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satoruoo · 6 months

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Can I make a request? 🥹 Gojo being dumb, mistaking your period cravings, sickness and getting bloated as reader being pregnant 😂

✦°. JUMPSCARE - gojo satoru

"babe, you don't look too good. everything okay?"

satoru watches you closely as you look up from your phone. you're curled in an odd position on the couch, shifting your legs every few minutes in a weak attempt to soothe the pain bubbling just below your abdomen.

if you're being honest, the discomfort was relatively merciful with you today. the seizing, sharp waves of pain that usually rendered you immobile for a few agonizing seconds were duller, so it was bearable.

you hum, the sound seeming to alleviate satoru's worries by the way his shoulders loosen.

"i'm okay, toru," you assure him, smiling up at your unnecessarily tall boyfriend. "could use some fried chicken right now though."

he blinks, jeweled cerulean eyes brightening as the worry seeps out of him entirely. he straightens, raising a singular toned arm to salute you with a grin.

"stay right there, princess!"

you're about to ask what that means, but before you can, satoru disappears from sight. you huff a short laugh and return to the weather app on your phone. leave it up to your lover, gojo 'the strongest sorcerer' satoru to teleport to KFC to bring you, his beloved girlfriend, some fried chicken.

• . ☆° ✦. °.

satoru idly bounces on the balls of his feet, hands stuffed in his pockets as he waits in the ridiculously long queue for his order.

concerned by your strange actions recently, a part of him still feels anxious. your peculiar desire for fried chicken over the last few days has led him to worry, not to mention his fifth visit to KFC in four days.

when he really thinks about it, you'd complained multiple times this week about your nausea but you'd assured him you were fine. he didn't believe that for a minute, of course, and insisted he stay within 3 meters of you in case something happened.

weird.

satoru smiles as he takes his order from the worker, thanking her politely before turning to exit.

you'd whined about being bloated too, he often found your hand cradling your stomach as your face contorted in pain momentarily. he'd been at your side immediately, kissing your face while you breathed through the discomfort.

really weird.

he briskly makes his way out of the double doors, flashing a pearly white smile at a nice-looking pregnant lady as he leaves.

huh. pregnant.

his steps slow down.

satoru turns around again, ocean eyes fixated on the male who gently helps the woman up the steps with a smile that somehow says excited to be a father.

the world seems to stop turning for a second, the eight letters that spell pregnant lighting up like glowsticks in his head. pregnant. the word bounces around in his head, ricocheting off the bone and making a home for itself in the tissue of his brain.

being bloated. the nausea. the cravings.

there was no way. well, there was a way, he can name at least twelve separate occasions in which he'd had you sprawled out under him, moaning his name as he panted into your ear like a bitch in heat during the last month.

satoru genuinely thinks he's been reborn on the spot, a new kind of euphoria surfacing in his brain.

(until some stupid rat-ass kid slams into his legs and he's kicked back into reality.)

he doesn't think he's ever teleported faster in his life.

• . ☆° ✦. °.

when he gets home, you've relocated to the bed. you're lying on your front, swinging your legs in the air as you paint your nails a sky blue.

(one time you unintentionally painted your nails the same colour as satoru's eyes and he never shut the fuck up about it. you now unconsciously paint your nails that colour. satoru swoons over it at every chance he gets.)

you hear the door slam downstairs, signaling satoru's return. he'd taken a bit longer than usual, and you turn to face him as the bedroom door flies open.

"toru, baby, what have i told you about slamming doors? this is the third time you've.." you trail off, raising an eyebrow at your boyfriend who's heaving, presumably from running up the stairs.

"what the fuck is wrong with you-"

"baby!" satoru cries, throwing your precious fried chicken to the floor as he kneels next to the bed. he takes your non-painted hand and holds it close to his heart, ignoring your curses at him over the food.

"why didn't you tell me?!" he whines.

your face only twists in further confusion. what on earth was he talking about?

"huh? what're you-"

"there's no need to hide it, my love. i already know!"

you blink, propping yourself up on your elbows as you eye him suspiciously. you're aware of his tendency to be dramatic, but you'd never seen him like this before.

you cock your head to the side, "know what?"

"about the, y'know," he says, getting close to your ear and whispering, "the baby."

baby? what baby? as far as you were aware, the only baby in this household was the large man-child wailing about something or other at the side of the bed.

"did you hit your head or something?" you ask genuinely.

satoru has to resist melting into your hold when your hands come to cup his face, checking him over for some kind of injury or fever. you find evidence of neither, so you pull back, eyebrows furrowing.

"no! i'm talking about our baby."

your mouth falls open in surprise. did you get pregnant without knowing?? that was impossible, you were literally on your period. and if that was the case, the only person who could be pregnant was...

"toru...." you start seriously, face hardening, "are you pregnant?"

satoru chokes on his own saliva. him??? pregnant?????? his eyes widen and practically fall out of their sockets as you double over in laughter, clutching your stomach and pressing your face into the pillow. clearly, you find this entire situation fucking hilarious.

when your laughter finally subsides and satoru has physically put his eyes back where they belong, you speak again, "no but seriously babe, what are you talking about?"

he pouts, climbing into bed with you and pulling you on top of him. he runs his fingers gently up the skin of your arm, tracing shapes and patterns as he tries to find his words.

"aren't you pregnant?" he asks quietly. "y'know, with all the nausea and the bloating and the cravings?"

you smile into the crook of his neck, partly moved by his genuine thought process no matter how fucked up and wrong it was.

"no, toru, i'm just on my period." you answer into his skin.

"oh."

satoru feels positively stupid, feeling his cheeks burning. he was fully prepared to be a father, he'd also debated pulling out that engagement ring that he'd been putting off giving you for a while.

you bury yourself deeper into his hold, sighing happily as his strong arms pull you flush against him.

"is this your way of telling me you want kids?"

his muscles tense in response to the question. a yes then, it seemed.

"kids would be nice, i guess," satoru mumbles, trying to downplay the excitement simmering in his core. you're experienced though, so you see right through him.

you simply hum in response, opting to press a sweet kiss to the junction of his neck as an answer. he grins lazily, kissing the top of your head affectionately as your breaths even out, indicating your movement into dream land.

maybe, just maybe some part of satoru wanted kids, and maybe, just maybe, one day that'd happen.

(he gets sent on another errand when you wake up to get twice the amount of fried chicken because of his carelessness with the last batch.)

BONUS:

"i blame you for this."

"what!? this is not my fault! i mean yeah, i might have stuck my dick into you a couple times these past few weeks but still-"

"would the both of you get the fuck out?" shoko's voice interrupts as she hands you back the positive pregnancy test, "you two act like an old married couple."

"yeah well my husband over here has some weird psychic powers," you retort, flipping satoru off with a scowl, "because guess who's pregnant after he accused me of being pregnant a month ago!?"

he grins, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "i'm just so great that i have the ability to predict the future too."

"can you look into the future and see if you two ever get the fuck out?" shoko asks tiredly, sinking further into her chair.

satoru grins, kissing your cheek sweetly and laying his head on your shoulder, "nah, i can't see that happening."

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driaswrld · 7 months

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satosugu x reader . . .

the star paradox : a curated masterlist

⋆·˚ ༘ * “ how much they loved each other these three ”

synopsis : three bestfriends. sun, moon and star, come to realize that love comes in many forms, and sometimes, ends up being the only thing so easily divisible by three.

trope : friends to lovers

tag : tsr ⭐️

update status : paused (not a series, only a collection )

⋆·˚ ༘ * “ maybe things are best shared in odd numbers ”

photo album '05 — '07 :

city boys — grocery shopping in the summer of '06. should be easier.

what was i made for? — that summer, everything changed between you three.

apocalypse — you remind suguru that maybe the three of you weren't so alone in this world afterall.

ultraviolence — sometimes love isn't enough. it gets worse before it gets worse again, you three are sure.

i'm just — a morning talk gets a little heavy. but satoru still feels weightless with you and suguru around.

to be added.

photo album '08 — '12 :

cash in, cash out — the boys pick the kids up and satoru loses his wallet in a kfc drive thru.

to be added.

photo album '13 — '18 :

to be added.

hidden polaroid stash :

one night only — dancing with satoru and suguru gives you a funny wavy feeling.

lovers rock — you've never been kissed before and you're beginning to think there's a reason why.

apocalypse ( extended cut ! )

to be added.

pictures we never talk about :

(ii) the unconscious consciousness — satoru wonders if he can explain love to someone who's never felt it.

#tsr ⭐️#★ DRIASWRLD #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu x reader

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isawritesshit · 5 months

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The Color Blue - Prologue

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader, fluff, themes of forced/arranged marriage, hints of mental abuse, mentions of sex, mentions of menstrual cycle

Author's Note: As promised, the official start of my next Gojo series! Just for context, this is an AU of the JJK canon events (no KFC breakup, and as of now, no mention of Megumi). It is also inspired a little bit by my other Gojo series Someone. Other things I want to flag is that I do plan for there to be nsfw content in this series, as well as themes of physical and mental abuse. As of now, I am unsure how long this series will be. Updates will depend on my availability to write.

Word Count: ~2.4k

___________________________________________________________

People would say that if there was one thing that Gojo Satoru was not, it would be committed. Not in all ways, however. Satoru was very committed to his sorcery, to the protection of ordinary people and the balance of the their world and the jujutsu one. It was relationships that he struggled with. Yes, he had always had an authority problem, both growing up and even now, so his relationships with jujutsu elders and other clan leaders were never good to begin with, especially when he became a clan leader himself and took up the title as “The World’s Strongest Sorcerer”. However, his friends? He cared deeply for them, but he could never show them that, lest he risk the possibility of them getting hurt for that same reason. Lovers? Absolutely not. They would last a week at best, hence why his friends would say he had commitment issues.

