Yandere Jjk - Blog Posts

Donor 1.5.

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Part 1

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader.

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

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

W/C: 2.4k+

2.5 Weeks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2 Months.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

8 Months.

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

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

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

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

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

10 Months.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Imposter.

Main Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader.

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

Summary: Request:

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

W/C: 2.8k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creep.

Main Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x GN! Reader.

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

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

W/C: 1.3k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Donor 1.

Main Masterlist

JJK Masterlist

Part 1.5

Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader.

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

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

W/C: 1.4k+

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

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

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

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

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

~.~

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

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

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

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

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

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

~.~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~.~

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

The Sun Eats the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping, pregnancy kink(?))

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

WC: 9.4k

𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place. 

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now. 

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client. 

"Is everything alright?" 

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke. 

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired." 

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited. 

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics. 

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention. 

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice. 

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps. 

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes. 

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face. 

Nothing. 

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next. 

"I look forward to working with all of you."                                     

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial. 

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order. 

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way. 

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too. 

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you. 

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?" 

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks." 

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours. 

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms. 

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching. 

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru. 

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. 

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted. 

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class. 

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it. 

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official." 

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours. 

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop. 

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine. 

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore. 

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always. 

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey. 

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her. 

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out." 

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life." 

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger. 

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru. 

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help. 

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that. 

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break. 

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing. 

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator. 

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!" 

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle. 

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you. 

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that. 

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him. 

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back. 

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down. 

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it. 

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares. 

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything. 

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend. 

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg. 

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open. 

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you? 

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky. 

"Why?" 

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group. 

"Get lost." 

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone. 

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored. 

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-" 

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away. 

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?" 

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. 

"Anything, right?" 

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek. 

"Get on your knees." 

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little. 

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?" 

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru. 

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk. 

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him. 

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh. 

"Gojo I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems." 

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you. 

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought. 

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?" 

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame. 

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you. 

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth. 

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me." 

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world. 

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?" 

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it. 

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help. 

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath. 

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you." 

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum. 

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something." 

 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him. 

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair. 

"My laptop...it's broken." 

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it. 

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you. 

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his. 

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied. 

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from. 

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?" 

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf. 

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait." 

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts. 

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her. 

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright. 

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting." 

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs. 

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way. 

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to. 

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go. 

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you. 

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable. 

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework. 

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips. 

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever. 

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom. 

"Thank-" 

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me." 

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself. 

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too. 

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him. 

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons. 

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?" 

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment. 

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken. 

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours. 

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now. 

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action. 

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone. 

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can. 

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch. 

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you." 

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock- 

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing. 

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you. 

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?" 

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again. 

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust. 

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper. 

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl." 

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar. 

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious. 

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him." 

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock. 

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch. 

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need. 

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt. 

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration. 

"I love you." 

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh. 

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there. 

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours. 

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out. 

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room. 

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction. 

"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?" 

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke. 

The door shuts with a click. 

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward. 

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?" 

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood. 

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody. 

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes. 

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules." 

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked. 

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent. 

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text." 

 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake. 

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment. 

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze. 

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness. 

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-" 

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt. 

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client. 

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him. 

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless. 

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears. 

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar." 

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words. 

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses. 

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now." 

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again. 

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic. 

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily. 

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?" 

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too. 

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall. 

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action. 

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar. 

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate. 

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate. 

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. 

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits. 

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed. 

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out. 

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear. 

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?" 

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that. 

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you." 

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his. 

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure. 

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom. 

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught. 

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl." 

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-" 

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-" 

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled. 

"I'll make sure it takes this time too." 

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea. 

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb. 

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine. 

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness. 

"I love you." 

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran. 

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me." 

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given. 

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation. 

MASTERLISTS

The following masterlists will only feature posts with notes above 1k. All characters are aged up!

♡ INSERT MASTERLIST

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN

♡ BLUE LOCK

♡ HAIKYU!!

Hes so pathetic 😻😻😼

JJK ! Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, yandere

fem reader

Satoru’s strange in bed.

Sometimes he’ll settle on his knees between your thighs, laying kisses and kitten licks on your pussy through your panties. And when it becomes too much for him, he’ll get up only to be satisfied with simply rubbing his cock against the wet fabric – cumming on your belly without barely having done anything.

You think he enjoys edging himself so much that he gets lost in it – to the point it’s not really edging anymore.

Sometimes, he’ll have you on his lap and won’t even take his pants off before making a mess. You’ll wear his shirt, and he’ll pout at the sight of how it swallows you up – needing to bite his lip, looking at your cute titties pointy against the chest. He’ll dry-hump into that sweet soft space between your thighs with a tented boner and suddenly just squish you tight – his chin sloppy against your shoulder, drooling with a purr, eyes glossy and elated.

He's super weird.

Part three is to good and I normally don’t like angst in fics but omg I loved it

What if curse darling tried to escape from yandere gojo? How would he punish her 🤔?

JJK ! IMAGINE

Gojo Satoru x curse!darling

AN: Not really what you asked for, but what I was feeling... part 1, part 2

WC: 1.9k

TW: abduction and captivity, mild condescension, a lil angsty

You rushed over once you heard him at the door – but the smile only barely stretched your face before dropping again. 

Coming to an abrupt halt, the former intention of hugging him was wasted, and the words meant to welcome him home went stillborn on your tongue. 

Nevertheless, he tugged off his blindfold with his thumb, and his pearly hair fell down in pretty whisps around his crown, shadowing the light of those stark blue eyes that slowly peeled open – and unaffected by your stilled state, he still kicked off his shoes and tugged you into his chest anyway – nuzzling his nose into your neck with a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

“Mh, I missed you~”

Your nose twitched, and you sunk your teeth into your lip – feeling puzzled and awkward and slightly sick to your stomach. Arms hanging loosely by your sides as you let him sway you into him – dwarfed by his height, he had to slouch in order to hug you properly – with lanky arms slung around your midriff, pulling you close in a squeeze before loosening up again.

He kept his hands on your hips as he placed a kiss on your lips, but you didn’t react. Still standing there, something akin to frozen.

“Hey- where’d you go?” He called, cocking his head to the side while looking into your eyes with those searing earnest blues of his. “Not happy to see me?” He joked softly in a snicker – lightheartedly carefree – and it just seemed so very wrong it made you release a sound that wasn’t all too short of a whimper, albeit much weaker, almost so he didn’t even hear it.

“You-” You started but couldn’t quite finish, unsure of what it was that you needed to say. 

You looked down at his uniform. It wasn’t much. Maybe he hadn’t noticed or maybe he just hadn’t cared – but… flecks of blood dotted the black fabric.

It smelled of curse – a dead curse – a killed curse.

You grimaced. 

They’d been pained and scared toward the end – toyed with – dismembered and mutilated – mangled beyond repair. But for whatever reason you couldn’t fathom, he’d given them time enough to heal only to bring them back to the brink of death yet again – played with them for what you could tell had been a long while.

You smelled ridicule and a cry for mercy layered with a later cry for death, and it shook you to your core.

You shivered, taking an abrupt step back – removing yourself. Rubbing your goose-fleshed arms as you hugged yourself for comfort – reeling from the cold-hearted cruelty you’d felt seep into your bones from his touch. 

He’d barely even washed his hands clean of all the blood.

You swallowed thickly, unable to look him in the eye – just staring at the spray of browned red that had since dried, now cakey and flakey, falling off like dust. 

“You reek-” Was all the bile in your throat amounted to in the end – only a weak utterance.

His brows did a play of confusion before he followed your gaze, looking down at himself and finding what you were staring at. 

Oh…

Despite being a cursed spirit, your nature isn’t exactly violent. Guess you’re not as desensitized to carnage as him. 

It’s still odd, though. It couldn’t be sympathy he saw riddled on your face, right?

No. You’ve always been sensitive to dirty things. You’re just your normal disgusted self. You would have reacted the same way if it were ice cream.

He walked inside with a laugh, ruffling your hair as he passed you.

“Right- I’ll go shower. So uptight~” He dismissed with a tease, removing his jacket as he took long but relaxed strides to the bathroom.

You were left standing there for a moment. Unsure of the feelings brewing inside you. 

You thought you might need to puke, but it never came…

Still, you felt weary and decided to go lie down in bed.

You hadn’t slept in your room in a while. It had become a little dusty but you didn’t mind – you needed your own space right now. A place away from him.

But it didn’t last long. 

You heard him call for you some while later. You didn’t answer – lying in the dark beneath the covers.

“There you are~ You hidin’?” He chirped once he found you. “Or are you sleepin’?” 

You felt the bed sink as he climbed atop the covers, slipping down next to you – curtly running his hand over the duvet, stroking down your side until resting on your hip. 

“Not that I’m complaining- I had a long and boring day anyway.” He continued, scooting closer until he was spooning you tight – pressing his lips to where your ear would be. “Would be nice to end it with a little playtime~”

His toothy smirk slowly became a frown at your silence, sulking with a bored pout.

“You’re not still upset about the blood, are you?” He asked then. “I changed and washed it off, so I’m all clean now- you little neat freak~” Voice smooth and flirty, cuddling your cocooned body.

But still, you ignored him – and the doubt in his mind gave rise to a confused furrow between his brows. He thought for a minute before speaking up again. Squinting at his suspicion.

“That curse was a plague, you know...” He excused. “I had to kill it.” 

He looked at your unmoving body in wait, hoping you’d say something.

And you did – muttering. “It’s not the curse I care about, Jujutsu Sorcerer.”

He blanched. It had been a while since you referred to him that coldly.

“I just forget sometimes.” You added. Voice muffled beneath the covers and almost so quiet he nearly couldn’t hear it.

“Forget what?” He asked.

There was a small pause before you answered him. “What you are…”

The curl on his face unraveled. Face blanking. Wordless.

“I’m sure you forget what I am too.” You continued. “That if I ever tried to leave… you’d hunt me down and reduce me to just a few drops of blood you’d then go home and wash off as though it meant nothing.”

He barely let you finish before yanking the covers off you, exposing you and the tears riddling your face to his view.

“That’s not true.” He denied.

“No?” You questioned harshly, sitting up in a rush – and getting in close to his face – daring him with a glare. “Then tell me. What exactly would happen if I decided I no longer wanted to stay here?”

His hair still dripped with cold droplets from his shower as he returned your stare. Your question was a dangerous one... 

One he’d rather not answer.

He swallowed. “You have to stay here. You know why.” He said dismissively – his voice in that serious timbre he never uses – that tone devoid of the usual frivolity and instead holds that very dogmatic weight that urges you to surrender the fight before it gets too messy.

But you don’t heed the warning. “And if I can’t accept that? If I fight you-”

“Don’t be silly. You could never win-” He cut you off – before getting cut off himself by your next words.

“What if I tried anyway?” Your voice a little louder than before – staring him square in the face.

He paused, taking in your eyes – their narrowed state, as well as the brim of tears circling them. He thought of what he’d done that day and then tried imagining doing it to you – and came to a realization.

“I wouldn’t fight back…” His words were soft again, without edge. “I could never hurt you, princess…” He cupped your face in both hands, his eyes full of something so wholesome it nearly made you flinch.

Then he looked sad. Pained in some way – or guilty, maybe.

“But still…” He started quietly. “I could never let you leave either.”

His hands were warm and gentle on your cheeks, but you wished he’d stop touching you. “Their blood smelled of terror and torment. Did you have fun torturing them until they gave out?” The question was pointed – your words meant like venom.

His frown returned, letting go of your face – though you both remained only a split hair’s length apart. “So this is about the curse?”

“No, this is about you.” You corrected sharply – mirroring his frown with a bitter one of your own. “Is it the same type of fun you have subjugating me into being your tame little concubine?”

His face soured even more – now as though offended. “You're more than that to me. Don’t say that-”

But once again, you interrupted. “Livestock are pets until slaughter season. Suppose a butcherer would think that’s kind-”

And once again, he returned the favor – this time with his voice raised. “If I let you out of here, another sorcerer would kill you within a day! Keeping you here is what keeps you safe!”

You scoffed with your own voice climbing higher. “Don’t be so rude to paint yourself as a saint when you reek of sadism!”

There was a standstill, an all too deafening silence afterward – one filled with heavy breaths and the lingering echo of your last statement – until that as well, died and became nothing.

Satoru looked down, his head hanging – lifting gently with his breaths. 

“I’m not a saint.” He murmured after a minute. “I’m selfish. And greedy.”

You watched him – much shorter than him, even as he hung his head, you were still able to see his eyes flicker with uncertain light beneath those heavy mothlike lashes.

“I didn’t kill you like I was supposed to because I saw something I wanted for myself, so I took it.” He confessed. “And I killed that curse today and had fun doing it.”

Taking your hands in his, he cradled them as though he planned on drinking them.

“You’re right. I am a sadist.” He sighed, giving a small breathless laugh. “It feels good to know that I can do whatever I want whenever I want to whoever I want. And it feels good to know that no one can stop me.”

Finally, he raised his chin and looked back at you – those eyes of his intense with something raw – something desperate.

“I don’t care about anything. So many things could happen outside these four walls and it wouldn’t matter. I’d still be Gojo Satoru and you’d still be mine.”

A tiny gasp slipped through your lips, but other than that, you couldn't move – compelled to keep his gaze – spellbound to their deep light.

“But the one thing I can’t do is make someone feel the way I want them to…” He continued, still with his voice soft. “And even though you don’t have a choice, I’m still selfish enough to wish that you’d want to stay with me. Forever.”

He gave your hands a squeeze.

“And most selfishly…” He leaned in, his face kissing yours softly, brow to brow, cheek to cheek, and nose to nose – lips ghosting as your mouths breathed in each other's air. “I want you to love me.”

Your breath shook. Eyes downcast, brows trembling, and he’d say you almost looked scared, weren’t it for how hard you gripped his hands in return – making indents in his skin with your nails as though anchoring yourself. “Curses can’t love.” You tried excusing, but your voice was weak and he wouldn’t have it.

“I don’t believe that,” He rejected – and looking right through it, he knew you didn’t believe it either. 

Then he chuckled.

“After all… I’m the worst curse of all, and I love you.”

part 1 part 2

tip-jar: Kofi

Imagine Gojo, begging him not to nut in you and to use a condom instead. He says yes surprisingly quickly, all smiles. Then he puts you in a mating press, legs up by your ears and goes to town on you. When your done doing the do he pulls out, shit eating grin on his face, quickly he takes off the dom, flips it inside out and empties the contents right back into your twitching, unsuspecting pussy. You cry out but he has you trapped. Legs still above your head, he parts your lips and continues.

You can try to push him away to no avail, his grin growing wider. You can desperately try and push his seed out, begging him to stop, telling him that you’re not on birth control, that you seriously could get pregnant from this, that he’s a sicko for what he’s doing to you. That earns you a dark chuckle and two skilled fingers at the entrance of your cunt, pushing his sloppy cum back into your well used pussy.

The message is very clear. Gojo can do whatever he wants with you, you are in no position to refuse.

Having nasty thoughts about Gojo. I feel like he’s the type to frustrate and bully you until you cry.

He’d defo also force you into little space all the time, telling you things like “you’re too little to understand” and cooing at you in a really condescending tone, every time you get mad or try to fight him he’d continue the bullying and the cycle would just repeat.

He’d show up at your work, tell everyone you know that you two are dating. If you ever tried to bring it up he’d play it off, acting smug and asking you if you had a crush on him before antagonising you some more.

He would blow hot and cold, telling you that you’re delusional and in the same week, show up out of the blue offering you a bouquet of flowers and begging you to move in with him (after your apartment blew up under “mysterious circumstances” ofc). How did he even know where you lived?

Eventually you’d be too exhausted to fight him and end up in little space all the time. Whining at him and asking him permission for the smallest things, the worse thing is, he’d break you down so slowly over a long period that you wouldn’t even realise its happening .

I feel like he wouldn’t want you to be too tame however, he’d let you act up, riling you up in public spaces and punishing you privately at home.

Don’t make him too jealous tho, he wouldn’t like that. He’s all smiles in front of his darling whilst contemplating where to dispose the body of the guy you were so brazenly flirting with. He’d keep his cool, playing up appearances until he gets home, and next thing you know you’re kept tied to his bed all weekend. 💜

Ruptured Amethyst; Splintered Tanzanite

Dark!Satosugu x reader - Yakuza Au

Synopsis: In hopes of paying off your debt, you start working for two dangerous men. Soon, you realize they want more than money.

Word count: 9.2k

(Warnings: dark content, sexual coercion, dubcon, noncon, oral sex, piv sex, threesomes, gun, blood, violence) Ageless blogs will be blocked. Minors DNI

In this job, you quickly learned that it's better to just keep your head down. 

Do what you were called for and leave. Do nothing but sit on your computer and look at numbers. Stepping out of your makeshift boundaries led to nothing but trouble.

It worked perfectly like that for the first few weeks you were brought here. The other workers never bothered you, and it took you a moment to realize they were in the same boat as you were: owing a debt. You wouldn’t quite say things were peaceful; every so often, one of Geto’s men would hurl someone through a table, but things were manageable.

And then Gojo came back.

You hadn’t met Gojo, yet. He was overseas on a business trip when Geto brought you in. You hadn’t met him, but you’d heard enough to make you want to stay away from him. Ijichi had told you enough stories to make you want to sink into the floor altogether. You just had until the end of the year until your debt was paid. It was the beginning of September, right now. Surely, you could avoid him until then, right?

“Ah, you’re the one Suguru was talking about.”

It was your fault. It was entirely your fault. Ijichi had begged you to stay after work for a bit longer and desperate to pay the debt off, you had agreed. No one else was supposed to be in the office besides you and him.

But Gojo didn’t follow other people’s rules. It'd take you a while before you fully understand that.

You could do nothing but stand there, wobbling in your heels as Gojo loomed over you. His sunglasses were tilted, cresting over his nose as he scrutinized you. You clutched the laptop closer to your chest, as though it’d save you somehow.

Gojo didn’t look dangerous. If you had seen him on the street, you would have assumed he was a model. Tall, long hands, pretty features. Gojo doesn’t look dangerous. Gojo is dangerous. He doesn’t need the gun (casually on his side, right in your line of sight) to prove it.

You say nothing. You don’t know what to say. So far, you’ve only dealt with Geto. Geto with his fake smiles and soft words of thinly veiled threats. As intimidating as Geto was, you felt safe enough with him to answer his questions. Speak when spoken to.

Gojo was uncharted territory. Should you speak? Should you greet him? Should you get on your hands and knees? Gojo was new. You had to deal with something new, alone.

You opt to stay silent, hoping that’s the best move. It’s not. Above you, Gojo’s clicking his tongue. He leans down, stooping his head low to get a better view of your face. You stare at him until it gets too much and you’re turning away. He likes that even less, grabbing you by the chin so you’re facing him again.

“You mute or somethin’?” He asks, tilting your head like he’s assessing you.

“No,” you finally murmur. It was a question, correct? He won’t get mad if you answer his questions.

He doesn’t seem mad. But he doesn’t seem happy, either. If anything, he looks a little disappointed.

“I really don’t get it,” he’s talking, but it’s more like he’s saying his thoughts out loud, “Suguru would not shut up about you. Thought I was gonna see something more exciting. You’re so...”

He trails off as though even describing you would be a waste. The thought that Geto speaks about you to his partners scares you, but you’re wise enough not to pry. Instead, you wait. Waiting often works. You’ve been cornered by Geto’s men (before they knew he was the one who brought you), most just want to intimidate you, they get a kick out of fear. When you give them what they want, they usually leave you alone.

Gojo doesn’t leave, even when you’re sure your horror is printed on your face. Obvious to even the blind. Instead, he leans back, eyes trailing down your outfit. Despite how most of the stuff done here was off the record, Geto still prioritized a professional workplace. You were expected to put on a clean blouse and skirt every day.

