#whats the curse technique again

[gomzdrawfr]

I've been surrounded, how do i get out of this situation

you can't

[m1ckeyb3rry]

ALMOST TWO YEARS LATER I FINALLY FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW I WANT TO END POMEGRANATE INK YAYAYAY I FEEL LIKE I CAN FINALLY WRITE AGAIN

[faerune]

like don't take my complaints about the current state of jjk as me being bitter my fav died

gojo dying could have been a great way of driving home what he was working toward - his students succeeding him and being stronger than him. what a way to drive home the power of sukuna than killing gojo 'gg eez' satoru who face rolls every thing thrown in his way. and what a way of showing his legacy than people like yuji and yuta being able to kill sukuna after that.

[mia-can-yap-too]

first year!gojo who avoided you for the longest time when he first came to jujutsu high.

first year!gojo who would not-so-discreetly straight up stare steal glances at you 

first year!gojo who would stutter and stumble over his words whenever you tried to talk to him. it was to be expected, seeing as he hadn't been allowed to interact with anyone outside of his clan before. 

first year!gojo who tried so hard to flirt with you. his only help were two very amused classmates.

“Are you…uh..are you a domain expansion?” he asked, eyes wide and hopeful. 

You stared at him. “What?” 

He cleared his throat. “Because…being around you makes me feel like I accidentally activated mine…or something like that,” his voice lowered with each word. 

Geto was choking on his drink in the background. Shoko was muttering something about losing brain cells.

first year!gojo who had awkwardly begged yaga to assign you both missions together. yaga was too done with everything to refuse. 

first year!gojo who would save you from a curse and then trip over his own feet after. it was not as charming as it seemed. 

first year!gojo who learned after 13 failed attempts that perhaps suguru wasn't the best dating coach and turned to google instead. 

which is why you found him staring at a vending machine with the intensity of a man pondering the universe. 

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He turned dramatically, eyes wide and eyebrows dampened with sweat as if he got caught in the act of a crime.

“I was..uh.. deciding what snack to get. For you. For… romantic purposes.” 

You blinked. “For me? Why? I don't get it?” Because teenagers were very oblivious back in 2013 or whenever this happened.

“I read online that the fastest way to a woman's heart is through her stomach. Or was it a man's heart?” 

first year!gojo who didn't really look you in the eye for two weeks after that. 

eventually, because first year!gojo was so weird around you, you had to ask,

“Why are you so weird around me?”

He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then did it again. 

His cheeks turned pink. “B-Because you're like… cool. And pretty. And fun. And when I talk to you, my brain turns into Windows XP error noises.” 

You smiled, because this was W rizz back then. “...That's actually kinda cute,” you muttered. 

Gojo.exe stopped working. Geto kept shouting at Shoko for system reboots. 

first year!gojo was a boy who didn't know the true extent of his cursed technique, but was still just as deadly because of his access to wifi and confidence. 

a/n:- thanks to @jeonwiixard for listening to me brainstorm and spam her with messages. is this worthy as the first fic after a break?

@/strangergraphics for divs

[s0dium]

Sex Pollen

Geto x F!Reader

A/n: This was pulled out from the depths of my fantasies

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: Oh no! You and Geto get hit by an aphrodisiac curse technique on a mission!! What should you do now?

Warning: Breeding, masturbation, begging, mating press, rough sex, desperate sex, marathon sex, doggy, squirting

You think there's something wrong with you. Something feels off, you feel off, rather, you feel hot.

You bolt upright in your bed, flinging the sheets away as if a second more underneath them would burn you. No, something was definitely off. Your mind buzzed, and it couldn't be from the adrenaline of the mission, that was hours ago, it was midnight now.

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness of your room and you bit inside of your cheek. It wasn't just physical exhaustion that draped over your limbs—it was something else, something deeper and more consuming. The air around you felt thicker, every breath you took seemed laced with a heavy, intoxicating warmth. You press a hand to your forehead, trying to quell the rising temperature of your skin, but it provides little relief.

A creeping heat suffuses your body and an unmistakable pulse emanates from your core.

Where you.... Turned on?

A sickly-warm-funny feeling bubbles in your stomach and you're becoming aware of how your skin is starting to stick to your tank top and that the cloth between your legs feels....wet?

Hesitantly, you snake a hand under your waistband and underwear, releasing a small gasp when your skin makes contact with your arousal. You're soaked.

Why is this happening, why now? Your mind races through the events of the previous day. It was mainly just you and Geto on a mission, one like any other—find the curse, exorcise, clean up the mess. Could it be the technique you were hit with?

Could Geto be feeling this too?

Your heart jumps at the thought but you try to shake it off. You know you should get up, wake up Shoko, wake up Geto even, but you can't seem to will your legs to move. Your mind was is just too occupied with something else, the promise of something sweeter, something that is making the funny feeling in your stomach spread.

Without much of a thought, you press an index finger on your throbbing clit, garnering a sharp sigh from you. Just from that simple touch pleasure ripples through your body, making your toes curl. You do the movement again except this time you start drawing light circles on the sensitive nub. You can feel yourself squeeze around nothing from your own ministrations, bliss clouding your hazy mind.

It wasn't enough though. You needed more.

You dart your tongue across your lips and try to focus on the pleasure, on getting some relief. You try to dip one of your fingers inside your hole while continuing the ministrations on your clit with your other hand, but it proves too difficult, your fingers are too small.

Tears blotted your eyes from frustration, letting out a soft whine from the relentless heat that continued to rack your body. Oh how you wish you had someone else to help you, oh how you wish Geto was here.

Your core throbs at the thought. Yes, that was it, he is what you need. You resume your ministrations this time focusing on the euphoric thought of Geto suguru. He would be so good to you wouldn't he be? Oh you bet he'd fill you up so well too, fuck you just right, get rid of this painful arousal, and fill your mind with only pleasure. He would probably talk you through it too, let you pull and tug on his long black hair oh you can practically feel his hands on you right now, so big and warm.

You don't even realize that you are loudly moaning Geto's name at this point, too busy trying to grapple with the searing heat coursing through your veins. You feel like your body is surrounded by an invisible flame, fuck it feels like you are going to die. The room around you blurs into insignificance, as your thoughts fixate solely on your Geto Suguru, his absence a gaping void that echoes through your heightened senses. You feel a desperate craving, a pull so strong it borders on physical pain, rendering you breathless and sobbing for his touch, his presence.

"Suguru, please...." you gasp between sobs, your voice breaking with each word. The tears stream down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you clutch your sheets.

As if on cue, the door swings open and you think that there must be a god out there listening to you because there Suguru stands, backlit by the hallway light, his broad silhouette framed in the doorway.

Before you can even get a word in he is already next to you sitting on your bed and cupping your face with his large warm hands.

Deep violet eyes examine your face as his thumb brushes away the tears on your cheek.

"I-" You choke, a wave of emotions crashing down on your mind stifling the words that desperately wanted to escape your mouth.

"Shhhh, I know baby I know," he coos kissing your forehead and tracing your jaw with his thumb. "I feel it to, but I'm gonna take care of it ok? Don't worry about a thing m'gonna take such good care of you I promise."

He gently tilts your chin up, meeting your doe-eyed gaze with eyes that seems to devour you. Slowly, he lowers his lips to yours, encapsulating your trembling mouth in a deep, comforting kiss that steadys the chaotic beat of your heart. You sigh into the kiss and let his entangle with yours.

As the kiss deepens, he shifts slightly, his lips traveling from yours down to your neck. A soft gasp escapes you as he plants soft kisses along your skin, occasionally nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. You are so lost in the feeling of his lips that you don't even notice his hand on your inner thigh until his finger grazes your lips.

You jump at the sensation but Suguru places a light reassuring kiss on your lips

"jesus, please just, fuck, gotta get you ready just a little bit"

You shake your head quickly and place your hand on Suguru's crotch, the caress of his growing bulge making him groan.

"Please sugu, please just fuck me I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for say long," he mummurs as he pulls down his sweatpants and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white beed of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby I know Don't worry, I got you.”

You're cut off by the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, your cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said hoarsely.

“Ngh so goo-"

You dont get to finish the thought because he pulls out and rams back into you with such a fever everything goes blank for a second.

His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted. But that quickly changed to harsher thrusts, until he’s using you like his personal cock sleeve, shaping your insides and bruising your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity.

Every thrust knocks the wind out of you, his tip smushing right against your cervix only to be pulled out and rammed back in again. And the sounds, god the sounds where sinful. Wet skin against skin echoed through the room and the sloshing sound of both of your arousals makes your eyes roll back.

You don't know what's happening, you couldn't even tell someone your own name if they asked. Your grip on the sheets was starting to get loose, tears flowing down to your cheeks, mouth hanging open with drool pooling on the sheets as you were already fucked out of your mind.

"Come on baby just keep your legs on my shoulders. Can you do that for me?" His breath is hot against your ear. "F-fuck please" he says through a groan. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind you would think that he was actually begging. And you were right. Suguru isn't a whimpering man but here he is, voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt  

You are too dumb to reply, only spurting outcries and whines about how good he was fucking you. He snapped his hips so fast that everything seemed like a dream, the bed was shaking immensely with the headboard banging on the wall and you were losing your mind from the friction of his dick against your walls.

"Wanna fuck you every day,"  he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal brutal. "fuck fuck fuck," he swears, as he brings a hand to the back of your head and presses your lips onto his. Your so dazed you practically drool into the kiss, letting him entangle his tongue with yours until spit smeared on either side of your lips. He doesn’t slow the movement for a second as he kisses you, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

Suddenly, it hits you. Like an ignition of fire your brain goes white and you feel yourself ascend to euphoria.

“You gonna cum baby?" he coos into your hear, pressing light kisses on the hollow of your neck. "fuck, cum for me baby, please, cum on me."  His hand flew between your bodies to rapidly rub your clit back and forth, hurtling you towards your orgasm. Your pussy tightens so hard around his cock that he nearly has to stop his thrusts. Your mouth grows lax as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

“That’s it,” He fucks you through your orgasm, pouring every ounce of his strength into chasing his own high. His thrusts became sloppy, hips stuttering before he stilled his hips flushed against yours, burying himself in your creamy cunny.

“Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

His grip tightened significantly, a loud moan of your name slipping from his lips as his own orgasm washed over him, coming so hard he sees white. But he's not done.

Before you could recover, Suguru rolls you onto your back, in doggy, and slips into you. After the first thrust he has to hold still for a second, knowing that if he kept moving, if he gave himself up to the exquisite tightness, the heat, he would burst inside you again. But the moment of rest only lasts for a second. He resumes his brutal pace, pumping himself in and out of you. 

You are wetter then ever down there, there is no longer friction only the mind-numbing pleasure of his tip hitting your cervix again and again. 

There is no warning when he cums inside you again, you only know when you feel his cum drip down your thigh.

"Feel so good, you feel so good baby."

You're in heaven right now. Your mind has gone to a different space detached from this world. Every time Suguru pushes into you, his tip of his dick rubbed perfectly against the gummy spot in you that made your whole body shake.

“Fuckkkk… I’ll fill you up, make you a mommy, you’d like that wouldn’t you… shit.”

All you can do is dumbly nod as you felt the crescendo of your euphoria building and building. It was so hot, your skin was radiating heat and before you could say anything you were tumbling toward the end faster then you could put a stop to it.

“S’feels weird~” you babble, too fucked dumb to properly pronunciate words. 

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?” He coos, grabbing either side of your hips harder to fuck himself into you from your behind.

“Like m’gonna pee I don’t-hah-” something was pressing down on your stomach and it was overtaking your body; too fast to put a stop to it. You started to shake, abdomen clenching and mouth going into the lock jaw, tongue rolling out as you squirted clear juices everywhere.

“Oh f- good girl" He says through a groan, not stopping for a second as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him.

[bizarrelovetriangel]

r e l a x.

they give you a massage (sylus, caleb, xavier) / you give them a massage (zayne and rafayel).

mdni. 18+ only. fingering. handjob. oral (male and female giving and receiving). dry humping. creampie. overstimulation.

sylus

You've had a busy week at work and your body has been terribly sore, so Sylus offered to give to a massage.

Instead of feeling relaxed like he said you would be, you're gripping the bedsheet and biting down the back of your own hand, completely flustered and tensed.

Sylus knows exactly what he's doing with his hands and yet, he refuses to admit to his crimes by playing clueless.

As if you can't see his smirk after accidentally brushing his hands against the sides of your breast for the third time in just five minutes.

"What's wrong, sweetie? Didn't I tell you to relax? Just close your eyes and trust me. I'll make you feel good."

You're cursing Sylus so hard in your head.

You're on his bed, lying on your stomach with absolutely no cover.

You've once gotten a massage from an actual professional massage therapist before, so you know removing your clothing is just protocol.

What's different from the massage you're getting right now are all the 'accidental' touches that your unofficial massager has been doing.

Sylus is hovering over your figure with his knees on the sides of your hips and planted on the mattress while his hands are kneading your figure.

On one hand, the oil that he's using smells wonderful, and his strong hands really does wonders when he's pressing down and pulling at your tensed muscles the right way.

On the other hand, he's teasing you so much that you can't even feel at peace.

It started off with brief, almost unnoticable brushes on the sides of your breasts as his hands roam around your torso, feeling up your sore spots.

It wasn't until his hands began to linger a little too long on your ass that you grew suspicious of his actions.

You gave him the benefit of the doubt and kept quiet, closing your eyes and burying your face against the soft pillow. You thought, maybe, you can just fall asleep while he gives you a massage, even if he has to keep himself entertained along the way.

But you learned quickly that you will certainly not be able to fall asleep for as long as Sylus' hands are on you.

As he's stroking the back of your thighs, his hands traveled up to your ass once again, and this time his thumbs had gotten lost to graze the folds of your vagina.

Your head shot up in shock.

Sylus pretends not to notice.

He starts to hum a song while his hands slide down to your aching calves, giving them a good squeeze that had you wincing.

Only then did Sylus give you a look. "Something wrong, sweetie?"

"You...."

"Hmm?"

"You know what you're doing." You narrowed your eyes at him accusingly.

He tilted his head. "I'm not a professional, but of course I know what i'm doing. You have nothing to worry about."

You scoffed and put your face back down on the pillow. It looks like you're just going to have to deal with all the antics. You'll get your revenge later on.

Or so you thought.

The little not-so-accidental touches soon became more obvious and unbearable.

After several more minutes of Sylus' game of mixing in actual good massage techniques with lecherous caresses, he stopped trying to be subtle.

His fingers now had their undivided attention on your core and making their way inside you. Your hips reflexively raised as the wave of tingling sensation took over, and Slyus gently pushed them back down against the mattress.

"You're tensing up, sweetie."

There was that smirk again.

"And whose fault is that?!"

"Yours, obviously. You wouldn't need a massage if you didn't overwork yourself."

You hate that he's right even when he's trying to deflect your accusations. "Hmph."

After giving him a playful smack on the chest, you rested the side of your face against the pillow and closed your eyes.

Not a second later, his fingers are moving deeply in and out of your pussy, now wet with oil and from your arousal.

Your breath hitched at his fast pace, gripping the sheets of the bed with while listening to the lewd sounds of his sticky fingers going inside your oil-covered slit.

Your right arm reached behind you to capture his hand. You wanted to make him pause for a moment just to give yourself a moment to breathe before you burst right then and there.