But, what many people did not know was that Satoru was betrothed to be married, and if there was one thing that he could say that he was committed to, it was that.

And not just because he knew that the responsibility of upholding the Gojo Clan’s honor and survival was on his shoulders, but also for a reason that no one could have predicted.

The first time Satoru had seen his future bride, they were both young, too young to understand why each of their parents were sitting across from one another, or why the most important members of the Kamo Clan were staring him down when he was barely even five years old. But when his parents asked to see you, that’s when everything changed.

You were carried into the room by a caregiver and left in between the two families like you were some kind of meal. A veil-like mask covered the front of your face from the nose down, but Satoru could tell you were roughly his age. Your wide eyes looked about. First at your caregiver, who stepped out of the room with a bow, then to your parents, who didn’t even seem to notice you, then to his parents, and then finally to him, the only other child in the room.

Gojo Satoru didn’t know it at the time, but it was at that moment that he had fallen in love with you. That same day, it was agreed upon that the two of you would wed when he was 25 and shortly after you turned 24. That seemed like such a long time, but… Satoru decided that maybe he would try to speak to you when he saw you next.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. Both of your families kept each of you on a tight leash, and neither were inclined to meet with one another just because the Gojo heir wanted to see his bride. They were rival clans after all, with a long history of vendettas and alliances.

However, just because Satoru saw you once didn’t mean that he stopped thinking of you. Even as a pre-teen, he sounded out your name in his head, sometimes aloud when he was alone. Kamo (Y/N). It was one of the few things he knew about you, other than what your eyes looked like. He knew that those eyes had likely changed over the years since the first time he saw you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about them. About you.

There were a few other things Satoru knew about you. You were the only daughter of Arao Kamo, the Kamo Clan head. Not only that, you were his youngest child and had three older brothers, all of whom Satoru had never met before. He would take in what his parents would tell him about you, though it wasn’t much; only that you had a different cursed technique from the blood manipulation that ran strong in the Kamo line, and that you were naturally beautiful for your age.

But Satoru wanted to know more. He wanted to know what your interests were and if they were similar to his. He wanted to know more about your cursed technique and what kind of training you had received. He knew that you would receive some kinds of etiquette and liberal arts education, as was normal for daughters of the clans to do, but did you like any of those things? What foods do you like? How have you grown?

What did the rest of your face look like? That was the question that replayed constantly in his head after Satoru was notified that him and his parents were to meet with your family again to make some further updates to the arrangement. Maybe this would be his chance for him to finally speak with you, to get to know you.

But it was just the same as before. There was no caregiver to bring you in this time though, and no other Kamo representatives other than your mother and father, whom you sat beside.

Satoru remembered staring at you the whole time, taking you in. His parents didn’t lie. You were beautiful and he hadn’t even seen all of you, and you also carried yourself maturely for a young girl. Your eyes had changed, of course, more grown but still just as wide and lively as he remembered. Your face was no longer obscured by a mask. Instead, you held a delicate fan that matched the kimono you wore, covering your face as you listened intently while your parents spoke, but never speaking yourself.

You didn't look in his direction even once.

The meeting had concluded before he knew it had begun. His parents had needed confirmation of your fertility, since they were to be among the first to be notified when you started your cycle. However, in an offer that was a bit unexpected, your father had requested that the marriage date be moved up five years, to which his parents agreed. That part made Satoru ecstatic. Instead of waiting 12 years, he now would only have to wait seven.

With that, you bowed and departed behind your parents, swift and silent. Satoru tried not to look like he was running as he tried to catch another glimpse at you when his parents excused him, but when he peered out the nearest window that overlooked the front lawn where you had arrived, you were already gone.

And so, Satoru would go another seven years. Another seven years of thinking of you, dreaming of you, wondering what you looked like behind your fan and cosmetics. He had hoped to see you enrolled in the same class as him at Jujutsu Tech, though he knew for a fact that you most likely would not be. Your parents, more so your father, he realized, protected and sheltered you more than ever after that second meeting. He had expected you not to show up to that first day of school, but when that first day was over and you actually didn’t, a small part of his heart still sank.

Satoru did take some females to bed during the next seven years you spent apart, mostly out of curiosity as to what sex felt like, but also by persuasion of his friends. However, his friends would get confused as to why he would never allow those girls to stay the next morning, or why he would insist on wearing a condom even when they gave him permission to finish inside. He would give the excuse (thought it really was the truth) that he actually wasn’t that interested, or that he also wanted to protect against STDs (the latter was a great insult that had women storming out on him, to his relief). In reality, he wanted his first real time, his first enjoyable time, to be with you. Even if he was allowed to take on any amounts of lovers he wanted both in marriage and out of it, he felt guilty knowing that you had to save yourself for him. So, in a way, he was saving himself for you too.

As the years came closer and closer, he began to think of you more and tried to subtly gather more information on you, to little avail. He knew that this pining and longing could be considered childish, but he didn’t care. Was it wrong to want to come to love, to already be in love, with the person he was to spend the rest of his life and create a family with? Satoru certainly didn’t think so.

However, that didn’t mean he was without restraint. After his parents had passed and the mantle of the Gojo Clan leader was given to him, he didn’t try or demand to see you. After all, the two of you could still be considered strangers. Hell that is what you were, he had to remind himself. He figured it would be best to keep you with your family and not disturb your current life, especially since you would be seeing your family less once you came to live with him (but also because he didn’t want you to see him as some obsessed maniac). He decided he would be patient and wait, which would make your first real meeting with him all the more sweeter.

Those seven years passed by too fast, he realized as he stood in the center of a magnificent shrine in what could have been the most spectacular and slightly uncomfortable outfit he had ever worn. Your family surrounded him on almost all sides as they awaited your arrival at sunset. Your parents and your brothers with their wives sat off to Satoru's right, and he could feel their eyes on him the entire hour that he stood there in a calm panic. After what seemed like an eternity, your headpiece peaked slowly over the hill as you ascended the path to the shrine. He held his breath.

He noticed your eyes again first.

They were downcast, melancholy, almost near lifeless. Not anywhere the lively pools of color he remembered and saw so often in his dreams. Your blank expression was such a contrast to the splendor of your being. Indeed, he thought that he was being pledged to a goddess, the way your updone hair and headpiece played in the golden sunlight, the way the whites, golds, and reds of your wedding kimono and wraps made you look like a princess, and the way your face, your whole face, looked like it had been extracted from a star.

To put simply, you were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen.

Finally, you found your place beside him, your hands clasped in the folds of your long sleeves. It took you standing this close for Satoru to realize how much smaller you were than him, though he quickly discerned how much your face and demeanor had shaped into womanhood since he last saw you. He would catch glimpses of you when he could throughout the ceremony, taking in more of your features that you had laid out for him. The curves of your face, the shade and suppleness of your skin, delicateness of your hands... His heart was beating so rapidly, hoping that you would look back at him at least once.

But you never did, even when you presented one another with ceremonial wine, or when you took his arm to leave the shrine for the reception dinner that was filled to the brim with Kamo Clan members and other officials. As soon as you both entered that reception, your fan was over your face. You didn’t say a word to him the whole time, so he never said anything to you.

A cold sweat had laid itself over Satoru as you said goodbye to your family members. It wasn’t the type of goodbye that he would expect a family to give to their only daughter. There was no affection, no emotion shown, as if leaving your family was merely another ceremony. And then you turned back to him, eyes still looking down of course, and got into his car without a word.

Satoru could tell that something was wrong and off about you. Sure, you had carried yourself gracefully throughout the entire evening. Every movement you had made between walking and eating and sitting was done to absolute perfection. Maybe it was those monotone movements that should have been his first sign. No, it wasn’t that. It had to have been your eyes. Why were they always so bleak? Why did you never look up at him or make eye contact with him or speak to him? What had happened to you since the last time he saw you?

At least your fan wasn’t up. That he could be thankful for. Satoru sighed. He couldn’t help but feel like the happiest day of his life, the one where he finally got to be with the girl he had loved for 15 years, was the saddest day of your own. He wanted to ask about it so bad, now that he had you alone, but he didn’t. He would just look at you every so often as you watched the Tokyo scenery pass by through the car window. Maybe this was your way of taking everything in, and he didn’t want to disrupt that. He trusted that you would talk when you were ready.

You remained silent as the car stopped and he walked you up the stairs to the front door of his home estate, one of the many under the Gojo name. Your new home. In a perfect world, in what he had imagined previously, you would have been smiling and excited as he picked you up to walk you through the doorway. In that world, you would have hugged and kissed him as he twirled you around and around in your own private celebration.

The door closing behind him brought him back to reality. You now stood in the center of his grand foyer, eyeing the dark polished wood and rich splendor of your new dwelling place. The space was only illuminated by shaded lamps and a dim glass chandelier above the grand staircase. A new couch, your couch, was against one wall, one of many of your belongings that had been moved in a week ago. Satoru decided to sit on that couch while you stood in the center of the room, looking down, not moving.

Satoru couldn’t take this anymore. It was like you treated the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world. As if he, your new husband, wasn’t sitting ten feet away from you. He even considered the possibility of you being deaf or mute for a moment. No, he didn’t know what to do, other than speak to you. But what to say? Are you feeling okay? Are you happy? Sad? Were your clothes uncomfortable? How come you didn’t speak or look at him? At anyone? Was it something you were afraid of? Were you afraid of…

That had to be it.

