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Description: SatoSugu x Reader Fluff, there's not enough out there! I was just kind of observing the sunrise this morning on run and this was brain rotting my noggin since this morning.

WC: 800 (short little blurb)

TW: Angst if you squint?

There's something about slow, cozy Sunday mornings that settled something deep inside Satoru, a quiet warmth that even his boundless energy couldn’t disturb. The soft hum of life happening around him filled the apartment, grounding him in a peace he hadn’t known he needed.

The comforting scent of cinnamon and pumpkin danced in the air, the sweet smell of bear-shaped cookies baking in the oven blending with the slight chill of autumn in Tokyo. Sunlight crept through the windows, bathing the room in a golden hue, the light catching on the glossy hardwood floors and making everything feel softer like time had slowed down to match the rhythm of this domestic, lazy morning.

From his spot on the couch, where both you and Suguru believed he was napping, Satoru peeked over the cushions. His heart warmed at the sight of the two of you going about your routines, so ordinary and yet so precious. The soft rhythm of your knife against the cutting board as you prepped vegetables for the bento boxes filled the room. Was it katsu today, with a crisp side salad? It didn’t matter. Everything you made had a warmth and care that turned it into the best meal of his life. A far cry from the rushed nights when he used to dash down to Family Mart for a quick bite—alone.

Suguru sat at the kitchen bar, his brow furrowed in concentration as he graded the first years' mission logs, occasionally muttering something under his breath about how terrible some of them were. Yet despite his focus, Suguru would look up to chat with you, his voice soft and familiar, laced with the kind of affection that had been reserved for both you and Satoru. And you—your movements were a dance as you moved around the kitchen, your feet bouncing lightly with every step, preparing everything for the day. He couldn't ask for more in this little life.

Satoru's gaze moved to Suguru’s hand as he reached out to take the spoon you offered, that familiar smile already tugging at the corner of Suguru’s lips. It was a small, intimate exchange, one that Satoru had seen countless times but never tired of. The way Suguru’s violet eyes softened as he tasted the katsu sauce you’d just made, the satisfied groan escaping his lips, his wedding band glinting in the sunlight—it was a moment so filled with warmth that it was hard for Satoru to look away.

“It keeps getting more and more amazing every time,” Suguru said softly, his voice velvety smooth, dripping with love as he met your gaze. There was a quiet reverence in the way he spoke to you, as though he were marveling at something sacred. And you—you giggled in response, that lovely blush painting your cheeks, your happiness almost tangible in the way you beamed at him.

Satoru couldn’t resist any longer. He pushed himself off the couch, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he approached. “Hey, hey! Don’t hog all the good stuff,” he teased, opening his mouth wide, his expectant gaze fixed on you. Those bright blue eyes of his glittering with amusement. The laughter that followed as you fed him a spoonful of sauce was light, airy, like the sweetest melody.

As the rich flavor of the sauce hit his tongue, Satoru's eyes widened with exaggerated delight. “This is the best thing in the world!” he chimed with a teasing grin.

Before you could react, Satoru swept you up in his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you as your toes barely grazed the floor. The room filled with your laughter as he peppered your face with light kisses, his affection overflowing in small bursts of joy. You never pushed him away. You never pushed either of them away. Instead, you embraced their love, their mess, their flaws and hardships—all of it. You embraced them completely, wholeheartedly, just as you always had.

Because that was who you were—a warm, ray of light, a gift that neither of them felt they deserved but both of them cherished more than anything.

Satoru pressed his face into the crook of your neck for a moment, his voice softening as the weight of everything sank in. This—the three of you, together in this, sunlit kitchen—was all he had ever wanted. No amount of power, no grand estates or gardens of the Gojo clan could compare to this. Home wasn’t a place. It wasn’t the apartment, or the food, or even the lazy Sunday morning routines.

Home was the way you and Suguru looked at him, with warmth, with love, with acceptance. It was the way you and Suguru treated him—like he was more than just Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer. You looked at him with something he couldn’t find anywhere else, something that made this place feel less like a temporary refuge and more like… home.

Okay full fic is out! Read HERE

Imagine being Gojo's next door neighbor, like I think we can all agree the guy is a freak. Probably a bit insane at times.

Imagine just being the first person that actually showed him an ounce of kindness, could be a nonsorcerer (imo he would live far away from campus preferably as a way to get away from clan bullshit) living in the same complex as him. Nothing too fancy. And he's just staring at the community laundry room (firm believer this man is awful at chores) unsure what to do as he holds his dirty laundry basket.

You gently walked him through the steps and even let him use your detergent! How sweet of you!

But don't you know? If you feed a stray, they'll always follow.

So that's how you end up with this blue-eyed (beautiful) freak always asking you for help.

Instead of making one bento for work in the morning? Now you're making two, don't forget he likes his veggies cut up into shapes. Oh? He accidentally bought too much mochi :(? Oh no, looks like he's at your apartment tonight sharing with you.

How'd he get fresh mochi from Kyoto? He'd just laugh and says he travels a lot for work. Must be some sort of business man was your first thought. Though he didn't look the part, and idol? Yakuza? You'll ask later!

You definitely don't know how rich he is, he's tried explaining to you (multiple times) that he doesn't need to use coupons for take out meals or when you go grocery shopping together. When he pays for things? He doesn't expect you to venmo him half, he thought you'd take advantage of it like everyone else.

So, of course he falls first! You're just so kind to him!

As a thank you, the company you work for got bought out by some rich family, The Gojo Family, you honestly just thought it was a strange coincidence. So, that manager that always gave you a hard time? Yeah, he lost his job and you finally got that promotion that you've been working towards for years!

That's not all though.

You've noticed that he always seems to know when you're home? Strange? Also strange that a new app appeared on your phone, must be a software update.

Or perhaps noticing that some of your items shifted? He does like to touch your stuff, he's definitely not putting cameras around :)

Because you're a nonsorcerer! Satoru feels the need to have to look out for such a thing like you. After all, Suguru always told him to protect the weak right?

****

Little blurb because I'm bored at work! This man continues to live in my noggin rent free.

Forged in Fire: A New World

A/n: I know I had a similar series to this called Between Worlds, lately I just haven’t felt like writing it. UNTIL I GOT THIS WONDERFUL, SPLENDID idea. Hope you all like it, it’s a different kind of start which I kind of enjoy better? Makes the plot flow nicer than having to create a bunch of OC characters to get the plot going. Let me know what you think. 

