4nicolas

[4nicolas]

holy peak

Leantwink surfer subbottom!R gets distracted during a video game competition because hung nerdjo's got a competitive raging erection

then nerdjo wins and starts throatfucking R

*๑♡՞ . surfer reader , nerdy (marine biologist) gojo , modern au (no sorcery) , bros with benefits , throatfucking , playful banter turned into full blown sex , rough sex , oral sex , fucking on a couch

p.s. i need more nerdjo reqs omg ,, also marine biologist nerdjo is so peak i need to write more abt it

satoru had originally planned to attend an entirely different college once he left highschool, wanting to chase a more traditional career in order to please his high earning parents that put the pressure on him to be the next doctor of their generation. but a flyer for a college that contained the idea of marine biology caught his eye, shifting his whole attention away from traditional views and instead opened his eyes to something greater, something bigger that he wanted to chase, so he quickly signed up for school and was accepted in a heartbeat. he was ecstatic, excited to broaden his life to more biology than he could ever imagine.

luckily for gojo, the college was not far from the coast, prompting him to always take a detour from his dorm to the beach instead. taking in how the sun would sit above the waves when he got there, the once high and mighty star brought down to eye level with the simple and collected satoru, soft breezes swept through his white hair, easing a sense of peace within him. "nice hair dude, didnt know many guys went platinum these days" a voice behind gojo caught him off guard, making him whip his head around yo see who was talking, "oh,, uh,, its natural actually", he scratched the back of his head, the man behind him huffed, "albino?" "you could say that" a heavy sigh came from the guy, "welp, im off to the waves, you surf?" satoru shifted his gaze, "no, im just here for the view" a laugh could be heard, a hearty one at that.

"you got quite a good eye for views, mister..?" gojo stumbled over his words, a bit nervous to give out his name to a stranger, "gojo satoru, and you?" "y/n ieiri, just call me y/n" satoru hummed, something about his last name caught his attention, maybe a classmate that shared the same name as him? "well, do you also study at the college close to here?" gojo asked, making small talk, y/n sheepishly scratched his chin, "yup, studying in finance, it was the only thing keeping my parents off my back though, my sister took a more medical approach" ah, so thats where satoru remembered his name.

his sister's name was shared regularly, her fast pace within her classes was what made all the professors love her, "shes a total nerd, she doesnt even join me at the beach anymore!" gojo chuckled, "all alone now?" y/n simply rolled his eyes, "basically, just me and the waves now" a flash of urgency went through the man's eye, "i should probably get in the ocean before it gets too dark, here, let me give you my phone number!" y/n stretched his hand out, prompting gojo to hand over his phone on the messager app, ieiri quickly typed his number in and gave the phone back, giving him a wave before heading into the water.

after that day, y/n and satoru developed a friendship most people would describe as a "romantic relationship", the frequent visits of each others dorms, sharing gifts which added onto their already accessorized wrists and necks, shared glances that held more than just a look of friendly affection. but the two always denied having feelings for each other, playing their actions off as "normal" and "totally not romantic", which earned a tantalizing laugh from the one asking and a reassured "sure".

this night was not any different from the others, gojo and y/n simply laid on satoru's couch, legs intertwined with one another, the silence between the two wasnt unfamiliar, as the two would always go to one another's dorm simply to lay on their furniture and occasionally eat their food in the fridge. "hey, do you have a nintendo?" y/n asked, looking away from his phone and stared directly at satoru's glass covered eyes. gojo hummed, recollecting what kind of consoles he decided to bring with him to his new dorm, "yeah, should be in one of the cabinets under the TV" satoru untwined his legs from y/n's, letting him get up to search for the nintendo.

"got it! we should play mario kart you know" y/n snickered, confidence flowing through his voice, gojo rolled his eyes and chuckled, "you're totally losing" the comment made y/n cock a brow, "yea? well lets make a deal, i win, you buy me food for the whole month" satoru smirked, "and if i win, you have to suck my fat nuts" y/n simply blew up laughing, tears of laughter fell down from his eyes as a simple embarrassed blush covered his cheeks from such a vile ask.

"youre on dickface" "youre going to have a face full of my dick in a minute!" the two bickered like dogs with barrier aggression, chewing off each others ear off as they jerked their arms around as if that was going to make them any better at the game. gojo's rosalina bumped into y/n's character, making him stick to the rails until he finally surpassed him. the two were on the last round, 1-1 on their imaginary scoreboard, this last round would be the breakthrough shot for the both of them.

satoru and y/n were locked into the match, using red and green shells to their advantage with each other and the randoms along side them, y/n looked over to gojo, smugness plastered on his face as he wore 2nd place like a badge of honor, gojo didnt spare any glances back, his focus solely on surpassing his friend and becoming the winner of the round. but y/n wanted to rub the fact he was going to win and kept staring at gojo until he looked at him with his glowing blue orbs, but he didnt, which pissed off y/n enough to start looking for any type of emotion on his body other than pure focus.

y/n spared a couple glances at the tv screen, making sure to keep his steady pace in front of gojo, who wasnt too far behind him, basically riding his tail. he took another glance before something else caught his eye, satoru was wearing a simple beige cashmere sweater with his usual black Calvin Klein briefs, the contrast of the two colors made something a bit more evident that y/n had never realized before. an erection, not just any normal one at that, the huge member twitched and pulsed against the smooth fabric of satoru's boxers, begging to be released.

during all of the other games they've played, y/n had never realized that satoru would get "competitive hard-ons" while playing, and he was sure gojo wasnt even aware of his situation as he was in a flow state, letting his mind turn off and his fingers go crazy on the controller, pure skill running through his veins. y/n's face began to burn up and he could feel his grip on the controller loosen, but he couldnt find it in himself to take his eyes off of satoru's bulging erection in his briefs.

he swallowed hard, sweat dripping from his face until he finally heard the word FINISH coming from the tv, prompting him to whip his attention back to the screen, y/n's jaw dropped as he saw his placement, 8th place, while gojo simply finished in 1st. the white haired man jumped off the couch and pumped his fist into the air, vocally addressing his success of beating his once unbeatable rival. "eat that y/n! guess whos gonna have a face full of my balls in their face tonight!" y/n simply stuttered over his words as his face produced a visible red glow from his head, "thats not fair! this game is rigged!" gojo playfully put his fingers in his ear and childishly sang until y/n aggravated himself with no answer back from the cocky son of a bitch.

"i'll totally kill you!" y/n sputtered out, embarrassment prominent on his face, he jumped off the couch and pounced on satoru, who went down with a thud on his beige carpet, earning a loud laugh from the proud man. y/n pretended to choke out gojo, wrapping his hands around the man's throat and applying the slightest pressure in order to not cause any actual harm to him. "talk about being kinky n/n! didnt know you had a thing for breath play" satoru playfully grinned at the man on top of him, placing his hands on top of y/n's wrists and provocatively licking his lips.

y/n's grip instinctively tightened, wanting to close satoru's throat for good so he couldnt spit it out another cocky word from his stupid mouth, who could possibly know that the most nerdiest looking guy on campus had the biggest ego and was disgustingly cocky? gojo chuckled smugly, "c'mon, i won fair and square and you know it" y/n released his grasp on the man's throat with an eye roll, not pleased by his teasing tone of voice. "the victor is calling for his spoils y/n, so hurry up and get to sucking" gojo's eyes were filled with something that was beyond desire, it almost seemed like his glasses were the only thing that was keeping his secret gaze away from the naked eye.

y/n groaned but decided to go along, beggars cant be choosers after all. he laid on the couch, the top of his head making contact with the side of the couch's arm, gojo was above him, his shimmering blue eyes slightly dimmed by the shadow of his face. "never realized how good you looked under me" satoru teased, his glasses slightly tilted as he tried to keep them from falling off his face, y/n simply looked into gojo's soul, as if he was telepathically asking him 'was it worthy it?'. but gojo simply threw y/n's menacing gaze out the window and just took it as a challenge to further his tantalizing actions, "youre so gross satoru".

gojo simply cackled at the degradation given by the man below him, "you should've already known i was a dirty dog n/n, ive given you so many signs!" y/n irked, already irritated by the nerd's cocky behavior, "hurry it up already! god you talk too much" satoru breathed deeply before shifting his briefs down his thighs until they reached the indent of the back of his knees. his tip was a deep reddish-coral color, mostly due to the blood that shifted down his body, the cock twitched slightly, adapting to the new feeling of the environment around it, gojo ghosted the head of his cock on y/n's lips, rubbing it on the soft and smooth surface. satoru moved his hand from the base of his cock to y/n's mouth, slipping a finger through the outer extremities and digging into the soft and wet tissue of the inside with his nail.

y/n simply had his eyes shut tight as he felt what gojo did to him, not wanting to look at his annoying and humiliating eyes as he teased his dick on the rim of his mouth. "you shouldnt close your eyes while i do this y/n, it makes me feel sad" satoru fainted sadness, his voice filled with a mocking sob, y/n opened his eyes begrudgingly, but his eyebrows kept their furrowed and deep shape. gojo took this as an opportunity to slip the thick head of his cock into y/n's mouth, causing the man to shiver slightly as he felt the fat member run past his lips and go into the moistness of mouth, satoru let out a loud and tantalizing moan, almost as if he wanted noise complaints the next morning.

gojo placed his hands on top of the arm of the sofa, placing them on top of each other, his stance looked as if he was about to do incline push ups. slowly, he began thrusting his large member in and out of y/n's mouth, poking it against the insides of his cheek to make them poke out so he could compare his fat tip to y/n's smaller face. satoru giggled as he continued playing around until y/n gave a displeased grunt, his eye lightly twitching as his displeasure levels rose in his body, he then quickly gave a halfhearted 'sorry' before he took a heavy breather, readying himself before he finally began to slip more inches into y/n's throat.

satoru groaned as he felt his cock be engulfed in the tight and moist walls of y/n's mouth, drool slowly dripped out of the corner of his mouth as his mouth lazily hung open, y/n held tightly onto gojo's flexed calf as he endured the feeling of something so unfamiliar infiltrate the inside of his face, he lightly gagged as he felt the pressure of satoru's fat cock press against his usual compact walls, "dont choke now baby, im almost done putting it in" gojo teased, holding his glasses in place as he looked down on y/n, who held a disgruntled look on his face.

y/n's nose finally came in contact with satoru's clean-shaven pelvis, the humid air he breathed in had the mixture of oxygen and the sweat coming from gojo's skin, causing him to breathe more slowly as to catch more fresh air from the ac rather than the moist air of shared chemicals. "shit y/n, i cant imagine how sweet your dumb face is gonna look after i facefuck it" satoru breathlessly said before beginning to thrust his cock in and out of y/n's throat, he started off slow and controlled, wanting to feel how y/n's glands contracted around his most sensitive part of his body. his pace quickly increased, his hips desiring more movement and friction, y/n let out muffled noises against gojo's cock, unused to the sudden change in tone in his thrusts, satoru's moans grew in volume, almost as if he wanted to wake up the next morning with papers upon papers of noise complaints on his door.

"take this you sore fucking loser" gojo grunted as his back arched more in order to place more inches inside of y/n, earning more moans and groans to slip out of his mouth, y/n couldnt do anything but take the wild thrusts of satoru, which angered him more than before, who did this fool think he was? allowing himself to plow his dick deep within the back of his throat until he felt like gagging, once he got up again he'd surely wreck him in more than one way.

gojo's chest rose and fell vigorously, feeling the weight of cumming rising deep within his tummy. his face was wet with sweat, causing his glasses to fall more easily off his face, one of the many disadvantages of having to wear glasses during sex. satoru had very very bad eyesight, without his glasses, hes basically a walking bat, but he couldnt take off his glasses now, as he wanted to look down at y/n choke on the thickness of his dick ramming down in his slick and tight throat. gojo had the smuggest look on his lips as he watched himself dig deep within y/n's insides, watching as fat tears rolled down his cheeks, lightly glistening from the surrounding light around satoru's body.