“Are you afraid of me?”

#isawritesshit #jjk #jjk smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #female reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo #anime #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #arranged marriage #forced marriage #someone #the hoes gonna love this

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doobea · 6 months

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✰⋆⁺★ WE KEEP THIS LOVE IN A PHOTOGRAPH ─ CHOSO KAMO

synopsis: you're serious about getting an A for your photography class. so serious that you end up fake dating your best friend. and, well, it gets out of hand.

contents: no curse AU, gn!reader, sfw, fluff, mr ed scares me but his songs are corny bops, friends to lovers + fake dating, choso has been secretly pinning but waits for you to make first move hehe, a satosugu kfc joke thrown in here, i always make my readers a stem major but they're an artsy major here, i feel like choso will always be some sort of chem major in my stories because it just works???, kinda PROOF'D, i finished writing this at 4am... word count: 3.8K (crazy ik) a/n: i love him, i love him, i love him sm *explodes* songs related to this fic: out of my league by fitz and the tantrums + photograph by ed sheeran

The best part about majoring in photography is that you’ve enjoyed every single project you’re given. This year, your professor explained that she wanted all of her students’ projects to always follow a specific theme — happiness, sadness, anger, etc. And, throughout the year, you’ve gotten nothing but A’s on all of them. It’s something you’re proud about, something that you didn’t hesitate to tell your best friend Choso when he had asked about it the first time around.

However, this straight A streak might soon come to a stop as the end of the semester wraps up. Your professor had just gotten engaged a few weeks ago and today's the first time she’s returning back to classes from her honeymoon, which she hasn’t stopped gloating over. She’s happy and you’re happy for her, you really are, but the themes of the projects for this class usually revolves around what she’s feeling and, unfortunately for you, the last theme just happens to be—

“Love!” your professor writes the word in big pink letters on the chalkboard and you immediately hear half of the class cheering and half of them groaning. Safe to say, you’re part of the other half.

“Oh, c’mon guys,” she frowns before pointing to her diamond engagement ring. “Love is amazing, it’s beautiful, it’s everlasting—”

“Some of us are single, you know?” one student calls out, several others joining in right after. “What if we don’t have a partner?”

It’s a valid point. This project will be a piece of cake for anyone in a relationship. Half of the class will probably submit a folder with selfies with their partners. And, given that your professor is in a particular good mood for this assignment, it’ll be an easy A. You, on the other hand, have nothing to submit because you’re not dating anyone. If somehow your professor suggests taking photos of your crushes, then that’ll be really fucking weird.

“You don’t have to be in a relationship for this project to work,” she explains with a smile. “For example, you could always submit pictures of your crushes.”

Fuck that.

“Kinda borderline stalkerish,” your thoughts slip out quite audibly.

Other students around you quickly agree while the other half of the class is arguing to keep the theme. Your professor opens her mouth to protest but only ends up shutting it again.

“Okay,” she laughs nervously before clapping her hands together in an attempt to calm everyone down. “If anyone would like a modification to this assignment, just send me an email by the end of the day and I’ll make a slight adjustment.” she says seriously.

That seems to work as some of your classmates are already typing away on their laptops. You’re tempted to join the list, not out of frustration of being single, but rather because you’re not sure if getting an A is possible this time. You’re wondering if you should even bother asking Choso to be your little guinea pig, but that would probably be asking a lot from someone who already has a lot on their plate. Plus, it would be really weird to actually ask your crush to be your pretend boyfriend.

“How was class?”

“Fine.”

Choso cocks a brow as he slides into the dining booth across from you. He has a brightly assorted platter consisting of various vegetables and a fat salmon filet. He’s been lecturing to you about healthy eating habits a week ago after catching his half-brother downing a bunch of fried foods and burgers. What a health nut. Which is why he splits his sides of vegetables and adds some on your sparse plate when he sees you have nothing but a lonely scoop of pasta and fries.

“No, seriously, tell me what’s wrong,” and he gives you that look where you know you can’t make up an excuse out of it.

You gracefully jab your fork at some of the oven roasted carrots he placed down, chewing and swallowing them in a way that made it seem like they kidnapped your entire family. And, fuck, they taste really good.

“My professor told us about the final project today,” you start, eyes focusing only on your plate and avoiding your best friend at all costs.

“Yeah?” Choso slices a piece of the salmon off and plates it on top of your pasta. “What about it?”

You briefly frown at the action, feeling your cheeks burn up shamelessly because why does he have to be so attentive and perfect?

“The theme is ‘Love’ and… well, I don’t really have anyone.” you cringe, poking at the salmon until it shreds apart.

Your friend goes silent, making a low humming sound as if deep in thought. After some pauses, Choso speaks up, “What about crushes? Or celebrities?”

Your eyes immediately flick to his face at the word ‘crush’ but you steel yourself before your emotions betray you. You begin coughing into your fist, pretending to be choking on a piece of noodle before downing your glass of water.

“That’ll be weird, dude. I can’t just take a photo of my crush and I feel like celebrities would just be a shitty cop out.” Sadly, you’re quite the model student in your major, and you’re not going to half-ass a project just because it’ll still give you a passing grade.

“So, what’s your plan?” Choso asks genuinely.

You purse your lips together, shrinking back into your seat, gaze now downcast again. “I’m not sure… I’ve been doing really well in that class and, well, it would suck seeing a C on this assignment after all the hard work I’ve done.” you answer honestly.

He’s silent again and you can feel his foot tapping against yours underneath the table. Choso doesn’t show emotion easily on his face unless provoked, but you can tell he’s really focused on finding some sort of solution because he’s chewing the insides of his cheeks, brows slightly creased under his bangs, and the tattoo on his nose is slightly scrunched up. You probably think he looks the same when he’s taking his exams and, for some reason, it makes you kinda happy that he’s putting this much effort into this silly dilemma. Though, makes you also feel slightly guilty, too.

“Hey,” you put up your hands in defeat and laugh. “It’s alright, Cho. Unless you volunteer to be my fake boyfriend and I take cheesy selfies with you, I don’t think you gotta do anything for me.”

“No, I can do that.”

You go into a coughing fit again. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Well,” this time Choso looks slightly flustered, hand rubbing the back of his neck and the other drumming away on the tabletop. “If that gets you an A, then I’ll do it for you. If, you know, you’re okay with that?” When you don’t give him an immediate answer, Choso waves his hands dismissively in the air, shaking his head, “Actually, never mind, it’s a dumb idea.”

No, it’s a genius idea. An idea that you thought only existed in your fantasies. And, now, you can’t stop thinking about actually doing it. “We can do that,” you say quietly, swallowing a heavy lump. “A few sappy photoshoots and then we call it, yeah?”

Choso nods slowly. “Anything for that A, right?”

“Right,” you echo back.

The first photo shoot occurs pretty soon after the proposal. Choso had suggested that a dinner date would be a good start and he just happened to make a quick reservation at Kentucky Fried de Chicken, or KFC for short. He’s heard good reviews from his classmate Suguru prior and texted you its details.

Business casual, ambient lighting, and live jazz music. You’re starting to wonder if he’s taking this more seriously than you are.

The fancy restaurant is way fancier than you originally anticipated. It’s the type of fancy that only the richest of the rich would go to, definitely not where a bunch of college students like yourselves would hang around in. Still, it’s impressive that Choso managed to find a spot last minute. You hope to order just a mini appetizer to split and pray that they don’t charge for a glass of water like some places do.

“Fuck,” your eyes feel like they’re about to jump out when you breeze over the menu. “How do people justify these prices?”

Choso stifles a groan of his own, probably thinking about losing a week’s worth of pay to a side he can’t even pronounce. “Nepo babies,” he answers bitterly.

“Ugh, Suguru probably made Satoru pay for everything…” you mumbled. “Not that he would mind, I guess. He’s practically the definition of old money.”

“Sorry, next time I’ll pick somewhere less… flashy,” Choso frowns, seemingly disappointed in himself.

You feel a wave of guilt hit again. Shit, you didn’t mean to make him feel bad or poor on this pretend date. Hell, you can barely afford student housing but you would probably spend the last of your money in your bank account to treat Choso out. You’re under the delusion that he’s doing that right now. But, if anything, you should probably cover for most of it because it’s your project, not his.

You lightly kick his feet, careful enough to not scuff his only pair of loafers. “No, I’m sorry. This,” you motion to the hanging chandelier above the table and towards the live band across the room. “This is perfect, Choso. I’m gonna be jealous of your future partner.” you say fondly but also exasperated.

This makes him tense up, and you’re wondering if somehow he does have someone in mind. You’re about to ask, but the waiter swings by with two glasses of lemon water and a side of complementary towels. When the waiter starts asking for your orders and you respond with ‘just the broccolini’, he gives you an eye roll and scribbles the dish down with most likely a complaint added to it.

“Budget tight, I see.” the staff comments before moving to a busier table of actual business men.

You stick out a tongue once he’s out of sight. “Budget tight?” you mock his tone and Choso laughs from across. “Dude, the broccolini costs as much as a full tank of gas in this economy and he wants to complain about the size of our wallets?”

“Half of a tank of gas,” Choso corrects and waves his wallet around. “You’re my date for tonight, I think it’s fair that I pay.”

Your cheeks flush at his words and you’re glad that it’s dark otherwise Choso would probably think you’re having a fever right now. You swallow thickly, “Let me pay, you already cover for Yuuji’s groceries.”