He was quick to figure out your intention, so Sylus got your wrist first and pinned it on your back, just with one hand.

The bed shook slightly as he lowered his hips onto you. His placed his other hand on the mattress, right by the side of your chest to support his weight so that he's not crushing you.

His cock is pressed up right against your ass.

You were so distracted by his fingers that you failed to notice when he had pulled down his pants and boxers. Now, he's throbbing and rubbing his pre-cum on your skin.

Sylus took a moment to wipe a drop of sweat on your forehead before kissing it.

"This...isn't a massage, Sylus."

"I told you, didn't I? I'll make you feel good."

He slowly went into you.

And almost immediately, you clenched up at how good he felt. Sylus took a sharp breath before lowering his chest on your back and wrapping his left arm around your neck.

Not tight enough to choke you, but just so he could keep your face against him as he starts to move faster and harder.

All the oil he put all over your body during the massage had now been spread onto him too as every inch of him connected to you.

The air around you becomes heavy. His low groans and your muffled moans mingle with the sound of your bodies roughly colliding repeatedly.

He didn't stop for a second. Not until he was out of breath. Not until you came first. Only then did Sylus allow himself to come, right on your ass and back.

"Sylus...."

Out of breath, you flipped over as Sylus looks down at you while running a hand through his sweaty hair.

"You better not be giving anyone else a massage like the one you just gave me."

He chuckled. "Of course not, kitten. That special service is reserved only for you."

"Good." You winced as you felt your hips twinge. "Because you kinda suck. I'm now more sore than before the massage - hey, can you at least try not to look so proud?!"

zayne

It's not unusual for Zayne to be overworked, given his highly demanding job. That's why you often find yourself pampering him on his days off. This time, you decided to give him a massage so that you could help to relieve his tensed muscles.

You're not a professional, but you have learned from Zayne himself how to properly give a decent massage, as he had given you one a couple of times before. He was describing to you what he was doing and explaining what it does to your joints and muscles, so you can at least do the basics.

Right now, he's lying down on the white couch of his living room, stripped down to his boxers and facing the ceiling. You're by his side, kneeling down on the floor and sitting on the back of your feet so that you're in the same level and can easily move around.

His glasses are off and his eyes are closed, enjoying the way your hands are pressing his biceps while listening to you ramble about what you've been up to at work.

"Oh! and I just remembered something annoying that happened the other day!"

As you broke into a rant, you failed to notice that your hands had increased their strength as they moved around Zayne's lower abdomen.

Your fingers squeezed his abs, though your mind was mostly focused on giving Zayne the full details of a particular problem you had at work.

You didn't catch the way Zayne's heart skipped a beat, and the way his breath started to become uneven as your hands moved on to his thighs.

You were so distracted with your own thoughts that your ears didn't pick up the quiet groans coming out of Zayne's mouth as you rub down his quads.

His legs twitched as your fingers darted to the inside of his thighs, and he let out a cough when your fingers brushed against his bulge behind his boxers.

And yet, you still haven't caught on.

Zayne started to sweat nervously as he tries to keep his thoughts and his body tamed: to stop blood from rushing south.

But it's already too late.

He's already hard and throbbing.

Especially when you're patting him down all around the one place that's begging for your attention.

"Darling..."

"- and then I was like - huh?"

You snapped back to reality when one of Zayne's hand caught your right one.

"...here..."

Your gaze shifted from his red ears, to his adam's apple that bobbed as he gulped, and down to where he placed your hand, which was right on the big tent that formed in his boxers.

At last, you understood what he wanted and immediately granted his wish.

You tugged on the band of his boxers and pulled it down to his calves, and Zayne fully discarded it by moving his own feet and kicking it off him.

You wrapped one hand around his cock and rubbed your thumb against its tip, spreading the pre-cum that oozed out of it.

His stomach tightens up as your fist moved up and down, and low grunts emerged from his lips as you picked up your pace.

The sight of his flushed, swollen cock had your mouth and your core soaked with hunger.

You squeezed your thighs together as you placed your weight on your knees, then you moved your face towards his hips and ran your tongue from the tip to the base of his cock.

Zayne took a sharp breath once your mouth swallowed him down. He ran a hand across his chest, feeling his own heart racing as he watched your head bob up and down, with some strands of your hair falling out of place.

He closed his eyes as you moved faster. His hips jolted up reflexively, making you take even more of him. He forced himself to hold back on thrusting into your mouth, but you were the one that pulled him even farther down your throat while your hands took care of the rest that you couldn't reach.

Your name falls out of his lips before ropes of cum suddenly shoots into your mouth, spilling out from your lips.

Zayne's moans did nothing to your clenching cunt as you watch his cock continuously twitch, even after his release.

Though you didn't have to wait for long because without even giving himself time to recover from his orgasm, Zayne sat up and pulled you onto his lap.

His mouth desperately meets yours while his hands are already working on undressing you. "...need you..." he mutters between kisses.

You complied and helped him get rid of your underwear, then you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Still, you paused for a moment to ask, "Aren't you sore though? I don't want you to feel even more tired. I'll - "

"I'm fine." Zayne cuts you off with certainty in his tone and desire in his eyes. "I just want to feel you."

As a silent response, you kissed his lips and locked your thights around his hips. Zayne adjusted himself before his cock penetrates you completely.

You wanted to spare him from moving, since, despite of his reassurance, his muscles really are overworked. You swayed your hips against him, but it seems that Zayne couldn't stay still either because he continued to push his cock into you.

He buried his face against your neck and his mouth sucks off your skin while his hands grips your ass hard. His heavy breaths stutter as both of your strengths increase, causing your flesh to clash at every second.

You re-adjusted your steady grip on his shoulders before taking control by grinding down his cock hard and fast.

Zayne catches one of your breasts into his mouth and lightly bites your nipple, earning a loud gasp out of you. Your pussy clenched around his cock, and the noise you made had echoed from his own mouth.

"C-coming...!"

You reached your climax around the same time. Zayne didn't have time nor power to pull out and your hips felt stuck against his, so all of his load was shot inside of you.

Zayne softly pressed his lips on your left shoulder before resting his forehead against it as he catch his breath.

You combed your fingers through his hair before attempting to get off of him. Zayne, however, kept you trapped against him with his hands remaining on your ass, pressing you down on him.

"Let's just stay like this.... for a little longer...."

caleb

The very second he arrived at your apartment and saw your overall worn out appearance, Caleb declared himself as your butler for the weekend. Not only did he do all the cooking and cleaning, he also decided that you needed a massage.

So here you are, lying face down on your bed, only wearing your underwear, with Caleb hovering over you with his knees on the side of your hips, running his hands throughout your body to fix your aching muscles.

He's actually doing an amazing job. Only a few minutes after he started and you're already feeling your body loosening up.

"Have you ever given anyone else a massage before?" you asked curiously, lifting your face from your pillow for a moment.

"Nope." Caleb grins. "You're my very first customer, pip-squeak. Don't forget to rate me at the end of my service, okay?"

"Mhmm."

You assume he just did his research very well, as always. Since you're in good hands, you decided to give in to the warmth and comfort he's providing and closed your eyes for a little nap.

Little did you know...

Caleb couldn't be more glad you're not looking at him right now.

He's having a big problem and it's demanding to be freed and inserted into something. Into someone.

He truly did have the full intention of giving you the best massage you'll ever have. He noticed that your body isn't in good condition because of your work, and the least he could do is make you feel relaxed with a massage.

The good news is that it seems to be working well, and you're even starting to fall asleep, which means your body is relaxing.

The bad news is that he underestimated his self-control. He had taken showers with you without popping a boner, and yet....

The sight of you lying so beautifully underneath him only in your red bra and panty had gotten his mind wandering along with his hands.

Every time he massaged the insides of your thighs, his eyes automatically flickers to your crotch as he gets a glimpse of your pussy behind your underwear.

He wanted, so badly, to bury his face between your thighs and have a taste of you. But even more, he wanted your body to feel relaxed. He didn't want to disturb you right now, so Caleb suppressed his desires.

It's not the first time, anyways. Before you were aware of his feelings, before you became an official couple, he always had to hide his sexual urges from you.

So, this is nothing. That's what Caleb repeatedly told himself as he continues to give you a massage.

Still....

It's okay to adjust himself once every while, right? His boxers and pants are getting uncomfortably tight, after all. He just needs to adjust it for a second.

Caleb stuck a hand in pants to get rid of the discomfort.

Then, he pumped his cock a few times.

'Fuck...'

He lets out a shaky breath before withdrawing his hand and resting it on the small of your back. His own actions only made things worse because now, he's throbbing uncontrollably and his thighs are pulsing. His hands are sweating, his stomach is clenching, and his face is burning.

He forced himself to keep going with the massage, but he was only torturing himself. The more he touched you, the more he wanted you.

"Hmm? Caleb, are you done?" you asked as his hands no longer made contact with your body.

"I..." Caleb's incomplete response came out low and deep.

Suddenly, his chest fell against your back and his lips grazed your right ear. His heavy breaths tickled you before his lips softly met your skin.

"I need you."

He rutted his crotch against your ass and your eyes widen at the feeling of his stiff cock through his pants.

He growled under his breath before moving faster, causing your body to bounce against the mattress of your bed.

"Caleb..."

You raised your hips to meet his, and his hands quickly latches to your waist before humping you even harder.

You slowly turned around and put your hands on the back of his neck, then you kissed him deeply and pulled him down with you.

Caleb moans into the kiss while his hands quickly removed his pants and boxers. You pulled away for a moment to help him undress, then your bodies re-attached like magnets soon after.

He wasted no time putting his cock inside you, spreading your thighs farther apart so he could pound as much of him into you as far as possible.

Your bed creaked and shook at every moment he made. The air around you feels hot, and you found yourself gasping loudly and clutching onto his back as he picks up the pace.

You cried softly against his neck as you came, and your toes curled as he relentlessly chased after his own high, drilling into you while clasping your hands. Soon, his hips stutters and he pulls out right before shooting his load right across your chest.

After using his shirt to wipe your chest, Caleb collided beside you, catching his breath as he stares at the ceiling.

You propped on your elbow and faced him sideways with a grin on your face.

"Hey, Caleb." Your fingers toyed with the pendant of his necklace. "You wanted me to rate your service, right? I'd give it a 4.5 out of 5."

He lets out a laugh, catching your hand and kissing your fingers. "What was the 0.5 deduction for?"

"...need another round..."

"Oh?" Caleb raised a brow, unable to hold back a smirk at your flustered expression. "Weeeell then, please allow me to compensate."

rafayel

Rafayel accepted your offer to give him a massage, especially since his back and shoulders have been tensed after painting for days with very little to no rest.

You had been away for work so you couldn't scold him properly to take breaks, and now you want to make up for your absence by helping him relax.

Not even five minutes after you started, Rafayel wondered if he had made a bad decision.

Today, for some reason, he's extra sensitive and not just emotionally, but physically, too.

Earlier, you breathed too close to his neck and he got chills, and not out of fear. You put your hand on his chest for thirty seconds and his heart wanted to jump out of his body. You slid your fingers down to his stomach, and blood rushed below his hips.

Rafayel shifted nervously on his bed. He's only wearing a single towel wrapped around his hips, and he's facing down against the mattress so that you could have easy access to his back and shoulders.

As you heavily but carefully drew circles on his upper back, Rafayel groaned against his pillow. You took that as a positive sign that he's feeling good from your massage, so you continued.

You pressed down to his lower back and giggled at the way he twitched.

"I didn't know you're ticklish here, Raf."

"...I'm not..."

Your thumbs moved in circular patterns just above his hips, slightly nudging the towel covering him. He lets out another sigh of relief, so you exerted more pressure down to his muscles.

Your eyes darted to his face for a moment and you wondered why his ears have turner red. Was it because of the massage?

"Rafayel, am I doing okay? If you want me to stop, just tell me - "

"No, don't stop!" he replied a little too quickly. "I mean.... keep going. You're doing great, cutie!"

"If you say so. Just making sure I'm not hurting you, that's all."

"Not at all!"

Rafayel stiffens as your hands returned to his back, as that's where he told you is the most painful part of his body is.

However, he needed your hands somewhere else.

Rafayel took a deep breath before turning around to face the ceiling. He's doing his best to breathe calmly, but his thoughts are making it impossible.

"What's wrong? did I - "

Rafayel grabbed one of your hands and guided it to his chest and let it travel down to his stomach, then right below his hips. His cock was standing tall through his towel, aching for your touch.

"It hurts here, too. Will you help me?"

You silently agreed with a nod, unable to take your eyes off his reddening cock, feeling as if you're in a trance.

Wrapping your hands around his shaft tightly, you slowly began to stroke him. A shaky, quiet moan comes out of Rafayel's lips.

Just a brief touch and he already feels like he's going to burst. He's unable to stop himself from fucking your hand, legs spread out and fingers grasping the bed sheets.

Rafayel cursed under bis breath as he came faster than he'd liked. He had come right on your hand and some had gotten to your face.

You licked the cum that got lost to your lips and Rafayel's face flushed at such a lewd image. He pulled you into the bed and embraced you sideways to cover your neck with passionate kisses

While he distracted you by leaving hickies below your jaw, his hands got rid of your shorts. You gasped as his fingers made contact with the crotch of your panty.

You grinded your ass against his hips to encourage him to continue, and so Rafayel moved your underwear aside and put his cock in you, at the same time his fingers massaged your clit.

His name comes out of your mouth as your body curls up with pleasure, allowing him to fuck you at a better angle.

"So good..." he pants against your ear, struggling to move at a slow pace.

He wanted to take his precious time to feel you, yet he also wanted to go fast just like what his throbbing cock in desperate need for release wants him to do.

In the end, he managed to keep things slow and sensual, appreciating every inch of you without a rush.

You rolled your hips back against him to meet him half-way, coating his cock with your slick as you struggle to contain your own desire for him.

Rafayel whines from behind you as you feel him picking up speed. "C-coming..." He tightened his hold on your hips before losing all his control and hammering into you, causing you to match the loud moans that he was letting out.

He quickly pulls out and rubs his cock against your legs before painting your skin with strings of his cum.

After coming not a minute after him, you turned around to face him. You brought a hand to his hair and brushed some sweaty strands away from his face, then you kissed his nose.

"So this is what happens when you get a massage."

"...only from you." he pouts. "Now, I feel even more tired. I'll have to stay in bed all day tomorrow. You'll stay with me, right, cutie?"

"Hmmm... nope."

"Why?! Is it because you don't love me?"

You flicked his forehead with your fingers. "Someone has to stop Thomas from barging in the room to see my lazy, exhausted fishie slacking off."

"Ah." He smiles and hugs you tightly, nuzzling his face against yours. "my hero."

xavier

It's not that you're ticklish.

There's just something about the way Xavier is kneading your body that makes it difficult for you to suppress amused giggles.

It might have something to do with his soft touches that doesn't help much with your sore muscles, although it does make bring you lots of warmth, comfort and joy.

That's why you allowed Xavier to give you a massage. He insisted that he gives you one after reading online that it'll help with tensed joints and muscles, so he watched some tutorial videos beforehand.

Now, you're on your couch, lying down facing the ceiling. According to Xavier, the less clothes, the more effective the massage will be. So, you decided to strip down completely but put a small towel over your breasts and crotch.

You're not even really sure why you bothered to cover up, considering Xavier has seen you naked more than enough times to feel shy.

In fact, when he saw you with the towels, he looked a little confused, though he never asked about it. He only told you to lie down and get comfortable.

