Amusing Beginnings.

amusing beginnings.

premise: the dramatic prelude of a tale spun by the workings of fate, weaved with strings of scarlet linking futures untold. this is a story of innocence, of unforeseen encounters offering no clue of a romance that will blossom much, much later — this is how you begin together, yet there is no telling if there will ever be a proper conclusion for the prose you call love.

or, plainly speaking, a series of meet-cute scenarios i am far too lazy dedicating individual fics for. i just wanted to sound smart about it.

includes: xiao & itto !

xiao, a friend from an mmo game

moving to a different town and entering a new school in the middle of the year... are inconvenient. friend groups within the class had already been established, and badgering your seatmate to put up with your presence during lunch break or free time outside of lessons when you just don't click together as friends doesn't sound very appealing.

it doesn't help that you aren't extroverted, bumbling and awkward as you try to interact with others more. but if you don't want to feel like a loser for the entire year, you'd have to exert some effort to make friends.

so when you hear about a multiplayer game everyone's been raving about, you thought that was your chance to fit in — after all, if you had common interests with your classmates, couldn't you invite them to play together or something?

thus, you download the game, lament the astronomical numbers of space it took up in your storage, and experiment with the controls until you get more familiar with them.

except some high-leveled assholes who have nothing better to do keep killing your poor level 1 in-game character, armed with a dull sword, starter equipment, and flimsy armor that had no way to defend against level 41 fire blasts, and wait until you respawn to do it all over again. with this hindering your progress, you couldn't complete the main quest in order to advance to the next area.

they taunt you in the world chat, too obnoxiously prideful for someone miserable enough to pick on amateurs, and that's when he appears:

geared in what looks like expensive armor, equipped with rare weapons retrieved from the highest difficulty of dungeons, his name written in bright front and his level, 174, just above it. alatus, his ID reads.

it takes him no more than one move to wipe them all out.

what are you doing? he types in the world chat. hurry up and go before they respawn.

thank you so much!!!!! you reply with a flurry of exclamation points and emotes, shocked that you'd run into someone so high leveled right off the bat. the other players in the server watching the spectacle seem to think he's intimidating and steered clear of him, making a wide circle around you.

though he told you to hurry up, he lingers by your side, almost like he's guarding you. he escorts you all the way until you finish the main quest, not speaking a word and only silently killing surrounding enemies too high for your level.

you wonder if it would be too cheeky of you to send a friend request; he's one of the best in the server, boasting all kinds of achievements and artifacts in his player profile. why would he be interested in befriending a newbie like you?

you're terrible at this, he sends in the chat. this is the first i've seen anyone flubbing basic attacks. don't just press any button you see.

you cringe. his words are harsh but truthful. you kept pressing the wrong buttons to dodge and always receive the brunt of the attacks.

however, you pause when a notification flashes on your screen: player alatus has sent you a friend request! accept or decline?

jolting, you scramble to click accept, lest he take it back last minute. can he even do that? whatever. following that is a present from a friend sent to your mailbox, a pair of level 50 dual blades and defensive armor. they pale in comparison to his current gear, but they're plenty powerful for normal players, especially for an amateur who barely just reached level 7 after grinding some missions (and with help).

old equipment. needed to clear out my inventory, he adds, as if he doesn't want you to get the wrong idea.

you've lost track for the amount of times you've thanked him in the past hour or so, and you try to send more exclamation points and different emotes so you wouldn't appear like a broken record. though i appreciate everything, can i ask you why you're helping a new player like me? you ask tentatively, eager to hear his answer.

there isn't much else you can do at this level. that's all there is to it. and you were pitiful.

...kind of pretentious, but okay...

can i play with you again some other time? you type before the thought of wanting to do so even registers in your mind. not just so you can help me. it's been really fun spending time with you!!!

three minutes of silence pass. your confidence to reach out and make friends shriveled up and died.

sure.

then, later, i usually play at evening or at midnight. our schedules might not line up.

there's no problem! i stay up most nights, too!

then i'll see you some other time. i'm logging off.

relief crashes over you, only dwindling when alatus has gone offline. he was fine with being friends... and promised to play together again in the future... well, maybe not promise, but something like it, and that's enough.

--

the months fly by, and opposed to your prior concerns, you fit in class just fine. playing the mmo game to have a common interest with your classmates was the right move, and it had opened ways for you to connect with others more through other similar hobbies.

but even after you achieved your goal, you didn't drop the game. you're not the most avid player, but you grind dungeons a normal amount, clearing time-limited events if you find them entertaining enough.

it's mostly just to spend time with alatus, though.

alatus, or xiao as you later learned after you exchanged your real names, is quite the charmer. not that you've ever seen his face; he is just... cute, in general. he appears gruff and intimidating, but really, he's an awkward guy who can't act soft because it's “undignified.”

you think he is sweet and kind, though you'll never say it to his face since it'll only make him feel embarrassed. not only does he come to save you each time you tell him you're having a hard time defeating a boss in your private chat, and he gives away precious weaponry and potions to you exclusively as if any other player wouldn't willingly hand over all their gold just to get a piece of it, he makes a great listener.

you have a bad habit of rambling and getting immersed in your thoughts at late hours of the night. you speak of your insecurities, your weaknesses, your fears, and he listens even if he doesn't type a reply all throughout your flood of messages. he keeps his response concise, but they're thoughtful advice, ones that you take into heart. he's a comforting figure, regardless of being a stranger behind a screen.

