corusvants

[corusvants]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER FIVE | you're on your own, kid

↳ satoru gojou x reader

genre — heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

word count — 10k

tags/warnings — 18+, mentions of cannibalism, neglect, mentions of anxiety and depression, ooc gojo, explicit smut (don't get too happy), mentions of death

notes — gojo is an ass. that is literally it. if you thought he was nice in the last chapter and had some character development, no I dangled a carrot in front of you sawwy. maybe one of these days i’ll stick with a theme. also he doesn't behave like this to be an ass but it's more of a trauma response and other things. also, the reader has a hard time standing up for herself in stressful situations. She has no problem insulting gojo when shes not in a stressful situation just to clear the air and give her more characterization. also my smut skills are rusty as FUCK it’s been so long don’t make fun of me. anyways this has been long enough rb's and comments always appreciated and my inbox is always open :3

prev. never saw you coming | next. (coming soon)

The sky above the ship was a muted gray, covered with thick clouds that hung low over the horizon. The air was heavy with the scent of salt and seaweed, and the dampness clung to everything it touched. The island you were heading to was located amongst other islands. The islands were commonly referred to as the Sanguine Islands, some of the biggest islands in the Caribbean.

Captain Gojou stood at the helm as his hands rested on the ship's wheel. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was just as carefree as always. But you did know better. He was back to his usual self—cocky, arrogant, and always in control. He behaved kike the night before had never happened. What upset you the most was that you thought the two of you were getting somewhere. But it was all replaced by the same facade he wore when you first met him.

“Alright, gather ‘round,” Gojou called out. “We’ve got a map, and it’s time to head to our first destination.”

You were sitting on a wooden barrel when Gojou asked the crew to join him. You were speaking to Megumi and Yuuji about the map and if they had any ideas of what they would do with the treasure. Eventually, you walked over to him and stood a few feet behind the group, your fingers nervously clutching the map. Honestly, you didn’t want to give him the map, not after everything that happened, but you didn’t have a choice.

Still, you hesitated.

“Hey!” Gojou’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “The map, sweetheart. Don’t make me ask twice.”

You swallowed hard before stepping forward to hand him the map. Your fingers brushed against his as he took it from you, and you could feel the tension radiating from him.

“Good girl,” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear. The words were like a slap in the face. You stepped back, away from the group, as Gojou spread the map across a table on the deck. 

The way he acted as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t torn into you just hours ago, made your heart ache.

“We’re heading to an island,” Gojou began. “roughly three days' sail from here. It’s marked as uninhabited on most maps, but according to this,” he tapped the weathered parchment, “it’s got something we need. All you need to know is that we’re going there.”

“There is a catch, though. The island’s got a bit of a reputation. Cannibalistic locals, or so the rumors say. I’m not one for ghost stories, but if you’re the type to scare easily, consider this your warning to stay on the ship.” Gojou went to pick up the map before shouting out, “Oh, and Y/N, you’re coming too.”

The journey to the Sanguine Islands was uneventful, save for the occasional stormy waves that rocked the ship. You kept to yourself as usual, except for talking to the kids and Nanami. 

Something about those kids, though, was that they always seemed to be in a hurry. The other day, I saw Yuuji bringing a bucket below deck. I have never seen him get seasick or anything, and he lives on a ship. But it’s none of my business. 

It’s better to keep a low profile anyway, you thought to yourself. Besides, teenagers are sneaky.

Gojou seemed also to be keeping to himself. His usual cocky grin was back on his handsome face. It was unfortunate he was a good-looking man.

Finally, the islands appeared on the horizon, or at least what you could see of them. They were small, jagged pieces of land shrouded in mist. “This place gives me the creeps,” Yuuji muttered as he prepared to drop the anchor.

“It’s just an Island Itadori. You’ll be fine since you’re staying on the ship,” Nanami voiced.

“We’ll split into two groups. Half of you stay with the ship, which includes the kids, and the other half comes with me. Shokou, you also stay. We’ll check out the island, grab whatever treasure we can find, and return by nightfall.” Gojou announced.

As Gojou had previously stated, you were heading to the island, though you wished you weren't. You had a bad feeling when your feet touched the sand, and that feeling would only worsen. The group consisted of you, Toji, Getou, Nanami, and Captain Gojou. 

The deeper you ventured into the jungle, the more uneasy you felt. The trees seemed to close in around you, and the air was more humid than usual. Every now and then, you could hear the distant rustle of leaves from what you assumed were animals moving around in the underbrush. But whenever you turned to look, there was nothing.

“I don’t like this,” Getou muttered behind you.

“Quiet Suguru,” Gojou snapped. “We’re almost there.”

But “there” was nowhere to be found. The deeper the five of you went, the more lost you felt.

“Maybe we should head back?” You suggested quietly.

Gojou ignored you. Of course. But you could see the frustration in his expression as he tried to make sense of the map. 

“It’s like we’re going in fucking circles,” he muttered.

Suddenly, shouts erupted from the back of the group.

Before you could react, colorful figures burst from the treeline, their bodies covered in intricate tribal markings.

Chaos erupted as the four men fought back, but they were outnumbered. You ducked behind a tree as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“Retreat!” Toji shouted, his voice barely audible over the sound of clashing steel. “We need to get back to the ship!”

When you went to turn around, there was no clear path back.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the attackers vanished into the jungle.

“Nice job, Satoru were trapped,” Getou drawled.

“We’re not trapped,” Gojou snapped before turning to you. “Give me the map.”

In the thick of the fight, Gojou had dropped the map, and you managed to pick it up before anyone from the opposing side could. Your hands trembled as you pulled the map from your bag. Gojou snatched it from you before unfolding the faded parchment.

But when he went to read the map, it had changed. 

Where there had once been clear markings were now a mess of lines and symbols that made no sense. The landmarks did not match what you had seen on the island.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Gojou muttered, his eyes narrowing as he studied the map. “It’s like the damn thing is cursed.”

“We will find a way back to the ship. And when we do, we’re leaving this godforsaken island. Treasure or not.”

The five of you spent hours trying to make your way through the jungle back to the beach, where you had made landfall. But every time you seemed like you were getting closer, the paths continued to change, leaving you all more lost than before.

“We’re going in circles,” Toji growled.

“We need to stop,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “We’re exhausted and not getting anywhere like this.”

For a moment, you thought he might snap at you, as he had multiple times before. Instead, he sighed, his shoulders slumping, as he folded the map and tucked it into his coat pocket. 

“Fine,” he muttered, “We’ll rest here for the night.”

You wasted no time helping the crew set up a makeshift camp. You found some palm leaves that could be used as a mat so you wouldn’t be sleeping on the cold, hard jungle ground because god knows what is in this place.

You sat near the edge of the camp with your back against a tree as you stared into the flickering firelight. Your mind drifted back to Gojou and how he consistently spoke to you throughout your journey. Even on the night of the Merchant’s ball, he had never looked at you this way, although he did seem conflicted, and you could see it in his eyes.

It didn’t make any sense.

Yes, Gojou was infuriating, arrogant, and impossible to read. But something about him made your heart race and your thoughts spiral out of control. It didn’t help that he was extremely attractive, either. But you refused to let yourself fall for him, not after how he had treated you and what he had done.

You decided that it was time for you to at least try and get some rest before dealing with more of his bullshit. By the time the first light of dawn broke through the canopy, most of the crew was up and about. Gojou decided that you had all stayed in the same place for too long and needed to get moving. However, whenever you seemed to be going in the right direction, the dense foliage would twist and shift, obscuring your path.

Toji led the group since he had a machete that could slice through the undergrowth. Gojou stood behind you in case the attackers returned and decided to ambush your group from behind.

“What the hell is wrong with this place?” Toji growled.

“I did tell you it had a reputation. Locals say it’s cursed. People who come here usually never leave.” Gojou said.

Usually?!

“You believe that superstitious nonsense?” Nanami chimed in.

“It’s not nonsense, you ass. We’ve been walking in circles for hours. This place is messed up.”

“Enough. Keep moving,” Gojou ordered. “We’ll find a way out. There’s always a way out.” 

The thick canopy above blocked out most of the sunlight, causing permanent twilight during the day. It was easy to lose track of time. The hours seemed to blur together, and exhaustion began to show. 

“Maybe we should turn back? We’re not getting anywhere like this.”

Gojou shot you a look full of irritation. “Why would we turn back? We aren’t turning back until we find what we came for.”

But wasn’t he just saying it was okay if we didn’t find any treasure?

You decided to stay silent, not wanting to piss Gojou off any further. 

“This damn map,” he muttered under his breath.

You approached him, looking over his shoulder to scan the map. “It doesn’t make any sense. It’s like the island keeps changing, and the map doesn’t match.”

Toji, watching the exchange, sheathed his machete and stepped closer. “Look, Gojou, she’s right. We’re not getting anywhere. This place is like a maze, and we need to come up with a new plan.”

For a moment, Gojou looked like he was going to argue. But then he let out a sharp breath before folding the map and tucking it back into his coat. “Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll take a break, regroup, and figure out what the hell is going on.”

You all let out a collective sigh of relief as you set up a temporary camp. It wasn’t much, but it gave you all a chance to catch your breath and tend to any scrapes or wounds. You sat on a fallen log, wiping the sweat from your brow. Your eyes drifted to Gojou, who stood a few feet away, staring into the jungle with a frown. He hadn’t said much since he decided to stop, and you could tell that your current situation was finally catching up with him.

You approached him cautiously, your voice soft as you spoke. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. This place is just… pissing me off.”

“It’s like the island doesn’t want us to leave.”

Gojou didn’t respond immediately, but he continued to reassure you that you would be able to make it out.

As the sun began to set, the jungle seemed to be alive. The sounds of the day gave way to something darker. You all huddled closer to the fire you had built. The flames illuminated your faces. No one spoke, not even Captain Gojou. 

You decided to once again try to get Gojou to get you to keep moving. “We need to keep moving. We can’t stay here.”

“I know,” he muttered. “But we’re not moving in the dark. This place is bad enough during the day.”

You couldn't argue with that. This place felt like a death trap, and the thought of venturing back out into the jungle made you more than uncomfortable. But staying here wasn’t much better.

You glanced at Gojou, wondering what he was thinking. His face was hard to read, but you could see the way his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready for whatever the night would bring.

But nothing ever came.

This is the third day you have been stuck on the island. The path the group had been following had disappeared. Every turn leads to a dead end or tangled vines. The thick canopy overhead barely lets any sunlight in. It casts strange shadows that play tricks on the mind.

“Dammit,” Gojou muttered as he hacked away a particularly stubborn branch with his sword.

You kept your distance from him, knowing how irritated he was now, considering that you had been on this island for longer than he wanted. Your conversations had long since died down since each of you was focused on your survival. Getou had been having a reaction to mosquito bites recently, which had significantly slowed the group down. You were sweaty and dirty and desperately wanted a bath. The muscles in your legs screamed in protest, but you pushed forward, determined not to hold the group back.

A sudden noise caught everyone’s attention. Before anyone could react, something shot out of the underbrush. Panic erupted as more figures emerged from the jungle. They had necklaces made of bones around their necks and clothing made out of what you hoped was animal hide. 

You heard Gojou shout something out before grabbing your arm and running in the opposite direction, away from the chaos. You noticed there was blood smeared on his sleeve and his sword drawn. You came to a stop, and he ordered you to stay close to him, not even sparing you a second glance before he turned his back and started walking. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, too exhausted and too shaken to argue with him. Following him was your only option, and judging by his demeanor, you could see that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be stuck with you.

As the two of you walked, neither of you spoke. The only sounds that could be heard were the crunch of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

He didn’t stop walking, nor did he slow down. “No.”

“So we’re just wandering then?”

“You got a better idea?”

You didn’t bother responding. It wasn’t worth it. The ache in your legs had become unbearable, and it took more effort than you would have liked. But the last thing you were going to do was complain to him and have him think you’re weak. He already seemed to look down on you, and you didn’t think you could take any more of it.

“Why are you always like this?”

He stopped so suddenly that you almost ran into him.

“Like what?”

“Like you hate me. I’ve done nothing but try to help you and your crew. And all you do is push me away like I’m some… some nuisance.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his icy blue eyes studying you with an intensity that made your heart race. With a scoff, he turned away again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me. Tell me why you treat me like I’m nothing. Tell me why you act like—”

“Because it’s easier. It’s easier if I don’t care. If I don’t let myself...”

“Let’s go,” he muttered, turning away from you again. “We don’t have time for this.”

But you weren’t ready to let it go. “You don’t have to be like this.”

He didn’t respond and instead began walking again as you followed in silence. The jungle grew darker as the sun began to set, and the path became even harder to navigate. You stumbled over roots and rocks, your exhaustion making it difficult to keep up with Gojou.

After walking a little while, the two of you came across a small stream. Gojou knelt down by the water's edge, splashing some onto his face before drinking deeply. You followed his lead, kneeling beside his and cupping your hands to bring the cool water to your lips.

Then, without looking at you, Gojou spoke. “You should have stayed on the ship.” 

His words caught you off guard, and you looked at him in surprise. “What?” 

“You shouldn’t have come. You don’t belong here.” 

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What? You told me to come! I thought I was helping.”

“It was a mistake. You’re just making things harder.”

Instead of arguing or defending yourself, you simply nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“We should keep moving.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Your heart was heavy as you followed him through the dense jungle. The canopy above filtered the light into beams that cast shadows across the jungle floor, but you felt none of their promised warmth. Gojou strode ahead of you; you hadn’t spoken in hours and didn’t dare break the silence. Your feet ached with each step, the rough terrain taking its toll on your body, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache in your chest.

He suddenly stopped, its abruptness making you stumble. “We’re losing daylight,” he said flatly before turning his back to you once more. “Keep up.”

You swallowed hard before nodding. Words sat heavy on our tongue—words you wanted to shout, to throw at him in anger and frustration—but you bit them back. What good would they do? He had made it perfectly clear where you stood with him.

As you continued to walk, you noticed you were beginning to struggle even more than before. In an instant, your foot caught on a root, and before you could even let out a gasp, you were falling. The world spun, and pain shot through your ankle as you hit the earth. You bit back a cry, the sharp sting making its way up your leg. 

Gojou stopped again. This time, he glanced over his shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes.

“Get up.” Get up? What the fuck? He didn’t move to help you and didn’t even offer you a hand. It was as if he expected you to pick yourself up, just like you always did.

You clenched your teeth. The pain was unbearable. Slowly, you managed to push yourself up, wincing as you put weight on your injured leg. It was clear that you couldn’t walk properly, but Gojou had already turned his back on you. Again.

For a moment, you just stood there. Your chest heaved in an effort to hold back you emotions. How many times would you have to prove your worth to him? How many times would he let you fall only to leave you behind without so much as a glance?

With a deep breath, you forced yourself to move. You limped after him with every step, sending a fresh wave of pain through your ankle, but you kept going. You had to. Not because he asked you to—but because you refused to be left behind.

It wasn’t until you heard the sound of running water that you realized the jungle was thinning out. Gojou was stopped a few feet in front of you with his gaze fixed on something in the distance. When you caught up, you saw what had gotten his attention—a river that cut through the dense forest.

“We need to find a way across. The island won't wait for us to figure it out.”

You nodded, though the pain in your ankle made the mere thought of crossing a river seem impossible, but you knew it was better not to voice your concerns. He wouldn't care. He never did. Not really.

The riverbank was rocky and uneven, and you found yourself trailing behind Gojou as he scouted ahead. You tried to mask the limp in your step, but he noticed. Of course, he did.

“You’re slowing us down. If you can't keep up, I’ll have to leave you behind.”

Of course. You expected no less from a heartless man like him.

“I can manage,” you replied quietly.

The two of you finally made it across the river, not without some trouble due to your injury. When you looked up, you could see the evening sky as it bled into soft shades of violet and indigo. The island’s edge was near, and you could hear the faint sounds of waves and the smell of salty seawater.

“We need to get off this island before night falls.” He started toward the beach without waiting for you, making it hard to keep up with his long strides. You followed him, limping slightly as you looked for any way to escape the island. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a small, weathered boat hidden behind a stack of driftwood. It looked old, and it probably couldn’t even float without sinking. But it was better than nothing.

“We can use that,” you called after Gojou. “But the oars…”

Gojou glanced at the boat before glancing back at you. “We don’t have a choice. We’ll figure it out.”

Without another word, he made his way over to the boat and began inspecting the vessel, running his hands over the worn wood to assess its condition. You stood back, watching him work. You limped over to the boat and knelt beside one of the broken oars, running your fingers along the jagged edge. “We could try to fix this,” you offered, unsure if he would even listen.

Gojou glanced up at you, and you thought he might snap at you. But surprisingly, he nodded.

“Do what you can,” he said before turning back to the boat.

With whatever scraps of driftwood and vines you could find, you began the makeshift repairs on the oars. The pain in your ankle throbbed with each movement, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through it. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, and when you finally managed to piece together something that resembled an oar, the sky was now a deep purple. It wasn’t pretty, but it would have to do.

“I think this will work,” you said, holding it up for Gojou to see.

He turned to inspect your handiwork, his eyes glancing over the makeshift oar. A small grunt of approval escaped his lips, and without saying another word, he began pushing the boat toward the water. You moved to help him despite the sharp pain in your leg. Together, the two of you heaved the boat into the shallows as the cold water lapped at your ankles. Gojou climbed in first before holding his hand out to you. It was the first time he had offered his help on your journey.

You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand and climbing into the boat. The oar you had repaired was far from perfect, but somehow, Gojou managed to guide the small vessel through the gentle waves. The island slowly began to fade from view, being swallowed by the darkness. You sat opposite him with your legs tucked beneath you. 

The small boat rocked gently as you neared the ship that could be seen on the horizon. Its lanterns on board had guided the both of you back, and for that, you were eternally grateful. Relief had washed over you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the pain in your ankle, which you had somehow almost forgotten about. 

Gojou continued to silently row the small boat toward the ship, his gaze fixed ahead. As you neared the ship, you could make out figures on the deck. It seemed like Nanami, Getou, and Toji had made it back safely, just as Gojou had predicted a few days ago. 

Yuuji and Ino quickly made work of pulling the small rowboat onto the side of the ship so you and Gojou could board once more. But the moment you tried to move, the pain flared up again, causing you to wince. You bit back a groan because you were unwilling to show weakness, especially in front of Gojou.

The boat bumped softly against the side of the ship, and without a word, he stood and glanced down at you, his eyes narrowed as he took in your obvious discomfort. You knew what was coming before he even moved, but that didn’t stop the jolt of surprise when he bent down and scooped you up in one swift motion, cradling you against his chest.

“W-what are you—”

“Can’t have you limping around the deck like a wounded animal. Besides, you can’t fix your ankle if you can’t even stand.”

Jesus Christ, this man is hot and cold. Can he please make up his mind?

Your protests fell flat as you realized how futile they were. He carried you through the deck of the ship, heading straight for his quarters. The door to his cabin creaked open, and Gojou carried you inside. He gently lowered you onto his bed.

“Stay here. I’ll get Shokou.”

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. You let out a slow breath, the tension in your body easing slightly now that you were alone. Your ankle still hurt, but at least you were off of it.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open again, and Shokou stepped inside. She carried a small medical kit with her. There was a hint of amusement in her expression as she glanced at you on the bed.

“Well, well, look who’s in need of some help,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I figured Gojou was being dramatic when he said you broke your ankle. Guess I owe him an apology.”

You forced a weak smile, wincing as you shifted slightly on the bed. “It’s not as bad as it looks… maybe.”

“Yeah, sure. Let me take a look.”

She knelt beside the bed and gently began to examine your ankle. It was swollen and bruised from all the walking you did on it. Her touch was light, but it didn’t stop the pain as she assessed the damage. You sucked in a sharp breath, biting down on your lip to stop yourself from making any noise.

“Hate to break it to you,” Shokou said after a moment, “but it’s definitely broken. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse, though. A little rest, and you’ll be good as new.”

She kept up a light conversation as she worked on bandaging your ankle. She carefully wrapped it before turning her attention to a small vial she pulled from her kit. “This should help with the pain,” she said, offering you a dose. “Drink up.”

You accepted the vial with a quiet nod. The liquid was bitter, but the relief that followed was almost immediate. The pain dulled to a more manageable state. 

Is this shit magic?

As Shokou finished up, Gojou reappeared in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame. His cerulean eyes flicked over to your bandaged ankle before settling on Shokou. “How bad?”

“Not bad enough to keep her out of trouble for long,” Shokou replied with a smirk, standing up and dusting off her hands. “She’ll be fine, but she needs to stay off it for a few days.”

“You heard her. No more running around.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you muttered.

Shokou began to pack up her kit, and before turning to leave, she gave you a quick pat on the shoulder. “I’ll check on you later,” she said, flashing you one last smile before disappearing out the door.

With it just being you and Gojou, the two of you fell into an uncomfortable silence. Gojou lingered for a moment before he pushed off the doorframe and approached the bed. 

“You did good back there,” he grumbled.

“Thanks… I guess.”

Without another word, Gojou turned back to the door. “Get some rest,” he called over his shoulder before stepping out, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room.

Not long after Gojou left, you sat in silence. Your ankle lightly throbbed, though Shokou’s treatment had eased some of the pain. The ache that lingered in your chest was another matter entirely. You hated everything about this ship, the adults on this ship, and most of all, Captain Gojou. All of them seemed to be pushing you towards a breaking point.

The door creaked open again, and you glanced up, expecting Shokou to check up on you. Unfortunately, it was Gojou. He glanced over at you briefly before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Are we going anywhere near Elysport?” you blurted.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Why?"

"Because I need to know. I need to know when I can leave this fucking ship."

His eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I hate it here. I hate this ship, the way everyone looks at me, and I especially hate the way you’ve been treating me like I’m nothing more than a problem."

"I’m treating you like a problem?"

"Yes!" you snapped, pushing yourself up. "You’ve been an asshole from the start. You act like I’m just some burden you’re forced to carry, and I’m sick of it."

The way I treat you is because I’m keeping you alive. This isn’t some fucking pleasure cruise. You’re out of your depth, and I don’t have the luxury to babysit you."

"I don’t need you to babysit me, Gojou!" you shot back. "I need you to stop treating me like I’m invisible. You drag me along on this ship, ignore me, and then throw me a few scraps of attention when it suits you. I’m tired of it!"

"You think I’ve been ignoring you? I’m trying to protect you, even if you don’t see it. The less attention you get from the wrong people, the better. And if I have to push you away to do that, I will."

"I don’t need your protection, Gojou. I’m not some fragile doll who’s going to break at the first sign of danger."

"You have no idea what you’re talking about. This world we’re in—it’s cutthroat. People die. You’ve already seen that. And if you think leaving this ship is going to solve your problems, you’re dead wrong.”

"I don’t care!" you spat. "I want off this ship. I’ll take my chances out there. I’d rather deal with the dangers of the world on my own than be stuck here, treated like I don’t matter."

"You really think you’ll be safer anywhere else? That if you leave, everything will magically be fine?"

"I don’t care if it’s safer. I just want out. I can’t stand being here with you anymore, with the way you’ve been acting."

“I act this way because I have to. This world isn’t for someone like you.”

“The world is this way because of people like you! Maybe my father was right about pirates, considering people like you were the ones who killed her,” you spat. "Stop acting like you know me. You don’t know what I can handle, and I don’t need you making that choice for me. If we get near Elysport, I’m leaving."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "We’ll talk about this later,” he said before turning to the door.

“Damn him.”

You didn’t care what Gojou thought or what he claimed. You were done with being treated like you were a piece of cargo who he could just push around whenever he felt like it. Besides, you could check up on how your father was doing if you went back to Elysport. Before leaving, you never spoke to your father much, except for the occasional holiday or whenever he was in the right mind to chat. You thought about how panicked he must be, knowing his only daughter was missing. Did he pray to God to bring you home the same he did all those years ago? You wondered if he was spiraling like he did after your mother’s death or if he was holding it together. You wondered if he was hoping his little girl's body would wash up on shore just as his wife’s did fourteen years ago. The two of you may have been distant in the last few years, but he was your father, and you loved him. You were a daddy’s girl through and through.

You wanted to go home.

“Sweetheart, you got lucky. We’re going to a place close enough to Elysport for you to take a carriage.” 

You looked up from the book you were reading to see Gojou standing in the doorway. You were sitting on Gojou’s bed reading one of his books with your ankle propped up on a pillow. You were surprised to hear that they were going in that general direction, considering their constant need to be in danger. Plus, you were surprised to hear that he was even letting you leave with his atrocious behavior.

“Oh, really? I’m surprised you’re even letting me off this ship,” you breathed. 

“I had a discussion with the rest of the crew, and they decided it would be best for you to leave if you truly want to. Yuuji was pretty opposed to the idea. The kid likes talking to you.”

“Well, that makes everyone else infinitely more likable than you. Oh, and also, you can keep the map; I don’t want it. It’s caused me enough trouble as it is, seeing I’m here with you.”

“Can you not be bratty for five minutes?”

“Can you not be an asshole for five minutes?”

“You should behave more like how you did on the island, submissive and silent. I liked you better then.” he spat. “Be more grateful we’re going anywhere near Elysport since we need a restock on supplies. For some reason, more supplies have been going missing even though you don’t even eat much or use much of it.”

It had been a few days since your accident, and your ankle was healing quite nicely. You could finally walk on it just in time to make it to Hinsoll Port, a port neighboring Elysport. For some reason, Gojou let you stay in his room, which you will admit was pretty nice of him. When you slept, he would sleep on his chair, and to be honest, it made you feel bad because of how uncomfortable it looked.

The day you got to the port, you stood at the edge of the dock as the wind tousled your hair. And for the first time in days, you finally felt free. You had been dropped off by Gojou while his ship was being restocked, and Yuuji was quite sad to see you go, so maybe he wasn’t lying about that. You had packed the little amount of stuff you had brought along with you and began walking down the dock. Regretfully, you decided to turn around, and low and behold, Gojou was leaning on the ship, watching you leave. He didn’t come to say goodbye as the rest of the crew had, and you just chalked it up to him being a self-righteous asshole.

Gojou had made it clear. We’re not going directly to Elysport, but close enough for you to take a carriage. You felt a pang of regret as you walked down the dock, as you were leaving behind a life you had known for only a month. Had it really been that long? You thought back to when Gojou had said sorry for once the night he had called you a whore and had carried you to a hotel so the two of you wouldn’t have to walk back. But that was before you had started this whole treasure hunt, and the last “hunt was disastrous. Even so, didn’t they need part of that for said treasure, and they don’t have it? Oh well, it’s not your problem anymore.

You made your way to the carriage station, and soon enough, you were tucked inside as the wooden wheels creaked beneath you. Your fingers played with the fabric of your skirts while the sound of hooves against dirt calmed your nerves.

When the late afternoon hit, you could see the streets of Elysport as the carriage came to a halt in front of your father’s house. The moment your foot hit the ground, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia. The city port smelled exactly the same as it had the day you left. It was kind of like an old friend pulling you into a warm embrace.

You hesitated for a moment while standing at the wooden door of your childhood home. It was a modest home ticked away on a quiet street. You used to take care of your father’s garden every once in a while, but it had since grown a bit wild in your absence. Your heart pounded in your chest as you raised your hand to knock on the door, unsure of how he would react to seeing you after being gone for a month.

The door creaked open, and there he was. Your father stood in the doorway, his face haint and his eyes sunken in. But the moment he saw you, his expression shifted into shock, disbelief, and finally, joy.

His arms were around you before you could say a word. “Thank God,” he whispered as he buried his face in your hair. “Thank God for bringing my little girl home.” You melted into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the stray tears that had slipped down your cheeks. “I prayed every night for you, hoping you'd come back to me.”

“I’m here now. I’m home.”

Your father just held you, and it was as if he was afraid that if he were to let go, you would disappear again. Eventually, he stepped back, his eyes glazed over, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Could you do me a favor, darling? The market’s still open. Would you pick me up some herbs? I was thinking of making a stew tonight since you came home.”

You nodded quickly, eager to please and eager to slip back into a normal routine. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

The marketplace was just as lively as you remembered. The sounds of laughter and conversation filled the air, along with baked goods and roast meats. As you made your way through the crowd, picking up the herbs your father had requested, you caught sight of an unfamiliar figure at the edge of the market. He stood out like a sore thumb—leaning casually against a stall. His pink hair stood out against the drab green and browns of the market, but it was the tattoos curling along his face that truly set him apart.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

You were startled by the sudden appearance of the man with pink hair. You swallowed, unsure of how to respond. “We’ve heard about you. A traveler, are you not? Someone who’s seen more than they probably should.”

You blinked, confusion flooding your mind. “I—no, I’m just—”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t looking for something. We all are.”

“I’m just here for my father,” you said, your voice coming out smaller than you intended.

"Of course you are. But that doesn’t mean you have to leave empty-handed.”

 “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say,” Sukuna said, his grin widening, “we have an offer you can’t refuse. One that doesn’t involve treasure. All you need to do is listen.”

“What is this offer?”

“You know,” he began. “I thought I’d made it simple. Put up the wanted signs, sit back, and wait for you to be brought to me, along with the map.”

So that’s what he wants.

“I don’t have the map.”

Then, with a disappointed sigh, he stepped closer. “What a shame,” he murmured.“I was hoping you’d make things easier for me.”

“I told you, I don’t have it.”

“She’s telling the truth, you know. No point in lying about something like this.” This voice was a different one. It came from a small woman with white hair and an irregular line of dark plum pink running across the back of their head. 

 “Pity. Because if you did have it, we might’ve come to some sort of... understanding.”

“Funny thing, though. I hear that Captain Gojou, your kind-hearted protector, might’ve had something to do with your mother’s... untimely end.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, just rumors. But if you’re curious—really curious—you could always find out for yourself. All it would take is a little favor. Get us that map from Gojou, and we’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“I... I don’t know.”

Captain Gojou was crazy, but he wasn’t that crazy.

“Well, take your time. But don’t take too long. You wouldn’t want the truth slipping through your fingers, now would you?”

“I’ll think about it,” you muttered, trying to buy yourself some time.

“Good girl,” Sukuna purred, his grin widening. “We’ll be waiting.”

You returned home clutching the herbs your father requested. The sky had darkened as the last rays of daylight turned into twilight. Your father sat in his chair by the window, the evening light casting shadows across his face.

“Got what you asked for,”�� you said quietly, setting the herbs down on the table.

He gave you a small nod, but his gaze lingered on you longer than usual. He could sense something was wrong since he had always been able to read you like an open book.

“What’s on your mind, love?” he asked gently, leaning forward with concern etched into his features.

You hesitated, unsure of how to begin. “Dad,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if I told you... I could find out who killed Mom?”

The words hung in the air between the two of you, and for a moment, there was only silence. “What are you talking about?”

“I... I ran into someone at the market today. They said they knew... who might be behind it. But they need a favor.”

Your father’s brows furrowed. “Who are these people? What favor?”

“They want something from Captain Gojou. They want me to... get it for them. In exchange, they’ll tell me what happened to Mom.”

“And you believe them?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if there’s even a chance... don’t you want to know the truth?”

His jaw tightened, and you thought he might refuse. But then, he sighed heavily, the years of pain and grief evident in the lines of his face. “I’ve spent fourteen years wondering who took her from us,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “If there’s a chance, even a small one, to finally get justice… then you do it. Find out who killed her.”

“You... you’re okay with me going back?”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment. Whoever killed your mother... I’ll see to it they pay.”

The sky was pitch black by the time you slipped into bed. You thought back to the conversation with your father. Although you had made your decision, it wasn’t any less scary. Your heart pounded in your chest as you lay in your childhood bedroom, staring up at the ceiling.

That’s when you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside your window. You sat up and looked towards the window, but you saw nothing, so you decided to ignore it, thinking it was a drunk passerby trying to get home. All of a sudden, you heard a knock at the window, and you saw a figure standing there. Before you could react, your small window was yanked open.

Of fucking course he’s here.

Gojou stood in the window frame, his white hair almost glowing in the dim moonlight.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered.

He hopped inside before closing the window behind him.  “I told you it was dangerous to be here. And yet, here you are.”

“I’m with my father, Gojou. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You think you’re safe because you’re in your childhood home?” His voice was laced with irritation. “Do you have any idea who’s been hanging around this town?”

Your stomach dropped. He knew about the strange man down by the marketplace. Though you never managed to catch his name.

“I... I can handle myself.”

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“Yeah, that’s what you’ve been telling me since day one,” you muttered.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. And maybe I don’t. But I do know one thing—you’ve been lying to me.”

“What in God's name are you talking about?”

“I know you had something to do with my mother’s death,” you blurted out, the words spilling from your lips before you could stop them. 

“Your… mother?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“Listen, sweetheart, I haven’t had anything to do with your mother’s death, so don’t get too excited. Besides, I’m only thirty-two. Who told you this information? Was it the man with pink hair you met in the market?”

“It’s none of your business. And since when have you cared who I meet? Last I checked, you could have given two shits about me?”

You were now weary of the information the strange man had given you. And doing the math, he would have only been eighteen years old at the time of your mother’s death. But still, the thought lingered in your mind.

“I should’ve known you’d get involved in something this stupid,” he muttered.

“Take me back.” 

Gojou’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Take me back to your crew. Let me come with you. I need to see this through.”

“You want to come back after everything? You just left like yesterday.”

“Yes. I can’t stay here. Not when there are so many questions. Maybe the treasure can help me find out the truth about my mother.”

Lies.

“Are you sure you’re not going to force me to take you back the moment something shitty happens?”

“No, you ass, my father asked me to find out what happened to her.”

“Fine. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you out of my sight.”

“Why would that be.”

“Because you have been talking to strange men, Y/N. I’m not stupid,” he sighed. “Be ready by dawn,” he muttered as he walked back over to the window. “We leave as soon as the tide is in.”

Satoru felt guilty. He felt guilty about his lack of self-control, guilty that he managed to drive the one person who seemed to care away. Guilty about the fact he might hurt you.

Satoru didn’t know why he behaved this way. It’s not that he wanted to behave this way towards you, but that's how it was. He didn't know why he felt inclined to treat you the way he did, and he kept telling himself that this was normal behavior. He didn’t want to admit it, but he really liked the kiss the two of you shared in the hotel room, and he wished to have more of them. But there was something that seemed to stop the two of you from seeing eye to eye, and it was that map.

But there was one more thing Satoru felt guilty about. And that was his dream about you. 

Satoru didn’t remember exactly how it started, but all he knew was that you were the last person supposed to be there. 

You looked the same as you did a few nights ago, but instead of being in your heavy skirts, you were in a sheer nightgown. You were lying down on his bed facing away from him, and from where he was standing, he could see the outline of your supple breasts and the gentle curve of your waist.

“Sweetheart?” he murmured as he walked closer to where you were lying. As he got closer, he could hear the soft sounds of your cries, and he noticed your shoulders were shaking. He sat down on his bed and put his hand on your shoulder to give you some kind of comfort. Something he couldn’t do to the real you.

“Why do you always hurt me? I’ve done nothing but help you,” you sniffed.

Satisfaction.

Satoru felt a deep satisfaction because you were crying over him.

He shouldn’t have felt that way, but seeing your tears made him feel like he was in control. Just how he liked it. You turned around to face him, and he could see your teary-eyed expression in the candlelight. It made him happy that you suffered all because you liked him.

“You look so pretty when you cry,” he murmured as he stroked your tear-stained cheek.

The dream version of you stared up at him, seemingly analyzing every detail of him with your glossy eyes. You watched as Gojou took off his boots and made his way up his bed to rest his back against the headboard. He gripped your waist and lifted you from where you were sitting to sit on his lap.

“What are you doing in my chambers sitting half-naked and crying, sweetheart?”

“My best wasn’t as comfortable as yours,” you shrugged, ignoring the crying and half-naked part.

“Your bed wasn’t as comfortable as mine? Well, we can’t have that, can we, baby?”

You shook your head, docile like a rabbit. 

As soon as you sat in his lap, you immediately connected your lips with a soft gesture as he tasted the salt from your tears.

Gojou kissed you passionately as his large hand caressed your face, moving down from your cheeks to your collarbones and back, and finally, his hands rested on your backside. You sighed, leaning into the kiss, desperate to feel the warmth of his body, feeling the familiar heat pool in his belly.

“What do you want me to do, Sweetheart,” Gojou asked, breaking the kiss.

You were silent for a moment before responding, “I want you to fuck me.”

He groaned at your response and flipped the two of you over so that he was on top. You could feel his weight as he ground his hips against the flimsy piece of underwear you wore. You could feel his hardening cock rubbing against your clothed pussy and your inner thigh. He wanted to rip that sheer nightgown off your body and bury his head between your thighs, wondering how you would taste.

“I wanna feel your cock inside me. Please?” you moaned out.

You looked so pretty, so beautiful beneath him. Gojou sat up and made work untying his linen shirt and ridding himself of his breeches, which were practically useless by this point. You helped him untie his top, seemingly eager to be closer to him. When he managed to undo the last string, he pulled down his shorts, revealing his cock that slapped against his stomach.

Fuck he’s so hard, and he’s only dreaming.

There was only one problem: you still had your clothes on, or what could be considered clothes, considering it left nothing to the imagination. Gojou began dragging his fingers along the arousal-soaked underwear you wore. You shuddered when he slipped his hand inside your underwear, gliding his fingers through your soaked folds, almost dipping inside your hole but going back to your clit.

A small moan escaped you, and Gojou decided he wanted to see more, even if it was just a dream. He removed his hand from your underwear, hooked it onto the bands, and muttered, "Lift your hips" to you before removing your underwear. You closed your legs, embarrassed of the mess between your thighs and how wet you were for a man who made you cry and treated you like you were nothing. He pried your legs apart and was greeted by a small patch of hair, and he could see your hole clenching, desperate to be filled.

“Why are you so shy, hm?” He breathed. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Gojou focused his attention back on your neck, feathering soft kisses around the skin before moving to your breasts, lowering the straps of your thin chemise. You were arching your back as he descended further in further until he was face to face with your sopping cunt. He was quick to begin lapping at the entrance with his tongue until you were quietly moaning his name. “S-Satoru!”

It was like music to his ears and Satoru thought he could stay in this dream forever. 

“You taste so sweet, sweetheart. I could stay here forever,” he murmured, circling your sensitive bud before looking back at your slit, slightly spreading them apart to look at the mess you made. Satoru took one last look before grabbing his erect manhood and lining it up with your core, sliding his tip against your core to gather some of your arousal before sliding himself in. But before he could do anything his dream started becoming blurry and soon enough, he realized he was going to wake up.

All of a sudden, the world around him began to grow fuzzy, like a painting that was smeared by careless hands. Satoru blinked, trying to clear his vision, but it was ultimately useless. The edges of everything became clearer, and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a cold sweat on his bed in his captain’s chambers.

Satoru clenched his jaw, shaking his head to try and rid the images of his indecent dream. It was just a dream. Though his mind kept drifting back to the way your lips had lingered on his, and the heat of your body that was pressed against his in ways that felt all too real. It that dream he could touch you without restraint, kiss you without hesitation, and indulge in the desire he fought so hard to ignore.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. The frustration was mounting, but there was something else. A wet patch on his breeches. He glanced down and a wave of embarrassment swept over him, realizing how deep his dream had sunk his claws into him.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to push down the storm of emotions, but it was no use. Even here in the safety of his chambers, he couldn’t escape you.

Satoru stared out the small window of his quarters, the moonlight coming through the window, spilling in like silver threads. Why you? Why now? Of all the things haunting his subconscious, why was it you that left him so unhinged?

He needed control—over himself and his thoughts, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to let you go.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

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[corusvants]

THE HEART GROWS FONDER

pairing : kento nanami x f!reader summary : (requested) — kento nanami loved you before he even knew you, and his feelings were the one thing he never questioned. like pieces of a puzzle, you fit together. whatever happens, your feelings never waver. cw : childhood friends to lovers, reader is v emotional, canon events/jjk0 spoilers, mentions of character death, mutual and intense pining, miscommunication lack of communication, mild one-bed-trope?, platonic!satoru (bc apparently i am unable to write anything without mentioning him), light profanity, pet names, talk of wedding, sweet fluff, a good chunk of angst, slight jealousy, no use of y/n word count : 10.1 k

Kento was a knowledgeable man.

He knew how long it took to get from one place in Tokyo to another, no matter what time of day it was. Well aware of all the best routes for traveling the city most efficiently, even during rush hours.

He knew all the ways to make the most money. Not what he was proudest of, but working hard had garnered him a set of useful skills that made him a good employee, a real asset to the company.

He knew how to read a map, a skill long forgotten by most in this day and age. Should he ever find himself in a situation where there was no reception, he would be able to get his hands on a sheet displaying the nearby areas and figure out how to return to civilisation.

He knew how to best take care of his body. He had done extensive research to make sure he moved his body correctly during workouts to not harm himself. He wasn’t interested in aching joints when he was old and gray.

And he knew he loved you — since the very first moment his eyes landed on you all those years ago.

He remembered the exact moment in excruciating detail as well, like how he had turned a little scared at the unfamiliar sensation of a racing heartbeat. When pressing his hand to his chest, he felt the rapid thumping. He quickly realised it was caused by the sight of you when it happened every time he spotted you.

His dad would tease him whenever he caught Kento sitting in the windowsill, chubby cheeks resting on his forearms as he gazed lovingly towards the little girl playing in her front yard a few houses down. “I’m sure she would love to play with you.” His face would turn bright crimson, a colour that had become all too common in the Nanami household whenever you were brought up, before an embarrassed Kento would stomp up to his room.

He didn’t learn your name until the first day of school — your parents had arranged for the two of you to walk to school together. He had been over the moon when he heard the news, pure excitement filling his body to the point where he could not sit still. But the moment he was stood in front of you, your voice sweet as honey when introducing yourself, his throat dried out and he turned tongue tied. His mom placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing his feet back on the ground, “Kento,” he croaked weakly before disappearing into his jacket.

With small feet carrying you to and from school, you tried to force a conversation out of him but to no prevail. He remained shy and quiet, eventually resulting in a statement that had saddened him more than he could have anticipated; “you don’t talk much, do you?”

There had been no ill intent in your words, but it had Kento distance himself from you. What was supposed to blossom into a friendship (and maybe even more with time), only simmered down to him consistently trialing five steps behind you on the path to school that became all too bleak when it hadn’t turned out how he had imagined it.

His infatuation didn’t seem to disappear anytime soon either. If anything, now having the opportunity to observe you in closer proximity only deepened his feelings. He now got to witness the outgoing and bubbly personality that was wrapped in your cute exterior, exceeding all his expectations of what he had imagined you would be like — fascinated by how you seemed to excel in aspects where he lacked.

And the more time that passed, it seemed the day he would find the courage to catch up and walk along side you traveled further out of his reach.

He continued to admire from afar, watching as you earned yourselves new friendships as easily as putting your shoes on in the morning. Kento wasn’t the only one drawn to your outgoing personality and charming smile, his heart breaking a little when you formed a tight knit friend group and he didn’t get to be a part of it.

That’s how it went. Kento sort of just blended into the background, never making a number of himself. He was nearly certain no one really knew he even existed at all (except the teachers, who absolutely adored him). Day after day, he sat by himself with a book in his hands, only ever looking up to admire you for a few seconds as you would play with your friends.

However, he preferred the quiet life in school more than what it evolved into as second grade rolled around.

During recess, he would sit with his book, same as always, counting the minutes until school was over so he would walk those five familiar steps behind you — that’s when two third graders had approached him, their intention clear as day.

Their antics continued for two weeks — until what he thought was the voice of an angel interrupted.

“Hi there.”

Kento would recognise that voice anywhere, turning towards the source to see you, huge grin plastered on your face, both hands behind your back as you stared down the two third graders.

“What’s going on here?” You asked in such a sweet and innocent tone, but all three of the boys could see there was something borderline unfriendly in your eyes that was not present in your words.

“Doesn’t concern you,” one of the mean kids bit back.

“Hmm,” you hummed, pressing your lips together before shifting to a serious tone. “I think it does, because from over there-“ you pointed in the direction of where you had stood moments earlier, “it looked like you were picking on my friend.”

Friend? Had he heard you right?

Before they could retaliate, you had already opened your mouth again, “I’ll scream! The adults will come and you’ll be in biiiig trouble!” Your tone had been so cheerful, but that same threatening intent lingered in your gaze — a look one did not want to receive from a stubborn, little seven year old.

It seemed like your scare tactic worked, because after grumbling to themselves for a few seconds, they shuffled away with their tails between their legs. And once they were far enough away not to be a bother anymore, you squatted down on the gravel beside Kento, wrapping your arms around your legs.

“You okay, Kento?” Completely transformed, not a hint of your malice present any longer, just soft and genuine concern when speaking his name.

He blinked a few times, using the back of his hand to dry the few tears that had watered up in the corner of his eyes before he answered you. “‘M fine,” he sniffled, then daring to look you in the eyes to mutter a shy “thank you.”

“Anytime.”

You couldn’t explain why you had decided to interfere — because labelling Kento a friend wasn’t entirely true. The boy had barely said a word to you for the year you had known him, but you had just been filled with anger when you witnessed the older kids choose to pick on him. He did not have a mean bone in his body. And maybe somewhere along the line, you had gained a soft spot for the reserved kid, having not been able to stop glancing over your shoulder from time to time when you walked to and from school, just to make sure he was still there.

Never had Kento imagined that the taunting from his upperclassman would be his biggest blessing to date. He no longer sat alone during lunch, but instead accepted your invite to eat with you and your little clique.

And finally your friendship with Kento had the opportunity to grow.

Thanks to you, school had become a lot more enjoyable for him after that. The walks to and from school was no longer spent with an awkward distance, now matching your pace as you both indulged in small talk from the moment you left school until he left you at your door.

He knew he should have been satisfied, and in one way he was. He was finally allowed to call you his friend after all, but during school hours, you usually hung out the entire group. And on your spare time, you had a tendency to reserve your time just for the girls. So while he wished for more, he continued to shoot longing, and not so subtle, gazes across the table.

It abruptly changed when you were thirteen, walking home from school like any other day, when your blunt question had cut through the conversation.

“Hey, you want to go to the movies with me?”

“What?” Kento’s thirteen year old brain had not been able to comprehend the question, stopping dead in his tracks to stare at you with big eyes, swallowing the massive lump in his throat. Had you just asked him on a date?

You stopped when you noticed he did, staring right back at him like this wasn’t a big deal. “None of the girls were interested, and you’re the only boy in our group I can tolerate without any of the girls,” you rolled your eyes. You had turned a little feisty when entering your teens.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, drawing his lips into an awkward line, hoping he could play it off as a smile.

Your deadpanned expression immediately twisted into one of pure joy. “Great!”

Kento had stood in front of his mirror all afternoon, using both his hands to smoothen the crinkles of his shirt, treating it very much like a date. He didn’t even realise how long he had been stressing in his room until his mom came knocking, telling him you were waiting outside.

He had been a little disappointed when he saw you, because it became very evident you did not consider it a date. Wearing the same outfit you had worn to school that day, resting on the handlebars of your bike. “C’mon, we need to get popcorn before the movie starts,” you nagged, just the tiniest bit annoyed.

When stood in the kiosk, he had offered to pay for the popcorn, like the good, little gentleman he had been raised to be. “Oh, no need. Mom gave me money to pay for it,” you said cheerfully with a shrug and a smile. “Thanks, though.”

The movie couldn’t hold Kento’s attention, even if he wanted to, because for the whole ninety minutes you had your knee rested against his. The sensation of the shy touch of your leg had his heart beat so loud against his ribcage, he was scared you might turn to him and tell it to shush so you could hear the movie.

It wasn’t much, but the pressing feeling was definitely prominent enough that you had to be aware of it too. And in his mind, it seemed only logical you kept your leg still against his because you wanted it to touch him. But whenever he flickered his eyes over to you, you seemed utterly unbothered, attention fixated on the screen as your hand continued to grab popcorn from the bucket.

He tried to keep his breath even, letting his tension spill out by clenching and unclenching his fists. He was so determined to sit completely still, scared the tiniest flinch would cause you to shift your leg away from him.

Trips to the movies, just in each other’s company, became a regular occurrence after that. And about half of the time, you let him pay… only because you paid the other half, but he let himself wallow in the idea that he was treating you for the evening.

He was in high school when one of your friends had asked about it. “What’s really going on there, Kento?”