Summary: You wake up in a strange place :) Soon to be an Azriel x Reader fic.

Part Two

Warnings: Mentions of Illness, Mentions of abuse, Mentions of blood. WC: 3.1k

The song of birds chirping outside, the rustling of leaves, and the sound of hushed footsteps around the room awoke you.

With a groan, your bleary eyes fluttered open, greeted by a room unfamiliar. Rubbing your eyes to push past the blurriness, you wondered why your head ached so much. You sat up, taking in the room. The giant chandelier was the kicker—you could never in your lifetime own one of those. Your eyes searched the room for anything familiar, anxiety creeping in your stomach.. A maid kept saying your name, but you ignored her. Your gaze constantly shifted around the room, the green walls were lined at the top with wallpaper depicting foxes playing in the tall grass. The russet brown canopy rested above a bed larger than any you’d ever owned, with silk sheets and a velvet comforter. There was a roaring fireplace in your bedroom. 

You weren’t home, in your crappy apartment, anymore.

A maid approached, her brown hair and pale skin accentuated by concerned green eyes. “Miss Y/n? Are you feeling alright?” Her voice was just a whisper, sounding like the autumn wind, and she smelled like spices. Normal people don’t smell like warm ginger and clove. 

You climbed out of bed in a sprint. Not caring about the fancy sheets that just fell onto the floor.

Where the hell were you? 

You sprinted down halls lined with various fall colors and paintings of people with red hair and golden eyes. People gawked as you ran by, soldiers whispering to each other as they glanced at you. Perhaps it was because you were wearing nothing but pantaloons and a white corset top. You didn’t care; you just wanted to leave. You wanted to be back in your crappy apartment. 

Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before, sounding like a war drum, until two strong arms caught you and a man that stood a foot taller than you grabbed your sides.

“Y/n, what are you doing out of bed?” His amber eyes seemed to pierce into you, his face a mix of concern and worry as his gaze constantly shifted from the people walking about the halls back to you. Your heart was pounding, and you were panting from running. Why the hell were these hallways so long? You just stared at him, his honeyed voice repeatedly asking, "What’s going on?”

You were about to respond when a sharp, metallic taste filled your mouth. Your eyes widened in panic as you choked, coughing violently. Your hand flew to your lips, and when you pulled it away, it was smeared with blood. 

Normal people don’t cough up blood when they run, do they?

The male's eyes widened in horror as he saw your blood-stained lips and crimson-covered palm. "Shit," he whispered, his voice trembling with urgency. Without a second thought, he scooped you into his arms, his grip tight and desperate.

Fear surged through you as you clung to him, your vision blurring. The strong, steady beat of his heart against your cheek was the only thing grounding you as everything else started to fade. The world spun around you, colors and shapes blending into a dizzying swirl.

"Hold on," he urged, his voice a strained whisper, filled with a mix of fear and determination. You could hear the pounding of footsteps and the frantic murmur of voices as he carried you through the endless hallways.

The last thing you saw before the darkness claimed you was his face, etched with worry, his amber eyes filled with a desperate plea for you to hold on. You tried to focus on his voice, his warmth, but the world spun faster and faster until it all faded to black.

******

You awoke again in the same bed. You were definitely not in Los Angeles anymore, you murmured to yourself. When you tried to sit up, a loud, “Don’t,” caught your attention. The male who had carried you was there, now without his fancy silk-lined coat. His hair was tousled a bit too much as he sat in a chair across the room, drinking a glass of whiskey. 

You stared back at him as you hesitated, then eased back into the bed, earning a hum of approval from him as he began to walk over.

“Why were you running around like a heathen?” he sneered, his voice tinged with anger, yet his face was full of concern. “What if Mother or Father saw you? Hm?” He drawled as he walked over to the side of the bed, taking a spot near your legs. “You don’t wake up for three weeks and now you’re running a dead sprint?” His laugh was dark and breathless, laden with worry. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands clenched the edge of the bed. It was as if he was trying to keep his emotions in check, to mask the fear that lurked beneath his harsh words. 

“I... I didn’t know where I was,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “I was scared.”

His expression softened slightly, the anger fading into something more like resignation. “You should have stayed in bed,” he said quietly, his tone less harsh now. “You’re not well, Y/n. You need to rest.”

The memory of coughing up blood flashed in your mind, and a shiver ran through you. “Why did I... why did that happen?” you asked, fear creeping into your voice. That had never happened back home. Why now? Why in this place?

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled red hair. “You’re sick, Y/n, you’ve always been sick. You have a weak heart. Can you… not remember?” His last statement seemed like it was meant more for himself than for you. 

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the worry was plain to see. “Just promise me you’ll stay put,” he said, his voice softening further. “I can’t lose you again.”

You hesitated before nodding. “Can… can I ask you a question?” you muttered under your breath. Would he think you were crazy? The man looked awfully pissed off given the circumstances, yet you felt a deep connection with him.

He looked at you, his brows furrowing, but he nodded. You continued, “Who are you? Or rather, where am I?” His eyes softened into what looked like a pang of sadness.

“So you really do have memory loss…” he whispered to himself. “My name is Eris. I am your eldest brother.” His voice quivered, and you could see the pain etched into his features. “We are in our home in the Autumn Court. You remember the Forest House, don’t you?” he whispered.

Your hands trembled as you stared at the intricate designs embedded into the bedding. The Autumn Court? The Forest House? Like from that one hit series, SJM put out. You’d read the books—for crying out loud, who hadn’t? This had to be a terrible dream. Perhaps you were working too late last night. You shouldn’t have eaten that Chinese food you left in the fridge for too long. You looked up to find those russet-colored eyes piercing you, full of worry and concern.

“You don’t know who any of us are, do you?” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “The healers said your condition got worse, that we shouldn’t have brought you with us during the war. The environment would be too much for your heart.” He crept closer, his palm landing gently on your cheek. “Sister, please, I need… I need you to remember me. Okay? Please, try your best. I need you to remember the good within me.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, your own. His words resonated deeply within you, pushing aside your other thoughts of home. There was something achingly familiar about his touch, his voice.

“I’ll try,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll try to remember.”

Eris’s eyes softened even more, his thumb brushing away your tears. “Thank you,” he murmured. “That’s all I ask. Now, I am reluctant to leave you, but I have a meeting in Hewn City.”