sometimes, you like to think you're sorta the same for him. xiao isn't as straightforward as you when he wants company, but he asks if you can stay online longer than usual, just to talk or to do the more relaxing tasks in the game. he trusts you to an extent, enough to offer exchanging real names at least.

enough to ask you to marry him.

your in-game character, of course! what else could that possibly mean?! okay, so you may have nearly fallen out of your chair in shock when he sent you a marriage proposal through chat of all things, but that's all it means! nothing more!

there was a couples-exclusive event dungeon, and the loot was desirable. some beautiful skins for pure cosmetic, and also a power-enhancing ring that you couldn't find anywhere else. xiao, the game nerd that he is, couldn't pass it up.

so yeah. technically, you can say you married him.

it was a hot topic at some point. alatus was one of the best players in the server, notorious for his aversion to cooperating with others, and he hadn't married anyone despite all the rewards you could reap with the marriage function.

then there's you, level 47, not especially skilled in anything, not especially appealing in your character's outward appearance, and not especially... notable. the very meaning of an average player, so to speak. he specifically chose you, but nobody could understand why.

well. whatever. the marriage is old news already. the present hottest news is the huge gaming convention to come in two weeks. fans are hyping it up and you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited too. in fact, your friends already made plans with you to come on a weekend.

when you talk to xiao about it, there's a rare moment of hesitance before he types out a reply, almost like the times where he gets nervous before asking you a favor.

are you going too? you ask, grinning to yourself.

yeah, he answers back. a minute and a half of silence.

then, startlingly, do you want to meet up?

you've always doubted the feasibility of choking on air before, but after experiencing it firsthand, you learn that anything really is possible. including meeting the elusive guy you've had a massive crush on, no matter how unlikely it seemed.

--

you are severely late.

but! for good reason! you'd hate to look like a hobo, so you made sure to dress nicely! ...maybe too nicely for a gaming convention where everyone will be sweaty and icky, but better prepared than sorry!

somehow, i'm not even surprised, reads xiao's text — yes! you exchanged numbers! — and you can picture him scoffing at the other end. don't rush and trip in the middle of running. i'm not going anywhere.

you ignore the way your heart skips a beat at that and focus on getting there safely. he said to do just that, after all. but while waiting at the crosswalk, you wonder what xiao really looks like... would he be tall and scary? or unexpectedly soft and cute?

in all honesty, you should've sent pictures of yourselves to identify each other easier at the venue, but against your better judgment, you suggested only describing your attire and keeping your appearances a secret because the mystery is “fun” and it'd be nicer to see each other for the first time face to face. (you've only been trying to prolong your inevitable death, because whatever he looks like, you're bound to fall deeper anyway.)

i'm here, you text to him, beginning to anxiously look around your surroundings. he said to meet up at the entrance, and there are more people than you expected...

i'll find you. stay by the first advertisement banner at the front.

alright!

you bite your lip, clammy hands holding your phone tightly. you're a lot more nervous than you thought you would be. did you look okay? you've asked your friends over and over again if you looked presentable, enough times to annoy them, probably. you styled your hair differently too... you wonder if it looks weird. xiao said he would be wearing a green jacket and dark pants, and he had piercings in his ear, and then you can't remember what else because oh my god, what does xiao look like with piercings in his ear.

you snap out of your thoughts when a path opens up in front of you. first, there are disgruntled noises from people being pushed away, then they disappear like wisps of smoke the second after. quiet gasps of surprise come from the group of girls nearby, and if you had to guess, it would likely be a good-looking cosplayer passing by.

the figure stops in front of you, sneakers in your line of sight where you stare blankly at the floor. slowly, your eyes rake up — dark fitting jeans, a trail of silver chains disappearing under the hem of a green jacket, a white shirt printed with dragons...

you're reluctant to glance anywhere higher above the line of his neck.

“[name]?”

fuck.

it's him.

you take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. then you look up, properly.

you see golden eyes, specks of stars glittering in his irises.

his skin is pale, pink from the warm sun. his lips are pink too, a traitorous part of your mind marvels, slightly parted in surprise and shaped around an o. his hair is dark, tied up into a messy ponytail, sharp tips dyed in teal poking his cheek, framing the sides of his face.

oh no. he's hot.

he is so hot.

and he's staring at you.

“x... xiao?” your voice comes out strangled. embarrassingly. oh god. you are so fucked.

his face grows redder, and he scratches his cheek. “...that's me.”

silence.

you have to say something.

“do you... want to go outside?” he coughs into a fist. “the event has already started.”

“uh, yeah! sure! of course!” you ramble, walking past him in the hopes you wouldn't make a bigger fool of yourself. your face looks weird, surely. “i can't wait to see the cosplayers! they're also announcing a new chapter for the main story today, aren't th-”

“wait.”

he catches your wrist. you stop breathing, at risk of choking on air again.

“it's crowded.” his hand curls tighter. oh no. “don't get lost.”

“i won't, what are you talking about?” you laugh awkwardly. seeing him, hearing him, touching him, is such a strange thing.

“i wouldn't be surprised if you did.” his fingers dip lower, fitting in the spaces within yours. properly holding your hand. oh. oh. “so don't wander off without me.”