You yelp when Gojo tugs on the fabric of your skirt, bunching the material on your thighs. Forgetting where you are, who you’re with, you grab his wrist.

“Don’t be like that,” Gojo chides as though you were being the unreasonable one, “I just wanna look. Seriously, what was that guy going on and on about—”

“Satoru.”

Geto’s voice stops the both of you. He’s leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a less than impressed look. You’re relieved when he’s more focused on Gojo than you.

“Sugu!” Gojo cheers, a complete 180 from his past demeanor. He lets you go and you sink against the wall in relief. “I’m home!”

“I can see that,” Geto retorts, but there’s an odd fondness laced in his tone that you’d never heard before.

The kiss they shared was violent. Tongue and teeth and messy. Gojo reached up, scrunching Geto’s hair, dragging him closer. Respectfully, you glanced away. You don’t yet leave. You know better than that, especially now that Geto is here.

“How many times have I told you to stop harassing our employees?” Geto sighs, once he’s pulled away. His tone is filled with exasperation, as though he were talking to a child.

“I didn’t do anythin’,” Gojo responds. When you finally turn back, Geto is shaking his head.

He smiles at you.

“Apologies, my dear,” he states, “you can leave. Remember to tell Ijichi you’re going.”

You eagerly nod before scurrying away. You can hear Gojo scoff, another murmur from Geto. You couldn’t care less what they’re saying, more than happy to grab your things, bid Ijichi goodbye, and leave.

Keep your head down, and don’t ever bother with what they are doing.

⟡

Technically, you weren’t in debt, your father was.

He had close ties to the underground. You weren’t sure of the details, you were so young when your mother left with you in tow. She was always stingy with the details, but she never failed to remind you that your father was a stupid man who worked with dangerous ones. She passed away right after you graduated from college. You’d mourned her.

Now, a part of you felt grateful she passed just before she saw your life fall apart.

They came in the middle of April. You remember that day purely because of the flower blossoms littering the sidewalk, the first sign of blooming spring.

There were three other men besides Geto that day, and you hadn’t known his name back then—just the man with long, pretty hair. They were all waiting for you, loitering right beside your home. When you hesitated, slowed to a stop, the man with long hair smiled at you. Geto calls your name. When you don’t respond, his smile widened.

“That is who you are, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you nervously said, “sorry, but—but who are you all?”

He introduces himself. The other three don’t bother. You don’t yet realize that they’re only henchmen, mere puppets for Geto.

“Apologies, but this is a rather sensitive subject. Can we talk someplace private?”

You don’t want to let these men into your home, but his soft words and intimidating company coax you into agreeing. You lead them up the steps, praying to God that you were wrong about this—whoever they were. When you unlock the door, only Geto follows you. The rest wait outside. You don’t know if that’s better or worse.

He seats himself right on the sofa. It’s your apartment, and yet his mere presence makes you feel like he’s the owner. You loiter next to the door, twiddling your thumbs.

“Would you like tea?”

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you a polite one?”

It was more for you than for him—scurrying to the kitchen, away from his searing purple eyes. It’s a reprieve to start the burner, pour water into the pot. You take as much time as you can, but eventually, you have to come out.

Geto says nothing when you place the cups down. He takes it, humming at the taste. You don’t touch your cup.

His tone is soft. His words aren’t.

Your father did far worse than work with dangerous men. He’d stolen from them. He was already dealt with, his punishment had sent him careening off the Earth far sooner than your mother. Still, the topic of the missing money was still there.

Something that had fallen onto you, his next of kin.

You were already crying once Geto finished. Your body is wracked with sobs. You can barely suck in a breath.

“Please—please,” you’re already saying, “he—we—I swear we never received any sort of money from him.”

He takes your hand within his own, curling his fingers around them. Coming from anyone else, it would have been a nice gesture.

“I’m aware,” Geto comforts, “we know you haven’t been in contact with your father for more than a decade.”

His fingers are warm. They trace your cheek as he gently wipes away your tears.

“But in this line of business, family matters, no matter how estranged, my Dear.”

You look at him through your tears. He’s beautiful. Long black hair. If you touched it, you bet it would feel like silk within your fingers.

It’s his eyes that truly suck you in. Purple. It’s a rare eye color, you’ve never seen someone with purple eyes until now. They resemble amethyst, unpolished, but still just as beautiful.

“My partner would have much less...humane ways of dealing with this situation,” Geto continues, “but I think you could be far more useful warm rather than cold, do you agree?” You shrivel in your spot, already having an inkling to what he’s saying. It’s not like you haven’t already figured out where this was going. You’ve heard the stories of what dangerous men do to those who’ve wronged them—to the vulnerable girls who accidentally trip and fall into their trap, forced to work in brothels and debase themselves all for the sake of keeping them rich.

He laughs right then. It’s rich, deep, startling you out of your misery.

"Come now, it's the 21st century."

Geto smiles. Fake. Unsafe. 

"Women are worth far more than just their bodies." 

It turns out that even the Yakuza had paperwork.

It was a menial deskjob, on the surface, at least. If you don’t think too hard about who you’re working for, it could be a regular office. It’s not like any of the work you are provided with is illegal, but you doubt you’d put it down on your resume.

Your education had saved you. Ironic that it was your father who instilled your desire to learn.

If you don’t think too hard about it, your new ‘job’ wasn’t horrible. As notorious as they were, your new employers weren’t downright cruel. You still got paid. You had a contract. Things could honestly be a whole lot worse.

It was still very hard to get used to, especially in the beginning.

Something you learned very quickly was that the men around here did not like it when women had an attitude. You were far too meek to have one, but the other few women who worked with you became your teachers, showing you exactly what the men would do if you didn’t stay in line. You were more than happy to listen, and even then, your eagerness to learn didn’t help. In order for the lesson to truly sink in, you needed trial and error. 

You stepped out of line exactly once. And then you never did it again.

It had been an accident. You’d forgotten that Geto had an important meeting that day. You knocked on his door, shuffling some documents in your hand. It was muscle memory to just go in because he’s never said anything but come in before.

They’d all stared at you, eyes lingering up and down your body. One of them grins. Immediately, you look at Geto. Horrified. Ready to grovel at his feet if need be.

His eyes flashed dangerously. Purple turned into sharp magenta knives. Geto tilted his head.

“Come here, dear.”

You take one step. Another. Then another. The way they look at you makes your stomach twist and sink but Geto only looks at you expectantly. When you linger at his side, his lips quirk.

His grip on your waist is gentle as he guides you into his lap. Your cheeks burn, but you don’t dare move, not even when the men start laughing at the free show. Geto only curls a hand on your waist, keeping you in place as he leans back again.

“Continue, gentlemen.”

The rest of the meeting continues with you on Geto’s lap. You don’t look at any of them, hands balled into fists at your sides. You feel naked. The air within the room is stifling. You refuse to look anywhere else but the floor.

The conversation goes back to business. Despite the compromising situation, he put you in, Geto’s hands don’t wander. He's content to keep his fingers on your waist until the room filters out and everyone leaves.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Geto.” You murmur, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He doesn’t answer, at least not to that. He just sighs, sinking into his seat. Still, Geto doesn’t let you get up. Not yet. He waits until you’re looking at him, still smiling that fake smile.

This had been a punishment. The next time you made a mistake, you doubt you’d be let off so easily.

“Learn quickly, my dear.”

You nod. You apologize again. When Geto finally lets you go, you are quick to stumble away, pushing your way out the door. Purple eyes follow you out. You don’t think they stop looking until you’re out of the room, curled into your desk, steadying your heartbeat.

You stepped out of line exactly once. You never did it again.

Despite being under Geto, technically, Ijichi is your direct superior. You thanked the Gods for it. Ijichi was the only person here you were certain didn’t have blood on his hands. He was in a similar situation as you were; stuck working off a debt that he didn’t owe. You two bonded on your shared misery. He was the one reprieve you had in your new life.

Unfortunately, now that Gojo was back, Ijichi was far busier. It gave you little time with him. You suppose you were always welcome to join them, but considering your first encounter with Gojo, you’d much rather not.

It’s not like you hadn’t had similar encounters before Gojo's arrival. In the very beginning, one of Geto’s men tried something remarkably similar. You can still remember his hand on your hip, his other hand slowly unbuttoning your shirt while other men stood to the side laughing.

It hadn’t lasted long.

You didn’t realize he was shot until he was already on the ground, twitching in pure agony. He screamed and cried louder than you had. Blood was already dripping to the floor.

Geto had already tucked away the gun, striding away as though nothing happened. He didn’t say anything, the incident was never mentioned. Even to you, his statement rang loud and clear.

You were off-limits.

Clearly, Gojo didn’t care about the unspoken rule.

So far, Ijichi hasn’t acknowledged him. If anything, your superior is hunched behind his computer, typing away, rarely taking his eyes off-screen. You admired his concentration, but it was hard for you to follow suit, considering that Gojo had taken a seat right next to you.

His stare is impossible to ignore. You can feel it even as you desperately try to focus on the screen in front of you. As if he can tell you’re intimidated by his mere presence, he leans over, shoulder pressing against your own. You could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Watcha’ workin’ on?” He asks as though he can’t already see.

Still, you falter. “Um—”

“Um’” he repeats, “that’s all you’ve been sayin’. Hey, Ijichi—” The man in question jolts up, eyes already panicked.

“Your assistant always this jumpy, or is your personality just that infectious?”

“Sir, uh—” Ijichi starts before getting cut off by a tsk.

“See? Again,” Gojo sighs, “I see why you two get along so well.”

You and Ijichi exchange glances, unsure what to do. When Gojo says nothing more, you decide it’s okay to resume work again, typing away.

Childhood friends, Ijichi told you back when you were still morbidly curious. Gojo had come from a lineage of powerful businessmen. Geto had more or less worked his way up. They became partners somewhere along that time.

It’s hard to imagine them as friends or as anything more. They’re so different. Geto is so controlled, measured with every response he takes. Gojo is more like dynamite, ready to go off at any moment.

You suppose the only similarity is how unreadable they are. To this day, you can’t tell whether Gojo dislikes you or not. Every action you take seems only to disappoint him, yet he constantly hovers around you.

It takes another minute for you to be on the keyboard before Gojo decides he doesn’t like you working peacefully. The chair creaks under his weight as he shifts closer. His head rests against your shoulder. With his new position, you can feel his breath on your collarbone as an arm casually wraps around your shoulders. You don’t dare react, but you send Ijichi a panicked look. He looks sympathetic, but he doesn’t move to help you. You can’t find it in yourself to fault him for his inactions.

“You never answered me, by the way.” He murmurs, quiet enough that only you can hear.

You respond as diligently as you can, making sure you use as few word fillers as possible. It’s clear Gojo doesn’t like that. Or rather, he doesn’t like the nervousness your voice exudes but you doubt you could fix it, especially with his presence around.

“Sounds boring.” Gojo interrupts your rambles. “You don’t do anything else more entertaining?”

“No, sir,” you reply, “I’m only in charge of paperwork.”

Despite the other co-workers you have, you are still an anomaly. Everyone here has had an experience holding a gun—even Ijichi. It’s clear Geto ‘hiring’ you was a change in pattern, something you would always be grateful for. If he hadn't, you wouldn’t want to know what was in store for you.

That’s probably why Gojo was so curious about you. However, considering how close they were, you were now wondering why Geto hadn’t explained it.

“How long have you been working here—hey,look at me when you’re talking.”

You turn, and for the first time, you willingly face Gojo Satoru. His sunglasses are tilted down, and you can see his eyes now. They are blue, so painfully blue, like an ocean, curled up tightly within his eyes. Glittering tanzanite stares back at you—beautiful gemstones that glisten beneath the fluorescent light.

Gojo tilts his head, and you remember that he asked you a question.

“Three weeks, Sir.”

He doesn’t seem all that pleased with your answer. You wonder if you should have lied instead. He’s embarrassingly close, and the position he’s forced you into doesn’t help.

“That quick, huh?” Gojo murmurs, and he sounds a little impressed, “how many times have you and Suguru fucked?”

You gape at him, horrified at even the insinuation. It takes a while for you to even find your voice. 

“I—we’ve never. Never.”

Gojo narrows his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. C’mon, I'm just curious.”

It feels even worse that Gojo's question isn't even unreasonable. Geto has always treated you differently. Softer. Kinder, if you wanted to be charitable. It isn't a stretch to assume you've been doing favors for the man, in this line of work, it must be a normal occurrence. Yet, you haven't. Apart from that one blunder weeks ago, Geto has never touched you inappropriately. 

Still, you shake your head rapidly, feeling heat flush in your cheeks. Being cornered and interrogated like this is humiliating, especially in front of everyone. Ijichi is nice enough to look away while you’re being humiliated, but you know he’s listening. You know everyone’s listening.

Thankfully, Geto intervenes.

“You.” A sigh of exasperation. “Get off.”

Gojo rolls his eyes, but you almost cry in relief when he pushes away and stands up.

“We were bonding,” Gojo argues, though, like everything he says, it sounds like a tease.

Geto’s murmuring something else, and it’s clear that this interaction between them is normal. It's almost a repetition of what happened last time. Both times, you’d been the commonality.

Gojo leaves eventually, shooed away by his partner. The office finally grows quiet when the white-haired man disappears to God knows where. You feel like you can breathe again, but Geto still has not left.

When you look, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and you’re strangely reminded of a stressed mother. Finally, he lets out a breath, opening his eyes and staring down at you.

“I apologize for his behavior, my dear,” he says. There’s a hand on your shoulder, mirroring the touch Gojo gave you.

“He’s excitable, like a dog.” You don’t think that part was for you, though you don’t think you could ever even fathom comparing the terrifying anomaly that is Gojo to a mutt. You don’t respond. Geto squeezes your shoulder.

“Come to me if Satoru goes too far. I always take care of my people, don't I?”

He doesn’t leave until you give a nod. His hand finally retracts, allowing you to sink into your seat. You watch him until his figure disappears from view.

“I’m taking a break,” you say, not even a minute later.

Ijichi gives a nod as you push yourself up away from the computer. You spend your break the way you usually do: tucked inside the bathroom, trying to wonder how your life turned out this way.

⟡

Sometimes, you accompany Geto on his trips.

You don’t want to, but it’s not like you can reject his ‘requests.’ It’s part of the job, whether or not you can refuse is up to Geto’s whims.

The trips aren’t too bad. Most of the time, it’s a meeting with other dangerous men. You mainly just sit in a corner, peering down at the ground, trying your best not to be noticed. It works, most of the time. The few perks of this new life is how seldom the people of the underground want to associate with you, especially when you're with Geto. His presence is everywhere, a blanket of protection bestowed only to you. These days, you feel safe even when walking home alone at night.  

The trips aren't too bad, but Gojo's insistence on tagging along changed even that. 

You should be sitting up front. There's a perfectly vacate passenger seat, right beside Ijichi, the least dangerous man in the vehicle. Gojo had practically dragged you into the car with him, holding you hostage. Geto slid into the seat beside you, effectively trapping you between the two men. 

Despite your attempts to keep your body to yourself, every other minute, your thighs brush against theirs. It's a miserable affair, but neither comment on your breach of personal space. They're both too invested in their own little worlds. Geto peers peacefully out the window, enjoying the city life pass by. Gojo is glued to his phone, tapping away every so often. 

It's tempting to sneak a peek at them in their natural states, relaxed, unbothered. You don't stare for too long. 

Every so often, their worlds will collide. Geto will point out a cat. Gojo would reach over you, showing Geto something funny on his phone. Unfortunately, Gojo catches your lingering eyes.

"Wanna see?" He doesn't bother to hear your response, shoving his phone in your face. 

It's a cat video, of all things. You almost wanted to laugh at how normal it is, but you're too intimidated to do anything but give a strained smile, more designed to please. You expected something darker. More blood. More screams. On the screen, the orange kitten lightly bats at a ball of yarn.

"Got a cat?" Gojo asks, tucking away his phone. 

"No, Mr. Gojo." 

He tsks, but before your blood can freeze, he says, "I told you: It's Satoru." 

He's been insistent about it these past few days: Satoru. Satoru. Call me Satoru, as though you'd even dare. Beside you, Geto rumbles out his disapproval. 

"Don't be childish, Satoru." He chides.

The car rolls to a stop eventually. The relief in your lungs expands. Ijichi gets out first, followed by Geto. Before you can move, a hand grabs you by the chin, halting your movements. 

"You're not leaving this car until you say it, pretty thing," Gojo tells you. "C'mon. Sa-to-ru." 

Behind you, Geto sighs, but he doesn't move to stop him. Right, Geto promised he'd step in only when Gojo goes too far. Clearly, this is within his bounds. 

You wilt under the hardened tanzanite. 

"Satoru." You mutter. 

Satisfied, Gojo releases his hold on you, hopping out the car, humming a happy tune. 

Geto holds his hand out to you. You'd be an idiot not to take it.

"Bear with him today, dear," he tells you when you step out in the pavement, "he's in a mood." 

Amythyst sears into you. You can only nod. 

Even then, Geto doesn't release you. He gently maneuvers your arm until your elbow is interlocked with his. He takes his time, walking into the building, mindful of your heels. Ijichi and Gojo are already ahead. Gojo takes a look behind him, spots the two of you, scoffs, but doesn't do much more. 

It's another thing you don't know how to feel about. The two have always instigated less than friendly gestures toward you. Yet, neither of the two have expressed any kind of jealousy. You know they are clearly lovers, yet the way they allow their significant other to behave with you makes you feel a bit nauseous. 

 Most likely, they see you as a pet. Not even a threat to their relationship. It makes sense. In their eyes, you're probably a scared gazelle in the middle of a lion's den. Cute. Something to play with. 

There's another theory in your head that you're pushing away.

You follow the same procedure you've always followed. You stay still and silent, like a doll, right beside Geto. Strange men come up to him, greeting him with smug smiles. They barely give you a glance. That's good. It means they know you're one of Geto's. 

Gojo being there changes the dynamic. He's more serious, in this setting. You sit right next to Geto's side, listening as Gojo talks. They both do that a lot. Talking. Negotiating. Scheming. You're a bit disappointed in yourself at how easy it is to let the words swirl around until there's nothing left to understand. It's easy to ignore them now. The horrors they partake in. The horrors you are indirectly part of. 

Are you allowed to be innocent now that you work under these people? You've never pulled the trigger yourself, but is that an excuse? Morally speaking, you're the same as the men you are terrified of. 

How laughable. You came to that conclusion right when they were discussing the price of narcotics. 

Sometime later, you find yourself alone, roaming down an unfamiliar hall. It's foolish to be out without Geto or Gojo or even Ijichi, but Geto had an errand he wanted you to run. Now that it was complete, you needed to return back to him. 

Except, you had no clue where he was. 

You were lost. You should have known this would happen. Why didn't you pay more attention to where you were going? This wasn't any old building. Dangerous men lurked around, even the weaker ones carried guns and weapons. 

It was only a matter of time before one of them caught you. 

"Hey. You." 

You were considered one of Geto's, but without him in sight, you were nothing. You knew that. It's why you cower immediately. 

"I'm busy," you speak quickly, "My boss, Mr. Geto, he's—" 

His hand is rough and scared and filthy on your skin. You are basically thrown against the wall, cornered against this stranger. He smiles. His teeth are yellowed and filled with tarter and plaque. 

"C'mon, there's no need to rush. 'Just wanna have some fun. How much?" Disgust rolls off your tongue, but you don't have the courage to reveal it. 

"I'm not like that," you mutter, "I'm not for sale." 

But, aren't you? You've sold yourself to Geto, haven't you? Underneath his thumb, his whims. What makes you so much different from a hooker?

"Sure." And then there's a shift in his eyes. His face scrunches up, like he's just tasted something sour. 

"Hold on...you're—you're that bastard's kid, aren't you?" 

He says your last name, the name your father gave you with so much spite that you nearly flinch. In that moment, you realized that your father had messed with a lot more people than just Geto. 

"Yeah yeah, you're a spitting fucking image!" He gripes you harsher. "Your daddy fucked me over while you're sitting over here nice and pretty? What the fuck?" 

