, his nails digging into the soft skin.

You spread open the towel the rest of the way to his surprise and press your tits together for him, urging him to play with them to which he responds to by pressing down on your nipple. Suddenly, he starts breathing heavily and yanks your legs to him to press your knees on either side of you and barely even grinds his dry length on your soaked folds before shoving himself inside you with a grunt that has you moaning loudly.

You continuously moan despite him not moving in response to desperately trying to accommodate his size in your unprepared cunt with him panting above you and keeping you locked in a mating press, slowly pressing his weight on top of you feeling your arms wrap around his back with your shaky hands needing to hold onto something as he presses the front of your legs painfully flat against the bed.

In the guise of letting you adjust to him, he bites harshly on his lower lip while trying to get used to the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him, keeping his chest pressed to yours with his lips muffling grunts next to your ear and upper arms on either side of your head as he grips tightly onto the bed sheets under the pillow where your head rests. As you get accustomed to the feeling of him inside you, you start letting out light pants against his ear, catching his attention for him to look over at you.

Turning his gaze to the side, he stares with his eyes half closed at your parted lips, soft wet tongue resting just past them and making him realize he hasn’t kissed you yet. The whole reason as to why he wanted you to brush your teeth, the whole reason as to why he wanted you to rid yourself of your boyfriend’s essence and he hasn’t even kissed you yet. Gojo takes your jaw in a hand, pulls your face over to him and finally; takes your lips in his own in a kiss.

A noise of surprise is muffled in his mouth along with your eyes shooting wide open in shock while he wastes no time in shoving his tongue past your lips and continuing in a rather soft pace, kissing you tenderly as opposed to his previous actions. Your eyes flutter shut again at his tongue pressing with yours, sliding along each other and taking your own drool in his mouth, he finally takes in the taste of you with the light flavor of mint still noticeable.

Loud noises of your lips smacking together and pants for breaths fill the room with him starting to grind deeply into you, the tip of his member rubbing your cervix making you moan into the kiss. He humps into you for a while longer, seemingly trying to press himself deeper in only to have his heavy balls pressed harshly to the lower part of your cunt, almost as if he were trying to shove them in as well with the pristine white hair adorning the base of his shaft brushing your clit with a pleasant amount of stimulation.

Not long after, he goes to slowly move his hips back while maintaining the rest of his body glued to yours only to feel your tight insides sucking him back in, forcing a deep groan that breaks your kiss to emit from his throat. “You’re, ah- sucking me back in.” He moans with a small smile as he slowly moves in and out of you bit by bit, gazing into your eyes lovingly before noticing you staring between your chests instead.

He follows your line of sight to your compressed chests and finds out with ease of your desire to see where your bodies meet, keeping the encounter purely sexual in his opinion to which he grips your cheeks after letting out a frustrated huff to pull your face back to his and keep your eyes on his. He smiles again at your eye contact, but it easily gets broken again with your eyes rolling to the back of your head and mouth left agape at the first pull of his member nearly all the way out and push back in.

If you wanted him to give you a reason to have a hard time maintaining eye contact, fine, he’ll give it to you. Deeply narrowing his eyes at your unsuspecting form, he finally breaks and starts slamming his hips into yours without letting you further adjust, making you instantly start to let out loud moans and screams. He didn’t want it to be like this, he didn’t want it to be just sex, he wanted to take it slow with you, to be intimate with you but his patience can only go so far.

It’s all your fault. It’s also your fault that he immediately went straight to the point and skipped over all foreplay. It was all you and your voluptuous body that tempted him and kept him from laying his head between your legs and pleasuring you rather than yourself, not to say he can’t do both at the same time, but he wanted to show you how much of a selfless partner he can be. He’d just waited for so many weeks that when he finally saw you, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Gojo continues to hammer into you mercilessly with gritted teeth and furrowed brows in an angered expression, dumping out his frustrations on you and feeling how your juices soak his balls along with the inside of your thighs while you cry loudly at the overstimulation. With your arms crossed over his back, your nails find their place at the base of his shoulders, digging into the skin while the sound of your squelching fills the room and the skin slapping on his reaching all the way to the halls.

With your nails slowly dragging lower and lower down the expanse of his back and leaving a harsh burning that has him hissing in return, your hands reach the tensed mounds of his ass and grip tightly at it. He feels you taking handfuls of him and pulling him toward you as if trying to shove him deeper as if he wasn’t poking deeper than you could handle judging by the tears trailing down your cheeks that he couldn’t stop eyeing.

A particularly louder cry leaves your mouth with your thighs tensing harder in Gojo’s hands at a familiar coil starting to quickly form in your lower stomach, your insides tightening even more around him making him grunt in return and thrust harder through the newfound resistance. “Damn!” He grunts in frustration, curses starting to fall from his lips while he tries to deny the blush on his cheeks as well as the fact that he’s feeling himself embarrassingly close to his own release.

He blames you once again for bringing him so close to his orgasm so easily while digging his nails into your skin because it’s not like he wasn’t already used to this whole feeling, he just wasn’t used to you, and still isn’t. It’s all you, always you. A shaky breath escapes past his lips with his eyes staring down at your trembling form, relishing in the signs that soon he’ll be able to let himself loose, refusing to reach his high before you do.

Suddenly, the feeling of him slamming into your cervix and the soft patch of hair continuously rubbing your sensitive clit becomes too much and you finally release yourself on him with a loud cry, drenching him even further with the way your hands unintentionally spread his ass cheeks apart to pull him in closer setting him off as well. Burying himself as deep as he can with his eyes clenching shut, he cums with a loud grunt, flooding your insides and hearing you whine in return.

After emptying himself inside you, a relieved sigh leaves his mouth with his eyes fluttering open, smiling tiredly to himself and basking in the fact that other than finally bedding you, he managed to cum inside you without a condom. His eyes look down at you and take in the sight of you in your post-orgasmic haze, feeling your hands losing their grip on his ass to which he chuckles, watching you pant lightly in an effort to catch up with your breath.

He slowly pulls out with a pleased moan, watching how as soon as he leaves you, his cum starts leaking from you. A shaky moan filling his ears makes him look over at you, seeing the flustered look on your face and looking back to your cunt to see a stream of his white liquid rolling out of you, realizing that you’re pushing it out. His ring and middle finger instantly go to it and trail it back up, shoving it back inside you with his hand twisting to have the pads of his fingers pressing uncomfortably towards your ass.

Before you can protest, he’s twisting his wrist again and pressing into your g spot, curving his fingers and rubbing harsh lines with your noises starting to fill the room again. Your legs start to falter and move to lay flat on the bed only for Gojo to immediately press them back on either side of you with his forearm, taking the flesh in his free hand and gripping and releasing it as he moves lower on the bed to be faced with your sensitive opening, after all, he still has to show you he’s not a selfish lover.

He wastes no time in taking your clit in his mouth and sucking, kissing and licking while pressing hard on it with his tongue in effort to bring you to another orgasm before you can properly come down from your previous one. His tongue trails down to your folds, taking them in his mouth as well while thrusting his fingers relentlessly into you, keeping them curved to rub at your spongy spot with his leftover cum leaking between them as his mouth continues its descent to your loose opening.

You feel his tongue press softly at the edge wrapped around his fingers, feeling him prodding while you whimper uncontrollably until his tongue wedges in between his fingers and your pulsing walls, drawing a small gasp from you before more of your wanton moans fill his ears. The hand on the back of your thigh leaves you to reach your swollen clit and rubs harsh circles on the nub with your leg instantly falling to his shoulder and pressing to the side of his face, your other leg remaining restrained by his forearm.

You cum with a loud scream onto his tongue and fingers and expecting his movements to stop only for his fingers to continue moving inside you incessantly, tongue still licking at your insides and the motion of his thumb on your clit unfaltering. Your back arches off the bed with your hands fisting and pulling the sheets with your throat quickly growing sore at your screams and cries at his merciless movements prolonging your orgasm.

A burning feeling quickly starts to form in your lower area with your hands going to grab at his arm and shoulder instead to push him away to no avail, unaware of the slight frustration filling him at wanting to see you squirt, hoping that you can do so otherwise he’ll just continue abusing your poor hole. Your wails muffle an irritated grunt coming from him but you undoubtedly feel the vibrations reaching your convulsing sex and let out a louder scream through your burning throat while gushing on him.

The liquid squirting on his face takes him by surprise to which he jerks away with wide eyes, hands removed from you and face drenched in your essence with his mouth slightly agape. He blinks your liquids out of the corner of his eyes and wipes some of it off with the back of his wet hand, the sound of your short quick breaths interrupting him before he can even revel in the fact of being covered in your juices and having him looking at your trembling frame.

He takes in your tear-stained face and quivering body, slowly crawling over you and gently taking your lips in his own briefly before staring at you, seeing your eyes still rolled to the back of your head, tears still leaving your eyes, mouth agape with your tongue peeking out and chest quickly rising up and down with your short breaths. He brushes the hair off of your face and smiles smugly at himself at being convinced that it was your first time squirting and moves to lay next to you, carefully turning you over to your side.

His arm pulls you close to him to embrace you until you finally come down from your high while he continues to smile triumphantly to himself, knowing that no doubt he’s given you your best fucking yet unaware that despite it being the best sex you’ve had, you still missed and desperately needed the level of intimacy that only you’re boyfriend can give you and that by the end of the week, you’ll still run back to Geto and he’ll only be a memory left behind.

Donor 1.5.

Main Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Part 1

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, creepy themes, pregnancy, vomit, talks of infant death.

Summary: The events of the pregnancy set along the middle of the first part.

W/C: 2.4k+

2.5 Weeks.

Gojo slowly stirs awake, his eyes instinctively opening to be met with the blindfold placed over them, having him pushing the side off of one of his eyes to make sure of his whereabouts. He’s at his apartment, on the couch of the living room of his penthouse with the large glass wall before him informing him of the early hours of the morning given the barely visible spew of sunlight over the horizon.

He remembers having gotten back home late, sitting with you on the couch and insisting that he ‘wasn’t that tired’ before ending up asleep on the couch. He groggily starts to wonder why he was woken up and quickly receives an answer to his question upon the sounds of retching coming from behind him to his left; the direction of your room. Gojo quickly stands up and rushes in, barging through your room and taking his blindfold off in the process before slamming open the door to your bathroom.

“Get out!” You try your best to shout, embarrassed at being seen spilling your guts out in the toilet. “Leave!” You shout once again, throwing a random object at the door to close it right before you continue expelling your dinner while Gojo keeps staring through the door in astonishment. You’re throwing up. You’re pregnant. You have to be, what other explanation is there? He did it. He impregnated you. Him.

It hurts him that you’re in pain, so much, but he’s never been so happy about your misfortune, or happy at all. You’re actually pregnant, and he can’t do anything but smile maniacally as he continues to watch you throwing up down to the last bit of food and stomach acid you had. You finally step out of the bathroom after having brushed your teeth and rush into Gojo’s arms to which his eyes widen open even further, lips parted in surprise as he slowly processes what’s happening.

His arms slowly move to wrap around you and hold you tightly, wanting to never let you go. He can’t believe you’re actually hugging him. It’s been so long since you actually hugged him. The last time you hugged him was before his incessant flirting grew too much for you, before you’d had enough of him continuously asking you out, hugging you, touching, it was before you finally put a stop to his displays of affection.

This has to be it, you have to be pregnant, and pregnancy is getting you hormonal and screwing with your emotions. If he had known that getting you pregnant would finally make you pliant, he would’ve knocked you up ages ago. “What’s wrong?” He innocently asks, pulling back enough to look at your watery eyes. “I want to be pregnant.” You sob. “You’re not?” He asks with confusion, not understanding what’s going on.

“I don’t know! I don’t want to take the test and see it say I’m not, I want to be pregnant.” You cry, your words only assuring him that you are pregnant, why else would you make a big fuss about something so simple? “Don’t worry, how about I run to the store to get you a few test? How does that sound?” He asks in a reassuring tone. “No! I’m supposed to wait until my period’s late.” You complain, tears starting to leave your eyes.

“Don’t worry,” He repeats himself. “Come on, just wait for me here, I’ll be back soon.” He directs you to the spot where he previously was at the living room before rushing to the nearest store for pregnancy tests.

2 Months.

Your eyelids finally start giving out on you and start closing, ready to succumb to the overwhelming exhaustion your body’s been put through only to be jolted awake once again and being forced to sit back up and plant your feet on the floor, coughing harshly into the empty trash can while retching only for nothing to come out, instead feeling the clenching pain of the muscles in your back desperately trying to squeeze something out.

There’s immediately a pair of hands on you, one making sure your hair’s out of the way and the other trying to rub soothing circles at the side of your upper back, where your back muscles ache the most. Your body finally gives up and you slump back in the pile of pillows against the wall, the back of your head hurting from constantly resting it on the once soft pillows which now feel as hard as stone.

With your hands resting on your sensitive stomach, you close your eyes in frustration with tears starting to leave trails down your cheeks for Gojo to quickly wipe them off. You sniffle and weakly open your eyes, struggling to lift one of your frail arms to hold his hand in yours to show your appreciation. “It hurts.” You quietly cry. “I know.” He sadly stares at you, looking down to your stomach and hoping your pain ends soon.

Ever since upon entering your third week into pregnancy, you’ve been vomiting almost every day. It wasn’t too serious then, you still managed to keep some food and water down for part of the day but now, you’ve been sick for almost half a week, unable to keep even liquids down and with the doctor constantly coming to your shared apartment to test out different medicines, none of which seemed to suit you yet. “… I didn’t think it’d hurt this much.” Your weak hand rubs your belly.

“…” Gojo stays quiet, not knowing how to console you while keeping his head down, finding it hard to watch how your body slowly deteriorates, dehydration really sinking in and taking it’s toll on your body. You haven’t gone to the bathroom in a whole day, your body never letting anything past your intestines, and every time Gojo tries to get you to walk to uncramp your body, you often get light headed and dizzy to the point that he always has to keep his hands on you.

“Wait here.” He gives you a soft sad smile, letting go of your hand and leaving the room, his room. Soon after the incessant throwing up, he insisted that you move into his room so he could ‘take care’ of you, and in your sensitive state, you agreed. Not long after, he finally comes back with his hands behind his back, shutting the door with his foot and careful to not let you see behind him. He sits in front of you once again and reveals a small present box beautifully decorated.

“What’s this?” You ask. “I was waiting to celebrate the start of your next trimester, but… here.” He hands you the box, waiting patiently for you to slowly pull it open. “It’s a doppler. For the baby’s heart rate.” He explains, having you instantly growing more emotional. You take your time taking out the tube of gel in the box and gently applying some on the end of the probe before turning on the device and starting to rub it along your lower stomach.

You turn the volume higher with a sniffle and hear some type of static as you move the probe around, trying to find your unborn baby. Once you reach a certain spot of your belly, the screen picks something up and displays the heart rate with the speaker playing the sound of the heartbeat. You immediately let out a cry with your free hand cupping your mouth, crying into it at the quick-paced sound of your baby’s heart.

8 Months.

You pull at the zipper and unzip the small luggage case and start putting in clothes, toiletries and other stuff you’ll need when you finally go into labor. You’d just come back from baby and pregnancy stores with Gojo and while you started packing, he was taking an awfully long time to ready the baby car seat. While you had already gotten some clothes to fit your pregnant belly along your pregnancy, and most of the stuff that you would need, he thought otherwise.

Gojo insisted that you’d get everything new, as if the baby clothes gifted to you were used, and managed to convince you by talking about his copious amounts of money and how they’re just sitting there. You pull out of the next bag a small swaddling blanket and look at it longingly, observing the white gender-neutral color with fluffy round bear ears at the top with a pink center in them.

You thought it’d be more exciting if you didn’t know the gender until the birth, but Gojo being a drama queen said that he couldn’t handle the suspense and still to this day insists on knowing the gender. You neatly fold the blanket and place it in the also brand new luggage case and next pull out a regular baby blanket with ducks on, continuing to pack until Gojo walks in your still shared room.

“Baby seat’s ready.” He notifies. “Are you sure?” You teasingly ask without looking over at him, continuing to pack the last of your items. “I think you’d be surprised by how well I placed it.” He smiles triumphantly while walking over to stand next to you. “Sure.” You lightly roll your eyes, zipping closed the case and having decided to double-check the seat before placing your baby in. As soon as you go to stand, he’s quick to help you up, offering both of his hands and gently pulling you to your feet given the extra weight.

“Thank you.” You thank him in a soft voice, smiling to your stomach as you take a seat on the edge of the bed with him sitting as well next to you. “… What’s going on in that head of yours?” He brushes your hair out of your face, something that you don’t think too much of due to being entrances in your unborn baby. “In just another month… I’m gonna be a mom.” You rub your belly.

10 Months.

You cry against Gojo’s chest with your hands gripping his shirt tightly, his arms wrapped around you in hopes that the warmth of his embrace can ease you if even just a bit. Your enormous stomach standing in the way of him being able to properly hug you only serves as a reminder of your worries, making you cry even harder. 10 months pregnant and nothing. Your baby just isn’t ready to come out yet and you’ve already tried everything, or everything you could.

You’ve exercised proper workouts for pregnant women, tried acupuncture, spicy foods, tried stimulating your own breasts which were far too sensitive to get anything but pain out of them, and still nothing. You know that stressing about it won’t help, but what else can you do? You can only handle so much, how else are you supposed to feel when so many complications can start arising; lack of oxygen, an infection, what else can you do?

“They’re doing it first thing in the morning.” Gojo brings up your scheduled cesarean in attempt to console you. You sniffle against his shirt and hold onto him tightly, trying to calm yourself with a few harsh coughs making it difficult. “Let me make you some tea.” He pulls away from the hug with a light frown, taking your hand and leading your waddling form from your bedroom to the kitchen.

Gojo, same as you, has been upset ever since your pregnancy started lasting longer, being just as worried for both of you. It’s been hard on him too, watching you try to somehow stay calm while knowing your baby could have stillbirth, a medical term that could never ease the blow of your baby’s possible death. You stand quietly as Gojo makes your tea, an unbearable silence surrounding you both with neither of you being able to look at each other.

