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gojonanami · 3 months

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❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAKE DATE SATORU GOJO WITH REAL FEELINGS? ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is the same age as gojo, set during s1 of jjk, fake dating hijinks, drunk! gojo, jealous! reader + gojo, implied satosugu (sorta, i see it more in a soulmate way, whether its platonic or romantic), switch! gojo, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, naoya makes an appearance, gojo clan elders suck, gojo's made up clan responsibilities,

✧ wc: 16,043

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 6 has been sold to @chuluoyi and an anon!

“C’mon, you don’t know until you try, sweetheart,”

You run at your temples, you didn’t need to feel burgeoning ache of a headache forming to know it was coming — but you knew it would whenever you met with this blue eyed idiot, “Satoru, the last time you said that, you nearly got me killed,” you didn’t care to re-live him sending you on a mission meant for him to take a grade 1 one curse, only to end up fighting two other grade 2 curses along with it.

You were lucky you made it by the skin of your teeth — and lucky that Shoko woke up when you showed up at her door, half dead.

“And this time, there’s no risk of death,” he grins, stirring his sugary drink that counts more as sugar than a drink, “that shows great personal growth, don’t ya think?”

“I think this conversation shows that just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have an ounce of common sense,” you mutter, as you sip at your drink of choice, “Gojo, I can’t marry you — for one, there would be a risk of death — yours,”

“Eh you wouldn’t be able to kill me — you’re far too—“ and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence, “kind,”

You rolled your eyes, “One of the traits you’re looking for in your future partner?”

“The thing is, you wouldn’t have to marry me at all — it would be a big sham!” He said with a thumbs up, as if that made it any better at all, “just for a couple weeks so I can fool the Gojo Clan into complacency and to stop the search for my future spouse — you’d be sparing the hundreds, no thousands, of possible candidates from facing the burden of my rejection,”

“And I suppose the fact that the clan would get off your back is just a fringe benefit?” You sigh, “Gojo, why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to get married?”

“I’ve tried — but the stubborn old geezers won’t budge — I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — and you know me,” his lips curl, “I’m a lover, not a fighter,”

Yup, you have a headache now.

“What would we have to do to convince them we were together?”

Why were you considering this?

“Dates, a few public outings, meeting the geezers because they would insist, and you would need to show your face around the clan compound,” he lists off, sipping at his drink, “there may be other things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” You may jump off a bridge by the time this is over and done with, “what do you say?”

“I have two questions,” and he leaned back in his chair, back and forth, impatience personified, “how long would we have to do it?” You didn’t want to be stuck in this arrangement for an undisclosed amount of time, but the second question was far more important, “ And why me?”

“Three months, maybe longer,” you gape at him, “I can pay you?” you raise an eyebrow, “I will pay you,” you sigh, “and choosing you was easy because—“

“If you make some sort of joke about me being single, I don’t care if you have infinity, I’ll find a way to murder you,” you grumble.

“Because you’re a sorcerer, you’re from a minor clan — so you’re an acceptable choice, and I trust you — you’re one of my closest friends,” he adds, for once his words are deprived of any humor.

And that answer was…almost worse than the joke. The word “friend” stuck in your side like a thorn you could never pull out, festering and growing until it had become a part of you — that ached only when you thought of it.

Your feelings for him, they were still there? You thought you had discarded them years ago, thought it was safe for you to move back to Tokyo from Kyoto, thought you had finally left that childhood crush behind — dead and buried — but here it was, still stubbornly clinging to life.

And now it would thrive with new roots, stems, leaves, and buds if you agreed to this.

He said your name, “Well?”

He remains as inscrutable as always, But you could never say no to him, could you? “Okay, fine,” it would also help you out in the form of another problem of Naoya Zenin who had been nothing but persistent since you came back…but you didn’t want to dwell on that. Your eyes find Gojo’s again — as they always did.

It was why you had left for Kyoto in the first place.

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, as the servants that served the Gojo clan fussed over your clothes — it was a traditional kimono in the colors of your clan — a deep indigo, embroidered with white koi fish that swam along the fabric, embroidered with waves. You supposed you were only grateful that Gojo didn’t leave you to get dressed yourself.

Gojo watched as they adjusted the obi around your waist, and your eyes remained fixed ahead, but your gaze couldn’t help but wander to him. Satoru Gojo was always unfairly gorgeous — there was a reason people fawned over him even when he had just rolled out of bed without even a once over at his appearance — but those same people probably would have passed out if they saw him as he was now.

His formal wear was a sky blue — the same as his eyes, a coat draped over his shoulders and loose trousers of snow white that was a nod to hair of the same color. His hair remained unkempt as it always was.

“Gonna change into that but not comb your hair?” You remark, and he smirks, running a hand through his hair.

“Well I think if I start being too well behaved, they’ll know it’s fake,” and the word sticks in your chest like a dagger between the ribs, as the servants finally finish with your clothes, and you sigh.

You straighten yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror, “How is it only been a couple hours and I’m already exhausted?”

“The suffocating grip of old geezers and their backwards traditions would do that to you,” but his eyes linger on you, “but lucky for you sweetheart, it seems to suit you,”

“Do you have to call me that?” You murmur, cheeks warming, as you pretend to busy yourself with adjusting your clothes in the mirror.

“You have to get used to it,” his footsteps draw closer, heart battering against your ribcage as he does — surely, it would break free of its bony cage by the end of this, as he slides a shiny pendant around your neck — a sliver infinity with a singular small blue gem glinting in the middle — “after all, you are mine now, aren’t you?”

“Gojo, this is—“

“Satoru,” he reminds you, as his fingers brush against your neck as he clasps the necklace, “how will it look if someone overhears you calling me by my last name in private?” And your fingers brush against the necklace, toying with the pendant as you positioned it properly, “do you like it? I had it made especially,”

Especially — the lack of ‘for you,’ stuck out to you, as you force a smile on your lips, “it’s perfect — it will definitely sell the act,” and your eyes can’t find his as he adjusts his sunglasses, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your blindfold,” you turn to face him, “doesn’t it drain you not to wear it?”

“I can wear sunglasses sometimes — usually I get strange looks if I wear a blindfold in normal society — and here,” he pulls off the glasses as his cerulean irises seem to pierce your very form, “it reminds these old men who holds the cards here,” it was already hard enough for you to meet Gojo’s gaze as it was, it always felt as if he could stare right through you — and now, it felt as it your entire soul was beholden to him, “and as a bonus,” he draws close again, as he holds out his hand for your own. You resist the urge to bite your lip, inside giving your hand as he wished, and he lifts to his lips, before tilting his head to press the back of his hand to your cheek, “now I can look at my beautiful girlfriend unobstructed by these pesky eye coverings,”

You scoff, “You always have something to say, don’t you?” As you try and fail to move your hand away, “Gojo—“

“A good escort should never let their lady walk in without their hand being held, don’t you think?” And you sigh, as he leads you out of the frying pan and into the fire — you only hoped you wouldn’t be burned — your eyes sliding to Gojo again, fingers toying with the fabric over your chest — in more than one way.

“So you’ve gotten yourself a partner, eh, boy?” the elderly man sits with his eyes closed as he sips his tea, steam rolling off the surface in droves, but he seemed unbothered by the heat — perhaps because of the steam coming out of his ears, “I’m shocked,” you kept your gaze down, only had greeting him upon entering — stating your name and clan, before kneeling beside Satoru on a cushion.

“Shocked that someone like me could ever find my match? I know I’m truly one of a kind,” lips curled in that smirk that seemed to annoy almost everyone Satoru Gojo knew — including you — but no one showed the level of irritation that this man showed.

Gojo may be the head of the Gojo clan — but you supposed there were still people he had to answer too, if only due to age and tradition — the two very things Gojo hated the most.

“Why bother respecting those for aging when they haven’t done anything for me to respect?” he had said flippantly to Yaga one day during a lesson, “I rather die young than live to the age of these old coots without accomplishing a damn thing,” and then Yaga firmly smacked Gojo on the head right after, for disrespecting Gakuganji during the sister school exchange event.

And you had a feeling this meeting was about to go as well as that class did.

“Is this serious? Have you proposed?” and you have to keep a straight face, but your cheeks burn.

“Now, don’t embarrass me and my girlfriend,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “but this is serious — she’s the only woman I want to marry — and I’ll do anything to accomplish that,” he leans forward with a smile, squeezing your hand, “because I love her, and I only will ever love her,”

His gaze slides from Gojo to you, eyes boring into your skull, “and do you feel the same?”

You never have been one for lying — lying was an uncomfortable feeling that twisted and turned in your stomach like questionable leftovers that you took a gamble on eating, ones that wanted to come out the same way it went in. But you had learned with time because sometimes it was necessary for a sorcerer to lie, and when it was between telling a lie or dying, you’re forced to become quite adept at things you hate.

And you had learned, as you meet his hardened look, the best lies had some truth ingrained in them.

“I do, Satoru and I went to Jujutsu Tech together, and he’s the only man I ever loved,” perhaps it was too much truth, as you forced your voice to be steady, “he’s frustrating, irritating, full of himself—“

“You don’t have to be that honest—“ Satoru grumbled.

“But he’s also selfless, unendingly kind, a great teacher, and a good person, maybe even the best person I know,” you can’t bear to look at Satoru, “and he’s the only man I want to call my husband,”

The silence lingers in the room for a moment before the old man grunts, “I’ll believe it when I see it,”

“What kind of answer was that?” You asked as Satoru walked you back to the room, his fingers still laced with yours.

“It means we have to make him believe it — but he’ll at least stop arranging these meetings for me with prospectives,”

You raise an eyebrow, “and what will make him believe it?”

He smirks, as he tugs you a little closer, fingers under your chin, “I could kiss you right now, might sell the act,”

“No one can see us,”

“Someone’s always watching,” he murmurs, leaning far too close as your breath catches, eyes widening before they flutter shut and you wait. But instead his lips brush your forehead, followed by a flick, “gotcha,”

Your eyes snap open in a glare, “Gojo!” And he’s cackling.

“Satoru,” he corrects, as his hand leaves yours as he opens the sliding door to the room, “you coming?”

You pout, rubbing your forehead, as you brush past him — this was going to be a long few weeks.

“Why do I even have to go to this?” You were being led through a bustling mall, his arm around your waist, as if to prevent you from escaping (good idea). Your lips twisted in a grimace, you allowed him to drag you along, knowing him, he would carry you over his shoulder without a hint of shame (you don’t think he even contained the word shame in his own vernacular), “can’t you go and wear a ring and go by yourself?”

“A ring is not as good as having you on my arm now is it?” he bumps you with his hip, “plus, we’re not engaged yet, unless this is a proposal,” he raises an eyebrow, and your cheeks burn.

“Shut up, I’d never propose to you,” he laughs, but it’s almost strained.

“Never propose to me like that right? Because I deserve a better proposal than that,” he sighs, leading you into a store, “come on, we have to find you a nice outfit for the wedding,”

You glance at the store, your jaw dropping, “Gojo, this store is so expensive, I can’t afford this—“

He lowers his sunglasses just to show you that he’s rolling his eyes, “Who said you’re paying, Princess?” You stare at him, slack jawed, while a salesperson comes up to the two of you — though she’s clearly only interested in one of you.

“Hi, what can I help you with finding today?” her lips curled in a smile, as she twirled a strand of her around her fingers, “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” her gaze completely fixed on Gojo, without the slightest hint of acknowledgment for you to spare.

You bite back a scowl, plastering on a fake smile, as you lean into Gojo, “My boyfriend is looking to buy me an outfit for a wedding we’re attending — baby, could you tell her what style you want me to wear?”

Gojo glances at you, a flicker of surprise that is quickly covered up by a smirk, his arm tightening around your waist, “Yes, I have to make sure my sweetheart is looking her best — so can you please find these styles of dresses for me?” You can’t help the smile on your lips as the salesperson shuffles away, lips a thin line rather than the grin she once had.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Gojo chuckles, and you roll your eyes, hoping your expression didn’t give your heart away, the feelings you had stuffed into a crevice of your chest that threatened to burst.

So you choose to turn it on him instead, as you meet his gaze with a small smirk, “I don’t like people taking what’s mine,”

But he only takes it in stride, only as Gojo can, “I’m yours, huh?”

You shrug, choosing to hurt yourself rather than let him do it, “at least for the next two to three months,” and your gaze snaps away and looks to the saleswoman as she comes back with a selection, “if you get to choose my dress, I get to choose a suit for you, deal?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, but smiles, “Anything for you, princess.”

“You just wanted to see me model for you, didn’t you?” Gojo emerges from the changing room in a black button down and white suit coat with a matching white tie — as he tilts his head, “I would say my best suit is my birthday suit,” and you grimace, “oh c’mon, it was a good joke, although—“

“Don’t say it’s true,” you lean back, phone in hand as you snap a picture as you did for the last three, “I love to see that self confidence of yours has grown into full blown arrogance,”

“How can I not be arrogant when I see you snapping pictures of me?” He crosses his arms, the fabric taut and straining over his chest, the top button undone, showing off the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat, “it’s definitely a step up from when you ignored me,”

You snap from your thoughts, “When did I ignore you?”

“When we graduated Jujutsu Tech, you’d spend time with Nanami or spend a weekend with Shoko, but whenever I was around, you wouldn’t even reply to a text,” your eyes fall to the floor, chewing your lip, “it wasn’t always like that — I thought we were close,”

It was true — but it wasn’t because you hated him. It was the opposite. You had tried to be his friend, but the more you were his friend, the more it hurt — hurt to see him smile at you like everyone else, hurt to see him with his eyes on the one he wanted, and with his arm around Suguru.

And you really didn’t hate Suguru — it was the opposite really — you thought they were perfect, a person who grounded him, made him a better person, and with a much tighter grip on reality than Gojo did — perhaps too tight. Too tight that it shattered apart in his hands, the pieces too far gone to pick out — and too far gone to save him.

You tried to be there for him — knock on his door when you knew he was home and force him to shower while you and Shoko cleaned up his room. You stayed even when Shoko had long left, holding his hand as he hid his tears from you with his back turned, and you didn’t admit you could hear his nearly silent tears. But eventually, it turned into movie nights, meals shared, and even grocery runs.

And it became harder and harder to hide how you felt — each minute spent with him was another drop in a bucket that was already overflowing to begin with. At first it had been a crush — an unattainable crush that you were happy to leave at just that. But eventually, it became so much more — you had fallen in love with him, when you really shouldn’t have. Because he didn’t need a partner — he needed a friend.

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“

“I’ve called you sweetheart, did your number change and then magically change back when you came back to Tokyo?”

But once he had pulled himself together, you were graduating and you requested to be put in Kyoto — your excuse being you were tired being in the city — but to Satoru, you gave no excuse, you quietly left without a word. Because you were really tired of having your heart broken — so you needed space, and you were willing to do anything to get it.

“Gojo, I didn’t really talk much to Nanami or Shoko when I left either, I just needed space—“

“Space from what?” You sighed, parting your lips when his phone rings. He checks it before taking it, “another mission? Yeah, I can leave tonight,” you bit your lip, “send Ijichi to take me to the airport. Yeah, ok,” and he hangs up, “we’ll have to cut this short. I have to go overseas,”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Probably just a few days. I’ll be back soon,” you bite your lip, and he tilts his head, “you worried about me, Princess?”

You flush, opening and closing your mouth, “I am,” and he blinks, seemingly surprised, “come back safe. Text me to let me know when you land,”

His lips curl, as he ruffles your hair, “I will — and I’ll be back soon enough. Promise,” and he pauses, “you want a souvenir?”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and your cheeks warm.

And just then, he gets a text, “Ijichi Is almost here. I’ll have him drop you back first,” and he turns to change out of his clothes.

“Satoru,” you catch him by the sleeve, and he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after all of that. It had nothing to do with you, there was just a lot going on—“ he says your name, but you shake your head, “but it won’t happen again, I promise,”

“Good,” he steps back into the changing room, a grin on his lips, “I wouldn’t let you get away this time anyway, sweetheart.”

“Gojo?” You say again, and he tilts his head, “get the indigo suit,”

He grins, “and you have good taste, well, of course you do,” he holds the door open, “I am your boyfriend after all.”

And the door of the fitting room swings shut, and you hope he’s not looking at you, as your cheeks burn, your heart squeezing in spite of every thought of your mind telling not to go there — not to go down that road, but you should have known, the moment you said yes to this plan—

You were already there.

You had never known that the buzz of your phone could make you more happy — or anxious.

But it had been over the course of the last few days. Because you’re probably an idiot, but that wasn’t the point.

how bad of an idea would it be for me to try this Karanga and Chapati place that Yuta recommended?

You snorted, Satoru, the last time you had curry — that wasn’t even that spicy, you couldn’t taste anything for a week.

Another buzz, But Yuta said it’s not so bad

You roll your eyes, imagining the pout he undoubtedly has on his lips — Yuta has never seen you cry over a bowl of curry — stick with your desserts, and you chuckle as you add: you may be the strongest but you have the weakest taste buds

It takes some time for another response to come — and when it does, you realize a grave error on your part was made: never point out any flaw to this idiot because he will take it as a challenge.

This is Yuta — Gojo-sensei tried it and he’s now in the bathroom. He told me to tell you he’d text you later.

This was how the last few days flew by — texts with updates about his mission, his work, and his check-ins with Yuta. And the night before he was flying back, just as you were cooking dinner, he called you—

“Gojo? Isn’t it 2:00 AM there right now?”

“You learned the time difference for me?” you heard his words slur over the other line, “Sweethearttttt,” I went out with Yuta and Miguel, and I may have gotten a littttttle tipsy,”

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?”

He clicks his tongue, “Miguel challenged me to a drinking contest,” and you groan, rubbing a hand down your face, “but they got me back into my hotel room, even though I’m not tired,” he mumbles, as you hear the crinkle of his bedsheets and the rustling of his comforter.

“Have you drank water? How much alcohol did you have?”

“Are you worried about me?” he giggles, before sighing, “I’m glad,”

“Why are you glad?” You hold the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stir the pan with your dinner currently in it.

“Because it means you care about me,” he murmurs, “everyone who cares about me always leaves,” he gives a small bitter chuckle, “maybe it’s better for you not to care about me. It’s dangerous to care about someone like me — the type to die young or live far too long,”

“Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he mutters, voice growing thick with sleep, “call me Satoru,” and his soft snores fill your ear as he falls into the sandman’s grasp — a small reprieve from his feelings — while you were left to dwell in them.

All this time you had been thinking how you felt, what you were dealing with, what you wanted — and all these years and you hadn’t thought about how your actions made him felt. You thought he was beyond any hurt you could possibly inflict — his infinity meant that he was leagues above anywhere you could possibly reach — but it didn’t.

He wasn’t. He was a person — and when had you stopped treating him as one?

You texted Yuta: make sure your sensei is lying on his side and make him drink some water. And don’t let Miguel goad him into drinking ever again.

Yuta: got it. sorry about that sensei — gojo wouldn’t listen

You scoffed, chuckling at how Yuta called you sensei but did not afford Gojo the same courtesy.

You stayed on the phone with Gojo, hearing Yuta come in and persuading him to drink some water, before he fell back asleep, but even in his drunken state, he wouldn’t give up his phone — Yuta snapping a picture and sending it to you. You laughed when you saw it — loml with a dozen hearts and a picture of you in your obi, clearly taken when you weren’t looking, but it wasn’t those things that made you laugh — it was the way Gojo clung to his phone, fingers wrapped around it desperately, as he slept.

You stayed on the phone with him all night, even when you went to bed — of course just to make sure he’s fine — the call waking you when it disconnected after reaching the max call time. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the time — 5:00 AM. And almost like clockwork, your phone rings again, Gojo’s number flashing on your screen.

You pick up, “Mm, hello?” you yawn, “finally awake sleeping beauty?”

“Glad you finally decided to acknowledge my beauty,” his voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, and god, you can’t help but imagine waking to this voice every day — “ugh I have a headache,” he murmurs, the crumple you hear must be him burying his face in his pillow because the next question he asks is muffled, “why were we on the phone?”

“You called me last night after drinking, and refused to hang up after Yuta helped you get settled,” you chuckle, as you hear his groan over the phone, “I got a new contact picture for you out of it, love of my life,”

“Glad you’re finally on board,” he mutters, growing quiet, “why didn’t you hang up?”

You pause, “what do you mean?” You ask slowly.

“You could’ve hung up at any time, but you stayed on the phone, even when you fell asleep,” his voice was soft, “why?”

“I just,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t lie to him, at least not completely, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and you didn’t want to hang up — so I didn’t,”

He’s silent for a moment, and you almost wish you could sink into the Earth — but he only says, “okay, now what’s the plan for the day, Princess?”