He's dead. He's dead and you hadn't spoken to him in over a decade, but his ghost still wants to punish you for being his kin. And this man is his executioner. 

You're expecting something violent. Something that hurt more than his hand's squeezing your bicep. Perhaps he was, perhaps he would. Unfortunately, for him, Gojo interupted his plans. 

You didn't even know that it was him, at first, on the floor, on top of the man. Gojo, despite his hungry smile, eager eyes, was always so angelic. He isn't supposed to be using his hands. He isn't supposed to inflict violence, not by himself. 

He's punching him. The man isn't a man anymore, reduced to a mere punching back. Gojo doesn't stop until he breaks skin. He doesn't stop until you can hear a distinct crack. 

Satoru doesn't stop until Suguru tells him to. 

"Don't kill him." Geto warns. "It'd breach the agreement." 

You can feel his presence, always silent, never revealing himself until he wants to be known. So unlike Gojo, who is hungry for even a second of attention. More than happy to spill blood over it.

Gojo grits his teeth, as though he's debating to even listen. He stands up eventually, chest heaving. His knuckles are caked in blood. It's not his. His glasses are off. His eyes are blown wide open like he's just hit the greatest high of his life. Geto calmly hands him a clean towel. You don’t want to know how many times this situation has repeated.

"Who gives a shit." Gojo bites out, his eyes , trailing to you, and you flinch away. He looks like a wild animal, growling and spitting. You don’t want to be next on his plate. Geto steps in front of you, barricading you from his sight.

The man on the ground had recovered enough to pathetically crawl away. It such a stark change to how he was just a few minutes ago, when he was lording over you, drunk off of his power. 

Gojo steps on his calf. The broken thing gives a strangled scream. It only makes Gojo’s manic grin wider.

"Let him go. You made your point," Geto says, "calm down." 

Firey blue eyes. Bright and violent. You don’t know how Suguru is able to withstand the intensity. Even you’re wilting when it’s not even directed towards you.

"Calm down?” Satoru asks. “You want me to calm down? Did you see what that bastard was gonna do to our—" 

"Satoru." You've never heard Geto use this tone before. "Not here. Not now." 

A silent battle warred between them. Tanzanite bore into amethyst. Which gem would rupture first, splinter into defeat? 

Eventually, Gojo looks away, cursing. He glares down at you, as though he were blaming your weakness of all things. In a way, he’s not wrong to.

"I'll wait outside." 

And then he's gone, striding down the corridor. Geto watches him go, before glancing down at you. 

"Did he hurt you?" He asks. 

You're not supposed to lie to him. You nod. 

Geto pulls on your sleeves until he can see the imprints. Light bruising, nothing too horrible. You'll survive. Geto looks less than pleased. He glances down at the remnants of the man, the imprints of blood on the floor. You pitied the person who'd have to clean it up. 

"I apologize, dear." He sighs. "I should have kept an eye on you." 

He stares at the blood some more. Then, he smiles. 

"Perhaps, it's better if I just let things run its course, this time." 

You blink at him. He ignores your silent question. Instead, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, gently leading you outside. The car is already running. This time, Geto silently ushers you into the passenger seat. You take it immediately. Gojo hadn't taken his eyes off of you. You're grateful for any barrier. 

This time, the car ride was silent. You don't relish in it. If anything, it just feels like the calm before the storm.

⟡

Soon, what Geto was talking about became apparent. 

The man who had nearly been killed by Gojo had talked. You don't know what your father did to these men, perhaps you never will, but they didn't let you forget his crimes. If they couldn't get to him, then clearly, his kid was the next best option. You know it was them. It would be no one else. 

Someone broke into your apartment one weekend. Everything was ruined. The TV was shattered and broken. Your mattress was tossed onto the floor. Every plate, cup, and bowl was smashed onto the floor. They took nothing, but they broke everything. 

You hadn't been home that night. Ijichi needed more work from you. If you had, if you had come home that night, alone, locked the door, slept in that bed, then what would have—

Geto finds you on the stairs of your apartment, curled into a ball. You watch with bloodshot eyes as he observes the damage, clicking his tongue. He doesn't look particularly shocked.

You do nothing when you feel his hand on your shoulder, brushing against the sleeves, a feign of sympathy. You don't even care to ask how he came even though you never called him. Geto has a keen sense for you. 

"It'll get worse." His voice comes. Soft, and sure. 

Yeah, you knew that. You'd been naive, following after Geto with wide eyes. You thought that if he was untouchable, then so were you. 

He speaks about an enemy group, people with debts with your father, just as he did. Of course, he knows who did this to you. You’d be more surprised if he didn’t.

You don’t care. His words go in one ear and out the other. The reasons don’t matter. Your home is still destroyed. It’s no longer yours.

"They got my phone, too," you mention to your discarded cell phone. "My emails, messages." 

You're trapped, with nowhere else to turn. All the doors are shut and bolted, and only one remains open. 

You turn to the devil. 

"Can you...help?" 

The angler fish uses its darkened habitat to its advantage. Hundreds of miles beneath the water's surface, it produces its own light as an olfactory bulb. It's an excellent predator, swinging its bio lantern around in the dark sea, the only light around for miles. 

Geto tilts his head, a smile on perfect pink lips. 

"You want my protection? It's a steep price, darling." 

You feel like an empty well, forced to give and give until you're all dried up. Who could be so greedy? Who could be so willing to take?

"I've given you everything." It's barely a whisper. "What else do I have left to offer?" 

He doesn't say anything to that, not at first. Geto kneels in front of you, a slender hand lifting your head up by the chin. Fingers trail down to your neck. Not choking, just holding. His thumb lightly presses into your throat. 

"Not everything," Suguru says quietly. 

He's right. You hadn't given him everything. So far, you have always been one of Geto's people. You were Geto's employee. You were indebted to him, but you weren't conquered by him. 

Not yet. 

He's kneeling in front of you, holding your soul in his hands and demanding for your heart. In a way, you find it a bit funny. You just don’t have the will to laugh anymore.

He's smiling again when he can tell you're finally starting to understand. "We couldn't have been that subtle, were we? Satoru never failed to express, at the very least." 

No, they never tried to hide it. Even in the beginning, when you first met Suguru, you saw the hunger. You just tried to ignore it. You tried to keep your head in the sand, hoping it would pass. It makes you wonder if you had just agreed on that very night, led him into your bed, and bared it, would things have been different? 

"I can leave. We can pretend this never happened," he coos, "it's all up to you, sweetheart." 

He's making it seem like you had a choice. In a way, you did. You're choosing between two monsters. A known and an unknown. It takes longer than you'd like to figure out which one scares you more. 

You take the bait. The angler fish siezes its prey. 

"One night?" You're trying not to beg but it's coming out anyway. "Just—just one night?" 

Geto leans forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It’s not an answer.

⟡

Despite the many months you've worked with him, you've never been to his home before. 

It's not a house. A villa maybe. The property stretches itself stretches for miles. Filthy rich. Bleeding gold. 

Geto—

("Suguru," he corrected you in the car, "considering this isn't really business, anymore.") 

—had ushered you throw a double-door entrance. You couldn't even admire the architecture. Not when Gojo was already standing there. His eyes were hidden away, tucked underneath his glasses, but you still felt his stare. And all too wide smile stretched on his lips. He greeted Suguru with a kiss. For the first time, you looked down at their hands. 

Matching rings. 

You felt sick. 

'It's all up to you, sweetheart' Suguru's voice rings through your head all through a dinner that's really nothing but a flimsy padding for the rest of the night. Food was served, wine was poured, all in a bid to ease you into it. As of right now, it's still your 'choice'. You know, without a doubt, if you backed out now, they'd let you go without a fuss. Suguru or Satoru themselves might drive you home. You'd crawl into bed without a scratch.

But you don't. You stare at your plate, picking at it when they ask questions. Satoru's in such a good mood he offers to feed you. 

It's mostly because it doesn't feel real yet. You feel like you're watching yourself go through the movements. Eat. Speak when spoken to. Smile when prompted. Empty. 

You only come back when you're standing in their room, and the door locks with a click. 

The window blinds are drawn, but there's no light to seep in. The moon is already out. You wonder how many hours you've already spent here. 

You take another step towards the bed. Then, you turn around. 

Satoru and Suguru stare right back. You feel their heavy gazes immediately, flicking your eyes down to your feet, playing with your sleeves. 

Satoru laughs, perceiving the terror as shyness, or maybe he doesn't care. He steps forward first. 

"Don't be like that." He lightly chastises you, tucking one arm around your waist. "We'll be nice. Promise, baby. We're gonna be so so good for you." 

He finds your lips, then. Satoru kisses like the sun, all fire and passion. Sinking into you, wanting to melt. It's impossible to turn away and ignore his presence. He gropes at your chest, your waist, trying to feel all of you at once. When he finally lets go, you feel dizzy. 

Suguru's kisses ground you, makes remember where you are, who you're with. He's like the Earth you're crashing back into from your high. You hurdle through the atmosphere as his hands grasp at your throat. He never squeezes, but it's more than enough to sober you. 

"You smell so nice, baby," Satoru says from his place at your neck. You flinch when teeth sink into your sink, but you don't complain. 

"That's creepy, Satoru." Suguru chastizes him.

Serpentine eyes stare into yours. You don’t get the chance to hide before you feel his breath on your cheek. Suguru tugs at the hem of your dress.

“Take this off.” He whispers into your skin. “And get on the bed for us, sweetheart.”

This is the lesser monster. It’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you pliantly nod, hesitantly gripping the fabric of your dress. It’s horrifically easy to take it off and let it drop by your feet. You can’t bear to look at them anymore.

The soft duvet sinks under your weight. It looks expensive. Silky pillows. On either side is a nightstand covered with trinkets and personal items. You spot one of Suguru’s shirts on the floor, and it takes you a second to realize this is their room, not an impersonal guest room they use to fuck the less fortunate.

They stop paying attention to you. Satoru moans loudly into Suguru’s mouth. Suguru fiddles with the buttons on Satoru’s shirt, close to ripping it off entirely. Satoru palms at the tent in his pants as he unbuckles his pants. Suguru loosens his tie. They’re so violent with each other. Dread soaks through your palms, and you curl even further within yourself. You prayed this was all they wanted from you—someone to just watch, someone less interactive.

It’s not. When they pull away, their lips are swollen. Satoru leers at you, licking at his busted lip. You can’t seem to cry anymore.

They’re both half-naked. You can see the tattoos spread on Suguru’s hand, crawling up to his shoulder. Another peeks just behind Satoru’s neck. You only get a glimpse before he’s on top of you, eager for a continuation.

“Shit, you’re so soft.” He hisses as he squeezes your bra-covered breast. It doesn’t stay on for long. You wince when his fingers trace over your sensitive tits.

Your hands squeeze into fists, because you choose this, choose them. Satoru’s more than happy to sink into your breasts. His warm tongue swirls around a nipple before fully taking it in his mouth.

“Like a baby,” Suguru says. Satoru scoffs, tossing him an impressed look.

“Shut up.” Satoru releases your breast with a wet-sounding pop. They’ll be marks there tomorrow.

His fingers trail down your breasts, your ribs, your stomach. They linger on the band of your panties.

You can’t help it. It’s instinct.

He freezes when your fingers snap around his wrist. There’s no strength behind your grip, he pauses more out of surprise than anything.

His eyes, filled with hardened tanzanite, shoot up to yours. You think, if they’d be anyone else’s, you would have envied them.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Suguru. The silence is crushing.

“Sorry.” You feel pathetic apologizing, but it’s outweighed by the fear. “I—I’m sorry. I was just—”

“It’s okay, dear,” Suguru coos. “Satoru just scared you, hm? He’s such an idiot, isn’t he?” He violently smacks Satoru on the head. You flinch at the sound. Satoru just whines, rubbing at his temple.

“Mean.” Satoru childishly says, but he’s slower now, rolling down the hem of your panties.

Suguru is quick to distract you. He’s busy with his own bottoms before he’s taking you by the chin.

His cock is already leaking precum. He’s big, and you don’t think you’ll be able to do want he wants. Suguru smiles down at you, he doesn’t need to say anything. You’re swallowing down your self-hatred before opening your mouth.

You take him in just when Satoru buries his face between your thighs. The two of you have very different reacts. Satoru just hums, finding your clit to lick. You gasp, your legs jolting as you accidentally take Suguru even deeper.

He’s nice enough to let you go at your own pace. There’s a hand on your head, petting you, easing you through the process. Even then, your mouth is stretched uncomfortably wide. Tears prick at your eyes. Suguru’s face gets blurry. You don’t think you want to look anymore.

Below you, Satoru is enjoying his meal. He’s slobbering on your pussy, eating you out like it’s his last meal. His hot tongue finds his way into your sopping hole. You squeeze your eyes, a muffled whine comes from your mouth. The only loss of control Suguru shows was how he ever-so-slightly gripped your head.

By then, you’re unintentionally squeezing Satoru’s head in between your thighs. It’s so much. Pleasure tingles up your spine as Satoru continues to worship your pussy. His nose grinds into your clit and, for a moment, you’re wondering how he’s even breathing.

Suguru’s close. You can feel it every time his balls slap your chin. He’s speaking now, words stilted and heavy. It’s the only hint you get that he’s only holding his control by his teeth. That thought scares you. At any moment he’d snap, choking you with his cock, let you suffocate while he fills your dying mouth with his cum.

“Good,” he’s hissing out, “so good—good for me. C’mon, baby, take it.”

Satoru’s hand squeezes your ass, urging you to arch off the bed. You come like that, pressing your thighs around Satoru’s head, moaning around Suguru’s dick.

Suguru barely gives a grunt before something salty fills your mouth. You have to swallow it down. It burns your throat.

The air tastes sweet by the time Suguru’s cock leaves your mouth. You’re sucking in deep breaths, breasts heaving. Incidentally, you hadn’t suffocated Satoru. He’s kissing his way up your body. A trickle of Suguru’s cum had escaped your lips. His tongue presses against your chin before he pushes it back into your mouth. You can taste your tangy essence on his lips.

“Gotta’ swallow it all,” Satoru says with a teasing lilt, “he gets mad when it’s wasted.”

You can only nod. He gives you another wet kiss before he pulls away.

They switch places, Suguru moving over until he’s between your thighs. His large cock lays on your cunt. He’s still hard, his cock twitches when he angles his hips down, letting the head run over your leaking slit.

“The only reason he's going first is ‘cuz he’s been pining for you for months.” Satoru murmurs into your ear. Strangely enough, Suguru doesn’t comment. Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend what that means.

You hold your breath just as he presses himself inside. You’re almost grateful Satoru took the time to prepare you. His salivia, and your stretched walls make it easier for Suguru to bury his length inside you.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You hiss. Satoru feels enough sympathy to coo at you, kissing your neck, trying to distract you from the pain. It doesn't help, not even when Suguru presses light circles into your clit, easing his way through.

Suguru’s giving a harsh laugh when he’s fully seated inside, his hips meeting yours.

“Feel good, hm?” Satoru goads, reaching up to nibble on Suguru’s ear.

“Shit, so tight—fuck.”

Your hips twitch and you’re clenching down on him. Suguru doubles over, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, darling.” Scarred hands grasp your neck. “I’m going to ruin you, aren’t I?”

Your bottom lip wobbles. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat. A gazelle in the lion’s den. To them, to men like them, you suppose you’re nothing more.

“Suguru.” You whisper because your voice is failing you. “You-you promised you’d be nice.”

Silence. And he’s laughing so hard his shoulders shake. They both are.

“We did promise that, didn’t we?” Suguru glances at Satoru. “Next time, then.”

He pulls his cock out of you slowly, dragging his head through your cunt. He’s so slow and deliberate that you think it’d feel better if he just went ahead and fucked you already.

And he was, technically. His hips rolled back into you, his cock disappearing inside your wet pussy with each thrust. It’s so much that you’re willingly arching your back, trying to do anything to alleviate the intensity.

Beside you, Satoru is pulling out his cock, his eyes never leaving the lewd sight of Suguru fucking himself into you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he’s cursing under his breath, fisting his cocl in one hand, “so fuckin’ hot.”

Suguru growls, grabbing Satoru’s stiff cock, crudely pumping his hand up and down. His movement are getting more erratic losing his pace, his patience. You’re at your end too, almost crying when someone squeezes your sensitive tits.

“How does it feel, darling?” Suguru asks with a ragged breath. His eyes are blown, you don’t even think he’s looking at you, anymore.

When you don't give an answer fast enough, Suguru snaps his hips punishingly in response. You give a sharp wail.

“I said.” Suguru hisses through his teeth. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can barely suck in a breath. You’re losing oxygen too fast.

But you’ll die if he keeps doing this.

“Good.” You tell the truth. “It—it feels good, Suguru.”

He grins, serpentine. You’ve lost a game you didn’t even know you were playing. His fingers descend on your clit.

“That’s my perfect darling.”

You sob when your walls clench around his cock, milking him dry. Your orgasm triggers his own. He curses, and something is spilled into your used cunt. Out the corner of your eye, Suguru and Satoru are kissing, going together like rabid dogs. Satoru shudders, and then all three of you are a panting mess.

You take in deep breaths, barely caring when Suguru lets out an exhausted laugh, collapsing into your chest. He licks at your sweaty skin. You just sink your head further into the pillows

It was over. It was finally over.

“You got it everywhere.” Suguru suddenly says, disgusted. He wipes Satoru’s cum off your stomach.

Satoru just snorts.

“I didn’t have a hole to dump it all in.” He snarks back. “Twice, by the way. So selfish, Sugu.”

“Quit whining.” Suguru groans. “You have your chance now, don’t you?”

What? Exhaustion blinks away.

Suguru stays by your side. Gojo is the one moving, rising from the blankets. He places his hands on either side of your hips, spreading your legs.

Geto catches your panic, easily catching you before you can even do anything. He hushes you while Satoru settles himself between your thighs, his cock pressing right at your slit.

“The night’s still young, dear.” He sounds almost sympathetic. “Be good for just a bit longer.”

By the time they’re finally done with you, it’d been hours. You can’t count how many positions they put you in, how many times your holes were filled by their cocks or their fingers or their mouths. You’re barely coherent by the time Suguru is tucking you under the soft duvet.

You feel sore and used and dirty. His soft words, filled with praises, just make you feel worse. Despite how exhausted you feel, you’re just waiting until they finally get bored of seeing your body and kick you out.

You’ll call a cab home. You’ll cry yourself to sleep. You’ll be okay.

They’re taking a while to get to that part. They’re mumbling soft words too each other, it sounds too intimate to be something you should be overhearing. Satoru’s at your back, hands curling around your waist, another brushing Suguru’s mussed hair. You can feel his soft breath at the nape of your neck.

Suguru’s eyes are on you. Amethyst watches you intently.

"Satoru,” he finally says, “go uphold our end of the deal." 

Gojo groans, annoyed. He snuggles closer to you. "Why me? You go do it." 

An adoring smile crinkles on Suguru’s lips. It makes him look younger.

"Because I don't trust you alone with this one for the night. Go."

“Ass.”

He sighs, but Gojo sits up, letting the covers shift off his naked body. 

"Stay right here for me, baby, 'kay?" He leans over, pressing a delicate kiss on your hairline. Despite everything that happened tonight, this was the most intimate thing he'd done to you. It's too...loving.

When Satoru leaves, you wait for a few moments. Suguru had yet to tell you to go. It probably meant that he didn’t want to waste his breath dismissing you. You take the hint, rising from the bed.

His fingers snap around you wrist just as your feet touch the floor.

“Where are you going?” His voice doesn’t sound accusatory, but you flinch anyway.

A wobbly smile makes its way across your face, you hope it comes across as submissive. Weren’t you done? The deal was made, that meant you could leave now, right?

"I—I need to go home?" Suguru gives a doting smile, as though you said something adoringly naive. He barely pulls on your hand, gently leading you back under the covers.

You follow because the gun glints by the nightstand. 

“Is that the best idea right now, dear?” He asks, “Who knows if those men have come back? I’d hate to see them find their target, wouldn’t you?”