After following his instructions, Xavier's first step was to give a few drops of oil on your stomach. It's slightly warm on your skin, and its scent was something similar to the fragrances that you frequently use.

He gave your tummy a few rubs, and you couldn't help but smile at how careful and gentle he was being.

When it was time for him to take care of your sore spots, you bit the inside of your cheek to stop your laughter.

You did feel some pressure, which felt nice. It just didn't last for long, as Xavier didn't exert the right amount of force.

It's not that he doesn't have enough strength - of course, he does; he is a strong hunter, after all. More likely, he's unsure of how much pressure to apply, at what angle, and for how long.

While it's not the best massage you'll ever get, he's still making you feel happy and relaxed in his own way. That's all that matters.

"You're not hurt, are you?" Xavier asked as he pressed on your hamstrings.

"Nope. I'm okay! Keep going, Xavier! You're doing great!"

"Okay!"

The way his face lit up had you melting and wanting to cuddle him. He's just too precious for his own good.

"...."

Ten minutes later, your eyes snapped wide open as you felt something....different, touch your thighs.

"What was that...?"

You looked at your legs and caught Xavier red-handed, pressing his lips on your inner right thigh.

"It's fine." He smiles at you. "It's part of the massage."

"...is it?"

"Mhmm. Just relax. It'll make your body feel better."

He resumed on applying pressure with his hands on your legs, so you brought your head back down on your pillow and closed your eyes for a little nap.

A minute later, you felt another kiss on your other thigh. You decided not to question him and let him do whatever he wanted.

But after the third kiss, which was slightly higher than the previous two, your muscles tensed up. Particularly, your pussy clenched as his lips lingered dangerously close to your core.

He does it a few more times, and the moans he's muffling against your skin absolutely didn't help your case: it only made you wet. And with Xavier being so close, he might notice.

He's over here, sacrificing his time and energy to help you feel relaxed, and yet you're getting turned on.

No, no, no. You'll have to control yourself. At least, wait until after he's done.

"Ngggnnhh,,,"

Oh god, he's doing it again.

This time, his kisses are even louder and higher. His hands are holding up your thighs so he can make space for himself.

You didn't even notice until now that Xavier no longer stood by the side of the couch, but he's now on it, too. He's right between your legs.

While you're looking down, Xavier met your gaze and your held your breath for a second. You know that look. It's the same one he often gives you in the bedroom during intimate activities.

"Xavier...."

"...I'm adding my own special techniques in the massage."

He scooted closer to your hips and lowered his face to give your thighs more kisses.

"This might be more effective."

Your face burned as you felt his tongue slide against your sensitive skin. You were unable to look away from Xavier's intense gaze directly on you.

"It feels good, right?"

You failed to come up with a coherent response as the towel that poorly covered your crotch had been dropped on the floor.

"I know you're still sore, so just stay like that." Xavier lowered himself so his chest is not too far from touching the couch. He's propped on his elbows and peeking at you between your legs. "I'll help you relax."

With that, Xavier's mouth rams into your cunt. His tongue feels your folds while his hands clings onto your thighs, spreading them wider.

You arched your back and hissed at his actions. One of your hands reached to down Xavier's face, but he caught it with his left and intertwined his fingers with yours, letting it drop to your side.

He gave you no time to calm down; his lips and tongue worked fast on making you fall apart just within a few minutes, but only because he had other things in mind.

Xavier pulled down his pants and boxers and brushed his cock against your pussy, not a minute after your orgasm. You were still sensitive, so when his tip traced around your folds, you were unable to keep your volume quiet and your insides felt like exploding.

"Xavier!"

He put the back of your legs over his shoulders, giving himself more space before grinding dick right between your folds. His breathing quietly picked up at the feeling of your core that's soaked just for him.

His eyes darted over to your face for a moment to flash you a smile.

And as much as you love Xavier, you were cursing him in your head.

How could he smile like you like that, as if he's not teasing and torturing you and calling it a 'massage'?

You can't even hate him because every cell in your body craves for him in every way possible. Anytime he smiles at you, you're on your knees for him - sometimes, literally.

"Ah!"

You were pulled out of your trance as soon as Xavier put himself inside fully you in one hard thrust.

His face flushes and his eyes are fixed on your breasts, watching them move along with the rest of your body as he repeatedly snaps his hips against yours.

The couch budges and the wooden floor creaks at Xavier's heavy plunges. The grunts leaving his parted lips joins your cries of pleasure and the sounds that your bodies are making as they collide.

Xavier is too far from your reach and there was nothing for you to hold onto, so you ended up running your hands down to your chest and squeezing your breasts as you gasp for air.

He let out a low growl under his breath as he watched your movements. He fucked you even faster at the same time he lowered his face down to your chest.

He captured your hands and pinned them by your sides before his mouth sucks in your left breast, with his tongue circling around your nipple.

He then switched to do the same on your right breast, though his teeth slightly nipped you as he felt his hips tingling.

Xavier made sure to push his cock in the deepest part of you before cumming. His voice echoes throughout your living room as he released every drop inside you while still his rolling his hips, slower and slower until his stamina is drained.

Your release quickly followed after his cock was pulled out. Xavier rested his body on top of yours, with his face on your chest, listening to your racing heart.

While you breathe heavily, your index finger traced the shell of his left bright red ear. His skin is slightly glowing with white light, too, as his evol sometimes acts up during or after he has an orgasm.

You'll never not be in awe of him.

"Hey, Xavier. Are you feeling tired?"

"Mhmm..."

He's sleepy now.

"Do you...want a massage?"

He opened one eye to catch your teasing grin "....if it's like the one I gave you...yes, please..."

"By the way, what kind of massage tutorial videos did you watch? They're kinda not that effect- "

"Don't worry about it."

[remiratboi]

I like the idea of being sent to hell for carnal sins, and the punishment fitting the crime, so to speak.

CW: torture, hell, pain, edging, overstim, orgasm denial, mind break, forced sex, monster fucking, beast fucking, object insertion, tentacles, machine fucking, oviposition, egg birth, egg birth denial, size kink, anal, knotting

Every fantasy you’ve ever imagined is granted to you, but in the wrong way. Every single depraved, twisted thing you wanted to experience, even things a mortal human body can’t physically do. It’s hell, so those restrictions no longer apply.

You’re fucked for literal years on end. By everything and anything. Monsters, criminals, beasts, objects, machines, if you can think of it, it fucks you, or someone fucks you with it.

Huge cocks that would literally ruin you in your past life. Strange objects and techniques that would rip you apart.

Tentacles fuck all the way through your body, entering your ass, and thrusting through your throat.

Massive eggs deposited deep in your womb, only for you to have to birth them, your body stretched obscenely and painfully. Just when you finally feel one crown, another huge cock pushes it all the way back into you, forcing it to reenter your cervix.

Massive Minotaurs forcing you down on two of their cocks at once, your mind snapping in half as they slam themselves into you over and over again.

3 headed Cerberus with his huge dick longer than your arm, pounding his knot in and out of your ass at a dizzying speed. Gallons of cum pumped into you until it’s dripping out of your mouth.

Crazed scientists with hundreds of machines to test on you. How much does this one hurt? How much does that one make you scream?

Criminals you knew of on earth who stand against everything you believe in, making you a drooling slut on their cocks. Taunting you for being so easy to break. You’ll just fuck anything won’t you? Even the literal worst humanity has to offer.

Being spitroasted between two huge demons, their tips meeting in your middle, their tails deep in your ass.

So much cum. You’re always filled, dripping, swallowing. Each creature depositing their cum, or eggs, or whatever else inside you and dropping you to crash to the ground when they are done. At all times you’re incubating at least 3 different species.

And the kicker? What truly makes it all the worst punishment imaginable? You can’t cum. You have been cursed to be unable. You live just before the peak at all moments. But you never tip over. You never get to feel the release.

You spend eternity on the precipice of the strongest orgasm anyone, anything, has ever experienced, and you will never get to find out what it feels like.

[yeagersss]

Sukuna x f!Reader

In which Sukuna brings home child Uraume — 2

<— previous

It was your scream piercing through the forest that had Sukuna dropping everything and speeding up his steps.

He was coming back from a hunt while you and Uraume were walking through the woods, foraging for ingredients.

It's been a few weeks since Uraume joined you both and since then, you had showered them with nothing but love and affection. Like the child you always wanted.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was teaching the kid how to properly control their technique. It wasn't something he would ever do for anyone but he has grown to... have a soft spot for Uraume.

But when he dashed through the woods and arrived at the scene, Sukuna would never admit the way his heart sank at what he saw.

Ice.

Ice everywhere.

With you slumped against a tree, shaking uncontrollably while Uraume was next to you in tears, screaming and crying as they apologised profusely. Half of your body was covered in ice.

"No! No! My lady, please! I—I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do this! It was an accident—!" The child wailed. Memories of the frozen corpses of their parents rushing through their head.

It was just like that time.

"What have you done?" Sukuna's angered voice had Uraume backing away in fear as he got closer.

Your husband was by you in an instant, taking you in his arms. His eyes raked over your body to assess the damage. He quickly used his RCT to heal you. His heart was in his throat and he didn't stop until color returned to your face and your breathing was even.

You were going to be okay.

You were going to be okay but Sukuna was not going to let this go so easily. You... His everything... was harmed. Had almost brushed against the brink of death.

But when he looked up at Uraume with a rage of a furious storm, he paused.

The child was bowing deeply against the forest ground, body uncontrollably shaking from sobs and their little fists digging into the dirt as they repeated the same thing over again.

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I didn't mean—I-I didn't mean to hurt her—!"

And those words stirred something inside Sukuna. A memory. A memory he had buried deep into his mind and vowed to never look back upon ever again.

Of a small, deformed child who had just discovered his dangerous technique.

"How could you do this?!"

"Please, I'm sorry!"

"Do you think sorry will fix this?! Will fix the damage you caused?!"

"I didn't mean to! Mother, I swear—"

"Stay away from me, you wretched thing!"

"Monster!"

"Four eyed demon!"

"He'll bring a curse upon our village!"

"Kill that deformed thing! Kill it—"

"Enough. Stand up and let's go."

"B-But my lady is—"

"She's fine."

The walk back to home was quiet. Uraume had expected their punishment the moment they stepped into the house. But after Sukuna had gently laid you on the futon, the punishment never came.

Instead, the King of Curses placed his large hand on top of the child's head and scowled disapprovingly.

"Brat, did you not get what I taught you? Focus on a single damn point and breathe. That way you'll be able to control your technique. Now—"

Sukuna lead Uraume outside again and stopped a few feet away from a deer and a fawn.

"Kill the fawn and only the fawn." The man ordered.

Uraume was in disbelief. They had fully expected a punishment for what they did but when they looked at Sukuna, there was no malice in his eyes. Instead, impatience clouded those bloodied rubies as he tapped his large foot on the ground, waiting for the moment the child would do something.

With an impossibly warmed heart Uraume turned to the fawn with a smile and followed the malevolent king's instruction.

--

You awoke a few hours later, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as memories of what happened slowly came back. Your heart sank and you tried to get up.

You had to find Uraume. The poor child!

But then you felt small cold arms secured tightly around you. Uraume was curled next you as they slept.

You calmed down and smiled tenderly, running your fingers across their snowy locks.

"They refuse to leave your side."

You looked over to see your husband leaning against the door frame. Your smile widened and you reached out to him.

Sukuna didn't hesitate, pushing himself off and walking over to you. He sat down next to you on the floor and took your delicate hand in his large one.

"I'm surprised they're even at my side."

Sukuna grunted. "They can control their technique now. So expect the brat to be glued to you more often."

You laughed softly. "Oh? And does that have something to do with you, my lovely husband?"

Of course it did because he simply refused to look at you and gave you a mere shrug. He was embarrassed. You could tell.

"My lady...?"

You turned your focus to a sleepy Uraume, gazing at you with an apologetic look.

"My lady, I'm sorry..."

You shushed them, stroking their hair affectionately. "Hush now, little one. It wasn't your fault. Sleep, okay? I'm here..."

Sukuna looked on at you and Uraume quietly. You, his beautiful wife, whispering soothing words to the child who, moments ago, was nothing but terrified of who they were.

And then he thought back to the little deformed boy with four eyes and arms running away with a tear streaked face from a mother who begged the villagers to kill him.

He knew that boy was at peace now.

<— previous

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

♡ TW: yandere, noncon, incest, twincest, blind!reader, twin brother!satoru

♡ FEM reader

Overprotective twin brother Satoru…

He was born with an abundance of cursed energy, while you got none and no heavenly pact or anything at all to show for being a Gojo.

You can’t even see curses. In fact, you can’t see at all.

It’s as if in the womb, Satoru harvested everything for himself so that you would always depend on him.

He sees it differently, though. He’s the older twin—and that means everything to him. You’re his. His good half. You were born with the heart, and he was born with the rest, all in order to spare and protect you.

“The royal guard walks at the front to keep the princess safe” is something he started saying when you were younger. “That’s why I was born first. To keep my princess safe.” 

He always holds your trembling face in his hands while saying it. And although you can’t see, you still feel it, how he’s sticky and warm, soaked with the blood he’s spilled—all in the name of protecting you.

You don’t think you were scared of your twin brother when you were toddlers, but you’re not sure. You were still young when he learned how to use his techniques. He’d never had any tolerance to speak of and no mercy to spare when that non-existent tolerance was tested. Still, of course, he’d never ever think of harming you.

That’s not what worried you…

No, rather, it was the staff and any other unsuspecting visitor you feared for and how they might have the misfortune of crossing the hair-thin tripwire that triggered your brother’s cold-hearted rage.

Maids were fired every other day—often after having suffered at his hands, sometimes with limbs missing, sometimes with senses lost. None of them could ever measure up to his standards, especially when it came to you. You were to be treated like a goddess, not a child, despite that being what you both were. His sister deserved only the finest and was to be dressed to new perfection every day, hand-fed only your favorites, and never ever allowed to lift even a single finger yourself. That’s how Satoru saw it.

And if anyone were to fail to understand that, they’d meet with his swift judgment. Even being blind, you’d still see the awful glowing blue of his eyes before the screams and the sudden smell of rust all around.

You remember the first time it had happened. Your nurserymaid had insisted it was time the two of you no longer shared the same bed—said it wasn’t proper. You must have been about six years old. One second, she was there. Next, you were covered in her.

The two of you had slept in it. 

No. Satoru had slept, tucked snugly against you as if nothing was amiss. 

You had barely slept since.

You never stopped sharing a bed. You’d tried at a point to tell him how it wasn’t right, how it wasn’t something siblings should do. He’d only asked you who’d put those silly ideas in your head. And you’d been wiser not to raise the thought again, fearing for the lives he might decide were responsible.

Still, despite his lack of moral restraint, you’re older before he decides sleeping in the same bed just isn’t enough anymore.

You’d always known of the way he looked at you. You’ve felt it. Always there as a silent voyeur during your dress fittings and baths, studying you in a way a brother shouldn’t. You’d done your best to ignore that ever-present feeling of yearning coming from him in those moments he’d touch you, feeling his long slender fingers run cold over your bare skin, always insisting on giving you a helping hand, to dress and to undress, to eat, to walk. 

You’ve always known what he’s wanted.

Still, you’d thought some type of decency would hold him back from ever acting on it. 