Your lips curl, “Well my day has not really began yet since it’s 5:00 AM here, so I’m probably going to sleep for several hours and wake up at an hour that is not bereft of god,”

“You really couldn’t just say ‘ungodly?’” He snorts.

“Well, 5:00 AM makes me wax poetic, what can I say?” Another yawn parts your lips, “I’m going to sleep,”

But he doesn’t hang up, “I’ll be here, sweetheart.”

You glanced at the time, he’s late.

Well, he wouldn’t be Gojo if he didn’t make an entrance. You slumped on the couch — even if he was getting home from his mission, there was no guarantee he’d stop by your place to see you. He might want to just go home — or stop by Jujutsu Tech, or be anywhere else. You couldn’t have expectations — expectations were only a way to be disappointed, a drop from soaring that would only be met with the impact of the cold, unforgiving ground.

Especially expectations from a fake relationship. You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling — why were being such an idiot about this? The TV drones on in the background, illuminating the dark of the living room, as you sit barely paying attention to a random rom com you had picked.

Maybe it was because Satoru had spent the rest of today on the phone with you, even through a security check (warning the security officers not to hang up his call) and at the gate. And then every day after that, he had called and texted you like clockwork — stupid things— good morning and good night, random memes that made him think of you, pictures of his day (including ones of him messing with his students), questions of what sweet you wanted from the shop he had decided to frequent, calls about your day and his own, and hours long conversations about nothing at all. Maybe because you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you — or maybe it was because you were just down bad.

It was probably the latter.

You take a throw pillow and pull it over your face. What were you thinking? Falling for your old crush and fake boyfriend a night before a wedding was a trope in a bad rom com that you spent your weekend night watching — it shouldn’t be how you feel.

“That’s a nice look,” you jump, pulling the pillow away, to be met with Gojo’s gaze hidden behind another pair of sunglasses, “honey, I’m home,”

You bite back your smile, “one, this isn’t your home, and two, how did you get inside?”

“It’s pretty easy when you can teleport, you should try it sometime,” he sits beside you, more like collapses as he falls into the couch, his head resting against the top, “although if someone moved in with me, it’d be much easier,” and you laugh.

“Shouldn’t you ask a girl out before you ask her to move in?” he shrugs, his arm resting across the top of the couch.

“I’m anything but traditional,” he sighs, glancing at the TV, “what are we watching?”

“A bad rom com,”

He snorts, “watching it to mercilessly pick it apart?” And you raise an eyebrow, “what? I did stay awake for some of those movies— it was some of my favorite memories during that time and some of the only times I could actually sleep,”

“Yeah, it was a nice way for both of us to turn our brains off for a bit,” you glanced at him, “thought it’d be nice for us too,” his gaze slides to you curiously, “I know there’s been a lot on your mind — with itadori and the special grades,”

He sighs, running fingers through his hair, “Yeah, old geezers seem to cause problems in all parts of my life,” you snort, “can’t believe they’d try to do away with Itadori while I was gone,”

“They don’t see anyone as innocent — they see whether you’re an asset or a threat, unfortunately, they see Itadori not as the former,” you shake your head, as your eyes stare at the movie flashing on the screen, but you don’t really watch, “they’re too far gone to see the innocence of children,”

“You sound like Kento,” and your eyes meet his, his cerulean gaze already on you, his sunglasses discarded on your coffee table.

“Funny, thought I sounded like you,” he blinks a moment, “Satoru, you’re all about preserving the youth of children — that’s why you saved Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji — even when you had every reason not to,”

“How could I not? Youth belongs to the young after all,” a wistful smile on his lips, “i don’t want the same to happen to them that happened to us,”

“To us,” you repeat, a sharp pain sticks between your ribs at the flash of Haibara’s smile and the whisper of Suguru’s laugh, “more like to them,”

“Yeah,” a silence falling over the two of you as the white noise of the TV filled the quiet, “but sometimes I think we went down along with them,”

You shake your head, “I think a part of us did — a part of us will stay there—“ frozen in time and seeping like poison in our bones, “but we’re still here,” you risk to toe the line you’d never cross, your fingers brushing his, “and it’s not over for us,”

And his eyes flicker to your fingers threaded with his, as his fingers squeeze yours slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, as you stretch and sit up, fingers falling away from his, a yawn on your lips, “should we get some sleep?”

“Come on, let’s finish the movie,” he murmurs, even though sleep seems to weigh heavily on his body, eyelids fluttering shut as he turns to you, cheek pressed against the couch, “hey,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t the movies that let me relax,” and you can hear the unspoken meaning in those words — but that was the problem.

It was unspoken.

Your fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to brush your fingers against his cheek — but you can’t.

You’d allowed yourself to toe the line you’d long drawn in the sand that you’d built into a wall — you had even allowed yourself to stir a few bricks from its place, but you couldn’t cross it. Not now.

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever.

Your neck hurts.

The first thought you have as you rouse into aching consciousness. Why was it so bright? Did you forget to draw your curtains? You draw an arm over your face, already dreading the waking hours, until you realize it’s your day off, and you sigh, relaxing into your bed.

Or what you thought was your bed.

Except your bed couldn’t move, nor could it pull you closer. But now something or someone was, an arm around your waist with movement behind you that made breath warm your ear. And you probably would have screamed, if you hadn’t heard the familiar voice whisper your name in your ear.

Gojo.

Gojo???

Your head slowly turned to be met with the strongest sorcerer very much passed out, half behind you, half on top of you — his blue eyes hidden under his eyelids for once instead of any covering that he used to protect himself. His snowy white locks brushed against your skin, the close proximity doing nothing to alleviate your feelings — you had only hoped you could see one flaw, one ick, and maybe you’d be done. But on Satoru Gojo? The man born to be perfect — the same one who sang karaoke for the first time as a teen only to be so incredible that it moved your server to tears?

You really should have fucking known better.

Your breath caught, and you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment—if no one had, you would surely be the first case. You were always a trail blazer.

And you tried to shift again, if only to maneuver yourself out of this situation, but he moved along with you, seeking out the contact he was losing. And this only ended with him lying on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his legs straddling one of your legs— and then you felt it — a very distinct bulge pressed against your thigh.

Fuck. Your. Life.

He mumbled in his sleep, nose brushing against the hollow of your neck, drawing another shiver from your body. You had a rare opportunity to touch him — didn’t you, no infinity between the two of you — just him and you. You were in a position probably many desired to be in — admirers and enemies alike (neither category being mutually exclusive). You supposed old habits die hard — and so did old crushes.

Could you let yourself enjoy this for a moment? Enjoy the feeling, no matter how real it never would be? Maybe it was wrong, but — your eyes fluttered shut as your arm wrapped loosely around Gojo — you certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake up first.

And you weren’t — your eyes flutter open to movement, and your eyes meet cerulean eyes, lips parted in surprise, “Morning,” he manages, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks, “did we fall asleep?”

“I guess we did,” you bite your lip, “are you going to—”

And he blinks, before scrambling off of you, “Sorry,” he mumbles, as he turns away to fidget with his phone.

“Guess that was one very boring movie,” you murmur.

“Or I was in a very comfortable bed,” he replies with a smirk that turns to a grimace.

“What is it?”

“Naoya Zenin is making an appearance at the wedding we’re attending tomorrow,” and you groan, as he raises an eyebrow, “how many proposals had he made you?”

You scoff, “Proposals? More like propositions,” you shake your head, already aching from the sleep you had barely shaken off and now it had graduated to a shooting pain that made your eye twitch at the thought of that man, “he’s offered to do me the ‘honor’ of being the next heir’s husband half a dozen times. If he ever becomes the head of the Zenin clan, I may help Maki annihilate them myself,”

Naoya Zenin — the most pretentious and egocentric man you had the displeasure of meeting. Even his pretty face could do nothing to fix his hideous personality ridden with misogyny, hatred, and spite. And you’d been offered his hand in marriage half a dozen times due to your lineage in a lesser known clan family with a unique cursed energy. It was a strategic move to try and secure his place — as was every move he made — he had no room for anyone he deemed useless to his plan.

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

“That won’t happen,” Gojo replies, texting on his phone, “plus, he’s too weak to force that to happen — not to mention he’s a first class prick,”

“You say that, but you basically propositioned me,” you teased, as his eyes flit up from his phone, as you rise from the couch, “quite the proposal you came to me with,”

He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips, “one, i don’t recall proposing, and trust me that’s something I’d remember,” and you roll your eyes, “and two, aren’t you just as bad, since you said yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you blame a girl wanting a little extra money?” And he locks his phone, drawing close, your breath catching as he lets himself linger for a second too long.

“Can you blame a man for wanting a beautiful and intelligent woman?” And he’s leaning close, but he leans back, only grabbing his coat from the couch, still slung over as it had been. He spares you a smirk at your bewildered expression, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, princess, and what a shame that would be,” you scowl, and he laughs as he heads to the door, slipping on his shoes, with a final glance and grin thrown over his shoulder as he opened your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding.

Fuck. You were so screwed.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Fuck. You scrambled from your vanity as you finished putting the finishing touches on your look for tonight. You didn’t think Satoru Gojo of all people could ever be on time, but you supposed there was a first time for everything.

You slipped the dress over your head, careful not to smear your makeup or mess up your hair. You were starting to regret not having the Gojo family’s attendants get you ready for this event, if only so you could have turned your mind off for this time. But you knew all too well that your mind could never give you a break — with all of that free time came free real estate for your anxiety to set up camp and put down roots for all the things that could possibly go wrong. So it was better this way, as you reach for the ties on the back of your dress — of course, maybe if you had let yourself be helped, you could actually have someone to tie your corset back on this dress.

Another knock.

“Sweetheart?” You hear Gojo’s muffled voice through the door, “you’re not planning on standing me up are you?”

You stumble your way to the door, clutching the back of your dress, as you take a breath and throw it open, “Can you tie the back of my dress?”

Fuck. He looked gorgeous. His hair was parted and combed off to the side, a deep blue suit coat and a crisp white collared shirt tucked into a matching suit pant. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the chest pocket of his jacket in front of a white pocket square.

“No hello, ‘can you tie my dress?’” Gojo tilts his head, his eyes graze over your appearance, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, “turn around,” And you do, fingers still clutching at the fabric at the back of your dress, cheeks burning as you do, “gonna have to let go, and let me help you, sweetheart,”

You slowly let go, but his warm fingers brush against the skin of your bare back as he holds the dress up from slipping, carefully lacing the corset, “I was right, blue is your color,” he murmurs, as he tugs lightly at the strings, “let me know when it’s tight enough,”

“It’s good now,” you sigh — though the corset wasn’t as tight as your chest now, you face him now, trying to adjust your hair.

“Let me,” one hand cups your chin gently, your breath catching and you can only hope he can’t feel your pulse through your skin. His fingers run through your soft tresses, your eyes unable to meet his — but you wonder if he can see right through you anyway — “you’ve never been good at asking for help,”

“Look who’s talking,” you glare at him, as he chuckles, “well, I asked you didn’t I?”

“Why did you ask me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you could have asked anyone,”

“Well, I didn’t want just anyone,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the blush you had lined your cheeks with, “I wanted you,”

“Why?” And he parts his lips, a soft smile that pulls at his features — was it a hint of pink across his cheeks.

“Because—“ and your phone goes off — a reminder with the time of the wedding. And the moment’s broken, as reality settles over you again, “We’ll be late,”

“I don’t mind being late,” and a heat burns from his touch, from the tips of your fingers to the his fingers leave your cheek, warmth fading as quickly as it came, but he offers his hand, “but if it’s for you, I can be on time,” and your fingers find his, interlacing, before he tugs you close, his arm around your waist, “as long as you stay by my side.”

You never were one for weddings. At least not one like this.

A stuffy event held in an extravagant manner — a large banquet hall for the reception, but now the guests roamed the gardens the hall opened out into — lush greenery serving as a perfect backdrop for this wedding — a distant branch of the Zenin family was marrying, which meant all of the main clans were invited to attend. Including several elders of the Gojo clan.

And now you were being subjected to this as well — several dozen eyes on you — all due to the man whose arm you were on. His arm wrapped almost protectively around your waist, his lips nearly brushed against your ear when he whispered in it, letting you know just exactly who was coming over.

“I didn’t think you were one to care for remembering these things,” you wave at the couple that just left the two of you, his fingers grazing the skin behind your ear as he tucked a stray strand behind it.

“I usually don’t care, but I know it’d make you uncomfortable otherwise, especially among all these people,” he smirks, his fingers finding yours, and squeezing, “plus, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?”

“I think we’re making an impression just by being together,” you murmur, and he raises an eyebrow, “everyone’s staring — didn’t you notice?” and he shrugs, a sly smile on his lips.

“Didn’t notice,” he tilts his head, his eyes fixed on you, “I was too busy looking elsewhere, I guess,”

Your cheeks burn, but as your lips part to respond, you see him walking over to the discreet corner you had parked yourselves in, “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, your fingers tightening around his.

Naoya Zenin strides over in a black yukata kimono, his silver hair pushed back, his lips twisted in a slimy smile that made your skin crawl, your name leaving his lips, “it’s been far too long, you’re looking lovely,” his eyes raked over you like hot coals, “though the company you keep—”

“Has improved markedly,” Satoru’s lips curl in a grin, “do you have business with my girlfriend?”

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?”

Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, “I didn’t realize you went hard of hearing — I know your hair had started to go, but your hearing too—” you hid your snort poorly, Naoya’s sharp gaze flickering between the two of you.

“I’m younger than you are, and my hair is bleached,” he snaps, “or are those six eyes not sharp enough to see that as well? They certainly aren’t enough for you to have found Suguru Geto before he caused a war,”

And Satoru’s hurt is imperceptible — a hint of hurt that only shows in the tightness of his jaw for a millisecond, before he’s only giving another laugh.

“At least I am already the head of my clan, because even if I were without my six eyes,” he smirks, but a certain meanness pulls at his features, “I’m still not as weak as you are—”

Naoya’s expression sours, curdled into a foul scowl, “What did you—”

“Alright,” you hold up your hands, “Let’s save the dick measuring contest for later, okay? This is a wedding, let’s not cause a scene, ok?” you glance between the two of them, and Satoru pouts — while Naoya seems all too pleased, a grin broken across his lips.

“This is why you’re the perfect woman — you know how to mediate between men’s egos, and—”

“Naoya, I said let’s not cause a scene, and you’re two steps away from me causing one right now,” you snap, “I wasn’t interested the first dozen times you asked me when I was single, so why would you think I’d be interested now, when I have a boyfriend?”

His face flushes red, and you’re not sure whether it’s in anger or embarrassment, “I doubt you’re even really a couple,” he hisses, “I know all about the proposals that this idiot has been getting and the pressure to marry,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sure you’ll come running to me once he’s done using you—“

Satoru surges forward, but you press a hand against his chest, “We don’t need to justify our relationship to you, so think what you want — but even if Satoru and I break up, I rather die single than ever spend a minute with you,” and you look at Satoru, your gaze softening, “and I rather spend be single for the rest of my life than spend another minute without him,” and you slide your eyes back to Naoya, his fists clenched, as you lean in, “so fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the staff begin to wave everyone into their seats, and the wedding begins. The two of you sit, a silence falling over as others take their seats beside you. A subtle tension as music filled the air and the wedding proceedings began—but you could have cared less— god what the fuck had you said to Naoya? How had Gojo taken it? Does he know how you feel? Does he think it’s an act?

Then his fingers find yours, “Thank you,” he whispers softly, managing only those two words before the wedding begins.

And it dawns on you — it wasn’t what you said, it was the fact you had defended him, your heart aches, it was the fact you had defended him when Naoya insulted Suguru.

Your eyes stay fixed forward as the ceremony begins — it was never about you — as you pulled your fingers away from him.

Like it always never was.

The wedding ceremony goes by — as does the reception, without much to-do. The only silver lining is that there’s far too much small talk for the two of you to have a moment to talk alone, especially when the two of you spot the Gojo clan elders side-eyeing you from the table of old folks, not to mention Naoya hovering around that same table, the same scowl on his face. The only remark that Satoru whispered as the two of you floated by the table pointedly, a smirk on his lips as he waved and held you close to his side — “one quick hollow purple could solve my problems,”

You gave a forced chuckle at that — unfortunately not yours.

And finally, the two of you head home — in relative silence, the drive being short to Gojo’s apartment, where your car was parked. You sigh as he pulls in, “I’ll head out I guess—”

“Why don’t you just stay the night?” and your gaze snaps to his, the first time all night, “it’s really late, and I have a guest room—”

“My apartment isn’t—”

“Your apartment isn’t far, but I thought we could…talk,” and your heart gallops to a start — talking was the last thing you wanted to do.

“What is there to talk about?” And his fingers brush against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Maybe about why you can’t meet my eyes?” You huff, looking away.

“Can you blame me? Your blue eyes are freaky,” you grumble, and you can hear the judgment in the silence, a first for Gojo, “Gojo, what do you want me to say?”

He stays quiet for a moment, “You don’t have to say anything, just come inside,” So you do — following him inside, the silence hanging over you like a guillotine waiting to slice, “Thank you for what you said—“

The door clicks behind him, as you stop, “Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you’re shaking your head.

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just—“

“But what you said—“

“I said what I had to—“

“You didn’t have to say all that, Princess,” his voice grows soft, “you know you didn’t,” and he’s drawing closer across his living room.

“He was upsetting you,” you murmur, eyes unable to find his again, falling instead to his plush carpet laid against his hardwood, “I couldn’t stand by and let him — I know it hurt when he brought up Suguru—“

“Suguru?” he repeats, and your eyes find his, finally, and you find his brow furrowed, “is that what you think I was thanking you for?”

“What else would you—“ and he’s stepping even closer, your breath stuck in your throat as his fingertips graze your cheek again, “Satoru—“

“Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight?” he murmurs, a soft chuckle in his voice, “you always look beautiful, but tonight in particular, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,”

“You don’t have to—“

“That’s just it, I don’t have to,” his palm slides against your cheek, “I want to — I want to when it’s you,”

“But, i can’t do this, not like this,” tears burn at the corners of your eyes, water threatening to spill out of a too full glass that had been full for far too long, “not when it will give me—“ you cut yourself off before you cut your own heart out, but he’s only forcing the scalpel back into your hand.

“Give you what?”

And you can’t turn back now — you’d turned from this road far too many times, sprinted in the opposite direction only to end up here again — you needed to do this, even if it lead to a dead end cliff, “Give me the wrong idea,” and you’re turning away, but his hand catches you by the wrist, “stop, I—“

“It’s not the wrong idea,” and you stop.

No, it was. It was, right?

“Satoru—“ and his fingers find your own, as he steps closer, “please, don’t—“

“If you want me to really stop and forget about this, I will,” he murmurs, “I’ll turn around and open the door and let you go home right now, sweetheart. I won’t bring this up again,” but you don’t move away, you don’t say anything, so he continues, “but if you don’t want that, and you want the same thing I do—“

“And what is it that you want?” And you hear his soft chuckle, his cheek brushing against you, as his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I thought that was obvious, but I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he squeezes your hand, as he guides your face to look back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, “I want you,”

Your breath is shaky, no, no — he doesn’t mean that, “No you don’t,”

He tilts his head, “You don’t think I don’t know what I want?”

“Satoru, I don’t want to be a substitute for others—“

And his hands are sliding around your middle, pulling you closer, “You think I could ever think of you as a second choice?”

“But—“ and every doubt from when you were younger wells up, every fear of not being enough — but they are erased away, crumbled into dust, by the way he looks at you — entire multitudes of skies all made to look at you.

“You keep finding reasons not to do this,” and his fingers skim your cheek, before resting under your chin, “but have you tried finding a reason why we should?”

“Satoru—“ you can’t help but lean into his touch — god, he was a temptation personified — everything you ever wanted, even when you tried not to want it. These feelings were never fake — so why not give in? Just this once. Your fingers slide against his cheek, and you can feel his skin burn under your touch, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he leans in even closer, your breaths becoming one, “but I’d love to find out,”

His lips brush yours — it’s chaste, hesitant, testing the waters — he tastes like sugar, and you almost laugh — he tastes like the frosting from the wedding cake that he had swiped a slice of on the way out that he finished before you two had reached his car. His eyes flutter open for half a second, before your lips are crashing to his this time — a new record for addiction? A second maybe and you were too far gone.

His hands cup your cheeks, one sliding to the back of your neck, as the other slides down to your waist to pull you ever closer.

“Did you find it out?” You murmur between kisses, lips meeting and parting if only to allow you both a breath. And his snowy eyelashes flutter, as his lips quirk upwards.

