How Would You Write Wriothesley Needing Reassurance?

how would you write wriothesley needing reassurance?

x : TO LOVE A GOOD THING :*+ﾟ

in which: wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

warnings: 1.4k words, reverse hurt/comfort with angst, wrio being insecure sorry, gn!hot-headed!reader, reader gets into a fight, wrio patches you up.

a/n: thank u @sixosix for helping me out during my my hard times. this fic was already half written before I got this ask but then it was like the stars aligned and anon came to save a fic that might have never made it out of the drafts. anyways, idk if the writing is good, but i came, i saw, i conquered. enjoy!

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

If he voiced these thoughts to you, you’d shut him down without another breath. He can almost picture it now, the way your nose would scrunch as a precursor to all the statements you will make rejecting his. He can hear all the things you’d say, insisting ‘that’s just not true!’, and then he’ll laugh to cover up the way his chest will swell with pure adoration. 

But it is true. 

Loving you is easier than breathing. The heart that sits in his chest beats harder for you than the circulation of oxygen in his lungs, but he breathes because it keeps him alive. If he’s alive, then he gets to see you, the best thing that’s happened to him his entire, unfortunate life. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you once told him your favourite flowers were glaze lilies. However, when you complained that they only bloomed during the night, Wriothesley knew that he would wrestle the sun just so the moon could shine a little longer. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you linger in the crevices of his mind. Down in the Fortress of Meropide, the days may pass excruciatingly slow sometimes and the only cure for him is yearning for the one he loves most. Perhaps if he wishes hard enough, you’ll burst through those doors with a declaration of a new discovery and sit on his desk, avoiding the paperwork. 

Most times, his wishful thinking doesn’t work out. On the rare occasion it does, Wriothesley will be fortunate enough to end the work day with your palms on his cheeks, gently motivating him to finish what’s left. 

You’ll peel stickers off his body, ignorant of the fact that he saves them up just for an excuse to feel your hands on him, then he’ll kiss you in thanks, eyes fluttering closed. Near you, he can finally let his guard down, let the gauntlets and coat fall as he sinks into you. 

Wriothesley already feels bad whenever you come down to a place so unforgiving and confronting. He tries to brighten up the place sometimes, but metal can only shine so much before it rusts again. 

Is it pathetic to want to better yourself for another person? Or is it love?

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him, and he’s perfectly fine to continue living with that fact. As long as he’s the one you return to every night, he’ll be fine to live with whatever burdens you press onto him.

He just didn’t expect that one of said ‘burdens’ would result with you, Sigewinne’s infirmary, and your face littered with cuts and bruises. 

“You should have seen the other guy,” is your poor attempt at humour as your lover frets everywhere, pacing back and forth as the small nurse tends to you. His heavy boots resounding against metal floors.

“Seriously, Y/n, what were you thinking?” The warden clearly isn’t amused by your joke, the only thing keeping him back from completely lecturing you is Sigewinne and that stun gun of hers. 

A small yelp slips past your lips when she applies some balm on your sore knuckles and Wriothesley winces, as if feeling your pain. “They were talking bad about you, Wriothesley, what did you want me to do?”

“Nothing!”

Sigewinne gives him a look. He immediately shuts his mouth. “I can’t do that,” you insist.

“You can, and you should’ve. I can defend my own honour. Besides, you didn’t need to lower yourself to the level of crooks just to prove a point.”

“But-”

“-The guys you beat up were just admitted here. Normally after receiving a life’s sentence, the first name that’s slandered is mine as an outlet for anger. This is normal, Y/n, they’ll continue on to realise that the Fortress of Meropide is not their standard prison and reform. You, however, might have just set back their progress.”

Your head drops, a little in shame, but mostly because you don’t have anything to say in retaliation. Silence envelops the dim space, none of you brave enough to break the tension that came from Wriothesley’s scolding. With a few final words from Sigewinne about what medicine to apply, when, and what not to do, she leaves the room quite hurriedly, as if eager to let you and Wriothesley talk about it alone.

Immediately, he crosses the room to where you sit, closing in on your personal space. 

“The things they were saying about you were unforgivable. Meropide’s great duke may forgive, but I won’t.” 

“Nothing is as unforgivable as you getting hurt.” Care laces his voice this time when he talks to you. 

“You won’t throw me in prison for this, right?” You ask with a bashful smile, one that sends him reeling.

“Not prison, no,” he coughs. “However, I can’t not reprimand you.”

“Fine. I guess this just means that I love you more.”

He knows you’re kidding, that you’re only trying to make him feel better because the grin on your face is nothing short of mischievous. Part of him falters, cracks like an earthquake splitting the land apart and pulling him under. To stabilise himself, his rough palms find purchase on both sides of your jaw and his forehead is pressed flushed to yours.

(You don’t love him more, how can you love someone as ragged as him?)

“Impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth. 

“Really, let these bruises be a reminder,” you chuckle. His thumb ghosts over a bruise on your cheek and his heart aches at the way you wince, even if just slightly. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, sat on a hospital bed with wounds he inadvertently caused.

You wouldn’t be here, in a dingy, dreary Fortress that you’re only obligated to visit because of him.

(Oh, but he hopes you never leave. The day you go and never come back is the day Wriothesley will turn all of Teyvat upside down just to search for you. Where is his place if not by your side?)

There’s a warm poke to his cheek that’s quickly followed by a damp residual. Wriothesley quickly realises that you wiped a tear away, and he curses the following few that spill. You shouldn’t waste your efforts on him: a man half-coherent, and wholly undeserving of you.

“Love, oh, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the bruised area. “Why did you do this?” 

“I already told you,” you hum. “Because I love you.”

“I’m not worth it.”

Your hand stills. “What do you mean by that?”

“This happened because of me,” there’s pain in Wriothesley’s voice when it cracks. “You didn’t need to harm yourself for me, I’m more of a burden than you think, Y/n, nothing good will come out of loving me too much.”

For a second, everything stills. The beating of his heart, your breathing, the dull humming of the fortress’ mechanics, it all becomes silenced. The world only kicks up again when you speak.

“How could you say that about yourself?” You reprimand, shaking his face lightly. “A ‘burden’? Are you hearing yourself right now, Wriothesley? You’re not making any sense right now!”

There’s a passionate look in your eyes. One he doesn’t think a man like him deserves.

“I do not love you for ‘good things’ to come out of them, I love you because you are the good thing, and I will do anything for you to remain the way you are.”