With both his hands, he cupped your cheeks, his touch gentle yet urgent. “I’m going to give us a better life.”

The way his eyes settled on you with concern, you could tell he didn’t want to leave you here. Given all the context, you had been asleep for three weeks, of course he wouldn’t want to leave. Eris moved away from you, grabbing the glass of water on the nightstand and bring it to your lips. You drank the water, but you could sense something else within it. Within moments you passed out yet again. 

That jerk, how dare he drug you to sleep. 

******

Eris entered Hewn City a few hours later, his steps heavy with responsibility. As he navigated the bustling streets, his mind raced with thoughts of the meeting ahead. This alliance was crucial, not only for the prosperity of the Autumn Court but also for the future of his family.

Finally arriving at the grand estate, Eris made his way through the ornate corridors until he reached the study, where he found Keir engrossed in paperwork.

“You got me that meeting with your high lord, right?” Eris drawled as he lazily collapsed into the armchair. Today was going to be a long day, he thought. First, his sister had woken up three weeks after passing out due to the cold. Beron, his father, suggested—or rather, forced—all of the children to go to the war camp, to prove a united force. Within days, your condition worsened, and you were bedridden. Eris would never forget that, the way his father would have just let you die there. You were a year younger than Lucien, at least you were Beron’s actual child. He should at least treat you as such. 

Of course, Mother cared about you; she had always wanted a daughter. A sickly one? Not so much. Beron always blamed her for how sick you were, claiming it was because she was ‘tainted’ from another High Lord. It only made the abuse worse on the Lady of Autumn.

“They should be here within the hour,” Keir grumbled, pulling Eris from his thoughts. Eris needed this alliance to work, not just so he could be High Lord, but so he could give all of his siblings a better life. Give himself a better life.

Eris sipped on the whiskey in his hand, feeling the familiar burn as it slid down his throat. He despised a lot of things: the biting cold that seemed to seep into his bones, Keir and his pathetic city that revolved around torture and sexist ideals, and above all, his father—enough to make him contemplate murder.

As he sat in the study, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him, Eris couldn't help but feel a simmering anger deep within him. The whiskey provided a temporary reprieve, numbing the edge of his rage, but it was always there, lurking beneath the surface like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt.

He took another sip, the bitterness of the alcohol mingling with the bitterness of his thoughts. With each swallow, he felt a flicker of defiance, a silent vow to defy the oppressive forces that sought to control him and his family.

Eris may have hated many things, but he refused to let that hatred consume him. Instead, he channeled it into determination, a determination to carve out a better future for himself and those he cared about, no matter the cost.

Within the hour, the Inner Circle arrived, though not in its entirety. Eris felt a flicker of relief that Mor was absent; her presence would only complicate matters further. He watched as they took their seats at the table, Feyre’s gaze piercing him with undisguised disgust, joined by similar expressions from Cassian and Azriel. It was natural—they all hated him. But Eris reassured himself that their opinions didn’t matter. All he needed was a powerful alliance.

As the meeting began, Eris steeled himself, his mind focused on the task at hand. He would do whatever it took to secure the support of the Night Court, even if it meant enduring their scorn and disdain. In the end, the only thing that mattered was achieving his goals and ensuring the survival of his family.

“What do you want, Eris?” Rhysand drawled with a look of boredom, his tone laced with skepticism. With a wave of his hand, wine glasses appeared in front of everyone on the table.

Eris took a moment to compose himself, hiding any hint of desperation that threatened to surface. “I need an alliance,” he began, his voice steady and controlled. “I plan on taking the throne soon. And I have a humble request of sorts.”

Rhysand brought the glass of wine to his lips, his violet eyes locked onto Eris’s russet ones without wavering. “My mother could handle herself in the attack, my sister, however—” he paused, his voice cool and measured, “I want protection over her.”

Feyre’s expression, initially one of disgust, morphed into confusion as she glanced at Rhysand, who didn’t return her gaze but instead settled a comforting hand on top of hers.

“I was unaware you had a sister, Eris,” Rhysand remarked, swirling the wine in his glass as he continued to observe Eris with an unreadable expression.

“She’s sick, a weak heart of sorts,” Eris continued, his tone softening slightly as he spoke of his sister. “Along with the resources to take down my father, I would want her protected. Perhaps to stay in the Night Court,” he suggested, his voice carefully measured.

Eris knew he was treading on thin ice, but the prospect of securing protection for his sister was worth the risk. He hoped that by appealing to their sense of compassion and strategic advantage, he could convince the Inner Circle to agree to his request.

Feyre was the first to speak, her tone cautious as she addressed Eris. “You want her protected here? I’m assuming away from Hewn City,” she observed, her gaze shifting briefly to Keir, who remained surprisingly silent during the meeting, apparently unaware that Eris had a sister. “What do we gain from this ‘protection’? It seems like you are requesting a lot, yet you haven’t mentioned what you would give in return.”

Eris understood Feyre’s skepticism. He needed to present a compelling offer if he hoped to secure their assistance. Taking a deep breath, he considered his response carefully, aware that every word mattered.

“I understand your concerns, Feyre,” he began, his voice steady. “In return for your protection over my sister, I am willing to offer valuable resources and information that could aid you in your endeavors. I also pledge my loyalty to the Night Court, and I am prepared to assist in any way I can to further our mutual goals.”

Eris held his breath, waiting for their response, hoping that his offer would be enough to sway them in his favor.

Feyre considered Eris’s words carefully, her expression never faltering as she weighed his offer. After a moment of silence, she spoke, her voice measured yet decisive. 

“You offer is intriguing, Eris,” she began, her tone betraying a hint of cautious optimism. “Protection for your sister in exchange for valuable resources and your loyalty could indeed prove beneficial for us. Especially if you are willing to give any information about Autumn court to us.”

Rhysand, who had been observing the exchange in silence, letting his mate take charge, finally spoke. His voice, though commanding, held a hint of intrigue as he addressed Eris. “Indeed, Eris,” he said, his violet eyes glinting with curiosity. “Your offer holds promise. But tell me, how sick is your sister?”

Eris noted the bored expression on Rhysand's face, recognizing the calculated indifference that often masked deeper curiosity. He cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "My sister's condition is delicate," he replied, his tone solemn. "Her heart is weak, and she requires constant care and protection."

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully, his gaze flickering to Feyre for a moment before returning to Eris. "Very well," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of finality. "We will discuss the details of your sister's stay in the Night Court further. But for now, let us focus on solidifying our alliance."

