#Toxic Naoya | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saintobio · 6 months

Text

sincerely yours. (10)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. depression, intoxication, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships,

notes. important announcement ! as you all know, this series has always had an extensive approach into detailing the events in its side stories (ie. sera x sukuna x naoya, yuuji x megumi, maki x yuuta x miwa, etc), but while writing the chapters, the word count and the plot building had become too exhausting for me to produce consistently, esp with the amount of scenes and side stories i was introducing to the story, so i've decided it's best for me to stick to the main characters, reader & gojo, and will only add side stories as necessary. this really hurts me knowing that i can't achieve the level of comprehensive writing and world building that i did for sincerely not, but i really want to finish sy as soon as possible and removing a chunk of side stories would be some of the things that'd help me achieve that 😭 i hope you guys understand. hopefully i'll figure out a way to write those side stories instead of completely abandoning them mid-way in this series. but as always, thanks for ur continued support <3

series masterlist -> episode eleven

“It’s a little weird.”

What was supposed to be her bed time had turned into a moment of reflection for Sera who, instead of being fast asleep at this time of the night, had unconsciously brought herself inside Sukuna’s home office to join the up-and-coming tech mogul in his late-night programming.

She wore her silk pajamas, pacing back and forth in her boyfriend’s office as her mind flew back to the recent encounter she had with her ex-boyfriend. Who knew that Satoru’s kid would look just like a carbon copy of him? No, actually, the question should be: who knew it would be a different woman by his side acting as the mother of his child? Sera had to laugh at herself, shaking her head as she realized how truly and undeniably ridiculous her ex was. It was clear that day that he wasn’t really as loyal of a partner as he claimed himself to be.

Did he really just go through all those crazy things with you, only to look like a whore-hopping fool now?

If he was bound to end up with someone else other than you, then why did he have to make Sera’s life miserable in the first place?

She may have done terrible things before as a selfish and materialistic lover of his, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Satoru also contributed to her role as the side-piece in his marital relationship. He allowed her to cling to him like a mistress. Being his side-piece wasn’t even something that she had forced upon him. It was his promise, an idea that he planted on Sera’s head, saying that she would need to stay by his side and that he would marry her guaranteed that he had already secured the merger and divorced you. He swore like a fool that he would divorce you. But guess what? The jerk ended up falling in love with his wife and suddenly had no use of Sera. Suddenly, he was such a good husband who couldn’t be more loyal. Suddenly, he was a lovestruck man who had always been in love with his childhood friend. If he had downright dumped Sera the moment his engagement was announced, if he had not been prideful and ambitious since the beginning of his marriage, he probably would have had better luck at having that healthy relationship he yearned from you.

But how come the blame of being the third-party was all on Sera when her only mistake then was loving the person who promised her all the good things in life?

Now, you see, this was all just bitterness brewing at the back of her head. She knew what she did was still wrong and that she wasn’t innocent. Sera swore to herself that she would never look back on those awful days ever again, but seeing how Satoru was running around freely with a different woman just reminded Sera of his days as a spiteful, two-timing man. Somehow, it felt like he had changed and yet didn’t at all.

Ha ha ha. How ridiculous was that?

“What’s funny?” asked Sukuna, her present boyfriend and thankfully so. He was Sera’s blessing, because she never would have thought that a man like him could still exist in a world full of Satoru’s and Naoya’s. “You look cute smiling to yourself, though.”

“I know,” she responded to the compliment, shifting to settle herself on his lap, though his attention remained fixed on his laptop screen. “It's just strange to me,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “how Gojou appears his usual self, yet there's something off about him.”

The question clouded Sukuna’s eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he tried to comprehend her description. “You mean dude got uglier?”

I wish, Sera thought. “No, he’s… he’s different. The vibes are different. For a second, he even looked like he was dissociating the whole time he was with that girl,” she said, referring to Satoru’s new girl as though she was your cheap alternative, “But then again, why is he with her in the first place if he looks absent-minded the whole time, you know what I mean?”

“Was he like that with you before?”

“At times, but it’s not like the way he’s acting right now… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. The energy is off. That’s just not how he acts when he’s really, really into someone.”

To be honest, Sukuna didn’t give a damn about Satoru Gojou’s life and any normal boyfriend wouldn’t really like hearing their girlfriend talking about another man, especially her ex at that, but he knew Sera found joy in old money gossip and he was aware of the demoralizing past she has had by associating herself with them. Sukuna was acting all engaged in their conversation because he wanted to make her feel heard and that he shared her simple joys in life. Besides, it was through her that he learned so many inside scoops about the people that ran the country’s biggest conglomerates. It was like watching one heck of a messy episode of Dynasty.

“Didn’t he get into a car accident?” he recalled, remembering the headlines on the news that day, “Then, we saw him at the expo and he couldn’t really remember you. The guy’s probably got his head all messed up.”

Sera was bitter at the time thinking that Satoru was toying with her when he asked who she was, when the truth was, he was actually diagnosed with amnesia. It was such a shock to her, truthfully, because having amnesia felt like something you would only see on a movie’s screen. Well, in that case, she could also say karma’s a bitch. The director might be onto something here.

“He’s probably not mentally fine, but still…” she thought carefully and played the scene in her head again. What was it about the Gojou that she saw the other day that was different? “He just has a different vibe to him that it feels uncomfortable. It’s like he’s rude, but not so rude? He doesn’t have much of a personality anymore. Like a complete stranger.”

“Maybe it’s the new girl rubbing off on him.” Sukuna was back to typing on his laptop as he said that. Frankly, he was just saying anything at this point.

Sera shook her head in response. “Well, I don’t know about that girl he’s seeing and I don’t really care, but it’s common knowledge to the filthy rich that she’s Y/N’s best friend. That’s why I recognized her right away, and that’s why it disgusted me,” she pressed on, “Tell me, would you—and be honest about this—would you fuck your best friend’s ex?”

The humor on her boyfriend’s face came right as she asked that. “Babe, you fucked a married man. It’s worse than fucking somebody’s ex.”

“Shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she got up from his lap and sighed, but Sukuna wasted no time in pulling her back onto his lap. His chuckle was mingling with the gentle kiss he had planted on her cheek, unaware that his actions made Sera’s heart flutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t even be talking about Satoru with you.”

The man stretched his arms and finally closed his laptop, patting Sera’s thigh afterwards. “On that note, I do have another ‘dude from your past’ that I gotta meet tomorrow.”

Her reaction alone was a response for him. “Naoya?” she protested, face contorting with disgust. “What for? I told you not to take on that project.”

“Yeah, I considered it, and you know, the partnership could really benefit CleaveTech,” Sukuna reasoned, leaning back as he outlined the situation to her from a business standpoint. Given her own background working for the Gojou Group before, he expected her to grasp the significance of this partnership and set aside any personal grievances or emotional attachments. “The Zen'in Group is a major client. It’s all pros and no cons here.”

“The contra is the guy you’re gonna work with,” she highlighted with a hint of annoyance rising from her throat, “Naoya is nothing but an opportunistic motherfucker. Mind you, he’s a stupid elitist, too.”

He held back a laugh, not even threatened by a man who had a terrible history with his girlfriend. “Nah, I’ll deal with him. Just trust me on this.”

As much as Sera wanted to object, she knew Sukuna had a point and that she really shouldn’t hinder his company from being partnered with such a large conglomerate. She just didn’t like the thought of her boyfriend being around a man who manipulated and humiliated her to the point where she had been blacklisted by multiple companies, leaving her to resort to being somewhat of a prostitute just to make ends meet.

The world was harsh for the not-so-rich, and all Sera wanted was to give those upper class people a taste of their own medicine. But seeing as her desire for revenge would clash with her boyfriend’s chance at company growth, she had to set aside her personal grudge and support him on this one.

Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious. “Is there any other reason you agreed to this partnership?”

Sukuna smirked as if he expected that question from her. “Blame it on my little brother, he’s been bugging me ‘bout it.”

“Yuuji?” Sera asked, clearly confused.

To which her boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah. He said it’ll give him an opportunity to work with his best friend. You know that kid, Fushiguro, right?”

Ahh. Toji’s kid aka the heir to the Zen’in business empire. Sera had met Megumi before, and while that other brat Mai used to be unreasonably rude to her, the younger boy was always civil and respectful at least. He never even once treated Sera like dirt when she was spending time with Naoya at their mansion. Perhaps their upbringing really differed because he was raised by Toji and the other Zen’ins were raised by demons.

Nevertheless, with a connection now established between Sukuna and Naoya through Yuuji and Megumi, Sera couldn’t help but feel that her peaceful days as a nouveau riche were about to become far more intriguing. Depending on the cards she would choose to play, they could even turn into a living nightmare.

— —

You weren’t exactly abandoning your company; you were merely taking a break, a necessary pause given your current mental state after the whole break-up with Toji and the Osaka thing. Your mind was just too overwhelmingly occupied to even properly function. Each day, mustering the energy to show up at Hearte's head office became increasingly challenging, especially when faced with individuals who relied on you for major decisions and creative direction.

To make matters worse, Akemi’s sudden resignation hit hard.

You received her decision by a simple letter, a mere piece of paper, without even having the guts and decency to meet with you in person. Was she scared? Or was this her way of rubbing salt on the wound, shoving it in your face that she was now taking things to the next level with your ex-husband?

She did cite in her resignation letter that her reason for resigning from the role was due to conflict of interest. You wanted to laugh when you read that part. No, you wanted to choke in your fit of laughter after reading through her asinine reasons. She could have been upfront and mentioned that the so-called ‘conflict’ was the very man her best friend had previously married.

Obviously, everyone in the office felt sad knowing that a core member of the company left without at least a 30-day notice, but they were all also aware that her resignation was due to personal albeit controversial reasons. Did Akemi not care about her image at all? The same colleagues she had trained, managed, and collaborated with would now likely gossip about her behind her back. She would become a hot topic of disrespect among the people that once heavily respected her. Did she also not care about the company you two created together anymore? This was the same company you two had passionately dreamed of during your late-night conversations on a New York rooftop. She was the one who wanted to build a fashion house together with you.

Yet, it seemed she was willing to throw it all away for a man already entangled in complicated familial dynamics. Her immediate resignation and refusal to speak to you in person just further confirmed it to you that Akemi was willing to forsake your friendship by choosing a man who already had a child with someone else.

Since she chose that path, you couldn’t help but interpret Akemi’s actions as a deliberate slight against your friendship. It seemed clear that she no longer viewed you as a friend and was essentially cutting ties with you. Otherwise, why would she take such a step? Akemi wasn’t the type to be vindictive; she likely believed she was sparing you further pain by severing your connection. However, regardless of her intentions, her actions felt deeply disrespectful and hurtful.

If this was what she wanted, then kudos to her and her unbelievable confidence to choose a man like Satoru Gojou. Besides, it didn’t even take you a week to find another replacement. Your family connections were powerful after all. You readily had a pool of potential candidates for the role of the Head of Sales, Retail, and Merchandising—all from prestigious backgrounds and unparalleled expertise. While the competition was tough, you selected the person you deemed was the most qualified to be your second-in-command. This was someone you had esteemed since college, a person who excelled in both business acumen and creative vision.

Yuki Tsukumo. She was influential in every sense, and you trusted that she would be able to manage the high pressure environment of a start-up fashion house and transform it into an iconic brand, a household name that would one day rival Chanel and Miu Miu.

You may have succeeded in replacing Akemi. You may have shown her that her position in the workforce was easily replaceable, but her role as your friend still left a lingering, repugnant mark that proved far more difficult to erase. This underlying sentiment could explain the unreasonable anger festering in your heart—a visceral reaction born from feelings of backstabbing betrayal.

It was hard enough for you to travel all the way to Osaka with a broken heart, but it became much more agonizing to watch your own son run up to Akemi like she was his mother. It was a goddamn slap to your face, indeed, to see that your ex-husband had already chosen a woman to have his happy, little family with. That he wanted to be a good man and be everything you wished for in a husband for her.

As they say, nothing hurts more than building a man for another woman.

And honestly? You cried so much on the way home that you became numb. Now, you were just trying to get over it. You were trying to bury the searing pain in order to forget the betrayal you felt. It was all too much for a person to handle and it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone through the same old shit before. Wasn’t it worse before with Satoru actually cheating and all? He technically wasn’t crossing any lines here, so it shouldn’t hurt you. It shouldn’t. You had been here before. If you had managed to get through such an awful time as his previous wife, his relationship with Akemi shouldn’t be too hard to accept. No, you weren’t trying to lowball your pain, but it was better to be an optimist in this situation than be a suicidal, self-destructive person. You had a business to run and a child to raise. You had to be strong.

Or at least, that was what you told yourself. That was what you had been telling yourself over and over, each time you got up from bed forcing yourself to have a false positive mindset. In fact, that was also why you had to take this extended break because you had to have your peace of mind. You had to have some form of release to remember why you needed to stay alive and keep yourself going.

Not just for Sachiro’s sake, but also for your own.

Your safe haven for now was at the horse ranch, where the tranquility of riding and the beauty of nature provided the perfect ambiance for reflection. How long has it been since your last visit to Willow? Your father had been joking that you shouldn’t be leaving a beautiful, white Friesian horse unattended for years, especially not for the expensive price he paid her for. True enough, because the moment you saw the mare again, you almost forgot how majestic she was for her breed. Willow was a completely docile and graceful horse, so alike to you in many ways. However, one thing that was unlike you, was that she lived in peace, existing solely for herself and not for anyone else.

If only you could be like her.

As you reached out to stroke your rare-breed horse, a new and unfamiliar stallion in the stable caught your eye. To think of it, your family shared this equestrian estate with the Gojou family. This realization meant that the strikingly elegant and tall gray horse in the adjacent stall belonged to none other than Satoru.

“It’s a Thoroughbred,” the equine caretaker informed while guiding your horse out of the stable, “Mr. Satoru got him recently and named him Six.”

A gray Thoroughbred, renowned as the most expensive horse breeds out there. It could fetch a price as high as $70 million, and of course, Satoru was the perfect owner for such a prestigious horse. The stallion embodied his essence completely—its color, its build, its rarity. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but find his naming convention by number a bit odd. His previous black stallion was named Eight. This time around, it was Six. Couldn’t he be more imaginative?

“He’s beautiful,” you mumbled, nonetheless, in awe with the regality of the horse.

“He’s a good boy, too,” added the enthusiastic horsekeeper in a thick country accent, “Mr. Satoru was here yesterday and played polo while riding him. They were perfectly in sync even if it was his first time riding him.”

Of course, he would play polo. That was one of his favorite recreational sports. The burning question at hand was, who was with him during his visit? Because if the caretaker mentioned Akemi, you would certainly lose it. This was your private space with him. This estate was a place that none of his other women had access to, not even Sera. This was a location filled with memories from your childhood. For him to bring another woman here would be crossing the damn line.

“Did he bring anyone with him?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you dusted off your boots.

The caretaker denied. “No, he was alone. He just came to play polo and check the horses he recently bought.”

Oh… “He bought more than one?”

Did he seriously get Akemi her own horse? Your heart was racing at the thought, but the caretaker led you to the stable near the exit to show you the other horse than your ex-husband had purchased. It was a brown Shetland pony.

“He got a fully trained Shetland for your son,” the horsekeeper proudly declared, showcasing the pony as if he had been instructed to do so in anticipation of your visit. It was obvious that Gojou had already briefed him on introducing Sachiro’s new pony to you because he knew you would be asking about it. “His name is Elmo. He is kid-safe and very friendly.”

Frankly, you wanted to sigh in relief, but at the same time, it warmed your heart to know that Satoru got his son his own horse at such a young age. You could already sense him planning to make Sachiro take equestrian classes when he gets older, and probably join him on his horseback riding sessions, too. You could imagine just how perfect it would be to see the father and son bonding here, racing together, playing polo together… yet it would not be you who would be watching them on the side.

This future he was setting up with his son would be an experience he would share with Akemi.

There was no you in that vision anymore.

The caretaker likely questioned your sanity when he noticed the bitter smile on your face as you mounted your mare. He might have even doubted whether you were sane enough to ride alone, without a guide, particularly through the woods since Willow had not been ridden for some time now. However, you had done it countless times before and were quite familiar with the trail, and so you dismissed his offer to lead you and assured him confidently that you knew your way back.

You needed this solitude. You craved this moment of peace, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature, to reflect on the ceaseless torture of your life. It was just never-ending, squeezing every drop of happiness out of your system to make sure that you would only live to suffer. You really thought you had your happy ending with someone else? You actually believed you had found the perfect man to be your actual husband?

Well, unfortunately for you, Toji was not the one.

At first, your mind flew to Toji as you went on to the trail, allowing the mare to continue trotting as you held the reins to control her. You remembered Toji’s text that morning, asking you for the hundredth time if he could meet with you. He likely wanted to apologize in person, but you doubted he would change his mind and take back the things he said. Because they were true. He could never fill the void left by his deceased wife by being with another empty soul. It was painfully, unmistakably true. You were better off dead if that was the case, because even if you did end up marrying him, you would never be regarded as the person he loved the most. After all, your role in this world seemed to always be the second option. You were never the first in other people’s books. Not with your ex-husband. Not even with your family, especially with Gen around. You were meant to be a bystander, watching others live their perfect lives while you were forced to be in your misery. Someone like Toji would not have a guaranteed blissful marriage with you and you had to spare him from that. You had to draw the line and step back from this charade that you were playing with him, knowing that you were never the right person to be with him, so at some point, you had to accept his drunken words. They came from a place of truth, and that truth would set the both of you free.

Even it hurt. Even if it fucking hurt to hear his words. You couldn’t deny them.

You could easily forgive him, but his words might take a while for you to forget because even thinking about it now was bringing a wave of pain into your chest. You didn’t even notice that you were losing control on Willow’s reins by the time you entered further into the woods, bouncing on the saddle as you galloped along the challenging path. With the speed you were riding right now, inexperienced riders would certainly find it unsafe and scary. But for you? It was just what you needed. The breeze of fresh air, the thrill of riding alone, the peaceful sound of nature—you could die there and be at your happiest.

Maybe that was where you had to be; to disappear and leave them all behind. Wouldn’t that be best for everyone? If you were to vanish, they could finally be free. Your presence, even from the beginning, was a burden for everyone—for your dad, Gen, Satoru, Toji, and even Akemi. The people you trusted the most would be the same people who would secretly celebrate your demise. So, what else was hindering you from taking matters into your own hands and ending it all yourself?

“Giddy up!”

Was it Sachiro? Definitely. But now he had his father, and he was likely starting to see Akemi as a mother figure as well. Your role as his beloved mama could be easily replaced if you were to leave him now. It wouldn’t hurt him as much that way. Three years with Sachiro seemed sufficient enough, and he was at an age where he could grow up alongside his father. In this short span, he would have lasting memories with you, yet not enough to deeply grieve your absence. He was a young child, surrounded by people who would offer the whole world to him. At least, for that, you were eternally grateful. It brought you comfort knowing that your son would have support after you were gone, and that he would find a mother figure in Akemi. Given the brief time he spent with you and the rest of his life with her as his stepmother, Sachiro would likely come to love and accept Akemi as his own mother. This was the best outcome you could hope for.

My child, my son, my baby… please don’t get mad at mommy.

Tears were gushing out of your eyes and you hadn’t even realized it until they started blurring your vision. You were far too lost in your own thoughts, unaware that you were now in an unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous part of the trail. The path was getting a little bit too steep and poor Willow was clearly stressed at your inconsiderate handling. There were multiple obstacles on your rocky terrain and you weren’t as steady and controlled as you wanted to be because the horse wasn’t comfortable navigating such a difficult path with the pace you were forcing her to.

“Ah!”

Your attempt to balance was interrupted by Willow’s loud neigh, signaling her distress before she bolted into a full rampage. She was sprinting at an estimated speed of 20 miles per hour. Not even a skilled rider like Satoru himself would be cantering that fast on unfamiliar terrain and an unfit horse. But you, you clearly had a death wish, because instead of fearing for your own life, you were far more concerned at the thought of how dreamy Satoru and Akemi’s wedding would look like after your demise. They would definitely make Sachiro their ringbearer. Suguru would be the best man. Shoko, the maid of honor. People on the internet would praise them for being an attractive couple. They would anticipate their beautiful kids together, living in the same mansion he bought as a gift to you. He would kiss her good night, tell her loves her, and offer the whole world to her. They would exchange vows and promise themselves a lifelong commitment to be by each other’s side through sickness and in health, and only in death would they part.

“Willow!”

You let out a shriek as the reins slipped from your grasp, causing you to tumble off the saddle and crash onto the ground. The impact was first felt in your elbow, and a sharp, searing pain then radiated through your body. There you lay, sprawled on the dirt, helplessly watching Willow galloping out of control up the mountain, and then tragically plummeting off a cliff.

“Nooo! Willow, no!”

Utter hysteria overtook you. You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to determine which pain was more agonizing—the clearly broken elbow, the loss of the horse you had inadvertently led to its death, or the heart-wrenching reality of Satoru starting a family with someone else.

You were pathetic. You were such a pathetic excuse of a human being and this was why you deserve hell.

“Willow!”

Toji couldn’t love you. Your own son didn’t want to be around you. Satoru had gotten over you. And now, you drove a poor innocent horse to its demise because of your recklessness!

You were crying hysterically as you held your pained elbow, crawling by the cliff’s edge as you screamed for your horse’s name, but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You could only apologize to poor Willow for having such an irresponsible owner, and now she was dead because of you. 16 years of her life, she was able to live in peace until you came and ruined it all for her. It should have been you. You were the one who should have jumped off a cliff. You should atone for your sins and follow her, but you were too weak, far to overcome by the excruciating pain on your hip and your broken elbow to move or do anything at all.

That was, until your mind had completely shut down, leaving you as a mere body to be discarded alone in the darkness of the woods. You hoped that no one else would find you soon.

— —

“A-Angina?” Satoru’s eyes went wide. His whole world stopped before him.

“Yes. She was diagnosed with stable angina,” Dr. Mori confirmed, much to your husband’s horror. “But there is another factor that requires her to have more rest. You need to take good care of your wife, Mr. Gojou. Her body needs a lot of nutrients so she can carry safely.”

He could barely process the whole thing in his head because the news kept coming one after another, leaving him in a befuddled state with a flood of unanswered questions running through his mind. “What do you mean…?”

“Your wife is seven weeks pregnant.”

…

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

You could barely pry your eyes open, but when you finally managed to, you were met with the concerned expression on Gen’s face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent confirmed to you that you were in the ER, likely an hour or two after the incident in the woods. The memory of the trail quickly flooded your thoughts, and a pang of sorrow gripped your heart as you recalled Willow's final moments before she fell off the cliff. The poor horse had lost her life, while the one responsible for her tragic death remained alive, save for the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“Why did you ride into the woods alone?” Gen persisted with her barrage of questions, standing by your bed as you attempted to sit up. “Are you suicidal or what? Riding your horse in a dangerous trail like that—”

“You know what, maybe I should have just died back there!” you snapped, wincing from the pain in your elbow. Her choice of words struck a nerve in you. “Maybe I’d prefer that over sitting here, listening to your sanctimonious lecture like you're so perfect yourself! How obnoxious.”

“Then, maybe you shouldn’t be riding so recklessly and causing alarm to everyone else!”

“Did I literally ask you to come save me?!”

The atmosphere around you two just became even more uninviting, with discomfiting silence seeping through as you and Gen were engaged in a sharp glaring contest. Your father stood behind her, clearing his throat to cut the tension.

“That’s enough, Gen.” Your dad placed a hand on her shoulder, and although she wanted to protest, she knew better not to keep stirring the pot after receiving his strict gaze. “Let’s just be thankful your sister is safe. There’s no need to be so overwhelming.”

You rolled your eyes, drawing in a deep breath before you looked away from them. None of them would ever understand your pain unless they were in your position. They didn’t carry the same baggage as you, so they would never fully comprehend the weight of your suffering. You had already dealt with similar pain on your own before and that was why you didn’t need any of them to come to your aid, meddling with your life like they knew exactly what you were going through. “Just leave me alone, you guys. I wanna rest.”

Since when did your relationship with your sister start to get rough? It wasn’t really like this before, but ever since she started to become too overprotective over you and your choices in life, particularly choices linked to Satoru, Gen had started to become insufferable in your eyes. She was acting too much like a mother; controlling your decisions, lecturing you about your personal relationships, being too involved with your private life. There, ever since that, you started to distance yourself from her, and she didn’t like that. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to cease acting like this mature, picture perfect big sister to you.

With that said, Gen would have normally gotten annoyed when you asked them to leave you alone, but this time around, she seemed to have reflected on her insensitivity a lot better with your father around. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her tone still tinged with stubbornness, “I just got worried. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to put yourself in danger like that, but… please, Y/N. If you’re going through something, you can always speak to us. Dad and I, we’re here for you.”

To be fair, if you had to put yourself in their shoes, it really would have been alarming to know that your sister almost died. This wasn’t the first time you were at death’s door either, so they were probably scared shitless when they were informed of your situation. Your absolutely reckless situation. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, neither did you intend to bother them on their already busy schedules. You just had so many things in your mind while you were horseback riding, too engulfed by your own sorrow that you didn’t realize the repercussions after the incident had already taken place.

“I’m sorry, too.” Your voice softened with humility. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It was just really an accident.”

Of course, Gen suspected it was more than just an accident. Your dad did, too. It was obvious on their forlorn faces that they were worried for your mental and emotional well-being, but none of them dared address the elephant in the room. It seemed they didn’t need to, anyway, since one of the many reasons that contributed to your earlier breakdown took a peek from behind the curtains, clearing his throat and sending you a look of sympathy.