He had immediately decided to play dumb. Not because he was embarrassed, but if there was even the slightest chance it would feed them material they could use to make you uncomfortable, he wanted to avoid it. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, man,” he laughed mockingly. “You and her,” nodding towards where you stood with your girlfriends in the cafeteria line. “The two of you hang out with each other more than us these days.”

“I don’t know, we’re friends?” Kento shrugged, almost certain he was able to play it off as casual.

“Friends? Right, friends who constantly go on movie dates together.”

“They’re not dates,” was all he had been able to say to defend himself, feeling his cheeks grow hot like they had done when he was younger.

They had all chucked at him then. “Yeah, whatever man. Congratulations bagging the prettiest girl in school,” was the last thing that was said before you and the rest of the girls joined their table. You sat down beside Kento, like always.

Carefully, you had nudged his arm to get his attention. “You okay?” You asked quietly so only he could hear.

He gave you a weak but genuine smile. “Yes, just lost in thought is all.” You smiled back at him, making his heart skip a beat.

You don’t remember when it changed for you. If it had been a gradual thing, or if you had just woken up one day with this feeling — but something was definitely different.

The realisation had hit you mid sentence. Rambling on about some meaningless topic, like you always did, and suddenly you noticed the way he was looking at you.

He was listening so intently, not missing a single word coming from your mouth, a faint smile stamped at the corner of his lips and a tenderness in his eyes you hadn’t really noticed before. You only managed to snap out of it when he spoke your name.

“Am I losing you by not talking?” He teased before taking a sip out of his coffee.

“Shit,” you muttered, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “I just remembered this group assignment I have due tomorrow.” A lie — and an obvious one at that. But Kento didn’t get a moment to ask any follow-up questions before you had gathered your stuff and rushed to say goodbye, leaving him alone in the cafe.

For the entire walk home, you thought about Kento, now suddenly in a new light, reflecting over the entirety of your friendship.

You became aware of how he always seemed to prioritise you in the group without hesitation. You had just brushed it off, assuming he felt indebted to you for coming to his rescue when you were seven. But you realised now how ridiculous that sounded.

You thought of all the times he had come running when you had asked for him. Whether it was after a fight with one of your girlfriends, or a date that had gone horribly wrong, he dropped everything to be by your side.

You realised now why you always caught yourself answering with a frown when girls came to ask you about him. As you had gotten older, he had definitely grown into his looks, a subtle kind of handsome that snuck up on you.

When you got home, you had pulled out your phone to send a text to apologise for bailing so abruptly. But you typed and deleted the message twenty times over, anxiety you had never felt about him before overwhelming you. In the end, you ended up not sending anything at all, feeling like no words sufficed.

And the next time you met, you acted as if nothing had happened, and he just went along with it.

You tried desperately to act as if nothing had changed, beyond terrified you would scare him off or make him uncomfortable if he picked up on your new and revolutionary feelings for him. If there was one thing you were absolute certain about, it was that you would never do anything to jeopardise the friendship you had with him. There was no competition of what person in your life you cherished the most; Kento Nanami. You’d be the earth's biggest fool to gamble that away for anything.

When you were 16, you nearly caved.

In your desperate attempt of keeping things normal, you had continued your meaningless escapades — which meant going on terrible dates with even more terrible guys — turns out teenage boys are just assholes by default.

“It’s their loss,” Kento cooed in a warm tone, sitting beside you on your bed with a comforting arm around your shoulders.

In all honesty, you didn’t even care all that much about the date. You couldn’t even remember the guy’s name. No, your mind was way more interested in how his strong hand cupped your arm so perfectly.

You turned to look at him, faces closer than ever before. He happily held your gaze — you were just hoping he was able to read the messages it conveyed.

Tell me to stop seeing these guys, and I’ll stop.

Tell me you want me the way I want you.

Tell me it’s you I’m meant to be with.

“You’ll find someone worthy of you eventually.”

Your heart sunk, having built up your own expectations based on how his eyes had roamed your face as if he truly desired you. Maybe this was all in your head.

It wasn’t.

But Kento, much like you, didn’t want to lose you over anything. Confessing risked the relationship he already had with you. He would rather have you as a friend, than not have you in his life at all.

Not long after that, you both joined Jujutsu tech. Slowly but surely, you slipped away from your childhood group — him more than you. You tried your very best to stay in touch, though your new schedule made that hard.

With these new threats looming around you, neither of you could help how your friendship — or whatever you would call what was going on between you — continued to grow deeper. More serious. It went unsaid by the both of you, but there was just a mutual understanding that it was the logical development when there was the slightest possibility of it ending all too soon.

Still neither of you confessed.

You fell into routines, so accustomed to seeing him every minute of every day, your first instinct when returning from a mission was to find him.

As expected, Kento heard the three soft knocks he knew all too well at this point, before you squeezed through his door. With a deep exhale, you fell back on his bed, while he sat in his desk chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m exhausted.”

“Did you just get back?” His muscles were a little tense, like they always where whenever you had to go on a mission without him, his eyes searching every inch of you to see if there were any visible injuries he had to worry about.

“Little over an hour ago. Had to escape Gojo talking my ear off about his own mission.”

Kento observed how the corner of your lips tugged upwards in a tired smile, your chest vibrating with a soft chuckle.

He was always happy to see you come back unharmed, but he hated the exhaustion that rested in your joints — and it filled him with an unexplainable urge to help you somehow.

He imagined guiding you to lay on your stomach, placing his legs on each side of you and slowly soothing your muscles, rubbing caring motions along the curves of your body to fill it with the relaxation you deserved — but he couldn’t. It would definitely cross a line, too intimate for just friends.

“Glad you’re back,” he said almost in a whisper.

“Me too.” He could barely hear you, the mission slowly catching up with your energy as well, sensing on your breathing that you weren’t too far from falling asleep.

The silence that surrounded you was comfortable. You had grown so accustomed to each other’s presence, any awkwardness had ceased to exist. Nevertheless, Kento didn’t quite know what to do with himself, just looking at you sprawled out on his bed, a scene he would like to see every night.

“Kento?” Your voice was so soft.

“Yes?”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

He heard the slight hesitation in your voice before you expressed your request. Raising up his neck and face was a burning heat, his breathing coming out shallow as he didn’t quite know what to say.

Being a cautious man, he thought of every possible outcome.

It was prohibited, so he should decline. But he would hate himself forever if he simply sent you away because of the school’s outdated rules — he also knew he would regret it until his heart stopped beating.

So having you stay here was the only reasonable outcome — but then what? He supposed he would end up sleeping on the floor, like the gentleman he was. He would at least never assume he could sleep next to you, and he would not be as vulgar to ask.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Of course. I’ll just-“

“Kento,” you said his name again, just as soft as always.

“Yeah?”

“There’s room for both of us on the bed.”

He had to swallow the massive lump that felt as if it was suffocating him. It at least stopped any further words to come out of his mouth. He slowly raised from the chair, floorboards creaking as he stepped over.

With his eyes locked on you, seemingly so calm with your eyes closed, he positioned himself beside you so he was facing you.

Goosebumps prickled up his arm when he felt your breath fan against his face, and he wondered how you managed to keep it in such an even rhythm. Didn’t this closeness send lightning through your body like it did for him, temptation threatening the act of finally crossing the line?

There was a crease between your eyebrows that seemed unintentional, like the events of the day had just planted themselves on your face and even your calm breathing couldn’t ease it. Against his better judgment, Kento’s urges steered his thumb towards your face, not reflecting over his action before he had ran his skin across the crinkle to smoothen the tension.

Shit, he thought to himself, certain you would open your mouth to tell him off — instead he saw how there had been a slight strain to your shoulders that was now released.

While he let his eyes roam your face, taking in every breathtaking aspect of your beauty, he felt a small spark of fear fill him at how right it all felt — lying next to you, so close he could feel the warmth radiate from your skin, his soft touch being able to bring rest to your body, the mere idea that he could envelop you in his arms if he wanted to.

“I’m happy you’re here with me,” your voice startled him a little, as he had assumed you had already fallen into the oblivion of sleep. “I’d never be able to navigate this world without you.”

“That’s not true.” Your eyes opened to meet his, catching his breath immediately, so stunningly deep he always felt himself fall into them. “You’ve always been the one looking out for me.”

You chuckled a little at that, endless memories of the two of you throughout childhood. “I guess in one way. But you’ve always kept me afloat.”

“You give yourself too little credit.” He had to stop himself from letting his fingers graze your cheek in the most tender caress. “You would have done just fine on your own.”

A small smile of flattery dared dance on your lips. “But I don’t want to.” It felt like a confession, unspoken feelings hidden within those words, begging for him to be able to deduce the true meaning. “Thinking of a life where you’re not at my side scares me.”

“Let’s never find out what that life is like.”

Kento would later eat those words.

Haibara’s death hit Kento the hardest. Numerous evenings were spent in the eerie silence of his cold dorm. When he cried, you held him. When he was trying to distract himself by reading, you sat and watched him, keeping him company. When he went the entire night without sparing you the slightest gaze, you knew you had overstayed your welcome, leaving him to be alone for a night.

“I don’t think I will continue to be a sorcerer.”

That was the first thing he said that hadn’t been a complete necessity, and it sent a spike of ice down your spine, not daring to understand his statement right away.

“Oh,” was the only thing you could think of to respond that did not entertain his idea.

His eyes met yours, the eye contact more intense than it had been for days, realising just how much you had missed having his kind eyes directed at you. Seemed like he felt it too, as the smallest gasp slipped out of him.

“I mean it.”

The tears instantly burned in your eyes, blinking them away before they had the chance to come running. “That's what scares me,” your voice betrayed you as the usual confidence came out cracked.

He didn’t push it any further, reading you as an open book — you knew he was telling the truth, but refused to acknowledge it. It was like if you ignored his statement, it would somehow end differently.

Luckily, after that night, Kento started to somewhat fall back to his old self. His smile started to return, it was easier to hold a conversation with him, which you obviously appreciated — however, he had planted a fear in you that had taken your body hostage.

You abandoned any sense of boundaries entirely, hanging onto his arm at all times. It was only when you were physically aware of his frame you were able to cling onto a string of peace. Feeling his body glued at your side only served as a confirmation that he was still here, and as long as you held on he couldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t leave.

And whenever you had to pry yourself off of him to tend to your responsibilities where he wasn’t assigned, you were constantly living in a state of anxiety. Foot tapping against the floor, picking at your skin, petrified you would end up returning to see his room stripped of any signs of life — that he would have finally done the thing he said he would do, and part with the Jujutsu world.

Every time you returned, the sweetest sensation of relief washed over you, tears welling up immediately when he always stood ready to greet you. “Hey you,” he said softly, pulling you into his arms, holding you tight until he could physically feel your body let go of the stress that had tainted every muscle, every joint, for the entire time you had been separated.

But graduation day came and time was up.

You had held onto hope he would eventually change his mind, that it was only the initial grief that had weighed heavy on his conscience. But you were now standing in his bare room, everything packed into cardboard boxes. Of course it had only been a childish dream to think he would stay — there was no changing his mind.

“I really am sorry.” He was so earnest, like always, making it hard to be mad at him even though you so desperately wanted to. He genuinely had so much compassion, his hands stroking your arms in an attempt to calm the bouncing of your shoulders that followed the frantic rhythm of your sobs.

“I just don’t understand why?” You continued to sob, sentence coming out in sad intervals as you heaved for air.

“This isn’t right. It’s not right of them to expect us to be okay with watching our partners lay down their lives like this.”

You wanted so badly to scream at him, bang your fists against his chest before clasping onto his shirt so he wouldn’t even have the opportunity to leave. You knew it was unwarranted for you to feel that way, but the fact that he was following through with his stunt felt like a betrayal.

“You said we weren’t going to find out what this would be like.”

His heart shattered. Looking into your doe eyes, tainted red with sorrow as the sentence laced with innocence sent him back to every fragile evening throughout your journey together he had spent comforting you. How many tears he had dried, happily so? But this time it was his doing — him who brought you to a state of despair so grave you couldn’t breathe, and he knew this time he wouldn’t be able to comfort you.

Waiting for his next words were torture, time at a standstill watching his mouth open and close while he constructed the sentence in his mind. Though useless, the glimmer of hope refused to die out, begging for his surrender — you’re right, I’ll stay.

“I’m sorry.”

Another one of your earth shattering sobs came flying past your lips, stabbing him right in the heart that had only ever beaten for you.

Comforting you would always be second nature to him, which had his hands cup your face and pulling it closer to rest his forehead against yours. He wished, begged, for his touch to bring you comfort one last time before he left. But your body continued to shake. “It’ll be okay,” he tried to reassure you, spoken in a faint whisper. Repeating it over and over, waiting for his small affirmations to take affect — they never did.

Ask me to come with you.

Those six words played like a broken record in your mind, knowing you would pack your bags and abandon this god forsaken life at the drop of a hat if he just asked you to.

Come with me.

The request laid restless at the tip of his tongue, fighting every voice in him that was screaming at him to be selfish. But he couldn’t with you, never with you.

Unlike him, you had a purpose in this world — you were able to see the good in what you did, and he would never be able to forgive himself if he ripped you away from it no matter how much he wanted to.

There seemed like there was no limit to your tears. Shuddering against his touch, he sensed your body didn’t have much energy left to stand. He ended up leading the two of you to his bed, stripped bare to just the mattress, duvet folded at the end. Without any words spoken, you laid down in his arms, burying your face in his chest while the sobs continued to tumble out uncontrollably.

His strong arms locked around you, holding you as close to him as humanly possible, letting the illusion of him never disappearing from you live on for another night.

Eventually your sobs calmed down, only happening sporadically. The shaking stopped and he felt your breathing even out, telling him you had finally been able to let sleep consume you.

He couldn’t stop himself — placing a chaste kiss at the crown of your head, mumbling quiet and secret apologies before sleep caught him too.

According to Gojo, his departure had been quick. He hadn’t said much, just given them all a nod before grabbing his bags and disappearing.

You had decided against seeing him off. The two of you had said your goodbyes the night before in the solemn of his empty dorm. It had been wet, heartbreaking and nothing short of painful, but at least it had been private between the two of you. No one knew how your tears had soaked his shirt, or how your fists had created crinkles in the fabric while desperately holding onto him. No one knew how you had cried until the exhaustion knocked you out in his arms, so scared to wake up to face the new reality where Kento wasn’t at your immediate side like he had been since you were kids.

You couldn’t really remember what it was like to not have him there. Even before you had grown close, he had always lingered, the one thing in your life that had stayed consistent throughout it all was him.

The next weeks were absolutely torture, having to feed the people surrounding you endless lies of “I’m fine, really.” You were really just trying to prevent yourself from letting the reality set in properly. If that can of worms were to open again, you had no clue when or how you would be able to stop it. Last time you had still been able to seek some comfort against his warmth, only able to stop it because you practically passed out.

Not a single moment passed where he didn’t cross your mind, small things reminding you of him. All your little routines — for days you forgot to grab lunch because you were so used to him bringing it to you. For days you ended up with one towel too many, because you always brought an extra for him after training. Mundane things you had always taken for granted, gone in an instant.

Despite feeling a little betrayed, you couldn’t really blame him either. So you reached deep within yourself to try and stay positive. It wasn’t like he was gone gone, he had just retreated to a normal life.

You stayed in touch, sending regular updates about how you were getting by in the world of curses without him — lying of course. When he had left, he had taken some of the purpose you had in it all with him. But you didn’t want him to worry. You told him how you eventually started teaching at Jujutsu High alongside Gojo, and it felt nice to be responsible for the next generation of sorcerers.

And at first you received regular updates in return. He got himself a quaint little apartment that fitted his needs perfectly. You even got a few blurry photos of how he had tried to decorate it so it would feel more homely — you had cried when you received those.

You never called each other though. It seemed like there was a mutual understanding that it would be too unbearable to hear the voice of the other.

After a while, the updates slowly came to a halt. You kept on sending yours however, only for that little checkmark to appear and confirm he had read it. But no answer — you cried then too.

Had you said something or done something to make him cut the contact? You never managed to wrap your head around why he stopped showing you his new life.

Kento had never wanted to stop sending the messages — on the contrary. If anything, he had to stop himself from not telling you about every single minute of his day, even the most meaningless things, just as an excuse to talk to you.

But one day, thanks to a white haired little birdie, all consuming guilt had struck him. “She doesn’t say it, but she’s miserable.”

He held his breath, his fingers unintentionally clenching tighter around his phone. “She is?” His voice came out faint. He heard Gojo let out a deep sigh at the other end of the line.

“She tries. Very hard. I stopped asking a long time ago because she kept lying anyways.”

“Oh.” Kento had been a fool, believing your words when he had read them on his screen. When he hadn’t been able to hear the tone behind the statements, he had been able to convince himself they were genuine. But of course you were lying — he was, after all.

“But I think she really enjoys teaching,” Gojo said after a moment of sad silence, trying to fill the conversation with some optimism. “And the kids love her.”

“Yes, I can imagine as much,” a small smile appearing on his lips, picturing the scene of you with the young students.

“Look, I have to run, she’s waving me over. Should I-“

“No!” Kento rushed to cut him off. “No, don’t say anything. Please.”

He made up his mind then and there — he was not going to cause you any more pain. So he had to let you go entirely to allow you to move on. The way he was selfishly clinging onto the crumps you gave him seemed to do you no good, if the image Gojo painted was accurate.

So he stopped. Even though his fingers urged to reach out, he fought against it, for you.

You, however, could not hinder how your finger pressed the send button every now and then. The updates definitely became less frequent when he went radio silent, but you did not have the strength to stop. If you stopped… there was a fear he would never come back.

Kento was supposed to share his life with you.

He had believed so ever since he was a little kid, ogling you from afar before he even knew your name. The way you made his heart jump and pulse quicken had to be his body’s way of telling him you were meant to be with him, quickly growing addicted, dependent, on the reactions you created in him without trying.

But he had made the drastic choice of abandoning that feeling, convinced the alternative did you harm — and the mere concept of being the reason you even felt the faintest glimmer of discomfort was something he could not live with.

He welcomed the misery, a small price to pay for the belief that you were doing better now. He also thought he had good reason to believe that was the case.

The updates you sent him were few and far between these days, but it did paint a picture. You were rarely in the photos, but there was an energy present in the moments eternalised that seemed pleasant and positive. He imagined you had found your role, your place in life where you would get to fulfil your potential. And whether or not he was there was irrelevant.

He convinced himself his own insecurities were a reality to make it easier to bear.

Ever since childhood, you had been the headstrong one. The independent one. The brave one. It always lingered in the back of his mind whenever he just observed you in different scenarios — that it really didn’t matter if he was there or not, forever just an accessory to your life. He even feared he was holding you back somehow.

So it was only reasonable to think time away from him would have provided you with the playing field to develop into the best version of yourself… right?

Years went by and Kento’s pain didn’t ease. He missed you — every single day. And he kept living in that constant state of torture for you, until the fantasy shattered.

It was just another day, nothing out of the ordinary. Kento was going about his drowsy routines of stopping by the same bakery he did every morning before work. However today, he was nearly tackled by two kids, a boy and a girl about the age of six, once he entered the building.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” a grown woman rushed over to apologise as she brought the children back to their little table.

“It’s no problem,” he mumbled monotonously, eyes following them as they scattered back to their seats, where another woman sat.

A wave of nostalgia crashed over him, feeling like he had the privilege of looking back in time. The little boy resembled a young Kento Nanami, his blonde locks neatly styled, chubby, red cheeks and a baby-blue button up shirt — a rather mature attire for a six year old.

And the boy had his eyes glued on his friend, a girl the same age, very evidently the more outgoing out of the two. She was rambling enthusiastically, arms waving all over the place as he told her story down to the smallest detail, exhibiting the same spark you always had.

The boy kept a glare of pure awe as he followed her every word, seen so clearly in his eyes how much he admired her. And Kento knew how this story would continue — that night the boy would lay in his bed, the biggest smile on his face, unable to fall asleep as the day spent with his friend would play on repeat in his mind — much like Kento had spent countless nights when he was young.

It wasn’t until the girl behind the counter called for him he was able to pull his attention away from the all too familiar scene.

So polite, a sweet smile on her face as she served him the same thing he ordered every day. And then she asked how he was sleeping. It fascinated him, how this girl didn’t owe him anything, and had her own worries — like the little curse sat on her shoulder — and still showed concern for him.

He had noticed the curse before, but purposely never done anything about it. It wasn’t a proper threat, and it would be more of a hustle for him to deal with the reactions of ridding her of it than let it be. But now, having the innocent scene a few feet from him remind him of you, he quickly began to consider doing the girl a favour.

You would have exorcised it — without hesitation.

Not just that, you would probably give him crap for not exorcising it immediately. It wouldn't cost him anything to do it, so why wouldn’t he?

“Could you take a step forward, please?” Kento asked politely, the girl a little confused but doing as he said. He had your voice in the back of his mind while he easily exorcised the curse with one swift motion, the strain in her shoulder easing immediately.

“Huh? It’s lighter!” She exclaimed, rolling her arm around at the newfound relief.

“If anything still feels off, please go to the hospital,” he said with a small nod. He grabbed his food and headed for the exit, sparing one last glance at the table where the two kids sat, still deep in the conversation.

His lungs let out a deep, involuntary breath when the realisation dawned on him — he could no longer stay away, caving to his desires.

Maybe enough time had passed for it not to be considered selfish? If you had in fact found your place where you were content and comfortable, and meeting him again would be causal for you?

The questions kept circulating his mind as he pulled out his phone to dial the one person who would be able to set it all up at the blink of an eye.

His whole world stopped when he saw you, and he wondered how he had ever thought it a good idea to leave you — how could he possibly have survived all that time without you?

It was almost painful how his heart was clawing at the inside of his chest, desperate to be with you. It wasn’t until he felt the overwhelming pounding he realised his heart had not beat properly for the years he had spent away — meant to beat in unison with yours. His skin was turning cold as ice and the only way for it to regain its warmth was your touch, your soft embrace.

Kento hadn’t known what to expect when he saw you again, but he had certainly thought he would have more rational and coherent thoughts. Right now, it was all scrambling in his head and the only thing that appeared clearly in his mind was you, framed in the halo of your aura, taking his breath as way just as easily as when he was six.

With his body going numb, he observed you interact with Gojo and two kids he assumed were your students. You looked calm, a small smile decorating the plump line of your lips — it wasn’t as radiant as it used to be. In fact, your entire energy just seemed a little off. Maybe you had just gotten home from a mission, or it has been a hectic day in general.

Truth was not so mundane. You wished it was as simple as a long and tiring day. That would mean you could just jump in bed and sleep it off, ready to face a new day tomorrow.

But the day Kento left the jujutsu society behind, he unintentionally stole your spark with him.

You could never hate him for it though, he didn’t know. He only did what he felt like he needed to do, and you would be a terrible friend to stand in the way of that. But you had no control over how your mind decided to react.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder was something you had always heard growing up, and you had never really understood it — until faced with the situation yourself.

Not a day went by where you didn’t think of Kento. You thought of how his grin always grew slowly when watching you, eventually revealing the shy smile lines across his cheeks. The ghost of his touch, which was always dancing the line of appropriate or not, never leaving your mind. Sometimes you still felt the imprint of his arms around you.

“Don’t you guys listen to him for a second,” you chuckled, the tiniest hint of frustration in your voice. “Gojo doesn’t qualify as a responsible adult.”

His jaw fell to the ground in fake offence, eyebrows narrowing at the innocent laughs spilling from the students. “You were never this mean when we were younger,” he whined, folding his arms across his chest, looking like a stubborn child.

“That’s what you think,” you teased, nudging an elbow into his side. “You should have heard the things we said about you behind closed doors.”

His big hand came piercing through the air, pressing it against your face, gently shoving you away from the conversation. A lighthearted, but genuine, little laugh escaped you. “We don’t want to hear what you and your little boyfriend did in private,” Gojo rolled his eyes, pretending to gag at the made up memories.

Annoying as he was, Gojo had a way to actually make you forget the pain of it all for a few seconds. You would never tell him, obviously, that he managed to put the storm inside your head on hold for a second — he would rub it in your face every chance he got.

“Wait, senpai had a boyfriend when she attended here?” One of the students interjected and suddenly the mood of the conversation shifted. Gojo’s hand fell from your face before he shot you an apologetic smile.

For the most part, it was never a problem whenever Kento was brought up in the company of Gojo and Shoko. Everything was out in the open between the three of you, shared history taking away some of the pain. But whenever it slipped outside your little trio, it quickly became a sore topic.

Mouth opening and closing, trying to find the words to answer without having to give an explanation. Luckily, a painfully familiar voice called your name behind you, instantly sending a shiver down your spine.

All of you turned towards the voice, and you couldn’t help but let out an audible gasp at the beautiful image of your other half standing in front of you after all these years.

Your heart’s instinct steered your body, quickly stepping away from the group and latching your arms around Kento’s neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He didn’t hesitate to close his strong arms around your frame, fitting right into the slots they used to fill. His familiar scent filled your senses, memories flooding back in an instant.

“Huh, speak of the devil,” Gojo mumbled.

“Him? That was her boyfriend?”

Gojo quickly snapped out of it. “Let’s give them some privacy, shall we,” and started rushing away the nosy teens.

Kento’s grip loosened and you pulled away, but neither of you dared let your hands leave each other. Your own hands ended up cupping his face, forcing him to keep his eyes on you until it hit you he was actually with you again — he let his rest on your waist, feeling the restlessness in him by how strongly his palms were pressing against you.

He was here. He was actually here.

There was a deafening silence filling the space of your office. You could feel it in the tension that both of you wanted to say something, but there was an unspoken pressure of saying the right thing.

So you let your eyes roam him, taking in the differences in his appearance.

He was gorgeous, same subtle handsomeness as he had always possessed, but a new confidence displaying it. Everything about him was more defined, sharp features drawing attention to his face, his muscles filling his shirt in a way they never did before.

“So, you and Gojo seem to work well together,” he swallowed, causing embarrassment to flush your face when he pulled you from your blatant admiring.

“We’ve found a rhythm that works for us, I suppose,” you shrugged.

He shifted awkwardly in his seat, arms flexing as he crossed them in front of him. “That’s good. I’m glad.” His tone of his short statements seemed to imply otherwise.

“He’s surprisingly good at his job,” you laughed, “the kids like him.”

“Who would have thought,” there was a pull of his lips, like he tried to smile but it didn’t succeed entirely.

“Not me, that’s for sure. I don’t know, he just meets them were their at.” You really wanted to stop rambling about Gojo. It was so clearly just a desperate way for you to replace the quiet that plagued you without touching the elephant in the room. “Don’t get me wrong, they find him insufferable, but I think they secretly really like him. Much like the rest of us.”

“Sounds about right.”

You squinted at him, slowly growing somewhat antsy. “You’re not jealous of Gojo, are you?”

Of course you still saw right through him. He, who usually managed to hide his true feelings, would never be able to conceal them from you. And he was jealous, petrified that he had made the biggest mistake of his life and Gojo had ended up taking the place that was supposed to be for him only.

“Is there something to be jealous of?”

“You tell me.”

The tension was thick, nearly suffocating, years of yearning and pining fuelling the energy. The reunion only served as a dangerous spark that threatened to set the fuse ablaze at any second.

Why couldn’t he take the first step? He was the one who had showed up all of a sudden, and he still hadn’t given you any explanation. He owed you that much, right? But he kept letting his restlessness control him, one leg bouncing quietly against the floor, hearing how the cogs in his mind were turning.

“Why are you here?”

Your words were soft, but Kento knew you well enough to know the true feelings that lingered in the question.

“I’m coming back.”

“You’re coming back?” You weren’t able to withhold the bite that was slowly making its way into your tone.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“Don’t do that,” your voice threatened to crack. “I don’t want that responsibility.”

He sighed deeply, unfolding his arms to rest his elbows on his spread knees. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m sorry.”

Always so polite. Always acknowledging his faults before they had the opportunity to grow. Always so damn righteous.

“What I meant to say is it looks like you’ve really managed to establish yourself here, and I wouldn’t want to come in and cause any discomfort by intruding what is essentially your space.”

The sound that escaped you next was a mixture between a flat laugh and a scoff, not entirely appreciating the way he was behaving. “Have we been apart so long you can’t talk to me like I’m your best friend?”

That had him look up at you, meeting your eyes instantly. You were sad, visible on your entire demeanour — maybe not to the average person looking, but he saw, still able to read you like an open book.

“Hope not,” he tried to smile, lips formed into a tight line that exposed how nervous he really was. His attention shifted to look at his fists folded together, words resting on his tongue, he just wanted to be sure it came out right. “I’ve missed you.” Silence. “There hasn’t been a day where you haven’t crossed my mind.”

“Sounds familiar.” There was no hiding the flush crawling up his neck and colouring the tips of his ears red at the sound of your confession.

“It was the thought of you that finally convinced me.”

“Why now?”

“Because enough time should have passed for you to thrive without me.”

“If that’s the case, you’ll have to keep waiting.”

You had him gagged, no clue how to respond. For some reason, he had refused to believe you were still hung up on him the way he was. There weren’t any reason for you to hold onto the idea of him — yet you had, for dear life.

Abruptly you stood up from your chair, hands running through your hair in frustration, trying to make sense of his sudden visit.

You stopped in your pacing, back faced him and hands on your hips — then he saw your shoulders begin to shake, followed by stifled sobs. These were the situations he always used to know what to do, moving on autopilot to bring you the comfort you needed.

Did his hands remember how to soothe you? Did his voice still know how to form the right words to say? Did his presence still know how to envelope you until you felt happy again? There was only one way to find out.

Quickly stepping over to you, his hands hovered over your shoulders for a second in fear. He swallowed his selfishness and let them land to settle the bouncing, leaning his head forward to rest it against the back of yours, the smell of your shampoo surrounding him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and it only seemed like his apology opened the valve, no longer able to choke your sobs. Your hands left your hips to cover your face, muffling the sadness tumbling out in one stream.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he continued to mutter, head moving to press it to the side of your face. One hand traveled across your collarbone, the other around your waist to pull you as close to him as possible, determined to hold you there until he was absolutely certain you were okay.

He would stand there the whole night if he needed to.

Slowly but surely, your sobs came to a stop, your trembling eventually easing against his body. But he didn’t loosen his grip, not until he felt you shift in his arms to face him.

Cry painted cheeks, delicate red rim around your eyes, glossy irises that stared right into the deepest parts of him that only you had access to.

Everything started to fall back into place, his big hand cupping your cheek as he stroked your hair out of your face. He let his eyes dart delicately across your face, taking in every single detail.

Then he let his longing get the best of him, thumb graciously tracing your bottom lip turned swollen from when you tried to swallow your sobs.

There was slight hesitation while he leaned forward, never having experienced time moving as slow as you waited for his lips to connect with yours. First, he let his nose brush against yours, testing the waters.

Please.

You felt his breath.

Don’t make me wait any longer.

Sparks.

Soft lips pressed against yours, moving tenderly in unison that sent intense sparks through your body from head to toe. The moment easily surpassed any of the fantasies you’d had of kissing him.

Needy fingers traveled up his broad chest before hooking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer — it still didn’t feel close enough.

Kento poured everything he had always wanted to say into the kiss — and he knew you understood. If he had learned anything from everything you had been through together, it was he could always trust you were able to understand him completely, even without anything being said.

When you pulled away you found yourself breathless. Meeting his eyes again, unexpected shyness you weren’t used to experience with Kento had you hide your face in his chest.

The roles had reversed, his warm chuckle serving as a comforting blanket. Oh, how you had missed that melody.

“Took you long enough,” you mumbled, hoping the teasing would have your normal confidence return.

His finger found your chin to tilt your head up, capturing your gaze. “Yeah, I should have done it ages ago.”

The previous sadness still lingered, and it was evident you still had a lot to talk about. But right now it was nice to just wallow in his presence again. It was way overdue, feeling like it should have been like this since forever.

“I really am sorry.”

“I think I can find it in myself to forgive you.” Your innocent jab was received with a dashing smile, tingles spreading throughout your limbs at the sight.

“Hope so, sweetheart,” he breathed quietly before he leaned in again.

They sat staring at each other, Kento with a raised eyebrow while a grumpy Gojo was positioned on the couch opposite him, legs and arms crossed in annoyance.

“You used to be nice.”

Kento scoffed at his colleague’s childish behaviour. “I still am, you’re just upset you’re not getting it your way.”

“But why?” Gojo cried dramatically.

“Why? What do you mean why? Because it’s not your wedding.”

“Were you always this boring?”

“Most definitely.”

“Will you guys please shut up?” You interrupted, unable to ignore them anymore. You had desperately tried to block them out as you were doing some paperwork you should have done ages ago.

“He started it!” Gojo pointed at Kento, which only had him roll his eyes.

“You know what,” you sighed as you gathered your stuff and raised from behind the desk. “It’s with a heavy heart I leave you, but I need to get this done by the end of the day.” You stopped behind Kento, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry, honey,” he said genuinely as he gazed up at you lovingly.

“I am not asking for much-“ Gojo continued to argue before you interrupted him.

“Will you pay for it?”

“Is that all it’ll take?” He beamed, and you nodded. “Of course! Done! How much do you need?”

“You’re too lenient when it comes to him,” Kento sighed.

“It’s not the craziest thing he could request. He’ll get his endless supply of sweets, and you won’t have to listen to his obnoxious nagging anymore.”

“I’m sitting right here.” Both you and Kento ignored him.

“I really have to get this work done though,” you sighed, hand squeezing his shoulder.

“See you at home?” His loving smile had you lean down to press your lips tenderly against his.

“See you at home.”

“I’ll have dinner ready.”

“God, I love you.”

Then he flashed you that smile — the smile which was reserved solely as a response whenever you said those three words he used to dream of hearing from you.

It was funny really, how after everything things would turn out exactly how he as always wanted them to. Despite the hopelessness he had felt and all the pain you had endured — both together and apart — would eventually lead up to the happy ending he had dreamed of since the young age of five.

He knew he would do it all over again, in every universe, if it ensured this outcome.

“I love you too.”

tags @sad-darksoul @toadtoru

an anon, i am so sorry if this ended up longer than you wanted it. idk what happened, bc it just kept on snowballing <3 however, i am very touched you wanted me to do this request. warms my heart. hope it turned out okay mwah also, if you've read my satoru childhood friends to lovers fic and see any similarities, no you don't comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[corusvants]

monday you play games

part of alba's fluff week

pairing: satoru gojo x gn! reader contents: tooth-rotting fluff, he calls you baby, one mention of having children but nothing major wordcount: 600

“Hey, I called for you like five times–”

You stop in your tracks when you enter your living room to find Satoru staring at his computer. Bright blue eyes focused on his screen, barely even glancing up at you, a little furrow between his brows and a pout on his lips. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, and Satoru finally looks up from his screen to smile at you. 

“Hi, baby,” he muses. “I’m playing The Sims.”

“You’re playing The Sims?”

Satoru hums, and you walk up behind him, taking a look at his computer. A rather beat-up Sims woman is walking around in a house, clearly pregnant. 

“I’m doing the one hundred baby challenge,” he states, and you nod your head, placing your hands on his shoulders. Satoru seems to melt into your touch, leaning back and resting his head on your stomach. 

“Which baby are you on?” you ask. 

“Twelve,” he replies, and you snort.

“How are you coming up with the names?” you ask, running your fingers through his hair, pulling his bangs out of his eyes. Satoru practically purrs at this, though his eyes are still trained on the screen in front of him. 

“That’s easy. I already have a list of names for our future children,” he replies, and you stop your motions for a second, holding back a smile, before Satoru nuzzles the back of his head against you like a cat, urging you to continue. 

“What are the names so far, then?” you ask, tracing your fingers along his undercut, and Satoru’s eyes flutter closed, white lashes fanning his face. 

“Hmmm… Winnifred, Archibald, Reginald—”

“You’re messing with me,” you interrupt, pulling at his hair slightly, and Satoru gasps in offence, turning his head around to look at you. 

“I am extremely serious about this, actually,” he says, before turning back to his screen. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find a new baby daddy.”

You stay put, watching the scene unfold as he makes his sim run around and try to romance guys. 

Ever since Satoru decided to be Satoru and not The Strongest anymore, he has been trying out new hobbies. Things that Satoru likes, and not something he does out of necessity. 

He disliked gardening, saying that the plants were too particular. (“I gave it water so why is it still unhappy?”) He was good at tennis, but that got boring quickly, in his opinion. He played Pokemon Go for a week, then there was baking, and then reading, and now there’s The Sims. 

“How do you earn money?” you ask. 

“I run a sweatshop on the side.” 

“Right,” You lean down, kissing the crown of his head, before heading back towards your kitchen. 

“I’m gonna go make dinner, okay?”

Satoru looks over his shoulder, grinning at you. 

“Gimme a sec, then I’ll come help,” he replies, and you smile back at him. 

“You don’t have to,” you muse, though Satoru merely scoffs. If there’s one thing being Satoru has made him realize, it is that he likes you.

A lot.

And definitely more than any hobby he could ever find. So you’re crazy if you think he’s not gonna hang out with you at any chance he gets. Even if it means cutting the onions for you. 

It’s not long before he joins you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses your neck. 

“Do you wanna play Dress to Impress after dinner?”

thank you for reading!

a little late but it's still monday where i live >:D

event masterlist | main masterlist | dividers by enchanthings

[corusvants]

ROCKSTAR

pairing: choso x fem! reader contents: smut, p in v, semi-public (bathroom stall), he bites you once, pet names (pretty little thing, baby) wordcount: 1.2k

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

Upcoming rockstar Choso who fucks you in the bathroom before one of his shows. 

You hadn’t originally planned on coming to the gig, but your friends wouldn't stop raving about the band that was playing. How all the members are super hot; how this is your chance to see them before they get big and famous. Plus, there’s an open bar if you pay for entrance, and you’re not one to pass up on the chance to get cheap drinks and dance with your friends. 

Except when you go to order at the bar, you notice the hottest man you’ve ever seen. 

Black hair in two messy ponytails, tattoo across his nose, purple shirt, and dark jeans. You have a hard time looking away, and he seems to notice because he smiles at you and encourages you to come sit next to him. 

You’re a bit intimidated, but nevertheless, you decide that life is short and an opportunity is being placed on a gold plate in front of you. 

How you ended up here, you’re not entirely sure. 

Pushed against a wall in a dirty bathroom stall, the guy you now know as Choso, pinning you to it. Your legs are wrapped around him, the skirt you opted to wear bunched around your waist. 

Choso’s ridiculously thick cock is stretching you open, making you gasp each time he bottoms out. He’s got his face buried in the crook of your neck, biting down to muffle his moans and whimpers, his big hands wrapped around your thighs, occasionally groping your ass. Your shirt is pushed up, tits coated in salvia from his earlier abuse. 

You feel dizzy. You’d only taken two sips of your drink before Choso swept you away, but the way he’s fucking you against the bathroom stall, hips mean and slow against yours, is making you so unbelievably cockdrunk that it’s hard to think. 

Your phone is ringing continuously. It makes Choso chuckle as he detaches himself from your neck, taking a second to lick over the bite mark he’s left, before coming up and pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Someone’s popular, huh?” He huffs, and you whimper when his cock kisses your cervix, sending sparks through your body. You can't help but bring your hands to his hair, pulling his bangs out of his face and tugging on his ponytails.

“Ignore it,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him, but Choso teasingly pulls away, shaking his head. He slips a hand into your skirt pocket, your phone already dangerously close to slipping out due to the way your skirt has been pushed out of the way and checks your notifications. 

“Gig is starting soon,” he muses, putting your phone in the back pocket of his jeans that are only just pulled down enough to release his cock. “Your friends are scared you’ll miss it. We should hurry up.”

He pulls out, ignoring your whine as he helps you stand on shaky legs, turning you around and pushing you against the wall again. You brace yourself, turning your head to the side in an attempt to watch as he slips in again and begins to fuck you harder than before. 

Your eyes roll back immediately, his cock repeatedly bullying your sweet spot. Your knees buckle at the intense feeling, and you’re afraid you’d fall if it wasn’t for Choso’s hands gripping your hips. 

He kisses your nape, murmuring praises in your ear. Thanking you for letting him do this to you, for being so sweet to him. 

You’re even tighter from this angle and Choso thinks he might actually be seeing the white gates of heaven. Pleasure shoots down his spine, making him stutter out ragged moans as his fingers dig into your soft skin.

“Pretty little thing. Do you always let guys fuck you in dirty bathroom stalls like this?” He asks, and you shake your head, your hands searching for purchase on the wall as you pant. 

“No, usually don’t do this,” you gasp, shutting your eyes as you begin to feel that familiar buildup in your core. Your cunt flutters and twitches, sucking Choso’s cock in deeper, and he whimpers, watching where his pelvis collides with your ass, dick disappearing inside of you. 

“Fuck, baby. So it’s just me, then? I’m special?” He asks, kissing and licking your neck. You let out a strangled sound of agreement, and Choso’s hand snakes down to find your clit, rubbing messy circles in an attempt to make you come before he does. 

Your pretty little confession makes Choso whine. When he saw you waltzing up to the bar in your cute little outfit, he knew he had to have you. And the fact that you not only let him so easily but that he’s the only one you’ve done something like this with. Fucking a stranger in a bathroom? It makes his cock twitch and leak precum profusely.

You barely have time to register it before you reach that delicious peak, your mouth falling agape in a silent moan as your legs shake. Your cunt pulses, tightening around Choso’s cock, making his hips stutter as he bottoms out.

Choso keeps you upright, coming soon after you, filling the condom he reluctantly put on earlier.

You stay there for a while, both of you catching your breaths, before Choso pulls out, throwing the condom in the trash can beside the toilet, and tugging away his cock, zipping up his jeans. 

He puts your panties back in place, patting your clothed cunt three times, earning a whine from you, before pulling down your skirt again. You turn around and giggle slightly as you fix his hair.

“That was really nice,” Choso grins, leaning down and kissing each of your tits, as though he’s saying goodbye to those as well, before putting your shirt back in place. 

“Yeah, I liked it,” you reply, pulling him down by the neck to give you a proper kiss. He obliges immediately, cupping your face and sighing into your mouth. You hum and can’t help but grin when he pulls away, delighted at the evidence of your encounter on his kiss-bitten lips. 

“You have a really nice cock,” you add, and Choso snorts, coming down to give you one last peck, before putting your phone in your hand and unlocking the stall. 

“And your cunt is to die for,” he replies, winking at your flushed face. He goes to leave but comes back for a final kiss. “Now, wouldn’t wanna miss the performance,” he says, forcing himself to leave the stall for good. 

“Come find me after, okay?”

“After?” you ask, your brows knitting together. “Why after?” you add, but he’s already slipped out of the bathroom, leaving you alone in there.

The performance must have started, you think to yourself, because the bathroom is empty as you fix your hair in the mirror and apply a new layer of gloss to your lips. 

“Where were you?” one of your friends asks you when you manage to stumble back out and you shake your head. 

“I’ll tell you later.” 

The bar is filled by now, as you turn your head to look at the band playing. They’re good, you note, very good, as you take in the members, till your gaze lands on the bassist. 

He smiles at you, his grin widening when he sees your wide eyes and slightly agape mouth.

“The bassist is hot, right? His name is Choso,” your friend yells in your ear, and you nod.

“Yeah, he looks alright.”

thank you for reading!

masterlist | dividers by me

[corusvants]

MOVIE NIGHT

pairing: suguru x fem! reader contents: smut, mutual masturbation, getting interrupted (not caught), cockwarming, pet names (pretty girl, my girl, baby), he calls you slut once wordcount: 1.7k

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

Your best friend, Suguru, who tries to convince you to let him fuck you while Shoko and Satoru are out getting snacks. You’re sitting on the other end of the couch, frowning at him, while Suguru merely smiles at you, urging you to come sit in his lap. 

He looks so fucking good it’s almost infuriating. Half of his hair up, the other falling down his shoulders, wearing just sweatpants and a black t-shirt. 

“Sugu, they’re gonna be back soon, we can’t,” you say, trying to send him a stern look. Suguru sighs and adjusts himself on the sofa, spreading his legs and allowing you to see the growing bulge in his sweats. He’s big already, and he’s not even fully erect. The sight makes your face grow hot, and Suguru knows you’re flustered but he just chuckles.

“C’mon, pretty,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “Come sit,”

You swallow nervously, but nevertheless, you crawl towards where he’s sitting on the sofa. Once you’re close enough, he grabs your forearms and pulls you into his lap, directly onto his length. He ignores your squeak of surprise as his hands settle on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your sides. 

You’re still pouting. Despite the fact that you came to him willingly, you can’t help but feel like you’ve been roped into this. Suguru hums in satisfaction, and a hand comes up to stroke your cheek. 

“There’s my girl,” he says, leaning in and kissing the corner of your lips. 

My girl. 

His words make heat pool in your belly, and you melt slightly, placing your hands on his shoulders. One of his hands squeeze your tit through your shirt, the other toys with the hem of your sleeping shorts. 

In Suguru’s opinion, you look like a perfect little gift for him. He’s been plotting this ever since you came down to the living room in that dangerously small pyjama, nipples poking through the fabric and shorts hugging your ass just right. He noticed Shoko and Satoru eyeing you as well. Satoru’s face grew positively flushed, and Shoko’s lips curled into a smile. Getting them to leave to get snacks wasn't very easy. 

But now you’re here. In his lap. Alone. 

And Suguru just wants to push those tiny shorts to the side and stretch you out on his cock till the only thing on your mind is his name. 

“We don’t have enough time,” you mumble, trying to keep up some resemblance of resistance. Suguru hums, eyes dropping down to your crotch as he begins to rub circles right over your clit. Your breath hitches, and your hands on his shoulders tighten their grip.

With his other hand he pulls up your shirt, watching your tits spill out. He cups one with his free hand, rolling his thumb over your nipple, while he leans down and sucks on the other.

“Suguru,”

The way you say his name is more of a moan than a warning. Your hips grind down on his thumb, chasing friction, and Suguru doesn’t even try to fight the smile making its way onto his face as he pulls back to watch your reactions. 

“We can be fast,” he says. You gasp when he pulls the crotch of your shorts to the side and runs his fingers through your folds. “You’ll be good for me, right?” he asks, and you nod, any coherent thoughts already turning blurry. 

“Say it,” Suguru says, and you pout when his fingers deftly avoid your clit, instead merely stroking you. 

“I’ll be good, Suguru. I promise,” you reply, and Suguru grins. His cock is hard and leaking in his boxers now, aching for attention. You eye the bulge and reach down to stroke him through his sweats. Suguru rewards you with a thumb on your clit, and begins rubbing methodic circles into the sensitive bud. You close your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder as you grind into his touch. 

Suguru decides to add a finger, pushing in and feeling your walls constrict around him. You let out a shaky breath before slipping your hand into his boxers and freeing his cock. You eye his length and a small whine leaves you at the sight. Suguru is thick. So thick and so big that the thought of having him inside you makes your cunt gush around Suguru’s hand. His tip is red and flushed, and pearly drops of precum collect around his head. 

You hesitate for a second, and Suguru notices. He kisses the crown of your head before gripping your hair with his free hand and pulling your head back to look at him. You gasp, and Suguru chuckles before giving you a chaste kiss on your lips. 

“Spit on it,” he says, and you do immediately. Suguru hums, rewarding you with another finger, and your hips stutter against his hands. His fingers are so long and thick, able to stretch you out much better than your own. 

You wrap a hand around his length, pumping him and mixing precum with spit, making the action smoother. Suguru groans and throws his head back as you use both hands to stroke him off. His ministrations on your cunt momentarily stop, and you watch his face contort in bliss before beginning to move your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. 

Suguru’s brows knit together at the sight. Do you even know how sinful you look? What your actions do to him? Your eyes are lidded, glazed over as you pout at him, your expression begging him to ruin you. Your hands on his cock are clumsy, uncoordinated, yet he wouldn’t have it any other way. You squeeze his base, and Suguru has to stop himself from coming early.

You’re practically sin incarnate. 

“Look at you,” his voice is a mix of lust and disbelief. His eyes fall to where your hips are swirling in circles on his fingers. “You were so hesitant a second ago. What were your words? We can’t, Sugu,” his tone is teasing.

“Now you’re fucking yourself on my fingers like a slut.”

You whine, and Suguru decides to add another finger for good measure. The stretch burns a little and sparks fly through your body, making your toes curl. At this point you’re far too fucked out to answer his mocking words. 