"im about to cum y/n, you better take it like the good fucking boy you are" gojo growled as he shut his eyes tightly, focusing on quickening the pace of his movements, y/n tried protesting but the dick in his mouth prevented him from speaking words, rendering him to only make angered grunts from his throat. the more the vibrations went on the more closer satoru felt the knot in his stomach unwinding, earning more noises to come out of him, the wet and sloppy noises from y/n's ruined throatpussy threw gojo more into intoxicated state of wanting to ruin y/n even more. wanting to hear him beg for mercy even without words, god he wanted him so bad in such a disgusting way.

gojo gripped onto the olefin sofa, his nails scratching against the woven surface as it tried grabbing onto any kind of hook for him to grab onto. his noises echoed through the empty house, along with the squelching noise of the upcoming throatpie, satoru quickly grabbed two tuffs of hair frim y/n's, pulling them closer towards him to close the gap between them. he cried out as his thick and warm liquids poured into the back of y/n's throat, causing slight gagging noises to come from y/n, he felt discomfort rising within him as gojo held his head a bit too tight against his abodomen, his thin skin letting his hip bone protrude into his face.

gojo slowly let go of y/n's head, letting his head fall back into the bouncy couch cushion as he slid his cock out from his cum-covered throat. y/n shivered at the feeling of satoru pulling out, the weird sensation of the large member sliding out of his insides that had been morphed into its size made y/n feel weird and uncomfortable in a way. "fuck that was good, you really know how to take in a dick in that mouth" gojo teased, his infamous smug grin plastered on his face, "fuck.. you.." y/n coughed out, his throat incredibly sore from the abuse it went through. "hmm lets make another bet, if you can go through one round with me in your ass, i'll let you out this dorm without any more requests, and i'll pay for your food for this month" satoru paused as he chuckled sinisterly, "but if you cant, i will fuck you till the sun rises, and make you so incredibly late for all your dumb classes, got it?" y/n weakly groaned, his mind slipping in and out of consciousness. gojo leaned down and kissed his head, "cmon, just one round!" y/n's eyes shifted towards satoru's gleaming ones, "whatever.."

[4nicolas]

❝where’d you learn that?❞ | gojo satoru

jjk x top! male! reader

prompt: when tensions rise and hands begin to wander, they’re not too impressed with how your touch feels practiced (series!) character: gojo satoru warnings: sparring, suggestive content, lowercase intended note: hey! this is my first time writing fanfic for tumblr—please be nice or ill cum 🤕 i wanted to write this for a lot of the jjk characters, so im splitting this into multiple parts 🙏 deadass lost the plot with this and focused more on background building than the actual prompt, but nonetheless please enjoy!

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ᥫ᭡ gojo satoru

⟢ you’re a teacher at tokyo jujutsu high, known for specializing in hand-to-hand defensive combat —the one in charge of training sorcerers in fighting without relying on cursed technique

⟢ your classes are notorious for being brutal, yet effective; pushing students past their limits, and teaching them when it comes down to the wire, their physical strength could define the line between life and death

⟢ during one of your sparring lessons, gojo strolled in with his usual grin, arms crossed over his chest like he owned the place

⟢ “your students look a little bored,” he teased, giving a lazy tilt of his head. “need me to give them a real lesson?”

⟢ you arose from the beaten mat, hands on your hips. “you volunteering to get your ass beat, gojo?”

⟢ “sure—something like that.”

⟢ there was one condition to make the playing field even; no cursed techniques—no limitless, no infinity—just raw, pure strength and skill

⟢ and even with these restrictions enforced upon gojo, there was a reason why he was called “the strongest.” his moves were calculated and unpredictable—every hit he threw had weight

⟢ but you met him, blow for blow. muscles straining, sweat dripping down your brow

⟢ yet, the effort was almost made to no use when gojo smiled at you, bending his knees and going low—lunging at your form, and grabbing your shoulder and waist, pushing you down onto the mat with his body following suit

⟢ he panted over you, his knee pinning your thigh down. “see? lesson number one—gojo-sensei is still the strongest—even without cursed techniques,” he spoke over his shoulder to the trio. his face was flushed from the exertion, his hair falling over his blindfold

⟢ whether it was his cocky smile or your students nodding along to what he was saying—it pissed you off. no one was going to make a fool out of you in your own classroom

⟢ using his distracted state to flaunt his “win,” you shifted your hip, successfully knocking his knee off your thigh and twisting your body to push his over to the left

⟢ gojo’s chest met the mat, grunting. you propelled yourself upward, flipping over to place a knee on each side of him, sitting on his lower back

⟢ you place a hand on the nape of his neck, sedating him. his left hand shot out to push himself off the ground, but you pinned his wrist down

⟢ he looked over his shoulder at you, his chest harshly rising and falling beneath you

⟢ you smirked at the loss of his smug grin, your fingers digging harder and leaning over him to really settle the feeling

⟢ “never doubt your opponent—lesson number… two.”

⟢ your students let out ooohh’s and laughed at gojo’s loss. you smiled towards them and gojo huffed, then pouted at the sound of their laughter

⟢ you cocked your head at his expression, letting go of his wrist to plant it beside his head to support your weight as you leaned down further

⟢ “don’t be upset—you make it too easy to get on top of you.”

⟢ gojo’s breath faltered, placing his palms on the mat to push himself—and also you—off

⟢ he stood to his full height, dusting his clothes off to make time for his face to settle from its pink hue

⟢ he coughed into his fist before turning to properly face the students. “obviously, i let him win.”

⟢ you stood up from your spot on the mat, wrapping an arm around gojo’s shoulder, quickly giving a dismissive wave of your hand to deny his words

⟢ from that day, your lesson haunted gojo—he could not forget the feeling of your body above his

⟢ and with each passing day, the want grew unbearable

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the school day had ended—the halls filled with the echoes of your students’ groaning about their exhaustion.

yuji and nobara staggered out the door, faces red and drenched in sweat, while their shirts clung to their back, complaining about how their arms, “… were going to fall off.”

as megumi begrudgingly followed their steps, wiping the sweat cascading down his nape with his uniform’s jacket, you smirked to yourself. their complaints were a badge of honor you proudly wore.

now alone, your classroom reeked of sweat and determination—the mats laying askew on the wooden floors. you let a long, deep sigh, your shoulders melting down from their tense position near your ears. with a roll of your head to ease an ache, you tugged the bandages around your knuckles tighter, feeling the familiar burn of your skin beneath the wrap.

behind the closed door was yuji’s ecstatic voice, saying goodbye. “later, gojo-sensei!”

the sliding door of your classroom creaked open, then closed. before you could even cock your head in greeting, he spoke up.

“hard on them as always, huh?”

you turned to face him, shifting your weight onto your left foot. the last rays of the afternoon sun slanted through the windows to catch onto his silver-white strands of his hair, which stuck up in tufts like he had just run a hand through it out of boredom. his blindfold, as always, covered his brilliant blues. and his uniform was neat—almost no wrinkles—but his sleeves were rolled up, forearms laid bare with veins prominent against his pale skin.

your eyes lazily followed the trail of veins before they retreated into his pockets, a small smile decorating his face at your gaze—almost like he planned for trouble.

“afternoon, gojo,” you greeted, tightening the wrap on your hand with a slight tug, making sure it laid snug. “here for another lesson?”

gojo took a step closer, fingers idly toying with the cuff of his sleeve. “hope you don’t mind having no audience this time?”

you chuckled, amusement bubbling in your chest, tilting your head to size him up. “sure,” you cocked an eyebrow. “if you wanted me to kick your ass again, you could’ve just asked.”

gojo’s grin widened, unzipping his jacket.

“guess i’m asking.”

the room shifted the moment the two of you stepped onto the mat, fists raised in defense. the challenge soured the air and turned your blood to be charged like lightning.

and gojo was the thunder.

his first strike was a quick jab aimed to your jaw, testing your reflexes. you dodged with your head reeling backwards, feeling the rush of air as his fist skimmed past.

you retaliated—pivoting on your heel and driving a punch towards his ribs. he blocked with his forearms slamming against your fists; bones cracking against bones.

“not bad,” he teased, breath hitching from the impact. you smiled with a shrug of gratitude. you noted the way his shoulder tensed before each move and the minute shifts he puts onto each foot.

his leg swept out next, trying to take your feet out from under you. you leapt back just in time—soles barely skimming the floor. a breath sharply escaped your nose as you regained your footing and raised your knee to direct at his ribs. gojo grunted, catching your leg on his arm, twisting in hopes to offset your balance. but you moved with him, following the roll and planting your palms on the ground to flip back onto your feet.

gojo’s grin was wide now, white teeth flashing as he gave you a nod of approval. his punches came faster, each strike calculated—but so were your counters, shielding your face from the barrage of punches. fists and elbows grazed jaws and knees impacted sides.

in a fiery dance, you led gojo to a standstill. gojo smirked as he wiped at the sweat trickling past his ear, as your breath came fast, but controlled. you clenched your fists—his tactic was using offense as his defense, not giving you the chance to get close at all.

at this point, you just wanted to title the victor.

and you wouldn’t settle for anything less than your own name.

gojo huffed at the space created for rest. “getting tired already?”

“not a chance.”

you feinted a punch at his face, and gojo took the bait like a dream. he shifted to block, arm coming up to shield his cheek. and that’s when you used your momentum—shoulder to his chest, fist turning to grip his wrist, dropping your weight.

and down the both of you went.

gojo hit the mat with a sharp exhale, and before he could recover, you straddled his hips, knees bracing on either side. one of your hands still held his wrist, while your other palm pressed firmly against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath it.

his chest rose and fell, breath mingling with yours. his blindfold had been knocked askew up his forehead in the scuffle, exposing both his eyes—eyes that gleamed with surprised.

and maybe something else.

“y’know,” you panted, grin curling your lips. “it was weird enough that i beat you the first time. but twice? c’mon now, gojo—you could at least make it less obvious you enjoy losing against me.”

gojo mirrored your grin, shrugging. “‘s less fun that way.”

his words make you take the situation in its entirety—the warmth of his thighs bracketing yours, the feel of his heartbeat against your palm. the sheer closeness, despite the intentional purpose of it, had made you nervous.

you begin to straighten yourself, trying to regain some space, when—

gojo’s hand rose, fingers sliding to the back of your neck, wrapping around your damp skin, holding you in place. his grip was firm, but not rough. he pulled you close—close enough where your foreheads nearly touched, close enough to taste his breath; hot, and sweet like mint. your hands hurriedly situated themselves next to his head as to not crush him.

“leaving so soon?” he murmured, voice low as if he was sharing a secret between only the two of you. his grin turned soft—inviting. his head tilted slightly, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw.

“gojo—“ you swallowed hard, but he cut you off.

“satoru,” he corrected, his thumb ran down your throat, tracing your adam’s apple. “call me satoru.”

your pulse jumped while his pupils dilated, lips parted in anticipation. was the light green? swallowing your nerves, you leaned in slowly, giving enough time for satoru to pull away—but he didn’t.

you closed your eyes when your nose brushed his—the space between you disappearing until your lips finally met. his mouth was soft, yet tentative; savoring the moment, but still testing the waters. his lips were warm and had the faintest taste of salt from the spar still lingering.

satoru let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his hand tightening on your nape and his other trailing up from your shoulder to your jaw, angling your face to deepen the kiss. your lips moved together, slow but hungry, relishing in the heat radiating off of each other.

you moved your right leg off his hip, sliding it between his legs. then your left leg followed suit—his thighs enclosing yours. your knees spread to open his legs further, welcoming you in closer. you felt him smile into your lips, his thumb stroking your jaw as if memorizing your bone structure.

the kiss wasn’t perfect—it was messy and filled with want, exchanging breaths and lips parting just to taste more. you nipped at his bottom lip, and the small sigh he let out made your head spin. his leg shifted on top of yours, trying to find some grounding but settling with gripping the hair at the base of your nape.

he opened his mouth, and your tongues brushed against each other, apprehensively, but eventually, your mouths found a rhythm that made the rest of the world melt away. his hand on your jaw slid and splayed over your back, possessively—your hands anchored onto his waist.

satoru pulls back just barely, eyes half-lidded. your foreheads rested against each other, breath shallow. his cheeks were flushed, grin lazy. “been wanting that since the first time you pinned me down.”

you lean down to place a kiss below his jaw, right where his pulse throbbed. “no shame?”

“not when you’re the strongest.”

your grin widened against his skin. “and look where i’ve got the strongest right now—what does that make me?”

satoru tilted his head playfully, both hands now resting on your shoulders.

“dangerous.”

a shiver ran down your spine and a thrill through your veins. you scoffed softly, hand dragging from his waist down to the curve of his hip, to the plump muscles beneath his thigh. his breath hitched the moment your fingers wrapped his right thigh, lifting it easily to guide it to curl around your waist. you raise your head to engulf his bottom lip with yours.

satoru eyebrows drew together at your actions, but has his mouth too busy on yours to question it. with a twist of your hips, you grind your groin against his, punching out a groan from the back of satoru’s throat, muffled against your lips.

the motion causes satoru’s eyes to fly open mid-kiss, and suddenly his hands unwrap from your shoulder so his palms were pressed to your chest, pushing you back—his breath ragged.

you reluctantly pull back, eyes lidded with a gentle smile on your lips. satoru’s eyes search your features for an answer to his unasked question—from your parted lips that heave out shallow breaths, to your eyes that sparkle with desire. but all you answer back with is an arched brow.