“Y/N?” Toji looked at your father and your sister for approval before stepping further inside your space in the ER. “Can I talk to you?”

There was no escaping Toji’s presence anymore. No more hiding, no more avoiding. You knew you had to have this talk with him no matter how many times you ignored his flood of texts and calls. While this may have struck as an opportune moment for him to speak to you in person, facing the painful truth of your situation weighed heavily on you. Besides, hadn’t the irony presented itself right there? If Satoru were the one trying to speak to you, even if he was the father of your child, Gen would have been quick to lash out at him. Yet with Toji, even with the general knowledge of what had transpired between you two, your sister still showed no hostility towards him, allowing him to approach you freely and without interference.

But then again, Toji was far from being a cheating, manipulative scumbag who not only caused you suffering but also sought to selfishly acquire your family’s company. Therefore, he wasn’t considered a threat.

Alright, then. Since Toji genuinely wasn’t a threat to your current emotional state, you agreed to talk with him. It was the first time you had seen the not-so-confident side of Toji Zen’in. He was typically a man of virtue, often holding his chin high, offering the best advice, and having insightful perspectives on life. However, it seemed you had shattered that confidence in him. You could sense his cautiousness around you as he stood by your side in the ER, assisting you with your needs, and eventually agreeing to your request to walk you to the rooftop garden.

“I don’t really think there’s anything else we should talk about.” It was you who first broke the silence, staring at the cityscape while sitting on a wheelchair. The calm breeze allowed your mind to seize the moment with a peaceful mind. “I already heard what you had to say.”

Toji found it better to kneel down in front of you to meet your eyes as he spoke to you in a sincere and earnest voice. “Y/N, I was drunk when I said all that shit back there. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my callous words, and I feel awful that you had to hear them from me. You trusted me. You sought comfort from me. I wasn’t thinking like a normal person when those things came out of my mouth.”

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t true,” you replied with quiet resignation. It was the acceptance in your face that seemed to have caused Toji’s heartbroken gaze. “It’s okay, Toji. I think, when you said all those things, it actually made me realize some aspects of our relationship that had to be addressed. It made me more self-aware and it opened my eyes on the bigger picture.” You touched his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you mustered the courage to speak your next words. “It’s for the best that we part ways. It’s not fair to me to become a placeholder for your wife the same way it isn’t fair to you to have to deal with my ex-husband always being present in my life. Our unresolved feelings won’t really be resolved by being together.”

“Y/N…” Toji’s voice hinted at his vulnerable emotions, though he restrained himself from showing it fully. And you didn’t miss the apologetic look he had presented to you. “Despite all that, I hope you know that I’d been true to you. I do love you and will always love you. I’ll always be someone you can rely on, someone you can seek comfort from, someone you can turn to when you need help…”

Damn it. Why did he have to make it sound like an actual break up? Now, it tugged at your heartstrings and hit you in a place it shouldn’t have. You weren’t good at these things and it certainly was your first time dealing with such a mature and mutual separation, but wasn’t that a good thing? No further drama was to happen, leaving a stark comparison to your separation with Satoru. While this one didn’t hurt as much, it still brought a hollow feeling in your chest.

“Same for me,” you agreed, displaying a weak smile. “You’ll always have a spot in my heart, Toji. I’ll always be grateful that I met you.”

Sometimes, two people didn’t need to be together to love each other. Friendships could still thrive between ex-lovers, and that was why closure was so important. It not only closed a certain chapter of your life in a healthy way, but also allowed you to heal and open yourselves to a new beginning without any bitterness left behind.

It shouldn’t be considered bad to remain friends with an ex. It also shouldn’t be bad to give a parting kiss from said ex, right?

You weren’t the one who initiated it, after all. It was Toji’s hand that gently stroked your cheek. It was him, who leaned forward and pressed his lips onto yours. It wasn’t forceful, but neither was it passionate. It was simply a tender kiss of goodbye, feeling the warmth of each other’s lips for one last time before you two would transition from being lovers to friends. What you didn’t understand from this supposedly bittersweet moment was the faint tears that somehow managed to escape your eyes, perhaps because you knew that once Toji left, you would be alone again.

You had no one by your side to love you, cherish you, choose you, and offer their entire world for you. You were meant to live this cruel world all by yourself.

As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Please learn to love yourself before anyone else, Y/N. It’s what you need and what you deserve.”

That night, while you were getting your MRI, your mind kept flying to the possibilities of a future without having anyone by your side. Any normal person would tell you to focus on loving yourself first, as Toji did recently, focusing on what matters most, and ridding yourself of the toxic things that hinder you from moving forward with your life. Things weren’t as easy as they sounded. Besides, it was different being on the receiving end of the said advice. How could you do those things when the primary cause of your pain was someone whose life would always be linked to yours forever?

Based on the result of your MRI scans, your doctor recommended that you undergo elbow arthroscopy. It was just a minimally invasive procedure compared to open surgeries, but considering how much of an overthinker your dad was when it came to your health, he insisted on your confinement at the hospital until you had been completely cleared of any other issues. He really placed a big deal on your condition and emphasized to the doctors that they make sure nothing was missed. It could have been worse; you could have had a broken hip or a fractured leg, but at least you only had a dislocated elbow. Nothing that couldn’t be easily corrected by surgery and physical therapy.

The decision was for you to stay there for two days, and on your first night, a crying Sachiro ran inside your private room because his ‘mama has a boo boo’. Gen said he was picked up from daycare and dropped off at the hospital because the poor kid was looking for you. She didn’t mention who dropped your son off to you, but you could tell it was Satoru. You could sense it by the glances she exchanged with Ian after you asked how Sachiro came to the hospital.

So, in that case, Satoru must have found out about your little incident and didn’t care enough to see you. Did he not even have an ounce of care anymore? Or was it Gen who stopped him from seeing you?

“Did you ask him to leave?” you confronted Gen in a mellow voice, rubbing Sachiro’s back as he snuggled into you on the hospital bed.

Your sister knew exactly which man you were referring to, and she denied having done such. “No, I didn’t even talk to him. He took Sachi here and left.”

You didn’t know why you looked at Ian to confirm the truth of his wife’s words, but hurt yourself upon seeing his bowed head. It was an apologetic expression that did signify your ex-husband’s blatant act of ignoring you. To hear about your near-death experience and simply leave without even checking on you should be your wake-up call. He didn’t care anymore. No, why should he care? He had Akemi. His only responsibility with you was to be a supportive father to your son.

Why did the pain in your heart feel far more agonizing than the discomfort on your dislocated elbow?

If anything, you wanted to ask for the strongest anesthetic they could offer to numb your pain. You were desperate to have anything even if they had to put you into an eternal sleep. That would have been much easier to deal with than feeling disregarded by a person you supposedly had moved on from. Satoru did nothing wrong here. It was you who had that expectation, only to disappoint yourself when things didn’t happen as you imagined.

And just when you thought things would get better as long as you ignore your torturous thoughts, it didn’t help that being in the hospital kept giving you flashbacks of the time you were in this exact room, hearing Satoru crying helplessly from outside and begging for you not to terminate his child. What comes around certainly goes back around. Or worse.

Such depressive thoughts had you occupied throughout your stay there, and your unusual placidness alarmed the nurses instead of being assured that you were doing well. You heard your doctors telling your father and sister to always keep a close eye on you as the incident may not seem serious, but the trauma would undoubtedly be present somewhere and somehow. Were they aware? Of your intrusive thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself?

The elbow arthroscopy was successful and by the second day, you were free to go home. You were placed on certain medications to help with the swelling and the pain, and while you were walking around the hospital with a listless mind, you happened to pass by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. What a deja vu it was, remembering the time you had seen Satoru there waiting outside for Sera. Back then, it was one of the climactic events in your life that led to a domino effect on the downfall of your marriage. Not that you were reminiscing, but it did remind you that Shoko was probably there in her consultation room and it would be nice to talk to a friend who had witnessed the wild history of your marriage.

You asked Gen to wait for you in the car while you headed to Ieiri’s consultation room, assuring your visibly worried sister that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t take too long. You had to give Gen some slack, because despite the strains in your relationship as sisters, she was still always there for you. At the end of the day, she was family.

Shoko, on the other hand, was the next closest thing you had for a sister. She welcomed you inside her room in a very worried embrace, telling you that if she had known about the incident, she would have gone straight to your hospital room on your first day, but you told her not to worry about it and understood that being in the medical field already had her schedule tight.

“Well, I guess it’s perfect that you’re here, too.” Shoko smiled warmly, sitting behind her desk. She had exciting news to offer, it seemed. “I just wanna say that… of course, I’ll still be sending you a formal invitation and everything. I actually have a few gifts along with it.”

You shared her enthusiasm. “Hmm… is it what I think it is?”

The wedding. The most eventful day of her life would be arriving soon and you were the first one to hear it.

“Yes!” she answered, with the utmost joy coruscating from her eyes. “I want you to be my maid-of-honor, Y/N. I’d be extremely happy if you could make it. I know you just got into an accident, but it won’t be until two months, so—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You eased her worries by chuckling. “I’m completely fine, of course I’ll be there. I can’t miss it.”

Shoko was grateful to hear your answer, relieved even, because by asking you to be her maid-of-honor, you should already understand who Suguru’s best man would be. That was a touchy subject for you and she was keenly aware of it, but you didn’t want her to worry. You didn’t want your relationship with your ex-husband to have a negative impact on the relationship of all the other people surrounding the both of you. It was already bad enough that Shoko and Suguru almost called off their engagement after they fought over their morals as you and Satoru’s friends, and you were glad that they somehow made things work. They somehow set aside their disagreements and ultimately chose their love over anything else.

Their love was beautiful, and while that wasn’t something you could easily have, it was something you deeply admired.

“Where are you guys planning to hold your wedding?” you asked, steering the conversation away from any mention of your ex-husband. “Here or overseas?”

She delighted you with her answer, sounding as if this was the perfect wedding she had always dreamed of. “It’s an intimate wedding on the lakeside. Suguru chose the location, actually, since he wanted our wedding to have the view of Mount Fuji.”

“That’s perfect,” you said with wide eyes. “Lake Kawaguchiko?”

“Yep. That’s exactly where it’d be.” She smiled with her eyes. “You know this resort… Hoshinoya Fuji? We already booked the place, and we have a luxury cabin for friends and families to stay at.”

You had been there before, but you were too young to remember. All you knew was that it was a high-end resort that had the best panoramic views of Lake Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji. The hotel owner was also a close friend of the Gojou family, so that was probably why they were able to rent the entire place for the wedding, especially at a peak season for tourists.

Since the fall season was arriving, you could only imagine the stunning views of the autumn foliage there. It offered the perfect weather, too. It wouldn’t be as hot as summer, nor as freezing as winter. Surely, it would be nice to do some nature walks and stargazing, maybe ride a boat or bathe in a hot spring. You looked forward to it, except for the fact that your ex-husband would also be there.

And just what a perfect timing it was, because as Shoko sorted through her patients' medical records above her desk, a file slipped from the pile, revealing the name of your very friend, Akemi.

“Oh,” Shoko murmured apologetically as she retrieved the record, not wanting to ruin the mood of your conversation. “She, uh, came by a few days ago... with Gojou.”

You didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to hear any further detail. Akemi’s visit likely revolved around her desire to conceive, as she wouldn’t have visited Shoko otherwise. Why? If it were simply to monitor her polycystic ovary, why did she choose Shoko instead of her own gynecologist? Thinking of how your ex-husband and best friend were attempting to start a family together left your heart shattered in unimaginable pieces, stirring up painful memories of your pathetic marriage with Satoru and reopening old wounds you thought had already healed from. Wasn’t it ironic that a couple of years ago, you were crying over the same situation with Sera?

You couldn’t stand this feeling anymore. You thought you had already freed yourself from the pain of loving him, yet here you were suffering from the same heartbreak over and over and over again. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, the ache in your chest too raw to confront just yet.

“It’s funny.” Although you displayed an outward smile, the sadness in your voice reflected your otherwise inward thoughts. You didn’t know why you said that. You were just too… too emotional. Almost like you couldn’t breathe. “He was never this passionate with me. They seem so in love.”

Ieiri’s eyes carried sisterly concern in them. “Y/N, it’s not really what you think.”

Was it? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore. You certainly weren't there to hear it anymore, either. Satoru chose her, just like what you wanted for him to do. Just like what you asked him to do. He had moved on, he had found someone who would love him for who he was, he had chosen the woman he would share the rest of his future with. Call yourself ridiculous for even feeling hurt about it, because you had no right to be and you definitely chose this. Either you own up to it, or you cry about it for the rest of your life.

Both choices had no happy endings.

— —

When Satoru learned about your incident in the woods, he thought he was going to lose his mind.

Was it out of love that he swiftly left the office in the middle of a meeting just to get to where you were?

He still had to pick up Sachiro from daycare, and he felt bad telling his son on the way to the hospital that his mother was hurt. It actually gave Satoru a hard time explaining to the 3-year old that they had to go to the hospital because his mommy was there and that she had an unfortunate encounter while riding a horse.

“Dada, is… is mama okay?” Sachiro pouted with wide, tearful eyes as he clung to his father’s hand. “Sachi wants to go to mama!”

“She’ll be okay, Sachi.” Gojou carried his son and soothed him as they went inside the hospital, searching for you. “Mommy’s strong, remember?”

Was it out of love that he wanted to be the person that brought your son to you when you most needed him?

According to the nurse, your room was on the seventh floor, but when he got there, your room was empty. It was Ian who told him that you went up the rooftop garden to get some fresh air, insisting that if Satoru wanted to go and talk to you, that it was best to leave Sachiro with them.

And so he did. He ran hastily, almost out of breath, until he reached the rooftop, scanning every face within the vicinity until his tired blue eyes finally landed on you.

Satoru laughed in disbelief. He scoffed bitterly, with each breath full of disgust. The tips of his fingers felt cold, while his breathing grew thin and ragged. He could feel his stomach clenching at the humiliation of seeing you engaged in an intimate make-out session with Toji Zen’in.

How sickeningly sweet.

At that point, he was laughing at his own expense, ignoring the elderly lady who looked at him like he was a crazy person. He stood there frozen for a few minutes, watching you kiss another man before it finally woke him up from reality.

It was out of love that he let you go.

You see? This was where his attachment to you would lead him. It was pure and unreasonable selfishness, but he would gain nothing at all from even seeing you. He didn’t need to care for you at all, no. You had Toji. You seemed to be goddamn happy with your life with Toji. And what a romantic fucking moment that was, too.

Satoru couldn’t think straight when he hurriedly left the hospital and got inside his car. He desperately wanted to forget the painful image of you locking lips with somebody else. How? How would he? Fuck! He was mad, mad at himself for choosing to come to your aid like he still had any role in your life. He was disgusted at himself for ignoring Akemi’s calls after promising her a movie date after work. He couldn’t believe he had her waiting all by herself in that cinema, waiting for him to come while he was stupidly running around the hospital to see his ex-wife.

You chose Toji, then you better be happy. Satoru hoped you were happy, and that wish came from a place of genuineness. He genuinely hoped the best for you. Because for him, it was time to fully let go and stop himself from trying to be the superhero whenever you were in danger. You weren’t his wife anymore.

So, was it out of love that he headed straight to Akemi’s apartment that night with a bouquet of red roses?

She didn’t know what happened nor was she given the full detail as to why he unintentionally stood her up on their date night. He had just briefly explained that he had to drop Sachiro off to you at a hospital because you got into a small accident. Akemi, being your friend, got immediately worried upon hearing the situation and asked if Satoru was able to check on you.

He said no. He said Toji was there. He said he left as soon as dropped Sachiro off.

And in an effort to apologize for not paying attention to the current woman in his life, Satoru pulled Akemi in a tight embrace. He held her in her arms, drunk from the sweet and citrusy notes of her perfume, before pulling away to kiss her. He kissed her with the same passion as you did with Toji. Perhaps even more, even better. He completely devoured her lips, with a hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. The taste of her tongue was sweet like strawberries, while her lips were red like cherries.

This woman was all he needed.

But was this love? He didn’t know. It was too soon to tell, too early to answer, too hasty to even consider.

— —

The current situation you were in reminded you of your younger self after your mother had died. It was the same before; you never left the house, often locking yourself in your room, shutting yourself off from the world, and drowning yourself with the pain and loneliness of losing somebody important.

Sure, no one really died for you to be acting this way right now, but the feeling was still the same. Was this really a comeuppance to all of your wrongdoings before? But just how terrible were you of a person to be hit by this unbelievable truckload of sorrow? You might as well spur on the physical pains of your angina again if this torment continued. Otherwise, how else do you avoid it?

You were being a terrible mother, too. You were too engrossed by your own misery that you couldn’t even properly take care of Sachiro. He didn’t deserve to have an incompetent and irresponsible mother like you. He deserves someone better, someone like Akemi, who not only has all the motherly traits a woman should have, but also the physical and mental capacity of being a true, strong woman.

Sachiro was bound to have that, anyway. Now that his father was planning his lifelong journey with another woman, and now that he was trying to build a happy family with her, you were no longer needed in the picture. There was no need for you.

How many more times would you tell that you have accepted it?

Because, god be damned, you knew you couldn’t. You knew you were lying to yourself when you said everything was fine, lying to Satoru when you told him you didn’t need him in your life anymore, lying to Toji for telling him that you wanted to marry him, lying to Akemi that you didn’t care if she was seeing your ex-husband, and lying to Sachiro when you promised to him that you would never leave his side. You were a liar. A terrible liar. A pitiful, terrible liar.

How would you tell the universe that you couldn’t take it anymore? That, for once, you wanted to be showered by happiness and all the good things in life?

Sera was right. Not everyone could have it all. There were people of lesser fortune who weren’t blessed to live a lavish life like you, yet still work hard to achieve what they want. Why couldn't you achieve your own happiness without blaming it on the universe? If this was simply a lesson, then weren’t you the top student at this rate?

God. God, help me. You really didn’t know how to deal with this life anymore. You weren’t sure how to proceed. You couldn’t rely on anything other than the bottle of alcohol on your hand—what was once full was now half empty after you took another swig. This was your second bottle already, wasn’t it? Or third?

You got up from the floor and failed to walk in a straight line as you made your way towards the balcony. Your steps were unsteady, wavering like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. With each attempt to move forward, your body swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain balance. You almost lost grip of the bottle you were holding. No, it did, in fact, slip from your hand and ended up crashing into the floor. Shards of glass lay across the ground, ready to pierce the soles of your feet to mirror the same physical pain your heart was experiencing.

“Stop,” you muttered under your breath, begging for your chest to stop hurting. But it only worsened, and your antidote to that was to wash it down with even more liquor. No matter how expensive it was, you didn’t even like the taste of alcohol. You hated the sting on your throat whenever you drank it. You despised the bitterness it left on your tongue. However, it did great at numbing your emotions.

It just felt wrong in many ways that you were seeing Satoru’s face whenever you closed your eyes. You could see his smile, his loving eyes, his beautiful lips. You missed his embrace, his kiss, his touch. You missed hearing his I love you’s. Him. You missed him. You yearned for him. Three goddamn years, and you were still undeniably in love with him.

“Satoru…” you cried, sitting on the floor. Each breath made it harder and harder for you to catch as tears continued to stream down your face. You were tired of pretending, denying that you no longer had feelings for him when you knew deep down that you would always choose him. “S-Satoru… come back to me, please.”

Was it him coming inside your room? Or was it your vision making a fool out of you?

“Baby, what are you doing?” Satoru’s expression was engulfed in immense worry as he knelt down and reached out to you, touching your cheek and looking at your eyes somberly. “Don’t do this yourself, Y/N.”

Your head hung low, your gaze unfocused and glazed, as you fought to keep your eyes on the path ahead. You had to reach him. You wanted to touch him, hug him. And despite your best efforts, your movements were disjointed and erratic, betraying the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Gen had to use force just to be able to snatch the bottle away from you, forcing you to wake up to the reality where Satoru no longer existed to be there for you. It was her who came rushing inside your room in the middle of the night. The bottle of liquor was now spilled all over the floor. The same could be described with your emotions. “Get it together. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately!”

You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in delirium after having dealt with all the terrible things the world had thrown at you. If you couldn’t drown yourself in alcohol, how else would you have been able to numb the pain? How else would you have been able to… forget?

As much as your sister tried to hide the obvious sympathy in her voice, even your drunken mind could recognize it. “We all know you’re going down the depression lane again, but never to this extent.” Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, cradling you into her arms as a tear fell down her face. The Gen who would usually lecture you, was now holding you in her arms as her only baby sister. “Stop this, Y/N, please. Don’t ruin your life the second time. I-It’s hurting me. It’s hurting Dad. Do you… do you realize what Sachiro’s gonna think of you when he sees you like this?”

“Gen…” Muffled sobs unwillingly came out of you, leaving you with such excruciating pain in the chest, so much so that it didn’t even feel like you had done surgery to fix your (quite literally) broken heart. “I w-want him back,” you continued to cry, “I want my husband back. I want to be with h-him, Gen.”

“Y/N.”

“Where’s S-Satoru…? D-Did he leave? Please take me to him—”

“Y/N, listen to me.” She gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pained eyes. “You’re intoxicated. He was never here, and he’d never come for you. You have to let it go.”

“But—”

“He’s not good for you. He never will be.”

— —

It had been two weeks since Satoru last heard about you. Miwa was the one who updated him that you had already returned to your family’s mansion, letting him know that you were okay and that you were recovering well. Frankly, Satoru was starting to get annoyed at the fact that his secretary was still giving him updates about you. What did he care? He wasn’t your husband anymore.

Besides, Toji was probably visiting you every day, so why did he have to worry about you? If there was anyone he should be worried about, it was Akemi. She had been experiencing terrible pelvic cramps lately, which needed to be given serious attention, but you would never see her being dramatic about it. The only thing she needed was for Gojou to accompany her visits to the OB-GYN, and even then, she never showered herself in self-pity. She carried herself like an independent woman, and that was exactly what Satoru needed in his life right now.

He had a son to raise. He had a company to run. It wasn’t the perfect time to commit himself to someone lawfully. Heck, he didn’t even believe in marriage anymore. He realized that two people could still love each other without getting married. As long as Akemi didn’t pressure him about such things, he was fine with having her around. She didn’t ask for anything much, anyway.

As for you, well…

“What are you planning with that mansion you gifted Y/N?” asked Nanami, seated on the couch inside Satoru’s office, casually reading a newspaper. “Do you even remember that?”

He certainly did. “What about it?” he questioned, idly toying with a pen on his desk. “It’s her property now. She can sell it if she wants.”

Better yet, you should let Sachiro inherit the property someday. His son was already set for a life of privilege having wealthy parents on both sides, but wouldn’t the mansion be a substantial addition to his assets in the future? Satoru couldn’t help but envision the kind of man his son would grow up into. He hoped Sachiro would not inherit his father's immaturity and pettiness but would embody the kindness and altruism of his mother. From a business perspective, however, Satoru planned to groom his son to be a leader, as he was the sole heir to the Gojou Group. Additionally, he would also inherit half of Creston and the entirety of Hearte. No wonder Sachiro was recently listed as the wealthiest kid by Forbes Japan. He even beat Megumi Zen’in from the list even though the teenager was the heir of the Zen’in business empire.

These were the thoughts that should consume Satoru—the future, not the past. His kid, not you. And he was right about doing so, because when he came home to his penthouse, he was told that he had a visitor.

A visitor on a Wednesday afternoon?

Your brother-in-law, the esteemed prosecutor who sent his evil stepmother to jail, appeared on his front door, carrying Sachiro in his arms. It was hard to tell what type of emotions were visible on the man’s face, but he definitely didn’t bring any good news.

“Ian?” Satoru promptly made way for the man to come in, ushering him into the penthouse and allowing him to set Sachiro down. The young boy was quick to dart off to his playroom, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence. “What’s going on? Weekends are usually my schedule with Sachi.”

Ian cleared his throat, a hand on his pocket. “Do you mind looking after Sachiro for the time being?”

By saying ‘for the time being’, it seemed like Ian wanted to actually say ‘until further notice.’ But that confused Satoru even more, because what was happening for the man to come here and ask him to let Sachiro stay beyond the agreed schedule with his father? He couldn’t read through Ian’s expression and it was making him uneasy.

“I can, but… why so suddenly?” Gojou asked, glancing at his oblivious son.

“It’s Y/N’s idea, Gen doesn’t know about it.” Ian released an awkward chuckle. “You know how my wife is.”

Gen would absolutely hate it, Satoru was aware for sure. Though the questions lingered in his mind. “Why would Y/N want Sachi to stay with me? Where’s she?”

Was it him or was Ian having a hard time explaining the situation? It felt like he was walking on eggshells, deciding between what had to be said and what shouldn’t. He was careful with his words when he spoke again, “Y/N flew to Monaco this morning and will be back when she’s ready. She says Sachiro should spend all of his time with you while she’s gone.”

Monaco? Why would you be there?

Confusion bathed Satoru’s eyes. “Is it for a fashion event or something?”

“No, she’s just…” Ian struggled heavily. “Well, to sum it up, she has to go there to sort some things out. It’s a personal thing, but she really needs this time for herself and we think it’s the best for her right now. I don’t know how long she’s gonna stay there or when she’ll be back, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here.”

No, he didn’t. Satoru found it difficult to fathom his ex-brother-in-law’s words, seeing as he had no general idea of what was truly going on. But if you were flying to Monaco, surely Toji wouldn’t allow you to go there all by yourself?