“How about I pay for this and you can cover for the next photo shoot?” Well, you can’t really argue with that logic, as much as you do want to.

“I, ugh, okay fine,” and to lighten up the mood, you add, “As your date, it’s your job to spoil me tonight.”

Choso laughs a little, seemingly satisfied by your answer. “Yeah, I know.”

The broccolini ends up tasting subpar. But you both knew that, afterall, you couldn’t afford any of the entrees on the menu without going into debt. You split half of the dish, which really isn’t that much to begin with — maybe like three pieces for each person. You’ve seen Choso eat before, you practically have lunch and dinner with him almost every single day, but something about this feels entirely different.

He’s more careful, using the comically gold plated silverware to cut into the dish and making sure he doesn’t make a mess. There’s a certain softness in his eyes when he looks up, asking if the food is okay, if it’s too salty and if he should order more. Obviously, you say no, because you’re not the type to take advantage of his kindness, no matter how much he persists. When you manage to get a bit of sauce on your cheeks, he subconsciously reaches over and swipes it away with his thumb, only then do you smell his rich cologne and see that he’s freshly shaven in the face. It makes your dumb heart do even dumber flips until you remind yourself that it’s just for a class project.

The rest of the 'date' goes surprisingly well. Of course it does – you’re with your best friend, and the topic of fake dating doesn’t come up again in the night. You both end up making stupid games with each other about inventing fake backstories for all the rich old people in the restaurant, and you both have to bite down on your hands from laughing too loud.

It feels like a normal hangout but, in your mind, it’s so much more.

After another futile attempt to fight for the bill, Choso wins, and you both start leaving. You’re lagging behind him, hands fiddling on your camera settings as you look through the few photos you manage to take during the meal. The dim lighting makes Choso look moodier than usual, but the images still feel stiff and doesn’t really capture the whole ‘love’ theme.

You only look up again when Choso tugs on your sleeves, dragging you gently out the revolving doors and finally into the cool, night air, and you can’t help but gasp.

Choso blinks and his hands fly to his face, rubbing around for any traces of green florets. “Is there something on my face?”

“Don’t move,” you angle your camera, getting down to one knee and making sure the moonlight is shining directly at his sides because he looks absolutely ethereal right now.

The camera releases its shutters several times, taking at least ten photos in case one of them ends up looking bad, which is practically impossible because it’s Choso — but you’re not going to tell him that. Satisfied with the outcome, you rush up to him, bumping into his shoulder, and eagerly present the finished results.

“One of these is definitely going into the project,” you huff out with pride and Choso nods besides you.

“I’m not usually the type to have photos of myself but these are good,” he agrees. “Mind sending a few over?”

“Yeah,” you give him a soft smile and laugh.

You decide to save the first one for your portfolio and leave the other nine for your memories.

The second photo shoot ends up being domestic themed. Which is way better than paying for an overpriced meal.

It’s the weekend and also your monthly movie night marathon with Choso, so both of you are currently laying on either end of the couch in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and sweats. You decide, in order to fit the theme, that the perfect movie series to put on is the After series.

“Did you know that this first started out as a One Direction fanfic?” you huddle your knees close to your chest, eyes practically glued to the screen as the introduction plays.

“Is that why the reviews are bad?” he jabs.

Your eyes widen, scooting close to his side and pinching his arm as punishment for looking up the movie prior. “Hey, you’re supposed to go into this blind.”

“You’ve already read it though,” Choso counters and nudges you back.

“Yeah, and you haven’t,” you roll your eyes and somehow neither of you comment how close your bodies are.

You understand why they have to change the names of the characters due to copyright laws but you can’t help but to cringe at the replacement names. Harry is now Hardin, Zyan is now Zed, and Liam is now Landon. And the acting? Pretty bad. Possibly even worse compared to the Sharknado marathon you both had last month.

“That’s,” you pull out your fingers to count, “like the fifth sex scene within the past hour.”

In the middle of it, when Choso is pressed up against you, you decide it’s picture time. You raise the camera to fit you both, and throw up a peace sign, because why not? It’ll make a cute photo.

Or so you think until impulsively, Choso leans down and plants a chaste kiss on your head.

The photo ends up looking comically cute, with his eyes closed and your surprised look, but you're pretty much trying to keep yourself together from exploding on the spot.

“Sorry,” he pulls back, and there’s a heavy blush running across his cheeks as he says, “I thought it would look good and fit the theme.”

“R-Right,” you sharply inhale a breath as you wordlessly lean back into his touch, continuing the film without bringing up the kiss again.

When the third film starts playing, Choso ends up falling asleep on your shoulder, and you take it upon yourself to steal yourself a kiss on his forehead, somehow convincing yourself it’s for the project without even taking a photo.

“Have you ever, I dunno, thought about the fact that he likes you back?” Nobara asks bluntly during one particular evening at the library.

“Shh!” You press a finger on her lips, ignoring her muffled whines as you try to control the rapid beating from your chest. “Not so loud!”

Nobara sighs and pulls back, pen gliding across her notebook and draws a shitty version of you and Choso in the middle of the page. “This is you, and this is him,” she points at the figures before doodling hearts above. “This is you and him from everyone’s point of view—so disgustingly in love that it makes all of us physically vomit sometimes,” she says this in the nicest way possible.

“Dude,” you frown and hide your face behind a textbook, fearing that other students would overhear. “He doesn’t like me like that. We’ve been friends since forever and I feel like if we make a move on each other then our dynamic will be fucked.”

She blinks, unfazed by your frenzied state, and sighs again. “Keep telling yourself that.” Nobara rips out the doodle and slides it across the desk to you. You begrudgingly accept it, shoving it in your bag. “When are you guys meeting up? You have one more photo shoot, right?”

“Later tonight, in his dorm,” you mumble shyly, feeling yourself growing smaller at that fact.

Nobara snorts. “A sex photo shoot?”

“No!” and you slap a hand over your mouth once several students hush you. “No.” you repeat, softer this time.

She laughs and doesn’t push the conversation any further. “Mhm, okay, okay.”

A few hours later and you're browsing around in his dorm room, trying to understand some of his organic chemistry notes but all it does is makes your brain hurt.

“I don’t get how you’re able to do this,” you plop down on his bed, staring hard at the back of Choso’s head as he pulls out an earbud, chuckling at your frustration.

“I can teach you,” he offers, to which you immediately decline. “Or not, that’s cool, too.”

It bothers you a little of how normal everything is. You’ve definitely moved on from the kiss. Definitely. Not like you replayed it every day of your life for the past week. Not at all. Completely moved on. Yeah. Maybe Choso’s doing the same thing? Or, maybe he’s completely engrossed in his studies and you’re just a sick, sick friend who’s using your best friend? Yeah, maybe that’s it.

You clear your throat after a few beats in silence. “What did you have in mind?”

Choso hums in thought before shrugging. “Maybe capture something personal in my dorm? I think that’ll work.” Then, he gets up and excuses himself to the bathroom. “If you’re hungry, I have some snacks in my drawers. Be back in a second.”

When the door shuts, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. You’ve been in his room plenty of times and, after everything, it’s so hard to keep yourself composed around him. Ugh, this project wasn’t supposed to make you feel anything.

You take up his offer and start rummaging through his drawers. The top drawer consists of nothing but graphing paper and his carefully curated pens and pencils. His second drawer holds his other lab notebooks and extra scrap paper with scribbled notes. As you approach his third and final drawer, your gaze falls to an old photograph of you and Choso back in middle school on his desk.

It’s tucked away in the corner, just behind his lamp, and it’s a fond memory. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, his body slightly lifted above the ground, and your face looks absolutely constipated as you were trying your hardest to hold him. Choso, on the other hand, looks like he was about to burst into flames. Without thinking, you grab your camera and capture his desk, zooming in on the photo as the focal point. It’s slightly out of focus and a bit shaken up, like you couldn’t keep your hands still when you were taking it, but it’s perfect.

The following day you submit your portfolio, along with the rest of your classmates. Some complaining about how unfair the project was, some boasting about how it’s the easiest assignment out of the year, and some—you—are a bundle of nerves.

It’s not until the end of the week, where you’re having dinner with Choso in the dining hall, that you receive an email notification stating that grades are finally posted.

You jolt from your seat, swallowing the last bits of roasted vegetables on your platter, before checking your grades. One. Two. Three… when the site loads, you practically screech in celebration.

“I got the A!”

“Congrats,” Choso smiles softly before it fades away, replaced by a nervous laugh and then a frown. “I’m sorry about kissing you the other day.”

Wow, that’s not exactly what you were expecting.

You choke on your drink but he continues, “I can tell you’ve been acting weird since then. And I think I stepped out of the line doing it. I’m sorry.”

Fuck, what are you supposed to say to that?

You scratch the back of your neck, face now equally as warm as his. “Don’t apologize, I’m actually kinda glad you did…”

He blinks. “You are?”

“Yeah,” you nod and Choso flushes more at that.

Then, his eyebrows shoot up. “You like me?”

“A lot,” and he gets even redder. God, he has no idea how much you’re madly in love with him.

“So, I guess we can start taking photos together like an actual couple then?”

You laugh, not fully believing that this is how your confession gets to be known. “Yeah, I guess we can.”

Looking back at every photo, every longing moment to the lingering touches, kisses, and the methodical layout of his room, you wonder if there was a moment where you faked your feelings for one another. The simple answer is no, to anyone, these photographs only contain unconditional love.