“something the matter?”

but satoru answers your question with another, “where’d you learn that?”

his curiosity could pertain to multiple aspects of what was going on, but satoru is quick to add on with a wave of his hand, gesturing between the two of your bodies, “this!”

you sit back onto your calves with a puzzled look, as he sits up on his elbows, leg unraveling from your waist. you begin to open your mouth to further question, but the sight of your shared spit glistening on his lips—his chest heaving—made it hard to take him serious, smiling slightly.

satoru doesn’t enjoy your lack of understanding to the gravity of the situation, his eyebrows furrowing to convey his frustration. you raise your hands off from his body in mock defense, tilting your head away with closed eyes, “sorry, sorry—just confused as to what i’m explaining.”

he stabs an accusatory finger into your chest, repeatedly jabbing into your sternum. “wherever you got your license to teach defensive combat, i’m very sure they don’t teach you how to grind on your opponent.”

you rub the area he prods at, hissing before grabbing his hand to still him. “I didn’t know this was a confessional. what—should i confess all my sins to you now?”

satoru doesn’t laugh.

you sigh, “just something small—a fling, if you will. wasn’t anything serious.”

he has a tiny pout forming, but your answer seems to satisfy him, seeing as though he sits up straighter, wrapping both of his arms around your form. “that’s not what you see me as, right?”

your grin returned, your cockiness settling back into place. “you take me for an idiot?”

satoru lets out a breath of laughter, as he drags you down into another kiss, “sometimes,” his smirk mirroring yours. “only on tuesdays.”

thank god it was monday.

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note: thank you so much for reading! and guys… i got too carried away with this 😭 and quick question—do you guys have a preference for lower case or upper case works? i like lower case because of the way i text but upper case gives that clean, almost professional look but idk

[4nicolas]

chat i love him, deadass.

𖦏    /brief:   gojo x male reader. smoking / nicotine use (by reader). mutual pining. workplace romance. queer identity exploration / soft queerness. sunshine gojo x grumpy reader. reader is openly queer, gojo is not yet out.

the thing about corporate culture no one warns you about is that it doesn’t kill you instantly. 

no, it chisels you down over time — like water against stone — until you find yourself explaining what “filter by condition” means to someone who has been on payroll longer than you’ve had your driver's license, and then being thanked like you just discovered fire.

you were already behind on three major deadlines, one budget proposal, and one very emotional argument with your work laptop, which now heats up so dramatically it could double as a hotplate.

today’s adventure began with a “quick stand-up meeting” that turned into a slow-motion trainwreck — because sarah from finance wanted to “just circle back” to something that had already been circled, squared, and buried months ago. you nodded politely while staring into the abyss of your lukewarm black coffee, the one thing in the office more bitter than you. 

your intern tried to make conversation by asking if you watched the office.

“i work here,” you said.

he laughed. you didn’t.

the tipping point, however, came when a colleague — who once used “AI” and “IQ” interchangeably — slack-messaged you a jpeg screenshot of a spreadsheet. not the spreadsheet itself. not even a pdf. 

a blurry jpeg. 

followed by “can u fix this lol.”

“lol” was the final nail.

“lol” made your left eye twitch.

you stood up slowly, the chair creaking like it, too, had had enough. you grabbed your lighter — not for use, of course, since this was a progressive workplace with beanbags and passive aggression but no designated smoking zone — and made your ritual exit. the slow walk of shame past the glass conference rooms filled with people pretending to be busy on muted teams calls.

as always, you made your way to the furthest corner of the building, where a sad square of grass struggled to grow beneath the punishing sun and the weight of misplaced ambition. a single potted palm stood there like a fellow hostage, leaves slightly browned, as if also contemplating escape. you leaned on the railing, fished out a cigarette purely for the moral support, and stared into the distance. 

a pigeon landed next to you and promptly took a shit. perfect symbolism.

“this is fine,” you muttered, the office fire alarm going off faintly behind you.

but it wasn’t fine. and you were going to pretend it was, anyway. because corporate life isn’t about thriving. it’s about surviving, with a half-dead cigarette and a fully dead sense of hope.

you barely had time to finish one good exhale — one satisfying little puff of nicotine-induced detachment — before you heard the godforsaken shuffle of leather oxfords against concrete and the distinct jingle of a lanyard decorated with what you’re certain is a limited-edition spy x family keychain.

“wow,” gojo chirped, materialising beside you like a caffeine-addled spirit. “you know smoking that brand specifically increases your risk of testicular cancer by, like, forty-seven percent?”

you didn’t even look at him. your eyes stayed fixed on a disinterested butterfly flitting around a weed, which frankly had a better chance at promotion than you did.

“do i look like i’m trying to reproduce, gojo?”

“no, but your balls deserve better.”

you turned your head slowly, narrowing your eyes. gojo took a step back — but not far enough. like a stray dog too used to being fed.

“what do you want?” you asked flatly.

“me? nothing! i just saw you out here, looking like a brooding villain—”

“i’m not brooding.”

“—and i thought, you know what this man needs? some company.”

you took another drag, debating if the cigarette was worth the lung damage when paired with this conversation. gojo bounced on the balls of his feet, eyes scanning your lighter like it was contraband.

“is that… is that a clipper lighter? oh my god, that’s so vintage. do you refill it yourself?”

“yes,” you said, clipped.

“with what kind of butane?”

“you wanna inhale it and guess?”

“okay, a little scary, but valid.”

he leaned against the railing beside you, sighing dramatically like you were sharing some sacred, melancholic moment.

“did you know sarah’s getting a divorce?”

“don’t care.”

“it’s her third one.”

“still don’t care.”

“you’re no fun. wait — guess who found out that terry from logistics has a secret dog grooming side hustle?”

“i didn’t even know terry existed.”

gojo gasped like you just told him santa was fake. “you’re like the human version of a granite countertop. cold, grey, but weirdly dependable.”

you glared at him.

“also kind of expensive,” he added, thoughtfully.

you flicked ash toward the weed patch and looked at him finally. “why are you like this?”

“undiagnosed hyperactivity and a desperate need for attention,” he said, cheerful. “but mostly? i like watching you try not to murder me. it’s character building.”

you exhaled again, longer this time, like if you let the smoke linger, it’d carry your soul out with it. 

“…don’t you have work to do?”

“finished it during my pre-lunch sweet treat.”

“so you’re on a break?”

“no, i just said that to justify loitering around you.”

you gave him a look. the kind of look HR would have something to say about if they weren’t busy booking yoga instructors for stress awareness week. gojo smiled like he was being praised. “you’re not telling me to leave.”

“i’m smoking.”

“which is kind of sad, but also kind of hot.”

“gojo.”

“yeesss, boss?”

“if you don’t shut up in the next five seconds—”

“okayokayokay! no threats during the sacred smoke break, got it!”

he went silent, leaning in a little closer with his arms folded. his hair caught the sunlight in that annoying way only hair that costs more than your entire skincare routine could. he hummed tunelessly under his breath.

you sighed. not annoyed, just resigned. like a man who accepted that even his vices weren’t sacred anymore.

“…fine,” you muttered.

“what’s that?”

“you can stand here. but if you talk, i’m throwing you into the compost bin.”

gojo grinned like a child handed candy and absolutely no parental supervision. “deal.”

you took another drag as the butterfly landed on gojo’s shoulder.

you both ignored it.

⋆˙⟡ —

the silence lasted exactly three minutes. 

you knew because you counted.

not out of anticipation or interest — god forbid — but because with gojo, silence was as rare and delicate as office air conditioning that actually worked. 

you were halfway through your third drag when it shattered.

“so why do you smoke?” he asked, all faux-casual, like he hadn’t been sitting there twitching with the effort of not talking. 

you didn’t answer immediately. mostly because you were enjoying the quiet. partly because his voice had that frustratingly chipper cadence that made it sound like he was hosting a game show inside your skull.

“keeps my mouth busy,” you said eventually, letting the smoke swirl out lazily through your teeth.

“oh?” he replied, eyes sharp and unblinking now, like you’d said something far more scandalous than you intended.

“don’t start,” you warned.

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you breathed like you were about to.”

gojo grinned, teeth bright, eyes doing that annoying crinkle they did when he was both entertained and soft around the edges. 

and that’s the problem. 

he was soft around the edges, even when he was being unbearable, nosy, bouncing-off-the-walls annoying. 

you noticed the way he gave the cafeteria staff nicknames, or how he left post-its on your desk with doodles of you as a villain in a cape that read “deadlines or death.”

and that wasn’t fair. because you were the grump. you were the dark storm cloud. you were the metaphorical ashtray of this building. but the truth? you weren’t always like that. you just forgot when you stopped being warm.

so no, you didn’t lie when you said the cigarette was to keep your mouth busy. but it was also something to hold on to. something to do instead of feel. because god forbid you admit that seeing gojo every day — even when he’s bouncing off sugar highs and ruining your sacred smoke break — somehow made things a little less grey.

“sooo,” he started, dragging out the syllable like a drawl. “you keep your mouth busy so you don’t have to talk?”

you glanced at him. “no. so i don’t scream.”

he snorted. “fair.”

you exhaled another stream of smoke, not looking at him, but not not aware of how he hadn’t budged an inch. how his knee nearly brushed yours. how the air between you was starting to feel less breathable — not because of the cigarette, but because of something else entirely.

and then you felt it. his perfume. warm and sharp and stupidly comforting. a little too close.

you turned just as he leaned in, slow but certain. like he’d already played out the scenario in his head and liked the ending. his lips met yours before you could ask if he was serious, before you could say something stupid, before you could overthink it like you always do.

it wasn’t dramatic. it wasn’t cinematic. it was just — there.

his mouth gently, confidently, slotting against yours.

you blinked, stunned into stillness, the smoke curling somewhere between your fingers and your ribs, and your body betraying you by not moving away. he tasted faintly of cola candy and whatever sweet nonsense he’d probably stolen from HR’s desk. he pulled back a second later, his expression unreadable but his ears flushed red. 

the silence returned.

this time, it was yours to break.

“…trying to keep my mouth busy?” you asked, flat. 

he shrugged, the corner of his lip twitching up. “figured i’d help.”

you didn’t mention the way his eyes darted to your mouth again, or the fact that he still hadn’t moved away. 

he didn’t mention the way your hand shook slightly as you flicked ash to the side.

unspoken truce.

you wouldn’t call out the blush dusting his cheekbones. he wouldn’t call out the faint, reluctant smile tugging at yours.

god help you if this becomes a habit. but for now, you lit another cigarette. 

and he stayed.

⋆˙⟡ —

it became a habit in the way most dangerous things do — quietly, then all at once.

you started saying it casually.

“hey, gojo. c’mon, keep my mouth busy.”

and every single time, without fail, he’d go bright red.

“could you not say that with the intern right there?” he hissed one time, looking like he was about to combust. you looked dead at the intern, who was absolutely not paying attention. 

“what, you jealous someone else might offer?”

gojo sputtered. “don’t make me file an HR complaint. i’ll do it anonymously.”

“you’d sign it with a doodle of your own face. again.”

despite his complaints, he always followed you out. every break. every day. you didn’t have to ask anymore — he’d just fall into step with you, talking about the cafeteria’s crime against udon or his most recent theory about how terry from logistics was definitely laundering money through dog shampoo.

and he always brought something sweet. mochi, on most days. lollipops, on others — only on the days you looked particularly stressed. those days, he’d unwrap one, stick it in his mouth, and turn to you with a smirk.

“look, i’m you,” he’d say, voice muffled. “except cuter.”

“except unemployed, if you keep talking,” you’d mutter, lighting your cigarette.

he’d grin around the stick.

you didn’t mind his dramatics. he didn’t mind your silence. it worked.

but some things subtly changed.

he stopped standing an arm’s length away. now he leaned into your side, letting your elbow brush his every now and then. he didn’t just talk at you — he listened more. asked things like, “what time did you sleep?” and “did you eat?” and once, even a very awkward, “do you… feel okay when i’m not around?”

you didn’t say yes. but you didn’t say no either.

you just offered him a drag. 

he declined, as always, but took it anyway. 

then he coughed for two minutes straight.

“you’re not built for this,” you told him. 

he thumped his chest and wheezed, “i’m built different.”

you didn’t kiss him every time. not in the open. you weren’t shy about who you were — never had been. but he…

he wasn’t ready yet, and that was okay. you understood. some people take longer to unfold.

still, you couldn’t help pushing his buttons now and then.

once, when the team lead passed by near your usual corner and gojo stiffened beside you, you leaned over and whispered, “relax. i won’t bend you over the potted plant. not today.”

he nearly choked on his mochi. “you’re a menace,” he whispered back, face pink.