“I haven’t even put my cock inside you, and you’re already cockdrunk.”

“Shut up.” Your retort comes out weak. You’ll never admit it, but you love it when Suguru is mean to you. It makes slick pool in your panties every time, this time being no exception as your cunt gushes, coating Suguru’s hand and fingers. You’re close.

So close. 

Suguru knows too. His lips curl into a smile, and he thrusts into your hand, hoping to reach his orgasm at the same time as you. You pant and lean in to kiss him. 

“I want to come,” you murmur, your lips ghosting over his.

“Yeah, pretty girl. You wanna come just from my fingers? Make a mess?” 

You glare at him, though Suguru hardly feels threatened. Your hands stroke his cock more diligently before one comes down to fondle his balls, and you run your thumb over his sensitive tip with the other. Suguru’s hips stutter, and his thigh twitches. He can practically taste his orgasm, and he can tell you're tethering on the edge too by the way your walls flutter around his fingers. 

“We’re back!”

You hear the front door open and Satoru’s sing-song voice as he rambles excitedly about the candy he chose. You fly away from Suguru’s lap, immediately tugging his cock into his boxers again, before jumping off his fingers and settling beside him. You adjust your clothes, pulling down your top and putting a blanket over you. 

Suguru blinks. He looks down at his now painful erection before adjusting himself, so it’s harder to tell. He silently thanks himself for wearing black sweats, hiding the wet patch from where you sat just moments ago. 

He looks up at you. You look dishevelled if anything, but you hide it well. His fingers are still covered in your slick, and he keeps eye contact with you as he brings them to his lips and sucks them clean. You gape and shift uncomfortably. He can tell you’re rubbing your thighs together, trying to soothe the ache that you’re no doubt feeling. 

Satoru walks into the living room, holding bags and more bags of sweets. Shoko strolls behind him. 

“I tried to stop him, but it was useless,” she says, motioning to the amount of candy in Satoru’s arms. You giggle, slightly more high-pitched than normal. 

“What movie are we watching?” Shoko asks, plopping down beside you. Satoru grabs the remote and starts talking about a movie he’s been wanting to watch. Suguru pulls at your blanket. You glare at him and Suguru pouts. 

“I’m cold,”

“Find your own blanket.”

“But you have one right there.” 

“There’s not enough for both of us!” You huff, and Suguru sighs, pretending to think. 

“Ah, I have a solution,” he says, promptly grabbing you and pulling you into his lap with your back against his chest. You squeal as Suguru wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you there, while the other adjusts the blanket to cover you. 

Neither Shoko nor Satoru bats an eye, instead arguing about the movie—Shoko thinks Satoru’s pick is stupid and Satoru thinks it’s perfect—leaving you at Suguru’s mercy. You can feel him throbbing against your ass as he pulls out his cock again and slips your pj to the side. You tense, but ease up when Suguru presses a kiss on your shoulder. 

“Relax,” he murmurs. “We’ll just sit like this,” he presses his cockhead against your cunt and pushes in slowly.

“You promised you’d be a good girl right?” You try to keep your face neutral, thankful that neither of your two friends is paying attention.

“Yeah,” you breathe, digging your nails into his arm around your waist. Soon, he’s buried to the hilt. You’re stuffed—stretched obscenely—pussy throbbing and leaking around his pulsing cock. 

Suguru kisses the crown of your head.

“There you go, baby,”

It takes everything in you to relax and rest your head on Suguru. Suguru wraps both arms around you, one slipping under your shirt to squeeze your tit before settling around your waist again. Satoru turns off the lights and starts the movie, all four pairs of eyes settling on the TV screen. 

You take a breath. It’s just two hours. Two hours sat on Suguru’s dizzyingly big cock. You can handle that.

Yeah.

For sure. 

thank you for reading!

🏷️ tags: @kisstoru @hiraethwrote @interconnectedmatrix @s-vila @gojouology

@kaskc @dearest-yeosang @sebastianlover

masterlist | dividers by me

[corusvants]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER FOUR | never saw you coming

↳ satoru gojou x reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

word count — 7k

tags/warnings — 18+, child neglect, alcohol consumption, profanity, gojo is very bipolar and it shows

notes — this is the other half of chapter 3 so that’s why it’s short but chapter 5 should be at least 10k. also you'll notice their relationship progresses very fast and there is a GOOD REASON I PROMISE. anyways comments and rb’s always appreciated :)

prev. long story short | next. (coming soon)

Hurried footsteps echoed through the long, ornate corridors of the Gojou estate, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings and polished floors. A young boy ran through the halls, his heart racing from the idea of escaping—even if it was only for a few moments. The air inside the estate always felt so heavy, so thick with the expectations of him that sometimes it was hard to breathe.

He didn’t stop until he reached the garden, pushing open the large wooden doors and stumbling into the sunlight. The sun was warm on his face, the cool breeze like a breath of fresh air after being locked inside for hours. 

This was his sanctuary. The garden was the one place he could forget, even for a little while, that he was the heir to the Gojou family. In this space, he wasn’t the one who would one day inherit everything. Satoru Gojou could be just a boy.

He brushed his hands down his shirt, the soft silk wrinkled from running. His mother would probably scold him again for sneaking out to the stables earlier, just as she always did. But it wasn’t her voice that still stung in his ears.

“You’re the heir, Satoru. You can’t afford to behave like this.”

His father's voice was always cold, and it had been like that for as long as he could remember. Being the heir meant more than just daily lessons that lasted for hours and training—it meant being under constant surveillance. Satoru could always feel eyes on him, even when he thought he was alone.

He was never really alone.

Satoru kicked a small stone across the garden path, watching it roll into the grass. His father’s words had a way of sticking with him. “You’re not a child anymore,” his father would say, each time driving the point home that Satoru’s life wasn’t his own.

He had responsibilities that went far beyond his years—endless lessons on how he should carry himself, how to lead, how to fight. His days were filled with lectures from tutors, trainers, and meetings with people he didn’t care about. His evenings were quiet, spent in large dining rooms with barely a word exchanged.

This was not a home. There was not enough warmth for it to be considered one. His parents didn’t fight, at least not in front of him, but they didn’t talk much either. They passed each other like ghosts, seemingly stuck in their own world. His father had a sense of duty and pride, he rarely showed emotions unless it was his disappointment in Satoru. His mother was a woman of class. She was always graceful and composed, but she wore a smile that never quite reached her eyes.

Satoru had seen it all too clearly—the absence of love.

He picked up a leaf from the ground, absentmindedly rubbing it between his fingers. Even as a young boy, Satoru understood that love didn’t exist in his family. It was something they talked about, but never showed. His parents had never been affectionate, not with each other, and not with him. If anything, they treated each other like business partners in an arranged marriage. Bound by duty rather than love.

Satoru hadn’t been born from love. He was born to continue the family line. He existed to carry on the Gojou name, not because his parents wanted a child to love. That much had been clear from the very beginning/

In the garden of the estate, it didn’t matter. For now, he could pretend that he wasn’t the heir to anything, that there weren’t a thousand eyes watching his every move. He could just be a boy who wanted to play in the sun, run through the grass, and escape his family name.

He looked out over the garden, the sunlight filtering through the trees. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew this freedom wouldn’t last forever. Soon enough, he would be called back inside, reminded of his duties and responsibilities. 

And so, he ran his fingers through his messy white hair, took one last deep breath of the jasmine-scented air, and allowed himself to believe—just for a moment—that maybe, one day, he’d find a place where love and happiness weren’t such distant and unattainable things.

When Satoru Gojuo was fifteen years old, he met Suguru Getou.

It happened on one of the nights when Satoru had slipped out of the Gojou estate, tired of the suffocating expectations. He was dressed in plain clothes as he wandered into the bustling streets of the city under the cover of darkness.

That night, he found himself at the docks where the ships were anchored. He walked aimlessly not sure what he was looking for. He stumbled upon a small group of boys gathered around a fire, laughing and drinking.

One of them caught Satoru’s eye. A boy about his age, with long black hair tied into a messy bun. Drawn to his calm presence, he decided to approach the boy. As he got closer, the boy looked up and locked eyes with him.

"Lost, are you?" the boy asked.

Satoru shrugged "Not really. Just… looking for something interesting."

The boy’s smirk widened as he took a swig from the bottle in his hand. "Well, you’ve found it. I’m Suguru." He motioned to the space beside him. "Sit."

Satoru hesitated for a second before accepting his invitation. As he sat down, Suguru tossed him the bottle, and without thinking, Satoru took a swig, the bitter taste of alcohol burning down his throat.

"Not bad, for a rich kid. I can tell. You don’t belong here."

Satoru raised an eyebrow, leaning back on his hands. "What makes you so sure?"

"You’ve got the look of someone who’s seen too much of the inside of a fancy house and not enough of the real world. But you’re curious, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here."

There was something refreshing about Suguru’s bluntness. He wasn’t like the fake nobles Satoru was used to.

As the night went on, the two boys shared stories about their lives. Satoru learned that Suguru was the son of a pirate and that he had grown up on ships learning the ways of the sea. It was a life that could have been more different from Satoru’s. Suguru spoke of the freedom he desired—the kind that couldn't be bought or controlled by family names or power.

Satoru envied that.

"What about you?" Suguru asked, his eyes studying Satoru closely. "Why’s a rich kid like you sneaking around the docks in the middle of the night? Looking to run away?"

Satoru hesitated. "Maybe I’m just bored."

Suguru snorted, not buying it for a second. "Boredom doesn’t drive people to places like this."

He didn’t respond, knowing that he was right. He wanted something that he couldn’t find within the walls of his family’s estate, something that would fill the growing emptiness inside of him.

As the nights turned into weeks, Satoru found himself returning to the docks more and more, seeking out Suguru’s company. The two formed an unlikely friendship, bonded by their shared disdain for the lives they were born into. Satoru, the heir to a powerful family, and Suguru, the son of a pirate. They were an odd pair, but they found solace in each other’s company.

When Satoru Gojou was eighteen years old, he lost his mind. Satoru had failed.

The darkness inside Satoru didn’t disappear, it festered, growing stronger as time went on. He never talked about it—not to Suguru, not to anyone. He buried it deep, pretending it wasn’t there, even as it gnawed at him from the inside.

And when it became too much, he turned to the only things that seemed to dull the pain—alcohol and women.

Previously, Suguru had introduced him to the rougher parts of the city—the taverns and brothels where no one cared about who you were or where you came from. t was in those places that Satoru could lose himself, drown his thoughts in liquor, and forget who he was and what happened, if only for a few hours.

He’d drink until the world blurred and the pain in his chest became a distant ache. And when the alcohol wasn’t enough, he’d find comfort in the arms of strangers—women whose names he never remembered, whose faces faded into the background the moment he left their beds. It was a cycle that offered temporary relief, but never truly filled the void inside of him.

Suguru never judged him for it. If anything, he understood. He too, had to face his own demons, the same pain that consumed Satoru. They both carried their burdens in silence.

But no matter how many nights Satoru spent in the haze of alcohol and meaningless encounters, the darkness never left him. It clung to him, a constant reminder of the thing he refused to face.

And deep down, Satoru knew it would only get worse.

You were set to leave Port Royal later today.

You decided you wanted to buy Gojou something to thank him for saving you. You had asked him if you could go to the marketplace, which was conveniently next to the docks. It took you some convincing but Gojou agreed to let you go out as long as you didn’t draw any attention to yourself and kept a cloak on. 

You made your way from vendor to vendor, scanning their wares as you tried to think of something that would be fitting for Gojou. Something that he would actually use, or appreciate in his own way. 

A flash of silver caught your eye as you passed by a jewelry stall, and you stopped, turning to inspect the small collection of rings, bracelets, and necklaces laid out in front of you. Among the various pieces, a simple but elegant silver cuff bracelet stood out. It wasn’t anything flashy, but it reminded you of Gojou in a way.

You picked it up, running your fingers along the smooth metal as you imagined what he might think of it. Would he even wear it? Would he laugh and call it a ridiculous gift?

The merchant, who was an older woman noticed your interest and smiled. “It’s a fine piece, isn’t it? Silver from the north, forged by some of the best craftsmen in the region.”

You nodded, glancing down at the bracelet again. “How much?”

The price she gave you was reasonable, and after a bit of bargaining, you handed over the coins and tucked the bracelet into your bag. With your purchase made, you wandered through the rest of the market before returning to the ship.

As you made your way back to the docks, your thoughts drifted to Gojou again. You wondered how he would react when you gave him the bracelet—if he would make some sarcastic remark, or if he would give you that lazy smile that always made your heart skip a beat, even when you didn’t want it to.

By the time you reached the ship, the crew were busy preparing for your departure. You spotted Gojou near the helm, his back turned to you as he spoke to Megumi. For a moment, you hesitated. You weren’t sure why—maybe it was nerves, or maybe it was the fear that he wouldn’t care about the gift as much as you did. But you pushed the thought aside and approached him.

“Hey,” you called out, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. Gojou turned at the sound of your voice, his icy blue eyes locking onto yours. “Thought you’d gotten lost in town,” he teased.

“I was just exploring. Figured I might not get another chance for a while.”

“And what did you find?”

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the silver bracelet. You held it out to him, your hand a little more steady than you expected. “I got this for you. To, you know, say thanks.”

Gojou’s eyes flicked down to the bracelet, his smirk fading as he took it from your hand. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just turning the bracelet over in his fingers as he inspected it.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” you replied quickly, feeling a little nervous now that you were standing in front of him. “But I wanted to. You’ve saved me more times than I can count, and I just... I wanted to say thanks.”

Gojou was quiet for a moment longer before he slipped the bracelet onto his wrist. It fit perfectly, the silver catching the light as he turned his hand slightly, admiring how it looked.

“Guess I can’t complain about free jewelry.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Gojou glanced down at the bracelet once more before meeting your gaze. “Thanks.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through you as you nodded. “You’re welcome.”

As the days passed, Gojou began to change. It was small things at first like the way he’d dismiss your questions or his growing impatience with those around him.

It didn’t take long before you started feeling trapped.

You had been docking at small ports to keep a low profile. You were now docked at a small port for supplies for Shokou.

“Hey, I’m heading into town. Thought I’d pick up some things,”

Gojo, standing at the helm, barely glanced up from the map he was studying. “No.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

You frowned, “But I haven’t stepped off the ship in days. I need—"

"You need to stay here I’m not risking someone seeing you. Besides you just went out three days ago. Was that not enough for you?”

"I’m not a prisoner here!"

“You’re part of this crew now. And that means you follow orders. You don’t go anywhere unless I say so.”

There was no room for argument. He was controlling you. Forcing you to stay close, keeping you confined to the ship like some kind of possession.

You wanted to fight back, but the look in his eye told you this wasn’t a matter to be discussed. This was the pirate captain, and there was no swaying him.

How long could you live like this, confined to Gojou’s world, without losing yourself completely?

The ship had just left the small behind, its sails catching in the gentle breeze as The Infinity sailed towards Clerberry Harbor. For days you had felt trapped—trapped by the ship, by the hunt for the treasure, and most of all, by Satoru Gojou. His eyes always seemed to be on you with every step you took and every choice you made. It was like you were being caged by invisible chains.

Gojou had not been outwardly cruel. That was the part that made it so complicated. You knew he didn’t trust you, he didn’t trust anyone really, but it felt like he was waiting for you to run.

Tonight, though, you couldn’t take it anymore. The ship had anchored near Clerberry Harbor for the night, the crew preparing to resupply quickly before heading out again. You needed air, needed to get away from the ship, away from Gojou. Even if it was just for a few hours, you needed to feel like you could breathe.

You wandered through the streets finding yourself drawing to a tavern called The Salty Siren. It wasn’t anything fancy but it would do. You were about halfway through your drink when a man approached you. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a mop of dark hair. He seemed friendly enough, and more importantly, he wasn’t Gojou.

“Care for a dance?”

Normally, you might have turned him down, but tonight? Tonight you could have given less of a fuck. So you smiled, placing your hand in his and letting him lead you toward the open space in the middle of the tavern, where others were already swaying to the music.

The two of you danced for what felt like hours, your movement becoming more fluid as the alcohol settled in your system. At some point, he pulled you closer, his hand resting on your hips as the tempo of the music slowed. You didn’t pull away, but you instead leaned into the moment, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of being wanted. It was like your dream came true.

But dreams don’t last forever.

The door to the tavern swung open with a loud creak, and in walked Satoru Gojou. His eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on you. For a moment, the music in the tavern seemed to fade.

Your heart sank. You knew that look.

Gojou made his way through the crowd, the people parting for him instinctively. The man you’d been dancing with noticed the shift in your demeanor, following your gaze to the tall man moving through the tavern.

“Friend of yours?” the man asked.

You didn’t answer, but the look on your face said enough. The man quickly stepped back, his hands raising in mock surrender as Gojou approached.

Satoru stopped in front of you. “We need to talk.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Now.”

 “I needed space, Gojou. You’re suffocating me.”

“Space?” He let out a bitter laugh. “So this is what you do with your ‘space’? Dance with some random guy in a bar?”

You glared at him, refusing to back down. “I’m not yours, Satoru. You don’t own me.”

For a brief second, something flashed in his eyes—something raw, something vulnerable—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“So what? You just whore yourself out to the first man who looks at you?”

The words hit you like a slap. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come.

Without another word, Satoru turned on his heel and stormed out of the tavern, leaving you standing there, hurt and angry. ou clenched your fists at your sides, your body trembling at his words.

The man you’d been dancing with stepped forward. “Are you alright?”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes as you forced out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know.”

You turned away from him, stumbling back toward the bar. You downed it quickly, hoping the alcohol would wash away the ache in your chest, but it didn’t. Nothing could.

Outside, Satoru Gojou stormed through the streets, his anger burning hot in his chest. He didn’t know why he’d said those things to you—didn’t know why seeing you with that man made him upset. He knew he had no right to feel jealous, no right to care what you did or who you were with, but the moment he saw you dancing, laughing with someone else, something in him snapped.

He wandered aimlessly as he tried to make sense of his emotions. Why did you matter so much? Why did the thought of you choosing someone else hurt him? He wasn’t supposed to care about anyone. He wasn’t supposed to let anyone get close.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally stopped, leaning against a wall as he took a deep breath. The cool night air did little to calm him, and he found himself staring up at the stars, wondering how the hell he’d gotten himself into this mess. You were just supposed to help him find that stupid treasure and somewhere along the way, he began to care about you.

He didn’t know how to deal with it. He didn’t know how to deal with you.

After a long walk through the empty streets of Clerberry Harbor, His anger began to fade and it was replaced by a sense of guilt. What he said to you was cruel and the thought of you being hurt because of him made his stomach churn.

He made his way back to the tavern, hoping you were still there. When he found you, you were slumped over at the bar, a few empty glasses in front of you and your face flushed from the alcohol. You were crying, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs as you stared down at the counter.

“Hey,” he said softly, approaching you.

You looked up, your eyes red and glassy. When you saw him, your expression hardened, and without warning, you took off one of your shoes and threw it at him.

“Leave me alone,” you slurred, your voice thick with tears and alcohol.

Satoru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“Well, you did,” You glared at him, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. 

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly, taking a seat next to you.

“You hurt me, Gojou,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why do you do that? Push me away and then act like you care?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because I don’t know how to care about people. I’ve done horrible things, things you wouldn’t believe. I’m not a good person.”

“Maybe I don’t care about the horrible things.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand. “Let me take you back to the ship.”

You pulled your hand away, your emotions getting the best of you again. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew you weren’t going to make this easy, and honestly, he didn’t deserve easy. “Come on, you can barely walk. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

“I’m not walking.”

He sighed in defeat. “Alright. Fine.” He bent down and picked up your shoe, slipping it into his coat pocket before gently scooping you up into his arms. You didn’t protest, not really, but you still glared at him the whole way. “The tavern’s too far from the docks,” he murmured as he carried you down the street. 

“We’ll find a place to stay for the night.”

You didn’t respond, your head resting against his shoulder as he carried you through the quiet streets. Eventually, he found a small inn, tucked away in a side alley. 

With you still cradled in his arms, Gojou leaned his weight against the door, pushing it open with his hip. The bell above the door jingled faintly as you entered.

The inn’s front room was modest and quiet. A few chairs were scattered around a small hearth, and the scent of wood smoke mixed with something faintly sweet—maybe lavender or dried herbs. Behind the counter stood an older woman with grey hair, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the two of you. Her gaze flickered between your flushed face and Gojou’s demeanor.

"Single bed?"

Gojou, ever so quick to make decisions, immediately replied, “Yes.”

But at the same time, you mumbled, “No.”

"Make that a single bed. She won’t remember arguing about it anyway."

You were too tired to protest again. Instead, you just let out a groan and weakly nudged him with your elbow, though it lacked any real force. The older woman raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment further, scribbling something down in her ledger before handing him a key.

“Room’s upstairs, third door on the right.” She’d probably seen more than her fair share of odd couples and drunken sailors passing through. “And keep the noise down. We have other guests.”

Gojou chuckled under his breath, nodding as he adjusted his grip on you and headed toward the stairs. “We’ll be quiet. Promise.”

By the time he reached the third door on the right, you were barely holding onto the last shreds of your sobriety. Gojou balanced you against him as he fumbled with the key, eventually managing to unlock the door and push it open. The room beyond was small and simple—a single bed, a worn armchair, and a small window overlooking the quiet alley below. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the night.

He gently set you down on the bed, your body sinking into the soft mattress with a sigh. You blinked up at him, your vision slightly blurry, but you could still make out the concerned expression on his face. He turned to leave, likely to fetch a glass of water or something to help sober you up, but before he could take a step, you reached out and grabbed his sleeve. "Don’t go," you muttered, your voice quiet and shaky.

"Not planning on it. Just gonna get some water. Unless you need me to stay here and make sure you don’t roll off the bed?”

You shook your head, but your grip on his sleeve didn’t loosen. You shook your head, but your grip on his sleeve didn’t loosen. Gojou was the last person you wanted to see you cry, but at that moment, all you wanted was for him to stay close. 

With a sigh, he pulled the chair from the corner of the room and dragged it over to the side of the bed, sitting down beside you.

“You’re a mess, you know that?” He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms as he studied you. “Sneaking off the ship, getting drunk, flirting with some random guy... all just to piss me off?”

You couldn’t understand why he cared—why his words had cut you so deep when he called you a whore. Why you had felt so desperate to escape him, and yet now, all you wanted was to be close.

“I’m not a whore,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

 He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he ran a hand through his hair. “I know you’re not,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

You swallowed hard, blinking back tears as you sat up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows. “Then why did you?”

He let out a frustrated sigh, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as if he were trying to find the right words. “Because I’m an idiot. And because…”  He hesitated, “It’s easier to push people away, to make them hate me, than to deal with...” He trailed off, his shoulders tensing as if he couldn’t bring himself to say more.

“I don’t hate you,” you said softly, your voice cracking slightly as you finally allowed the tears to spill over. “I just... I don’t understand you.”

“I don’t understand myself half the time either.”

And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was soft at first, but then it quickly deepened when he brought his hands up to cradle your face, pulling you closer.

When you finally pulled away, you looked into his eyes, your breath coming in soft pants. “I want this,” you whispered. “I want you.”

“I want you too. But not tonight. Not like this. You deserve better than that.”

You frowned, clearly disappointed, but you didn’t argue. Instead, you leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you let out a tired sigh. Gojou’s shoulder was solid beneath your head, his body warm despite the cool night air filtering through the cracked window. He shifted his hand that was still gently resting on the back of your head. He could feel your body slowly giving in, sinking deeper against him as sleep threatened to take hold.

He considered moving you to lay down properly on the bed. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the fact that you trusted him enough to lay on his shoulder. Even after everything you were still here seeking comfort from someone like him.

He glanced down at you watching as your breathing began to even out, your body going slack against his. You were now asleep and completely unaware of the internal battle inside his mind. The memory of your kiss played on a loop in his mind. He wasn't someone who got attached—he made sure of that. His life had never allowed for it. People came and went, and that was just the way things were. But with you, it was different. It had always been different, and now, after the kiss, after seeing you like this—vulnerable and trusting—it terrified him.

He closed his eyes trying to push away his emotions. He didn’t want to feel this was. He didn’t want to care. But the truth was, he did. More than he was willing to admit.

He gently shifted, making sure not to wake you as he leaned back against the headboard, letting out a long breath. His hand slid from the back of your head to rest on your shoulder, the soft fabric of your dress warm under his fingers. And not long after sleep consumed him.

The next morning came with the soft light filtering through the thin curtain of the small room. The sounds of birds chirping outside stirred you from your sleep. Your head felt heavy with your hangover settling in as you blinked against the morning light.

You shifted in the bed as you tried to piece together last night's events. Slowly, the memories began to return—sneaking off the ship, the bar, the dancing, Gojou finding you, and… a faint recollection of kissing him.

Oh god.

Did you really kiss him? Or was that some alcohol-fueled dream? You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to sift through the memories of last night.

Glancing around the room, you realized Gojou was nowhere to be seen. The chair he had sat in last night was empty, pushed back slightly from the bed. Your stomach twisted as you wondered where he had gone—and more importantly, if he remembered what happened.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. Had he kissed you back? Had it been awkward? 

As you were trying to piece it together, the door creaked open, and Gojou stepped inside. He was carrying a small tray of what looked like some bread, cheese, and a pitcher of water.

“Morning,” he said casually, setting the tray down on the small table by the window. “How’s your head?”

"Uh... sore," you muttered, rubbing your temple. "What time is it?"

"Early enough," he replied, pouring a glass of water and handing it to you. "Figured you could use something to eat before we head back."

You took the glass from him, your eyes lingering on his face as you tried to gauge his mood. He seemed... normal. Like nothing had happened. No sign of awkwardness, no mention of last night. Maybe he didn’t remember either?

"About last night..."

Gojou raised an eyebrow, his cerulean eyes meeting yours. "You mean the part where you snuck off and got drunk? Or the part where you threw a shoe at me?"

Your face flushed with embarrassment. "I meant... after that."

He paused for a moment before he shrugged, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. "You passed out pretty quick after we got here. I put you to bed, and that was that."

"So... nothing else happened?"

Gojou’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pushed off the wall and walked toward the window, looking out at the harbor below. "You were pretty drunk," he said finally, his voice quieter than before. "Wouldn’t have been right to do anything."

“Why didn’t you?”

“You weren’t sober enough to remember it, and I didn’t want to take advantage of that. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to think I’m that easy.”

After a few moments of silence, he walked back over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed. "Eat something," he said, nudging the tray toward you. "We’ve got a long day ahead, and I don’t want you passing out on me halfway back to the ship."

After finishing the meager breakfast, you both headed back to the ship. Gojou stretched lazily, his arms reaching up toward the ceiling as he groaned. "Come on," he said, glancing down at you with a grin. "Let’s get back before the others start wondering where we’ve run off to."

You stood brushing the crumbs from your clothes and gathering yourself for the walk back. As you and Gojou made your way through the cobblestone streets, you thought about what reactions you would face. Gojou didn’t seem too concerned, but then again he rarely did.

When you finally reached the docks, you could see Nanami and Toji on deck, already waiting. Approaching the gangplank, Toji was the first to spot you. His eyes narrowed as a smirk spread across his face. Nanami remained stoic, his arms crossed over his chest, his disapproving face evident even from a distance.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," Toji called out. "Thought you two might’ve gone off and deserted the crew."

Gojou chuckled, unfazed. "Desert? Us? Come on, Fushiguro. You know I’d never leave without saying goodbye."

On the other hand, Nanami was not as amused. "Where were you?” he asked. "And don’t give me some half-baked story, Gojou. We’ve been waiting for hours."

"Relax, Nanami. We were just handling some... business in town. Didn’t think you’d miss us that much."

"Business, huh? Funny, ‘cause it sure looked like you two were sneaking off in the middle of the night. What kind of business is that, Gojou?"

"You know how it is, Fushiguro. Some things can’t be discussed out in the open. I didn’t think it’d be a problem, seeing as we’re all on the same side."

Nanami’s frown deepened. "And you? What were you doing, sneaking off the ship in the middle of the night?"

"I just needed some air… I wasn’t planning on being gone for long."

Toji barked out laughing, clearly enjoying this far more than he should have. "Needed air, huh? That’s a new one."

Nanami still wasn’t laughing. You could feel his scrutinizing gaze on your disheveled appearance. 

"You look like you’ve been through a lot more than just getting some air,"

Gojo stepped in before you could respond. "Look, we don’t need an interrogation here. Everything’s fine. We handled what needed to be handled, and now we’re back. No harm done."

"Is that right?"

"If there’s something going on, we need to know about it. This isn’t the kind of crew that runs on secrets."

Gojou’s smirk faded slightly, his playful mask slipping. "There’s nothing you need to worry about. I’m handling it.”

The way he said it made it clear the conversation was over—at least, as far as Gojou was concerned. Toji let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he backed off, though the smirk never left his face.

"Whatever you say, Captain," Toji said, clearly still amused by the whole thing. He shot you one last knowing look before turning and heading back across the deck.

"Alright, enough with the drama. We’ve got work to do." He turned to you.  "Come on, let’s get you settled." 

When you reached the stairs leading below the deck, Gojou paused and glanced back at you.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yeah. Just... tired."

Gojou gave a short nod, understanding, before gesturing for you to head below deck. "Get some rest. We’ll be leaving soon."

Satoru slammed the door to his captain’s quarters, his body sagging against the wooden door as if the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. For a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes, his smirk slowly fading into something more serious.

This was his ship. His mission. His world. And yet, none of that felt like it mattered. None of it was enough to drown out the single most distracting thing in his life right now: you.

He dragged himself over to his desk, collapsing into the wooden chair as his eyes drifted over the scattered maps and papers. They were once the thighs that had his undivided attention. But not anymore. His mind was elsewhere, miles away even.

It was with you.

You were worming your way into places in his mind he didn’t know he had, taking up space that no one else had ever managed to occupy. It infuriated him. How did you, of all people, find a way to get under his skin?

He let out a frustrated growl, pushing himself up from the desk, and pacing the small room like a caged animal. His jaw clenched as his mind replayed the night at the inn over and over again—the way your head had rested against his shoulder, the trust in your eyes, the way your lips had almost touched his. He shouldn’t have pulled away that night. Shouldn’t have let that small flicker of sanity pull him back. Now it was all he could think about. He hated himself for wanting more.

The worst part? He couldn’t admit any of this to you. He couldn’t let you know how much of an effect you had on him. That you were driving him insane.

“Fuck this,” he muttered to himself, storming out of his quarters. He couldn’t sit still any longer.

He descended the stairs to the lower deck, his heavy boots echoing loudly on the wooden planks. It was late, and most of the crew had retreated to their quarters or were occupied elsewhere, but there you were—alone at the table, pouring over the map as though it held the answers to everything. Your fingers traced the old parchment, your brows furrowed in concentration.

Satoru slowed his steps, watching you from a distance. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across your face, softening your features, and making you look innocent. Too innocent. You didn’t belong in his world, and yet, you were here—more a part of it than he’d ever wanted

He took a step forward, and then another, his pace picking up until he reached the table. Without warning, he snatched the map from your hands, the paper crinkling as it slipped through your fingers.

“What the hell?” You turned toward him, eyes wide with shock. “Gojou, I was—”

“Why do you even care about this?” he snapped, waving the map in front of you before slamming it down on the table with a force that made the whole thing shake. “You think this is going to solve anything? You think following this damn thing will make everything okay?”

Your brow furrowed as confusion and hurt flickered in your eyes. “I’ve been helping—”

“Helping?” He cut you off, his voice rising in frustration. “You think you’re helping by sticking around? By playing the part of some noble crew member?”

“You don’t belong here, and you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

Your mouth opened as if to respond, but nothing came out. “I don’t understand why you’re so—”

“No, you don’t!” His voice cracked, and he took another step toward you, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. You didn’t understand. How could you? You didn’t know what it was like to feel this trapped, this torn between what he wanted and what he could never have.

Before you could respond, he stepped back, his eyes hardening again as he shoved the map back into your hands. “Take it,” he muttered, his voice cold and distant now. “Do whatever the hell you want with it. I don’t care anymore.”

Satoru turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, his boots thudding heavily against the wooden floor as he disappeared into the night, leaving you standing there, stunned and speechless.

You sank into the chair, staring down at the map without really seeing it. What were you supposed to do now? Gojou was right about one thing—you didn’t belong here. This wasn’t your world. You weren’t a pirate. You weren’t like him.

And yet, here you were.

Outside, Gojo stalked across the deck, his mind racing.

He let out a string of curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Why did he care so much? Why did it bother him so much that you were there, in his space, in his life?

Satoru stood by the railing, the cold sea breeze whopping in his hair, his fingers gripping the edge until his knuckles turned white. The waves beneath him crashed against the hull of the ship. But the wind, the sea—none of it was enough to drown out the mess of thoughts swirling in his head.

He was spiraling, and he hated it.

"Why you?" The question slipped through clenched teeth as if spoken to the dark sea below, which offered no answer. Why did you, of all people, have this effect on him? You were supposed to be a nuisance—a temporary part of his world, someone he saved out of responsibility, not interest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of your face just moments ago: confused, startled, hurt. Your wide eyes had searched his, desperately trying to understand his anger, his sudden coldness. He hated the way he’d seen that flicker of hurt in your gaze, the way you had flinched when he slammed the map down. That wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t supposed to care how anyone looked at him, much less you.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

That thought—the idea of you caring—made him feel sick. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve you, your loyalty, your concern, any of it.

Because underneath it all, Satoru Gojou knew exactly what he was.

He was the pirate king, ruthless and reckless. He’d pillaged, killed, and wrecked lives to get to where he was. He was unbreakable, untouchable, and he thrived on it. Except now… Now, that solid wall he had built around himself was cracking, and you were the reason for it.

You were slipping through the gaps.

And worse, he didn’t know how to stop it.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

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[corusvants]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER THREE | long story short

↳ satoru gojou x reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

word count — 7.3k

tags/warnings — 18+, stalking/harassment, alcohol use, suggestive content, weapon usage, murder, + please read at your own discretion

notes — today we will be introduced to the antoginstt of the story (not directly). kicking on this chapter has absoluley fuck all happen i decided to split it up so i have buffer time to write. this chapter does delv into reader and gojo's relationship and we see a little bit of the kids. gojo is very bipolar. rb's and comments always appreciated :)

prev. HELP WANTED! | next. (coming soon)

general masterlist -> series masterlist

“Well,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “It looks like we’ve found what we were looking for.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding,” you muttered. 

Gojou noticed your distress and cocked an eyebrow, his usual smirk playing on his lips. “What’s wrong? Afraid of the dark?”

You shot him a glare, trying to hide the fact that you were indeed terrified. “You know damn well what’s wrong. You dragged me all the way here, and I don’t even have a weapon.”

“Well, that’s a bit of an oversight, isn’t it?” Getou said as he looked over at Captain Gojou.

“This is not fucking funny! First, you stalk me and threaten me. You leave me outside of some brothel to go fuck some random woman, and then you dare to drag me all the way out here to this weird island even seasoned pirates are afraid of, like it's absolutely nothing, and expect me to behave like a civilized person?!”

"Woah, woah, calm down, sweetheart; it's just a little bit of fun; no need to get your panties in a twist.”

The entire crew could now hear the two of you bickering in the pitch-black. Great.

Gojou shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “You’ll be fine. Stick close to me, and you won’t need a weapon.”

“You crazy bastard, how in the hell am I supposed to stick close to you when I can’t even see three feet in front of me?” You hissed. You were losing it, you couldn’t even bring yourself to be scared of this man anymore considering the way he was behaving.

You were about to protest when Nanami handed you a small, sheathed dagger. “Here,” he said gruffly. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.” 

You took the dagger with a nod of thanks, gripping it tightly in your hand. It wasn’t the most comforting weapon, but at least it was something. You knew you couldn’t rely solely on Gojou or Getou to protect you. If you were going to survive this, you’d need to stay sharp and be ready for anything.

And then, without warning, the ground beneath your feet gave way.

You barely had time to react before you were falling, the jagged rocks scraping against your skin as you tumbled into a hidden pit. The world spun around you, a blur of darkness and pain, and then you hit the bottom with a sickening thud.

For a moment, you couldn’t move, the wind knocked out of you. Every part of your body screamed in pain, and it took all of your strength to push yourself up onto your hands and knees. You could taste blood in your mouth, and the sharp sting of cuts and bruises covered your body.

The pit was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the lanterns above. You could hear the distant voices of the crew, their shouts echoing down to you, but they seemed so far away.

Panic began to set in as you realized how deep the pit was. You were trapped, alone in the darkness, with no way to climb back up. The walls were slick with moss, offering no handholds, and the floor was littered with sharp rocks that made every movement painful.

Above, you could hear Gojou shouting orders. “Hold on! We’re getting you out of there!”

The fear was suffocating, and you had to fight to keep it at bay. You couldn’t afford to lose your head now, not when your life depended on staying calm. But the darkness pressed in around you, the silence broken only by the distant sound of water dripping somewhere in the cavern. You felt as though the walls were closing in, crushing you under their weight.

Then you heard a sound that sent a chill down your spine.

It was a low, guttural growl, coming from somewhere in the darkness. It was a sound that no human could make. You froze, every muscle in your body tensing as you strained to see what was making that noise.

And then you saw them—glowing eyes in the darkness, moving closer with every second.

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what was happening. The pit wasn’t just a trap; it was a lair. And whatever lived here was coming for you.

“Gojou!” you screamed, the panic rising in your voice. “Something’s down here!”

You scrambled backward, your hand fumbling for the dagger Nanami had given you. But even as you gripped it tightly, you knew it wouldn’t be enough. There were too many of them, and they were getting closer with every passing second.

“Get her out of there, now!”

The first creature lunged at you, its claws slashing through the air. You barely managed to dodge, the sharp edge of the dagger catching its side as it passed. It let out a screech of pain, but it was useless in the end.

You fought with everything you had, but it was like trying to fend off a storm with a twig. The creatures were relentless, their attacks coming from every direction. You could feel your strength waning, the cuts and bruises taking their toll.

And then, just as you thought you couldn’t hold out any longer, Gojou dropped down into the pit

Before you could even react, Gojou was already moving. His swords flashed in the air, cutting swiftly through the nearest creature. The creature let out a piercing shriek as it fell to the ground, its body convulsing as it died.

"Stay back!" Gojou shouted. "I’ll handle this."

You stumbled backward, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the scene unfold. Each swing of his swords cut down another creature, but for every one he killed, it seemed like two more took its place.

One of the creatures broke away from the pack, its beady eyes locking onto you. It let out a guttural growl, its claws extended as it charged toward you. Panic seized your limbs, freezing you in place.

But before it could reach you, Gojou was there. He lunged forward, intercepting the creature with a powerful kick.

"Don’t just stand there!" Gojou snapped. "Get moving!"

You nodded, scrambling to your feet. But as you turned to run, another creature lunged at you from the side, its claws grazing your arm as it knocked you to the ground. Pain shot through your arm, but before you could react, Gojou was on top of the creature, driving his sword through its skull.

He pulled you to your feet. "Stay close to me," he ordered, his eyes scanning the area for more threats. "I’m not letting anything happen to you."

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the creatures began to retreat, their numbers dwindling until only a few remained. Gojou cut down the last of them with a final strike, and then there was silence.

"Are you okay?"

You nodded, still bloody and bruised but alive. "Yeah. Thanks to you."

Gojou wiped the blood from his sword and sheathed it. "Don’t mention it.”

"Well, that was a damn mess," Toji grumbled from behind you. He kicked a loose stone off the path, sending it skittering into the underbrush. "Next time, let's pick an island that doesn’t try to kill us."

"You’re the one who insisted on coming here," Shokou shot back, her voice dry with sarcasm as she adjusted the pack slung over her shoulder. "Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it."

“Yeah, well, I didn’t sign up for nearly getting my head taken off by whatever the hell those things were in that chamber. If I wanted to die, I would have done it myself."

"That was closer than I like," Nanami muttered.

"Yeah, and let’s not forget who almost got herself killed because someone forgot to give her a weapon," Toji added, throwing you a pointed look. "How the hell did you even survive out there with a tiny dagger?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but Shokou cut him off. "She survived because we didn’t give her a damn chance to get herself killed. Unlike some people who charge ahead without thinking."

Toji raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a grin. "Is that a dig at me, Shokou? I’m flattered."

"It’s a fact, but let’s not dwell on the past, shall we? We’re out of that cave, we’ve got what we came for, and I’m more interested in getting back to the ship than listening to you two bicker."

"She’s right," Gojou’s voice rang out. "We’ve got what we came for, but this isn’t over yet. Let’s get back to the ship and figure out our next move. No more screw-ups."

Toji, who couldn’t resist one last jab decided to add, "Just make sure you don’t wander off and get yourself in trouble. We don’t need another rescue mission."

"Like I said, Toji," Shokou interjected with a roll of her eyes, "focus on getting us back to the ship in one piece. Then you can play the hero all you want."

As soon as she said that a low, guttural sound, echoed through the dense jungle.

"Shit," Geto muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. "They're not giving up, are they?"

That’s when you all decided it was best to run.

The sound of rushing water and distant roars echoed around you as the crew frantically retreated to the rowboat. Your body felt heavy, weighed down by the deep gash on your side that bled profusely. Each step sent a wave of pain coursing through you, but you pushed forward, the adrenaline masking some of the pain.

"Move it!" Toji shouted, his voice urgent as he glanced back at you.

Nanami was the first to reach the boat, quickly securing it in place as the others piled in. Shokou hovered nearby, her usual calm demeanor slightly shaken as she took stock of the injuries each member had sustained. Her eyes widened when they landed on you, the blood staining your clothes impossible to ignore.

"Get her in here, now!"

With Toji's help, you stumbled into the rowboat, nearly collapsing as your vision blurred. Shoko was next to you in an instant, pressing a cloth to your wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding.

“Stay with us,” Shoko urged, her voice wavering slightly as she worked. “You’re not dying on me, got it?”

But it was getting harder to focus. The pain in your side was constant, and the world around you began to fade. You could hear Getou and Gojou’s shouts in the distance, but they felt far away as if coming from another world.

Finally, Gojou and Getou reached the boat, their chests heaving as they jumped in. “We’re good, let’s go!” Gojou yelled, though his voice was slightly breathless.

Toji and Nanami quickly began rowing, desperate to put distance between themselves and the cursed island. As the boat lurched forward, you felt your strength waning, your consciousness slipping away despite Shoko’s best efforts to keep you awake.

The last thing you saw before the darkness overtook you was Gojo’s face.

“Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me,” Gojo ordered, though his voice sounded distant. “I’m not done with you yet.”

But his words faded as your vision went black, the pain finally pulling you under.

The steady rocking of the ship greeted you as consciousness slowly returned. Your head throbbed, and a dull ache pulsed through your side. The heavy scent of salt and something faintly metallic filled your nose. It took you a moment to realize you were lying on a soft bed, the rough texture of the blankets against your skin was a stark contrast to the cold stone floor back in the chamber.

When you finally came to, the first thing you noticed was the soft flickering of the candlelight casting shadows on the wooden walls. The room was warm and filled with the scent of seawater and something medicinal. As you tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through your side, forcing you to lie back down with a groan.

“That wasn’t very smart, you know,” came a familiar voice from the corner of the room.

You turned your head slowly to find Gojou sitting at his desk, casually leaning back in his chair with one foot propped up on the table. He was watching you with a lazy smile, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the wood.

“Gojou?” you rasped, your throat dry. “What… where am I?”

Gojou leaned back in his chair, his ice-blue eyes meeting yours. “In my quarters,” he answered with a shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You passed out on the rowboat, bleeding all over the damn place. Figured you’d be more comfortable here than down in the brig.”

You struggled to sit up, but the pain in your side flared up so intensely that you nearly blacked out again. A hiss of pain escaped your lips, and you fell back against the pillows, gasping for breath.

“Shit,” you muttered, clutching the sheets. “I feel like I got run over by a fucking carriage.”

“Not far off from the truth,” Gojou said, pushing his chair back and standing up. He strolled over to you with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Those creatures on the island were more than happy to tear you apart. If I hadn’t noticed you were unarmed…” He trailed off. “Well, let’s just say I like my crew in one piece.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, annoyance bubbling inside you. “Why didn’t anyone give me a weapon in the first place? You dragged me along on this goddamn suicide mission, and I didn’t even have a knife to defend myself.”

Gojou’s smirk faded slightly, his expression growing more serious. “A bit of an oversight on our part,” he admitted, his voice losing some of its usual lightness. “But you survived. That’s what matters.”

“Survived? I barely fucking made it out of there alive! And for what? Some random treasure you thought would be fun to chase?”

Gojou’s eyes darkened at your outburst, his jaw clenching briefly before he forced a smile back onto his face. “You think this is about fun? This isn’t some fucking game. Out here, it’s kill or be killed. You wanted to come along, sweetheart. Well, welcome to the reality of it.”

You bit your lip, the sharp retort you had ready dying on your tongue. He was right—part of you had wanted this, had wanted to prove you could handle whatever this life threw at you. But you hadn’t been prepared for how brutal it would be, how quickly things could spiral out of control.

Why did you bring me along in the first place? “You could have left me behind. Why take the risk?”

Gojou paused, his back to you, and for a long moment, he didn’t answer. When he finally did, his voice was low, almost too quiet to hear over the creaking of the ship. “Because I wanted to see what you were made of,” he said simply. “Wanted to see if you could handle it.”

“Handle what?” you pressed, not satisfied with his vague answer. “What the hell were you testing me for?”

Gojou turned to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with a piercing intensity. “To see if you’d break,” he said bluntly. “This life isn’t for everyone. You either adapt, or you die. I needed to know which one you’d be.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the coldness of his logic making your stomach turn. “So I was just some experiment to you?” you spat, the anger boiling over once more. “You were willing to let me die just to prove a fucking point?”

“You’re not dead, are you? You passed the test. That’s all that matters.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. This man, this insane, reckless man, had dragged you into hell just to see if you could survive it. And now he stood there, acting as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“What if I hadn’t?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. “What if I had died out there?”

Gojou’s eyes softened, but only slightly. “Then you wouldn’t be here,” he said simply as if that answered everything.

 Gojou sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the desk. “Look,” he said, his voice losing some of its edge, “I get it. You’re pissed. You have every right to be. But this is the life you signed up for. It’s not pretty, and it sure as hell isn’t fair. But it’s real.”

“Why me?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you even bother?”

“Because you’re different. You’re not like the others. And I guess… I wanted to see if I was right about you.”

 Gojou pushed off the desk and walked over to you, “Get some rest.”

He turned to leave, but you reached out, grabbing his wrist before you could stop yourself. “Gojou,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “Why do you care?”

He looked down at your hand on his wrist, then back up at you. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, might leave you with your question unanswered. But then, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered the words that would haunt you for days to come.

“Because, sweetheart,” he murmured, “I like a little chaos in my life. And you… you’re the perfect storm.”

“We dock at Port Royal in thirty minutes, get dressed.” He pointed at the clothes sitting on the table.

With that, he turned to leave, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Bastard. 

You decided to get up, get dressed, and maybe snoop around his quarters.

“I mean, what’s the worst I can find?”

The clothes he gave you consisted of a loose-fitting blouse, a brown belt, black pants, and boots. You assumed they were Shoko’s clothes since she’s the only other woman on board. You quickly put them on and started looking around. Regretfully, you decided to look inside the bedside table.

Condoms. Great. You quickly shut the drawer and moved onto his desk.

“Apparently, he doesn’t keep these things locked, or maybe he never lets anyone in here,” you murmured.

On his desk, there was a multitude of papers, and among them, you saw a wanted poster. The words on it were "Dead or Alive," with a bounty of three hundred pounds. Another piece of paper caught your eye, and you carefully unfolded it. It was a map of the surrounding islands of the Caribbean, with certain locations marked with a red X. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the door creak open. Instinctively, you jumped back, and the map slipped from your hands.

"Having fun?" he drawled, casually closing the door behind him.

Just trying to figure out what kind of mess I've gotten myself into."

You really think you're in control here, don’t you?" His voice was low, almost mocking.

You crossed your arms, refusing to back down. "I never said that."

He chuckled. "Good. Because the sooner you realize that you're not, the easier things will be."

"What do you want from me, Gojou?" you sighed.