Ahh. It made sense now. I see what’s happening here.

Satoru’s lips curled into sarcasm. You would be vacationing with the love of your life. Is that what it was? Planning your halted wedding? Choosing wedding gowns? Looking for venues? There was no way you would be flying to Monaco alone, especially without Sachiro around when you two had been inseparable since his birth.

“What kinda mother is she?” Satoru muttered in disgust, unaware that Ian had overheard him. But Ian had heard loud and clear. How could you leave your son behind like this? Couldn’t you face your ex-husband to discuss it, instead of just dropping Sachiro off as if he were some unwanted toy?

“Hold it right there,” Ian interjected, becoming defensive at the accusation. “You have no idea what she’s going through.”

How would he know? No one was telling him shit. No one was giving him details, so did they expect him to understand things and accept them as they were? Did they do the same thing to Satoru when he was at the verge of losing his sanity asking everyone for forgiveness over and over?

“I've never taken sides between you two, Satoru, you know that,” Ian continued, trying to maintain a calm demeanor and speak with clear judgment, “But one thing I’m not gonna let you do is call Y/N a bad mother.”

Satoru’s chest tightened at Ian's words, a mixture of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the pain and resentment were too raw to contain. It felt like you were abandoning him and your child, like you were off to a new chapter in your life again, and leaving everything behind. Perhaps this was his trauma from the New York thing crawling back at him, but it definitely reminded him of the day you had abandoned him. For three fucking years. How long would it take you to return now?

Why do you keep doing this? He was sick of it. You kept running away instead of talking to him. He gets it, people change, circumstances change, but couldn’t you at least have the decency to talk to him about it? Was it wrong for him to wish you’d handled this differently? To wish that you’d talked to him, involved him in the decision-making process, instead of just making this unilateral decision and leaving him to pick up the pieces?

Satoru took a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of Sachi,” he reassured, “I’ll take some time off work and have ‘Kemi help me out.”

He looked back at Ian, his eyes pleading for further details, for answers, for some semblance of clarity in the midst of this emotional turmoil.

Yet none of it was given.

And so, would it still be wrong to assume that he could now completely forget about you? That this opportunity to be with Sachiro would allow him a chance to share it with someone else? If you spent three years of your life playing house in New York with Toji, would it still be unfair for Satoru to do the same with Akemi?

#series: sincerely yours #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo angst #jjk angst

1K notes · View notes

peachsayshi · 3 months

Text

₊ ⊹ . ݁ MILLION DOLLAR BABY ₊ ⊹ .

(sex worker!suguru geto x rich girl!reader)

⊹ tags: suguru geto x female reader; nanami kento x satoru; sukuna is reader's ex; character mentions: yuki, mei mei, shoko, toji; alludes to dd/lg relationship (very very mildly) with sukuna; a mix of angst/smut/fluff; domestic; non curse au; reader was in a toxic relationship; reader has daddy issues a bit lol; mentions of troubled past; mentions of death (parental)

:about: you grew up in a supremely wealthy household, but that came with a price. you’ve never had control over your own life, and now your father is set to marry you off. luckily, there's someone else who captures your heart. what does it matter that you pay him for his company?

:note: hi, everyone! this story is finally here, and it's one that's taken me forever to work but I actually loved this piece. I haven't been excited about something I've written in a while. I hope it lives up to all your expectations. comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3 - this fic is one shot, and I am willing to explore stories with the side characters. I'll happily answer any lore questions regarding sex worker geto x rich girl reader, but there will not be a part two or more parts of their story. It is a standalone.

wc: 14K+

The ceiling is covered with hanging irises, each one carefully handcrafted in paper. Edison bulbs dip down from between in staggering heights, illuminating the bar around you in warm light. It’s crowded tonight, clinking glasses and roaring laugher bouncing off the walls and clashing against the bass coming through the speakers. You scan the crowd, anticipation making your stomach flutter, but it quickly eases when you spot a head of golden hair among the audience.

Nanami is at the bar, looking dapper as usual in a chocolate brown suit offset by a cream colored shirt. He’s drinking a whiskey when you approach him, the amber liquid mirroring the touch of bronze on his cheekbones. You sling your designer purse off your shoulder (the latest splurge of the week) and slide into the seat right next to him.

“And how was your vacation?” you ask, greeting him with a question and noticing his mouth draw into a firm line.

“Let’s not talk about it,” he insists, his eyes a little sad which only makes your stomach ache at the sight.

He’s your closest friend - the only real friend you have. Kento Nanami doesn’t carry two faces. He sticks to the one that he has. As one of the top investors in the country, he made a name by keeping the rich wealthy. He loathes his job and the pressures surrounding it - a walking hypocrite for despising the life that lines his pockets.

He can’t find an escape no matter how hard he tries.

And that's why you’re both two peas in a pod.

He does, however, like you - not because of your background, but because you don’t try to be something that you are not as well. In a world where you are surrounded by parasites, Kento proved to be a nearly extinct butterfly, quietly fluttering by your side as you both drift across the harsh jungle around you.

You concede, knowing better than to push his buttons. “Okay, I guess we aren’t talking about it…”

“Tell me something else. Do you ever know how to walk into the room and not be the center of attention?”

You smirk as he calls the waiter over. Your presence easing the twinge of disdain on his face.

“What are you trying to say, hmm?”

“You look nice tonight. New dress?”

“New dress, new bag, new nails...” you list off, showing off each expensive purchase as you check them off your list.

Nanami shakes his head playfully before ordering your usual once the bartender approaches. He angles his body towards you and breathes out a heavy sigh.

“How are you?” He asks, genuine concern masking his face.

Your shoulders drop. “I don’t want to talk about it…”

His expression softens, one hand moving to touch your thigh exposed by the slit of your dress.

“When do you meet Naoya?”

He’s the only other person who knows about the pending engagement. The only person who offered you a way out by proposing instead. Despite his stance within the social community, you know that it’s not an offer that you can easily accept.

Kento wasn’t bred into this world, and that makes all the difference.

Your father would never accept a man from such a humble background. Especially not one whose offer wouldn't benefit him by any means.

“A few weeks from now,” you reply, eyes shifting to the bartender who passes your drink towards you. “He’s given my father specifications on how I should be presented…”

Your friend scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Pardon my vulgarity but he just sounds like the kind of guy who wants to swing his dick around. I’m surprised he hasn’t shown up tonight…”

The opening of the Ayame Lounge & Bar was invite only, exclusive to socialites and the elite. You know that Naoya must have received an invitation, everyone from the Zen’in family was here in attendance including the infamous outcast Toji.

“He wouldn’t be caught dead here,” you inform, picking up your beverage and taking a small sip. “Naoya likes to uphold “tradition” but we all know it’s just a facade.”

Kento’s thumb strokes your skin tenderly, worry ingrained in his gentle eyes.

The two of you spend the night talking, catching up on the little things since his return from a two week vacation in Malaysia. He keeps the conversation light, telling you about his fantastic accommodation and all the food that he ate while he was away. In between you find yourself glancing over his shoulder, your eye on the crowd taking in the people around you.

That’s when you spot him, standing just a few feet away, looking like a demigod among mere aristocrats. His hair is pulled back into a neat bun, a layer of his bangs kissing his forehead. His face is serious, jaw tight and eyes sharp as he focuses on his white haired counterpart. The black tee hugs his torso, his neat slacks cinched by the waist with a leather belt. You can’t help but bite your bottom lip, your mind drifting away from the conversation at hand.

Your friend notices, of course. Kento is so tuned in to everything around him that he almost can’t help himself. He glances over his shoulder to see what caught your attention, only to instantly turn back around and stare at the whiskey glass on the table.

The tips of his ears burn red.

You register the response, knowing exactly what struck him to react in that way.

Satoru Gojo - former porn star, turned model, turned mega influencer. With a follower count in the hundreds of millions, he is the world’s hottest it boy. Nobody can deny his sheer beauty - whenever he walks into a room, he manages to steal a glance from every single person within his vicinity. Due to a rare genetic condition, his sapphire blue eyes and frosty white hair earned him the title of “The Prince”, and the people were desperate to share a place by his side.

Suguru and Satoru were also the best of friends, a fact that Suguru revealed to you one night in bed. The two of them met on set, back when Satoru was still doing adult films. At the time, Suguru was just a camera man and it was Satoru who told him he could increase his earnings if he just performed instead.

You remember telling Suguru: “it’s crazy how quickly his life changed”

“Some people are just lucky,” he responded, though you easily picked up the bitterness laced in his words.

What most people don’t know is that Satoru Gojo is also involved with the man seated right next to you. You stumbled upon Nanami’s secret affair by accident when the two of you attended a resort opening by hotel heiress, Yuki Tsukumo. Everyone was invited to stay overnight for the weekend, and the morning after your first night there, you walked over towards Nanami’s room to grab some breakfast. He greeted you in a grey robe with his hair tousled, with hickeys trailing the side of his neck. You quirked a brow in his direction, your mouth forming into a blatant circle when you found Satoru Gojo fast asleep on his bed right behind him.

The man in question looks away from Suguru towards you and Kento. His brows lifting in surprise when he spots your golden haired friend, but your eyes rest on Suguru who gestures that he will catch Satoru around.

They both walk in opposite directions.

You take a sip of your drink, your eyes shifting to Nanami.

“You’ve got about five seconds to figure out what you want to say because Satoru is walking over here as we speak,” you inform.

He exhales and straightens his back, his guard entirely up.

You smile at Satoru when he approaches you, his pearly whites radiant as always.

“Hi!” He says casually, though you can hear a touch of apprehension in his voice. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Not at all!” you respond, “Can I get you a refill?”

His cheeks blush a subtle shade of pink, the tiny gesture making you understand how easily it is to fawn over such a beautiful face. “It’s just soda, but sure”

“Not drinking tonight?” You continue, glancing between him and Nanami as you wait for your friend to interject.

“Actually, I’m three years sober,” he explains.

“Good for you!” You cheer honestly, before turning to the bartender and ordering him another soda.

From your peripheral vision you see him inch closer towards your friend.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” he states, though his voice comes across as a little small.

“I’ve been busy,” Nanami curtly replies, and your brows furrow at his unusual tone.

“Too busy to even say hi?” Satoru continues, his voice low enough that only the three of you can hear each other.

“Aren’t you here with a date?” Nanami chides, glancing up at him with a mocking eye.

“Utahime isn’t my date, we both got invited together by our agency…” Satoru answers through gritted teeth. “Besides, I was hoping to spend time with you. I haven’t heard from you since Kuantan…”

Nanami’s face burns an even brighter shade of crimson, the intimacy of Satoru’s comment flaring his humiliation.

“Come on,” the white haired prince teases, attempting to ease the discomfort. “Don’t be such a grump. Let’s go outside. Get a little fresh air.”

You can see that people are starting to stare at the three of you.

Wherever Satoru goes, eyes follow him.

While he may be immune to the attention, you can clearly see that Nanami is not.

“No, thank you.”

“What? You going to make me beg?” Satoru presses cheekily, but there is a twinge of desperation in his voice.

“Begging is not difficult for somebody like you,” Nanami bites, and you can’t help but glare at him in shock.

“Kento!” you chastise, but the look on his face speaks volumes.

Regret.

Instantaneous Regret.

In front of him is a visible hurt that breaks Satoru’s face, like paint slowly chipping away. His eyes gloss over, and he anxiously rubs his hand over the back of his undercut before excusing himself and turning on his heel.

Nanami covers his face with his palm, while you can only stare at him in disbelief.

“How can you say that to him? I thought you liked him!” You whisper.

“I-I didn’t mean to-”

“You act like you’re ashamed of him whenever he’s around you…”

Nanami avoids your eye, “How do you think this makes me look? I can’t have people seeing us together. I don’t want the world to swallow me up just because he prefers being gawked at by everyone around him”

“That’s his job - it’s how he earns a living. I can’t believe you would degrade him over it,” you shake your head, unaware of where your sudden defenses are coming from.

“I know that…”

“Is that why you don’t want to talk about your trip? Did something happen?”

The man grows quiet, a sigh escaping him.

“I broke up with him”

“You what?” You gasp.

“It'll never work. Our lives are too different”

“You didn’t even give him a chance, Ken. He likes you. He really, really likes you.”

“What chance is there to give? My life would come apart because of him. He would never be truly mine. I would have to share him with the rest of the world day in and day out. And the worst part is that…what should be intimate between us will never be ours either. Do you know that he’s still the highest streamed porn star in the world-”

“He’s just a person. A person like me and you. Neither one of us chose this life. I didn’t ask to be born into my family, and you weren’t asked to save yours from debt. Yet, here we are. Existing in a world that we had to carve out for ourselves. Don’t you think the same applies to him?”

You take another sip of your drink, your cheeks warming with anger at your friend’s condescending tone towards Satoru.

Although, you find your reasons for defending him to be far more self serving.

“So what if he sells his body? That’s his choice to make. Does it change anything else about him? Does it change his feelings for you?” You lecture, “I can’t believe that you be this ungrateful over skewed morals. If you both care about each other, there is no reason why you can’t be together. Take it from somebody who’ll probably never get the chance. This isn’t something you want to simply let go of, Kento. You’ll regret this decision for the rest of your life.”

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Nanami downs his whiskey and excuses himself then, your words stinging the microscopic cuts on his heart. You find yourself a little flustered after watching him walk away, unsure of where that outburst even came from.

The eyes surrounding you look away.

You know you’ve given everyone within your peripheral area a story to gossip about. One that would be twisted and chewed until there is no morsel of truth left in it.

Your drink gives you enough liquid courage to socialize and face the music instead.

You steer your way through the crowd hoping to find one person in particular, but instead you are caught among the net of cliques, old faces, and fake friends. You manage to bypass any pointed questions, passing through each conversation with a forced grin and entertaining the discussions at hand with fluffy anecdotes and petty rumours.

When you walk away, you know full well that there will be whispers behind your back.

That’s the give and take about this world. Everyone is a vulture secretly waiting to witness the rise and fall of those around them. It’s a vicious circle, which is why nobody ever reveals their true hand in the process.

You glance around the room, honing in on the handsome dark haired boy you’ve grown entirely too attached too except you spot someone else in between who makes your spine seize.

Your toes curl in your pointed heels.

Your heart stutters unsteadily.

Blushed strands, a wolfish grin, and a broad build - Sukuna always takes up far more room than he needs.

You personally believe it’s because his ego is so massive it requires that extra space.

You haven’t seen the man in five years, not after the messy relationship that that followed your even messier break up.

You should have known better than to get involved with him while still so young.

You remember that version of you. When you first met Sukuna, you were a small rabbit who had accidentally hopped its way into a lone wolf’s den. Twenty one and just embracing the glitz and glamor of the world around you. The man was charming, flirtatious and most of all dangerous. You couldn’t help but return to his lair, especially when he would take the time and effort to approach you at every function, party and gathering that you attended. When you think about your relationship with Sukuna, it fills you with shame until you can only drown in it. There is a reason why you’ve kept it a secret for so long. Even staring at him right now, the dishonor hangs on your shoulder like a weighted sin that you’re burdened to carry for the rest of your life. Every time it hits, the memories play like a movie on hyper speed.

How often you allowed him to spill his seed all over your body. How often he brought you to tears with his tongue between your legs. How often you would moan the words “daddy” over and over again while riding him. How often you let him manipulate your heart. How often you let him convince you that you were happy.

That twisted relationship was testament to how broken you were.

You didn’t even know about his wife who lived in Kyoto until it was far too late.

Your instinct tells you to turn on your heel and walk in the other direction, but you catch Suguru just up ahead in the crowd and your courage outweighs your hesitation.

You manage to stride past Sukuna, a darting feline scurrying towards the safety of a shadow. Your hammering heart steadies itself when the trail of his strong cologne is a safe distance behind you. You nervously clutch onto the strap of your purse, exhaling a quick breath before marching up to Suguru.

You tap his shoulder twice.

He spins around, eyes lifting as a smile spreads across his handsome face.

Like a full moon on a clear night sky.

“Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise.”

“I sure hope so,” you remark, biting your bottom lip playfully as you glance at your own feet.

Suguru chuckles, taking a step closer. “It is.”

You glance up at him from underneath your lashes, your heart vibrating with pure excitement. You think it’s silly to have such a schoolgirl infatuation over him, especially since you understood the terms that surrounding your relationship.

You pay him for his company.

You aren’t supposed to have a crush on man who you employ to have to sex with you.

Yet, your gut tells you otherwise. Convinces you that the softness in which he speaks is reserved only for you.

“Are you here with anyone?” You ask a little breathlessly, hoping that you weren’t interrupting him working.

Suguru shakes his head.

“Satoru invited me,” he clarifies, and it’s an answer that only makes you giddy.

“Oh!” You squeak, “well that’s nice. It’s a really exclusive party, make sure you to take it in…”

His eyes blatantly fall over you, cascading down your body like ink dripping over a canvas.

Your cheeks warm.

He’s not even hiding that he’s checking you out, and it triggers the wild desire within you.

“Are you here alone?” He questions.

You nod your head, knowing full well that Kento is probably in the midst of a heated conversation with his distraught lover and won’t be returning anytime soon.

“Why don’t you join us then?” He adds, cocking his head to point at the table behind him.

You glance over his shoulder, barely recognizing the crowd.

A fact that seems ideal to you.

“I’d love to,” you say with a pretty smile, all the while Suguru’s eyes continue sparkling.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The last time you saw Suguru was a few weeks ago, where your heavy heart spilled the news of your pending engagement.

“An arranged marriage, huh?” he whispered in the dark, his sharp eyes dipping to your naked chest while his delicate fingers carefully pushed the bedsheet further down to your hips.

You inched a little closer into his frame, soaking in the outlines of his chiseled torso and bringing one finger to trace little shapes on his broad shoulder.

Your brows furrowed with annoyance, “yeah, ever heard of the Zen’in family?”

Suguru scoffed, breaking character for only a second but it’s something that you’ve caught him doing more recently. He doesn’t hold his reactions around you as tightly as he used to. The front of this alter ego that he created faltering, which is probably why you find yourself drawn to the person existing underneath the mask of the seducer.

You sigh before continuing your explanation, “my father thinks Naoya Zen’in is a perfect match for me.”

An uneasy expression flickered across Suguru’s face, but he suppresses it before allowing it to linger.

You lifted yourself up onto your elbow and rest your cheek on your palm. “What is it?”

Suguru mirrors your position, his large hand gliding back and forth over the slope of your hips and waistline which sent goosebumps all over your body. “I’ve heard that Naoya…” Suguru stated, pinching the pads of his fingers lightly against your flesh before leaning forward to kiss the crease between your brows, “can be a handful to deal with…”

You thread your fingers around his neck, your lips finding his jaw where you return a kiss. “And who told you that?” you murmured as the weight of Suguru’s body rolls on top of yours.

You were staring at his devastatingly handsome face from below. The longer you spent time with him the more you began to wonder about his circumstances and a reoccurring thought crossed your mind once more.

Suguru could truly be anything he wanted, but instead he was here making a killing off of fucking lonely women and porn videos.

You don’t judge his choices, but you couldn't help but feel puzzled by the situation especially when you knew the trajectory of his best friend’s career path.

One photo shoot at a mid-level fashion brand skyrocketed Satoru Gojo’s career and made him a household name. Yet, Suguru Geto was a taboo that was whispered behind closed doors.

“I have a client who likes to gossip,” he admitted.

That’s all you got because Suguru kept everything else about his clients confidential. You shivered when his mouth met your neck, his lips sucking along the tender skin that sent goosebumps all over your chest, but there’s an ache in your heart when you consider that if it wasn’t for the signed cheque in your purse, he wouldn’t even be here in the first place.

Not a single man you’ve met in the world compared to Suguru. You’ve never known how sweet lovemaking can be until he fucked you for the time. Not only was he beautiful beyond comprehension, but he was charming and extremely smart. You found yourself enjoying his company beyond physical purposes, and conversations with him turned out to be one of your favorite ways to pass time.

“Think we’ll still get together when you’re a missus?” he teased, his lips trailing lower to your collar bones and hovering just a above your breasts.

The thought of you getting married only made you sick.

“Do you peg me as a terrible wife? a woman who would happily cheat on her husband?” you questioned, your voice trembling when Suguru circled his lips around your hard nipple.

He hummed, drawing out a whimper when he nipped at the bud lightly, his tongue gliding over the hardened nub.

“No,” he answered, his voice dropping an octave and your mind swirled when you contemplate if that strange tone is actually jealousy. He rested his chin on your chest, his inky hair framing his face in a waterfall of obsidian. “I do, however, peg Naoya as a terrible husband.”

You sank your fingers into his locks, “it doesn’t matter who my father chooses. All these men are the same. Naoya is no worse than the rest. I’m trapped regardless…”

It was the first time you allowed yourself to think about Sukuna when in bed with Suguru. The first time you thought about the last four years and the many men who tried to weasel their way into your heart just for the sake of obtaining status. The discomfort is written plainly on your face. Suguru doesn’t know that seeking him out was your way of taking matters into your own hands, even in just the smallest way.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he responded sincerely, the kindness in his voice the reason why your eyes prick with tears.

You sniffled, using your free hand to wipe away a rogue droplet that freely falls down your cheek. Suguru adjusted his position so he was lying by your side. He didn't say anything but draws you into his chest for a hug, enveloping you in his warmth. You tried hard not to consider the reality of the situation, and accept the gesture freely as you cuddle him.

But the moment of peace is interrupted by a loud vibration. You and Suguru both perked up to stare at his phone buzzing on the side table.

Your heart sank.

Another client.

Suguru reached his arm around to grab the phone, and you closed your eyes to inhale his natural scent, trying to soak him in for as long as you can before he leaves you like he’s done many times before.

To your surprise he simply switched it off, before proceeding to wrap his arm back around you to return to his position.

“You sure you don’t need to take that?” you mumbled, trying to play off your disappointment as casually as possible.

“I’m booked out for the rest of the evening,” he answered nonchalantly, “there’s no reason to respond.”

A tickle in your belly sent sparks all over your skin. “but your cheque only covers the hours we agreed on…”

Two fingers touched the underside of your chin, and Suguru tilted your head up so you were both face to face again. “Don’t worry about it,” he consoled, his thumb lightly outlining your bottom lip, “this is on the house.”

What bliss it was to fall asleep in his arms that night. You recall waking up right before dawn to find him in deep slumber, his strong arm draped protectively across your body with the heat cocooning you from the rest of the world.

Disappointment shattered you the next morning, when you were greeted by the sun and an empty bed.

You’re not sure when Suguru had snuck out, but you were puzzled to find that your cheque was still tucked away safely in your purse.

It was the first time he walked away without any payment.

You still vividly remember his reaction when he met you just a little over a year ago.

“You’re young,” he blurted, his eyes widening with confusion.

“We’re around the same age,” you replied defensively, already feeling insecure for having hired him after spending weeks watching his videos. You didn’t even know about his house calls until you heard it from a source within your social circle. "Is this how you greet all your clients?”

Suguru raised his brow in contemplation, “my other clients don’t look like you…”

Over time you learned that he catered to a specific demographic: older divorcees and cheating housewives.

The person you might turn into years from now if this marriage goes through.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

After that night you told yourself that you would schedule another meeting with Suguru to compensate him for his last session.

Right now, all you can think about is your heart hammering when Suguru subtly interlaces his fingers with your own, and leads you through the crowd until you both find a safe spot on the corner of the lounge chair. His group is far too engrossed in their own conversations to notice you both, drunk on the buzzing night and enjoying the many amenities of this exclusive party.

“You look nice,” you compliment, catching Suguru’s attention while trying to ignoring his knees bumping against yours.

“As do you,” he replies, his voice smoother than velvet. “But you don’t need me to tell you that you’re gorgeous.”

Oh but I do, you think, masking your excitement with a giggle and casual roll of your eyes. I could hear you tell me that forever.

Suguru shyly looks down at his lap, hiding his own smile.

It’s strange, you think, how the two of you are talking. Like this man hasn’t been inside you multiple times and made you cum until you can’t think straight. Like he doesn’t know your body in the most intimate sense.

Like you don’t fund a decent chunk of his salary.

“Are you enjoying the party?”

Suguru shrugs, “It’s not too bad. Though, I’m not one for big crowds if I am being completely honest...”

“Makes sense. I don’ get a kick out of it as much as I used to.”

Suguru angles his body to face you, giving you his full attention. “Why’s that?”

You sigh, your hands suddenly feeling empty without a drink. You sling your purse off your shoulder and place it between you both, before proceeding to fiddle with the fabric of your dress instead.

You can lie, but you don’t know how.

Well, you don’t know how to lie with him.

Something about starting this contract with Suguru unveiled a level of vulnerability in you that you can’t seem to hide. The first night you both spent together you were a nervous wreck, stumbling and bumbling over words trying to find excuse after excuse as to why a woman of your age would even hire him. By your third appointment, you asked if he could be slow and gentle with you, the emotional scars of your previous relationship a stinging wound. You were desperate for tenderness, and Suguru obliged with your request. By the end you found yourself reaching your climax with tears in your eyes.

If you were to list out more moments like this, you would simply go on and on.

You can’t hide your truth with Suguru when it was the first thing you’ve ever shown him.

“Because it’s a constant reminder that I can be in a room full of people I know and still feel incredibly alone…” you mumble, your gaze catching his.

His hand finds your thighs, the warmth of his large palm burning through the fabric of your dress.

“You’re not alone tonight, sweetheart,” he reassures.