You realize now how foolish you’d been…

As head of the Gojo clan, he makes decisions as he sees fit and announces your engagement before the entirety of its ranks and members as if it were only obvious. And under the pressure of his six eyes, no one dares even utter a gasp at the outrageous prospect. No, all they do is smile and clap while giving their blessings.

In the end, you’re the only one who objects.

“Satoru?” you ask after the assembly. Walking, or rather wandering, unsteadily on your plank shoes in the direction of his voice, hearing him talk about clan matters he’s never bothered to include you in—it’s not for you to worry about, is all he’ll ever say. Always treating you like a child despite being the same age.

“Princess!” he exclaims, rushing over to you, holding you up as if you were in danger of getting knocked over by a sudden draft. “What are you doing up? How many times have I told you, just tell the carriers where you want to go and they’ll take you there.”

You purse your lips and bite your tongue from sounding too chagrinned. Embarrassed enough already to want to cause more of a scene. Only muttering, “I can walk fine on my own–”

But Satoru isn’t convinced, nor concerned with the same matters as you, much too busy with protecting you from the terrors of standing on your own two feet. 

“You’ll exhaust yourself. Come,” he decides, dismissing the elders he'd been talking to.

You listen to them leave, lifting a hand to call them back, “No wait, but–”

But nothing. As always, Satoru doesn’t listen. Picking you up without further bickering. He lifts you off your feet and carries you away like an infant, back to the cozy den of pillows and blankets he insists you sit on during assemblies, calling it your throne despite it not being much different from your bed.

He doesn’t set you down. No, instead, he sits down with you, holding you in his lap as he gets comfortable in the plush nest.

“So, princess? Did you like my announcement?” he asks cheerfully. Already picturing you in wedding attire—so hopelessly incapacitated in the heavy layers, how you’d need his help every step of the way, even with walking down the aisle. 

“We can’t marry, Satoru…” You break his line of thought with a mumble. “You’re my brother.”

You're unable to say it with your chest—rather, you only muster enough courage to whisper it. Feeling anxious about his reaction. All he ever seems to care about is dolling you up so you can sit pretty next to him. And for so long, he hasn’t allowed anything else. You have no idea what to expect now that you’ve finally asked. 

Of course, you hope he’ll respect your words and see reason, but somehow, you doubt he’s ever really thought or cared about what you think you want—intent on making all those decisions for you.

“Silly princess,” he starts, closing the distance between the two of you by cupping your face as he so often likes doing, stroking his thumb over your bottom lip. “Who else would we marry if not each other?” 

It’s as you thought. He doesn’t understand, nor does he care to. And still, there aren’t many options other than you trying to reason with him. Despite only being brave enough to do so by mumbling, “It’s—it’s… not right...”

To that, he just hums, nose-kissing you despite how you try to duck your head away—his voice dumbifying your worry, saying “Don’t you love me, princess?”

It’s an unfair question… beside the point, and yet to him, it makes the point. Still, there’s nothing else to say but “Of course, I love you, Satoru.”

It comes out as a croak, somewhat choked in the feeling of hopelessness, all of which he just finds so endearing. Rubbing your cheek with his thumb as he watches those milky eyes of yours grow teary.

“Then who’s to say it’s wrong?” he croons, kissing your forehead as if you’re a silly child crying over silly things, and further explaining it to you just so, “We’ve belonged to each other since birth. Marriage is just to appease society's structures. It means nothing compared to what we already have and have always had.”

His other hand kneads your midriff, keeping you snug against him as if sensing how you wanted to leave. But you don’t try it. No, you barely manage to shake your head.

“I love you,” he says, but it isn’t the same way you say it. No, it’s something far more disturbing. “Sometimes, I wish we were the only two people on earth, like it was when we shared the womb together.”

You shudder, feeling his breath hit your face with your heart causing a ruckus in your chest, telling you to do something to stop what’s coming.

“I want to be close like that again. Just you and me and nothing else.”

You accept it for a moment—his lips against yours. Thinking you had no choice. But as you sit there, willing yourself to stay still, a sickness starts climbing up from the pit of your stomach, until you suddenly can’t stand it anymore. 

And with both hands pushing him away, you shriek, “Don’t!”

Prying yourself out of his embrace, you throw yourself back so fast you end up falling out of the elevated throne bed. Still, the pain in your rear barely registers as you wipe your mouth free of the spit your brother had left behind. Cringing at the stickiness, feeling nothing short of abhorred, as if it were the last thing that should ever touch your tongue.

“It’s disgusting. I won’t. I—” You’ve raised your voice now, for the first time in your life. Your brows furrow as you put all your might into the next words. “I refuse.”

And then, as if almost regretting it, you swallow thickly. Ears burning for any sign of his reaction, everything remains silent, deadly so, only disturbed by the heavy ups and downs of your own labored breath. 

Until…

“Disgusting?” he repeats.

And you don’t know why, but something about the edge in his tone makes you whimper and shuffle back. It was as if something about the very air changed, feeling heavy, crushing, all of a sudden.

“No… You don’t mean that, princess.”

You hear his steps come after you, soft first, stepping through the pillows, then light against the marble tiles, unhurried, knowing you’re not able to go anywhere. 

“You’re just reciting whispers you’ve heard,” he hisses under his breath. Then, darker, growling, “I ought to cut out everyone's tongue. That’ll teach them.”

“No–” you object, but he’s done now with listening to you. 

Shutting you up instantly with a dismissive, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, princess. I’ll teach you too. This is how it’s meant to be.”

You kick off your plank shoes at that, struggling in your heavy dress as you twist around onto your hands and knees before getting up, holding the many fabrics in your arms as you run—only… you have no idea where. 

Anytime you’d snuck out of your room to explore the grounds, trying to map out a route you’d never dared admit was for an escape attempt, your brother had always come and collected you before you’d made it down the first hallway. And so, blinder than blind, you’re completely lost even in your own home. And the panic makes you slip on your skirt before you’ve even made it halfway down the assembly chamber, accompanied by the awful sounds of your own fumbling being echoed back as if mocking you.

You hear him sigh heavily behind you. And then his hand grips your upper arm, harshly—in a way you’ve never felt. 

It’s enough to make you yelp, starting to thrash—panic in your chest, you’re shaking your head, trying to pull yourself free by pushing him away. “Please, Satoru—please, let go–”

Before you know it, you’re pushed flat against the floor. Cushioned by your weighty dress, it’s like a soft bed, but with the way Satoru holds a hand over your mouth and forces you down, you feel as if you’re drowning.

“Keep this up, princess, and eyes won’t be the only thing you’ll be missing,” he barks. Not even giving you enough time for the freight in your chest to settle before worsening it. “Run away, and I'll take your legs. Fight me, and I’ll take your hands. Keep talking back, and I’ll take your tongue too.”

Balanced between your legs in the mess of your skirt’s many layers, bearing over you with his back hunched, he keeps you pinned as your whole body starts to quiver. 

“Is that what you want?” he questions. “Is that what it’ll take for you to behave?”

More tears flow then, in nothing short of a storm. Flooding down your cheeks, wetting the hand he’d locked over your mouth.

It brings a pang to his chest, and he realizes what he’d just said.

He peels his fingers off your lips, then cups your cheeks instead, shaking his head. 

“No, princess, I didn’t mean that—you know I didn’t. I would never hurt you—you know that—”

He kisses your forehead again, then your nose, then your lips, then your neck, where he nuzzles himself as he continues to coo at you, “Sh-shh, princess. Listen to me. Listen to your big brother. I just want to love you. Won’t you let me love you?”

You sob, shaking your head, trying to crawl out from beneath him and the tongue he has against your neck, sucking and biting at your collar with a mouthful of heated words, “Trust me, princess. I’ll take care of you. You’ll see. Just like always. And there’s never been anything wrong with that.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[tonycries]

Insatiable!Gojo who still wants more - still needs more even when you’re huffing and puffing about not being able to cum again. Rolling his eyes and snickering, “Should’ve thought of that before you decided to fuck the strongest.”

Insatiable!Gojo who at this point doesn’t even realize when he’s using his reverse cursed technique to stop the two of you from breaking a bone or two. It just happens mindlessly, just buzzes all the way down to his aching cock to get him hard over n’ over.

Insatiable!Gojo who doesn’t stop until he physically can’t cum anymore. Now, don’t get me wrong - he’d do it at least fifteen more times if he could. But, really, what’s the point when he can’t even shoot blanks at this point?

Not to worry though, the strongest only takes a few hours to recover anyway.

[fitzfunnymoments]

Something made me sick today and idk what did it </3

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when an overworked magical girl from another anime franchise crashes into satoru gojo’s world?

a/n : consider this as a pilot or something so pleeeasee do tell if y’all see the vision hehe. i might write this either as oneshot or series, crack treated seriously, fluff and fix it :3 this is pre-hidden inventory arc.

the sky tears.

satoru doesn’t notice it at first. he’s too busy kicking the hell out of a training dummy, sweat clinging to the back of his neck as the sun swelters high above jujutsu tech’s back field. his shirt clings damply to his back, white hair tousled and sticking to his forehead in unruly, sweat-drenched clumps. every kick sends a dull echo through the otherwise quiet yard, and his brows are furrowed, teeth gritted—not out of effort, but boredom.

it’s supposed to be a solo mission—a recon exercise, or so yaga said, but more like a punishment for cutting class again. the kind that comes with no supervision, no curse threats, just him, a dummy, and the blistering heat. satoru checks his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. detention by any other name would still be just as tedious.

then the air goes still.

the cicadas stop screaming. the clouds part with unnatural precision, like curtains pulled by unseen hands. the temperature spikes—no, drops—and something surges through the atmosphere with a pulse so loud it rattles his bones. his body stiffens, spine prickling with instinct. midnight blue eyes narrow behind tinted lenses, sensing the shift in reality before his other senses can process it.

and then you crash into the earth.

not fall. not descend. crash. like a meteor. like a magical girl-shaped missile. light explodes in a pastel burst of ribbons, iridescent butterflies, and shattering sakura petals. the air rings with the high-pitched chime of otherworldly bells, the tinkle of crystal stars, and the unmistakable sugary pop of transformation magic gone sideways. the ground trembles beneath it.

the training field goes silent except for the sound of scorched grass and the faint, whimsical hum of residual transformation magic. a stray butterfly, translucent and shimmering with cosmic dust, flutters past satoru’s ear before dissolving into sparkles.

satoru blinks behind his sunglasses, now slightly askew on his nose. he adjusts them with a slow push of his index finger, head tilting, brows raised beneath snowy bangs that flutter faintly in the shifting breeze.

“…huh.”

in the crater, you groan.

you’re face-down in a shallow pit, skirt ruffled, hair scorched at the ends, and your transformation outfit—sky-pink bodice with cream lace trim, crystalline brooch shaped like a winking star, thigh-high boots with wing-shaped heels that somehow remain pristinely white despite your crash landing—is smoking gently at the edges. your star-shaped wand lies beside you like a fallen weapon of cosmic justice, occasionally sputtering pathetic little sparks as if trying to reboot itself.

above your head, a tiny, winged creature that looks like a deranged mix between a rabbit and a plushie on its fifth espresso flutters in frantic circles, trailing stardust and anxiety in equal measure.

“you’ve breached the astral veil! the interdimensional tether’s fried! we overshot by three star realms!” it shrieks, voice unnaturally high, paws clutching at its fuzzy cheeks in distress. “this is NOT how galactic school exchanges are supposed to go! we’re so off-schedule! the stellar alignment council is going to have my tail!”

satoru approaches cautiously, one hand in his pocket, the other hovering near his weapon just in case. his steps are deliberate, almost lazy, yet somehow soundless. the breeze tugs lightly at the hem of his uniform jacket, ruffling his collar and loosening the tension in his shoulders. cursed energy flows through him, ready but controlled, his limitless technique humming just beneath his skin.

“uh,” he says, peering over the crater’s edge. “you okay down there?”

“no,” you groan, rolling onto your back. your eyes are half-lidded, voice hoarse, lashes clumped with ash and what might be leftover mascara from yesterday. there are dark circles under your eyes that no amount of magical transformation can hide. “i have two essays due, i haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, i still have cram school, i fought six darklings at dawn, had to seal a nightmare portal during lunch break, my transformation pen is running on fumes, and now i’ve apparently crash-landed in a world with no ley lines.”

you pause.

“…and mipple won’t shut up.”

“you ripped a hole in space,” mipple screeches, buzzing frantically around your head, leaving a trail of panicked sparkles. “this is not sustainable hero behavior! you need rest! regulation mana! a snack! the magical girl handbook specifically states that cosmic defenders should maintain a balanced sleep schedule and nutrient intake! page forty-seven, paragraph three!”

satoru blinks, slowly crouching beside the crater. his weight settles on the balls of his feet, elbows resting loosely on his knees. his expression is unreadable behind the glare of his glasses, but there’s a hint of genuine curiosity in the tilt of his head. “you’re not from around here, huh.”

“gee, what gave it away?” you mutter, dragging your gloved hand down your face. a heart-shaped gem on your glove catches the light, flickering weakly. “was it the interdimensional wormhole or the talking plushie?”

satoru grins. his teeth flash white in the sun, a hint of mischief curling at the edge of his lips. “the sparkles.”

mipple flits a fast, nervous circle around him, sniffing the cursed energy. its tiny nose twitches, ears flattening against its head. “her readings are flat. nothing’s reacting. it’s like this whole place runs on… rot.” mipple’s eyes widen to comical proportions. “this isn’t a darkness realm, is it? please tell me we haven’t crashed into a darkness realm. the paperwork for that is a nightmare.”

“charming,” you deadpan.

“you’re leaking glitter,” satoru says helpfully, pointing to the trail of iridescent dust that seems to be following your every movement like dejected confetti.

you sit up with a scowl, brushing at your skirt with short, angry movements. flecks of glitter and ash catch the sunlight, making you shimmer like a very irate disco ball. the ribbon in your hair droops sadly to one side, and your magical girl tiara is slightly crooked. “great. fantastic. this is exactly what i needed today. another crisis. do you people have dimensional transit hubs or are you still in the dirt age?”

“dirt age?”

“never mind,” you sigh, pushing back a strand of hair that falls immediately back into your face. “point me to your nearest leyline stabilizer and maybe i can reverse the jump. preferably before i miss another math test. i’m barely passing as it is.”

“uh,” satoru squints, pushing his glasses higher with a knuckle, fingers smudged with sweat and dust. “we’ve got vending machines? and i think i saw a fortune teller at the corner store once.” he pauses, then adds with complete seriousness, “the milk bread is pretty good.”

mipple facepalms in mid-air with an audible poof, leaving a tiny puff of glitter.