“and you’re addicted.”

“to you or the sugar?”

“yes.”

the line between teasing and real got blurrier every week. some days, he’d look at you for a beat too long and say something that tried to be light but landed too heavy.

like, “do you think it’s weird i only enjoy work when you’re around?”

or, “don’t get hit by a bus, okay?”

and once, quietly: “you make me feel more like myself. even when i hate myself.”

you hadn’t known what to say to that. so you just took his hand, tugged him closer, and bumped his forehead lightly with your own. he smiled like it hurt. 

you let him stay.

because he may not have been bold like you — not yet — but every time you stubbed out a cigarette, he was already there. holding out candy, grinning too wide, eyes too soft.

and honestly? you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[4nicolas]

NINE LIVES, ONE BULLET

pairing: outlaw! gojo saturo x male reader

synopsis: You’re a thief. He's a legend. All you wanted was the artifact — not a partner, not a bounty, and definitely not feelings. But there’s only one bed, one bullet, and maybe one shot at making it out alive. (And gods help you, you’re starting to like him.)

content warnings: 18+, outlaw/thief dynamic, bottom male reader, heavily inspired by puss in boots, Gojo is feral in a silk shirt, slow burn with explosive payoff, community bathhouse smut (fingering, p in a, reader receiving), one bed trope, fake marriage but the feelings are real, suggestive swordplay, magical artifact slowly corrupting the reader (he’s fine. probably), minor blood and injury, mutual possessiveness disguised as banter, major character death, emotional vulnerability in stolen clothes, they save the day but lose some of themselves, Gojo probably steals your boots.

word count: 10.5k 💪🏼

You were two clicks away from glory.

The last mechanism in the vault lock was nearly purring under your tools, an intricate thing of gears and whispers that had taken you three nights to decode. The room was dim, lit only by the warm flicker of a stolen lantern and the soft red glow of rune-etched stone along the floor. Whoever built this place wanted the treasure buried and forgotten, but they hadn’t counted on you.

You adjusted your gloves, fingers nimble as the final latch gave the faintest click. Satisfaction hummed through you, the kind that only came from outsmarting kings and walking away richer.

And then you heard it.

A crunch.

You froze.

Not the stone-shifting crack of an ancient trap. Not the telltale grind of armoured boots. No—this was sharper. Wetter. Smugger.

You turned your head, slowly, already dreading what you’d find.

And there he was.

Satoru Gojo. Leaning casually against the far column, biting into a red apple like he’d strolled into a marketplace instead of a cursed noble’s vault. White hair gleaming. Mask angled just enough to be obnoxious. His boots were dusty, his grin shit-eating, and his eyes—fuck. Of course, he didn’t bother hiding them.

"Don’t stop on my account," he said, juice running down his wrist. "You looked so focused. It was adorable."

You stared.

Then blinked.

Then said, flatly, “What the fuck.”

He gestured with the apple. “Hi.”

“Did you follow me?”

“Technically, I was here first. I just took a more dramatic entrance route.” Another bite. “Rooftops. Rope. Possible broken window.”

You looked past him, and sure enough, one of the stained glass panels high above was cracked open, edges glittering with fresh damage.

“You’re a fucking legend,” you muttered, turning back to the vault.

"Aww, you do know me."

“I also think you're a fucking nuisance.”

Gojo laughed, low and pleased. "You say that like it’s mutually exclusive."

You exhaled slowly, jaw tightening. “You planning on standing there eating fruit while I do all the work?”

“Actually,” he said, and there was the sound of something metal shifting behind you, “I was thinking I’d help.”

You spun, knives drawn in a blur.

But Gojo wasn’t threatening you—he was kneeling beside the pedestal now, peering at the exposed vault like it was a puzzle box.

He whistled. “Damn. You already disarmed the pressure plates?”

“You’re loud,” you said, circling him warily. “And messy.”

He looked up at you, bright-eyed. “But cute, right?”

Your blade hovered an inch from his throat.

“You’ve got five seconds to leave.”

“Oh?” His smile widened, infuriating. “Or what? You’ll stab the most charming outlaw in the land?”

“If it shuts you up, absolutely.”

“Harsh.” He leaned in, voice lower now. “You always this violent on first meetings, or am I special?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

"And you're hot when you're mad."

The moment stretched between you like a tripwire. His smile didn’t falter, but his fingers twitched near the hilt of the blade at his hip. Not drawn, not threatening. Just… prepared.

So he wasn’t an idiot. That was disappointing. You liked idiots. They bled easier.

“I know who you are,” you said finally.

“Everyone does.”

“I don’t mean your wanted posters. I mean your real reputation. You get people killed.”

His expression didn’t change, but something cold flickered behind his smirk. “People get themselves killed. I just make it interesting.”

You hated how good that line was. Hated more that it made you want to smirk back.

Instead, you sheathed your knives and moved past him to the artifact.

Small. Black. Humming with a pulse you felt in your ribs. The voidseed, they called it. One wish. One curse. Same odds, depending on how desperate you were.

Gojo stood too, closer now. You felt him behind you, tall and warm and irritating.

“Any chance you’ll split it?” he asked.

“Not even if you begged.”

“Mmm. I am good at begging, though.”

You straightened, turned, and faced him properly for the first time.

Sharp white hair. Lashes too long. Lips still stained from that damn apple. He was every kind of trouble, wrapped in silk and arrogance, and now he was standing between you and the exit.

You sighed. “I’m not fighting you in here. Too cramped.”

“Shame. I like it cramped.”

You stepped around him, slow, purposeful. “Touch me again and I’ll bury a dagger in your throat.”

He chuckled, following. “That’s not a no.”

You reached the exit passage, then paused. Looked back at him.

“You planning to follow me out?”

Gojo shrugged. “I’m not leaving empty-handed.”

“So rob someone else.”

“But you’re so much more fun.”

You stared. He smiled.

Then you threw a smoke vial to the ground and vanished into the haze, vaulting up the hidden escape shaft you’d scouted days ago. You didn’t bother looking back.

Let him chase you if he wanted.

You’d cut him off at the knees later.

---

The city was quieter at night—if you could call this a city. It was more like a stitched-together sprawl of forgotten temples, crumbling stonework, and wealthy cowards playing noble. Beyond the roofs stretched the distant outline of forest, where the real dangers lived. Where you were planning to disappear.

If not for the man currently chasing you.

You moved fast, vaulting from rooftop to rooftop, leather boots gripping slick clay tiles. The wind tugged at your coat and hissed in your ears. You landed, rolled, and sprang again without pause—muscle memory and adrenaline making you feel half-feral, half-myth.

Gojo was still behind you.

Gods, how was he still behind you?

You glanced back just as he landed a story down, arms outstretched like a damn acrobat, long coat flaring, silver hair glowing in the moonlight. He looked delighted. Delighted.

“This is the most cardio I’ve done all year!” he called, grinning. “Is this foreplay? Feels like foreplay.”

“Try dying!” you shouted back, and dropped smoke behind you again.

But he didn’t slow. Didn’t stumble. If anything, he laughed harder—like this wasn’t a chase at all but a fucking game, and you were the only one pretending to play it seriously.

You hated how good he was at this.

You hated that it was kind of fun.

You pivoted hard, ducked under a broken arch, and slid down the angled side of an old cathedral roof, boots skimming the rain-slick edge. You landed in the alley with a sharp grunt, breath visible in the cold.

Then silence.

No footsteps. No Gojo.

You waited five, ten seconds—ears straining—then exhaled slowly and melted into the shadows, slipping through the gap between buildings you’d marked earlier. It led into the narrow passage behind the bell tower, where the stone was warped from age and easy to scale.

You climbed three stories before you heard it again.

Crunch.

You looked up.

There he was.

Leaning against the spire like a gargoyle, eating another fucking apple.

You stared. “How—”

“I’m very light on my feet,” he said cheerfully, tossing the core into the dark. “Also, you take the exact same route every time. Predictable, but sexy.”

Your hand twitched near your knife. “If I kill you, does the bounty double?”

He cocked his head. “Are you flirting?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you reached the top of the roof and sat, boots swinging over the edge, chest rising and falling from the sprint. Gojo watched you, then flopped down beside you like this was all part of the plan.

Below, the city was a patchwork of flickering lamps and watchfires. The guards hadn’t spotted either of you yet. You could still vanish. You could still shake him. But for some reason, you didn’t move.

“I should stab you,” you muttered.

“You keep saying that,” Gojo replied, voice lighter now. “But here we are.”

Silence stretched between you. Not tense, exactly. Just full—with things you weren’t going to say and things he probably already knew.

Gojo broke it first. “That vault was yours?”

“Obviously.”

“You cracked it clean.”

“Obviously.”

He grinned. “I’m impressed.”

You glanced at him. “That doesn’t mean anything coming from you.”

“It does to me.”

And there it was again—that thing he did, that flicker behind the jokes and showmanship. Like he saw something in you that he wasn’t supposed to. Like he was trying to get under your skin on purpose.

“Why do you keep chasing me?” you asked, finally. “You could be halfway to the next kingdom by now.”

Gojo stretched his legs out, boots scuffed and dusted with rooftop grit. “Maybe I like shiny things.”

You rolled your eyes. “You didn’t even want the artifact.”

“Nope.”

“Then why—”

“I wanted to see who got there first.” He looked at you. Really looked. “And what they’d do with it.”

You met his gaze and felt something tighten in your chest.

“You think I’ll use it?”

He shrugged. “I think you’re not as heartless as people say.”

You laughed once, short and bitter. “And what gave you that idea? The knives or the running?”

“The way you looked at it. Like it scared you a little.”

You didn’t answer.

He leaned back on his elbows, tilting his head toward the stars. “I’ve seen men go mad for things like that. Or worse—get hopeful. That’s always when it breaks them.”

“Hope?”

Gojo nodded. “It’s a fragile thing. Makes people desperate.”

You turned away. Looked down at the artifact in your coat pocket. Still warm. Still humming. Like it was alive. Like it knew it had just become yours.

“I’m not desperate,” you said quietly.

“No,” Gojo agreed. “You’re angry.”

You didn’t ask how he knew that. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was guessing. Or maybe he really did see straight through people the way they said he could. Whatever it was, it made your skin itch.

“You gonna tail me all night?” you asked, voice back to flat.

“Depends,” he said, stretching. “Are you gonna make it worth my while?”

You stood abruptly. “Don’t follow me, Gojo.”

He didn’t rise. Just watched you from where he lay, too relaxed for someone who could be skewered in two seconds.

“You’re not the only outlaw after that thing, you know,” he said casually. “You might want backup. Or a partner.”

You looked over your shoulder. “I don’t do partners.”

“You might change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

Gojo smiled, softly this time. “I’ll see you again anyway.”

You disappeared into the shadows before you could give him the satisfaction of a reply.

And still, somewhere behind you, you heard him laughing.

---

You smelled blood before you stepped inside.

The tavern was quieter than you remembered, and that was saying something—it was already a shithole on a good day. You’d holed up here before: halfway between two borders, just obscure enough to be ignored by local law. Perfect for laying low after a heist. Perfect for disappearing.

But tonight, something was… off.

You kept your back to the wall and your hood up, fingers tracing the hilt under your coat as you passed between half-empty tables. A few men looked up—one blinked too slow, another’s hand twitched toward his belt. You kept walking.

The barkeep didn’t speak. Just jerked his chin toward the back room.

You slipped through the curtain.

Kaito was waiting. Ex-fence, part-time drunk, full-time coward. But useful—if you were willing to stomach the smell.

“You got it?” he rasped, eyes wide. “You actually got it?”

You didn’t answer. You pulled the object from inside your coat, still warm and faintly pulsing. The voidseed sat between you like a heart torn from a god. Kaito leaned forward, reverent.

“Shit,” he whispered. “You really pulled it off.”

“I need papers,” you said. “New name. New country. And I need it fast.”

Kaito nodded too quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I got a guy—wait, no—had a guy, he moved east, but I can get—”

The door behind you slammed open.

You turned just as the first knife whistled through the air. You ducked. It hit the wall behind you with a dull thud.

Four bounty hunters. Maybe five. All armed. All grinning.

You moved before they could surround you, flipping the table and vaulting over it. The room exploded into motion—Kaito shrieked and disappeared under a bench, typical—and you drew both knives in one smooth motion, spinning as the first man lunged.

You slashed his thigh, ducked a club, kicked the third in the stomach hard enough to hear ribs crack. It was fast. It was brutal. But they kept coming.

They weren’t just here for blood.

They were here for the artifact.

Shit.

You were outnumbered, boxed in, and—

The window shattered.