“You don’t have to be so nice…” you insist, suddenly self conscious over his flattery. The same sweetness he bestows upon you when you’re both locked away in a hotel room somewhere, but you didn’t sign off on any bonus transactions tonight.

He squeezes your thigh and tilts his head. “But I like being nice to you”

He says it so matter of factly it almost makes you faint.

Your brows upturn with confusion. “Why?”

His touch expands upward, grazing over the curve of your thigh, bunching the material of your dress between his fingers. He leans closer, the scent of bergamot wafting up your nose and kissing your neck.

“Look there,” he states, and you follow the line of his gaze.

“That woman has been married for fifteen years and her husband never got her off once. And that woman…” he continues, shifting his eyes from body to body, “has a birth mark just above her hip bone. And at the table right behind us,”

When you turn your face you accidentally bump into the tip of his nose.

“...are two sisters who pretend they get along well but are currently in a massive fight over their inheritance”

Your stomach coils with jealousy. “Acquaintances of yours?”

Suguru leans back slightly, giving you both room to breathe.

“Yes, clients…” he confirms, “there’s a few of them here tonight, but you’re the only one who acknowledges me. I’m just a dirty little secret to the rest.”

Your envy dwindles into sympathy, and you can’t help but let the question slip.

“How does that make you feel?”

There’s a twitch in Suguru’s jaw, a hint of scarred pride. You know he has plenty of it, he just hides it well.

The man shrugs, averting his sharp gaze as he downs the rest of his drink. “It is what it is”

Oh, but that response doesn’t nothing to help your heart, the muscle practically screaming at your brain to do so something and make him feel better.

Mindlessly, you loop both arms around his bicep, casually resting your chin on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way...”

You’re not sure why you’re apologizing, but you’re hoping it’ll mean something to him. He turns to face you, and if he inched a little closer he could probably kiss you.

“You are an enigma to me”

“In what way?”

He brushes his lips past your own, making you catch your breath for a moment. His mouth trails its way up to your ear, and he whispers a sentence that sends goosebumps running all over your body.

“In the way that how a woman like you can fit in a life like this”

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The night carries on, the pulse of hedonism sending reverberations across the establishment. The crowd grows larger, the air a potion of liquor, expensive cologne, sweat and pleasure. The lights dim, inducing everyone into the trance of the ambience set around them, allowing them to indulge and consume. Your conversation with Suguru feels like minutes, but two whole hours pass with the both you concealed from the crowd. You’re almost mesmerized by him when he talks, cast under an entirely different spell that seems to effect nobody else. His touches turn more intimate the longer you speak, with Suguru securing his arm around your waist and leaning back against the chair as he keeps you tucked into his frame.

That’s another thing you started noticing - how this man likes to hold you.

He even did it when you were in bed together last.

And the time before that.

And the time before that-

If you weren’t surrounded by so many eyes you would simply curl into him, but you find yourself restraining while thinking of what excuse might work to get you both out of here because you just want to be alone with him.

“Can I get you a drink?” Suguru offers, a wave of disappointment rolling into you as he untangles himself slowly.

“Just some water...”

Suguru kisses the inside of your wrist with the reassurance that he’ll be right back, but the public display only makes your cheeks bloom with endearment.

“Got it”

When he stands up and walks away is when you notice how the crowd around you has dispersed. Most of Suguru’s party were gone - standing either by the bar or caught in the middle of the dance floor. You can see that there were a few shifty eyes staring at you, and a lump forms in your throat when you realize that by allowing yourself to melt into Suguru it meant that you revealed your weakness to the rest of the wild.

You take a second to readjust - fixing the hem of your dress before pulling out your pocket mirror and reapplying your lipstick. You fight off any anxious thoughts, sticking a big metaphorical middle finger to whoever was watching you with any hint of judgement.

Your care for Suguru outweighed their own by tons.

You just didn’t know how far you had let your guard down until a strange shadow veils over you.

“Red still looks good on you.”

Your heart doesn’t sink, it seizes, collapses into itself when you drop the mirror in your hand. His dark chuckle makes your spine tingle with unease. Sukuna kneels to pick up your mirror, his devilish smiling greeting you as you swallow the lump in your throat.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, huffing out another laugh when you snatch the pocket mirror from his hand and quickly throw your things back into your purse.

“I have to go.”

You bolt onto your feet, only to pause when his contact scorches your forearm.

“What’s the rush? I’m just saying hi.”

You shrug him off aggressively, eyes violent and full of fury.

“I don’t want to say hi to you. As a matter of fact, I hope that we never have to speak again.”

“C’mon doll, don’t be like that. It’s water under the bridge…”

His nonchalance enrages in you ways that you can’t describe, but rather than make a scene you smoothly shove him aside before uttering “asshole” and storming off towards the bar.

Your frantic eyes search for your solace, of the man who can suture any wound that’s in desperate need of healing. You spot him from behind, noticing that he is speaking to a friend, his shoulder leaning on the bar as he patiently waits to pick up the drinks like he promised. Refusing to look back because you know Sukuna is probably on your trail, you breathe out your apprehension to compose yourself and keep one hand securely on your purse before steadily making your way towards to Suguru.

You hear the two of them as you draw closer, unintentionally eavesdropping on the conversation at hand.

“Who’s the chick?” his friend asks.

“A friend.” Suguru replies.

“Which friend?” they press.

“None of your business…”

“Ah, one of your desperate clients I’m guessing?”

You cease before making your presence known.

Stunned; your face boiling with embarrassment.

“Shut up.”

“It’s so obvious, Suguru-” his friend scoffs, “she’s practically crawling on your lap. It’s fucking pathetic, don’t you think?”

Pathetic?

The word splits you into half.

Is that how Suguru sees you?

Is that how everyone else does to?

Something clicks then, every memory and act of kindness tainted with the thought the man was simply pitying you. That the root of his good-hearted nature was merely sympathy towards a sad, broken little rich girl.

Suguru picks up the drink, mumbling a “fuck off” before turning on his heel only to find you standing there stupefied by his friend’s demeaning commentary. Only an idiot would assume that you probably didn’t hear a thing, but Suguru is far smarter than that. Whatever trace of the mask he’s been wearing dissipates then, and you see the genuine concern on his face. He parts his lips but you’re too wounded for an explanation, and you instantly dash past both of them, excusing yourself politely before speed walking your way towards the exit.

You can hear him call out your name, but there is no way you would let that man see you crying after what was just said.

Of course he doesn’t like me, you self-consciously deliberate, I pay him to fuck me.

I pay him to fucking like me.

A sob leaves you, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand as you rush past the bouncer and dart out the front door, leaving a crowd of people staring at you with confusion. All of them hoping to make their way inside.

“Must be drunk,” one person says, while another screams at the bouncer “hey, can you let us in?! Someone just left!”

You strut down the street, desperately trying to maintain your balance as you dab your eyes lest your tears ruin your make up. You hear someone call out your name, half hopeful that it might Suguru but when you glance over your shoulder all you see is the dreadful sight of your ex-boyfriend.

You keep walking. “Don’t follow me.”

Sukuna is quick to catch up, practically jogging down the street and you curse your choice in footwear for slowing you down.

“Then don’t keep running away.”

You halt, the man nearly colliding into you from behind.

“What?!” you spit out as you glare up at him. “What do you want from me?”

Sukuna arches his brow, the smell of whiskey sticking to him. “The fuck got you so worked up?”

You wipe away any leftover tears, your indignation towards this man overriding all other emotions.

“None of your fucking business…”

Sukuna reaches for your elbow, “Let’s not be testy. My car is in front of the bar. Let me take you home.”

You already caught that eye sore of a ridiculously expensive sports car when you stepped out of club. “I’d rather walk home barefoot on a bed of hot coals then go anywhere with you.”

“Don’t be like that, kitten…”

“Don’t,” you snapped, “call me that.”

“You know I still nothing but love for you, right?” He slurs mildly, “Let me take you back to my place and we can talk-”

His thumb grazes your elbow gently. Once upon a time you actually believed that his affection was real, but you’re older and wiser to know the truth now. “You miss my pussy,” you crudely admonish, “you don’t give a fuck about me.”

He pinches your elbow with mild irritation. “Why don’t you tuck those claws back. I’m trying to have a fucking conversation.”

“If a conversation is what you want, then speak to your fucking wife-” you hiss, striking a cord that makes Sukuna furrow his brows which brings you an odd sense of satisfaction.

His face falls.

You huff with approval.

“What?” your mock, “cat got your tongue?”

“Is everything alright?”

You and Sukuna both halt, your heads twisting to face whoever spoke with Sukuna letting go of you faster than you can even blink. You only catch a tiny glimpse of his fear, the terror that somebody caught him in the act.

Thankfully, it was only Suguru.

Your body hums with relief.

One hand is in his pocket, the other keeping a helmet tucked under his wing. His stance is relaxed but his irises are piercing daggers sinking into Sukuna’s skull.

“Everything’s fine-” Sukuna insists.

“Suguru,” you call out at the same time, instantly going to him and finding your place by his side.

The word pathetic hammers in the back of your mind but you need deal with one problem at a time, and right now you don’t care about looking desperate if it means escaping the shackles of Ryomen Sukuna.

Suguru’s eyes don’t leave your ex-lover, but he inches closer towards you to assert his ground.

Sukuna frowns, the expression on his face all too familiar.

You clutch Suguru’s sleeve, “Nothing to fret over. Do you mind taking me home?”

He turns to face you, a mixture of worry with a flare of anger on that handsome face.

“Yeah, I’ll take you home.”

“Tsk,” Sukuna grumbles with frustration, “Don’t cheapen yourself by fucking off with some whore…”

A static shock trickles each point of the triangle where you all stand. The hair on the back of your neck stands upright, your attention moving to Suguru whose entire face darkens with a fury that you’ve never seen before. He steps forward, his helmet dropping to his hand like he’s ready to wield it as a weapon, and the target is the spot on Sukuna’s skull that he’s been carefully observing. Your vision goes white imagining the outcome of this blow out, and you can practically hear the crack of the impact if Suguru follows through.

Despite how much he deserved it, you know just how powerful Sukuna is.

He would ruin Suguru without any remorse.

“Suguru,” you beg, stepping forward and clutching onto his shirt as you reel him away from the man before you.

His nostrils flare, the intoxicating poison of wrath swirling in his irises which quickly diffuses upon finding you.

“Take me home?” You softly repeat, earnest and sincere, all the while erasing Sukuna from your presence entirely.

It only takes a few seconds for Suguru to register your request, but he complies by reaching for your hand and knotting his fingers between your own. He grips it protectively, eyes looking straight ahead as he leads you down the street and far away from the chaos behind you.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The patter of your feet colliding onto the concrete surface echoes around you. A part of you is embarrassed, the other ashamed, a third grateful while a fourth shivers anxiously. You’re thankful that Suguru is at least allowing the silence to linger because it’s giving you a chance to settle from the roller coaster of emotions you just experienced. You try not to think about the pressure of his grip, or how the length of his fingers are wrapped securely around yours and instead piece together some semblance of an explanation worthy for him to listen to.

You eventually decide that you’ll just grab a cab back to your place. That you’ll thank Suguru for playing the role of rescuer, and hand off the cheque that you’ve been holding onto. You won’t be a burden, bother him any longer or a do anything else to force his empathy.

Suguru pauses in front of a jet black motorbike. The color itself blending into the darkness around you. You clear your throat ready to make your declaration, but you’re silenced when you feel the weight of his helmet press against your palms.

“Wear this,” he commands. “I’ll take you to my place.”

Your mouth goes slack, your practiced words shrinking to the back of your throat.

His place.

“Your place?” You find yourself whispering your thoughts out loud.

Suguru reaches for the handle of his bike, tapping his index finger against it, his back facing you. “If you want.”

He hops on before searching you for an answer. The look animates you back to reality and you nod your head before swiftly putting on the helmet. You find your place behind him, taking a second longer to adjust in your dress. You knot your arms around his waist, your eyes noting his exposed head.

“You don’t have a helmet.” You point out.

“I don’t live that far,” he answers back, “besides, I didn’t think I’d be traveling with precious cargo.”

He taps his palm over your clasped hands. “Hold tight for me, alright?”

You nod your head, covering your face with the shield visor before resting your cheek against his back.

Suguru takes off.

The wind whips against your bare arms, the pressure sweeping between your legs as Suguru swerves between each lane. The city blurs into vivid colors, only resurfacing when you come to an immediate halt at the traffic light. The adrenaline courses through your veins, the exhilarating sensation a thrill that you’ve never experienced before. Unfortunately, the journey was short lived and within twenty minutes you find yourself coming to a halt in an underground parking lot.

Suguru parks the bike, hopping off before reaching his hand out to assist you.

Your legs felt like jelly when it hits the surface, and you tumble on your own footing as Suguru reaches his other hand out to steady you by holding your waist.

“You okay? Was I going to fast?”

You take off the helmet, attempting to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

“No, no” you answer a little breathless, “that…that was actually kind of fun…”

“First time?”

You nod your head.

Suguru hums.

He takes the helmet away from you and directs you straight to the entrance of his apartment building. He pulls out an electronic key, and presses it against the elevator door. The elevator pings, the panels sliding open as you both step inside. Suguru clicks the button to his floor and you both stand on opposite sides watching the numbers go up.

Suguru lived in a newer development, you could tell when you walked through the hallway as he stands in front of his apartment door, and uses the same key to grant you both entrance.

As you enter the hallway, you’re greeted by a wall with mounted iron hooks. There’s five to be exact, each one holding a different helmet with one space empty. Suguru fits the helmet back onto the vacant spot, before glancing over his shoulder and finding you still by the door struggling to take off your heels.

He returns and kneels before you. His hands carefully moving your fingers away.

“Let me help with that”

“You don’t have to-” but you’re interrupted with him patting his thigh in gesture.

You bite your bottom lip and place one foot against him, careful not to dig your heel into him.

He delicately unravels the straps around your ankle and slips of the heel with a brush to the back of your calf, making the muscle twitch.

“Other foot,” he instructs, then repeats.

After placing your shoes neatly by the door, he stands up and reaches for your hand once more. “This way”

You take it warmly, and follow him while trying your best not to acknowledge the noticeable height difference with you two standing side by side.

You never paid much attention to it before, you didn't have too really considering you both spent most of your time together in parallel positions.

Suguru leads you into the living room, and a small gasp escapes you when you are met with floor to ceiling windows. The horizon is of the city skyline, but it’s half blocked by a decent size balcony which is covered in greenery. The scene contrasts the inside of Suguru’s apartment, which is more minimal. To your right is a small dining nook, the light above an accent piece that added some detail to the decor. To your left is a small furniture set, the sage green fabric making you avert your gaze with shame because your recognized that very same couch in most of Suguru’s videos.

You find yourself quickly staring at your feet.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Tea?”

“Tea would be great,” you answer back, returning to look directly at him from underneath your lashes. “Do you have anything herbal?”

“Mhmm.”

You follow him into the kitchen and realize that the man keeps his place meticulously clean. The back counter is what catches your attention the most. Suguru has a full serviced at home barista station set up for his own convenience. You pick out the coffee grinder, espresso machine, assortment of tea pots, jars of fresh leaves and coffee bags all neatly organized.

Suguru pulls out one jar with a hand written label that reads "lemon balm and chamomile".

You slip off your purse and place it on the counter behind him. “Did you make all these yourself?”

“My parents used to run a tea shop in Hokkaido,” he answers back.

“A tea shop?” You squeak, a little too excited from the morsel of information about his personal life that he just bestowed. “That must have been lovely…”

“It was,” he answers, his voice growing small.

You watch him fill the kettle with water, before placing it on the electric stove to warm up. He opens the jar, closing the gap of space between you both and lifts it to your nose.

“Take a deep breath in,”

You oblige, and inhale.

“Oh my,” you sigh out loud, your fingers subconsciously clasping over his own as your eyes flutter from the aroma of citrus, ginger, flora and subtle spice. It calms every firing nerve in your body. “That smells wonderful”

When you open them again, you see that Suguru is looking at you thoughtfully.

“It tastes good too,” he says proudly, and your heart glows at the reaction. “I was a terrible night owl as a kid. Still am, I guess. My mom used to make this to help me go to sleep…”

“That’s really sweet,” you admit, wondering how lovely it must be to be looked after with such care.

He slips away again, taking a spoon and putting a generous amount of the blend into a ceramic tea pot. You hear the tea bubble lightly, but your head spins as Suguru cages you in place while you both wait for it to reach the right temperature. Your back is against the counter, his arms by your side.

“That guy you were talking to. Who was that?” He questions, cutting right to the chase.

“Nobody important,” you confess, “he’s an asshole.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m sorry about what he said to you. What he called you…”

Suguru’s fingers dig into the counter, making the muscles in his arms flex with irritation.

“Don’t apologize for him. Don’t apologize for any of them.” He firmly maintains. “Their words are empty to me...”

“You almost bashed his head in,” you point out, a tiny smile easing the tension binding around the man before you.

“I almost bashed his head because of the way he spoke to you-”

Your eyes widen.

Was he being protective? You think, but shake your head when you think of what kind of pitiful state you must have been that would cause Suguru to react in such a way.

Pathetic.

Your shoulders dwindle slightly and you shake it off to gather yourself once more.

“He was a terrible mistake. I was young, and stupid. I thought I knew better when I really had no fucking clue…”

You didn’t realize how bitter you sounded until two fingers press underneath your jaw.

His thumb taps your chin in a featherlight touch. “Is it over? Whatever it was?”

“Of course,” you answer, the truth acrid on your tongue. “I’m to marry Naoya Zen’in, remember?”

Suguru frowns. “He’s no better. I told you that myself.”

You circle your hand around his wrist. “I’ll take anyone over Sukuna. Even if that person is Naoya…”

“Why can’t you just choose?”

You press your lips together and sigh. “Because it’s a transaction. I’m a token in my father’s universe. If he weds me off to the Zen’in’s then it’s profitable. Good for business…”

“I’m sure if you speak with him, he’ll understand-”

“Don’t be so naive,” you answer as you return to meet his gaze. “My father doesn’t love me. He just owns me. I spent most of my adolescence alone while he was busy working or galavanting off with his mistress. I think he assumed that if he kept shoving money my way, I wouldn’t notice his absence…”

The kettle sings, making you both jump in place as the water bubbles aggressively and a small spiral of steam releases from the lip. Suguru returns to making your beverage. Picking up the kettle and pouring the hot water into the pot. He places it on a tray, along with a beautiful cup.

“The tea needs a couple of minutes to steep. In the meanwhile, I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” He announces, “You want some spare clothes?”

You look down at your designer frock, the material snug on your body.

“Yeah, I’d like that”

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Suguru’s white shirt falls to your mid thigh, the material a little see through and revealing the bra you had on underneath. You eye the pair of worn boxers he handed to you to wear as shorts, but slyly tuck your bottom lip between your teeth before leaving it behind and walking out with your bare legs on display.

You’re not quite sure what the plan is here, but you don't see yourself leaving anytime soon.

You head back towards the kitchen where you pick up your purse, your dress folded between your hands carefully. Suguru is opening the door to the balcony, having changed into a cut sleeve shirt that exposes his arms and a hint of his ribs, as well as a pair of loose shorts. When he hears you enter, his attention instantly falls to your plush thighs, a hint of crimson blushing his cheek.

“Where can I keep my stuff?” You ask innocently, pretending to ignore his reaction.

“Anywhere is fine,” he answers back, his voice thick.

He tells you that he’ll wait for you outside, and in the meantime you put down your stuff onto the coffee table in front of his sofa.

You unzip your purse, Suguru’s cheque staring you at you with wide, scolding eyes.

Pathetic.

You furrow your brows at the voice inside your head, and swipe the payment before folding it and tucking it securely against your hip underneath the waistband of your underwear.

You head outside, sliding the window close behind you.

Suguru is sitting on a deck chair, the two of you camouflaged by the array of his overgrown plants. He pours your cup of tea, the aroma twirling between the current of the wind as he offers it your way. You pick it up, bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. A heavy sigh escapes you, and you remain standing leaning back against the cool glass surface as you stare out into the distance.

“Like it?” Suguru asks, and you only notice then that he has also brought out a second cup for himself and is pouring his own drink.

“It’s divine,” you respond.

“I’m glad”

The two of you sit in silence once more, mindlessly sipping your tea while contemplating the other person. You’re both at a clear standstill, carefully tiptoeing over the boundary that has so been strictly set in place.

A reminder of that is the folded cheque digging into your skin.

“How did you find out about contacting me?” Suguru randomly wonders.

You look towards him and he shrugs before adding on, “I never asked. I find myself curious.”

You thrum your nails against the glass cup, taking another sip of your tea before replying, “I saw you at a party with Satoru. I was with a group of friends, and one of them noticed me recognizing you. She asked if I was…familiar with your work. And when I told her I was she informed me that you both were…intimate.”

“Was it Mei?”

Your face falls at the blatant disregard of confidentiality.

“How-How did you know?”

Suguru huffs, and sips his tea.

“She’s the only other client I had close to our age. Wasn’t hard to make the connection…”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it,” he replies.

“I’ve always been curious as to how you wound up doing what you do,” you bite your bottom lip nervously, your hands trembling slightly holding your glass and you hope that Suguru wouldn’t notice your sudden unease.

“Ah,” he acknowledges, his free hand moving to rub the back of his neck and you can’t help but sneak a peak at his abdomen from the side. “Well, I told you how I wound up making the videos. For a long time I just did solo work, but I knew I could make more money if I had on-screen partners to film with. I had a few good connections with some actresses and hired a friend to make a video with me…”

You knew exactly which one he was talking about.

The actress in question was well known, and the video was an amateur clip that was filmed on the very same couch that you walked passed earlier.

You clench your thighs together.

You don’t even want to admit how many times you came to that particular video.

“I didn’t know it would blow up in the way that it did. Shoko and I made a killing off it. We both saw the potential and we wound up doing six full episodes - trying out different techniques, roleplaying in a few…”

“But you stopped posting after that…”

Suguru pauses. “How would you know that?”

You swallow a big gulp of tea.

“I might have been a big fan of your work before we met.”

“Really?” He answers with a slight tilt of his head, clearly very amused.

“I wouldn’t have reached out to just anyone, you know. But I was really interested in...your work, and when I learned about your little side gig. I couldn’t resist…”

“Well, color me flattered, sweetheart.”

You swirl the last bits of tea in your cup.

“So, why did you stop posting?”

“I kept the videos up. They’re good and I still make revenue with every ad or view. Satoru’s career was picking up around that time, and he had just gotten clean. He needed somebody to hold him accountable so I started tagging along at his events. I didn’t realize how many people would recognizeme. My first client wasn’t even "a client", he gestures with air quotes, "she was just some woman I met and slept with. I woke up the next morning to an empty hotel room. All that she left behind was an envelope of cash…”

He pauses.

“I didn’t know what to feel. A part of me was insulted but another part had never seen that much money handed over so easily. The videos were great but what I earned in a day, is what I got in just a few hours. I was in my mid-twenties, just left the brink of making ends meet and desperate for security. I deposited the cash and kept going. Somehow it snowballed into…” he gestures his arms out, “this.”

He pours himself another cup of tea. “At first I was a little reckless. Took on too many clients it damn near gave me a health scare. So, I started spacing them out. Keeping to a set number a month and maintaining a high price. I didn’t think that so many people would actually pay for my services, but they do...and I'm comfortable.”

“Does it ever overwhelm you?”

“Not anymore. Keeping my partners to a minimum helps. I’m safe and get tested regularly, as I mentioned when we first met,” He lifts the teapot your direction to offer you a second cup, and you accept it by approaching him and allowing him to fill your glass.

“The thing is I went from never knowing when I was going to eat to having three meals a day. I don’t think I’d change that for the world…”

“What about your family? Your friends?” You find yourself mindlessly asking. "How do they feel about this?"

“Satoru and Shoko are the only ones who know. Everyone else thinks it’s porn that funds my life. As for my family,” Suguru stops, his voice scratchy as he quickly clears his throat. “Well, they don’t have to worry about it. My parents passed away when I was fifteen. It's just been me ever since”

The tea burns your lip and your body trembles at the statement.

“I’m so sorry…”

He shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly.

There’s a heaviness in the air, and despite how hard he’s trying to hide it you can see how the memory tears him apart.

“My mom passed away giving birth to me,” you find yourself disclosing to even the scale, “I think that’s probably why my father resents me so much. He never got a son, and lost his wife in the process”

“I’m sorry to hear that too…”

You mirror his shrug. “It’s weird. I find myself curious about her - but there’s a detachment when I look at her. Sometimes I think about how different my life might be if she was still around. Or, if she was just like my father and everything would still be the same…”

“Well, since we are speaking of hypotheticals,” Suguru moves on, shifting the topic as he angles his body more in your direction. “If you had the freedom to whatever you wanted, what would you do?”

“Me?” You gasp, shocked by his pointed question.

He smiles an easy smile, “I don’t see anybody else around.”

You hum thoughtfully. “This might take a minute…”

He places his cup of tea on the tray by his side and then pats his free hand on his thigh.

“C’mere and think.”

Your heart flies up your throat, pulsing just at the base. “You want me to sit on your lap?”

Suguru nods his head.

You gulp down the vessel, returning it back to its place. You glide your way towards him, placing the tea cup just next to his own, before settling down onto his lap.

Suguru wraps his arm around your waist, securing you close into his frame.

“Do you hold your other clients like this?”

He shakes his head no.

“So, you like holding me…” you bluntly point out, “why’s that?”