“… Don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright.” He makes a poor attempt to console you with a hand brushing your hair away, being as upset as you are. “I’ve tried everything, everything I can, and nothing.” You sob with your eyes glued to the floor, your vision blurring from tears. He brings you in once again for a hug and holds you tightly, not wanting to let go as you continue to soak his shirt even further with your tears, feeling inconsolable.

You both stand together for a few minutes, the tea long forgotten and only starting to pull back when your arms feel tired, your arms lowering but still keeping your bodies pressed against each other. You feel him press his lips softly on your forehead and then lean his head into yours, holding you and hoping to make you feel better. “I’m sorry.” He quietly says, feeling himself starting to shed tears as well.

Opening your eyes to look at him, you see him already looking at you and take notice of his tears and slightly shaky figure, the sight making your heart ache even more. You reach up to his face and hold it in your trembling hands, wiping away the tears and looking at him with sorrow. He tries to narrow the space left between your faces with his nose gently bumping into yours to which your instinctively flinch yourself back, his hands on your body preventing you from putting space between you.

With your arms still on him, body pressed on his, and with the way you don’t push him away, he waits a few seconds to take in your unsure form, giving you time to move away if you wanted to, but when you don’t, he moves in closer. He notices how you slowly lean away from him but stop at a certain point to which he more than takes as an invitation, rather than noticing you can’t lean away any further.

You flinch when his lips touch yours, not yet kissing, but instead brushing together as if to test the waters, and when you don’t say anything to stop him, he moves to close the last gap between you… only for you to pull away with a harsh gasp. Gojo feels something inside him start to crack, his blood boiling and feeling like slapping you, but his thoughts are immediately shut down when he hears the sound of water splashing on the floor.

He freezes in place stiffly and does a slow scan of you, your hand clasped over your mouth, eyes wide staring between your feet, the dark damp spot on the cloth covering your lower region, and finally, the small puddle soaking your feet.

Imposter.

Main Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, sexual themes, smut, semi non-con touching, male masturbation; hand job.

Summary: Request:

Are you accepting requests? If you do, can I request a Yandere! Satoru Gojo (or Yandere! Nanami Kento, you choose) pretending to be a gynecologist just to be able touch intimately his darling? I'm sorry for my English, it isn't my fist language. Have a nice day :)

W/C: 2.8k+

A/N: If Gojo seems a bit OOC (Out Of Character) in the way he talks, he purposefully decided to talk a little more 'professional' for the given situation.

You continue to wait at your seat in the waiting hall, hoping that your name finally gets called, a plead that gets answered quickly by the sound of your name filling your ears. “Yes?” You ask as you stand. “You may wait in Dr. Nanami’s office now.” The person who called your name indicates, leading you to the office and opening the door. “What do you mean ‘wait’? Is Dr. Nanami-” “He’ll be here soon.” The door is shut behind you, having you wondering why most of the staff was always quite rude.

You move to sit in the chair in front of the familiar desk where surely enough, Nanami isn’t sitting, having you wondering of his whereabouts, and as the minutes pass, well after your scheduled appointment, you question what’s going on. Nanami’s never been late with an appointment, and now you were passed to his office while he’s gone, something else that has never happened, he’s always had you wait until the exact time.

The door behind you nearly bursts open, making you jump and look behind you to see an unfamiliar man in a white coat with matching white hair and oddly enough with sunglasses resting on his nose. “Good evening miss L/N, I’m very sorry but it seems like Kento won’t be able to make it.” The man closes the door behind him. “Who are you?” You ask as he walks over to the other side of Nanami’s desk.

“Dr. Satoru Gojo, though you can just call me Satoru,” He removes his sunglasses, showing his pristine white lashes and his alluring neon blue sapphire eyes, having your eyes widening at the sight and cheeks nearly burning. “You see, I like to feel comfortable with my patients. Miss L/N, are you alright?” He asks with an almost playful smirk at how you stare at him. “Yes, sorry.” You apologize after letting out a small cough against your closed hand, attempting to break the awkward moment.

“Kento had some personal problems and had to leave but didn’t want to cancel your appointment, so he sent me instead, sorry for the wait.” He apologizes with an almost giddy smile. “I was informed that you’re here for a breast ultrasound and pap smear for a check up, right?” He pulls out a neatly folded hospital gown from a bin behind him. “Yes.” You respond. “Here, you can go to the bathroom.” He hands you the gown, briefly pointing to the bathroom to your right.

“Oh, and miss L/N?” He calls before you walk in the bathroom, looking back to him. “Make sure you take off your underwear…” He reminds in a nearly seductive manner. You make a small grimace at the uncomfortable situation before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you, your body betraying you and lightly clenching your thighs, and while you undress yourself, multiple questions run through your head.

Why hadn’t Nanami informed you that someone would be replacing him? You thought he was more professional than this. What happened that had led to him having to call in someone else? Once you finish changing to the gown, you set your clothes and other belongings on the small counter by the sink before exiting the bathroom. “Are you ready?” He waits for you next to the examination table to which you quietly respond in affirmation.

You take a seat on the crinkly paper with the help of the small step up stool, your feet dangling while he pushes off your shoulders the crossed front of the top of the gown, exposing your breasts to him. As you raise your arms to place your hands behind your head, being familiar with the procedure, you miss the way your alleged doctor stares at your breasts, unaware of how quickly his pants tighten and how close he is to wetting them, your legs blocking the view.

As soon as his bare hands come into contact with your breast, you notice something off in his start. “Aren’t you supposed to start at the underarm?” You look at him. “Hmm?” He hums, seeming to have been snapped out of some sort of daze. “Right here.” You point at the junction where your underarm and chest meet. “… Oh! I’m sorry, you see; I didn’t get much of a good night’s rest.” He apologizes, excusing himself while you lift your arm again.

You calmly stare at the wall ahead while feeling the fingers gently running from your underarm to the start of your breast as your nipples harden from the cold air in the room, the sight having him swallowing thickly. The pads of his fingertips continue to travel across the expanse of the soft skin, touching and feeling every inch and finally reaching your nipple.

His thumb slowly circles around the peak, grazing it with the side of his finger while tracing the areola, feeling his skin starting to prickle in sweat at having to restrain himself. Once he’s done, he finally brings himself to lightly press on top of the nipple, the action making him bite down painfully hard at his lip in attempt to continue to hold himself back, his jaw lightly quivering as he suppresses the moan that so desperately wants to escape his throat…

Wanting nothing more than to than to grope, pull and yank at the soft tissue, squeeze it in his large hands until the fat seeps between his fingers. “Is there something wrong?” Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, having him clearing his throat before answering. “No, I’ll just check the other one now.” He responds, reaching for your other breast and performing the same slow procedure until he’s done, turning away briefly.

“This might feel cold.” He warns, squeezing the thin bottle in his hand until the thick transparent liquid lands in the palm of his hand. “I know.” You reply and lay back on the reclined examination table before he applies the cold gel on your tit, seeing small goosebumps forming on the skin. After smearing the gel on your breast, he grabs the ultrasound transducer and presses it against the globe, making sure to spread it thoroughly this time.

While you look at the screen to your right, you once again miss the way he stares at your chest, spreading the substance that resembles his cum an awful lot. The sight makes it easy for him to get a detailed image of what your tits would look like painted in his cum, the thick semen trailing down your perked nipples and slipping between the valley. What would you have finished doing? Were you jerking him off with your smaller hands? Maybe one of them cupping his plump balls…

Or were you blowing him? Keeping him warm in your mouth with your nose reaching his lower stomach, nestling in the softly trimmed hair. Or were you letting him fuck your tight little throa- “What’s that?” You stare at the black screen with blurry white lines along it. “Nothing to worry about.” He assures after quickly composing himself after what feels like the hundredth time.

The rest of the ultrasound is spent with you missing your other doctor, the one who always explained every detail thoroughly and actually made you feel confident in your health, as opposed to the one standing before you who’s awfully quiet. “Well,” His voice pulls your attention to him. “Everything seems to be fine, I’ll just clean you up now.” He sets away the transducer.

Before you can interject, he’s already grabbing tissues and cleaning the smudged mess, wiping the gel with ease and in a manner that could almost seem… loving. After all, it was his chance at showing you how good he’d be with cleaning you up after your activities. While he finishes cleaning you, you awkwardly look away, not knowing what to say and instead choosing to stay quiet as you bashfully look away.

After a few tissues are thrown in the trash bin, he crouches down to reach the stirrups and readies them to a proper height as he feels himself growing more excited by the second, if possible, while the height of the table conveniently covers the way his pants are forced to tightly restrain his erection. “Now that we’re all set, let me help you.” He says in a low almost seductive tone, the situation alone making it hard for you to breathe.

He gently settles the heels of your feet on the stirrups one at a time, your gown barely covering your cunt while you wonder why you’re feeling so nervous. You never felt nervous with Nanami, he never once made you feel uncomfortable and always kept everything strictly professional, so despite having an attractive man looking at your lower region, it was easy to get used to the situation, but with Satoru…

You suddenly feel awfully nervous and a bit self conscious at having someone like him seeing your private parts, every last ounce of your calm and collected attitude having left when he insisted on cleaning your breasts. He slips a pair of gloves on with ease and swiftly moves over to reach for the speculum and is quick to work, dropping down his knees and deciding to briefly tease himself by slowly moving the bottom of your gown away, bunching it around your waist.

Warmth instantly spreads through your cheeks at being exposed to him with the angle of your body leaving you unable to see him. He stares at your bare cunt for a moment, taking in the sight with wide eyes and blushing cheeks, feeling the embarrassingly large amounts of precum leaking his swollen tip soaking his underwear. After a small moment of silence, you finally feel the smooth cool metal come in contact with your labia.

You let out a quiet nervous breath as you slightly fiddle with your hands that rest over your stomach, unaware of what your doctor’s really doing. As he slowly inserts the end of the speculum, his nose hovers mere inches away from your sex, inhaling and taking in the smell with cheeks burning red and tongue peeking out from his mouth. He pleads in his head, begs just to get a taste from you, he’s just a flick from his tongue away, just- please.

Nearly close to tears from frustration, his free hand shakily reaches for his pants and quietly unbuttons them followed by a muted pull from his zipper with your insides still slowly engulfing the metal object, careful not to hurt you. His hand slips in the opening of his pants and pulls out his heavy length, aching for any sort of stimulation with the dripping head thick and swollen the same way as his balls which he pulls out to rest over the zipper.

With a single tug of his hand from the start of his dick to the base, he reaches his orgasms and cums with his eyes instinctively widening in surprise and letting out a cough to cover up for his actions with his other hand leaving you to cover his mouth. “Are you okay?” You quickly ask, raising your head but still unable to see him. Another cough leaves him in attempt to block the loud groan that desperately wants to escape while endless streams of cum shoot from his tip with his eyes squeezed shut.

With the first spurt having landed on the table, he aims himself to the floor to spill his load on the white tiles, dick twitching in his tight grip and balls feeling unbelievably tight. You remain quiet until he regains himself from what you can only assume is a coughing fit and unknowingly let him finish releasing all over the floor, creating a rather large puddle. His hand leaves his mouth and goes to his balls to lightly fondle them and help bring him down from his high as his length softens, slowly falling to his balls.

“Dr. Gojo?” You ask after clearing your throat, slowly sitting up with a creak of the table to which he immediately shoots up to his knees to keep you from looking any further. “Yes?!” He quickly rushes out his mouth with wide eyes, looking similar to a toddler having been caught doing something bad. “… Are you… alright?” You repeat yourself with uncertainty. “Oh, yes, I’m fine, I just swallowed the wrong way.” He nervously excuses with burning cheeks and a flustered expression.

“I’m sorry about that, I’ll just continue now.” He ducks back down. You lay back on the table and feel the end of the speculum finally kissing your cervix with him enjoying the view for a small moment of the small stretch that it gives you, wondering if that’s how you’d look like with his fingers inside you. As his soft cock rests outside his pants, he focuses in moving the speculum to spread your walls open and receive a view of the inside of them.

He immediately associates the image with the way your insides would look upon being impaled by him, though the stretch would be far wider and unfortunately, if he stretches you wider, you’ll grow suspicious given that the size of the brush isn’t that big. He stops expanding your walls and carefully inserts the brush while your cheeks start burning at similar dirty thoughts running through your mind and soon enough; with your body betraying you.

Panic washes over you once you feel the familiar leakage in your lower region and you pray for it to be over soon, the sensation of the brush swabbing the deepest part inside you filling you with relief. After pulling the brush out, he stares at it and examines it in great detail with a piercing gaze, looking at your essence smeared on it, cock twitching in response. Without thinking, he softly parts his lips and peeks his tongue out as he brings the brush closer, ready to get his taste of you that he’s been craving for so long.

“Are you done?” Your quiet voice still makes it to his ears, desperate to clothe yourself again. “Yes, just a moment.” He replies, disappointed in your interruption and instead slathering your juices in a small container beside him, placing the lid after and closing it. The speculum returns to its original state and is pulled out of you with a thin coat of your liquids followed by him shoving his spent member in his pants and buttoning them.

He casually stands, sets everything aside on a small table and helps you bring your feet down before moving his hands to your arms. “Let me help you.” He insists with a smile, aiding you to stand on your feet and directing you to the bathroom to get dressed, all the while standing between you and the puddle of his cum. As soon as the door’s shut, he quickly scampers to clean his mess, just now noticing the size of the puddle…

Thinking to himself how he hadn’t cummed that much since the day he first got hands on a pair of your underwear. He throws the last dirtied tissue away and contemplates about continuing what was interrupted from him but is instead met with the noise of the bathroom door clicking, making him look over to your once again clothed body. “When will you have the results?” You question after an awkward cough.

“Kento has a pretty busy schedule, so I’ll just call you to let you know.” He explains and you thank him for… the most uncomfortable appointment you’ve had, though of course you don’t say that part. “No, thank you.” He ominously thanks, placing a hand on your shoulder and leading you to the door while saying his goodbyes. He opens the door for you and once he does, a familiar figure is standing in the way.

“Dr. Nanami, you’re here.” You point out while he stands in front of you with a hand out as if he was about to open the door. “I- yes. What’s happening here?” He questions, staring at Gojo. “Dr. Gojo said you sent him because you had to leave.” You point at the white haired man. “I see.” Nanami’s fists clench, continuing to stare at the other man rather harshly. “Glad… to see you could make it.” You try to break the tension. “So, you’re finished here?” He asks without breaking his stare.

“Yes, Gojo did my pap smear and… my breast ultrasound.” Your voice quiets down at the dangerous tension you feel, for some reason feeling that you should run away. “Just like you said, right?” You add, wondering why your hands are trembling. “…” Nanami stays quiet with Gojo smiling as if he did nothing wrong. “Dr… Nanami?” You meekly asks, the scared tone in your voice finally getting him to look at you, the angry look on his face disappearing.

“Yes.” He finally responds, removing Gojo’s hand to replace it with his own. “Now please leave, I have to have a talk with Gojo about your routinely check up.” He lies with ease, leading your almost shaking frame away. You’d never seen him angry, and certainly not to that level. “Is… everything okay?” You turn to look at him again. “Yes, there’s no need to worry, you may leave now.” He assures you, seeing you rush away and facing Gojo again who simply looks at him with a smirk and a cocky expression.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist.

Main Masterlist

Mahito

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Non-Yandere

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NSFW

Genderbend

Headcanons

None Yet.

Satoru Gojo

Imagines

Yandere

SFW

Donor 1 - Donor 1.5

Creep

NSFW

Imposter

Swinging

Non-Yandere

SFW

None Yet

NSFW

Ignorance

Headcanons

None Yet.

Creep.

Main Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x GN! Reader.

Warnings: Implied yandere themes at the end, implied non-con threat, light physical abuse.

Summary: After leaving work early in the morning with an empty stomach, you stop at a gas station for a quick meal but instead get more than you bargained for.

W/C: 1.3k+

You continue to walk through the dark empty streets of the night with a pain in your stomach, reminding you of how your lunch had gone bad, leaving you unable to eat. You could’ve walked to the nearest place where you could buy the closest thing to food, but it would’ve taken over half of your lunch break just to get to the food, not to mention having to wait for it, it would’ve been too late by then and unfortunately, your boss was in a bad mood already- well, they always were.

Putting your faith in the large meal you had before work to pull you through the rest of the day proved to be a wrong choice. You quicken your pace to reach sooner the gas station you’ve come across many times, already feeling relieved as soon as it comes into sight in the distance. After what feels like an eternity, you finally reach the doors, pushing one open for you to pass. “Good morning.” You nonchalantly greet the cashier who gawks at you as soon as your back is to them.

You easily find your way to the ‘quick meals’ section, pick something out and ready it for the microwave. While your food spins in the small space, you take your time to wander through the isles on the left, quickly regretting it due to your growing hunger urging you to buy everything that catches your eye. As you take your last turn, you realize you're alone with the cashier, nothing really coming to your mind until you walk back to the microwave, noticing the disgusting stare they give you.

You stand in a proper position to keep them in your peripherals while staring at the numbers, wishing they would go by faster. Your pleads fall on deaf ears, noticing that even worst, the cashier leaves their spot and approaches you. “What are you doing here so early in the morning?” Their voice asks. “Nothing.” Your tone gives a clear sign of being uninterested, hoping that they’ll get the hint and leave.

You manage to block out the noise of their voice, feeling worry clouding your mind when you notice how close they’re standing to you. You visibly take a step further from them, once again hoping that they’ll leave you, but they seem to have no problem carrying the one-sided conversation while following your migrating form. Their hand falls on your shoulder for you to push it off only for it to find its way to your lower back instead, now having to shove it away.

“Do not touch me.” You look up at the larger figure. “Oh come on, clearly, I’m-” Their threat gets interrupted with the door opening behind the two of you. You look at the taller man and take notice of his dark purple clothes, nearly black with pure white hair and even more noticeable, the black blindfold covering his eyes. Despite his eyes being covered, he seems to have no problem walking through the isles and grabbing a few things in his free hand, the other one holding a duffle bag.