“okay,” you say, standing slowly, wobbling. your knees wobble like a newborn deer’s. “okay. it’s fine. i just need a second. maybe ten. maybe an hour. or a nap. or the sweet release of death. or caffeine. ideally all of the above.”

you stumble.

there’s a flicker of light. your form glitches slightly—one ribbon vanishing, then another, your skirt shortening then lengthening, your magical aura flickering like a dying lightbulb—and with a tired sigh and the sad deflating sound of a party balloon, your transformation dissolves into a shimmer of pale light. your star-shaped wand vanishes with a chime, and the magical embellishments melt away like soap bubbles.

you’re left in a rumpled high school uniform: blazer, skirt, tie askew, one sock missing, the other scrunched around your ankle. your hair’s a mess, sticking to your cheeks. your face is streaked with dirt and interstellar ash. your school bag materializes with a sad plop beside you, spilling out a half-finished homework assignment, three empty energy drink cans, and what appears to be emergency chocolate.

satoru catches your elbow without thinking, touch light and instinctive. “whoa there, sparkles.”

you slap his hand away with the strength of a very tired moth batting at a streetlamp. “don’t touch me, i’m radioactive with stress. also, i shock people sometimes when i’m low on magic. it’s not pretty.”

he snorts—then, belatedly, catches a proper glimpse of your face.

he goes still.

there’s ash in your lashes, a scratch on your cheek, and you look like you’ve clawed your way out of a magical apocalypse—your hair is a mess, your uniform is wrinkled in ways that defy physics, and there’s a sparkly band-aid on your knee with little moons on it—but still, for some reason, all he can think is: she’s pretty.

heat prickles across his ears. he shoves his sunglasses back up his nose, suddenly very interested in a patch of grass beside his foot. he scratches the back of his neck, pretending to study a dandelion like it’s the most complex thing he’s ever seen. like he hasn’t faced down curses ten times more dangerous than a tired high school girl who occasionally sparkles.

and for a second, everything’s quiet again. awkward. your breathing slows, the wind picks up. somewhere, a cicada remembers how to scream.

“listen,” he says, voice a little lower, a little softer. “this isn’t a leyline whatever, but we’ve got a place to crash nearby. and sugar. and air conditioning. i mean, if you don’t mind hanging out with some weirdos.” he gestures vaguely in the direction of the school building. “though, from what i’m seeing, you’d probably fit right in.”

you glare at him, narrowing your eyes like you’re trying to set him on fire with sheer willpower. you cross your arms, wobble slightly, then uncross them when you realize it’s taking too much energy to maintain the posture. mipple lands on your shoulder, tiny paws patting at your cheek in a comforting gesture.

“mipple,” you say slowly. “scan him for monster corruption.”

“he’s clean,” mipple says, whiskers twitching as it sniffs the air around satoru. “just stupid. and full of something weird. but not evil-weird. more like… chaos-weird.” it pauses, then adds helpfully, “he smells like blue raspberry slushies and bad decisions.”

“fine,” you grumble, bending down to stuff your homework back into your bag. “lead the way, mister. but if you try anything funny, i still have enough magic to turn you into something small and amphibious.”

satoru flashes a grin that tugs crooked at the corner, brushing a hand through his damp hair. it fluffs back into place, soft and silver, catching the sun in a halo-bright sheen. “that’s what i thought.”

the glitter trails behind you as you limp off the field, exhausted, annoyed, and absolutely, cosmically done with today. a butterfly manifestation charm falls from your pocket, too depleted to even flutter. your magical girl compact beeps once, twice, then falls silent, the battery icon blinking sadly in the corner.

satoru watches you from the corner of his eye, still grinning, a faint pink on his cheeks. his hand drifts briefly to the spot where your elbow had been, fingers curling slightly. the residual warmth lingers, along with the faintest trace of stardust.

he’s never met anyone like you before.

and watching you now—dragging your feet but still holding your head high—he knows he never will again. behind him, the training dummy collapses with a defeated thud, like even it can’t keep up with the kind of day you’re having.

you don’t notice.

you’re already walking off, one hand adjusting your sleeve like you didn’t just nearly destroy the field. it’s the kind of tired that comes from trying too hard, too often. but you carry it like it’s nothing.

satoru watches you go, something warm and strange curling in his chest.

yeah.

he’s definitely in trouble.

[bbyseok]

More teen satosugu x reader please!

thinking about clingy teen satosugu who only get even clingier when they suddenly get hit with a curse that turns them into… dogs?

a pair of wolves, to be exact. it’s so blatantly obvious on who’s who—there’s one wolf with fur as white as the first winter’s snow and uncanny blue eyes. the other is the color as dark as night with a pair of warm purple hues that strike into your soul.

they sit at yaga’s side like loyal lapdogs—only to perk up immediately to run and tackle you to the floor as soon as you set foot in the classroom.

“what the—?!” you splutter in surprise, unable to escape their wrath of licks descending upon your face as you look to yaga for help.

the teacher simply crosses his arms and shakes his head. “satoru and suguru got hit with a curse.” and that’s it to his entire explanation, as it’s very obvious what happened to them.

when you finally manage to shove their muzzles away from your face, you groan in disbelief. “how long are they going to be stuck like this?”

“no clue.”

so just like that, you’re suddenly a caretaker for two oversized puppies who can’t seem to leave you alone—because apparently they absolutely refuse to hang out with anyone else.

they follow you literally everywhere on campus like a pair of lost puppies— you find it funny and even almost endearing out of all things.

coincidentally, this is after the night you had discovered them sharing your bed after you returned early from a solo mission. they had merely scampered out of your room after that—leaving you unable to ask them why they were in your bed in the first place.

and you certainly can’t ask them now.

“i thought you started smoking again?”

shoko shakes her head at your question, the faintest of smirks ghosting over her lips. “i did. but i think this is a better way to spend my time.” and then she nods to the two wolves sitting in front of you both.

you’re out on one of the training fields with shoko and your classmates-turned-dogs to test their… abilities. they lack any cursed energy, so it’s safe to assume that they can’t use their techniques.

“bet if you threw a stick, they’d fetch it for you,” a rare snicker comes from shoko along with her suggestion.

to which you simply roll your eyes at, but you find yourself grabbing a lengthy stick anyways. you’re unaware of how satoru’s and suguru’s eyes follow the item in your hand like moths to a flame as you hand it to shoko.

your short-haired friend flings the stick, but the boys don’t even dare to flinch. it’s quiet, save for the occasional thumping of their tails on the floor.

“see?” you shoot shoko a pointed look. she merely shrugs. when you walk over to pick the stick back up, you throw your friend a question over your shoulder, “did you know satoru and suguru were sneaking in my room at night while i’ve been gone?”

it’s news to her, but she doesn’t appear to be surprised in the slightest. “nope. sounds like something they’d do though.”

you grab the stick off the grass, turning to look at her and your classmates-turned-dogs. your gaze lingers on the canines for a moment. they’re obviously smarter than normal dogs, but you’re not sure about the extent of how well they can understand you in these forms.

“well.. i think they were kinda cute actually,” you confess, dragging your gaze back to shoko with a laugh, “you should’ve seen them, being all cuddly.”

a grim line settles on shoko’s lips at the image. “pass.”

you laugh again before turning and throwing the stick as hard as you can across the field. you watch it land several feet away, and then—

gojo and geto race past you, nothing but blurs of fur as they race each other to reach the piece of wood you had tossed. it’s hard to see who gets there first, because they start wrestling for the damn thing.

shoko simply snorts. “told ya.”

later on, with nighttime making its approach, the boys follow you into your dorm, seemingly determined to still accompany you. you hadn’t been sure on what to feed them since dog food seemed rather crude, settling to share your dinner with them.

and here you are, slipping into bed. just the night before, you had seen them all cozy under your blanket. in all actuality, you wouldn’t have minded sharing the bed with them. (depsite how cramped it would’ve been.) it’s just that now… they’re wolves.

suguru is beside you, circling in place in an effort to get comfortable on the blanket, whilst satoru opts for plopping his fluffy self riiiiight on your stomach. you emit an ‘oof!’ at his ministrations, but the white canine merely fixes you with a puppy-dog stare and you don’t go to protest.

“comfy, you two?” you hum out an inquiry, to which they snuggle into you further.

geto tucks himself closely by your side, burying himself under your arm as his silky fur tickles your skin. and gojo wiggles his chin on your abdomen, sky blue eyes already starting to flutter sleepily.

when you doze off, you dream of wolves and sticks.

and when you wake, it’s not the morning light trickling into the space of your room that stirs you from your slumber. rather, it’s the sound of gentle breathing and— heavy weight atop you.

it’s satoru and suguru, still in their spots from when they had fallen asleep, except— they’re humans again.

gojo’s body is draped over yours, one of his lanky legs dangling off the small mattress hilariously, his head lying just below your chest with his arms laxly wrapped around your abdomen. and geto is hugging your side, the air of his steady breaths hot on the skin of your neck. his long hair is messy, brushing against the underside of your chin.

oh.

oh shit.

what the hell are you supposed to do now? you obviously can’t move, not with all three of your bodies so intimately entangled with each other. you decide to risk it, trying to calm your racing heart and gingerly attempting to sit up.

you’re halfway there, when geto suddenly grumbles and yanks you back down to the pillows again. “s’too early to move,” he says in a hazy mumble.

aaaaand there goes your heart again. before you can reply, you hear gojo groan sleepily, and he then manages to get out a groggy “good morning.”

“…good morning,” you follow up, now hyperaware of their touch, “i see that you’re not dogs anymore…”

satoru blinks owlishly, seeming to finally notice your… predicament. but he also seems more irked by where geto is, so crawls up to be on your other side, planting his face right into your neck too.

“a wonderful observation,” suguru murmurs in a small snicker.

it’s quiet for a few moments, and it’s obvious that they aren’t planning to move from their spots any time soon. (you think you can get used to it.)

you decide it’s the perfect time to ask: “care to tell me why you were in my bed the other night?”

gojo mumbles something, but you can see the tips of his ears flush a pretty pink. suguru is the one who speaks up again after a moment. “…we missed you.”

“..oh.” your face feels warm at the simple confession, and an airy laugh breezes out of you at how— adorable their reasoning is. “well.. i missed you guys too.”

satoru hums an acknowledgment at that. there’s silence again for a while, before he breaks it. “you think we’re cute?”

oh— so they were able to understand you as dogs. you groan, moving an arm to cover your eyes out of slight embarrassment. “shut up. you two were the ones who sneaking into my room.”

“that was suguru’s idea-”

“you snuck in on your own, satoru.”

“you used their shampoo!”

“you stole their shirts first!”

“i can still kick you off this bed.”

“i’d like to see you try.”

you groan once more—albeit a fond sound—still trapped between them, “i wish you two were dogs again.”

[yuwuta]

RODEO STATION, 1 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO 

A collection of you and Megumi, through the years, through Gojo’s eyes. 

content, warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, sort of canon-adjacent, satoru adopts megumi and tsumiki, reader has a cursed technique but it’s not mentioned in depth here, really just you and megumi falling in love and gojo watching

word count: 1.1k

part i: first years, jujutsu tech. fits in the timeline around when nobara first joins the class

When Satoru first finds him, Megumi has two conditions. First, that Tsumiki would be kept safe and happy, and far away from the Zenin clan if they weren’t going to be good to her—safe and far away from all jujutsu society if Gojo could help it; and that she would never have to worry about feeding herself or Megumi ever again. Satoru agreed right away, he would have done that without the request. 

For his second condition, an eight year old Megumi looked Satoru straight in the eye and told him that he would absolutely not be separated from you. Satoru thought it was cute, sweet, in the bratty, and naive but determined kind of way that seemed to be everything that kid stood for, and Satoru couldn’t fault him for it. Megumi’s evident childlike adoration of you aside, Satoru saw potential in you, too, so he accepted Megumi’s conditions, happy to welcome the two of you to the world of sorcery. 

It’s not until a week before you both start at Jujutsu Tech, that Satoru really asks Megumi why he wants you here (never mind the fact that you had already also made up your mind about being a sorcerer, and if there is anything that Satoru has learned about you in the past decade, it’s that: one, you have the magical ability to make Megumi do anything you say; and two, you’re incredible persuasive and very stubborn). Megumi doesn’t look him in the eye when he answers, fidgeting with his melting ice cream instead when he says, “Well, she saved my life.” 

Satoru doesn’t tease when he hears this, only digging his spoon in for a scoop of Megumi’s toffee butter, smiling to himself when the cold hits his tongue, because he’d heard the message loud and clear: Megumi believes he owes you his life, and to keep yours protected, he wants you by his side.

Satoru quickly learns that Megumi truly has his work cut out for him as he watches you burst through a top-floor window of a high-rise building, falling carelessly with the object of your mission—a special-grade cursed object—clutched in your grasp. Second later, there’s a loud explosion, as the ugly head of a large cursed falls limp in the hole in the broken glass that you’d left behind. Satoru chuckles when he sees you smile, and the faint cheer of weeeeeeeee as you fall. He knew you were wild and stubborn by the way you bossed Megumi around without a care, but seeing you in action proved that you were also in your own league of crazy, a fantastic sorceress in the making. 

To his left, Yuuji gapes wildly as he looks up, shielding his eyes with his hand, and then flinching back when Nobara bursts through the ground floor door, not without a nail going flying into the curse that had been chasing her. She looks angry, then wide eyed, then up to where Yuuji and Megumi were also staring and starts squealing alongside him. 

“Gojo-sensei, what are you standing there smiling about—do something!” Nobara shouts, pointing an accusatory finger up in the air at your flying body. 

Yuuji gasps again, like he’d just figured out the consequence of you falling from a building, spewing on his own cries, “Hey, seriously, what the hell are we doing—she can’t fly,” he shouts, turning to shake his sensei, then pausing, “Wait, Fushiguro, can she fly? You know her.” 

“Idiot,” Nobara spits, “If she could fly then she’d be flying, not falling.”

“Then why aren’t we doing any—you know what, I think I can catch her,” Yuuji boasts, rolling up his sleeves, prepared to position himself underneath your descending body, and that’s when Satoru steps in, extending an arm in front of his students. 

“You all worry too much,” he smiles, lifting his blindfold just enough to look the pair in the eye, and tilt his head up slightly, “Besides, Megumi’s handled it.” 

Three heads turn back up to the sky, where you’re no longer in freefall, instead have had your shoulders snatched by Nue’s talons. You’ve still got that wild smile on your face, wider now as you descend much more elegantly via Megumi’s shikigami. Nobara and Yuuji wince as Nue’s wings flap widely when you’re set on the ground. You shift the box with the cursed object to one hand, reaching your free one around to pet the bird’s feathers. It crows happily, and Satoru snickers, much to Megumi’s dismay. You always did treat his shikigami like pets. 

“Hey, you’re okay!” Yuuji cheers, eyes sparkling, “What’s in the box? A sword—actually, I don’t want to know. If it’s another finger, keep it away from me.” 

“Hand it here,” Nobara demands. You’re happy to hand over the box and have another hand available for petting Nue. 

Satoru watches fondly as Yuuji and Nobara fuss over the box. They should probably exercise more caution, but he’s there, so the worst can’t happen. Meanwhile, you step closer to Megumi with Nue fluttering behind you. 

“You’re the one who told me there would be no need to get involved,” Megumi says, voice soft, hands falling comfortably at his side. 

“I said that you wouldn’t have to get involved with the curses,” you correct, standing on your tiptoes to nuzzles your head into the bird’s feathers, “I said nothing about not getting involved with me.” 

Satoru does his best not to choke out a loud laugh as Megumi’s face becomes increasingly pink when you reach forward to pinch his cheeks, his grumbling drowned in the sound of Yuuji and Nobara’s bickering. Satory sighs, content. He cares for all his students, but there’s a certain weight lifted on his shoulders knowing that when it came to you, there was truly nothing to worry about—Megumi would always be there for you. Honestly, he thinks Megumi might fight him to protect you if it came down to it. 

That thought does bring an audible chuckle to his lips, Megumi’s pinched expression calling to him, “What are you laughing about?” 

To which Satoru only hums, sticking his hands in his pockets. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow deeper, but it’s quickly dissolved when you catch his attention again, saying your farewells to Nue before giving Megumi the okay to let him recede into his shadows. 