Suguru’s face is directly in front of yours, so beautiful you can almost faint right here in his arms. He fingers dig into your waist, his other arm curving over your thigh and gently drawing circles on your hip.

“Because you fit nicely against me”

A swarm of butterflies take flight, making you feel lighter than air. You swear he might kiss you then but instead he returns to his question. “So, tell me what would you do?”

The answer comes to you far easier than you think. From the moment you saw him tonight, you know the truth in the depths of your heart. “I’d like to run away with you,” you confess before stuttering out, “or-or at least somebody like you. Someone who is kind and sweet and thoughtful...”

Suguru leans back against the chair, lifting up one leg and adjusting your positions. He’s careful not to kick the tray with the tea.

“And where would we go?”

You sling your arms around his neck, “anywhere - anywhere but here.”

Suguru slides his palm over the slop of your rear, slipping it underneath the fabric of his shirt and tracing a line over the dimples on your lower back.

“What would we do?”

“We could lay outside just like this and watch the stars.”

He hums, “we don’t get any stars out here in the city...”

“No, we don’t.”

“What else would we do?”

His other hand starts to unbutton the front of your shirt, revealing the details of the lace underneath. He cups your right breast, his lips shifting to find your neck.

“We’d do this too,” you sing merrily.

“Look at stars and fuck our brains out?” He teases, his teeth nipping at your skin. “Sounds like a dream to me…”

He gropes the fat of your breast, unknotting every single secret. “what else?”

“We’ll sleep all day, and kiss until we’re bored of one another…”

The hand on your breast moves to circle your neck, Suguru’s thumb massaging the column.

“I’d never grow bored kissing you-”

Your body renders against his touch. “Suguru,” you moan, your lips seeking his own.

Before you can even meet for the kiss, he mumbles your name and follows up with the claim: “you should run away with me.”

You giggle, still living in the proposed fantasy. “I’m trying to…”

“I’m being serious”

The tone of his voice is the reason why you stop to kiss him, pulling away to face the man before you.

There's no denying the truth on his face - he is actually quite serious about the declaration.

You hear the dreaded word once more: pathetic. Pathetic because this man is an expert at fulfilling fantasies, is a professional when it comes to healing the hearts of the lonely.

Pulling yourself out of this delusional imagination, you push off him before standing up straight.

“That’s not funny, Suguru”

“Who says I’m being funny?” He responds sincerely.

“What is this? What are we doing? What am I doing? You can’t just-” you lament, pressing your forehead to hand in disbelief as you enter the confines of his apartment, taking a second to breathe. “You can’t just say things like that-”

He calls out your name again, but the kraken has already been released.

He follows, tracking into his abode right behind you, all the while watching you stand in the middle of his living room with your quivering hands reaching for the waistband of your underwear.

“This was a terrible idea. I shouldn’t have-I shouldn’t have gone through with all of this,” you yank out the cheque, showing it to him. “You don’t have to take pity on me. I know I’m just another desperate, pathetic client, alright? I promise you don't have to keep putting up with me and my drama after this. And you sure as hell don't have to keep giving me these mixed messages which only confuse me. I can’t have things getting complicated right before this engagement is about to happen. So, here. Take this cheque and let’s just forget everything else about tonight.”

Suguru stands there, pensive. His eyes look to the folded paper in your hand, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. Instead of reaching for the paper, he simply walks past you, making you spin on your heel as you follow his movements with sheer bewilderment.

He heads towards the shelf behind you and pulls out a tiny box. He removes something from it, before walking back and facing you once more.

“Shit got complicated about eight cheques ago, sweetheart,” he negates, holding the thin stack papers between his two fingers as he brings it to your face. His eyes fall to to the crumpled one you are currently holding, “Well, counting the one in your hand, I’d say nine...”

You can’t believe it.

You pick up the wad and sift through each paper; each cheque one of yours, the date issued a reflection of your last nine meetings with Suguru.

None of them cashed in.

“Why do you still have these?”

Two hands find your waist, your forearms fall into Suguru’s chest as you stare mindlessly at the cheques fanned out between your fingers.

“I didn’t have it on my conscious to deposit them once I realized my feelings for you. I'm sorry about what you heard earlier, but what Mahito said doesn't apply to you at all,” he responds. “You stopped being a client to me for quite some time...”

You look up at him.

His touch tightens around your waist. “You can’t marry Naoya. Or, you shouldn’t. But if you do, I don’t want us to stop seeing one another. We can work something out…”

“Suguru,” you pine, dropping the papers in your hand, each one twirling onto the ground, thousands at your feet.

His lips catch yours in a subtle peck, all before circling over your bottom lip and sucking on the plush base. He slides his tongue between your lips, feeling yourcrumple into him as the paper crinkles beneath your feet. You moan feeling the sensation of his tongue slide across yours - he tastes like running across a field of chamomile flowers, like you’re holding a basket of fresh, ripe lemons.

Like you're savoring the most beautiful sunrise.

His hands return to finish unbuttoning your shirt, shrugging the material off your shoulders and exposing your expensive lingerie set. He grips your hips, your ass - his touch hungry before pressing his pelvis closer to your frame so you can feel his aching member beneath his shorts.

You squeak into another kiss when he swiftly picks you up from the back of your thighs and carries you across the living room.

He places you onto his sofa like you’re made of porcelain, keeping you on the edge as he kneels to the ground, his knees sinking into the rug. Two hands find your inner thighs which he pushes apart to reveal the pretty triangle fabric covering your sweet cunt. He kisses your clit over the material. Once, twice, three times…until you’re sighing into the pillow behind you. His tongue drags up, pressing your clothing against your sex, one hand drawing upward to find yours which he holds lovingly. His index and middle finger hook underneath your underwear, and he tugs it aside to reveal your slick coated pussy.

He kisses your clit again, leaving a path down your damp lips which only makes you moan angelically.

“This is why I’d never get bored kissing you,” he coos, “You sound like heaven whenever I do...”

Your only response is a vowel, your hand holding onto Suguru’s for dear life as he returns to eat out with such devotion it almost brings tears to your eyes. You pant softly, his wet tongue making you weep between your legs and he gathers your essence and swallows it to parch his craving. You whine feeling the snap of your underwear pinch into your skin when Suguru lets go of the material to mold his palm over the slope of your pelvis. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, his tongue sinking between your wet folds, lips suckling on the petals of your cunt.

Your hips arch off the sofa, desperate for friction, but Suguru pins you firmly back down.

“Easy, easy…” he appeases, “don’t cum just yet. Hold off f’me, just for a little bit…”

He’s never asked because there was never a reason to. For the most part, he was always there to service you. Allowed you to use his body to get you off as many times as you so desired.

Your voice breaks, “okay,” you answer, drawing out a long exhale when he dives back in.

The hand on your pelvis climbs up the steps of your ribs, reaching for band of your bra right at the middle. He curls his finger over the boning, and tugs the material allowing your breasts to spill free. He finds the bud of your nipple and tweaks it between his finger, pinching and pulling the aching nub until your writhing beneath him.

He slurps and sucks, while you moan and whimper, forcing yourself to hold off for as much as your can but you find that it’s far harder to do when your lower belly quakes as it sits on the brink of release.

“Suguru, Suguru…” you beg, reaching your free hand to your breast and clenching over his fingers. “Suguru, I can’t-m’gonna cum if you don’t stop…”

He groans against your cunt, pulling away from your pulsing core and letting go of your hand to wipe the dampness off his chin.

He licks his lips, drunk off lust and of how you taste.

He keeps his body upright, drags your legs to secure them around his waist as he straightens your back. His hands unhook your bra from behind, the scent of you strong on his lips as he leans up for a kiss. Your hands fall to his shoulders, your belly fluttering as your sex begs for more stimulation.

Suguru loosens the bra, allowing it to fall to your elbows before kneading your breasts - his thumb swipes back and forth over your nipples. He devours your cry, wolfs down every panting breath as he moans into the kiss. Your hands slip underneath his shirt, taking in the lines of strong abdomen.

“Take if off,” you plead between breaths, “Take it off, please…”

Suguru listens, breaking apart from the kiss to toss his shirt to the side while you slip off your bra. Your lover’s hand finds your waist, his fingers pinching into the soft flesh. He leans forward to kiss the side of your neck, making a path down the curve and across the field of your décolletage.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs into your breast, his lips snagging your nipple as his tongue rolls over the bud.

Your fingers curl around the back of his head, loosening his bun as you untie the knot. His hair falls like waterfall, the strands tickling your bare skin. Suguru’s hand slips between your legs, his middle and forefinger meeting your clit. You hiss at the contact, sinking your teeth between your bottom lip when Suguru sucks on your breast while simultaneously drawing circles on the bundle of nerves between your legs.

Your breath grows heavier, your hips bucking into him from the sensation of his touch.

“Feels good,” you mumble, “feels so good with you…”

He shivers, relieving your breast as his lips search for your own.

He adds more pressure between your legs, increasing the speed while your tongues dance. When your thighs noticeably quiver he slows down, pinching your clit between his fingers as he softly pecks your cheek.

“The condoms are in my room…”

Your sharp nails scratch the back of his neck lightly, “I have one in my purse.”

Suguru nods feverishly, reaching back to the coffee table and rummaging through your purse. He picks out the shiny wrapper, and stands up to take off his shorts.

“Wait, can I?” You request, gazing up at him with glittering eyes.

Suguru swallows hard, and nods his head.

Your eyes dilate rolling his shorts down, focusing on the tent in the fabric and watching his cock spring free and lightly smack his lower belly. Suguru brings the condom to his lips and rips it open with his teeth, but his eyes flutter when your perfectly manicured hands glide up the length of his shaft.

You trace the prominent vein, your thumb swiping over the pre-cum beading over the angry tip. You lick your lips, leaning closer to kiss the base and listening to Suguru sigh.

You’ve only given him a blow job once before, and that was because you asked if you could. Suguru sets no expectations for himself when it comes to work, but that doesn’t mean that you haven’t fantasized about giving him head countless times.

You wrap your fingers around his length and stroke mildly, your lips fanning over his cock before reaching the tip.

“Sweetheart, don’t-” Suguru murmurs in an attempt to stop you, but you’re already enclosing your lips around the head and pressing your tongue over the slit.

His head falls back as you suck, a curse leaving him.

You move slowly at first, dragging your tongue back and forth as you stroke the base. Sukuna was far rougher with you when you went down on him, but Suguru is allowing you to take him at your own pace. Inch by inch, until you were bobbing your head back and forth, strings of saliva webbing off his cock and sticking your lips.

He thrusts once, not rough enough to hurt but the jerk catches you by surprise.

You carefully release him, mindlessly wiping your bottom lip and the sight makes his cock twitch.

Suguru pulls the condom out, and rolls it over his shaft.

He settles onto the empty seta by your side, and you crawl over the expanse of his gorgeous, chiseled body to kiss him once again.

His circles his fingers around his cock, his other hand guiding your hip as he aligns the tip to your entrance. Your nail nicks his pec when he pushes against the hole, your mouth circling over his own as you lower down his shaft.

He fills you up so, so good. Makes your body vibrate with unshakeable desire.

He groans until he bottoms out , the hand on your hip dipping down from your pubis to your lower belly like he’s trying to outline how deep he actually is before returning it back in place and securing his other hand on the opposite hip.

Your breasts flatten against his chest, your hands holding on to his strong shoulders for support as you roll our hips.

Suguru works in tandem with your rhythm to fuck you passionately.

His lips find yours once again for a final kiss, before the two of you get caught up in the moment when he swiftly picks up the pace.

His hips arch violently, while yours sink - your bodies moving silk.

“Unghh, oh god, yes-yes-yes~” you moan.

Suguru’s grip almost feels painful, you know for a fact that he’ll be marking your hips with a few bruises. “Gonna cum-” he rasps, “s-shit, I’m fucking close-fucking close-”

Your pussy tightens, practically holds his dick in a death grip that makes release a broken moan. His cock contracts upon his release, the sensation bringing you to the edge of yours as the muscles in your lower belly and inner thighs spasm around him. You leave crescents on his skin, your bodies shaking as you both take a second to breathe coming down from your climax.

You collapse into him, his arms circling behind you, with his racing heart pulsing into your own. He moves so you’re laying side by side, your body sandwiched between him and the couch since he takes up most of the room. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling him grow soft inside you.

Your stuttering breath finally finds a resting poin when he brings your hand and holds it against his heart.

“Where do we go from here?” You whisper with a kiss to his neck.

“Whatever you decide, we’ll figure out.” Suguru answers sincerely.

“I can’t marry Naoya,” you admit out loud, shocked for actually saying it for the very first time. “And I can't share you with anyone else - it already kills me having to do so.”

Suguru looks down at you, a reassuring smile resting on his lips. “There won’t be anyone else.”

“I can't just...leave. I can't just drop everything and walking away. It isn’t going to be easy-” you add on, “It’ll take me some time.”

“I can wait”

“It might get messy…”

“When is it ever not?”

“But we’ve never been in a relationship-” you insist, logic breaking through the barrier of your happiness. “How do we know if this will even work out properly? What if this thing between us fades?”

“I guess we’re both taking a gamble here…”

You both stare into the other’s eyes.

“Do you think it’s worth the risk?” You ask.

Suguru’s face softens but he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“I think it’s worth a try.”

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

TWO YEARS LATER

“You running out on Naoya on your wedding night is still the hot topic.” Kento explains over the phone, “People kept bringing it up, and for whatever reason they just can't seem to get over it.”

The guilt in your stomach twists into a very small knot, over time the size of it has shrunk to a point where you not longer carry any remorse regarding your scheming behavior.

You had a plan, and the plan worked.

"Let's not forget who was there to help..." you contend, disregarding the negativity surrounding your decision.

After you and Suguru spoke, you decided to carry on the facade, agreeing to the engagement and soon after the wedding with Naoya Zen'in. All the while you and Suguru were busy planning your way to cut and run. He cashed in your unsigned checks, and you pilfered a decent amount of the wedding budget which you kept into a seperate savings account.

You played the role as obedient daughter well, and no one was the wiser.

“Besides, I maintain that it's still the best decision I ever made,” you reply, stepping out of your room and into the kitchen where you are greeted by the sound of clinking dishes.

Your eyes shift to Suguru - his hair far longer now, flowing beautifully down his back, the front layers tied into a small bun. You smell dinner in the air, and your stomach grumbles with anticipation.

Nanami doesn't reply, but you can hear that he's distracted from the television in the background.

“What are you watching?” you ask your friend.

The man simply sighs.

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing with that reaction. Is it Satoru’s new drama show?”

At the mention of his best friend you notice your lover glance over his shoulder, quietly tilting his head to direct you towards him. You smile his way, your feet pattering against the hardwood floor as you move closer to him. He bundles one arm around your shoulder, keeping you close while continuing to sauté the vegetables in the pan.

He kisses the top of your head.

“It’s all the rage,” you add on to your phone call, “Suguru and I plan on watching the next episode tonight.”

Kento remains quiet.

You release yourself from Suguru’s grasp, and instead hop onto the kitchen counter right next to him.

He reduces the heat and picks up the lid before covering the pan.

“I’m guessing you two haven’t-”

“No,” Kento curtly replies. “Not since that night…”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be,” he responds with frustration. “I screwed it up”

“You know I could just ask Sugu too reach out-”

“ Don’t,” Kento sighs regrettably. “It doesn’t matter. I heard he’s moved on”

You quirk your brow, your eyes shifting to Suguru who was back to chopping some fresh herbs.

“Oh?”

“It’s for the best I guess,” Kento reassures. “He should be happy with whoever-the-fuck he chooses.”

“You deserve happiness too, Kento.”

“You can be happy for the both of us,” he replies, gulping down a drink. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’m meeting my lawyer for dinner.”

“When are you going to visit us next?”

“Probably around November, December. I just need a few things to ease up on my end-”

You bite your bottom lip, “I look forward to it.”

“Take care, love”

“You too, Ken.”

You hang up the phone and lean your head against the cupboard as you watch Suguru rinse his hand, a trail of crimson spiraling down the faucet.

“I cut my finger”

You pick up a clean towel by your side, and gesture him towards you.

Suguru extends his thumb out, and you curl the fabric over to keep pressure on the small cut.

“You ought to be careful”

“Your legs are a distraction,”

You stare up at him playfully, and he leans down to kiss the corner of your lips.

“How’s Nanami?”

Your lover is indebted to your friend. If it wasn’t for Nanami, the two of you wouldn’t have been able to set up this comfortably. He’s the one who found you the humble two-story abode in Hokkaido, and was also the person who set up your personal bank accounts while ensuring that you would both have a safe and quick getaway on the night of your almost-wedding.

“Fine, I think-” you reply, before removing the towel to check the damage. Thankfully, it wasn't anything serious. A little deeper than a paper cut.“Licking his wounds over a broken heart, but fine.”

Suguru reaches for the drawer next to you, and pulls out the emergency band aids. You reach for the box in his hand, taking out one and removing the plaster from the back. You secure it around his cut, and Suguru holds your fingers between his.

He arches down to kiss your brow. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome, handsome”

“Dinner will be ready in a few if you want to set the table”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, and drop down onto the ground before proceeding with your task.

You set the place mats down, a bowl for the soup and another for the rice and cooked vegetables. Your finger traces the rim of the one in front of your seat, a tiny chip from when you accidentally dropped it in the sink while cleaning it a few weeks ago.

Fragments of these blemishes are all around you - making you almost forget that you once lived in a perfect, curated bubble. But you would take these flaws over everything else. These markings may be worn, but they are a reminder of the home you've been building.

A home that is entirely yours.

“Baby, you want a drink?” Suguru calls from the kitchen.

“Melon soda, please” you reply, placing the bowl down.

“We’re out, I’ve got to pick some up tomorrow.”

“What are you having?”

“A beer,” he chuckles, and it sends a tremor of joy between the valves of your heart.

“I’ll share yours”

Suguru pulls out the bottle, cracking the cap off as he pops it using the side of the kitchen counter to do so.

You two meet each other halfway in the space that you've been nesting in. Suguru’s eyes never leave yours when he takes the first sip, and once done he passes the chilled bottle towards you.

“Am I ever going to have you back in the kitchen helping me with dinner?”

You shake your head no, and bite at the lip of the bottle before taking a sip. “I thought we agreed I was a hazard after the raw chicken fiasco and the almost-fire debacle…”

He laughs, “no, you agreed. I said it wasn’t a big deal”

“You just said that because you love me,” you respond, pressing the bottle into his chest as he takes it from your hand.

“That goes without saying…” he answers, slinging his arm around your waist and pulling you into his frame.

You lift yourself up on your toes, and kiss his nose.

“Do you think it’s worth the risk of me attempting to cook for you again?” You whisper against his lips.

Suguru smiles, a hand cupping your cheek as he leans forward to seal his reply with a kiss.

“I think it’s worth the try”

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

tag list: @rottiens @an-ever-angry-bi @mononijikayu @brownskinnedgirll

#geto x reader #geto x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #geto x y/n #geto angst #geto smut #geto fluff #suguru geto angst #suguru geto fluff #suguru geto smut #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction #suguru geto fan fiction #suguru geto fanfic

1K notes · View notes

satoruwiki · 8 months

Note

Naoya nsfw and sfw relationship headcanons pleeeaasse . He's a terribly guilty pleasure and not many people write him (probably because he's a toxic sh*t)

omg anon you’re so right bc who would want an absolute toxic misogynistic fuck of a man (me, i do/j) i was supposed to post this yesterday but i forgor, sorry! btw i may or may not be working a second version of the atrocious fic i did a few days ago abt him… if its of anybody’s interest…

͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏ ♡₊˚ Naoya is the type of man to…𓈒 ˚ ⟡

content: jjk headcanons; half sfw/half nsfw; afab!reader; glimpse of the horrors you’d be going through as his partner lol

n/a: i’m making more content for naoya than my glorious blue eyed king lmao ;-;

these are my hcs! feel free to agree or disagree :b any request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3

sfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… spoil you rotten. Not because you deserve it—maybe you do—but because one of Naoya’s biggest weaknesses is his pride and reputation, and yours affects his. He can’t have his gf/fiancée/wife wearing low-quality or average clothing, you have to look worthy of him (at least on the outside). So he will gift you kimonos made with the finest fabric and the finest accessories to pair with. If you’re smart enough, you might be able to take advantage of that and manipulate him to buy you whatever you want, but you better be kissing the soil he walks on afterwards.

Naoya is the type of man to… be overprotective and ridiculously jealous. You won’t be able to go out by yourself. Not without him being there or at least one of his servants, what if another man tries to have a conversation with you? What if you flirt back? He doesn’t trust you or anyone but himself. He has to make sure you aren’t fooling around. Besides, you’re so weak—or at least that’s what he thinks—you need someone to protect you. What if someone disrespects you? He can’t let that slide, the only one allowed to treat you poorly is him.

Naoya is the type of man to… secretly like your praises. He won’t tell you, of course, but he does like having someone recognizing his strength—the main reason he’s so protective of you, trying to look like a knight in shining armour—and how great he is on his day-to-day basis. He will be pissed whenever you get mad at him and don’t praise him. He won’t say it directly nor apologize for whatever he did, but you might find an ‘apology’ gift on your side of the bed. If it’s a mistake you did—which to him is always going to be your fault—an easy way to get him to be in a better mood is stroking his ego with lots of praise.

Naoya is the type of man to… expect you to be the perfect wife. Naoya is a very demanding man, he expects nothing but perfection. He expects you to always look pretty, cook, and clean, like your typical traditional wife. Being a conservative man, he will expect you to not speak when gathering with the other clansmen—or outside in general—unless you’re allowed to. It’s for your good, he’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.

Naoya is the type of man to… only marry you for benefits. In matters of love, he is quite unfeeling, however, to maintain his position as the head of the Hei, he must get married and have offspring. This burden, as he would call it, is likely to be done through an arranged marriage. Just because you were chosen over the other bachelorettes doesn't necessarily mean you're at the same level as him—you will always be below him, and perhaps unworthy of him to his eyes—but you're definitely better than the rest, or at least you were the prettiest one. You might be of use to him.

nsfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… degrade the hell out of you. Naoya’s degradation IS NOT for the weak. If he already treats you relatively poorly daily, it gets worse when he fucks you. He’s also going to fuck you rough, so don’t even try to ask him to go slower, he won’t comply. Don’t worry though, he might make sure that you cum (even to the point of overstimulating you) as it boosts up his ego, it makes him think he’s so good he can have his partner squirting for him and begging for more—this is only when he's in a good mood though, otherwise, he couldn't care less if you cum or not.

Naoya is the type of man to… head push you on purpose for you to gag on his dick. He likes the messy and filthy look on your tear streaked face and drool running down your chin, it makes him want to shoot his load on you (which he will).

Naoya is the type of man to… slap you, during or outside sex. Naoya is very ill-tempered, he’s prone to get physical and slap you (just look at how he used to bully maki and mai) or have angry sex with you. Whether it was your fault or someone else’s, he’ll blow off some steam fucking you stupid, and expect you to have bruises frequently.

Naoya is the type of man to… punish you while fucking. Like I said before, Naoya is very prone to angry sex and will punish you as he fucks you. Expect lots of choking, spitting, clit and face slapping and probably your ass bruised as well as your scalp, he wont take in consideration of his strength and yank it hard.

Naoya is the type of man to… use you as his cum dumpster. He doesn’t care if you’re in the mood or not, that’s what you’re there for, basically. He just got back from a meeting with the clansmen and he’s stressed? Get on your knees and suck him off. He's mad? Bend over or spread your legs. You better not object or make any sort of complaint, just take it like a good girl. Chances are that you end up pregnant (because he’s the type to forbid you from using birth control), he hopes it's a boy or he’s gonna blame it on you. (even if he’s the one responsible for the baby’s gender but ok)

Naoya is the type of man to… have a feet kink. I literally have no explanation for this one, just look at his face and tell me he does not have a thing for feet 😭

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #jjk naoya #headcanon #jjk hcs #naoya x you #zenin naoya #naoya x reader #naoya zenin #naoya smut #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk zenin

678 notes · View notes

suguwife · 2 months

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮. (eight)

tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, kpop idol x influencer, fake dating, 18+ mdni, mentions of drugs/substance abuse/addiction, anxiety, profanity, sexual suggestiveness, slight angst, fluff, smau series

a/n: sorry I KNOWW I said I was going to have the smut scene in this chapter, but I didn’t want to make the wc too long so it’ll be in the next one ;) - not proofread so sorry for any mistakes

-7k wc

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - Gojo Satoru, a top idol, finds himself at the centre of a public scandal after being photographed in a club appearing intoxicated. Rumors of substance abuse quickly circulate, causing fans and the public to question his reliability and professionalism. Due to severe backlash, his PR team proposes a fake relationship with Y/N, a social media influencer renowned for her healthy lifestyle, to salvage his tarnished image, reduce suspicions and trick the public. However, trouble intensifies when he’s unable to let go of his addiction. - 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

(previous)

After exiting your apartment, you walk down the street to the areas cars usually park, turning your head around till you hear a loud honk startling you.

You turn your head to see him through his rolled down window, black suit, white button up shirt, the first couple undone. Fuck he looked so good. Men in suits always turned you on.

Remain professional y/n..

“Hey.” You say as you walk towards his car, but he’s opening his door and getting out, a wide grin on his face. “Why are you getting out-“

He closes his car door behind him and places his large hand on the small of your back, leading you towards the passenger side of the car, “I just wanted to be polite and open the door for you.”