“Listen,” The cashier continues the conversation in a hushed voice as soon as the other man is out of sight, squeezing your shoulder painfully. “I’m clearly the bigger one here, so play nice and stick around until this asshole leaves.” They release your shoulder as the microwave dings. You lower your head and glance behind you, seeing a peek of the white hair over the isles. You sprint as quick as you can to the other man with the cashier after you, slowing your rushed pace once you take a turn with the tall man in your sight.

“Oh my god! It’s been so long I wasn’t sure it was you! How have you been?” You try your best to sound convincing and pick up a conversation with the stranger who moves to stand straight to face you, his glance to the cashier behind you being blocked by his blindfold. “… Now I remember you!” He plasters a more than convincing smile on his face as opposed to the neutral expression he had.

“It’s been so long! No wonder you looked familiar!” He gushes with an upbeat attitude while you thank the stars for the man following the lead. “What are you doing here?” You ask with a smile. “Just a quick stop before I head home, I had a long work trip.” He responds while the cashier leaves with an angry expression. “You want me to walk you home?” He gives you a warm smile while you briefly eye his bag, wondering if he really was on a work trip.

“Yeah.” You answer, your facade falling for a split second, still not feeling comfortable with the man but he seemed like a better option, at least on the surface. “How have you been? What are you doing here so early in the morning?” He continues to the conversation, waving a hand over as he passes you, signaling you to follow behind him. “My lunch went bad at work, I didn’t think I’d make it home.” You explain, eyeing his odd form.

You acknowledge his height even more when he’s forced to crouch down to pick up something on the lower shelves. “Oh man, that must’ve sucked.” He tries to console while you eye the way he spreads his legs unnecessarily far apart, making you wonder if it’s a habit. “It’s okay, I’m here now.” You say, taking a few seconds to come up with something else to continue to conversation. “So, why were you on a work trip?” You ask as he stands.

“Oh, you know how the higher ups get on me, it seems I can’t catch a break.” He walks you to the microwave. “I’m just glad I’m seeing my kids again.” He adds after pointing at the microwave, reminding you of your food. “You have kids?” You ask as you take your food out. “I might as well, they’re my students.” He walks with you to the register. You continue to question his answers in your head, gathering that he’s some sort of teacher, now wondering what kind of a teacher goes to work trips?

Maybe he was actually finding it hard to keep up with a facade. “I’ve got three of them, they’ve really been improving.” He sets his items on the counter. “What about you? You got any kids?” He asks. “No, I’m too busy with work anyway.” You see him pay for his items. “When was the last time you took a break?” He comments while you pay for your food. “It’s been a while.” You admit, following him to the exit and giving him a small ‘thank you’ when he opens the door for you, exiting behind you.

“… So, do you mind me asking what you were doing out at two in the morning?” He continues, trying to comfort you with a smile. “… My food went bad at work.” You repeat. “You weren’t lying then, well, neither was I, I just got back from a work trip.” He says, giving you a feeling that he appreciates your honesty. “A work trip as a teacher?” You question after taking a large bite from your food.

“Yeah, it’s a little weird. I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to come back, one of my students might as well be my actual kid, I wanted to see him again.” He explains, easing a little your worry. “Now, are you sure you want me to walk you home, or do you want to take it from here?” He asks. “It’s okay, I can take it from here, I don’t want to keep you from your kid. Thank you so much.” You thank. “Are you sure? My kid’s safe at home, but you’re quite exposed out here.” He insists.

“If it’s not too much of a bother,” “Not at all! I’d feel better knowing you’re at home and safe as well.” He assures. “Thank you so much.” You bow. “There’s no need for that.” He follows your lead in the direction you’re walking. “Just please consider changing your shift, I’d hate for you to deal with more people like them.” He suggests to which you agree with a smile, unknowingly creating another creep.

Donor 1.

Main Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Part 1.5

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, somewhat non-con, implied panty-stealing, implied male masturbation.

Summary: Gojo decides to make a few last minute changes in your artificial insemination.

W/C: 1.4k+

“Okay, thank you, you too, bye bye.” You bid farewell over the phone while the apartment door opens in the background before you hang up, letting out a noise of excitement. “What was that? I didn’t know humans could make that noise.” Your roommate jokes as he enters the kitchen area. “Gojo! I just got off the phone with the facility, someone just cancelled and they gave me their spot! I’m going in tomorrow!” You enthusiastically explain, unaware of the way his smile falters, replaced by a frown.

Tomorrow? That’s too early for him. He’s been too busy to make his move, and despite still being busy; he has to make the time now. “I’m finally gonna be a mom!” You add with the biggest smile he’s ever seen. “That’s amazing!” He quickly composes himself, burning with rage inside. “Though, to tell you the truth… you don’t need artificial insemination to have a kid of your own.” He comments.

“I know, but I don’t exactly have a volunteer, and knowing the dad of my kid sounds like a hassle.” You roll your eyes at the end. Of course it’d be a hassle, you hate relationships, it’s the whole reason why Gojo’s had to tone down his insistence on taking you out, at least he doesn’t have to worry about someone else stealing you away. “Well, if you need a volunteer, I’m right here.” He gives you a thumb up, pulling his blindfold up from the side to let you see him winking at you with a goofy smile.

“Come on now, that joke’s gotten old. You know I’d never do that.” Your voice turns serious, annoyed at him for repeating himself. He feels a sharp pain in his stomach with his rage boiling hotter, forced to maintain his front. “Relax, of course I know that. Anyway, I just dropped by for a quick shower before heading out again.” He moves towards the exit of the kitchen. “What’s it about this time?” You ask.

“Just the higher ups with the same problems, nothing to worry about.” He waves a hand dismissively as he heads to his room, locking the door behind him before unzipping his pants with a hand reaching into his drawer for a used pair of your underwear.

~.~

“Good evening, I’d like to speak to Dr. Tanaka.” Gojo stands at reception. “Do you have an appointment with him?” The receptionist asks. “No, but he’ll want to hear this.” Gojo assures. “I’m sorry but Dr. Tanaka is very strict in regards t- Hey! You can’t do that!” She shouts when Gojo snatches a paper that informs him of his whereabouts. “Don’t worry, it’ll be quick.” He tosses the paper behind him nonchalantly, walking through the halls of the facility you’re scheduled to go to the next day.

“Dr. Tanaka!” Gojo bursts through the door, seeing him sat at a desk with a patient, startling them. “It’s so good to see you again, I’m sorry to burst through but I have something very important to tell you.” He continues speaking. “What the hell are you talking about?! I don’t know you! Get out!” The doctor shouts at him, having stood up from his seat. “Don’t worry miss, this’ll only take a few minutes.” Gojo directs out the older patient.

“What are you doing?! Who the hell are you?!” The doctor continues to shout as he shuts the door. “Now that we’re alone,” He locks the door, dropping his smile. “Let’s get to the point.” He turns around. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are but-!” The doctor marches up to him before being interrupted. “Listen,” Gojo sternly states, completely dropping his facade, the rage and anger he’s been feeling since you gave him the news finally surfacing.

“This is what’s going to happen, tomorrow, a woman is going to come in for an artificial insemination, I don’t care what donor you had in line, you’re going to give her this one instead.” He explains, holding up a closed container filled to the brim with his cum. The doctor stares in fear at the anger Gojo emanates but manages to compose himself enough. “A- And why would I do that?” He cautiously asks.

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t.” Gojo picks him up by his collar, staring him down for long enough until he feels him give in. Gojo releases him from his hold and hands him the container, plastering another smile on his face. “Now then, I’m glad we were able to get to an agreement, I’ll see you tomorrow doctor.” He slaps a wad of cash onto his hand, turning around to open the door. “Oh, and while you’re at it doctor, get a woman to do it.” He stands at the doorway.

“Wait, how will I know who to give this to?” The doctor asks. “You will.” Gojo looks behind him before leaving.

~.~

“It’s alright, you’re going to be fine.” Gojo assures you while holding your hands in his, seeing you take deep breaths in the waiting room of the facility. “I know, I just feel nervous all of the sudden.” You smile nervously, quickly followed by the call of your name. “Here!” You shoot up. “This way please.” The soft voice directs you with Gojo following behind with a comforting hand resting on your shoulder.

“Here.” You reach your stop, having the door opened for you as you give a small ‘thank you’. You walk in with Gojo behind you, shutting the door while giving the doctor a certain smile, causing him to swallow thickly at the memory of his threat. “Please excuse me.” The doctor stands as you and Gojo take a seat, quickly exiting the room. “Well that’s rude, why did he call us in if he wasn’t ready?” You complain, anxious to get the procedure started.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” He smiles to himself. You wait for a couple of minutes in silence before somebody finally returns to the room with a knock. “Good morning, I’ll be attending you today.” The woman’s voice says, introducing herself with her name. “I thought Dr. Tanaka was-” “There’s no need to worry about that.” She assures, closing the door. “Now, let’s get started.” She states and in just a matter of minutes, you’re laying flat wearing scrubs for hospital patients.

“Will it hurt?” You ask the doctor. “Not at all, it’s completely painless.” She answers while Gojo squeezes your hand in a reassuring manner. In just a few more seconds, you’ll be filled with him, just the thought alone makes his pants tighten. “Now, I’ll insert the tube.” She warns. “Okay.” You agree, expecting at least a little pain considering that the tube is meant to go through your cervix, but it never comes, after all, it is a small tube.

You only feel something reach your cervix but not much afterwards, not until you feel the liquid go in. The way your eyes widen in surprise informs Gojo of what’s happening and he’s forced to contain a moan at the look on your face. You make a small cringe expression with your face at the odd feeling but soon enough, it’s over. “All done, please remain in your horizontal position for at least 15 minutes to let the sperm work. I’ll be back in half an hour.” She explains, standing from her position and leaving.

“That’s it?” You ask after the door closes. “Well, I guess it really was a simple procedure.” Gojo comments. “How do you feel?” He looks over at you, trying to contain a smile that would only scare you. “Weird, it’s hard to explain…” You focus on the still unfamiliar sensation. “Are you sure it didn’t hurt?” He asks. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wish I’d asked her if I can lower my legs.” You look at your raised legs. “You should leave them up just in case.” He suggests.

“Yeah… I can’t believe I’m gonna be a mom.”

~.~

You stare at the newborn in your weak arms with as much confusion as you can muster after the brutal hours of birth, still trying to catch your breath. As a pair of stronger arms find their way under your own shaky ones to offer aid, the newborn continues to stare at you with its bright blue eyes, pristine white lashes kissing its cheeks with every blink as it takes a gentle hold at the finger offered by its father, seeing him offering a bright smile.

Family Man Part 2

Yandere!Gojo Satoru x reader

Part One

Word Count: 8.9k

thx to a very lovely commissioner!!!

Synopsis : Two months after Satoshi’s death, you and your daughter struggle to move on. You’re so lucky that Gojo is there to pick up the pieces.

(Yandere, smut, oral sex both m/f receiving, lactation kink, implied depression, masochistic gojo, ooc gojo, never rlly fixed that, reader has dark skin, xenophobia(NOT by gojo))

Sometimes, you're in bed, and feel like he's right beside you. 

For a moment, the last two months disappear. You feel whole again. Sometimes, it’s enough to make you turn around, words on your tongue, already ready to smile and greet him with a kiss. 

He isn't there. Nothing's behind you. 

And you feel empty all over again. 

It's better somedays. The emptiness. It's like a looming visage of gloom. Farther away one day, in your bed the next. Lately, it's growing bigger and bigger. A dark cloud on your shoulder, resting heavier and heavier on your back. 

Grief. Mourning. Loss. 

When you open the door, the mailman smiles cheerily at you. 

"Morning!" He chirps. "Lovely weather we're having today."

You nod, silent as he begins to dig through his bag. He's younger than you, you note. By a decade, at the very least. Barely in his twenties. When you were his age, you were still back home, in the village. When you were his age, Japan was just a faraway country, hardly worth your notice. 

He hands you your dues. You take them with a respectful thank you. And then you wait for the inevitable. 

On cue, his smile fades. Something pitying fills his gaze. You force yourself to stare right back at him. Insecurity bites at you, and you know he's staring at your dull face. The circles underneath your eyes. 

In the background, Reina babbles. He's forced to take his eyes off of you momentarily. 

"I heard about your husband." He starts, still staring inside your home. Your hands tighten into fists. "I'm sorry for your loss." 

He bows. So do you. 

"Thank you." You tell him, rehearsed, just like you practiced millions and millions of times. "I...appreciate it." 

He smiles, as if he think he did something, made your life a little easier. You let him bathe in his graciousness, before you shut the door. Away from the sunlight, away from fabricated sympathies. You finally feel like you can breathe again. 

It's been like this ever since Satoshi died. 

Car wreck. Some drunk had driven too close to the curb. Satoshi had been walking home. He'd missed the bus, he does that often. It's a usual quirk of his, you'd often found it adorably clumsy. Being late was harmless. He wasn't supposed to die for it. It'd been an instant kill, for the both of them. No other witnesses. The scene was cleaned up by the time you got there. The officers kept you in dread for four hours. In that time, you could almost convince yourself that it wasn't him. The reason why he wasn't answering your calls was because his phone had died. He was lost on the other side of town. He was anywhere else, doing anything else. 

You were brought to identify the body. Your eyes couldn’t deny what you saw.

You think a part of yourself died with your husband, too. You drift through life like a ghost. Mindless, numb. Colors have all bled into grayish blues. You don’t really feel much of anything anymore.

Reina squeals. You blink back to reality.

She’d dropped her toy. You pick it up. It was a purple stuffed rabbit. Satoshi had gotten it for her the day she was born. She doesn’t even sleep without it.

These days, Reina is the only thing that makes you get up in the morning, even when you don’t want to. She’s the only thing you push yourself for.

You don’t know where you’d be without her.

She’s giggles when you hand it back. She doesn’t even know. How can you even begin to tell your infant that her father is no longer coming home? Someone so new at life should not experience death this soon. It’s a sin. Someone has cursed her. It’s the only explanation you could give.

You kiss her on the top of her head. Her baby hairs are still growing. They resemble yours. Every part of her was you. When you look at her, you don’t see Satoshi.

You used to tease him about it; now, you wish there was just a tiny bit of him on her face.

Or maybe it was a good thing? Did you even want to see the man you loved, mourned for, and hated to think about in your daughter’s eyes? Would it break you even further?

You don’t have to think about questions like those. You have more important things to worry about. When you rifle through the mail, your heart sinks.

Warnings, bills, everything that Satoshi used to handle. Even when your world stopped, the rest of the planet didn’t: ever turning, ever malevolent.

You place the bills down. Reina babbles something.

You bend down to pick her up, she screams in delight when you place her on your lap, peppering her face with kisses.

And maybe your world hadn’t stopped, not just yet.

“There are stains on your blouse.”

You glance down before shrugging.

“Reina dropped her food.” You shrug. “I didn’t have time to clean it up.”

Kiyo doesn’t look very happy about your excuse. She doesn’t say anything about it, preferring to glare at you in silent disapproval as she always does. Usually, you’d have Satoshi acting as a barrier between you and your mother-in-law. For obvious reasons, that wasn’t feasible at the moment.

Reina was being entertained by your father-in-law. Satoshi had inherited Isamu’s bald spot as well as his gentleness. Reina kicked her feet as Isamu muttered soft words, as though they were communicating, even though Reina hadn’t even said her first words yet.

Another milestone Satoshi would miss.

“We made adjustments to the will,” Kiyo announces. “Everything will be passed onto Reina when she comes of age.”

You nod, not very interested in politics and lands. Satoshi came from a traditional family. Japanese nobility, though he wasn’t fond of talking about his background. You were always fine with it. You never married him for the money, despite what your mother-in-law thinks.

On cue, Kiyo snaps her fingers. You blink in her direction.

She frowns, but you’ve never seen her smile in your presence.

“I would appreciate if you could pay attention when discussing my grandchild’s future.” She more or less hisses.

“I am,” you give. “Trust me, no one else is more invested in my daughter’s future than me.”

It makes her even more mad, but you’re too drained to play ‘submissive daughter-in-law’ with her. From the moment Satoshi introduced you as his fiance’, Kiyo had hated you. Nothing you did could make her like you. Not even when you learned the language perfectly, immersed yourself in Japanese culture.

She never said it out loud, but you knew what she thought of you. She wanted someone different for her son: someone with pale skin, straight hair, and Japanese heritage.

You wonder if she blames you for his death.

“You haven't gone to visit him,” She says, after she breaks her death stare, “you should.”

A part of you wants to say no, but you’re in her home, and you know she doesn’t take it lightly when guests (not family, you were not family) reject her. So you do as she suggested. You rise, glancing at Reina before ultimately stepping out of Satoshi’s childhood home.

He was just as you had left him. His gravestone stood tall and proud. Even next to all the other graves, his was the tallest. It must be Kiyo’s doing. No matter the gripes she had about you, her child would always reach for the skies.

His incense had to be switched. You did so, throwing out the burnt sticks and replacing them with new ones. You watched the smoke flicker away from his altar. A lone picture of him, a shy smile. It was from back when he was younger. His hair was still there. An office job hadn’t dulled his eyes.

You wanted to keep the ashes. Just a tiny piece of him, tucked by your own altar you had. Kiyo had refused, wanting the entire body to be cremated and kept in one piece. Too broken, you hadn’t pushed. Now, all you were left with his clothes and the fading scent on the pillows. You regret not fighting more that day.

You don’t cry. Not today. A part of you is proud. It feels like it’s much too early to feel so numb to this grave. It’s too early for this to feel normal.

You touch the cold stone. It’s smooth underneath your fingertips.

Your in-laws are right inside the house. You still feel lonely.

“You shouldn’t have left.” You told the tomb. “You shouldn’t have abandoned me like this.”

When you curse Satoshi’s grave, you could have sworn you felt a tiny tingle by your neck.

On Thursdays, you take Reina shopping.

She’s a hit with the local farmers market. The shopkeepers coo at her giggles and beautiful eyes as you haggle prices for vegetables and grains. It’s nice to get back on routine. Even with everything going on.

The bills were still on the counter when you left. More and more were coming in. You feel like you were being buried alive.