He draws you into his chest. Your head is tucked underneath his chin.

“And besides, Satoru will be disappointed if you left without saying goodbye. It’d be horrible to deal with one of his tantrums so late at night.”

He buries his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Why don’t you leave in the morning? I’ll be sure to drive you back myself. By then, I’m sure Satoru will have made the proper arrangements. Don’t tell him I told you this, but—” Suguru drops his voice as though he’s scared someone might overhear”—he tends to be more efficient when you’re in the picture.”

You don’t know what he means by that, and you don’t think you want to know. Still, you lift your head, finding the courage to stare at him.

His eyes are such a beautiful color. Glittering purple in the moonlight. You’d stare at them all night if you could.

“I can leave in the morning?”

Suguru hums, kissing your forehead.

It’s not an answer.

NINE TO FIVE, FIVE TO NINE Yandere Married Boss x Office Siren Reader

AN: RAHHH. IT'S FINALLY HERE. This took me way longer then it should have but I'm really proud of it. I hope it lives up to the expectations of the 400ish people who liked the original post. This ones filled with shitty people all around. TW: 18+ ONLY, NON-CON, Older Male/Younger Female (mid 30s, mid 20s), Abuse of power (Boss/Employee), Infidelity, Face-Sitting, Cunnilingus, Switch Man, Switch Woman, PIV sex, Manipulation, Roofies, Kidnapping, Mentions of Divorce, Mentions of Pregnancy

Every quarter, your company’s HR department sends out an employee satisfaction survey, and every quarter when you reach the “What is your favorite part of working for our company?” question, your answer is the same.

You love the community. Your colleagues are respectful and hardworking; willing to go the extra mile to ensure deadlines are met. You feel as though your work contributes to something larger and that your efforts don’t go unnoticed by your employers. 

Very cute. Very professional. It would be the perfect answer if it wasn’t all bullshit. 

Your coworkers are fine, but not worth a twenty minute commute and shitty benefits. What actually keeps you slugging into work every morning is far less… admirable. It isn’t something you could write on a company survey without consequences, at least.

Your favorite part of your job is bouncing on your boss's cock.

Yes, you know, “shame on you” — but it’s not like you intended to be an office siren. When you applied for the job all you wanted was to make rent. This was your first “adult” job, so in adult fashion, you tried to keep things professional. 

Emphasis on tried.

It's just... how could you work to your fullest when you were spending all day fantasizing about those toned forearms pinning you down? How were you supposed to answer emails when you were busy wondering if he looked better in or out of his suit? Everyday he sat five feet away from you looking so pent-up and fuckable, could you really be blamed for getting distracted? The hit to your productivity was a detriment to the company. You were just being a responsible employee by fixing the issue.

Yes, he’s ten years your senior. Yes, there’s a blaring ethical issue with a boss fucking his secretary. But he’s a man of childrearing age and you’re a fertile young woman; it’s not your fault you have biological urges.

Besides, it’s not like he’s absolved from blame. You certainly don’t force him to lie down on the couch in his office and pull you onto his face. The desire for you to cum on his nose is entirely his own.

“Fuck, Y/N.” his groan vibrates up into your core, pulling the knot in your stomach tight. One rough hand lies at your waist, following your hips as they roll against his mouth. The other works at his perked up cock, lazily tugging up and down as he devours your cunt. “That’s it baby, ride my fuckin’ nose.”

He’s been at it for nearly half your lunch break now, lapping and sucking at your folds in lieu of his actual meal - not that you’re complaining. How could you, when his tongue is so adamant? It flicks through your folds greedily to earn more of your juice, savoring the salty-sweet taste he’s become so addicted to. Every slurp, lap and suck is catered specifically to your preferences.

You've done well with him. When you first took him under your wing he’d never even eaten pussy before, in fact, he’d only ever slept with two women. Not for lack of desire, he told you, he just never had the time or confidence to flirt in his twenties. Before he knew it, time got away from him and he was past the age where hookups are deemed socially acceptable. 

Your heart broke for him. A man as handsome as him shouldn't be having mediocre sex. So you, being the selfless woman you are, offered to help him make up for lost time. 

It only took one blowjob for him to overlook the ethics of the situation.

With a gentle hand, patience, and lots of encouragement, you’ve turned the businessman into a first rate manslut. He fucks and eats pussy like a veteran now and he’s always eager to get more practice, he drags you onto his face nearly every time he calls you into his office.

He’s come a long, long way, your little pet project.

Inadvertently, you thrust your hips forward, grinding your clit against the bridge of his nose. His tongue burrows itself into your hole, and that’s enough to send you over the edge. Your belly goes taut, your thighs clamp around his ears and you bite your lip to stifle your scream as the contractions roll through your body. Each one sets off fireworks. Fizzing and popping like sparklers in your tummy. Mind-numbing, toe-curling, perfection.

He’s an absolute mess when you climb off of his face. Completely blissed out, face dripping with juices and saliva, glistening in the light pouring through the window. The collar of his pristine white dress shirt is drenched and wrinkled, most likely ruined, but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. No, his hungry eyes haven't left that cute little mound between your legs.

“Bend over the desk.” he growls, leaving a smack on your ass as you pull yourself up, and despite the sting you can’t help but smile at his confidence. He’s a far cry from the man he was before you got your hands on him.

You decide to reward him with a little show; swaying your hips teasingly as your stilettos click across the floor, obediently laying yourself over the smooth mahogany, keeping a light arch in your back so he has a nice view of your ass. 

You smile coyly at his reddened face, “You coming, Boss?”

His adam's apple bobs and he makes his way over, eyes dark and dilated, cock leaking beads he positions himself between your legs.

“We only have fifteen minutes before my lunch ends,” you purr, “You think that’s enough time to make us both cum?”

"That’s more than enough~" he growls, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking back so he can purr in your ear, "Do you want my cock in this tight little cunt, Y/N? Do you want me to fill you up?"

You frantically nod, accentuating the act with an exaggerated whimper and needy roll of your hips.

"Beg for it then." he hisses.

If you were in a sadistic mood you might test how long you could make him hold out, but you feel like indulging him today, so you look back at him all teary and doe-eyed. "Please, please, please, Sir. I need your thick cock in my tight little cunt! I can't - Ah! - I can't take it anymore!"

A loud groan tumbles past his lips as he lines himself up, tracing the fat head up and down your slit,  “Slutty thing. That’s alright baby, I’ll give you what you—”

The clink of something falling off his desk interrupts the thought. The object in question rolls a few feet across the wood floor before wobbling in circles and finally lying flat.

His wedding band glitters innocently in the afternoon sun, silently mocking its owner and his mistress.

Ah, the elephant in the room.

Yes, you know he’s married. If the ring wasn’t enough of a tell, the picture of the two of them on his desk is. He's about a decade younger in it, grinning wide as she presses a kiss to his cheek. They took it in France during their honeymoon, he told you. 

You’ve never met his wife, but you can tell from the picture that she’s the quintessential college sweetheart. The type of girl who’s never drank, smoked or had a cavity. The kind of girl you propose too at the park and settle down with in a white picket fence suburban neighborhood. The kind of girl who says “Not tonight, honey.” when you ask to have sex at the end of a stressful day.

In layman's terms, she's boring.

And clearly, she isn’t taking care of him correctly. He was so obviously pent up when you started flirting with him, just a glimpse of your cleavage was all it took to get him rock hard.

Of course it’s morally reprehensible, but you could argue that making him work his dull 9-5 everyday for nothing in return is wrong too. Somebody had to help the guy out. If she wasn’t going to do her job then you’d have to do it for her.

The guilt nearly killed him at first. The day after the first blowjob he dragged you into his office and furiously—or maybe desperately—started pacing up and down the room. Giving you the “We can’t do this. For Christ’s sake Y/N, I’m married.” speech, whether he was lecturing you or himself, you aren’t entirely sure.

Still, you listened patiently as he rambled, and eventually you decided it was best to back off. It was a disappointment for sure but you'd get over it. You were too hot to be meddling in people's marriages anyway. 

At least directly meddling.

You didn’t make any more blatant advances, but you did start wearing dresses and skirts that fell a tad too short to be considered work appropriate. The necklines of your tops started plunging too, showing off as much cleavage as you could without HR getting up your ass. And you suddenly became very clumsy. “Accidentally” dropping things whenever he was around, or leaning over his desk just enough to give him a nice look down your shirt. 

Not even a week later he pulled you into his office, all but begging on his knees for you to fuck him. That was your green card. You aren’t to blame if he’s the one who instigated. So you rode him like a mechanical bull, chest filled with pride as you looked at that stupid picture of him and his wife.

You always get what you want in the end.

Dispite your victory however, his wife remains a thorn in your side. Your boss has gone completely soft staring at that dumb ring, thinking of his dumb wife who probably couldn’t suck a dick to save her life. No wonder he’s cheating, the bitch pisses you off and you’ve never even met her.

Holding back an exasperated sigh, you give his tie a gentle tug. You soften your face as he turns back, gently--teasingly tracing your thumb along his jawline, stopping at his chin to gently tilt it up. And though he obeys the silent command, the shame swimming in his eyes makes your smile waver.

It irks you, for some reason, how upset he is by this. Maybe that’s selfish. Maybe you should have more sympathy, but you can’t push past the desire to keep him for yourself. You may have won, but did you really if his heart is still hers? 

That’s something to address another time. Getting him hard again takes precedence right now, you’re not going to let that bitch get between you and his dick.

You pull yourself off of his desk, grabbing his hand gently. He follows you to the couch—far more hesitantly then you’d like—but he doesn’t complain when you lie him down and climb on top. He never complains when you climb on top. You leave a sweet kiss between his eyebrows and the cute, attention-starved thing burns bright red. Adorable.

“You’re alright.” You caress his stubbled cheek, slowly coaxing him with honey-sweet kisses, like a siren luring a sailor to his doom. “It’s not your fault you have urges, remember? You’re a grown man, it’s not healthy for you to be so pent-up.” 

His throat clicks with a heavy swallow when your hand moves down, gently wrapping around his soft penis, stroking it lightly, teasingly, all while flashing your big, lust-blown eyes and quivering lip. The rod in your hand fills out shamelessly, and like a bad habit, his eyes flick back down to your pretty cunt. You can tell he’s itching to touch, his morality holding on by a thread, but he’ll always fold to you in the end. You, and your torturous little pocket of bliss.

“That’s it baby.” you purr, picking up his trembling hand and placing it over your clit, “Little circles, just like I taught you.” As soon as his hand starts moving he’s putty in your hands again; any remaining penitence completely snuffed out. He’s hypnotized. Pussy-whipped. Rubbing your little pearl with rough pads, working it like a joystick and groaning licentiously as you trace the head of his cock up and down your folds. You line yourself up, leaning forward so you’re hovering just a few centimeters away from his face, close enough to feel his hot breath on your lips.

“We both know she can’t give you what you need. But I can. I’ll make you feel so good~” you purr, letting one hand find it's way up his shirt to trace over his trembling torso. Little bumps erupt all over his skin when the tip of his cock catches in your little divot. You can't help your lips from curling up.

You lower yourself so your hole swallows just the tip, and his breath hitches beneath you. You clench in response, just a little squeeze to remind him who makes him feel good, who his cock really belongs too, and if the bubbling moan that passes his lips is anything to go by, he got the memo.

You ghost your lips over his neck, nibbling lightly at his sensitive pulse point, teasingly tracing a little heart over his pecs, “Just relax and let me take care of you, okay?” 

He all but whimpers as you drop yourself down, white-knuckling the sofa, so overwhelmed you swear his eyes start tearing, and when you finally reach the base he groans like he’s seen heaven. You don’t think about his wife, or his ring, or morality while you bounce on his cock. Not a flicker of guilt passes through your mind when he bucks and fills you with his cum. Why should it? Your job is to ensure your boss's needs are met while he's in the office, and you’re doing just that. His life after five pm is none of your concern, really.

—

About two months later you find an unassuming sticky note on your desk, scrawled over in his chicken-scratch handwriting.

Come to my office at 5, we need to talk.

It strikes you as odd. Normally he’d just come talk to you about any arrangements, lay a gentle hand on your shoulder and bend down to whisper something filthy in your ear, but your boss is nowhere in sight. Not on the office floor checking up on his employees, not in the break room making idle chatter while he refills his coffee, your boss stays holed up in his office all day, and when you walk in to give him his schedule for the upcoming week he only grunts in acknowledgement, never looking up from his computer.

Something is clearly wrong. Normally, he can’t keep his hands off of you—you never leave his office without a slap on the ass and a promise to make you regret wearing whatever curve hugging skirt you put on that day—but he seems to want nothing to do with you, or rather, he seems to be avoiding the fact that he does. The blatant disregard pisses you off, frankly. You put effort into your makeup today.

But more than that, his sudden indifference is unsettling. You can’t put your finger on why; he’s never given you reason to believe that he’s resentful, and despite his dour, professional persona he’s about as intimidating as a newborn kitten. Still, the tension in his office is thick. Thicker than you realize. When you step out you're surprised to find your lungs are aching from holding the breath you walked in with.

You spend the better part of your day trying to convince yourself that you’re just feeling ill. You aren’t nervous. There’s no reason to be. The gut feeling telling you to walk out at five today is just the byproduct of spoiled eggs at breakfast. You’re in control. You always are.

Still, when five o’clock comes your heart is pounding. Alarm bells clang in your head, screaming that something bad is going to happen if you walk through that door. Briefly, an interview from a true crime documentary you once watched plays through your head—the victim was lamenting how she regretted not listening to that “gut feeling” before she got kidnapped—but that’s ridiculous. You know your boss and you’re certain he’s not a kidnapper. The notion itself is ridiculous. You’ll be fine. You’ve been fucking him for three months, him acting weird doesn’t mean today will be any different.

After a few deep breaths you open the door and as promised, he's waiting for you, but not how you expected him to be. Normally, he’d be rolling his hips into his fist by now, impatiently demanding you get on your knees in front of him, but today he’s fully clothed, penis nowhere in sight. Instead, his hands cup a white mug of steaming liquid—an identical one that you presume to be yours sits on the opposite side of his desk—and he seems… tired. Pale and weighted; certainly not aroused in any way.

“You can sit, you know. I’m not angry at you.” he calls vacantly from across the room, not looking up from his cup.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, realizing you’ve been staring. With a thick swallow, you make your way over to him, mustering up as pleasant a smile as you can. When you finally sit and get a good look at him, however, the grin drops. 

He looks… awful. Weary and bleak, with red, puffy circles around his eyes like he’s recently been crying, his hair is mussed and a five o’clock shadow is growing on his chin. It’s jarring, to say the least. He’s normally so put together, you can’t remember if you've ever seen him disheveled. He’s a hard man to shake typically, his job demands it, but he looks utterly distraught. For a brief moment, you feel kind of bad.

Gross.

A halfhearted chuckle leaves his mouth, “I’m sorry. I must look pretty pathetic, huh?” 

Immediately you straighten, rectifying your smile. You can’t show cracks. There are no cracks, “Not at all Sir. What can I help you with?” 

A meaty hand waves you off. “Don’t bother with professionalism, Y/N. We both know we aren’t here to talk about work.” he runs a hand through his already mussed up hair and shuts his eyes. He pauses a moment, taking a long breath, thinking deeply or maybe steeling himself, before slowly exhaling, pushing the second mug towards you “Here, take a drink. This might be a lot.”

“Oh no, I’m not thirsty–”

“Drink.” he interrupts, and you’re startled by how sharp the command is. It’s far cry from the playful orders you’re used to receiving when he growls at you to get on your knees or bend over his desk. Instinctively, you find yourself rushing to obey.

When you bring the mug to your lips, his face relaxes. The alarm balls start jingling in the back of your head again.

“I’m going to be blunt about this,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “My wife found out about the affair and she wants a divorce.”

Oh. That is a lot.

It takes you a few seconds to process what he’s saying, a few more for it to sink in, but when you’ve finally got a stable grasp on the information, the faucet of emotion is turned on. It doesn’t twist off until your body is on the verge of overflowing.

But not for the right reasons.

Your heart should be sinking, guilt twisting in your gut like a knife. You should be on your knees, groveling in shame; apologizing with your whole chest for ruining this poor man's marriage—but you aren’t. Not a flicker of remorse fills your body.

You feel positively giddy.

Elated. Euphoric. You are on cloud fucking nine. Months, you’ve been waiting for this day; when you could finally take your medal and put it around your neck. It’s not really a matter of him being yours, moreso confirming that you’re hot enough to break up marriages. Fuck the morality of it all. You did it. She’s gone. You won. 

You aren’t tactless enough to start jumping for joy, however. You do your best to put on a genuine-seeming soberness and reply, “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

He shakes his head, eyes down-turned, “I’m equally if not more to blame. What’s done is done.” 

He stands then, aimlessly walking to the window. It’s all rather dramatic, you feel, but you're not the one who’s marriage just got destroyed. Quietly he looks across the skyline, face clouding with regret as he speaks, “You should have seen her, Y/N.” You wish you had, “I-I could see her heart breaking in her chest when I admitted to it.”

Oh, the delight that runs through you when you hear that crack in his voice—it makes you dizzy.

“I managed to find an apartment somehow between then and now. I’m in the process of moving in. I thought it was only right to give her space. God, the poor girl…” His cheeks are wet when he turns back to you and another jolt of glee zips through your body. But this one is stronger than the first one. It makes you wobble a little in your chair; you have to clutch the armrests to keep yourself upright.

The bells have started clanging again—painfully loud—and your heart beats in time with each stroke.

“Seven years. We’d been together seven years.” he laments, walking back to you and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. Despite the touch's innocence it’s searing hot, burning into your skin like an iron, only serving to make the bells louder. You try to jerk away but your body goes slack and when you try to pick yourself back up again, you can’t; no matter how hard you strain and lift, your muscles won’t move.

Your heart is pounding in your head now. His large hands hook under your armpits, hoisting your limp body back up onto the chair like a ragdoll. 

A sick, crawling feeling of dread fills your chest, like when you get to the very top of a rollercoaster. It creeps up your spine and wraps around your chest, squeezing the air out of your lungs. His face… he looks like a madman. Pale and wild; eyes manic and pupils dilated. He swallows heavily, breath shallow and frenzied as he desperately rasps, “I don’t think I could live without a wife again.”

The bells are deafening now and any ounce of joy you might have felt earlier has been drained to oblivion. You aren’t fine anymore. You need to run. You need to scream. Anything.

But you made the realization all too late. Your vision is going spotty and he’s already hoisted you up in his arms. Despite every muscle in your body fighting with all its might, you can’t make yourself move.

For the first time in your life, you’re completely powerless. 

The last thing you remember before being swallowed by the dark is his hot breath puffing against your ear:

“You promised you’d take care of me, didn’t you?” 

—

You wake up to the feeling of something warm and wet on your clit.

In your groggy, half-conscious state you don’t have the capacity or desire to figure out what it is, all that matters is that it feels good. It flicks lazy little shapes over the twitching bud, enveloping it and your folds in a warm, welcoming heat, and for a moment, you think you could die happy just like this. Your hips instinctively buck up towards the source and a low, wonton moan passes your lips. 

“Mmm, thats it darling. Good girl~”

Your eyes fly open.

Every ounce of blood drains from your face when you see his head bowed between your legs, cheeks messy and shiny with your slick, hips rutting needily against the mattress. Your kidnapper.

Your first instinct is to fight, but your limbs still won’t obey you—even if they would, a shift of weight reveals that your hands are bound tightly to the headboard of the bed.

The bed. There’s no bed in his office. Where the hell are you?

It’s all you can do to let out a low, displeased whine. Weakly shimmying your hips away from him only to have them immediately yanked back. He peaks up from your legs, “Shh honey, calm down.” he purrs, not breaking eye contact as he gives your clit a sweet peck, “Just relax and let your husband make you feel good.”

Husband.

Husband.

Your heart picks up in your chest, galloping like a racehorse as you try to process his words. “W-what?” you choke, even drugged your voice is sharp with terror.