“yeah.” you're positively breathless. “yeah. i won't.”

he squeezes your hand. you're not looking at him directly, but you see him tilting his head at the corner of your eye. “...no complaints about this?”

“none at all.”

“okay.” he squeezes again. carefully, tenderly. his palms are sweaty. at least that tells you you're not the only one nervous. “if you say so.”

itto, a delinquent in the downpour

arataki itto is an idiot.

an idiot who keeps picking fights with people he can't beat, and kujou sara tells him off for it. an idiot who grabs the last piece of fried chicken on the table, agrees to thoma's proposal for a battle of rock-paper-scissors to get it, only for itto to lose each time. an idiot who bets on his entire deck of trading cards in his beetle fights, never truly realizing the risk until he'd already lost everything to kamisato ayato.

but arataki itto doesn't regret.

he doesn't regret trying to beat kujou sara even if it's his loss in the end, because she doesn't look down on him for losing and his friends are always there to patch him up. he doesn't regret doing rock-paper-scissors with thoma, because thoma would end up sharing the piece of chicken anyway. he doesn't regret betting on his deck, because ayato is never greedy, and he will always, always give it back to itto and tell him to try better next time.

arataki itto doesn't regret it this time either, even if he doesn't gain anything. even when he's battered and bruised, drenched in the rain, slumped against a wall in the middle of a dark alley. even when the boy he just saved from money-grubbing hooligans didn't spare him another look nor gave him any word of thanks, left him to fend for himself when the men's hostility had already been directed at him. never called for help, either, just allowed him to be outnumbered in a fight, and as strong itto is, there's no way he can beat five bulky guys on his own.

he doesn't regret, but it stings a little.

his entire body prickles with hurt, but at the same time he's unfeeling, numb in the cold rain. his line of sight is getting blurry, too, blobs of color instead of people darting past, streetlights small bright spots like fireflies.

he tries to open his mouth to ask for help, but that stings too. a busted lip, maybe. his voice is feeble, silent in his own ears. it can't be heard over the pouring rain. he tries to sit up straighter, but the effort to nudge his shoulder back exhausts all his energy. he wants to reach out a hand at least, but before he can even try, his body won't listen to him. his eyes close against his wishes.

he knows for sure he isn't too deep in the alley. can't anybody see him? or are they deliberately ignoring him because they don't want trouble? there's nothing wrong with that, really. not everyone has the time to help, or the bravery to approach a big guy covered in wounds. he understands. but he still hopes anyway.

ah, it's cold. the brick wall behind him is rough. his clothes are uncomfortable, sticking to his skin like this.

he forces his eyes open. there, he sees a pair of shoes, forming ripples across puddles when they step closer.

they halt.

they turn the opposite direction.

they leave him alone.

(he doesn't notice the umbrella they leave behind.)

--

he wakes up to someone patting his cheek. someone is speaking, but everything is muddled. it's still cold, and his back is still resting against the brick wall. but there's no rain anymore, only the pitter-patter sound when it hit the pavement.

he wonders how long he'd been shielded away from it.

“...llo... can... stand...”

stand. do they want him to stand? he's afraid that's too much to ask for.

the rain covers him again, icy drops falling on his skin. warmth overlaps with the frost, grabbing his arm, curling it around... something. he's being lifted up. not very effectively, but they're trying.

so he tries his best too. shifting his weight, blinking his eyes open, staying awake. they take him somewhere. it's dry, and when they push him over, it's to a plush seat. they don't complain when he leans his head on their shoulder, possibly soaking their clothes with his wet hair. he has to apologize, but sleep overtakes him.

itto doesn't remember much after that. just a hand on his forehead for some time, parts of his body wiped and wrapped in gauze. a blanket tucked carefully around him, fingertips brushing by his shoulders before they leave.

--

when he fully comes to, the first thing that registers to his mind is a room full of white. white sheets, white ceilings, white curtains. then a head of blue hair, standing by the window.

“oh, you're awake!” ayato exclaims, beyond relieved. “i was surprised when i picked up your call and it was someone else speaking. good thing they rushed you to the hospital, huh?”

“someone took me here?” itto asks, sitting up. “where are they?”

“they took off after i arrived. said they were late to an interview because they had to stay here... ah. that must've meant they probably didn't get the job...” he murmurs, grimacing. “i should've asked for their number so we can thank them properly. no point trying to find them now, though.”

but itto saw them. not very clearly, but he remembers kind eyes glazed in worry, a shirt partly soaked through, and a silver star hanging from their necklace.

arataki itto was never especially smart, but if anything, he is stubborn, and if he put his mind to it, he can do anything.

--

“isn't there any part-time job out there that doesn't pay minimum wage?”

“what? you saving up for something?”

“summer vacation is coming, you know! vacation trips aren't going to pay for themselves,” you sigh, burying your face in your folded arms.

“it's not like you have a boyfriend to spend it with.”

“can't i go on a vacation with friends?”

“and who are these friends you speak of? everyone is dating somebody. they're probably too busy,” she retorts, looking envious. “even xiao has someone when all he does is play games everyday.”

you scrunch your nose. “damn those happy idiots...”

“that aside, i thought you found a good part-time job? you didn't get it?”

hearing that, you turn even gloomier. “i didn't tell you? i blew it. i came late on the interview, and that didn't make a very good first impression. plus i looked horrible from the rain.”

“hm. find a rich boyfriend, then.”

“like who...?”