#doobea writing #choso x reader #choso fluff #choso kamo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #i love him so much mwah <3 #jjk choso #choso #choso kamo

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saatorubby · 6 months

Text

the lakes

synopsis: you won’t die, not on their watch.

a/n: hi hi, i’m starting to write for jjk too! so i hope to you all like this. and i’m trying a new style? actually putting in effort? I’m actually so ill about these two divorced gay boys who broke up in front of kfc. also bunch of different taylor swift song references, bear with me, it has consumed my soul.

genre: angst to fluff.

pairing: satosugu x reader

warnings: gore (mild), death and murder (in reference to hidden inventory arc), depression (lowkey).

I: 2008

You were dying. It was the plain and simple fact.

You might’ve tried to convince yourself that it’d turn out fine if it wasn’t for the gaping wound in your stomach. It was less a wound and more a hole.

You think you saw your rib cage poking out.

You were already feeling light headed, on the verge of passing out. If it went like this, you reckon you don’t have more than half an hour.

You pull out your phone, taking a minute to linger on the photo set as your Lock Screen. It was of you and your lovers, Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto, often dubbed as the strongest. If you’d had a dying wish, it would be to see them once more. But the world was a cruel, cruel place.

You slumped back on the wall as your mind flashed back to when everything went so wrong.

You were sitting in the backseat of the car, which was being driven by one of your old friends, ichiji, making small talk with him. Lately you hadn’t had time to devote to your friends. It had been a busy year.

“y/n-san?” Ichiji called after he saw you zone out, looking outside the window of the car, absent-mindedly admiring the scenic view of the countryside Tokyo. “We’re here.” He stated.

You zoned back in and nodded to Ichiji, thanking him for taking you out on this far, almost a half-day trip. You stepped out of the sleek black car.

You faced the apperent ‘haunted’ house. It was fairly big, could’ve passed as a mansion, if it wasn’t in such a shabby shape.

It was battered as if no one had lived in it for decades, which they probably hadn’t. The wood that would’ve been previously stately, were now rotten and unsightly.

You scrunched your nose in disgust, the smell of the dead never really leaves the house.

With a heavy sigh, you entered, ready to get this done and over with so you could go back to your stupid dumbasses and give them the date you promised.

You entered, the creek of the door was as ominous as ever. It was surprising that it was even hanging from from the hinges, judging by the condition. The inside of house was no better.

The walls were mossy, damp, and rotting. There was rubble in the ground from some places, with no roof, indicating the fallen ceiling.

This is one of the worst place you’ve worked in. But you’ve worked in worse. So you closed your eyes and sensed for its cursed energy. Everyone leaves residual, some people can hide it -like Suguru- but most can’t, and considering it’s a first grade, it probably can’t.

And bingo, you found-

A splatter sound was heard and something collided with your head, you pushed your arm, towards your head, and there it was, the red sticky substance of life, pouring out of your head

You turned around, eyes widened in surprise. It was not just the first grade.

Shit.

Now, you’ve somehow managed to defeat it, slumped on the same mossy and damp wall the one you scrunched your nose at earlier, with your legs splayed out, one hand clutching on your wound -the one on your stomach- holding it tightly, and in the other hand, your phone, displaying the picture of your two loves.

Ah, you really wished you could see them.

The picture was of a late-night adventure where all of you went to get ice cream. Satoru is grinning widely, with his signature peace sign and Suguru has an annoyed expression, no doubt due to some stupid comment passed by Satoru, though the softness of his eyes betrayed him, with a middle finger pointed at the camera. You were between them, taking the picture, with a smile on your face.

You smiled at them, tracing their faces on your phone before you felt the black spots appearing in your vision.

You had a feeling it’d end up like this. It always does, for people in your line of work. You just wished for what everyone wished for, a little more time.

Oh how you wished to go to the lakes where all the poet’s went to die. But as you thought, the world was a cruel, cruel place.

The phone in your hand slipped.

And so did you.

II: 2007

It’s been more than a year since you got to know those weirdos in your grade and the pretty girl. Satoru, Suguru and Ieiri.

Blue eyes and bangs. That’s what you called them. Or well, used to until it turned into a pretty, soft-spoken, Satoru and Suguru. The journey from former to latter wasn't a long one but you sometimes wonder whether you've known them for twenty seconds or twenty years.

Satoru was an exhilarating fresh breeze on your face on a windy day, full of adventure and new experiences and Suguru was the warmth of soft sun on a beach, relaxing and familiar. Satoru was your twenty seconds and Suguru was twenty years.

it had been a month since Riko Amanai died.

You think something in you died when you saw that child die. And those claps, that fucking sound haunted your ears still. The booming sound of the gun fired by toji fushiguro, the claps, and the innocent trip to the beach just a day before, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Because it wasn't just a child who had died, that child was your friend.

You think you're spiraling.

Every day is a routine. You wake up, greet your friends half-heartedly, go exorcise curses, come back late, and go straight to bed, not having enough energy to deal with anything or anyone.

You know Suguru is not well. You think you should talk to him. Satoru, he'll survive.

Maybe you're being too harsh, but this is all Satoru has ever known, what he was ever taught. He doesn't know how normal people live, or the joys of having a normal life. He won't do anything stupid.

Suguru knows how normal people live. And in their lives, children aren't murdered brutally.

But you want Satoru to explore normal life. Coffee in the morning, sweet spoken, sleepy mumbles, sunlight through the window pouring in the room, and writing their names on each other's backs.

You want him to explore all that. With you and Suguru.

So you've decided. Enough is enough. No more moping. You will do anything to keep this small family you've built with your friends.

I: 2008

Blinding white lights, thats all you saw as you first felt conscious. Maybe, you died for real this time, no second chances huh? But as it seems, eternal rest was not what destiny planned for you.

You open your eyes, blinking to get used to the flash of light. It was already giving you a headache. You groaned.

You heard panicked shouts and bustling, as a melodious female voice entered your ears to calm the other two distressed male ones.

You recognized them. Also, it means that you're in deep shit.

Regretting your choices and foreboding sleeping on the couch for a week, you open your eyes.

"Water." Croaking out that, sent you to a fit of cough, though, your savior appeared in the form of a rough set of hands that were holding you up, strong and tanned. Other, fairer, a bit lanky, but just as strong, held up a glass of after to your mouth, cupping your cheek to keep you in place.

You gulp down the water, reveling in the feeling of soothing cold water going down your dry throat.

You blink your eyes fully open, seeing the distraught faces of your lovers. Satoru, who was in front of you, holding an empty glass, looked like he'd been crying. His pretty eyes lined red.

Suguru, who after making sure you were sitting on the bed comfortably, came in front of you and sat down opposite Satoru. He didn't look much better, his face was unhealthy pale and he had bags under his eye.

You couldn't help but smile. Maybe the world isn't that cruel yet

"Hi." You croaked out, not being able to help a small bashful smile that made its way over to your face despite the graveness of the situation.

You were just so happy to see them.

"Hi, pretty." Satoru smiled in your direction. It was strained and wobbly, but even he couldn't hide the relief in his voice. He raised his hand and rested it on your cheek, caressing it.

Suguru came up and took your hands in his, softly squeezing them. "You scared us, baby." He said, gazing into your eyes with his misty ones.

"I'm sorry." Your hoarse voice groaned out, the smile was still ever-present on your face, though the feeling of remorse was there as well.

When you look at their faces, relieved and ridden of all the darkness, you think that maybe, maybe, you were able to save your family.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #suguru geto #geto suguru #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #poly satosugu #gojo x reader x geto #poly satosugu x reader

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morganitering · 6 months

Text

Survive the Night (Mahito x fem!reader)

Warnings: Non-con/Rape, Graphic Depictions of violence

Contains: Smut, PWP, PIV - penis in vagina sex, degradation, psychological/emotional manipulation, face-fucking, threats of violence, fuck or die, sexist language, reader is into it lowkey

Word count: 5,1k

Summary: You had readied yourself for a party with your best friend, only to find Shibuya in a disarray, and yourself caught up in a war that wasn’t yours. Somehow escaping the monsters, you end up running into the lap of another kind of predator - an intelligent one.

A/N: Hey hey, this is my first fic and first smut! And ofc, I started with the most degenerate bs I could do. I don't even simp Mahito, but my bestie is down bad and what type of friend I'd be if I didn't help them out. English isn't my first language and no beta. Be aware of the warnings, they are there for a reason. Otherwise enjoy and feel free to like and comment <3!

Read on ao3

It was utter madness. There were screams so chilling that your heart started to ache in an empathetic rhythm, but this was no time to be kind and understanding. It was time to survive and survive you wanted, but your legs refused to move.

You saw people running around like headless chickens, crossing the roads, bumping into each other, as creatures of various sizes and colors roamed the heart of Shibuya, hands and mouths gaping open, reaching to anyone they could. You stood still despite the sheer fear in you.

You looked at your friend, cold sweat forming on your brow as you assessed the situation. Her golden wig falling on the ground in the force of a purple hand grabbing her. She cried out to you. Her Sailor Moon wand replica fell to the asphalt with her other belongings. You had a good bit of distance between the two of you since you tried to run over the crossing road in a hurry towards KFC.

The purple hand squeezed remorselessly. You could see it in her face, the sound of little crackling of her rib cage turning to bits and pieces inside her body, puncturing every vital organ one by one.The hand kept on squeezing, probably not even using force. The creature dropped your friend’s body next to her items. She was disfigured and limp like a soggy rag doll. You had seen death once after losing your grandparents, but this was no peaceful death due to old age, this was a god forsaken massacre.