“Oh, nothing,” Satoru chirps, turning to lead the group back to Ichiji’s car, “Come on, who’s still up for revolving sushi!”  

Cheers follow him as the veil dispels. You question Yuuji about whether or not you think the restaurant will have grilled eel, and Nobara pretends to throw up, arguing that eel is the worst, that you all should stick to hand rolls instead. Megumi stays quiet, walking on your outside, and humming along with all of your suggestions, and Satoru can’t help but wonder whether or not you knew that Nue had been out from the moment you’d stepped in the building. 

Honestly, he thinks Megumi might win that fight—might win any fight if it meant being with you.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Hello love!! How are you doing? 💕

I LOVE your works so much!! You are so amazing and talented!! I wanted to thank you for writing the 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 cursed technique Nanami fic, and especially not judging me for it 🫶🏽. I don’t know you but you seem like such a nice and cool person, with that being said… I was thinking about a fic I saw where Saturo Gojo got his wisdom teeth removed and he falls in love with you over again and I thought that would ADORABLE but with Kento 😭 (also I can’t remember who wrote the fic to give credit sorry) So like yeah Nanami would get his wisdom teeth removed and you’d take care of him and he would be such a charming man (he already is) but like just the most fluff thing he’d be like “you’re a very beautiful nurse” “I’m not a nurse but thank you” you feel me? Anyways that was it lol

Much love and take care!! 💗💗

(I don’t know what anon is 😅 is it like your followers cause I see request and people ask if they can be added as anon and I’m like so confused)

You’re my…. my wife?

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, established relationship, crack, fluff, suggestive at the end.

An: Hey Anon! Tysm for requesting again. I’m glad you liked the freaky energy fic!! Also, ofc I’ll never judge you for any fic idea (as long as it’s not like straight up deplorable with nasty kinks).

I hope it’s okay, but I changed this fic idea a little because I fear it was a bit too close to the original creator’s idea, and I don’t want to encroach on their idea. However, I hope the vibes are still there that you wanted!!

Your normally strong, doting, intelligent husband has been reduced to a confused mess. Lying in the bed in the sterile infirmary, Shoko carefully monitors his vitals while Satoru recites exactly how it all happened for the nth time.

Your loving, sweet, charming husband was hit with a very specific cursed technique while he was out on a mission with Gojo. Luckily, he was physically unharmed and mostly mentally unharmed as well… except the cursed technique is one that messes with the memory.

The curse didn’t just want to kill Nanami; it wanted to break him. The curse robbed Nanami of his memory of his most precious moments: the one’s that included you.

His hazel eyes scanned the room, wondering why everyone was making such a big fuss over him. He was fine - really.

You sat beside his hospital bed, wanting to hold his hand, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him. Shoko said that his mind may be a bit fragile after having such a crucial part of his memory tampered with.

When his hazel eyes met yours, Nanami stared at you for a moment before shifting in his bed slightly. He looked to be uncomfortable with your sheer presence, which only broke your heart more.

“Were you hit with the cursed technique too?” He finally speaks, looking over at you with a bit of a confused look. He was really trying to piece together why you were here with him.

“Oh, um… no..” You quietly respond with a forced smile. Your heart longed for your husband, and he was right here but he wasn’t your husband.

“Forgive me… Are you Shoko’s apprentice..?” He tries once again to remember. He’s seen your face before. Maybe in a different lifetime.

Satoru and Shoko are silent as they both witness what’s going on between you and Nanami. Holding their breaths, they’re hopeful that he’ll regain his memory at some point. The curse couldn’t just extract memories. As Shoko explained it, the curse probably just kept the memories hidden from Nanami. Your husband will probably slowly start to remember you over time.

“No… I’m not Shoko’s apprentice.” You politely answer again. As bittersweet as this is, it’s certainly a cute scene to see Kento trying to make conversation with you.

“Hm.” He hums to himself quietly before he gazes at you again. His hand combs through his hair, trying to fix it up from lying in the hospital bed, and Satoru quietly snickers.

“Trying to look good for her, Nanamin?” He teases lightheartedly, earning a death glare from your husband. You softly giggle too, realizing what’s going on. Your poor husband isn’t uncomfortable with your presence. He’s nervous.

“Don’t be crude, Satoru. There’s a lady in the room.” He huffs, shaking his head at Satoru’s audacity.

“Aww, thank you, Nanami.” Shoko grins, subtly playing along with Satoru’s tactic.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” Nanami responds flatly before his eyes shift to you in another “secretive” glance, except everyone notices how he keeps looking at you. Your husband can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“I.. apologize for being a bit forward, but do you think we could…” His eyes flicker down to the wedding band that’s proudly sat upon your finger. His face subtly drops to a disappointed look. “Ah, I see. forget what I was saying.”

Shoko and Satoru are nearly losing it. The irony that Nanami is disappointed that he can’t ask you out because you’re married to him is hilarious. You give them a look, and they both quickly excuse themselves from the room, so they can go laugh together.

Once the two are finally out of the room, you smile softly before placing your hand over your husband’s, using your thumb to gently stroke the back of his hand. He looks at you with an unsure look, but he doesn’t remove his hand. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly.

“If you were my wife, I wouldn’t like you touching another man like that…” He mutters quietly, causing you to softly giggle.

“Well, it’s a good thing I am your wife.” You finally reveal to him, unable to keep the secret any longer.

Nanami’s eyes widen, and he looks at you with sparkling eyes but also utter confusion written all over his face. His heart is racing in his chest. The heart monitor starts to beep at a more pressured pace. The pretty woman that has been sitting next to him is his wife…?

“You’re my… my wife?” He asks quietly.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement before lacing your fingers with his. Your wedding band rubs against his. Both of the gems were cut from the same diamond. His eyes then focus on the joining of your hands, and he notices it too. “We’ve been married for a few years now.” You explain in a calm tone, trying to ease him into the idea of it all.

“I… I’m sorry… I don’t-“ Nanami is rarely off kilter like this, but he’s just trying to wrap his head around it all. You’re his wife… You’re his wife. “I’m sorry- I just can’t seem to remember…”

“It’s okay, Ken. Take your time.” You encourage as you rub on his hand gently.

His eyes fall to his lap, and a small smile curls on his lips. He may not completely comprehend what’s going on, but he knows in his very soul that he’s the luckiest man alive because you’re his wife.

Watching Ken fall in love with you all over again and rediscover all his daily pleasures was a treat. He slowly regained his memory over time: prompted by his senses randomly picking up on familiar sighs, smells, or even tastes.

Ken didn’t only fall in love with you all over again. He fell in love with the life he cultivated with you again. He found himself laughing a bit harder. He squeezed you a bit tighter. He lounged in bed for an extra ten minutes in the morning time to bask in your presence.

Oh, and that’s not to mention the literal tears he cried the first time he felt your cherished cunt after the incident. The way you squeezed around him so intensely… the way it’s so fucking wet — greedily sucking him in… Goddamn, he’s so lucky to have you.

[nana-gumi]

multo g. satoru

pairings: gojo satoru x fem! reader

cw: heavy angst, good ending ig, arranged marriage, breaking up, betrayal, reader is a zenin, emotional trauma, physical abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, depictions of violence, bruising, and physical injuries.

a/n: HI GUYS LET ME JUST LEAVE THIS ONE HERE. my sister borrowed my laptop (i'm praying she doesn't see this tumblr acc ToT) and the gojo fic series drafts was there, that's why i still couldn't finish it. i'ma leave this one shot for now.. HAPPY READING MWEHEHE AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 800 FOLLOWERS OMG ILY'ALL!! maybe part 2 also? idk

you were a zenin, raised to obey, sent to spy on gojo satoru — but somewhere along the way, you made the one mistake your clan never prepared you for: you fell in love. and when he found out your intentions, he didn’t just walk away — he broke, and so did you. years passed. silence stretched. and now, fate ties you together again in an arranged marriage meant to bind broken clans. but how do you stand beside the man you love, knowing he might still hate you for the way you betrayed him?

the dress fits perfectly.

it's heavy with lace and tradition, stitched together by hands that never asked her what she wanted.

outside, the sky is blindingly blue. too bright. too loud. too cheerful for a day like this.

he stands at the altar like he’s waiting for execution. his posture is straight, chin high, eyes empty behind those white lashes. he doesn’t look at her. not once.

she walks toward him slowly, her hands cold despite the heat under the fabric. the veil blurs her vision, but it doesn’t matter. she could walk this path blindfolded. she’s been walking toward this moment ever since she let him go all those years ago.

they exchange vows, hollow words carved into centuries of clan expectations. peace, alliance, legacy — all signed in blood and silence.

he slides the ring on her finger without meeting her gaze. her hands tremble.

she wants to say something. anything. but her lips stay closed. she doesn’t deserve the chance to speak.

“you may now kiss the bride,” someone says.

he leans in and he kissed her like she’s a stranger. like he’s doing a job. like she isn’t the girl he once held in his arms under the stars, whispering promises he swore he’d never break.

her eyes burn, but she doesn’t cry. not here. not now. not when the war is already over and she’s the only casualty left standing.

when the kiss ends, he pulls away like it cost him something. maybe it did.

the crowd claps. the clans nod in approval.

the world keeps turning.

and she stands beside him, the wife of a man who no longer loves her.

you weren’t supposed to be here.

no cursed energy. no technique. no power. just a name — zenin — and the weight it carried like a curse of its own. they didn’t ask if you wanted this. they never ask.

“you’ll watch him." "you’ll report everything,” they said.

you were sixteen, terrified, and smart enough not to ask what they really meant.

the car that dropped you off at jujutsu high didn’t wait. the gates loomed tall, too tall, like they were made to keep people like you out. you stepped in anyway.

you felt like a fraud, walking among sorcerers.

you couldn’t even see curses without a tool in your hand.

but you knew how to lie. how to bow. how to hide.

you were good at being invisible.

until him.

“yo,” a voice — too loud, too bright — cut through the courtyard like sunlight after a storm.

you turned, and there he was. gojo satoru.

snow-white hair that didn’t obey gravity, dark glasses across his eyes, hands in his pockets like he owned the world. and maybe he did. you’d heard the stories. the six eyes. the limitless. the prodigy.

you expected him to be cold. arrogant. untouchable. you weren’t prepared for the grin.

“you new?” he asked, tilting his head.

you nodded. “yeah.”

“cool. i’m satoru. gojo satoru. remember it — what’s your name?”

you gave only your first. no clan, no past. he didn’t question it. just threw an arm around your shoulder like you were old friends.

“c’mon. you look lost. i’ll show you around.”

and just like that, the boy you were supposed to spy on pulled you into his orbit.

you knew better than to get close.

you knew better than to care.

but your heart — stupid, rebellious thing — beat a little faster anyway.

that night, when you wrote your first report to the zenin clan, your hands shook.

you stared at the paper for a long time before hiding it inside the cabinet.

it was just the start.

—

you thought it would be easy to keep your distance.

you thought wrong.

gojo satoru made it impossible.

he found you in the mornings before class. dragged you into his friend group like it was nothing. introduced you to suguru, shoko, and the quiet stillness that lived between their chaos.

“we’re the best there is,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like he always did. “you’re lucky we’re letting you sit with us.” he joked.

you rolled your eyes. “what makes you think i want to?”

“you laughed at my joke earlier. it’s too late. you’re already attached.”

you hadn’t laughed. not really. but he made it hard not to smile.

you started walking beside him more than anyone else. not because you meant to, but because he always found you — after lectures, during training, when the halls were too quiet and your thoughts were too loud.

he always found you.

once, during a sparring exercise, you took a hit you shouldn’t have. your weapon clattered to the floor. the curse lunged for you, and before you could blink, it was gone.

he stood between you and the wreckage, his infinity humming like static.

“you okay?” he asked, still facing forward.

you nodded, but your knees betrayed you. he caught you before you hit the ground.

you were never meant to be on the front lines. born without cursed energy and with a body too fragile for combat, you were trained out of obligation, not talent.

the zenin clan tried to mold you into something useful, but even their harshest instructors couldn’t change what you were—delicate.

during missions, you were always accompanied by a classmate, not for teamwork, but to make sure you made it back alive. and maybe that was what hurt most—you felt like you didn’t belong. not with the strong. not even with the weak. just somewhere in between, constantly trying and always failing.

but then there was gojo satoru.

you didn’t understand him. he mocked the weak. he laughed at failure. he was arrogant, untouchable. and yet, he was kind to you. always. he never once made you feel small—not the way the others did. sometimes, you wondered if it was pity. if he looked at you and saw something pitiful enough to spare. but then he’d sit next to you at lunch. walk beside you on campus. talk to you like you mattered.

and for the first time in your life, you felt like maybe you did.

later that day, you sat beside him under a tree near the old school wall. shoko gave you something bitter for the pain. suguru offered you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

gojo handed you a popsicle. “blue raspberry,” he said. “the best one.”

“i didn’t ask for it,” you murmured.

he shrugged. “you didn’t have to.”

you watched him from the corner of your eye as he leaned back in the grass, eyeglass pushed up so you could see his eyes. too blue. too bright.

“you’ve got good instincts,” he said. “but you hesitate.”

you looked away. “i’m not like you.”

“good. the world doesn’t need more me.”

but maybe it did.

when you reported to the zenin clan that night, your words were short.

you didn’t know how to explain it. how his kindness made the guilt worse.

because you weren’t just watching him anymore.

you were watching yourself fall.

and you didn’t mean for it to happen. but it happened anyway.

it started in the quiet places — rooftops at dusk, abandoned hallways between classes, the way his fingers would graze yours just long enough to make you forget why you were even here.

the reports got shorter. colder.

you stopped describing his power.

you started describing his laugh.

and they noticed.

"don’t forget your purpose," the letter said. "you are not his equal." "you are not his friend." "you are not in love."

but you were.

and gojo satoru was catching on.

—

“you always look like you're hiding something,” he said one night, the two of you sitting shoulder to shoulder on the roof above the dorms.

the air smelled like rain. the city below flickered like a dying star.

you didn’t look at him. “maybe i am.”

he leaned closer, voice softer. “you don’t trust me?”

you did. more than anyone. and that terrified you.

“you ever think about running away?” you asked, instead of answering. “just… leaving everything behind.”

he was quiet for a second. then, “every day.”

you turned to him. he was already watching you.

there was something fragile in the air. something breaking.

“what’s stopping you?” you asked.

“you,” he said.

you blinked and as if he realized what he said..

“i mean,” he added quickly, trying to laugh, “you and suguru and shoko. and this dumb school. and nanami's frown. and haibara's smile. and the way you—”

he cut himself off.

“the way i what?” you asked. oblivious.

he swallowed before relaxing his tense body.

“the way you make it all feel like it matters.” he mumbled, voice soft that it almost hurt you.

silence.

he looked like he was going to say something else, but didn’t. instead, he moved — slow, hesitant, like someone unused to asking for what they want.

his hand found yours.

his fingers were warm, careful. you didn’t pull away.

“you scare me,” he said.

you laughed, too soft. “you’re the strongest sorcerer in the world. what could i possibly do to scare you?”

“you make me want things i shouldn’t want.”

you knew he meant it. you knew this was the line — the edge of something you couldn’t come back from.

“me too,” you whispered.

and then he kissed you. just once. soft, trembling, the kind of kiss that tasted like youth and bad decisions.

you kissed him back anyway.

that night, your report was a blank page.

you stared at it for hours.

then burned it.