“kamisato ayato from the other department?” your friend suggests, grinning. “he's good looking. his sister is pretty too, i saw them walking together once.”

you snort. “way out of my league. i'm better off not hoping.”

“don't be like that~ i heard he was going to attend the next mixer. thoma told me himself-”

the door to the lecture hall opens, interrupting your conversation. “is [name] here?” a voice queried, rough and a tad bit too loud.

“right he-”

your friend slaps a hand over your mouth frantically, turning you away from the door. “what are you doing?!”

“what?” you blink up at her, whispering, “he's asking for me, isn't he?”

“didn't you see who it was?” she hisses, shielding you from view. “arataki itto! the one who beat up a senior on his first day as a freshman, remember?!”

arataki itto?

doesn't ring a bell.

“come on, that's just a ridiculous rumor, isn't it?” you wave her off, laughing. “wasn't kazuha rumored to have a criminal record at some point? you should know better than to believe them. so don't worry and let go of me, i'm sure he's not-”

your eyes flit to his sharp eyes, gleaming with intent, and his muscular build that could probably crush your skull with a single hand.

“...going to kill me...” your voice trails of too a whisper, face paling in horror. “on second thought, please be my meat shield?”

“[n-name] is over there!” a terrified classmate points in your direction the moment itto turns to glance at him inquisitively. a snitch! a tattletale! you're never lending him your notes ever again. given that you live another day, that is.

“oh. thanks.”

how polite! thanking him for his contribution in your likely murder!

“wait wait wait, what does he want with me?!” you shrink further behind your friend, but there is no escape. he can see you peeking over her shoulder.

“shouldn't you know that?! did you piss him off or something?!”

“i don't know! i've never seen him before!” you cried. you really haven't! you swear you have nothing to do with him! you don't deal with people who look like trouble! sure you might have dragged a delinquent to the hospital a few weeks before, but he was unconscious and defenseless! he could barely stand! this guy can punt you off to mars!

“you're [name], right?” his eyes sparkle with recognition, just an arm's width away from you now. your friend, traitor that she is, silently moves away.

an involuntary squeak is punched out of your lungs. “y... yes, that's me,” you respond meekly, attempting a wobbly smile. “did you need me for something?”

itto clears his throat, expression similar to that of a constipated man's. “well... that is... i was... how do i say this...”

the deafening silence stretches for what seems like hours. the back of your neck prickles at the attention, everyone's eyes focused solely on the pair of you. you can't read him at all. what kind of offense did you do that he had to come to you like this?

“ah, dang it, 'm not good at things like this...” he grumbles, scratching his head.

eh? what is he not good at? public execution? no, no, he wouldn't go that far right?

“so, what i'm trying to say is-!”

he flails about, thrusting out the hands he'd been hiding behind his back. a bouquet of pink roses, delicate and small, is curled within his grasp. your eyes widen, taken aback, turning even wider when you see the way his cheeks redden, entire face aflame, fingers trembling nervously. his face, pinched tight with restless energy, is nothing but earnest and sincere.

“i admire you a lot! i...” he takes an intake of breath. “i would like to court you!”

and, ever so eloquently, you respond with, “wuh?”

The Roommate Agreement //

Pairing. Sukuna x Fem!Reader, Gojo x Fem!Reader

Summary. It was stupid of you to leave the task of finding a new roommate in the hands of your best friend, Gojo.

Rating. Explicit/ NSFW

WC. 2.8k+

CW/ TW. Voyeurism, Fingering, Praising (Female Receiving), Masturbation, Alternate Universe, kind of FWB with Gojo, Reader is kind of shy

AN. Hi! This is a repost because my old account was accidentally deleted [silently crying inside]. Anyway, all likes, comments, and reblogs are very much appreciated, thank you!

M. List | Taglist | Part 1 | Part 2

When you told your long-time friend, Gojo, that you needed a roommate, you weren’t exactly sure what to expect—it was Gojo, after all. And it wasn’t like there was any room for you to be picky about it. With your now ex-boyfriend leaving the rent of your expensive apartment onto you, you were confident that your friend would come through.

“Are you sure that you’d be okay with anyone?” Gojo had asked, white brows raised.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, waving him off. “Toru, I really need someone by the end of the week. Can you do that, please?”

The big smile that spread across his face should have made you wary. “I know just the guy!”

You only hoped that whoever he managed to find didn’t turn out to be some weirdo because Gojo seemed to attract a lot of those.

Still, you left the rest in his hands—though, probably not your best idea. That same shimmer of doubt swirled in your gut the following day when you answered the front door.

At first, you were taken back by the sheer bulk of the man in front of you because he was definitely not what you were expecting. From the tattoos littering his arms and face, to the gages in his ears, only one question swirled around in your head:

How did Toru even know this guy?

And the longer you stood there staring at him, you decided that, no, the spiky pink hair did not make him look any less menacing.

“Sukuna,” he said before you could even introduce yourself.

Amber eyes looked you up and down, his gaze locking on the red thigh highs you didn’t have time to change out of after work. You watched as a smirk pulled at his lips when his eyes returned back to yours, and the thought of him turning out to be a weirdo slowly began to cement itself.

Yet, a tiny voice in the back of your head couldn’t deny how attractive he was.

“Uh, I’m—” you started, but Sukuna cut you off.

“You know what, I’m going to call you Red. How does that sound?”

“Well, I—no—” you babbled, a bit flustered.