He noses gently over your inner thigh, carefully pressing a chaste kiss to the soft plush before addressing you, “Your husband, dear. And you’re my wife~” he hums pleasantly, licking a long lazy stripe up your slit with the flat of his tongue, “I’m sure you can feel the ring, right?”

Your heart drops as you wiggle your fingers. On your left hand, a cold band of metal topped with some kind of stone wraps around your ring finger. A bout of vertigo flashes through your body. He must notice the horror on your face because he chuckles.

“It was kind of short notice so I had to use hers, but I’ll buy you a new one if you want…” he trails absentmindedly, too focused on laving at your cunt to give the thought his full attention. 

He’s doing it just like you taught him too. The irony could make you cry.

A knot the size of the watermelon grows in your stomach. Whether it’s from the panic or your equally distressing impending orgasm you’re not sure. Regardless, it’s there, and your head is spinning, and he’s starting to climb on top of you and take off his—oh god.

You cry and struggle as much as your leaden body will allow but he easily counters it all with one steady hand on your belly, the thumb of which he moves down to nurse your spit-soaked clit with easy circles. “I know it’s sudden,” he coos, paying no mind to your cries and pleas for mercy as he pulls out his rock hard cock, “But you wanted this, didn’t you? You’re the one who chased after me so desperately after all. I know you were just jealous of her.” 

Loud, wet sobs curl up your throat as he rubs his cock up and down your dripping folds, hypnotized by the lewd, clicking sound your juices make. “P-please.” you beg, trying your best to buck him off of you, “M’ sorry! I-I didn’t mean to—Please let me go.” 

A displeased hum then, “It’s too late for that, honey, but you don’t have to worry. I’ll take good care of you.” his frown flips to a soft smile. “You’ll take good care of me too, won't you? just like you promised.”

You feel like you might faint. The blunt head is pushing against your entrance now, threatening to sink into your heat, and though you’ve taken his cock hundreds of times, you’d rather stick your hand into an open flame then take it again. “P-please.” you blubber, “I’ll do anything, just please—Ah! S-stop!”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, only continues his rambling. “You’ll take good care of our children too, I'm sure.” those deranged, lovesick eyes bore into your skull, “Oh, baby. You’re going to look so beautiful when you’re pregnant, I can already tell. So, so pretty, all swollen and glowing~” he groans.

Your eyes blow wide and you start screaming. Half of it is incoherent, but what else are you supposed to do when you can’t fight? You nearly choke on your own sob as he leans over your body, starting to push in with a low, heady groan. “You can’t!” you cry, near hysterics, “Please, you can’t! I’m sorry! I’ll do anything! I’ll-”

“Shhhh,” he cuts you off, clamping a rough hand over your mouth, then bottoms out inside of you with one languid push. You feel like you’re on fire, like a million ants are crawling up your skin and down your throat.

Beads of cold sweat trickle down your back as he rocks into you. Behind his mitt you plead for him to let you go, but he doesn’t notice, or more likely, he doesn’t care. “I think I want three." he muses, "Two girls and a boy. But we can have more if you’d like. What do you think, darling?”

He removes his hand then, you greedily suck in air. It proves to be a difficult task, however, with his dick poking it all back out again with each snap of his hips. Finally, you collect yourself enough to make one final attempt. You stare up into his eyes, hoping to somehow access whatever humanity might remain there. “Please. I don’t want kids. I want to go home.”

He pauses, ceases his thrusting, and stares back down at you. For just a moment, your chest swells with hope.

But then he laughs. A sick, evil chuckle that rings through your bones, punctures your lungs and splits your heart straight down the middle.

“Oh honey, you are home.” he croons, a snap of his hips punctuates the sentence. “And of course you want kids. All husbands and wives who love each other very much become Mommies and Daddies. Besides—”

His hips start driving into you with a brutal sort of ferocity, and he grins so wickedly you swear you can see the devil in his eyes.

“--Won’t it be cute to tell them how Daddy and Mommy fell in love at work?”

higuruma hiromi, nanami kento, satoru gojo, izuku midoriya, kirishima eijiro, kaminari denki, kotaro bokuto, tooru oikawa, kuroo tetsuro, erwin smith, armin arlert

Addiction- Yandere Mafia Boss Sukuna x Reader

an: I do not condone this behaviour, this is purely fiction. Do not interact if you do not like it, or can’t stomach it.

tw: dark themes, yandere, mafia au, violence, possessive behaviour, toxic relationships, kidnapping, branding, captivity

Sukuna is a selfish man. He’s a self-absorbed, egotistical bastard. The devil himself, a wretch of a man who is ruthless in everything he does. His cruel touch has cursed the lives of many; killings and tortures all done in his name, by his order. Sukuna does as pleases, indulging in his greed. Yet he still yearns for more. He possesses a desire that will never be sated. There had been kindness within him, once. A different time; when the world had not exposed its evil to him. That warmth was extinguished with his mother’s dying breath, and there lay no hope of reviving it. Until he met you.

A puny thing really, compared to the low-levelled goon of his that was currently harassing you. Such a classless act being committed outside one his preferred establishments, it was irritating. He didn’t intend to save you; more so punish the lackey for his annoyance. You were a pathetic, pitiful, cornered creature, not worth any attention. Then, out of nowhere, you kicked him straight in the nuts. Sukuna was simultaneously surprised, impressed, and amused. Before the goon could actually harm you, Sukuna stepped in and knocked him out. You were shaking from shock and terror. However, when you looked up at him, there was no fear eyes, only gratitude. Perhaps that was the reason he played a gentle saviour. A reward, he decided, for the entertainment you provided. Escorting you to your car and watching you drive off in the old rusted thing should have been the end of the whole affair, but it wasn’t. You lingered in the back of Sukuna’s mind for days. You plagued his thoughts, haunting him. His interest evolved into a nagging curiosity, and regardless of how he tried to resist it, the urge to know more about you won out; and down the rabbit hole he fell.

It began with the discovery of your name. It was all Sukuna needed to know, the name of the person he’d saved, the name of the person who tormented his mind. Yet it was not enough. He had to know more. He uncovered every bit of your being, leaving nothing unknown; your address, your number, your favourite foods and activities, your deepest secrets, all known to Sukuna. The more he knew, the more the obsession grew. You were perfection incarnate. Something, someone, truly divine that had graced the world with their presence. He desired to possess that divinity, to possess you. You didn’t deserve him, not at all. Sukuna was a depraved being, unworthy of even being near you. Alas, fate was cruel, and Sukuna even crueler. He had to have you, and would do anything in pursuit of you. You lived in the seediest part of time, he reasoned, in a shabby apartment that you could barely afford. You needed him to keep you safe and protected, you needed to be saved. He had his most trusted men tail you while he prepared the most luxurious room for you; you deserved only the best after all. It took time, yet Sukuna pieced together a flawless plan. Soon you would be with him, where you belonged. And how he couldn’t wait for that day to come.

As time marched on slowly, Sukuna became increasingly impatient; the anticipation of your arrival into his arms was overwhelming. Once the day arrived he became more agitated than usual. He had yearned for this day, for you, and soon he would have you. Sukuna was halfway through a meeting when his phone buzzed. The moment he glanced down and the read the message he’d received, Sukuna swiftly exited the meet room, ignoring the shock of his underlings. You had been safely delivered to his estate, your new home. Sukuna sped home in his car, anticipation building up and threatening to boil over. When he finally arrived Sukuna rushed through the door, up the grand staircase, and navigated through the extensive maze of corridors to your designated room. Taking a baited breath, he carefully opened the door and set his eyes upon you.

There you lie, his darling, his beloved, the only thing that could ever invoke such weakness from him— and you were here, lying right in front of him. You were peacefully dozing off. Sukuna stayed by your side for who knows how long, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest. Then, your eyes twitched, fluttering open. You awoke disgruntled, initial confusion turning into panic at the realization that you weren’t in your apartment. Sukuna watched you for a moment, before deciding to grab your attention.

“So you’ve finally awaken, hm?” He hummed, watching as you slowly turn towards him. Your expression was akin to a frightened doe. Slowly, the gears turned in your head and you gaped in recognition, “You! Did you do this to me?!”

“As in returning you to where you belong? Yes, I did.” He replied neutrally.

“What the hell are you talking about,” you snarled. “Quite,” he ordered, dropping his neutral tone for a more menacing one. “You’re mine, I saved you didn’t I? You should repay the favour.” “Let me go!” You cry, struggling with all your might. “Please,” you beg as you finally break, beginning to sob. “Enough, there’s no need for that. As long as you behave, you’ll be rewarded.”

With that, Sukuna stalked out the room. He knew it would take time for you to adjust, after all anyone would react poorly to such sudden change. All Sukuna could do was wait, and he’d done so before. He wanted to own you not only in body, but in mind and soul as well. He yearned for a normal relationship with you— well, as normal as a relationship with him can be. So, he remained patient, albeit with much difficulty. Sukuna loves you so much and he knows, he knows, he must be understanding of your feelings, yet he cannot impede his desire for you, for your warmth and kindness, for everything and anything but the fear you display. He wants for you to not cower when you see him. He wants for you to tremble nervously. He wants you to not look at him with the terror and hatred that others do. Sukuna wants— no he needs you to love him as he loves you, to devote yourself to him as he’s done for you. And he will do anything to attain that, even it requires him to wait forever.

Then again, perhaps that patient leniency is what lead to this situation in the first place, Sukuna muses to himself. You kneel in front of tears pooling at your eyes, false apologies spilling out of your lips. His indulgence of you had lead to your attempt to leave him, to abandon him just as everyone else had. Perhaps you weren’t an angel then, rather you were a demon; a sultry temptress sent to corrupt him further, to ensnare him in your web of lies and devour him whole. Well, you’d succeeded. He’d gone soft for you, for his precious, sweet thing. But now you’d revealed your true nature. You did not need his protecting, no you needed him to correct you. He would purify you, lead you into the light, into his light. Yes, he was your saviour and this was all done for you, for your betterment. Sukuna feels a twisted pleasure blossoming in his heart, your “corrections” would begin now.

“Please Sukuna, please. I’m sorry, I really am so sorry,” you plead, sniffling and hiccuping slightly, “I won’t do it again, I swear!”

Sukuna looks down at you, smiling unnervingly. Gently, he kneels, reaching down to wipe the tears from your right eye, and coos down at you, “Don’t worry, my love. I won’t hurt you. How could I? I love you more than life itself. I cherish you more than anything in this world.” You nod tentatively, lulled by his low and kind tone and sweet words. “But, you’ve been thoroughly ungrateful. Behaving so poorly, and now this. I don’t blame you, of course. It’s my fault after all. I failed to teach you properly, so now I must rectify this mistake. This will merely be a small lesson my love, done for your sake, not mine.”

With that, Sukuna stood up. He towers above you, like a god, your god. You stopped crying, the tears sticking to your face, making your cheeks ans eyes red, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You look adorable like this, thought Sukuna, still smiling. His smile grew almost sadistic as he gestured towards his men. You furrowed your brows in confusion, most liking wondering what he meant by “lesson.” Your eyes dart around the room, trying to comprehend what was happening. Then, you spot it; a branding iron. You shriek, attempting to run but a few muscular guards hold you down. You thrash around wildly, begging and screaming. A scene truly oscar worthy in Sukuna’s opinion, though it didn’t invoke any pity from the guards. Finally, you turn to him.

“Sukuna don’t! Please, I beg of you! I’ll behave, I promise. I’ve learned my lesson I swear! I only need you, I only love you!” You screech, pleadingly. Sukuna hums, unaffected by your display. He rips off the section of your shirt covering your lower back. He traces some letters onto the bare skin. Reaching out his arm to receive the branding iron, he tuts, “Ah, but darling, how could you have learned a lesson that I am yet too teach? You must not lie, although we shall save that lesson for another time. Today’s lesson is on who you belong too: me.”

Carefully, Sukuna lined the branding iron up perfectly. And then he brought it down on you. You let out a blood-curdling scream, howling and writhing in pain as your skin sizzled delightfully. Sukuna held it place for a good few seconds before removing it. Grinning, he read and reread the “property of Sukuna” that had been burned into your skin. Proof of his ownership over you that was permanently imprinted into your skin. You continued to wriggle and sob from the searing pain. This, Sukuna thought in full confidence, was a lesson that neither of you would forget. Sighing contently, he rang a bell, summoning your personal servants, or babysitters.

“Allow the brand to fully set in. Do not cause additional pain, but do not relieve the current pain they’re feeling either. Disobey and you will be severely punished, understood?” He ordered, darkly. The maids nodded and carefully carried you out the room. Sukuna turned around, glaring sharply, “Well then, out! All of you!”

His men scrambled out of the room, unwilling to fave their boss’s wrath should they disobey. Alone, Sukuna poured himself a whiskey and relished in the pleasure he received from your “lesson.” He needed to own you, to have you. To be the only one who could love you, who could hurt you; it would be him and him alone. It was not love he felt, it was an addiction, to you. An addiction that he must feed, Sukuna mused as he thought about more “lesson” plans. After all, he had promised to teach you about the wrongs of lying.

Yandere Kyoto Tech First + Second Years Reacting To Reader Trying To Leave Them

tw: captivity, gaslighting(?), yandere themes

Yuji Itadori- Oh, he’d be so utterly heartbroken, poor sweet boy. He’s so distraught, wondering what he did wrong and how he can fix it. You know he loves you right? Why do you want to leave? Isn’t he enough? He understands that you want freedom, but he can’t let you go. Not with curses lurking at every corner, not after what happened to Junpei. All he wants is to keep you safe, why can’t you understand that? He tries to reason with you, he really does try. But when you move to leave, he tightly grips your wrist and pulls you deeper into the house in which he keeps you. No matter how hard you struggle, he’s just too strong for you. Guiltily, Yuji drags you into a room, which he then locks you in. You pound on the door, screeching and yelling. And as guilty as he feels, he can’t let you out. It’s all for your own good, you’ll understand eventually.

Megumi Fushiguro- He was expecting it, to be honest. Megumi isn’t a delusional yandere. He knows that you want freedom, to live your life as you choose. And how he desperately wants to give you that, to live a normal life with you. In the beginning, he did try. But the world you live in is filled with danger and you aren’t strong enough to protect yourself, so he’ll do it for you. You pitch a fit of course. So stubborn, a trait that Megumi loves but right now doesn’t have the patience for. He quickly knocks you out before you can register what is happening. When you wake up you’re in a locked room, with no windows or any way out. It pains Megumi to do this but he won’t let you put yourself in danger.

Nobara Kuigasaki- She definitely has a lot less patience than Megumi and Yuji. She immediately starts yelling at you, demanding if you know what you’re doing. You clearly don’t if you’re trying to leave. Do you not understand how dangerous it is out there? Do you not get that you’re too weak to protect yourself? Nobara and you argue for what seems like hours, leaving you both red-faced, with tears of frustration building up in the corners of your eyes. You’re exhausted, so is she. All she wants is for you to be safe, so please, let her do protect you. And despite having less patience than both Yuuji and Megumi, she’s the only yandere who can truly get through to her darling. So you both compromise, you’ll get your freedom so long that you allow her to train and accompany you, and you’ll allow her to do so, because you really do both love each other.

Toge Inumaki- He is probably the most infuriating yandere to have. I mean he just kind of stands in front of you, completely deadpan. It’s like arguing with a wall. You can scream and shout, and beg and plead all you like, he just stares at you with the most bored expression. You’re so frustrated at the end, but you’ve exhausted yourself to the point of tears. At this point, Toge simply says stay. Even though you don’t want too, you can’t resist his cursed speech.

Maki Zenin- Similarly to Toge and Megumi, she knew this was coming and doesn’t care that it’s happening. You aren’t leaving, it’s as simple as that. You’re weak, not an ounce of strength residing in you. And you expect to be able to survive in the world? She just sighs and ends up dragging you to a locked room that’s going to be your new home for the rest of your life. Maki doesn’t care how hard you protest or how much you cry and beg. She’s not going to let you be taken from her, never.

Yandere Platonic Sukuna

tw: Yandere Themes, Overprotectiveness, Attempted Murder, Massacre, Concubines/Harems, Poison, Mentions of Killings, Torture, Child Murder, Child Neglect

•Sukuna is definitely one of the most unexpected platonic yanderes. I mean who’d expect the might ‘King of Curses’ to have an attachment to another being? Well, the sorcerers didn’t and that’s for sure. Sukuna was human before he was defeated. He wined, dined, and lusted to his hearts content.

•It wasn’t a surprise when Sukuna found out he sired offspring, afterall with all the woman he had slept with there was bound to be some. Originally, when he discovered your existence, Sukuna planned to kill you. He didn’t want any children, even if he didn’t have to raise them. Your mother was wise. She fled from her life as one of Sukuna’s many concubines once she learned that she was pregnant. She knew what happened to the other women who bared Sukuna’s children.

•Your mother kept to herself, giving birth to you in a village then packing it up and moving along after just two weeks. She knew that if he found you, Sukuna would kill both of you. But no matter how cautious she was, even your mother grew careless as time passed. Around two years had passed and Sukuna still hadn’t found you. So she settled down in a quaint farming village, raising you with the help of the kind village people.

•Unfortunately, your cursed energy grew extremely and it was detected by Uraume. They investigated the source, then reported back to Sukuna. So he set out on his way to ‘take care’ of you and your mother. Your mother awoke to the sounds of screaming and crying with the smell of smoke wafting through the air. He’d found you. She ran to get you but was interrupted by Sukuna barging through the door. He began to choke your mother as she struggled. Then you toddled out, having been wakened by the loud noise outside.

•Instead of screeching and sobbing out of fear like Sukuna expected you to after you saw him, you sleepily walked up towards Sukuna and motioned for him to pick you up. He dropped your now dead mother, who went motionless awhile ago, and held you up by your sleep kimino. He was fascinated by you. Why were you not scared? Sukuna inspected you, searching for a tell as to why you were unafraid. Perhaps it’s because of you’re unusually high cursed energy, Sukuna thought as he poked one of your chubby cheeks. That made you pout adorably, puffing your cheeks which caused your father to laugh. Maybe it was because you were his child, Sukuna mused playfully. You truly were entertaining. He could keep around for a little longer, couldn’t he? You provided more amusement than any of the women in his harem did.

•Sukuna ended up taking you back with him. He ordered some maids to prepare a room and to take care of your basic necessities. Nobody understood what purpose Sukuna had for you. Some pitied you, some envied you, while others ignored you. Sukuna visited you almost every day, just to bother or tease you. He enjoyed your reactions and his visits became longer and more frequent. The maids continued to care for you to the best of their abilities. They saw that you were just a helpless child, an adorable one at that. However, the concubines of the harem grew jealous of you.

•The concubines yearned for the treatment you received. Many of them felt entitled to it and began to plot for your death so that any children they sired would receive the same treatment. So they snuck poison into your dinner with the help of a bribed maid. When Sukuna found your pitiful form he went ballistic. Carefully, he first healed you, then he slaughtered and tortured everyone in the harem and all the maids. All while cradling you in one of his arms.

•After that incident, Sukuna became hyper protective of you. He would have only Uraume care for you when necessary. Otherwise you would spend all your time with him. You grew up under Sukuna’s watchful eyes. Your childhood was a luxurious one, all your whims were quickly met. Sukuna absolutely doted on you, spoiling you to your hearts content. Eventually, you blossomed into a beautiful and kind young lady, all the more reason to keep you locked away from the world in Sukuna’s eyes. He would rather die than have someone take you from him.

•You never once complained though. You understood what a terrible place the world was, at least according to your father. You had everything you desired here. Besides, there was always Sukuna and Uruame to keep you company. But then came the day where your father was defeated and sealed away. You were utterly heartbroken. One particular sorcerer who helped defeat him, saw you and instead of exploiting your powers, he helped you. He gave you freedom. You fell in love with the sorcerer and married him, living a long happy life without your father.