Reina kicks her feet. When you look at her, her chubby cheeks are stretched in the wide smile. You smile back, and then you pepper her face with kisses. These days, you’ve opted out of the bus, trying to save some money. It’ll just be until you find a job. Then, you can take as many Air-conditioned rides as you want.

There’s a honk. You ignore it. A car rolls to a stop beside the sidewalk. You take a peek, and then you stop and stare.

“Mr. Gojo?” You ask.

“Hey! Long time!” The man waves cheerily.

You give a timid smile, waving. Reina, your polar opposite, screams in delight. She frantically leans out of your arms as though she could get to Gojo by sheer will. You quickly rearrange your hands to balance her.

“What’re you doing out there?” He frowns. “Especially in this heat?”

“Ah.” Subconsciously, you wipe the sweat off your neck. “We were heading home from the market.”

He brightens. “Wanna hop in? It’s way too hot to walk that far.”

You smile, about to politely decline but then you remember infants shouldn’t be in this weather for too long.

Gojo’s car is luxurious, but the biggest relief is the cool air blowing over your heated skin. Reina is ecstatic to be next to Gojo. She babbles something, reaching out her tiny arms. Gojo takes her immediately.

“And how’s the prettiest girl in the world doing, today?” He grins, lifting her above his head. She coos.

You’re not really sure how Gojo walked into your life. You met him once before. That day when Satoshi had a mental breakdown and practically ran away from home. Gojo was so ansty back then, and it made sense why he and your husband got along so well.

He was the one who brought home Satoshi’s essentials from work—his computer, his notes—and then he started delivering Satoshi’s work mail. Then, sometimes, he’d stop by for lunch. And then he started bringing toys for Reina. Two months passed, and you know him now.

Not well. But you know Gojo enough to slip into the passenger seat, watching how he handles Reina.

“Okay, Car ride!” He tells her. She claps her hands as he gently hands her back to you.

“Thank you again, Mr. Gojo.” You tell him. “Really, this means a lot.”

He waves you off, starting the car. “Don’t worry about it, Seriously. Got nothin’ better to do anyway. Also, I told you already, call me Satoru.”

You smile, shifting away. You don’t know why Gojo is insistent on helping a widow. He was the friend of your late husband (though, strangely, Satoshi never spoke of the man before or after the quick introductions). Maybe it’s guilt. But unlike the rest of the people who knew, Gojo never once looked at you like that as though you were in pieces in front of him. It was nice, finally having someone like that. Someone who doesn’t see you as the widow of a dead man.

He was a nice young man. You shouldn’t be so quick to assume everyone has an underlying motive.

Maybe some people were just as they are. Nice.

“Grocery shopping?” He mentions to your bag. It creases under your grip.

You nod. “Dinner. You’re welcome to join, but I’m not making anything special.”

“I’d never pass up a meal from you, ma’am,” Gojo says, happily.

You like to keep to yourself, but he was driving you home. It was the least you could do to pay back his hospitality, as well as the other things he had done for you. Honestly, your bucket for Gojo’s hospitality wasn't yet empty.

When the car rolls to a stop, Gojo hops out, opening the door before you can touch it. You thank him, Reina huddled safely in your arms and fast asleep. Gojo grins, not before grabbing your groceries and leading the way.

Your house is sparser than it had been just months ago. Less decoration. Less silly memoirs. No pictures. You dumped them all, stored them in a tiny box before locking them all in the attic. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away.

Gojo waltzes into your home like he owns it. You don’t mind. He’s young, still in his twenties, at his prime. These days, you can feel things start to break down within you. Your shoulder hurts when you sleep on it the wrong way. You have to be more careful about picking up things from off the ground. You can’t tell whether this has to do with the remnants of pregnancy or your age, but you’re envious of Gojo’s youthful strength either way.

He places the bags on the counter. By then, Reina’s awake. She blearily blinks at you. You were hoping she’d stay asleep for a little while longer.

“I can watch her!” Gojo pipes up, extending his hands. Reina’s overjoyed to be handed over. It’s nice to have your hands full with something else other than baby

You listen to them giggle while you get started on dinner. It’s your usual dance. Potatoes. The sounds of boiling water. You want to make something simple, but Gojo is here, and you don’t want to disappoint your guest. By the time you’re back out, it’s nearly an hour, and the food has yet to be served.

They don’t seem to mind. Gojo had taken Reina onto the floor. You don’t complain. It’s where she usually played anyway. He was driving one of her wooden cars on the carpet, running it across the floor, as Reina clapped to her heart’s content. You could only watch, heart strangely numb.

He’s good with her.

Like Satoshi was.

You clear your throat. Gojo looks up.

“Food’s ready.” You tell him with a stiff smile. “Why don’t you wash up? I’ll take care of her.”

“Be good, okay?” He pats Reina’s head before standing up. You take her into your arms.

She’s tired from playing. Reina settles in the crib rather nicely. It’s relieving. When she’s asleep, you can’t bring yourself to leave. You watch her. Her chest rises and falls. She snores. It’s the most adoring noise you’ve ever heard.

When you head back to the kitchen, Gojo’s already back. He grins, clearly eager.

“You cooked a lot.” He comments when you two finally settle down. “Not that I’m complaining!”

“I hope it’s to your liking,” you say as always.

And it is. Gojo never hides from giving his compliments. He’s so genuine and sincere, and it makes you a bit bashful.

“Mrs. Sawai, this stuff right here is sometimes the highlight of my day,” he says. You shake your head.

“It’s true! You have talent. You should open up a restaurant or something! Wait no, don’t do that...you’d be booked for years, and I’ll never eat your cooking again.” That makes you laugh. He seems pleased for some reason.

“Thank you,” you say, “I appreciate that.”

“How was your week? Your students?” You prod.

“Good. They’re all good!” He chirps back. “I was out of town for the week, so returning to my precious students was the best.” He sighs. “Sometimes, I wish I could just pack them all in my suitcase and take ‘em with me. They’re the cutest things.”

He said he taught at a religious school, which you found strange because Gojo didn’t really strike you as religious. Nevertheless, he seemed very passionate about teaching. It was rather endearing.

Did Satoshi ever have that kind of passion for his job?

“Reina reminds me of them. The youth.” Gojo adds. “Endless potential. The kids are all like...seeds, right? They just need the proper care to bloom.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at things,” you say.

When dinner’s over, you gather the utensils and bowls. Gojo offers to help, but you don't bite, insisting that he rests. It gives you time to decompress. As much as you like Gojo, he’s a bit severe. You can’t be around him for too long, he’s too bright. His companionship is much like a furnace. Warm, but too much, and you burn.

When you return, you expect him to put his shoes back on, waiting by the door.

Instead, Gojo is perched on the counter—his hands card through your mail.

You stare. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised at being caught. He doesn’t startle; he barely spares you a glance, perusing over your bills like they were his. You know you should say something. Anger. It should bubble up instead of the shame. You open your mouth—

“How much?” He suddenly asks.

You fumble. “What?”

He waves the envelopes. “How much is it?”

You say nothing. He shrugs, as if that’s an answer itself.

Gojo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a checkbook. You move when he plucks a stray pen from the counter.

“What are you doing?” You ask, incredibly lost.

“I’m not real good with money.” He sheepishly admits before tearing off the slip and handing it to you. “But this should be enough, right?”

You stare at the amount. You’ve never held this much money before.

“I can’t accept this.” You instantly say. Instinct.

You go to hand this back. He puts a hand on his chin.

“Tell you what.” He tells you. “If I gotta take this back, I’m just gonna head to the bank, cash it in myself, and throw all the money into the river.” He grins at your horrified expression. “And it’ll all be in Yuan, so even if someone fishes it out, no one’s gonna be able to use it. One way or another, that money’s getting outta’ my bank.”

His voice softens, akin to butter. It melts into your ears.

“This isn’t out of obligation or anything. I’m giving this to you because I want to help my friend. That’s it.”

Gojo has never looked at you in pity, not like the others. He’s always looked at you like...well, you could never understand his expression. You stare at him. His sunglasses have tilted over, showcasing those gorgeous blue eyes.

Why? Why are you doing this? You want to ask him. It’s killing you inside. Is it pity for the wife of a dead friend? Why was he doing this to you?

You think of Reina. Happy giggling, Reina, with your eyes and your hair.

“It’s not like I don't have any to spare. I’m, like, loaded,” Gojo continues with his usual snark, and you think of the fancy black car parked in front of your tiny house. “And if that isn’t enough for you, just think of it as me paying you back after all those times I’ve eaten your food.”

You lower your gaze when you take the check.

“I’ll pay you back—”

“—I won’t accept it.” He grins, and you have to smile at his tenacity.

“Thank you. No, really.” You keep the check close to your chest. “Thank you, Mr.Gojo.”

He angles his sunglasses down. He looks expectant. Just this once.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

“No problem!” He pops his frames back into place.

You see him off. When he’s behind the wheel, he gives an excited wave. You shyly wave back.

And then you feel a touch right on your back. When you turn, there’s nothing but air.

Sometimes, you dream of home.

Your real home. The village is far, far away from Japan. Where you lived with your parents and siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. On sweltering summer nights, you and the other children would sleep on the terrace underneath the stars. There were dirt paths, and rolling hills but the sky was clear every night.

In the village, tradition was everything. You used to hate it. Every day was the same. An endless cycle. You used to dance back then, your family had pushed you into it. As a child, you thought it was stupid.

Maybe that’s what pulled you towards the city—bustling roads, people everywhere. Your college was a town in and of itself. You met so many new people every day.

Satoshi was one of them.

When you brought them to your family, everyone was in awe. He was a foreigner. He was well-off, too; he came from a traditional Japanese family.

It was your Nani who pulled you aside as your family gushed about him.

“Are you sure about this one?” She had asked.

You nodded. Back then, you were young and in love. He was everything you could have dreamed of. New, exciting.

She doesn’t smile.

“Be careful.”

You remembered her words, even after you ran off with Satoshi to Japan. You remembered her words even after Satoshi assured you he wanted you to stay home and he’d work. You remembered her words when Reina was born. You remembered her words when you and Satoshi’s lives were perfect and happy.

And then you woke up.

Your village was gone. Instead of waking up in a pile of your siblings, you were alone on a giant bed.

It’s dark in your home. Satoshi hated having the lights off.

You looked to the crib. Reina was still asleep. During nights like these, you often bring her to sleep with you. It still isn’t enough, sometimes.

You’re a terrible mother. Why isn’t your own daughter enough for you?

Careful not to wake her, you slip out of bed, walking into the closet. You reach up, feeling your way on one of the shelves.

The photo album is dusty. You cough a bit when you open the book.

There’s you. Younger, stupider, garbed in your traditional dance dress. You always found that outfit so itchy. The photo was taken right after you’d placed first in one of your last competitions. Even in the photo, you had this look of disdain, holding that trophy like it was nothing but a heavy burden.

You still have that trophy a decade later.

You flip another page. Your parents. Your cousins. Your Aunts and Uncles. You stare at the photo of you holding your baby cousin. He was the same age as Reina when that picture was taken. That was ten years ago.

You can’t remember the last time you saw your family. Reina hadn’t met her grandparents, her own cousins. You never got the chance to. Satoshi was always so anxious about leaving Japan.

They’ve seen her, through video calls and photos. But that’s different than touching her, bonding with her.

You stare at the photo of you posing with the rest of your siblings and cousins. Strangely, you feel like you robbed something from Reina.

You miss home.

You cry until the album shuts itself closed, and the sun starts peeking through the windows.

“You good?” Satoru suddenly asks.

You blink, eyelashes fluttering as you stare at him. He’s on the floor again, watching Reina as she clacks a few wooden blocks together. It isn’t quiet. The babbling, too. She’d already knocked over the tower Satoru had built. He didn’t seem too upset by her destruction.

“Oh,” you say, “yes. Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

As discretely as you can, you rub at your eyes, hoping that would shoo the dark circles away. It doesn’t help.

“I...just haven’t been sleeping too well these days. That’s all.”

Reina says something, not too happy with the lack of attention. Satoru gives her another block. He’d given her a bunch of toys, this time. You weren’t sure where to even store half of them. If he kept this up, pretty soon Reina’s entire room will be filled with dolls mirrors, and blocks.

“What’s been going on?” He asks.

You’re not sure how to answer that. You aren’t sure what’s been going on yourself. All that you know is that it’s getting worse. You can’t sleep at night, most nights like there’s something pressing you down. Things are going missing. You feel like you’re being watched constantly over and over again.

It only goes away whenever Satoru’s around. Maybe that’s why you’re more tolerant of his space.

“It’s nothing,” you say, “I’ve just misplaced a few things. It’s been aggravating looking for them.”

“Hm.” He cocks his head, you can’t decipher his tone. “Really?”

“I’ll find them eventually.”

He’s silent for a few more moments and then—

“Maybe you’re haunted.”

You laugh. It’s mean and sardonic, but you haven’t laughed in a while, and you hide away when Satoru stares.

“A ghost?” You question. “Those don’t exist.”

In the village, superstition was everywhere. Guess that never changed, no matter what corner of the world you ran to.

“Not a ghost.” He corrects. “Maybe something else.”

You hum, unamused. Satoru turns to Reina with an all-too-wide smile on his face.

“It’ll be right behind you, and you won’t even know it.” He tells her. “Then, it’ll draw closer, and closer, and closer until....it gets ya—”

To further his point, his hands shoot out to lightly jostle her. Reina squeals, absolutely thrilled.

Then, Satoru turns to you.

“Or something like that.”

You aren’t impressed.

“Ghosts aren’t real.” You tell him.

“They certainly aren’t.” He agrees. “But other things are.”

Satoshi acted strangely two days before his death.

He was always anxious, but this was even worse than before. Constantly looking behind him, like they’d be something there. You know he wouldn’t sleep. He’d just lay there, shifting in panic.

You don’t prod until you find him in the bathroom in clear hysterics.

“I messed up,” he mumbles over and over again. “I messed up. I messed up.”

“Satoshi.” You beg, kneeling on the tile next to him. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I messed up.” He tells you again. “I keep messing up.”

And then he sobs. He cries so loudly, you’re worried it might wake up Reina. You hug him. Hold him close to your chest, letting him cry himself out.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you. “I’m sorry. I love you. I love Reina. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You ask.

He looks at you then.

“For cheating.”

You remember every detail. The crinkle in his eyes. The beginning stages of wrinkles in his face. A picture entirely stamped into your memory.

“I forgive you.” You immediately say. “I—I forgive you. We—we can work through this.”

“We can’t.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. You deserve better. She deserves better, too. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything when you prod. Who, how, when. Your husband cheated on you. You aren’t even allowed to grieve your dying marriage when you have to grieve your dead husband.

You meant what you said. You forgave him. You would have worked through it. Fixed it. Because your marriage with Satoshi was perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

It was a perfect marriage when he never stood up for you in front of his mother. It was a perfect marriage when all he did back from work was eat and sleep. It was a perfect marriage when he cheated on you.

Rose-tinted glasses. Maybe your relationship wasn’t the most perfect.

But it was fixable.

Reina’s crying in her crib. The thing on your chest is back.

You fumble through the dark, reaching for her. She’s crying even louder when you pick her up, even when you rock her in your arms.

“Please stop.” You beg. “Please stop crying.”

She doesn’t. The pressure gets bigger.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” Satoru’s asking when you’re finished putting away the groceries. He’d offered you a ride again. You wondered when you stopped being surprised at his frequent pop-ins.

“The same as always,” you respond.

You’re not used to the house being so quiet. Reina’s always doing something. For an infant, she’s rather loud.

But she isn’t here today. Kiyo wanted her Grandaughter for the night. You obliged, letting your Mother-in-law whisk Reina away. Was she even your mother-in-law anymore?

“So nothing?” Satoru prods, and you wonder why he’s so persistent on the answer. Maybe he wants to tease you.

The differences between you and him are staggering. He’s young, still in his twenties, he probably still goes out clubbing, drinking, whatever kids his age are into. You are...older, a mom, unsure if the tight skirts you wore 15 years ago would still fit you.

“If you don't got any plans, why don’t you hang out with me tonight?”

You stare at him.

“Don’t gimme that look. You act like I’m gonna rob you.” He complains. “Let yourself loose a bit. What do you even do for fun, these days?”

That stumped you. Apart from lounging around, sulking, job hunting, revolving around Reina, you haven’t done much. When’s the last time you talked to someone other than Satoru?

“There’s a bar that opened up. Not too far from here.” He muses. “Wanna go?”

You hesitate, “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not good at handling alcohol—”

“Same! Total lightweight.” He gushes. “It’ll still be fun, though! What do you say?”

Why, you want to ask. Why is he so insistent on spending time with you. Asking about you. About Reina. What does he want from your broken family? Your mind can’t piece together the images—connect the dots.

“Okay,” you say instead.

Three hours later, you’re dressed in the most flattering clothing in the back of your closet. Satoru looks pristine as always, and you wonder if there’s ever a chance he could look any less put together. Under the dim lights, he’s almost glowing. You can’t stare at him for too long.

The conversation is light, not too purposeful. You wander from one topic to the next. He talks about his co-workers. His school. You’ve always wondered about this teaching job. He seemed to never want to shut up about his students, but whenever you try to pry about the details, he starts to drift away. The most you’ve gotten from him was rambling about how it was a private religious school before he sprung into something else.

“Did you have any pets?” He asks, “Growing up, I mean.”

You shrug. “There were a lot of stray dogs, in my hometown. We would feed them, but no. No pets.”

“You?” You prod.

He takes a moment, genuinely thinking.

“My family had a dog, not too long after I was born. After that, nothing.” You were surprised, he answered. The alcohol must make his lips a little looser.

“I think having a dog would be nice,” you muse, mostly to yourself, “maybe an older one. Less energy.”

“What pet do you think I should have?” He asks.

You stare at him. He’s grinning.

“A rock,” you respond, and when he laughs, you laugh a bit, too.

“I like it when you smile like that,” he says when his voice recovers. “You get all blushy.”

You frown, discretely checking your face in the glass.

“I don’t blush.” You say. “My skin’s too dark.”