Oh, he might cry again. Are there tears in the corners of his eyes? How can he help it when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

“Don’t write me off as some poor soul whose subjected to your love,” you whisper, but he hangs on to every word you say. “Your love is not a burden I bear, but rather, the most fortunate thing I’ve ever had the luxury of cherishing.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Wriothesley presses his lips to yours in an all-consuming kiss. He drinks up all of your praise and lets it settle in his gut to bloom, untethering himself from the chains that rubbed his wrists raw. You love him, you love him more than he thought possible. 

How lucky he is that you pull him closer, selfishly taking all of him.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

List of Journalists Killed During this Genocide. Say their names!

Rizq Arrouq (22/12/23)

Muhammad Al-Saidi (22/12/23)

Adel Zorob (19/12/23)

Abdullah Alwan (18/12/23)

Haneen Ali Al-Qashtan (17/12/23)

Mashal Ayman Shahwan (16/12/23)

Assem Kamal Musa (16/12/23)

Rami Badir (15/12/23)

Ali Ashour Abu Malek (15/12/23)

Samer Abu Daqqa (15/12/23)

Khamis Hussain (15/12/23)

Ahmed Abu Abseh (13/12/23)

Hanan Ayad (13/12/23)

Narmeen Qawas (13/12/23)

Abdel Kareem Oudeh (12/12/23)

Mohammed Abu Samra (10/12/23)

Doaa al-Jabour (9/12/23)

Ola Atallah (9/12/23)

Hossam Omar Ammar (8/12/23)

Hamada Al-Yaziji (6/12/23)

Abdul Hamid Al-Qarinawi (3/12/23)

Mahmoud Salem (3/12/23)

Shaima Al-Jazzar (3/13/23)

Hassan Farajallah (3/12/23)

Hudhayfah Lulu (3/12/23)

Muhammad Farajallah (2/12/23)

Abdullah Darwish (1/12/23)

Muntaser Al-Sawwaf (1/12/23)

Marwan Al-Sawwaf (1/12/23)

Adham Hassouna (1/12/23)

Nader Al-Nazli (25/11/23)

Amal Zuhd (24/11/23)

Mostafa Bakeer (24/11/23)

Mohamed Mouyin Ayyash (23/11/23)

Mohamed Nabil Al-Zaq (21/11/23)

Assem Al-Barash (21/11/23)

Jamal Haniyeh (21/11/34)

Farah Omar (21/11/23)*

Rabih Al Maamari (21/11/23)*

Ayat Khadoura (20/11/23)

Alaa Al-Nimr

Bilal Jadallah (19/11/23)

Abdelhalim Awad (18/11/23)

Sari Mansour (18/11/23)

Hassouneh Sleem (18/11/23)

Mostafa El Sawaf (18/11/23)

Amr Salah Abu Hayah (18/11/23)

Mossab Ashour (18/11/23)

Mahmoud Matar (15/11/23)

Ahmed Fatima (13/11/23)

Yaacoub Al-Barsh (13/11/23)

Mousa Al-Barsh (12/11/23)

Ahmed Al-Qara (10/11/23)

Yahya Abu Manih (7/11/23)

Mohamed Abu Hasira (7/11/23)

Mohamed Al Jaja (5/11/23)

Haitham Harara (3/11/23)

Mohamad Al-Bayyari (2/11/23)

Mohammed Abu Hatab (2/11/23)

Majd Fadl Arandas (1/11/23)

Iyad Matar (1/11/23)

Imad Al-Wahidi (31/10/23)

Majed Kashko (31/10/23)

Nazmi Al-Nadim (30/10/23)

Yasser Abu Namous (27/10/23)

Duaa Sharaf (26/10/23)

Zaher Alafghani (25/10/23)

Jamal Al-Faq’awi (25/10/23)

Saed Al-Halabi (25/10/23)

Ahmed Abu Mahadi (25/10/23)

Salma Mkhaimer (25/10/23)

Hudhayfah Al-Najjar

Mohamed Al Hassani

Mohamed El-Shorbajei

A’ed Ismail Al-Najjar (24/10/23)

Iman Al-Aqili (24/10/23)

Mohammed Imad Labad (23/10/23)

Roshdi Al-Sarraj (22/10/23)

Mahmoud Abu Zarifa (22/10/23)

Hany Al-Madhoun (21/10/23)

Mohammed Ali (20/10/23)

Khalil Abu Aathra (19/10/23)

Sameeh Al-Nady (18/10/23)

Mohammad Balousha (17/10/23)

Issam Behar (17/10/23)

Abdulhadi Habib (16/10/23)

Yousef Maher Dawas (14/10/23)

Salam Mema (13/10/23)

Ali Nisman (13/10/23)

Husam Mubarak (13/10/23)

Issam Abdallah (13/10/23)*

Abdul Rahman Shihab (12/10/23)

Anas Abu Shamala (12/10/23)

Ahmed Shehab (12/10/23)

Mustafa Al-Naqeeb (11/10/23)

Rajab Al-Naqeeb (11/10/23)

Mohamed Fayez Abu Matar (11/10/23)

Saeed Al-Taweel (10/10/23)

Mohammed Sobh Abu Rizq (10/10/23)

Hisham Alnawajeha (10/10/23)

As’ad Shamlakh (8/10/23)

Mohammad Jarghoun (7/10/23)

Ibrahim Mohammad Lafi (7/10/23)

Mohammad Al-Salhi (7/10/23)

*lebanese journalist | could not find date of martyrdom

spent the whole day confirming all of these names and looking through multiple resources. the ones with dates are journalists who’s date of martyrdom and/or exact cause of death is stated by sources besides the government media office official list.

my first and last. . . ⇢ satoru gojo

˗ˏˋsummary: satoru thinks he was always meant to meet you, but you entered his life at such a precarious time he often wonders if that’s the reason he clings to you the way he does 

˗ˏˋwc: 6.5k (🧍‍♀️ it got longer every time i edited it)

˗ˏˋcontains: gn!reader x gojo, angst (with a happy ending), very gojo centric it's essentially a character study, implied satosugu, mentions of canon character injuries/deaths, whatever the opposite of a meet-cute is, confessions, first kiss, hurt/comfort, gojo has a mild panic attack but i promise the description is suuper brief

˗ˏˋa/n: the stsg shipper in me jumped out a little bit with this one 🫣 we love our bi king gojo 🩷💜💙 i also wrote him to be neurodivergent coded in some parts out of pure self indulgence heh.. anyway happy birthday to our blue eyed princess <3

since day one satoru’s life has been a series of puzzles and winding paths that he navigates with ease. donning the title of the strongest is no simple task, and it’s not unfounded at that. he’s simply always been the strongest, with never a moment of respite. but there was a time where he used to share that title — where he used to share the burden of the weight of the world on his shoulders.