•Eventually, when Yuji ate Sukuna’s finger and that whole mess got over with, all Sukuna could think about was you. You’d gotten married, according to the smug white-haired annoyance, to one of the sorcerers who helped defeat him. Sukuna was livid. Perhaps he was a little irked at you for marrying that traitor but he mostly blamed that sorcerer. First he sealed Sukuna away, then he steal his precious child?! But you’d long passed alongside your husband, Sukuna grimaced.

•Sukuna’s mourning was cut short when Yuji’s elder sibling walker through the door. It was you, an exact replica. Sukuna watched in amazement. This person didn’t just look like you, the sounded like you and acted like you. You had the exact same mannerisms, the same smile and laugh. Now, Sukuna doesn’t believe in reincarnation, but right in front of him was living proof. You’d been reincarnated, and you were the exact same as when he left you. Sukuna had another chance with you, and even though you didn’t know it yet, he’d be damned if he let his child slip through his fingers a second time.

Yandere mafia sukuna au ( Jujutsu Kaisen ) maybe he falls for his favourite waitress who works at his favourite bar or cafe?

Yandere Mafia Boss! Sukuna

tw: Yandere Themes, Mafia Themes, Crime, Attempted Assault (Not by Sukuna), Violence, Broke Reader, Obsession, Possessive Behaviour, Usage of Curse Words, Mentions of Killings, Child Neglect, Punishment, Starvation, Abuse, Branding, Themes of Captivity

a/n: Okay, so this turned out darker than I intended it to be but this reflects more on how I think Yandere! Sukuna acts so it is what it is. Also, I used a new style of writing here lmk what y’all think.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna is a cruel man. The head of the infamous Ryomen crime family. An illegitimate child of his father, the former head, and a one of his many mistresses, Sukuna’s childhood was miserable. His father tossed him and his mother out on to the streets. He was forced to watch as his mother suffered in agony, too poor to afford the medicine she needed. The day of her funeral, his father came to take him in, not even sparing him a glance. From that day onwards, Sukuna swore to never allow himself to be weak again. And he kept that vow, clawing and killing his way to the top. Then when the time came, Sukuna rose up against his father and took control of the Ryomen Mafia, massacring anything and anyone who stood in his way.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna owns the entire city, having expanded exponentially since he took over. He has the media, the police, even the mayor in his pocket. Anyone who isn’t is too afraid to act against him. They’ve seen what happens to those who do. The city has an order, an order that is dictated by Sukuna. You’ve lived in this city all your life. And you’re desperate to get out of the cesspool of crime and corruption that takes place there. But you can’t do that, not yet at least. Hell, you can barely pay rent. So begrudgingly, you start to work at one of Sukuna’s many clubs. You hate it there, the uniform is too damn small; although you’re not really sure you call a pair of shorts that barely cover your ass, a top that squeezes your chest painfully, thigh-high leather boots, and fishnets a uniform, the leering gazes from perverts, and your shitty manager. But hey, the pay is decent and your dignity probably wasn’t worth that much anyways.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna boredly watches the club’s scenery. His men holler and hoot at the stripper who dances on the pole in front of them. Sukuna honestly couldn’t possibly care less. Same old dancers, same old expensive liquor, same old tarts trying to tempt him. Seriously, is there nothing exciting anymore? Has his city run dry of entertainment? Sighing irritably, Sukuna leaves, there’s nothing for him here anyways. Slinking through the backdoor of the V.I.P lounge and into an alway for a smoke. That’s when he sees you, dressed in your delicious little uniform. You’re cornered, by a low-level goon of his who just earned a promotion. Sukuna couldn’t be bothered to learn his name. He rolls his eyes, intelligence was so hard to come by these days. This idiot was trying to assault some unfortunate server in the clubs employ instead of taking one of the more well-versed participants of the act he was forcefully soliciting.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna goes to step in, that is until to kick the guy in the balls. Sukuna stares in utter shock and amusement. Who knew you had that in you? The goon howls in pain and snarls at you, promising a world of pain. Suddenly, your angry demeanour is gone, replaced by one of terror. You back up and prepare to flee. Then, Sukuna swoops in, effectively knocking the goon out from behind. He asks if you’re alright and gives his arm to hold onto so you can calm yourself. You steady your breath and thank him profusely. Sukuna coolly offers to walk you back to your car, a beat-up rusted thing, much to your embarrassment. You thank him once more before climbing into your car and driving off, leaving Sukuna intrigued.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna who’s had his interest peaked. He’s intrigued by you, that fiesty and kind spirit of yours provided him with the greatest entertainment he’s seen in years! Sukuna has his most trusted associates stalk keep tabs on you. He learns everything there is to know about, your hobbies, your likes, your dislikes, your medical information, your favourite food, even what time you go to sleep. As he delves deeper into the rabbit hole of obsession, Sukuna begins to follow you himself. A master at the act, Sukuna watches you, anytime he can. He watches you interact with the world. The way you cheerfully greet the owner of the small convenience store you frequent. How your laugh sounds as though it is a symphony from the greatest composers when you’re with your friends. The teasing smile you offer to a particularly attractive coworker that stopped coming into to work for some unknown reason the next day. And by god, Sukuna swears, you’re perfection. And he deserves nothing less.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna owns this city, so by default he owns you too. And it’s time to bring his prized possession home. Carefully, Sukuna, organizes your disappearance return to him. Anyone who’ll miss you is either bought off or scared off. The police couldn’t care less, after all, what’s one missing server to the amount of cash that they’ll be earning. And so finally, it’s time. You’re walking back to your dingy apartment, you were let go on the orders of Sukuna. He couldn’t bare to let anyone else see you in that number which was your uniform. Strangely enough, the stingy landlord allowed you to remain there, sweating and shaking as he did so. You suspiciously began to look for other jobs, because you didn’t trust the guy, but nobody was hiring. And then suddenly, like a switch, your landlord flipped and demanded that you pay all the accumulated rent. You furiously began to look and apply for jobs but was rejected every time. You’d just been rejected once more, leaving you dejected and walking back home; you had to sell your beaten up car to try and pay back your landlord. Too engrossed in your misery, you didn’t notice the men trailing you. Swiftly, one came up behind you. He quickly grabbed you and placed a chloroform cloth up to your mouth and nose before you had a chance to react. You went out like a light and the men loaded you up in a van to be delivered to their boss.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna is incredibly pleased to finally have you. You’re unconscious, tucked under the expensive sheets on the luxurious bed within the extravagant room Sukuna prepared for you. Sukuna hums as he gently holds your chin, tilting it up with four fingers, using his thumb to softly rub circles on your cheek, then tracing it down to your lips. You look so serene, steady, slow, breaths, your hair splayed across the pillows, and wearing the customized silk pyjamas he bought for you. You’re finally where you belong, with him. When you awake, you’re confused. Your bed has never felt this soft before. Then you look around the room, this isn’t your room. Panicking, you try to jump out of the bed, only to find that you’re bound to the bed with chains, the cuffs are padded softly though. You pull at the chains but your efforts remain fruitless.

“So you’ve finally awaken, hm?”

Freezing upon hearing that slightly familiar voice, you turn your gaze towards the directions of its owner. Your eyes widened and your throat dried, it was the man who saved you.

“You! Did you do this to me?!” You demanded as his eyes bored into yours.

“As in returning you to where you belong? Yes, I did.”

“What the hell are you talking about,” you snarled.

“Quite,” he ordered, dropping his neutral tone for a more menacing one. “You’re mine, I saved you didn’t I? You should repay the favour.”

“Let me go!” You cry, struggling with all your might. “Please,” you beg as you finally break, beginning to sob.

“Enough, there’s no need for that. As long as you behave, you’ll be rewarded.” Your captor says gruffly before stalking out of the room, leaving you to wail and beg for release.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna stays true to his word. As long as you ‘behave’ or do as he says, you live better than you ever could’ve. You eat gourmet food and drink rich, costly alcohol; that you consume in copious amounts in an effort to forget where you are and how you got there. Your wardrobe, although chosen to be suited to Sukuna’s taste rather than yours, is filled with luxurious clothes and items you never would’ve been able to afford. Yet nobody can put a price on freedom, and to be free is all you want. Any escape attempt is futile, you cannot bribe the guards meticulously watching you. And even if you were to slip past the guards eyes, you’d be caught in a number of minutes. All that results in is the torture and murder of guards and in you being punished.

Mafia Boss! Sukuna takes a sadistic pleasure in punishing you. Of course, he likes when you’re docile but he adores your fiesty spirit. It’s really more of an ownership thing to be honest. Nobody else can touch you; Sukuna is the king of the world and you are his consort, his and his only. His to love and his to punish. Punishments can range from starvation to broken bones, all fit in accordance with his mood. But don’t worry, none of it is permanent. Well, most of it isn’t permanent, the brand labeled ‘Property of Sukuna’ looks absolutely gorgeous burned into your skin! Oh, how delicious your cries and pleas were. Otherwise, Sukuna is wonderful towards you, all your wishes, save your freedom, are granted. You live in comfort, it only being cast aside for Sukuna’s pleasure. Afterall, he’s your saviour, so shouldn’t you be a bit more considerate?

Can you do a Gojo satoru noncon smut where he’s like y/n toxic boyfriend that y/n tries leaving but he doesn’t let y/n so he rapes/noncons y/n and babytraps y/n as well

𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘨𝘰𝘫𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘶 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯/𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘫𝘰𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 (𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴), 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”

The bitter laugh he gave set [name] off immediately, a pit dropping in her stomach.

“You?” The taunt was evident in a smirk stretching across his face, eyes dragging down her figure — Something akin to ‘sizing her up’. “Break up with me?”

She shivered.

Satoru Gojo was an awful person. She was not going to let his verbal taunts get to her. So, clenching her fists, canine tugging on her bottom lip, the girl steeled her resolve.

“Yeah. We’re over, Satoru.” Her eyes stayed set on the spot between her — now — ex-boyfriend’s sharp sapphire eyes, hidden beneath a blindfold. [name] thought she had made her facade absolutely unbreakable, but her twitching nose betrayed her. A simple tell, but a sure one.

However, at her words, something in the room shifted. Tension thick enough to slice, a pungent kind of odor resembling bloodlust suddenly sending her head reeling. The man’s smirk looked strained for a moment, quick to flicker back into more familiar ground.

Satoru took strides forward, grin only lengthening when she skittered backward. Her eyes had switched, wild and afraid, as if she’d only just considered the danger that came out of this situation.

The apartment got smaller.

And smaller.

And smaller.

[name] wondered if this was an ability he’d been born with — To make anyone who dared oppose him suddenly feel so terrified.

Looming over her so threateningly, blindfold the only thing concealing her true punishment — But she wouldn’t even get such a luxury it seemed, as his hand came up to take the cloth off. Sapphire eyes out in the open, pupils dilated just upon landing.

“What happened? You were so confident a few seconds ago, sweetheart, don’t pussy out now.” Satoru spoke nonchalantly, an air of ease to each movement. He took the lapse in response to lean closer and cage the girl in with his broad arms. She could only respond with more silence, an infinitesimal hesitation stretching farther and farther into oblivion — The lone and level sands stretch far away.

King of Kings — That is Satoru Gojo’s title. He was the god of this world, the next, the next, the next— Gaze upon his works, ye mighty, look upon this rabbit caught fresh on the arrow, and despair.

The apartment suffocated all life out of it, holstering lain two corpses — One stuck in metamorphisis while the other decayed — Both rotting. Blue walls, once a sunny sky’s color now the endless void of an ocean, gray ceiling matted with the flickering, broken light. She’d known damn well Satoru had a better house, some wealthy mansion-like place, but he never offered for her to stay there, he always just showed up here at hers — And she realized he was waiting for her to beg. For her to rely on him.

But, she didn’t, never. Instead, she worked her own job. She paid her own bills, she paid her rent, she bought all the necessities. She lived for herself. If her own boyfriend took notice of her hardships and decided to stay a sadist? To wait for her to end up begging for his help, to land on his doorstep like mutton on a silver platter?

Hell fucking no.

She assumed the deity just got tired of her stubbornness, because what was once just annoying, his ignorance had become like white noise to her — But recently, she knew he’d been sabotaging her. Coming over more, using up more of her utilities, breaking things she’d try to excuse with a strained smile, ignoring his smug one — He was getting impatient.

The other, well, larger issue that bothered [name] was the fact that he put nothing into the relationship. She was the one with intimacy issues, but she had to initiate every bit of touch, or else he’d ignore her completely. She was the one with a busy schedule, juggling a terribly-paying job, but she paid at every restaurant because Satoru conveniently forgot his wallet when she knows it’s in his pocket.

So, [name] had tried to end it. Gathering up every bit of confidence she had, fighting against the memories of sunset walks and shy handholding since intimacy was the one thing she struggled with — They’d never even kissed — And texted him that they were over. Why give someone who didn’t put anything into the relationship any kind of real closure?

One could assume where that led to.

Here he was, snow-white hair and all, glare piercing straight through her skull, as if it could see everything — And honestly, it probably could.

The silence remained of course, but [name] brought a loose fist to her face, slow and steady. A notion that could be passed off as her brushing away a tear or maybe even rubbing her eyes—

Until her other fist came up as well in a right hook, aimed directly at Satoru’s face. It was stopped by some invisible force that she had no care nor time to question, because the man had been caught off guard. In that split second, the king of kings’ knees threatened to bend.

[name] knew that some demented thought that she wouldn’t hurt him had passed through his mind, which sent a partial shiver down her back, but it only fueled her legs to move. She ran past him, then past the guest bedroom, and straight into her own. He covered the only actual escape, so she needed to barricade and call the police—

A hand stopped the door before she could close it.

No matter how hard she pushed, it wouldn’t do anything against the supposed strongest. Satoru’s entire playful facade had washed off. She had a feeling this was what he had been hiding, truly — His glare was stronger, blue eyes shining painfully bright and still, still remaining dull. Devoid of love, but maybe she’d deluded that aspect into existence too. A slightly wrinkled lip, cold sneer of command—

Silence filled the room for a moment as he semi-circled to be a bit to her left, still in front. He blocked the door, but didn’t bother to close it. [name] hadn’t noticed her lip started to wobble until a fresh tear found its way down her cheeks. Although, just before it could pitter onto the floor, just before that soft thud—

Satoru had her on her bed. Grabbed the closest scrap of fabric to tie her wrists to the headboard, and when she made eye contact, saw how all the life had been drained out of his body — Realized he was nothing but a corpse of the man she thought — [name] knew he would ruin her. Fuck her. Rape her, here and now.

As he was tying the knot, not another word said on his end, the girl fought back tooth and nail, scratching, crying. She was confused, why be so neglectful up until now? “Let me go– Satoru I swear to god, I don’t— I don’t know or care if this is some sick fucking prank, just let me go—” She kicked him square in the stomach, but that invisible force was there once again.

“Plea— Please, Satoru. I’m not staying in a relationship like thi– Wh— What are you—” Her words were pathetically smothered by a whimper, two strong hands parting her thighs in a vice-like grip. A warning that, no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t process properly. She tried to kick again, yanking her wrists against the cloth despite the burning tear.

His right hand’s slender fingers, the ones she flusteredly called pretty once upon a time, dug so harshly into her leg that she thought it might break. That was supposedly enough to silence her, and Satoru couldn’t help his sudden harsh laughter.

That carefully crafted silence had begun to shatter.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ cute like this, princess.” He almost panted out, but the notion still came across biting and condescending in the worst ways imaginable. A broken sob heaved its way out of her mouth, but he could only coo again.

“But… don’t think I’m not fucking pissed. You thought you could break up with me, huh? Right baby?” The taunt had returned. Satoru leaned down to finally slot his lips against hers, tongue invading and wet against her own. His hands moved from her thighs, sliding upwards until he was working her shirt up and over her breasts. He didn’t care much about unclasping the bra, instead just tearing it through the middle and tossing it to the side. Not like she’d need it anymore.

[name]’s chest moved up and down at a rapid pace, brushing against his sometimes, until he pulled away from the kiss to trail his mouth down lower. She tried to kick him away once more, but it seemed his patience was all but gone. He caught her right heel, snapping his wrist sharply—

CRACK—!

Her ankle was sprained. It didn’t click for her until the blinding pain bubbled up her figure, through her throat, onto her tongue — She bit it to stifle the scream that almost tore through. Instead, it all just came out as heavy sobs, tears upon tears cascading down her face in waterfalls.

“Shh…” He shushed her, carding a hand through her hair and kissing her lips once more. The purplish color tinted her ankle now, and while her sock covered the rest of her foot — She didn’t even want to know how it looked. “Now you get it, baby? How stupid it is to break up with me?”

[name] almost nodded. On instinct, she almost submitted, but instead — She shook her head. “No. Get— Get the fuck off me, Satoru. I’m calling the damn police.” And, her glare was almost effective.

Looked more like a puppy trying to bark to him though.

He sighed, before laughing again. Harsher, biting. Dragged a hand down his face, eyes not dull for a second. “Yeah, I saw this coming.”

With that, he snapped her other ankle, swallowing her scream up with another wet kiss. Her legs went limp, and he took the opportunity to knead her breasts with his hands, tweaking the nipples between his fingers and eliciting a small whimper into the rough battle between tongue.

Satoru moved his mouth down to her neck, sucking and biting everywhere. He made sure to mark her up effectively, all canines and tongue digging into her jugular and collar. She cried out every time, pain winning over pleasure. His tongue laved her tits, leaving bitemarks there too. Eventually though, he reached her sweatpants, tugging them down and off.

His fingers edged the fold of her panties, ignoring how she squirmed and whined uncomfortably. A chuckle left his throat, more sadistic than not. “Hah… Can’t wait to see what pretty noises I get when I fuck you.”

She flinched at that, eyes widened in horror as she still tried to move against the binds on her wrists.

He leaned down to rip her panties in half, stuffing them in his pocket before diving straight into swiping his tongue along her pussy. He licked a stripe right down her clit, the squelching noises as he sucked and fucked her on his wet muscle sounding unsettling to one, and heaven to the next.

Satoru was a man of his word, thrusting his tongue in and out of her at such a rapid pace, her cries held a wobbly lilt to them. She was trying so hard to not enjoy this, it was almost impressive to him.

In reality though — She wasn’t enjoying it one bit. Her head was pounding, eyes blurring with tears and the room spun, lips curved downward in a frown. She was angry at everything. God, Satoru, herself — She wished she saw the signs. She wished Satoru would stop. She wished for some divine intervention, but looking down, seeing this man eating her out like a man starved? It was the reminder she needed that Satoru is god.

He pulled away from [name]’s pussy, not bothering to wipe his chin of her juices. He looked angelic, and the nagging voice in the back of her mind wondered if that made her the devil.

He unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it over his head. Then, his pants were off, along with his boxers.

Two strangers in a bed, put them in a bible and watch them burn.

Satoru positioned himself at her entrance, sliding the tip in excruciatingly slowly. It would be more tolerable under the pretense of pure, rough sex — Where he would just slam into her and leave her cold and naked. But instead, under the weight of romance, she felt her stomach churn.

He kissed her shoulder mockingly, and she realized he knew what he was doing. He knew he was stringing this along more than he needed to, and didn’t care.

The man slid in at an even slower pace, hissing out a low “Fuck…” Her pussy clenched around him, only earning a high keened whimper on his end too.

“Don’t say nothin’ against it now babe— Hhn, fuck— Y-You can deny it all you want, but this pussy doesn’t lie…”

Finally, he’d lost that self-restraining-front he tried to put up.

His hips thrusted in and out, hitting that spongy spot inside her — [name]’s toes curled. He kept whimpering, groaning, crying out her name every time he sunk inside.

“F-Fuckfuckfuck— You feel so good— Can’t— Won’t last—“ He groaned all raspy and breathy, ignoring her cries from underneath him.

Pleas for “Toru— ‘Toru please, please stop— Stop—“ Bubbled off her tongue, hanging in the air like unanswered prayers.

Faster and faster and faster. His hips rolled up into hers with the fervor of a devoted worshipper, a catholic kind of guilt in her eyes every time they met. His thrusts were relentless in every aspect of the word, hard, quick, and deep.