His smile faltered for just a moment before continuing, "I told you already, sweetheart. I want that map. And I want you to help me find the treasure."

You let out a bitter laugh. "And what makes you think I’ll help you? I still haven’t given you the map remember?"

He stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him. "Because you don’t have a choice."

"And what if I refuse?"

Gojou’s eyes darkened, and he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Then I’ll just have to make you."

"You can try."

For a moment, neither of you moved.

"You’re a stubborn one, I’ll give you that. But we’ll see how long that lasts."

He turned away from you, moving to the desk and picking up the map you had dropped. He studied it for a moment before rolling it up and tucking it under his arm.

"Get ready to dock,” was all he said over his shoulder as he turned to leave.

…

Jesus Fucking Christ.

The crew was brimming with excitement. It had been weeks since they had last docked anywhere with the kind of entertainment that Port Royal offered.

The moment the anchor dropped and the gangplank was lowered, Megumi, Yuuji, and Yuuta were the first to get off the ship, eager to stretch their legs and see what the town had to offer.

“Don’t go too far!” Shokou called after them, her tone half-serious. She knew as well as anyone that trying to rein in a group of excited young men in a place like Port Royal was pointless. “And don’t forget what happened last time you went off on your own!”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be fine!” Yuuji yelled back, waving a dismissive hand as he jogged off with the others. “Just gonna have some fun!”

You watched them go, a small smile tugging at your lips. Their energy was infectious, even if you knew it would likely get them into trouble.

Each crew member headed off in different directions, each heading off to their favorite spots. You lingered by the gangplank, debating on whether or not you should go into Port Royal or not. The last time you’d been in a place like this, things had gone… poorly, and that was before you had gotten involved with Captain Gojou.

“Thinking about going ashore?” Gojou appeared beside you, hands casually tucked into his coat pockets.

“Maybe,” you replied, turning your gaze back to the town. “But I’m not sure where I’d go.”

“Port Royal can be a bit much if you’re not used to it. How about a walk? I’ll show you around.”

“Alright.”

As the two of you walked, Gojou pointed out various places—a tavern and a gambling den—places that held significance for him.

“You’ve been quiet. Everything alright?”

“Just… a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Like what?”

Okay, Nosey.

“The island, mostly, and what happened there.”

His only response was to hum.

As the two of you continued walking, you felt yourself relax a little. You had almost convinced yourself that everything was normal and that maybe you could build a new life with new people. Even if one of them was a crazy bastard.

That illusion was shattered when you turned a corner and came face-to-face with a bounty poster.

The worn piece of paper was on the wall of a tavern, alongside dozens of others. But this one caught your eye immediately—because it had your face on it.

There was no mistaking it. The sketch, while crude, was a clear likeness of you. And beneath it, in bold letters, was the reward: a staggering sum of gold for your capture, dead or alive.

“What the hell?”

Gojou followed your gaze, his eyes narrowing as he took in the poster.

Then Gojou ripped the poster off the wall and crumpled it in his fist. “Who the fuck did this?”

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered, your mind racing. “I didn’t even know there was a bounty on me.”

“This isn’t good. We need to get back to the ship.”

“But why would there be a bounty on me? I haven’t done anything!”

“That’s what we need to find out. But first, we need to make sure you’re safe.”

He grabbed your hand and started leading you back the way you came. 

“What are we going to do?” you asked, struggling to keep up with him.

“We’re going to find out who put that bounty on your head and why. And then we’re going to deal with them.”

You didn’t ask how he planned to ‘deal with them.’ The look in his eyes told you enough.

“I have to go find the kids. Stay in my quarters until we figure this out. Don’t go anywhere without me, understand?”

You nodded, too overwhelmed to argue. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone, especially now.

A million thoughts raced through your mind.

Was it your father? No, it couldn’t be him. You haven’t spoken to him since you moved to Elysport, and even then, he wouldn’t know if you had left. Was it one of those pirates that saw me with Gojou? Maybe. My employer? No, not him; he didn’t give a shit about me.

You were officially panicking.

What the hell were you going to do?

“Man, I can’t wait to get a drink,” Yuuji said with a grin, stretching his arms above his head as they walked. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

“Try not to get us into too much trouble this time,” Megumi muttered, hands shoved into his pockets. “Last time we docked, you nearly burned down that tavern.”

“That was an accident! Besides, I fixed it.”

“Right, by jumping into the flames and nearly setting yourself on fire,” Yuuta added with a small smile. “Maybe we should aim for a quieter night this time.”

The three of them turned down an alley as Yuuta’s eyes darted to the sign hanging above a wooden door at the end of the alleyway: “The Crooked Anchor.” It was one of the smaller, less reputable bars in Port Royal, but that also meant it was one of the few places where they wouldn’t attract too much attention.

As they pushed open the door, the dim light from within spilled out into the alley, accompanied by the low hum of voices and the clink of mugs.

The place was filled with the kind of people who preferred to keep to themselves. It was exactly the kind of place they were looking for.

“Looks like a good spot,” Yuuji said, his grin widening.

They made their way to a table in the back, squeezing between patrons and dodging spilled drinks along the way.

“So,” Yuuji began as he leaned back in his chair, “what do we think we’re gonna do while we’re here? Just drinks, or are we looking for something a little more... exciting?”

“Exciting for you usually means dangerous for the rest of us,” Megumi said dryly.

“I’m serious!” Yuuji protested. “I just think we should take advantage of the fact that we’re not stuck on the ship for a change. Who knows when we’ll get another chance?”

Before Megumi could respond, the door to the bar swung open, and two figures stepped inside.

“Hey,” he whispered, nudging Megumi with his elbow. “Check them out.”

Megumi followed Yuuji’s gaze and spotted the newcomers—a pair of young women who were clearly out of place. The first was tall with dark hair that was tied back in a tight ponytail. The second girl was a bit shorter and had vibrant red hair that seemed to catch the dim light of the bar.

“Aristocrats?” Megumi muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell are they doing here?”

“Maybe they’re here for a drink just like us,” Yuuji said with a grin. “C’mon, let’s go say hi.”

Before either Megumi or Yuuta could stop him, Yuuji was already on his feet, weaving his way through the crowd toward the two women. With a resigned sigh, Megumi and Yuuta exchanged a glance before following him.

As they approached, the taller of the two women—Maki—noticed them first.

“Can we help you?

Just thought I’d say hi. You two don’t really look like you belong in a place like this.”

The other, much shorter woman then spoke up, “And what makes you think we don’t belong here?”

“Well, for one thing, you don’t look like sailors,” Yuuji said with a chuckle.

We can handle ourselves.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Yuuji said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But if you’re looking for a good time, maybe we could show you around. We know this town pretty well.”

“What do you think, Maki? Should we let these guys show us around?”

Why not? Could be interesting.”

“Great!” Yuuji said, his grin widening. “I’m Yuuji, by the way. This is Megumi, and that’s Yuuta.”

“Nobara, and this is Maki.”

“So, what brings you two to a place like this?” Megumi asked.

Nobara took a sip of her drink. “We were bored. Thought we’d sneak out and see what the ‘common folk’ do for fun.”

Maki, who had been quiet up until this point, leaned forward slightly. “And what about you three? You don’t exactly scream ‘regular patrons’ either.”

“We’re part of a crew,” Yuuta explained. “Just docked for a bit before heading out again.”

“A crew?” Nobara’s eyes lit up with interest. “Like pirates?”

“Something like that,” Yuuji said with a wink. “We prefer to think of ourselves as adventurers.”

At one point, as the conversation lulled, Yuuta leaned over to Maki, his voice quieter than before. “So, what made you two decide to sneak out?”

“We needed a break. Nobara’s family keeps her on a short leash, and I... well, I’ve never been one for following rules.”

“So,” Nobara said, breaking the moment as she turned her attention back to the group. “What’s next? You’re not just going to leave us here, are you?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah pretty much.”

“Well, I was thinking... maybe you’d want to come with us. See the world, have some real adventures!”

Megumi then elbowed Yuuji’s side. “Shut up, you moron.”

Maki studied him for a long moment. “Alright,” she said finally. “We’re in.”

Nobara’s grin widened. “Hell yeah!”

With their decision made—well, Yuuji’s decision—the five of them exited the bar, stepping into the cold evening air.

Yuuji Itadori had never been good at keeping secrets—his wide smile and open personality made him an easy read most of the time—but he knew that sometimes, you had to bend the rules to make things work. Tonight, standing by the docks of Port Royal, he felt like bending the rules a little more than usual.

Beside him, Megumi and Yuuta exchanged cautious glances, clearly not as excited about Yuuji’s plan. Behind them, two girls were looking out toward the ship.

"Okay, so we’ll sneak them onboard. It’s just until we can figure things out with Gojou. I mean, he’ll understand, right?"

Megumi narrowed his eyes. “Are you out of your mind? Gojou’s not going to ‘understand’ anything. If he finds out we’ve brought two strangers aboard, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Yuuta frowned. I’m with Megumi on this one. It’s one thing to bring them along, but hiding them? Gojou will know. He always knows.”

Yuuji waved their concerns away with a grin. “Come on, it’s just for a little while! Besides, we can’t exactly just leave them here now, can we?”

The girl with dark green hair crossed her arms. “If you guys don’t want us to come, just say it. We’re not here to beg for a spot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal? You practically dragged us along, and now you’re having second thoughts?”

Yuuji shook his head quickly. “No, no! That’s not it at all! You’re totally coming with us. I just... We need to make sure Gojou doesn’t find out right away. He’s... complicated.”

“Complicated? What, is he some kind of tyrant?”

Yuuji laughed nervously. “Something like that.”

“Look, if this is going to be a problem, we’ll handle it. We don’t need you to babysit us.”

“Trust me, it’s not you I’m worried about,” Megumi muttered.

Yuuji threw an arm around Megumi’s shoulders, giving him a little shake. “Relax, we’ve handled worse situations than this. All we need to do is get them onboard, hide them for a while, and then we’ll figure it out.”

Megumi sighed deeply, clearly regretting every decision that had led to this moment. “This is going to backfire. I just know it.”

Gojou’s mood had soured the moment he realized the kids were missing.

“You,” Gojou barked at one of the nearby crewmates. “Where are the kids?”

The man blinked, clearly unsure what to say. “I—I don’t know, Captain. They—”

“They went off into Port Royal hours ago,” Nanami interjected from behind him. “They haven’t returned yet.”

 “And you let them go without a leash?”

“They’re not dogs, Gojou,” Nanami said dryly. “Besides, you didn’t exactly stop them.”

Gojou waved him off, his fingers brushing through his frost-colored hair. “Yeah, yeah. That doesn’t mean they can just fuck off whenever they want. This place isn’t exactly safe, and now they’ve gone and gotten themselves lost, or worse.” His grin spread. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear their excuses.”

He turned on his heel and headed toward the lower deck, his mind clearly made up. “Alright, I want everyone searching. Get those brats back here now. If they’re not back by the time we’re ready to leave, we’ll leave without them.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow, following behind him. “You don’t actually mean that.”

Gojou shot him a sideways glance, grinning. “No, but it’ll motivate them to hurry up, won’t it?”

As the other crew members went off searching for the missing kids, Gojou made his way back to his captain's quarters. He needed to figure out what the hell was going on, why she—why you—were suddenly so important. No, this was something big, planned, like someone was pulling strings from the shadows. But who? And why?

He had his suspicions. A couple of names lingered in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t say for sure. Not yet. Still, it made him uneasy. There weren’t many who could move with that level of secrecy without him catching on. The thought of it made his blood boil.

Later that night, the ship was eerily quiet when Gojou returned. His boots thudded against the wooden floor as he made his way through the dimly lit halls of his quarters.

He didn’t get it. Why had he taken such an interest in you? At first, you were just another puzzle to him, someone caught up in the game like everyone else. But the more time he spent around you, the more... curious he became.

As he stepped into his room, his eyes landed on the bed.

You were there, curled up and fast asleep. The moonlight filtered in through the small window, casting soft shadows across your face.

Gojou paused in the doorway, staring at you for a moment longer than he meant to.

“Sleeping in my bed now, huh?” he muttered, half to himself.

Without making a sound, he closed the door behind him and moved toward the desk on the far side of the room. He wasn’t exactly sure why he didn’t wake you up, why he didn’t toss you out of his space like he usually would. Instead, he sat down at the desk, pretending to busy himself with some useless papers. He had no idea what the hell he was doing.

But for once, the silence wasn’t unbearable.

A soft groan pulled his attention. You stirred, blinking yourself awake. Your eyes met his, and for a brief second, you were confused before a brief realization washed over you.

Gojou’s grin returned. “Comfortable, aren’t we?”

You sat up slowly, rubbing at your eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Figured I’d let you rest. After all, you’ve had a rough day.”

Your hand instinctively went to your side, where the old bandages had been replaced by fresh ones. “Yeah, you could say that.”

He stood up, crossing the room slowly until he was leaning against the bedpost, staring down at you. “Care to explain why there might be a bounty on your pretty little head?”

“I... I don’t know. I didn’t think anyone would care enough to put a bounty on me.”

“Oh, someone cares. Makes me wonder... why you?”

All you could do was shrug.

“It's probably about the map, but then again, I took care of all those men who you told about it.” He grinned.

…

“My mother,” you began quietly. “She died when I was young.”

Gojou’s grin faltered slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She was killed. And after that, my father... He just sort of fell apart. He wasn’t the same. He couldn’t cope with losing her, and everything went downhill after that. He became distant, cold, like he was barely living anymore. My best guess is maybe it was him, but I don’t think so. He shouldn’t know that I’m gone.”

“Well, for now, you stay on the ship when we dock. I will have Suguru look into it and for the love of god, Don’t bring any attention to yourself.”

Gojou sighed and then continued, “But you know what? You made it this far.”

“Yeah. I guess I have.”

“And now you’re stuck with me. Lucky you.”

“Lucky me, huh?”

“Damn right.”

“You’ve got me, the best captain there is. What more could you ask for?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know. Maybe some peace and quiet for once.”

Gojo snorted. “Not gonna happen. You’re on my ship now.”

He leaned down closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You’re safe here, you know. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his words. “Why?”

“Because I’m the crazy bastard who gets to decide who lives and who dies. And I’ve decided you get to stick around.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Get used to it, sweetheart. You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

As he straightened up and headed back toward his desk, you watched him, still trying to make sense of the man in front of you. He was wild, unpredictable, and more than a little insane, but there was something else there too. 

And as you lay back down, letting sleep overtake you once more, you couldn’t help but wonder just what you’d gotten yourself into with Captain Satoru Gojou.

Gojou sat back at his desk, glancing over at you as you drifted back to sleep. He didn’t know why, but there was something about you that got under his skin. And that, more than anything, was what scared him the most.

A few hours later, you woke up in the dead of the night. The cabin was quiet, save for the faint creaking of the ship. Your body ached, but the bead beneath you was comfortable. Your eyes began adjusting to the darkness and beside you, you saw Gojou.

He was slumped in the chair at his desk, his head resting against the back, arms crossed over his chest. Even in the dim light room, you could make out the tousled mess of white hair falling over his face and the rise and fall of his chest.

He looked peaceful, almost too peaceful for the man he was.

You slowly sat up, trying to not make too much noise as you climbed out of the bed. Your legs were a but shaky as you walked over to him, but you managed to kneel beside his chair and gently shake his shoulder.

"Gojo, wake up."

He began to stir as his brows furrowed in confusion before his eyes fluttered open.

"Well, this is a nice way to wake up," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. "Something on your mind, sweetheart?"

"You can have your bed back. I’ll go sleep in my bunk."

Gojo straightened up in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before fixing you with a lazy smirk. "Oh? You’re kicking me out of my bed now? How generous of you."

"I’m serious," you said, standing up and gesturing toward the bed. "You need to get some real sleep, and this chair isn’t going to cut it."

"I’m serious," you said, standing up and gesturing toward the bed. "You need to get some real sleep, and this chair isn’t going to cut it."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I’ll be fine. You’re the one who got banged up on that island. You need a decent bed to rest in, not some uncomfortable bunk."

"I’m fine," you argued, crossing your arms over your chest. "You’re the captain, right? You should be sleeping in your own bed, not stuck in some chair."

Gojou tilted his head, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "And what kind of captain would I be if I let my injured guest sleep in a bunk while I take the bed?"

"Well, I’m not letting you sleep in the chair again. We can... share the bed. It’s big enough."

His eyebrows shot up, his grin widening at your suggestion. "Oh, really? Sharing a bed already? My, my, you work fast."

Heat rushed to your cheeks at his teasing, and you turned your back on him. "Don’t make it weird, Gojou. You know what I meant."

He let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. "I’m just teasing. But, if you insist..." He stood up from the chair, stretching out his long limbs before walking over to the bed.

Before you could climb back in, though, he paused, glancing down at your clothes. "You’re still in your day clothes. You’re not seriously going to sleep in those, are you?"

You glanced down at yourself, realizing he was right. Your blouse and pants were wrinkled, and they weren’t comfortable sleeping.

"I don’t have anything else to wear.”

He walked over to his wardrobe, rummaging through it before pulling out one of his white shirts. He tossed it to you, the fabric soft and worn from years of use.

"Here. Wear this. It’ll be more comfortable than what you’ve got on."

You caught the shirt, eyeing it warily. Though it was clean enough, it smelled faintly of saltwater and something uniquely him. Still, you hesitated, glancing over at him.

"Turn around," you demanded, narrowing your eyes.

Gojo let out a dramatic sigh, clearly reveling in your embarrassment. "Oh, come on. It’s not like I haven’t seen a—"

"Turn around.”

"Alright, alright. No need to get all shy on me. I’m just trying to help."

Rolling your eyes, you quickly changed out of your clothes and into the shirt. It was far too big on you, the sleeves hanging loosely around your arms, but it was soft and comfortable. You couldn’t deny that it felt better than your day clothes.

"Okay, you can turn around now.”

"I have to say, you look pretty good in my shirt."

You scoffed, climbing back into bed. "Don’t push your luck."

Without another word, he slid into the bed beside you, keeping a respectful distance. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, but the bed was big enough that there was plenty of space between you.

It didn’t take long for sleep to claim you again.

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the warmth of the bed. The second thing you noticed was that Gojou was still asleep beside you.

He was lying on his back, one arm draped across his chest while the other rested above his head. Careful not to disturb him, you slipped out of bed, your bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. You quickly changed out of his shirt and back into your clothes, glancing over at him every few seconds to make sure he didn’t wake up.

Once you were dressed, you hesitated by the door, your hand resting on the handle.

With a quiet sigh, you opened the door and slipped out of the room, leaving him behind.

Gojo woke up a short while later, his eyes fluttering open as the sunlight streamed in through the small window. He stretched lazily, blinking as he realized he was still in bed.

He glanced over at the spot beside him, where you had been sleeping just hours before. The sheets were still warm, but you were gone.

A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. Strangely, he was disappointed. He hadn’t expected you to stay, but for some reason, he’d hoped you might.

"Guess I’ll have to track her down later," he muttered. "Can’t have her running off too far, can I?"

What is he going to do with you?

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

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[corusvants]

THE GREAT WAR.

♱ genre. tragedy, WWI au, 18+

♱ summary. in the midst of world war I, satoru gojou drafted and sent off to the western front, leaving behind the love of his life with the promise of marrying her when he returned. he clings to the thoughts of a future with her and the letters she sends him in hopes of reuniting with her.

♱ pairings. satoru gojou, fem!reader

♱ word count. 8k

♱ tags/warnings. violence, suggestive content, major character death, profanity, mentions of drug use, weapon use, + more

♱ notes. this wasn't meant to be long or anything or fully fleshed out but i decided to share it anyways. i lowkey hate this but what can i say. i also made myself upset because of course i did. anyways likes and rb's always appreciated :)

December 1, 1917

My Dearest Love,

I hope my letter reaches you before we move further down the front and getting letters out becomes harder. I hope you’re sound asleep in our bed, enjoying dreamland with Charlie. 

I wanted to let you know that I think of you every day. I keep replaying our last night together in my mind. It was so precious, and I wish I could be there with you now. We talked about our future together. Even now, even here, I still dream of that future. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.

This war has shown me things I can’t forget, things I’ll never forget. I worry for Suguru too as he’s losing himself. Baby I can’t lie to you, it’s hard out here. If something happens to me and I don’t make it back, please remember how much I love you. I love you more than words can say. 

Please stay strong for me, my love. I’ll hold onto the hope that we’ll be together again someday.

With all my love,

Satoru

May 18, 1917

The radio crackles faintly as you twist the dial, trying to find the right station. The sound of distorted voices filled the small living room of your home. You are sitting on the worn couch that you and Satoru had spent countless nights on, talking about everything and nothing. Satoru sits beside you with his arm draped over your shoulders, his hand resting on your upper arm, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles on your skin. It’s a small gesture, one that he’s done a thousand times before, but tonight it feels… different.

You finally find the station you’ve been looking for, and the voice on the radio comes through, clear and steady.

“…the President has announced that the United States will be joining the war in Europe. All eligible men between the ages of 21 and 30 are to be drafted into military service…”

You freeze at the words, like a winter chill had seeped into your bones. You feel a sharp, involuntary intake of breath, your hand tightening around the knob of the radio as if holding on to it will somehow keep the world from spinning out of control.

“They’re really doing it,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry, and force yourself to speak. “We talked about this, but…” The words feel strange on your tongue as if they belong to someone else. “Hearing it…hearing it makes it real.”

Satoru nods, but he doesn’t say anything.

Finally, he speaks, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What are we going to do?”

The question hangs in the air, unanswered, because you don’t know the answer. How could you? You want to say something, anything, to reassure him, to reassure yourself, but the words would not come. Instead, you reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his, holding on as tightly as you can, as if it might somehow keep the world from falling apart.

Satoru’s grip tightens around yours, and for a moment, you can feel the fear in him, the uncertainty. You’ve always known him as strong and always in control, but now, in this moment, he’s just as lost as you are.

“We’ll figure it out, baby. I promise,” He whispered.

Satoru pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. You breathed in the familiar scent of him, trying to memorize every detail as if it was the last time you would ever get to hold him like this. His lips press against the top of your head, a gentle, lingering kiss that speaks of promises made and promises that will be broken.

June 3, 1917

Tomorrow is the day that Satoru is set to leave for the Western front.

The golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the windows, casting long, melancholy shadows across the bedroom. It was a room you had filled with so many memories—laughter, love, late-night conversations that had lasted until the early hours of the morning. But now, the only thing that seemed to be there was a half-packed duffel bag lying open on the bed.

You stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching as Satoru moved about the room gathering the the last couple of items he would need. He was quiet the entire time he packed his bags. You could see the way his shoulders were stiff and the subtle tremor in his hands as he reached for another piece of clothing.

Between the two of you, Satoru had always been the strong one. The one who could face anything with a smile, it was the thing that had drawn you to him in the first place.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He paused at the sound of your voice, his hands hovering over the duffel bag. Slowly, he turned to face you, His eyes met yours, and in them, you saw the fear he was trying so hard to hide.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Satoru finally admitted, his voice rough, like it had been scraped raw from holding back so much. “I don’t know how to leave you.”

His confession broke something inside of you like a dam of emotions had finally been let loose. Before you knew it, you were across the room, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you could, burying your face in his chest. His arms came around you instantly, pulling you close, holding on as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” you whispered. “Not with me.”

“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words muffled against your hair. “I’m so scared, and I hate that I’m leaving you and Charlie like this.”

Your heart ached at his words. It was a side of him he rarely showed anyone, even you.  You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m scared too.”

“Do you remember the first time we talked about the war?” Satoru asked suddenly.

You nodded, remembering the day that the news had broke about the conflict in Europe. It was just another story on the radio, something that had felt so far away. The two of you had been sitting in the same room, listening to the same radio, with your hands entwined talking about the life you wanted to build together.

“It felt like something that could never touch us. Like it was happening in another world, to people we’d never know.”

Satoru sighed, “And now, it’s all too real.”

When you looked up at him, you could see the same look in his eyes that you had seen when the draft letter first arrived.

You felt your tears start to fall as you reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of his features, trying to commit them to memory. “So do I,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “But no matter what happens, I’ll be here when you come back. I’ll be waiting for you.”

​​Satoru closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. I’m going to miss you so much,” he murmured. “Every single day.”

You pulled him down into a kiss, slow and lingering, pouring all of your love, your fear, your hope into that one moment, trying to convey everything you couldn’t put into words. Satoru’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that made your heart ache once more.

“I love you,” you could hear him say as he continued to latch his mouth onto yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Without breaking the kiss, Satoru guided you towards the bed, his hands moving to your waist as he lifted you, laying you down gently on the mattress. The duffel bag was pushed to the side, forgotten for now, as he climbed on top of you, his body pressing down against yours, relishing the taste of his buttery lips on yours.

June 4, 1917

“Are you ready?” His voice broke the silence.

You turned to face him, your throat tight with the words you wanted to say but couldn’t find. Instead, you nodded, though nothing about you felt ready—least of all your heart.

Satoru approached you slowly as if he wasn’t sure how to comfort you without breaking down. His warm hand reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“You know I have to do this,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s my duty. I can’t—”

“Please don’t go,” you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Your voice cracked, you were desperate to make him stay. You knew you were asking the impossible, that no matter how much you begged, he couldn’t stay. But the thought of losing him, of not knowing if he would ever come back, was too much to bear.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he could shield you from the reality you had both come to face.

“I wish I could stay,” he murmured against your hair. “More than anything, I wish I could stay here with you. But I have to go. I have to.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his uniform as if you could keep him there, with you, if you just held on tight enough. “But what if you don’t come back? What if—”

“I will come back.” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, the look almost pleading. “I promise you, baby, I will come back. And when I do, I’m going to marry you, and we’ll have that life we always talked about. We’ll have a family, a home...everything.”

“What if something happens?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What if—”

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice was gentle, and soothing, as he cupped your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that were now streaming down your cheeks. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ll be careful, I’ll keep my head down, and I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

His words were meant to comfort you, but they only made the pain worse. Because deep down, no matter how much he promised, there was no guarantee that he would come back. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that. So instead, you nodded, forcing yourself to believe, if only for his sake. “Promise me you’ll write,” you said, your voice trembling. “Every chance you get.”

“I will,” he assured you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Every chance I get, I’ll write to you. And I want you to write to me too, okay? Tell me everything, don’t leave anything out. I want to know everything that’s going on with you, no matter how small it might seem.”

You nodded again, a small, shaky smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I will. I promise.”

Satoru sighed, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I have to go.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. Satoru gave you one last, long look as if trying to memorize every detail of your face before he finally turned and picked up his duffel bag.

You walked the man you love to the door, your steps were slow, each one feeling like a goodbye. When you reached the threshold, Satoru stopped, turning to face you one last time. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was full of everything you couldn’t say—fear, hope, love, and the desperate need to hold on to this moment, to him, for as long as you could. When he finally pulled away, you could see the tears in his eyes, tears he was trying so hard to hold back.

“I’ll see you soon.”

And then he was gone, walking out the door and down the path that led to the street, where a car was waiting to take him to the docks. You stood in the doorway, watching as he walked away. When he reached the car, he turned back one last time, raising his hand in a small wave, a sad smile on his lips.

You raised your hand in return, your vision blurred by tears, your body shaking with the force of the sobs you were holding back. And then he was gone, the car driving away, taking him further and further from you, until he was just a speck on the horizon, and then nothing at all.

Finally, when you couldn’t stand it any longer, you sank to the floor, your body shaking with sobs that you could no longer hold back. You cried for what felt like an eternity with Charlie at your side, your tears soaking into the wood beneath you, your cries echoing in the empty house. 

When you finally had no tears left, when your body was too exhausted to cry anymore, you lay there, curled up on the floor, clutching the memory of Satoru close to your heart, the only thing you had left of him.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” you whispered into the silence, your voice hoarse from crying. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here when you come back.”

September 7, 1917

My Dearest Satoru,

I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I wish more than anything that I could be there with you, to hold your hand and tell you that everything will be okay. But since I can’t, I’m sending you all the love I have, wrapped up in these words.

Life here is quiet without you. The days seem longer, and the nights feel emptier, but I’m doing my best to keep busy. I’ve been tending to our plants you always loved, you won’t believe how much they’ve grown! The roses have bloomed beautifully this year, and I think of you every time I see them. I imagine you coming home and us standing together in the kitchen, just like we used to, with Charlie at our feet.

Speaking of Charlie, he’s been such a comfort to me in your absence. He’s still the same playful pup, always chasing his tail and trying to catch the birds that come too close. But I think he misses you just as much as I do. Sometimes, he will sit by the door, staring out as if he is waiting for you to walk through it. I take him on long walks, and every time we pass by the places we used to go together, he pulls at the leash, looking around as if he expects to see you there. I can’t help but smile and cry a little at the same time. He’s such a good dog, Satoru, and I know he’ll be so happy to see you when you come home.

I dream about the day you’ll come home, the day we’ll finally be together again. I dream of the life we’ll have, the family we’ll build, all the things we talked about before you left. And until that day comes, I’ll be here, waiting for you, loving you with everything I have. I’ll keep writing to you, and I hope that these letters bring you some comfort, some reminder of the life waiting for you here.

Please take care of yourself, Satoru. Stay safe, stay strong, and know that I’m counting down the days until you return. I love you more than words can say, and I’m so proud of you. Come back to us soon.

With all my love,

Y/N

October 12, 1917

The train clacked along the tracks, the noise doing little to soothe the nerves of the men inside. Satoru was sat by the window, his thoughts a thousand miles away.

Satoru’s hand slipped into his pocket, fingers closing around the worn edges of a small, creased photograph. He pulled it out, his eyes softening as he looked at the image of the woman who had captured his heart. Your eyes held all the warmth of a summer day, and your smile—oh, that smile—was the beacon that guided him. He could almost hear your voice, talking about the latest gossip or news.

As the train jolted along the tracks, Satoru’s thoughts drifted back to the last time he had seen you, the way you had clung to him, the way your tears soaked his uniform as you begged him not to go.

A soft voice broke through his reverie, pulling him back to the present. “Is that your wife?”

Satoru glanced up to see the soldier sitting next to him, a young man barely out of his teens, with wide, innocent eyes. He was looking at the photograph in Satoru’s hand with curiosity.

Satoru managed a small, bittersweet smile, his thumb brushing over the face of the woman in the photograph. “No,” he replied softly. “We never got the chance to marry.”

The young soldier’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Satoru sighed, leaning back against the hard, uncomfortable seat. His gaze drifted back to the photograph. “I was going to,” he began, his voice distant as he spoke, almost as if he were talking more to himself than to the young soldier beside him. “We talked about it, even picked out a date... But then the war came, and everything changed. I didn’t want to leave her, but there wasn’t enough time.”

He paused, his eyes clouding with the memories of that fateful day. The tears in your eyes as you pleaded with him to stay to marry you. But he had refused, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you a widow, of making you wait for a man who might never come back. It had been the hardest decision of his life, and now, as he sat on this train bound for the front lines, he wondered if he had made the right one.

“She must be something special,” he said quietly.

“She is,” Satoru replied, his voice softening as he thought of you. “She’s everything. The strongest, most loving person I’ve ever known. She’s the reason I’m doing this, the reason I’m still standing.”

He fell silent, his mind drifting back to the countless nights the two of you had spent talking about your future. You had dreamed of growing old together, maybe moving out to the countryside and live in a little house.

“What’s her name?” the young soldier asked, his voice pulling Satoru back from his thoughts.

“Y/N,” Satoru said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he spoke your name. “She’s waiting for me to come back.”

“You’ll make it back to her. I know you will.”

Satoru nodded, though deep down, he wasn’t so sure. 

The train jerked to a stop, the shrill whistle signaling their arrival at the next station. The soldiers began to stand, gathering their gear as they prepared to disembark. Satoru carefully folded the photograph and slipped it back into his pocket, close to his heart, where it belonged.

​​As he stepped off the train, the cold air hit him like a slap in the face. The station was a bleak and desolate place filled with soldiers. Satoru pulled his coat tighter around him, his eyes scanning the crowd, searching for something, anything, that would remind him of home.

But there was nothing.

He glanced back at the train, at the young soldier who had spoken to him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, then the young soldier raised his hand and, in a small almost hesitant wave said, “Take care of yourself!”

Satoru nodded, though he couldn’t bring himself to say the words in return. He turned and began walking, the weight of his rifle heavy on his shoulder.

The journey to the front lines was grueling, to put it lightly. It was something that tested the physical and mental limits of every man in the company. The landscape was a reflection of the war: the fields now lay barren, scarred by craters and the remnants of past battles. Trees stood like charred skeletons against the gray sky, their branches reaching out like twisted fingers. It was a place that seemed to exist outside of time, where the seasons had no hold.

Satoru walked near the front of the column, though his thoughts were universes away. He had stopped trying to make sense of the war around him, instead, his mind clung to the thought of his girlfriend and his home. Every so often, his hand would drift to his pocket, where the photograph of his beloved remained safely tucked away. It was his anchor, the one thing that kept him grounded in a world that seemed to have lost all meaning.

Throughout the journey, there were brief breaks from the march. Moments where men could catch their breath and rest their sore legs. During these breaks, the sliders would drop to the ground wherever they could find space. Some lit cigarettes, the tiny glowing embers flickering in the dim light, while others simply stared into the distance.

Satoru usually found a spot a little apart from the others, leaning against the trunk of a withered tree or sitting on a flat rock. Once on a break, the company rested by the narrow road that cut through a ruined village. Satoru found himself staring at the crumbling remains of a church. The steeple had collapsed, the once-proud structure now reduced to a pile of rubble. A few scattered graves dotted the ground nearby, their markers leaning at odd angles as if they, too, had given up the fight against the ravages of war.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of voices approaching from down the road. Another company was making its way toward them, the soldiers’ weary faces reflecting the same one that Satoru saw on his men. 

Satoru glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar faces. Most of the men looked just as worn and weary as his own comrades, their uniforms stained with mud. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure that made him pause, his heart skipping a beat. 

It couldn’t be—but it was.

Suguru Getou stood a little apart from the rest of his company, his back against the remnants of a low stone wall. He was staring off into the distance, seemingly unaware of the world around him, lost in thoughts that Satoru could only guess at. His face was thinner than Satoru remembered, his features more drawn, but there was no mistaking those sharp, dark eyes, or the way his long, black hair fell in loose strands around his face.

For a moment, Satoru was frozen in place. He hadn’t seen Suguru since before the war before they had been sent away from their families and to different parts of the front. Suguru had been sent to the front lines before Satoru did and Satoru had often wondered if he was even still alive, if he had somehow managed to survive on the front lines. 

Now, seeing him here, in the flesh, was both a shock and a relief.

“Suguru,” Satoru called out, his voice breaking the silence between them.

Suguru’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as they focused on Satoru. For a moment, there was no recognition in his gaze, just the cold, hard stare of a soldier who had seen too much. But then something shifted in Suguru’s expression, and his eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Satoru, you bastard,” Suguru replied, pushing himself away from the wall and making his way over to where Satoru stood. There was a moment of hesitation as if they weren’t quite sure how to greet each other after all this time, but then Satoru reached out and clapped a hand on Suguru’s shoulder.

“Still alive, huh?”

“Barely. It’s good to see you, Satoru.”

“And you,” Satoru said.

Suguru’s gaze then drifted to the photograph clutched in Satoru’s hand. “Is that her?” he asked quietly, nodding toward the picture.

Satoru followed his gaze, his expression softening as he looked down at the image of the woman he loved. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s the one keeping me sane out here.”

Suguru nodded, his expression unreadable as he looked at the photograph. “You’re lucky, you know,” he said after a moment. “Not everyone has someone to go home to.”

“And you? How are you holding up?”

Suguru shrugged. “I’m still here,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters, right?”

Satoru wanted to say something, to offer some kind of comfort or reassurance, but the words wouldn’t come. What could he say that would make any of this easier? What could he offer that would ease the burden they both carried?

After a while, the call to move out came, and the soldiers began to gather their gear, preparing to resume their march to the front lines.

“Take care of yourself, Suguru.”

“And you, Satoru,” Suguru replied, his expression softening for just a moment. “We’ll see each other again. We have to.”

As the two companies parted ways, Satoru glanced back one last time, watching as Suguru’s figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance. He slipped the photograph back into his pocket, his fingers lingering on it for just a moment too long.

December 1, 1917

The trenches were a whole other world themselves. They were a labyrinth of mud, blood, and despair that stretched across the landscape like a festering wound. Satoru had been there for weeks now, but time had lost all meaning. Day and night blurred together into an endless cycle of fear and exhaustion. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay, a sickly smell that clung to everything, seeping into the very pores of his skin. 

Satoru had never imagined that war could be like this. He had heard stories, of course—everyone had—but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of life in the trenches. The constant threat of death, the gnawing hunger—it was a living nightmare, a hell on earth from which there was no escape.

He had lost count of how many men had fallen, their bodies left to rot in the no man's land between the trenches. Friends, comrades, men he had shared laughs and meals with—they were all gone now, their lives snuffed out in an instant by a stray bullet or a well-placed shell. And with each death, a piece of Satoru died with them, his heart growing harder, his soul more numb.

At first, he tried to keep up the letters, pouring his thoughts and fears into the carefully penned words he sent back to you. He had written about the camaraderie among the men, the small moments of joy they found amid the horror, and the hope that one day, this war would end and they would be together again. He had clung to that hope, letting it buoy him up when the darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the words had become harder and harder to find. What could he possibly say to her now, after all he had seen, after all he had done? How could he put into words the horrors that haunted his every waking moment, the nightmares that chased him even in the few moments of sleep he managed to get?

He had started a dozen letters, each one more difficult than the last. He would sit in the dim light of the trench, his hands trembling as he tried to hold the pen steady, the paper before him smudged with dirt and blood. But the words wouldn’t come. Every time he tried to write, the memories would flood back—images of shattered bodies, of men screaming in pain, of the deafening roar of the guns that never seemed to stop. And then he would see your face, smiling up at him from the photograph he kept tucked inside his jacket, and the guilt would crash over him like a wave, drowning him in its icy grip.

How could he write to her about any of this? How could he tell her about the nightmares that kept him awake at night, the fear that gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog? How could he explain that he wasn’t the same man who had left her behind all those months ago, that the war had changed him in ways he could never have imagined?

Satoru had never felt so alone.

The men around him were suffering just as he was, but there was a wall between them now, an invisible barrier that kept him apart from the others. They still laughed, still shared stories and jokes to pass the time, but Satoru found himself withdrawing more and more, retreating into the silence of his own mind. He couldn’t bring himself to join in their conversations, couldn’t find the strength to pretend that everything was okay when nothing was okay.

It was during one of these quiet moments, when the guns had fallen that Satoru found himself staring at the photograph again. He traced the outline of your face with his thumb, the edges of the picture worn and frayed from being handled so often. You looked so happy, so full of life—everything that he wasn’t anymore. He wondered if she would even recognize him when this was all over if he ever made it out of this hell alive.

The thought made his chest tighten, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart. What if he didn’t make it back? What if this was where his story ended, in a cold, muddy trench on the other side of the world? Would she remember him as the man he used to be, or would she forget him altogether, moving on with her life as if he had never existed?

He shoved the photograph back into his pocket, the thoughts too painful to bear. He needed to write to her, to tell her how much he loved her, how much he missed her, but the words refused to come. The pen felt heavy in his hand, the paper staring back at him like an accusation.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see one of the other soldiers, a young man named Thomas, standing over him. Thomas had joined their company a few weeks ago, fresh-faced and full of energy, but the war had already taken its toll on him. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollow, and there was a haunted look in his gaze that Satoru recognized all too well.

“Hey,” Thomas said, his voice rough from disuse. “You alright, Satoru?”

Satoru nodded, though he didn’t trust himself to speak. He knew that if he opened his mouth, the words that would spill out would be anything but alright.

Thomas glanced down at the paper in Satoru’s lap, the empty lines stark against the dirty page. “Having trouble writing?”

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to say anymore.”

“It’s hard,” he said quietly. “Hard to find the words when everything around you is…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the trench, at the world beyond it. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be about all this,” he continued after a moment. “Maybe just…tell her you miss her. Tell her you’re thinking about her. Sometimes, that’s enough.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Satoru whispered.

Thomas crouched down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You can,” he said firmly. “You have to. For her. For you.”

He knew Thomas was right—he had to find the strength to write to her, to keep that connection alive, no matter how difficult it was. Because if he lost that, if he let the war take that from him too, there would be nothing left.

With a deep breath, Satoru picked up the pen again, his hand still trembling. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, his thoughts a jumble of emotions and memories, before finally, the words began to flow.

They weren’t perfect, and they certainly didn’t capture everything he was feeling, but they were honest. He wrote about how much he missed her, how he thought of her every day, and how the memory of her smile was the only thing keeping him sane. He told her about the men he was serving with, about the small moments of kindness and he told her that no matter how dark things got, he would find his way back to her.

By the time he finished, his hand was aching, and the paper was smudged with dirt and sweat, but the weight on his chest had lifted just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

The war had taken so much from him, had stripped him of his innocence, his peace of mind, and so many of the men he had called friends. But it hadn’t taken her. Not yet.

And as long as he had her, as long as there was still a chance that he could hold her in his arms again, he would keep fighting. He would keep going, one day at a time, one step at a time, until this nightmare was over.

Because he had to believe that there was still a future out there, a future where the two of them could be together, away from the mud and the blood and the death. A future where they could build the life they had dreamed of, where he could make good on all the promises he had whispered to her in the dark.

Satoru clutched the letter to his chest for a moment, closing his eyes and letting himself imagine that future—a small house, a warm fire, your laughter filling the air. It was a dream, maybe a foolish one, but it was all he had left to hold on to.

When he finally opened his eyes, the trench seemed a little less dark, the air a little less suffocating. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Satoru allowed himself to believe that he would make it through this, that he would survive this war and return to the woman he loved.

December 25, 1917

My Dearest Satoru,

Merry Christmas, my love. I wish I could say that it feels like the holiday season here, but without you by my side, it all seems so different. The tree in the living room is smaller this year, just a simple little thing I picked up from the market. I decorated it with the old ornaments we’ve collected over the years, though they don’t shine as brightly without you here to admire them.

Charlie and I spent the day together. He’s grown so much since you last saw him, you wouldn’t believe it! He still waits by the door every evening, his ears perked up like he’s expecting you to walk through any moment. I think he misses you almost as much as I do. We went for a long walk this morning, just the two of us. The air was crisp and cold, and there was a light dusting of snow on the ground. It reminded me of the first Christmas we spent together when you insisted on making snow angels and pulling me into that ridiculous snowball fight. I laughed so hard that day, and I haven’t laughed quite the same way since you left.

I cooked a small dinner tonight—nothing fancy, just some of your favorite dishes. I set a place for you at the table, even though I knew you wouldn’t be there to fill it. I like to think that, wherever you are, you can feel the warmth of home and know that you’re always in my thoughts. The house is quiet now, almost too quiet. I find myself talking to you sometimes, as if you were still here with me, sitting in your favorite chair with that mischievous smile of yours. I can almost hear your voice, teasing me, comforting me, telling me that everything will be alright.

But it’s hard, Satoru. It’s so hard being here without you, especially on days like this when the world seems so full of love and joy, and all I can think about is how much I miss you. I try to be strong, for you, for us, but there are moments when the loneliness is overwhelming. I lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering where you are if you’re safe if you’re thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of you.

I know I shouldn’t burden you with my worries, especially when you’re facing so much over there. But I promised you that I would always be honest with you, and the truth is my love, I miss you more than words can say. I miss your laughter, your touch, the way you would pull me close when the world felt too big and frightening. I miss the sound of your voice, the warmth of your arms around me, the simple comfort of knowing that you were near.

I don’t know what this Christmas is like for you, if you’ve had a moment of peace, or if the war continues to rage on, even on this holy day. But I want you to know that I’m here, waiting for you, loving you with all my heart.

Until that day comes, I’ll hold on to the memories we’ve made, and I’ll keep you in my heart, always. I’ll keep sending you my love, in every letter, in every thought, in every prayer. And I’ll be here, waiting for the day when you come home to me.

Merry Christmas, Satoru. I love you more than words could ever express.

Yours always and forever,

Y/N

January 1918

The flickering light of the oil lamp cast shadows on the rough, earthen walls of the trench as Satoru unfolded the letter with trembling hands. The cold bit at his fingers, but the warmth of her words was all he felt. He leaned back against the wooden planks, his breath visible in the frigid air, and began to re

He could almost see her, sitting by the small tree, Charlie at her feet, the house filled with the scent of pine and home-cooked food. The image was so vivid that he could hear the crackle of the fire, feel the softness of your hand in his, and taste the warmth of the cocoa you always made too sweet.

When he finished the letter, he folded it carefully, placing it back into the envelope before tucking it into his jacket, close to his heart. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, trying to hold on to the image of her, of home, for just a little longer.

"Someday," he whispered to himself, "I’ll go back to you."

But that "someday" felt so far away.

Satoru was exhausted. He was so exhausted. And despite the cold and the ever-present danger, Satoru found himself drifting off to sleep. He dreamed of you and Charlie, of a small house and a garden, a real one, and maybe a little one.

But that dream was shattered all too quickly.

The ground shook violently, and Satoru was yanked from his sleep by the deafening roar of artillery fire. The once-peaceful night had erupted into chaos. He scrambled to his feet, the world around him a blur of noise and confusion. Mud and debris rained down as shells exploded nearby, turning the trench into a hellscape of smoke and fire.

"Satoru! Get up!" A voice yelled from somewhere in the darkness, but it was nearly drowned out by the barrage.

His heart raced as he grabbed his rifle, instincts taking over. The letter, the warmth of her words, the image of her waiting for him—all of it was shoved to the back of his mind as survival became his only focus. He could barely see through the smoke, but he knew what was coming.

"Over the top! They’re coming!"

Satoru fought desperately alongside his comrades. The world had become a blur of smoke, fire, and the metallic scent of blood. He barely felt the cold anymore—only the burning need to survive, to push through the horror and get back to the life he had left behind.

But even as he fired his rifle, the enemy pushing ever closer, a gnawing fear settled deep in his chest. It wasn’t the fear of dying, though that was always there, lurking beneath the surface. It was the fear of breaking his promise to her, of never seeing her again, never holding her in his arms, never telling her one last time how much he loved her.

Suddenly, a blinding light flashed to his right—a mortar shell exploding far too close. The force of it threw him to the ground, his head slamming against the hard earth. Everything went dark for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, the world was spinning. He could barely hear over the ringing in his ears, his vision blurry as he struggled to push himself up.

But before he could regain his bearings, he felt a sharp pain in his side, followed by a searing heat that spread across his body. He looked down, his hand coming away sticky with blood. Panic surged through him as he realized the wound was deep, too deep.

"Satoru!" someone shouted, but it felt distant as if it were coming from another world.

He tried to move, tried to fight, but his body wouldn’t respond. His strength was draining away, the edges of his vision darkening as the pain grew overwhelming. He reached for the photo in his pocket, fumbling with weak fingers until he could pull it out. The edges were crumpled, dirtied from being carried with him through every battle, but her face was still there, smiling up at him.

"I’m sorry baby…" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of battle. He wasn’t sure if the words were meant for her or himself, but they were all he could manage.

As he lay there, the sounds of war fading into the background, another soldier—a younger man from his company—dropped to his knees beside Satoru. The man was injured, blood seeping from a wound in his leg, but his focus was entirely on Satoru.

"No… no, no, no," the soldier muttered, his voice choked with panic. He saw the wound, saw the blood, and knew there was nothing he could do. "Satoru, stay with me, please!"

Satoru’s grip on the photo loosened, and the young soldier gently took it from him, his hands shaking. He saw the woman in the picture, the one Satoru had talked about so often, and his heart sank. "Is… is this her?"

Satoru nodded weakly, the effort taking everything he had left. He tried to speak, to say her name, to tell the soldier to take care of her, but the words wouldn’t come. His chest felt tight, every breath a struggle.

"Don’t worry, I’ll… I’ll make sure she knows," the soldier promised, though his voice cracked with the weight of it. He fumbled with Satoru’s jacket, pulling out the dog tags, and pressed them into his own pocket, along with the photo. "I’ll tell her… everything."

Satoru’s vision darkened further, the world slipping away from him. All he could see was her face, all he could think about was the future they had dreamed of. But that future was fading, slipping through his fingers like sand.