his relationship with suguru geto was… complicated. he surely didn’t like him at first, finding the latter to be self-righteous to a fault. yet he stuck to his side, always in his general vicinity. but like a moth to a flame — he flew too close and he got burned.

you could attribute it to his low empathy, or a subtle inability to pick up on social cues… or maybe just the mere fact that he was 17 years old and a stubborn brat. but he can’t recall ever noticing when things started to go downhill. sure, he still knows when they did, knows all too well what the catalyst of this downwards spiral was — the hand that pulled the plug on the drain so that the water could spin around the stopper as it slipped underneath and down into the plumbing, completely out of his control.

but the more he thinks about it, the more slippery it gets. because even now, 10 years later, he can’t wrap his head around why he never noticed what suguru was going through. why he had so poorly assumed that the both of them being the strongest meant that suguru would be able to cope with everything in the same exact ways that he did. why he assumed it meant suguru was fine, even though he knew for a fact that he wasn’t — neither of them were.

but that was the nature of their relationship with each other. made complicated with silent agreements and conversations never had, words never spoken, and satoru often wonders — had he said something, had he swallowed his pride and just communicated with suguru… could things have been different?

surely not, right?

nevertheless, satoru never noticed until it was too late. or if he did, he thought nothing of it at the time. it was subtle things like wondering why suguru seemed thinner — have you lost weight, suguru? — or why the dark circles under his eyes got deeper as the seasons changed — suguru, did you stay up all night reading again? — or why the distinct amount of solo missions they were both sent on only drove the wedge between them further and further. but satoru was managing as best as he could, and he turned out just fine he thinks… so why didn’t suguru?

but really, try as he might, it was hopeless the very moment they got back from okinawa. the very moment he dropped his infinity after he’d been tiredly using his technique nonstop for days, allowing himself a mere second to let his guard down before the force of a katana had torn through his abdomen from behind him. the very moment that the same man who had stabbed him had killed him, and then killed the star plasma vessel they were supposed to protect, and then nearly killed suguru.

it was hopeless the very moment satoru came back from the dead, completely enlightened with a new sense of his techniques, a new perspective on his own life and his prowess. the very moment suguru stopped saying they were the strongest together, and started to just refer to satoru solely as thee strongest. full stop.

when you share the weight of the world with someone else, it suddenly feels a lot heavier when they decide to let it go without warning you in advance. but then again, the signs were always there — the sweat on his brows, wobbling knees threatening to buckle as he struggled to hold it up. satoru selfishly brushed aside the warning signs until suguru grew so tired, that even if satoru had tried a little harder to coax him back in, the fatigue in suguru’s muscles was too strong to even bother lifting anything back up onto his shoulders.

so all he could do was watch. watch as suguru turned around and left, disappearing into the crowd of people walking all around them. people who were probably having the most boring, average day of their lives. oh, how he so craved the mundanity, the simple things of a human life that were always too out of reach for a god.

his breaths were shallow and coming out in quick puffs, hands clenched tightly at his sides and twitching with the urge to use his technique, to take out suguru like he was supposed to. because that would have meaning. but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger on the first person he’d ever felt like he truly loved, in a sense. he allowed himself to hold someone so close to his heart because he thought he didn’t have to worry about him leaving… up until he actually did.

his heart was a jigsaw puzzle, and a piece of it went missing the day suguru left. what he hadn’t expected to happen next, was for you to enter his life with a piece of an entirely different puzzle, one that was still somehow a perfect fit.

not at first, at least.

“what the—“ the frustrated cry slipped past your lips, a groan of disdain when satoru had turned around to leave the scene of the worst day of his life, only to crash into you as you tried to maneuver around him, making you spill your drink all over your shirt. the drink itself was a frozen one, sweet like strawberry and sour like the green apple you mixed into it at the slushie machine from the gas station down the block. you’d have really enjoyed drinking the whole thing, had it not spilled all over you instead. “watch where you’re going, asshole!”

he blinked at you, dumbfounded and stammering as he tried to mumble an apology. but really, he wasn’t all that sorry. he was so numb to just about anything right now, he couldn’t find it in him to feel sympathy for a total stranger when his heart was just so broken the way it was.

you scoffed and looked up at him then, and your eyes widened a little in surprise when you met his. a pair of blue eyes, the brightest blue you’d ever seen, brighter than the sky on a clear and sunny day. eyes that held more in them than every ocean on the planet, with waves crashing around the irises and threatening to spill over his lash lines, glossing his eyes in a way that made him look ethereal. he was crying, but why did he look so, so…

“c’mon, let’s keep walking,” your friend’s voice cut through your thoughts, tugging lightly on your elbow as she shot a narrowed look at satoru before redirecting her attention back to you. “we’re gonna be late to catch the bus.”

you tore your gaze away from satoru, wordlessly moving past him as your friend dragged you along, walking in the same direction suguru had gone just minutes prior. satoru was still a little caught off guard, blinking rapidly before wiping his eyes with his sleeve and walking off.

it wasn’t the most ideal meeting, but on such an unforgettable day, it was burned into his memory nonetheless.

so when he saw you again a few weeks later, by yourself this time, sitting at the window of a crepe cafe he frequented, he felt his heart rate pick up a little bit. maybe it was just the reminder of the day suguru left him, or maybe it was the way the afternoon sun was shining across the window, casting a dispersion of colors from the spectrum of light onto your face. a bright white light shining through a glass prism and refracting, revealing a rainbow on the other side.

he lingered outside for a moment, clammy hands stuffed in his pockets as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze flitting between the door to the cafe and the small table you were sat on. maybe he could just pretend you weren’t there at all, just walk in and order his usual and then leave, just like he’d intended. but the moment he stepped inside, the bell jingling above his head announcing his arrival, and you looked up at him, he cracked under the pressure. with a tightlipped expression he abruptly spun on his heel and left the shop, confusing yourself and other patrons alike.

he walked about 20 feet away from the shop before exhaling the breath he’d been holding. and then he thought, what the fuck am i doing? so he turned around once again, swallowing down his pride and the potential for humiliation as he stepped inside the cafe once more, this time avoiding your curious gaze entirely.

you thought you recognized him for a moment. there aren’t many lanky, freakishly tall boys with snowy white hair like his. what was throwing you in for a loop was the glasses he adorned — a black pair of lenses with round frames. when he walked in the sun you couldn’t make out his eyes behind them at all, it made you wonder if you could even see anything through them.