It was supposed to be a fun night out. You hadn’t dressed up in anything special, but you wanted to support your friend so you had gone to her place, a few hours prior ending up going outside, hoping for the warm buzz of alcohol in your veins and maybe, if you were lucky, a lover you could regret in the morning.

But in all honesty, this was a script from a horror movie. You had always joked with your friend how you both would be the first ones to die in one, but neither of you had been serious about it.

“Fucking move!” You heard a man yelling, snapping you out of your trance. The purple creature’s multiple eyes were all looking in different directions in search of another victim.

You did what the stranger told you to.

Your body pumped out adrenaline forcing your limbs to finally move with strength you did not recognize in yourself. You started running as fast as your legs could take you, neon lights of advertisements flashed on your face as blood of other party goers covered you as they were snapped open, ripped in half, guts and viscera leaking on the ground. Puddles of blood splashed on your calves when the soles of your boots hit the ground. You were just livestock running away from the butcher in a small room, knowing full well that there was no escape.

Metallic taste popped in your mouth as you evaded monsters and people alike. Some folks were brave enough to fight against the creatures of the night. You were not one of them.

You took a turn on the left. An alley behind some type of shady restaurant. You noted that somehow the screams had quieted down. Your breath came out at an uneven pace as your lungs fought for their life to give enough oxygen to your struggling body.

You leaned on the brick wall, heart beating in every part of your body utter exhaustion knocking on the door. Instead of collapsing you just trembled. This is not real. This is not real. This is not- a sob interrupted your frantic mind.

Searching for the source of the sound your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit alleyway locating a hunched over figure. A man? He cried heavily, rocking himself back and forth on the dirty ground as his hands fisted the black fabric of his trousers. He was sitting next to a dumpster that was filled to the brim with plastic bags almost not being able to contain the multitude of waste. In hindsight you probably should’ve left the man on his own to tend to the trash.

You assumed him to be a victim of the attack too. Or maybe he was just drunk, you told yourself with suspicion in your mind.

“Sir? Are you ok?” You asked as you got closer to the sobbing man. It seemed like he didn’t even notice you, he just kept shaking and muttering to himself in between sobs. You were fairly sure that he knew you were there and since there was no answer you decided to attempt consoling him.

You dropped down on his level and stroked his arm gently. You weren’t the best at this type of stuff, but you felt pity towards the blue haired stranger wallowing in his thoughts. Suddenly you felt his arms stretching around you holding onto you like a child embracing their favorite toy during duress.

Panic seeped into you. You didn’t know this man at all, but you figured that he needed this and honestly maybe you did need it too. Awkwardly you placed your hand on his head, your blouse getting wet from the stranger’s snot and tears. His hair was luscious and soft, in a different situation you might have even been jealous.

“It’s going to be.. okay?” That was honestly the best you could do in your state of shock. There was a weird sort of kinship in his breakdown. Had you not been still full of fight or flight reaction you would probably be in the same situation as he was. Instead you felt calm as a day almost clear headed.

Bit by bit he collected his demeanor. His shoulders still shook, but it no longer felt like he was a spare leaf in a summer storm.

“I know a place,” he said, head still against your chest. You heard him but you were confused by his words.

“What?”

He raised his head now looking at you with his mismatched eyes. His face was full of stitch patterns as if he had been broken down and put together multiple times. You soon noticed him having that on his arms as well.

“Sorry, I meant that I know a place. I don’t think we are safe on the streets yet,” he said sniffling pathetically.

“You’re probably right. Where is it?” You asked.

Patch faced man stood up and offered his hand towards you which you gladly took and pushed yourself off from the asphalt. Having been in this place longer now, you really did not want to spend the last moments of your life next to the smell of biowaste and piss.

You walked behind the man who took determined steps towards the main street that was completely empty.

“Sorry I probably gave you a big scare,” he brushed his hands through his hair, swaying a few sections of almost ponytailed hair to the other side of his shoulder.

You wanted to say that there was no bigger scare, than the stuff that went down in the heart of Shibuya. A crying weird dude was a welcome change to the horrors, but you stayed quiet.

“My name is Mahito. Thank you for being there for me,” he smiled gently at you. You tried to return his smile as you told him your name.

“I like your name,” his tone was easy going and friendly.

“Here,” he pointed at an empty restaurant a few blocks further away from the alley.

The restaurant was still lit up, but completely empty. Its decor was homely and somehow very industrial. The lighting was warm and yellow with few pink-ish tints on the brick wall with a statement piece made out of pipes and lightbulbs. Overall it looked like a hipster’s favorite lunch place.

Some of the tables had half drunk beverages and meals. There were some spots where tableware had dropped on the floor and pieces of porcelain lay on the ground with napkins soaking into cream sauce.

Mahito found you both a clean booth and sat you down there as he sauntered over to the restaurant bar. You looked at him in confusion as he grabbed two clean glasses pouring soda from the soft drink dispenser.

“No harm in drinking something sweet after all this, right?” He said trying to smile again, yet it did not really reach his eyes. He seemed awfully cheery for a person that you had found crying just moments ago. It was as if he was wearing a mask. Maybe it’s a shock reaction, you intellectualized his behavior to yourself.

Mahito placed the drink in front of you as he sat next to you on the booth. You were squished between him and the restaurant window with nowhere to go. You hadn’t really noticed how big he was until now. You took a sip from the sweet drink looking at the bubbles that were forming on top of the dark liquid.

“So what happened to you?” You asked him, curiosity taking the best of you.

“I-,” he started confidently but quickly stopped. Mahito looked down at his hands that were placed on the cold table. You saw sadness on him.

“I watched how my friends died," he said quietly. “It was horrible. We were supposed to go to our favorite club. They were supposed to have some type of costume competition,” he explained.

“What are you supposed to be? It looks neat though, really real.” Maybe you tried to lighten the mood or maybe you were just really socially inept.

“Thanks, but uh, I’m not really supposed to be anything. I just learnt to play around with some sfx makeup. My big sis taught me,” he reminisced.

“I hope she’s not here too.”

You both fell silent, whether it was awkward or kind of nice you couldn’t decide. You had not even thought about your other friends that might have been stuck in the area as well. If there were any gods left you would make sure to pray to them every day were you to survive this hell of a night.

“I saw my friend dying too, by those monsters,” you said, sharing your own story.

“Really? What was it like?” His face seemed to light up in awe and as he did that you raised your eyebrow in slight annoyance.

“Sorry, that came out wrong. I just. I don’t know. It all happened so fast,” he quieted down again, seeming regretful of his words.

“Disgusting,” you said, not addressing his apology.

Mahito’s eyes were now on you staring at you like a hawk. You didn’t really notice that as your eyes seemed almost glassy looking at nowhere in particular.

“She had spilt her guts onto the street,” you choked out the words as the picture of your friends dead body stayed on your mind like a thistle.

“Was there a lot of blood?” You felt the warm breath on your cheek, but you were so deep in your mind that only displayed the picture of the hand closing on your friend. You saw her eyes again, her mouth open in a shrilling scream that almost got drowned in the other voices, but to you it was almost amplified, it was the only scream that really mattered. You saw the blood that she coughed up as her own body got crushed and what was meant to protect her and hold her upright punctured her to death.

“Yes.” It was just a whisper of a voice. A tear fell down on your lap and your lips were slightly parted, your body shuddering at the horrible memories. Mahito’s face was now nuzzled in your neck and his eyes were half lidded with a slight smile decorating his face.

“You poor thing,” he cooed. “I’m sorry”, something about his words did not feel sincere at all. The blue haired man’s body started shaking and you heard the most absurd sound that returned you to this moment. You knew you had not said anything funny, so why was he laughing?

Mahito was almost doubled over as he roared next to you. He started clapping his hands like this was the best thing he had heard in the century. He opened his eyes that were now watering from all the laughing and placed his hand on your shoulder.

“You humans are truly pathetic!” He kept on giggling. You pushed his hand off from your shoulder, your mind still in disarray trying to grasp the things he was saying. His words hurt you and it felt unbelievable that this is the way he would react since he had lost someone too or was his sob story a lie? Part of you wanted to curse at him, but some part of you, supposedly the sane one, told you to tuck your head down.

“Oh noo, my little friend had spilt her guts onto the street. Oh woe me! I saaw someone diiiee.” Mahito drew out every syllable as he was mocking you and your tone, making exaggerated sad expressions and he brought his fists to his cheeks to make a boo-hoo movement.

“You idiots die all the time.” Mahito’s face turned serious as he sneered at you. His mismatched gaze steeled on you as he stared you down saying nothing for the time being.

Every alarm was blaring in your mind. Time felt like it was stopping just like it did during the attack. Mahito no longer looked like the almost boyish lost figure that you had found having a panic attack. Now he reminded you of a crazed beast toying with its food and you weren’t about to stay to find out how far his unhinged behavior could go. You had to take your chance of leaving.

You pushed the table with all your might as you took hurried steps out of the booth quickly giving thanks to whoever had decided to not to nail the furniture on the ground permanently. Glasses of soft drink toppled over and rolled to the floor and shattered into hundred little pieces as you hopped clumsily over the crazy man’s body.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Mahito grabbed your wrist, his nails tugging into your flesh painfully. He had now stood up and was towering over you with an unreadable face.

A faint smile appeared on his face and he looked almost gentle again.

“I’m not going to kill you,” his voice was smooth like one of the finest silk.

“Look- I’m sorry for you and whatever happened to you, but this clearly was a mistake. I hope you have a goo-”

“Shut up.”