Oh, cute, you chuckle at that. “No need..” You say quietly, but allow him to proceed anyway. You did always like being pampered and treated. Though you haven’t really received such treatment for years since Naoya’s toxic ass.

He smiles at you as he holds the door open for you, watching you slide into the passenger seat before closing the door. He’s trying not to steal too many glances and stares, trying his best not to focus on the exposed skin of your legs in that dress as he walks around the car to the driver’s side, but fuck, he can feel a boner coming.

After rounding the car he gets back into his drivers seat and starts the engine, turning the radio on again. Glancing at your figure for a moment out the corner of his eye after putting on his seat belt, his nose inhales the vanilla aroma flowing off your body.

“Strong perfume.” He says as he looks at the road ahead.

“I can smell yours too.” Oh that manly cologne smell. He really was turning you on, but you can’t show that.

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” His cocky smirk flashing you as he drives, glancing at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the road.

You turn your head to him, brows furrowed, “Are you getting an attitude with me? After I gave you cookies twice?”

His smirk is still on his face as he speaks back, “Me? Attitude? Never..” He says, feigning innocence. “What would I have an attitude about?”

“Wait, are you for real?” Because you’re wondering now, your tone more serious. Is he mad about the fact you reminded him of the contract rules? It’s not like it’s your fault.

He senses the change in your tone and drops his act, “Nah, I’m just messing with you sweetheart.”

You stare ahead at the road, the sunset melting into the ground and trees creating a pink and purple wonderland. “Are you annoyed at something?” And you see his fingers tightening on his wheel slightly, it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Nothing really does.

“What? No. Why would you think I’m annoyed?” There’s a hint of defensiveness in his voice, and you can tell he’s trying to play it off. Why do men do that? Always brushing off their feelings.

“Because you sound cheeky.” Your arms crossing over your chest as you lean back in your seat, speaking as you stare at the road ahead. “You’re not annoyed or anything because I told you the rules about the contract are you? This has to be strictly friends or acquaintances or.. whatever we are.” Because you don’t know what you both are, really.

He flirts so much, but you just act friendly back. But you can’t deny how attractive he is, you can’t deny that you like him, just a little. Do you like him as a friend or more? No idea.

He goes silent for a moment after you call him out, his grip on the steering wheel tightening more as he processes your words. “No, I'm not annoyed. you were just reminding me, that’s fine. I don't mind.”

You know he’s still bothered but trying to keep his voice casual, so you decide not to press the issue onto him anymore. “Oh right, okay.”

He nods slightly in response, keeping his gaze locked on the road. There's an awkward silence in the air for a moment as he tries to keep his composure while driving. He glances at you for a moment, stealing a quick glance at your figure, that stupid dress is just too distracting…He needs to take his mind off it.

“Oh yeah I got you a little gift, just a thank you for helping me out with this whole.. drug scandal.”

Turning your head to him, your face brightens with a smile under the sunset and illuminating street lamps, “A gift??”

The smile on his face returns as he speaks, “Yeah, it’s nothing big. But I still wanted to get you something as a thank you.”

“Ouu.. when do I get it?”

“I’ll give it to you when we arrive at the restaurant.”

You chuckle softly, “What is it?”

“Why do you want to know? You’ll see when we get there.” God he’s such a tease.

“Why would you tell me you have a gift for me then? Just to tease me? I need to know now.”

He laughs, enjoying the way you’re begging to find out. “I’m not going to tell you, you’ll just have to wait. I promise it’s nothing too big.”

“Fine.” You slouch back in your seat, turning your head back to the road. “How long till we get there?”

“Only fifteen minutes away, shouldn’t be too long.”

“Mhm, okay.”

You can see his eyes on you out of the corner of your own eyes, his gaze slowly trailing over your figure for a moment, releasing a quiet sigh, then forcing his eyes back to the road.

The car goes over a bump and he looks back down at your legs, your dress riding up slightly exposing your thighs just a little more. Does he think you can’t see?

“You look good by the way.”

You want to giggle and blush but, no. You know how to keep yourself composed. “Thank you.”

And he’s looking you up and down shamelessly with a smirk, “You look really good, not just good, but really.. really good.”

Oh he’s such a dork, it makes him so cute and you can’t help but laugh a little as you say, “You too, Satoru..”

His eyes trail over your figure much longer than it should, not even trying to hide it. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. I like suits.” You look back at the road, stopping yourself from flirting too much, remembering to follow the contract rules.

Strictly. Fake. Dating.

“Really? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Finally, he parks the car and turns to you as we arrive at the destination of the fancy restaurant you chose. “Do I get the gift now or inside?” You say, turning to him too as you smile widely.

He chuckles at the sight of your smile, “We’ll go inside first and then you’ll get it.”

And you giggle as you try to open the door, eager to get that gift, but he keeps the door locked. You turn your head back to him with wide and confused eyes, “Open it?”

“Stupid.. I’m going to open it for you. Also there’s paparazzi over there,” He nods his head to the side, keeping his gaze on me. You glance out the front window, and he’s right. They’re all standing there trying to look discreet but those huge cameras are embarrassingly obvious.

“They’re waiting to bombard us so hang tight yeah?”

He gets out of the car and quickly walks around to your side, opening the door for you. He holds his hand out, offering to help you out of the car as he notices the paparazzi waiting nearby, walking towards you both.

As soon as I take his hand and step out with just one foot, the paparazzi are already flashing their lights and throwing us question after question. How did they know we’d be here? Whatever, publicity I guess. Maybe our managers told them. Maybe someone was stalking us and revealed information.

Gently, he helps you out of the car, keeping his poker face on as the paparazzi start snapping a bunch of photos as he shuts the door behind you. He puts his hand around you, his hand wrapped onto the side of your shoulder as you huddle close to him, subtly guiding you away from the paparazzi and reporters

They call out questions as we walk towards the entrance, cameras and microphones being shoved into our faces, some reporters practically yelling so their voices can be heard over the other reporters. We really should’ve had security prepared for us before we came.

“How did you both meet?!”

“How long have you been together?”

“Gojo, look over here!”

“Are you really an addict or were they just lies?!!”

Invasive much. His grip on your body tightens, wrapping you closer to him as you both ignore them and walk towards the entrance, trying to protect you from the onslaught. He smells so good, so manly.

Your eyes glance down, his hands are.. shaking, yet when you glance up, he’s got a poker face on. It's as if he’s trained himself to learn how to hide his feelings. His knuckles are almost white from squeezing his hands into fists.

Thankfully and finally, two guards at the door push the paparazzi away and we enter the fancy restaurant, at peace.

You both let out a heavy breath as soon as you enter, the silence is relieving. the paparazzi can still be seen outside trying to get a look through the windows.

“Fuck, we shouldve had security prepared for us.” You say as you look out the windows of the building, their snapping pictures through the window. Weirdos.

He looks down at you and chuckles breathlessly, “Yeah, we probably should’ve. I didn’t think they’d find out we were here so quickly, it’s like they have spies everywhere or something.”

As we walk further in he books us a table, and we’re about to sit down in the waiting lounge but he freezes in his steps.

“Oh shit.. shit. I left your gift in the car boot.. fuck.” He groans and facepalms for a moment, “Damn it, I’ll be right back sweetheart, wait here.”

“But the paparazzi-“

He shakes his head quickly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be quick. They won’t bother you, the security will keep them at bay. I promise I’ll be right back.”

“No I meant what about yo-“ He wouldn’t even let you finish a damn sentence.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me sweetheart.” He says through chuckles. He keeps calling you sweetheart. “Just sit down and wait for me, I’ll come back as soon as I get the gift, alright?”

“Okay..” and he smiles at you as your protest finally stops.

“Don’t worry. I swear I’ll be quick.” He pats your shoulder gently before heading back towards the entrance, bracing himself to deal with the paparazzi outside once more.

You were a little worried, they were asking about his drug scandal earlier, how rude can they get??

He exits the building, wanting to head over to his car, the paparazzi immediately surround him but he just ignores them and opens the car boot, grabbing the Cartier gift bag before quickly closing it. the flashing cameras are relentless, and the reporter’s questions are becoming worse.

“Gojo why haven’t you spoken about your drug scandal?”

“Was it real?”

“Were you set up?!”

“How’s your relationship with y/n like?!”

Gritting his teeth, the annoyance and frustration mounts inside him as he forces himself to remain calm and collected. He grips the gift bag tightly in his hand. “No, the drug scandal wasn’t real. That person wasn’t me. My relationship with y/n is perfect.” He states blankly as he gives a cold stare to the reporters.

He doesn’t give anymore answers, the paparazzi clearly trying to get more information out of him, but he’s done answering their stupid questions. He starts walking back to the entrance with the gift bag in his hand, making sure not to look at the paparazzi as he passes by, not wanting to give them the attention they crave.

Finally, he makes it back into the restaurant, breathing a sigh of relief once he’s free from the relentless paparazzi again, he looks around for you. His gaze quickly lands on your figure as he spots you sitting in the lobby.

You turn to him with a smile, standing up to walk to him. His hands are shaking again. You don’t know if it’s because he’s frustrated or if it’s from needing his drugs from the paparazzi. “Hey, you okay? You’re shaking..” and you take his large hand in yours gently, a little worried.

Does he have anxiety? Is that why he takes drugs? He did say it’s to help him relax. Oh god, how badly you wanted to help this poor boy, but you didn’t know where to start. Helping someone with addiction isn’t always going to work if they’re not willing to help themselves.

He swallows hard before he speaks, his Adam’s apple bopping up and back down again, “I’m fine. Just don’t like those damn reporters, they're so annoying.” He speaks fast, his voice strained. He’s trying to brush it off..

“Come on, let's go eat and forget.” You say with a smile as you chuckle softly, and he smiles back at you. You don’t want to keep him anxious, so making him forget about those idiots should help him, maybe. “Our tables are ready and-“ your eyes glance down to the gift bag in his hand, a dark red bag with the words “Cartier” written on, your eyes widening.

“Satoru.. you said the gift was nothing big?”

A sheepish smile finds his face, “This isn’t too big? Just a thank you. Come on, let's go.” And he’s leading you towards the tables.

He pulls out a chair for you at the table ready in the corner of the hall, waiting for you to sit down before taking a seat himself. Then he places the gift bag in front of you.

You don't say anything for a little while, just staring at the gift with a softened smiling gaze. This man really went ahead and spent thousands on you just for a “thank you.”

Well, to him, thousands is nothing when his net worth is ₩140,000,000, but he still spent money on you. That means something to you. A man willing to spend his own earnings and time, to buy you a gift. It's cute.

“Thank you..” you say as you look up at him, “I love gifts.”

He returns your smile with his own, “You’re welcome. Let’s order then you can open it, yeah?”

“Oh- hold on lemme take a quick.. quick picture.” You chuckle awkwardly, you didn’t want to be those type of people who ruin moments by taking pictures, but you needed to take this. One for publicity and to fix his image, and another because.. well it’s a nice memory. “Need to show fans that their idol isn’t an awful drug addict.”

Because he’s not, he’s so much more than that.

Honestly, you really did believe he was an addict when your manager first told you about the whole situation, so you didn’t really mind having the contract sealed without your consent. Although you could’ve taken him to court, you had some sort of butterfly in your mind, telling you that you should help him, somehow. Convincing you that you could. You don’t know anyone with addiction, have zero education on addiction, but you wanted to help him. Maybe it’s just that motherly nature within you. Although, something in your mind is still telling you that he is an addict. You don’t know, you’ll have to see

You thought he’d be a dickhead or annoyed by the situation, but he’s not. From the very first interaction, he’s always been sweet.

He chuckles softly at your comment, rolling his eyes slightly in mock annoyance but plays along, “Oh, of course. Gotta maintain the public image. Go ahead. take the picture then.”

You quickly snap a picture and post it on your instagram story, tagging his name with a heart emoji after.

“Okay let's take a look at the menu..” you say, looking down at the card sheet before you.

After deciding your meals and drinks, he calls over a waitress and places the order, all the while being a little fidgety with his hands and body, you didn’t want to comment on it though, not now.

“Can I just open the gift now?” You were feeling a little restless. I mean, a Cartier bag waiting in front of you, what a tease.

“Sure, go ahead,” he says after a chuckle, “Open it.”

You take out the box inside the bag and a slight gasp escapes you as you look at the Large Gold D’amour Cartier necklace before you.

He watches intently, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of you.. he waits anxiously for your reaction, his breath catching in his throat as he sees the look in your eyes. You’re staring at the gift in silence, and he wants you to say something, feeling a little anxious.

It's so beautiful, so beautiful yet so simply elegant. A small gold chain with a larger circle gem pendant in the middle. You always loved Cartier. When you were younger, more into love and men you always wanted a Cartier love bracelet. It just screamed romance. But you never had a man you wanted to share it with. Especially with Naoya being your only boyfriend in your entire life, that abusive, toxic fuck.

It's as if Satoru knew you’d like Cartier somehow. “I love it, it’s so cute. Thank you so much Satoru.”

He exhales heavily, a smile on his face, that beautiful smile. Sometimes, you wish you both would’ve met under different circumstances, rather than under a contract. You know he feels the same way too.

“You're welcome. I saw it online and thought it would suit you, so I had to buy it.”

“₩3,210,000 as a thank you for fake dating you?” And he laughs in response, always laughing.

“Well, I couldn’t just get you some cheap gift. After all.. the “fake” dating deal is pretty big you know? Plus I just wanted to spoil you a bit.”

Well you did like being spoiled too. Is this a love language or is he just being nice?

“You literally sent me ₩2.4million the other day.”

“Oh come on, don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

“Yeah yeah okay.. I can’t say I want you to stop, so I won’t.” You roll your eyes as you smile and look back at him.

He stands up from his seat, coming behind you and taking the necklace out the box, your head turns as you look at him confused with wide eyes again.

“Turn your head and lift your hair for me.” Okay, bossy. But you do as he says anyways.

His fingers trace brush against your neck, shooting signals down to your core as he clasps the necklace on for you. You feel his hands at the back of your neck, tracing the clasp with his index finger, teasing, or maybe just appreciating his own gift.

He stands back and goes back to his seat in front of you, smiling at the necklace then glancing back up at you.

“Pretty, it does suit you.”

You look away, giggling softly, hand covering your mouth, and you can feel him smiling at you. God he’s making you blush like a high school girl, just like Utahime said.

“You're really cute when you laugh like that.” Fuck, that was so random? You’re sure you’re blushing right now. It’s supposed to be the other way round. When did he get such confidence to flirt with you like this?

“Don't flirt with me Satoru..” you can’t go against the contract rules.

He laughs softly at your response, a playful grin on his face,“Why not? It’s all part of the act, remember? Gotta maintain the fake relationship image.”

Oh he’s such a liar, he’s not acting at all.

You glance around the room, seeing people eye you both from afar, recognising you both.

“Gotta keep it convincing..” he says, looking at you. A slight smirk on his lips, his eyes softening but playful at the same time. Fuck. And that suit he’s in.. the first couple buttons of the shirt unbuttoned revealing more of his pale skin.. oh fuck.

“Then..” and you don’t know what comes over you, it’s like he’s poured alcohol into your system.

From across the table, your delicate fingers find his as you gently take hold of both his hands, smiling at him softly. And you can practically hear his breath catching in his throat at your sudden affection, but his long fingers intertwine with yours too.

Slowly, softly, carefully, his thumb caresses over your knuckles and you look down at our hands, partied lips.

You just let him, keeping your pupils locked on the intimacy of your hands, a sense of tenderness between you both. But it’s all fake, all an act. And you need to keep remembering that, remember the rules.

“You know, you have really large hands.” And he laughs in response, seems like you make him laugh a lot, huh?

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

His hand lifts yours up, gently tracing the lines of your palm with his thumb, his touch feather-light. He grins at you, his gaze shifting from your hand to your face, and you just stare at him wide eyed with parted lips. This is so intimate it’s scary.

“Your hands are so much smaller than mine.” The cage of butterflies within you, being unlocked after so many years. They’re fluttering everywhere.

He holds up his hand next to yours, the difference in size and length of your fingers and palms becoming even more obvious. He chuckles softly, feeling a sense of protectiveness as he looks down at your smaller hand.

“Jesus, your fingers are like two fingers joined together.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty long aren’t they?”

Yeah, they are. Oh the thoughts running in your mind need to shut up.

He spreads out his fingers, showing you just how much longer they are than yours. He grins and playfully wiggles them, “Would you be able to handle them?” A smirk playing on his lips

Your smile falters, you blink, your lips part. There is no way he just said that, so casually, so shamelessly. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just a silly joke.” He keeps that grin on, but it’s more sheepish now, trying to play off his sexual innuendo.

“So, uh, how long are we supposed to keep up the whole “fake relationship” thing anyway?” He says looking down at our hands, his thumb once again rubbing gently over your knuckles.

Nice way to change the topic, Satoru. And his memory really is a little disorientated.. Drugs.

“I told you the other day.. nine months.”

“Right, nine months. Seems like a long time. Doesn’t it?”

“I know, when my manager told me I'd be dating you I thought it’d only be a couple months. Then I read the contract. I guess it’s to reduce suspicions from the public for when we “breakup”.”

Honestly, you didn’t want this to be over. Its barely been two weeks and he’s already felt so nice and comforting to be around. You just hope you’re allowed to stay friends with him once the contract is over.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze wandering up to your face as he thinks. You can tell he’s trying to keep his expression neutral, but his eyes give away a hint of disappointment. He focuses down at our intertwined hands once more, his thumb absently tracing circles over your knuckles as he speaks, “But nine months…It’s gonna be pretty hard to keep up the facade for that long.”

“Why?”

“Well you know..” He speaks quietly now, “it’s going to be pretty hard to pretend we’re a couple for so long, especially since..”

You didn’t want to be mean, but you had to say it. “Satoru, don’t tell me you're already getting feelings.” You’re such a hypocrite, you’re sure you’re getting feelings too, you’re just caging them within you.

You see his body stiffen and he lets out a nervous laugh. “What? No, no. Of course not. We barely know each other.”

Right. Cartier gift, sending you money.. You wish you could get rid of the cage within you but you can’t. You need to keep any growing feelings locked within you.

“I’m just saying it’s gonna be a challenge, that’s all. Pretending to be in love with someone for nine months isn’t easy.”

“Sure it is, you’ve acted in a film before.”

He laughs softly, “Yeah, but acting in a film and pretending to be in a relationship for months are two different things.” He pauses. “It’s going to be hard to act all lovey-dovey in public, knowing it’s all just an act.”

“Hm.. well we’re doing it right now aren’t we?” You say, looking down at your hands with a neutral expression, your thumb running over his knuckles now. “Just take it as activities friends do.. that the public see as romantic. Simple. It’s to fix your image after all. ”

“Activities friends do..” he repeats after you, “..that the public see as romantic.”

He glances up at your face and you look back at him. “Gotta fake it till we make it.” He says with a wide grin and you nod and laugh in response.

“Don't you find it fun? It feels like I’m making new friends by doing this for you.”

“Yeah it is.. I guess. It feels like a game, pretending.”

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have been caught in that drug scandal, silly.”

He sighs before he speaks, “Yeah, yeah I know. It was stupid of me and I wasn’t thinking straight. You don’t need to fucking remind me.”

Oh, okay. You just look at him sympathetically. Is he mad? He’s got a little sass to him.

One of his hands escapes your grasp on the table, his other hand still intertwined with yours. With his free hand, he runs his hand through his hair as he sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.” He says, “It’s just.. this whole thing is a lot to deal with you know? All the shit online.. the media.. the paparazzi questioning me..”

“It’s fine.. you just.. it just worries me. You worry me.” And you’re right, he does. It’s the truth. Sometimes when you’re at home, you can’t help but think “Is he taking any drugs right now?” “Why won’t he tell me the truth? I know his addiction is bad.” “What if he actually isn’t addicted? What if I’m worried for nothing?”

You don’t know why it worries you so much, you barely know this guy. But some sort of connection has grown, something within you telling you that you have to have this sense of care towards him.

“Worry you? Why?”

“I told you this before.. Your thing with drugs, it worries me. You say you’re not addicted, but are you sure?” You pause, inhaling as you blink to look away, then back at him. “You don’t need to keep lying to me, we’ll be dating for nine whole months.”

His voice is firm and slow, “I’m not lying, I’m being serious. I’m not addicted. I can stop any time I want.”

Oh, here we go. You know he’s lying. You just have that gut feeling within you. And the way he’s speaking, it’s so defensive. So frustrated. You don’t want to pester him, but you signed up for this in the contract, to give him a sense of help for his addiction, that’s your job here. That’s what you influence, a healthy lifestyle.

“When was the last time you took something?”

“It was.. this morning.”

“Why?”

“We had dance practice and I needed it to relax. Just a small amount, nothing too serious like you’re thinking.”

“.. What did you take?”

He avoids your gaze, looking down at the one hand of yours that’s intertwined with his. “Xanax.. only a low dose though.”

“How much?”

“It was just 1mg.”

Okay, that's not too bad right? Honestly, you don’t really know much about doses, you should probably research when you get home.

All you know is he’s illegally occupying these drugs, his manager already told yours, who alerted you. So clearly, he’s doing more than usual, otherwise he could just ask his doctor for them if he has anxiety, which you can sort of tell he does.

You don’t respond straight away, simply looking down at his hands as you rub your thumb over his knuckles in a sense of .. care?

“When did you start?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Satoru..” You tilt your head with worried eyebrows, “I just want to help, that’s part of my job in this whole situation.”

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as he reluctantly responds, “Fine, might as well tell you ‘cause you’re not going to leave me alone about this, are you?” His voice is low, irritated.

“No, I won’t.”

He sighs, preparing himself before actually revealing everything. “I started… about 3 years ago. Went to the doctor for my anxiety and they prescribed Xanax for a month. Then they just fucking stopped it.”

He pauses for a moment, opening his eyes but still avoiding eye contact as he looks down at your thumb, caressing his knuckles. “But I… couldn’t stop taking it, I needed it to relax, to quiet down the thoughts in my head. So I started buying it on the street, small amounts at first, but then…then I started finding out about different products that help, stronger ones. Like uh.. heroin.. coke..other tablets that help with anxiety too..” He pauses again, still looking down.

“Well yeah now I can’t stop,” He laughs looking back up at you. Why is he laughing? Like he’s genuinely laughing. Not even an awkward laugh. “I don’t overdose if you’re thinking that.”

“So that means you do overdose,” You say, staring at him as you speak in a serious tone, contrasting his humorous behaviour. “I never even said anything.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, feeling a pang of guilt and shame at being called out so bluntly. His eyes meet our hands intertwined again. “I’m not stupid, I know my limits. I’ve never gone overboard, never ended up in the ER. I’m in control here.”

Oh god. It’s breaking your heart. Little by little.

How can you possibly help him if he keeps lying to himself?

“No.. you’re not stupid, not at all.. I never meant that.” You bite down on your lip for a little,then inhale as you look down, why is this seriously breaking your heart?

“You're not stupid. It’s not like you can just stop, can you..”

He lets out a soft, broken laugh at your words. “No, no I can’t stop. Once I started taking them, it was like I couldn’t go back. The more I took, the more I needed to keep taking. It’s just… I needed to keep going. Otherwise everything becomes too much.”

“What are the specific reaso-“ The corner of your eyes sees a waitress approaching, fuck. “Wait, change the subject. Someone’s coming over.”

He looks up and quickly composes himself, a smile on his face. God he must be so happy for the distraction.

You both watch as your food is placed on the table, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. The conversation from before still hangs heavily in the air.

“Oh.. they set out the food so beautifully.”

He hums in agreement, and you can see him still staring at your face rather than the food, he’s not even glanced at the food properly yet.

You look back at him but he quickly breaks out of his gaze and finally looks down at the food, his eyes widening at the presentation. You hold back your laugh. He’s still shy, not always so cocky and confident.

“Yeah, it does. they really went all out.” He says with a smile.

He takes a bite of his food, savouring the flavours and letting out an appreciative hum, looking back up at you with a smile.

“Damn, this is good. Eat yours.”

And you do, the tastes melting onto your tongue, rich, savoury and perfectly cooked.

“.. Do you want to carry on the conversation from before or..?”

He doesn't respond straight away, his expression unreadable as his gaze is locked onto the food whilst he chews.

He swallows, then speaks, “I guess. You’re going to pester me anyway. But let’s finish eating first, yeah?”

After around 10 minutes, you both finish your meals, putting your utensils down.

“Alright, you can bug me with your questions now.” He says with a playful smirk, as if this is all a joke. But you can’t help but laugh a little back, he’s so childish it’s cute. But also a little worrying. He’s always playing off his emotions. Why do men act like that?

“I’m not trying to bug you idiot. We should pay for the food first though, then talk about this in the car I think..”

You both feel the tension from earlier lift off you both as he laughs lightly at your response. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He calls over a waitress, he pays the bill keeping up a casual and easy demeanour. Then he stands up and offers you his hand, “Ready, baby?”

You roll your eyes as you scoff a laugh, taking his hand gently as you stand up, picking up the Cartier gift bag off the table.

His fingers intertwined with yours once more, his hands are still trembling, ever so slightly. It's almost unnoticeable. But you notice it, you’re feeling it.

Once outside, the paparazzi that were waiting there bombard you both again. Shielding you as best as he can, he pushes through the throng of media as you’re filled with discomfort.

You both finally manage to reach the car and he quickly opens the passenger door for you to get in. After you're inside, he gets into his driver's seat and closes the door, the both of you exhaling heavily in relief as some distance is put between you both and the cameras.