he stepped up to the counter and placed his order, and while he waited he couldn’t help it, he had to take a peek. it was this natural curiosity bubbling up in his chest, he just had to satiate it before it boiled over and got out of control. he turned his head a little to the side, subtly glancing over his shoulder at you seated in the corner. you were looking down at your hands, but the flush that reached your ears told him you’d almost been caught staring at him.

he pursed his lips in thought, humming to himself as he turned back around when they called his name at the counter. he wordlessly grabbed his crepe, nodding curtly at the worker before he started to walk back towards the entrance. but just before he walked through the door, something stopped him. like an invisible force field cast by the only person in the building that caught his attention, and from that point he felt drawn to you, all of a sudden. he chewed the inside of his cheek, turning and facing your general direction. you were caught this time — your head swiftly turned the other way, just barely making eye contact with him, but he’d already seen the way your hair moved when you turned your head. how it fell over your eyes for a moment, and how your hands twitched on the table with the urge to move it out of the way, only you tried to seem entirely nonchalant at the moment so you held back. how cute, he thought.

he lingered at the doorway, and then he took a step forward. and another. and then he was standing beside the small table, tilting his head curiously when you refused to acknowledge his existence. he seemed much taller up close, especially since you were sitting down. it was almost intimidating.

“yo,” he waved a hand in front of your face, beckoning your attention. you blinked in surprise, finally moving your own hand up to swipe the bangs out of your eyes as you looked at him. those pesky strands of hair that you hate. you’re trying to grow it out, so you can’t do much about it right now. “you were staring at me?” he says this like a question, like he doesn’t know how else to address the obvious elephant in the room between you two. you gulped then, looking around the room as you thought of an excuse, but you didn’t find one.

“i was.” you conceded, nodding a little awkwardly. he already caught you so there’s no point in lying, you think to yourself.

“…why?”

“your glasses.”

“what about my glasses?”

“they’re funny.”

he snorts, unsure if he was offended or amused. “what’s so funny about ‘em? they’re just glasses.”

you giggled then, a soft sound that trickled into his ears like sprinkles on a cupcake, colorful and of intrigue for satoru’s own sweet tooth. “i dunno, i just think it’s a little silly that you’re wearing sunglasses indoors.”

he hums, the corners of his lips almost threatening to curl up into a smile. almost. “i have sensitive eyes.”

“right,” you giggled again, a sound he was quickly learning tasted as sweet as the dessert in his hands. “can you even see anything through them when you’re standing inside? they look so dark.”

you’d be surprised what i can see, is what he almost replies with. but what leaves his mouth instead was uncharacteristic, if he’s being entirely honest with himself. “wanna see for yourself?”

you hesitated for a moment, but then nodded slowly. you were curious, after all. he put down the crepe in his hands, setting it down near your clasped hands on the table. he lifted his hands up to his frames, and for a moment he almost stopped himself. why am i doing this again? but he removed them anyway, extending his hands forward to hand them to you. your eyes followed the frames the whole time, reaching forward to grab them, your fingers brushing against his. but when you looked up at him again, you saw a familiar stark blue ocean in his eyes, and—

oh.

“you’re the guy who knocked over my slushie.” you stated bluntly, carefully starting to retract your hand again. satoru’s shoulders dropped a little bit, and he had half a mind to apologize, but he just extended his hand further and waved it in front of you, urging you to take the glasses and try them out. he’s not sure where this surge of insistence is coming from, but it seems to rub off on you, since you narrow your eyes a little curiously before gingerly accepting the lenses.

you bring them up to your eyes, holding them at a reasonable distance, and you’re surprised to see— well, nothing. just pitch black. you gape a little bit, muttering something under your breath. he almost expects you to freak out, maybe even awkwardly return his glasses and excuse yourself to leave the establishment. but you do none of that. you handed his glasses back with a snort of a laugh, a confused yet oddly amused grin crawling onto your face. “you must have really sensitive eyes, then. now i feel bad for calling you an asshole.” you mumbled, and he can’t stop the way his own smile mirrors yours. your reaction was even sweeter than he’d anticipated.

“it was an asshole move, to be fair.” he mutters a little quietly, putting the glasses back on his face and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. he picks up his crepe again, glancing at the door as he considers leaving. but then he looks back down at you and you have this look in your eyes that he can’t quite place. and suddenly he feels drawn to you again.

“maybe one of these days i could buy you another one to make up for it?”

that’s how it began. you entering his life and crawling inside of a hole in his heart right as it emptied out. a vacancy that was available against his own will, but you filled it out anyway. exchanging phone numbers and having short but meaningful conversations through the flip phone you despised texting on (it was 2007 after all, technology was not quite at it’s peak), but you put up with it anyway, because you found that talking to him quickly became a part of your day you looked forward to.

he thought the same of you, but it took him a while to admit that to himself. shoko had made a throwaway comment one day, saying he was just coping by befriending you as quickly as he did. she meant nothing bad of it, merely jesting, but it weighed heavy on his heart. he felt guilty, felt like he was replacing suguru somehow. no one could replace suguru, even if he doesn’t quite hold the same place in his heart anymore, he’d always be there.

suguru leaving was the first time satoru felt scared in his life. that’s a feeling one could only invoke in him after burrowing themselves so deep in his skin that the heartbreak of going separate ways tore him up from the inside out. that’s something he could never get over; he never will get over it.

but you, you were something else entirely. the feelings of guilt quickly changed into fluttery, warm feelings when he heard the ringtone he’d specifically set for you. it turned into rapidly beating hearts when you’d both met up after school, satoru going out of his way to walk down your route with you even though he lived on school grounds. it turned into waiting in anticipation whenever he sent you a text, biting his lip nervously as he stared at the tiny phone screen, somehow trying to will it to load your response faster. staying up at night talking over the phone, pacing around his dorm or looking out the balcony as he did, a huge grin on his face that he couldn’t wipe off for at least half an hour after you’d both gone to bed.

you never replaced suguru. but he often thinks to himself about it, pictures a life where fate was kinder to him. a world where he has both you and suguru around, at the same time. suguru would’ve loved you, he thinks. the two most important people in his life, a consistent reminder that it’s okay to love and be loved back. a warm spring after a harsh, bitter winter.

a year or two goes by, you both graduate high school, and to him your life seems so… normal, while his life is anything but. for a while he doesn’t tell you, doesn’t tell you about his job as a jujutsu sorcerer. a title he was born into, as a user of both limitless and six eyes — a combination the likes of which the Gojo clan hasn’t seen for hundreds of years. a ticking time bomb.