Mahito inhaled as if he was smelling the most appetizing meal, relishing in the lack of your voice.

“Much better.”

He was still holding onto you as he raised his free hand on your face to caress your cheek in an attempt to calm you down. Guess it was his turn to be in this role, although at least you had been sincere about it.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Mahito repeated, his eyes trailing down to your lips.

“I do have something else in mind,” he said, taking his gaze back to your eyes.

You gulped audibly and managed to squeak out a question of what he had in mind then. You knew already. Of course you did.

“This theme of death and destruction. It reeaally has got me worked up,” Mahito monologues on.

“I might be a curse, but I’m not beyond needs. I am interested in the human soul and its weaknesses as well as its wickedness,” he kept talking as his thumb started to trail down slowly towards your jawline “but I’m also interested in this”, his hand stopped at your throat.

His touch was feather light and had it not been this psychopath of a man touching you you’d gladly welcome it. Mahito’s words didn’t make a lot of sense to you, but you got the gist of it with threats and all.

“You can choose to fight me.”

He now had his whole palm on your oesophagus, his mismatched eyes shining dangerously.

“But you will lose.”

Mahito squeezed gently as a warning and let go of the wrist he was holding. He grabbed you by your scalp, bunching up some of your hair to tilt your head upwards.

“Do this with me and I’ll let you live. Maybe you even have a good time as well, or maybe I don’t care for your comfort at all and I’ll ditch you to the streets half dead with your panties tangled up in your ankles for the whole world to see your shame,” he blabbered on and stopped. He looked like he was thinking about something really important, pursing his lips together, tipping his head side to side like a cartoon character.

“I haven’t really decided yet,” his voice was sinister.

Your body had gone cold. Do this and he’ll let me live, you thought to yourself fighting the urge to flee. You didn’t want to anger him further, not that there was any winning chance with this man at all. Everything had gone the way he wanted from the moment you had laid your eyes on him.

“Okay, I want to live,” you rasped out.

Mahito looked content, almost affectionate. ”They always do.”

After those words the world turned into a haze. His lips were soft and plump. He was a demanding kisser, not that you even had imagined him to be a kisser in the first place. You thought that you would be simply bent over, but Mahito proved you wrong. Not because he cared, but because he simply did what he wanted to and this was what he desired.

He might have promised you pleasure, if you agreed to do this somewhat willingly but his soul was tainted, and you knew that were you to find enjoyment under him, it would be just a happy surprise to you.

His tongue delved into your mouth. It felt gross. Invading. His hands had moved to your waist going all the way down to your ass squeezing too hard to your liking. He swiftly lifted you up and placed you on the now dirty table where you had been hanging out just moments prior. His boots made crackling sounds as he stepped on the pieces of glass.

You felt sticky as the cola seeped onto your skirt’s fabric but Mahito did not seem to care. He pulled your hair, exposed your neck and bit as his other hand groped your breasts with force bordering on pure pain. Tears were forming in your eyes as your body and mind fought each other.

“You know you should feel special,” his breath felt hot against your neck. “Not everyone is able to see me, let alone touch me”

“Yet here you are.” He pressed his tongue on your cheek and licked away the one spare tear.

He ripped open your blouse cold breeze kissing your torso, before Mahito’s hands were on it. He grabbed your bra, stretching out the fabric with both of his hands until it snapped. He threw the remnants of your underwear on the ground placing his palms on your bare chest. He played and kneaded the tender flesh, arousal waking up in your core.

Mahito pulled you closer to him, your skirt hiking up till your hips with the fabric pressing on your skin, leaving you feeling uncomfortable. You felt him against your clothed sex, only his trousers, your stockings and panties between the two of you. Your breath hitched and his eyes darkened even more.

“I like this look on you humans, when you feel conflicted as to what to feel,” he teased you with shadows dancing on his face as the overhead light got covered by his head.

“He’s a bad man, he’s a crazy man, but why oh why do I like it?” His voice got higher as he imitated a feminine voice, playing up the caricature of a woman.

He pressed his hand between your legs, swiping slowly up feeling the moisture that had gathered there.

“Case in point,” he grinned satisfied. His fingers stopped at the sensitive bud and he started making slow circles looking intently at your face savoring every micro expression as you involuntarily bucked your hips up.

Your cheeks were burning up as small moans escaped your lips. You fought with yourself, tears threatening to spill over as your body moved on its own. What would your friend think if she saw you like this? She had suffered the most tragic death and this man had mocked you in the middle of a crisis and now you were enjoying his attention.

It was as if Mahito knew what buttons to press to get you going. You closed your eyes as you panicked under his touch. He applied more pressure on you as you helplessly grabbed the side of the table. Mahito’s grin widened the stitches on his face stretching out.

“Any self respecting woman would have run by now, even if it meant that they’d get killed in the process, yet you chose to spread your legs wide open to me,” he mused as he continued playing with you.

“You really must want me!” He let out a cold chuckle. Everything he said and did felt like an amateur theater student’s performance. He loved excess, big movements, big emotions - he was like a chaos incarnate. Insane, you thought to yourself, that’s what he was.

His fingers traveled on your panties over to the spot where he reckoned your entrance was and pressed lightly inside leaving a wet mark on the fabric.

He snaked his hands under your stockings waistband and started pulling them down with your panties. The only clothes you had on yourself were the buttonless blouse and a miniskirt that hid nothing. Mahito opened his trouser’s zipper and pulled himself out, giving a few languid pumps to his length.

“What do you say, you show me how much you want me and we’ll see how wet you can get when you service me?” He proposed already dragging you off the table and pushing you towards his cock.

You lost your balance and both your knees and an arm pressed on the glass shards on the stone floor as you tried to not to fall on your face. You winced from pain and you saw blood trickling down as Mahito laughed at your discomfort. Thankfully the pieces were not very big and they’d only leave a surface level wound but it still didn’t lessen the pain.

“Say aah!” Mahito grabbed your chin pushing his cock on your lips, smearing himself over your face.

You took him in your mouth hesitantly, a slightly salty tasty spread on your tongue. Unlike you, he did not hesitate and quickly snapped his hips forward setting up a brutal pace. You tried to be careful of your teeth as Mahito’s hands found themselves in your scalp.

It was hard to breathe, drops of saliva dripping on your chin and bare chest. All you could do was gurgling pathetically at his assault.

Mahito’s grip on your hair tightened as he hummed and moaned happily, an expression of pleasure on his wicked features. His voice got loud, unashamed of the way he was sloppily face fucking you. His sounds did something sinful to you, sending sparks straight to your core. It was a losing war you were fighting and Mahito reveled in it. You moved your own hand into your folds in a desperate attempt to relieve the burn in you earning genuine laughter from the man.

“Now we are talking, you’re getting into this aren’t you?”

Mahito pushed you towards his pelvis forcing himself down your throat, your nose pressing onto his skin. You were choking and your body involuntarily thrashed around him, but he kept you firmly in place.

“Relax, keep it there,” his voice was out of breath as you spasmed around him helplessly. You tried to bear it, but every passing second proved your task harder. You squeezed your eyes shut feeling the trails of mascara in various stages of drying on your cheeks.

Mahito pulled himself out with a loud groan. You were gasping for air as violent coughs shook your frame, his cock still standing in front of you in all its glory.

“You’ve got a splendid mouth, but right now I’m craving your cunt.”

There were no breaks for you as he manhandled you up and pushed your torso against the table. Your tits pressed against the cold wood, your hips pressing on the sides of the table. You felt messy, degraded even, as your slightly wet face came in contact with the surface.

Mahito started pushing in you carefully and you gasped, when you felt him widening you forcing you to make space for him.

“W-what about protection?” You talked for the first time.

“Not on the pill, eh? Well don’t worry your pretty head about it, it wouldn’t work anyways,” he said and sheathed himself fully in you.

Then it began. Skin against skin, noises of pleasure filled the empty restaurant leaving only your ever increasing cries reverberating in the establishment. His hips kept snapping onto yours, chest heaving as he panted and moaned. You loved the sounds that you both made your cunt tightening around him when an especially beautiful whine left his mouth.

You cried out loud when he found that one spot inside of you after one particularly powerful thrust. Your brows furrowed, hands seeking a place to hold onto as you quietly said his name. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice, but of course he did. Riled up from your reactions he made sure to angle himself so that he’d get to see your further succumb to the decadence of his actions.

His hands trailed towards your neck admiring how your hair was sprawled out messily, some strands sticking to your swollen lips. He massaged your back finally digging his nails into it and scratched it for fun.

“Isn’t that- ah- something”, you tried talking, “I’m supposed to do?” You were referencing his peculiar actions.

“Already thinking of the next position? We’ll see about that,” he jested but his words lacked bite as he pleasured himself using you.

Your back was burning as he kept swiping across leaving pink streaks on your skin. He grabbed your throat and squeezed gently, not trying to restrict the flow of your breath. He had had enough of that for now. It was merely a gesture to show who had the real power here.

You were getting close feeling the familiar coil about to snap. His movements got rougher and more sporadic. He drove into you like a beast, going deep into you at times hitting your cervix. You babbled incoherently, no longer caring for how you appeared, the only thing occupying your mind was the need to sprint to the finish line.

Your thighs trembled as you were on your tiptoes. The table inched forwards every time Mahito drove his cock in you. He was nearing his own end. He placed his fingers on your clit rubbing it haphazardly, partially disregarding how sensitive it was, hoping that this would drive you off the edge.