Something slammed into the room in a blur of white and blue. The air twisted, and suddenly three men were on the floor, groaning or unconscious. One tried to crawl away. A boot stepped on his hand.

Gojo.

“Miss me?” he said, smile sharp and stupid and radiant.

You didn’t answer. You threw a bottle at the last standing hunter and watched it explode against his face.

“Charming,” Gojo said. “Didn’t know you could throw like that.”

“I’ll throw you if you don’t explain how they found me.”

Gojo crouched, yanked a bounty poster from one of their belts, and tossed it to you.

You caught it.

And froze.

Your name.

Your face—sketched, but unmistakable.

And scrawled beneath it in fat, blood-red ink:

WANTED – DEAD OR ALIVE – POSSESSION OF AN ANCIENT CURSE REWARD: 5,000 GOLD COINS

You stared. “Five thousand?”

Gojo whistled low. “Even I’m not worth that much.”

“This wasn’t here yesterday.”

“Which means someone talked.”

You turned to Kaito. He held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything, I swear—!”

You kicked over his table. He screamed and ducked.

Gojo chuckled. “So. What’s your plan now?”

“Run,” you snapped. “Fast and far.”

“You won’t make it through the border checkpoints with that poster circulating. Every pair of eyes from here to the capital’s gonna be looking for you.”

“Not if I move fast.”

“Not if you move alone.”

You stopped.

Gojo smiled, all lazy amusement. “Travel with me. We’ll cut through the cliffs and loop around the marshlands. No patrols, no checkpoints. I’ve got people there. We’ll be ghosts.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“That’s mutual.”

You glared. “Then why help me?”

He looked down at the voidseed, then back up at you.

“Because,” he said, voice lower now, “you’re not the only one who wants to know what that thing does. And I’ve got a map.”

You paused.

He added, “To the place it came from. The one no one dares go near. Not unless they want answers. Or power.”

You didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

You could stab him. You could go alone. You could disappear into the woods and take your chances with the bounty on your back and the hunters at your heels.

Or you could take the risk.

You sheathed your knives. “Fine. One week. Then we’re done.”

Gojo grinned. “Whatever you say, partner.”

“I’m not your partner.”

“We’re travelling together. You’re not not my partner.”

You shoved past him. “If you talk this much while we’re walking, I will kill you.”

“That’s fine. You’ll miss me.”

You didn’t answer.

But you didn’t look back, either.

Because for the first time since stealing the voidseed, you weren’t running alone.

And you hated that it made you feel a little less doomed.

---

You hated traveling with other people.

They slowed you down. They made noise. They had opinions about things like “breaks” and “which direction the cliffs are” and “not threatening every barkeep you meet.” And yet, here you were.

With him.

Gojo Satoru walked like a man who’d never feared a fall. Long strides, loose limbs, like the world was his to trip through. He hadn’t shut up for hours—about the voidseed, about local legends, about a mythical hot spring he swore was nearby and probably full of naked people.

You barely grunted in response.

Mostly to stop yourself from saying something you’d regret.

He didn’t seem to mind.

“So,” Gojo drawled as you both passed through the last arch of the ruined bridge, the cliffs yawning on either side like jagged teeth, “are you always this fun, or am I just special?”

“You talk too much.”

“And you glare like it’s a love language.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About killing me? Or kissing me?”

You didn’t answer.

Gojo laughed. “Ah, so both.”

The path ahead narrowed—just a crooked trail winding down into the ravine. No signs, no markers. You knew this route, barely. Smugglers used it sometimes, but it wasn’t exactly a highway. The wind picked up as you descended, sharp and biting, tugging at your coat and snapping branches overhead.

Behind you, Gojo sighed dramatically. “So… what’s your plan once we get across? Sell the voidseed? Hide it? Build a shrine and worship it?”

You glanced over your shoulder. “You really think I’d tell you that?”

“No,” he said. “But I like your voice. Could listen to it for hours.”

“You’re lucky I don’t slit your throat in your sleep.”

“I am lucky,” Gojo agreed. “Every day.”

You rolled your eyes. And still—somehow—didn’t stop walking next to him.

You camped that night in a hollowed-out cave, tucked into the cliffside like a secret. You’d found it years ago, when you were still running jobs with people who were now either dead or very, very far away. It was dry. Sheltered. Just big enough for two.

Which was annoying.

Gojo flopped down beside the fire you built, unbothered as always. He peeled off his coat, set down his sword with something resembling care, and stretched like a damn cat.

“You know,” he said, watching the flames dance, “you snore.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. It’s kind of endearing. Like a very angry bear.”

You threw a twig at his face. He caught it, grinning.

“You know you’re insane, right?” you said.

Gojo shrugged. “Takes one to know one.”

You didn’t reply.

The fire popped softly. Outside, the wind howled through the canyons like a warning. But in here, it was warm. Almost… peaceful.

You hated it.

“You’ve done this before,” Gojo said, after a beat. “Stolen something dangerous. Run from a bounty. Lived with a target on your back.”

Your jaw tensed. “You haven’t?”

“Oh, I have,” he said lightly. “But I tend to leave a trail of ash and broken hearts. You’re more subtle.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

Gojo turned his head, looking at you through the flickering light.

“No,” he said. “It’s impressive.”

You stared at the flames. Let the silence grow teeth again.

“I’m not interested in your compliments,” you muttered.

“And yet, here we are,” he murmured. “Sharing fire. Sharing risk.”

“Not a team.”

He didn’t argue.

Didn’t need to.

The next day, you crossed the ravine and headed toward the outer reaches of the valley—closer to the forgotten routes that led to the Wastes. That’s where Gojo said the answers were. Where the voidseed had been found once before.

But first, you needed supplies.

And supplies meant towns.

You picked a smaller one. Backwater. No central guard. Fewer chances to be recognized.

Or so you thought.

The minute you stepped into the town square, Gojo nudged your side. “Don’t react.”

You didn’t move.

But you saw it.

A new bounty poster.

Your face, again.

And Gojo’s. Right beside it.

Same scrawled headline: WANTED FOR THEFT OF AN ANCIENT RELIC – EXTREMELY DANGEROUS REWARD: 7,000 GOLD – DEAD OR ALIVE

“Didn’t know you were that popular,” Gojo muttered.

“I thought you said your contacts were clean.”

“They were. Someone’s really invested in finding us.”

You ducked into a side alley, heart thudding. Gojo followed.

“What now?” he asked.

You were already scanning. Thinking. Calculating.

“They’ve got spotters,” you said. “We can’t stay long. We grab supplies and get out.”

“They’ll flag the wanted faces the second we walk into the market.”

“Then we won’t walk in as us.”

He blinked. “You’ve got disguises?”

“Better,” you said grimly. “A local custom.”

Gojo raised a brow. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Two hours later, Gojo stood beside you in front of the town registrar, wearing ceremonial robes that didn’t fit and smiling like he was having the time of his life.

You, on the other hand, were trying not to punch someone.

The registrar blinked down at the paperwork. “So… you’re here to register a bond?”

“Just passing through,” Gojo said brightly, sliding his arm around your waist. “But my beloved and I are finally tying the knot. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You gritted your teeth. “Ecstatic.”

The woman beamed. “Well, congratulations! I’ll just need you both to sign here—”

You grabbed the pen before Gojo could write something stupid.

You didn’t look at him when you scribbled your name—fake, of course—but you could feel his eyes on you. Amused. Curious. Warm in a way you didn’t want to think about.

“Done,” you said. “Can we go now?”

The registrar handed you a scroll. “Welcome to marital bliss!”

Gojo winked. “We’ll try not to kill each other.”

“Please don’t!” she called cheerfully as you walked away.

Later, back in the woods with the supplies stashed and your cover intact, Gojo laughed until he almost fell over.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed. “We just got fake married.”

You didn’t respond.

“Do I get a honeymoon? What about a kiss? Should we consummate the union?”

“Shut up.”

Gojo slung an arm around your shoulders. “C’mon, hubby. Admit it. You liked holding my hand.”

“I was restraining you.”

“Semantics.”

You elbowed him in the ribs. He laughed harder.

And somehow, you weren’t annoyed.

Not really.

Because for the first time since this whole cursed job started—you didn’t feel like you were running. You felt like you were walking beside someone who might actually survive the ending with you.

Maybe.

If he didn’t die first.

---

You knew something was off the moment the birds stopped singing.

It was dusk. The sky had softened into gold, trees slicing the light into ribbons as you and Gojo crept along the overgrown trail just past the ridge. You were supposed to be half a day ahead of any bounty trackers. Supposed to be deep enough in the forgotten woods that no one would dare follow.

But the silence gave it away.

Not natural. Not safe.

You stopped moving.

Gojo stopped too. “What is it?”

You didn’t answer. Just drew one of your knives and slipped into the trees.

Behind you, Gojo made a low sound—approval, maybe. He followed without complaint. Quiet. Efficient. Annoyingly graceful.

Then the first arrow struck the dirt near your boot.

You reacted instantly, diving behind a fallen log as the air exploded with motion. Figures burst from the brush—five, six, maybe more. Faces masked, blades out, a full ambush party and not the amateur kind. These weren’t bounty hunters.

These were bounty killers.

Gojo cursed behind you. “Friendly crowd.”

You gritted your teeth. “They were waiting.”

“For us?”

“For me.”

“God, you’re popular.”

You didn’t dignify that with a reply.

Instead, you moved.

Two in front. One on the ridge. Another circling left. You lunged for the closest figure, catching them by surprise, your blade slicing across their thigh as you twisted to avoid a second strike. Blood splattered the leaves. They went down with a grunt.

Gojo was beside you in a blink, staff spinning, cracking skulls with that infuriating ease of his. But you could tell he was holding back. Always did. Like he was dancing, not fighting. Like none of it really mattered.

Until it did.

Because one of them got close—closer than you expected. A blade slashed across your arm. Hot pain bloomed. You staggered, just a second too slow.

Gojo turned, face shifting from amused to lethal.

The man didn’t even get to scream before Gojo drove his palm into his chest with a sickening crack.

Then silence.

Not quiet like before. Not suspicious.

Just stillness.

Bodies on the ground. Blood steaming in the cool night air.

You hissed, clutching your arm. “Fuck.”

“Let me see.” Gojo stepped closer.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“No shit.”

“Stop being difficult,” he muttered. “You’re not impressing me.”

You glared at him but let him push your coat off your shoulder. He knelt beside you, fingers brushing the torn fabric gently—almost too gently. His hands were warm. Steady.

“Not too deep,” he said. “But it’ll scar.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

You froze.

Just for a second.

Then you scoffed. “You care about a lot of things that don’t concern you.”

Gojo didn’t answer.

Just tied the bandage tight and stood.

You stood too, slower this time. Wincing. You wiped the blood off your blade and sheathed it again, staring down at the bodies.

“They knew we were coming,” you said.

“Looks like it.”

“Which means someone’s tracking us. Close.”

Gojo was quiet.

Then: “Geto.”

You looked up.

He wasn’t joking. Wasn’t teasing. That brightness he usually wore like armor had dimmed, pulled back like a tide.

You swallowed.

“You think he sent them?”

Gojo nodded once. “Yeah.”

You didn’t ask how he knew.

Not yet.

But something in your chest twisted.

You made camp deeper in the woods, away from the blood. The night was colder now, as if it knew something had changed.

Gojo didn’t joke. Didn’t chatter.

You didn’t push.

Instead, you sat with your back to the fire, knife in your hand, watching shadows flicker against the trees. You could still hear the sound of that last man’s chest caving in. Still feel Gojo’s hands on your arm. Still—

“You were good today,” Gojo said softly behind you.

You didn’t turn. “I’m always good.”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. You are.”

Another pause.

Then:

“Thanks for not dying.”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

He was leaning back, arms behind his head, hair messy, eyes soft and unreadable in the firelight.

And for once, he wasn’t smiling.

You didn’t know what that meant.

So you said, “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve still got a long way to go.”

He met your gaze.

And this time, he didn’t look away.

---

The village wasn’t on any map. It didn’t even have a name, just a rusted sign by the gate that read STAY OUT in faded red paint. That didn’t stop Gojo from walking right in, of course—whistling like he owned the place.

You followed him reluctantly, steps slower, warier. Something about the place made your skin itch. The houses were squat, sagging under their own weight, and the streets were too quiet. Not the kind of quiet that comes with sleep or peace—but the kind that settles when something is wrong.

You passed a farmer hammering wooden planks across his windows. He didn’t look up.

Gojo leaned toward you, voice light: “Charming little vacation spot, huh?”

You didn’t smile. “Let’s find a place to rest. In and out. No distractions.”