it was innate for him, embedded in his dna. his fate was sealed the moment he opened his eyes. he had no choice at all in how he got to live his life, it was all outlined for him the moment he was born. december 7th, 1989 — a momentous day for the jujutsu world and the world of curses. he was standing for something before he even learned how to walk.

what he did have a say in was your involvement in it. he always thought the lesser you knew the better, so he kept it to himself. when he got busier you would ask more questions, trying to figure out what kind of job he had, but he never answered them honestly. it drove you both apart a little for a few years, and it broke his heart, but he thought it was better this way. it was easier to keep you out of the hot mess that was his world as the jujutsu sorcerer gojo, safer to keep you at arms length so that your precious life didn’t get tangled in the ugliest parts of his.

and yet he also wanted nothing more than to hold you closer, to nestle you in the cavity of his heart and never let go of you. because to you, he wasn’t the strongest jujutsu sorcerer — the six eyes and limitless user with the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. to you, he was just… satoru.

but he couldn’t hold you closer to his heart without risking the semblance of normalcy in your life, one that was so fragile, he would never forgive himself if it shattered. if the glass shards cut into the palms of his hands, his own blood slipping through his fingers while he desperately tried to piece it back together.

worst of all, he thinks you would never forgive him, for some reason. he can’t explain why he thinks this. it’s all an emotional and irrational mess in his brain that he would rather ignore instead of trying to untangle the cords.

maybe it’s the 17 year old in him, the one that lost his best friend — his one and only — in the very same world he wants to keep you out of.

suguru geto was the first person he ever cared so deeply about, and the first person who left him. you’re the only other person he’s cared for so much since then, and right now you’re the last person he wants to lose. his first and last, representing completely different parts of satoru’s soul that he clings to like a lifeline. if he lost you too he’d be inconsolable.

and that thought was what drove him to his limit when suguru died. you’re taken by complete surprise when you hear a frantic banging on your door. it’s the night of december 24th, you were just about ready to go to bed early in preparation for christmas the next morning when you opened the door to see satoru, completely disheveled and in a cold sweat. he was always careful about the parts of himself that he showed you, always made sure he didn’t worry you too much by being so emotionally vulnerable around you. but right now, after the night he just had, he can’t do it anymore. he can’t always be the strongest.

“can we talk?” he had asked you the moment he met your eyes. he was breathless, overwrought — at his wit’s end. you’ve never seen him like this — at least, not since that fated day in september 2007 when you both first met.

when you invited him in he stumbled past you, his breathing erratic and his usual bright blue eyes were currently a dull gray, they were almost lifeless. the light he often held in them was dimming with the weight of his emotions and he needs to say something to you, he needs you. he can’t keep himself together anymore.

“satoru, come,” you gently grabbed his elbow, a touch unobstructed by his infinity that he so desperately craved. “sit, and take deep breaths for me, okay?”

he wasn’t aware that his hands were trembling until you grabbed them, and he squeezed your hands so tightly it almost hurt. the moment you sat down next to him on the couch he dipped his head forward and dropped it on your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck and closing his eyes, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he tried not to sob. a man so much bigger than you — in height namely — was shrinking into your side and you hadn’t the slightest idea what could have possibly brought him down like this.

“what’s wrong, hun?” you asked him sweetly, and your voice was so soothing to his soul he just couldn’t take it anymore. he whimpered weakly, his lips trembling as he pulled his head back to look in your eyes.

“i’ve been lying to you.” he blurts out, making your eyes widen in surprise. “i- i know it sounds bad, fuck— you don’t even know what it is i’m going to say to you, you have no idea how badly—“ he cuts himself off when his voice cracks, clamping his mouth shut and swallowing the lump in his throat before continuing. “just… just promise me. promise me you won’t freak out. just let me say everything i need to say first and then you can react, but please— please understand why i did this.”

you’re not sure how to respond to this at first, his words are loaded with something you don’t recognize. and there’s this perceptible fear in his eyes that concerns you more than anything else. you inhale deeply for a moment, studying the trembling in his expression, and then you nodded slowly. you’re not sure why, but you trust him. “okay… i promise.”

and so it goes. he unloads everything — the world of jujutsu and curses, his upbringing, his one and only. he tells you about his teenage years, his near death experience (or well, more like an actual death experience, but he holds back on those specific details for now — figures he doesn’t need to tell you just yet how reverse cursed techniques work when you’re already getting an information overload), how he lost suguru. he tells you about suguru’s cult, the war suguru declared on jujutsu society, on him. he tells you about his students and how he fought to protect them, tells you about the night parade of a 100 demons, and finally, finally — he tells you how he had to ultimately kill his best friend. just hours prior to seeing you.

“…wow.” was all you had to respond with. what else could you even say in that moment?

it takes a good 15 minutes afterwards for the air between you both to settle again. for satoru to feel like he can look you in the eyes and not get these intense pangs in his chest that make him feel like you’re pulling away from him. takes him 15 minutes to grab your hands again, all with an intense urge to hold them close to his chest so you could just feel how hard his heart beats for you.

“so… all this time…?” you trailed off. you’re not really sure what you’re asking him, but somehow he knows. he’s learned to read you so well over the years, so many unspoken words from you where he’s filled in the blanks, like a crossword puzzle. sure, it makes him come off presumptuous, often even feeling like he’s putting words in your mouth before you’ve even opened it. but he’s never been wrong, either.

he knows you like you know your favorite book — you could recite the first few pages with your eyes closed. and you thought you knew him, too… you still do, just not as well as you’d thought after a decade of friendship.

he can practically see this thought process playing out in your head, kind of like a tape reel displayed through a projector. he sees it in your eyes, in the way your expression falls a little bit, brows furrowing with the realization that you’ve never truly known him. and he feels like that desperate 17 year old all over again, watching his best friend turn his back to him and feeling completely helpless to it.

“i- i know it’s a lot to take in, but please don’t feel like-…” he cuts himself off, chewing his lower lip nervously as he searches your expression. “i’m still the same person you’ve known all these years. the parts of me that i did show you are still real… i’m still satoru.” i’m still your satoru, is what he actually wants to say, but he’s not sure if he should. he feels like he’s in murky waters right now, and even with his six eyes he can’t see the bottom.

if it’s one thing he’s learned it’s that trying to use his techniques to understand you is like a child trying to shove a square block toy into a triangle shaped hole. what you experience in your life just can’t be explained with cursed energy, or years worth of knowledge as a jujutsu sorcerer. when he’s with you it’s the closest he’ll ever feel to being human.

you lifted your eyes to meet his own, that dimmed blue color that was shining with a layer of tears he struggled to fight back. the sight made you frown, your thumbs running over his knuckles in a way that made his shoulders relax a little bit. “i know, i just…” you chewed on your lower lip, trying to put your thoughts into words. “you know i can take care of myself, right? why didn’t you just tell me sooner.”

he’d expected that response from you, if he was being honest with himself.