He smiled, completely ignoring your protests. “Good. I’m glad we both agree. You know, Red, it’s rude not to invite your guests inside?”

Growing more flustered by him calling out your lack of hospitality, you opened your door further and let him into your apartment. By the end of your meeting, you didn’t even know what he did for a living (not that you told him what you did either), just that he could pay his share of the rent. And a few flustering comments later was all you needed to accept his offer.

Thankfully, you were at least smart enough to set some rules in place:

Clean up after yourself

Buy your own groceries

No parties

No sleeping together

Do not walk around naked

ABSOLUTELY, DO NOT go into Red’s my room

They were simple rules, you thought, and the list wasn’t particularly long or hard to remember. Yet… Sukuna found a loophole around rule five and expressed that walking around without a shirt on wasn’t considered being naked.

You should have been upset that he failed to follow your rules. Instead, you found yourself startled by the mere fact that his tattoos covered more than just his arms and face—a colorful trail of ink traveling down beyond the waist of his jeans.

Sukuna seemed to find some sick joy in watching you cover your flushed face with your hands to shield yourself from the amount of skin he had on display—his coos and laughter was just the nail on the coffin to your shred of dignity.

“You’re cute, Red.”

Those days you chose to hide in your room until he left for work, knowing that he didn’t dare go in your room. He may be a dick, but at least he made some effort to respect your privacy.

He enjoyed getting a rise out of you. Whether it be standing too close or crowding you against the counter in the morning because you were in the way of the bowls he was reaching for—his deep laughter echoing around the kitchen as you quickly fled to your room.

It was your only safe spot, really.

Laying in bed one night, you thought back to when you pleaded with Gojo to find you a roommate, and a part of you kicked yourself for being so careless about your request. Because Sukuna was… well, he was a lot—he was probably as mentally taxing as Gojo.

You also became kind of curious of him, like what he did for work after noticing that some mornings he came home with bruises and scratches all over his skin. When you’d stare too long, he’d say something that would make you regret being curious.

“Thought you didn’t like me walking around without a shirt on, Red?”

You squeaked in embarrassment. “I don’t!” Then you dumped your bowl of forgotten cereal in the sink and scurried toward the bathroom—his throaty chuckle following you until the door closed.

You knew you’d never be able to ask him what kept him away until the crack of dawn every day. He’d make fun of you. So you listened quietly in your room as he noisily entered the apartment, curiosity piqued. You heard him shuffle down the hallway until the bathroom door clicked shut—and a few times, he didn’t come home alone.

One time you heard tinkling giggles coming from Sukuna’s bedroom, followed by breathy sighs and high-pitched moans.

What did he do for work that allowed him to hook up with women every other night?

You tried to tune them out, but it was difficult with the constant thumping of Sukuna’s bed against your bedroom wall—the sound of Sukuna’s voice reverberating throughout the room. And you couldn’t deny the effect his voice saying filthy things had on your body—your cunt pulsing and breath hitching.

“You look like such a fucking slut when you drool on my cock like that.”

Instantly, your thighs twitched again, and for a moment (only a moment), you imagined you were the one he was telling that to. Not some faceless woman you might have an awkward encounter with later on. What he’d look like hovering above you as you tried to fit his cock into your mouth. Would he coo at you when you barely made it halfway? Or would he give you that stupid smirk that also had your knees going weak?

The thought alone had your heart racing, and you quickly reminded yourself of rule number four… or you attempted to. But your hand was already slipping under your soaked panties, and you rubbed your throbbing little clit to the sound of Sukuna’s grunts.

When you hear his deep, drawn-out groan, you release all over your fingers with a tiny squeak that you failed to muffle. The apartment fell silent, and you prayed that they didn’t hear you—it’d give him another reason to tease you in the morning.

However, as whiny, girlish moans grace your ears again, you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you hoped he did.

~~~~~

You met with Gojo for your weekly coffee date three weeks after Sukuna moved in. Except for today, you were in his office because the best defense attorney in the city doesn’t have time for breaks today.

His words had you rolling your eyes, but you were fine not having to fight the afternoon rush.

You sat on the soft sofa in the corner of his office, moving a few files out of the way, when something caught your attention—a file with Sukuna’s name on it.

Your eyes narrowed into slits when Gojo walked into the room. He was utterly oblivious to the death glare you were giving him when he sat down on the couch next to you.

“Gojo Satoru.” He froze at the sound of his full name and stared at you with wide eyes. You never called him by his full name (especially not Gojo), so he knew he was in trouble. “What’s this?” you asked, holding up the manila folder with Sukuna’s name on it.

“Hey, what happened to calling me Toru?” he asked, altogether avoiding your question.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you gave a humorless laugh. “I don’t think you deserve it. Can you please explain to me why one of your clients has been living under my roof?”

“You did agree to anyone being your roommate, remember?”

You smacked his chest with the folder, not exactly in the mood for his games. “This isn’t a joke, Gojo! When I asked you to find me a roommate, I had complete faith that you wouldn’t mess it up.”

“I wouldn’t let someone live with you who I thought might hurt you,” he insisted as if that made the situation better.

“Then I feel like I have the right to see for myself,” you said, starting to open the folder. But Gojo’s large hand over yours stopped you.

“For the sake of me keeping my job, please don’t open that folder.”

His bright cerulean eyes were pleading with yours, so you huffed out a breath and tossed the folder back onto the couch. “You should be happy that I still even want to be your friend right now.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that.”

“I do.

Gojo pouted—he was actually pouting. He was such a man-child sometimes. “But—”

“Just answer this. Was it anything bad?” His frown grew deeper before you gestured toward the manila folder behind you. “His crime. Was it for anything bad?”

“Well, it was a crime—”

“Gojo,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“No, it wasn’t for anything bad,” he huffed. “Now, will you stop calling me Gojo? I only want to hear you call me Toru for the next thirty minutes.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t push him away when he decided to lay his head in your lap. “How did I end up being best friends with such a baby?” you said as you card your fingers through his hair.

Gojo hummed in reply, no longer interested in talking now that your fingers were lightly massaging his scalp.

Again, you wished you would’ve taken the time to be pickier about the whole situation.