“Think I need another,” and his lips swallow any coherent thoughts you have, his hands slipping down your sides, lips parting again, “another,” he murmurs, a kiss, “another,”

“How many do you need?” you ask breathlessly, a chuckle caught in your throat, and his lips press desperate kisses along your jaw, a smirk against your skin.

“Is infinity an answer?” And you laugh, “have to take responsibility — I’m addicted to you,”

“And if I’m addicted?” His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“I’d be more than happy to take responsibility for you, Princess — always have,”

Your heart beats against the bars of its cage, threatening to burst out — but you couldn’t — not without knowing, “And if you break my heart?”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” he leans down to press butterfly kisses to your cheek, “but even if I do, I’ll put it back together,”

“Promise?” You murmur, and his lips meet yours again, and again, as he’s leading you towards his bedroom, his fingers running through your hair.

And the door to his bedroom swings shut, “Promise.”

“How long are you going to tease me?” you’re grumbling, cheeks hot and eyes averted, the back of your hand pressed against your lips, as Satoru presses needy kisses along your neckline of your dress.

He looks up at you through his snowy lashes, and you don’t know if you want to slap the smile off his lips or kiss it off, “You’ve been teasing me for years, you can’t give me this time, sweetheart?” His teeth graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “plus, do y’know how fun it is to watch you squirm?”

Slap. It’s definitely a slap.

“You’re insufferable,” and he smirks when your breath catches when his lips ghost over the swell of your chest.

“Yet you’re the one who's under me—“ and you try to get up only for him to pin you back down, a pout on his lips, “alright, alright, can’t blame me for wanting to see you squirm, Princess, how many chances will I get?”

“Only this one if you keep this up,” and he’s finding your lips in a languid kiss, an apology with no words, a smile filled with affection that only made it hard for you to feign annoyance.

“Then I better make this count,” he’s gently helping you up, turning you around to undo your corset strings — but you wonder if he’s undoing it or tangling it, “why did we choose a dress with such a complicated back?” It’s his turn to grumble and it only draws a giggle from you.

“Surprised you haven’t hollow purple’d it by now,”

“Trust me if you weren’t in it, I would have,” he sighs, as the fabric begins to loosen up, slipping off your shoulders.

“And here I thought you were good at everything,” you chuckle as he helps you shimmy out of the dress, the fabric falling away from you in a small pool around your ankles. Pools of blue rake over your exposed body, raising goosebumps in its wake, as your arms reflexively try to cover yourself, but his hands find your own, easing them away.