“it’s not that i think you can’t take care of yourself,” he started, his voice soft and wavering with the fragility he felt in his heart. “it’s that you— you just…” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and inhaling sharply. he opened his eyes again after a short moment, his gaze firmly holding yours now.

he looks at your life and he sees something so beautiful. he sees normalcy and appreciation for the mundane aspects of living — like stopping to smell flowers while on a walk, or petrichor in the morning. bees buzzing about and birds chipping at the crack of dawn. all things he never had the time for; a man who was given his life on a silver platter when he was born doesn’t have everything he actually wants.

so he tells you this. he tells you how important you are, how important it is to him that you stay the way you are.

“…i would never forgive myself if i ruined any of that.” he concludes, his hands still tightly grasping yours in an attempt to keep himself grounded.

you took another deep breath, and this time you saw something new in his eyes. it felt familiar, a splash of something he always feels when he’s around you. it made your heart flutter, as if your soul recognized it for what it was before your mind even registered it happening.

you brought your hand up, letting go of one of his to cup his cheek, and the way he leaned into your touch without hesitation made you want to close your eyes and savor the warmth he radiated. with snowy white hair and icy blue eyes on pale skin, it’s almost as if one would expect his body to run a lot colder than it actually did. it was always a pleasant surprise when this assumption was proven wrong.

the truth of the matter was that he held the warmth of the sun in his heart, shining so brightly just for you.

“you said you’re the strongest, yeah?” you murmured after an extended moment of silence, and his eyes fluttered briefly as he nodded his head. “so… why are you worried you’ll ruin it? you could never ruin anything for me.”

he wants to dispute that on pure instinct — he has ruined something before. he’s ruined someone before. and carrying the weight of that guilt in his heart does not ease his nerves right now, because what’s to say it wouldn’t happen again?

but the sincereness in your voice, the simplicity in your answer. the way you look at him as you caress his cheek. he can see you firmly believe this to be true, that he could never ruin anything for you. and for once, he just wants to allow himself to be vulnerable. you know he’s the strongest now, but that doesn’t change anything between you both because he’s never really had to be the strongest when he’s around you.

the thought then crosses his head. it's a unique feeling, one that could only parallel how he felt about suguru, but it's not quite the same either. it's special for you.

“i care so deeply about you… i think i always will.”

the words leave his mouth before he can stop them, but it’s not like he would’ve tried to. he’s already poured so much of his heart to you tonight, what’s a little more from the jar in his hands? the one he so carefully passes on to you for you to hold and keep safe; a glass jar tinted with the colors of his emotions, swirls of pinks and purples and blues like the evening sky outside the window.

and you, naturally, reciprocate. handing him your own glass jar, one that’s much smaller than his but open and willing to be filled with all the extra love he harbors. when his hands find your cheeks, he feels the warmth in them; or maybe it’s the warmth from his own palms. but it doesn’t stop him from pulling you close, shrinking the gap between you two until your lips meet in a slow and tender kiss.

the first he shares with you, and one that hopefully won’t be the last.

you pull away after a moment, and he has to fight the urge to chase your lips with his. when he opens his eyes he sees yours are still closed, and he almost panics until his gaze lands on the prominent blush on your cheeks. it reached the very tips of your ears, and he was convinced he must’ve looked equally as flushed if the way his heart clenched in his chest told him anything.

when you didn’t open your eyes one of his hands slid off your cheek, his index finger gently tracing the shape of your face, all the way up to your forehead. you’d grown out your bangs by now, a process he’d witnessed over the years. how you always fought the urge to cut them when they were just long enough to go over your eyes but too short to tuck behind your ears. it was easier to brush to the side now, so he did that, his finger trailing over the arch of your brow before he carded his fingers into your hair. he brushed it back a little bit, a smile slowly creeping onto his face when your eyes fluttered open with the action.

“satoru?”

“hmm?” he hummed, unable to stop his smile from growing when your hand went up to his, placing your palm on top of his hand and holding it against your cheek.

“you’re not just doing this because you feel like you have to, are you?” you murmured, the question making him stop running his hands through your hair as he stared at you intently, his hand sliding down to your shoulder now. “i don’t— i don’t want this… us… to only be something done out of convenience for you.”

he hesitates in his answer, not because you were right, but because he was worried that you are. you entered his life at such a precarious time, it’s easy to assume he clings to you because of that. a decade and more could never undo the damage left in his soul by suguru geto, but holding you — feeling the warmth of your lips on his. he thinks it might be the closest he’s ever felt to mending his heart.

“no, it’s… it’s not…” he mumbles after a moment, shaking his head slowly. it’s a short response, but there’s a battle waging behind his eyes when he says it. he grips your shoulder a little tighter, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath — he reminds himself that you’re still here. reminds himself that you care about him, as he does you.

and he can’t think of anything that feels more right to him that that.

“it’s not.” he repeats again when he opens his eyes, his tone firmer now. “what i… what i feel for you…” he swallows nervously. exposing your raw feelings is hard, talking about your emotions is hard. but if there’s anything he’s learned it’s that simply communicating with the people he cares about will take him a long way. he still needs some practice cementing that habit. “what i feel for you is real. it has been for a long time. it’s more than i’ve ever felt for anyone before, maybe even more than…” he trails off again, but this time he doesn’t need to finish his statement. you know exactly who he’s talking about now.

you nodded slowly, your eyes carefully searching his as he spoke. you mulled over his words, tossing and turning them in your head before you formulated your response. but then the corners of your lips twitched upwards, the slightest bit, and you couldn’t to stop the quiet giggle that left your lips first. his favorite sound. “okay…” you murmured softly, inhaling deeply before nodding your head a second time. “okay, yeah, i… i believe you… i feel the same way, then.”

his smile grew wider than ever and he stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes scanning your face before landing on your lips again, and then, “can i… kiss you again?” it was cute to you how nervous he looked, his lower lip sucked in between his teeth as he chewed on it. when you nodded your head he had the urge to throw himself at you with the sudden surge of joy that erupted in his chest, but he wasn’t trying to seem too eager right now — he didn’t want to overwhelm you, after all.