~~~~~

After your lunch with Gojo, you became a little more cautious around Sukuna.

No longer were you curious about what he did for work or where he met all of his casual hookups. It was definitely best this way. You didn’t want to get more mixed up in his lifestyle than you already (unknowingly) were.

Whether he thought you were being more skittish than usual, he didn’t say anything about it. Not that you really gave him the chance to. Before his mouth could open, you were already leaving the room he was in.

You thought you could tiptoe around him without ever having to speak to him… Until he came home earlier than expected one day. Actually, you weren’t even sure that he’d left, and you froze at the sound of his voice coming up behind you.

He reached above your head for that damn cereal bowl he was so adamant about putting in the cupboard above your coffee pot. “I’m off tonight.”

“Oh?”

Your palms started to sweat. How were you supposed to do your work with Sukuna in the room next door? What if… what if he heard you?

“Yeah. Slow day, so they don’t need me.”

“I-I see… Can you excuse me?”

In a panic, you did the only thing you could think of and messaged Gojo:

Hey, can I use your spare room for work tonight? --- You

Only if I get to help. --- Toru

You rolled your eyes, but it wasn’t the first time that he’d helped you with work before.

Sure. --- You

~~~~~

Little did you know, Sukuna did start to wonder why you were avoiding him. He even thought about stupidly apologizing for something he wasn’t sure that he did. But he scoffed at the idea of doing something so mundane.

Bored, Sukuna plopped down on the couch and started scrolling through his phone. He thought that he’d be able to have you all to himself tonight, yet you’d only stopped briefly to tell him that you were going to work before heading out the door.

It was odd. He could’ve sworn that you usually worked from home…

He didn’t really give a fuck, though. Not really. It still didn’t fix the fact that he was bored, and the apartment was too quiet without your scared little squeaks filling the empty space.

You’d think he’d be used to being in big empty spaces after living by himself for so long. Instead, it only reminded him that he was alone now, and he didn’t feel like going out to find someone to fuck the loneliness out of his system.

Somehow, he wound up on some cam girl site, scrolling through the thumbnails until he found one that caught his eye.

• LIVE

SLUT SQUIRTS ONLY FROM FINGERS

A scoff left his mouth at the lengthy title, and he watched a short preview before deciding to watch it.

He hovered over the little icon, tapping once to pull open the video. It only took him a second to recognize that the face twisted in pleasure on his screen was yours. He already knew you were attractive, but he didn’t realize how mouth-watering you’d be under those baggy shirts and loose flannel shorts.

So this was what you did for work.

His mouth twisted downward when he noticed the guy behind you was his attorney. After weeks of trying to get you in his bed, or at least have a conversation with him. Here was Gojo-fucking-Satoru, two of his fingers shoved knuckles deep inside your small little hole as he made you fall apart in front of thousands.

He should probably back out of the video, somehow feeling like he was breaking one of those precious rules you kept for him. But he was intrigued that you kept a secret like this so well hidden after all of these months. His blushing little roommate.

So he watched.

“Come on, pretty, give me another.”

You whimpered, your legs attempting to close around the hand between your legs. That earned you a slap to one of your shaking thighs—thighs that looked like they’d be soft around Sukuna’s ears or his hips.

“Don’t be a brat. Everyone came here to see you give them a show.”

Sukuna drank in your expression— the way your lips formed a slight pout, the crease between your brow. Your chest heaved up and down, pretty pink nipples tight, as a clear liquid gushed from your used pussy. And finally, when you cried out as the white-haired male demanded another.

“Fuck,” Sukuna breathed.

His hand reached inside his sweats, pulling his throbbing dick out, hissing through his teeth when he gave the head a rough squeeze. He watched as Gojo slipped another finger inside you, now fucking you with three. And all Sukuna could think was, he could do better than that.

But this would do… for now.

He fucked into his fist without pretense, wondering what it’d feel like to have your nimble fingers wrapped around him. His strokes were rough, almost painful before he leaned forward to spit on the angry red tip of his cock.

Sukuna noticed your chest hitching again, tears coating the apples of your cheeks, and he knew you were about to come again.

“That’s it, pretty, fucking cum.”

He tuned out Gojo’s voice, pretending he was the one telling you that, and came to the sound of your raspy moans. “I-I’m cumming—”

Gojo finally pulled his fingers out of your twitching cunt, bringing them up to your lips for you to suck on. The sight had Sukuna’s spent cock twitching again—now knowing that you weren’t so innocent under those blushing looks and fluttering eyelashes.

He sighed. “You’re a fucking minx, Red.”

When you came home later, you were surprised to find Sukuna lounging on the couch with his arms spread across the back. You noticed his hair was a little messy, and there was a crazed look in his eye that made you gulp. Especially after the words that came out of his mouth next:

“I think we need to clear some things up, Red.”

⋆ Tale of the Five Kasen ⋆

Touches

Featuring: Xiao, Albedo, Gorou, Aether, Scaramouche, Kazuha x GN!Reader (separate)

Content Warning: none, v fluffy

How is physical affection with them?

Authors Note: I realize that this is similar to my other post, “Softly”, think of this as an “add on” but with more characters.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