“You okay?” His voice is teasy and sarcastic, trying to light up the mood, “You're not completely traumatised by the experience of dealing with the media right?”

You chuckle again in response, the both of you seem to laugh a lot around each other. “I didn’t think it’d be that bad when I signed up for this.”

“Yeah, it can be pretty overwhelming dealing with the media. But I have experience dealing with these vultures, you get used to it after a while..” He pauses as you hum in agreement.

“Let me park in a different area, yeah? Then we can talk about.. you know.. what you want to know. There’s no point of me lying anymore. You won’t tell anyone though right?”

“No, of course not. I won’t do that. I promise.” And you won’t, anything too personal you won’t. You usually tell Utahime everything, but you won’t this time. You promised.

He smiles softly at your reassurance and nods, pulling out of the parking lot and driving the car to a quieter, more secluded area. The short drive is filled with silence until he parks his car in a secluded area under the night sky.

There's no other cars around in this parking lot, the only sound around being the hum of the engine and the distant sound of city noise. Someone could kill us here, he could kill me here. Fuck, what am I thinking?

You both allow the silence to fill the air for a moment, the tension slowly building once more.

He glances at you, his gaze fixed intently on your face as he finally speaks, his voice low and soft ,"Alright, you can ask me whatever you want to know. I’ll answer honestly.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Why did your doctor stop your prescription?”

He doesn't say anything for a moment then takes a deep breath before answering, "The doctor was worried about the long-term side effects and potential harm to my body. They had an idea that I was becoming addicted because I kept asking for more from the pharmacy and when I had any appointments. He told me I couldn’t take anymore and I.. got angry.. yelled and shit.. so they took me off it.”

Why would they do that? How dumb do they have to be to just.. stop it completely instead of gradually helping him to stop? You blame his doctor for his whole addiction, they were reckless.

“Why do you do it? Specifically.”

He lets out a bitter laugh at the question, shaking his head slightly. “Why do I do it? I don’t know. Being an idol I guess it just..” He pauses again, struggling to find the words to express himself. "Practising for hours on end.. hardly any rest.. the media.. fans.. everything it’s just..”

He grips the steering wheel tight as he slouches in his seat, his knuckles turning white. “Everything gets too much. My mind is always going a thousand miles a minute. There’s too much to deal with. Too much pressure when your #3. The label wants to get us to #1, and they’ll force anything onto us to achieve that.”

You don’t respond, simply listen, letting him really come to terms with his issues instead of playing them off as a joke.

“The drugs help quiet everything. They numb the thoughts and the feelings and make it all bearable for a short while.”

“And you take.. illegal drugs.. like heroin.. and..” You inhale a shuddered breath, biting your lip as you look away. Then look back at him with a pitiful look.

“I know it’s bad. Trust me, I know. I’m not stupid. But it’s my way of coping I guess. It just helps me get through the day.”

“You take some every day?” And he nods, shame written on his face.

“And I never said you were stupid. Stop thinking that okay? You’re not.. it’s not entirely your fault, your doctor is at fault mainly here.”

But again, he lets out a bitter laugh at your words, “No, stop saying that. It is my fault. I’m the one who keeps doing these things. There’s no one else to blame but me.” He hasn’t made eye contact with you once during this conversation.

“… Don’t think like that.”

“Why not?” And he’s finally turned his head to you, voice full of frustration and defensiveness as his eyes meet yours with furrowed brows.

“Self blaming will just make you feel more negative and anxious, making you need more drugs to calm you down. You can’t always control your brain if it’s been wired differently, the only thing that is your fault is your lack of truly trying to change.”

His one hand gripping on the steering wheel tightens even more, anger rising in his chest, “Lack of trying to change? You don’t think I haven’t tried? I’ve tried to stop so many times, and every time I fucking fail. Every time I keep coming back to the drugs. I’m hopeless. That's all there is to it. I don’t know why my manager contacted you for help, I’m just going to bother you.”

“You don’t bother me. Just worry. When was the last time you tried to stop?”

You see him hesitate, as if he wants to lie again, but his eyes meet yours once more. “Like.. seven months ago, relapsed after a week.” He scoffs a laugh at himself.

“That’s a long time ago though.”

“Yeah, I know. But I didn’t want to try again. Felt like I was losing my mind during that week. I just couldn’t handle it.”

“What support did you have at the time?”

He lets out a hollow, bitter laugh again, "Support? I don't need support. I'm supposed to be a successful, talented idol. I'm supposed to get women and be the man. I can't be seen as weak and vulnerable. I can't have people seeing the mess of a man I am, the weak, broken guy who can't get over his fucking anxiety or stop taking drugs."

…

Your lips are parted, brows furrowed and eyes wide as you freeze and just stare at him. Did he just say that? Why are you shaking? There’s no way he truly thinks like that. It’s breaking your heart.

“Jesus- are you crazy?!”

“I take drugs, what do you think, sweetheart?”

“No i mean-“ and you inhale sharply, squeezing your eyes shut to compose yourself and then open them again at his irritated expression. “Satoru.. that’s what you call stupid.” And he grits his teeth in anger, “What the actual fuck do you mean you don’t need support? You have Shoko and Geto. Did you ever seek support from them when you were having withdrawals?”

“No. But when they’d try to help I’d yell at them I guess. So now they make jokes with me about it instead to help me cope, but Shoko gets fucking mad when she sees me actually doing the drugs in front of her or if she sees me carrying it and Suguru just lectures me.”

“Do you push them away?”

“Yeah, so what? I never want them to see me all weak like that. I just want to deal with it on my own, prove that I’m strong and in control.”

“You don’t need to do that, you know it won’t help to just rely on yourself. If you feel like you’re about to relapse after trying to stop, you seek help and comfort to stop you from doing that.”

He lets out a huff of frustration, “I know I'm supposed to do that, but... but it just feels like I should be able to handle it on my own. It feels weak, to have to rely on other people to hold me up. I don't want to burden them with my problems.”

🏷️taglist - @poopooindamouf @catobsessedlady @xionri @spookysoowpprince @abiiebibie @svgvrvs @minzxec @chuyasthighs0 @k-kkiana @you-always-made-me-blush @bbysnw @luvvmae @juliiizh @fleurdelluna @meowforlove @tqd4455 @miliondollagirl @norvacaine @d0nk3y-k0ng @hyperfixationwhore @pinkkminn @gomorlo @lillizard21-blog @zoeyflower @prettynai

(names in white, you can’t be tagged - please fix this or I’m sorry I’ll have to remove you off the list <3!!)

123 notes · View notes

m-ayo-o · 7 months

Text

Naoya Zenin: one of his girls

-> 18+ thoughts !! he wants to make his slut his wife; TOXIC DARK CONTENT degradation, bruises, unprotected sex, implied forced marriage, just trying to write Naoya being his nasty self xx

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who has too many dumb girls fawning over him he can barely choose. So he doesn't, making an active decision to fuck as many of you as he can.

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who takes his anger out on you, plunging his cock into your body, using you as a personal stress reliever. He barely preps you because 'you're tighter like this'.

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who leaves you full of his cum, despite you not being on birth control- with his handprints on your ass and bruises on your wrists.

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who is actively searching for the perfect wife. Unbeknownst to you, he has already chosen, and hasn't been fucking his precious load into the other girls like he has been with you.

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who makes you stutter and fidget when he makes eye contact, telling you that he's dropping his single status to become a husband, and that you will accept his hand in marriage.

⋆｡°✩ Naoya Zenin, who is all about looks- once he pulled a strand of your hair out because it was in the wrong place. He is a strict and possessive husband and accepts nothing less than a perfect, needy little girl. It's no easy task, but you're sure you could get used to it.

#naoya zen'in x reader #naoya zenin #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin headcanons #naoya zenin drabble #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen drabble #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk thoughts

354 notes · View notes

bakugoushotwife · 1 year

Text

kinktober day sixteen: femdom kink

>>> listen my toxic trait is writing a five thousand word naoya fic and using it as textual evidence that i could fix him! also pretty sure this is my first time writing dom reader and it is for the most peggable man alive. this is for the sick and depraved bitches like me <3

>>> starring: naoya zen'in x curvy!f!DOM!reader >>> cw: femdom obviously, misogyny, degradation, coercion, bondage, pegging, cowgirl, creampie, breeding, gojo is hilarious, this cures naoya! >>> wc: 5.1k >>> event masterlist

he watches you for a while. he had heard about you, and was naturally disgusted and in denial. you weren’t even from a big clan, and you’re a woman—there’s no way you were as powerful as they say. you were even on his father’s radar, he’s overheard many conversations about your promotion to special grade and how it was done much too late. you even had his father fooled. what was so hard to understand? women had no place in jujutsu sorcery. women are good for reproducing heirs–having a powerful technique only helps in that effort. in his clan, their women stay home and take care of the children and their husbands like they’re supposed to, and that’s why there wasn’t any impressive females in the work. until you came along, second only to satoru gojo, or so they say. he just had to see for himself what all the fuss was about.

naoya leaves the zen’in compound to take a brief break from the hei. your name comes to mind, and he seethes with rage at his brain’s reminder of your heralding. how had you risen so far without a humbling? he planned to fight you himself and put you in your place since no one else was willing to do it. he knew you kept close to gojo based off of your mission reports and the way people spoke about you two. everyone assumed you would marry him someday, but naoya was also looking for a bride. perhaps he could show you his power and prove your uselessness simultaneously, if you were pretty enough. that may not even matter if satoru gojo likes you. he would do anything to knock him down a peg too, and taking his preferred spouse would be a great start.

finding you was easy enough, as he thought it would be. you continued to field missions on your own, but if you were in between them, you were helping out around tokyo’s sorcerer school. he watches you now, sparring with a student. he folds his arms over his chest and sits down on the steps furthest away from the scene. you move with grace and fluidity, outmaneuvering the male student you were fighting, and your grin was clear to see.

“kusakabe—quicker!” you chide, sweeping his feet out from under him suddenly, pointing your bo staff under his chin. the first year boy chuckles beneath you and shakes his head.

“damn sensei–i’m learning, take it easy!” he huffs, getting to his feet.

“this is me taking it easy—i’m not even using my technique, kid.” you sigh and roll your eyes, stabbing your staff into the ground next to you. “get outta my sight. next?” the other two first years shake their head, having seen enough for one day. “no takers? go find gojo.” you jut your chin in dismissal, watching the group as they trickle inside the school.

naoya waits until they’re gone. you feel his energy as he comes closer, but you pretend not to. what could naoya zen’in possibly be at jujutsu tech for? you’ve heard plenty about him, and none of it has been good. you imagine this had something to do with his one sided tension with gojo, and that idea humored you enough to ignore his presence in hopes he aggravated your friend some more. but he calls your name instead, and you hesitantly turn to face him.

he smirks with shallow satisfaction upon further inspection of you. yes, it is easy to see why gojo must be fond of you. you have a pretty face, doe-like eyes and full cheeks, soft cheekbones and jaw, full lips and long eyelashes. yes, you are very beautiful in just your face alone, but he does note the hourglass shape of your figure. your full chest is restrained by that ugly school uniform you wear, but it can’t hide it. your hips are perfect for birthing heirs, and you are strong enough in foundation to handle several of them, he thinks.

“can i help you?” you arch your brow, cocking your hip out impatiently. he was busy drooling, and you wonder if naoya has ever seen a woman before. “would you like a picture?”

your voice brings him back to the matters at hand. he looks unamused, “unfortunately i’m not another one of your adoring fans.”

“really? could have fooled me. what do you need then?” you tease, tilting your head to the side in confusion. you don’t fool him though, he can hear that matronly tone to your voice. look at you, already trying to cater to his needs.

“i want to fight you. and then i want to marry you.” he states confidently, mirroring your tilted head out of amusement, though it’s you that starts laughing. his brows furrow in response.

“are you being serious?” you titter, covering your shocked mouth with your hand. “such an interesting proposal, traditionally men court their potential brides.” you tease him again, now poking at the nature of his clan. but you don’t say no, and that interests him more than the attitude he’ll quickly put into place.

“you’re far too boisterous for a woman. i’ll beat you, and then i’ll take you as my wife.” he explains simply, tucking his hands into the pockets of his robe. you’re entertained grin doesn’t falter, and he’s astounded by you. most women flounder and argue with him or they stick their noses in the air and just ignore him, but you…you were nodding.

“deal. and when i beat you, i’ll take you as my husband.” you smirk, knowing exactly how to put this over idealistic man in his place, which just so happened to be under your control.

“what?” he sneers, confusion evident. why on earth would you make the stakes the same even if you won?

you shrug a little and examine him the same way he looked over you. he was tall and handsome, a bit more muscle bound than gojo with feline features. having a zen’in would be nice too, you think, smiling to yourself. “you’re a sexy little thing, i wouldn’t mind making you my husband.” you shrug, securing your hair. he was no first-year kusakabe, you knew you’d need your technique on him.

he can feel heat sting at his face when you say that, having assumed he would need to try much harder to earn the fight and your agreement to marry him. you’re attracted to him already?

“you gonna fight or you gonna stand there and catch flies?” you hum, cursed technique active already. you know his, but he does not know yours. he snaps back into it, feeling weirdly competitive not only in showing off his power and the value he would have as a mate, but to beat your peacocking.

he huffs, rolling his eyes at you and jumping into action, clearly waiting on you to attack. you’ll bite, knowing he doesn’t understand the scope of your abilities. you throw your left hand out to release millions of threads. your cursed threads are so tiny they’re almost unnoticeable, and he thinks you’ve walked right into his trap. he uses his technique to phase out of your way, but not before you toss your right hand out and catch him in your webs. you smile, wrapping him up in the spider-like spins like an ant about to be eaten by the black widow.

“looks like this fight is over, husband!” you cheer, crediting your extensive knowledge on his technique as the winning edge. had the fight been more even, perhaps it would have lasted longer. he looks down at you with a mixture of shock, disgust and…arousal?

“when will we have the wedding?” you hum, tapping your chin in mock-thought. “i’m thinking the end of the month should give you plenty of time?” you grin, watching him squirm against your threads. you release your technique to spare him some pride. “assuming our deal is still on?”

he has to have your power for his children. as he’s said before, the sin of the insignificant is the ignorance of true strength, and while he may not be quick to accept his defeat, he’s able to move into the vein of the potential you would bring him as a spouse. you would never fight again, you would never need to, but truly he had never seen someone like you before—male or female. embarrassment settles over his features, and he’ll make it a point to control your mouthiness after this wedding.

“the end of the month will do. come to the estate by noon.” he looks over your cocky disposition and nearly seethes again, but the bigger picture is clear–so he has to put these feelings of confusion and shame aside for now, so he can reach his goals.

you chuckle fondly. “i’d like to be married here, i think. i was the winner, no?” your cunning smirk makes his eyes narrow as he agrees.

“fine.” he dismisses with an eye roll, leaving jujutsu tech’s school grounds with his mind a jumbled mess. you were everything he hates. a loud-mouthed woman who thinks she’s powerful enough to play with the big dogs. but… it seems you can. it isn’t all talk, you are extremely powerful…and you beat him. and he doesn’t hate that you did. in fact, watching you handle him without a sweat made him wonder if even toji would be able to handle you. what did that mean for him all of a sudden?

the wedding is lovely given the time constraints the planning was under, even though the guests in attendance are very confused and unapproving. kusakabe even approaches to make sure gojo didn’t dare you to do this. the zen’in clan comes in limited numbers, though they seem pleased with his ‘choice’ in bride. satoru walks you down the aisle—something he begged to do simply for the pleasure of putting your hand in naoya’s and leaning in to his ear to whisper.

“good luck. you asked for this, remember that.” he chuckles, clapping him on his back before returning to his seat. naoya thinks about his words for the rest of the ceremony, even when he gets distracted by your perky chest and bright smile. he wonders just what he’s in for as you drag him along with you, his pride commanding him to straighten up and get it together as he makes it a point to match your pace. you chuckle at his neediness, and that won’t be the last time you do so.

“so husband. did you enjoy your wedding?” you ask, walking him towards your residence only a mile or so away. he chuffs at your eagerness, the conflicting feelings in his gut telling him to be as petty as possible. he turns his head to the side and shrugs.

“it was a wedding.” he says in non-answer, very immersed in the details of the trees all of a sudden. you hum, still holding his hand firmly.

“aw, don’t be shy now, it’s just us!” you cheer, veering down a path that would take you towards your house. “personally, i enjoyed it. you look very handsome.” you practically coo, and his heart jumps at your tone. god this was insufferable. but he loves it.

“it was..nice. zen’in’s would have done it bigger.”

“and did you want it to be bigger?” you respond, and the sincerity in your question makes him wonder what he does actually want and like. he has always had everything except a connection, and maybe that was his own doing, a product of his environment—but still. you made him think. and after a few precious moments of silence reflecting on it, he doesn’t think he would have liked the ceremony his clan typically performs, nor everyone being there. he doesn’t much care for any one of them at all, so why would he have them at his wedding?

“actually. no.” he squares his shoulders and straightens his back, seeing a humble little house come into view. “is this..?”

“my house. welcome home.” you smile and push the door open for him. he furrows his brows and cocks his jaw in confusion. “what? you’re my house husband now. close your mouth, sweetheart.” you hum, leaning over and physically shutting his mouth for him.

“house husband?!” he erupts, his face turning bright red as you drag him into the house. why doesn’t he just fight you back, stop you? is it because he knows he can’t win? that realization alone makes him yank his hand out of your grip and stop in his tracks. you bat your eyes at him expectantly, knowing you had a little brat on your hands.

“mhm,” you nod, a little grin tugging at your lips. you step closer, balancing your arms on his shoulders and playing with your fingers where they connect. “i made you my husband, silly boy. so i’ll keep running missions and you’ll shut up and do what i tell you to.” you tilt your head to one side, admiring the surprise and rage glimmering in his sharp brown eyes. “doesn’t that sound good?”

you bring your hands back to his slender shoulders, trailing the touch to his pecs. he opens his mouth to speak, absolutely stunned. never in his entire life had anyone, male or female, ever spoken to him with such brazenness. his cheeks warm with color. no way he was enjoying this. is this what it felt like to be…submissive? his eyes narrow at you in the confusion, but he only sees that same angelic face and divine body, and he doesn’t think he can argue with the notion that obeying you might have its upsides.

“and right now, i want you to follow me. time for the house tour!” you clap enthusiastically and tilt your head for him to follow you. he does, until he notices you’ve stopped by the bathroom. you lean against the doorway and gesture to the room. “the bathroom of course. you’ll clean this on mondays, should be pretty clean already. i have good hygiene.”

his eyes widened a little bit once more. you were deadly serious, meaning for him to clean the house while you continued your job as a sorcerer. you move onto the kitchen with a smug grin. his feet move a little more reluctantly this time. you open the cabinet with all the cleaning supplies. “the kitchen should really stay clean. i’ll help you learn—i’m not heartless.” you chuckle to yourself as he folds his arms across his chest.

you’re worse than heartless. you have to be the devil herself with all of this. you’re a siren at the least, so beautiful he really hadn’t processed all you were demanding of him until now, and he huffs and rolls his eyes at your remark. you smile sweetly still, unphased.

“you just need a little time to get used to it, is all.” you hum, walking off towards your bedroom. you flip the lights on and make for your bed. he watches you take a seat, the short kimono you wore riding up your delicious thighs at the action. he was losing the plot, he just needed to take control. all women are submissive in the bedroom. “this of course is my room. if you’re a good boy you’ll get to sleep in here with me.” you titter, scrunching your nose at your own humor.

“you forget yourself, woman. i’ll be the head of the zen’in clan in just a few years.” he scoffs, looking over your seductive positioning with a nod of approval. he enjoyed your attitude, he thinks, he’s sure it will make your sweet cries of his name that much more memorable.

“the only one forgetting their place is you, husband.” you cross your arms over your chest, that arrogant smile still mocking him. “you can still be their little head as long as you keep my house clean and my bed warm.”

oh that does it. you’re so patronizing, so demeaning—he stomps over to you, reaching to grab your face. you allow it for entertainment’s sake, looking up at him with big doe-eyes that almost made him forget why he was angry in the first place. but that smirk reappears, and he squeezes your face in frustration. “i’m not cleaning shit. you’re my bitch. you should be honored to be my wife. take your clothes off and shut your mouth.” he releases his hold, waiting for you to obey.

and to his amazement, you do. you stand up and remove your kimono, watching him the entire time. the fabric falls to the floor and naoya is drowning in your curves and the lusty look in your eyes. you smile at his reaction, eyes trailing to his still-clothed form. even in his haze he understands you, pushing his robes off and wrestling with the string holding his hakama in place. all the blood rushes to his cock as he processes that it worked—you were just giving him a hard time after all, and he’d get his way as always.

as soon as he’s fully naked, your threads are tied around him again. his eyes widen at the sight of your silvery silken yarns circling his waist and pulling him to the bed. you stand, moving out of your own way as you smile sickeningly at him.

“wh—what are you doing?” he blinks rapidly, unable to break free of the strong web you were spinning him into. you position him on his back, legs strapped to the mattress and hands tied together above his head.

“what’s it look like, husband?” you ask innocently, crawling over him like a lioness stalking her prey. he can see the real devious desire in your eyes now, and he gulps. he should have known you wouldn’t give in that easily. “you look so much better like this, you know.” you hum, extending a hand to finger-walk over his abs. the slight touch makes him jump and his cheeks warm.

“you’re evil.” he hisses, fighting his restraints if for no other reason than to not focus on your soft fingers brushing against his skin. you giggle at him.

“hardly, babe.” you chuckle, admiring the slight panic and deep arousal in his eyes. “pretend you hate it all you want. i see through you.” you lick your teeth, grinning at his proud length standing tall before you. “your mouth ruins everything though.” you sigh, ghosting your fingernails over his thighs. the touch makes his cock jump this time.

“what does that even mean?” he huffs, annoyed at how his body responds to your taunting.

“means you’re sexy, strong, and have a huge dick.” you deadpan, eyeing the good seven inches he presents you, curved and pretty with a cute pink tip. “but your loud, arrogant, disrespectful mouth ruins it.” you further, fingertips dancing along the insides of his thighs. it’s annoying—just enough to stir butterflies in his stomach but not even close to providing pleasure. your hands are so close to his dick, you could just wrap your hand around him and make everything better. he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, too focused on your teasing to hear your words. you trace his hip bones, humming a little. it tickles in the way that he wants more, so he grunts his dissatisfaction.

you take your hands off him completely, looking at him with a raised brow. he huffs, almost pouting as he looks at you.

“what are you doing now?” he groans, yanking at his ties in an effort to get you to touch him again. it’s pathetic. you haven’t even really done anything, but his dick already hurts.

“don’t complain or you won’t get touched at all, kay? you better learn how to put this pride away or you’ll stay wanting.” you threaten, and he knows from your track record that you’re all too serious. he opens his mouth to protest, but you touch him again and he snaps his jaw shut. now your fingers target his chest, feather-light strokes over his nipples or light scratches across his pecs as he’s left helpless, only able to watch your naked body torture his from between his legs. he didn’t know he was so sensitive, but as your touches grow heavier, his eyes fall shut from the pleasure of his stinging chest.

you can’t tear your eyes away from his leaking slit. it’s starting to drool down his shaft, and you’re giddy from the high, thighs rubbing together at the sight of him unraveling. he’s trying to repress ragged breaths and pathetic moans, but your pinching and tweaking his nipples had him fighting every wave of enjoyment. he can’t help the raspy groan he lets out when you lean over to kiss him.

it was too short. you sit right back up as soon as he sounds off, and his brow furrows again. “already told you, baby.” you tsk. “gotta get a handle on that mouth if you wanna get fucked tonight.” you hum, picking your words carefully.

he nods, straightening up against the headboard as much as possible. he doesn’t care, your touch is driving him crazy. he needs relief, and at this point he would do anything to cum. “would you like that? for me to fuck you?” you ask, hands back to squeezing his biceps and shoulders.

he nods drunkenly again, frowning as he feels you shift away from him. his head snaps over to watch you once he hears the sound of shuffling in your bedside table, mouth gaping as he sees you pull out a glittery pink dildo attached to a black strap. he nearly chokes. you giggle.

“what, change your mind all a sudden?” he nods rapidly, focused on the size of it, not quite as long as his actual dick but considerably thicker. you tsk again and pilfer for the lube. “i thought you wanted to cum?”

“i do!” he says with haste. “you just can’t use that on—”

“mkay.” you sigh, sitting back in your spot with the materials beside you. “i’ll ask again in ten minutes.”

his face contorts at your nonchalance, but once again you keep him from back talking. your slender hand closes around his shaft and his breath is ripped from his chest. luckily, you don’t take that as a sound large enough to stop, your grip sending electricity through his body. his pre leaks onto your hand as you pump him, so you collect it with a few of your other fingers. he watches with parted lips and red cheeks, heart dropping when he realizes you were moving toward his ass.

you rub your fingers around the puckered hole, slathering the surface with all the precum naoya had produced from your endless teasing. while your other hand slowly strokes his cock, your other experiments lower, a finger slipping into the tight ring. he whimpers at the feeling, tightening around your digit as you lock eyes. you grin, nodding encouragement. you didn’t want to be too nice—he didn’t deserve it, but it was better than starting from scratch if he started bitching.

your pumps match the pace around his cock and he slowly loosens up for you. you stay focused, giving him another finger and milking the pre from his cock with the tight grip your hand had on him. his lip is nearly bleeding from how hard he bites into it, and you giggle.