"I’m sorry," he whispered one last time before the darkness took him completely.

Weeks passed, though they felt like an eternity. The war continued on, but Satoru’s company was eventually pulled back from the front lines, many of them injured, exhausted, or worse. The young soldier who had taken Satoru’s photo was among those who were discharged, his leg injury severe enough to send him home. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the weight he carried in his heart.

When the company finally reached the docks, it was a scene of bittersweet reunions. Families and loved ones gathered, waiting anxiously for a glimpse of their soldiers. You were among them, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the crowd, searching desperately for Satoru’s familiar face.

But you couldn’t find him.

The minutes dragged on, and panic began to set in. Where was he? Had something happened? You tried to reassure yourself, telling yourself that he would appear any moment, that he was just delayed, that everything was fine.

Then you saw a man hobbling toward you on crutches, his face pale and drawn. You recongnized the man as in the letters Satoru had described him as a friend, a comrade. But where was Satoru? Why wasn’t he with him?

Your breath caught in your throat as the soldier stopped in front of you, his eyes filled with a sorrow that made your blood run cold. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled photograph, the one you had given to Satoru before he left. And then, with trembling hands, he held out Satoru’s dog tags.

"I’m so sorry," the soldier said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "He… he didn’t make it."

The world around you seemed to crumble, the ground shifting beneath your feet as the words sank in. You stared at the photo, and the dog tags, unable to comprehend what he was saying. It couldn’t be true. Satoru had promised you. He had promised he would come back.

"No…" The word fell from your lips, your voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes. "No, he… he promised…"

The soldier reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder, but the gesture did nothing to comfort you. "He loved you so much," he said softly, his own eyes filling with tears. "He… he talked about you all the time. Right up until…"

You didn’t let him finish. The pain in your chest was too much to bear, and the sobs broke free, your body shaking as you clutched the photograph to your chest. The world around you blurred, the sounds of the docks fading away as all you could think about was him—his smile, his laugh, the way he had held you that last night before he left.

He was gone. Satoru was gone.

The soldier stayed with you, his own heart breaking as he watched you fall to your knees, your cries of grief echoing through the crowd. But there was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do to ease the pain of your loss.

And so the war took one more life, one more love story cut short by the horrors of battle. The future you had dreamed of, the life you had planned, was gone—lost in the mud and blood of a distant country.

All that remained were memories and the cold, hard reality that he would never come home to you.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[corusvants]

I GOT ZAYNES BIRTHDAY CARDD WOOOOOO

[corusvants]

CIGARETTES AND WHISKY CHAPTER TWO

↳ satoru gojou x suguru getou x reader

genre — angst, fluff, modern au, cowboys, 18+ 

word count — 7.7k

tags/warnings — drug use (smoking), profanity, alcohol, sexual tension (i’m sorry), minor sexual content (its nothing tbh)

notes — so i've decided to keep this theme because it's growing on me. anyways some things happen unlike cursed seas where i can't get to the damn point but here we are. anyways enjoy some sexual tension because i can’t help myself and as always thank you for the love and rb’s are always appreciated :)

prev. welcome to lone star ranch | next. (coming soon)

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of your room, casting a golden hue over the worn wooden floorboards. The ranch was still quiet, the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves outside and the distant chirping of birds greeting the dawn. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, stretching in bed as you tried to shake off the soreness from sleep.

You threw on your work clothes which consisted of denim and a flannel, a comfortable fit that had quickly become your uniform since arriving at the ranch. As you laced up your boots, you could hear the faint sounds of the ranch waking up—the low hum of voices in the distance, the clatter of metal against metal as someone prepared the morning’s feed, the soft snorts and whinnies of the horses in the stables.

Stepping outside, you were greeted by the crisp morning air. You took a deep breath, savoring the clean, earthy scent of the ranch—the smell of hay, leather, and the faint scent of sweat and dirt.

You headed toward the stables, your boots crunching on the gravel path as you walked. The early morning was your favorite time of day here; the ranch was peaceful. It was a time to gather your thoughts and to center yourself before the day’s work began.

As you approached the stables, you spotted Getou already at work as he tended to the horses. His long hair was pulled back in a loose bun, a few strands escaping to frame his face as he moved about.

“Morning,” you called out as you approached, your voice cutting through the quiet.

Getou glanced up giving you a nod. “Morning.”

You stepped into the stables and the horses nickered softly as you approached, their large, expressive eyes watching you with curiosity. You reached out to pat the nose of one of the horses, a beautiful Mustang with a buckskin coat. He snorted softly, leaning into your touch.

Getou continued to work as he checked the horses, making sure they were fed and watered before the day’s work began. You watched him for a moment as you admired the way he seemed to have a connection with the animals, a quiet understanding that required no words.

“You’re getting the hang of things,” Getou said after a while, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

You glanced over at him, surprised by his comment. “Thanks,” you replied, feeling a small sense of pride at his words.

Getou didn’t say anything more, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor. It wasn’t much, but coming from him, it felt really good.

The two of you continued to work in silence. The tasks were simple—feeding the horses, cleaning the stalls, and preparing the tack. As you finished up, you caught sight of Satoru approaching from the direction of the main house. 

“Hey, you two look like you’re having fun,” Satoru called out as he neared, his voice laced with that familiar teasing tone.

You rolled your eyes, already bracing yourself for whatever bullshit he had lined up. “Just getting work done,” you muttered.

Satoru grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe of the stable. “And doing a damn fine job of it, if I do say so myself,” he said, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that made your skin prickle

“Are you here to help or just to stand around and watch?” you shot back.

Satoru’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I’m definitely here to help. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m just some lazy ranch owner who lets everyone else do the hard work.”

He pushed off from the doorframe and stepped closer and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You could see the way his eyes seemed to linger on you just a little too long.

Getou, who had been silently observing the exchange, finally spoke up. “We’ve got it under control, Satoru.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Getou’s intervention. “I’m sure you do, Suguru,” he replied, his voice laced with mock seriousness. “But I think our new ranch hand could use a bit of extra motivation today.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sensing he was up to something. “And what kind of motivation are we talking about?”

Satoru's grin turned sly, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping, “How about a little challenge? I’ve got a group of horses that need rounding up from the far pasture. Think you can handle it?”

It was a test, plain and simple. Satoru was pushing you, seeing if you were really up to the task. The far pasture was on rough terrain, and the horses there were known for being particularly aggressive.

But there was no way you were going to back down now, not with Satoru watching. “I can handle it.”

“Good,” Satoru said, his grin widening. “Then let’s see what you’ve got.”

With that, he turned and strode out of the stable, clearly expecting you to follow. You hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Getou, who was watching you with that same unreadable expression.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly.

You squared your shoulders, “I’ll be fine,” you said. If you were being honest, it was more to convince yourself than him.

You followed Satoru out of the stable, the morning sun climbing higher into the sky as the warmth began to chase away the last remnants of the cold morning. The ranch was fully awake now, with the sounds of activity filling the air—workers shouting to one another, horses being led out to the fields, the clanging of metal from the little blacksmith shed.

As you trailed behind Satoru, you couldn’t help but feel that you weren’t ready. The far pasture was no joke. The horses out there were notorious for their stubbornness and unpredictable behavior. It was the kind of job that demanded experience and a steady hand—neither of which you were sure you had.

But you couldn’t afford to show any weakness, not in front of Satoru. He might have been charming and playful most of the time, but you knew better than to underestimate him. Beneath that carefree exterior, there was a sharp mind always calculating, always testing the people around him. And right now, you were the one under the microscope.

You caught up to him as he reached the corral, where a few of the ranch hands were already saddling up the horses. Satoru turned to you, “You ready for this?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it that made you pause.

“Always.”

Satoru’s lips twitched into a smirk, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Let’s see if that holds up,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for you to catch.

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you shot back, surprising even yourself with the sharpness of your words.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your tone, but the smirk never left his face. “That’s the spirit,” he said, “Let’s get this show on the road, then.”

You bit back any further retort, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you riled up. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, quickly grabbing a saddle and preparing one of the horses. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You couldn’t afford to let your nerves get the better of you—not now.

Satoru was already on his horse by the time you were mounted up on yours. His was a sleek black stallion that looked just as unruly as the horses you were about to round up. He sat tall in the saddle with that damn smirk still plastered on his face.

“Try to keep up,” he called over to you.

You didn’t bother responding, instead digging your heels into the horse’s sides and urging it into a trot. Following Satoru out of the corral, the two of you began heading toward the far pasture. The path was narrow, bordered by thick brush and the occasional jutting rock that you had to steer around carefully.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached the edge of the far pasture. The land opened up into a wide expanse, the grass tall and golden under the midday sun. You could see the horses in the distance, a small group of them grazing near a cluster of trees.

Satoru reined in his horse, glancing over at you. “Alright, here’s the deal,” he said, his tone turned serious for once. “We need to get them back to the main corral. They’re likely to scatter if we spook them, so we’ll have to be quick and precise.”

“No shit,” you muttered under your breath, but Satoru either didn’t hear you or chose to ignore it.

He continued, his eyes scanning the pasture. “You’ll take the left flank, I’ll take the right. We’ll drive them in together, but keep your wits about you. These bastards are known for being unpredictable.”

“Got it,” you breathed as you gripped the reins tightly.

Satoru gave you a quick nod before spurring his horse into motion, veering off to the right. You took a deep breath and did the same, guiding your horse to the left as you began to circle the group of horses.

As you closed in on them, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. The horses were already getting skittish, their heads jerking up as they caught sight of you and Satoru moving in on them. 

“Easy,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing as you tried to keep your horse calm. The last thing you needed was for your mount to panic and throw you off.

Moving in closer, your eyes locked onto the horse as you and Satoru began to corral them, closing the gap between the two of you.

But then, as if on cue, one of the horses—a large mare with a dark-colored coat and a wild look in its eyes—snorted loudly and bolted. The rest of the group followed suit as they scattered in all directions.

“Ah Shit!” you cursed, digging your heels into your horse’s sides as you took off after them.

Satoru was already chasing after the runaway horses as you followed suit you could feel the wind whipping past your face as you raced to catch up.

You caught the bay-colored horse first by cutting it off before it could disappear into the trees. The horse came to a stop, its eyes wide in fear but you managed to keep it from running away again and slowly guided it back toward the main group.

“Nice work!” Satoru shouted from across the field as he brought his group of horses under control.

Little by little, you and Satoru managed to round up all the horses and guide them back toward the pasture. Finally, After what felt like hours, you managed to get all the horses into the paddock.

You sat back in your saddle as your chest heaved from trying to catch your breath. You were exhausted and your entire body was sore from your efforts.

You’d done it.

Satoru made his way over to you, looking just as worn out as you were. But there was a look in his eyes that told you he was proud of you.

“Well, shit,” he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “You actually pulled it off.”

You managed to give him a tired smile, wiping the sweat from your brow. “I told you I could handle it.”

Satoru chuckled lowly, “Guess I’ll have to start taking you seriously, then.”

For a moment neither of you spoke.

Finally, Satoru broke the silence, “Come on, let’s get these horses back to the corral. We’ve earned ourselves a break.”

You nodded turning your horse around to start the journey back to the ranch house. Satoru and his horse fell into the same rhythm as you and your horse. The two of you rode in silence for a while until you neared the main buildings.

As you approached the corral, Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar silver case. He flipped it open with one hand, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it all while still holding the reigns. The scent of tobacco filled the air as he took a long drag, gray smoke curling lazily in the air.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at the sight. There was something so alluring about the way he smoked like he was so unbothered by what just happened.

But you weren't going to let him get under your skin. Not this time.

When the two of you reached the corral, the other ranch hands hurried over to take the horses. Satoru slid off his horse—effortlessly, of course—before handing the reins off. You followed suit in getting off the horse, or you tried to, as your legs were aching from the ride, and you almost fell flat on your face.

"Careful there," Satoru teased, the cigarette hanging lazily from his lips as he leaned against the fence, watching you with an infuriatingly amused expression. "Wouldn’t want you face-planting in front of the boys. They might start thinking you’re just here to look pretty."

You shot him a glare "Fuck off.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Ooh, feisty. I like it when you talk dirty."

You rolled your eyes, unwilling to let him get a rise out of you. "You’re unbelievable, you know that?"

"Believe it, darlin'," he replied with a wink, taking another drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke out slowly. "But I gotta admit, you handled yourself out there. I might have underestimated you."

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. "Damn right you did."

He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "How about I make it up to you? We can head over to the saloon, and grab a drink. My treat. You know, as a peace offering for being such an asshole earlier."

You hesitated, the offer tempting even though you knew it was just another one of his games. Satoru wasn’t the type to apologize sincerely, and you doubted this was anything more than an excuse to mess with you further. But the idea of a cold drink after the morning’s ordeal was hard to resist.

"Fine," you said finally, "But don’t think this means I’m letting you off the hook."

Satoru chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Wouldn’t dream of it, sugar."

The walk to the saloon was quiet, the ranch bustling with activity around you. Workers nodded in greeting as you passed, their faces a mix of curiosity and surprise. It wasn’t often they saw Satoru heading to the saloon with anyone other than his usual crowd, and you couldn’t help but feel their eyes on you as you walked alongside him.

The walk to the saloon was quiet, with the ranch bustling with activity around you. You had no idea there was a saloon here, but considering the closest town is a 45-minute drive, you shouldn’t be that surprised. You learned it was owned by one of the other ranch owners in the area.

When you reached the saloon, Satoru held the door open for you, a gesture that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at. The interior was dimly lit, the air filled with the scent of whiskey and tobacco. A few of the ranch hands were already there, sitting at the bar or playing cards at the scattered tables.

Satoru led you to a table near the back, away from the others, pulling out a chair for you.

"Such a gentleman," you muttered, taking the seat anyway.

"Only the best for you, sweetheart," he replied with a wink before heading to the bar to grab your drinks.

He returned a moment later with two glasses of whiskey, setting one down in front of you before taking the seat across from you. He leaned back in his chair as he took a sip of his drink.

"To surviving the wild ones," he said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You clinked your glass against his, taking a sip of the whiskey. The burn of the alcohol was a welcome distraction, cutting through the lingering tension in your muscles.

"Not bad," you admitted, setting the glass down.

Satoru’s smile softened slightly, "You’re tougher than you look, you know that?"

"Thanks, I guess.” You were unsure of how to take the compliment.

He shrugged, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Just calling it like I see it."

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the noise of the saloon fading into the background. For the first time since you’d met him, Satoru wasn’t pushing your buttons just to see how you’d react. Instead, he seemed content to just sit there with you.

After a while, Satoru set his glass down. "You ever think about why you came out here?" he asked, his voice low enough that no one else could hear.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated before answering. "I… I wanted a fresh start," you said finally, your voice quieter than you’d intended. "Needed to get away from everything back home."

Satoru nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, I figured as much. This place has a way of drawing in folks who are looking to escape something."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the conversation suddenly feeling too heavy, too close to the truth you weren’t ready to face. "What about you?" you asked, trying to shift the focus away from yourself.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Oh, I’ve got my reasons. But that’s a story for another time."

You didn't push the subject further, sensing that whatever lay behind his carefree facade was something he wasn't ready to share. Instead, you finished your drink in silence, letting the warmth of the whiskey settle in your chest.

When your glasses were empty, Satoru stood up and tossed a few bills onto the table. "Come on, let’s head back.”

You followed him out of the saloon, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the ranch. As you reached the stables, Satoru turned to you, his expression unreadable. "You did well today.”

"Thanks," you replied, feeling your face flush at his words.

He gave you one last smile before heading off to take care of his horse, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

So… Satoru and Getou decided you should learn how to shoot a gun. Not their brightest idea but you decided to go along with it. Besides what’s the worst that could happen? You had some experience with a gun.

As you walked alongside Satoru and Getou you were heading toward the far end of the property where a makeshift shooting range had been set up.

Satoru sauntered beside you with his usual cocky grin in place. Getou walked on your other side and you could feel him watching you, waiting to see how you would handle yourself.

The range was a simple setup with a few targets spaced out in the distance. Satoru leaned against the fence, arms crossed over his chest, the ever-present cigarette dangling from his lips as he took a long drag.

“You ever shot before?” Satoru asked.

“A few times,” you replied. The truth was, you weren’t an expert, but you weren’t completely inexperienced either.

“Let’s see what you’ve got then,” he said, pushing off the fence and moving to the side, giving you a clear shot at the targets.

Getou stepped forward, holding out a revolver for you to take. His hand brushed against yours as you grabbed the gun. You glanced up at him, catching the briefest hint of a smirk before his expression returned to its usual calm mask.

“Don’t let Satrou’s bullshit get to you,” Getou murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Just focus on the target.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you turned your attention to the range. You took a deep breath to steady yourself before raising it, lining up your shot with the first target.

The air seemed to still be around you as you squeezed the trigger, the sound of the gunshot echoing through the open field. The recoil was stronger than you expected, but you kept your grip steady. Walking up to the target, you saw that you had hit it—barely, but it was a hit.

“Not bad,” Satoru drawled, “But you’re gripping it too tight. You gotta relax a little, let the gun do some of the work.”

You resisted the urge to snap back at him, knowing that he was right. Instead, you nodded, adjusting your grip slightly before aiming at the next target.

This time, the shot was cleaner, the bullet hitting closer to the center. You allowed yourself a small smile of satisfaction, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit.

“Better,” Getou said, his tone approving as he moved to stand beside you. “But you’re still hesitating. Don’t overthink it.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, your heartbeat quickening as you noticed how close he was standing—close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of tobacco and leather clinging to him. 

“You wanna show her how it’s done, Suguru?” Satoru’s voice interrupted your thoughts, and you turned to see him watching the two of you with a knowing smirk, the cigarette between his fingers smoldering as he took another drag.

Getou didn’t respond immediately, but you saw the subtle shift in his expression. He took the revolver from you, his fingers brushing against yours again, and the contact sent another shiver down your spine. He stepped forward and raised the gun.

The sound of the shot was sharp and precise, and when you looked at the target, you saw that Getou had hit it dead center. He lowered the gun, turning to you with a calm, almost bored expression, as if what he’d just done was no big deal.

“Like that,” he said simply, handing the revolver back to you.

There was no denying that Getou was good—damn good—but it wasn’t just his skill that had your heart racing. It was the way he’d looked at you, the way he’d stood so close, the way he’d silently challenged you to match him.

“Don’t let him show you up, now,” Satoru teased, his voice laced with amusement as he flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground and crushed it under his boot. He moved to stand on your other side, close enough that you could feel the brush of his arm against yours. “You’ve got it in you. Just gotta let go a little.”

The tension between the three of you crackled like electricity, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. You knew they were both testing you, pushing you to see how far you could go, and you weren’t about to back down.

Taking a deep breath, you raised the revolver again, forcing yourself to block out the distractions, to focus solely on the target. The weight of Satoru and Getou’s gazes on you was heavy, almost suffocating, but you used it and channeled it into the shot as you squeezed the trigger.

The gun kicked in your hand, and you held your breath as you watched the bullet hit the target, this time dead center. A surge of satisfaction coursed through you, and you couldn’t help the small, triumphant smile that tugged at your lips.

“There you go,” Satoru said. He reached out, his fingers brushing the back of your hand as he took the revolver from you. The touch was fleeting, but it lingered, the warmth of his skin searing into yours.

Think you can keep up, Getou?”

Getou’s response was a slow, knowing smile, the kind that made your heart skip a beat. “Try me.”

The two men squared off, the playful banter between them masking the intensity that simmered beneath the surface. They each took their turns, shooting at the targets with a skill that left you both impressed and unnerved. It was clear they’d done this many times before, the ease with which they handled the guns was a testament to their experience.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the range as the last shot echoed through the air. Satoru and Getou lowered their guns, turning to you with matching smirks that made your pulse quicken.

“Not bad, huh?” Satoru said with a lazy grin on his face.

“Could be better.”

Getou chuckled, the sound low and rich as he moved to stand on your other side. “You did good today.”

Silence then filled the air.

“We should head back.” Satoru was the first one to break the silence.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as the three of you began the walk back to the ranch house.

As you walked, Satoru reached into his pocket, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. He took a long drag, the end glowing brightly in the fading light, before exhaling a cloud of smoke into the cool evening air.

He then offered the cigarette to you. You hesitated for a moment before taking it, your fingers brushing against his as you brought it to your lips. The taste of tobacco was sharp on your tongue.

You handed the cigarette back to Satoru as he took another drag, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips. Getou watched the exchange in silence.

As the three of you continued the walk back to the ranch, the sun finally dipped below the horizon, leaving you in the soft evening light.

But as you glanced at Satoru and Getou, both of them walking silently beside you, you knew that the day’s events had only deepened the tension between you. Something in your gut told you this was just the start, that whatever was simmering beneath the surface was far from over.

There was a storm brewing, one that had been building since the moment you set foot on the ranch. And as much as you tried to resist it, you knew that it was only a matter of time before it broke.

You had been told that you would finally get to meet the rest of the ranch hands. After all, these were the people you’d be working with closely, day in and day out.

As you approached the stables, you spotted Satoru and Getou standing off to the side, deep in conversation. They noticed you almost immediately and Satoru waved you over.

“Morning,” Satoru called out, his voice as cheerful as ever. “Ready to meet the rest of the crew?”

You nodded, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Getou gave you a small nod of acknowledgment before leading the way into the stables.

The first person you met was Toji. He was leaning against the wooden fence, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark hair was tousled, and his sharp green eyes observed you as you approached. You could tell he was someone who didn’t take shit from anyone.

“So, you’re the new recruit,” Toji said, his voice low and rough. “Name’s Toji. I handle the tougher jobs around here.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Toji’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave a curt nod and turned his attention back to the horses. It wasn’t exactly a warm welcome, but it wasn’t cold either—more like a test, as if he was waiting to see how you’d fit in.

Next, you were introduced to Nanami. He was the complete opposite of Toji in every way. Tall and composed, with blond hair neatly slicked back. He seemed almost out of place. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks, looking more like he belonged in an office rather than out in the fields.

“Nanami,” he introduced himself with a firm handshake. “I oversee the financial and logistical aspects of the ranch.”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “On top of working here?”

Nanami gave a small, tight-lipped smile. “Yes, it’s a multifaceted job. I prefer to keep things in order.”

It was clear that Nanami’s attitude was a stark contrast to Satoru’s attitude.

Moving on, you were introduced to Sukuna, who was perched on a wooden crate, sharpening a knife. His striking tattoos and piercing red eyes made him impossible to miss. He looked up as you approached, his lips curling into a smirk that was anything but friendly.

“Sukuna,” he drawled, his voice a low rumble. “I take care of the less pleasant tasks around here.”

You didn’t need to ask what those tasks were. You could feel his eyes on you long after you moved on, the weight of his gaze unsettling.

Next, you met Megumi. He was younger than the others, with dark, spiky hair and a brooding expression that made him look older than he actually was. Despite his serious demeanor, there was something about him that reminded you of Getou.

“Megumi,” he said simply, not offering much more than that.

You smiled, trying to ease the tension. “It’s nice to meet you, Megumi.”

He gave a small nod but didn’t say anything else, his attention already shifting back to the task at hand.

Yuuji, on the other hand, was a breath of fresh air. With his bright pink hair and infectious smile, he was the opposite of Megumi in every way. He approached you with an easygoing grin, offering a handshake that turned into a friendly pat on the back.

“Yuuji Itadori! I’m usually around wherever there’s work to be done,” he said with a laugh. “If you need help with anything, just let me know.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. Yuuji’s energy was very contagious, and you had a feeling the two of you would get along.

Next was Yuuta. He was a bit more reserved and soft-spoken. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he introduced himself.

“Yuuta Okkotsu,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere. “I handle the medical care for the animals and sometimes the people around here.”

Shokou, the ranch’s medic, was the next person you met. She was lounging against the stable wall, cigarette in hand.

“Shokou Ieiri,” she said with a lazy wave, taking a drag from her cigarette. “I’m the one you’ll come to if you get hurt. Just try not to do anything too stupid.”

You chuckled, appreciating her dry humor. “I’ll do my best.”

Finally, you met Nobara and Yuki. Nobara was a fiery redhead and very confident. She greeted you with a firm handshake and a sharp look that said she didn’t tolerate anyone’s shit.

“Nobara Kugisaki,” she said. “I’m in charge of supplies and making sure everything runs smoothly around here.”

Yuki Tsukumo, on the other hand, was more laid-back than the rest. She leaned against the stable door, her hands in her pockets as she introduced herself.

“Yuki,” she said simply. “I’m usually around, helping out wherever I’m needed.”

Yuki reminded you a lot of Satoru, but more grounded.

Satoru clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “Well, now that introductions are out of the way, let’s get to work!”

You found yourself in the ranch house's kitchen later that evening, the warm glow of the overhead lights creating a cozy atmosphere. After the long day, you were grateful for a moment of peace. As you reached for a glass of water, the creak of the wooden floorboards alerted you to someone else’s presence.

Turning, you saw Getou leaning casually against the doorway. He was holding a bottle of whisky and two glasses, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Thirsty?” he asked, lifting the bottle slightly as he stepped into the room.

You smiled, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. “Depends on what you’re offering.”

Getou chuckled softly, “Whisky. Thought you might need something stronger after today.”

You raised an eyebrow, “And what makes you think that?”

He shrugged, setting the glasses down on the table and pouring a generous amount into each. “I’ve seen how overwhelming it can be, being the new one on the ranch. Figured you might want some company.” You stepped closer, taking the glass he offered and meeting his gaze as you did.

“Thanks, Suguru,” you said, testing the waters with his first name.

A spark of surprise flashed in his eyes. “So, we’re on a first-name basis now?”

You shrugged, taking a sip of the whisky. “Why not? We’re going to be working together, after all.”

“True. I guess it’s only fair. And you can call me Suguru.”

As you took another sip, Suguru stepped closer. You could smell the faint scent of his cologne, it was earthy and warm and mingled with the whisky in the air. It was intoxicating, and you found yourself drawn to him in a way that you hadn’t expected.

“So,” he began, his voice a low murmur, “what do you think of the ranch so far?”

“It’s...different. A lot to take in, but it’s good. Everyone’s been...interesting.”

Suguru’s lips twitched in amusement. “Interesting? That’s one way to put it.”

“Well, you’ve got quite the cast of characters here. But I guess you know that.”

He nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, we’re a bit of a diverse crew, but we get the job done. And now you’re part of that crew.”

“I hope I can keep up.”

“I’m sure you will,” Suguru said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’ve got that fire in you. I can see it.”

Suguru’s eyes flicked to your lips, just for a second, before returning to meet yours. The gesture was so subtle that you might have missed it if you weren’t already hyper-aware of every movement, every breath.

“Tell me,” he continued, his voice a low rumble, “what made you come to the Lone Star Ranch?”

“I needed something different. A change of scenery,” you said finally, your voice quiet. “Wanted to leave some things behind.”

“Running from something?”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

“We all have our reasons for being here. Some of us are running, too.”

There was a vulnerability in his words that you hadn’t expected. He was sharing a piece of you with himself and that put a small smile on your face.

“You don’t seem like the running type,” you said, your voice softer now.

“Maybe not.”

Suguru took another sip of his whisky, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re stronger than you think y’know,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Don’t let this place—or anyone here—make you doubt that.”

Suguru’s gaze softened, and he set his glass down on the table, stepping even closer and you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Remember,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “if you ever need anything—anything at all—you can come to me.”

There was no mistaking the double meaning in his words, the unspoken offer hanging in the air between you. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to form a coherent response.

Your breath hitched as your heart pounded in your chest. There was no mistaking in the meaning of his words. 

Before you could say anything, Suguru reached out and brushed his hand against your cheek. His touch was warm and you could feel his calloused hands from the years of hard work.

For a moment, it felt like time stood still, the world outside the kitchen fading into the background.

Then, just as quickly as it began, the moment passed. Suguru pulled back, his expression shifting to something more guarded.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

You nodded, unable to find your voice as you watched him turn and walk away, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

The walls you’d put up, the distance you’d tried to keep, had started to crumble, and it scared you more than you wanted to admit.

You stayed rooted to the spot in the kitchen, the warmth from the whisky doing little to quell the rush of emotions that surged within you. The room was quiet now, save for the ticking of a clock on the wall, but the air was still thick with the lingering presence of Suguru. His words echoed in your mind, each one laced with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

You could still feel the phantom touch of his fingers against your cheek, the warmth of his hand that had sent shivers down your spine. It had been a brief, almost fleeting gesture, but it carried a weight that was hard to ignore. The subtle brush of skin against skin had left a mark that you couldn’t shake, a sensation that seemed to burrow beneath your skin and linger long after he’d stepped away.

You knew Suguru was reserved, a man of few words who rarely let anyone in. But in that moment, he had opened a door—just a crack—and allowed you a glimpse of something deeper, something raw and unguarded. It made you want to step through that door, to explore the uncharted territory that lay beyond it.

But you were also wary. The ranch was already a place full of tension and unspoken dynamics, and you didn’t want to complicate things further. You weren’t sure where you stood with Suguru—or with anyone else on the ranch, for that matter. The last thing you wanted was to get entangled in something you couldn’t easily walk away from.

As you took another sip of whisky, trying to steady your nerves, you heard the faint creak of the floorboards again. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced toward the doorway, half-expecting to see Suguru standing there, his dark eyes watching you with that same expression he always had plastered on his face.

But the doorway was empty.

Your hand tightened around the glass as you replayed the conversation in your mind. Suguru had been careful with his words. The way he’d looked at you, the way he’d stepped closer, closing the distance between you, had made it clear that his intentions weren’t entirely innocent.

You were used to having control, to knowing exactly where you stood and what you wanted. But here, with Suguru, everything was like you were walking a tightrope with no clear idea of what waited at the other end.

The whisky burned slightly as it slid down your throat. You placed the glass on the table, the clink of the glass against wood echoing in the quiet room. 

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, you heard the sound of footsteps again. You turned toward the doorway, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suguru was back.

“I forgot something.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

He stepped into the room, his movements were slow and measured, as if he was trying to gauge your reaction. “This.”

Suguru was in front of you before you could fully process his words. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours as he took the empty glass from your grip. Slowly, Suguru placed the glass on the table beside the whisky bottle.

“You’re not as easy to read as I thought,” Suguru said, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. “But that just makes things more interesting.”

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest. “And what exactly do you think you’re reading?”

Suguru’s lips curved into a slow smile. “I think you know.”

As quickly as it started, it ended. Suguru pulled back and took a step back putting distance between the two of you. Somehow you couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

“Goodnight.”

And then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind spinning.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you were alone once more. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

You hadn’t moved from the spot where Suguru had left you. The whisky sat untouched on the table. Forgotten.

Then, you heard it—a soft creak of the floorboards just outside the kitchen. You weren’t sure how long he’d been there, watching, but there was no mistaking the person standing in the doorway.

Satoru.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air was thick like there was a taut string that could snap at any second. You weren’t sure if you should say something, break the silence that hung between you, or you should wait for him to make the first move. Your breath was shallow, your senses heightened to every small sound, every subtle shift in the atmosphere.

And then, slowly, deliberately, Satoru stepped into the room. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, his gaze flicking from you to the door Suguru had left through, and then back to you.

“I saw you,” he said finally.

“Didn’t think you’d make a move so fast, Suguru,” Satoru continued, “I thought I’d get a turn first.”

Before you could process his words, another figure appeared in the doorway—Suguru. He came back, though you didn't how long he’d been standing there. 

“You always were impatient, Satoru,” Suguru breathed. “But I suppose there’s enough of her to go around.”

Satoru’s eyes darkened, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Well, then,” he said, taking a step closer to you. “Let’s see if she can handle both of us.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as Satoru closed the distance between you in one fluid motion. His hand came up to cup your jaw bringing his thumb brushing lightly over your lower lip. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, your pulse quickening as he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin.

But before Satoru could close the gap completely, Suguru moved in from the other side. You felt his presence at your back, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as he slid his arms around your waist, pulling you back against him. His breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Relax,” Suguru murmured, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. “Let us take care of you.”

Satoru’s hand slid down from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back slightly. His lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath, but he didn’t kiss you—yet.

“Tell me,” Satoru murmured, his voice low and husky. “Do you want this?”

It was a loaded question, and you knew it. They both wanted you—there was no mistaking that—but they were giving you the choice, the power to decide if you wanted to do this. And despite the fear of what might happen next, there was a part of you that craved it, that wanted to see what would happen.

You nodded, your voice barely more than a whisper as you replied, “Yes.”

That single word was all it took. Satoru’s lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss, his hand tightening in your hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a ferocity that made your head spin. The taste of him was intoxicating and you found yourself leaning into the kiss, your hands fisting in his shirt as you pulled him closer.

At the same time, Suguru’s hands roamed over your body, his touch calm and calculated. His lips found the pulse point at your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin that sent waves of pleasure through your body. You arched against him, the sensation of his lips and Satoru’s kiss overwhelming your senses, drowning out everything but the feel of them against you.

Satoru broke the kiss first, his breath ragged as he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

Before you could respond, Suguru turned you in his arms, pulling you away from Satoru and into his embrace. His lips found yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that was the complete opposite of Satoru’s. Suguru’s kiss was deep and thorough, his tongue exploring your mouth with a patience that made your toes curl.

Satoru didn’t seem to mind sharing—if anything, he seemed to enjoy the sight of Suguru kissing you. His hands found their way to your hips, his touch possessive as he pulled you back against him. The sensation of being sandwiched between the two men, their hands and lips claiming you in different ways, was almost too much to bear.

Satoru’s lips found the side of your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin as Suguru continued to kiss you, his hands sliding up your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The combination of their touches, their kisses, was dizzying, and you found yourself lost in the sensation, in the heat that built between the three of you.

Eventually, Suguru broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. His dark eyes were full of lust as he looked at you, his hands still resting on your waist.

“We’re just getting started,” Suguru said, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

You didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes,” you breathed, the word escaping your lips before you could think better of it.

Satoru chuckled, the sound low. “That’s what I like to hear.”

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

taglist status: open

[corusvants]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER TWO | HELP WANTED!

↳ satoru gojou x reader

genre —heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

word count — 10k

tags/warnings — 18+, stalking/harassment, alcohol use, suggestive content, weapon usage, murder, + please read at your own discretion

notes — tried out this new theme. lowkey looks like ass but i don’t want to fix it. anyway enough of my bitching and moaning here’s another chapter of cursed seas. she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed btw and again there is murder in this chapter. please tread carefully my pirates :)

prev. the rouge captain | next. (coming soon)

general masterlist -> series masterlist

The sun was already high in the sky when you stepped out of your home and onto the bustling streets of the city. The marketplace was filled with vendors and people going about their daily activities. You planned to take a trip down to the docks to see if you could find anyone willing to help you. You weren’t the most optimistic about the idea, but it would have to do for now.

The memory of the man from the ball still lingered in your mind. You had expected that the news of pirates of all people—crashing the legendary Merchant's ball would be the talk of the town, but to your surprise, there had been nothing. It was clear that the events that had taken place, just two days ago, had been kept quiet. Somehow. But you pushed those thoughts aside and focused on your main concern. Finding someone who would be willing to help you.

You were hoping and praying to any god that you would not have to see that man with the white hair anytime soon and the docks seemed like a place a man like him would be. The more you think about him, the more you feel like you have seen his face somewhere, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

As you made your way through the crowded marketplace you could hear the vendors shouting out to anyone that would listen, the smell of fresh produce, and the occasional clink of coins. It was a typical day in Elysport, yet you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that you have had ever since that night at the ball.

Every step you took toward the docks was weighed down by the memory of that man. The image of his striking white hair and the utter insanity in his eyes refused to leave your mind. It was frustrating, trying to recall where you might have seen him before, but every time you came close to remembering, the thought slipped away like sand through your fingers. You shook your head, trying to focus on your current objective: finding a crew.

As you neared the docks, the air grew saltier, and the distinct scent of the sea mixed with the briny odor of fish was present. The sound of seagulls could be heard crying overhead mixed with the creaking of wooden ships and the shouts of sailors. You scanned the area, your eyes searching for anyone who might fit the bill—a capable sailor or perhaps in the worst-case scenario a seasoned pirate—someone with the skills and knowledge to help you.

Looking around, you saw all kinds of sailors young and old. But there was something strange about one of them. He was staring right at you and he had the same look in his eye that the man two nights ago did. He had black hair that was half up half down, a navy blue bandana, and a small hoop earring in his left ear. You paid no mind to it because being stared at by weird men is a normal occurrence for you.

Your gaze fell on a group of rugged-looking men huddled together near one of the larger ships. Approaching them felt risky, but your options were limited. You took a deep breath and began walking towards them. One of the men, a tall figure with a missing hand and a patch over one eye, noticed you approaching their group. With a raised eyebrow, he asked, “What’s a lass like you doing around here?” he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

You hesitated for a moment before replying, “I’m looking for someone who can help me find a crew. I have… a job that needs doing.”

The man exchanged glances with his companions, who murmured among themselves. “A job, eh?” he repeated, “And what kind of job might that be?”

You bit your lip, debating how much to reveal. Finally, you decided to keep it vague. “It’s a task the requires experienced sailors who aren’t afraid to take risks. It could be dangerous.”

The man chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dangerous tasks are our specialty. But nothing comes for free, lass. What’s in it for us?”

“I have a map,” you replied, lowering your voice. “It leads to something valuable. Very valuable.”

The man’s interest was piqued, and the others leaned in closer, eager to hear more. “A map, you say? Well now, that does sound intriguing. But how do we know you’re not just spinning tales?”

You reached into your bag and carefully pulled out the map, keeping it partially concealed. “This is all the proof I can offer for now,” you said, “If you’re interested, we can discuss terms.”

The man eyed the map with keen interest before nodding. “Alright, you’ve got our attention. Meet us at the tavern tonight, and we’ll talk more. But be warned, lass—if you’re wasting our time, you won’t like the consequences.”

You nodded, feeling relieved. “I understand. I’ll be there.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. The docks were busy, but there was something about the way the hairs on the back of your neck stood up that made you uneasy. You cast a glance around, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to you. Still, the sensation lingered and you were eager to put some distance between yourself and the docks.

Making your way back through the marketplace, you tried to push aside the worry that had taken root in your mind. The meeting tonight could be the first step toward finding a crew and setting sail. But even as you tried to focus on the task at hand, the memory of the man with white hair reappeared, more vivid than before.

As night fell, the city’s atmosphere shifted. The marketplace grew quieter, the vibrant energy of the day giving way to a calm environment. You decided that you needed to prepare for the meeting at the tavern, so you packed a small bag with the essentials: the map, a few coins, and a dagger—just in case. The dagger was a gift from your father, one you hadn’t had to use yet, but tonight might be different.

You wrapped yourself in a cloak and stepped out into the cool night air. The streets were less crowded now, with only a few stragglers making their way home or heading to the taverns for a late-night drink. You kept to the shadows, avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed by. This meeting could change everything, for better or worse.

When you reached the tavern its wooden sign was creaking in the breeze, and you hesitated at the door. You could hear the sound of raucous laughter and the sound of cheers from outside. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The tavern was dimly lit, with a haze of smoke hanging in the air. The scent of stale ale and sweat made you scrunch your nose, but you forced yourself to move forward, scanning the room for the men you had spoken to earlier. You eventually spotted them seated at a table near the back.

You made your way over to them, weaving through the patrons of the tavern. The tall man with the eye patch noticed you first, nodding in your direction. “You’re here,” was all he said.

“I’m here,” you confirmed, taking a seat across from him. The other men at the table were watching you closely, their expressions unreadable.

“Let’s get down to business then,” the man said, leaning forward. “Tell us more about this map of yours. Where does it lead?”

You hesitated for a moment before unfolding the map on the table. The men leaned in, their eyes scanning the intricate details of the map.“It leads to an island,” you began, pointing to the mark on the map. “An island that’s said to hold unimaginable riches.” 

That wasn’t the only thing the island held, but they didn’t need to know that information.

The men exchanged glances, their interest piqued. “And how did you come by this map?” one of them asked.

“It was passed down to me,” you lied, keeping your voice steady. “My father was a sailor who spent his life searching for this island. He never found it, but he believed it was real, and he passed the map on to me before he died.”

The men seemed to accept your story, at least for now. The tall man with the eye patch leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. “And what do you want from us?”

“I need a crew,” you replied. “Sailors who know the seas, who aren’t afraid of the risks involved. I’ll share the treasure with you if we find it, but I need your help to get there.”

The men murmured among themselves, weighing their options. Finally, the tall man nodded. “Alright, we’re in. But remember this, lass—if you’re leading us into a trap, you won’t live to see the treasure.”

“I understand. But I assure you, this treasure is real. And I intend to find it.”

With the deal struck you knew there was no turning back now. You had a crew, or at least the beginnings of one, and a map. But as you left the tavern, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched again, that someone was following your every move.

The streets were nearly empty as you made your way back home, the only sound being the soft echo of your footsteps against the cobblestones. You quickened your pace, your hand instinctively moving to the dagger at your side. The feeling of being watched was growing stronger and you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Just as you turned a corner, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could react, a strong hand clamped down on your shoulder, spinning you around. You gasped, instinctively reaching for your dagger, but the sight of who stood before you made your blood run cold.

It was him—the man with the white hair.

He stood there, a dangerous smile playing on his lips, he had a wild almost predatory look in his eyes. You could see now that his face was more than just familiar—it was infamous.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you locked eyes with the man standing before you, the dim streetlight barely illuminating his face. A shiver ran down your spine as you instinctively took a step back, your hand gripping the dagger at your side.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was smooth. It was almost teasing, but there was an underlying threat that made your blood run cold.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the intensity of his gaze made it nearly impossible. "W-what do you want?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to keep it steady.

He tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. "Oh, I think you know what I want," he replied, taking a step closer. "You’ve been quite the busy little bee, haven’t you? That map of yours has caused quite a stir."

"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never showed them the map," you lied and you tried to sound convincing, but the way his smile only grew wider told you he wasn’t buying it.

He took another step forward, his hand still resting casually on the hilt of the sword at his side. "Come now, there’s no need for lies between us," he said, his voice almost soothing in its softness. "I know you have the map. And I know you’ve been talking to some rather unsavory people about it."

Your mind raced, trying to figure out your next move. Running seemed futile—he would catch you in an instant, and you doubted you would fare any better in a fight. The only thing you could do was stall for time, though you weren’t sure what good it would do. "You never answered my question the other night! What do you want with the map?" you asked, trying to keep him talking.

He let out a soft chuckle, amused by your question. "What does anyone want with a treasure map? I want what’s at the end of it, of course. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it."

There was no mistaking the threat in his tone now, and you realized that there was no talking your way out of this. "You’re not going to find the treasure," you said, hoping to provoke him, to get him to make a mistake.

But he only smiled, his expression turning cold and calculating. "Oh, I think I will," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "But first, I need to tie up a few loose ends."

Before you could react, he moved with lightning speed, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you close. The dagger slipped from your grasp, clattering to the ground as you struggled to free yourself from his iron grip. "Let go of me!" you shouted, panic rising in your chest.

But he only tightened his hold, his smile fading as his eyes darkened. "You’re coming with me," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "There are some people I need to have a little chat with—and you’re going to watch."

With that, he began dragging you down the narrow streets, his grip unrelenting despite your attempts to break free. Your heart pounded in your ears as you were forced to follow him, the dagger you had so carefully packed now lying useless on the ground behind you.

You didn’t know where he was taking you, but you had a feeling that it had something to do with the men you had spoken to earlier.

The narrow alleyways twisted and turned, leading you both through the darkest corners of Elysport. Despite your fear, you took in your surroundings to try and remember a way out if the opportunity arose. But the way the white-haired man moved left you with little time to think, let alone plan an escape.

Before long, the two of you reached the outskirts of the docks, where the tavern from earlier came into view. It was quieter now, the late-night celebrations had died down, leaving only a few people loitering outside. The man with the white hair stopped suddenly, pulling you to a halt beside him.

His gaze shifted to the tavern, his expression darkening with a mix of disdain and anticipation. "Wait here," he commanded, releasing your wrist but positioning himself between you and the only exit.

Without another word, he strode toward the tavern entrance. Your heart hammered as you watched him disappear inside, your body frozen in place. What was he planning to do? The men inside had no idea what was coming, and you felt a pang of guilt for leading them into this mess.

But there was no time to dwell on that now. You had to do something—anything—to prevent what was about to happen. Yet, even as you went to follow him inside, the door swung open, and the man emerged, dragging one of the sailors behind him.

It was the tall man with the eye patch, the one who had seemed so confident and in control earlier. Now, he looked terrified, struggling weakly against the iron grip that held him.

The white-haired man cast a glance back at you. "Watch closely," he said, his voice low, "This is what happens to those who try to cheat me."

With a swift motion, he flung the sailor to the ground, drawing his sword in one fluid movement. The sailor scrambled to his feet, fear etched onto his face as he backed away, his hands raised in a futile attempt to protect himself.

"Please," the sailor begged, his voice trembling. "I don’t know what you want, but I swear, I’ll give you whatever you’re after. Just don’t kill me."

But the white-haired man was unmoved. "You made a mistake, thinking you could bargain with something that doesn’t belong to you," he said coldly, advancing on the sailor. "You should have known better than to cross me."

Before the sailor could respond, the man lunged forward, his sword flashing in the dim light. You gasped, turning away as the blade struck, but the sickening sound of steel cutting through flesh reached your ears, making you feel nauseous.

When you dared to look again, the sailor was crumpled on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. The white-haired man stood over him, his expression unreadable as he wiped the blood from his sword with a piece of cloth. His movements were calm as if this were just another routine task for him.

He turned to face you, and you couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through you at the sight of him. His eyes, which had seemed almost playful before, now glowed with a dangerous intensity that made your blood run cold.

"Let that be a lesson to you," he said, "I don’t take kindly to betrayal. And if you think you can outsmart me, you’ll end up just like him."

He gestured to the lifeless body at his feet, and you swallowed hard, the reality of your situation crashing down on you. This man—whoever he was—was not to be messed with. He was unpredictable and utterly ruthless.

Your thoughts raced as you tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. The man at your feet had been your one hope of assembling a crew, and now he was dead. The others in the tavern might still be alive, but if this white-haired man had anything to say about it, they wouldn’t be for long.

You had to act fast, but you were trapped. Your mind screamed at you to run, to escape while you still could, but your legs refused to move. 

He sheathed his sword, taking a step closer to you. "Now," he said, his tone suddenly shifting to something almost lighthearted, "I think it’s time we had a proper introduction, don’t you?"

You stared at him, too shocked to respond. He smiled again, that same smile from the ball.

"The name’s Gojou Satoru," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "Captain Gojou, to be precise. And you, my dear, are in way over your little head."

Your breath hitched as the realization hit you. This was the infamous Captain Gojou, the man whose name struck fear into the hearts of sailors and pirates alike. The man who had haunted your thoughts since the ball, the one who had promised to find you no matter where you went—and now he had.

Even as the fear threatened to overwhelm you, there was another emotion bubbling beneath the surface—anger. Anger at everything that had happened, at this man who had turned your life upside down, and at yourself for being so helpless.

"What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt.

Gojou’s smile widened, "I want what you want," he said simply. "The treasure. The map. Everything. But more than that," he added, his tone darkening, "I want you to understand that I’m the one in control now."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. "You think you can just take it all for yourself?"

Gojou tilted his head slightly as if considering your words. "Yes," he replied, his tone casual, as if the answer was obvious. "And you’re going to help me."

The audacity of this man!

"And why would I do that?" you shot back. "You think I’d just hand everything over to you after what you just did?"

"Because," he said, stepping closer until he was only inches away from you, "if you don’t, you’ll end up like him."

He gestured to the lifeless body of the sailor without even looking at it as if it were nothing more than a piece of trash. The sight of it—the blood, the stillness—made your stomach turn, but you refused to show any sign of weakness.

"You’re a monster," you spat.

Gojou’s smile faded slightly, “Perhaps," he said softly, "But I get what I want. And right now, what I want is for you to cooperate."

"And if I don’t?"

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Then I’ll find other ways to make you," he whispered.

You can’t just force me into this!” you shouted, "There are others who know about the map. If anything happens to me, they’ll—"

"They’ll what?" Gojou interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come after me? Try to stop me? They won’t get the chance."

He straightened up, looking down at you. "But you’re smart enough to know that, aren’t you? You know no one can help you now. No one but me."