Gojo just nodded, but you knew better. The man couldn’t resist poking the bear—especially if the bear was cursed, dangerous, or full of secrets.

It wasn’t hard to find the inn. It was the only building still standing straight. The sign above the door read The Hollow Lantern in cracked gold paint. You pushed the door open, and the air inside smelled like dust and oil and something faintly metallic.

A woman sat at the counter. Her eyes flicked to you, then to Gojo. “Rooms?”

“Two,” you said quickly.

She shook her head. “Only one left.”

Of course.

Gojo didn’t miss a beat. “We’ll take it.”

You didn’t protest. Not out loud. But the look you shot him could’ve burned a hole through stone.

He just grinned.

The room was small—barely enough space for your bags, your weapons, and the one creaky-looking bed shoved up against the far wall.

The silence stretched.

Gojo flopped onto the mattress like it was a king’s feast. “Not bad! Sheets even smell clean.” He rolled onto his back, arms behind his head. “You want left or right side?”

You stared at him. “I’ll take the floor.”

“No you won’t. You’re still injured.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to suffer through worse now.” He patted the space beside him. “Come on. I promise I won’t bite—unless you ask nicely.”

You flipped your knife once between your fingers before sliding it back into your boot. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

Gojo smiled, but didn’t answer. For once, he let it be.

You didn’t lie down. Not yet. Instead, you stood by the window, eyes scanning the dark street below. Somewhere out there, the forest still whispered. The same forest that had nearly buried you both in bodies just hours earlier.

Something wasn’t right.

You turned to Gojo. “Why this village?”

He blinked at you, sitting up. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t ask. You didn’t hesitate. You just… walked in. Like you were looking for it.”

Gojo looked away then, expression shuttering. His smile faded—just for a moment, but enough to catch.

“There’s a rumor,” he said finally. “Old one. Says this place was cursed after a voidseed burst under the mountain. Says anyone who stays too long starts hearing voices in their sleep. Seeing things that aren’t there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you thought we should spend the night here?”

He shrugged. “If it’s cursed, it means no one will look for us here.”

You didn’t have a counter to that.

But you still didn’t like it.

You lay down reluctantly that night, fully dressed, your back to Gojo, your hand never straying far from the hilt at your hip. The bed was warmer than expected. You hated that. Hated the way your muscles loosened despite yourself. Hated the way Gojo’s breathing, soft and even beside you, almost calmed you.

Almost.

“You awake?” he asked.

You didn’t answer.

He continued anyway. “I get why you don’t trust me.”

Your jaw tightened.

“But I’m not your enemy.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to see his profile in the moonlight leaking through the cracked shutters. His eyes were open. Bright. Watching the ceiling like it held the answers.

“I’m not anyone’s ally either,” you said. “I work alone.”

“I know.”

Another pause.

Then softer: “You don’t have to, though.”

You closed your eyes. Tried to pretend it didn’t make something sharp twist under your ribs.

You dreamed that night.

Of fire. Of eyes in the trees. Of a voice calling your name in someone else’s tone. You woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding—and Gojo was already sitting up beside you, alert. Barefoot. Shirt rumpled.

He looked at you like he’d seen something too.

“You felt it too?” he asked.

You nodded slowly. “Something’s here.”

Gojo’s voice dropped. “Voidseed.”

You stared at him. “How do you know?”

“I’ve felt it before.”

There it was again. That crack. That space where the mask slipped.

You sat up. “How many times?”

Gojo didn’t answer. Instead, he stood, crossing to the window.

“Geto used to track them,” he said finally. “Years ago. Said they were pieces of a bigger magic—older than anything in this world. Said if you collected enough of them, you could change fate.”

“And you believed him?”

Gojo gave you a sad smile. “I believed in him.”

You stood too.

And the floor creaked between you, quiet and heavy, like it was holding its breath.

Morning came gray and slow. You packed in silence. Gojo didn’t press you again. But something had shifted between you. Not quite trust. Not quite warmth.

But something.

You left the village by noon. The innkeeper watched you both with tired eyes. And just as you passed the edge of the woods again, Gojo looked at you sideways.

“One bed,” he said casually.

You grunted. “What about it?”

He smirked. “You didn’t stab me.”

You didn’t smile.

But you didn’t deny it either.

---

You’d barely made it past the village border when Gojo started whistling again. Same tune, same arrogance, like the ambush, the cursed bed-sharing, and the voidseed whispers hadn’t left even a scratch on his soul. You, on the other hand, were nursing a splitting headache and a very real ache in your side that you absolutely were not going to let him notice.

“Stop that,” you muttered.

“Stop what?” he said, cocking his head with a mock innocence that didn’t fool you for a second.

“That noise.”

“I’m creating ambiance. Mood. Vibes.”

“Your vibes are making me homicidal.”

Gojo grinned, “Well, at least they’re working.”

You didn’t dignify that with an answer. Just adjusted your coat, made sure your dagger was still where it belonged, and scanned the horizon ahead.

A town lay a few miles out—marked on Gojo’s stolen, half-burned map as “Rookridge.” He’d claimed there was a shortcut through its back alleys that would take you both to the pass ahead. You didn’t trust him, or the map, or frankly even the ground beneath your boots right now. But it was the only real lead you had. That, and the faint whisper of voidseed still lingering like smoke on the wind.

The town looked normal at first glance. Dusty. Quiet. The kind of place where people didn’t make eye contact unless you paid them for it. But Gojo slowed slightly as you entered the main square, steps lighter than usual. His hand brushed yours—barely.

“Careful,” he murmured, just for you. “We’re not alone.”

You didn’t ask how he knew. You felt it too. That ripple in the air. That hunter’s tension curling along the back of your spine.

And then they stepped into the street.

Two of them. Dressed like theatre villains, all leather and buckles and unnecessary capes. One was tall and lean, with a blade so polished it shone like a mirror. The other was shorter, broader, and carried a spiked flail that looked like it belonged in a torture museum.

But it was their faces that made your stomach sink.

They were smiling. Like they’d been expecting you.

“Well, well,” the tall one purred, pointing his sword lazily between you and Gojo. “If it isn’t the infamous sorcerer and his grumpy little bodyguard.”

Gojo perked up. “You think I’m infamous? Aww, stop.”

“I won’t,” the shorter one said, cracking his knuckles. “The price on your head is enough to buy a kingdom.”

You tilted your head. “Whose head?”

Both bounty hunters blinked.

Gojo elbowed you lightly. “Aw, don’t be shy. They’re clearly here for me.”

“You wish.” You rolled your eyes, but your hand was already on your dagger.

“Don’t fight over me,” Gojo sighed. “There’s enough bounty to go around.”

The tall one moved first—fast, practiced, but not fast enough. Your blade met his mid-air with a clash of steel and a flick of your wrist that sent him staggering back.

“Whoa!” Gojo laughed. “Look at you go, sweetheart!”

You didn’t answer. You were already moving—ducking a strike, spinning, slashing low. The flail swung behind you, a whistle of iron in the air, and Gojo intercepted it with a wall of crystal-clear magic that cracked the earth.

“Oh, come on!” the shorter bounty hunter shouted. “Magic?! That’s cheating!”

Gojo grinned. “I know.”

The fight spilled into the square, drawing attention from the nearby tavern and market stalls. But no one stepped in. They just watched—silent, sharp-eyed. Rookridge didn’t seem like the kind of place that interfered.

The tall one tried a fancy move—flipping off a crate and aiming for your head with a scream of overconfidence. You ducked, grabbed his belt mid-air, and slammed him into the ground.

He groaned. “You’re… stronger than you look.”

“Yeah,” you said, flipping your dagger once, “I get that a lot.”

Gojo, meanwhile, had turned the fight into a performance. He was laughing, spinning, summoning brief flashes of light to blind and dazzle. Every move was unnecessarily theatrical, but undeniably effective.

The flail came flying again, and Gojo sidestepped with a flourish. “You know, I thought about becoming a dancer once,” he mused. “But bounty hunters make such terrible partners.”

The flail-wielder screamed in frustration and charged.

Gojo just blew him a kiss and raised his hand—boom. A pulse of energy sent the man flying into a water trough.

Silence settled.

You stood over the tall one, breathing hard, dagger pressed to his throat.

“Still want that bounty?” you asked.

He wheezed. “You’re… both insane.”

Gojo popped a piece of dried fruit into his mouth and winked. “And you’re boring.”

The bounty hunters crawled off eventually, muttering curses and threats. You didn’t follow. You’d made your point.

“Do you always piss people off that quickly?” you asked Gojo, wiping blood off your blade.

“Only the people worth pissing off,” he said cheerfully. “That guy’s sword was too clean. He needed humbling.”

You glared at him. “They could’ve killed us.”

He tilted his head, mock-thoughtful. “But they didn’t. Because you’re terrifying and I’m fabulous.”

You exhaled hard and kept walking.

That night, you ended up at a tiny tavern on the edge of Rookridge. The innkeeper gave you both a once-over, eyes narrowing.

“You bonded?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Town’s prepping for the Moonbind Festival,” she said. “Only bonded pairs can stay the night. Security measures. Too many outlaws and opportunists about.”

You turned to Gojo. “Tell her we’re not staying.”

Gojo slung an arm around your shoulders before you could move. “Of course we are! My darling and I just survived a double bounty ambush—we deserve a real bed.”

The woman squinted at you both.

You forced a smile. “We’re very happy.”

She handed over a key. “Only one bed.”

Gojo winked. “Even better.”

You didn’t punch him. That counted as restraint.

---

You woke up to the sound of bells.

Not the sharp clang of alarms or the echo of church towers—these were delicate, wind-chimed things, threaded between banners overhead and strung along doorways like blessings. The whole village had changed overnight. Rookridge was unrecognizable. The market stalls were blooming with silk and smoke, incense curling between jewel-toned tents, and the streets were packed with masked dancers who moved like water.

Gojo was already outside when you stumbled down from the room, leaning against the inn’s outer wall with a pastry in one hand and glitter on his cheek.

“Happy Moonbind,” he said, offering a bite like you hadn’t nearly murdered him in the night for stealing the blanket.

You took it anyway. “What the hell is Moonbind?”

“Seasonal festival,” he said, chewing lazily. “Magic’s thin during the solstice, so towns get nervous. The masks confuse spirits. The dancing keeps things grounded. And the baths—oh, those are for purification.”

You arched a brow. “You sound like a tour guide.”

He winked. “I did a season as one. Got fired for seducing the clientele.”

You didn’t respond. Mostly because you were too busy trying to ignore the fact that he looked really good in the morning light. Loose shirt. Messy hair. Smudged charm and the kind of smile that had ruin me written all over it in invisible ink.

You hated him. You hated him.

You were starting to like him.

The festival carried on around you, full of performances and half-magic rituals. You watched a child pluck fire from a bowl with bare hands and turn it into confetti. A woman offered to tell your fortune for a coin and a strand of hair. Gojo convinced an illusionist to make him float six feet in the air, lounging like a cat on an invisible hammock, just so he could yell at you from above: “You should try smiling sometime, y’know!”

You did smile. A little.

Just not at him.

Not that he noticed.

Or maybe he did. Bastard probably noticed everything.

By midday, you reached the temple.

It looked abandoned—half-sunken stone and creeping moss—but the inside pulsed faintly with something ancient. The puzzle room was beneath it, down a spiral staircase so narrow Gojo kept bumping into you “on accident.”

“You don’t have to keep touching me,” you said.

“I know,” he whispered, too close. “But it’s more fun if I do.”

The trial was designed for two. Pressure plates. Mirrors. Glyphs that lit up when touched simultaneously from opposite ends of the room. It was built for partnership. Trust.

You hated it.

But you worked through it—together.

You read the symbols. Gojo solved the riddles aloud like a smug professor. At one point, he grabbed your hand to guide it toward a panel and didn’t let go.

Neither did you.

Not immediately.

At the end of the trial, a vision struck.

You touched the relic in the center of the room—and it hit you like a punch to the chest. You saw yourself, older. Alone. Blood on your hands. Gojo—gone. Or worse.

You stumbled back, dizzy with the weight of it.

Gojo caught you. Didn’t say anything. Just braced your fall like he’d known it was coming.

“Don’t touch it again,” he said softly, voice suddenly too serious.

“What did you see?” you asked, still breathless.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Something I deserved.”

You didn’t talk much after that. Not through the walk back, not through dinner, not even when Gojo tried to distract you by juggling apples for a group of children.

You kept thinking about what you’d seen.

Not just the blood. Not just the loss.

You were starting to understand why he moved the way he did. Like he was running from something.

Same as you.

The bathhouse was empty when you entered.

Steam curled along the surface of the water, warm and thick. The stone walls were carved with crescent symbols, and candles floated in little wooden bowls, their reflections soft and golden.