(you sensed he was eager regardless; you never told him this but when he gets really excited his eyes shine just a little bit brighter than normal, a phenomenon you always found strange but never questioned. and right now, they were pretty much glowing. but now that you now about his… powers, were they? ‘techniques’? you could probably reason it to that; you’ll ask him about it one of these days.)

he leaned in again to meet your lips with his, and the small squeak that left your mouth when his hands cupped your face again made him chuckle heartily against your lips. no, really — he was giggling now, pecking your lips repeatedly until you were giggling, too. he was so incredibly happy in this moment.

there’s still a lot that he has to deal with in an emotional sense. he’s mourning the death of his best friend, someone he hasn’t truly known for 10 years but it doesn’t make the current loss any easier. suguru had been gone for a decade already, but now he was actually gone.

ironically, however, that loss was met with a gain. twice, now. when suguru left he met you, and when suguru died it opened the doors satoru kept locked in his heart and allowed you to settle in there. maybe it is convenience, but you being there for him in both scenarios has to mean something.

in a way, it’s as if the universe was trying to tell him that he was never meant to be alone. when you’re the strongest it’s easy to feel lonely, but at the end of the day satoru isn’t a god. of all the people he’s known in his life, suguru was the first person to introduce this idea into his head — this idea of his existing humanity. but you were the one to really cement it into his very being, tying it off with a bow and tucking it into the cavity of his heart that suguru left behind. a weight that keeps his feet planted firmly on the ground, keeps him from floating away into the heavens. it keeps him down on earth, with you at his side.

there’s a first for everything, he thinks. but now that he has you, he hopes that the pain he experienced because of suguru is the last he’ll ever have to endure. he’ll treasure you for the rest of his life, however long he has left of it.

new year, new choso. / choso nye fic

pairing: choso kamo x f!reader ( jujutsu kaisen ) word count: 1.9k summary: Choso Kamo has never been to a New Year's Eve party. Who knew chaperoning his kid brother to Gojo's Jujutsu High party would end up like this? tags: new year's eve kiss, nye party fluff, choso is a sweet baby angel goth, and he's wearing a suit, alcohol, mentions of cards against humanity credit: dividers by @saradika dedicated to @nube55 , @sixpennydame , and @chishiyasan xo

welcome to the final day of the twelve days of amymas !!

New Year’s Eve parties are typically not your thing.

Loud music, bustling crowds, crowded rooms with crowded strangers — the whole debacle always sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Ieiri claimed that this gathering would be different. Small.

Albeit still a party by Gojo Satoru’s standards as his entire penthouse is littered with tacky balloons, confetti, and endless amounts of blinking year-end sunglasses, but tamer than anticipated.

It’s probably something to do with the fact that said gathering included his students from Jujutsu High.

The teenagers all crowd in the dead center of the living room excitedly playing Cards Against Humanity while Gojo's colleagues and friends mingle about the main floor.

(There’s just something about watching a cursed panda argue that his cards are accurate to the prompt as opposed to the obscene and filthy winners — ironically, a silent kid with cursed speech tattoos holds the jackpot of black cards.)

You were once destined to become a sorcerer yourself, but you’d hung it up for a simpler life. Not unlike your best friend, Shoko, but not as close to the Jujutsu world.

Then again, you never really get away from this life. Not really.

(Only thirty minutes left until the new year.)

“Did you need a refill?”

The gentle question comes out of nowhere to your side, breaking your concentration of the rowdy game.

When you turn your head, you’re immediately taken by a dark-haired man with a thin, black strip covering the bridge of his nose like a blush. He wears a maroon button-up, satin to the eye, and a dark suit jacket to compliment his pale complexion. His shoulder-length dark hair is in a half up-do, fixed hastily in a tiny bun at the crown of his head.

Your first thought? He’s beautiful.

Your second thought? You find yourself staring for too long, lips parted with an answer you’ve all but forgotten.

The man blinks back at you, shuffling in the uncertain silence. 

“I, uh — sorry, I probably should have said ‘hello’ like a normal person and —”

“Uh, sure, I could walk with you?” you blurt, hating yourself for the way his eyes round with his own bout of confusion. “For a refill. I’m getting kind of stiff sitting against this wall.”

He’s a stranger, even if it’s technically a friend’s party.

You’ve been taught from birth that you should take care of your own drinks — but that doesn’t mean you can’t accompany someone as alluring as him to go grab a new mixed drink.

God knows Gojo bought out the entire liquor store despite how seventy-five percent of the party can’t drink and, the irony, Gojo doesn’t drink.

(An overachiever even in the art of hosting, Shoko joked before she dipped for a smoke break.)

Right.

You're dissociating.

Back to the guy in front of you.

“And hi,” you add lamely after a beat.

The stranger fights a smile, choosing to rush a small huff of air.

“Hi. Name's Choso Kamo,” he awkwardly introduces. “And yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

He fidgets with a button of his dress shirt, popping it absently.

“Feels a little crowded here.”

"A little," you agree, gesturing for him to show the way.

Shoulder to shoulder you both walk to the drink table, not saying a word.

You note how the stranger — this Choso — keeps his eyes on the table of kids as they heavily debate which answer should win: the cold, dead fingers card dropped by a triumphant Kugisaki, versus the Daniel Radcliff’s delicious asshole card slipped in by a stone-faced Megumi.

“Dying to join in on the game?” you joke, trying to break the slow-building tension.

“Hmm? Oh. God, no. I’m not getting involved in that war.” The man blinks to you, his expression softening for a moment. “My kid brother’s over there.”

“Which one is he?”

Choso smiles small, clearly proud to point him out.

He fills his cup with a moderate amount of rum and soda, mixing it with a wooden stirrer.

“The pink-haired one. Yuji.”

Yuji isn’t hard to spot, not by a long shot.

He’s giggling between Megumi and Kugisaki, joyously playing moderator to the budding fight for who has the best card this round.

When you turn back to Choso, you see his smile has widened.

“He’s got his work cut out for him if he’s the Card Szarr this round," you say.

Choso laughs breathily and takes a sip. “Yeah, his friends are a little brutal. Good kids, but… opinionated.”

(As proudly displayed by the way the finalists shout at one another. Yuji laughs hard, shaking his head — only to pull a major upset by choosing the panda’s card instead.)

“He’s the only reason I’m here,” Choso adds belatedly, seemingly wishing to keep the conversation going. “I’m not exactly friends with the guy who threw this thing.”

“Who, Gojo?” you ask. He nods. “Me neither. My best friend managed to drag me out of my cave. Not sure if you know her — Shoko Iieri?”