The paperwork was written right then and there, the terms of the alliance carefully outlined and agreed upon by both parties. Cassian, the general of the Night Court, seemed skeptical, his sharp eyes darting between Eris and the documents laid out before them. Meanwhile, Rhysand had discreetly spoken to Azriel, instructing him to have his spies gather any information they could find about Eris's sister in the Autumn Court, ensuring that Eris did not overhear the command.

Azriel nodded silently, his expression unreadable as he swiftly winnowed away, disappearing into the shadows to carry out his task.

Left alone with the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, Eris felt a sense of anticipation mingled with apprehension. This alliance could be the key to securing his family's future, but he knew that their trust was not easily earned. He resolved to tread carefully, mindful of the delicate balance of power that hung in the air.

Eris was just thankful you wouldn’t have to stay in the depths of Hewn City, while he had never been to Velaris. The city was spoken to be a safe place, safe from any enemies. Rhysand had ensured Eris that you would be protected as long as you would not be a threat. The place in which you would be staying was still to be communicated, though it seemed likely that you would be staying with their head healer at her cottage, to ensure your health was taken into consideration. Also, far away from any information that you could possibly overhear from what Eris had understood by the underlying threat. 

In four nights, you would be winnowed to the city of Velaris. His sister would be leaving the oppressive reign of Beron, a chance to give you for the first time in your three hundred years of life a chance for freedom- a fresh start.  

In four nights, the downfall of Beron would begin. 

JJK men that I think would cuddle good.

1. BEST CUDDLE BUG: Suguru. Not biased, but I just feel like first of all, he wraps a lazy arm around you, let's you get comfortable first. He doesn't want his poor baby getting a sore neck because he's cuddling you too tight or at an awkward angle. I just feel like he smells SO good, like lavender, like a cuddle session with him would cure everything. He would also have a glass of water already set on the nightstand for you because he loves his pookie so much.

2. Nanami, honestly, he would just feel safe. Like you know, if anyone comes into your home, he'd be on high alert immediately. Also, he would let you get comfortable first before he buried his face into your hair. Though I think in the middle of the night you both would go on your separate sides because I feel like this man would generate body heat like a furnace. Nanami though once 38 hits, will develop a dad snore. I don't make the rules Gege told me himself.

3. Toji, I mean the man is LITERALLY so big. Now I don't think he would let you get comfortable first, so you may have to fidget a few times to get comfortable, but once you're there, you are set, just a big ol warm teddy bear. Though he would snore, so if you're a light sleeper, just kick him a few times, and he will stop. You may, however, find a knife under his pillow, so proceed with caution.

4. Choso, the sleep baby himself, would be amazing at cuddling. Though, hear me out, you will probably be big spoon most the time. Honestly, he would just want to cuddle all the time. Pressing lingering kisses, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You will not be baby, HE will be baby. Keep that in mind.

5. I love the man, BUT, Satoru is last. I just KNOW he would be a selfish cuddler. Laying on top of you lazily, would probably tickle you just so you don't doze off during the movie. Also the man only sleeps for 3 hours?! You best believe for those whole three hours he is practically smothering you, drooling on you in his sleep, lightly snoring because hes exhausted. Yet, positively, he would just want to be loved on the whole time and he deserves it 🩷

Sorry no Sukuna because he would just eat you :)

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk

Running

A little blurb for my sweet blue-eyed king!

Warnings: Fluff? Unedited?

a/n: trying to get back into writing, just living in my delulu state in the mean time.

********

Gojo Satoru never imagined he’d meet the love of his life on a random park bench, especially not after watching his best friend die. 

But hey, the universe works in mysterious ways, right? 

To be honest, he wasn’t looking for company. Not that company would ever come. He just wanted to sit, breathe, and escape for a second from the crushing weight of being…well, him. The strongest sorcerer, “The Honored One” - what a bunch of bullshit. Destined to walk the path of loneliness, maybe forever. That’s what happens when you lose the only person who ever truly understood you. His best friend was now dead, after seeing him for the first time in ten years since he was left in front of a world-famous fast food joint. Alone.

Maybe this was it, Satoru mused to himself with a slight chuckle. The fate of the strongest- an eternal sacrifice. A life spent keeping everyone safe while slowly, quietly, losing himself. 

He was just about to sink deeper into his depressive pit, bracing himself for the inevitable call from the higher-ups, when he heard it. 

Panting, a whine perhaps? 

“I should just get a boyfriend…or maybe a slice of cake instead of all this running. What a stupid hobby,” a voice groaned, sweet but thoroughly winded, cutting through the icy haze of his thoughts. A sort of warmth to his rather depressive state. 

He glanced over, taking in the chaotic mess in front of him. You were a sweaty disaster, collapsing onto the park bench next to him like you’d never ran a day in your damn life. Your hair stuck to your forehead, your face flushed a vibrant shade of pink. With an exaggerated sigh, you plopped down beside him-no formalities besides the half-hearted “sorry” you threw his way as you unapologetically sprawled out, legs wide, taking up more space than you possibly could. Your running shorts had ridden up slightly, clinging to your skin as you gasped for air, clearly having overestimated yourself. 

Satoru let out an involuntary snort. Here he was, the Gojo Satoru, brooding over a life of tragedies and next to him sat a stranger who looked like they’d barely survived a casual jog, debating between romance and dessert. 

He stared at you for a mere moment, watching your chest rise and fall as you caught your breath. 

Wasn’t the area evacuated earlier? Oh well. 

“If you’re trying to get my number, there’s better ways than this, you know that right?” Satoru asked, voice already dripping with amusement. His usual cocky tone was tinged with genuine curiosity, a rarity for him these days. If it weren’t for you being so sweaty, you might actually be above average in looks. 

You blinked at him, finally really looking at the man next to you as you caught your breath. His white hair glowed under the moonlight, his eyes looked like they mirrored a clear blue sky, his unnaturally perfect features, and the way he carried himself like the world revolved around him. He’s probably some up-and-coming J-pop idol, and certainly has the looks for it. 

“Please?” you huffed with a labored laugh, your tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “Your number? You think I just decided to collapse in a sweaty heap next to you for your number? Listen, pretty boy, I was fighting for my life out there in this humidity, okay? I don’t need a pretty princess in my life like you.” 