The truth of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. He was right—there was no one else. The men you had spoken to earlier were either dead or too scared to cross him. You were alone, and he knew it.

But you weren’t ready to give up yet. You might not be able to fight him, but you could still try to outsmart him. "Fine," you said, your voice cold. "I’ll help you. But on one condition."

Gojou raised an eyebrow, "Oh? And what’s that?"

"You let me keep my share of the treasure," you said, the words coming out a little more confident. "I won’t be your lackey, and I won’t just hand everything over. If I’m going to help you, I want something in return."

For a moment, Gojou said nothing, simply staring at you with those unnerving blue eyes. Then, to your surprise, he chuckled. "You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that."

He seemed to consider your proposition for a moment, then nodded. "Alright," he said finally. "You can have your share—if you survive long enough to claim it."

"Deal," you said, extending your hand.

Gojou looked at your hand for a moment, then grasped it firmly. His grip was strong, almost crushing, but you didn’t flinch. "Welcome to the crew," he said with a smirk, releasing your hand.

As Gojou turned and walked away, you couldn’t help but glance down at the sailor’s lifeless body once more. You hadn’t wanted any of this, but now that you were in it, you had to survive. And if that meant working with Gojou, then so be it.

But you silently vowed that you would find a way out. You would find a way to get the treasure, escape Gojou’s grasp, and make sure that no one else had to die because of it. 

Gojou might think he had the upper hand, but you weren’t going to let him control you. Not forever.

The night was far from over, and as you walked through the darkened streets. With every step, you knew that you would never forget the sight of Gojou killing that man—the cold, calculated way he had taken his life without a second thought.

Whatever happened next, you were in it now. And there was no turning back.

The night air was thick with the smell of salt and fish from the harbor as Gojou led you back toward the docks. The streets had emptied, leaving only the occasional flicker of a lantern in a nearby window and the distant sound of waves crashing against the pier. 

As you approached the docks, Gojou slowed his pace, his gaze scanning the area. He seemed at ease as if the murder he had just committed was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. It was clear that this was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, no matter the cost.

Finally, he stopped in front of a small building near the water’s edge. The structure was plain, with no sign or markings to indicate what it was, but the dim light seeping through the cracks in the shutters told you it was still open for business.

Gojou turned to you, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Wait here,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I have some business to attend to.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of “business” he was referring to. But before you could ask, he was already walking toward the building, his long coat billowing behind him in the wind.

You watched as he pushed open the door and disappeared inside, leaving you alone in the silence of the night. The door creaked shut behind him, and you were left standing in the darkness, leaving you with the distant sound of the ocean.

Inside the building, Gojou was greeted by the warm glow of candlelight and the soft murmur of voices. The interior was modest but well-kept, with rich, dark wood furnishings and plush cushions strewn across the floor. The scent of incense hung in the air, mingling with the subtle perfume of the women who lingered nearby.

The brothel’s madam, a woman in her late forties with sharp eyes and a knowing smile approached him. She was dressed in a silk robe that clung to her figure with her breasts spilling out and her hair piled high atop her head in an elaborate style that spoke of years spent mastering her craft.

“Captain Gojou,” she purred, “What a pleasant surprise. It’s been too long.”

Gojou offered her a charming smile, “Madam Iris,” he greeted, his tone polite but distant. “I’ve had a busy night, and I’m in need of a… distraction.”

The madam’s smile widened, and she gestured toward the stairs leading to the upper floors. “Of course, Captain. We have just the thing to help you unwind.”

As Gojou walked up the stairs, he took in the familiar sights and sounds of the brothel. The laughter of women and their companions, the low murmur of conversation, the soft moans of women, the soft rustle of silk and lace—it was all a part of the carefully curated atmosphere that Madam Iris had cultivated over the years. It was a place where men could forget their troubles, if only for a little while.

At the top of the stairs, a young woman awaited him. She was delicate and beautiful, with long, dark hair and wide, doe-like eyes. She curtsied as he approached, her movements graceful and practiced. “Captain,” she greeted him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Madam Iris said you might like some company.”

Gojou studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Lila,” she replied, her gaze flickering up to meet his before quickly darting away.

“Lila,” he repeated, tasting the name on his tongue. He reached out, gently tilting her chin up so that she was forced to meet his eyes. “You’ll do.”

He released her and gestured for her to lead the way. Lila nodded and turned, guiding him down the hallway to a private room. The room was small but comfortable, with a large bed draped in silk sheets and a low table set with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Once inside, Gojou shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair. He moved the way a man who had done this countless times before would.

Lila poured them each a glass of wine, her hands steady despite the nervous energy that seemed to buzz around her. She handed him a glass, and he took it, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest of moments.

“You seem tense,” he observed, taking a sip of the wine.

Lila hesitated, then nodded. “It’s just… you’ve got a reputation, Captain.”

Gojou raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Do I, now?”

She nodded again, her gaze fixed on the floor. “People talk, you know. They say you’re dangerous.”

“Is that so?” Gojou set the glass down on the table and stepped closer to her. “And does that frighten you?”

Lila’s breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t back away. “Should it?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead taking a moment to study her, to take in the way she stood before him—nervous, yet curious. Finally, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Only if you give me a reason,” he murmured.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them thick. Then, with a soft sigh, Lila reached up and placed her hand on his chest, her touch tentative. “I won’t,” she whispered.

Gojou smiled, though there was something predatory in the way his eyes darkened. “Good girl.”

With that, he pulled her closer, his grip firm. Lila responded instinctively, her body melting against his as if she had done this a thousand times before. It was all part of the game—one she had been trained to play from a young age. But there was something different about Gojou, something that made her heart race in a way she hadn’t expected.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You can relax, Lila. I’m not here to hurt you.”

The words were meant to be comforting, but there was an underlying edge to them that sent a shiver down her spine. She knew better than to let her guard down completely, but for now, she would play along.

Lila tilted her head up, offering him a tentative smile. “Then what are you here for, Captain?”

Gojou’s smile widened, and he leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a hungry kiss. As his hands roamed over her body, she found herself responding to his touch, her initial fear melting away under the heat of his gaze.

For a moment, the world outside the brothel disappeared. In that small, candlelit room, there was only the two of them, locked in a dance as old as time itself.

But even as Gojou lost himself in the moment, he knew what he was doing, and knew how to take what he wanted while keeping others at arm’s length. Lila might be beautiful and skilled, but she was just a temporary distraction—one he could enjoy before the real work began.

When their lips finally parted, Gojou looked down at her, “I’m here for a good time.”

Lila smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. She knew better than to expect anything more from a man like him. “Then I hope I can give you that,” she whispered.

Gojou didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled her onto the bed with him as she began removing his shirt and breeches. As they lost themselves in the moment, the outside world seemed to disappear, leaving only the soft sounds of their breathing and the flicker of candlelight against the walls.

But no matter how much he tried to distract himself, the thoughts of the treasure, the map, and the girl waiting outside the brothel lingered in the back of his mind. He had plans—big plans—and nothing, not even a night of pleasure, could make him forget that.

When morning came, Gojou left the brothel without a second glance. Lila watched him go from the window of the small room, a longing look in her eyes. She knew she would likely never see him again, but that was the way of things in her world.

As Gojou stepped out into the early morning light, the smell of the ocean and the sound of the docks greeted him like an old friend. He breathed it in, letting the cool air clear his mind. There was work to be done, and now that he was satisfied, he was ready to face whatever the day had in store.

He couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of you waiting for him outside the brothel. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, but that was what made the game so much fun.

Gojou adjusted his coat, the fabric settling around his shoulders like a second skin and began to walk toward the docks where you were waiting. And he couldn’t wait to see how it would all play out.

The morning sun rose higher in the sky, painting the harbor with a golden hue as you made your way back to the docks. That asshole had told you to, “stay there” and never came back out and so you decided to head home and come back the next day with a packed bag.

As you approached the gangplank, a figure stepped into your path. The man was tall and broad-shouldered with a stoic expression.

“State your business,” he demanded, his voice low.

“I’m here to join the crew, I believe Captain Gojou should have mentioned me.”

The man’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave a curt nod. “Name’s Nanami,” he said, stepping aside to allow you to pass. “Welcome aboard.”

As you took in your surroundings, another figure approached, his demeanor more relaxed. Then it hit you, he was the man staring at you the other day! You should have known he worked for Captain Gojou with that creep behavior.

He was tall, with long, dark hair that was half up half down. “You must be the new recruit,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m Getou. The captain mentioned we’d be having a new addition.”

You nodded, offering a small smile in return. “It’s nice to meet you, Getou.”

Getou gestured for you to follow him as he led you further onto the deck. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

Getou led you to a group gathered near the ship’s wheel, their conversation halting as you approached. They turned to face you with guarded expressions.

“This is Shokou,” Getou said, nodding toward a woman with short, tousled hair and a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her sharp eyes raked over you, seemingly assessing your worth.

“Welcome,” she said simply, her voice roughened by years of smoking and perhaps too many nights spent at sea.

Next, Getou pointed to a man standing off to the side, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He was tall and muscular, with a scar running down the side of his mouth.

“That’s Toji,” Getou continued. “He’s the muscle around here.”

Toji’s gaze narrowed as he began to speak, “Hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I do,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed it yourself.

“And these two,” Getou said, gesturing toward a pair of younger men, “are Yuuji and Yuuta. Don’t let their age fool you—they’re damn good at what they do.”

Yuuji grinned at you, his boyish charm instantly putting you at ease. “Hey there! Glad to have you aboard.”

Yuuta, on the other hand, was more reserved. He nodded politely but remained silent, his gaze flickering between you and the others as if trying to gauge how you fit into this dynamic.

“And finally,” Getou said, his tone shifting slightly, “this is Ino. He’s our lookout.”

You glanced up to see a man perched high above the deck, sitting casually on one of the ship’s crossbeams. He gave you a cheeky grin and a two-fingered salute. “Nice to meet you!” he called down.

Before you could respond, a young boy appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. His dark hair was tousled, and his blue eyes were sharp.

“Who’s this?” the boy asked, his tone direct.

Getou smiled down at him before speaking again, “This is our new crewmember, Megumi. She’ll be joining us on our next voyage.”

Megumi’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked you over. Finally, he nodded, as if coming to a decision. “Fine,” he said, “Just don’t slow us down.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s bluntness. “I’ll do my best.”

“Don’t mind Megumi,” Getou said with a chuckle. “He’s a good kid, just a bit rough around the edges.”

Before you could reply, a familiar voice rang out from behind you, making your heart skip a beat. “What’s all this fuss about?”

You turned to see Gojou striding across the deck. His white hair caught the sunlight, making him look almost ethereal in the morning light. 

“Ah, Captain,” Getou said with a nod, his tone respectful. “Just introducing our new crewmember.”

Gojou’s gaze flicked to you, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t my little map-keeper,” he drawled, clearly enjoying the way your cheeks flushed at the nickname.

The crew exchanged glances, intrigued by the dynamic between you and their captain. It was clear that Gojou held the authority among them, but there was also something more—a bond that went beyond the usual captain-crew relationship.

Gojou sauntered over to you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I trust you’re ready for what’s to come?”

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to let him see the doubt that gnawed at your insides. “I am.”

His smile widened, “Good. Then let’s not waste any more time.”

But as he turned to address the crew, you caught a glimpse of Getou watching you. Something was unsettling in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken. He didn’t threaten you outright, but his presence alone was enough to keep you on edge.

“We set sail at first light tomorrow,” Gojou announced. “Make sure everything is in order by then. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

The crew nodded in unison. When Gojou gave an order, it was clear that it would be followed without question.

As the crew began to disperse, Gojou lingered for a moment, his gaze once again settling on you. “Remember,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “you’re under my protection now. Don’t do anything to make me regret that.”

“Understood.”

Before you could say more, Getou stepped closer, “You know,” he began, “the captain isn’t the only one you should be careful around. We all have our own… quirks.”

You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond to his cryptic words. There was something about Getou that made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells—always one misstep away from falling into something dangerous. But you also sensed a strange camaraderie between him and Gojou, one that wasn’t easily understood by outsiders. It was as if they were two sides of the same coin.

Getou’s eyes bore into you though his smile never reached them. “You’ve got a lot to learn,” he said softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “But don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re... properly educated.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone on the deck. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. 

As you tried to gather your thoughts, Shokou approached, her cigarette hanging loosely from her lips. She leaned against the railing beside you, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Don’t let them get to you,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “They like to play mind games, especially with new recruits. It’s how they test you.”

You glanced at her, surprised by her comment “Is it always like this?” your voice barely above a whisper.

Shokou took a drag from her cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke before answering. “Pretty much,” she replied with a shrug. “But you’ll get used to it. Or you won’t. Either way, you’ll figure out how to survive. Just keep your wits about you, and don’t show fear. They respect strength.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, forcing a small smile.

Shokou gave you a brief nod before pushing away from the railing. “Good. We’ll see how you fare when we’re out at sea.” With that, she turned and headed back to her duties, leaving you alone once again.

Despite his lighthearted nature, it was clear that Yuuji was highly skilled in his duties. He moved with the confidence of someone who had spent years at sea, and his knowledge of the ship was impressive. His easygoing demeanor helped to ease some of the tension that had been building within you, and you found yourself relaxing slightly in his presence.

“So, what made you decide to join up with us?” Yuuji asked as he showed you how to tie a particularly complex knot. “It’s not every day we get someone new on board, especially someone like you.”

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Let’s just say I’m looking for something,” you replied carefully. “And I believe this crew can help me find it.”

Yuuji raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your vague answer. “Well, whatever it is, you’ve got a good group to back you up,” he said with a grin. “Just be ready for anything. Life on this ship is never boring.”

You smiled, grateful for his friendliness. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the day progressed, you found yourself slowly beginning to acclimate to the ship’s rhythm. The crew was a motley assortment of individuals, each with their own quirks and personalities, but they all shared a common goal—to survive and thrive in a world that sought to destroy them.

Nanami, with his stoic demeanor, kept a watchful eye on the crew, ensuring that everything ran smoothly. Toji, though intimidating, seemed to have a grudging respect for those who prove

Eventually, you found yourself drawn to the stern of the ship, where the vast expanse of the sea stretched out before you. The waves lapped gently against the hull, their rhythmic motion almost soothing in its constancy. You leaned against the railing, letting the cool sea breeze wash over you as you tried to calm your racing thoughts.

But the peace was short-lived.

“Lost in thought?”

You jumped at the sound of Getou’s voice, whipping around to find him standing just a few feet away. He was leaning casually against the railing, his arms crossed over his chest, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, though the amusement in his eyes suggested otherwise.

You forced yourself to relax, though your heart was still pounding. “I was just… thinking,” you replied, hating how weak your voice sounded.

Getou’s smile widened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. “Thinking can be dangerous out here,” he said softly, his tone almost conspiratorial. “You never know what might come of it.”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For a moment, there was a tense silence between you, the air thick with unspoken tension. Getou’s gaze was intense, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was searching for something—some crack in your armor, some sign of weakness.

Finally, he pushed away from the railing, his smile fading into something more serious. “We all have our reasons for being here,” he said quietly. “Some of us are running from something, others are searching for something. But whatever the case, we’re all bound by the same fate.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You could sense the darkness that lurked beneath his calm exterior, the madness that he kept carefully contained. And yet, there was also a strange sense of camaraderie, as if he was offering you a glimpse into the twisted reality that bound them all together.

Before you could respond, Getou straightened up, his usual carefree demeanor returning as he flashed you a grin. “Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” he said with a wink. “Just remember—out here, nothing is as it seems.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. But this time, the weight of his words pressed down on you, making it harder to breathe. You had known from the start that joining this crew would be dangerous, but now, you were beginning to understand just how deep that danger ran.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the deck, you realized that this was only the beginning. The true test lay ahead, and you would need every ounce of strength and resolve to survive what was to come.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the journey ahead. You had come this far, and there was no turning back now. No matter what challenges awaited you, you were determined to see this through to the end.

And as the ship’s crew prepared for the night, you couldn’t help but wonder what new horrors the darkness would bring.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the deck in a warm, golden glow. The crew moved with a sense of purpose, their faces hardened by years at sea. You had spent the day learning the ship's ropes, trying to familiarize yourself with the various tasks that would soon become part of your daily routine. But despite the activity around you, you couldn’t shake the tension that hung in the air, the unspoken understanding that this crew was different, that you were now part of something far more dangerous than you had imagined.

Gojou was nowhere to be seen, and while a part of you was relieved, another part of you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. His presence, or lack thereof, cast a shadow over the crew. Everyone was on edge, waiting for his next unpredictable move. It was clear that his control over the crew was absolute, his authority unquestioned, but it was also clear that this control was maintained through fear and the sheer force of his personality.

You spent the next few hours familiarizing yourself with the ship, trying to learn the ropes—both figuratively and literally. Yuuji, with his infectious enthusiasm, took it upon himself to show you around, explaining the various parts of the ship and introducing you to some of the other crew members.

As night fell, the crew gathered around a makeshift table on the deck, sharing stories and rations. You joined them, trying to blend in, but you could feel the tension in their ir at your presence. Getou sat across from you, his gaze never leaving your face. It was unsettling, to say the least.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a dark amusement. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just trying to get used to everything,” you grimaced.

“You’ll get used to it, or you’ll go mad trying. Either way, it’ll be interesting to see how you fare.”

The crew’s laughter and banter faded into the background as you focused on Getou’s words. And you would find out just what kind of person Gojou Satoru really was, even if it meant facing the darkness within yourself.

By the time dawn broke the sky was painting the sky with streaks of pink and gold, you had barely slept at all. But there was no time to dwell on your fears. As you climbed out of your bunk and stepped onto the deck, you were greeted by the sight of the crew already hard at work. The air was cool and crisp, the scent of salt and seaweed filling your lungs as you took a deep breath and tried to steady your nerves.

You were determined to prove yourself, to show the crew—and yourself—that you had what it took to survive in this world. But as you made your way across the deck, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. Again. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you glanced around, searching for the source of the unease.

It didn’t take long to find it.

Standing near the bow of the ship, his tall figure silhouetted against the rising sun, was Gojou Satoru. He was watching you with an expression that was impossible to read. For a moment, you were frozen in place, caught in his gaze like a moth trapped in a spider’s web.

Then, with a casual wave of his hand, Gojou beckoned you over.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to move, your legs carrying you toward him as if they had a mind of their own. The deck seemed to stretch out endlessly before you, every step heavy with the weight of your fear and uncertainty.

When you finally reached him, Gojou smiled—a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good morning,” he said, “Sleep well?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The truth was that you hadn’t slept well at all, but something told you that admitting that would only amuse him. So instead, you simply nodded, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“Good,” Gojou said, “Because we’ve got a lot to do today, and I need everyone at their best.”

He gestured to the horizon, where a small, rocky island was just beginning to come into view. It was shrouded in mist, its jagged cliffs rising up like the teeth of some ancient beast. “That’s our destination for today,” he explained. “We’ll be making landfall in a few hours. And I expect you to be ready.”

By mid-morning, the ship was closing in on the island, its rocky shores growing larger with each passing minute. The mist clung to the cliffs, giving the place an eerie, otherworldly quality, and the crew fell silent as they worked, their usual banter replaced by a tense, almost reverent quiet.

You found yourself standing at the rail, staring out at the island as it loomed closer and closer. But before you could dwell too much on the uncertainty of what lay ahead, a voice broke through the silence, low and steady.

“First time heading to an island like this?” You turned to find Nanami standing beside you. 

“Yes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been anywhere like this before.”

Nanami nodded, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Most haven’t,” he said. “These places... they’re different. Dangerous. But they’re also where the greatest treasures are found. That’s why we’re here.”

“Stick close to the crew,” Nanami advised, his tone more serious than you had ever heard it. “Trust your instincts, but also trust the people around you. We’ve been through this before, and we know what to expect. But that doesn’t mean it will be easy.”

The island was just ahead, its cliffs towering over the ship and the crew was already preparing to lower the anchor. As the ship drew closer, the mist began to lift, revealing more of the island’s rugged terrain. The cliffs were dotted with caves, their dark mouths gaping open like the jaws of some great beast. The water at the base of the cliffs was churning as if something below the surface was stirring, waiting for its next victim.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the crew moved with precision, each person knowing exactly what needed to be done. The anchor was dropped with a loud splash, and the ship came to a halt just off the shore, the waves crashing against the hull in a steady rhythm.

Gojou appeared at the bow, then, with a sharp nod, he turned to the crew. “We make landfall in ten minutes,” he announced, “Be ready for anything. This place isn’t like the others—we have no idea what we’ll find here.”

As the crew began to prepare the rowboats, you found yourself standing on the deck, staring out at the island. You knew that this was the moment of truth, the moment when you would find out if you truly had what it took to survive in this world.

But as you stood there, your thoughts racing, a hand suddenly clamped down on your shoulder, snapping you out of your reverie. You turned to find Getou standing beside you, his expression one of amusement.

“Shit! You scared me!” you gasped.

He chuckled lightly and asked, “Nervous?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “A little,” you admitted.

Getou chuckled, his hand squeezing your shoulder in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture. “Don’t worry,” he replied, “Stick with me, and you’ll be fine. Just remember—no one makes it through this life unscathed. But that’s what makes it interesting, don’t you think?”

You nodded, though his words did little to ease the knot of anxiety that had formed in your stomach. But before you could say anything else, Gojou’s voice rang out across the deck, signaling that it was time to go.

The crew began lowering the rowboats into the water and preparing to make the journey to land. You followed their lead, as you climbed into one of the boats, trying to steady yourself as the small vessel rocked beneath you.

Getou was right behind you, his presence was slightly comforting. As the crew began to row, the island seemed to get larger and larger, its cliffs rising like the walls of an impenetrable fortress. 

The rowboats eventually made landfall as the crew pushed them onto the shore and began walking inland.

As you ventured further inland, the mist began to dissipate, revealing more of the island's rugged terrain. The path ahead was narrow, bordered by cliffs on one side and dense, twisted foliage on the other.

Gojou led the way as if he had been here before, though you knew that couldn’t be true. The island was uncharted, its secrets known only to those who had dared to venture here in search of its hidden treasures—and those who had survived to tell the tale were few and far between.

Despite the intensity of the situation, you couldn't help but notice how the crew operated. They moved as one, each member knowing their role, their place in the hierarchy clear. You were an outsider here, but their union was a testament to the strength of their bond. It was a bond that had kept them alive through dangers that would have broken lesser men.

As the group moved deeper into the island, the path began to climb, the terrain growing more difficult with each step. The cliffs loomed high above you, casting long shadows that stretched across the ground like grasping fingers. The vegetation grew denser, the trees twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal arms.

The atmosphere became thinner and it made it harder to breathe. The island felt alive in an almost unnatural way as if it were aware of your presence. It was as if the island itself was a living entity, watching, waiting.

Gojou paused at the top of a particularly steep hill, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. The rest of the crew stopped as well, their attention shifting to whatever had caught Gojou’s eye. You followed their gaze, squinting against the harsh light of the rising sun.

At first, you saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just more rocks, more trees, more shadows. But then, as the mist began to clear further, you saw it—an ancient, crumbling structure, half-hidden by the overgrowth. It was a ruin, its walls covered in moss and ivy.

“This is it,” Gojou said, his voice filled with an almost childlike excitement. “This is what we came for.”

It didn’t look like much—a forgotten relic of an era that was long gone, abandoned, and left to decay in the middle of this god forsaken island. But the way Gojou spoke, and the way the crew reacted, made it clear that this place was important. 

“Everyone, stay sharp,” Gojou continued, “We don’t know what’s inside, and we don’t know who—or what—might be guarding it.”

The crew nodded in silent agreement, their hands instinctively moving to their weapons. The air was thick with tension, the kind that precedes a storm. You could feel it in your bones, a deep, primal fear that made your skin prickle and your stomach churn.

But there was no turning back now. The closer you got, the more you could see the details—intricate carvings in the stone, eroded by time.

The entrance to the ruin was a gaping maw, its stone archway cracked and crumbling. The darkness was the kind that seemed to swallow any light that dared to enter. You hesitated at the threshold, your instincts screaming at you to turn back, to flee from this place, and never look back.

But before you could act on those instincts, Gojou stepped forward, his presence commanding the attention of everyone around him. “Stay close,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We go in together, and we come out together.”

With that, he led the way into the darkness. The crew followed without hesitation, their trust in Gojou was evident in the way they moved as one, their footsteps echoing through the silent ruin.

You took a deep breath and stepped inside, the darkness swallowing you whole. The air was cool and damp, the scent of earth and decay filling your nostrils. The walls were close, the space narrow and claustrophobic, the only light coming from the torches carried by the crew.

The further you went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The darkness seemed to press in on you, the weight of the earth above bearing down on your shoulders. You could hear the sound of your own breathing, the rapid thud of your heart in your chest. Every step felt like a descent into the unknown, into a place where the rules of the world no longer applied.

The crew moved with caution, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. Gojou led the way, his torch held high, casting flickering light on the walls around you. The carvings continued, more detailed and complex the deeper you went, telling a story that you couldn’t quite decipher.

But then, the path began to widen, the walls falling away to reveal a large, open chamber. The ceiling was high, disappearing into the darkness above, the floor uneven and littered with ground roots amongst other things. In the center of the chamber was a large stone altar, its surface covered in ancient symbols that glowed faintly in the torchlight.

The air was thick with an almost tangible energy, a sense of power that seemed to radiate from the very stones themselves. It was a power that felt old, older than anything you had ever seen.

Gojou approached the altar, his expression one of awe and reverence. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the surface of the stone, and as he did, the symbols came to life, glowing with an intense, otherworldly light.

But before anyone could react, the ground beneath your feet began to shake. The walls trembled, dust and debris falling from the ceiling as the very earth seemed to come alive. The altar pulsed with energy, the light growing brighter, and more intense until it was blinding.

You threw up your hands, shielding your eyes from the searing light. The hum grew louder, the ground shaking violently, and you felt a surge of panic rise in your chest. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

The light faded, the ground stilled, and the chamber was plunged back into darkness. The only sound was the ragged breathing of the crew.

Gojou was the first to move, lowering his hands and turning to face the crew, there was a glint in his eyes, a hint of something that made your blood run cold.

“Well,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “It looks like we’ve found what we were looking for.”

[corusvants]

CIGARETTES AND WHISKY | WELCOME TO LONE STAR RANCH. (1)

↳ satoru gojou x suguru getou x reader

genre. angst, fluff, modern au, cowboys, 18+ 

tags/warnings. drug use (smoking), profanity

notes. 6.8k wc. please enjoy this mini-series my brain cooked up while I was thinking about this choices story I read and horseland, yes the show from 20 years ago. highly recommend. yes, this is stereotypical and takes place in texas (unfortunately). don't smoke kiddos. geto is here too btw.

series masterlist -> chapter two

The Texas sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the sprawling landscape that seemed to stretch on for miles. The drive had been long, winding through open country and passing tall grass swaying in the light breeze. 

A sense of relief washed over you as the GPS announced your arrival. The place you were going to was around two and a half hours from Houston, in the middle of nowhere, with a small town thirty minutes away. As your car rolled to a stop at the entrance, you could hear the gravel crunch beneath the tires. In front of you stood a large archway made of weathered wood. The old archway had the words "Lone Star Ranch," painted in a dark blue that had faded over time. Beneath the arch, a long driveway stretched out before you that led to the heart of the ranch.

You rested your hands on the steering wheel and sat for a moment, deciding to take in the sight before you. The ranch was beautiful. Beyond the driveway you could see there were rolling hills dotted with cattle and trees that stretched into the distance. You thought the air here felt different—cleaner, somehow.

Taking a deep breath, you turned off the engine, allowing the sounds of the countryside to embrace you. The only sounds you could hear were the distant mooing of cattle and the faint chirping of birds. It was a far cry from the noisy city you had left behind not long ago. Truth be told, you were looking for a place to start over, and you thought this was the solution.

As you stepped out of the car, a realization dawned upon you: you had never lived on a ranch before, worked with animals, or dealt with the physical labor that ranch life demanded. You had briefly ridden horses when you were younger but that was… how many years ago? Over eighteen years ago? You were a city person through and through, and you were going to have to learn to live in the countryside.

The sun was warm against your skin as you stretched, trying to shake off the stiffness from the long drive. You walked around to the back of the car, popping the trunk and pulling out your bags. The sound of your shoes crunching against the gravel was the only noise that filled the air. You were truly out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but the ranch and its inhabitants for miles.

You slung a bag over your shoulder and turned around to take in the ranch. To your left was a large, two-story ranch house that overlooked the property. You could tell it was older, similar to the sign out front. The house had a wide front porch that wrapped around the entire house, supported by thick wooden beams. Further down the driveway, you could see several barns and stables; the red paint was faded and chipped, but it was well-maintained.

Just as you were about to close the trunk, a sound from off in the distance caught your attention. It was faint at first, but it grew louder with each passing second—a steady, rhythmic beat that seemed to echo across the open land. Curious, you turned toward the sound, squinting against the sun that hung low on the horizon.

That’s when you saw him.

A man on horseback was riding toward you. The horse's powerful legs were kicking up small clouds of dust with each stride. The man atop the horse sat tall in the saddle, his posture relaxed. As he drew closer, you could make out more details—his broad shoulders, his tanned skin that seemed to gleam in the sunlight, his unruly white hair, and the cowboy hat that shielded his eyes from the sun's glare.

He was shirtless, his torso exposed to the sun, revealing a well-defined physique. It was the kind of body that came from years of hard work and physical labor. A pair of worn jeans hung low on his hips, held up by a thick leather belt with a silver buckle that gleamed in the sunlight.

There was something magnetic about him as if there was something that demanded attention and respect. He oozed confidence, the kind that came from knowing exactly who you were and who you had the potential to be. As he approached where you were standing, he slowed the horse to a stop, his head tilted slightly as he judged you from beneath his hat.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice was smooth and carried a hint of amusement. “What do we have here?”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words, caught off guard by the almost lazy way he spoke. Though his voice was warm, like honey on a hot summer day.

“I’m here for the job,” you managed to say. “Is this Lone Star Ranch?”

A slow smile spread across his lips, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearm on the saddle horn as he looked you up and down. “Sure is,” he replied. “And you must be our new guest.”

The way he said “guest” made you feel like there was more to it than just a simple word. His voice was familiar, as if he already knew more about you than you were comfortable with. But before you could dwell on it, he continued, his smile widening.

“Name’s Satoru Gojo,” he said, swinging a leg over the horse and dismounting effortlessly. He landed lightly on his feet, standing a good head taller than you. “Owner of this fine establishment.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest. “Nice to meet you. I’m—”

“Hold that thought,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “No need for introductions just yet. We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

He took a step closer to you, and you took a step back. You could see the details you had missed before: the way his muscles moved with each step, the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and how he seemed to enjoy your discomfort.

“Don’t look so tense,” he said, his tone light and teasing as he reached out and gave your shoulder a gentle pat. “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask nicely.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his words, and felt embarrassment creeping up your neck. This wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined your first meeting would go. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

Gojou seemed to sense your discomfort because he took a step back, giving you some space. “Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he said as his smile softened. “Welcome to Lone Star Ranch. You’re gonna love it here, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you managed to say. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good to hear,” he said, turning to gesture toward the ranch house in the distance. “Why don’t you grab your stuff, and I’ll show you to your room? We’ll get you settled in, and then I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded, moving to the trunk of your car and pulling out your bags. As you did, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at Gojou, who had turned his attention back to his horse, murmuring something to the animal as he stroked its mane.

There was no denying that he was attractive in a rugged sort of way.

As you slung your bags over your shoulder, you turned back to Gojou, who was now waiting for you. “Ready?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ready,” you replied, following him as he led the way toward the ranch house, your heart still pounding in your chest.

The walk to the ranch house was longer than you expected, giving you time to take in the surroundings. The ranch was even larger up close, with open spaces that seemed to go on forever. Gojou walked a few paces ahead of you, his long strides making it hard for you to keep up with him.

As the two of you got closer to the ranch, you could see the details that had been too far away to notice before. The wood on the house was old but well cared for, the front porch had rows of flowers along the trim of the railing, and a few rocking chairs that looked very inviting.

Gojou reached the front steps and turned to look at you. “So,” he said, resting a hand on the railing as he waited for you to catch up, “what brings you out here? Most people don’t come to Lone Star Ranch unless they’ve got a good reason.”

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal to the man you had just met not even ten minutes ago. Your past was something you’d hoped to leave behind, but it seemed that even out here, in the middle of nowhere, you couldn’t escape it. You forced a smile, hoping to deflect the question. “Just needed a change of scenery,” you said, your tone casual. “Figured this was as good a place as any.”

Gojou raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced by your answer, but he didn’t press you about it. Instead, he gave a small nod, as if accepting your response for now. “Well, you’ve definitely found a change of scenery,” he said, pushing open the front door and holding it open for you. “Come on in. I’ll show you around.”

When you stepped inside, you were immediately hit by the cool air and the smell of wood and leather. The interior of the house was just as rustic as the exterior, with hardwood floors, ceiling beams, and walls filled with old photographs. The furniture was a mix of older pieces that looked like they’d been there for years and newer additions that added a touch of modern comfort. It was the kind of place that felt lived in, like a home that had been passed down through generations.

Gojou led you through the house, pointing out the various rooms as you went. The kitchen was spacious, with a large wooden table in the center and windows that overlooked the back of the ranch. The living room was cozy, with a stone fireplace and shelves lined with books and trinkets. You passed by several other rooms—an office, a dining room, and what looked like a mudroom near the back door—before finally reaching a staircase that led to the second floor.

“Your room’s upstairs,” Gojou said, gesturing for you to follow him. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable enough. You’ll have plenty of privacy up there.”

You nodded, following him up the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under your weight. The second floor was just as charming as the first, with a long hallway that led to several bedrooms. Gojou stopped in front of one of the doors, pushing it open to reveal a small but cozy room. The bed was made up with a simple quilt, and a large window let in plenty of natural light. A dresser and a small desk completed the space, and there was a door on the far side that you assumed led to a closet.

“This is you,” Gojou said, stepping aside to let you enter. “Like I said, it’s not much, but it should suit your needs. There’s an attached bathroom too, so you won’t have to worry about sharing.”

“Thank you, it’s perfect.”

He gave you that easy smile again, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you. “Glad you think so. I’ll let you get settled in, and then we can go over the details of your job. There’s a lot to do around here, but I’m sure you’ll catch on quickly.”

As Gojou turned to leave, he paused in the doorway, glancing back at you. “Oh, and one more thing,” his tone more serious now. “This place… it’s special. The people, the land, everything about it. We take care of our own here, but that means we expect you to do the same. Understand?”

You met his gaze, understanding the weight of his words. This wasn’t just a job—it was a community, a way of life that you were being invited into. You nodded, “I understand.”

He studied you for a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied with your answer. “Good. I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready.”

With that, he left, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone in your new room. You stood there for a moment, taking in the silence, the sense of stillness that seemed to permeate the air. This was it—the start of your new life, far away from everything you’d known before.

You walked over to the window, looking out at the view of the ranch below. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light over the land, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. The sight was breathtaking, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace.

The night passed fairly quickly, though your sleep was interrupted by the sounds of the night—the creak of the old house settling, the distant howls of coyotes, and the occasional rustle of the wind against the windows. Despite the disturbances, you woke up bright and early, got dressed, and headed downstairs.

As you made your way to the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted you like a warm hug. As you sipped your coffee, you couldn’t help but glance around the kitchen. It was spacious, with wooden cabinets, a large farmhouse sink, and a sturdy wooden table in the center. The walls were full of old photographs of the ranch in its earlier days, groups of cowboys standing proudly next to their horses. It was clear that the ranch had a history deeply intertwined with the land and the people who had worked it.

You were halfway through drinking your coffee when the back door creaked open, and a figure stepped into the kitchen. You turned to see a man about your age, tall and lean with dark hair that was pulled back into a bun. He was dressed in work clothes—a faded denim shirt and worn jeans, with a pair of sturdy boots that had seen better days. His expression was calm as he glanced at you with dark eyes.

“You must be the new hire,” he said, his voice low and even, with a slight drawl that was less pronounced than Gojou’s. “I’m Suguru Getou, the ranch hand. Gojou probably mentioned me.”

You nodded, feeling a little awkward under his gaze. “He did. It’s nice to meet you.”

Getou gave you a small nod and moved past you to pour himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t say anything else, and you took the opportunity to study him. You noticed the way he moved, his mannerisms, and his calloused hands from years of labor. There was something about him, a seriousness that contrasted with Gojou’s easygoing nature.

“You up for a tour?” Getou asked, breaking the silence as he turned to lean against the counter. “Might as well show you the ropes before Gojou starts piling on the work.”

You nodded, and without another word, he led you out of the kitchen and into the cool morning air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows across the ranch. You followed Getou down the porch steps and onto the gravel path that led toward the barns, the sound of your footsteps mingling with the distant lowing of cattle and the soft noise of horses.

As you walked, Getou pointed out the various buildings and areas of the ranch, his explanations brief but informative. He showed you the stables, where the horses were kept, the barns where the cattle feed and equipment were stored, and the paddocks where the horses were turned out to graze.

“This here’s the main barn,” he said, stopping in front of a large structure. “You’ll spend a lot of time here, mucking stalls, feeding the horses, and helping with whatever else needs doing. It’s hard work, but it’s honest, and you’ll learn a lot if you’re willing to put in the effort.”

You nodded, looking around the barn. Its large wooden doors were open to reveal rows of stalls, each one occupied by a horse. Getou turned to you and gestured for you to follow him. He led you inside, and as you walked down the aisle, you couldn’t help but admire their sleek coats in the morning sunlight. They were beautiful creatures, each one unique in color and stature, their eyes calm and intelligent as they watched you pass. You could tell they were well cared for, their stalls clean and their coats brushed to a shine.

“Over here’s the tack room,” Getou continued, opening a door to reveal a small room lined with saddles, bridles, and other riding gear. “Everything you need for riding and working with the horses is in here. Make sure you put things back where you found them—Satoru’s pretty particular about that.”

You smiled at the thought of Gojou being particular about anything, but you nodded, committing the layout to memory. Getou didn’t seem to notice your amusement.

As Getou walked you through the basics, you noticed how he handled the horses with care and precision. He showed you how to properly secure a saddle, making sure it was snug but not too tight. He showed you how to brush down a horse after a ride, explaining that it was just as important as the ride itself—“Keeps ’em happy and healthy,” he said with a small smile.

He led you back out into the barn, where a few of the other ranch hands had already started their morning chores. They greeted Getou with nods and brief exchanges and you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place because you were a newcomer in a tightly-knit community.

"By the way," he added with a casual wave of his hand, "the blonde one is Nanami, the guy with the pink hair is Sukuna, and the one with the black hair is Toji. You'll see a woman with brown hair—her name is Shoko." He paused, then continued, "We've also got some youngsters around the farm. You'll run into them—Ino, Nobara, Megumi, Yuuji, Yuuta, Maki, and Mai. They're a lively fuckin' bunch."

As the morning went on, Getou continued to walk you through the basics of ranch work—mucking out stalls, feeding the horses, and preparing saddles for the day’s rides. The work was hard, the kind that left you sweaty and sore, but there was a sense of accomplishment that came from seeing the results of your effort.

Getou was a patient man, while he didn’t coddle you, he wasn’t harsh either, simply showing you what needed to be done and trusting you to do it. You appreciated his straightforward approach, and by the time the sun was high in the sky, you felt like you were beginning to get the hang of things.

It was late morning when Gojou finally made his appearance, strolling into the barn with his usual carefree attitude. He was dressed more appropriately today, though his shirt was unbuttoned halfway, exposing the tanned skin of his chest. He greeted Getou with a grin and a slap on the back.

“Well, look at you, already hard at work,” Gojou said, his tone light and teasing as he approached you. “I was half expecting you to be scared shitless, hiding in the house, hoping no one would notice.”

You rolled your eyes, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”

Gojou laughed, clearly pleased by your response. “That’s what I like to hear. Keep that attitude, and you’ll do just fine around here.”

“How’s the newbie doing?” Gojou asked, leaning against the stall door.

“Not bad,” Getou replied. “She’s picking things up pretty quick.”

“Good, good,” Gojou said with a nod, turning back to you. “You keep up the good work, and we might just make a ranch hand out of you yet.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, with Gojou and Getou both showing you the ropes and making sure you were settling in. By the time the sun began to set, you were exhausted, every muscle in your body aching from the day.

As you sat on the porch steps that evening and watched the sun dip below the horizon, you couldn’t help but feel that the ranch was starting to feel like home. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Later that evening, after dinner—a simple but hearty meal prepared by one of the other ranch hands, Sukuna—you found yourself alone in the barn, finishing up some of the chores that had been left for the end of the day. The barn was quiet now, the horses settled in their stalls, the air cool and tinged with the scent of hay and leather.

You were brushing down one of the horses, a gentle mare with a soft brown coat, when you heard footsteps coming from behind you. You turned to see Getou standing in the doorway.

“Didn’t expect to find you here this late,” he said, walking over to the stall where you were working. “Most folks would’ve called it a day by now.”

You shrugged, focusing on your work. “Just wanted to make sure everything was done. Didn’t want to leave anything unfinished.”

Getou watched you for a moment. “You don’t have to prove anything, you know,” he said quietly. “No one’s expecting you to do more than your share.”

You paused, looking up at him. There was something in his tone that made you feel like he understood more than he was letting on, like he knew what it was like to have something to prove.

“I know,” you said softly. “But I want to.”

Getou nodded, seeming to accept your answer. He leaned against the stall door, watching as you finished brushing down the mare. The silence between you was comfortable this time, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words.

When you finally put the brush away and closed the stall door, Getou straightened up. “Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the barn entrance. “It’s getting late. You’ll need your rest if you want to keep up tomorrow.”

You followed him out of the barn, the cool night air wrapped around you like a blanket. The stars were just beginning to appear in the sky, their light faint but steady.

As the two of you walked back toward the house, you felt as if there was a silent understanding between you both. He might not be the most talkative person, but you found yourself drawn to him.

By the time you reached the house, you were both silent, each lost in your thoughts. Getou paused at the bottom of the porch steps, turning to look at you.

“Good work today,” he said simply.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a warmth in your chest at his words. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He nodded, and with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the night. You watched him go, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

The next morning, you were up before dawn, the quiet stillness of the ranch interrupted only by the distant crowing of a rooster and the soft chirping of early birds. The house was still shrouded in darkness as you moved through the hallway, careful not to wake anyone. You found yourself in the kitchen once again, savoring the quiet before the day began.

The previous day had been overwhelming, but you were eager to prove that you could handle the challenges of ranch life. The soreness in your muscles was a reminder of the hard work ahead, but it was also a testament to your determination to make this new life work.

You were just finishing your coffee when you heard the sound of boots on the porch. You turned, half-expecting to see Getou or one of the other ranch hands, but instead, the door swung open to reveal Gojou, his signature smirk already in place. He was dressed casually, a worn-out pair of jeans slung low on his hips and a white shirt.

“Mornin’,” he drawled, his blue eyes sparkling as he made his way into the kitchen. “You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep, or just eager to start another day of hard labor?”

“A little of both,” you admitted, setting your empty mug in the sink. “I wanted to get a head start.”

Gojou chuckled. “That’s the spirit! We like a bit of enthusiasm around here.” He leaned casually against the counter, crossing his arms as he studied you. “Though I gotta say, you might want to pace yourself. Ranch work isn’t a sprint; it’s a marathon. You'll burn out too quickly, and then you’ll be no good to anyone.”

You nodded, appreciating the advice. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gojou pushed himself off the counter and stretched, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal his toned abs and a light trail of hair. “Good. Now, how about we get out there and see what kind of trouble we can stir up?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his infectious energy, even if you knew it would likely lead to him teasing you all day. Together, you left the kitchen and stepped out into the cool morning air, the sun still on the horizon.

As you walked down the porch steps and headed toward the barn, Gojou kept up a steady stream of conversation. He asked you about your first day, your impressions of the ranch, and how you were adjusting. It was clear that, beneath his carefree exterior, he genuinely cared about how you were settling in.

“I have to admit,” Gojou said as you reached the barn, “I wasn’t sure how you’d handle all this. Not everyone’s cut out for ranch life, especially not city folk. But you’ve got grit, I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks, I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”

“Good thing, too,” he said with a wink. “Because today, we’re going to see what you’re really made of.”

Inside the barn, the familiar scent of hay and horses greeted you, along with the soft sounds of animals moving around in their stalls. A few of the ranch hands, Nanami and Toji, were already at work, moving like people who had done this countless times before. They greeted you and Gojou with nods and brief smiles before returning to their tasks.

Gojou led you to the tack room, where he grabbed a saddle and a bridle, handing them to you with a grin. “Today, we’re going to get you up on a horse and see how you do. Ever ridden before?”

“A little,” you admitted, recalling the few times you’d been on a horse as a kid. “But it’s been a while.”

“No worries,” Gojou said, clapping you on the back. “I’ll make sure you’re in good hands. Or hooves, as it were.”

You followed him out to the paddock, where a few horses were grazing in the early morning light. The sight of them, their sleek coats glistening in the sun, was breathtaking. You could feel a sense of awe and respect for these powerful creatures, their size and strength a reminder of just how different ranch life was from anything you’d known before.

Gojou led one of the horses over to you. She was a chestnut mare with a white line down her face.

“This is Maple,” Gojou said, patting the mare’s neck affectionately. “She’s one of the gentlest horses we’ve got, perfect for someone who’s still finding their feet. She’ll take good care of you.”

You reached out to stroke Maple’s nose, feeling the soft warmth of her breath against your hand. The horse nickered softly, her large, intelligent eyes watching you with a calm curiosity.

“Go ahead and saddle her up,” Gojou instructed, stepping back to give you space. “I’ll be right here if you need any help.”

You took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. The saddle felt heavier than you remembered, the leather creaking as you lifted it onto Maple’s back. You fumbled a bit with the cinch, your fingers clumsy as you tried to remember the steps, but Gojou was patient, offering guidance without stepping in unless you needed it.

Once Maple was saddled, you took a moment to adjust the stirrups and make sure everything was secure. It was a small accomplishment, but it was significant to you, and you couldn’t help but smile as you led Maple out into the open paddock.

“Not bad,” Gojou remarked. “You’re a quick learner.”

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to hide the flush that crept up your cheeks.

“Now, let’s see you get up there,” Gojou said, gesturing toward the horse.

You took another deep breath, then placed your foot in the stirrup and swung yourself up into the saddle. The motion was a bit awkward, but you managed it without too much trouble. Once you were seated, you adjusted your position, gripping the reins loosely as you tried to find your balance.

Maple stood patiently beneath you, her ears flicking back as if she could sense your nervousness. But her calm demeanor helped to steady your nerves, and you took a moment to relax into the saddle, letting the rhythm of her breathing guide you.

“Remember, don’t pull too hard on the reins,” Gojou advised, leaning against the fence as he watched you. “Just gentle pressure—she’ll respond to even the slightest touch.”

You nodded, taking his advice to heart as you gave Maple a light nudge with your heels. The mare started forward with a smooth, easy gait, her movements fluid and controlled. You could feel the power in her legs as she moved.

Gojou walked alongside you as you guided Maple around the paddock. His presence was reassuring. He offered tips as you went, his voice calm and steady. You learned you really liked it. It wasn’t long before you began to feel more comfortable in the saddle, the initial awkwardness fading as you found your rhythm.

“See? You’ve got this,” Gojou said with a grin, watching as you guided Maple through a series of gentle turns. “It’s all about finding that connection with the horse, trusting each other. Once you’ve got that, the rest is easy.”

But just as you were starting to relax, Maple’s ears suddenly flicked up, her head lifting as she sensed something. You followed her gaze and saw a figure standing by the fence—a man with a rugged appearance and a steely gaze that sent a shiver down your spine.

It was the same man you’d seen the day before, watching you with a look that was hard to decipher. His presence was unsettling, a stark contrast to the easy camaraderie you’d shared with Gojou. There was something about him that put you on edge, a coldness in his eyes that seemed to pierce right through you.

Gojou noticed your reaction and followed your gaze, his expression darkening slightly as he saw the man. “Don’t mind him,” He said dismissively. “That’s just one of the neighbors. He’s always hanging around, looking for something to complain about.”