Xiao’s a bit reluctant, seeing himself as a weapon, simple touches are foreign to him. But when you cup his cheeks, or press your lips to his forehead, or even rub your thumb against his bloodstained knuckles- it is hard to resist, especially yours.

So he reaches out, careful to not accidentally scare you or worse- hurt you. He lets himself rest against your body, hiding his face in your neck. He finds himself longing for your kisses, silently asking you by pressing his own against your lips. He found that his hands hold more than just the blood of his enemies, but your heart as well. He now understands why mortals- lovers- cannot get enough of each other.

-

Albedo had been stuck in thought, only one occupying his mind. He had wondered why he only thought of you: your hands holding onto his when excited, or when you lean your head against his shoulder when you feel tiredness. Not only that, but why he had a sudden craving for it.

It started with subtle touches: fingers tracing the features of your face, his own hands guiding yours when helping him with experiments, small forehead kisses when greeting you. However, he felt as if it wasn’t enough. It was only when you were around that he felt his thoughts calm, when he was able to hold you, keeping him grounded.

-

General Gorou felt appreciated when you didn’t ask about touching his ears and tail, only giving glances every once in a while. Though it soon turned into worry; did you not like those features about him, or did you know about his apprehensiveness due to his past encounters with nosy soldiers?

Those worries went away very soon after when you did start asking, not just to pet them but how it felt to have them. It made him happy that you had a genuine curiosity towards it, giving you full permission to touch them when in private with him. Even then, he felt the need to sometimes shove his face into yours, needing to have your fingers brush out the knots accumulated in his fur, or so he said.

-

Aether was happy that you were just as touchy as he was. He was happy that you let him hold your hand when walking, giving you light kisses on your cheeks when he said his ‘good mornings’ and ‘good nights’, hold you tight against him when he felt as if the whole world was against him.

He found you to be his anchor, his rock, the one person whom he felt comfortable enough to let them hold him the same way he would a lover. The way you hold him to you, letting your fingers weave through his hair and whispering quietly to him, it almost was surreal. He would hide his overwhelming joy in your neck, placing small kisses there as well.

-

Scaramouche, the man who shed tears in his sleep, was only comforted by the one he called his true love. A private man he was, only showing an ounce of attention towards you out of public eye, but would make it obvious to anyone else if need be.

Thumbs drying his tears, bringing his ear to the only other heart he needed, he would hold on to his lover like his life depended on it. He would sometimes question your willingness to be with him, but when you kissed his forehead and didn’t bring up his sleepless tears, he understood that there would be no one else like you. He vowed only to protect you from the cruelty of the world.

-

Kazuha’s touches were as light as his words, they would hold just as much meaning. His haikus and poems would depict the most beautiful of sceneries, however, his lips against your face and his hands holding your own would leave you wondering if they were actually about you.

Drunken nights were a rarity, a light buzz would leave you both to ignore the outside world while you bask in each other’s presence. His head would be placed under yours while his fingers traced random patterns against your soft skin. You, on the other hand, would be fixated on his hair, as soft as his words. Delicate whispers of love surround the space you both share.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

just wondering if you’d think yuuta would be jealous of the first years getting too comfy with s/o like maybe one time s/o called out “yuu” both yuuji & yuuta respond & they’re like 👁👄👁

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄 | 𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐓𝐀.

you’re sweet, it’s yuuta’s favorite thing about you—a little too sweet at times, but it’s lovable all the same. and yuuta has grown some, he’s not as much of the timid young boy as he used to be. fighting curses and seeing the things he has and training as vigorously as he does is enough to toughen anyone up, and he’s no exception. but still, he’s always remained your kind, sweet, sensitive little yuuta deep down.

and then there’s yuji. yuji is too perfect for his own good. he’s too easy to befriend, too easy to trust, too easy to grow fond of, and too easy to love.

he’s kind, sweet, sensitive, and magnetic. now that’s a deadly combination if he’s ever seen one, and if the way your eyes brighten when you see yuji is anything to base it off of, yuuta would say you think so too.

“yuu,” you call out, a small grin on your face as you approach yuuta and the pink-haired boy beside him, and when both of their heads snap to your direction, yuuta can’t help but feel his stomach churn. “oh,” you pause, blinking for a moment before giggling, “i meant him,” you point to yuuta.

he’s a tad bit relieved that it’s him you’re looking for, or he thinks the churning in his stomach would be infinitely worse. but then yuji smiles bashfully, looks down and lets out a nervous chuckle as he blushes, and then yuuta’s fists clench just a little.

yuji seems rather fond of you, fond enough that it makes yuuta’s heart plummet—and truth be told, it also makes his blood boil just a little.

“oops,” his younger classmate huffs out a soft laugh, “guess i got ahead of myself there,” he murmurs.