“just tell me when you’re ready for the strap, baby boy.” you hum, eyes a little frenzied from the state he was in. it was all too exciting to be the one to humble naoya zen’in, but you were growing a bit needy at the same time. “it’ll feel so good. you know that’s where your g spot is? bet you didn’t. you zen’in boys are always so uptight.”

he blinks harshly, only mild protests even coming to mind as the hot sweat of need coats his body. he has to have more. your fingers already felt unreasonably good…but if what you said is true, he supposes there is a reason. his chest heaves as he argues with himself, feeling you shove a third finger in him convinces him to nod vigorously.

“yes what, husband? i need words, i’m just a dumb bitch.” you snicker, lightly flicking his balls and giggling when he jumps. he grunts again, feline eyes sliding over to the toy on the bed. “g-go ahead..”

you shake your head, withdrawing all touch. he feels so empty and frustrated he could cry. “better words. don’t you wanna cum?”

“in you.” he replies, and you hum with a pleased little smile.

“that can be arranged if you can learn how to beg like a good boy.” you squeeze his thigh, the only link he has to your warm hands that only make him dizzy for more. he narrows his eyes, knowing that you’re only punishing him for his treatment of you, but he hates how much he loves it. he hates how easy all the words you want to hear come to mind, but also he doesn’t at all. he’s insane with need and would jump off of a bridge if you told him to right now.

“god, just fuck me already–please.” his voice shakes out before his eyes clench shut so he doesn’t have to see you laugh, but to his surprise, you growl a little bit. he opens his eyes, finding you adjusting the strap to fit your wide hips hastily. you fumble around with the lube, trying to see what he would look like taking you. you liked what he said, and he wanted to hear you make your own noises, so he keeps going. “you’re stupid gorgeous, the only person i’d ever let do this–”

you can’t deny the ego boost that gives you as you direct the tip towards his hole. “it’s cold, i know. you’ll get used to it princess.” you giggle, shoving the tip in and pausing to let him adjust. “i’m so nice—could just give you all of it at once and tear this pretty ass up.”

he tenses every muscle in his body, the foreign object stretching him open burned and stung, but the ball of heat in his stomach only grew as your hips gently rolled to ease more in and start a pace. he gradually relaxes, sounds of pleasure rolling out of his pouty lips. thankfully, you don’t stop. you brace your hands on his abs and watch his face screw up in enjoyment.

“see? i told you that you’d like it.” you grunt, voice wavering from the force you’re using to plow into him. “cute little house husband, i think it’s what you were made for, baby.” you snicker, huffing at the way the fabric of the belt you’re wearing rubs up against your unattended clit.

he can only offer a nod as a reply, this was like nothing he had ever experienced, mouth dropped and eyes blissfully closed. his cock still aches from the lack of attention, but it almost adds to the delight of your hips smacking his. you release the threads around his legs, shoving them to his chest and giggling at the esteemed naoya zen’in, your husband, beneath you in a mating press taking your glittery pink cock. he whimpers at the new angle, so deep he’s writhing against the sheets.

it’s a gorgeous sound, his deep-but-posh voice reduced to breathy whimpers and moans, leaky cock making a mess out of both of you. “don’t get too boisterous, little bitch.” he moans louder, either from your nasty words or to defy you, and either way you drop his legs and slide out of his ass. he’s whimpering at the loss until he feels you grab his cock. his eyes fly open to watch you hover over him, plunging onto his length once you get the angle just right. his dick jumps immediately, your cunt too warm, wet, and tight for him to handle after all your bullying. he shudders and shakes his head.

“what? embarrassed?” you say with a little whine to your commanding voice, adjusting to his impressive size sitting against your womb. you’re panting already, mostly from all your hard work—but the need to cum is fogging your brain too. you drop all the threads around his wrists except one, directing the hand to your swollen nerve bundle before you trap the other hand again. “then rub my pussy and make me cum with you.”

you pick your ass up and drop down again, taking him so nice and deep each time he doesn’t even try to muffle the grunts and groans flowing from him. he follows your order, thumbing at your clit as you abuse his cock, waiting to feel the flutter of your pussy to tell him to bust. “don’t even think about it, bitch.”

he chokes a bit, looking up at your knowing face. “can feel ya twitching. you’ll cum when i tell you to.” he nods, rubbing at you fervently. you are the goddess he thought you were, but you’re also the devil in disguise, and he’s so in love it's ridiculous, demeaning, and everything he deserves for never realizing the power that a woman could have over him—or period.

“there we go, there’s hope for you after all.” you hum at his obedience, feeling the tension building in your cunt. he watches you closely, his face still overcome with satisfaction and bi-colored hair messily strewn about his forehead. he fills you up so nicely, and his complete surrender does more to you than his dick. “go ahead and fill me up, my good boy. see if i can give you an heir.” you chortle, abusing his desires for your own twisted game. he can��t live with that, the idea of impregnating you means more than before. he knows it’s the highest compliment he’ll get, and it’s because he knows your allowance means everything. he’s spurting before you can finish your sentence, but you don’t mind, following over the edge seconds later. he’s so pretty when he finishes, whimpering loud and watching your face for approval. your lips are parted and your eyes closed, but you nod anyway. you must feel him looking. you open your eyes and smile softly, swinging your leg off of him and leaving him tied up while you get yourself all cleaned up. he’s mush, thoughts and heart racing as he waits patiently for you to come back with a warm towel to clean him up and release your webs. so unlike him, but he’s hardly angry—he’s wondering what you want him to clean tomorrow.

#jjk x reader #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #jjk smut #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin #naoya zenin smut

477 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 4 months

Note

Could you do a romantic Naoya Zen'in with a female!sorceror!reader please! Thank you!

Oh he's going to be such an asshole... so I hope you know what you're expecting- I'm on Chapter 143, so some info may be wrong.

Possible JJK Manga Spoilers within this for chapters after where the anime (Season 2) leaves off!

Yandere! Naoya Zenin with Female Sorcerer! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Controlling behavior, Sexism, Condescending/Degrading behavior, Possessive behavior, Attempted forced marriage/courting, Stalking, Violence, Blood, Murder, Toxic masculinity, Threats, Forced relationship.

You just know he's going to be horrible to deal with due to his family's principles.

The Zenin family canonically has sexist views, seeing women as just wives.

This is seen with Maki and Mai in the series, Naoya's language only confirms it.

It's canon that he views women as wives and thinks if they aren't three paces behind a man, they should be stabbed in the back (Actual quote, you wish I was joking.)

So it's safe to say Naoya is going to be hell.

He's such an entitled brat, tone and behavior often dripping in arrogance.

He would refuse to see you as skilled.

Being around Naoya as a female Jujutsu Sorcerer often comes with... comments.

Comments literally no one asked for.

Naoya would be degrading and condescending towards you.

He'd often view you as weak.

You could never measure up to him in a battle.

Like he did with Maki and Mai, he likes to break you down.

But here's the worst part.

Naoya would be the type of person to bully you because he likes you.

He definitely finds himself wanting your attention, so he'll get it in any way he can.

It's so easy to hate him, he doesn't even mind all that much at first.

Naoya would hunt you down just to mess with you.

At first it's just because he finds your goals to be stronger preposterous.

Although... before he even realizes it, he may follow you because he finds you attractive.

He likes that you're strong for a woman and might even see you as good wife material.

Naoya stalks you around, watching you kill Curses before stepping in to essentially steal the glory.

It's like in some twisted way he's trying to impress you.

Naoya treats you like you can't do anything alone.

He acts like he should be the man in your life.

He's so possessive... he thinks he owns you.

If he doesn't, he knows he will at some point.

Naoya is a nuisance to you due to both his beliefs... and the growing attraction he has.

You hate his guts... but Naoya feels he can't live without your attention.

He loves it when you look at him, he loves it when you react to him, he finds it cute when you fight him.

He believes he is leagues above you in power... yet adores you all the same.

Naoya would definitely put you down, then try to pull you into relying on him.

He tells you you're weak on your own... that you need him in your life.

In reality, it's the other way around.

Naoya feels he needs you.

However, Naoya is a prideful man and would never want to admit to that.

Naoya would often claim himself to be your man, be that boyfriend or husband.

In fact, Naoya may just jump straight into husband territory.

He's unwilling to believe you have any other choice.

Hate his guts? Sure... but you'll be married someday in his eyes.

He hates it when you disobey him to make him upset.

You want nothing to do with him, you want to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer without Naoya breathing down your neck.

Naoya is a Sorcerer who quickly turns to violence to get what he wants.

In the manga we see him quickly deciding to kill Megumi and Yuji to become head of the Zenin clan.

Imagine if you had a suitor already? Y'know... one who supports your career?

Naoya won't stand for that.

I can see Naoya stalking you until seeing your lover, only to confront them.

As I said, he feels he's the only man and partner for you.

So Naoya would probably kill them... with no regrets... in front of you.

The blood covering his clothes means nothing to him.

All that matters is making you his.

He's such a hypocrite, telling you to rely on him as if you need him.

You're capable on your own, but it's like he refuses to see that.

He wants you to listen to his every order, to beg to be with him.

In reality he's projecting, wanting to do that to you yet his pride won't let him.

At some point he gives in to the fact he loves you.

He loves you, he needs you, why can't you obey him?

The fact you're a woman who won't listen to him breaks him at times.

Yet he's determined to make you his wife.

It doesn't matter what you think of him...

Naoya is a selfish entitled brat who's used to getting what he wants.

He knows at some point he'll get you.

It doesn't matter how much blood he spills to make it happen... or if he has to break you mentally.

He'll make you his... his perfect little wife... who needs him as much as he needs you.

Naoya could drag you into his arms kicking and screaming, the blood on his clothes staining your skin as he grins down at you.

He doesn't care if he has to drag you to your wedding bound.

Naoya knows he'll have you... that you'll be his and you'll give him strong heirs...

You'll learn your role like every other woman in his clan... forced to stay by his side like the good wife he knows you are.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere naoya zenin

139 notes · View notes

devoti · 2 years

Text

just realised the kind of guys i like are pathetic. guys who'd do anything for a crumb of pussy and attention.

#txt's (－‸ლ)#naoya #this is vv toxic but i can change him 🥺

3 notes · View notes

sakuraryomen01 · 2 years

Text

His Unhinged Mind.. /Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Reader/ [Trigger Warning]

#warnings: crazy! gojo . yandere themes . dub/non-consented sex . Stockholm syndrome . kidnapping . emotional and narcissistic manipulation . tied up . ex-gojo x female reader . gojo being toxic . mentions of stalking . soft-to-rough fucking . "a good dicking-down" as punishment . gas lighting . mentions use of medication and drugs/alcohol as a way to cope with anxiety . cliffhanger ending! [OLD DRAFT]

#reader: female reader

#plot: gojo, your ex-fiance, comes to 'collect' you from your appointment with the family therapist and takes you to his home..

#words: 3.186k

#a/n: I was really on the fence about posting this, but I was wanting to write something dark lol. make sure to read the next authors note at the end!! ^^

. . .

Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy!

You sat in that office, waiting for hours for your therapist to show up. Family was asking for you to go to these appointments after what happened with your fiance: just to make sure you were in a good place.

Everything that happened with him was like water down the drain for you. You didn't care anymore, he was gone. He couldn't find you after you had moved countries, getting an apartment and working a medium-waged job until you were positive that you were safe.

But that feeling of being watched never left you: feeling like there was someone watching you every moment of the day.

A set of eyes watching your every move twenty-four seven, all the time— constantly. You never could shake that feeling, and today your anxiety about it was only worse. The therapist, Naoya Zenin, wasn't answering your calls or texts as you sat and waited in his office.

It was nerve-wrecking, so you got up and left.

Opening the door only to bump into a large chest. You apologized, trying to quickly slide by but the person standing in front of you wouldn't move. Looking up at them, you started to speak when a rag was placed over your mouth and the smell of chloroform filled your nose.

You yelped, trying to not breath in the chemicals until the stranger pulled you into a hug and held the cloth to your face. The strength was familiar, though you couldn't pin where it was from as you slowly fell limb and fainted.

Nothing but black filled your sight as your mind went blank.

It wasn't until a while later that you woke up and you soon realized that you were strewn across a bed— wrists bound at the posts and ankles done with the same at the bottom. Your sight was fuzzy, but you could make out the small room you were trapped in.

You didn't recognize the small space: cold, grey walls with only one window that seemed to let light pour into the room.

There was a table on the opposite side of the room, with a chair to join it and a bookcase that was filled with books (obviously). You didn't know who brought you here, but you were scared.

Terrified, even..

That's when the door that was armed to the teeth with locks clicked and you saw it swing open. The cold steel door creaked open as a very familiar silhouette appeared and made your eyes wide with fear.

It was him. The man you left before your wedding..

Gojo fucking Satoru. Your ex-fiance.

"Oh, good morning, baby," His sweet voice cooed as he strutted into the room with a smile on his face.

Gojo didn't bother closing the door as he pulled himself up an extra chair and sat in it. Making the back face you as he sat in it backwards, spreading his legs and letting them rock from side to side as he resting his head on folded forearms. Your frozen body couldn't react: How in the hell did he find you?

You cleaned everything. Wiped all the data from your last phone, made sure to block him on social media before destroying it and purchasing a new one.

You even made sure that your passport and bank account had no connection with him. There was no possible way for him to know that you moved to the States. So, why and how was he here?

"Such a cute face, sweetie!" Gojo's smile was as bright as you met him during your first date. "I'm so happy I get to see it everyday from now on."

"How.." You started, trying to sit up only to be stopped by your binds. Looking from the ropes to Gojo, you sighed and stared at him in confusion.

"Satoru, how?"

The angel-faced male didn't respond, but instead stayed silent until you asked again. Only then did his smile leave and he looked over his sunglasses at you.

"Isn't it obvious?" He asked, his baby blue eyes shined in the light pouring through the window. "I followed you all the way here."

..You sick, sick man..

"What the fuck?" Your voice was laced anger as you tugged on your restraints again. "You did what?"

"Well, actually, I followed your mother.." Gojo said, ignoring your annoyance. "Such a sweetheart, forgetting to delete her Facebook account was the first thing she did wrong. The second thing was accidentally letting me in the house to 'collect' my things when I was really just copying your new address and phone number."

"You crazy bastard.." You muttered, feeling your heart beat thump in your ears as blood pumped through your body.

Gojo's smile returned at your words, balling up his fist as he rested his cheek against it. "I'm not the crazy one. You are, sweetie."

Scoffing, you sat up and rested against your shoulders. Glaring at your former husband and best friend— seeing that sheer amusement that was on his face when he was in a smug and happy mood. You wanted to slap him so bad, curse at him and spit in his face.

Even if your heart screamed differently..

"I'm not the one that left at the altar on my wedding day," Gojo said, scooting the chair he sat closer to your bed. "I'm not the one that used medication like sleeping pills to forget the day."

You know that feeling of helplessness? That sad and twisted feeling? It was starting to set in, feeling the walls of that small room close in and crush your lungs. Unable to breath as you started to panic.

Satoru, on the other hand, was smiling and explaining how he found you.

"After I managed to get your new location, I simply bought a ticket that next day and got here. Finding your new apartment and job— getting myself one too, of course— and just staking out the joint was easy too."

You pulled at the ropes weakly, pulling with all your might as you began to tear up. It was like the last year was playing through your mind all over again..

"After that, I found your therapist's office," Gojo piped, bringing you back to Earth. "I remember booking Naoya as a family therapist— sucks I had to knock him out in the janitors closet of that fancy office he has now."

You tensed, hearing those words. So that's what happened.. Gojo got to him before I showed up..

Gojo giggled, watching you turn to look up at him and smiled.

"Don't worry, he's just sleeping."

He stood up from the chair he once sat in and took two steps before resting his bottom on the mattress next to you. His angel blue eyes sparkled with glee as he looked down at your horrified face. Reaching up, you could feel the warmth his hand graced your cheek once he began to palm them gently.

Pressing his thumb against your chin and lips as if to prod them to move. To smile again. Anything.

"Sweetie, I don't know why you look so upset," Gojo cooed, letting his hand slide down your side and rub affectionate circles with his thumb against your hip.

"You're finally home again! It's been how long now since you decided to 'leave me', as you put it?"

"..A year and a half."

Gojo gave a surprised laugh, getting more comfortable in his seat and smiling widely. He's too proud of himself.

"See? I think you've had plenty of time to think about ditching me," Gojo said, crossing his legs and resting his elbow against his knee to prop his cheek against it.

"That hurt me for a while, watching you pack and get your things to leave. But I realized quickly that you were joking! You'd never leave me, after everything we've been through, right?"

You could feel your tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes. Shifting in your spot as Gojo climbed up and pressed his hands on either side of your head, smiling down at you with that handsome grin you've loved for years.

"Your anxiety attacks... those sad episodes... we've been through it all. And knowing you're going away would've been so terrible to me if I knew differently."

You could smell that minty shampoo he used all the time, knowing he'd never change it. Even the glow of his skin was like it always was, despite the obvious eye bags underneath his eyes.

"You can't leave me," Gojo said, his voice lowering as he began to lower himself. His face getting closer and closer to yours as he continued to speak.

"I'm too important to you, Y/n. Even if your brain doesn't want to believe it, your heart still does. I know it does, seeing as you let me take you back home."

Feeling something grip your wrist, you looked up and saw Gojo's large hand firmly gripping your forearm. His fingers just barely grazing the ropes that confined you to the bed, feeling a sudden sense of unease wash over you.

"Do you know how long I've waited to bring you back?"

The feeling grew, looking up at your former lover and seeing that sudden darkness washed over his face. Eyes were wide and boring right into yours, a grin that hasn't broken still written across his face as he gave your wrist a squeeze.

"Months," He finally answered himself, blinking quickly as tears began to form. "I've been waiting so long after I found you, wanting to just steal you away and hold you forever again, but I couldn't. You were too obvious to take away from the outside world."

A chill was sent down your spine, trying to ignore that crawling feeling inside your gut. Desperate to leave and go back home, to where you were safe from him.

Gojo had always been controlling.. manipulative.. scary.

He was so sweet and kind, but always could have a switch flipped if he was triggered. There were times that his possessive nature got so bad that he was restrained at home from following you around to work and your additional work classes. That was actually a week or two before the wedding, when you should've noticed the signs..

"I missed you so much, Y/n.." Gojo's voice lowered just as his head did, his eyes glued to your lips.

That fluttering in your heart made you sick. Hating the fact you still found Gojo attractive even now. It was so hard to resist him, even after the shit that's happened between you both and the dark route Gojo has taken. Feeling that curl in your tummy as Gojo's pink lips pressed against your neck and cheek, warming your skin up as if it wasn't before, and making your body react almost immediately.

"I miss your smell, your looks, your clothes and smile.." Gojo's sickeningly sweet tone made your heart skip beats. His tongue runs over your collarbone as his teeth graze it, working his fingers down your arm and towards your front.

"There was so much that I wanted to do to you, but you were off being an adventurous little kitten. But, I finally managed to take you away and you're staying this time! I'm not taking any chances of you leaving or escaping me! Then again... you wouldn't want to escape.."

Gojo's large palm kneaded your chest, rubbing his thumb over your clothed nipple and kissing down your neck. Managing to open up your clothes and sighed, a smile on his pale face.

"Waa.. I miss these cute tits of yours, baby..~" Gojo bent his head down, kissing one of your erect nipples as you let out a pained whine.

You shouldn't be feeling so good.. You didn't want this..

"Mmn.. God, you still taste amazing up here," Gojo cooed, licking around your rosy nipples and suckling gently. The feeling of his soft tongue against you made you mewl quietly; you shouldn't be feeling this good.

Not from him. Not because of him.

"Haa.. Can't wait to fuck you," He mewled, his cheeks becoming rosy as he sat up on his knees. "It's the least I can do, seeing as you're all defenseless on the bed. Maybe this is why you ran away? To be bound and tied up for me? Oh~ you're so kinky, Y/n.."

In moments, Gojo was taking off your shirt, pants, and your undergarments. Leaving you exposed underneath him and cold. This was so wrong, so embarrassing, so crazy..

So why were you hot and bothered..?

"Oo~ Someone's been getting off to this, huh?" Gojo cooed, his hand dipping to your heat and running a fingertip up your slick opening.

It made you shiver and mewl, biting your lip immediately as if a wave of love and affection was given to you from two years ago. You shouldn't feel so good over a few touches, no matter how sensitive your slick clit was. How it throbbed and twitched under Gojo's fingers while he cooed.

"Aww, it looks like your pussy misses me, hun~!" He smiled, biting his bottom lip and creating a dent.

His fingers traced around your small opening, pushing his fingers inside so suddenly it burned. Your breath hitched in a quiet coo, your cunt squeezing and twitching around Gojo's fingers as they moved faster and faster. His own pants and sighs are audible as you got closer and closer to an unwanted orgasm.

"C'mon, let that orgasm out, baby," Gojo's tone is so weak it sounded like a plea, curling his fingers and rubbing your sensitive walls. Scissoring his fingers and rubbing your clit with his thumb. "So cute. Cum on my fingers, Y/n. Please."

"A-Agh.. nngh!" You cried, your back arching when you didn't want it, cunt squelching in unison with your wanton moans and whimpers, creaming on your ex's long fingers.

With a sigh, your eyes closed tight, your body relaxed as Gojo's fingers were pulled from your soft warmth. His cock already throbbing in his pants, his pink lips shiny as he drooled at the sight of your undone figure.

Why did you need to leave? He had given you a whole life and yet you left on your wedding day!

"God, seeing you like this just reminds me of our first time together," Satoru had started undoing his belt, the clicking of the buckle alerting you and making you look up towards him. "It was so hot and sexy, I swear I never thought that an ass could bounce that much on someone's cock."

"S-Sato.." Your cheeks burned as your ex continued to rant about your first with him, your eyes locked on Gojo's hardening front with a small whimper. "Please, don't do it.. I.."

"Shh, sweetheart," Gojo cooed, lifting your chin up and kissing you sweetly like his used to when he comforted you. The feeling of his plush and warm lips against your own made your pussy squeeze around the air. your eyes lidded as Gojo continued to lick and trace your hips with his fingers.

"I'll make you feel better, ok? So stop the tears and enjoy my dick like you used to."

Gojo's hips bucked against yours, his dripping cock head spilling some of his seed onto your navel. The usual sticky substance is warm and relaxing against your skin. Nerves under the small puddle of it relaxing as your hips were raised up to graze Gojo's cock against your opening. The twitching and pearled up tip rubbing against the flaps of your pussy, nudging as Gojo started to push.

It slipped without a second thought, pushing into your warm walls and practically gushing inside the stretching hole. The man that owned the needy shaft left out a weak whine, holding onto your hips with a gentle squeeze.

"God baby," He mumbled, his eyes fogging as the pleasure he was getting consumed him fully. Looking down at your shaky figure for a response as he snapped his hips and shoved it into you vigorously. "Feels so good, like always!"

You cry at this, clit grinding against Gojo's pubic bone as your toes begin to curl from the force of his thrusts. It was so good having him inside you, feeling the curve of his cock knock your g-spot perfectly and making you melt under his touch despite how much you wanted to kick him and push him away.

It was like a twisted torture you were enduring.

You wanted to run and hide, but stay and get pleasured by Gojo constantly. To feel those soft hugs and kiss his pretty white lashes each morning before he woke up and whine about how you missed his lips. Bickering back and forth about which store to go to or what things to buy when you got there.

All the soft and fluffy stuff that your soul and heart craved from Gojo's touch. Feeling him pressing you into the bed sweetly like he hadn't kidnapped you. Like he was making love to you, groping at your chest with his large hands and pinching your nipples.

Nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder as he picked up his pace, grunting and moaning into your ear while he pleasured himself with your hole.

Sick and twisted, that's the kind of love you felt inside.

"S-Sato, gonna-!!" You cried, arching your back into the restraints and pulling your legs up to fold against you, tugging at the ropes binding them to the bed. "Gonna come! Nghh!"

With a whine your pussy constricted around your kidnapper's cock, shuddering as your orgasm hit you again, almost like a punch in the gut but full of euphoric feelings. Gojo let out an excited mewl, his eyes entranced with your orgasming pussy. Rolling his hips roughly against your swollen pearl, watching it shiver under his touch as he continued to abuse your stretched hole.

"Yeah, baby!" He purred, tracing his thumb over your navel and down to rest above your clit. "C'mon, keep comin' for me. Go on!"

You couldn't hear him over your whines and the rapid beating of your heart, Gojo's words falling on deaf ears as he continued to thrust until he came. The hot and sticky ropes of his come painting your walls and the lips of your pussy.

He let out a sigh at the sight, running his finger up to collect a little of the semen he had spilt.

"Look at that," Gojo cooed, leaning forward and pressing his come covered finger to his lips. "You made me bust so hard inside, it made me a little tired."

Whimpering, your eyes were blurred and hazy, weakly locked with his. Watching as he slipped his digit into his mouth and licked up the messy substance, feeling his lips press against yours after he swallowed it. After a few moments of kissing and cleaning up your disheveled body, Gojo stands and fixes his pants, his glasses returning to their spot on the bridge of his nose.

"Now, my little dove, why don't we try this relationship over?"

a/n: this was a really old draft i decided to touch up and continue recently since I haven't been posting much. i liked how toxic it turned out since i've been feeling a certain way recently lollll anyways, i hope you enjoyed this and hope to get the next chapter of Valentino posted soon! ^^

a/n pt2: There has been a serious lack of posting as I've once again been unable to get the creative juices flowing. I hope I can get back to doing some drabbles and another chapter of Valentino soon.

1K notes · View notes