You didn’t know where pleasure and pain started or ended. They melt together creating one hell of an addicting concoction and you wanted more. Gods, how you did want more, your juices dripping on your thighs. You felt lightheaded and suddenly the sparks turned into a flame that engulfed you, spreading to even the most distant parts of your body.

Mahito fucked you through your orgasm and somewhere in your haze you felt him still when his cock pulsated in you as your body involuntarily returned the favor. Some part of your brain that was still present wanted to push him off, tell him to mark you somewhere else, anywhere else but there.

The blue haired man collected his breathing as relaxation coursed in his body. He pulled himself out of you looking curiously at the spot where you were just connected, delighted when he saw him trickling down your cunt. “Beautiful,” he muttered to himself as he looked at the wreck of a woman in front of him. The woman stayed put, probably too tired to move.

The restaurant door opened and heavy footsteps thumped on the floor.

“Is this really the best usage of your time?” He was disapproving.

Ah Choso, ever the killjoy. Mahito turned around not caring that the man who just came in would see all of him.

“God, put that thing away,”Choso said exasperatedly.

“We’ve been looking for you. Geto’s getting antsy when he doesn’t know our whereabouts,” Choso explained, taking a quick peek at the woman laying against the table not looking one bit more aware of her situation.

You were vaguely conscious, body and mind bruised from the event that just took place. Hands still ghosted over your skin even though you knew that Mahito was not paying attention to you at all. You felt exhausted, so exhausted that you felt yourself slipping to your mind looking for somewhere safe. It was like a dark veil was put on you, your vision blurred looking at the two outlines of men. Who was the other one again?

“Aw, that’s a bummer. I wanted to have more fun,” Mahito said, pouting.

“I think you’ve had enough of that already. Let’s go,” Choso turned his back to the idiot of a curse.

“Goodbye sweetie, try to get into a better position. You’ll break your neck like that,” Mahito addressed you jokingly as the wooden door shut behind them.

Breathing heavily you watched the two men walk outside from the huge windows. Mahito was practically skipping forwards while the dark haired man put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. Muffled laughter reached your ears and you were sure you’d recognize that sound for the rest of your life.

You maneuvered yourself up, body wobbling as if you were training to walk on a tightrope. You stretched out your arms rolling your shoulders to relieve the tension gathered in your tired muscles. You pulled your skirt down and tugged at the remnants of your blouse against your chest in a desperate attempt to cover yourself up.

You looked around the restaurant spotting a low table with couches as the seats. They were too small for an adult to lie down on, but that would do. You fluffed up the pillow and curled up into a ball skin feeling sticky due to all kinds of substances, but that was the least of your problems.

You wondered miserably, did this count as survival. If it did, the gods that let you still draw your breath had a shit sense of humor.

#tw: noncon #mahito x reader #mahito x you #yandere jjk #yandere mahito #idk does non yandere mahito even exist but ig i'll tag it like that

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ummmlife · 5 months

Text

Nanami using his "christmas present" in a very rough way!

Warnings!; MDNI this is literature porn, if you lie and read santa won't give you any nanami present 😋 , reader doesn't have an specified gender/genitalia , dom!top!nanami × sub!bottom!reader , facefucking , spankings , no foreplay , rough , angry!nanami , gift wrapping tape , dirty talk + degradation

Having a joyful christmas shouldn't be that hard. Waking up next to your boyfriend while his protective embrace covers you from the coldness of the morning, get ready together for the night, eat some KFC's chicken for dinner and then open up your gifts.

Your lovely man got you everything you were asking through the year. Every single jewelery, perfume, bag, shoes, clothes... Everything was there in their respective bags under the tree, who could be the luckiest lover in the world if it wasn't you? With a man like Kento, that was unbeatable.

Then Kento asked for his presents, you bought them, of course, his presents were hiding under your shared bed, why? Well, you decided to play a little prank to him, silly you.

The prank was to, flirtatiously, undress yourself to reveal a nice gift wrapping tape enveloping your naked body.

— "Here is your present!"

— "... Only that?"

To say that you blood run cold when you saw Kento's displaced expression was short to describe it. But he wasn't just displaced, no, Kento was enraged and we all know how blood-curdling that is. He spent so much money in those presents for you and you only got him what he can take every day he wants? Unreasonable, stupid even.

How ungrateful you are.

Kento got up from the couch and, even before you could reveal the prank, he grabbed your hair with one of his hands, pulling your head back as tight as he could for you to face him. — "What do you take me for?". More than offended, Kento sounded genuinely hurt by your "present".

You tried to speak again, of course, but this time his fingers in your mouth were more than enough to make you shut up. — "I don't want to hear anything from you tonight, I really don't want to..." . He took his fingers from your mouth and started to unbutton his pants, — "But if I got nothing else... then I'll use my present as much as I want. Get on your knees, now".

A mix of terror and eagerness ran through you as your body obeyed the words of the man you love the most, knees on the carpet, face up and mouth wide open, you even had the decency to stick out your tongue for him. It didn't take long for Kento to take his thick length out of his underwear and slide it in one single thrust all deep down to your throat, his hand taking place on your hair once more.

Thrust by thrust, Kento made it obvious for you that neither your constant gagging nor the lack of oxygen you were getting was going to stop him from using your mouth.

His growls and soft sighs decorated the living room of that peaceful home, accompanied by sounds of his balls hitting on your chin and your own gagging sounds. — "This is what you wanted, isn't it?.. Hah... What– ngh-! did you expect after disappointing me like– ah! like that?!"

But it wasn't enough to satisfied himself though.

Kento took his manhood out of your maw just to push your body against the couch, forcing your face down while your back arches. His palm smacking your ass sent a chill through your spin, but you couldn't savor the pain before another slap was send by him. Just like a naughty kid, you were being spanked for your bad behavior towards your loving boyfriend.

— "How ungrateful and foolish you are". Kento never used to be this rough, never calling you mean names unless you asked for it, never treating you with hate. Deep down you know that if he was actually hurting you, he'll stop, although... why could you him to stop anyway?

Kento stopped the spanking treatment for you to press yous head on the couch. You felt how he simply spat on your hole just to slide his throbbing shaft with a single thrust, the pain was unbearable at first, and Kento knew that because one of his hands moved to your hip to start rubbing it, that was his way to comfort you despite all his mood.

Once you got used to his size, because Kento still waited for you to feel comfortable, your inner walls became the victim of a delicious assault that was leaving your mind and senses all numb. — "Is this what you wanted? Ahn... Mngh-ph! Having this filthy hole filled with your boyfriend's cock? Huh? So greedy...". His movements didn't do anything but increase in force and roughness.

Your moans filled up the silence of your home as Kento's groans and sighs accompanied the melody of your screams drowned out by the cushions while the creaking of the chair marked the pace of this symphony that your bodies played.

It took a few minutes to feel the tickling sensation in your belly anticipating the culmination of your torturous pleasure while Kento's thrust erratically hitted your most sensitive spot. You couldn't see him directly, but by closing your eyes you could clearly focus on the mental image of your boyfriend's face as he's about to cum as well.

Small drops of sweat falling from his hair as this sticks on his forehead, his teeth clenching his jaw as the his heavy breathing leaves his nose. That focusing expression that he makes when he's avoiding himself to cum so quickly with a small frown and his eyes closed.

It was too much, Kento always make you go crazy for him and visualizing his expression of pleasure, while your body is focusing on the sensation of his manhood sliding in and out from you as his hips hit your flesh, just made easy for you to reach your peak. You didn't want to cum that fast, you wanted this moment to last, that was until Kento started to show his real voice, — "Mmm-ahh. A-aahh... Darling! I'm– nnhg! going to... to cum! Haahhh!".

Pure and loud moans of pleasure chime your ears, that was enough to make the orgasm hit all your body and make you shake. You could feel Kento's cock twitching inside of you as his fingers squeezed your hips tightly. It was marvelous.

Kento's thick cum fell from your greedy hole to the floor, running down from your thighs. Just like you, he was catching his breath before sliding out of you and slowly sitting back on the couch, his expression changed from a irritated one to a bitter one. — "Did you seriously not buy me a present?". Kento asks you with a obvious angry pout on his lips, how adorable.

You couldn't help but smile softly and move your body slowly, with Kento's help, to sit next to him.

— "Your presents are under the bed, I just wanted to play a little prank on you".

Your boyfriend's eyes lit up in realization, he looks at you now all embarrassed for how he reacted. Kento instinctively holds your hand as he looks down ashamed.

— "Can I... go and take my presents?" Is he really asking you permission for that? Obviously you didn't say no and as you took off the uncomfortable gift wrapping tape from your chest, Kento came back with 5 gift bags and a gleeful smirk.

To compensate all the damage caused, Kento cleaned all the kitchen and living room and also carried you in his arms for the rest of the night, because, poor you, who shouldn't move your legs for some brutal assault... That in his words, nevertheless, you were more than happy to spend the next hours in your boyfriend's arms, watching some cheesy american christmas movies and grabbing some snacks together.

fun facts with miss bibi ! for the ones who don't know 🤓☝️

in japan, christmas is more a valentine's day snowy edition, so you can perceive the christmas spirit more from the young couples (and the kids, of course). that's why a lot of people spend their christmas with their partners, unlike us who usually spend it with our families.

also, due to the arrival of many new brands from overseas to japan and thanks to an excellent advertising team, it became a tradition for the japanese people to have kfc as their christmas dinner since the 80's.

that's all folks!

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jjk smut #jjk nanami smut #. bibi's writing

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