—

you started to forget what you were.

not completely. never completely. the guilt stayed. it curled beneath your ribs, whispering reminders.

but it got quieter when he was near.

you shared everything now. snacks between missions. rooftops at midnight. secrets. kisses.

you started waking up to the sound of his knocking.

“get up, i brought breakfast,” he’d say, even though it was just vending machine coffee and a half-eaten pastry.

“we’re late,” you’d mumble, and he’d grin like that made him proud.

he was unbearable. smug. loud.

he made you feel safe.

suguru noticed first.

“so… you and satoru?” he asked one afternoon, leaning against the wall while you bandaged your arm.

you looked up. “what about us?”

he raised an eyebrow. “i’m not judging. just wondering if you know what you’re getting into.” suguru said, as if he knew you were hiding something.

you did. and that was the problem.

“he’s not what people think he is,” you said quietly.

“i know,” suguru replied. “but you’re not what he thinks you are either, are you?” he said with doubt.

your hands stilled. you didn’t answer.

—

those days passed like dreams. warm and unreal.

shoko fell asleep in the library again. haibara talked too much in the mornings. nanami scowled when satoru put his feet on the table. suguru rolled his eyes at every joke and laughed at them anyway.

you started to believe this could last.

gojo touched you like you were real. like you weren’t the weapon your clan forged from silence. like you weren’t a lie.

when he kissed you, it felt like hope.

when he held your hand, it felt like home.

one night, while the others were gone, he pulled you into his arms and said, “i love you, you know.”

you froze. he waited.

you buried your face in his chest and whispered, “i know.”

because you did.

you just didn’t know how to say i love you too without it tasting like betrayal.

but you loved him. more than you feared the consequences, and in some twisted way, that was worse.

—

you knew something was wrong before anyone said it.

suguru started missing meals. missions. he spoke less, and when he did, it was sharp — tired in a way that didn’t come from the body. his eyes never stopped moving. like he was searching for something none of you could give him.

satoru didn’t notice at first. or maybe he did, but didn’t want to admit it. you watched him try. asking suguru to hang out, dragging him into conversations, making jokes he didn’t laugh at anymore.

it wasn’t working.

then one day, suguru was just… gone.

no explanation. no goodbye. no body.

satoru came back from a mission alone. jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter.

you were the first one to find him.

“don’t,” he said, before you could open your mouth.

you stood there, helpless. he looked up at you — and god, you wished he hadn’t — because those blue eyes were empty. completely, terrifyingly empty.

“he’s not dead,” satoru said.

“then where is he?”

“gone.”

you reached for him, but he stepped back. “don’t.” his voice cracked.

so you didn’t touch him. you didn’t speak. you just stood there, watching the boy you loved unravel.

you wanted to tell him that you were still here. that you weren’t going anywhere. but even that was a lie, wasn’t it?

because the next letter came that night.

a new mission. from the clan.

you are to locate suguru geto. you are to assist him. you are to ensure his survival at any cost. we don’t care how.

and at the bottom, in neat, merciless writing:

if you don’t, we’ll make sure gojo doesn’t survive his grief either.

you couldn’t breathe.

you couldn’t scream.

you couldn’t sleep beside satoru that night without thinking of the knife your clan had placed in your hands.

so you stayed up, watching his chest rise and fall.

he looked peaceful in sleep — younger. like the boy you met on the first day. the one who grinned too wide and called you lucky to know him.

you didn’t kiss him goodbye.

you left before the sun came up.

—

you thought you could keep the truth buried.

that you could pretend it wasn’t tearing you apart. but it wasn’t long before satoru noticed.

the way you flinched when he reached for your hand. the way you stopped laughing at his jokes. the way your eyes darkened behind every smile.

“hey,” he said one night, voice quiet, the kind that always meant he was worried. “what’s wrong?”

you swallowed, heart pounding.

“nothing,” you lied.

he didn’t believe you. never did.

“you’re pulling away,” he said. "is someone hurting you?”

you wanted to scream that it was your clan. that they had you by the throat. that you were trying to save both of them — him and suguru — and losing yourself in the process. but words caught in your throat.

he reached for you again. this time, you didn’t pull away.

“i’m scared,” you whispered.

“of what?”

“losing you. losing myself.”

he pulled you close.

“we’ll find a way,” he said. “together.”

but you weren’t sure if you could believe him anymore.

because every night, you were slipping further away, helping suguru from the shadows, watching the man you loved crumble without knowing it was your hands breaking him.

and every day, satoru’s trust chipped a little more.

and soon, there’d be nothing left to hold onto.

—

he found the letter. the one you thought was hidden forever.

satoru’s eyes burned as he unfolded the cold words from your clan.

you are to assist suguru geto. you are to ensure his survival at any cost.

his gaze locked on you, wild with fury and pain.

“why didn’t you tell me?” his voice cracked, trembling. “why lie to me all this time?”

you opened your mouth to speak.

“i was trying to protect you. please, just listen—” he laughed— sharp and bitter. "satoru—"

"oh my god. you were leaking everything to suguru? is it true?" he asked and the only thing you could do was to look down on the ground as your hand started trembling. "answer me!" he yelled, loud enough to make the walls ring. but no words still came out.

“i was trying to protect you.." you mumbled, or maybe you were telling that to yourself.

he let out a laugh, but there was no joy in it.

it was sharp, hollow, and it cut straight through you.

“protect me?” he repeated, voice rising with disbelief. your lips parted, but no sound came out. “you were betraying the school,” he said, venom lacing each word. “you were betraying me.."

“satoru, please—"

“don’t.” his voice cracked like thunder. “don’t say my name like that. not when it’s coming from your mouth.”

your heart pounded in your ears. then—

his expression shifted. darker. colder.

and in that moment, it felt like the whole world shattered between you.

“was any of it real? were your feelings, your promises —all lies?” he asked, he wanted to know at least that some of it was real. and it was. everything was.

but your silence crushed the space between you.

he stared at you for a long, unbearable moment — eyes that once looked at you like you hung the stars now filled with a storm you couldn’t calm.

his voice came low. final.

“i don’t want to see you again.” your breath caught. “leave jujutsu.” he didn’t shout this time — he didn’t have to. “before i tell everyone you betrayed us.”

your throat burned.

he stepped back like you were something dirty, something unforgivable. eyes like ice as his hands clenched at his sides.

the bracelet — your bracelet — still on his wrist, the one you handmade for him in your second year. he looked at it, slowly, deliberately.

and with a flick of cursed energy, it cracked in two. the threads snapped. beads scattered like broken promises, hitting the floor one by one.

“i just…” he paused — bitter. broken. “i just wished i never met you.”

he turned his back to you, walking away as your vision blurred with unshed tears. your knees gave in before the door even closed behind him, leaving you alone in the ruins of a love you thought was real.

you didn’t chase him. you didn’t explain.

you left jujutsu that day, carrying the weight of his hatred like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

and deep inside, you wondered if maybe he was right.

maybe it had all been a lie.

years have passed.

you’ve grown into someone unrecognizable — a shadow of your former self.

no longer the girl who laughed on rooftops with satoru.

no longer the girl who believed in love.

you left jujutsu behind, but never left the pain.

it followed you like a ghost.

meanwhile, satoru changed, too. the boy who once smiled easily now hides behind sarcasm and walls.

his trust shattered beyond repair.

and yet — fate, or perhaps the merciless clans— have arranged your marriage.

a contract to bind your clans in uneasy peace.

you’re thrown back together after all these years.

but the air between you is thick with resentment, regret, and unspoken words.

he looks at you like you’re a stranger, or worse, an enemy.

you see the loathing in his eyes, but you hide your own pain beneath a mask. neither of you knows how to begin again.

the room was colder than you remembered.

you stood just inside the door, the silence thick and suffocating.

he sat across from you, calm but distant — the same familiar posture, but everything about him was different. hardened.

his blindfold hid the storm behind his eyes.

“you’re late,” he said, voice flat.

you swallowed.

“i had things to settle.”

he didn’t respond. just stared, the weight of years pressing down.

you tried to speak — to explain, to apologize — but the words wouldn’t come.

instead, you studied him.nthe way his jaw clenched. the slight twitch in his fingers. you saw the bitterness there. the cold walls he’d built.

“why did you come back?” he finally asked. “after everything.” you hesitated, voice barely above a whisper.

“because we have no choice.” he nodded, like he already knew.

“i don’t want this,” he said. “this marriage. this arrangement. i don’t want to pretend i ever trusted you.”

you wanted to tell him it was the same for you. that you didn't want the marriage either, or maybe because it's just what he wanted. and that you still felt the ache from the day he walked away.

but the words caught. instead, you just nodded.

“so what now?” he asked.

you looked down, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“i don't know."

and for the first time in years, you both sat in the same room — two broken pieces forced to fit together again.

��

the house felt strange — too quiet, too empty, and yet filled with memories you both tried to forget. living together wasn’t easy.

every room held echoes of the past. every corner reminded you of better days, and bitter ends.

you tried to keep your distance. he kept his guard up, eyes sharp and wary. meals were silent, conversations clipped.

he didn’t ask about your life. you didn’t ask about his.

but sometimes, when the night stretched too long, you caught glimpses. a flicker of something behind his blindfold — pain, regret, maybe even a shadow of the boy you once knew.

and sometimes, when you thought no one was looking, your eyes met. just for a moment. before the walls went back up.

you wondered if you could survive this. living with the man who still loathed you. the man you still love.

but for now, you both kept pretending. because neither of you were ready to face the truth.

—

you found him on the balcony, bathed in the pale glow of the city lights, arms folded over the railing like he’d been standing there for hours.

his blindfold was still on, but you could feel the weight of his stare when you stepped closer.

he didn’t turn. didn’t speak. you stood beside him anyway.

for a long while, neither of you said a thing. the silence was louder than any argument you’d ever had.

“i’m sorry,” you said quietly. not rehearsed. not dramatic. it was a sudden urge to tell him that, so you continued. “i’m sorry for everything. for lying. for hiding things. for not telling you when i should’ve.”

he didn’t move. he didn’t even flinch.

“i never wanted to hurt you,” you whispered. “i never stopped—”

“stop,” he cut in sharply. his voice was ice. “i don't want to hear it."

you froze, throat tight. he finally turned toward you.

“i can’t tell what’s real when it comes to you anymore,” he said. “maybe you loved me. maybe you didn’t. i don’t know. and that kills me.” his jaw clenched. “you kept secrets that destroyed everything we had. how am i supposed to look at you and not see all of that?”

you looked down at your hands, shaking slightly.

“i didn’t know how to fix it.”

“you can’t fix it,” he said. “you made a choice. and so did i.”

you nodded. once. not because you accepted it — but because you knew. he couldn’t forgive you. not now. maybe not ever.

so you turned and left him there, alone with the city lights and the silence,

while your apology sank into the night like a stone in deep water.

—

the days bled together. he avoided you without ever really avoiding you.

you were two strangers in a shared house — moving past each other like ghosts.

sometimes you’d catch the scent of his cologne in the hallway and it would paralyze you.

shoko noticed first. she invited herself over one evening, arms crossed, lips tight, eyes sharp as ever.

“you two look miserable,” she said. no sugarcoating. just brutal honesty.

“it’s fine,” satoru muttered, not looking up from his tea.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. your throat felt thick again.

“if this is how you’re going to live,” shoko said quietly, “you’ll end up destroying each other all over again.”

the silence after she was gone felt different.

that night, you sat across from him at the dinner table, barely touching your food.

—

he came home late. blood on his uniform. his blindfold missing — eyes dim, not glowing like they used to.

“satoru?” you stood from the couch, instinctive worry lacing your voice. he didn’t answer.

he walked past you, like you weren’t even there. but you saw the way his hands trembled.

“you’re hurt,” you said softly, stepping closer. “let me help—”

“don’t—” he said, pulling away from you and you froze. “don’t act like you care.” he turned then, eyes sharp, like broken glass.

his face twisted — exhaustion, grief, rage.

“you don’t get to act like that,” he said, stepping toward you. “not after everything you did.”

“i never wanted to—”

“you think any of this matters now?” he snapped. his voice rising. shaking.

“i hate this marriage. i fucking hate this house. i hate waking up every day knowing you’re here.” you flinched. it was as if his voice alone had wounded you. and he kept going.

“i hate looking at you and remembering how fucking stupid i was to believe any of it was real.”

you couldn’t breathe. he was shaking, fists clenched at his sides. and for once, he wasn’t trying to hold back.

“i should’ve never let you back into my life. i should’ve never loved you.”

those last words— they were the final crack in something you didn’t know was still standing.

you didn’t scream. you didn’t cry. you just looked at him, eyes hollow. something in you quietly snapped.

“i'm sorry..” you said, not even looking at him because of shame.

and that's it. just a simple sorry, and he didn’t expect it.

you turned around and walked away. and it was that silence that haunted him the most.

—

you didn’t cry after that night. not when he said he hated you. there were no tears left to shed.

not when he told you he regretted ever loving you. you just… left the room.

you didn’t rest. instead, you went to the one place you never wanted to return to.

the zenin estate.

you stood before them with a calm voice and a broken heart, asking for only one thing: a divorce.

they scoffed. laughed. like your pain was amusing.

but they didn’t say yes. instead, they gave you a challenge.

“you have to earn it. beat the cursed spirit in the basement.”

they told you it was a grade 3. maybe stronger.

you had no cursed energy. it had been 10 years since you fought curses, and you didn't know if you still could.

but you still said yes.

because if it would make satoru free— if it would make him stop looking at you like you ruined his life,

you’d fight it. you’d let it kill you, if that’s what it took.

the first few days were hell.

you came back home every night limping, blood soaking through your sleeves. your hands trembled just trying to unlock the door.

satoru never noticed — he was never there.

you’d hear the door open some nights. footsteps in the hall. the fridge closing. then silence. he never even checked the bedroom.

and still, you kept going. day after day. cut after cut. bruise after bruise. weeks passed, and one day, finally— you killed it.

you collapsed beside its twitching body, chest heaving.

but then — like some twisted video game — another one appeared. a grade 2 rose from its remains.

you didn’t scream. you just smiled, bitter and tired.

“heh, knew it,” you whispered before blacking out.

—

you woke up in your old room, limbs aching like they’d been torn apart.

maki was there, sitting at your bedside, arms crossed, jaw tight with worry.

“auntie,” she said quietly. “what the hell are you doing here?”

you blinked slowly. “training.” you shrugged as you sit up from the bed.

“training?” she echoed, disbelieving.

“you were beat to a pulp in the basement. i had to drag you up myself. does gojo-sensei even know you’re doing this?”

“yeah,” you whispered.

she narrowed her eyes. “why here? why not ask him to train you?”

“he’s busy.” your voice cracked. “don’t worry about me, maki.” she frowned, but didn’t push.

“i came to grab a few things. they didn’t even let me in. you sure you’re okay?” you nodded.

and after she left, you laid there for hours — body aching, soul aching worse.

but the next morning, you went back. because there was still the grade 2. maybe more. and if pain was the price of setting him free, you’d keep paying it. even if it killed you.