Gojo was already in, of course. Neck deep, hair slicked back, eyes half-lidded.

“You coming in or just planning to stare dramatically from the doorway all night?”

You didn’t answer. Just undressed, slow and deliberate, like it didn’t matter.

But his eyes tracked every movement.

You slid into the water across from him and leaned back.

Neither of you spoke.

The silence was charged—thick as steam, warm as blood.

Gojo broke it first.

“You really trust me this little?”

You opened one eye. “It’s not about trust.”

“What is it about, then?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know.”

He moved through the water slowly. Closer. Close enough that his knee brushed yours.

“You looked scared today,” he said. “When the relic showed you something.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But I’ve been scared of that future a long time.”

You watched him.

He wasn’t smiling now. No jokes. No theatrics. Just Gojo—quiet and tired and real.

And maybe it was the warmth. The silence. The ache in your chest that hadn’t left since the trial.

But you moved.

Just a little.

And he moved too.

When your mouths met, it wasn’t a kiss. It was a collision. Desperate. Sharp. You gripped his hair. He tugged you closer. Water splashed between you, arms and mouths and heat tangled like you were both afraid the other might disappear.

His lips trailed down your jaw. “Still hate me?”

You exhaled hard. “You talk too much.”

He laughed, breathless, and pulled you into his lap like it cost him nothing.

But it did. You could feel it—in the way his hands shook slightly when they touched your waist, the way he kissed like someone trying to memorise the taste of safety.

You let him.

Let him press against you, skin to skin, steam rising around your joined bodies like a prayer.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t rough either.

It was real.

Slow, gasping, fingers on hips, lips at neck. Your body burned. His voice broke. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel hunted. You didn’t feel like an outlaw.

You just felt wanted.

After, you stayed in the water.

Gojo rested his head against your shoulder, quiet. For once.

You let him.

You didn’t say it. Not out loud.

But you were falling.

And it was already too late to stop.

---

The last time Gojo saw Geto Suguru, the world was on fire.

Not metaphorically. Not emotionally. Literally. Flames licked the rafters of the old church they’d hidden in for weeks, smoke curling like claws through the broken windows. Geto had been standing at the centre of it all, calm and golden and furious.

“You were never going to stay, were you?” he asked.

Gojo didn’t answer. He was too busy choosing which lie would hurt less.

Geto already knew the truth.

They’d grown up together—same orphan network, same underground circuit, trained to steal from sorcerers and run cons on temple grounds. Geto was the planner. Gojo was the charmer. And between the two of them, there wasn’t a vault in the empire they couldn’t crack.

They’d talked about building something. Not a gang—a sanctuary. A real home. For people like them. Outlaws. Half-magic runaways. Curse-born kids. No one else would give them peace, so they’d make their own.

But then the Voidseed came into play.

An artifact that didn’t just show the future—it rewrote it, anchored by whoever held it long enough to burn their soul into it. And Geto... Geto wanted to use it. Not to steal gold, but to change everything. Uproot the monarchy. Collapse the sorcerer courts. Win.

Gojo said no.

It wasn’t because he disagreed. It was because he knew what it would do to Geto. And to himself. You don’t touch a god and walk away unchanged.

So he stole it.

And ran.

Geto found him three days later with blood on his sleeve and the Voidseed gone.

“You always think you know better,” Geto said, voice like thunder in the silence. “You always think you’re saving people. But you only ever save yourself.”

The building collapsed before they finished that fight.

They haven’t seen each other since.

But Gojo still wakes up some nights with ash in his lungs and Geto’s words etched into his ribs like scripture.

---

You didn’t talk much after that night.

Which was funny, considering the things you’d done to each other in the water.

Gojo didn’t seem interested in defining anything. Just kept walking beside you like always—cracking jokes, stealing fruit, humming off-key under his breath like nothing in the world could touch him.

But it had.

You saw it in the way he paused before reaching for you now. The way his smile lingered longer than necessary. The way he said your name softer, like it meant something new.

He didn’t push. You didn’t ask. Whatever this was, it was becoming something more. And it terrified you.

The forest had grown thicker the closer you got to the outskirts of Serinfall.

Birdsong had vanished. The air was too still. Even the trees seemed to lean in, eavesdropping.

That’s when you felt it.

Pressure. Wrongness. Like the kind of curse that leaves no mark but still crawls into your bones.

You stopped walking.

“Don’t move,” you muttered.

Gojo froze, one hand halfway to his coat pocket. “You sense it too?”

Three shadows dropped from the trees. Silent. Sharp. Their movements weren’t human—smooth like oil, reeking of borrowed magic and blood money.

One of Geto’s, you realized. Or maybe all three.

“Well, well,” the tallest one said, voice like spoiled honey. “Look what the moon dragged in. Satoru Gojo and his latest fling.”

Gojo didn’t rise to the bait. He just tilted his head and smiled like he was bored. “You should’ve brought more than three.”

You didn’t wait for them to strike.

You moved.

It wasn’t clean. Fights never were.

Steel met steel. Cursefire crackled in the underbrush. You ducked, rolled, blocked a blade with your forearm and sent your dagger into the bastard’s throat before he even blinked.

Gojo handled two of them at once. No blindfold this time—just power barely held in check, lighting his hands like wildfire. He moved like sin, like something too beautiful to survive this world. You hated how much you liked watching him fight.

When it was over, you stood with blood in your mouth and a tear in your sleeve.

Gojo looked worse—cut lip, bruised cheekbone, smile still in place.

“You alright?” he asked.

You stared at him. “Did you let one of them punch you?”

“…Maybe.”

“Why?”

“I wanted you to worry about me.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re in love with me.”

You didn’t answer.

Because it was starting to feel a little bit true.

You set up camp that night under a sky full of stars.

The fire crackled. The silence stretched. Gojo poked at the flames with a stick like a bored child.

You finally broke it.

“Why’d you leave him?”

He didn’t pretend not to know who you meant.

“I thought I was saving him,” he said, softly. “And I was wrong.”

He didn’t look at you. Just stared into the fire like it held the answer to a question he still didn’t want to ask out loud.

“He had a plan,” Gojo continued. “A big one. Clean the slate. Destroy the courts. Give power back to the cursed-born. But the relic… it doesn’t work like that. It takes. It always takes. It would've eaten him from the inside out.”

“So you stole it.”

“I stole everything,” he said. “His trust. Our future. Maybe his soul.”

You sat there in silence for a long time.

Then you leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder.

“You don’t look like a hero,” you said.

He huffed a laugh. “You don’t either.”

You let his hand find yours in the dark.

Neither of you said anything after that.

But the fire burned warm, and the stars didn’t feel so far away anymore.

---

You felt it thrumming. Like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to you.

The Voidseed.

Still tucked safely in the hidden lining of your coat. Still pulsing like it knew you were close — too close. It had started earlier that morning, a low buzz under your ribs, and hadn’t stopped since.

“You’re twitchier than usual,” Gojo said, walking just behind you.

You didn’t turn. “Twitchier than you when someone tells you no?”

“Please. I thrive on rejection.”

The path narrowed as the trees thinned into pale, bone-dry rock. You could smell the vault now — stone and decay and something that didn’t belong in this world. A place that had been locked away for good reason.

And yet, you were headed straight for it.

Gojo adjusted the strap of his pack with a whistle. “So. End of the road.”

You exhaled. “Not yet.”

“Close enough.”

He caught up, his shoulder brushing yours. You didn’t move away.

“It’s still with you, right?” he asked, voice low but easy. “The Voidseed.”

“Yeah.”

“No sudden urges to use it? Wield a little death? Rewrite the laws of the known universe?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not today.”

“Good. Would’ve hated to kill you before dinner.”

You almost smiled. Almost.

The vault sat buried beneath the ruin of a forgotten temple — jagged stone stairs leading down into shadow. The door was etched in old language, crawling with vines. No lock. No trap. Just a sense of wrong that made the skin on your arms rise.

Gojo stood beside you, quiet for once.

“What happens if we open it?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the door like it had whispered something only he could hear.

“Depends,” he said eventually. “What Geto wants… it’s not just power. It’s change. Revolution. Burn-it-all-down kind of change.”

“And you don’t?”

“I wanted it too,” Gojo said. “Once. But not like this.”

He looked at you, eyes clearer than they had any right to be.

“I want to live. That’s different.”

You looked away.

Because suddenly the Voidseed felt heavier.

Because his hand was brushing yours again, and you didn’t pull back.

Because you weren’t sure who you were anymore without the violence, the chase, the lie.

And because you might want the same thing.

---

The air changed the moment you stepped inside.

Colder. Thicker. Like something was pressing down on your lungs, or maybe pressing in—watching. The stairs spiraled tight, stone slick with condensation and old blood. Each step you took felt louder than the last.

Behind you, Gojo didn’t say a word.

He hadn’t spoken since the door unsealed itself at your touch.

Didn’t have to.

You both knew what this place was.

Not just a vault. Not just the end of the map.

It was the place the world came to die.

At the bottom, the space opened wide.

A dome of black stone, pulsing faintly with light from no source at all. Runes crawled across the walls like scars. And in the center — a dais. Empty. Waiting.

You felt the Voidseed in your coat begin to ache.

Gojo stepped forward slowly, gaze moving across the carvings.

“This is older than the clans,” he murmured. “Before the curses. Before the courts. Before the Nine.”

“You think Geto knows that?”

“I think he doesn’t care.”

He turned, eyes meeting yours.

“You know he’s here, right?”

Your jaw tightened. “How long?”

“Since the last town. Maybe longer.”

You exhaled through your nose. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the honeymoon.”

You almost laughed. Almost.

But the temperature dropped again—hard.

The shadows in the corners moved.

And then he stepped out.

No disguise. No mask.

Just Geto Suguru, dressed in travel-worn robes and half a smile.

He looked like a man who’d already won.

“Hello, boys.”

Gojo didn’t flinch. “You’re late.”

“I figured I’d let the newlyweds have their privacy.”

He glanced at you—at the Voidseed you hadn’t yet drawn.

And smiled.

“You brought it,” he said softly. “I knew you would.”

You held your ground. “I didn’t bring it for you.”

“No?” Geto tilted his head, almost fond. “Then why come at all?”

Gojo moved slightly—just a step, a shift in weight, the start of something violent.

And Geto raised one hand.

The air shattered.

A blast of cursed energy slammed the space between you, forcing you back.

Gojo caught your wrist to steady you, his own energy flaring like lightning beneath skin.

Geto didn’t press.

He just looked at the two of you like something hurt.

“You could’ve come with me,” he said. Quiet. Intimate.

“You could’ve stayed,” Gojo answered.

Their gazes locked. A thousand memories between them. All knives.

And you stood between them—Voidseed burning against your ribs, heart in your throat.

Because the real question wasn’t who was right.

It was who you were going to choose.

---

The air cracked.

No warning, no flare of ego, no last chance to run—just Geto, moving. His cursed energy split the silence like a fault line, and suddenly you were airborne, legs kicked out from under you by a wave of force that struck faster than thunder.

Gojo caught it before it could reach you again—his arm out, barrier flaring with that same searing white-gold burn that lived behind his blindfold.

“Language of violence, huh?” he muttered. “Guess we’re skipping the dance.”

You rolled to your feet. “Weren’t you the one saying he was sentimental?”

Gojo grinned without humor. “Yeah, and now I remember why that’s terrifying.”

Geto didn’t wait.

Another flick of his wrist and the temple shuddered, a wall of blackened energy exploding upward like a tide—jagged, writhing, wrong. Gojo met it mid-air, a flash of his Limitless energy spiraling into the blast and cracking it apart like glass.

You moved then. No hesitation. No warning.

Your dagger—your favorite one, the one hidden in the boot heel you never took off—was in your hand before your mind caught up, your body cutting toward Geto in a blur. He saw you coming. Let you come.

“You’ve been walking with him all this time,” he said as you struck. “Does he even know what you are?”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Your blade met the edge of his cursed barrier and burned—not from contact, but from your own energy spiking harder than you expected. The Voidseed pulsed once against your chest, like it wanted out.

Geto’s eyes flicked to it.

And then he struck.

A cursed lash shot out from his palm like a whip of shadow, aimed not at you but through you—targeting Gojo. You twisted, took the hit sideways instead of clean through. The energy scraped through your side like acid, but you didn’t fall.

You screamed something raw and wordless—maybe Gojo’s name. Maybe just rage.

Gojo answered with silence.

And violence.

He vanished. Reappeared behind Geto with that cruel smirk he wore like armor. His hand curled around the base of Geto’s skull and slammed him forward, into the stone floor. The ground cratered. Dust filled the vault.