“Pretty princess?” he mused, leaning closer and clearly invading your personal space just as you had his earlier. The words made him think of Suguru for a moment, causing his grin to falter slightly before he fixed it into a practiced smile. “Honey, you’re the one whining after a mere jog. I think the princess here is you,” Satoru teased, his eyes glinting with playful challenge.

You felt your cheeks heat up, and for a moment, you could almost feel the blush creeping in. He was cute—handsome, actually. Totally out of your league. You were about to respond when he abruptly stood up.

“You mentioned wanting a boyfriend or cake, right?” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and towering over you with effortless charm. “There’s a café open late around here that has amazing tiramisu. Let’s go, yeah?”

Later that night, Satoru saved your number—especially after you paid for his dessert. A first, really, he was used to everyone asking him to pay.  “I owe you,” he said with a wink, adding your name to his phone. With a little cake emoji next to it. 

Stray

Yan!Gojo x Reader

WC: 5.4K (My longest fic!)

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con Kiss (singular one), Mentions of stalking, obsession, your typical yandere behaviors. Manipulation.

Based off of this blurb: HERE

*******

Looking back, this was probably the biggest mistake of your life. Picking up a stray. Your mother’s voice echoed in your mind: “Don’t feed them, or they’ll keep crawling back.” She wasn’t just talking about animals-her words applied to monsters too, though you hadn’t realized that yet. 

It was a few months ago, on an unusually quiet Saturday, when you’d decided to do your laundry in the community room of your apartment complex. The air was thick with the faint scent of various detergents and the rhythmic thrum of the machines. The room was dimly lit, the sunlight from outside filtering in through small windows, casting long shadows on the tiled floor. You had expected to be alone, but instead there he was- a stranger standing in the middle of the room, looking every bit as out of place as a lost puppy. 

Or maybe more like a misplaced god. 

Tall, lean, and dressed in casual clothes that seemed haphazardly thrown together, he held a laundry basket so full it looked like it might burst at any moment. You hesitated as his attention turned toward you, the black lenses of his tinted glasses hiding his eyes, but not the way his lips quirked into an awkward, lopsided smile. 

“Uh sorry- am I blocking the open machines?” His voice was soft, almost too smooth for someone who looked so out of sorts. He shifted his weight, holding the basket like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “Here, it’s all yours.” 

You blinked, glancing from his awkward stance to the machines, then back to him. “Don’t you need to use them?” you asked, your voice quiet, but curious, as your gaze dropped to the absurdly full basket he was clutching, where you caught sight of something unexpectedly cute- soft pink boxers peeking out from the pile, printed with tiny dango. Adorable. 

The man let out a breath chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced away, his sheepish expression almost too genuine. “I’ll uh…I’ll just do it later,” he said, his voice lighter now, as if he was trying to downplay his obvious hesitation. 

Your eyes drifted from his face to the empty table in front of him, noticing there was no detergent in sight. 

“You sure you don’t need help?” Your tone coming out soft but teasing, knowing full well this beautiful man had no idea what he was doing. 

He froze, just for a second. The easygoing charm faltered, replaced by something more real. A sigh escaped his lips, almost resigned, and the barest hint of pink dusted his cheeks. His head tilted slightly away from you, as if hidinging his embarrassment, before he mumbled, “yeah.” 

You couldn’t help but smile. Cute. 

So, you walked him through the steps, showing him how to use the last two remaining machines. You could’ve taken them for yourself, but instead, you let him have them. Maybe showing this man kindness was a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have helped him. Because who knew a single act of generosity would lead to this—an almost instinctual bond forming between you from this one interaction.

The process was… well, difficult to say the least. The conversation played out in fits and starts, with more awkward pauses than smooth exchanges. 

“Do you have 100 yen coins? The machines don’t take card,” you asked, your voice soft but practical, as you glanced up at him.

You noticed his smile falter for the briefest moment, as if the question caught him off guard. “No…” His reply was gentle, almost embarrassed, and his eyes widened slightly when you wordlessly handed him a few of your coins.

“Here, take them,” you said, pressing the cold coins into his hand. His fingers brushed yours, warm and hesitant. “There’s a coin machine in the lobby—make sure to use it next time.”

His response was silent, but telling. You caught the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks deepening, the warmth of your simple touch amplifying the effect. His smile, a little sheepish, stretched wider, as if this small kindness meant more to him than you could have known. He didn’t say anything else, simply nodding his head in quiet thanks, his expression soft, almost grateful.

It was hard to ignore the way his entire demeanor shifted—how something about him seemed lighter now, more attuned to you. Like your gesture had unlocked something inside him.

“I’m assuming you don’t have detergent either, do you?” you asked with a playful sigh, grabbing your own bottle before he could answer. “Use mine. I hope you don’t mind floral scents.”

You began pouring the sweet-scented soap into both machines, the fragrant aroma filling the room. You didn’t look up at him right away, too focused on the task at hand, but when you finally did, you found him watching you—not in a way that felt invasive, but with a quiet, contemplative gaze. His eyes, hidden behind his tinted glasses, seemed locked on you, like he was seeing something… special. Something only he could notice.

“No,” Satoru replied softly, his voice calm and almost reverent. “I don’t mind… at all.” There was something different in his tone—an almost affectionate undertone, like the scent would remind him of this exact moment, of you. His heart beat faster, though his outward appearance remained composed, as if trying to keep something at bay.

The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room, and as it hit your face, you became haloed in light, your movements graceful in their simplicity. To him, it wasn’t just the detergent or the coins or the smile. It was you—the way you moved, the way you looked at him without judgment, the way your kindness seemed to come so naturally.

That’s what you were. Sunshine. A soft, warm light in a world that, for him, often felt cold and distant.

His chest tightened slightly, not in a suffocating way, but in a way that made him want to keep you in his orbit just a little longer. Maybe he didn’t know much about you—yet—but there was a pull, a gravity you had, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to resist it. Your small act of kindness had stuck with him, dug into his thoughts in a way he didn’t expect. Maybe it was the ease of it, how you didn’t even hesitate to help him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He found himself wanting more of that warmth, more of you.

“Next time, be better prepared,” you said lightly, your voice snapping him out of his thoughts. You offered him a small smile, playful but warm, as you closed the detergent bottle.

“Next time,” he repeated softly, savoring the way those words sounded—like a promise of more to come. His smile was gentle, almost too sweet for someone like him, but there was something else behind it too. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it. 