“I’m good at what counts, Princess,” he kisses your wrist, pulse jumping under his touch, nose brushing against it, he hovers over you, as he undoes his tie, fingers tugging at the knot, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, “and I’ll show you.”

~~~~

Satoru had dreamed of this — of you and him. He knew when he realized it — although it was too late when he did. Maybe it was the night before you left — the night after graduation — before you left — you had fallen asleep watching the movie you had put on. Your lips parted and mouth ajar, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were out. He had leaned over to grab his phone to snap a picture to tease you with later, only for your fingers to grab onto him, your head on his shoulder, a quiet murmur of his name.

“Satoru,” — not Gojo, as you had always called him. And he knew he wanted to hear you say it again and again. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away, his head leaning against yours.

Suguru was everything to him for a time — he had come to Satoru at a time where he thought no one else would ever be able to understand him. No one else would be able to reach him — because how does a person reach for a god? But here you were — and the way your head rested on his shoulder and your lips said his name made him want nothing more than you by his side.

And when you left — you didn’t reply to his messages, you disappeared, just like everyone else did in his life. He was always left alone in the end — maybe it was his fate.

But then you came back — came back almost right after Suguru left for good. And that part of his heart that was meant for you began to thrive again and again — as he spent more time with you.

And god, when his clan started to pressure him to find someone to marry — he wrote them off as he always did. He thought he could ride out the ridiculous proposals and dates they had arranged for him — but as he thought more about who he wanted to spend his time with, who he wanted to see after a tiring mission, and who he couldn’t imagine being without —-

And he realized it was you.

“Satoru, don’t tease me,” you pouted, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, legs spread for him, his eyes flirting between your all too cute expression and the growing wet patch on your panties, “fuck, please—“

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his arm hooked under your knee, your foot pressed against his back, “where do you want me?”

“You fuck-er—“ the last syllable is a gasp as he kisses your sensitive clit through your soaked underwear, “Toru—“ a whine leaves your throat.

Fuck, you’re so cute, his fingers toy with the elastic of your panties — and all of this was worth it, worth it to see if these feelings were what he thought they were, worth it to make you smile, and worth to end up with you.

“How can I refuse you when you say my name like that?” he’s tugging your underwear away, exposing your sipping cunt to a rush of air and his warm breath, “all this f’me, baby?” You mumble something he can’t quite make out, “what was that?”

Your glassy eyes look up at him, blown wide with lust, “Only f’you, Satoru,” fuck, his dick twitches — he could bust just looking at you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, “g’nna make me cum just with your words,” but he diverts his attention to your needy cunt, his long fingers graze over your pussy, collecting the precum on his fingertips, before he pinches your clit.

“Toru,” you squirm, as he grins down at you, all too pleased.

“Imagine if the elders could see you like this — spread out for me like a good little wife,” he’s leaning down to kiss your fluttering folds, leaning back for you to see the shiny pre that clings to his lips that his pink tongue darts out to clean off, “sweetest thing I’ve tasted,”

“Please, Toru, fuck—“ and finally his finger is circling your hole, before sinking in knuckle deep — fuck, you were fucking tight — he could melt from your warmth, pulling him in like a siren to a drunken sailor, “oh my god,”

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ princess,” and he earns a glare from you that fades into an open mouthed moan as he begins to pump his finger in and out, “so good for me,” and he’s adding another finger, the wet squelch of your cunt growing louder, as he reaches a hand down to graze against his erection if only for a little relief.

He wishes he could memorize the way you looked right now — perfect little lips parted for him, his name and soft pants the only sounds you could manage to make, your back arching into his touch, and the way you moaned when his lips found their way around your clit.

His tongue circles your clit at first before his lips suck at the hard pearl, fingers parting your dripping folds, finally finding that spot that had your walls giving that telltale spasm, “Toru, I’m close—g’nna cum—“ you whimper, his fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt as he sucks hard at your clit, and you cum, hard, around his fingers, drenching his face and finger alike, as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You’re beautiful — lips parted and chest heaving, as you moan his name again, “good girl,” he’s murmuring, as your eyes flutter open, to watch him lick his lips and fingers clean, “might get addicted to how you taste, sweetheart,”

And you’re boneless, but still you’re still reaching for him, pulling him into a languid kiss, his cock twitching as he shifts himself over you, hands pressed into the mattress, his clothed cock rubbing against your drenched folds.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble against his lips, and he’s pulling back an inch — but unknowingly, he’s given you a mile, as you flip him onto his back.

You’re a vision — your perked up nipples visible through your bra, halfway slipping off your shoulders as it is, hair a lovely mess, and pretty lips kiss ruined.

“My turn,” and your lips burn a trail down his jaw, along the curve of his neck and the cut of his collarbone. You take your time, if only to pay him back in full for all the teasing he did, “didn’t know you taste so sweet, Toru,” your tongue drags up his chest, “must be all the sugar you eat,”

And your lips smile against his abs at the sharp gasp he fails to stifle, “I’ll have you know I’m very sweet—“ and your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “I’m known for it,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure almost everyone would care to disagree,” the tip of his cock strains against the fabric, the dark wet patch growing larger the more your thumb beared down on it, “but I wouldn’t be one of them,” and you’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening, “because I know how much you do for others — and how much you’ve lost because of it,” you kiss his inner thigh softly, nose brushing against the skin.

“As long I don’t lose you,” he says softly, “I think I’ll be okay,”

And your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip, “I’m not going anywhere, Toru.”

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing to me,” his cheeks burn, dusted with pink surely — as he watches you lick the precum that dripped down your fingers onto your wrist, “knew that mouth would be s’fucking good—“

“Turns out you don’t shut up even in bed,” and that earns you a cheeky grin that parts into an ‘o’ as his dick sinks into your mouth. He swears he was closer to death than he was when Toji nearly killed him — not that he’d like to remember that man in this moment — but you’d surely be the death of him, and you would be — if he had to spend another second without you in his life.

Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes half shut, his white knuckled fingers gripping the sheets — you’re gorgeous as you swallow him whole — sucking and licking, nose brushing against his pubes as your eyes water, as you bob along his length from tip to base and back again.

“S’good for me, so pretty, fuck—” he groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off, I’m s’close princess, g’nna cum—” But your hands only slide to his ass to hold yourself against him, as his dick twitches in your mouth, and your fingers drift to his sack while your tongue flicks along his slit and he’s done. He’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth.

He’s watching you with half lidded eyes pull away from him— a string of cum and spit strung between your lips and his dick, before beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth. And fuck, it’s enough to make him hard all over again. You lean over him, wiping the release from your lips, as you kiss up his body.

“Now who’s good at everything?” and he huffs out a chuckle.

“I stand corrected — actually, don’t think I’ll be standing for a while after that but—” and he’s finding your lips in a kiss, tasting himself you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, as your fingers find his erection again, stroking it, before he’s flipped you onto your back. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, a smile on his lips, “don’t think you’ll be doing much standing after this either,”

“So full of yourself,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s what you’re going to be full of in a second—”

“Oh my god—” and your laugh dies on your lips as he starts to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, “Toru,” you whine, as he watches your needy cunt flutter around nothing as he drags his length up and down your dripping hole, watching your releases mix, “please—”

“So polite,” he hums, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “now how can I refuse that?” and he begins to sink his length into your cunt, warm walls nearly pulling his cock in deeper, as he groans your name, “s’perfect, s’good for me, princess, made for me,” and inch by inch, until he’s finally bottoming out.

“Toru, ngh, s’big—” you gasp, lips parted in a silent moan, as you pull him even closer, face buried in the crook of his neck, but his fingers tugging your hair to show your face.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you — his hips meeting yours, the wet squelch and skin slapping echoing in his ears. A gasp parting your lips as you pull apart, your head thrown back in a moan as your walls flutter around him as his tip breaches that one spot inside you.

“Haa, I’m close, Toru,” you groan, and he’s nodding, his fingers reaching between your bodies to find your clit.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” and you do — cumming hard, as he notches himself deep inside you, before spilling inside you, his hot release deep in your pussy. He’s moaning your name, as your bodies slow and his fingers cup your cheek gently, and his lips find yours.

He slowly rolls off of you, your warmth leaving him for a moment, before he’s pulling you close again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Is this a dream?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut, and a small chuckle leaves his lips, legs entangled.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, “If it is, I hope I never wake up, Princess.”

Your body aches — that’s your first thought as you stir into consciousness. Fuck, why does you feel so sore? Your eyes try to flutter open, but the sunlight blinds you — a soft groan leaves your lips. You shift, as you stretch, your back aching and muscles tight, but then someone moves behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist.

Your eyes shoot open, as your head slowly turns to find looking at Satoru. A gasp is caught in your lips.

Fuck, it was real.

You slowly turn to face him, his soft breaths leaving his pink lips — god he’s so gorgeous. His pretty white eyelashes resting against his skin, lips parted ever so slightly, and his snowy hair askew and mussed. Your fingers ghost over his cheek lightly — how many people have seen him asleep like this? How many had seen him with his guard down? You knew he didn’t sleep nearly enough, you were surprised he was still asleep — but, your cheeks burned, you both did spend half the night awake.

But there were more pressing things to think about — what did this mean? You chew on your bottom lip, he had said he wanted you — but what did he want? Just last night? Or something more.

“I can’t sleep with your thoughts grinding so much,” he mumbles, heat rushing to your cheeks, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “why are you awake so early?” His nose brushes against your neck, his lips pressing softly against your pulse.

“I just woke up,” you murmur, a small shiver running up your spine, as you relax into his touch, your fingers running through his soft locks, “did all my thinking wake you?”

“Yes, and you’ll have to compensate me,” and you snort.

“You’re rich, like old money rich,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your skin, heat climbing up your body.

“Money isn’t what I want,” he nuzzles you, nose brushing against the skin of your neck, “wonder what other ways you can repay me,”

You chuckle, humming at his touch — god even the simplest of touches has your logic up in ash, “I’m sure you can figure out some other methods of payment,”

And his lips find yours again — it’s a lazy morning kiss, soft and slow, but not bereft of any of the passion from the night before. His fingers slide down your body, as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“My preferred method of payment wouldn’t have us leaving this room until tomorrow morning,” his lips curl in a smirk, “but I’ll collect my charge tonight — how about I make us breakfast?”

“You can make breakfast?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I know how to scramble an egg,” he shrugs, and you snort only for him to pout, and you smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek, before your thumb runs down his lips.

“How about we make breakfast together?”

“Was that really your first time making tamagoyaki?” you raise an eyebrow, as you pick up a piece of the rolled omelet between your chopsticks.

“Promise,” and you bite it — it was perfect — the texture, the taste, the seasoning. And you stare at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Either you’re lying or you really are good at everything,” you mutter, and he grins, as he takes a bite of his food — a sweeter tamagoyaki he had made for himself, far too smug for his own good.

“I think I proved that last night, Princess,” and you nearly choke on your food. And you chew thoughtfully — you two hadn’t even breached what last night meant yet. You had simply been dancing around it, or at least you had. You didn’t want to be the one to bring it up — or rather, you picked up another piece of tamagoyaki up, you didn’t know how to, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

And your eyes snap up, “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head, “You’re not hard to read — you keep thinking about something,” and his lips curl, “last night?” Your hesitation gives you away — and he only smiles wider, “should I refresh your memory?” And your cheeks are burning, and he chuckles, “come on, sweetheart, let’s just talk,”

You bite your lip — you needed to do this, you couldn’t run away from how you felt, not again — your fingers fidgeting with your chopsticks, before you place them down on your bowl, “What did last night mean?”

And his lips curl, but this smile he has is softer, “What do you think sweetheart? Do you think I’m really the—“ And his phone rings, and he picks up his phone, eyes flickering to the caller, and you wave him off, “you can take the call,”

He sighs, “One second,” he gets up to speak, and he hangs up a few minutes later, “text me a location,”

“Who was that?” And he’s shaking his head, a sigh on his lips, his hand on the back of his neck.

“The ever breathing and ever irritating geezers want me to meet them to speak about something involving the clan,” he meets your gaze, a flicker of an emotion in his eyes — a drop of water that disappears into the sea as quickly as it formed, “and it’s a good opportunity for me to discuss something I have been wanting to speak with them about,”

“Something?” and his lips quirk in a small smile.

“I’ll be back soon enough to explain, sweetheart,” he walks over to you, “will you wait here for me? Think I’ll be able to come back faster if I know you’re here waiting for me,”

And you can’t help the small flutter your treacherous heart gives, “The great Satoru Gojo will rush for me?”

“Oh, he would rush day and night if it meant he could come home to you,” and his fingers find your cheek, drawn like a magnet — why was it you could never look away from him? Even in a crowd, your eyes always found his gaze.

And you’d go to him — like a moth to a flame, “I think I’d prefer just Satoru,” you lean into his touch, your hand over his, “I do owe him after all,”

“You do,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before he’s pulling away, a smile on his lips, “consider that a deposit.”

You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Alone in Satoru’s place — you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had left right after breakfast, and he told you where the TV was, books, and told you could order anything or use anything you needed. But, this place was so him — each place you went, there was just another reminder of him that seemed trail after you, but at the same time, without him, it was like a shell of a place — no soul present.

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present.

You ended up back in the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. Fuck, they even smelled of him — you squeezed your eyes shut.

You really didn’t know what you were doing — did you?

You laid on your back. What were you supposed to make of what happened last night and this morning for that matter? Was this real now? A real relationship with Satoru — you turned over on your stomach, pulling the covers over your head — you could barely imagine it.

And your phone goes off, as you reach for it blindly on the nightstand. But it wasn’t the white haired sorcerer you hoped it was — your eyebrows knit together — at least you didn’t think it was. A text from a number you don’t recognize — and a picture to top it off from the preview.

You nearly deleted it — only to spot a familiar mop of white in the picture.

Your blood runs cold at the sight. Satoru? He was at a restaurant with — a woman? You didn’t recognize her, but his hand held hers, picture taken mid laugh. Your cheeks burn — no, no — there had to be an explanation.

A text now — Want to see what your boyfriend does in his spare time? Is he done using you now?

There’s only one person who’d text like that.

Naoya, how fuck did you even get this picture? You stare at the photo — have you fallen so far in your clan that you have the time to stalk Satoru now?

He replied, it’s not my fault that they are dining in a Zenin owned business.

Another picture — Satoru and her were hugging, his arm around her waist, far too close to be friendly.

You don’t think — you call him. It rings and rings, but no answer — the cut to voicemail makes your heart sink.

Another text — even if you don’t believe me, do you think this will be the last of your problems? When you’re Satoru Gojo, anyone close to you will have a target on their back — if only to use your blood to paint one on his head.

You knew you couldn’t trust this. You knew there was an explanation. You knew Satoru wouldn’t do this to you.

But even still, you wished you could tell your heart that.

“What is this?” Satoru was led to a table at the restaurant the old geezers had chosen — but there were no wrinkly old cranks in sight. Instead, there was a woman.

“Are you Satoru Gojo?” And he raises an eyebrow, hands sliding into his pockets.

“The one and only, now I don’t suppose the old fools of the Gojo clan turned into a woman — so who are you?” She swirls the glass in her hand, before downing the liquid in one go.

“Figures they had to lie to get you here — seems like we’ve been set up,” she gestures to the chair in front of her, “I’m Airi,” and he takes a reluctant seat, “I was told this was a meeting for us to meet for a potential engagement,” and he scoffs, he should have figured it was something like this, “but judging by the look on your face, you didn’t know that,”

“I was expecting to meet

I suppose we’re on the same page,”

He tilts his head, “Really?”

“Gojo, you may be a catch, but to me, you’re nothing more than a potential knife to my neck,” she places her glass down, leaning back in her chair, “and plus, I have someone I’m interested in,” and her eyes slide down, “and judging by the bite mark on your neck, you do too,”

He pays it no mind, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of you waiting for him at his apartment, “I do,” and he sighs, pushing his chair out, before getting to his feet. “and I have to get back to her,”

She follows suit pushing out her own chair, rising, a waiter walking by, and she trips. It’s a reflex, he catches her by the wrist and by the waist, steadying her.

“Sorry,” she pulls away immediately, looking back for the waiter, before biting her tongue, “fucking waiter tripped me,” the two of them glance around, but see no one, “I’ll have to talk to my grandfather’s advisors about this. No one trips the granddaughter of Naobito Zenin,” she mutters, and Satoru’s eyes snap to her.

“You’re a Zenin?” And it clicks, the wedding, “who arranged this meeting?”

She tilts her head, “My father, but he heard about this from my cousin, Naoya—“

He checks his phone — and he sees a missed call from you.

Fuck. It was a set-up — in both ways.

“I have to go,” and he can only hope you wouldn’t do the same to him when he came back.

Satoru calls you, but you don’t pick up. You can’t bring yourself to stare back at the photo he had set as his contact photo — the picture Yuta had taken of him clutching at his phone with your picture on his screen.

You needed to talk to him in person.

And it’s not long before he’s back home — practically teleporting at your feet.

You swear, stumbling and he grabs you, tugging you close, “Got you,” he smiles, tugging off his blindfold for you to see his eyes — the startling blue that you still couldn’t navigate without drowning in its depths, “does that mean I can keep you?” and you want to pull away, you want to run, but you can’t help but melt into his touch, your fingers gently clutching at the front of his shirt.

“That depends on whether I’m the only person you’ve said that to,” and you look up at him, his brow furrowed, “and held like this,”

“The meeting today, it was supposed to be with the elders — I was going to discuss our relationship again but—“ you show him the pictures on your phone, and his brow knit together, “how did you—“ and he doesn’t finish his sentence before he realizes, “it was a set-up,”

“I know,” and relief washes over features for a moment, but your eyes can’t meet his, your lips a thin line.

And he glances at the photo again, seeing the one where he’s holding Airi, “She tripped, sweetheart, trust me—“ his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “I don’t want to hold anyone but you,”

“I know Naoya and the Gojo clan probably set this up,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, “but—” you pull away from him, every step away from him a fissure in the foundation of this bridge built, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,”

And he’s blinking, “Why?”

“I’m not good enough,” you’re shaking your head, stepping back as he steps forward, “I hurt you by leaving, and I was this close to doing it again—”

“But you didn’t—”

“And your clan doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know, I feel even if we’re together,” the words that leave your lips break your heart and his, we’ll only hurt each other in the end,”

“Why do you always push me away when we get close?”

“No I don’t—”

“You don’t think the sorcerer that’s an expert at pushing others away — wouldn’t know if he’s getting pushed away?”

“This isn’t working out,” you cut him off, as the slice cuts through thin air — but it’s not your head that goes rolling — it’s his heart, “we should stop — I think your clan has been convinced,”

He’s silent for a moment, before he replies, “well, I haven’t been convinced,”

You scoff, his hands by his side, as his quiet footsteps approach you, “convinced of what?”

“Convinced that,” he stops in front of you, “you don’t feel the same way I do,” Your breath catches, as his fingers find your cheek, “all these years, sweetheart, and you didn’t know?”

“But,” you can’t process this, it doesn’t make sense, “but Suguru—“

“Was important to me yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s been years, and it doesn’t mean I can’t have deep feelings for someone else — especially when I’ve had them for over a decade,”

“You—“ was this real? As he stood before you, in his living room low lights, sunlight streaming in from his windows, “what?”

He laughs, “Didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless, sweetheart — guess there’s a first time for everything,” he steps over your missteps with the same ease he does everything, “I really do have to spell everything out for you, don’t I?” The back of his fingers ghost over your cheek, “I’m in love with you—“

“No,” you’re shaking your head, and his face falls, “Satoru, we can’t—“

“But—“

“Your clan doesn’t approve of me, they won’t stop trying to break us up, and I could put you in danger,” you murmur, “they could use me against you — just like Suguru did,” you couldn’t bear the thought of that, “and is that worth it? Worth it for something that may not be real?” You ask the question you’re afraid of asking him — of asking yourself — “was it ever real?”

And he’s still trying to reach for you, despite it all — he knows it’s dangerous to be around him, he knows anyone close to him is in danger — and that’s why he was okay when you left. If only you’d be safe — but he knew that if he always played it safe, he would never be happy, “It’s real to me,”

“It’s not to me,” you turn towards the door, “I’m sorry.”

And this time he doesn’t stop you.

It’s for the best.

That’s what you tell yourself. The same thing you say when you’re leaving his place. The same thing you say the next morning you wake up with only a pain in your chest and a dull ache in your head. The same thing when you accept a long mission overseas.

It was for the best.

Then why — then why did you think of him? Each and every day, every minute, every second. But it was for the best. He was safer without you, it was easier without you, it was better — better and yet each day seemed to drag when you couldn’t talk to him. And your notes were filled with unsent texts to him — and your mind was filled with nothing but memories.

And you couldn’t touch memories nor could you talk to them.

Several months later, you’re sitting in a plane, watching the animation of the plane fly back towards Tokyo. You had been checking in with Yaga several times a month, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Satoru.

Or rather, Gojo. Not that you expected to — not after what you did.

And soon enough, you’re arriving home — heading inside your home to find a bunch of your mail had fallen out of your mailbox, knocked out of the rickety box from the storm the night before. You pick up the drenched mail between two fingers that was stuck to the sides of your walls, as you fumble with your keys to open the door. Your suitcase and mail fall to the fall as you close the door behind you, sighing.

Fuck. You were home.

You dragged your suitcase inside, picking up the mail off the floor. You collapsed on your couch, tossing the wet envelopes onto the table — when a name catches your eye.

Gojo?

You pick up an envelope — the frilly envelope doing nothing to protect the contents inside — you barely can make out any of the text, except the faint inked kanji of his name.

You gingerly open the envelope, peeling out the insides — and your heart drops.

Is this an invitation? The faint text was blurred and smudged from the rain — the contents all but faded and you could only make out three things — ““marriage,” today’s date, and bits and pieces of what you thought was an address.

Satoru was…getting married?

It felt like logic had fled your mind and panic took its place — as you looked up the parts of the address that you were able to decipher. And you found it — it was a popular venue not far from here.

You didn’t think — you grabbed your keys and drove.

You couldn’t let him get married, no, no — you had made a mistake when you left. You thought he was better off, you thought it was for the best — but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be when your chest hurt like this — felt as if your heart was splitting in two with a sword stuck between your ribs. It couldn’t be because you pushed him away because you were scared — scared of getting hurt again, scared of hurting him, scared of being with the only person you ever had loved.

Basically, you pulled up to the venue, you were an idiot.

You hadn’t changed, you hadn’t showered off your who knows how long of a flight, and now you were on the steps of a wedding venue that Satoru was getting married at. You froze before the doors.

You couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve to have his day ruined by you — not when you had ruined enough. If he had found someone else to spend his life with — whether it was arranged or not, he deserved to be happy.

Even if it wasn’t with you.

So you step down — walking off a distance to watch when the couple emerged — which judging by how dark it was and how staff were already almost done setting up — would be any minute now.