He tips his sunglasses down, staring at you with those pretty blue eyes. You shift away. His gaze doesn’t let you get far.

“Not really,” he murmurs, tilting his head. “It’s subtle, but it’s still there. It’s a nice color.”

He’s teasing you. You know that. Still, you look away. He laughs again. It sounds like twinkling bells.

“How’s everything holdin’ up with the house?” He asks when you’re nursing your 3rd drink. “I know you had a couple of issues earlier.”

You shrug, lips loose, feeling warm. “I don’t think I have to worry about it. Not anymore.”

“Hm? Why’s that?”

“I’m thinking of going back home.”

He stops messing with his drink. You don’t notice, thoughts hazy.

“Back...to your country?” Satoru asks carefully.

You nod absentmindedly. “I only came here because of Satoshi. Now that he’s...I think it’s best for Reina if we go back.”

You want her to live with her maternal culture. You want her to meet your side of the family finally. Maybe, when she’s older, you can put her in your old dance garments. She’ll probably hate it, much like you did. She’ll be good at it, much like you were.

He’s silent, swirling his glass.

“Really?”

“Yes.” You feel defensive, even when you shouldn’t be. His tone was cool. Yours wasn’t. “It—it’s her home. She should see it.”

“Wasn’t she born here?” Satoru questioned. “Wouldn’t Japan be her home, then?”

You deflate.

“You’re right.” You admit. “Japan is her home, but it isn’t mine.”

You miss home. You miss the village. You’d do anything to go back to the good old times. You’d do anything to be away from this pain.

Japan was empty. Your in-laws barely tolerate you. No friends. No job. The only good memories you had were buried in a tomb, and even those rotted away by lies and deceit.

“I think you should stay,” Satoru says, voice soft.

“Why?” You ask. “I have nothing here.”

“You could.”

You look up. In the dim lights of the bar, he’s breathtaking. Everything you weren’t.

And that everything closes the distance between you and him.

It’s soft. Barely a kiss. His lips are soft; you can smell his shampoo. It lasts for a moment before you’re breaking it. You shy away, staring at the floor beneath you. Your shoes. You can hear your heart. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Satoru follows your mouth. This time, it’s bolder. You can feel his warmth, pressed against your frigid soul. He’s melting you down to bone. There’s a hand on your back, keeping you in place. Fireworks spark at the touch.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt someone like this. Not since...

And then you remember who you’re with, what you’re doing. The ring sits heavy on your finger.

You push away. Satoru falters, and you use that opportunity to stumble to your feet.

“I’m sorry,” You say, “I—I’m—”

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. Instead, you turn and flee out the bar. Into the cold frigid night.

You’re drunk. You can feel it in your fingertips, the way your vision gets the slightest bit dizzy when you move too fast. You cling against a random lightpost, checking your phone.

Your place wasn’t that far away. You could walk, right? But it would be safer to call a cab. Better yet, call Kiyo. Call your neighbor. Call anyone?

Oh, you just remembered that you have no one here.

Satoru finds you when you’re already crying. You can feel him on your shoulder before he even says anything.

“Hey,” he says, reaching for you, “c’mon. Let’s get out of the street—”

“Why?” You whirl onto him, so fast that even he’s surprised. “Why are you doing any of this? Reina, me, why do you care so much?”

You’re still crying, but you can feel your tears slow down the tiniest bit. You weren’t breathing. You don’t think he was either.

Satoru opens his mouth. Closes. Opens again. His smile is gone. You can see the imprint of your lipstick on his perfect pout.

“I love you.”

It feels like he just slapped you. A knife in your belly, tearing you apart. Nausea builds in your throat, threatening to spill all over the road. You can’t look at him anymore, it hurts too much. Betrayal. You’re betraying your husband. Your dead cheater husband. 

“Stop.” You beg him anyway, “Don’t say that. Never say that, I can’t think–”

“—Then don’t think.” He insists, sweet, saturated. “Don’t think about any of this.”

He kisses you again, and your mind blanks. You let him this time, and you feel yourself break over it.

This time, Satoru’s the one who breaks it, resting his forehead on yours. You still must look confused. He laughs adoringly.

“C’mon this can’t be too out of left field, right?” He asked. “I mean, I made it pretty obvious.”

He had. You were too preoccupied in your own misery to notice. Offers to drive you to the grocery store. Volunteering to take care of another man’s baby. Satoru has always been direct.

You avoid his gaze, but there’s no where to go.

“Satoru,” you hesitate. “I—I don’t feel that way.”

“I know.” He concedes, trailing his lips down your cheek. You don’t stop him.

“But you need this.” He kisses your neck. “I know you do. You’re so stressed all the time, hm? You need me. Use me. However, you want to.”

Use him. You’ve always used him. What difference would this make?

You still had a chance to stop this. There were so many reasons to stop. You were a recent widow. A single mother. He was so much younger than you—

You kiss him again to stop thinking.

You don’t know what time you stumble through your door.

Satoru hasn’t stopped touching you in the cab, walking up to your patio. If you were sober, you might have been a bit more hysterical about it, now you just wanted him never to stop.

He’s pushing you against the door, slamming it shut with your body weight. You can barely get the words out past his plush lips.

“Bedroom.” You insist.

He pulls away with a laugh. “’course, Babe.”

You’re not sure how to feel about that petname, but you don’t get a moment to complain. He’s effortlessly picking you up, and you settle on the cool comforters moments later.

Your dress is halfway up your thighs. He spares no time, reaching for the back and finding the zipper. It falls apart in his fingers. He peels the fabric off of you with a delighted sigh.

“Fuck, look at you,” he’s saying to the newly uncovered skin. “so so pretty.”

Not used to the attention, you shy away. He doesn’t let you, taking you by the chin so he can kiss you again.

He’s so different now. You feel like you’re seeing a side of him you aren’t supposed to. Long white lashes, pretty blue eyes that are drenched in want and lust. His breathing was elevated. He was excited.

It scares you.

“I...I haven’t done this in a while.” You admit when you pull back. You give him a glance, before resigning yourself to pull away the rest of the dress and dropping it to the floor. “So...Please be nice?”

You sound like a child, unsure and nervous. You hate that you can’t keep the tremor out of your voice.

“Yes, yes.” He’s nodding, staring at you like a drooling dog. “I’ll be so so nice, baby. The nicest. Just lemme’ touch you. Please, please, pretty please?”

You give a tiny nod, and he’s pouncing on you.

He’s insatiable, you don’t think he’d ever get enough. He’s pawing at your bra before it comes off completely beneath his touch. Your panties are gone too, and then you’re entirely bare beneath him.

He doesn't forget about himself, neither do you. Between his ravenous kisses, you manage to take off his jacket. Satoru helps you with his shirt, pulling it off him, showing his toned abs and pale skin. Not a single mark or blemish. He’s absolute perfection.

He must notice your hesitant fingers at his shoulders because he stops sucking on your neck with a distinct pop, still playing with your tits, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“Touch me,” he says, “I want you to touch me.”

You feel awkward pulling your fingers down to his chest, his stomach. His skin is soft, warm. Your hands are frigid. He shivers when you graze over his abs. His skin is so pale, almost translucent. If you were to pinch him, bite him, the color would show oh so nicely.

When you pull away, he whines, nearly falling over.

“Don’t fucking tease me like that.” The way he says it is so needy. You laugh, gaining the courage to play with his hair.

He gets the control back eventually, pushing you back down so he can devour you properly.

His face is between your legs before you can comprehend it. He’s spreading you open so he can see your pussy. You’re already creaming for him. Your pussy juice is spread across your lips, making your skin glisten and shine. It’d be embarrassing if he wasn’t worse, drooling like a fucking dog before his mouth meets your cunt in a frenzied kiss.

He gives this high-pitched moan that sends a thrill up your spine the more he makes out with your clit, licking and sucking.

“Oh.” You sink against the pillows. “Satoru—Satoru-!—”

“Fuck yes—” his voice is muffled but he doesn’t stop. “You taste so good, baby. like—like fuckin’ heaven—”

You almost double over when his teeth graze your clit. Your hand reaches out immediately to grab and his hair and pull.

It does nothing. He just whines, and when he digs deeper into your pussy, you realize he likes it when you hurt him.

You pull harder and his finger presses its way into your wet hole and just the right angle to make you see stars.

“Fuck baby, ‘can barely fit my fingers.” It would sound like a complaint if he didn’t sound so far gone already. “How are we gonna fit my cock into this pussy, hm?”

He talks too much. When you shove his face deeper into your folds, it seems to shut him up and he’s back to worshipping your dripping cunt.

He’s too good. It’s all so good. You’re squeezing his head between your thighs, sure you’re suffocating him but he doesn’t seem to care. The noise is downright scandalous but you’re too far gone to give a shit about that.

It felt so good to stop thinking.

“Close.” You gasp when you hit that plateau. “I’m close. I’m—”

“Gonna cum?” he asks from underneath you, and it only seems to spur him on. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl. Cum baby. Just let go. I gotcha’ just please please please—”

It hits and you arch your back, letting your orgasm rush past your body. It fizzes up your spine, right to your tits before you sag back to Earth. Satoru is more that happy to work you through your high before your thighs fall apart against him and he’s detaching himself from your clit with one last part kiss.

Satoru kisses you, famished. You can barely kiss back, following his lips with your own. You can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s a tangy sweetness, warmed from his spit.

“Was I nice?” Satoru asks.

You nod. He smiles.

He pulls back, sitting on his knees. You watch as he fiddles with his boxers, before pulling out his pulsing cock.

It’s not all that thick, but it’s the length that makes you shift, just the tiniest bit. He’s on the larger end. His cock looks puffy and dripping in a way that almost looks painful. He pumps himself a few times, and then you’re reaching out.

Satoru stops, watching as you rise from your earlier position, hand on his cock. Your hand is so much smaller than his, you can barely wrap your fingers around his base. He shivers at the touch, and by the time you’re fisting his cock he faltars, head falling into the crook of your neck.

“Too much?” You ask when he gasps.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No no. Keep going. Please don’t stop.”

That same whine again. Helpless and needy. When you squeeze him, he jolts.

And then you stop. You’re sure he’s about to complain but then you’re lowering yourself, keeping your eyes on him, and you give his cock a tentative lick.

You hadn’t done this in a while, and you weren’t all that sure if you could swallow all of him, but you try your best. You swirl your tongue around his tip, watching as he twitches. His cock jumps in your mouth and you have to hold his base to keep him still for you. He’s so sensitive. Every touch you give him seems to just make him even needier.

He rocks his cock into your mouth. You let him, watching as he babbles on and on.

“So so fucking good, baby.” He’s moaning, head flung back, like it’d be too much to keep looking at you. “Right—right there. Fuck fuck fuck.”

He cums fast, and it’s sudden. He’s barely holding his breath before he’s shuddering and he’s filling your entire mouth. There’s so much of it, you can’t possibly swallow it all. You mouth off his cock with a pop, pumping him until he starts twitching out of overstimulation.

Satoru is panting, still basking in that afterglow as you kiss him. He doesn’t seem too embarrassed about how quick he lasted. Then again, you don’t think he has the brainpower to feel anything right now other than pure lust. Pussydrunk, your brain gives.

You reach up, wiping away the tears collected in the corner of his eyes. A part of you wants to leave it there. He looks good like this. Pretty as an angel.

And then you look down and you see his cock has not gone down at all.

“Oh,” you murmur, “I see you’re healthy.”

“Mmh,” he says back, not exactly words but you’re not looking for a conversation right now.

Your pussy is throbbing. She wants more attention. You’re settling back into your original position as you watch Satoru rifle through his forgotten pants. He pulls out a familiar wrapper. You have to roll your eyes at his preparedness.

“You’re a bit too ready for this.” You note.

“Can you blame me?” He honestly asks. “I’ve been waiting for this for months.”

The casual admission makes you glance away. He laughs at your sudden shyness and you have to wonder how you didn’t see him before.

“Ready, baby?” He asks. This feels familiar, somehow.

He gives his cock two cursory pumps, and then he’s pushing himself into you.

It’s so much all at once. As wet as you were, his cock bullies his way into you with a fierce stretch. It’s enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut. Grin and bear it.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” He curses. “How the hell did you fit a baby through here?” You can’t bring yourself to respond to his usual snark, so you claw at his back, raking your nails through his skin. He hisses and the pain seems to distract him into temporarily shutting up.

By the time, he sits his dick in your pussy, you’re close to breaking. You were right, he was way too big. Bigger than the one person you’ve always been with, so you’re not sure if you have a good gauge on size. Still, your brain short-circuits, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Mind-numb.

He’s impatient this time, not giving you a chance to adjust before he’s clumsily pulling back out only to ram himself back in. You lurch, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself from his sudden pace.

“Satoru—!” You gasp. “It’s—!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s apologizing, but you’re not quite sure how much he actually means it. “I’ve—I’ve just waited so—ah—long and now you’re here and it’s so—”

If it’s even possible, he gets even faster, pushes his cock even deeper into your battered pussy. The squelching of your hole and his whines into your ear make it so much more erotic than it needs to be. You give into your desire, reaching over to sink your teeth into the soft flesh of his neck. The masochist in him purrs in delight.

You notice it first. That familiar soreness in your tits. When you glance down, your nipple is leaking that familiar milky fluid.

Satoru notices too. He stops, sinking his dick entirely into you. You’ve never felt fuller.

“Oh.” You feel heat creep up your neck. You hadn’t fed Reina today, this was bound to happen. “I—I’m sorry. I—I should’ve—”

You expect him to pull out of you awkwardly. Maybe even be disgusted.

Instead, he groans.

“I’m getting dessert now, too?”

“What?”

As your answer, he leans down and latches onto your tit.

He’s messy, smearing milk all over your skin and the other breast. After a while, he picks up his pace again, resuming his pussyfucking. You’re sure the angle must be painful, him bent over you like this, but he makes no complaint. And you could care less about his discomfort right about now.

He alternates between your breasts like he can’t decide which one tastes better. It shouldn’t feel this good, watching him suckle on your tits but you can feel yourself get even tighter. He can feel it, too.

Satoru’s rambling now. You can barely keep up with his incoherent mess.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re close, arentcha’?” he’s slurring his words, spitting them out one after another. “C’mon baby, you wanna cum? Cum, then? Milk my cock, pretty baby. Just like last time.” You should be paying more attention to his words. You don't.

Everything feels like deja vu. You should be paying attention to your own words too. You don’t.

“Mhn.” You moan. “Close. Sato, I’m close. Real real close—”

Your eyes widen. So does his.

You think you just ruined everything.

And then he starts jackhammering himself into you.

“Say it again.” He demands, driving his cock deep into your cunt.

You shake your head, despite your refusal you can’t help but— “Sato, oh God. Please Sato—Don’t—”

“Again, say it again.” His fingers descend to your clit, messily rubbing tiny circles. “Don’t stop saying my name until you’ve cum.”

You obey. Sato, Sato, Sato, Sa—and then you’re tipping over the edge. He fucks you through it, keeping you on that high until he’s shuddering too.

“Fuck baby, I missed you.” He’s whispering in your ear. “I missed you so much.”

You sigh when he kisses you, still coming down to Earth. The kiss his soft, just filled with want, instead of that carnal desire. He pulls away, and just when you’re debating to let him stay the night, he’s pulling out new rubber.

“Another one?” You ask, the dots not quite connecting yet.

“Oh, c’mon.” He grins down at you. “You didn’t think we’d go for just one round, did ya?”

You’re finally back in his arms.

Satoru dreamed of this day. He’s dreamt of this for months, ever since he had to leave you with that scumbag. Now that you’re sleeping peacefully in his arms again, everything is finally right in his world.

He shifts, wanting to bring you closer to his chest, but he winces. Fuck, you really did a number on him. He didn’t know you were into biting. And he can feel the pleasant sting of your nails on his back. He’d need to be careful with his RCT for a while. He wants these marks to last for as long as possible.

And when they fade, he’s sure he won’t have to convince you too much to make more for him.

“Give...them...back.”

Oh right. He’d almost forgotten about that other tiny problem he had.

He turns to the curse. “So, enjoy the show?”

Satoshi is unrecognizable. Malformed, demented. No more eyes, tall enough to reach the ceiling. To a being like Satoru, he was still nothing.

To a non-shaman and an infant, a grade 2 curse was quite the hassle. No wonder your so exhausted these days. Your husband was cursing you.

“Give them back.” The curse rasps. “Give them both back.”

Satoru’s silent, as if he’s really thinking about it.

“Nah, I’m good.” He grins. “This one’s mine now. And about Reina...what do you think suits me best: Dada or Daddy?”

The curse roars. It’s loud enough to shake the walls. Satoru tsks.

“Careful there. You might wake the missus.” He points out.

“Mine...” Satoshi insists. “They were....mine.”

“Were.” Satoru enunciates. “And now, they’re all mine! Sorry about the change in management. Don’t worry, though. I’ll take great care of both of ‘em.”

Always wanting to have the last word, Satoru reaches over and plucks your wedding ring off your limp finger.

“So, that’s where you got attached.” He muses at the metal. “Can’t believe you’re pathetic enough to curse your own wife. Is this 'cause you're still mad about the execution?" He asks, twirling the ring in his palm. "That happened months ago, man, get over it."

A snap of his fingers. Satoshi is gone. The room gets less stuffier. You relax in your sleep, and Satoru is caressing your arm, still studying the ring. It’s cheap. Plated gold with a less valuable metal as the base.

Pathetic. He tosses it carelessly.

A few months later, Satoru proposes with a proper engagement ring.

You say yes.

"It's All Your Fault, Isn't It?"

Yan! SatoSugu x Reader Sum: You've had the chances, why didn't you take them. In the end you'll always just lose the purest of love. Last part of: Can my friend join?, This is Love, Right? ** Can be read as standalone fics** TW: Yandere Behaviors (Obsession, Manipulation, etc), Death of Child Character, Blood, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Depression, Dubcon, Lactation, Pregnancy themes, SatoSugu, Angst No Comfort. MDNI WC: 7.7k

A/n: I got supperrr stuck in the loop of editing, so I am just gonna post it, I feel like rereading it after the tenth time. I almost just pressed delete lol. :) enjoy!