After you both finished with the laundry, you were about to give him a polite wave and go your separate ways. But as you turned to head back, Satoru didn’t just leave. Instead, he fell into step beside you with a light, almost bouncy stride, like there was nowhere else he wanted to be. His grin hadn’t faded, but there was something sharper about it now, a little too wide, a little too excited.

“What floor?” he asked, stepping into the elevator with an easy, practiced grace, like this was all a game he knew the rules to. His eyes—what you could see of them behind his tinted glasses—were trained on you, a flicker of curiosity sparking within them.

“Three, please,” you replied, adjusting your basket of clothes in your arms, not quite prepared for the way his expression lit up at your words.

“Oh, you’re kidding.” His voice came out soft, but there was an unmistakable note of giddiness underneath, a sort of delighted surprise that felt a touch too enthusiastic. “That’s my floor too.” His smile widened, a little too much, and he tilted his head as if waiting for the next punchline to land. “I’m in 301.”

You blinked, taking a moment to process before offering a polite smile. “I’m 302. You just moved in next door?”

For a second, he froze—his grin faltered, then returned twice as strong. A low, almost breathless chuckle escaped him, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck. Glasses sliding down slightly to reveal his bright blue eyes that sparkled with amusement. “Seriously? You’re that close? Right next door?”

He leaned back against the elevator wall, letting the revelation sink in, his gaze never leaving your face. It felt like he was studying you, absorbing every little detail—your expression, the way you shifted the basket, the exact moment your surprise faded into a more neutral reaction. His fingers tapped lightly against the side of his laundry basket, almost like he was containing his excitement.

“Well, isn’t that… something,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. The playful edge in his tone softened, replaced by something more thoughtful, more intent. “It’s almost like we were meant to run into each other today.”

His words hung in the air, the way he said them making your stomach flutter uneasily. He seemed more than pleased by the coincidence, and his smile—though outwardly harmless—felt like there was something deeper behind it, something intrigued and hooked.

The elevator doors opened, and he held the door for you, watching you with that same smile, now laced with quiet amusement. “After you, neighbor,” he said, his voice lighter, but still with that underlying edge of fascination. 

You stepped out, feeling the weight of his gaze follow you down the hall. As you reached your respective doors, Satoru lingered, standing a little too close, his eyes tracing the outline of your door—302—like he was mentally noting it down, cataloging every detail.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you,” he teased, but the playful tone was almost too sweet, too easy. There was something in his gaze—sharp, calculating beneath the teasing exterior—that made it hard to shake the feeling that he was watching you in a way that was more than neighborly.

“Lucky us, huh?” he added, his voice dipping slightly, as though he was tasting the words.

You offered a small, polite laugh, trying to keep the conversation light. “Yeah… I guess so.”

He stood there for a beat longer than necessary, as though he was savoring the moment. His grin, still plastered on his face, now looked like a cat’s—playful, but predatory, like he had just stumbled onto something unexpected and wonderful. Something he didn’t plan on letting go of any time soon.

“See you soon, 302,” he said softly, before finally turning to his own door. But even as he disappeared into his apartment, you could still feel the lingering intensity of his presence. 

Perhaps if you didn’t have such a need to help people, you wouldn’t have let him get too close.

But that’s what led to the next few weeks of constant, seemingly innocent requests from Satoru.

At first, it was small things. Harmless, right?

“Hey, did you accidentally get my package?” he asked, showing up at your door one morning with that same disarming grin. His glasses were perched on his nose, eyes sparkling with an almost childlike glint. You hadn’t, of course. You always kept an eye out for your own deliveries, but it was an easy mistake. The first time, anyway. It happened again a few days later. Then again. And each time, his grin seemed just a little brighter, as if this routine delighted him more than it should.

You began to wonder how much stuff he was ordering. Or if he was ordering anything at all.

Next came the plant.

“I’m out of town for the next few days,” he mentioned casually, leaning against your doorframe one evening. His posture was relaxed, but his presence was hard to ignore. The tinted glasses were gone this time, leaving you to face those brilliant blue eyes directly. They sparkled, drawing you in without effort. In his hands, he held the saddest little pot you’d ever seen—some limp, half-dead thing that looked like it needed a funeral rather than a caretaker. “Can you take care of this fella for me? Just water it a bit…dunno maybe talk to it? Plants like that, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the pitiful plant. “This thing’s already half-dead.”

His grin widened, a soft chuckle slipping from his lips. “Yeah, well, if anyone can bring it back, it’s you. Sunshine.” He winked, his tone playful, but his gaze held you for just a moment too long. His words felt like more than a compliment, like he was testing you, seeing just how far you’d go for him. Just how close would you let him get? And somehow, you found yourself agreeing, even though you knew it was a lost cause. 

Then came the bento boxes.

“Oh!” he exclaimed one morning, catching you just as you were heading out for work. His eyes landed on the small lunchbox in your hand, wrapped neatly in a blue cloth with a white bunny pattern. “You make your own bento boxes? That’s adorable.” His grin was almost teasing, his tone light, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. “Can you make one for me, too?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “I… what?”

“I’ll pay for the groceries,” he added quickly, as if that would fix the oddness of the request. “Actually, here—take my card.” Without hesitation, he pulled out his wallet and pressed a black card into your hand. His fingers brushed yours, lingering just a little too long, and his eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “Buy whatever you need. Go crazy.”

You stared at the card, unsure of what to say. “Gojo-sama, I really can’t—”

“Satoru,” he corrected smoothly, his smile never faltering. “No need for the formalities.”

You hesitated, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks. You couldn’t just call him by his first name, right? You couldn’t just make lunch for him like you were… some kind of housewife, could you?

“Oh, sure you can!” His energy was relentless, sweeping over your hesitation like it didn’t exist. “Come on, it’s no big deal. You’re already making one for yourself, right? What’s one more?”

His voice was as light as always, the teasing playful, but underneath it was something that made you uneasy. He had inserted himself into your life so effortlessly, so quickly, that you barely had time to question it. Each favor seemed so small, so trivial—until they weren’t. Each one drew him closer, inch by inch, as if he was weaving himself into the fabric of your routine.

And the worst part? He made it all seem so casual, like he was just being a friendly neighbor. You could almost convince yourself that’s all it was. Almost.