Eventually, the man turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance. You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease as you continued your ride.

After your riding lesson, Gojou led you through more of the daily tasks—mucking stalls, feeding the horses, and helping maintain the ranch.

The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the Lone Star Ranch in hues of amber and gold. The warmth of the day lingered in the air, wrapping everything in a soft, golden light. As you walked alongside Gojou back to the house, you felt a deep sense of contentment.

The silence between you was comfortable only interrupted by the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant sounds of ranch animals preparing for the night. It was a moment that felt suspended in time.

When you reached the porch, Gojou paused and turned to you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about we enjoy the sunset?” he suggested, gesturing to a pair of weathered leather chairs positioned perfectly to face the horizon.

You nodded as you settled into one of the chairs, you felt the worn leather conform to your body. The view from the porch was breathtaking—the sky was full of oranges, pinks, and purples, with the setting sun casting long, soft shadows across the ranch.

Gojou took the seat beside you, leaning back into the soft leather. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tin, the metallic surface catching the last rays of sunlight. With a flick of his wrist, he opened it, revealing a pack of cigarettes nestled inside.

He glanced over at you. “Do you mind?” he asked, though his tone suggested he was more interested in your reaction than in seeking actual permission.

You shook your head, watching curiously as he took a cigarette from the pack and brought it to his lips. He then pulled out a decorated lighter, the flame illuminating his face for a moment before he lit the cigarette, and inhaled deeply.

The first plumes of smoke curled upward, drifting lazily into the evening air. Gojou exhaled slowly, the smoke forming delicate spirals before dissipating into the breeze. There was something almost hypnotic about the way he smoked, each motion was as if he were savoring not just the cigarette but the moment itself.

It was kind of hot.

Gojou took another drag, his eyes half-closed as he exhaled slowly, the smoke blending with the soft colors of the sunset.

“You know,” he began, “there’s something about this time of day that makes everything feel... clearer. Like all the noise from the day just fades away.”

You nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “It’s peaceful,” you replied, your voice soft. “It’s like the world slows down for a while.”

Gojou glanced at you, his eyes catching the light in a way that made them appear even more blue, more intense. “Exactly. It’s a good time to just... be. No expectations, no pressure.”

He took another slow drag from the cigarette, the end glowing a bright orange before he exhaled again, this time blowing the smoke out in a thin, steady stream. The smoke seemed to hang in the air between you, creating a veil that blurred the lines between the two of you, making the moment feel even more intimate.

“You ever smoke?” Gojou asked, breaking the silence.

“Not really,” you admitted, your gaze still fixed on the way the smoke curled in the air. “Never saw the appeal.”

“Shit, you’re missing out, sweetheart,” Gojou said with a playful grin. “You’re finally getting a taste of what ranch life is all about."

Gojou chuckled softly, “But yeah, it’s not for everyone. But sometimes it’s more about the ritual than anything else. It’s a way to take a step back, to slow down and just... breathe.”

There was something soothing about the way he described it, and you found yourself nodding in agreement. “I can see that.”

Gojou turned to face you. “Wanna try?”

You hesitated for a moment, but the curiosity got the better of you. “Sure,” you said, accepting the cigarette he offered with a reluctant smile.

The last thing you thought he would do was pull the cigarette he was smoking out of his mouth and hand it to you. But you took it anyway.

As your fingers brushed against his, you felt a spark of warmth that sent a shiver up your spine. Gojou’s gaze lingered on you as you brought the cigarette to your lips, his eyes were filled with something that you couldn’t quite place.

You took a small drag, the smoke was harsh on your throat at first, but you quickly adjusted, mimicking the way Gojou had exhaled. The smoke tasted bitter, but there was something oddly intimate about sharing a cigarette. It was something grounding in the way it forced you to focus on each breath.

“Not bad,” He remarked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a natural.”

You laughed softly, the sound blending with the rustling of the leaves in the breeze. “I wouldn’t go that far, but thanks.”

Gojou leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours as he took another drag. The air between you seemed to thicken with every passing second.

As you passed the cigarette back to him, your fingers brushed against his again, and this time the two of you lingered. Gojou didn’t pull away, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were testing the boundaries between you. The moment stretched out, filled with an unspoken question, one that neither of you seemed ready to answer just yet.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting the last rays of golden light over the ranch. The sky had deepened to a rich indigo, with stars beginning to twinkle faintly above. The temperature dropped slightly, the coolness of the evening air brushing against your skin.

Gojou took another long drag from the cigarette, his eyes half-lidded as he exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift into the night. His gaze turned back to you, “You’re different from what I expected,” he said, his voice low. “Stronger.”

His words took you by surprise, and you felt a flush of warmth spread through you. “Thanks,” you replied softly, not entirely sure how to respond.

Gojou’s smile was faint but genuine as he took one last drag from the cigarette before extinguishing it in the ashtray beside him. “Most people don’t last long out here. They get scared off by the work, and the isolation... But you? You’re tougher than you look.”

You’d spent so much of your life running from your past, trying to prove to yourself that you could handle whatever came your way, and hearing those words from Gojou, of all people, felt like a validation you hadn’t realized you needed.

“You’re not what I expected either,” you admitted, meeting his gaze. “You’re... different.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and rich in the cool evening air. “Good different, I hope.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Good different.”

“You know, Gojou, you’re not as bad as I thought you would be.”

He arched an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shook your head, a faint smile playing at your lips. “I mean, I had this whole idea of you being a bit of a troublemaker. Turns out, you’re just a guy who knows how to unwind.”

Gojou chuckled, “And here I was thinking you’d have too much of a stick up your ass to appreciate a good smoke.”

“Guess I’m full of surprises,” you replied, your tone light.

“By the way, you can call me Satoru.”

"Satoru..." You tested his name on your tongue, “Well, Satoru, thanks for sharing your cigarette with me. It’s nice to have a moment like this, away from all the chaos.”

Satoru’s smile softened, his eyes meeting yours. “Anytime. And if you ever need a break or just someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

As the last light faded from the sky, Satoru stood up and stretched. “It’s getting late,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “We should head inside.”

You nodded, though part of you wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end. The house, with its inviting atmosphere, felt like a refuge from the outside world, out here, in the open air, with the stars overhead and the smell of tobacco lingering.

Satoru extended a hand, his calloused fingers warm against yours. Together, you walked back toward the house, the evening’s cool breeze brushing against your skin.

Inside, the warmth of the house enveloped you, and the scent of wood and earth filled your senses. The memories of the day—Satoru teaching you how to ride a horse, the two of you sharing a cigarette and watching the sun setting over the ranch played through your mind.

Satoru paused at the foot of the stairs, turning to you with a soft smile. “Goodnight Y/N,” he said, his voice low.

“Goodnight,” you replied his gaze linger on you as you made your way upstairs.

You settled into bed with the comforting sounds of the ranch lulling you to sleep, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And just before you drifted off, the image of Satoru—cigarette in hand, eyes full of mischief—lingered in your mind.

Maybe this was where you were meant to be.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[corusvants]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ SERAPH! she/her -twenty two - gojo's wife - suguru's sugar baby

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INBOX: CLOSED !

⊹ WRITING BLOG / WATTPAD / AO3 / PINTEREST.

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Updated ✩ Nov. 3rd, 2024…

[corusvants]

CURSED SEAS | the rouge captain. (1)

↳ satoru gojou x reader

genre. heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back. 

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess. 

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble. 

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour. 

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you on this journey.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for. But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the pandemonium. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he asked skeptically. "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling by the time you stepped out onto the streets, the early morning sun casting long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, a place where sailors and pirates alike gathered to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

[corusvants]

you peel a pomegranate and watch as it bleeds, its juices staining your fingertips as you rip apart its flesh and devour the seeds within. you wonder if this is how the gods feel when they consume you, too. or, satoru gojo is born as the son of zeus. his fate does not change.

✭ pairing: demigod!gojo x mortal!reader

✭ contains: fem!reader, mutual pining, obsessive!gojo, religious imagery, greek mythology, slight manga spoilers, it's about him being used as a weapon, it's about him rediscovering his humanity, hurt/comfort, mortals can’t usually see him, but then he meets you, it drives him a little insane, mild sexual content, everyone is doomed by the narrative, slight angst, daddy issues!gojo, son of dionysus!geto.

✭ word count: 10k (utter agony) ✭ a/n: chapter 261 destroyed me, so i decided to write this as a coping mechanism :')

The first night you meet Satoru, the rain is relentless — a heavy downpour saturating the world in a thick curtain of silver. You stand alone on an empty street corner, the flickering glow of streetlights casting long, shifting shadows across the slick pavement. Water streams down your skin, soaking through your clothes and dripping from the ends of your hair.

Then, in a blink, a man appears on the opposite side of the street.

You notice how his lips curl into a sly, knowing grin, as if he’s been expecting you — as if he’s been waiting for this exact moment. You feel an unsettling sensation gnawing at the edges of your consciousness. You can’t shake the feeling there’s something slithering beneath the surface of his skin, raw and untamed, waiting to break free from its constraints.

The rain does not touch him, and the air crackles with an energy that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. It feels a little like you’ve stumbled upon a creature masquerading as a man — familiar yet foreign, like opening your bedroom door only to find a wolf staring back you.

A flash of lightning illuminates the sky, followed by a loud crack of thunder. The storm intensifies, and you see it — electricity surging through him, piercing deep into his flesh. He stands with his arms outstretched like a crucifixion, his body twisting in agonised ecstasy as tendrils of light entwine around him. The heavens roar, a judgment passed, and his form is illuminated with a halo of searing, holy light. It’s blinding, and then gone in a heartbeat. As if you imagined it.

He tilts his head ever so slightly, assessing you, weighing your worth. It’s not quite human.

You wonder how swiftly you might be devoured, a rabbit caught between his teeth, the taste of your own vulnerability lingering on his tongue.

“You’re different,” he finally speaks, his voice cutting through the roar of the tempest. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re not like the others.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you like a physical force — prey caught in a trap. “What do you mean?”

He takes a step closer, his movements fluid and graceful despite the violence of the storm. “Most mortals are blind to the truth,” he replies. “But you see me.”

“I don’t understand,” you breathe, heart pounding in your chest.

You notice that his eyes are a preternatural shade of electric blue, lightning trapped within the confines of human form.

“You will,” he promises. He says it with such certainty, as if it were an undeniable truth of the universe.

Perhaps it is. Perhaps he truly possesses that kind of power.

“What are you?” Your voice is barely audible over the cacophony of rain and wind.

His laughter echoes in the darkness, mingling with the rumble of thunder. “I am many things.” His smile widens, a gleam of amusement flashing in his eyes. “A messenger, perhaps.”

Before you can reply, another bolt of lightning splits the sky, illuminating his form in stark relief against the darkness. In that brief moment of clarity, you catch a glimpse of something beyond comprehension — something primal and ancient, older than time itself, gazing back at you with a smile.

---

Satoru is his father’s favourite child, and so the gods watch him every day.

He eats when they command. He sleeps when they command. When they ask for his devotion, his rage, his life, he cannot deny them. Their whispers infest his mind — always judging, decreeing, demanding — and he cannot silence them. He has been neatly erased and sculpted anew, again and again. The pain has long since faded.

He wants and wants and craves and needs and wants. They do not hear him. He fears he is forgetting his own name. His knees are raw and bruised and bleeding. How long must he pray? How long will he repent? He feels the blood under his skin and his heart throbbing in his chest, and he wants to claw it out and swallow it whole.

And then Satoru meets you. His longing grows teeth, and he wants to sink them into the marrow of your bones, to consume until there is nothing left but the echo of his name on your lips.

You can see him. He doesn’t remember the last time someone has.  

And so, he follows you.

He observes your every move, drinking in the sight of you as if trying to decipher a puzzle that has long confounded him. Other mortals pass by without a second glance, their minds clouded by the mundane concerns of their mundane lives.

He’s currently trailing behind you in a grocery store. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in one before.

The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow over rows of neatly stacked shelves. It’s been years since he’s tasted mortal food, years since he’s felt the sensation of hunger gnawing at his insides. He can almost remember what it was like — the taste of ripe fruit on his tongue, the feeling of warmth spreading through his body with each bite.

His childhood memories are but fragments now, faded and softened like aged parchment, but he thinks of his mother often. She had treated him with kindness — fed and comforted him. He remembers the way she whispered stories of heroes and villains, of spirits and curses. It is perhaps the only vestige of humanity that remains within him. But then she had died, and left him with his father.

The gods are cruel and fickle. This is the oldest story he knows. Maybe it’s the only story that matters.

But now, he has better things to occupy himself with.

“Hello, little mortal.”

You’re startled by the unexpected voice. “You...” you begin, mouth agape like a fish. “I remember you. From the storm.”

“It seems fate has brought us together once again,” he says, smiling in a way that shows too many teeth.

“…In a grocery store?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he replies, his tone mocking and sharp. “Perhaps a dark alley is more to your taste? Maybe an abandoned warehouse?”

Other customers pass by without so much as a glance in his direction, their eyes sliding right over him as if he were nothing more than a ghost.

“Why are you here? Are you following me?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions, sweetheart.”

Then —

“Who are you?”

“There,” he grins. “Much better.”

He leans in closer, his presence electrifying the air around you. “I am the son of thunder and lightning,” he says, his voice low and resonant. “You are the first in centuries to see me for what I truly am. And for that, you have my interest and my gratitude.”

“I — you’re welcome?” you reply, your confusion palpable, and he finds himself quite enjoying the sight of you flustered and disorientated. “But what’s going on? Why am I the only one who can see you?”

“Maybe you’re blessed by the gods,” he muses. “Or maybe you’re just very lucky. Both, perhaps.”

“Lucky? This is crazy.” Your voice falters like a dancer stumbling mid-performance. “You’re crazy.”

He smiles. “Overwhelming, isn’t it? But don’t worry, you’re not losing your mind. Everything you see and hear is quite real.”

Satoru often wishes things were not real — that he had been born a simple soldier, just another grunt faithfully serving his leader, destined to fight and die in some random, meaningless battle. He would be lost to history, lost to the gods, and no one would remember his name or who his father was. Sometimes, he even thinks that might be preferable to this world, but he doesn’t want to scare you off that badly.

You exhale slowly, steadying yourself. “Okay, okay. So, what happens now? What do you want from me?”

“Nothing more than your company,” he replies. Satoru had always been a selfish child, unwilling to part with his toys, reluctant to share. This would be no exception. “You can expect to see me again soon. Don’t miss me too much, sweetheart.”

He watches you for a moment longer, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. And then, just as suddenly as he appeared, he fades into the shadows once more, leaving you standing alone in the store. As if you had imagined it.

It isn’t until later, when he’s alone with his thoughts and the gods’ whispers, that he realises something peculiar: the voices in his head fall silent in your presence.

He’s uncertain of its implications, yet strangely pleased by the trouble it promises. He’s always had a talent for pissing of his father.

---

The steady beat of the rain against the windows is soothing as you step into the shower. Steam envelops the room, clouding the mirrors and curling into a comforting haze around you. It had been a while since you were able to relax like this — thoughts of gods and monsters plaguing your mind with unsettling frequency. You were familiar with Greek mythology, of course, but it was one thing to enjoy studying history, another thing to relive it.

You had tried to convince yourself that it had never happened, that you just had an overactive imagination fuelled by reading too many fantasy books as a child. No, you weren’t being followed by a demigod; this was just a prelude to a wild, miraculous adventure. Maybe you’d slay a dragon, marry a handsome elven prince. This story wouldn’t be a Greek myth — you wouldn’t be swallowed by the sea, molten wings dripping down your spine; you wouldn’t walk into hell, never to return.

You’re halfway through rinsing the shampoo from your hair when you hear a strange rustling sound from outside the bathroom. You pause, water streaming down your face, listening intently. The noise is faint but persistent, coming from the direction of the kitchen. Your pulse quickens, mouth dry. It seems unlikely someone is trying to rob you; your apartment holds nothing of real value, nothing worth stealing. Perhaps a wild animal has found its way inside, seeking shelter from the storm.

You turn off the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself as you cautiously step out of the bathroom. The sound grows louder as you approach the kitchen. Your mind races through the possibilities, each one more improbable than the last.

Peeking around the corner, you brace yourself for whatever you might find.

Instead, you find the Son of Zeus rummaging through your cabinets. He looks up at you, unfazed by your dripping state, and grins widely.

You suppose you were right about the wild animal creeping in.

“You should really keep more snacks,” he says, holding up an empty bag of chips accusingly.

“Oh my god, I thought I was going to die.” You’re uncertain if you still might.

“Gods,” he corrects, and you’re really struggling to reconcile the image of him in the storm with the person now, complaining about your food options and grammar.

“You can’t just appear out of nowhere and start raiding my kitchen,” you hiss, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself.

“But it’s raining. You should’ve known I’d drop by.” he says, frowning, as if this were the most reasonable explanation in the world and not completely insane.

“Next time, send a text, a messenger pigeon, literally anything else. I think I’m going to have a heart attack.”

He shrugs, unperturbed. “Consider it a lesson in being prepared. You never know when a god might appear.”

“I could have been naked!” you retort, your voice rising in frustration. This is perhaps the least of your worries, but common sense and self-preservation has apparently abandoned you.

“Don’t shout at me about that! Besides, you’re in a towel, so crisis averted!” He seems disappointed by this fact. You want to throw something at him.

“I am not shouting!” you say, shouting. “I am communicating my annoyance.”

“With what? Your lungs?”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, a stubborn set to your jaw as you turn mulishly silent. You can’t believe you’re being stalked by a demigod.

He heaves a deep sigh, leaning against your kitchen counter. “Fine, I’m sorry. I had not meant to upset or startle you.”

“Please stop following me.”

He ignores you completely, instead pulling out a can of soup and examining it with a bemused expression. “Seriously, how do you live like this? No ambrosia, no nectar. Not even a decent piece of fruit.”

“Get out of my apartment, I swear to god.”

“Gods,” he grins, before disappearing once more.

--- You realise you must have terrible luck when he begins to follow you around more persistently after the shower incident, no longer bothering to even hide his presence. It’s a little odd to have a demigod trailing behind you like a stray dog, but any initial wariness melts away when you catch him eating your cereal. He develops an immediate liking for Rice Krispies, insisting you keep the cupboards stocked with them. It feels as if you’re catering to a spoiled prince, but you suspect even that would be easier to handle.

But the sight of him — this divine, impossible entity — utterly engrossed in his breakfast is strangely endearing.

You still wish he wasn’t eating your cereal, though, and he never cleans his mugs after using them, and —

“You’ve never asked for my name, you know,” he says, interrupting your thoughts.

“Believe it or not, there’s a reason for that,” you reply, eyeing him cautiously. “Namely, you were never invited into my apartment in the first place.”

“You’re always so mean,” he sighs dramatically, “but I suppose I can forgive you this once. It’s Satoru.”

“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but I think I’d be lying.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Everyone likes me.”

“Are you sure? How many people do you talk to? Humans, I mean, not gods.”

He pauses, considering. “Then the gods like me.”

“Is that a good thing?”

He shrugs, his expression pensive. “I’m not sure.”

It occurred to you that you should be frightened of him. You are not.

You suspect he might just be lonely.

(And you, well, you’ve always had a soft spot for strays.)

---

His random appearances in your apartment were becoming a daily occurrence now. One moment you’d be brewing coffee, and the next, he’d be sitting at your kitchen table like he was the one paying rent. He would ask questions incessantly, about the most mundane things — the colour of your curtains, the taste of cake, the texture of your favourite sweater. It made you wonder if you were hallucinating, if perhaps the stress of daily life had finally taken its toll on your sanity. But the more you interacted with him, the more you realised that he was undeniably — and annoyingly — real. You couldn’t possibly invent a creature like him.

In response, you had started asking him questions back. If he was going to be spending an uncomfortable amount of time with you, he owed you this. Plus, it seemed like he enjoyed the sound of his own voice — perhaps you could tire him out and he’d go find another mortal to pester.

The likelihood of that happening seemed slim at best, but one could pray.

“What are the gods like?” you ask, biting into a croissant he bought from a little bakery down the street. You’re not exactly sure where he got the money, but you’re not going to argue with free food.

“Describing the gods to a mortal is like trying to paint a picture without a canvas.” He furrows his brow, searching for the right words. “They’re vast, incomprehensible beings, each embodying different aspects of existence. Some are benevolent, while others are more…capricious.”

“And you’re similar to them?”

“In some ways, perhaps. But I’m also different,” he begins, “I’m not bound by the same rules and regulations that govern the gods. I have a bit more... freedom, you could say. I’m not beholden to any particular domain or duty.”

You nod, definitely not admiring the way the sunlight catches in his hair as he speaks. “What about your powers? Are they granted by your father?”

The idea that his father is a god is still strange, lingering in your thoughts like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit into the picture of the world you thought you knew.

“Yes, in a way. Zeus’s blood flows through my veins, so I can control the elements. I have the power to summon storms, manipulate lightning, bend the fabric of reality to my will.” He smiles, and it reminds you of a cat, smug and self-assured. “I’m powerful, you know.”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re so cocky.”

“You would be too if you were me,” he grins.

But then you notice a shadow pass over his features. “Don’t mistake it for pride, though,” he continues, his expression tightening into a scowl. “I may not be bound by their rules, but I’m still expected to worship them, perhaps more than the average mortal.”

You furrow your brow. “But you’re the son of Zeus, why are you still expected to worship them?”

His laughter echoes through the room. “Because that’s the way it’s always been. You know the myths — they give you attention when it suits them, but they can just as easily cast you aside when they grow bored.”

“You’re caught between two worlds, then — not quite mortal, yet not fully divine,” you reply, frowning. “It sounds painful.”

“You seem worried about me,” he grins.

You can tell he’s trying to deflect, and you let him.

You briefly wonder what would happen if he carved out every unwanted emotion until only his soul remained. Would he shatter that, too? Break it down into more manageable pieces?

Had he tried to purge them, surgically extract sorrow, fear, anger, believing that what remained would be purer, stronger?

“I’m not worried about you,” you retort, crossing your arms defensively.

“Of course not,” he replies, teasing. “But don’t worry, I can handle myself.”

“On your own?”

His falters for a moment. “On my own,” he repeats.

Before you can press further, he seems to shut down, his expression becoming unreadable, like a mask slipping into place.

And then, without another word, he disappears.

You’re left standing there, alone, as if you had imagined it.

---

The next time you see him, Satoru is standing outside the door of your apartment. It’s a rare sight — he hardly ever bothers with such formalities as knocking. Usually, he strolls around your place without a care in the world, as if the boundaries of your home were mere suggestions rather than solid walls.

You notice the tension in his stance, the way he seems almost hesitant to cross the threshold. But it’s only when you see the blood that your unease turns to alarm. Flecks of red dot his hair, his hands, staining the fabric of his clothing, none of it his own — there’s not a scratch on him.

You hesitate, unsure whether to approach or flee, to lock the door and pretend you never saw him. But there’s a look in his eyes that stops you from walking away.

“What happened?” you ask cautiously.

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re dripping in blood, and that’s nothing?”

He exhales heavily, and he suddenly reminds you of Atlas, the weight of the world resting upon his shoulders. “Trouble,” he replies cryptically, his shoulders sagging. “More than I bargained for.”

You step closer, reaching out your hand to touch him, but he flinches away, as if the contact is too much to bear.

“Can I help?” you offer tentatively, the words slipping from your lips before you can fully comprehend their weight.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Why don’t you come inside?”

He nods, conceding defeat. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Alright.”

Together, you guide him to the nearest chair, his body slumping heavily as if drained of all strength.

You step into the kitchen, your footsteps soft against the cool tile floor. Opening the cupboard, you retrieve a clean towel and a small bowl, filling it with lukewarm water from the sink.

As you return to the living room, you offer him a small smile, much like coaxing a stray cat, as you place the bowl and towel within reach. “Close your eyes,” you instruct gently.

He complies without hesitation, tilting his head back to grant you better access. Dipping a corner of the towel into the water, you carefully press it against his scalp, the fabric absorbing the blood with each gentle pat. Root to tip, you work your way through his hair, your touch light as you cleanse away the stains. As you work, you can feel the tension slowly seeping out of his body, his muscles relaxing beneath your touch.

After a few moments of silence, Satoru speaks, his voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

You pause, glancing at him. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“I’m asking if you’re okay.”

He sits up, his expression guarded, as if he’s shielding himself from further vulnerability.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” he replies. “My feelings are irrelevant to the gods.”

You can sense the bitterness in his tone, the weight of centuries of servitude pressing down upon.

“That’s ridiculous,” you counter, your voice firm. “You’re a person, with your own thoughts and needs and wants. That matters more than anything.”

“You don’t understand. Being okay, feeling okay — it’s not something I can afford to indulge in.” He hesitates, his expression unreadable. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with such trivial matters. I am what I am, and nothing will change that.”

“You deserve more than that,” you reply firmly. You won’t let him deflect again.

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, his expression shifts from stoic resolve to something resembling surprise. It’s as if the concept of deserving more — of having a life beyond duty and sacrifice — is a foreign idea, one he has never entertained. He blinks, his eyes widening slightly, and you realise that no one has ever told him this before. The idea that he could desire something beyond his obligations seems to catch him off guard.

“Do I?” he asks cautiously, as if afraid of the answer.

“Yes, you do. You’re not a machine. You’re a person. You’re more than what the gods expect of you.”

He looks away, his gaze distant as he processes your words. “It’s hard to believe that after everything I’ve done,” he admits quietly. “I’ve spent so long being what they wanted me to be. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

He takes a deep breath. “No one has seen me in years, not really. I’ve forgotten how long it’s been. The only ones who notice me are the gods and cursed spirits. My friends are long gone. Some are in the Elysian Fields, others in the Underworld, forever lost to me.”

He pauses. “I’ve watched centuries pass, mortals live and die, while I remain. Your kindness is something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

For a moment, he looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty.

Then, with a voice barely above a whisper, he confesses, “I often feel like I am no more than a ghost.”

Oh, you realise, he has no one else.

He’s all alone.

“I see no ghost.” You grasp his wrist gently, feeling his pulse, the warmth in his hands. “Only a man, flesh and blood, right here with me.”

A corner of his mouth twitches, as if trying to restrain a smile. You wonder what would happen if he let go of all his control.

But then he clenches his jaw, steeling himself again before speaking. “I owe you an explanation for showing up here like this.” He looks away from you, his eyes fixed on some distant point. “The blood is from cursed spirits. The gods ordered me to kill them. Hundreds of them, for days on end. Over and over again.”

As he speaks, you can see the weight of his burden etched in the tension of his muscles, in the tautness of his posture. “The spirits were twisted, corrupted beyond redemption. They brought only chaos and suffering to those around them.”

“But why you? Why not another demigod?”

“Because I’m the strongest. And if I refused, the consequences would have been dire.” He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “This is not new to me; I have been doing this for hundreds of years.”

“The gods... they speak to me constantly, relentless in their demands. There’s no respite, no break from their commands.” His voice softens slightly as he looks at you. “But with you, they’re silent. I’m not sure why. Only that I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this.”

You blink, and then without thinking — instinctively, inevitably — your arms move towards him, pulling him into a hug. At first, he stiffens, as if unaccustomed to touch or kindness after years of solitude. But gradually, almost imperceptibly, he relaxes, leaning into your warmth.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe into the side of his neck.

“What for?” he asks, his voice tinged with bewilderment, as if he can’t quite comprehend your empathy.

“For everything you’ve had to endure. For the weight you carry, for the constant demands placed upon you. For helping people for centuries, without anyone to thank you.”

“I never expected...” he begins, his voice trailing off as he struggles to find the right words. “I never expected this.”

“Thank you,” you say, “for everything.”

His arms tighten around you, and it’s a small victory, a crack in the armour he wears so tightly.

As you pull back from the hug, there’s a brief moment of hesitation, a reluctance to let go. But you step back, allowing him some space.

“So,” you continue, “how about some pizza? I know a great place nearby.”

Terrible junk food always cheered you up — perhaps it would work on demigods, too.

His brow furrows in confusion. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I have so many things to show you.”

Has he ever had ice-cream? Greasy chicken nuggets? You realise with startling clarity that you want to introduce him to everything he’s missed, to show him the world, if you can.

You’ll psychoanalyse yourself later.

“I feel like a stray cat that’s just been adopted.”

“You are,” you grin.

---

That night, you dream.

Darkness envelops you, a suffocating shroud that clings to your skin. You find yourself standing in a desolate landscape, the ground beneath your feet cold and lifeless, covered in a fine layer of ash. The sky above is a vast expanse of swirling shadows, devoid of stars and moonlight. You are utterly alone.

And then, from the shadows, a figure emerges.

“You have trespassed into a realm not meant for mortal eyes,” his voice rasps, as though unused for years.

The figure steps closer, his form shifting and flickering like a flame in the wind. Long black hair frames a face that seems too perfect, too flawless to belong to any world. He reminds you of Satoru, but colder, more distant.

“You are in the Underworld,” he continues. “A place where the boundaries between life and death blur, where mortals are not meant to linger.”

“Why?” you manage to ask, but the words feeling thick and foreign on your tongue.

The weight of the atmosphere presses down on you, making your limbs feel heavy as if you’re wading through sticky, dense molasses.

“Because of the Son of Zeus. Mortals are fragile, easily ensnared by the allure of gods.”

“I don’t understand.” You wish he would speak clearly, cut through the riddles and half-truths.

“Satoru is bound by duty and legacy. His path is one of sacrifice and solitude. To draw close to him is to court danger.”

“But he needs help. He’s suffering.”

“Suffering is his burden to bear. Mortals and gods do not walk the same path.” He pauses, his gaze distant, like he’s not even looking at you anymore. “Turn back. Forget what you have seen. Forget you ever met him.”

It’s as if you’re underwater, each movement slow and weighted by unseen currents. But you know what you’re saying is important, that it carries weight.

“I can’t do that.”

“You defy the natural order. To involve yourself in the affairs of gods and their chosen is to court calamity.”

“I can’t turn away,” you insist. “He’s all alone.”

Uncertainty churns within you, a tumultuous mix of emotions that you don’t know how to navigate. You’re unsure when these feelings caught up to you, but you can at least recognise the depth of your own attachment. You’re scared of the consequences, but it pales beside the thought of doing nothing — of knowing you could do something, be something, and still choosing to walk away.

So, you take a step closer. “I won’t abandon him.”

The figure’s form shimmers momentarily, as if contemplating your words. “Fine,” he concedes, a fleeting hint of sympathy in his eyes. “But know this, mortals who tread where gods roam seldom emerge unscathed.”

“I understand.”

With a nod, he gestures toward a faint glimmer in the darkness. “Go then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you both.”

You wake suddenly, drenched in sweat, your heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, the darkness of the dream clings to your senses, blurring the edges of reality and casting your world into a cold, disorienting haze. Gradually, the details of your bedroom come into focus — the familiar contours of furniture, the posters on your walls, the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. You sit up, pulling your knees close to your chest, attempting to steady your breathing.

And then, as if he can sense your discomfort, Satoru is by your side.

“You’re awake,” he says gently, a tenderness in his voice that catches you off guard. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might care about your wellbeing, too,

You nod silently, unable to find words, your hands trembling.

“A nightmare?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

“Yeah,” you manage to whisper. “Of the Underworld.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” he says softly. “Even the gods find it unbearable.”

“How did you know something was wrong?”

“…I’m not sure. It felt like I was missing a limb.” He pauses, contemplating. “It felt like a part of me was torn away, and I couldn’t find it.”

“What’s going on with the two of us?” You feel as if you’re two stars in orbit, drawn together by something neither of you can understand. “Why is this happening?”

“I’m confused too,” he admits, almost apologetically. “But I’m going to do some research, try to understand what’s happening.”

You exhale slowly, thoughts swirling as you try to make sense of it all. “In the dream, I saw someone. They warned me about you, about being close to the gods.”

Satoru’s brow furrows slightly, his expression troubled. “They have reason to caution you,” he replies. “There are dangers you don’t yet understand.”

“But I don’t want to leave you,” you confess. A simple truth, but it still feels disarming to admit. “I want to understand, to help if I can.”

Satoru reaches out, his hand finding yours in the dark.

“You already do,” he murmurs. “But I don’t expect that of you.”

The faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen blends with the occasional rumble of passing traffic outside, but otherwise, all you can hear are his slow, steady breaths, calming in the quiet of the night.

“Will you stay?” you ask.

He feels as safe as the earth and as steady as the trees — natural and unwavering, like something that can withstand time itself.

“Of course.” He says it without hesitation, as easy as breathing.

You shift slightly, making room for him on the bed, and he settles beside you, close but not quite touching.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Sleep. You’re safe here.”

You allow yourself to relax, reassured by the knowledge that you are not alone. That he isn’t, either.

---

You wake to the scent of something burning. It feels almost symbolic.

Groggy and sluggish, you stumble out of bed and shuffle towards the kitchen, silently praying that your apartment isn’t ablaze — that you aren’t the target of divine retribution from some irate deity. Pushing open the door, you find Satoru standing by the stove, a look of intense concentration on his face as he prods at a pan of charred bacon.

“Satoru?” you call out, half-amused and half-concerned. “What are you doing?”

“I... uh, thought I’d try to make breakfast, but it didn’t exactly go to plan.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve mastered the art of making charcoal,” you reply, moving to his side.

“It’s harder than I thought,” he admits, frowning at the pan.

“The big, scary demigod can’t cook,” you coo, gently nudging him with your elbow.

He stares at the bacon with contempt.

“Cereal?”

“I’ll get the milk.”

You set aside the burnt bacon and clear the stove, grabbing a couple of bowls from the cupboard while Satoru retrieves the Rice Krispies. Together, you sit at the table in comfortable silence, the early morning sunlight filtering through the kitchen window.

“You know, it’s nice to see this side of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that you’re no longer particularly intimidating to me anymore.”

“Don’t tempt me. I could still burn you to a crisp,” he huffs.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re not as terrifying as you pretend to be.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“No promises,” you laugh.

A pause, and then —

“Can I show you something?” he asks you, still smiling. “Hold your hand up.”

Curious, you extend your hand toward him, but as your palm nears his, you feel a subtle resistance, an invisible barrier surrounding him. No matter how hard you try, you can’t get close.

“Is this a magic trick or something?”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and you definitely don’t want to admit how much you enjoy hearing it.

“Not exactly. You’re the first to call it that,” he replies. “What you’re feeling is my Limitless technique. It creates an infinite amount of space between me and everything else.”

“So, nothing can ever touch you?” Despite being in the presence of the most powerful, impossible man you’ve ever encountered, your mind can only fixate on the idea of touching him. You should be in awe, or even fear — literally anything else — but apparently, logic and reason evaporate in his presence.

“Only if I want it to,” he answers, his gaze steady on yours.

The air hums with a faint energy as the barrier fades, allowing your palm to finally connect with his. He slides his fingers between yours, his touch surprisingly gentle, almost reverent.

“There,” he murmurs. “Now you can feel it.”

You can’t help but notice how large Satoru’s hands are, his fingers long and strong as they intertwine with yours.

You blink, and a sudden, sinking realisation washes over you.

Your eyes trace the unblemished ivory of his skin, the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his throat. You can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if his touch roamed further.

Then, as if sensing your thoughts, his thumb grazes the bare skin of your arm. His touch is so delicate as he traces a path down from your elbow to your forearm, it’s almost as if he’s not touching you at all.

You realise with sudden clarity that you want him to touch you. You fear you might not let him stop, that you would allow him anything he asked.

The intensity of your emotions takes you by surprise. You reluctantly pull away, breaking the spell that had woven itself around you.

Now is not the time for this.

You couldn’t shake the feeling you were adrift in a storm-tossed sea, waves crashing around you, threatening to pull you under at any moment. And yet, strangely enough, you felt no fear. Not of him. Perhaps you should be terrified; perhaps there was something fundamentally broken inside of you, something that even the gods couldn’t save. But his presence, despite its intensity, was the eye of the storm, the still point around which everything else swirled. And somehow, that made all the difference.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I’m fine.”

(Having a crush on a demigod was very much not fine, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

---

“Are any of the gods happy?”

You’re lying side by side, nestled in a field of tall grass that sways gently in the breeze. The warmth of the day hangs thick in the air, while the branches of nearby trees rustle gently, their leaves casting dappled patterns of sunlight over your intertwined fingers.

It was your idea to get out of the house, to show him something good and pure and timeless. The spot you had chosen is a favourite from your childhood, a place you’d escape to when you were stressed and overwhelmed. The scent of grass and earth brings back memories of those afternoons, when time seemed to stretch lazily and worries felt distant. Here, the biggest decision was whether to sit by the stream or follow a path through the woods.

As you lie there together, the scene feels almost sacred, as if the world has paused just for this moment of quiet between you.

You look at him and see the way the sunlight falls softly on his face, highlighting all the details you’d come to know by heart — the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes. His features are etched in your memory so deeply now that you could recognise him by touch alone.

In moments like these, it’s easy to forget the boundaries between mortal and divine.

“Happy?” he repeats. “I don’t know if happiness is something they seek,” he muses, more to himself than to you. “They are driven by duty, by ancient laws and responsibilities that are beyond even me.”

The breeze brushes against your skin as you wait for him to finish his thought.

“They experience moments of contentment, perhaps,” he continues. “But true happiness? I’m not sure they even understand what that means.”

“Do you think they envy mortals, then?” you ask.

“Perhaps in fleeting moments. Mortals possess a freedom we cannot fully grasp, but envy implies a desire for something different. I’m not sure they allow themselves such thoughts.”

“Do you?”

“There are times when I wish I had their capacity to experience emotions so deeply and openly — joy and pain, love and loss,” he says, glancing down at your intertwined hands on the grass. “But I also understand my path is different. My duty lies elsewhere, even if it means sacrificing certain desires. I cannot change what I am. I just wish I could offer you more.”

“You’re more than enough,” you reply, gently squeezing his hand.

He hesitates for a moment, then nods slightly. “Thank you,” he murmurs, squeezing back.

After a moment of silence, he sits up a little straighter, his expression pensive. “About the nightmare,” he begins, “the man you met...” His voice trails off, and you can sense his reluctance to delve into something so distressing for you.

You offer him a small smile, encouraging him to continue. “It’s okay, don’t worry.”

“Did he say his name?

“I don’t think so. He just said that I was in the Underworld, that I should stay away from the gods. I remember he had dark hair and eyes, and…” you pause, recalling another detail, “and he mentioned he’d warned you, too.”

“Suguru,” he breathes. “It has to be.”

“Do you know him?”

“I knew him a long time ago, perhaps. He was the son of Dionysus. We grew up together, and for most of my life, he was my only friend.” He clenches his jaw, and you can’t quite read the emotion in his eyes. “He’s gone now. It’s been more than a hundred years since I last saw him.”

“Do you miss him?”

“I miss him and hate him in equal measure, even after all this time.” His tone is perfectly neutral, carefully restrained. “He was a genocidal idiot. I was ordered to kill him.”

“Oh,” you respond, unsure of what to offer someone who has lost so much. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he dismisses with a bitter laugh. “It was written by the fates long before you were born. I’m just confused as to why he’s haunting your dreams in particular.”

“We’ll figure this out together, Satoru,” you reply gently. “Whether it’s fate, the gods, or something else entirely, we’ll find answers.”

You feel as if interacting with a demigod on a daily basis has made everything feel more possible, like you could pluck the stars from the heavens or reshape the very earth beneath your feet. You’re uncertain if this is a positive development.

“You’re taking all of this remarkably well.” His brows crease in confusion. “I’ve told you my dead best friend appeared in your dreams, that I killed him — hell, that the gods are alive and real — and you’re comforting me?”

“Sometimes, acceptance is just easier than disbelief and denial. You’re my friend, as strange and impossible as that may be. I trust you.”

Satoru laughs, a touch of disbelief in his voice. “Thank you,” he replies, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “For everything.” He leans in, kissing the top of your head.

“Plus,” you say, rummaging in your tote bag, “while things may seem messy and confusing right now,” you admit, pulling out a small box, “I did bring cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes?” he repeats, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Yep,” you confirm, handing him the box. “Chocolate chip with vanilla frosting. I figured something sweet might help, even just a little.”

“I knew following you around was a good idea.”

---

Satoru is his father’s favourite son, so when the gods call, he answers.

He tries to avoid meetings like this as much as possible, but a summoning from Zeus cannot be ignored.

He stands in the throne room of Olympus, the distant rumble of thunder echoing through the halls. Marble columns stretch toward a vaulted ceiling adorned with celestial frescoes, the air heavy with the scent of ambrosia and incense. The throne, carved from solid gold and studded with precious gems, rests upon a dais, elevated above the chamber like a sentinel standing watch over its domain.

Satoru thinks it looks tacky.

Servants and lesser gods scurry about, casting furtive glances at the demigod standing in their midst. They know him by reputation — Zeus’s strongest warrior, his favoured son.

He resists the temptation to kill them all.

Time stretches on, but the wait is a familiar ritual. He is nothing more than a dog on a leash, awaiting his owner’s return.

Zeus’s arrival shatters the silence with a crash of thunder, shaking the very foundations of Olympus. The torches flare, casting wild flickers of light as the King of Gods materialises upon his throne. Seeing his father always feels like staring into a distorted mirror — the same blue eyes, the same white hair. It’s a bitter irony that he bears such a striking resemblance to the deity who holds his life in an iron grip.

“My son,” Zeus begins, his voice a deep rumble reverberating through the chamber. “You’ve been avoiding your duties.”

“I do as I am commanded, Father,” he replies. The words feel bitter on his tongue, but meetings with his father are always like this — laden with expectations, heavy with the weight of centuries-old obligations. Satoru often wondered if he ever got tired of hearing his own voice.

Zeus leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Do not think you can run from this,” he warns. “Sukuna must be faced, and it is you who must do it. You cannot shirk this responsibility.”

Satoru clenches his jaw. “When have I ever run from a fight? When have I ever lost?”  

“And yet you hesitate, you question your purpose.” Zeus counters, his tone sharp. “You are my son. This is your destiny.”

“Destiny,” he repeats, almost spitting the word. “Is that what this is? Or is it just another way to keep me bound to your will?”

Satoru is his father’s son through and through – he could never control his anger in his presence, could never hide behind a façade of humour and indifference. He hates himself for it, but he hates his father more for gifting him these traits, like some fucked-up inheritance.

Zeus’s expression hardens. “You would be wise to remember who you speak to.” He rises from the throne, his steps heavy and resonant. “This is not a matter of choice. You are bound by blood and fate. Do not let your arrogance blind you to the responsibilities you bear.”

“Responsibilities that you have imposed,” Satoru retorts. “I have never chosen this path, yet I carry its weight while the gods do nothing.”

“I assume this is the mortal’s influence, then,” Zeus says, looking down at him with disdain. “Pathetic.”

“Do not mention her,” he growls.

“You have grown attached,” Zeus observes, a hint of mockery in his tone. “You forget your place.”

“She is not just another pawn in your games.” Satoru can feel his power crawling under his skin, the air humming with electricity like a gathering storm.

He had nearly forgotten how the gods watched him, how every moment of vulnerability could be seized upon to remind him of his place. He had grown too comfortable in your presence, allowed himself to slip into a sense of normalcy that the gods did not allow for.

Zeus’s expression darkens, the air thickening with his displeasure. “She is a distraction,” he asserts, his voice cutting like a blade. “Sukuna’s threat grows stronger with each passing day, while you’ve found yourself a mortal whore.”

“Careful, Father. Keep talking like this and I will let Sukuna feast upon your lands and swallow your oceans whole,” he hisses.

Zeus’s eyes flash with divine fury. “Do not test me, Satoru. The mortal’s fate hangs in the balance of your obedience.”

“You would threaten her?” Satoru’s voice cracks like thunder.

“She is mortal,” Zeus counters coldly. “Fleeting and fragile, her existence is insignificant.”

“And it still holds more meaning than you can comprehend.”

Zeus steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “Do not mistake defiance for strength, Satoru. If you defy the will of Olympus, you will face the consequences.”

“You underestimate me, Father. Defiance is all I have left,” he seethes. “I will face Sukuna on my terms, or not at all. If you threaten her again, you will face the consequences.”

---

To Satoru, worship had always tasted bitter — rituals steeped in obligation, prayers echoing hollowly through marble halls. It has been a tangled knot of obligation and distant reverence, something to be endured rather than embraced.

And then he met you, and found a different kind of sacred.

As a child, he remembers his father telling him how he had divided humans into two, each forever longing to reunite with their other half. Satoru had scoffed at the notion then, dismissing it as another tale spun by gods to amuse themselves. But now, he wonders if perhaps there was truth in the tale after all.

“I wasn’t expecting you until later.” You smile when you see him, and Satoru wonders if this is what home feels like.

He remains quiet, his expression softening as he lifts you off your feet with ease, carrying you towards the couch. You settle onto his lap as he sits down, his arms wrapping securely around you.

The conversation with his father has left him brittle, fraying at the seams, but you always made it easier to breathe. 

You run your hands through his hair, noticing the tension in his muscles, the furrow in his brow. “What’s wrong?” you ask, concern lacing your voice.

“Nothin’, just missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you reply, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s just been a long day,” he admits.

“What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I don’t want to drag you into my mess.”

“It’s not a mess if it’s you.”

He doesn’t quite know how to respond that, so he just presses his forehead to yours, tightening his embrace.

He wonders if this was inevitable — if this is always where he was supposed to be. Here, with you, like this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You worried about me, sweetheart?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, cheeks flushing, “I’ll always worry about you.”

He can’t help but wonder how far that redness might spread — if it travels down your neck and across your chest, if it touches places he’s only dared to dream about.

“You’re so cute,” he hums.

He notices you look especially pretty today, though you always do. Your dress fits you perfectly — cinched at the waist and snug at the top, with a neckline that’s a bit lower than usual. Not that he should be noticing any of this, or where the fabric ends.

But he can’t help but let his gaze linger on you for longer than is appropriate, tracing the curve of your thigh where your dress has ridden up. For a moment, he’s frozen, his mind racing with thoughts of the bare skin beneath — how easy it would be to push that little dress of yours up higher. He suspects that would solve most of his problems.

But he tears his eyes away, forces himself to focus squarely on you instead.  And then you shift in his lap, and all coherent thought abandons him. He feels the heat of your body against his, the softness of your skin, how effortlessly you fit against him.

You are the only divine thing he believes in — the altar at which he willingly kneels, pleading and beseeching.

He would beg if you asked him to.

(He would do anything you asked of him.)

Satoru has always been a selfish creature; perhaps that is why he’s unable to resist you, unwilling to contemplate ever letting you go. You have become his closest friend and greatest desire. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since the moment he first met you.

He wants your hands in his hair, his fingers grazing against you, holding you down a little. He wants to push your skirt up until maybe, miraculously, you’re begging for him, too. He wants to take care of you, treat you how you deserve. Wants to feel how wet you get, the noises you’d make. He wants and wants and needs and —

“Satoru?”

“Sorry,” he says immediately, “I was just thinking about—”

Things he shouldn’t be, gazing at places he shouldn’t be, indulging in fantasies that are dangerous to entertain, especially with Zeus’s warnings ringing in his ears and Sukuna’s threat looming ever closer.

“—that Thai place down the road, want to order something?”

Casual. Normal. Perfectly in control.

(He’s decided he can’t have you sitting in his lap anymore; he worries he might accidentally set something on fire.)

---

“It’s so peaceful here.”

You’re sitting outside with him, staring up at the night sky. The stars sparkle like scattered diamonds, while the faint glow of city lights spills from below, casting a gentle haze on the horizon. It’s one of those nights where everything else seems distant and unimportant, the world shrinking down to just the two of you.

But something has shifted between you in recent months. There’s a new intensity in the way he holds you, his touch lingering longer, his gaze searching yours for something unspoken. Before, he was content with a hand resting lightly on your back, but now his grip around your waist is firm, almost possessive. He’s on edge, his body taut like a bowstring pulled too tight.

(And you really want to make him snap.)

You sometimes wonder if a constant battle rages within him, if his mortality wrestles with the divine power coursing through his veins. You see flashes of thunder in his eyes, the lightning crackle of emotions suppressed yet seething beneath the surface. It’s as if he stands at a precipice, teetering on the edge of control, where every touch, every word exchanged between you threatens to tip the balance. It both frightens and excites you, this dichotomy that makes him both ethereal and achingly human.