So you wait.

And finally when the doors swing open, you steel yourself — knowing it would do nothing, nothing to shield you from the pain of seeing—and your eyes find the groom.

That wasn’t Satoru.

He certainly had the white hair, but he did not have his blue eyes — he had a lovely bride regardless, who looked at him the way you had always looked at Satoru. Was that the look you had hidden away for so many years? And why were you still hiding?

And your eyes find Satoru almost instantly — as fast as his eyes find you seemingly, as your name escapes his lips — as he parts through the crowd to your side. He’s wearing the other suit he had tried on — the white suit that had been your second favorite — his white locks parted and combed to the side, but still impossibly unkempt as they always were.

“You got my invitation?” you blink, tilting your head.

“But you—what?” and his brow furrows.

“Don’t tell me you lost your ability to read and speak while overseas, princess,” and a small chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head, wringing your hands.

“Satoru, the invitation was wet because of the rain, I thought—” your voice wavers, glancing away as your cheeks burn, “I thought you were getting married.”

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling, “And you were about to burst in and object?”

You roll your eyes, but even so you can’t meet his gaze, “Satoru—”

His smile only grows wider, “What were you going to say? A passionate speech about how you’re still—” And you’re tugging him close by the collar, and his breath catches, your name leaving his lips.

“I’m in love with you, Satoru,” your voice is steady as you speak, your hand sliding to his cheek, “I always have been — I was just afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to hurt you — whether it was by my own hand or not,” and his brow furrows, but you continue, “but I’m not scared anymore — because it hurts more to be nothing than something with you—”

And his lips find yours. It’s everything you want — because it's him, he’s everything you’d ever wanted, and everything you’d ever want. You want the way his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer, you want the way his hand cups your cheek, you want the way his lips smile against yours, and you’d want his past, present, and future. And you’d do anything to keep it.

“Promise you’ll never leave like that again?” he murmurs, his arm tightening around your waist as he says the words, his forehead pressed against yours, “I already have abandonment issues,” and you chuckle, your fingers finding his cheek.

“I promise,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I left — both times I left, and there won’t ever be a third,”

And he smiles, “You proposing to me, sweetheart? I’m not one to rush into things, gotta take me out on a proper date first,”

“How about tonight?” you find his lips again, the taste of sugar on his lips — undoubtedly from indulging in a slice or several of wedding cake.

“So soon?” he hums,and his gaze softens, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “someone’s eager,” and your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his, as you would a million times more,

“Well, you don’t know until you try.”

✧ a/n: ahhh another celebration fic done!! this one was lowkey a struggle towards the end so i hope this turned out okay. it's beyond me understanding if it did or not lmao. i hope you guys enjoy ahhh -- gotta probably put up a poll to decide the next celebration fic this weekend :) (it's only because i'm horribly indecisive).

✧ taglist: @yunjinabla, @weluvsza, @yamaguccitadashi, @gojobbg, @soulofoz, @hfdkhjghjkghfj, @forest-fruits-jam, @cerene-dipity, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @reaperxdeath, @octopishisahybridanimal, @hanlay, @whereflowerswenttodie, @tsukimefuku, @numbing3scapism, @arcswonderland, @kirashuu, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @jayathelostdragon, @sunflowmaryam, @satorusmochis, @catsgomurp, @simply-a-s1mp, @kentocalls, @weluvsza, @lucy-xv0202, @mazzd4, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo fluff

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sooniebby · 1 month

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First Drabble after a month or so… Anyway, reader is a bisexual man, deal with it. Kinks are: voyeurism, spanking, dubcon, cucking, manhandling, praise, lite feminization. Brief mention of m/f sex but reader is a bottom and is mentioned to have a cock. BDSM relationship. Tw. Girlfriend is a bit abusive so skip this if bad doms bother you 🫶🏼 no set character, but I gave him a name! A little long tbh, not even a Drabble anymore

The things you do to make your girlfriend.

“Ohhh! Gimme more, Mark.”

You roll your eyes, checking your phone as your girlfriend gets her pussy fucked by your “friend” Mark. They were too busy having the time of their life to notice you stopped paying attention to them.

Your girlfriend, Lizzy, just loved this whole cuck fantasy shit. Whatever made her happy. You tried many other times to tell you that you didn’t necessarily like it but she always somehow made you the bad guy.

It was your first relationship dealing with BDSM, she was more than likely right since she had loads of relationships before you.

Right? She wouldn’t use your naivety to her advantage… right?

Hah.

Anyway, she loved making you watch other guys fuck her. Especially if their dick was bigger than yours. Though you didn’t like her saying your four inches was small.

Some guys had two inches, you were perfectly fine.

She began moaning something about how big he was, you didn’t really care at this point. You didn’t even know if you liked this whole BDSM thing. Sure, being the submissive was cool at first but now it just felt… eh?

You certainly hated her way of being a sadist. You hated being a masochist. It wasn’t fun.

But, whatever makes her happy. She’s freaking Lizzy Powers, the hot girl from your university. Every guys falls for her.

There was particularly high pitched yelp that caused you to look up in concern but it seemed Mark had just manhandled her into another position. You huffed and just went back to watching TikTok thirst traps.

The few times you looked at them to pretend you actually cared, Mark seemed set at staring right at you. His thrusts would always get faster each time. Weirdo.

Mark was popular, just like Lizzy. Loved by many girls (and guys). He was supposedly good natured and kinda but you kinda found him creepy, especially right now.

Was there something on your face???

“Ooh, (Name)~!” Lizzy whined, “he’s so much better than you… Just look at how well he fucks my pussy.”

She looked over at you—you quickly forced a frown. She loved seeing you “upset” about the other guy fucking her. Something about getting you to try harder when you fucked her the next day.

It worked the first time, but after that, you stopped caring. You kinda stopped caring to fuck her as well. It wasn’t even that she was fucking all these other guys. Something just kept bothering you.

Maybe the fact she didn’t go on regular dates with you and there didn’t seem to be an end to the dominate actions she had.

A shrill voice filled the room, Lizzy was cumming. You used to always love seeing this part—just seeing your gorgeous girl coming undone.

Eh, you’ve seen it before. These days, you found yourself watching the guy fucking her instead of her. Which was bad, that was cheating, or at least that’s what Lizzy had told you.

So you made sure to not look at Mark as much. Mark pulled out and rolled off his condom, tossing it into the trash bin next to the bed. The loud sound of music was still ringing downstairs from the party.

You would’ve thought this dumb party would’ve been done by now. “Was that it?” You asked, standing up. “I have a test tomorrow so I need to get back to my dorm.”

There was a moment of silence as Lizzy and Mark stared at you. Mark simply nodded and moved to put his jacket and shoes back on. Lizzy however, looked furious. She stood up abruptly, putting on her dress and stormed over to you.

Oh no.

You knew that look. She was about to “discipline”you. Her punishments were so humiliating—you hated it so much.

You fought back the urge to roll your eyes. Her anger radiated off her face. Though she only stood to your chest, she managed to make your heart drop. There was no fun in this. But isn’t this what these relationships involve?

This was just how it was.

Her harsh words began spilling out, probably promising a punishment once you reached your dorm. Or possibly even when Mark left. But knowing her, she’d get a kick out of him watching.

Maybe you should’ve gotten a different girlfriend. This one doesn’t exactly make you happy. The thought couldn’t go any further though when Mark cleared his throat, ending Lizzy’s tyranny with ease.

“Your submissive isn’t exactly listening to you. I don’t mean to pry,” though the smirk on his lips tells you otherwise. “He looks legitimately scared. No sense of pleasure in him.”

Lizzy scoffed. “And you can do better? He’s just new to this, but it seems to be taking forever for him to listen to me.” She said, harshly poking at your chest with her finger. You try not to show any emotion from the slight pain.

“I can. But that’s if you want your submissive to get a taste of what’s better.”

A pin could be dropped and it would’ve made more noise. You watch in awe as Lizzy practically turned pink in the face. Wow, you’d never seen her this anger. There was silent rage in her eyes before she pulled a quick smile.

“Sure. He’s all yours.”

But Mark looked over at you. He stood up and took off his jacket, walking over to you with a look of determination. “Do you want it?”

“W..wha..?” You whispered, feeling dwarfed against his tall height. Jesus, does he play volleyball or basketball??

“Do you…” his hand slowly reached up, gently grabbing your chin before forcing you to look up at him. Oh. “…want me to touch you? Show you real pleasure.”

“….yes…”

His lips pulled into a slight smirk. “Good boy.”

So here you are, pants less. Mark was kinda enough to let you keep your sweater on. Lizzy was sitting at the desk chair you once were. You felt bad for whoever’s frat brother’s room you guys were in. Poor guy.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” Mark suddenly said, sitting on the bed as he patted his lap.

You huffed and moved over to where he was. “Attitude probably.” You muttered, looking down at the bed sheets. Ooh, sport cars.

A tug at your sweater caused you to yelp as you were forced to look Mark in the eye. “Look me in the eye when you’re speaking to me.” With little force, he pulled you to drape over his thighs. They were quite muscular. Hm, maybe soccer?

You could feel Lizzy’s harsh glare on your body. It was just reminding you that she was so pissed over you having a slight attitude. Gosh, we doms all like this? You were seriously considering if you wanted to stay in this type of relationship.

Mark’s hand gently gripped your butt, softly massaging it. “I don’t think you deserve a punishment, but I’m going off what your dom wants. This can be really easy, (Name). Just count, okay? I’ll only go to ten.”

“Just ten?” Lizzy cut in.

“Ten is enough. He didn’t do anything terrible.” Mark countered. “Was I even speaking to you?”

You didn’t want to know the look Lizzy gave him. His hand gripped your ass before he released it, gently tapping it.

“(Name), what’s your safe word?”

You blinked, “what’s that?”

There was a tense silence. You tried to look up but Mark quickly pushed your head back down.

“Just whenever you want to stop. In case it’s too much.”

“Oh uhm. Stop should work fine, no?”

“Alright. You can always say red as well. Yellow would be if you just want a breather, okay?”

“Oh… would green be for keep going?”

Mark hummed, gently massaging your butt. “Mhm. Aren’t you smart?”

You blushed slightly. Oh, that was nice. When was the last time Lizzy complimented you?

“Starting now.”

You prepared for the worst. Whenever Lizzy spanked you, it was torture. Just hit after hit with no room to breathe. Didn’t help she would use those whips. It took you awhile to convince her to just use her hand.

Sometimes the damn thing would just start hitting your thighs or back. It was like she was purposefully missing your ass.

Smack!

Oh. What were you supposed to do? You could’ve sworn you were supposed to say something. That felt so weird, but you felt your toes practically curl as a gasp left your lips. He must’ve had experience doing this…

He gently rubbed the slight curve of your hip. “C’mon, count for me.”

Oh right. Counting…

“O..One.”

It went on, each time you momentarily went blank in the head. This wasn’t anything like Lizzy’s spankings. Mark was spanking you hard, definitely, but there still was a slight softness to it.

Hmm, you could probably revisit spanking.

“Ten…” You muttered, sighing in slight relief that it was over. You gently got up from Mark’s lap, ready to pull your pants back up but he pulled your back down.

“What are you doing?” He asked, rubbing your sore cheeks. You heard the sound of a container being opened before a cooling substance was rubbing onto your skin. It was pure relief. A relaxed hum left your throat.

Lizzy coughed, breaking the moment. You almost forgot she was there. “Are you done with my boyfriend?”

“Hm, no. His moans were cute, I want to hear how he sounds cumming on my cock.” He said bluntly, causing you to blush in pure embarrassment. His cock?! He was going to fuck you?!

Lizzy sputtered as she stood up. “What?! That’ll be cheating!”

“It’s just cucking. A man can cuck a woman.”

“But—”

“—It’s only fair (Name) can cuck you too.”

It was wrong. But his words made you grin. Cucking her back? Oh that sounded fun. Finally, she could feel how you felt.

“Okay.” You suddenly said, removing yourself off Mark’s lap. “You can fuck me.” You weren’t scared about anything going into your butt. Lizzy has fucked you with a strap before, those were the few times you had the most fun during sex with her.

Shame she never wanted to do after the two times.

You grabbed the lube that was left on the nightstand from Lizzy and Mark’s previous fuck and drizzled a decent amount onto your fingers. Sitting down on the bed, you began to stretch your ass open.

It was pretty easy, you did masturbate this morning with a dildo. The entire time, Mark just stared at you with hunger, his eyes watching your hole swallow your fingers with ease. He was probably expecting some type of resistance.

“I’m ready.” You muttered, moving to get into a doggy position but Mark grabbed your hand. A shriek left you as he picked you up with ease and plopped you down into his lap.

This position… was embarrassing to say the least. Your legs were wide open, your cock hard against your tummy. Lizzy was literally right across from you, seeing everything. You squirmed, wondering why Mark was so set in humiliating you.

His lips suddenly pressed against your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder. The sound of his zipper and slight shuffling filled your ears as his cock slipped out. Holy shit. He was definitely huge… maybe 7 inches??

“I want…” his hand reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look Lizzy straight in the eye. “Miss Powers here to see you cum on my cock, seeing you become my pretty little slut.”

Your cock twitched. His cock pressed against your ass, gently teasing your hole. Slowly, he lowered you down, letting the stretch become comfortable.

He was definitely huge. You didn’t understand how Lizzy took this thing without crying out in pain? Once he was fully in, you let out a shaky breath, gripping his hand that held your hip.

“Good boy. You’re taking me well.” He whispered, pressing a kiss on your neck. “Now move.”

“What?”

“Ride me.” Mark simply said, gently patting your thighs.

Holy fucking shit. You were supposed to ride this guy while your girlfriend watches? Jesus. You moved slightly, gripping his thighs as a way to hold yourself help as you began bouncing up and down.

The sounds of skin slapping filled the room, your soft moans right behind it. This was better than any strap. You could feel him inside you—his heat. A shudder left you when his cock pressed against your prostate. You quickly tried to keep that position, gasping at the constant pressure.

You practically forgot Lizzy was even there. All you cared about was getting off.

No, all you cared about was making sure Mark was enjoying it.

That was a first.

You glanced down, wanting to see if Mark was enjoying himself. The sight caused your hips to stutter. He was staring right at you, a smirk on his face. His free hand was gripping at your ass, pulling the cheeks apart slightly.

He broke eye contact to look down at your hole, laughing slightly. “It’s so cute. Hey, I’m your first real one huh?”

“Y..Yeah..”

“Good. I’ll be your only too.” He said, delivering a harsh spank on your ass. A scream escaped your lips as you stopped for a moment, trying to process everything that was happening.

First and only? What?!

“Hey, why’d you stop?” His hands suddenly had your waist in its grasp as he pulled you back. You were once again looking at Lizzy, seeing her pure anger. Gosh, you were really betraying your girlfriend.

“Why are you treating him so gently?” Lizzy suddenly commented.

Mark hummed. “It’s his first time. You always gotta treat beginners like glass. Once he’s properly trained… I’ll fuck him like the whore he is.”

“Whore..?” You muttered, but before you could ask why he kept calling you stuff like that, he was suddenly making you bounce up and down on his cock. It was so sudden, so fast and made your previous movement seem like nothing.

If this is him treating you like glass, you wondered just how mean he got…

Your back arched as you cried out, resting your head on his back as the pleasure began to take over. It was so much. But you wanted more. You just knew he could do more.

You wanted it so bad.

You were too lost in the pleasure to even notice that Lizzy left until the sound of a door slamming caught your attention. “Hng…? Why’d she..?”

“Fucking finally.” Mark muttered, pulling you off his cock. You whimpered, feeling your cock leak dejectedly with pre-cum. He plopped you down on the bed and pushed your legs up, putting you in a mating press.

His cock easily slid back inside as he leaned down, grinning. “Now that she’s out of the way, I have you all to myself.” He whispered, his hips moving upwards in harsh staccato type motion. Each slap caused a struggled gasp to leave you in tandem.

“Been hearing all about how you were just her little cuck. Using you because you knew nothing about how these type of relationships work..” he mumbled, a groan leaving his lips when you clenched around his cock.

You couldn’t even care about what he was talking about. You just wanted to cum already. This position was so odd, you didn’t even know your body could fold this far.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, baby. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself as mine.”

“Y..yours..? What..? Ngh, did you..”

“Fuck her to get to you?” He laughed, leaning down to kiss your lips. You blushed, shocked that the kiss was so sweet compared to the sinful thrusting. “Yeah, anything for you.”

Anything for you…? You didn’t get to truly understand just how deranged that sounded when he began to roughly fuck you. He managed to push your legs even further as he draped himself over your body, ravaging you like a cheap slut.

Your screams and his grunts mixed together as you gripped at the sheets beneath you for type of stability. If that stupid loud music from downstairs wasn’t still playing you were sure everyone would be able to tell you were getting your stomach rearranged.

“(Name)…”

You let out a strangled hum.

“Your pussy is tighter than hers.”

Yaaaay… first post back! Feel really proud of this one, though I didn’t mean to make it longer than a usual Drabble, felt like I had to add a lot of stuff before the porn… lmao.

@the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life25 @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @iwishtobeacrow @star-3214 @smellwell @ofclyde @flurrina @tehyunnie @remdayz @love-kha1 @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience @tomoeroi

#bottom male reader #x male reader #uke male reader #sub male reader #male reader #mlm ns/fw #smut drabble #mlm nsft #x male smut #male bottom reader

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whilomm · 8 months

Text

EAS SYSTEM TEST FAQ:

"huh what"

theres a test of the emergency alert system (EAS) for the united states on wednesday oct 4th 2023, 2:20 pm est (with a second test planned on the 11th if this ones canceled). its the system they use for amber alerts, weather alerts (like tornados/floods/hurricanes), stuff like that. will be sent to TVs, radios, phones, even if alerts are muted as far as i know

"what why"

bc they gotta test emergency systems sometimes. this happens on occasion.

"what is the government planning this is suspicious"

no its not its just. a standard test. they happen. we just havent had this specific type of phone one for a few years, they dont gotta test it as often as like. physical tornado sirens.

"okay but like are they trying to instill terror this reminds me of the terrorism threat leve-"

if they were doing that they wouldnt have been warning people of the upcoming test several months in advance

"why havent i seen it anywhere except for tumblr"

bc u havent like. paid attention to news stuff.

"okay well how do i verify this how do i know this isnt a hoax????"

....search for the news articles pictured above and read them.

"okay but WHY this is ANNOYING why is it in the MIDDLE OF SCHOOL/WORK"

bc systems gotta be tested on occasion to make sure they aint broken when you actually need them, and probs the time with the least risk of waking ppl up and making ppl even more angry

"i completely understand the purpose and i dont think its a government conspiracy but i still dislike it bc loud sounds/secret phone/epilepsy/whatever other reasons ive seen ppl site"

yeah 100% fair, thats why i and others are trying to warn so that ppl arent caught off guard (even if my warning was missing info like the time bc im dumb), i set a couple of notifs to pop up beforehand so i dont forget and get surprised, do what u gotta do to keep urself chill. shut off your phone, wrap it in blankets, be in another room from all ur tech while the test is happening, wear earplugs, etc. hope you're good!

"that thing about phones still going off when turned back on..."

oh yeah idk if thats true or nah. but eh, better safe than sorry, assume ur phone may or may not still be loud when u turn it back on, and plan for it if needed. idk where ppl are getting this tho and havent seen it verified myself. just be careful if this applies to you. maybe shove it into a blanket before turning it back on.

"is it gonna activate my covid vaccine mind control nanotech"

idk man probably not

"YAAAAAY EXTREMELY LOUD SOUND WEDNESDAY!!!!"

omgg yayyy!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

#buzzy #EAS #emergency alert system #emergency alert system test #FEMA #FCC #uspol #ish whatever #us govt #extremely loud sound wednesday

1K notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 7 months

Text

a spoonful of sugar | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem chef!reader

cheffing it up all over the calendar

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 124,509 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: WOAH WHAT IT'S OSCAR'S HOME RACE WEEK? that mean's it's time to whack out the aussie cook book mama piastri got me for christmas and man this fish has a cool name. BARRAMUNDI is a fish very commonly used in aussie cuisine (real ones know it from masterchef australia). so here i've pan seared it with some herbs and some lemons and take it from me it SLAPS, but you know what i hope slaps more? oscar this weekend... LET'S GO BABY

[as always this recipe is on my website and will be in my 2024 f1 calendar recipe book coming out soon]

view all comments

user1: FAVES OMG PARENTS

user2: my favourite thing is where i read intently all of y/n's recipe and continue to make pot noodles

yourusername: pot noodles are good i can't even be mad

oscarpiastri: can confirm it did in fact SLAP

yourusername: oh wow piastri stamp of approval that's basically a michelin star

oscarpiastri: tbf i would eat a roll of paper towels if it was you who gave it to me

yourusername: okay.... I'LL TAKE IT

user3: can we please study these people cause why is saying you'd eat paper towels is the pinnacle of romance

user4: i NEED the recipe book STAT

landonorris: i was on board with this whole cooking thing but FISH IS WHERE I DRAW THE LINE

yourusername: oh boy we got a BABY ON THE LINE

landonorris: i'm allowed to like what i like my MUM said so

yourusername: bro is an elite athlete and exclusively eats chicken nuggies

landonorris: @oscarpiastri tell your girlfriend to stop bullying me

oscarpiastri: i'm on her side buddy maybe explore the culinary world

landonorris: that's it i'm going to HR

yourusername: try it girly the mclaren HR team LOVE my food

user5: the dynamics since oscar and y/n got comfortable in the sport are my favourite things

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 793,288 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: first time on the podium at my home race and the feeling is unreal. so thankful to have my family and love of my life around me, lets keep building on this !!

view all comments

user7: THANK THE LORD MCLAREN KEPT THEIR SHIT TOGETHER IN 2024 OSCAR FIRST WIN COMING IN FAST

yourusername: I AM TOTALLY FINE ABOUT THIS AND I AM NOT SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY BECAUSE I AM SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU AT ALL TIMES I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU TOO SO MUCH AND I LOVE SHARING THIS WITH YOU AND SEEING THE WORLD WITH YOU AND REACHING OUR DREAMS TOGETHER

user8: are they good?

logansargeant: from the man currently waiting for them to go to dinner and can hear them yelling this stuff to each other... no they are not okay and i don't think they ever have been

yourusername: LOGIE BEAR I AM SORRY I CANNOT CONTAIN MY LOVE FOR OSCAR

oscarpiastri: jealous bitches gonna be bitter

logansargeant: ??? excuse me

oscarpiastri: i'm sorry i got excited... love you logan (just not as much as y/n)

user9: this comment section is once again making me want to sneak into an F1 after party :(

user10: they're just going to dinner they've not even started drinking yet 😭

landonorris: i am proud of you mate - why is y/n dancing around in the kitchen in an apron that says "this chef FUCKS"

yourusername: fashion. (it says oscar piastri in small print right under that)

landonorris: i didn't need to know that

oscarpiastri: let her dance it makes the food taste even better

landonorris: there's definitely no fish right?

yourusername: no fish by order of the fussy child

landonorris: bullying online and in person @maxverstappen1 @charles_leclerc @logansargeant STEP IN

maxverstappen1: eh i'm good i'm looking forward to dinner

charles_leclerc: you're on your own with this one lando

logansargeant: i've learnt not to cross y/n

user11: the piastris invited lando, logan and the rest of the podium? i am soft

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 162,994 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: a big post podium celebration dinner at the piastri house to celebrate oscar's home podium. first off, super duper proud. second, since it was a strictly no fish evening, i decided to go for classic aussie meat pies and grilled kangaroo LOL but there was only clean plates at the end so i'll defo consider adding it to the recipe book

view all comments

user12: i am getting a sugar rush this is so sweet

logansargeant: thank you for having me, a solid 9/10 - one point docked because kangaroos are cute

yourusername: wait until you run into one on a cold, wet evening

oscarpiastri: they are actually very scary and have a stealing problem

yourusername: tbf i think we all have a stealing problem

oscarpiastri: you definietly do ... cause you stole my heart

logansargeant: EW NOT ON MY COMMENT THREAD

user13: i'm so lonely

maxverstappen1: i definitely did not think i was going to eat kangaroo this week but here we are

yourusername: did you like it?

maxverstappen1: i was shocked at how much i did

oscarpiastri: babe get that on the review cover of the recipe book this guy got three championships that has to mean something

yourusername: good idea i'm on it

maxverstappen1: ???

landonorris: you fed me kanga and roo from winnie the pooh? Y/N YOU FED ME KANGA AND ROO FROM WINNIE THE POOH?

yourusername: you eat chicken all the time and you don't feel sorry for chicken little

oscarpiastri: she ate you up there PUN INTENDED

landonorris: i've learnt my lesson i'm giving up here

charles_leclerc: i for one had a blast and will be asking for y/n to cater my birthday party

oscarpiastri: FOR A PRICE

charles_leclerc: you her guard dog or something?

oscarpiastri: duh? have you seen her?

yourusername: i would love to (idk monagasque cuisine though so give me notice)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 152,339 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, logansargeant