So, bento boxes became part of your daily routine—unless, of course, Satoru told you he’d be out of town. Wouldn’t want good food to go to waste, right? You always carefully prepared them, even going as far as to cut a few vegetables into cute shapes: stars, flowers, little moons. But never hearts. You remembered him teasing you about that once, saying hearts were his favorite shape, followed by a playful wink. You’d laughed it off at the time, assuming it was just his usual charm, the same charm he probably used on the girls who left phone numbers scrawled on his palm. He had to have someone else in his life—a supermodel, perhaps, given how effortlessly handsome he was.

Yet... he never seemed happy about it. If anything, he seemed lonely. Whenever you talked, it felt like he craved more than just the conversation. It was in the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his entire body seemed to lean closer, like he needed something deeper, something that went beyond friendly banter or casual encounters. 

And maybe that’s why you found yourself worried when he would disappear for days, even a week at a time. You tried to brush it off as his job—probably some business trip or other—but it gnawed at you, that feeling of absence. When he came back, though, he always brought something with him, some small trinket, a souvenir, like he needed to remind you of him even when he wasn’t around.

This time, it was a teddy bear. Soft, plush, with a bright "I ♥ Kyoto" shirt. You smiled when he handed it to you, though the way the bear’s eyes gleamed under the light made you feel uneasy for just a second—like they were watching. You tried to shake off the odd feeling. The gesture was sweet, after all. Satoru always put in effort, even if his gifts were sometimes... peculiar.

After the bear came the snack. A box of mochi, wrapped in temple paper, fresh from his trip. "Got these at a temple," he said casually, offering them to you with that charming smile. "They’re best before they get stale."

“You went all the way to Kyoto? For just a couple of days?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “That must’ve been expensive... What do you do exactly?” 

His laughter was quick, soft, as if your question amused him. “Oh, nothing too exciting. Just work.” He waved a hand dismissively, his tone light and playful, but still vague. Always vague. 

You were used to it by now, his avoidance of direct answers. The more you asked, the less you felt like you actually knew about him. It made him seem almost too mysterious, in a way that kept you intrigued but also wary. Was he hiding something, or was he just playing around?

For a brief moment, you wondered if he could be involved in something shady. Maybe the Yakuza? But then you laughed at the thought. Satoru? Yakuza? He could barely keep a plant alive, much less run some underground empire. And besides, with his teasing and carefree attitude, he probably couldn’t harm a fly.

Still, the mystery lingered around him like a fog you couldn’t quite see through. Every time he dodged your questions with that casual grin, you felt like there was something you were missing, a deeper part of him just out of reach. 

And as you set the teddy bear on your bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it, or perhaps he, was watching you. Waiting.

The next morning, you stood in front of Satoru’s door, barely awake, a small yawn escaping your lips as you lightly tapped on the doorframe. In your hands, you held his bento box, neatly wrapped in a blue fabric that almost perfectly matched the color of his eyes. You’d stayed up late preparing it, cutting the veggies into stars just the way you knew he liked. It had become part of your routine by now, but despite the growing sense of familiarity, something still felt... off. You couldn't quite put your finger on it.

The door swung open, revealing Satoru dressed in a dark blue uniform, his trademark blindfold wrapped tightly around his eyes. You’d seen him like this a few times before—though you never quite understood why he wore it. But then again, you never asked. You were certain he’d just brush it off with that same playful smile, teasing you without ever giving you a real answer. Still, sometimes the curiosity gnawed at you.

“I can already tell it’s going to be amazing,” Satoru said, his voice smooth and chipper as always, his lips curling into a smile. “Curry buns, right? You spoil me, Sunshine.”

When he reached for the bento, his hand brushed yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. His touch was warm, and it sent a subtle, unsettling tingle up your arm. You couldn’t tell if it was deliberate or just another one of his casual gestures, but the weight of his gaze—despite the blindfold—felt heavy.

“Oh?” His tone shifted slightly, almost as if he’d been waiting for the moment. “Do you mind if I use your phone really quick? I need to call my driver for work. My phone’s updating, and it’s taking forever... Did yours get that new update last night?”

You blinked, slightly confused. “Update? Uh, maybe... I don’t remember?” You handed him your phone without thinking too much of it. His smile widened as he took it from you, his fingers brushing yours again, lingering in that same, deliberate way.

He quickly dialed a number, bringing the phone to his ear while falling into step beside you. His stride matched yours perfectly, like it was second nature to him. As you both walked toward the elevator, you found yourself glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Satoru seemed perfectly relaxed, almost too relaxed, as if walking alongside you like this was just another part of his day. But something about the situation gnawed at the back of your mind. Had there really been an update? You couldn’t remember seeing any notifications about it.

Satoru spoke briefly into the phone, his voice low and calm. You couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but the way he effortlessly integrated himself into your space, always so close, always so present—it was starting to feel a little too comfortable for your liking. He handed your phone back with a casual smile as the elevator doors opened.

“Thanks, Sunshine,” he said, slipping his hand into his pocket. “You’re always saving me.” His tone was light, playful, but the way he said it, the way he always seemed to need you—whether for small favors or something more—it left a lingering unease you couldn’t quite shake. 

“Do you need a ride?” Satoru asked, glancing over at you with that lazy grin that always made you feel a little warmer inside. “You work at that finance building next to the Lawson, right? My friend Nanami used to work there. Said the bosses are real assholes, but I heard they just got bought out?”

You paused, taken aback for a moment. How did he know where you worked? Maybe he’d seen your badge when you came home late or noticed it while you were passing by his door. You decided not to dwell on it, chalking it up to coincidence. 

You shrugged, forcing a smile. “A ride? Hm... I don’t really mind taking the train. It’s refreshing, you know?” As you glanced down at your phone to check a quick email, you noticed a new app on your home screen. Was there an update last night? You had no recollection of it, but you pushed the thought away.

“I insist! My driver, Ijichi, won’t mind at all,” he urged, his tone bright and teasing. “Plus, it’s on the way to a meeting I need to be at. And speaking of which—how about dinner tonight? I actually used that coupon book you gave me.” He chuckled lightly, adding, “Not that I really need to save money, but it’s fun to try!”

Your heart fluttered at the thought, but you quickly shook your head. “Dinner? Oh, I don’t know, Satoru. I just got this new role at work, and I might have to stay late tonight.”

His grin wavered for just a heartbeat, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head. “Is that so? Surely you can get the night off for just one night. I mean, you work so hard cooking for me every night…” His voice took on a slightly softer tone, almost pleading. “Or maybe if it’s easier, could I start eating dinner with you?”