—

days passed again. then weeks.

your body was failing. you barely ate. barely slept. your muscles trembled just walking down the hall.

and one morning — after a brutal fight the night before — your body gave out. you didn’t make it to your bed. you passed out curled on the couch, sun bleeding through the curtains, casting gold over your bruised skin.

that was when he came home. he stepped into the living room quietly, looking for something — maybe a mission scroll, maybe a file.

he froze when he saw you. asleep. curled in on yourself like something small and breakable while the sunlight pooled around you.

he stared at you for a moment, and when he realized he was, he scoffed under his breath. “must be nice,” he muttered. “sleeping all day."

he didn’t know. he didn’t see the blood seeping from under your sleeve. he didn’t notice the healing welts down your back. he didn’t hear your shallow, pained breathing.

he doesn’t need to know.

—

maki hadn’t meant to return.

she just… couldn’t shake the feeling. something wasn’t right. you were hiding something, and it didn’t sit right with her so she went back to the zenin estate.

and what she found there… froze her in place.

you were stumbling out of the basement, limbs trembling, dried blood staining your clothes.

your eyes were unfocused, lips cracked. you looked like a walking corpse.

“auntie—?!” you didn’t even hear her. you collapsed forward, knees buckling.

maki caught you before your head hit the stone floor.

“shit—ijichi!” she barked into her phone, struggling to keep your body steady. “i need help. now.”

within the hour, you were back at the gojo estate.

shoko arrived immediately. her eyes hardened the second she saw you laid out on the couch, barely breathing.

maki paced behind her, arms crossed tight, panic masked behind frustration.

“i don’t know,” she muttered when shoko asked. “she said she was training. but why there? in the basement? in our old home? that's where they literally tortured us.” shoko didn’t respond right away.

her hands hovered over your ribs. she had to be careful. you had no cursed energy to stabilize you, and that made everything ten times harder for shoko.

“as far as i know,” maki continued, “she’s been there for over a month.”

shoko exhaled slowly, disbelief creasing her features.

“she’s human. how the hell did she survive that long?” maki didn’t answer. her chest ached.

you were the reason she ever left the zenin clan. you were the one who whispered late at night that there was a world beyond this, that people at jujutsu high would treat her like a person. you were the one who gave her the courage to fight back.

you gave her freedom. and now you were lying here, broken and battered, as if you'd never had a choice in your own. she bit her lip.

“i’m telling sensei.” but before she could move— your hand, heavy and shaking, reached out and grabbed her wrist.

strong. too strong, for someone so wounded.

“don’t…” you rasped, voice thick with pain. your eyes were barely open, but tears had begun slipping from the corners.

“(name)?” shoko crouched closer, voice gentle. “does everything hurt? tell me where—”

“don’t tell him…” your voice cracked.

“please…” then your grip loosened. your hand fell back against the sheets, and your eyes fluttered shut once again.

shoko’s brows furrowed while maki stood frozen, throat tight with something she didn’t want to name.

“…why not?” maki whispered. but you didn’t answer.

and deep down, you didn’t want him to know. because you were scared. scared of what he’d say. of what he’d do. what if it rejoiced him? what if it relieved him — knowing you wanted a divorce too?

you knew what you had with him had been broken for a long time now. you knew he didn’t love you anymore. but if he found out… and he was relieved… it would destroy you.

that’s why you were doing this quietly. because if he saw—if he really saw—how much you still loved him, how far you were willing to break yourself just to set him free… you were terrified he might hate you even more for it.

—

the house was quiet when he returned. it had been quiet for weeks. months, even.

he didn’t think much of it anymore. didn’t expect greetings or warm dinners or questions like how was your mission, satoru? — because that version of you didn’t exist anymore. not since everything between you shattered.

he exhaled long through his nose as he dropped his blindfold on the counter, rubbing the bridge of his nose. he was tired. his hands ached. his cursed energy buzzed too loud in his ears.

he made his way to the bedroom. and there you were. sleeping. again.

your back was facing him, shoulders drawn tight, legs curled in. you looked small. fragile. like a single breath might unravel you.

he clicked his tongue.

“of course,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his snow-white hair. “must be nice to sleep all day.”

he approached without thinking. quiet steps. muscle memory. his hand reached out — he wasn’t even sure why — and settled gently on your shoulder.

but the second his palm touched you, something in him froze. the way your body tensed. the way your skin felt… hot and strained. he pulled his hand back like he’d been burned.

“sorry…” you stirred, voice hoarse and quiet.

you turned your face further into the pillow, already slipping back into unconsciousness. satoru narrowed his eyes. something was wrong.

he leaned over you, squinting in the soft light — and that’s when he saw it. the bruise. dark and ugly, blooming across your jaw like rot.

his breath caught in his throat.

without thinking, his hands moved carefully. he turned you slowly, peeling your shoulder toward him. your body twitched in protest. a small sound slipped from your lips — pained. like breathing hurt.

his fingers lifted the edge of your shirt. what he found underneath made his chest tighten.

bruises. purple, black, angry. scattered across your sides. your ribs. your back. your skin was mottled with pain.

he pulled the blanket further down — and stopped breathing altogether.

you looked destroyed.

and the worst part was — you didn’t even stir. you were too far gone to feel his touch.

satoru stood there, unmoving. the room suddenly felt too quiet. too still. like it was holding its breath with him.

his mind screamed with a thousand questions.

what happened to you? who did this? why didn’t you say anything?

and the ugliest thought of all:

why didn’t i notice?

his throat tightened, guilt crawling up like a noose. he took a slow step back. his fingers twitched. his cursed energy coiled under his skin like fire, begging for something — someone — to destroy.

“just what the hell are you doing…?” he whispered, almost to himself, like the words alone could ground him.

he looked down at you — broken, bruised, and still reaching for him in your dreams.

and for the first time in months, satoru didn’t feel angry. he felt scared.

—

gojo was on the verge of exploding.

his footsteps echoed hard across the jujutsu high grounds, cursed energy simmering beneath his skin like a storm about to rupture. someone knew something. shoko, the higher-ups—hell, anyone. and he was going to find out.

he’d barely stepped past the school gates when a voice stopped him cold.

“gojo-sensei.” he turned, caught off guard. he hadn't noticed her there. maki stood at the entrance, arms crossed, posture rigid, face unreadable — but her eyes betrayed her.

there was something raw there. something trembling under the surface.

“what’s wrong?” gojo asked, instinctively guarded.

maki hesitated, then stepped forward. “i need to tell you something.”

gojo didn’t expect that. not from her. not like this.

“she’s been going back to the zenin estate,” maki said quietly. “she’s been training. every day. for weeks.”

gojo’s brows furrowed. “training?” he echoed. “why the hell would she—”

“i don’t know,” maki cut in. “she wouldn’t tell me the reason. she just said not to tell you. but i couldn’t keep it anymore.” gojo stared at her, stunned.

and maki took this a chance to continue as her voice softened — not with pity, but with pain.

“she’s the parent who stepped up for me. when no one else did. when my own family threw me away.” she swallowed. “we’re the same. no cursed energy. no future. at least, that’s what they made us believe. but she… she was the reason i even dared to dream beyond that.”

she looked down, fists tightening.

“i don’t want her to suffer anymore. not like this.” gojo stayed silent. his hands trembled in anger.

maki looked up again, gaze steady.

“she’s the reason i’m here, sensei. she’s the reason i ever believed this place could be something better.” her voice dropped, almost a whisper. “and when i came to jujutsu high, the first person she told me to look for was you.”

that did it. his heart cracked open.

“whatever is happening to her.." maki said. “please.. help her.”

—

the house was quieter than usual. like even the air had learned to tread carefully between the ghosts of words left unspoken.

you stirred after nearly two days of unconsciousness, body aching, but somehow lighter. shoko's treatment had soothed the worst of it, but not the root. the soreness was bone-deep, and the emotional bruises—those stayed longer.

you found yourself in the kitchen, trembling hands stirring a spoon in a mug of hot tea, the steam fogging up your vision. maybe it was the tea. or maybe it was the way everything hurt just a little less today. like your body finally realized it didn’t want to give up.

then—

“maki told me.” his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

your hand froze mid-stir. the spoon clinked against porcelain once, twice, then fell still. he didn't even show hesitation and said it right away.

“she told you what?” you asked, not turning around.

“you’ve been going back to the zenin estate.” his voice wasn’t angry. not quite. not yet. “what are you training for?”

you turned slowly and sat down, grasping the mug like it was the only solid thing keeping you tethered to the moment.

“nothing,” you said. “i just want to be strong.” but that was a lie, and you both knew it.

“you’re lying.”

you let out a breath, long and tired, massaging your temples like the pressure there might stop the world from spinning.

“why do you care?” you said softly. the words held no venom—only sorrow. “i’m doing this for you.”

there it was. the confession.

your voice wavered, but you kept going. “just do your thing, and this will be over soon.”

“why are you like this?” he asked, frustration bleeding into his voice. you looked up at him now, something in your eyes breaking open.

“like what, satoru? isn’t this what you wanted?” your voice cracked. “i’m doing you a favor already.”

his lips parted to speak, but no words came. the silence stretched before he found them.

“by what? by letting yourself get beat up?” your fingers tightened around your mug.

“it doesn’t matter,” you whispered. “it will end soon.” you didn't want to say it, but you had to.

“what will end soon?”

you looked up, and that was the first time he saw the tears.

“this marriage, satoru.”

suddenly, the world stopped moving.

“what?..” he breathed. you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“i had to,” you said. “i don’t have a choice, do i?”

his voice was quieter now. more strained.

“you could just file for divorce. why would you let them go this far?”

you shook your head, gaze falling to the tea you no longer wanted.

“i just hoped it was that easy.” your voice was thick with tears. “just do me a favor…” you whispered, “please, don’t show up. not until i figure everything out.”

he stayed true to your words. he didn’t show up. at least, not to you.

but he was there. always. slipping through shadows you no longer had the strength to notice. he watched every time you limped out of the zenin estate, drenched in sweat and pain, bones barely holding you up.

he watched and he waited. and it was eating him alive.

he told himself he was doing what you asked—giving you space. giving you time. but every time he saw another bruise on your face, another limp in your step, another piece of you stripped away—he realized this wasn’t space.

it was cowardice.

so one night, he snapped.

in a flash of cursed light and boiling fury, he cornered one of your clan members—young, trembling, nothing but a messenger boy for the elders.

satoru’s hand wrapped around the kid’s throat before he even realized he’d been moved.

“what is she doing there?”

the boy’s eyes widened in terror. “w-what—”

“what is she doing there?” satoru repeated, voice so cold it froze the air. “in the basement. why is she coming back bloody every night?”

the boy shook in his grasp. “i-it’s not my fault! it was a challenge from the clan head!”

satoru’s eyes sharpened. “what challenge?”

“you— you didn’t know?” the boy stammered, blinking in disbelief. “but… she told us you did—she said you wanted this!” his blood turned to ice.

“what challenge,” satoru said again, each word slower, heavier, more dangerous than the last.

the boy whimpered under the weight of his cursed energy, knees buckling.

“i-it’s— they said if she could beat the curse in the basement… with only a cursed tool— they’d let her file for divorce. she begged for it. said she wanted to free you!” the words struck him like a curse of their own.

“what?"

“she doesn’t have cursed energy… that’s why they’re doing it. they know she can’t win. they know it’ll kill her. they’re never going to give her that divorce. curse will continue to come at her.”

satoru’s hand slowly dropped from the boy’s throat. he couldn’t breathe.

you were doing this… for him?

fighting curses with no cursed energy. with a body already half-ruined. enduring the cruelty of the clan that despised you. dragging yourself down into that basement night after night just to give him a way out?

and you never told him. never once begged him to understand.

because in your mind, this was how you showed you loved him. by letting him go.

gojo satoru didn’t say another word and vanished.

—

the room was quiet when he came in.

you were sleeping again, just like all the other nights—collapsed from exhaustion, curled in on yourself like sleep was something that had to be earned.

satoru stood at the doorway, staring.

the guilt was unbearable now. it sat in his chest like a curse, hollowing him out from the inside.

he moved forward slowly, until his shadow reached across your bed.

your body tensed instantly. eyes flying open. breath catching. instinct bracing you for pain.

and somehow, just the sight of him made the storm inside you quiet.

your breathing slowed. your hands stopped trembling. it was as if everything in you finally understood.

you were safe now. safe, because even after everything—he still comes home.

but it was a fragile kind of comfort. because deep down, you knew—

it was only a matter of time before it ended. and maybe that was the saddest part of all. he was still coming home, but not for long.

“oh… it’s just you…” you mumbled, voice raspy, dragging yourself upright despite the ache. and when you finally managed to sit up, your eyes met his, confused, tired—

“what are you doing h—” but the words never came.

because the look on his face stopped you cold. and because he was already there, wrapping his arms around you like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers. pulling you against his chest like it was the only thing that could steady him.

“fuck…” he breathed, broken, and your heart dropped.

“satoru?” you asked, weak and confused, barely able to hold your head up.

and then— you felt it.

warm and wet on your shoulder. his tears.

you moved instinctively, reaching up to his chest, but your limbs felt was too numb. you couldn’t fight the hold he had on you. not that you wanted to.

“please,” he whispered, voice trembling. “please, stop this.”

your eyes widened. something sharp twisted behind your ribs.

“what are you talking about?” you asked, but your lips were already quivering—

your voice barely holding together, your breath catching because you already knew the answer before your mind could bear to hear it.

“i’m sorry,” he choked out, voice breaking. “i’m sorry for treating you that way. i was angry… i thought you chose to betray me. but i didn’t stop to think—I didn’t really see you. you were only doing what they told you to, weren’t you? you… you just wanted suguru back too, didn’t you?"

his words trembled under the weight of regret, heavy with the kind of sorrow that came far too late.

and there, your heart cracked clean down the middle.

tears welled up and spilled before you could stop them, soaking into his shirt as you nodded quickly, a soft, broken hum escaping your lips.

your voice came out a whisper, raw and broken. “i'm sorry.. i didn’t want to help them. but i was weak, satoru. and they used me against you. i was scared. i didn’t know what else to do.” your fingers fisted in his shirt, small and desperate. “i’m sorry… i know it’s too late now, but i really did love—”

he pulled back just enough to hold your face in his hands. his thumbs brushed at your tears, but they kept coming quietly.

“i know,” he breathed, voice barely holding together. “i know, honey.”

his hands trembled as they cradled your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that wouldn't stop coming—yours and his. and for the first time in years, there was no anger in his eyes. just grief. just guilt. just the overwhelming ache of knowing he’d almost lost you completely without ever hearing the truth.

“i’m sorry for pushing you away. i thought… i thought if i let myself love again, it would break me. that i’d lose everything. again. i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just didn’t know how else to protect myself.”

you let out a trembling sigh, the kind that comes from something long buried rising to the surface.

“i know the kind of man you are, satoru,” you whispered. “and that’s why i love you.”

he stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

and then, finally—

“i love you too,” he whispered. “so much that it hurts.”

you laughed through your tears—a small, breathless sound. cracked and beautiful.

“do you forgive me now?” you asked, leaning into his touch.

his hand ghosted over your cheek like you were something sacred.

“you did nothing wrong,” he murmured. “there’s nothing to forgive.”

he pressed a kiss to your forehead. it lingered—like a promise. like a beginning.

“let’s fix everything tomorrow,” he said quietly, gently lowering you back to the mattress. “but for now… let’s rest.”

you nodded, body giving in, sinking into him like you had nowhere else left to go.

and for the first time in weeks—

you both slept. not as strangers, not as ghosts of what you once were, but as two broken hearts still brave enough to try again.