“aww, yuji,” you tease, and much to yuuta’s horror, you’re reaching over to pinch itadori’s cheek, and he’s left to wonder—when had you gotten so comfortable that causal touches were a part of the norm? “if you want a nickname you can just say so.”

“that’s not what i meant,” itadori mumbles shyly. “i just…you know…yuji? yuu? i thought it was for me for a second there.”

“it was for yuuta. for me,” yuuta cuts in, and he has to dig his nails into his palm as he clenches his fists, watching you smile gently to itadori. it’s okay, your expression reads, almost like you’re reassuring the boy—but it’s not okay.

your yuu is him—yuuta. not yuji. you’re here for him, to see him, to smile at him and grab his hand and tug him along as he follows. but you’re staring at itadori fondly, and it’s starting to hurt just a little.

“well we can’t both be yuu,” itadori laughs good-naturedly, and if he wasn’t such a gentle soul, yuuta wonders if he’d hate the boy. but there’s no hating itadori yuji—he’s much too good deep in his soul to be hated. “i’ll leave you two alone then,” he hums, patting your head with a happy smile before he’s off.

the touch isn’t even to him, but yuuta feels his skin burn, prickling at every inch as his heart drops.

you turn to him, beaming as your arms nestle their way around his neck, and even if not enough, there’s still some comfort in the action.

“hi baby,” you murmur, pressing a soft peck to his jaw, “i was looking for you.”

and this is silly—this is small, and not that big of a deal, and not even your fault, but yuuta can’t help the doubts that slowly plague his mind. he can’t fight the voices that hunch over his back and whisper into his ear, drowning out the sound of your voice before you can make it all better.

“me?” he asks, and there’s an edge to his voice that almost says he doesn’t believe you. your brows furrow just a little, your hand sliding to cup his cheek and tilt his face to look at you better.

“yes you, silly,” you huff out a small laugh, “who else?”

yuuta wants to mutter that evidently, it could seem like a certain someone, but he doesn’t have the heart to ever be grouchy with you. so he swallows his insecurities, tries to bury them in the deepest of crevices in his mind so they won’t be dug up again—but it’s like he’s digging into concrete, and the ground is too tough, just won’t break to let him shove his feelings down.

“no one,” he mumbles, not meeting your eyes.

and if you decided one day that itadori yuji was the boy of your dreams, that he was the one who could paint your skies and hang the stars just how you’d like them, yuuta doesn’t think he’d be surprised. if itadori is a swirl of vivid shades, colors that could brighten your world and bring you to life—yuuta thinks he pales in comparison, dim hues muddled together that could never show you the world through scenery as breathtaking.

but then your thumb trails over his cheek, tracing the soft curve of his face before hooking under his chin and pulling his face a little closer. he settles for looking at your lips, not yet ready to meet your gaze.

“what’s wrong, baby? what’s got you so down, hmm?” your voice is concerned, a soft breath that rolls off your tongue and soothes over the aches, placating them so easily—but he’s left to wonder: how long?

how long can you keep up the facade that he’s enough for you to happily crave more and more of? how long can you keep looking him in the eyes and getting lost in their depths? how long before enough is simply not enough any longer?

he doesn’t voice his concerns. “nothing,” he shrugs instead. “what are you—”

“don’t say nothing,” you sigh quietly, and by now, your hand has wandered past his shoulder to bury into his hair, scratching at his scalp gently as you twirl the strands of dark locks around your fingers. “it can’t be nothing, you know. no one knows you better than me,” you say with a sense of pride in your voice.

there’s a small bit of hope in that—a small part of him that revels in the victory of knowing you’re prideful that you see past him and catch glimpses no one else can. so he lets himself be vulnerable with you—because even with his doubts, he’s still you’re kind, sweet, sensitive little yuuta.

“just…didn’t know you and itadori knew each other so well,” he finally mumbles. it’s silent for a moment, and yuuta starts to accept that maybe you’re going to say what he knows is inevitably coming after all.

anyone would love to know itadori yuji like that—why should you be an exception?

yuuta wishes it was before he fell so hopelessly for you, wishes it was before the sound of your laugh was a melody he knew by heart—it’d hurt less, it wouldn’t make his lip wobble the way it’s wobbling right now.

“oh, baby,” you chuckle, cupping his face with both your hands, squeezing them together as you pull his forehead to yours, “you don’t have to be jealous. he’s just yuji.”

you offer him a sweet smile and eyes full of light, and he offers you a teary-eyed tilt of his head in confusion.

“but—”

“but you’re yuuta. you’re my yuu,” you whisper against his mouth, breath fanning over his skin before you press a delicate peck onto his lips. it’s short, a little too quick for his liking, but it makes him shiver nonetheless. “and i love you, my pretty boy.”

one more peck to his lip, then two, and then you’re kissing him deeply, grabbing his hands and guiding them to your hips before your arms wrap around his neck once more. he pulls you closer on instinct, and even if yuuta sees himself a muddle of colors, he feels bright hues seep through your lips and color him new—and it’s enough.

he thinks it’s enough, even if just for now.

“you were looking for me?” he asks breathlessly one more time as he pulls away, just to be sure. you watch as his eyes lighten a shade as you nod, smiling when his arms wrap impossibly tighter around you.

“of course, i was,” you press a kiss to his jaw, “who else?”

your honor he is my sugarplum baby boy

Yaksha