It’s all your fault, isn’t it?

You did this to yourself. You should have walked away when the chance was there, when the door was still open, even just a crack. You should have screamed, fought, run—anything to reclaim a sliver of your freedom.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Was it the security? The comfort of knowing you’d never struggle to pay bills or scramble to find work? Was it the way Satoru promised, over and over, that you’d never go unloved, never feel the ache of loneliness again?

Or was it something darker? Something you couldn’t quite admit to yourself?

You told yourself it was love. You told yourself you were lucky. How many women could say they had someone who’d give them the world? Someone who, with a flick of his wrist, could bend the rules of life itself to ensure you had everything you could ever need?

So, you stayed.

Even before Suguru became part of the equation, you stayed. You even stayed when Satoru would come home in the dead of night, his footsteps a faint echo through the silent halls before his hands found you. You’d stir from your sleep as he pulled your panties down with barely a word, his breath hot against your neck.

There was no tenderness in those moments, no love—just need. A raw, consuming need he claimed you had to fulfill. And you let him, didn’t you? You let him push inside you with barely any preparation, your body yielding to him because he knew it so well.

Satoru knew the places that made you crumble, the spots where your body quivered, the way your breath hitched when his fingers grazed just right. He knew you better than you knew yourself, didn’t he? His movements were deliberate, practiced, the wet noises filling the room a cruel testament to how thoroughly he’d mastered you.

You’d given him permission. He reminded you of that often, didn’t he? That you’d said yes. That he worked so hard, carried so much, and that this was his right. That he had needs only you could meet.

And you understood. You always understood.

After all, he was the strongest, wasn’t he?

So, you let him use you.

Like a doll.

You’d lay there, staring at the ceiling, as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his loud groans of release cutting through the stillness. A pathetic little whimper followed, muffled by the darkness, as he spilled himself inside you. And then, as if the act meant nothing, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, murmured something soft and indistinct, and rolled over to his side of the bed.

You stayed there, silent and unmoving, the lingering heat of his body beside you doing nothing to warm the cold ache between your thighs.

That’s when the thought would creep in. A sick, unwelcome whisper:

You didn’t even climax.

You hated yourself for thinking it. For letting it matter.

But still, you stayed.

Was it fear that held you there? Or was it hope—a desperate, foolish hope that one-day things would change? That one day, every day would feel like those rare, sweet moments when he pressed teasing kisses against your lips before dragging you out to get sweets. That he’d touch you with love, with the tenderness he so effortlessly showed to others—when he wasn’t breaking them apart piece by piece with that same teasing grin.

And now, looking back, you can’t decide what’s worse: that you didn’t leave when you had the chance…

Or that part of you still doesn’t want to.

You stayed, even when the small arguments started. The little spats about wanting him to open up more, to share pieces of his life with you, the pieces he always kept hidden. Perhaps it was selfish—maybe even naïve—but you wanted to know why he loved you.

Really, truly loved you.

But you never asked.

You saved that question, tucking it away deep into your heart, right alongside the cracks that had already started forming. You told yourself it wasn’t the right time. That maybe he wasn’t ready. That you shouldn’t push. Instead, you focused on the good times, clinging to them like lifelines.

Because they were good, weren’t they?

What other guy would give you the world like Satoru did? What other guy would bring you flowers every week—a different color each time, sometimes traditional, sometimes exotic, but always beautiful? What other guy would shower you with affection so openly, so shamelessly, pressing kisses to your skin, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded?

Satoru had told you he loved you. And maybe he did—in a way that wasn’t entirely built on desire, the need to keep you within his grasp, or the insatiable craving to hold you close for the rest of your days.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

That’s why you stayed.

Even when Suguru came into the picture—when those dark, calculating eyes lingered on you just a moment too long when his quiet, honeyed words wove themselves into your life like threads binding you to a tapestry you couldn’t escape—you stayed.

You had the choice, didn’t you? You could have said no. You could have walked away.

But you didn’t.

You stayed, and now there was no one else to blame.

So, truly, it is all your fault.

However, your heart’s at fault too, isn’t it? For leaning into Suguru's touches, craving his warmth, even when you knew deep down that he was a cruel and awful man. A man who veiled his darkness in sweetness, wrapping it in gentle words and tender caresses that made you doubt your own truths. He was a master of contradiction—soft hands and sharp edges, honeyed lies hiding an iron grip.

You could have left.

You could have said no to the whole relationship, shut the door before it ever opened.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

You told yourself that maybe this was the best you could hope for, the best kind of love someone like you deserved. Because it was love, wasn’t it? They loved you. Even if it was conditional. Even if you had to give and give, piece after piece of yourself, just to receive a sliver in return.

Love comes in many forms, after all. And this was love.

Or so you continued to convince yourself.

This is what you deserve. That you should have listened to your gut, back when every touch felt too heavy, too lingering, too much. Back when their words seemed to wrap around you like chains instead of promises. You should have left before the walls around you closed in. Before you realized that leaving wasn’t just difficult—it was dangerous.

You had your chances, didn’t you? If only you’d taken them.

You knew Satoru would tear the world apart to find you if you ran. He’d find you, no matter where you went, no matter how far. But… would he really?

If you’d left early enough, maybe it wouldn’t have been like this. Maybe it would have been nothing more than a bad breakup, a lesson in heartbreak you’d recover from in time. Maybe, if you’d left after Suguru’s return, Satoru would have leaned on him instead of spiraling further into obsession.

But you didn’t leave.

You stayed.

Such a stupid, stupid girl.

And yet…

It was never just about them, was it?

Because you craved love too, just as much as they did. You wanted it desperately—so much that you ignored the warnings in your heart, the creeping dread in your chest. You wanted to be loved, to feel wanted, to belong to someone in a way that was absolute, undeniable, and unshakable.

And that’s exactly what they gave you.

But love like that—it came with a cost.

And you paid for it in silence, in submission, in the pieces of yourself you’d never get back.

So now, here you are, locked away in the beautiful Gojo estate. A place so grand it should feel like a palace, yet it suffocates you like a gilded cage. Every corner gleams with wealth and power, every surface reflects the life you’re supposed to be grateful for.

The maids don’t meet your eyes.

To them, you aren’t Satoru’s wife. You aren’t a partner. You’re something lesser.

A pet.

Because you aren’t the one ensuring the estate runs smoothly while Satoru is away on his endless missions. That responsibility doesn’t fall to you—it belongs to Suguru, doesn’t it? He’s the one in charge. He holds the reins, commanding the household with a quiet authority that leaves no room for question.

And you?

You remain.

The pet. The wife. The child-bearer.

Barefoot and pregnant, with a swollen belly to show for it, you shuffle through the estate like a ghost. Your body aches, weighed down not just by the child growing inside you, but by the chains of a life you can’t escape.

Suguru sees to it that the estate runs like a well-oiled machine, all while maintaining his title as the second strongest. His responsibilities never seem to tire him, never seem to dull his devotion. If anything, they only make him more overbearing.

He adores pampering you.

He drapes you in the softest blankets, ensuring you’re always warm. He dresses you in the finest clothes, silks and satins that cling to your growing belly, showcasing the proof of your usefulness. He loves the way your independence has been stripped away, loves the way you’ve been forced to rely on him for everything.

When did you become so dependent?

When did you start accepting his affection like a loyal dog, start leaning into the way his rough, calloused hands would trace the curve of your stomach? When did you start craving the way he’d gaze up at you with that lovesick smile, his voice low and honeyed as he murmured sweet words about the future?

“I hope the baby looks like Satoru,” he’d say, his eyes dark and soft as they met yours. Then, after a pause, “I hope it’s a girl.”

The words always made your chest tighten, made your stomach twist.

You know he must miss the twins.

It’s not just the weight of their absence—it’s the way he’s filled that void with this child, this unborn life. You can see it in the way he touches you, the way he watches you. He’s more excited about this pregnancy than you are.

And that’s the cruelest part, isn’t it?

Because to him, this isn’t just a child. It’s a legacy. A purpose.

To you?

It’s another chain.

And yet, you hate how loving he is. How he’s always there to hold your hair back when you’re bent over, heaving in the dead of night. How his large, warm hands find every knot in your aching limbs, massaging away the tension with a tenderness that makes your heartache.

It’s cruel, how gentle he can be. How he disarms you with care just when you think you might muster the strength to fight back.

There’s a constant mantra in your mind, a desperate hope that the baby won’t resemble either of them.

Because the thought of seeing their features reflected back at you stirs a fear too heavy to bear.

The thought of seeing their features reflected in those tiny, innocent eyes is terrifying. It brings the fear that every decision will feel like a mistake, that allowing any of this to happen will become an unbearable regret.

You tell yourself you hope, but it’s hard to ignore the possibility, isn’t it?

What if the child inherits Satoru’s piercing blue eyes—so crystalline they seem otherworldly, glowing even in the faintest light? The same eyes that burn and freeze you all at once, stripping you bare and exposing every secret, every hidden part of you.

Even his grin—boyish, sharp, too wide—lingers in your mind. A grin that could charm and cut in the same breath, leaving you unsure whether to lean closer or step away. What if that grin appeared on a smaller, softer face, just as devastating?

Or worse—what if the baby inherits Suguru’s gaze?

Those dark, soulful eyes that pull you in like the tide, gentle at first glance, inviting even, but hiding endless, churning storms beneath their surface. Eyes that promise escape is not an option. Unlike Satoru’s, Suguru’s smiles are quieter, softer—but no less dangerous. His smiles feel deliberate, like they’re slipping past every defense you didn’t even know you had.

Would the baby inherit Satoru’s arrogance? Suguru’s patience?

Or worse—would the child inherit both of their possessiveness?

The thought makes your skin crawl.

But the fear doesn’t end there.

Because it’s not just about the baby, is it?

It’s about you.

About how they’ve already carved themselves so deeply into your soul that you can’t even imagine a world without them. You hate that truth. Hate the way it festers inside you, a bitter root growing into every part of you.

You hate Satoru’s smirk when he strides into the estate after a mission, brushing off the exhaustion and blood as if it’s nothing. How he towers over you, his white hair catching the light in a way that seems almost ethereal, his fingers tilting your chin up with a mock tenderness that makes your breath catch.

You hate how he always knows exactly what to say to make you crumble, his voice dipping into that teasing lilt that makes your heart flutter in spite of yourself.

And Suguru—oh, you hate how he lingers. How his touch lingers. His hands are always warm, always deliberate, tracing paths across your skin as if he’s claiming you, piece by piece. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a silent reminder that you are his, that you belong to him. His voice, low and soothing, is a cruel contradiction—a balm against your nerves, even when his words are laced with quiet threats you pretend not to hear.

You hate them.

You hate the way they consume you, the way they’ve woven themselves into the fabric of your life so tightly that even your thoughts feel tangled in their presence.

And yet, as you sit in the vast, lonely expanse of the Gojo estate, the weight of your belly grounding you, you know the truth.

You’re not just afraid of the baby looking like them.

You’re afraid of what that child will mean.

Because if they look like Satoru, with his arrogance, his fire, his brilliance, how will you deny the pride swelling in your chest? How will you stop yourself from feeling that flicker of awe, even when you know you shouldn’t?

And if they look like Suguru, with his quiet strength, his steadfast devotion, how will you deny the love? How will you stop yourself from melting beneath those familiar eyes, from imagining them crinkling with joy or softening with affection?

You can’t.

And that's horrifying.

You won’t be able to ignore how Satoru has changed, how he’s become softer, more attentive in ways that make it harder to hold onto your resentment. How he lingers closer to you than he ever did before, as if the mere distance between you might undo something fragile inside him.

How he’s started resting his head in your lap as you sit together in the serene gardens, his white hair catching the sunlight like spun silk, almost ethereal. His long lashes cast soft shadows over his cheeks as his half-lidded gaze flickers up to meet yours, brimming with a tenderness you don’t know how to process.

He murmurs lazy words of affection, his voice low and warm, the kind of sweetness that drips like honey and sticks to your skin. His fingers trace absentminded circles on your thighs, soft patterns that feel far too intimate, far too easy.

And you hate how much you crave it.

You hate the way his presence soothes something raw inside you, even when you tell yourself it shouldn’t.

You hate how he’s begun helping you with the small, intimate things you wish you could keep to yourself. Like the unbearable ache in your swollen breasts, the pressure building so much it leaves you trembling, whimpering in pain. How he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even ask.

The way Satoru's lips wrap around you with loud, deliberate suckles, the sound echoing in the quiet as he eases the pressure with almost clinical precision. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t falter. His hands grip your hips to steady you, his thumbs pressing reassuring circles into your skin.

You hate the sound.

You hate the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way it prickles, a constant reminder of just how close he always is—too close.

When he’s finished, he pulls back with a satisfied hum, his lips brushing against your collarbone with a lingering kiss. His voice low, almost tender, as he murmurs, “I love this version of you.”

The words settle into you like stones. His lips, still soft from the milk, press against yours, and the faint sweetness lingers, almost cloying. Satoru murmurs more words—gentle, saccharine things that would feel kind if not for the way his hands start to roam as they wrap around your waist.

“How nurturing you’ve become,” he whispers, his tone carrying a dangerous sort of reverence.

That’s what he loves. That’s what he says.

And the way he looks at you when he says it—those bright blue eyes glinting with something dark, something that sinks its claws into you—makes your skin crawl. Because you know exactly what he means.

He doesn’t love the nurturing in and of itself. He loves how it ties you to him. How it binds you to this role, this life, this carefully constructed world where you are his and only his.

The version of you he loves is one that has no room for defiance, no space for resistance—only the space to give, to sacrifice, to bend under the weight of his love.

And that’s what makes it so much worse.

Because even as you hate it, even as your stomach churns and your skin prickles, there’s a part of you that leans into his touch. A part of you that longs for the softness, for the fleeting moments when it feels like love instead of control.

And you hate yourself for that, too

Because you know how it goes. You’ve seen it now. Lived it.

How one pregnancy ends and another begins.

The cycle repeated itself after your firstborn, didn’t it? Barely a year after you gave birth, they had you pregnant again. You didn’t even have time to recover, to heal, before they decided it was time for another.

But they love you, don’t they?

Satoru’s affection is impossible to miss—the way he grins at you, almost childlike, as he cups your face with hands that can destroy worlds but hold you as though you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. How he showers you with gifts, flowers in every shade imaginable, rare treasures that sparkle as brightly as his endless energy.

How many times has he told you, in his low, teasing voice, “You’re my world, you know that? I could do anything, have anything—but none of it would matter without you.”

It sounds like love, doesn’t it?

And Suguru—Suguru loves you too, in his quiet, steady way. You see it in the way he watches you, his dark eyes softening when you enter the room, the weight of his gaze feels suffocating. He’s the one who stays calm when you cry, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

And you believe him, don’t you?

They love you. That’s why they insist on keeping you close. Why Satoru kisses your forehead every morning, why Suguru runs his fingers through your hair as he whispers sweet nothings you’re too exhausted to resist. That’s why they ensure you’re taken care of, why they never let you lift a finger, why they promise they’ll always protect you.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Satoru once said, kissing your swollen belly as he grinned up at you. “Just stay here with us. That’s all we need.”

“It’s not just for us,” Suguru added, his voice softer, more measured. “It’s for you too. We want you to feel safe. Loved.”

And in moments like that, when the weight of their words settles in your chest like a lullaby, you almost believe them.

You tell yourself that no one else would love you this much. No one else would care for you so completely, so unconditionally—because this is love, isn’t it?

The maids barely acknowledged your struggles. Their gazes were cold, dismissive, even as your body ached and your mind screamed for reprieve. They would gently pry your child from your arms with hushed whispers.

“You need more rest,” they’d say, their voices soft but unyielding. “We’ll take care of them. Don’t worry.”

And what could you do? You’d watch helplessly as they carried your baby away, leaving you empty-handed, empty-hearted. As if you were nothing more than a vessel, an incubator meant to bear and birth heirs for the Gojo family.

Your firstborn was a boy.

A son.

An heir.

He looked just like Satoru.

Those piercing blue eyes stared back at you from his tiny, cherubic face, wide and curious, already holding a glint of brilliance and confidence you couldn’t deny. His hair was the same stark white, impossibly soft beneath your trembling fingers as you brushed it back, memorizing every perfect strand. Even the little smirk he gave in his sleep mirrored Satoru’s—a playful, almost mocking curl at the corners of his mouth that made your heart ache with emotions you couldn’t unravel.

You loved him.

You hated that you loved him.

And when Suguru would cradle him in his arms, his dark eyes soft and filled with a devotion that seemed to crack the carefully constructed walls around your heart, you couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in your chest. He’d whisper promises to the child—vows of protection and guidance.

When Satoru would swoop in, effortlessly spinning the boy around with an energy that filled the room with light, the sound of your son’s uncontrollable laughter echoing like music, that warmth would return. It would swell in your chest, suffocating and undeniable, a cruel reminder of the chains you wore willingly and unwillingly all at once.

This is what they wanted, wasn’t it?

This is what they’d planned all along.

And now, with another child growing inside you, you realize something that terrifies you more than anything else.

You’re not sure if you stayed because you had no choice.

Or because you wanted to.

Again, it’s all your fault.

For trying to run, again.

For thinking, just for a moment, that you could escape them.

You were far too pregnant. Belly too far swollen, body heavy and slow, every step a reminder of how deeply tethered you were to this vast estate. But the thought wouldn’t leave your mind. The desperate hope of freedom burned too brightly, too wildly, even as your body betrayed you.

Even as you were dragged back to that sickening place, back to the people that you convinced yourself—desperately, foolishly—that this was love.

You’d screamed at Suguru, the words spilling out like a torrent you couldn’t stop. You told him the child was yours too, that you had the right to hold them, to sleep in the same room, to be more than a vessel. Your voice cracked, raw with frustration and desperation, as you hurled your defiance at him.

You remember the way his gaze darkened.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t snap. That wasn’t Suguru’s way.