yourusername: IMOLA, IMOLA MY HEART LIVES IN ITALIA AND MY STOMACH LIVES WITH ITALIAN FOOD. for real. the track is cute and whatnot but the real star is the pasta, the pizza, the gelato but most importantly the PASTA. here is two dishes that'll feature in the imola chapter: a burrata dish and a ragu !! oscar (and lando) certified so you know it's good, oscar even helped so it's defo beginner friendly!!

view all comments

user17: is it a collective f1 driver experience to be ass at cooking

danielricciardo: yes

maxverstappen1: yes

oscarpiastri: yes

landonorris: yes

charles_leclerc: YES

oscarpiastri: if i'm slow this weekend it's because i couldn't stop eating the ragu sorry mclaren

yourusername: i made sure no gelato until sunday so please don't take me out back and shoot me over giving him pasta

mclarenf1: bring some pasta for social media admin and no one has to know

yourusername: deal

landonorris: this is a public instagram comment section

charles_leclerc: why is mine always so darn crunchy

yourusername: inpatient, common amongst you drivers. oscar was once so impatient when boiling an egg he got it out and it was just watery egg

oscarpiastri: you said you wouldn't tell anyone :(

yourusername: no babe i'm proud !!! you've come so far

oscarpiastri: it's true i made my own omelette the other day :)

yourusername: and it was yummy

oscarpiastri: and it was yummy :)

user18: the positive affirmations in this relationship really keep me going

yourusername: he IS the MOST beautiful racer in all of the lands

oscarpiastri: she IS the PRETTIEST chef in all of the kitchens

oscarpiastri

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 775,431 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: not the race we wanted in spain, but we're still in good spirits and in the conversation at the top of the standings! also helps that when you get taken out of the race your girlfriend shovels the BEST paella ever into your mouth until you finally smile

view all comments

user19: bro got a girlfriend and personal chef all in one

yourusername: food is my love language and when babe gets twatted into the barriers by SOMEONE i will personally feed him some of his favourite food

user20: she's holding back

yourusername: PR said i couldn't say anything...

oscarpiastri: i love youuuuuuuuu and i love your paella i think it's laced with crack

logansargeant: @fia GET HIS ASS

yourusername: LOGIE BEAR?

logansargeant: i'm sorry, we're pretty desperate for the p7 here at williams

yourusername: i respect that

oscarpiastri: Y/N????

yourusername: MORE PAELLA

carlossainz55: big respect for the paella, definitely looks authentic

yourusername: OBVIOUSLY IT'S AUTHENTIC DO YOU THINK MY QUALIFICATIONS ARE A JOKE

yourusername: lol sorry thank you actually SPANISH F1 DRIVER APPROVED PAELLA

oscarpiastri: @fernandoalo_oficial can we get another good review please and thank you

fernandoalo_oficial: looks good, need a taste to be sure

yourusername: it's coming your way (please return the tupperware tho please)

mclarenf1: you'll come back stronger oscar 💪

oscarpiastri: fuelled by love and paella

yourusername: fuelled by VENOM AND THE WILL TO WIN AND CRUSH THE COMPETITION

oscarpiastri: and that 🫶

note: here's a short and sweet one that MAY return to finish out this fictional season ... i also just love this kind of set up for an imagine. it's a lil short i know but the CHRISTMAS CRAFTS ARE COMING IN FAST AND THE CROSS STITCH CHRISTMAS CARDS ARE SLAYING THE HOUSE DOWN

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #oscar piastri instagram au #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri

3K notes · View notes

itadorey · 8 months

Text

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄

pairing: fushiguro megumi x gn!reader summary: six times megumi gets caught staring at you and the one time you get caught staring at him. genre: fluff, fluff, fluff, friends to lovers. no angst here, originally a 5 +1 but i added another scene so it's a 6 +1. notes: a repost from an old blog, some scenes changed. nobara is a nosy wingwoman. mentions of minor injury, canon-typical violence, follows the season 1 storyline loosely. gojo + shoko being nosy as well. wc: ~6k

one.

Fushiguro Megumi is many things. To begin with, he's a talented jujutsu sorcerer, proven time and time again by the missions he gets sent on. He's also intelligent, observant not only in battle but also when it comes to others, always able to tell when something's wrong. However, his most noticeable trait, according to Itadori and Kugisaki, is that he's extremely secretive.

It's not a bad thing, not to him. There are better things to do with his time than sit and discuss his life story with his classmates, even though he thinks that Gojo might say otherwise just to piss him off.

Besides, keeping details about his life private means that no one can use any of his weaknesses against him. And that's especially handy considering that one of his weaknesses is you.

He's not exactly sure when it started. Maybe it was the day that Gojo sent him to pick you up at the train station alone, claiming that he had important business to attend to and that it was the least that Megumi could do considering the fact that Gojo had been going on so many missions lately.

Or maybe it was the day the two of you had been assigned your first mission together. You had been kind to him even when he remained cold and silent, eventually catching onto the fact that he didn't want to make small talk before switching the conversation to the mission at hand.

He had been mildly surprised when you came up with a foolproof plan to exorcise the curse, and the mission had gone according to plan with the exception of a gash on his upper arm. When you had knelt down to check on him, you had gently brushed him off, smiling widely as you complimented his technique and pet one of his divine dogs.

"Come on, let's get you back so that Shoko can check that out," you had said, gently grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. He had stumbled slightly upon standing, prompting you to wrap an arm around his waist to try and steady him. "Are you alright, Fushiguro?"

In that moment, Megumi couldn't stop the light blush that dusted his cheeks as he pulled away slightly, stating that he was fine and ready to go. Neither one of you chose to mention the fact that his hand didn't leave yours on the way back to Jujutsu Tech.

Ever since that day, he seemed to be hyperaware of your presence. If he was busy training with the upperclassmen and you happened to walk by, he knew. And he often ended up getting knocked down on his ass because of it. It bothered him to no end, and yet he couldn't bring himself to say that he hated it. Seeing your smile quickly became the highlight of his day, and he often found himself staring at you whenever you were around him.

Much like he was doing so at the moment.

"Eh? Fushiguro, what are you doing?" Nobara asks, leaning over to catch a glimpse of his face. Megumi scowls as Nobara's face comes into view, tearing his eyes away from where you were standing a few feet away with Maki.

"Nothing," he replies instantly, shoving his hands into his pockets as Nobara keeps talking. She goes quiet when Maki calls out both of their names, being met with a grin from her as she throws an arm around your shoulder.

"Good news!" Maki proclaims, smirking at the approaching first years. "I've just found our last team member for the exchange event. From now on, they'll be training with us."

Nobara cheers loudly as Maki gives you a friendly pat on the back, the two girls walking off towards the field and leaving you alone with Megumi. He meets your eyes as you approach him, a teasing smile on your lips as you elbow him lightly.

"How lucky are you?" you tease as the two of begin to follow after Maki and Nobara. "Now you get to see my pretty face more often!"

"That's the problem," Megumi mutters as he came to a stop, sighing softly at your statement. He could already feel himself getting distracted during training, and he didn't want to think about the punishment that Maki would surely give him is he allowed himself to get distracted at the actual event.

"What was that?"

He straightens when he hears your voice, shooting you a strained smile as he catches up with you. "Hmm? Nothing."

You give him a funny look as you start walking again, the two of you being met with the sight of Panda and Nobara facing off against each other as you approach the field. A giggle escapes your lips as you watch Panda toss Nobara around, and Megumi can't stop the fond smile that spreads across his face as he watches you.

"Well, that fight's over," Maki says with a grin before motioning to you. "You're up."

"Against who?" you ask, shrugging off your jacket and letting it drop to the floor. The grin on Maki's face turns almost evil, and Megumi fights off a shiver as she shifts her gaze towards him.

"Against Megumi. Who else?"

Megumi trudges towards you as Nobara and Panda arrive at Maki's side, and he finds himself growing tense at the thought of fighting against you in front of everyone.

"Excited?" you ask, a grin present on your face as you stretch your arms. Megumi responds with a silent nod, feeling his cheeks grow warm as you study him from head to toe before nodding to yourself.

"Are you two ready?" Maki shouts, arms crossed as she looks at the two of you. The two of you give her a thumbs up, and she nods at the sight before waving a hand. "Begin."

To say that Megumi is shocked when you manage to take him down in less than five minutes would be a lie. Everyone else however, is surprised at the outcome and Megumi can't hide the embarrassment on his face as he walks back to the sidelines. He comes to a stop when Maki grabs his arm gently, pulling him close to whisper in his ear before he can get too far.

"I hope that your personal feelings won't be an issue the actual day of the tournament."

Megumi pauses, scowling at her and ignoring the smirk on her face before pulling away and taking a seat a few feet away. His eyes remain on you for the rest of training, and he does his best to ignore the fact that he can feel Nobara's curious gaze burning into him.

"You're doing it again," Nobara sings, bouncing up to Megumi when the training session ends. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were staring at them the whole time."

"Good thing you know better then," Megumi bites back, hoping that Nobara hasn't noticed the way he flinched at her words. (She has.) Nobara laughs as she pushes past Megumi, walking up to you and proceeding to strike up a conversation. The two of you look over at Megumi before turning back to each other, causing Megumi's heart to speed up the slightest bit. He watches as you walk past him, giving him a soft smile as you made your way to the dorms.

Nobara gives him a simple thumbs up as she trails after you.

two.

Things had been... complicated since Yuuji's death, and neither Megumi, Nobara, or you had found the time to truly sit around and mourn.

Training for the exchange event had taken up more time than you care to admit, and you were slightly disappointed at the fact that you hadn't even gotten the chance to truly say goodbye to your friend.

But luckily, the students from Kyoto were a good distraction.

"What kind of woman is your type? Hurry up and answer, if you prefer men that's fine too."

The silence that follows Todo's words is awkward, and you can't help the way your cheeks heat up when Megumi's eyes drift over to you. Todo follows Megumi's line of sight, eyes taking your features before he nods firmly and turns back to face Megumi.

"I don't have a particular preference," Megumi says before Todo can speak. "As long as they have an unshakeable character, I won't ask for more."

"Not a bad answer!" Nobara chimes, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you contemplate his words. "If you had said something like 'big boobs', I would've killed you."

The snort that leaves your lips brings Megumi's attention back to you, and the way his eyes soften as he watches you giggle at Nobara's words doesn't slip Todo's attention.

"I knew it! You're boring, Fushiguro," Todo proclaims, his chest puffing up as he approaches the shorter boy. Once he's close enough, he lowers his voice, granting him the courtesy of not having you hear his next words. "You spend all your time admiring them from afar, but I doubt you'll ever actually make a move."

Megumi bristles at Todo's words, opening his mouth to speak before getting thrown back by a powerful punch.

"Megumi!" you cry out, trying to rush over to him before being stopped by Nobara's cry. You turn to see her being held tightly by Mai, her pistol aimed at Nobara's side as she pulls her close.

"Move and I shoot," Mai says, smirking as she sees the irritated look on your face. You glance back at Megumi for a split second before lunging at Mai, causing her to release Nobara as she reels back at your sudden action. You manage to grab Mai's waist, pushing her down to the ground and falling on top of her at you try to snatch her weapon.

A knee to the stomach has you grunting, and you find yourself rolling over to avoid another strike from her. By the time the second years show up, Nobara has Mai's hair clutched tightly in her hand, earning an amused smile from Maki as she swiftly breaks up the fight. You check on Nobara first, and once you make sure that the only damage she took was to her ego, you set out to locate Megumi.

You pause slightly when you see him, walking alongside Panda and Inumaki with a slight limp, before you sprint over to his side. You immediately begin to fuss over him, reaching up to wipe away the blood that was dripping towards his eyes with your sleeve.

"Megumi! Oh my god, are you okay?" you ask softly, cupping his face with your hand and turning his head side to side to look for more injuries. Megumi slouches slightly to give you a better look, unwilling to swat you away as you mutter your concerns out loud. "Do you need anything? Water, or maybe some medicine. We should visit Shoko."

Silence ensues as the three of you await Megumi's response, but his eyes remain on you as you give him an expectant look.

"Mustard leaf," Inumaki's voice breaks the silence, and Megumi shakes his head lightly as he pulls away from you to look at his upperclassman. Inumaki's eyes are slightly crinkled, and Megumi can tell that Inumaki is smiling at the scene that had just played out in front of him.

"Oh my god, you're right," You say to Inumaki before turning back to Megumi. "What if you have a concussion?"

"I don't have a—"

"Salmon," Inumaki chimes in, cutting Megumi off as he nods along with you.

"You're right," you sigh, grabbing Megumi's hand in yours before turning around. "That blank stare was a little worrying. C'mon, we need to get you checked out."

Megumi shoots one last look at Inumaki and Panda, a little peeved off with the sudden turn of events. The only thing he's met with are the snickers of both second years, along with a thumbs up from Panda. Inumaki simply gives him a playful wink, sending him a wave as you drag him away.

three.

"You know, if you keep staring at them, they're going to think you're a creep," Nobara says, interrupting Megumi's thoughts as she plops down on the step next to him. He tries his best to ignore her, giving up when she leans over and plucks the book he was holding out of his grasp, tossing it to the side with a small huff.

"I was reading that," Megumi hisses, a scowl making its way onto his face as he leans over to try and grab it.

"No you weren't, you were holding it upside down" Nobara scoffs, ignoring his mildly horrified look as she pushes him back into his seat. "Now spill. Why do you keep staring at them?"

The large grin on Nobara's face lets Megumi know that she already knows why he's acting like this; she just wants to hear him admit it. He refuses to speak, leaning back on the steps they're sitting on and crossing his legs. He looks off to the side, grunting softly when Nobara begins to poke his cheek.

"Fushiguro! I'm talking to you, don't be rude," she whines, gasping when his hand comes up to envelope her face to try and push her away. She struggles against him, failing miserably and only stopping when you approach.

"I'm sorry, I need to pass through," you say, stifling a laugh as they freeze. The two of them scramble up from their seats when they realize they've been blocking the entire pathway, bowing their heads slightly in apology as you pass by. You nod in thanks, your lips twitching as you give them an amused look. You come to a stop when you notice the book lying on the ground, picking up before turning back to face Megumi.

"This is a good book!" you chirp, your eyes lighting up in recognition as you gently dust off the cover. You hold it out to Megumi, waiting for him to take it from your hand. "It's one of my favorites."

He stares at you for a few seconds, and you find yourself shifting your weight from one foot to another as you wait for him to take the book from you. Nobara springs into action when it becomes clear that Megumi isn't going to move, grabbing the book from you as she chuckles softly.

"It is a good book!" she agrees, smiling a little bit too widely as you nod in agreement. You look back at Megumi, opening your mouth to speak before pausing and turning around.

"Well I'll see you two later," you say, waving to the two of them before walking away. As soon as you're out of sight, Nobara smacks Megumi with the book in her hand, effectively breaking him out of his daze. He gives her a glare, huffing lightly when she shoves the book into his chest.

"You're pathetic," she mutters, walking off in the same direction you had. Megumi sighs before taking his seat once more and cracking open his book.

four.

"That's a really nasty bruise."

You're met with silence as you move through the infirmary, grabbing the first aid kit, before turning back to face Megumi. His eyes are still focused on the ground when you step closer to him, causing him to jolt as you let yourself settle in between his legs. He swallows harshly when your hand comes up to cup his cheek, tilting his face up towards you to get a better look at him.

"You need to start being more careful," you chide, using an alcohol pad to wipe at his face. You give him an apologetic look when he winces, and his eyes dart up to your face when you pull your hand away slightly.

"It's fine, you can continue," he says quietly, leaning into your palm when it returns to its previous spot. He watches the way you bite your lip in concern, your eyebrows furrowing as you gently brush his hair out of his face.

"You're injured too," he comments, his eyes tracing over the faint bruising on your jaw.

"I'm fine, I was with Toge," you retort, letting go of his face to grab some ointment.

"Toge?" Megumi asks absentmindedly, wondering when you had gotten on first-name basis with the second year. He tenses when you tilt his head back up again, the focus clear on your face as you do your best to gently apply the cool gel to his face.

"Yeah," you respond, pushing his hair back again to get better access to the gash on the crown of his head. You freeze for a moment when you catch his eye, shaking your head lightly before focusing on the injury. "I wasn't alone during the tournament but you were. You fought Kamo all on your own."

"I did," Megumi mutters, his eyes still on your face even when you pull back slightly. His lips twitch when he sees your mildly irritated look, speaking the first words that come to mind. "Were you worried about me?"

Megumi watches as your eyes widen briefly before you compose yourself, nodding softly as you reach for some band-aids. "You're pretty reckless, y'know? You can't blame me for being worried, especially after what happened with Todo."

You don't miss the way Megumi winces at your words, thinking about his confrontation with the older boy. He starts to turn his head away, only to be stopped when your other hand comes up to his cheeks to keep him in place. He holds his breath as you study him, feeling vulnerable under your intense gaze.

"Promise me," you finally say, breaking the silence. "Promise me you'll at least try to be more careful."

"I promise," Megumi murmurs, releasing the breath he had been holding. You nod in satisfaction before finally separating yourself from him, turning to put the first aid kit back in its place. Neither one of you notice that Shoko has been leaning against the doorframe the entire time, observing the two of you as you tended to his wounds.

She watches you flit around the space, putting things back in their proper places as Megumi watches. There's an awestruck look on his face as you talk about something random, trying to fill the silence as he mindlessly hums in agreement with whatever you're saying. It isn't until Shoko actually takes a step into the room that Megumi finally registers her presence, and she watches with thinly-veiled amusement as his cheeks flood with color.

A smirk pulls at her lips as she takes note his bandaged injuries, and she can't help the playful lilt that tinges her words as she finally speaks.

"I was told that Megumi had been injured and needed my help but I can see that you've been well taken care of."

"Shoko!" you yelp, whirling around and leaning against a table as you give her a flustered wave. "When did you get here?"

"A couple of minutes ago," Shoko confesses, schooling her features as she approaches Megumi. She studies him for a minute before turning back to you. "You did a really good job. He's free to go if he doesn't want me to use my technique on him."

"Well, I'll leave you two to discuss that," you say laughing nervously as you inch towards the door. "Bye Shoko! I'll see you later, Megumi!"

Shoko snorts when she sees the way Megumi tries to hide a smile at your use of his first name, shaking her head before slipping on a pair of gloves and prodding at the bruising on his jaw.

"Are you okay, kiddo?" she asks flatly, watching him closely for any signs of discomfort. He grumbles under his breath before pushing himself to his feet, nodding his head in response to Shoko's question.

"'m fine," he grunts, earning a skeptical look. He sighs after a few seconds, crossing his arms when Shoko doesn't back down. "I promise I'm okay. I don't need you to heal me. Can I go now?"

"Sure," Shoko concedes, stripping off her gloves and throwing them into the trash. "If you feel any pain or discomfort you know where to find me."

Megumi nods once before making his way towards the door, pausing in the doorframe to send Shoko a wary look.

"Don't tell Gojo anything," he warns lowly, shoulders tense as she shoots him a blank look.

"I won't."

Megumi gives her a thankful look before leaving the infirmary, and Shoko merely smiles to herself before whipping out her cell phone.

Gojo was going to have a field day when he heard about everything she had witnessed.

five.

"I still don't understand why we have to be here," Megumi grumbles, exasperation laced in his words as he trails after Gojo. Your so-called teacher had pulled you, Megumi, Yuuji, and Nobara out for a day in the city, claiming that he wanted to see how much all of you had improved. It wasn't until you had all arrived in the city that Gojo had admitted that he was only really testing Yuuji and Nobara, especially since the former had been missing for a while.

"We can go get food while they deal with the curses," you whisper, coming up beside Megumi and nudging him with your shoulder. He merely hums in response, trying to act unbothered as Nobara shoots him an amused look.

"Doubtful. We're probably here to act as backup," he whispers back, earning a muffled laugh from you.

The five of you come to a stop in the middle of an empty street, being met with the sight of a deceivingly cozy house. You shiver as a breeze blows through the street, shooting Yuuji a kind smile as he comes to a stop next to you.

"Oh, are you cold?" he asks, eyes wide with concern as he looks at you. "Here, you can have my jacket!"

You smile gratefully as he begins to unzip his hoodie, flinching when you hear a loud yell.

"Itadori! Get over here!"

"Just a minute!" Yuuji yells back, ignoring Gojo's call as he fiddles with his zipper.

"Now!" Nobara snaps, her foot tapping against the pavement impatiently as she beckons Yuuji over to her side.

"Why are you being so— oh!" Yuuji says, his eyes lighting up with some sort of realization before giving you an apologetic smile. "I'll be right back."

You nod in understanding, watching as Yuuji joins Gojo and Nobara a few meters away. You wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold, Yuuji's body no longer present to block the air.

"Here, you can have my sweater."

You turn your head at the familiar voice, being met with the sight of Megumi holding out his sweatshirt. You hesitate slightly before taking it from him, quickly slipping it on and giving him a blinding smile.

"Thanks, Fushiguro!" you chirp, unconsciously snuggling into the fabric before taking a seat on the curb. Megumi remains standing for a few minutes, sending one last look towards his classmates before taking a seat next to you. He lets his elbows rest on his knees, his chin sitting comfortably on his palms as he observes the house Yuuji and Nobara are currently approaching. He takes note of the fact that Gojo had chosen not to mention what grade the curses were, and he mentally prepares himself to fight just in case.

He lets his gaze drift back over to you when he realizes you haven't spoken even once since sitting down, the slight concern on his face melting when he sees you staring intensely at the ground in front of you. Feeling the weight of his stare, you glance up to meet his eyes, sticking your tongue out at him and giggling when he huffs in amusement. He watches as your gaze drifts back to the concrete in front of you before your eyes dart back to him, the back-and-forth motion continuing for a bit before he finally speaks.

"What are you looking at?"

You lean forward slightly, reaching for something on the ground before turning to Megumi with a smile.

"This," you say softly, holding out your hand. He looks down to see a flower, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looks back up at you.

"It's... pretty," he says, watching as twirl the flower between your fingers.

"Yeah, it is," you agree, giving him a shy smile. "It's the color of your eyes."

Your words cause Megumi's cheeks to burst with color, and clears his throat before he murmurs a soft thank you. You grin at his reaction before scooting closer to him, your elbow brushing against his and causing him to stiffen when you lean in slightly.

"You're welcome," you say quietly, raising your arm before pausing and giving him an uncertain look. "May I?"

Megumi nods silently, holding his breath as you lean in even closer to tuck the flower behind his ear. His eyes never leave your face as you busy yourself with the task at hand, softening when he notices the way your tongue peeks out from in between your lips in concentration as you do your best to position the flower.

There's a sparkle in your eyes that threaten to make his heart race, and Megumi finds himself wondering if you knew just how much of an effect you had on him. His eyes widen when your fingertips brush against his cheek, and you quickly draw your hand back down to your side as you take in the sight in front of you.

"It looks perfect," you finally say, your eyes never leaving his as you speak. There's a beat of silence before Megumi opens his mouth to respond, the words spilling out from his lips before he can stop them.

"I think you loo—"

"Hey! Lovebird! Get over here," Gojo shouts, his voice causing the two of you to scramble away from each other. Megumi closes his eyes for a second, mentally thanking Gojo for cutting off his statement as he gets to his feet. He turns to see Gojo wearing a big smile, seemingly satisfied with the reaction he had gotten from the two of them. "Hurry up! I think Yuuji and Nobara might need some help."

"Told you so," Megumi says, a smile on your face as you roll your eyes at his statement.

"Good luck, Fushiguro," you say, your quiet words drawing his attention to you. He looks down to see you giving him a thumbs up, and he simply smiles and nods before making his way over to Gojo. The older sorcerer's smile doesn't fade even as he approaches, and it only get wider when he holds out an arm to stop Megumi.

"Nice flower, it matches your eyes!" Gojo says slyly, plucking the bud from behind Megumi's ear and earning a scowl from him. "I'll take care of this for you. After all, you wouldn't want this to get ruined would you? Although I'm surprised it didn't spontaneously combust from how hard you were blushing."

Megumi gives Gojo one last scathing look before heading towards the entrance of the house, doing his best to ignore Gojo's laugh and focus on the mission at hand.

six.

You stop in your tracks when you hear a call of your name, the sound of Yuuji's voice bringing a small smile to your face as you turn around. Your smile only grows wider when you notice Megumi trailing behind him, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he looks down at the ground.

"Are you busy right now?" Yuuji asks, coming to a stop in front of you. You shake your head slowly, sending a glance at Megumi that Yuuji doesn't miss. "Fushiguro and I were about to get some food. Do you want to join us?"

"I'd love to," you utter, earning a wide grin from Yuuji. You snicker under your breath, his excitement reminding you of a puppy.

"Great! Then let's go! I've been wanting to check this place out for ages."