His eyes sparkled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, but you brushed it off. He was just being friendly, right? Satoru had always been a bit too eager to be around you, but you never thought much of it. You laughed, trying to lighten the moment. “I don’t know if I can handle cooking for two! You’re a big guy; I’d probably run out of food.”

Satoru leaned closer, his expression playful yet somehow serious, as if he were weighing your response. “Come on, I promise I won’t eat you out of house and home. Besides, it would be nice to have someone to share dinner with. I mean, I already take so much from you—like your delicious bentos.” His grin widened, but you could sense something else lurking behind his playful demeanor. 

You shrugged, trying to keep things light. “Well, if you’re really going to be that much trouble, I guess I can let you join me for dinner now and then.” 

“Great! I can’t wait,” he said, the eagerness in his voice almost unsettling. It felt like he was a bit too excited about it, and while it made you smile, there was an undercurrent of intensity that left you feeling a bit unsure. But then, you brushed it aside. Satoru was just a quirky guy who liked to joke around; he didn’t mean anything by it, right?

Once a night quickly led to every night—if he didn’t have to work late. You often wondered when this guy ever found the time to sleep. Yet, you found it oddly comforting to have him around, even if he was a little too clingy. 

Each time he came over to your apartment, Satoru would fidget with your knickknacks, touching the stuffed animals that cluttered your couch and playfully harassing the plants on your windowsill. It felt innocent enough at first, but with every touch, you noticed how he seemed to absorb every detail of your space, like a sponge soaking in your essence. 

You often caught him stealing glances at your photos, his eyes narrowing in concentration as if he were dissecting each moment. “Did you really travel there? It looks fun,” he’d remark, his tone light yet laced with something deeper—an interest that made your stomach flutter, but not entirely in a good way. 

It started to feel odd, though—how did he know precisely what time you would be home? More importantly, how did he seem to always be waiting just outside your door, a lovestruck grin plastered across his face, as if he had been standing there for ages, anticipating your arrival? You brushed it off, convincing yourself it was merely a coincidence, but the uneasy feeling lingered, nestled in the back of your mind.

Daily rides to work became the norm, and sometimes after work, he’d bring over wine—something fancy you would chastise him for, telling him he needed to save money. But he always waved off your concerns with a teasing grin, “What’s money when I have you?” He’d chuckle, leaning a little too close, and you’d laugh it off, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze.

Tonight was no different; the two of you were nestled on the couch, leaning in closer than usual, wine glasses in hand. Something felt off, yet you couldn’t pinpoint it as your vision began to swirl. 

“I think I should call it a night,” you murmured softly, attempting to get up. Just as you started to rise, Satoru’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you back against him. “Here, wait for the spins to go away. Just use me as support,” he said, his voice smooth like silk. 

As you leaned against him, you couldn’t help but notice how solid he felt—his rock-hard chest seemed broader than before, radiating warmth that enveloped you. His smile was chilling, like the night sky, yet there was something darker lurking behind it. The conversations you shared flowed easily, but the intimacy felt different, tinged with a strange urgency that made your heart race for all the wrong reasons. 

You tried to shake off the unease creeping in, but each time you brushed your fingers against the wine glass, it felt like he was watching you—really watching you, as if he could see straight through you. Was he? 

You began to notice things shifting in your apartment. A new decorative item here, a small plant there. At first, you attributed it to your own absent-mindedness, but the more you looked around, the more it felt like he was leaving pieces of himself behind, integrating into your life in a way that felt oddly possessive. 

When you glanced over at him, his eyes gleamed with that familiar spark, but it was mixed with something else—an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “You know, sunshine,” he started, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I just want to make sure you’re safe. I care about you, you know?” 

You chuckled nervously, attempting to lighten the mood. “I can take care of myself, Satoru.” 

But the way he tilted his head, that playful smile transforming into something more fervent, made your heart race in a different way. “I know you can, but wouldn’t it be better if I helped? We could make a great team.” 

You felt the weight of his gaze on you, an unwavering focus that made your skin prickle. “Yeah… a team,” you repeated, but the word felt heavy on your tongue. 

“Let’s keep looking out for each other, alright?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. 

And as the shadows of the room flickered with the light of the TV, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was already doing just that—watching over you, waiting for the right moment to take the next step.  

You were caught in his web, and every part of you warned that getting closer could lead to something dangerously intoxicating, but you couldn’t seem to pull away. Not like he’d let you either.

The world seemed to sway a bit more. Satoru's fingers deftly grabbed the wine glass from your hand and set it on the table, his movements fluid and deliberate, as if choreographed. 

“You know, Sunshine,” he cooed softly, his voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate in the air between you, “the world is a really dangerous place. There are monsters out there… really scary ones.” His gaze locked onto yours, and you felt your heart thud erratically in your chest, panic blooming in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t move. Why couldn’t you move?

Satoru leaned closer, the space between you charged with an unsettling energy. “You’re so lucky that I just… that I just need you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re the only light I need.” 

The intensity in his eyes deepened, and a chill ran down your spine as he continued, “You see, I let someone else leave me. I just can’t do that to you. Let you leave. Let you get hurt.” His lips curled into a soft chuckle, but it sounded dark, echoing with something sinister. “You’re kind of weak, you know?”

Your breath hitched at the weight of his words. “My best friend told me to always protect the weak... so I’m going to protect you for now, okay? We’re going to be a happy little family.” The way he said it felt like a promise and a threat, all wrapped in one.

Your eyes widened when you felt him tilt your chin up, forcing you to look directly into his lovesick gaze. His pupils were blown wide, and that wide smile on his lips sent a wave of dread crashing over you. 

“Sunshine…thank you for lighting up my world. Letting me see how kind the world can be,” he murmured, the sincerity in his voice twisted with an almost manic glee. And before you could react, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours with a fervor that knocked the breath out of you. The kiss was wet, sloppy, as if he had never kissed anyone before. He chased your lips with such fervor as if he was scared to lose you. This wasn’t just a kiss; as his hands held you closer, enveloping you within his warmth, this was a claim. A proclamation that he wasn’t going to let you go. His passion felt overwhelming, consuming, and you realized with a sinking heart that it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. 

Your mother’s words rang in your mind, sharp and clear: “Never feed a stray; they’ll never leave.”