Instead, he stepped closer, his movements slow, calculated, as though he were approaching a frightened animal. He tilted his head, his expression calm, disarming, the warmth in his dark eyes a stark contrast to the undercurrent of control they held.

“You’re upset,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaking your face. “And that’s okay. You’ve been through so much, haven’t you?”

The quiet warmth in Suguru's voice made it hard to breathe, made the frustration clawing at your throat turn to something else—something like shame.

“You need to calm down,” he continued, a warm calloused hand slipping down to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I don’t want you to hurt us.”

His words lingered, heavy with meaning, as he pulled you closer, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I know it’s hard,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “But I love you. We love you. Everything we do—everything I do—is for you.”

You wanted to push him away, to scream that it wasn’t love, that this wasn’t love. But as his arms wrapped around you, strong and unyielding, pulling you into his embrace as though Suguru could shield you from the very world they had trapped you in.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured, soft lips brushing your temple. “Don’t you see that? You don’t need to run. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”

A voice that was so tender, so achingly sincere, that it almost broke you. Suguru's words were enough to extinguish the fire of defiance burning in your chest, to leave you standing there, trembling and helpless in his arms.

The maids saw it, didn’t they? They whispered about you, their quiet voices slipping through the halls like ghosts. They called you ungrateful. Sick. They said you didn’t understand how fortunate you were.

“You should be enjoying this,” they murmured, their words laced with thinly veiled judgment. “No responsibilities, no struggles. A carefree life. Everything is taken care of for you. What more could you want?”

What more could you want?

No choices.

That’s what they meant, wasn’t it? No choices. No freedom. No you.

Was something wrong with you? Maybe.

Maybe there was something wrong with wanting more. For wanting to feel like a person again, instead of a vessel, a doll, a beautifully dressed incubator meant to carry their legacy.

It really is all your fault, isn’t it?

Because when labor came, it dragged you into hell.

Thirty-three grueling hours. Each contraction ripped through your body like a punishment, an unrelenting reminder of every fleeting thought of rebellion, of every moment you dared to imagine a life beyond them.

The emergency c-section was chaos—a flurry of hands, sterile lights, and voices rising above the incessant ringing in your ears. You were losing too much blood. Fever scorched your skin, your body trembling as the edges of the world blurred, your thoughts slipping between consciousness and darkness.

You couldn’t make sense of what was happening. You weren’t even sure whose tears streaked your skin as they fell—were they yours? Satoru’s? Suguru’s?

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know what happened after that.

All you remember are the words.

Suguru’s voice, low and steady, cutting through the haze. He leaned close, his hand resting on your clammy cheek with an almost painful tenderness. His dark eyes bore into yours, soft yet heavy with something that made your stomach twist.

“You shouldn’t have run,” he whispered. His tone was calm, soothing even, but the edge beneath it was sharp enough to draw blood. “Look at what you’ve done to yourself. You should’ve listened.”

And for a long time, you didn’t have the strength to argue.

The days that followed blurred together. Feeling like a ghost in your body, too weak to move, too tired to speak. Satoru and Suguru hovered, their gazes flickering between concern and something you couldn't quite place. The maids continued to whisper on with their rumors, their eyes darting to you with pity or disdain, as though you’d done this to yourself.

In their eyes, you were lucky.

Lucky to have survived. Lucky to have them.

And lucky, in their eyes, to not have another pregnancy until your first two boys turned five.

Five years of peace. Or something that resembled it.

Five years of watching your sons grow, of hearing their first words, of feeling their small, warm arms wrap around you as they giggled into into your neck. Five years where it was almost believable that this was normal, where you could almost convince yourself this was love.

Because it did feel like love, didn’t it?

Until the day you overheard Suguru speaking to them.

His voice was hushed, but not hushed enough.

“Mommy is sick,” he said, tone calm and soothing like he was explaining a simple fact of life. “Sometimes she says things she doesn’t mean. Sometimes she gets confused. But that’s okay. We love her, don’t we?”

A pang sent through your chest, breath catching as you froze in the hallway. Those cruel words lies carved like knives, each one slicing deeper than the last.

He was planting seeds, wasn’t he?

Teaching them to see you the way he wanted them to see you. Fragile. Dependent. Broken.

However with fists clenched, nails pressing into palms with a sting sharp enough to ground the swirling emotions within. The urge to scream hovered at the edge, to cry and storm into the room, demanding explanations with the desperation of a cornered animal. Words burned on the tip of the tongue—protests that it wasn’t true, that sickness and confusion weren’t the chains binding this existence.

But what would they believe?

Suguru’s steady, patient voice, rich and even, always laced with quiet authority? The father whose dark eyes always seemed to understand everything, who carried himself with calm, unshakable control, even when his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes?

Or you?

The mother who had tried to run, who had collapsed and bled and screamed, who had been scolded for her defiance. The one they saw as weak, frail, and ungrateful.

You wanted to run again. The thought burned in the back of your mind, relentless and wild.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Because, in the end, what choice did you really have?

But by the time your third child—a sweet boy who looked like a perfect blend of you and Suguru—turned three, the illusion of peace began to crack.

Suguru was already leaning close, his voice soft and coaxing as he murmured into your ear, “I think it’s time we try for a girl.”

Satoru, of course, was on board almost immediately.

After all, your third child was different. A nonsorcerer, just like you, showing none of the abilities your first two boys possessed. Those two had cried in the dead of night, their small voices trembling with fear as they described the horrors only they could see—things you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But that wasn’t why your husbands looked at Kiyoshi with quiet disapproval.

It wasn’t his lack of cursed energy that made them see him as an anomaly.

It was his heart.

From the moment Kiyoshi was placed in your arms, red-faced and wailing, he clung to you with a desperation that never faded. He didn’t want the maids to hold him, didn’t toddle after Suguru’s composed steps or reached for Satoru’s strong arms. He wanted you. Always you.

He was a mama’s boy through and through, and that was love.

A love so pure it felt like a lifeline in the suffocating world you’d been forced into.

While you loved your first two boys deeply—how could you not?—there was always a distance there, a reflection of the walls your husbands had built around you. The first two cuddled into your lap, their small hands clutching yours as they whispered things that broke you.

“Mommy, we want you to get better.” “We don’t like it when you yell at Daddy to let you leave.”

They were too young to understand, too innocent to see the chains tightening around you.

But Kiyoshi understood, in his own way. Even as a toddler, he refused to leave your side, refused to let the maids or his fathers pull him from your arms. He was always on your hip, his little hand clutching your clothes, his head resting against your chest.

“Kiyoshi,” Satoru had said once, his tone laced with false amusement, “means ‘pure sadness.’ Don’t you think that’s fitting?”

He smiled as if it were a joke, but you could hear the bitterness beneath it.

And maybe it was fitting.

Because Kiyoshi only stopped wailing when he was in your arms, as if he already knew the world outside of you was too cruel, too cold.

By the time he turned three, Kiyoshi would toddle after you in the gardens, small, sturdy legs working hard to keep up. His face—a blend of Suguru’s gentleness and your warmth—would brighten with the purest smile. When his eyes crinkled at the corners, just like yours, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell.

“Look, Mommy!” he’d say, holding up a flower he’d plucked from the garden, his tiny fingers dirt-stained and clumsy. “For you!”

You’d crouch down, brushing his dark hair back as you took the flower, your voice soft and tender in a way you hadn’t heard in years.

“Thank you, my sweet boy.”

And for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Like you could breathe again.

But you knew better.

As the sound of approaching footsteps always shattered moments like these. Heavy and far too familiar. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Suguru.

His softspoken voice broke the fragile silence, calm and even, as always. “Kiyoshi,” he said, warm and affectionate, though laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’ve been keeping your mother all to yourself again, haven’t you?”

Kiyoshi stiffened at your side, the little hand tightening its grip on your kimono as he glanced nervously toward Suguru.

Suguru stepped closer and crouched down to Kiyoshi’s level, dark eyes softening as they met his son’s. “Come here, son,” he murmured, holding out a hand. His tone was gentle, coaxing, but there was an unspoken expectation beneath it. “Let Daddy hold you for a little while. I’ve missed you.”

But Kiyoshi didn’t move. His small fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your kimono, his face pressing into your side as though trying to make himself small, invisible.

Suguru’s gaze flicked to you, lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So shy,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of amused affection. “But you don’t have to be, Kiyoshi. Daddy just wants to hold you. You know that, don’t you?”

You felt your heart clench, torn between the instinct to shield him and the weight of Suguru’s presence. The tenderness in his tone, in the way his hand remained outstretched, made it all the harder to breathe.

“Kiyoshi,” Suguru said again, his voice dipping into a firmer edge, calm but unyielding. “Come.”

Reluctantly, your little boy let go of you, his steps slow and hesitant as he moved toward his father. Suguru’s smile widened, soft and reassuring, as he scooped Kiyoshi up effortlessly, cradling him with a gentleness that felt too deliberate, too controlled.

“There’s my good boy,” he murmured, brushing Kiyoshi’s hair back with careful fingers. His touch lingered, as though committing the texture to memory. “You love your mommy very much, don’t you?”

Kiyoshi nodded silently, his small face burying itself in Suguru’s shoulder.

Suguru’s gaze lifted to meet yours, a gentle smile, his tone almost playful. “You’ve spoiled him,” he said, a note of amusement threading through his words. “He’s too attached.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, but the words caught in your throat.

What could you say?

That you were the only warmth in a world that terrified him? That his attachment wasn’t a flaw, but a desperate grasp at something safe?

Satoru appeared not long after, his presence impossible to ignore as he strolled into the garden, hands in his pockets and a grin that seemed too bright for the moment. His eyes, however, betrayed something softer—something that lingered only when they landed on you.

“Kiyoshi giving you trouble again?” Satoru's voice came out light, tinged with curiosity.

“No trouble,” Suguru replied smoothly, a hand still resting on Kiyoshi’s small back. “Just a little too fond of his mother.”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head as he moved closer. His cerulean gaze flicked briefly to Kiyoshi before returning to you, that playful grin softening as he moved to brush a kiss against your temple. “Well, can you blame him?” he murmured, his voice low, meant only for you. “You’re hard not to love.”

The warmth of his affection made your heart twist, and your stomach flutter. For a moment, it was easy to forget the way his words often carried double meanings, easy to believe he was simply being sweet.

He straightened, turning his attention back to Suguru with a teasing smile. “But we’ll fix that soon enough, won’t we?”

They didn’t mean to hurt him, you told yourself. They wouldn’t.

But you knew better.

Because Kiyoshi was different. He didn’t fit into their world the way your first two boys did. And in their eyes, difference was something to be controlled.

For now, they let him cling to you. They let him toddle after you in the garden, offering flowers and dirt-streaked smiles that made your heart ache with both love and dread. For now, they allowed him to stay close, to hold onto the warmth you gave him, to believe he was safe in your arms.

But you knew it was only a matter of time.

Because your sons didn’t belong to you. Not really. They never had.

And no matter how much you wanted to shield Kiyoshi, no matter how fiercely you loved him, you knew one simple, devastating truth:

They’d let you have this for now.

But they would take him, too.

Because, after all, it’s all your fault.

For fleeing in the middle of the night.

The day was supposed to be perfect—a rare moment where Satoru and Suguru had taken the older two boys to the school, their voices filled with excitement as they promised to teach them more about the world they were destined to inherit. Your sweet boys kissed you goodbye with a tenderness that felt almost cruel, leaving you behind with Kiyoshi in the quiet, sprawling estate.

You had been on your best behavior. Smiling more, laughing when Satoru teased you, letting Suguru hold you a little longer than usual. You’d made them believe you were finally settling, finally accepting your role in their carefully constructed world.

And it worked.

So when the sun set and the house fell silent, you made your move.

You bundled Kiyoshi up in the softest blanket you could find, the small body warm and sleepy against your chest. He stirred only slightly as you slipped out of the estate, his tiny hands clutching onto your clothes.

He didn’t cry.

He didn’t make a sound.

It was as if he understood. As if even at three years old, he knew that silence was the only thing keeping you safe.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his soft breaths warm against your skin, and you couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes.

The highway stretched out before you, an endless black ribbon under the faint glow of the moon. The lights of the city sparkled in the distance, a beacon of hope, a promise of sanctuary.

You walked for miles, the cold night air biting at your skin, legs aching with every step. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not with the faint echoes of paranoia whispering at the back of your mind.

Were they already looking for you? Did Satoru sense you slipping away even from miles away? Did Suguru wake in the middle of the night with the suffocating weight of intuition, already calling for their forces to track you down?

You didn’t know.

And you didn’t care.

The city limits were closer now, the glow of neon lights growing brighter, sharper. The faint hum of life and sound buzzed in the distance.

Kiyoshi stirred in your arms, his little head lifting just enough to peek out at the world around him. His dark eyes, so much like Suguru’s but filled with an innocence his father could no longer claim, glanced up at you with quiet curiosity.

“Mommy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the wind.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, your tears wetting his soft hair. “We’re almost there, my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice trembling under the weight of hope and fear. “Just a little farther.”

Sanctuary was so close you could taste it.

But it’s all your fault, isn’t it?

Born a nonsorcerer.

Blind to the horrors that lurk unseen. Powerless to fight them off. Too weak to keep that sweet little boy safe.

You always imagined curses as massive, grotesque creatures—monsters so obvious that the very air would change in their presence. That the world would stop, that everything would smell of death and decay as they loomed closer.

But when a curse appears, nothing changes.

There’s no warning. No shift in the wind.

The only thing you feel is the sudden weight of your child going limp in your arms.

And then the blood.

And then the blood.

It coats the ground—dark and endless, pooling around your knees and seeping into the cracks of the earth. Sticky and warm, it clings to trembling hands, staining your kimono, your skin, your very soul.

You can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Your little boy—your Kiyoshi—lies limp in your arms, his small body growing colder with every agonizing second. Tiny fingers, once so eager to cling to you, now dangle lifelessly. His dark lashes rest softly against pale cheeks, unmoving.

He looks like he’s sleeping.

You tell yourself that, over and over, as if saying it enough times will somehow make it true. Shaking hands brush back his dark hair, trembling as you whisper his name. Softly at first, then louder, your voice splintering with every syllable.

“Kiyoshi… wake up, baby. Please.”

But nothing changes.

The world around you feels wrong—too quiet, too still. The city lights in the distance mock you, their glow a cruel reminder of the sanctuary you’d been so close to reaching. You’d promised him, hadn’t you? Promised that everything would be okay. That you’d make it there. That you’d keep him safe.

You lied.

“Kiyoshi,” you choke out again, pressing a desperate kiss to his cooling forehead. Hot tears streak down your face, wetting his soft hair as you clutch him tighter, as though you could anchor him to you—keep him here, with you.

A wail tears through the night, raw and broken, shattering the oppressive silence. The sound is unrecognizable, guttural and full of despair. It takes a moment before you realize it’s coming from you.

The blood stains everything—your hands, your clothes, the ground—but it’s the loss of his warmth that destroys you.

How did this happen?

Your mind races, replaying the moments in broken fragments. You’d been walking, your legs aching, his small body cradled against your chest. He’d been so quiet, so trusting, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You were almost there.

Then the air shifted—just slightly—a subtle wrongness you hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

You didn’t see it.

You didn’t even know it was there until his body jerked in your arms, a sharp, unnatural movement that stole his breath—and yours.

And then he went limp.

It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.

You rock him back and forth, tears falling freely, your voice hoarse as you beg him to wake up. Leaning to press your cheek against his, murmuring his name over and over, as if the sound alone could bring him back.

Because you failed him.

Because this is your fault.

Suguru’s arms wrap around you, their weight unbearable. His warmth presses against the chill of the night, suffocating in a way that makes the air harder to pull into your lungs. He cradles you like something precious, something fragile—like he cares, even as his words twist the knife deeper into your chest.

“We’ll take care of this, just like always,” he says, his voice soft, almost gentle. His lips brush against your hair, lingering, and the tenderness in the gesture makes your skin crawl. “You just need to stop fighting us. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Satoru stood frozen, head bowed, white hair catching the faint glow of the city lights. Kiyoshi’s lifeless body was pressed tightly against him, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he held him close. For a moment, you thought you saw something crack in his expression—something raw, something human.

But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

When he finally turned his gaze to you, his blue eyes were as hollow as you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t have done this,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual teasing lilt. “Why couldn’t you just stay?”

The question stabbed deeper than you thought possible, the shame and guilt coursing through you like poison.

Why couldn’t you just stay?

The image of Kiyoshi’s bright smile flashed, his tiny hands offering you flowers from the garden, his laugh ringing out like music in the suffocating silence of the estate. He’d been your light, your tether to something good.

And now he was gone.

Because of you.

You sagged further into Suguru’s hold, the fight draining out of you entirely. The tears wouldn’t stop, falling silently now, soaking into the front of Suguru’s shirt as he held you tighter.

“There, there,” he murmured, his hand stroking your hair in slow, deliberate motions. “That’s better. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’ll make it right.”

But there was no right in this.

The car waited nearby, its door open like an unspoken command. Suguru’s grip on you didn’t waver as he began guiding you toward it, his movements gentle but unrelenting. Satoru followed behind, cradling Kiyoshi’s small form like he was made of glass.

Your legs moved on instinct, numb and heavy, the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.

The city lights grew fainter as the car doors shut behind you, locking you away from the world you’d been so close to reaching.

You told yourself you’d tried. That you’d done everything you could.

But deep down, you knew.

You’d never escape them.

And as Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, as Satoru’s empty gaze lingered on the horizon, you realized something that hollowed you out completely.

It wasn’t just that you had nothing left.

It was that you no longer cared to try.

It really was all your fault.

So I posted a few days ago about making a platonic yandere Gojo x reader story. However I am unsure which one I should do sooo

The fic is going to be dark. If it has romantic undertones I do apologize for I can't figure out if I write something like that accidentally.

Also I fully believe that platonic yanderes are scarier than romantic yanderes.

Can you do a Gojo satoru noncon smut where he’s like y/n toxic boyfriend that y/n tries leaving but he doesn’t let y/n so he rapes/noncons y/n and babytraps y/n as well

𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘨𝘰𝘫𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘶 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯/𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘫𝘰𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 (𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴), 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”

The bitter laugh he gave set [name] off immediately, a pit dropping in her stomach.