You trail behind Yuuji, throwing the occasional glance back at Megumi until you eventually slow down to walk beside him. The messy-haired boy shoots you a quick glance, looking away when he sees you giving him a curious look.

"What's up?" you ask, stepping closer to him and nudging his shoulder with yours. He shakes his head silently, raising his eyes to look at you as he steps closer to you to avoid crashing into somebody.

"Nothing," he says after a while, wondering if you would keep the conversation going. He's a little disappointed when you don't, but you also don't move away from him, instead choosing to call out your replies to whatever questions Yuuji asks as he walks ahead of the two of you.

"Oh, I almost forgot," you suddenly say, coming to a stop a few shops away from the restaurant Yuuji was heading towards. "I need to buy some stuff for Nobara, but you two go on ahead without me! I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Are you sure?" Megumi asks instantly, receiving a nod from you. He hesitates slightly, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile before waving him away. Yuuji gives you a sound of acknowledgment before tugging Megumi away, laughing quietly when he keeps looking over his shoulder in your direction.

"Come on," Yuuji says, opening the door for Megumi before stepping inside after him. "They'll be fine without your watchful gaze. Do you have any idea of what you're gonna get?"

"No," Megumi replies, taking a seat at an empty table and looking out the window. "I think I'll wait for them to get back before ordering."

Yuuji smiles at Megumi's words, forcing himself to look down at his phone in an attempt to act nonchalant. "So, how long have you had feelings for them?"

Megumi's eyes widen at Yuuji's words, and he finds himself mentally scolding himself for being too obvious with his feelings. He has to be, especially if Yuuji had been able to figure it out. He remains silent, letting his eyes drop down to the table.

"You should tell them," Yuuji says earnestly, all hints of teasing gone from his tone. His words still manage to catch Megumi off guard, and he glances at Yuuji to see him still looking down at his phone, the screen dark.

"No."

"I'm serious," Yuuji whines. "You should tell them. I think the two of you are perfect for each other."

"What exactly am I supposed to say?" Megumi asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat before attempting to make eye contact with Yuuji and sighing when the pink-haired boy doesn't look up. "I really like you and and I stare at you like a dumbass because I don't know how to tell you how I feel?"

Yuuji snorts at his words, opening his mouth to tease Megumi before being cut off.

"You like me?"

The two boys look up in a panic when they see you standing close to their table, a small bag clutched tightly in one of your hands. Yuuji gives Megumi an apologetic look that he chooses to ignore, knowing that the both of them had been too caught up in their conversation to notice you approaching.

"I'm gonna go order," Yuuji says quietly, sliding out of his seat and heading towards the counter. He turns back to give Megumi a thumbs up behind your back, nodding his head as he mouths the words 'go for it!'. Megumi turns his attention to you when you slide into the seat across from him, giving him a smile before picking up one of the menus on the table. An awkward silence settles upon the two of you, and Megumi can't help but notice the furtive glances you keep sending his way.

"So," you finally say, breaking the silence as you put the menu down. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours as you sigh softly. "You like me?"

Megumi hesitates, watching the way your eyebrows furrow slightly as you wait for his response.

"Yes," he finally says, looking back out the window to avoid your gaze. He stiffens when he hears you let out a relieved sigh, giggling softly before speaking.

"Well that's good," you breathe, causing Megumi to whip his head back around to look at you. He watches as you rummage through the bag you had been holding, pulling out a book before handing it to him. It was the sequel to the book he had been reading a couple of weeks ago, the one you had picked up when Nobara had tossed it aside. "I was hoping to give this to you at some point, and maybe even ask you out when I did so."

Megumi's cheeks warm as he smiles at you, neither one of you noticing the way Yuuji pumps his first into the air a few feet away.

+ one.

You let your eyes drift up from your phone and land on Megumi, who is currently lying next to you as he reads the book you had bought him. The two of you are lounging in your dorm, your back pressed up against the headboard while he lays down on your pillows.

His eyes are focused on the words he's reading, and you take the opportunity to study him quietly. His hair hangs messily like always, but you choose to hold back from running your hands through it in order to keep watching him. Your eyes trace the slope of his nose, trailing down to his lips before following his jawline back up his face and finally settling on his eyes. You sit there admiring him, thinking about how unfair it is for him to have such long lashes.

You bite back a gasp when his gaze suddenly snaps to you, and you quickly look back down at your phone in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. You can still feel Megumi's eyes on you, and you shift uneasily in your spot before shyly looking back up at him.

"What?" you ask, your cheeks burning as you try to play innocent.

"I was just wondering if you were done staring at me," Megumi says casually, a faint smile on his face as he looks back down at his book. You gape at him for a few seconds before responding.

"I was not staring!" you cry out indignantly, scrunching your nose when Megumi gives you a knowing look. "Besides, if my memory is correct, you got caught staring at me by literally everyone else!"

Megumi rolls his as he sits up, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you before shaking his head lightly.

"Besides," you continue, not giving him the chance to speak. "What's so wrong with staring at my boyfriend."

A red tint fills Megumi's cheeks at your words and he merely scoffs before turning the page. You rest your head on his shoulder, glancing down at the book and attempting to read along with him. When he fails to turn the page after a few minutes, you glance up, only to see him staring at you with a soft smile on his face. You smile back at him before leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and you watch as he tosses the book to the foot of your bed before cupping your face with both hands and pressing a kiss a to your lips.

You give him another soft peck before you pull away from him, your eyes fluttering open to see Megumi studying your face. There's a smug smile on his face as he takes in your dazed state, and he opens his mouth to comment on it before you beat him to the punch, your words causing his smile to drop as he groans.

"Now who's staring?"

reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

#fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #fushiguro imagine #megumi imagine #jjk fluff #megumi fluff #fushiguro megumi fluff #fushiguro fluff #fushiguro megumi

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luuuuucyscorner · 1 month

Text

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞- 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

Chapter One. Info: spider gets called up and put into the SLT. upon entering, he meets the new student: Y/n L/n and is immediately taken by her

Tags: 18+, swearing, groping

word count: 5582

gif by me

The semester started off normally enough, summer had just ended and it was time to start a new year of school. Spider's peaceful start was quickly interrupted by some random girl running through the courtyard yelling; "Oi! Theres a fully-gacked sex map in the old stairwell! It's called the Incest Map." In a blur all students were shoving their way into the stairwell trying to catch a peek at the Map. As Spider walked with Ant, attempting not to laugh at the current situation, his name was called over the loud speaker, "Will the following students please meet at classroom 5D," the principle lists a few names before saying "Spencer White". Spider groaned, “oh cunt.” As Ant next to him laughs, "Anthony Vaughn." At least he wouldn't be alone. “Oi, shits fucked, eh?” he says to his friend, “can’t imagine what kinda arvo it's gonna be.”

The two of them walk into class 5D and sit in the back, and as she walks in looking down, he calls out to Amerie; the girl who got him and twenty or so other students into this fucking mess, "Map Bitch! Map Bitch." he laughed noticing her miserable look. The teacher of the class, Ms. Obah, finally introduced herself before dubbing the class a sexual literacy class or SLT's, which quickly got spun into 'Sluts'. Spider and Ant start chanting "Sluts, Sluts, Sluts" before he's quickly cut off by the door slamming open and a new student stepping inside, he narrows his eyes…

A girl he had never seen before walks in, "uh hey? i'm not sure im meant to be here but i was called up? im new here, im Y/n L/n" the girl explained.

ms. Obah greeted her and motioned for her to sit down at the same table as spider and his mates. Leaning back in his seat, Spider smirks at the new addition to their little group. "Y/n L/n, huh? Well, Y/n, nice ta meet ya, the names spencer but my friends call me spider" he drawled, spewing more Aussie slang than usual. Crossing his arms, he gave her a once-over, grinning when she mentioned she wasn’t supposed to be there. "Well, looks like me and Ant here are gonna teach ya a thing or two bout rules today. Wanna play along, darlin'?" He winked, eyebrow raised suggestively. With a chuckle, he motions towards Amerie, snickering softly. "'S her fault we're here, dollface."

Y/n watches on, unimpressed. "god, so you're the class dickhead then?" she sasses.

"Oh, I ain't even close to bein' the biggest one around, love," Spider retorts with a cocky grin, leaning back in his chair. Seeing her stand up for herself only made him more interested. "But thanks for makin' me feel special, darling. That smile, though... How could anyone resist?" He leered at her playfully, crossing his arms over his chest. "Better start learnin', kiddo. Looks like yer in for a wild ride in 'SLT's.'" He chuckles, looking around at their fellow classmates before turning his attention back to her. "You're American, aren't ya?

Y/n rolls her eyes, "uh, no. its a British accent, you asshat"

Spider blinks, adjusting his gaze to study her for a moment. "British? Blimey, ya sound American tae me, love. Or Canadian, maybe?" He scratches the back of his head, tilting it to the side quizzically. "I dunno, mate. But yer right, I shouldn't judge a book by its cover, should I? Jus' a typical Aussie mistake." He grinned widely, clearly enjoying the banter. "Alright, Y/n, im sorry for taking the piss outta yer accent" he teases, noticing your expression.

"fuck off Spider we both know you'll be jacking off to my accent tonight" she winks as Ant and Dusty shove and make fun of Spider. Spider's cheeks flush a deep red. He glares at his friends before turning back to her, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement coloring his features. "Alright, alright. I'll admit it - I might've been thinking about it a bit. But yer can't blame me, doll. You've got a voice like honey." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, feigning innocence. "Just enjoy the view." Swallowing hard, he tries to recover his composure. "But seriously, welcome to our lovely little class. Just try not to break anything, yeah?"

"Well stop taking the piss out of my accent then" she reaches over and palms his crotch under the table when no one is looking to enforce what she said. Spider jolts in surprise, gasping quietly as your hand connected with his crotch. His face turns bright scarlet, but he somehow manages to maintain eye contact with you. "Fuck, love! Not exactly what I was expectin'," he stammers under his breath, trying to stifle his laughter. "But I think I'll survive." He clears his throat, attempting to regain control of the situation. "Listen, if it bothers you that much, I won't mention it again." he gives her a lopsided grin, still feeling the lingering effects of her touch. "Now, let's focus on this class" he adds, subtly adjusting himself under the table.

"deal" Y/n winks and turns her attention back to ms. Obah. Spider sits, watching you intently, his heart pounding slightly faster. He couldn't deny the attraction he felt, nor could he hide the satisfaction in his eyes. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he forces himself to pay attention to Ms. Obah's lecture. Still, his thoughts kept drifting back to your bold move and the thrill of it all. And despite the awkwardness, there was undeniably a sense of excitement that lingered between them. "Deal," he agrees softly, keeping an eye on you during the lesson. Little did he know, he was already hooked.

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euphoricimagination · 9 months

Text

Friends don’t look that way

Feat. Kenma, Osamu & Sakusa

Kenma

Kuroo has never seen Kenma this way before.

Kenma has always been quiet, enjoying the company of his games way more than any other person; yet he was always caring about anyone else perception of him, always noticing eyes on him. However, Kenma never looks back, never looks at anyone directly that he didn’t have to look at.

So when Kuroo saw his friend on the lunch table, looking in front of him every few minutes with an unusual look, he was confused.

Kenma usually spends his lunchtime playing, if it wasn’t for Kuroo he would even forget to eat, so it’s no wonder than the captain wants to know what is grabbing the attention of his best friend.

He followed Kenma’s gaze once he lift his eyes up, finding you laughing with your friends. He has seen you before, you were in the same class as Kenma and sat behind him. You also seemed to enjoy volleyball and gaming as much as his friend, as he has seen you in their volleyball matches wearing a well love Legend of Zelda hoodie. He looks at you again, you were hearing whatever your friend was telling you with a smile on your face, before he looks back at Kenma, his eyes shining in a very particular way

“Do you know her?” Kuroo asks his friend, making him come out of his small trance

“Yn? Yeah, she’s my classmate” he answers back again with his nonchalant expression

“I meant it as actually knowing her, talking to her” he insist, seeing a faint blush on his friend face

“Yeah, she’s nice”

“She has to be more than nice for you to be so unsubtle with your heart eyes for her”

“I’m not…looking at her like that” he mumbles with a mixture of annoyance and shyness, as he hides his face in the scarf around his neck. Kuroo smirks at his friend response, not believing anything that comes out of his mouth, especially when Kenma lifts his eyes towards you again only to find out that you were looking at him too. Kuroo laughs out loud now as the both of you blush, putting a hand on Kenma’s shoulder

“Well, I don’t think you’re the only one with heart eyes” he says encouraging only to receive a glare from Kenma, a useless glare considering how red he is. His friend is definitely in love.

Osamu

Osamu is not concentrating as he should be in this practice match. He knows it, Atsumu has pointed out, Kita also remind him that they were playing several times, and now even the coach is pointing it out, scolding him for not taking this practice match seriously.

But it’s not his fault, Osamu thinks to himself, how it’s he supposed to concentrate when you are in the bleachers watching the match alongside your friends? How is he supposed to not look at you when you look so cute being all excited every time they score a point?

However, he doesn’t really understand why he is so unable to focus. Normally when you want to impress someone you would try your hardest to be better than normal, trying to stand out for them to notice. So how come his brain decided to do the exact opposite? Not only he was failing his serves miserably, but also he has unable to stop looking at you, resulting in him pathetically failing at receiving some of the easiest serves.

“Oi” Atsumu calls him once the coach finished talking “What the hell is wrong with ya?! Ya suck!”

“Eh?” Osamu looks at him back “I don’t suck, maybe yer’re the problem, dontcha think?”

“Me?! Ya know damn well I ain’t the problem here!” Atsumu throws him a ball, however he can catch it quite easily “What are ya even looking at?!”

“I think I know” says Suna smirking, looking in your direction and making him look at you too. Atsumu also follows his brother gaze, noticing how Osamu’s eyes change slightly when you lock eyes with him “What is it Samu? You like- Oi, listen to me”

Osamu is listening to everything, however he can’t seem to process any words coming out of his friends mouth, only focusing on you…until he received a slap on the back of his head

“Oi, stop eyeing them like they’re a piece of snack, ya fucking weirdass, she ain’t food” Atsumu says this time. Weird? Was he being weird? Osamu doesn’t know if you find it weird or not, but he does know that he doesn’t like Atsumu calling him out like that

“The fuck? I don’t do that, I don’t know what yer’re talking about” he says defensively, a useless attempt, really

“Ya liar! Ya haven’t stop looking at her this whole time!” Atsumu says again “No wonder ya have no fans, yer’re a weirdo”

“I’m not! Shut ya trap, ya asshat!” he says, feeling a slight hotness in his face

“Whatever, I will not allow ya to be useless right now” Atsumu says simply, walking towards the fence where you were standing “Oi! Yn-chan! Will ya go out with Osamu later?!”

He screams at you, making you blush and look back at Osamu, who also has a red face. Despite being embarrassed, you nod your head, receiving a bunch lf teasing remarks from your friends as Atsumu comes back to the team

“What was that for?!” Osamu screams at his brother

“There, got ya a date with her. Now, if ya keep playing bad I’ll ask the coach to replace ya” Atsumu answers, clearly too focus on the match to notice that he help his brother to have a date with the girl he likes

Osamu scoff slightly annoyed, however, it fully sinks in once he saw your happy, blushed face while Suna pats his back. He has a date with you, and he was excited for that, but now he has a practice match to focus on

Sakusa

“So like…Do you like her or something?” he hears Komori say besides him, making him turn his head towards him, a confused expression on his face. Who was Komori talking about?

“Why would you think that? How could you think that?” Sakusa asks. He seriously doesn’t get from where his cousin gain that idea, it’s not like he was doing anything in particular

“Because you keep staring at her like you’re in love or something” Komori says, pointing with his head to where you were, sitting on the other side of the classroom. Oh

Oh.

Everything suddenly just… clicked into Sakusa’s head, he was looking at you this whole time, your presence so relaxing that he didn’t even notice that he was staring at you. But then again, you always have manage to change his behaviors a little.

He recalls meeting you for a group project in where the teachers assigned the groups, and since you two where the only ones doing the job, he ended up finding you pleasant to be with. You two started to do homework together, which turn into you befriending Komori too, which somehow turn into you sometimes joining them for lunch or going to cheer them on their practice.

Soon enough your presence went from pleasant to likeable, which lead into him going to you from time to time. He didn’t understood a part of the lesson? He demanded you explain it to him. He received way too many gifts by his annoying fans? You’re the only person he even offers some of them before throwing them away. He was annoyed or anxious by the loud room? He always tries to find you there to feel at ease, because you always seem to find a way to calm him down. Like now, that you felt his eyes on you, which made you smile warmly to him, making all his worries disappear.

Komori was right. He’s in love with you.

He doesn’t even answer his cousin before standing up and going to your sit, with you receiving him with a playful yet worried smile.

“My practice ends at 6.00 pm today, wait for me” He says, it wasn’t an order but also wasn’t a question

“Yeah, I’ve nothing to do, thanks for asking” you say sarcastically, making him roll his eyes “Sure, I’ll wait. What for?”

“You’ll know later” he says before going back to his -smirking- cousin. It took him long enough to realize his feelings for you, he wasn’t going to take any longer to confess.

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irisintheafterglow · 5 days

Text

he's the death you chose (you're in terrible danger)

summary: married life with husband!gojo means cleaning up bodies at 2am.

wc: 1k

cw/tags: mentions of violence, blood, and deaths (nothing graphic), mild angst/comfort with happy ending, some swearing, yes this is the albatross coded

note: honestly not sure where this came from! was just listening to ttpd and thought about what being married to gojo realistically would be like (aka always being targeted as his weakness that it becomes routine). hope you like it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

Wise men once said, “Don’t sleep with your windows open,” and you should have listened to them. If you had, there wouldn’t be three dead mercenaries in your living room, and another somewhere in your kitchen. There were five, originally, but you figured the last one was being hunted down a hallway as he tried to escape your building. The blood-spotted microwave’s clock reads 2:08 when you glance at it to grab cleaning supplies from the cupboard. 2:10 is when Satoru re-enters the apartment and kicks off his shoes.

“I called Ijichi; he’s sending over cleaners right now,” he says, carefully stepping around the blood and curse guts splattered on the floorboards. Stray drops of who knows what speckle the photos on the bookshelf and he wipes them with his sleeve, scowling. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“Yeah, there’d probably be less of a mess,” you admit, wiping down the kitchen island and guiding the crumbs and dust into the trash. “But they’d still be dead, so I guess it doesn’t really matter in the end.”

“You handled yourself pretty well for being out of the country for a few months,” he adds appreciatively, retrieving the carpet cleaner from under the sink and sprinkling it onto the living room floor. “I still think it’d be better if you lived on-campus, though.” He squints in the pale moonlight at the pile of abrasive powder and decides to dump a little bit more for good measure.

“I know–Hey, what’d I tell you about wasting the carpet cleaner? A little goes a long way, remember?” Satoru sets the tube down and puts his hands up in surrender, reaching back and tightening his blindfold before he approaches you in the kitchen. “I can hear your thoughts as they make their way to your mouth, dear.”

“Look, I know what you’re gonna say–”

“Don’t ask what you’re about to ask, then, if you already know the answer,” you interject with that lightning-quick wit he adored so much. You move to grab the broom from next to the fridge, but he gently catches your wrist and turns you to face him.

“You’d be safer there,” he continues and you pull your lips into a tight line.

“Only place I’m safe is wherever I'm with you, realistically.” You had a point. In any other circumstance, the sentiment would be sweet if it wasn’t horribly true. You’d heard time and time again from Satoru how he stared restlessly at the ceiling, anxious about what danger might be coming wherever you were. He theorizes that the higher-ups promoted you to spite him, to have you travel even more often than he was and visit more places across the globe than any seasoned sorcerer would be comfortable with. Phone calls weren’t enough to verify that you were safe; he had to see you, feel you, know you were alive. “This is, what, the second time this month? The first time was when I came back from Paris, right?”

“I don’t think that was this month. It might’ve been the last week of the month prior. Monaco, maybe?”

“Eh, same thing. They always come after me when I get back from Europe. You think they’re trying to catch me off guard or something?”

“I don’t know if we can predict a schedule with these guys, babe,” he grimaces. As much as he liked that you were making light of the situation, the churning in his gut about what could have happened if he didn’t come was too painful to ignore. “Your dad would kill me if he saw how much danger I put you in.”

“It’s a step up than sneaking me out of the third story of the house, I’ll admit,” you tease. How you could still find humor in times like these, he could never fathom. It’d taken months to convince your father to let Satoru court you, let alone marry you. To your family, he was an impediment, an obstacle, and, unfortunately, the love of your life. “Maybe even as bad as the food poisoning you got from that one place in Sendai.”

“I don’t think ‘in sickness and in health’ is supposed to apply to attempted assassinations. Food poisoning and sprained ankles, sure, but that other one toes the line a little too much.” The frequency of your life in danger was why he wanted you to live full-time on one of the Jujutsu Tech campuses and become a teacher, like him. Sure, a selfish part of him wanted you closer all the time, but he’d pick your safety over your proximity any day.

“How far are the cleaners?” You yawn, washing your hands at the sink and scanning for everything in your home that needs to be wiped or scrubbed.

“Ten minutes, tops. I can wait for them if you wanna go back to bed.” He knew you weren’t going to take him up on his offer. You were never able to sleep properly after attempts like this unless he was in the same room. “Though I know you won’t.”

“Isn’t it a little fucked up that we know how the rest of these nights usually go?” You chuckle, a soft, airy sound that takes some of the weight off of Satoru’s chest. You were truly sunlight incarnate and he was the darkest, unseen side of the moon.

“I’d say this is all my fault, honestly.” You look at him curiously and he shrugs. “I’m the one who made you fall in love with me, after all.”

“By that logic, I’m also partially to blame,” you point out, flashing him the ring on your left hand. The glow of cursed energy Satoru had embedded into the gemstones glows like Christmas lights in the darkness. The energy was more concentrated than your own body’s natural reserves, allowing him to pinpoint you immediately as long as you were wearing it. Danger and plans A through Z, and everything in between that came with marrying the strongest sorcerer in existence. “I can’t count the number of people who warned me about you.”

“Why didn’t you listen to them?”

“Because they’re not you,” you smile. “If you say that you’ll keep me safe, then I trust you to keep your word.” Sunlight incarnate, he thinks again, and God help anyone who tries to block you from him.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n

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redstarwriting · 1 year

Text

the clash | i. hey, ho! let’s go!

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 1.1k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie

a/n: it’s here 😎 no but fr, i proudly present a new series focusing on hobie brown, loml. i‘m trying to make it gn, so if you spot anything that needs fixing lemme know. i also did include a bit of a description of what you look like, but it’s mainly just to affirm the gothic spider-person look. and if you don’t like it, you can just pretend it isn’t there, my character designer brain just took a hold while explaining lol. enjoy y’all, there’s more where this came from 👀

now reading: i. hey, ho! let’s go!

next chapter: ii. time bomb

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In theory, the two of you should have been great friends. Best friends, even. He’s called Spider-Punk, and you’re called Spider-Goth, this alone made Miguel assume the two of you would get along better than all of the Peters. Unfortunately for Miguel, he was dead wrong. It was fine at first, a good introduction. “Spider-Punk, meet Spider-Goth,” Miguel says, motioning to the two of you. You simultaneously turn your heads towards him, “Don’t call me that.” You look at each other, seemingly sizing each other up after speaking the same words at the same time. In reality, the two of you were checking each other out, but no one needs to know that. “Fine. Hobie, meet (Y/n). (Y/n), meet Hobie,” Miguel says as Peter B. Parker hops next to him, excited to see the two of you interact. Your gaze first fell on his many piercings, which suited him very well. Almost as well as the spikes coming out of the shoulders of his tattered denim vest. “See somethin’ you like?” you hear his thick cockney accent, and you shrug. “The constant changing makes it difficult,” you say, causing him to shrug. “I hate consistency,” he says, staring you up and down. “I like the guitar,” you say, and he nods. “Everyone does.” You raise an eyebrow, and he takes in the way your heavy black eyeliner makes the expression look more exaggerated than it is. His eyes go down, taking in your outfit, which seems to be varying in different gothic styles, but overall is all black with silver studs, spikes, and charms sticking out everywhere. He notices the two of you share a liking for combat boots, and perhaps his favorite thing about you are the intricate and all black spider-web tattoos on your hands crawling their way up your arms. Hobie clicks his tongue. “Goth, eh?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem with you or something?”