He moved her thighs to wrap around his waist, nails digging into them again. Over and over again, stinging pain like a blossom in the middle of a fiery massacre. It was the only constant in this whole ordeal, and she wondered what that meant.

Though, when he started to the stutter, hips too, all thoughts were silenced. He wasn’t pulling out. He wasn’t— He wasn’t—

“Sa— Satoru no, no, nononono no—“

She was cut off by the sudden sensation of Satoru’s hips stilling against hers, pelvis’ meeting at the center as his load spilled into her pussy. Ropes and ropes of white shot deep inside, stuffed full.

Where their bodies met, they truly became one.

[name] panted heavily, breaths all fucked up and skittery. Her body twitched, wrists burning and red from the rope burn. Her thighs fell numb around his waist, and her head cocked back as the earth stopped turning for a second.

Silence stretched far and further over the deserted apartment, door open and all. Prophetic records played in the room over, some 90’s rap serenade.

His hips started moving again before she could place what song it was, momentary peace diloricated and hung like caprizant ventricles, left and right, in and out.

Just two strangers in a bed. Let the scripture decide how their stories end.

☆ 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘺𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶

yan!gojo sneakpeek

--take this sneakpeek of an upcoming oneshot lmao more notes at the end

tw; implied noncon, chasing !!

--

“What happened? You were so confident a few seconds ago, sweetheart, don’t pussy out now.” Satoru spoke nonchalantly, an air of ease to each movement. He took the lapse in response to lean closer and cage the girl in with his broad arms. She could only respond with more silence, an infinitesimal hesitation stretching further and further into oblivion — The lone and level sands stretch far away.

King of Kings — That is Satoru Gojo’s title. He was the god of this world, the next, the next, the next—  Gaze upon his works, ye mighty, look upon this rabbit caught fresh on the arrow, and despair.

The apartment suffocated all life out of it, holstering lain two corpses — One stuck in metamorphisis while the other decayed — Both rotting. Blue walls, once a sunny sky’s color now the endless void of an ocean, gray ceiling matted with the flickering, broken light. She’d known damn well Satoru had a better house, some wealthy mansion-like place, but he never offered for her to stay there, he always just showed up here at hers — And she realized he was waiting for her to beg. For her to rely on him.

But, she didn’t, never. Instead, she worked her own job. She paid her own bills, she paid her rent, she bought all the necessities. She lived for herself. If her own boyfriend took notice of her hardships and decided to stay a sadist? To wait for her to end up begging for his help, to land on his doorstep like mutton on a silver platter? 

Hell fucking no.

She assumed the deity just got tired of her stubbornness, because what was once just annoying, his ignorance had become like white noise to her — But recently, she knew he’d been sabotaging her. Coming over more, using up more of her utilities, breaking things she’d try to excuse with a strained smile, ignoring his smug one — He was getting impatient.

The other, well, larger issue that bothered [name] was the fact that he put nothing into the relationship. She was the one with intimacy issues, but she had to initiate every bit of touch, or else he’d ignore her completely. She was the one with a busy schedule, juggling a terribly-paying job, but she paid at every restaurant because Satoru conveniently forgot his wallet when she knows it’s in his pocket.

So, [name] had tried to end it. Gathering up every bit of confidence she had, fighting against the memories of sunset walks and shy handholding — They’d never even kissed — And texted him that they were over. Why give someone who didn’t put anything into the relationship any kind of real closure?

One could assume where that led to.

Here he was, snow-white hair and all, glare piercing straight through her skull, as if it could see everything — And honestly, it probably could.

The silence remained of course, but [name] brought a loose fist to her face, slow and steady. A notion that could be passed off as her brushing away a tear or maybe even rubbing her eyes—

Until her other fist came up as well in a right hook, aimed directly at Satoru’s face. It was stopped by some invisible force that she had no care nor time to question, because the man had been caught off guard. In that split second, the king of kings’ knees threatened to bend.

[name] knew that some demented thought that she wouldn’t hurt him had passed through his mind, which sent a partial shiver down her back, but it only fueled her legs to move. She ran past him, then past the guest bedroom, and straight into her own. He covered the only actual escape, so she needed to barricade and call the police—

A hand stopped the door before she could close it.

☆ OKAYY time for a debrief !! i !! am !! so !! sorry!! for disappearing oh my god jsdhkj i literally ran into the WORST writing block ever, and then studying hit, and then my hiphop recitals fucked with everythingg ughh --- anyway, back to the point !! i am going to try to get back to posting as frequently as i can, especially now that winter breaks here. side note; i also have covid and a supposed csf leak (brain fluid leak) !! doc says ill be fine dwdw lmao no wonder im gonna fail my classes

☆ anyways hope this sneak peek builds up anticipation for the full thing which will be, ofc, full on smut/noncon for my readerss -- byeeeee see u when i post it !!!

𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘪 𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦/𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

It’s an odd thing, she realized. Practically lunacy. Rapt, her hand traced the outline of her collarbone, eyes following the motion in the mirror. Maybe she hoped for a lag in the reflection. This was a trick mirror, it had to be. 

The muted olive walls of the bathroom closed in on her. Dim lighting, an orange-ish tint to the bulbs. Far too saturated, suffocating, she was choking herself out as thoughts swarmed around her mind. Lips parting in a quiet denial of the situation, she almost missed how her whole body was trembling.

[name] ran fingers through her hair in an effort to ground herself. Purple bruises and red bitemarks littered across her neck and collar, she flinched at the memory that came with them. She didn’t wear concealer, so she wouldn’t have any in her purse. Imperfections of her face bubbled up, but it wasn’t enough to rip her attention away from the marks.

Jujutsu High was supposed to be a safe haven. It was supposed to be somewhere she could focus on strengthening her skills, somewhere she could escape her ignorant and awful family — But tragedy tends to follow those who combat it the most. 

A shaky breath, and [name] crumbled to the floor in a heap. She could hardly breathe, scratching at her skin, rubbing furiously at her body as her cries echoed in cracked whispers, “God, please get it off— Get his touch off— I-I can’t—” She hiccupped, tears rapid in their descent down her face. 

Her knees ached from the coldness of the tiled floor, bathtub in her peripheral suddenly looking more like a coffin than anything else. She wondered, for a moment, — If she filled the tub with water and let the crystal substance fill her lungs, would she feel clean?

Bring her to the forest, dump her body on the grass. Nature will be gentler than any man. 

Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t a bad man. That’s what [name] believed. She saw his stoicism as gentleness to the world. She saw his silence as peace. And, of course, she saw his potential as a sorcerer. She was the one who brought it to his attention, just before Gojo even got the idea to talk to him.

The girl had approached him just before he was to close his room’s door for the night. 

[name] smiled softly, eyes not meeting his as she tried to step out of her comfort zone. “I just think you have a lot of amazing things you’d be able to do! You can bring out your potential, I just— I think you can pull it out of yourself, hon’, I really do…” She dared a glance up into his eyes, suppressing a wince when he had been looking at her the whole time. “If that makes sense, of course! Sorry, I don’t know why I—”

She was cut off by a quiet laugh. It wasn’t harsh or biting, not even mocking — It was a genuine, soft laugh. Finally turning to look at him properly, her heart almost fluttered. He was smiling, eyes crinkling upward at the notion. Despite her hesitation, he looked so… happy. He was shining, honestly. 

“ Thanks, [name]. I, ah, needed that.” He ran a hand through his fluffy raven locks, gunmetal hues resting on her face. Unmoving. His cheeks were dusted a light pink. She internally breathed a sigh of relief, laughing with him. Her own smile was made even brighter than before, cheeks starting to hurt. 

Megumi almost brought his hand up to affectionately ruffle her hair, but stopped himself. He could hold on for a bit longer, he could— He observed the crinkle in her eyes, the bags under them, the moles, the light in her pupils, and suddenly, he recognized life as short. 

[name] had to depart, she decided with a glance at her phone. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she’d promised Itadori a hangout. She was about to wave goodbye, the words settling on her tongue— If not for his hand shooting up, grabbing her wrist before she could even try to pull back. 

The countdown started. Megumi liked to believe he was great at keeping all of his true thoughts and feeling under wraps. 

[name] didn’t flinch. Why would she? She’d gotten comfortable with Megumi, there was no reason for her to— 

Oh.

His eyes had darkened. She didn’t think it had been possible, really, but all the memories of her family had come rushing back. A tidal wave of sin, the sudden recession of an ocean. She looked at their intertwined hands, then back up at his face. Something in the air had shifted. 

The girl gave a cautious tug at her wrist, eyes no longer possessing the strength of contact with his. “Ah, I gotta go hon’—, Promised Yuuji I’d hang out with him.” She experimentally tugged again, but to no avail. Her lips turned the slightest bit downward.

Perhaps the scariest part was Megumi’s silence. The way his eyes fell dull, completely unlike the smile on his face just moments before. Was his previous grin sardonic? Did she not catch the undertone? His grip on [name]’s wrist only tightened a considerable amount, brows creasing together in a look that mirrored— What, betrayal? Annoyance? Was she being annoying for trying to leave?

“...Megumi?” Cautious. She realized her tone was cautious. What changed? Just a few minutes ago she felt completely comfortable with him, she was at peace and felt that he was someone she could trust, but now—

She didn’t get the chance to respond. The quiet of the hallway sank in quickly as he yanked her feeble frame inside. A yelp, but it reached no one as the door slammed shut. 

[name] turned to Megumi, eyes wide and pupils just shaking with fear. Silence, as it was, spoke fucking volumes. She hadn’t noticed it before, the way his gunmetal blue eyes dragged along her body, sizing her up like lamb to the slaughter. 

He took a step forward, dorm floor creaking with the notion. She took one back. It took a second, but her flight instinct kicked in. Turning on her heel, [name] went for a mad dash for the backdoor. It led to his balcony, so maybe if she jumped and ran for Yuuji, or Gojo Sensei, or Nobara— 

A single hand caught on her hair and pulled. A wounded whimper left the girl’s throat, body crashing right back into the ravenette’s. She struggled as much as possible, but it didn’t do much when he just got her right up against the nearest wall. 

Those gunmetal eyes carried the embers of hell, she thought. Despite her weak whines and cries, the devil’s whispers painted fluttering kisses to cloud any sane thought she hoped had burrowed into Megumi’s mind.

He pinned her wrists above her head, frame completely devouring hers as he dove in for a kiss. She squirmed under him, trying to turn her head, but one of his hands only held her chin in place. This was her worst nightmare turned ten times more malicious. 

His hands roamed her body with the desire of Eros, the pursuit of Persephone from Hades, the longing of Pothos — A man possessed by tragedy. She had to be his lyre, the instrument he used and used and used and used—

[name] cried out as his teeth sank into the soft of her neck. His tongue seemed to lap up the blood easily, as if an apology for his unbridled animosity. He treated her like glass he knew could be repaired. Delicate, but made for shattering.

Megumi seemed to hardly use any strength to rip the front of her shirt open with one hand, leaning down to pepper his kisses down her chest. The tattered remains of her shirt and bra fell to the floor, leaving the upper part of her body completely vulnerable and to his mercy. Teeth on skin, marking, sucking — He was making sure no inch of her didn’t carry him.

A breath, and [name] almost thought he’d come to his senses with the way his ministrations paused. However, she was proven wrong when he moved to remove her bottoms too. His free hand reached down and began to rub circles on her, now, exposed clit. She writhed as much as she could, breathless pleas falling from her lips as his long fingers worked their way inside of her, eliciting even more pained cries.

The boy didn’t offer a response, much too lost in everything about the moment. She was under him, whimpering because of him, this wet because of him— What else could he ever ask for?

In one swift movement, Megumi lifted her thighs to rest around his waist. He had pulled his sweatpants down enough to rub his erection against her bare pussy. She winced at the movement, head thrown back against the wall as his grip tightened around her wrists. A quietly strained groan left his throat, the first noise he’d made this whole time. 

[name] bit her tongue so as to not offer any other response that may satisfy, resorting to quietly struggling against him again. He, of course, did not budge one bit. The horror she felt before only increased when the head of his cock started to push into her. A strangled cry, eyes squeezing shut as he sunk deeper and deeper into her warmth.

He groaned quietly again, just letting his hips rest against hers for a moment. It didn’t last very long though, as he slowly started to roll his thrusts into her, face buried in her neck as she kept her head held high against the wall.

The thrusts started off fairly slow, but he really just— couldn’t get enough. Megumi hissed a quiet ‘fuck…’, pace increasing a great amount. She tried to hold back, but her back had already arched the tiniest bit, canines digging into her lip.

The brutality of how he fucked her just got worse and worse, and soon enough the whole dorm was full of both of their strained moans, skin slapping against skin, thumps against the wall. She couldn’t take it anymore, tears streaming down her face for a while now as she begged him to just stop, stop, stop—

But it doesn’t take a genius to see how he was far too deep in to tap out now. Megumi’s groans and soft whines echoed against the wall, and he couldn’t care less that Yuuji could easily hear them from the next room over. If anything, that was good — Maybe Yuuji’d take the hint after hearing her moan his name instead. 

[name]’s breath quickened, climax approaching, but the sick feeling of being taken advantage of like this, the dirtiness that came with an orgasm from such a sick person— She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to, she never wanted to. 

Pitch black hair bounced with each pronounced thrust, but his pace grew sloppy. [name]’s breath hitched at the slow realization. It felt like the world had come crumbling down in an instant, and her fear grew impossibly larger. 

“M-Megumi— Not in– Not inside, please—” She stammered, but it really only came out as a whine or whimper than a command. 

Like always, he didn’t offer a response. He just kept fucking into her at that same brutal pace, before his hips stuttered along with her pleas — And before she knew it, he was shooting ropes of white into her tight walls. 

Breathing heavily, Megumi’s hips stayed against hers again, just relishing in the heat pulsing between the two of them. After a few moments of panting and an intimacy she wanted to rip from her body, he let her thighs uncoil from around his waist.

The boy pulled out, juices running down both of their thighs as he tucked himself away. [name] slumped against the wall, in a pool of her own ripped up clothes, completely open and vulnerable to the man who had taken advantage of her. She tucked her knees into her chest, eyes blank and empty as she tried to catch her breath.

Megumi ran a hand through his hair, light sweat catching onto his skin. He clicked his tongue gently, seeming to weigh his options before pulling her up into his arms. She flinched violently, and that only got another click of his tongue. He brought her into the washroom, running a warm bath and shutting the door for the sake of privacy. Ironic, isn’t it?

Which… leads to…

Right now. 

[name] ran a hand down her face, breaths significantly slower but still short. She was completely out of touch right now, eyes swirling with fatigue, blankness, and something akin to horror.

Standing up, she found it in herself to at least wash the parts she felt most dirty, but as she pulled on the spare clothes Megumi had given her, it didn’t make her feel any better. She took a heavy breath, giving it a once-over in the mirror. The oversized shirt hung low enough on her neck to expose all the marks and bruises littered all over the skin, and he hadn’t supplied her with a bra either. No matter what, she was exposed to him.

She blinked the fatigue in her eyes away for the sake of trying to figure out an action plan. If she can exit his dorm right now, get to one of the higher ups and report this, hell, even Yuuji— 

Yeah. She can do that. She rubbed her eyes, lashes damp with still fresh tears. She can do this. Her hand went to the door knob—

But the door swung open itself, Megumi stepping in and shutting the door behind him. He thought himself to be good at keeping his true thoughts and feelings under wraps at all times, he really did — And yet, as he pushed the terrified girl up against the sink, teeth sinking into her neck once more, he knew it was bullshit.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure as hell burned in one.

𝘱𝘭𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘥 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 ☆

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☆

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 !!

𝐣𝐣𝐤 ☆

gojo satoru:

dilorication.

vantage.

geto suguru:

dilorication.

amends.

itadori yuuji:

megumi fushiguro:

metanoia.

kugisaki nobara:

kento nanami:

ryomen sukuna:

choso:

mahito:

okkutsu yuuta:

remorse.

zenin maki:

inumaki toge:

𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 ☆

karasuno

hinata shoyo:

kageyama tobio:

tsukishima kei:

yamaguchi tadashi:

sugawara koshi:

sawamura daichi:

asahi azumane:

nishinoya yuu:

ryunosuke tanaka:

nekoma

tetsurou kuroo:

kozume kenma:

fukurodani

koutarou bokuto:

keiji akaashi:

seijoh

oikawa tooru:

iwaizumi hajime:

matsukawa issei:

hanamaki takahiro:

shiratorizawa

ushijima wakatoshi:

tendou satori:

eita semi:

inarizaki

shinsuke kita:

miya atsumu:

miya osamu:

rintarou suna:

other teams

kiyoomi sakusa:

yuji terushima:

𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 ☆

mark grayson:

eve wilkins:

nolan grayson:

cecil stedman:

Me Next!🤳

Yandere! Yuji x Chubby! p0rnstar! Reader

Warnings: Stalking, baby trapping, slight dub con, that’s about it😎

Yuji Itadori was a twenty five year old virgin. He would never admit that to anyone but it was true. After spending his teenage years fighting for his life and losing all his closest friends as a jujutsu sorcerer he never really had time for love. Plus he was kinda awkward around women in person, they were never really his type. They were definitely beautiful but they never sparked that feeling inside him or his dick. So like most single men his age he watched porn. And like most men he eventually became dependent on it. Watching it constantly to get out some of his pent up sex drive.

One day while he was scrolling through his favorite category, chubby, he came across a video titled ‘chubby tutor fucks jock’ the thumb nail caught his attention immediately as he seen a pretty girl with big glasses and her long hair in pigtails with her big breast in the camera. He clicked it immediately and seen you. You were sitting on a gray couch dressed in a cream sweater and plaid skirt. You were so adorable as you sat with a big text book on your lap and you read it out loud shyly to the guy next to you. Eventually you had the guy laid back on your lap as you jerked him off. He was sucking on your chubby nipples as you moaned cutely. Yuji couldn’t help himself as he nutted barely even getting a few minutes into the video just from looking at you. His cum was all over his hands and thighs as he panted staring at his computer screen. You were perfect.

After that day Yuji watched you constantly, following you on every platform he could find you on. He would finish his jobs exorcising curses as quick as he could just so he could go home and watch you. He had learned that you were a nineteen year old ametur and only had seven videos and a couple photo shoots. Six of your videos were solo videos of you modeling in stringy bikinis and touching yourself for the camera. And the one he had found you from was your first real video. You barely had any followers and would post cute pictures on your feed and story all the time trying to gain more fans. You were so adorable!! Yuji became obsessed. You were all his fantasies manifested as a real girl! He had to meet you! You were literally made for each other! Plus he couldn’t help but despise the guy who had made that video with you. It should have been him. That guy didn’t even know how to appreciate someone like you. He wanted you all to himself! He wanted to go get you, the girl that was made just for him and save you from that life before it was too late.

One day yujii had clicked on your Instagram story and seen you pool side at a cheap hotel in Tokyo. He knew exactly which one! He couldn’t believe you would stay at such a run down hotel! Yuji couldn’t help himself as he got an idea to ‘run into you by chance’ and introduce himself to you. You had posted the story about a hour before he had seen it so he started to run, hoping he would get there in time!

After booking a room Yuji wasted no time. Running to change into the swim trunks he bought on the way there before running to the indoor pool room. When he walked in his heart raced in his chest as he seen your familiar (y/h/c) hair and the body he spent so much time worshiping. It was really you!! You were getting out of the pool and completely dripping with the cold water as you pushed your glasses up. You were so sexy. He locked the door to the pool room and made his way over to you slowly, thankfully you two were the only people that had planned to swim that day,

——

“Hey..! Are you (y/n) bunny ??!” You were shocked as you turned around and seen a tall man with short salmon colored hair behind you. He was wearing red swimsuit trunks and no shirt as he stared down at you with flushed cheeks. You couldn’t help but blush too. He was honestly really handsome and muscular plus he was covered in scars that only added to his looks. You couldn’t help but wonder what could have caused them! You were baffled. You had just started in the industry and barely had any followers but you were already getting recognized In public??!!! And by men that were way out of your league in your mind! You froze up in embarrassment and didn’t know what to do! You never imagined meeting fans in public so early! “A-ah….i-I am.” You were so awkward!