Choso shakes his head. 

“Can’t say I do. Then again, I could say that about everyone. I only really came so my brother and his friends had a chaperone home." He straightens once he's done filling his drink. "I take it you don’t normally do these things, either?”

“That’s nice of you,” you comment, filling the rest of your drink before clinking the glass to his. “And no, I kind of hate parties. Way more of a quiet environment sort of person.”

“You and me both,” he commiserates. “Believe it or not, this is my first New Year’s Eve out.”

“Really? Your first, ever?”

He nods. “It’s a little complicated. Jujutsu shit.”

The words make you accidentally bark out a laugh, startling Choso.

He warms to it, however, and laughs with you. 

“Jujutsu shit is very much something I can’t seem to get away from,” you explain.

“Guess I found the one person at this party that gets me,” Choso admits with a dissolving chuckle, the black strip on his nose sprinkled with a gentle pink blush at his confession. “Yuji was pretty insistent on making it a big deal, given it’s my first real holiday outing. We spent Christmas just with the two of us this year — sorry, am I talking too much?”

You sip your drink and shake your head. “I like listening.”

It’s the truth: this man is interesting.

Clearly he’s not completely of this realm, that much you’re quite certain of, but he’s truly trying to be human.

Choso fumbles, but he’s honest about his experience.

It’s a refreshing taking on a world you’ve become so cynical about.

“I usually don’t talk this much,” he admits; his second confession of the night. He sighs and shakes his head. “Anyway, yeah. Christmas was solo, but he wanted to do this big party with his friends. Begged me to come along. New Year’s is an interesting idea, but the traditions… I don’t know.”

He squints at nothing in particular as he thinks.

“There’s so much I want to try now that I’ve got this life.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I have the drinking part down,” he tells you, glancing down at his glass and outfit. “I dressed up, though given what everyone else wore—”

Sweaters. Jeans. Nothing fancy — not like him.

“—I think I screwed that part up.”

“I think you look amazing, for what it’s worth,” you blurt, and he catches your eye with an appreciative glow.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, suits always look good.”

Choso grins, albeit briefly, yet the growing confidence lingers.

“Party games, though I’m happier to watch than play right now. Then there’s that New Year’s kiss thing?”

Oh.

He turns to you for confirmation, but you damn well know your face is on fire from the implication.

“When the clock strikes midnight, you’re supposed to kiss someone," he explains like you're new to this, too. "Make a wish or promise or whatever so that the next year is going to be better.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He leans in a fraction further, dropping his voice to a murmur. “That's what I heard, anyway.”

You’re expecting him to have a but scoot into that sentence, but he pauses to search your face for the right or wrong answer.

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” you admit — it's now your turn to confess.

His brows furrow. “Really? Never?”

You shake your head. “Maybe that’s why my years have been so shitty lately.”

Choso nods with a grave understanding. “Could be.”

A few of the teenagers cheer, abandoning the game to turn on the main television.

The clock is only a few minutes until midnight.

Three, to be exact.

Suddenly the drink in your hand becomes your life line.

“I admit that I didn’t know if you needed a refill on your drink,” Choso pipes up, slow and careful. You turn your attention from the television broadcast to look at him. “I only came here to make sure Yuji had a good time with his friends, but then I saw you come in with that woman.”

Wait, he saw you come in?

When you say nothing, he sucks in a sharp inhale to explain himself. 

“I spent an hour working up the courage to come talk to you. I couldn’t think of anything to say. You’re so damn pretty, and you seemed fine hanging out by yourself or with her, and so I thought — I mean, I needed a refill and some liquid courage — so it — do you get what I’m saying?”

No, no you don’t and yes, yes you do.

“You’re very pretty yourself,” you tell him without thinking, causing his eyes to widen. Yours follow suit, rounding like saucers. “I mean — yeah, as soon as I noticed you, I thought you were attractive—”

“People go out for coffee, right?” he interrupts as if he’s been waiting all night to ask. “When they think someone is pretty, they… go out for coffee or dinner or walks.”

One minute remaining.

Choso pauses to stare into your eyes, earnest and true.

“I’d love to go out for some coffee, or whatever dinner you want, or even just a walk. Maybe. Some time. If you’re… free.”

A date.

Forty seconds until the new year, and you’ve already scored yourself a date.

“We could do one of those things,” you murmur. Choso’s face brightens. “Maybe all of them. And we could start it off with…”

Twenty seconds. 

“Making a wish?” the dark-haired man suggests when you trail off, rounding towards you so he’s closer.

For someone who says he has a lot to experience, you’re surprised that he seems to cage you in with experience. 

If it wasn’t for his eyes begging you to confirm that this is what you want, then you’d think maybe he was a liar.

“Yeah. For a great new year,” you explain, lifting your chin.

Ten seconds.

“For a great new year,” he exhales with a promise, leaning in.

His hand reaches to gently cup your face as though mesmerized by how soft your skin feels beneath his palm.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The clock strikes midnight, and a pair of plush, timid lips gingerly press to yours.

You meet with an eager kiss, and you swear you feel Choso’s mouth curve into a satisfied smile against yours.

(Maybe next year really will be better.)

twitter links | jjk (2)

part one is linked here if interested! afab for all links ! disclaimer im poc, but only could find these videos and i hope thats not much of a problem :(. warnings . rough link in one of each characters i believe, warnings for that. rest is vanilla, slapping.

geto

link [ bouncing on getos cock ]

link [ geto takes care of you ]

link [ geto and gojo have their way with you ]

link [you and geto give gojo a show from the shower ]

toji

link [ toji takes you home after scouting you at the club]

link [ rough with toji ]

link [ making a mess of choso ]

link [ toji fucks you dumb ]

kento

link [ how kento eats you out after a fight]

link [ sucking kento off while he's in a meeting ]

link [ kento fucking you after a long day at work ]

link [ kento fucks you good when hes mad ]

gojo

link [ he makes you forget about your ex ]

link [ satoru makes you do all the work ]

link [ satoru couldn't make it to the house ]

link [ he makes you see stars ]

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"are you implying you want israel to not exist" im not implying im demanding. pleading with God and everybody. explicitly stating. i dont want any fascist state to exist i dont want any ever settler colonial scar on the face of our beautiful earth to exist i dont want that genocidal left hand extension of a hideous sinister empire to greet another dawn israel is not subtle at all about its child killing and innocents killing palestinian killing it hasnt been subtle about its fascism in seventy and more years and im not subtle about wanting it to end and wanting it to never have a chance to spring back up again