“Feisty for a goth.”

“Instigative as all punks are.”

“What… is going on,’ Peter whispers to Miguel who shakes his head. “I thought they would be best friends?” Peter suggests as he places a binky in Mayday’s mouth. “I did too…” Miguel says, “Maybe this is just a way these types of alternative people talk?”

“Tal vez tengas razón… Hobie does love to be abrasive for no reason,” Miguel concludes, and Peter shrugs and they zone in on the two of you again. “...I don’t suppose there’s no reason we shouldn’t get along,” Hobie suggests, raising an eyebrow at you. “I agree. We probably think similar things… for the most part.”

“For the most part, huh?”

“Just that we have similar ideas, but most likely not the same,” you respond, and he crosses his arms, his guitar moving loosely behind his back. “Opinions on anarchy. Go.”

“It’s the ideal society—”

“Good start—”

“But completely unrealistic.”

“Excuse me?” Hobie looks at you with a glowering expression. “Humans are inherently assholes. Selfish, shitty, assholes. As amazing as it would be to have anarchy running rampant,” you shrug, “It’s unlikely it will ever happen.”

“You can’t actually believe that,” Hobie says, exasperated, “I mean you actually think that we can’t achieve it? You get enough people angry, and they rebel, they push for anarchy. I’ve seen it happen; I’ve led a rebellion.” You roll your eyes. “And do you live in a perfect anarchical society now?”

“Not yet, but we’re gettin’ there,” he clenches his teeth, and you sigh. “I admire your blatant idiocy disguised as an ambitious dream,” you say, and he huffs. “Would you just talk like a normal fuckin’ person and stop usin’ these dumbass words and shitty poetic language?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, or are you as deaf as your ideologies?” This time you scoff. “I don’t have the time to be berated by someone who lives in their own delusions to try and feel the slightest bit less angry at the world for giving him the shitty cards he was dealt.”

“And I don’t have time to listen to the rubbish ramblings of a miserable twat who digs desperately into their black hole of a heart to try and feel somethin’ when the truth is they don’t even know what they stand for,” he fires back. You glare at him. He glares at you. As if on cue you both flip each other off before you web away. Peter’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Well, that went horribly!”

Miguel punches him on the shoulder, resulting in a soft ‘ow’ and a tiny angry noise from Mayday. “What the hell was that Hobart?” Miguel nearly yells and Hobie snaps his head towards him. “Don’t call me that, neither! They don’t get it. It’s not enough to want to make a difference in the world. You need to take action. Goths love to sit on the sidelines and lament instead of playing the offensive,” Hobie explains, a deep frown on his face, “Watch out for them. They might not be able to do what it takes when it counts.” Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hobie, you’re supposed to show them around—”

“No, fuck that. I’m not goin’ anywhere near that gothic monstrosity,” Hobie says shaking his head in defiance. “We made a deal. You would show all the younger spider—”

“Yeah, well you can shove that deal up your fuckin’ ass, mate, I’m not doin’ shit for them!”

“Okay, okay, calm down there, man. Why don’t you just ask Gwen to help you? Maybe Miles and Pavitr too? That way you fulfill your promise, 'cause I know promises are important to you, and you won’t have to talk to them!” Peter reasons and Hobie looks over at him. He furrows his eyebrows. That would help the situation. And maybe he’d be able to help you see just how garbage your take was with Gwen on his side. “Fine. But I’m not doin’ it cause I need help, and I’m not doin’ it because you told me to. I’m doin’ it cause it’s the last thing that they’d want,” Hobie says, pointing at Peter while saying it, flipping Miguel off, and then webbing away. Peter looks at Miguel who is clenching his fists… and his jaw. “You seem stressed, but don’t worry about it. Not all of us need to like each other, I mean there’s so many there’s no possible way we all could and look at you, you hate Miles even though he’s awesome and—”

“Shut. Up. Peter,” Miguel growls, stalking away while mumbling various things in Spanish. Peter looks down at Mayday. “Tough crowd,” he says as she giggles up at him.

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『 tag list 』

@casmosmoon* @khaleesihavilliard @sparklyphantom @weyrrii*

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spider-punk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

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satoruhour · 10 months

Note

Loved the recent sukuna racer au 😭😭😭🩷🩷 can you elaborate a bit more on geto in the same racer au? 🥺🩷🩷🩷🩷

LLOROMANNIC

a/n: thx 4 this ask anon, this is rlly long bahaah i hope u enjoy! more context here. for recap, reader is in japan for an exchange programme.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: (fluff @ the start, smut comes in later) virginity loss, soft dom!geto, geto really really is obsessed w/ you, oral / cunnilingus (eats pussy like this! like i really don’t know what this position’s called), pet names, slight nipple play, clit stimulation, fingering, slight size kink, p -> v penetration, protected sex, n*sfw under the cut

no one really knows how the two of you became so close after that fateful meeting. they’re still wondering how you drew suguru in so effortlessly — some say you planned it, others say it was just by chance, but you’re not too sure yourself when all you can focus on is the racer beside you muttering into your skin a year after.

it was a(n almost) blissful six months when you first start out. that day he did keep his promise, winning the race without breaking a sweat and you cheer for geto unconsciously, catching the curious eyes of gojo and nanami who exchange looks — maybe you’d finally be the someone to capture geto’s heart.

geto made an effort to u-turn back to the corner he was parked in with the passenger side to you and he leans over to open it for you, but in return it just gathers more attention. “shall we go?” you try your best to escape the prying eyes of the tokyo crowd, and with a wave to the other two, geto is speeding off once you’ve gotten into the car.

“so… why’re you driving me there?”

“why cinnamoroll? berry and cherry’s a hundred times better.” he comments, and much to your dismay, he just answers your question with a less serious question than yours.

“why not?”

“well i mean…” was this man really about to lecture you on sanrio characters? his explanation is brief, but detailed, and you can’t help but stifle a laugh — although a snort still leaves you — just as he turns into the next carpark that you were supposed to go into instead and he’s asking what? like he didn’t just ramble about two sanrio demon characters.

“eh, it’s just cute that a scary, cool racer guy like you knows so much about sanrio.” you giggle when you watch him find an empty spot, and you’re trying to not let it affect you: the dragon that wraps around his bicep right to his forearm, the tense of his muscles, the addictive line of his jaw that trails all the way down to his collarbone—

you don’t notice your choice of words until geto uses that chance to fluster you instead.

“it’s just what?” he’s all up in your personal space like he was earlier before pulling away — a quiet, chilling tension that sends your hairs standing, left arm going behind your seat to park his car perfectly in the lot. his jawline is accentuated by how he turns behind to reverse (he hopes parking effortlessly would get you to like him more); suguru’s good at always making you want more, you realise that.

“cute.”

you’re mumbling and once he’s got the car in, his arm comes back round, a teasing hand pressed up to his ear. “what was that, hm?”

and maybe you were wrong to think he was being a decent person among the sneers and mockery of the crowd earlier, and you frown, thinking if you’d really want to entertain him. there’s a dilemma in you: what if he was just like the others, the loud, cocky ones who only ever cared about their cars? suguru looked just like the part, too, and if you weren’t careful, you’d probably end up being a trophy piece for him to bring around.

you just sigh. “thank you for driving me, geto-san.” it’s rigid as you say it, an inner turmoil within you; you hope it doesn’t show.

and he immediately regrets his silly question. he doesn’t blame you for standing your ground especially after the whole spectacle before the race started, watching in defeat as you slam the door to his Mazda a little harshly. hurriedly his eyes dart around the dashboard for paper, messily scribbling down an apology together with his number, along with some cash — he did promise to treat you to something in that cafe, but he was confident you’d want nothing to do with him; for now, anyway.

“hey, i’m uh— i’m sorry. it was out of line, enjoy the event, ’kay?” geto genuinely looked sorry, a sheepish smile spreading across his face and he hurries away before you can say anything. he’s lamenting over it upon returning, talking to gojo who could barely care and nanami who’s zoning out, about how you looked so innocent and stunning by simply sitting in his car.

and you? you’ve resorted to telling yourself how you’d only send a message to the mysterious number only after getting back home, after a shower, paper creased and unintelligible at some point that you almost typed in a ‘6’ in place of an ‘8’.

you’ve broken your own rule already once you’re stepping foot into your home because your finger immediately opens the empty chat, hovering over the button to send the message you’ve drafted two hours ago. your heart pounds and you feel dizzy — you never wanted to die so bad before.

suguru’s mood remains sour until later in the evening where an unknown number texts him with a faceless photo of a cup of cinnamoroll cappuccino and a crème brûlée with cinnamorll’s face on the caramelised sugar. he knows it’s you from the outfit you wore earlier and geto can’t help but smile, dwelling on what he could say to you that wouldn’t sound stupid.

god, geto was a racer. he was supposed to be cool and a natural at flirting, but he can’t believe he’s already deleted his drafted message for a fifth time, not noticing how you fluctuate between being online and off, too.

he doesn’t answer you like an idiot because while you’re nervous over the simple text, geto wants to tear his hair out — until he gets an idea; he’s off the bed in a minute, hastily grabbing his leather jacket and putting his hair into a bun.

eventually he manages to say something that sounds nonchalant.

[19:23, geto → UNKNOWN]: enjoy your cinnamoroll coffee?

suguru waits patiently when you type and stop, and type and stop, and he uses that time to sprint to his Mazda and to speed to a close-by 7-eleven. he was sure to find some sanrio merchandise in the store, face lighting up when he comes across a mediocre cinnamoroll keychain — and after a small battle with himself he also adds a duo berry and cherry keychain to the pile — he just needed to figure out when to give it to you.

a notification interrupts his daydreams.

[19:29, UNKNOWN → geto]: better without you here

he knows you’re joking with the way you send a sticker after.

[19:30, UNKNOWN → geto]: but thank you for the treat.

and for driving me

and for the number

geto chuckles, paying and leaving the store before he lets out a breath.

[19:31, geto → UNKNOWN]: want to come out for a drive? i really want to apologise for earlier

and every doubt ceases to exist, your contemplation ending right there, head snapping to your clock to look at the time. if you could get dressed fast enough—

[19:31, geto → UNKNOWN]: and also i just… want to get to know you

i’ll meet you at that same parking lot where we met. i’ll wait for you, okay?

—you could see the mysterious, brooding racer again. despite your outburst, you couldn’t deny the adrenaline you felt sitting in his car, bickering over which character was better, seeing the raise of his eyebrow on his attractive face. you don’t trust yourself to type anything else so you simply send a thumbs up emoji, jumping up to get ready in the darkening and freezing tokyo landscape.

shouting out an excuse, you bid goodbye to your parents and race out the door, white wisps of your hot breath appearing as you reach the car park in record time, seeing him nervously leaning against his Mazda. you smile. seems like you weren’t the only fidgety one.

“how’re you doin’?” geto clears his throat, but you just grin, getting into his passenger seat. the tips of your fingers tingle, you hoped the adrenaline would help you even a little.

“you called me out because you want to show off, right?” that loosens suguru a little, letting out a laugh at your unexpected comment.

“sure did.”

the next hours are spent speeding through the streets of shibuya, with you scared out of your mind at first. but when geto looks over to you with a blinding smile, you ease into his leather seats, slowly getting used to his sharp and precise turns.

geto is focused on drifting on specific turns, smile fading into a serious expression as he slams on the break and changes gear, steering the wheel sharply and you find yourself staring freely, a smile tugging on your lips at how so damn good he looked at the moment.

the night ends up with letting you try out the car for a bit, and even geto is surprised at himself because his RX-7 was something he cherished deeply, but to let someone try it was beyond him. he’s laughing with you, telling you that drift racers do not need to use turn signals and you burn in embarrassment, but other than that you have a good time, a quietness settling as he pulls up to your host home in japan.

“come to my next race?”

you bit your lip. you can’t lie, geto suguru is handsome as hell and you’re already hooked, unaware how the other wants you just as bad.

“sure thing, suguru.” the first name seems to catch him off-guard, even more so when you lean over the stick shift to peck his cheeks.

geto spends the next five minutes touching the skin where you kissed it, the loud rev of his engine reflecting exactly how he felt.

geto suguru was a goner.

every text, every call, every outfit (by god, geto did not care about what he wore, until he got with you) was for you. geto suguru was the gentlest with you, always asking if you’re okay with whatever he does. a hand on your waist, a peck to your cheek. he eases into the relationship, a plethora of night races lined up in his roster since he didn’t want you to miss any classes. nor could you underperform, because if your grades weren’t up to standard, you’d be sent home — your actual home back in your country. it came easy, though, apart from the sneaky makeout sessions in between geto telling you you used ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re’ in your essays.

“y’know you don’t have to wear it, right?” geto laughs, placing a kiss to your temple while your mouth twists at the shape of the miniskirt, gifted to you by his sister who had worn it in the same scene, too. your boyfriend only whistles when you place it to your front, hands tightening just a little around your waist when he sees just how short it is.

“so?” you emerge from the bathroom a little while later, his oversized shirt on you looking a bit weird with the miniskirt but his breath hitches when you pull the top up, admiring the way the miniskirt hugged your figure so well. “i’m not sure if i like it, su…”

“that’s cause you’ll need other sort of tops, baby,” geto simply smiles, beckoning you over with a hand. it’s criminal how easily you follow the gesture, moving to stand between his legs. his rough hands leave hot trails of fire along your thighs, inching dangerously close to your ass. “you’ll need,” an unsatisfactory kiss on the denim of your skirt, suguru frowns, “a crop top,” a kiss to your hip bone. “or maybe a halter,” a kiss to your other hip bone, “a tube top,” a kiss to your stomach, “or maybe even a cami?” the grin geto gives you is sickening sweet as he lists them off one by one, each kiss getting closer and closer, from your hands to your shoulders, until they finally reach your face and your heart is beating like you were in fucking seven minutes in heaven.

“how’d you know so much?” you’re twiddling with the hem of his oversized shirt.

geto exhales, placing a sweet kiss onto your lips, “when you’ve been racing underground for quite a bit… it’s easy to pick up on the fashion. but—” he melts all your worries away when he takes your cheeks in his hands, “but even if you weren’t dolled up, i’ll still be lookin’ at ya. you’d still be the prettiest girl in the room.”

“my prettiest girl.” suguru mumbles, getting lost in your lips again with a promise he’ll take you shopping the next day.

you ease into the miniskirts soon enough. though you don’t exactly abandon your old style, you also love the freedom of wearing teeny skirts with skin tight tops, legs and ass on display for all to see while geto simply smiles no matter what you wear. he thinks you look stunning either way.

“what do you think?” geto asks inwardly if you were really the same person who loved cinnamoroll, legs on display and safety shorts hugging your ass so well as you twirl around in your room — geto wasn’t opposed to just panties, either; he knows he can throw a decent punch. you’re donning the piece of apparel so well that he feels himself getting hard.

“i think my baby looks gorgeous,” suguru smiles, sauntering up to you before wrapping his bigger arms around your middle before coating your face and neck with kisses but your mind’s wandering into the gutter with how you can see both your figures in the mirror. you’re thinking just what it’ll be like to fog up the mirror with your shaky breaths as geto rams into you from behind, but you snap out of it before he notices, turning around in his embrace to land a kiss to his lips.

“a good luck kiss for my racer boy,” you giggle, hands getting lost in his hair. you’ve become more bold too, geto realises and he decides that maybe tonight he’ll have you before you leave to finish your university semester and his heart clenches at the thought of you leaving — six months is six months, after all. having to resort to facetimes and timezones and late night messages is the reality, but he’s willing to try.

if it’s you, he’ll try.

one thing led to the next; it was your miniskirt riding up your legs, it was the way you ran up to him after he wins, jumping into his arms knowing these were your last few days together. just like how you were obsessed with geto suguru, he was besotted with you.

“is this okay with you, (y/n)?” the way he says your name has you wishing he would do it over and over in that pleading voice of his — it’s just the first of many.

“you’ll be taking my first, suguru.” you mumble out as his lips trail from your jaw to neck, and it makes him freeze. maybe you shouldn’t hav—

“you want me to be your first?” geto asks breathlessly, like he’s been told he won the lottery. he couldn’t believe how you’ve been untouched this whole time, yet your sultry gazes and untamed hips say otherwise.

“you’re such a little minx, teasing me and shit, but you haven’t lost your virginity?” his fingers caress your cheek and you preen at his tone, leaning into his touch.

you hum and smile, “i never lose.” and you giggle when he laughs, capturing your lips in another kiss. the playful mood fades into the prior one, feeling the other get rougher with his kiss while his hands start to wander more.

“tell me to stop whenever and i’ll stop, okay, sweetheart?” you nod, squishing his face in your hands.

“i’ll be okay, su,” you grin before wrapping your legs around his pelvis, pulling him onto your needy cunt. he’s already hard, a dark spot forming at where his tip was. “i’ll be okay, especially when i fuck myself thinking it’s your cock.”

suguru’s jaw drops just a bit and he craves you even more by then, flipping up your skirt and pressing kisses along your thigh. he was determined to wipe the sick little grin off your face. he was determined to make you cum so hard you’d regret teasing him at all.

you hardly have any attitude for him once his tongue meets your pulsing clit and groans into your core, licking an experimental stripe up your folds. “better than your fingers?” suguru grins when he glances up and all he can see is your head thrown back, a subtle nod that’s got him back into feasting. he alternates between flicking your bud and sucking harshly, his calloused hands that you always admired around the steering wheel are now on your thighs, spreading them apart when you start to close them. by now your skirt’s soaked from how wet your pussy is, mewling and whining for your lover for more.

“you taste so fuckin’ good,” geto mumbles into your folds, giddy on the tangy sweetness of your juices that he has to reach down to squeeze his cock, “my girlfriend’s pussy tastes so good.”

“f-fuck… suguru don’t stop—” in the large bedroom, it’s filled with moans from you and the lewd sounds of your pussy, which escalate into a shriek when he’s suddenly pushing you up, weight transferred onto your shoulders and neck, not before making sure you have a pillow under you. “su—!”

“oh— ooh shit!” geto easily manhandles you as he props you up, your body bent uncomfortably while your hips continue to buck in his mouth and you aren’t sure where your legs go. it gives him better access to your cunt as he dips his tongue into your hole, nose nudging into your clit while you’re clutching onto his forearms for balance; his front supports you perfectly. geto’s onyx eyes bore into yours when he eats, moaning softly when he feels you clench around his tongue.

“you close?” he commits you to memory: how your toes curl and your stomach contracts. how your pussy flutters around his mouth and soft needy sighs turn into wanton moans. he feels so tense too, cock twitching in his underwear that it’s begging to be in you. “my baby’s g’nna cum, hm?”

“y-yes— ’m close mmf...” you can hardly manage a nod, moans escaping in between one worded sentences and you’re sure your legs are shaking from how good geto was giving it to you. with the hands that spread you out, one goes to your nipple to pinch it while the other plays with your clit, pressing and rubbing on it and a choked suguru leaves your lips.

“cum,” the one word has so much command over you, paired with the ministrations he was so skilled at that you’re clenching around air when you reach your high, euphoria crashing down on you with how you see white and your body feels tired already. “that’s my pretty girl, god, you’re cumming s’much.”

it takes awhile for you to come down from your orgasm, but despite your fatigue you already find yourself wanting more when you shoot geto a grin, heart fluttering at how he massages your thighs and bring you back down.

“you okay?” geto mumbles, pecking your knee softly, inwardly smiling at the way your legs still jolt and shake at your climax, “got my princess shakin’ and all.”

you giggle before you’re pulling him toward you, tasting yourself on his tongue as the kiss deepens, jumping a little when geto slips in a finger easily. you’re easily moaning into the kiss, reeling from just how one finger feels in you, slipping in so easily just how soaked your cunt was.

gotta prep you for me, ‘kay? he whispers against your lips before a second goes in and you have to break the kiss to whimper. relax, baby, suguru’s voice is so intoxicating that you’re doing the exact opposite. you’re so tight that geto has to take a moment, imagining what you’ll feel like around him, but it’s not long before you’re begging for more that he starts moving his fingers into your cunt.

they are soft, gentle on you that you’re already tugging on his waistband, swallowing geto’s chuckle and comment about just how eager you are. in that bedroom, you’ve gotten him on his knees just by existing, pussy still drooling and your body contorted in such sensuality that he’s already worshipping you unconsciously. you gasp a little when he finally removes his underwear, eyes fixated on the pretty dick he’s got in his hand, leaking so much pre-cum just from eating you out. he makes quick work to grab a condom out from his bedside drawer.

“i’ll make it fit. gotta relax, yeah?” he hums into your skin before he rolls the condom over his cock as you watch, impatient. along with some lube, he smears your juices around with his tip, relishing in how you squeeze his forearms.

and when geto suguru sinks into you for the first time, tip nudging past your folds and stretching you out at first, a long whine leaves you just as geto groans out because you’re so warm inside that it’s got him dizzy. your eyes try to flutter close but geto mumbles that he wants to see how good he makes you feel, body hovering over yours like it’s forbidden. but he knows if he sinks into you with the feel of your tits on him, he wouldn’t last.

“s’big, suguru— ah!” eyes struggling to stay open, your arms hang around his neck, the feel of the rubber in you not entirely pleasant but suguru hitting all your spots is enough to make up for it. you’re just dripping and dripping non-stop that it leaks right down to the sheets before the other bottoms out in you, a teasing grin on his face. “told ya it could fit.” the stretch is borderline painful, and like a good boyfriend, he waits for a few to get you accustomed.

you roll your eyes with a soft smile, taking deep breaths before you feel like you could handle him, “move, please…”

“gettin' to it, my love,” geto’s cock is so big you swear you can feel him in your stomach, mouth dropping open when he moves slowly, grunting at your clamping hole, “i don’t think i can last long, baby.”

you breathlessly laugh, “yeah, me e-either.” your back arches off the bed as suguru starts to find a pace, thighs already burning from the taut pull of his muscles, something he’s done unconsciously because of how divine your cunt felt. with a hand you’re rubbing at your clit, evident it’s your first time when your hips are already bucking in mini shockwaves, sucking in his length that it’s not long before you’re moving your pelvis to meet his.

there’s the squelching noises of your pussy and little pants leaving you, pussy already convulsing around him with the release of the twist in your stomach. you’re clenching as you cum hard on his cock and it drives the other crazy, the tightness of your entrance that restricts his movement that he settles for short thrusts just to orgasm, spilling heavy loads of cum into the condom. geto groans into thin air, hips stuttering and pulling out incase there’s a rip in the rubber. it’s obvious you’re still unfamiliar with each other’s body in such an intimate setting, stuttered apologies and cleared throats, but soon geto’s leaning down to lock lips with you to quell the first-time awkwardness.

“was that okay? are you hurt anywhere?” you shake your head with a smile.

“that was more than okay, suguru,” you’re sleepy from the race, from the late night, and it’s clear all you want is sleep. it’s clear when you melt into suguru’s embrace and his heart feels like it might beat out of his chest when you find his hand to twine your fingers together, with his other one rubbing your thigh affectionately.

geto feels that same feeling paired with a certain dread when two weeks later you’re kissing him goodbye at the airport, pink luggage in hand while your nose starts to redden a little. you always know what to say, slowly getting used to geto’s habits. a huff when he’s annoyed, or a quick furrow of his eyebrows when he’s distraught. “it’s not the end of the world, baby.”

suguru only pouts, hands caressing your sides just outside the departure gate. “i know, i just— six months?”

“you’ll survive,” you smile softly, brushing the bangs from his face, “you did it before me.”

“i know, but now that i’ve known you, you’re all i think about,” geto huffs, “i…”

there’s many more things he wants to say, how he’ll be sure to keep your things until you return, how thankful he is that you (willingly!) gave him an underwear of yours, how he struggles to breathe just seeing your name. he just hopes you’ll miss him just as much, but he restrains himself knowing your flight’s in an hour.

“you’re all i think about, too,” you mumble and swallow uncomfortably, ashamed to have tears already brimming at your eyes, “i’ll come right back after i finish the sem, alright?”

“i’ll hold you to that.” geto smiles, although it’s laced with a sadness, kissing you softly one last time and bearing himself for the countless texts and video calls to your foreign number. you both can taste the salt in your tears, sniffling like a lovesick fool at the immense feelings you have for this man.

love. you haven’t even said the words yet.

as the racer watches you pass through the departure doors, he gives one last glance to the cherry keychain hanging off your carry-on, giving a similar longing glance to the matching berry one on his bag.

geto leaves the airport before anyone can see the wetness in his eyes, too.

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