“I don’t think I ever want to leave,” he replies, tugging you closer to him. “And I won’t let you go anywhere, either.”

“You’re so clingy,” you say, laughing.

He grins, his fingers tracing a slow, teasing path along your waist. “Can you blame me?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

(You wish his fingers were touching other parts of you.)

“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, flushing red.

“I don’t think I will, sweetheart.”

(You want to strangle and kiss him all at once – he’s always so frustrating.)

Down the hill behind you, someone is hosting a party. The faint hum of music weaves through the air, accompanied by occasional bursts of laughter. Lanterns sway gently, casting warm, shifting patterns across the dew-kissed grass. You wish all nights could be like this.

Here, with him, like this, you feel truly happy.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Just how insane it is I even met you. How it’s even more insane that I like you.”

“You like me?” His grin is devilish.

“I’m trying to have a moment of introspection here, not inflate your ego.”

“No, no, tell me how much you like me.”

“I take it back. I barely tolerate you.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I hate you so much.”

“No you don’t, quite the opposite actually.”

“Okay, fine,” you relent, unable to suppress a smile. “Maybe I like you a little.”

His grin turns into a satisfied smirk as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Only a little?” he presses, his voice low and coaxing.

“Just enough to tolerate your cheesy lines and incessant teasing.”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm, causing a flutter in your chest. “That’s good to know.”

“I like you enough,” you say, “to want to stay here with you, too.”

“Careful,” he replies quietly, “You shouldn’t tempt me. You might find out just how much I like you back.”

Your feelings for him were beginning to feel like an oil spill; you’d let them overflow and now there was no way to clean up the mess. You’re not sure you even wanted to.

Your eyes flicker to his lips for just a second — a moment so fleeting, so small, you pray he overlooks it — but his lips curl into the smallest of smiles, and you know you’re truly fucked.

So, without thinking, without letting yourself pause and think for a second longer, you ask him a question you cannot return from:

“What if I wanted to tempt you?”

He looks at you like a predator would his prey, assessing and intense. You can’t help but think he is the most beautiful man you have ever seen.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Would you let me kiss you?”

“I…” You’re embarrassed to realise you’re struggling to speak. His lips hover close to yours, a breath away, and you can imagine the feel of him against you, his body flush against yours. “Maybe.”

There’s a small smile playing on his lips, a blend of amusement and chastisement flickering in his eyes. “You really shouldn’t.”

His mouth traces a slow path down your neck, teasing and deliberate, but he refrains from kissing you. It’s as if he’s savouring the anticipation, drawing out the moment with a teasing, maddening patience. You wonder if he enjoys keeping you on edge like this, if he enjoys leaving a trail of heat and desperation wherever he lingers.

“Or maybe,” he continues, “you want me to kiss you?”

“Satoru,” you grumble, red-faced and wishing you could melt into the ground. “Stop teasing me.”

To his credit, he only lets out a small laugh. You genuinely think you might have murdered him otherwise, demigod or not. “I take it that’s a no, then?”

“You’re being so mean,” you whine.

“Am I, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “How about you tell me what you want?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you wonder if this is what Pandora felt like before she opened the box.

“I want you to kiss me,” you confess, both a surrender and challenge.

The moment you give him permission — the exact second — it’s as if he can’t resist any longer, pulling you close and pressing his lips against yours. Inevitable. Instinctual.

The kiss is anything but innocent; far from gentle or kind. You grasp his shirt, your fingers tightening as his hands roam appreciatively over the back of your dress. He holds you as though savouring something sacred, as if you’re the answer to a prayer he dared not utter. The world around you fades into a blur of sensations — the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the taste of him on your lips. You think you might die if he stops.

He deepens the kiss, intense and demanding, as if trying to leave a part of himself with you, to express what words alone cannot. You feel his breath hitch against your lips, a soft groan escaping as his tongue traces the line of your lower lip. There’s a hunger in the way he touches, an intensity that speaks of longing held in check for too long.

You wonder why you didn’t do this sooner — why you wasted so much time when you melt into him this easily, when your bodies fit together like they were made for this moment.

Your breath quickens, each inhale and exhale more desperate than the last. His touch sears through you like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought and making your heart race with an intensity that borders on painful. You cling to him, your fingers curling into his hair, urging him closer.

But then he breaks away, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is ragged, mirroring your own, and he brushes a strand of hair from your flushed face.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs.

“Why’d you stop?” you whine.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll always give you what you want.” His thumb traces the curve of your cheek. “I want to take it slow, take care of you properly.”

“I want you,” you whisper, a simple truth you cannot hide from.  

You knew that in all of the decisions in the world, he would be the most difficult. He was not something you could experiment with, not something you could predict or control — he was as wild as the winds, more myth than man, but you would choose him, again and again.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a hunger that matches your own. “And you’ll have me,” he vows. “We have all the time in the universe.”

---

Satoru is Zeus’s favourite child, and so the gods watch him every day.

Their gaze is unrelenting, their judgments immutable. They see his every move, his every choice. They see the shift, the subtle yet unmistakable turn of his loyalty toward mortal ties, and they want to watch the world burn.

The gods whisper among themselves, their voices carrying on the wind like a prophecy. They speak of consequences, of debts that must be paid, of balances that must be restored. They have tasted this before, have sunk their teeth into the bitter flesh of mortals who dare to defy divine decree.

They will consume you, too.

For while mortals may forget the weight of their choices, the gods do not.

Sukuna won’t, either.

[corusvants]

CHEER FEVER !

SYNOPSIS! : nerd gojo and his pretty cheerleader girlfriend!

WC:(4k)+ warnings : college au, shy nerd gojo, cheerleader reader!, semi public,nicknames, pussy eating (sweetheart, baby),jealous gojo that’s all for now!

satrou wasn’t the jealous type of person in general, truth be told he couldn't help but feel that way when his pretty little girlfriend is a cheerleader catching the eye of a particular jock on the field while you were warming up with the rest of team, in your old fashioned—uniform with you pom pom before tonight’s game started with the rest of your teammates.

“satrou you okay, you’ve seem kind of out of it a little?” you pouting on him, crossing your arms over chest a little uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach, you knew him better than anyone even himself.

the question caused satrou to raise an eyebrow in curiosity, though he only gave a nonchalant shrug in response, "hm? oh, yeah, i’m fine i guess." satrou tried his best to hide his jealousy, though he failed utterly as his girl had seen right through him.

“you sure? I can walk you too class, while i finished up practice for the game.”

the offer from his you seemed to put satrou on ease, as his eyebrows no longer wrinkled and his frown turned into a small smile, "that would be nice of you." satrou replied, not really sure of what else to say. it's not like he can just outright admit that he's jealous, that would be just downright pathetic.

“of course I’ll see you after practice then” you waved him off, going back to the track with her cheerleading teammates.

satrou waved goodbye towards his you, watching you run back towards your teammates and practice without any further incident. her bubbly personality seemed to always brighten up his day, even when he was feeling a little down. it's almost as if everything went right with her around.

he watched the football team take a break, taking a moment to scan the crowd and observe everything going on around him. he let his eyes wander around the stadium, only to eventually settle on to—a familiar sight from your school. toji was, without a doubt, one of the best quarterback players on his team, and satrou had heard many praises his skill and talent over the years. his athletic ability and dedication were something to be envious of.

his star quarterback status was nothing to sneeze at either, making him a very desired figure among the female students at their school. satrou would hear stories about how the girls would fawn over him every time he stepped on the field.

toji's handsome gaze met yours, his green eyes locking in on yours and not relenting. he smirked at you in a teasing way, his confidence and charisma oozing from his pores as he walked over to you. he had a cocky and flirtatious look on his face, which only seemed to highlight his attractiveness.

as toji stepped off the field, he looked around toward where the cheerleaders were practicing. his eyes quickly met with yours, and he gave you a subtle wave, smiling in your direction. it seemed like the entire field and bleachers turned their heads to him now, as most of their eyes were glued on toji, staring intently, making it easy to see how attractive of a figure he was.

he was annoyed at the whole situation, his anger growing with each word that exchanged between you two. "who does the jock think he is? he thinks he can just walk up to you and expect you to just fall head over heels for him? he's lucky i'm not beating his ass right now."

toji's appearance certainly didn't help with your frustration surrounding him—he was handsome, beefy, and confident enough to walk up to you without even a care in the world. he had the entire stadium in a trance. the cheerleaders all fawned over him as he made his way toward you.

some girls even shouted his name to get his attention, hoping they'd be the lucky ones to be blessed by him. satrou watched the entire scene play out, finding himself growing increasingly irritated with toji's existence—biting the inside of his cheek.

not having much better to do with the half-time break, you decide to walk into the locker room to pick up something from your locker, taking the few free minutes you had to get some things in order before the game resumes. you weren't aware of just how long you spent in your locker when you suddenly felt a familiar presence approaching from behind you.

you were so involved in getting your stuff in order, you didn't notice toji. the arrogant-quarterback from the school's football team approaching from behind you. he leaned in towards you and let out a subtle chuckle, leaning his arm against the locker behind you and placing his body close to yours.

toji's smirk grew wider when he noticed the annoyed tone in your voice, his eyes shining with amusement as he stepped a little closer to you, putting him in your personal bubble. "do I really need to say?" toji replied, not taking his eyes off of you for a single moment—trying to woo you with his small talk wanting to get into your pants, plus you knew it really and wouldn’t give him that attention.

"I'm not dating you, forget it."you weren't amused by his actions at all, and instead, you were irritated and disgusted by his flirtatious antics.

the words that came from your lips made his smirk fade away in an instant, you putting him in his place had caught him by surprise. a small frown appeared on his lips as he stepped back from you, his hands coming out of his pockets, "I get that you're already dating someone, but that doesn't mean you can't have a little fun once and awhile, right?" he asked, a cocky smile returning to his lips.

honestly did he really think you were going fall for his charms and popularity status? what a joke.

the mention of satrou name had toji's eyebrow shooting up in surprise, though he didn't look very impressed by the information. he couldn't understand why a beautiful girl like you would lower yourself enough to date a nerd, especially when the jock sitting in front of you is offering himself to you like that. toji narrowed his eyes at you. "are you kidding me? you seriously prefer dorks over jocks?"

"yeah? why are you surprised at that?" you scoffed at his remarks clearly not impressed by his performance to try and seduce you, it was pointless almost.

toji's cocky smirk faded away once more at the blunt answer that came from your lips, your lack of embarrassment and straightforward tone made it clear that you were not flirting with him whatsoever, he was just wasting his time. "oh is that so? cause i highly doubt it." he said sarcastically, taking a step closer to you, once again, invading your personal bubble.

you don’t respond only giving him a blank look.

even though you had made your rejections perfectly clear, toji was stubborn, refusing to accept that the beautiful girl in front of him was not into him. he stepped even closer to you as you attempted to walk away, now placing his frame in front of you. "oh come on darling, i know you like me. i can tell by how much you seem to look my way all the time."

“trust me, i don’t.”

the sound of the pa system announcing that the game would start back up in a few minutes filled the stadium and the players with energy. you didn’t hesitate to follow the cheer leaders back towards the field, not letting toji get into your head and ruin your spirits.

however, toji wouldn’t give up so easily, as he quickly followed close behind you and tried to engage in conversation with you again.

despite his flirting antics, you chose to brush it off and ignore him. you've had enough of his ego and his attitude, and all you wanted to focus on was your team winning tonight. you continued walking, trying to block out his voice and the way he kept on trying to be close to you.

after a few minutes, you made it to the field where the cheer leaders were all practicing their performances for the game.

you felt your annoyance and anger build up as toji once again tried to engage in conversation with you. he was persistent and annoying, and he wouldn't take a hint no matter how many times you brushed him off. it was truly the most irritating thing you've experienced today?

was he really that desperate?

the sound of the pa system announcing that the game would start back up in a few minutes filled the stadium and the players with energy. you didn’t hesitate to follow the cheer leaders back towards the field, not letting toji get into your head and ruin your spirits.

however, toji wouldn’t give up so easily, as he quickly followed close behind you and tried to engage in conversation with you again.

satrou narrowed his eyes towards your direction, upon seeing that toji was still trying to engage in conversation with you—even after he was repeatedly told to go away—was enough to set him off.

he pulled you into a tight embrace, not letting toji get a word in edge-wise. however, this was only followed up by an uproar of gossip among the students, who began to crowd around you, toji, and satrou, creating some sort of chaotic scene.

the sound of their whispers filled the atmosphere, and the attention of the students shifted away from the game and towards the three of you in the middle.

the crowd continued to grow bigger and louder as the students started speaking among themselves, all wanting a glimpse at what was happening. toji, satrou, and you were now the main attractions, and the whispers quickly turned to gossip and rumors.

with the situation now growing out of hand, you could hear a few of the students snickering and laughing at the scene, making snarky remarks about all of you. people from all over the stadium gathered around to watch the scene unfold. it became almost impossible to hear anything over the sounds of the growing chatter coming from the crowd.

satrou was standing next to you, a fiery glint in his eyes as he glared at toji, not backing down from the situation.

a few whispers started spreading among the crowd when it became clear that satrou was confronting toji and was about to start a fight. some people in the crowd got up from their seats, hoping to see the action as it unfolded. some students started chanting "fight!" as they eagerly awaited the two to start brawling.

satrou blue eyes narrowed at toji, his tone becoming deadly and sharp as he responded with a few words. "so are you going to keep flirting with her like a pathetic dog or do you want your teeth knocked in?" satru kept his attention on toji, his grip on you becoming tighter with each word he spoke.

you saw satrou’s eyes flicker a dull red for a moment and a wave of heat radiating from his body. he had been angered by toji's insult enough to want to punch him in his face, but he couldn't lose track of what was important here.

he wanted to punch the jock into the ground for his comment and the way he would never leave you alone.

toji spoke up in response to satrou remarks, his demeanor and tone becoming more frustrated as he spoke. "as if a twinkie like satrou could actually punch me, I'm surprised he hasn't taken her out on a date yet." toji's cocky grin returned to his face once again, his expression becoming even more snarky.

this was getting out of hand fast.

satrou continued to trade insults towards toji, his anger and temper escalating even more as he spoke. "you're an idiot if you think you can be so pathetic as to walk up to another's man's girl and flirt with her right in front of them." the crowd around you grew louder and louder, many people cheering for satrou while they watched the two argue.

toji’s smug smile only grew wider as he responded, his words becoming more sarcastic and arrogant. "look, twinkie, i'm just doing what any other jock would do. you should be thankful that i let you have her for so long." the crowd of students grew even louder at toji's comment as he continued to smirk smugly at him, trying to get under his skin even more with his words.

gojo clenched his fist practically turning white from his comments even hearing toji's smug remark, and his patience was running thin at this point. he finally lost it. gojo suddenly swung his fist like lightning as it connected straight to toji's jaw with a loud smack. it was enough to make toji's whole head whip back, his eyes widening in shock as gojo fist landed right on his cheek.

"you'll be sorry for hitting me, twinkle," toji sneered, a smirk still plastered on his face despite the bruise now forming where satrou had punched him.

the crowd was still in an uproar, many of them cheering for satrou while others were trying to instigate another fight. the guard still held satoru and toji at different sides of the building, making sure they couldn't get their hands on one another any longer.

you followed satrou as he was being escorted to the other side of the building. you didn't want to even look towards toji at this point, as you were annoyed with his incessant flirting and harassment directed at you.

satoru was still hot-headed and angry after their altercation, as he kept muttering curses and insults under his breath when he wasn't addressing the guard. he seemed like he was having a hard time keeping his temper in check.

you saw satoru finally letting himself relax. sitting down on the bench next to you and taking your hand in his. his expression softened, and his body language relaxed as he slowly let go of his tension. he was relieved that it was over and that no one had gotten hurt in this whole ordeal.

satrou’s grip on your hand was tight and comforting—feeling the tension still lingering from the encounter that’s was moments ago. he looked over at you with a relieved expression, and his mind was focused on having you by his side and calming his nerves.

you're taken aback as satrou grabs your arm and pulls you away to the vacant locker room, where you two had some privacy. he wrapped his your arm was tight and firm, but not in a rough manner as he dragged you along.

once you were inside the locker room, satrou closed the door behind him and pulled you close to him in a intimate manner.

he slender arms looped around you, his breath becoming a little heavier as he pulled you closer. he didn't need to say anything else to tell you that he wanted you right now, his whole aura was telling you that.

your bodies were pressed up against each other, and his lips were hovering dangerously close to yours—nothing more than to let out that pent up energy that’s lingering inside of himself.

“can’t believe that asshole.” satoru mumbled against your lips, kissing the inner curves of your mouth. his slender hands roamed over your body squeezing your waist pulling you closer to his board chest fitting together—two puzzle pieces together as one.

‘your nerd of a boyfriend can’t satisfy you’ tsk let me prove him wrong? hm baby?” he states in a mocking tone a small smirk plastered on his lips, knowing his words were a complete joke to him. satrou knew you inside and out and knew the right ways to make you cum wether it be from his fingers alone or his tongue every time, never fails to make you fold underneath him—like pure putty in his hands.

your body felt warm and euphoric as satrou's lips moved along the corner of your mouth, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. your breath grew shorter and shorter with each kiss to your neck and each inch closer to your lips. his tender kisses felt like a sweet and gentle massage, making your body tingle with euphoria.

your whimpers were like music to his ears, filling him with an intense urge to take whatever he wanted. he was fully intent on taking complete ownership of your body with his touch.

“toru…come on the game starts back in a few—”

“the game can wait, but I can’t.”

shortly, your back is pressing against the cold tilted of the locker rooms as satrou wet kisses the nap of your neck trailing down turning into more sloppy ones leaving a trail, you desperately tried to close your thighs together feeling your growing auroral through the fabric of your sparkling bedazzled outfit—feeling a hint of warmth coursing through your body.

satoru smile faded slightly noticing your shift of movement tilted to the side—mumbling against your tummy stopping completely for a moment.

“what’s the matter baby? hm? don’t you want me to eat your pretty pussy?” he teased at the last words playfully, his cheek still nuzzled into your softness of your tummy, feeling the warmth of his slender fingers gently squeezing and resting lazily on your sides.

“i-i do..” you stammer out desperately trying to keep your thigh closed together trying to hide the wet spot in the fabric of your cotton panties, it was stupid to even try to hide it you knew it. only desperately wanting him as bad as he wanted you.

“hm? didn’t catch that baby. you want to speak up for me?” he taunted that cheesy smile of his plastered on his face knowing your embarrassed about couldn’t help but to tease you a little bit more, his slender fingers lifting your skirt bunched up the fabric pulled itself up slowly.

“toru..i-i……need you please” you confessed softly warmth spreading through your body once more, causing satoru smirk to deepen at your words trailing his sloppy kisses down to stomach tracing along the waistband giving it a gentle tug as it loosens falls down your thighs to the floor.

“that’s my girl.” satoru cooes, swiping his calloused thumb across your sensitive nub. his gaze lands on your cunt, nuzzling in between your soft thighs hearing his breath hitched. satoru thick lengthy fingers toyed with your clit, pinching the sensitive nerve causing you to jolt against him.

“toru…c’mon..”

“so impatient baby hm. gettin’ wet f’ me barely even touch you.”

satoru mumbles, tugging and toying at your clit. his glossy lips glinting in the dim light teasing you into utter bliss causing you to writhe around at the stimulation.

your hands tugged at loose white strands of hair causing him to groan against your thighs, his tongue alternating between swirling around your clit and sucking on the sensitive nud—feeling the heaven through arching your back perfectly. not caring whom heard you throughout the walls of the locker room.

“satoru..!..ngh..please..”

“fuck…baby y’er close already? bet that jock can’t eat you out like this huh…”

your moans mingled together throughout the room bouncing off the walls, as satrou continued to tease your cunt with his tongue eating you out as if your were his last meal on earth his face stuffed with your cunt.

“answer the question baby.”

“n-no…toru….mph!fuckfuck..”

you writhing around against his face tightening your hands on his hair throwing your head, if it wasn’t for holding your thighs over his shoulders keeping you steady—knowing your legs would’ve given out on a instant.

satoru’s hands held your thighs open for him, the flat of his tongue slurped up your slick probing deeper inside of cunt you could only buck your hips against his face, trying to gain more stimulation from him but he had other plans.

only to, suddenly removing himself nuzzled between your thighs covered in your ecstasy and salvia dripping down his chin, with that same teasingly smirk lingering causing you to whine and scrunch your brows together in frustration. you didn’t honestly think you were going cum so easily with a teasing bastard like him huh?

“satoru…w-why..did you stop??” your breathing was still heavy and your skin glowed in the dim lighting of the locker room. sweat started to bead up on your forehead, and you still felt a hazy from the stimulation. you were grew rather frustrated and wanting to reach your orgasm to have it decided by your lover.

“sorry babe, but the game starts back in a few minutes.” he hums but you could practically hear the tease in his voice, placing you on your feet. you mumbling a few curses underneath your breath huffing, feeling you stumble forward you catch yourself.

satoru smiles back with a cheeky and teasing smirk as he watches your annoyed expression when he pulls away. he then unlocks the door, giving you no chance to respond or continue any further action, even though you were very tempted to do so. he laughs and winks at you before stepping out of the locker room, leaving you all by yourself inside.

you straighten out your uniform and make sure your appearance was looking proper before stepping out of the locker room. you didn't see satru anywhere, but you assumed he was already at the game. he did say that the game was starting in just a few minutes, and he was always one to be right on time. you made your way towards the game, looking for satrou amongst the other students who had already taken their seats.

you began to get concerned about satrou’s sudden disappearance, worried that he might be in trouble. he had gone missing without a trace after you two left the locker room, and his whereabouts were completely unknown at this point.

you searched all the crowd of students, searching for any sign of satrou but came up with nothing. you began to get increasingly worried with each passing moment, wondering where he could have gone so suddenly without a word?.

just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse than this. where the hell did he go?

oh great.

a wave of concern washed over you as satrou still hadn't shown himself by the quarter of the game, which only caused worries of where he could have gone to creep up on you. you were worried and stressed, not knowing if he were hurt and unable to show himself, or somewhere else. your annoyance grew with each passing second, until you suddenly heard toji's voice behind you.

"looking for someone?" toji asked, looking at you with a smug grin on his face. his friends all stood close to him, smirking as they looked at you. one of them even had the nerve to let out a chuckle, clearly enjoying how annoyed you were at the moment. it’s as if they were mocking your concern for satrou—was nowhere to be seen still. “I wouldn’t worry much about him, the nerd show sooner or later. or not.”

“what—why?”

“you ask way too many questions, relax. we have a game to finish. see you out there sweetheart”

you started at them confused, wanting to run after them to question them more but it was too late they were already heading to the field—but you should’ve expected them not take this matter seriously.

you only hoped gojo was okay somewhere.

@screampied @hoshigray @shaguro

[corusvants]

Hesitance 5 | gymowner!sukuna x f!reader

Summary: i'm letting everyone go in blind with this one. do read the fic warnings tho. enjoy the read and see ya at the end notes!!

masterlist (+ side stories)

This work is a part of a collection of moments the two have shared together during her time working for him. Side stories can be read on their own.

Genre: modern au, 18+, established friendship(?), slowburn

Word Count: 5.9k

Fic warnings: ooc, profanity, explicit smut, mentions of blood

Sukuna’s had consistent flashbacks from the last time he saw you, and finds himself zoning out and daydreaming of you. The way you traced your finger across his chest and down his abdomen, the way you so eagerly kissed him back, how receptive you were when he told you how he’s always felt about you. 

He almost couldn’t believe it. 

He felt like an idiot, realizing he could’ve had you much sooner if he’d just gotten out of his head and grew some balls. But it was hard, his fear of rejection from you was so much stronger than the actual need to be with you. But that night, and the conversation he had with you afterwards was all it took to abandon that fear. 

He was on cloud nine, absolutely elated that you actually wanted him just as much as he wanted you. He wanted more, and he was going to take more. No more stupid excuses, no more hesitation. He was going all in and making you his.

It started off with him sending flowers to your job the very next day. There was no particular reason behind it, he just felt like you deserved to have something nice to look at while you worked your butt off at that office. You called him on your drive back home to thank him. What was supposed to be a quick call ended up being hours long, you couldn’t even remember what you two had talked about. It was just a sweet conversation that had no end in sight, time flew by as new topics were brought up until you both passed out on the phone.

Next was when he brought you lunch a couple days later. You two ended up sitting on the park bench that was across the street from your office. A 45 minute lunch break was nice in the grand scheme of things, but it would never be enough time for you. A part of you wanted to make up some random excuse like a family emergency or something just so you could spend the rest of the day with him. But your manager will never be as lenient as Sukuna was when you worked for him. 

So there you were, eating the sandwich he got you while he was spread out and leaning back on the bench. You told him to stop staring at you while you ate, and he told you to not tell him what to do. You rolled your eyes and went back to eating while he continued to openly admire you. It was nice, and a million times better than the multiple glances he’d give you in the past– hoping to god that you wouldn’t catch him. 

“How much time do you have left?” He asked. 

“30 minutes,” You said while wiping the corner of your mouth with the napkin he handed you. “I ate that really fast,” You complained, hoping it wouldn’t upset your stomach. 

“You did,” He chuckled. “At least you liked it. Did you even eat breakfast this morning?”

“Nope,” You watched his brows crinkle in disappointment. “I woke up kind of late today, didn’t have time.” 

“Bad girl,” He clicked his tongue, as if he wasn’t the one that keeps you up late with the nightly phone calls. “Here, give me that.” 

You handed him the to-go bag from the deli he bought your lunch from, crumpled it up, and chucked it in the trash can that had to be at least 15 feet away. How he made it was something you’d never know. It was already well known that you had shit aim.

“You could’ve gotten up and thrown it away, instead of showing off you know?” You said sarcastically. 

“No point, you know I never miss,” He cheekily said, making you roll your eyes at his sudden inflated confidence. “C’mere,” he patted his lap, gesturing to you to sit on it. 

And you so eagerly did. You loved this side of him. He was so soft spoken, and touchy. 

Very touchy. 

When you first met him at the park, he squeezed your ass without a thought while kissing you. You were glad there were no children around, or you’d have a lot of explaining to do to their mothers (or fathers). 

You rested the side of your head on his chest while he held you close to him. Affection from him was nice, the way he held you and circled the side of your waist with his thumb. 

He was so calm today, usually his heart would be beating at an aggressive rate by now but there was a certain comfort that radiated off of him. He was content with holding you for those last 30 minutes before you both had to go back to real life. 

It was always easy with him from the start. The playful back and forths, the constant consideration he had for you. The relationship you had with him, prior to whatever this was, made it easy for you two to get so close, so quick. The touchy-feelyness was like second nature to you both.

“Would you want to come over sometime for a movie night? I just got a projector, I can set it up in the backyard.. throw something on the grill for us..” He lightly poked at your side like it was his own little way to further persuade you. 

You lightly smacked his hand to stop because it tickled. 

“I’d like that,” You looked up at him. “Want me to bring anything?” 

“No— actually, yeah,” He stopped himself. “Can you make that pigeon cake you made for the christmas potluck we had last year?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Huh? You mean hummingbird cake?”

“Yeah! That.” He lit up boyishly. 

He’s thought about that cake a lot since you made it. Unbeknownst to you and the rest of staff, he cut himself a huge piece of it, then hid it in his office when nobody was looking. 

Someone complained about it suddenly being half its size in less than 10 minutes, and everyone blamed Choso– which Sukuna allowed because he was determined on not getting caught. Sukuna was never a big fan of baked goods in general, but that had to be the best dessert he’s ever tasted. 

“Ryo.. how do you mess up a name that bad and mix up pigeons and hummingbirds,” You held back a smile, watching his face slowly turn sour as you began to make fun of him.

“Because I don’t give a fuck about birds,” He spat back. “I don’t even like cake, except for that one.” 

You threw your head back in laughter at how quick he was to defend himself, going as far as talking shit about a species as a whole. 

“Fine, fine I’ll make it— stop pouting. I literally just said yes!” You giggled as you tried to turn his head back towards you. 

“Thank you,” He mumbled before cupping your face with one hand and pulling you in for a kiss. 

—

It was the day of his movie night with you, and Sukuna left work early to head to the grocery store. He had a simple list that consisted of steaks, ingredients for pasta, and wine, and was hoping he wouldn’t stray too far from it. 

“Juzo!” He called out, hoping it would be loud enough to catch his favorite butcher's attention because he was not doing it again. 

He watched a young mother flinch and socially distance herself way more than six feet from him. 

Juzo came bursting through the doors, excited to see his favorite customer. 

“3 ribeyes, good cuts– you know what I like,” He told the man, who went straight to it right after.

Even though Sukuna’s never really cared for the organic grown bullshit that’s plastered all over grocery stores, he does care for high quality food. Which was why he was buying perfectly marbled steaks and making his own pasta sauce tonight, he doesn’t like the jarred sauces. 

From the corner of his eye, he caught an old lady staring at him. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, and was something he’s grown used to. While women around his age usually loved how he looked, he couldn’t say the same for children and the elderly. He can’t blame them either– the hair, the tattoos, the dark clothes. Not to mention he’s 6’3 and an absolute unit, he was intimidating. 

“I remember you,” The old lady points at him when he finally looks at her. 

“Huh? From where?” He asked, genuinely confused. 

“You were the man with that sweet family I met at the ice cream shop a couple years ago!” She exclaimed in excitement after finally figuring out where she’s seen him from before. 

“I remember going back home and telling my husband about the three of you. How is your wife and son doing?”

“Yeah…” He scratched his head after remembering that day, and what he said to her.

“They’re doing amazing. The kid’s about to start kindergarten in the fall, we’re completely floored over how fast time went by,” He said in his customer service voice, it was way too fucking easy. 

“They grow up quick, don’t they?” Sukuna smiled and nodded at her. “And your wife? Are you two planning on having more now that the boy will be with school?”

“Absolutely,” He grinned while holding up his basket a little bit. “It’s actually date night tonight, and he’s off at his uncles. Let's hope she lets me put another one in her after I make her dinner.”

The old lady giggled and slapped his arm a little too hard after she caught his drift. “Lucky girl she is! There’s nothing better than a parents night off.” She said, still laughing at his brazenness. 

“Always,” He nervously laughed along with her while subtly rubbing his arm. That old lady sure packed a fucking punch.

“I’ll never forget the way she looked at you in there, so much adoration in her eyes. You two remind me so much of the love I had with my husband when we were young. You take care of her, okay?” She said as she started to walk towards her grandchildren.

“I will. Thank you,” He slightly bowed at her. “See you next time,” He didn’t know why he said that. He hopes he never runs into her again.

It was probably just because she caught him off guard with that last sentence and left him flustered. How long have you been looking at him like that for?

He turned around to look at Juzo, who looked confused as fuck because he knew for a fact Sukuna didn’t have a wife or kid. 

“Don’t ask,” Sukuna grumbled, snatching the beautifully wrapped steaks from the butcher, who he’s known since he was 18. 

“Have fun on your date!” Juzo called out, to which he waved him off as he headed over to the wine aisle.

—

You didn’t think you’d ever be this nervous to see Sukuna. You were never nervous around him in the 3 years you’ve worked for him, not when he spent the night when you were sick, and definitely not even when you made out with him. 

But tonight? You were an anxious wreck. Like, your heart was beating fast and you doubted you could carry a conversation without stuttering, type of wreck. 

You had one job, and that was to bring the stupid cake. You were almost 5 minutes away from his house when you realized you fucking forgot it. 

So now, on top of being nervous in general, you were extra nervous about being late. 

You didn’t even bother texting him to let him know what happened. You just sped back home, and then sped back to his house— crossing your fingers the whole time hoping you wouldn’t get pulled over. 

He didn’t come to the door when you first knocked or first rang the doorbell, which slightly agitated you. It wasn’t even towards him at that point, you just didn’t know how else to deal with your anxiety so you ended up masking it with anger.

So you called him, and the first thing he noticed upon opening the door was you holding the cake– while glaring daggers at him. 

“Bad day?” He asked, completely disarming you by replacing the cake you had in your hand with a glass of wine he just poured for you. 

“No, just tired.” You said, not wanting to bring up the fact that you had wasted almost 30 minutes of your time because you couldn’t get it together.

“I bet,” He put his arm around you and led you inside the house. “Your job’s been working you like crazy this week too.” He acknowledged, to which you just simply hummed in agreement to.

“You know you could ask for water if you’re that thirsty right?” 

“What are you talking about?” You asked in a rather perplexed manner.

“You chugged an entire glass of Zinfandel in one go, you little alcoholic” he teased. 

“You didn’t even fill it up halfway” You pouted. You were not in the headspace to be teased.

He just smiled and shook his head, continuing to lead you to the backyard. He could tell you were nervous, it was hard not to notice. But he didn’t want to say anything to make it worse, you were his guest tonight and all he wanted was for you to be comfortable. 

Before entering his backyard, you were expecting to see a projector screen for a movie to play. What you weren’t expecting was multiple pillows and cushions laid over the biggest, fluffiest blanket you’d ever seen– and a bunch of fairy lights scattered all around the edges. He didn’t even seem like the type of person to own fairy lights.

“What do you think?” He asked as he came up behind you. 

“Looks comfy,” You said as he topped off your empty wine glass. “Fairy lights?” You tried to tease him, but you were so nervous it came out as a regular question. 

“Yuji’s.” He stole them from the boys room for tonight. 

“Looks comfy,” You continued to try to come up with a better response. 

You were at a loss of words over how much effort he had put into tonight. On top of that, he was doing all the cooking, and you felt like a lazy bitch. 

“Is there anything you need help with?” You asked. 

He could see the wheels turning in your head and was surprised to see it. You were always so confident around him, especially the last time you were at his house. It was cute, watching you act as nervous as you were– at a loss for words and trying to make some sort of use for yourself. 

“Yeah, pick a movie.” 

“That’s it?”

“That, and relax.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry I got everything handled.” 

He rubbed your back and kissed your temple before turning back around to get started on the steaks and throw the pasta in the boiling water. The sauce was already done and simmering in a pot.

At this point you’d rather help him cook than pick out a fucking movie. What if he didn’t like it and it spoiled the night? He complained about the show you put on when you were sick, and you were pretty sure he only stuck through with it because you were literally dying that day. If you were to put it on tonight, it would surely kill the mood. 

Spy x Family was not romantic. 

“Hey, don’t you like Euphoria?” He asked after remembering you used to talk about that show. 

“Yeah.”

“You should put on Immaculate, one of the actors from that show stars in that movie,” He said. His eyes went back and forth between you and food prior to cutting in and suggesting something. 

He was violently fighting back the urge to laugh at how much of a wreck you were, you couldn’t even pick out a movie without second guessing it. You tried so hard putting on a brave face but he saw right through it. 

You went ahead and searched the movie but waited for him to come back with the food before playing it. 

As if setting up the backyard into an outdoor theater wasn’t enough to try to impress you, he also plated the food beautifully. It almost made you sick how a man like him could put so much thought into little details like topping off the pasta with basil that was chiffonade. The steak was perfectly seared, cut, and topped off with flaky sea salt. 

You thanked him for the food, to which he responded ‘of course’ in a tone that sounded sexier than usual. 

Was it intentional or was it your brain releasing oxytocin and making you think that? You had no idea at that point. All you knew was that you were 30 minutes into your little movie night with him and he became 100 times more attractive to you, which you thought was blasphemous given how hot you already thought he was. 

You decided to shut the fuck up and lay on his lap for the rest of the movie. At that point, if anything else were to come out of your mouth, it would’ve been something embarrassing– you were trying to save yourself. 

The movie was good, creepy, but good. You were glad he suggested it, and he was pretty pleased with the choice as well. After noticing how on edge you were from the movie, he took the opportunity to pull you into his chest and you snuggled up to him right away. 

After sometime, he noticed you shivering and sat you up so he could find you another blanket. Right as he was getting up, you grabbed a hold of his hand.

“Did you need anything el-“ 

He was immediately cut off and didn’t dare to complain about it, not when you were pulling him down so you could kiss him. It was sweet but achingly long at first, he didn’t pull away from your lips as he sat himself back down.

He deepened it, swiping his tongue against yours as he got a hold of the back of your neck. It wasn’t long until you moved closer, and straddled yourself on his lap in an attempt to be physically closer to him. It went on for a bit, until you grinded against him a little too hard. That’s when he decided he couldn’t take the tension anymore. He wanted– no, needed– more.

“I’m not gonna doubt for one second that you wouldn’t mind getting fucked outside, but you’re getting a bed.” He rasped out before getting up– taking you with him while you were still straddled on his lap. 

You squealed from his fast he was able to pull both of you up, and how high up you were from the ground given the man’s towering height. Soon your heart was racing again, even more than before as he carried you inside. 

It was happening. 

This was happening.

He didn’t even rush as he carried you to his bedroom– still taking the time to kiss you, gently whispering lewd things in your ear about how you were in for it tonight and how hard he was going to fuck you.

All while your brain and body were screaming please, please, please, please.

Your cheeks were hot and you were already soaked by the time he laid you down on his california king, kissing you even more aggressively while grabbing a hold of your neck. He was rough but you wouldn't expect any less from Ryomen Sukuna himself. 

You tugged at each other's clothing, crashing into each other's lips after each piece came off. 

He had won in his mind when he had you completely stripped down at first while his sweats and boxers were still on. You looked so vulnerable being completely naked and splayed out in front of him and he loved it. 

He stared at you for a moment, soaking in the sweet sight of you– eyes filled with anticipation wondering what he’d do next, thighs pressed together, covering your breasts. 

There was no hiding from him, not now. He was going to explore every inch of you tonight and then some. Usually he had something smart to say, but he was so done with talking at this point. The past 3 years were filled with talking, what more could he possibly say?

He gently pulled your legs apart and got in between them to hover over you. He started on your neck, trailing a variation of kissing and sucking as he slowly made his way down to your breasts that he’d already been caressing after moving your hands out of the way. 

He loved feeling the way your nipples suddenly perked up as he circled his tongue over them. He still wasn’t in a rush as he licked and sucked on them, moving back and forth between the two– periodically coming up to admire the string of saliva that connected you two even after unlatching from you. 

It was heaven— the sweet sighs that came out of you and the way you gently tugged at his hair. 

He came back up and rested his forehead against yours. You thought he was going to kiss you again, but instead lightly grazed his lips against yours as he mumbled ‘sit on my face’. 

You didn’t even get the chance to say okay or anything before he laid down on his bed and patiently waited for you to smother him.  

“C’mon, don’t be shy now.” He said with a grin plastered over his face. He guided you and your hips to hover above him. “When I say to sit on it, I mean it. Don’t worry about me. Grind on my face too if you want. Just don’t try to sit up.” You couldn’t tell if it was a demand or a plea. 

You wearily said okay which was followed by a firm smack to your ass cheek, causing you to lean forward and further away from his face.

“Ryo you’re messing with me now,” You whined. 

“You’re the one that’s messing with me.”

“No I’m n– oh fuck,” He didn’t give you a chance to finish your sentence before he used his strength to slam you down on his face and hold you down as he started eating you out like an absolute madman. 

It was already too much– the way he lapped and sucked and licked at you, all while you felt the vibrations of his guttural groans from how sweet you tasted. 

He was enjoying this just as much as you were, and he made it known by the way he was grabbing at your hips and grinding your cunt against his face himself. 

Your moans and the sounds of slurping filled the room as he continued his work on you, not once letting up as he continued to lap at your folds all while keeping a strong grip at your hips. You had nowhere to run as he absolutely abused your pussy with his tongue. Every time you tried to lift your hips up even a bit, he’d just pull you down even more. 

He wasn’t going to slow down even if you begged, and you just accepted it as you put both of your hands on his chest and braced yourself for the hardest orgasm you knew you would ever have in your life. He continued to use your body as a little ragdoll– grinding you against his tongue all while you were grabbing at his chest so hard he swore you drew blood. 

And you did. He was the most shameless, most messiest eater and he had your whole being unraveling because of it– you moaned and whined as he continued to tongue fuck you like his life actually depended on it. 

Pressure built up in your abdomen and you felt yourself starting to lose it all while your walls started to clench at nothing. You were fucking close and he knew it too just by the way your cries became more and more strangled. 

Just when you didn’t think he couldn’t go any faster, he did. He absolutely did. He wanted it just as much as you did and added so much more pressure as he upped the tempo. 

You came so fucking fast you didn’t even get a chance to warn him. One minute you were holding on for dear life, the next minute you were gushing all over him while he continued to eat your out– cleaning up your mess and groaning in approval. 

You could barely see straight as you laid back down and tried to recollect yourself from that. Nobody’s ever eaten you out like that before– with so much eagerness and intent. 

He had the look of bliss plastered on his face as he got up from the bed to take the rest of his clothes off to reveal what he's been hiding in his pants all these years– and your jaw fucking dropped.

“Holy fuck Ryo.”

“I know.” He agreed. 

He was fucking huge on his own, excluding the fat tip along with the fucking dick piercing. A part of you was scared while the other part was excited to see if it’d even fit or not. 

“Wanna try to take it on your own?” He asked, knowing it’d probably hurt less if you had control over it. 

“Yeah,” You hesitantly said, while continuing to stare at all nine, thick inches of him. 

He pulled you in for a deep kiss before laying back down and once again propping you above him. Watching your legs still tremble from when he ate you out along with you struggling to take it made him dick throb even more. 

He held your waist tightly to help you keep your balance as you slowly started to lower yourself on to him. His breath hitched and abs tightened after feeling how tight you were. He was so fucking glad he jacked off before you came over. If he hadn’t, he probably would’ve cum all over you by now. 

He helped you as you continued to impale yourself on his cock– holding you up by your waist, sweet talking you, telling you how good you were doing and how you could take it. 

He also helped by not snapping his hips up even though he so desperately wanted to. Not right now, he could do that later. Right now you just needed to adjust to him so you’d actually like it when it was his turn.

You were more than halfway down when your eyes started to glaze over and you started to whimper a little bit. The way he stretched you out burned, but his piercing was hitting your sweet spot and it felt too good not to start slightly bouncing on it. 

So fucking good. The pain of his width slowly dissipated as you started to slowly fuck yourself, taking full advantage of that piercing and the way it hit you just right. 

“Starting to feel good baby?” Sukuna asked as he watched you in awe. You were doing so good for him and he would never stop telling you that, especially if the result would always lead to you taking his dick like an absolute champ.

“Y-yes,” You whined out, it was all you could say at that point since your brain had already turned into mush. He chuckled at how fucked out you were already. 

Once you felt more adjusted to him, you started going faster– taking every single inch of him. He tried hiding his own moans but failed, you felt so fucking good wrapped around him- so wet and so fucking tight. He leaned his head back into the pillow and let out the longest, deepest sigh, all while still holding on to your hips and guiding you down to meet him at the base. 

It went on until he was a desperate mess along with you– the labored breathing, the grabbing. 

“Lemme– fuck– lemme fuck you. Hmm? You want that? Want me to pound you out?” He babbled out, praying to god you’d say yes. 

You nodded yes, still as fucked out as ever and slowly got off of him. Before you could even switch spots with him, he pushed you down on your back so you’d lay in the middle of the bed and got on top of you. 

He held your knees up to your chest and lined himself up with your entrance. This was perfect, you were perfect, and it was his turn to have some fun now. 

He started pushing into you, not pulling back once as he completely buried his dick inside of you– making you cover your mouth from the all the sudden fullness again. It was different this time, you could feel everything with him folding you like this– every inch, every vein, every pulse. You practically sucked him in with how wet you were. 

He tried to go slow but he fucking failed at that. How could he when you were right in front of him for him to take? 

“C’mon baby you can take it- just fucking take it please,” he pleaded as he started thrusting his way into you. “Fuck yeah– just take it. You’re doing so good for me.” 

“F-fuck Ryo,” was all you could moan out as he picked up his pace.

“I’m right here baby, just let go.” He cooed. “Don’t even think about anything right now, just let me make you feel good.”

He continued to mutter profanities at you as he split you open with his cock. Slapping, squelching, and both of your moans filled the room as he fucked you with everything he had him. 

He dropped down to grab the sides of your hair as he pounded into you even harder. He was fucking relentless. Moaning out your name and tell you fucking tight you were and how your pussy was made for him. 

And you were fucking crying– not from pain, but pure, unadulterated pleasure. He was so deep, hitting all your sweet spots over and over and over again. You couldn’t think straight anymore. 

All you could think about was Ryo, and how big he was, and how good he was fucking you. You started to dig your nails into his back, drawing blood yet again from how much he was pushing you over the edge. 

He felt your walls tighten around him even more, which he didn’t think could be possible with how tight you were around him to begin with. He knew you were about to cum, and so was he from the grip you had around his cock at that point. 

So he started pumping into you harder and faster– throwing you off the edge as he fucked you both through it. The pressure quickly built up and you were cumming all over him again and creating a huge wet spot just under the both of you– it was obscene and only he could pull that kind of reaction out of you. 

He kept going well after that– now overstimulating you as he chased his own relief. One that he could only find deep inside of you. His breathing and his strokes got more erratic the closer he got, he already knew he was gonna cum so fucking hard for you and wanted it so bad. It was your turn to talk him through it, and you started telling him bad you wanted it and to please please please fill you up.

That’s all it really took for Sukuna to start spilling hot ropes of cum inside of you. It was so fucking much, some of it was already coming out of you in between each thrust as he emptied himself inside of you. You were milking him dry and taking him for everything he had– and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He crashed his lips in yours as he slowed down and you both started coming back to your senses. He held you close, closer than he’s ever held a woman in his life. 

Is this what love felt like? It had to be. He continued to pepper your lips and cheeks with kisses as he slowly pulled out of you, sensitive from the fact that he literally just fucked your brains out and he was almost positive that his dick was broken. 

Was it worth it? Absolutely. You’d always be worth it in his eyes, and that moment he realized he’d do just about anything for you in a heartbeat. 

His sweet girl. Eyes half-lidded as you tried to catch your breath, all while the man above you was holding you and looking at you way more lovingly than any man in your life ever had. 

“You okay?” He gently asked as he started to move pieces of hair out of your face.

“Yeah,” You let out a little giggled at quickly he went back being so sweet and caring, especially after seeing his crazy side come out for a good hour. 

“What are you laughing about?” He smiled with you while pinching your cheek. 

“Nothing,” You cupped the side of his face with your hand. “I had fun tonight.”

“Will you stay?” He asked with a look of longing in his eyes. How could you possibly say no to that?

“Yeah,” You nodded. 

He kissed you one more time before getting up and looking at the two huge wet spots on the bed. You knew he was about to say something stupid after you saw him smirk, look back at you, then back at the two spots. 

And he did. Pride filled his chest as he started laughing to himself and say something along the lines of ‘damn, I fucked you that good?’, causing you to throw a pillow right at him as you told him to shut up and that he liked it. 

And he did. In fact, he loved it. And he was going to pull more out of you the soonest chance he got. But for now, he figured you were tired by the look in your eyes and decided to draw a bath for you so you could get cleaned up. 

He left you in the bath for a bit while he replaced his sheets, and went back to the kitchen to cut a slice of cake so you two could eat it. 

It’s been almost a year since he’s had that cake. He never would’ve thought that the next time he had it would be with you while you both sat in the tub and talked about sweet nothings for the rest of the night. 

Sukuna has had many sweet moments in his life. 

Like buying out the gym from an old man who sold it to him for a discounted price because he saw potential in him. 

Meeting his next door neighbors shortly after buying his home. He thought they’d judge him because of his age and appearance but they welcomed him with open arms. 

The first time Yuji fell asleep in his arms at 3 months old with a little smile on his face– making him realize that he wasn’t the fuck up most people made him out to be since something as innocent as his baby nephew felt safe enough to rest on him. 

Or like now, as he fed you that cake while you told him how you have always loved him– making him realize that his life had come full circle.

He finally had everything he’s ever wanted and worked so hard for.

epilogue

notes: fun fact, the smut scene itself has a higher word count than hesitance 1. i immediately went outside to touch some fucking grass after realizing that fact.

ANYWAYS, i just wanted to thank everyone who's followed along. i've had so much fun writing this mini series and sharing it with others. all there's left is the epilogue, can you guess what it'll be?

this won't be the end of hesitance tho! i will still be writing past and present drabbles here and there for these two little freaks.

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(3) @notcamii @gojoscumslut @noemienakamoto @thestrawartsofreading @himboelover

(4) @weepingangelboy @strflwr @miguellover6969

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