“You?” The taunt was evident in a smirk stretching across his face, eyes dragging down her figure — Something akin to ‘sizing her up’. “Break up with me?”

She shivered.

Satoru Gojo was an awful person. She was not going to let his verbal taunts get to her. So, clenching her fists, canine tugging on her bottom lip, the girl steeled her resolve.

“Yeah. We’re over, Satoru.” Her eyes stayed set on the spot between her — now — ex-boyfriend’s sharp sapphire eyes, hidden beneath a blindfold. [name] thought she had made her facade absolutely unbreakable, but her twitching nose betrayed her. A simple tell, but a sure one.

However, at her words, something in the room shifted. Tension thick enough to slice, a pungent kind of odor resembling bloodlust suddenly sending her head reeling. The man’s smirk looked strained for a moment, quick to flicker back into more familiar ground.

Satoru took strides forward, grin only lengthening when she skittered backward. Her eyes had switched, wild and afraid, as if she’d only just considered the danger that came out of this situation.

The apartment got smaller.

And smaller.

And smaller.

[name] wondered if this was an ability he’d been born with — To make anyone who dared oppose him suddenly feel so terrified.

Looming over her so threateningly, blindfold the only thing concealing her true punishment — But she wouldn’t even get such a luxury it seemed, as his hand came up to take the cloth off. Sapphire eyes out in the open, pupils dilated just upon landing.

“What happened? You were so confident a few seconds ago, sweetheart, don’t pussy out now.” Satoru spoke nonchalantly, an air of ease to each movement. He took the lapse in response to lean closer and cage the girl in with his broad arms. She could only respond with more silence, an infinitesimal hesitation stretching farther and farther into oblivion — The lone and level sands stretch far away.

King of Kings — That is Satoru Gojo’s title. He was the god of this world, the next, the next, the next— Gaze upon his works, ye mighty, look upon this rabbit caught fresh on the arrow, and despair.

The apartment suffocated all life out of it, holstering lain two corpses — One stuck in metamorphisis while the other decayed — Both rotting. Blue walls, once a sunny sky’s color now the endless void of an ocean, gray ceiling matted with the flickering, broken light. She’d known damn well Satoru had a better house, some wealthy mansion-like place, but he never offered for her to stay there, he always just showed up here at hers — And she realized he was waiting for her to beg. For her to rely on him.

But, she didn’t, never. Instead, she worked her own job. She paid her own bills, she paid her rent, she bought all the necessities. She lived for herself. If her own boyfriend took notice of her hardships and decided to stay a sadist? To wait for her to end up begging for his help, to land on his doorstep like mutton on a silver platter?

Hell fucking no.

She assumed the deity just got tired of her stubbornness, because what was once just annoying, his ignorance had become like white noise to her — But recently, she knew he’d been sabotaging her. Coming over more, using up more of her utilities, breaking things she’d try to excuse with a strained smile, ignoring his smug one — He was getting impatient.

The other, well, larger issue that bothered [name] was the fact that he put nothing into the relationship. She was the one with intimacy issues, but she had to initiate every bit of touch, or else he’d ignore her completely. She was the one with a busy schedule, juggling a terribly-paying job, but she paid at every restaurant because Satoru conveniently forgot his wallet when she knows it’s in his pocket.

So, [name] had tried to end it. Gathering up every bit of confidence she had, fighting against the memories of sunset walks and shy handholding since intimacy was the one thing she struggled with — They’d never even kissed — And texted him that they were over. Why give someone who didn’t put anything into the relationship any kind of real closure?

One could assume where that led to.

Here he was, snow-white hair and all, glare piercing straight through her skull, as if it could see everything — And honestly, it probably could.

The silence remained of course, but [name] brought a loose fist to her face, slow and steady. A notion that could be passed off as her brushing away a tear or maybe even rubbing her eyes—

Until her other fist came up as well in a right hook, aimed directly at Satoru’s face. It was stopped by some invisible force that she had no care nor time to question, because the man had been caught off guard. In that split second, the king of kings’ knees threatened to bend.

[name] knew that some demented thought that she wouldn’t hurt him had passed through his mind, which sent a partial shiver down her back, but it only fueled her legs to move. She ran past him, then past the guest bedroom, and straight into her own. He covered the only actual escape, so she needed to barricade and call the police—

A hand stopped the door before she could close it.

No matter how hard she pushed, it wouldn’t do anything against the supposed strongest. Satoru’s entire playful facade had washed off. She had a feeling this was what he had been hiding, truly — His glare was stronger, blue eyes shining painfully bright and still, still remaining dull. Devoid of love, but maybe she’d deluded that aspect into existence too. A slightly wrinkled lip, cold sneer of command—

Silence filled the room for a moment as he semi-circled to be a bit to her left, still in front. He blocked the door, but didn’t bother to close it. [name] hadn’t noticed her lip started to wobble until a fresh tear found its way down her cheeks. Although, just before it could pitter onto the floor, just before that soft thud—

Satoru had her on her bed. Grabbed the closest scrap of fabric to tie her wrists to the headboard, and when she made eye contact, saw how all the life had been drained out of his body — Realized he was nothing but a corpse of the man she thought — [name] knew he would ruin her. Fuck her. Rape her, here and now.

As he was tying the knot, not another word said on his end, the girl fought back tooth and nail, scratching, crying. She was confused, why be so neglectful up until now? “Let me go– Satoru I swear to god, I don’t— I don’t know or care if this is some sick fucking prank, just let me go—” She kicked him square in the stomach, but that invisible force was there once again.

“Plea— Please, Satoru. I’m not staying in a relationship like thi– Wh— What are you—” Her words were pathetically smothered by a whimper, two strong hands parting her thighs in a vice-like grip. A warning that, no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t process properly. She tried to kick again, yanking her wrists against the cloth despite the burning tear.

His right hand’s slender fingers, the ones she flusteredly called pretty once upon a time, dug so harshly into her leg that she thought it might break. That was supposedly enough to silence her, and Satoru couldn’t help his sudden harsh laughter.

That carefully crafted silence had begun to shatter.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ cute like this, princess.” He almost panted out, but the notion still came across biting and condescending in the worst ways imaginable. A broken sob heaved its way out of her mouth, but he could only coo again.

“But… don’t think I’m not fucking pissed. You thought you could break up with me, huh? Right baby?” The taunt had returned. Satoru leaned down to finally slot his lips against hers, tongue invading and wet against her own. His hands moved from her thighs, sliding upwards until he was working her shirt up and over her breasts. He didn’t care much about unclasping the bra, instead just tearing it through the middle and tossing it to the side. Not like she’d need it anymore.

[name]’s chest moved up and down at a rapid pace, brushing against his sometimes, until he pulled away from the kiss to trail his mouth down lower. She tried to kick him away once more, but it seemed his patience was all but gone. He caught her right heel, snapping his wrist sharply—

CRACK—!

Her ankle was sprained. It didn’t click for her until the blinding pain bubbled up her figure, through her throat, onto her tongue — She bit it to stifle the scream that almost tore through. Instead, it all just came out as heavy sobs, tears upon tears cascading down her face in waterfalls.

“Shh…” He shushed her, carding a hand through her hair and kissing her lips once more. The purplish color tinted her ankle now, and while her sock covered the rest of her foot — She didn’t even want to know how it looked. “Now you get it, baby? How stupid it is to break up with me?”

[name] almost nodded. On instinct, she almost submitted, but instead — She shook her head. “No. Get— Get the fuck off me, Satoru. I’m calling the damn police.” And, her glare was almost effective.

Looked more like a puppy trying to bark to him though.

He sighed, before laughing again. Harsher, biting. Dragged a hand down his face, eyes not dull for a second. “Yeah, I saw this coming.”

With that, he snapped her other ankle, swallowing her scream up with another wet kiss. Her legs went limp, and he took the opportunity to knead her breasts with his hands, tweaking the nipples between his fingers and eliciting a small whimper into the rough battle between tongue.

Satoru moved his mouth down to her neck, sucking and biting everywhere. He made sure to mark her up effectively, all canines and tongue digging into her jugular and collar. She cried out every time, pain winning over pleasure. His tongue laved her tits, leaving bitemarks there too. Eventually though, he reached her sweatpants, tugging them down and off.

His fingers edged the fold of her panties, ignoring how she squirmed and whined uncomfortably. A chuckle left his throat, more sadistic than not. “Hah… Can’t wait to see what pretty noises I get when I fuck you.”

She flinched at that, eyes widened in horror as she still tried to move against the binds on her wrists.

He leaned down to rip her panties in half, stuffing them in his pocket before diving straight into swiping his tongue along her pussy. He licked a stripe right down her clit, the squelching noises as he sucked and fucked her on his wet muscle sounding unsettling to one, and heaven to the next.

Satoru was a man of his word, thrusting his tongue in and out of her at such a rapid pace, her cries held a wobbly lilt to them. She was trying so hard to not enjoy this, it was almost impressive to him.

In reality though — She wasn’t enjoying it one bit. Her head was pounding, eyes blurring with tears and the room spun, lips curved downward in a frown. She was angry at everything. God, Satoru, herself — She wished she saw the signs. She wished Satoru would stop. She wished for some divine intervention, but looking down, seeing this man eating her out like a man starved? It was the reminder she needed that Satoru is god.

He pulled away from [name]’s pussy, not bothering to wipe his chin of her juices. He looked angelic, and the nagging voice in the back of her mind wondered if that made her the devil.

He unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it over his head. Then, his pants were off, along with his boxers.

Two strangers in a bed, put them in a bible and watch them burn.

Satoru positioned himself at her entrance, sliding the tip in excruciatingly slowly. It would be more tolerable under the pretense of pure, rough sex — Where he would just slam into her and leave her cold and naked. But instead, under the weight of romance, she felt her stomach churn.

He kissed her shoulder mockingly, and she realized he knew what he was doing. He knew he was stringing this along more than he needed to, and didn’t care.

The man slid in at an even slower pace, hissing out a low “Fuck…” Her pussy clenched around him, only earning a high keened whimper on his end too.

“Don’t say nothin’ against it now babe— Hhn, fuck— Y-You can deny it all you want, but this pussy doesn’t lie…”

Finally, he’d lost that self-restraining-front he tried to put up.

His hips thrusted in and out, hitting that spongy spot inside her — [name]’s toes curled. He kept whimpering, groaning, crying out her name every time he sunk inside.

“F-Fuckfuckfuck— You feel so good— Can’t— Won’t last—“ He groaned all raspy and breathy, ignoring her cries from underneath him.

Pleas for “Toru— ‘Toru please, please stop— Stop—“ Bubbled off her tongue, hanging in the air like unanswered prayers.

Faster and faster and faster. His hips rolled up into hers with the fervor of a devoted worshipper, a catholic kind of guilt in her eyes every time they met. His thrusts were relentless in every aspect of the word, hard, quick, and deep.

He moved her thighs to wrap around his waist, nails digging into them again. Over and over again, stinging pain like a blossom in the middle of a fiery massacre. It was the only constant in this whole ordeal, and she wondered what that meant.

Though, when he started to the stutter, hips too, all thoughts were silenced. He wasn’t pulling out. He wasn’t— He wasn’t—

“Sa— Satoru no, no, nononono no—“

She was cut off by the sudden sensation of Satoru’s hips stilling against hers, pelvis’ meeting at the center as his load spilled into her pussy. Ropes and ropes of white shot deep inside, stuffed full.

Where their bodies met, they truly became one.

[name] panted heavily, breaths all fucked up and skittery. Her body twitched, wrists burning and red from the rope burn. Her thighs fell numb around his waist, and her head cocked back as the earth stopped turning for a second.

Silence stretched far and further over the deserted apartment, door open and all. Prophetic records played in the room over, some 90’s rap serenade.

His hips started moving again before she could place what song it was, momentary peace diloricated and hung like caprizant ventricles, left and right, in and out.

Just two strangers in a bed. Let the scripture decide how their stories end.

☆ 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘺𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶

yan!gojo sneakpeek

--take this sneakpeek of an upcoming oneshot lmao more notes at the end

tw; implied noncon, chasing !!

--

“What happened? You were so confident a few seconds ago, sweetheart, don’t pussy out now.” Satoru spoke nonchalantly, an air of ease to each movement. He took the lapse in response to lean closer and cage the girl in with his broad arms. She could only respond with more silence, an infinitesimal hesitation stretching further and further into oblivion — The lone and level sands stretch far away.

King of Kings — That is Satoru Gojo’s title. He was the god of this world, the next, the next, the next—  Gaze upon his works, ye mighty, look upon this rabbit caught fresh on the arrow, and despair.

The apartment suffocated all life out of it, holstering lain two corpses — One stuck in metamorphisis while the other decayed — Both rotting. Blue walls, once a sunny sky’s color now the endless void of an ocean, gray ceiling matted with the flickering, broken light. She’d known damn well Satoru had a better house, some wealthy mansion-like place, but he never offered for her to stay there, he always just showed up here at hers — And she realized he was waiting for her to beg. For her to rely on him.

But, she didn’t, never. Instead, she worked her own job. She paid her own bills, she paid her rent, she bought all the necessities. She lived for herself. If her own boyfriend took notice of her hardships and decided to stay a sadist? To wait for her to end up begging for his help, to land on his doorstep like mutton on a silver platter? 

Hell fucking no.

She assumed the deity just got tired of her stubbornness, because what was once just annoying, his ignorance had become like white noise to her — But recently, she knew he’d been sabotaging her. Coming over more, using up more of her utilities, breaking things she’d try to excuse with a strained smile, ignoring his smug one — He was getting impatient.

The other, well, larger issue that bothered [name] was the fact that he put nothing into the relationship. She was the one with intimacy issues, but she had to initiate every bit of touch, or else he’d ignore her completely. She was the one with a busy schedule, juggling a terribly-paying job, but she paid at every restaurant because Satoru conveniently forgot his wallet when she knows it’s in his pocket.

So, [name] had tried to end it. Gathering up every bit of confidence she had, fighting against the memories of sunset walks and shy handholding — They’d never even kissed — And texted him that they were over. Why give someone who didn’t put anything into the relationship any kind of real closure?

One could assume where that led to.

Here he was, snow-white hair and all, glare piercing straight through her skull, as if it could see everything — And honestly, it probably could.

The silence remained of course, but [name] brought a loose fist to her face, slow and steady. A notion that could be passed off as her brushing away a tear or maybe even rubbing her eyes—

Until her other fist came up as well in a right hook, aimed directly at Satoru’s face. It was stopped by some invisible force that she had no care nor time to question, because the man had been caught off guard. In that split second, the king of kings’ knees threatened to bend.

[name] knew that some demented thought that she wouldn’t hurt him had passed through his mind, which sent a partial shiver down her back, but it only fueled her legs to move. She ran past him, then past the guest bedroom, and straight into her own. He covered the only actual escape, so she needed to barricade and call the police—

A hand stopped the door before she could close it.

☆ OKAYY time for a debrief !! i !! am !! so !! sorry!! for disappearing oh my god jsdhkj i literally ran into the WORST writing block ever, and then studying hit, and then my hiphop recitals fucked with everythingg ughh --- anyway, back to the point !! i am going to try to get back to posting as frequently as i can, especially now that winter breaks here. side note; i also have covid and a supposed csf leak (brain fluid leak) !! doc says ill be fine dwdw lmao no wonder im gonna fail my classes

☆ anyways hope this sneak peek builds up anticipation for the full thing which will be, ofc, full on smut/noncon for my readerss -- byeeeee see u when i post it !!!

If there is a god, they'll let me see more bully yandere Gojo fics 🙏

Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo— can't get enough of that concept I eat that every time

Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, noncon, bullying

Feeling like an immature awkward bully Gojo today...

Satoru is the type of bully who calls you flat-chested no matter what size you are because it’s the only thing he can think of saying when you catch him staring - because he's too stuck on the thought of how badly he wants to titty-fuck you to think up anything else.

He's the type to blush real bad - not pink, but purple - if he ever catches the pretty frill of your underwear under your skirt. It gets him hard as a can of coke and he needs to find someplace where he can take care of it for it to go away.

When you're tasked to read a romance novel for class, he doesn't fail to comment on how no one in their right mind would ever like you like that - saying something like he wouldn't even hire you as a maid.

And if any guy other than him talks to you, he's quick to make it ugly - calling you a slut - telling you it's no wonder guys flock around you like flies to trash when you're such a flirty floozy - then asks how you're not ashamed of yourself.

Meanwhile, he's also threatening those same boys - not just with bodily harm, but all types of other ruin - financial and social - he'll fucking bury them in a shit pile so steep and deep they're never going to be able to crawl their way out.

When you start ignoring him and isolating yourself from anyone and any place he might be - he starts hunting you. And when he finds you, he's doing anything he can think of to punish you for it. Pours his milk carton over you - feels his throat get tight at the sight of your tits through your wet T-shirt.

"You know... actually... you look kinda cute like this." He murmurs, crouched down over you where you've stumbled into a pitiful heap on the floor. Having thought you could hide yourself in an empty classroom - though only having left yourself open to be caught alone with him.

The sight of the white creamy liquid running down your pretty face in pearls makes his head feel cloudy and hot. He can't stop himself from bearing over you, your cheeks cupped in both his hands as he doesn't kiss but licks your face - dragging his tongue over your lips and nose, then your eyes, sucking the skin while you whimper - sitting stiff and tense against the wall waiting for him to get done - only he doesn't.

Instead, he's pushing his tongue into your mouth. Setting his knees down on either side of you, he's searching for a place to rub his bulge and decides your tits are the most welcoming place to relieve the pressure.

He leans his forehead against the wall, panting while looking down at you and the sight of his fatty nestle into your cleavage - still wet and see-through with milk - his hand cups each soft mound, squeezing them together - so lost in that drool is dripping down his chin.

When he creams his pants, he's back to blushing purple - as though he'd just woken up from something he thought was a dream.

Scrambling to his feet, he's slipping in the milk on the floor, nearly tripping as he runs out of the classroom and leaves you there - speechless.