Yujii was in heaven and couldn’t help himself from grabbing your small hand in his big warm ones. “I’m such a big fan! You’re the best, the greatest I’ve ever seen!” It was like time froze around him as he looked at you up close. You were way way more beautiful in person. He couldn’t believe he was finally meeting you. He had day dreamed about this moment for so long! You smelled so good and the way you looked up at him so innocently turned him on so bad. Plus the tiny blue bikini you wore didn’t help. He couldn’t help the hard bulge that started to grow in his swim trunks.

You avoided his gaze awkwardly. He was probably just some sleazy guy with a girlfriend trying to flatter you! You knew how men were! “T-thank you…” but the man kept blabbing on. “I’m Yuji Itadori! I can’t believe I’m really meeting you in person!” He was so close! You could feel his warm breath fanning against your face as he leaned down to your height. Maybe he was really a fan… but you still wouldn’t let your guard down so easily.

——

Everything happened so fast. Now there you were with him on top of you as you laid back on the hotel’s cheap beach chair. He had charmed you out your panties and now there you were with a big hard dick fucking you slowly. Yuji was moaning loudly as he groped your big breast and so were you. It felt good as he fucked you raw in missionary having no trouble making you cum on his lengthy cock. You had begged him to use a condom after warning him you weren’t on birth control but he only hushed you, promising he would pull out. But Yuji was still a virgin so when he felt his dick tapping at the very back of your wet pussy he couldn’t help but press down on your soft. Tummy. He watched your cute faces and the way you squirted on him with a big pout on his handsome face. He was so completely in love. Your small hands grabbed at his strong wrist as he pumped you full of his dick. It felt so good. Yuji leaned down and gave you a wet sloppy kiss as he nutted suddenly, filling you with his warm cum. He watched as you started to panic with teary cheeks while he rutted his hips and he emptied his load deep inside of you. “D-did you cum in me???” He watched your cute scared expression and leaned into your neck. “I-I’m sorry your pussy was just sucking my dick so good~~ I couldn’t pull out~~” he wiped away your tears with his thumb as his cock stayed hard lodged inside of you, keeping you plugged full. Though he was embarrassed he came so fast he couldn’t help but feel happy he nutted in you knowing that you would have no choice but to keep in touch with him now. “Dont worry (y/n)-chan I’ll take such good care of you…and our baby~. Because I love you.”

Say something!🏩

Yandere! Bully! Megumi x Chubby! Mute! Reader

Warnings: bullying, dub con!!, creampies, public sex

You had selective mutism, which the doctors who had diagnosed you described as the inability to speak in most situations mainly due to social anxiety, despite your ability to speak normally in places like home. After moving to Tokyo for your junior year your mother had asked her close friend’s son to take care of you and help you at school.

Bully!Megumi was shocked when he met you for the first time. You were so curvy, with big breast and chubby thighs that stole his attention immediately. As your parents caught up he stared at you from the side of his eyes watching as you avoided his gaze like the plague. And in that moment he knew you would be nothing but a burden.

In front of your mother Megumi was a polite and well mannered man but when you were alone he was mean, rough, and cruel. Dragging you around and spitting insults and snarky remarks at you any chance he could get.

It had been a year since then and now as seniors you had grown extremely close. There wasn’t much time in the day where you weren’t glued to his side, following him around like some stupid puppy. It annoyed him so much.

In a empty classroom you stood against the wall leaning forward against his chest. His pale hand was between your thighs as the two fingers he had stuffed in your pussy fucked you roughly. “Just cum already or someone’s gonna come and see you.” His tone was annoyed as he watched your expressions closely. “And if you squirt again you’re getting pregnant as punishment.” Megumi watched as you clenched your thighs tightly, grabbing his strong forearm with your small hands as you came. You couldn’t help it as you started to squirt making a mess on the floor.

“Too bad, looks like you squirted again” his annoyed and disgusted face made you feel so embarrassed and small. You hated him for making you feel so stupid. “Oh well, You’re the one that’s cleaning this up later, now show me your ass.”

Facing the wall you bit your lip while he pulled your panties down and lined his cock up with your wetness. He fucked you roughly, insulting you the whole time until he pumped you full of his cum. When he was done You fell to your knees weakly as he stuffed his big dick back in his pants. “Keep all of it inside of you.” But some of his cum had already started dripping down your thigh. He grabbed your arm roughly forcing you to get up.“Now let’s go.” The train ride home was quiet with you right beside him like always. Megumi was deep in his thoughts. You guys would be graduating soon and he couldn’t help but dread what life would be without you. Your mom had already told him you would be taking your college courses at home but he couldn’t help but want you to stay side by side.

Bully!megumi would drag you into empty alleyways to touch your soft body. Muttering things like about how “Your boobs have gotten bigger this year.” And how “It’s probably because you eat so much and never work out.” You would whimper in his grasp trying not to overreact. His big hands fondled your breast through your shirt making your nipple slip out your bra. You felt his hard dick pressing against your tummy and shut your eyes tightly.

He would make you get on your knees in the ally and put his hard dick right in your face. “If you don’t say anything I’m gonna fuck you till you faint again.” With his big hand holding the top of your head he would lay his dick on your face. But you never said anything. He would fuck your face until you were coughing up his cum when he was done. He would snatch you up when he was finished to drag you to a hotel.

In the hotel rooms he would take out all his pent up emotions on you, fucking you with the anger he felt towards you for making him feel so many things around you. He would grab the back of your dainty neck as he pumped you full of his dick. “You could atleast tell me when it feels good!” You cried loudly moaning from his thrust. “Atleast try you cow!” He would growl pulling your hair.

After nutting in you he would pull out his dick that would always stay hard. You were just too sexy. “It’s your fault for never saying anything. If you want it to stop you can just say it.” He was so cruel. You still didn’t speak so he laid you flat on your tummy stuffing his dick back in u. “Say something already! I can’t tell what you’re thinking if you don’t!” He nutted in you again.

When graduation came he was colder than normal. On the train home he stood beside you scrolling on his phone nonchalantly. “It’s finally over, you won’t have to be with me all the time anymore , you can make it home alone right?”. That day Megumi went home feeling angry and hurt. Even after that all that time you hadn’t once spoke to him. Even after you fucked so many times, even though he knew every inch of your body and you knew his the same you didn’t care. You didn’t even look fazed that you wouldn’t be together anymore. Later that day as Megumi cleared his book bag he found a little note inside. When he read it he couldn’t help the way his heart raced in his chest. It was from you.

—-

It had been a year and Megumi went through college by himself, not making any friends or connections. He hated school but each time he made it home to his apartment he felt a happy and fuzzy feeling in his chest. He would open the door and walk in and see you sitting at the table on your computer with your big glasses on your cute face. You would look up at him with your pretty eyes and your cheeks would turn pink. Your voice was quiet and weak but you always greeted him.

“W-welcome home M-Megumi-kun.”

I’m stuck step bro!!🤍

Yandere! Pervert! Choso x chubby! tsundere! reader

Plot: your new adopted big brother craves a deep love and bond with you, his cute little sister.

Warnings: guys this is non con!!!!! Please if you are not comfortable please don’t read. Pseudo incest, butt eating😶, degradation, slight stalkholm syndrome.

It was freezing outside as soft snow flurried down from the thick clouds. Snow was always your favorite weather. It always felt so homey and relaxing. You always got the best sleep when it snowed outside. It was snowing the day you had met choso. Your father had adopted the boy as he was close friends with his parents. After them and his two brothers had passed away from a plane crash your father had taken custody. At first you were too scared to even speak to him. He was honestly handsome, tall, and had a nice muscular body. Even though you hated it you couldn’t help but want to curl up in his strong arms.

——

Choso had been living in your home for months and he had become quite the annoyance. Following you around school to the point people started to think he was your boyfriend. He would beg you to call him big brother constantly but you always declined. One day you had walked in his room to drop off the food your father asked for you to bring him and seen him jerking off in bed. Holding his big aching cock in his hands. The worst part is that when you locked eyes he didn’t even stop. Only staring at you until you slammed his door in embarrassment with a loud scream. You hated his guts!

One day choso had came to you with a small bag in his hands saying that he had gotten you a gift. When you opened it you were shocked to see a thin nightgown in side. It was grey with pink little hearts scattered around the soft fabric. You couldn’t help but blush as you looked at it. Why would he buy this for you??? But you couldn’t help but try it on, it was so cute!!! As you looked in the mirror the thin nightgown was so tight that you could see your chubby nipples protruding through the fabric. Your big bottom and thighs were exposed from the bottom of the tight nightgown as you looked in your mirror. You blushed at the tight outfit he had bought for you and actually felt pretty. You couldn’t help but imagine wearing it for your future husband, a man who you could finally feel safe with and who would love you deeply. You looked at yourself and wanted nothing more than to hug someone who really cared. suddenly you heard a knock at the door. You hurried and grabbed your favorite oversized jacket and threw it just in case it was your father at the door. You couldn’t help but be nervous but you walked to the door and opened it slowly with one arm raised to cover your big breast. On the other side of the door stood choso, your new ‘older brother’. You couldn’t help the agitated feeling that creeped up from within. A familiar feeling of embarrassment and shame filled your tummy when you noticed chosos warm purple eyes raking over you figure.

“Hey.” He greeted with a little smile which you ignored. He wore a fitted black shirt with and a pair of fitted black jeans . You could see every muscle in his strong arms as he stood infront of you. You couldn’t help but wonder how he was so fit, you never seen him working out. He smiled as he looked down at your cute night gown and then up to your pretty eyes. “It looks good on you imouto-Chan~~” he complimented with a flushed cheeks. You only avoided his intense gaze with a blush that matched his as you realized you forgot to zip your jacket up. He was so weird! “Don’t call me that dummy! What do you want?” Wanting to keep the interaction short you got right to the point with a sharp and annoyed glare. “Well I brought you some snacks.” Choso lifted a bag that was stuffed with various treats. You snatched the bag and slammed the door right in his face not even bothering to say thank you. You stormed to sit your bed and couldn’t help the tears that started to fill your eyes. He was so annoying and he made you so uncomfortable. Why was he so stupid?!

After your interaction Choso walked back to his room with a big aching bulge in his pants. his dick got so hard and he couldn't really explain it. He was so turned on. He felt so blessed to have such a chubby and cute little sister. He couldn't even help the way his face heated up everytime he looked at your beautiful figure.  You were just really so pretty. Your big tits and wide hips made his mouth water when he looked at you so closely. And you were wearing the outfit he bought for you. It looked better than he could have ever imagined.

——-

It had been a few days since then and it was just the beginning of chosos creepiness. His no filter personality was getting him in even more trouble until you finally snapped. It all went wrong when he told you how he really felt deep inside. You both had only been home from school for about thirty minutes and still wore your uniforms as he knocked at your door.

"(Y/n)-Chan let's have sex please. I am in love with you." Choso said standing on the other side of your doorframe, towing over you and holding your small hand in his big warm one. Next thing he knew his cheek started to sting. You had slapped him and shoved him down on the floor. Yelling at him about things he didn’t even care enough to hear, he was too distracted by the blood that started to rush to his cock. He stared up at you and watched you bark insults at him, for some reason it only turned him on even more.

“And stay out! You’re a stupid creep! Guys like you only think about having sex no matter what! You are crazy if you think I’m that kind of girl! So don’t speak to me ever again!” You yelled stomping on his dick with your sock covered foot. Moving it side to side and pressing as hard as you could as you yelled and stomped on him. After you finished you spit in his face feeling disgusted by him.

Choso blushed as he felt your cute little foot crushing his hard dick. He couldn’t help himself as he nutted in his pants. Thankfully you hadn’t noticed. He stayed quiet with a big blush until you walked away and slammed your door closed. Sitting back he stared at the door with his creamy warm nut in his school pants. It started to seep through the tan fabric making a stain. You were such a tease and he couldn’t wait any longer. In that moment something sparked inside him. Something much more intense than before.

———

“Stupid ryosuke! your pranks are so annoying!! Now I’m gonna be late!” You called out to your younger brother. He was in his pranking faze of life but he had already left with your father to go to school. You were next on the list to go to school and when you put on your shoes they were glued to the floor right in front of your front door. You would have just pulled your feet out but they had been coated in the strong glue that was filled inside. The glue seeped through your thigh highs leaving you completely stuck. “Ughh!!! Everyone is stupid!” You barked insults in frustration. And to make it even worse you seen your stupid creep of a ‘brother’ make his way around the corner. His brown hair was out of his normal pigtails and framed his face still slightly wet like he had just taken a shower.

“Ugh! Not right now creepy Choso! I’m going through enough just leave me alone!” But he only came closer standing behind you and raking his eyes over your pretty figure. You felt a chill of disgust go down your spine and shivered. Your day couldn’t get any worse! “I can help you..” chosos deep voice cut through the thick silence. You felt yourself relax a little bit. Maybe if he helped you could forgive him just a little bit. “O-okay hurry up!” Slowly behind you Choso got on his knees and you couldn’t help but wonder what his plan was. You blushed as his big hands suddenly wrapped around both of your ankles feeling so awkward and embarrassed. His warm big hands couldn’t help but make you feel small as he started to caress your shoes. The thick silence had came back as your heart raced in your chest. You tried to be lenient, It was weird but maybe it was just his plan. But shock filled your whole body as his hands started to rub up your calf’s and then your soft chubby thighs. His warm hands felt so good as they radiated through your white thigh highs. “H-hey what are you doing?!” He didn’t answer only leaning in to press a kiss on your thigh right underneath your ass. “Ughhh! I can’t believe I trusted you! Cut it out!!!!” You were completely embarrassed trying to reach behind you to push his head away but he quickly grabbed your wrist in a firm grasp keeping you from moving your arms. You wanted to call someone for help but you book bag was on the floor down the entrance way and your phone was inside.

You whimpered as you felt his warm wet tongue licking on your thighs as he used his other arm that had wrapped around your legs to pull you against his face. He completely ignored your protest as he licked you, worshipping your sweet body. “Mhmmmm~” his groans grossed you out so much but there was nothing you could do. You tried to wiggle away with tears down your cheeks but he was just too strong.

—-

Choso didn’t waste anymore time, flipping up your skirt and pulling your panties down to your ankles. You cried but he never stopped, kissing and licking on your ass cheek as his big hands started rubbing your chubby clit. It only got so much worse.

“I’ll stop if you call me big brother.”

Now there you were moaning weakly as Choso licked at your chubby wet pussy. Why was he so mean?! “T-this won’t work Choso! I-i won’t ever a-accept you as my brother! Especially not after this!!” You whimpered. He was such a creep! He was licking your pussy and ass hole with no shame even though he was supposed to be your big brother. What was wrong with him!? Still on his knees Choso licked your tight ass hole loving how his face was burried in between your cheeks. Your skirt rested over his head as lewd sounds of slurping and groaning came from between your chunky thighs. “You’re a creepy nasty pervert! Stop it!! If you stop now I promise I won’t tell anyone!!” Your anxiety was insane as you cried loudly. But Choso never stopped He only wanted to please you, not touching his hard cock while he licked you up only turned him on even more. Deep down he felt that you loved it, your body was melting for him. He felt so nasty giving his cute ‘baby sister’ a rimjob.

He wanted to be your little pet so bad, to do whatever you desired with no hesitation. He didn’t even care if you washed up, he wanted to taste you all the time. Your mean little bratty attitude only made him harder. He wanted you to kick and punch at his dick, to degrade him and spit on him again like trash. It turned him on so bad. Pulling away with a wet smack he spreaded your fat cheeks looking closely at your ass hole and pussy that was dripping and glistening with his spit. He didn’t bother to reply to anything you had said. He didn’t say a single word. Only leaning back in to taste you even more. He wanted to enjoy you, to make you cum and need him. He felt blessed to taste you, he felt blessed to be used as a mere toy for pleasure. “A-ahn~ y-you’re so weird! Don’t lick me there!” You were so frustrated! You didn’t like that he was so creepy. Just a big weird nasty gross stinky pervert! And you didn’t like that it felt so good. You hated him! “You’re a big ugly stupid pervert!” Your insults came more and more as you came closer to your release. “You’re ugly and gross I don’t like you!”

Your insults were so cute and endearing to him. Suddenly a strong feeling crashed down over you making your legs start to shake. You quivered with chosos warm wet tongue licking your soft pussy. “Mhmmm” he groaned moving his strong hands to spread your chubby lips open to lick and suck on your sensitive little clit. You couldn’t help as you started to cry even more from your discomfort and anger. He was overstimulating you but you didn’t know the word for it. You knew he was creep but you never imagined he would take your last bit of innocence.

“I-i hate you Choso .” You sniffled weakly and your pussy was completely weak. Your breath was ragged from your orgasm as he stood up and came infront of you to grasped your hands in his. You looked up at him covered in tears and he only gave you a small smile. Your face was glowing from your release and tears, you looked so beautiful to him. His hand raised as he put one finger over his lips. Signaling you to not tell anybody. You broke down in tears, feeling so hurt and ashamed, nobody would believe you anyways. “I’ll be quiet..! I-I’ll keep my stupid mouth shut big brother..” you whimpered falling into his chest. Choso wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your hair gently. Leaning down to smell your sweet shampoo. You couldn’t help but find comfort in his hug, was he the man you had dreamed of? The man that loved you fully and deeply. Was the man that would cherish you infront of you all along?

“Such a good baby sister~”

Srry yall this was some freak shiiiiii😭😭😩😩

If there is a god, they'll let me see more bully yandere Gojo fics 🙏

Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo Bully! Gojo— can't get enough of that concept I eat that every time

Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, noncon, bullying

Feeling like an immature awkward bully Gojo today...

Satoru is the type of bully who calls you flat-chested no matter what size you are because it’s the only thing he can think of saying when you catch him staring - because he's too stuck on the thought of how badly he wants to titty-fuck you to think up anything else.

He's the type to blush real bad - not pink, but purple - if he ever catches the pretty frill of your underwear under your skirt. It gets him hard as a can of coke and he needs to find someplace where he can take care of it for it to go away.

When you're tasked to read a romance novel for class, he doesn't fail to comment on how no one in their right mind would ever like you like that - saying something like he wouldn't even hire you as a maid.

And if any guy other than him talks to you, he's quick to make it ugly - calling you a slut - telling you it's no wonder guys flock around you like flies to trash when you're such a flirty floozy - then asks how you're not ashamed of yourself.

Meanwhile, he's also threatening those same boys - not just with bodily harm, but all types of other ruin - financial and social - he'll fucking bury them in a shit pile so steep and deep they're never going to be able to crawl their way out.

When you start ignoring him and isolating yourself from anyone and any place he might be - he starts hunting you. And when he finds you, he's doing anything he can think of to punish you for it. Pours his milk carton over you - feels his throat get tight at the sight of your tits through your wet T-shirt.

"You know... actually... you look kinda cute like this." He murmurs, crouched down over you where you've stumbled into a pitiful heap on the floor. Having thought you could hide yourself in an empty classroom - though only having left yourself open to be caught alone with him.

The sight of the white creamy liquid running down your pretty face in pearls makes his head feel cloudy and hot. He can't stop himself from bearing over you, your cheeks cupped in both his hands as he doesn't kiss but licks your face - dragging his tongue over your lips and nose, then your eyes, sucking the skin while you whimper - sitting stiff and tense against the wall waiting for him to get done - only he doesn't.

Instead, he's pushing his tongue into your mouth. Setting his knees down on either side of you, he's searching for a place to rub his bulge and decides your tits are the most welcoming place to relieve the pressure.

He leans his forehead against the wall, panting while looking down at you and the sight of his fatty nestle into your cleavage - still wet and see-through with milk - his hand cups each soft mound, squeezing them together - so lost in that drool is dripping down his chin.

When he creams his pants, he's back to blushing purple - as though he'd just woken up from something he thought was a dream.

Scrambling to his feet, he's slipping in the milk on the floor, nearly tripping as he runs out of the classroom and leaves you there - speechless.