Geto coughed blood, cursed energy flaring around his body like a second skin.

“Still hiding behind your pretty face, Satoru?” he rasped. “Still scared of what you could be if you stopped playing the hero?”

Gojo didn’t reply.

This wasn’t about philosophy.

This was about the Voidseed. About you. About the temple that was not meant to open, and a past that refused to stay buried.

You pressed your palm to the wound on your side, felt the hot, slow trickle of blood. The Voidseed thrummed harder now, wild and hungry, like it was tasting the end before it came.

The world narrowed. Geto was rising. Gojo’s hands curled into fists.

And you? You moved toward the center.

Toward the dais. Toward the thing you’d carried through storms and near-death and stupid arguments and fake marriages and quiet, aching mornings where Gojo let you rest your head against his shoulder and didn’t say a thing.

It was time to decide what to do with it.

Whether to keep running.

Or finally let the whole world burn.

---

The Voidseed was screaming now.

Not with sound, but with want. With a pressure behind your eyes, a song in your teeth. Your skin burned where it touched your chest, your blood responding in time to its pulse. It wanted to be used. To become something.

You staggered toward the dais, vision tunneling. Behind you, Gojo and Geto were still locked in war—flashes of cursed energy so bright they lit the room in strobes, tearing cracks through ancient stone and memory alike.

“Satoru,” Geto was snarling, somewhere in the wreckage. “You always were too soft.”

“And you were always too bitter to admit you lost me first,” Gojo spat back. “Don’t take it out on him.”

On him.

You turned sharply. Gojo wasn’t even looking at Geto anymore. His eyes were on you.

Blood dripped from his temple. One arm hung at an awkward angle. His barrier flickered like a dying star—but his focus was clear. Steady. Like you were the only thing keeping him upright.

“Hey,” he called out, half-laugh, half-desperation. “Don’t let it eat you. You’re more stubborn than that.”

Geto moved to strike him down. A flick of the wrist, a curse erupting in a black wave— —but you moved first.

You didn’t think.

You threw the Voidseed.

It spun in the air like a star too bright to touch— —and exploded.

Not outward. Not in heat or fire or destruction.

It unfolded.

The world warped inward, colors leaking, time hiccuping. Everything twisted like you were looking through broken glass. You felt your feet leave the floor. The dais cracked beneath you. Gojo and Geto were both flung backward like dolls caught in the mouth of a storm.

But you… You were still standing.

Because it had chosen you.

You don’t remember grabbing it again.

But suddenly, the Voidseed was in your palm, blooming like a flower carved from shadow and light.

And Gojo was dragging himself toward you, chest heaving, hand outstretched.

“Don’t—” he said, voice wrecked. “Don’t use it. Not like this.”

Geto, on the other side of the rubble, laughed—ragged, ruined.

“You think he hasn’t already?” he spat. “You think he’s yours now?”

Gojo didn’t look away from you. Not even for a second.

“He’s his own.”

You looked at him.

At the man who saw you break open a vault, who shared meals and bathtubs and one stupid bed. Who let you steal the Voidseed and never once asked you to give it up.

And something inside you—something poisoned by rage and survival and so many lonely nights—broke.

“I’m tired,” you whispered. You weren’t even sure who you were talking to.

Gojo was there in an instant. Hands on your wrists. Warm. Real.

“I know,” he said. “I know. Just stay here. With me.”

The Voidseed flared.

And then—

You turned.

You faced Geto.

And you chose.

---

You didn’t remember lifting the Voidseed. You just remember how quiet it got.

Geto rose from the rubble, his body wrecked and bleeding, but still standing. He looked at you like he pitied you. Like he thought you were still small.

“You don’t know what that thing will do to you,” he said softly, like a prayer gone bitter. “It’s not a weapon. It’s a mirror.”

You stepped forward, past Gojo’s outstretched hand. Past his warning. Past your own fear.

“I know,” you said. And you let it bloom.

The world peeled open.

No light. No sound. Just pressure — the unbearable density of everything at once. Your breath caught as the Voidseed unraveled in your chest, carving lines of raw power across your skin like constellations.

Geto braced himself. Raised his hand.

But he wasn’t fast enough.

The Voidseed reached out like a second spine, like your soul had teeth, like the universe remembered you owed it something — and this was how you’d pay.

You spoke his name.

Not out loud.

Not in a language with words.

You just spoke it, and the power knew what to do.

Geto didn’t scream. He just— folded in on himself.

Unmade. Quietly.

Not as revenge. Not even as punishment.

Just as balance.

When the light returned, the temple was cracked open like a wound.

You were still standing. Barely. The dais had crumbled beneath your feet, the Voidseed now dark in your palm — used, emptied, but still warm. Like it hadn’t left, just gone quiet.

You dropped it.

It didn’t bounce.

Gojo caught you before you fell, one hand steady under your ribs, the other cradling the back of your head like something fragile had survived.

“I thought I told you not to use it like that,” he murmured.

You blinked at him, blood in your teeth. “You also told me not to flirt with bounty hunters. We both ignore good advice.”

He laughed, then kissed your forehead like he needed to know you were real.

You didn’t speak for a long time after that.

You sat with him in the broken vault, backs against the ruins, breath syncing up again. The kind of silence that meant you weren’t running anymore. Not today.

Eventually, he nudged your shoulder.

“You still got one bed in you?” he asked. “Because I’m thinking hot springs, low ceilings, terrible fake names.”

You looked at him — messy, bleeding, half-destroyed.

And grinned.

“I’ve got a hundred.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

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[4nicolas]

yeah this was a fire read chat🙏🏼🙏🏼

[11:16 p.m.] ⋆  “you sure you know what you’re doing?”

you lift your pair of scissors with both hands, comb tucked between your fingers. “i watched, like, five youtube videos.”

“ah,” satoru says, mock-serious. “then by all means, do your worst.”

you roll your eyes, fingers threading through the soft strands at the base of his neck, where his hair curls slightly when it gets too long. it’s damp from the spray bottle you used earlier, beads of water glinting under the overhead light. his blindfold is tossed to the counter. his eyes are closed. he trusts you.

“keep still,” you say, gently tilting his head forward again with your palm. “unless you want to walk into work tomorrow looking like a dandelion.”

“the kids would love it, honestly.”

the scissors make a satisfying snip, then another, hair falling in tiny pale tufts to the towel you laid out around his shoulders. he hums tunelessly as you work—quiet for once, content.

“why so late?” he asks after a while. “you usually won’t even let me microwave leftovers after ten.”

you brush a few strands from his cheek. “you’ve been gone all week, and you come back looking like this?”

satoru smiles, eyes blinking open. “i missed you, too.”

you snip again. when you’re done, you set the comb aside and brush away the last few stray pieces of hair from his shoulders.

“you look decent,” you say, squinting. “like, an 8.5.”

satoru grins and spins the chair to face you, reaching out, catching your waist. “bold of you to insult someone holding this much raw power.

you make a face. “you did not just say that unironically. i’m the one with the scissors, satoru.”

he laughs, pulling you into his lap, careless of the hair dusting your shirt. “fine, fine. 8.5 and lucky to have you.”

“that’s right,” you say happily, and kiss him, laughing against his mouth, scissors still clutched in your hand, home pressed heart-close to your chest.

requests are open! check out this post if you’re interested!

[4nicolas]

Satoru Gojo had a habit—one you had long since accepted, though it never failed to make you laugh. The moment he spotted you anywhere near a surface remotely suitable for lounging, he latched onto you like a lazy, overgrown cat.

“Satoru, I have things to do,” you protested as he draped himself over you, his long limbs completely engulfing you on the couch.

“Mm, no you don’t,” he murmured, pressing his face into your neck. “You have one job. And that’s being my personal pillow.”

His arms tightened around you as he nuzzled closer, his breath warm against your skin. He was impossibly warm, a human heater, and the way he clung to you like you were the only thing grounding him made your heart squeeze.

“You’re such a baby,” you muttered, running your fingers through his soft white hair.

“I’m your baby,” he corrected, sighing in bliss. “Now stop wiggling and let me love you.”

And just like that, your plans were forgotten. Because when Satoru Gojo wanted cuddles, there was no escaping.

[4nicolas]

satoru loves taking care of his boyfriend when he’s sick. the second you wake up he knows something is wrong. instead of greeting him with a smile and a sleepy morning kiss you roll on your side and groan.

he instantly knows something is up. he’s coming close, poking your shoulder and whispering. “what was that for..?”

all he gets in response is a few grumbles and you shaking your head. he frowns, rubbing your bicep thinking maybe you slept poorly.

he decides on rubbing your back, gently trying to soothe you into waking up in a better mood. he hated when his baby boy would act like this.

obviously you would never ignore him on purpose, and he knew that. you eventually fall back asleep, waking up thirty minutes later to satorus bright blue eyes staring into yours.

you blink, feeling your head pounding and your throat sore. he raises a brow, inching slightly closer. his sleepy voice breaking you out of your thoughts.

“baby are you alright..?”

he was obviously concerned, normally you two both got up at the same time, did your morning routines, ate breakfast, the usual. today was different though.

you sigh, your voice low and gravely as you speak, “not really, no..”

satorus eyes instantly widen slightly, a small pout on his lips at your response. he brings his hand up, resting it on top of yours.

“whats wrong?” he mumbles, voice quieter, he was trying not to disturb you. it made your heart clench.

“I just.. feel awful.”

this made him frown deeper, his least favorite thing in the world was you being hurt or in pain, close second when he had no sweets.

he squeezes your hand slightly, his thumb rubbing the side of your hand. it’s quiet for a moment before he asks.

“need me to kiss it to make you feel better?” he murmurs with a sheepish smile.

you give him a quick smile, chuckling quietly. “i don’t think kisses would necessarily help me feel better.”

satoru raises one brow, obviously not believeing that.

“um, kisses make anything feel better.” he leans slightly closer as he speaks.

you move your hand up, acting as a barrier between you two. satoru instantly pouts.

“I dont want you to get sick.” satoru shakes his head as if that was nonsense, gently pushing your hand back down.

“babe. i’m the strongest, no little cold is gonna get me.” he says moving closer, his face inches away from yours.

you stare at him for a minute before speaking, barely keeping your eyes open. “if you wanna help.. some soup would be nice.”

satoru, against your wishes, presses a kiss on your lips, quickly getting up for your request.

“soup it is.” he pauses before adding, “and some kisses after.”

you roll your eyes at his comment, shaking your head at your boyfriends inability to not kiss you.

he gives your hand another squeeze before quickly disappearing through the door of your shared bedroom.

as quickly as he disappeared he’s back, showing up in the doorway with a bowl in one hand and a thermometer in the other.

he was still dressed in his pajamas, the sight making me you smile. he walks over, looking down at you on the bed before sitting the soup on the bedside table.

giving your cheek a small pat as he holds the thermometer up. “open your mouth for me, baby.”

in other context you would’ve loved this comment, but right now you felt like he was your nurse.

he places the tip of the thermometer under your tongue, leaving it there with you as he watches closely.

his hand comes to rest on your cheek, the coolness of his palm soothing your burning skin.

you almost want to fall asleep right there, feeling safe under his watch. you feel your eyes fluttering shut before satoru gently takes the thermometer out.

he brings it up close to his face, furrowing his brows as he examines it. he nods at the thermometer, rubbing his chin as if closely understanding it.

he flips it around, showing you the numbers as he speaks.

“102 degrees, guess that means you’ll be staying in bed today. suppose I should just take off to take care of you, huh?”

you raise a brow, knowing that wouldn’t be the best idea. “satoru.. you can’t just take off from exorcising curses..”

“oh but that’s where you’re wrong, my dear boyfriend. when you’re the strongest no one can boss you around.”

he chuckles, placing a hand on your arm, rubbing it reassuringly. “seriously though, if the higher ups have a problem they can punish me later. I care way more about you than those old farts anyway..”

he trails off, getting a serious expression, he really didn’t like the higher ups.

“I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me-“

satorus finger presses against your lips, “shhh, don’t worry about it, okay? just let your loving boyfriend satoru take care of you.”

before you can retort he picks up the bowl of soup, holding it out in front of you.

“now eat up, im here to doctor you up today.”

satorus ways of nursing your back to health were questionable, but he was trying so that’s what mattered.

the soup served as instant comfort, making your throat feel a bit better as well as giving your body a source of energy to get back in shape.

it was a struggle trying to stay awake, but you also couldn’t fall asleep. satoru had insisted on holding you, saying that skin to skin contact would help you get better faster.

you weren’t sure how true that was, but it did provide some comfort being pressed against your boyfriend.

his arms held you in a tight grasp, his head was buried in your hair, hands sliding up and down your back.

even if this didn’t speed up the healing process it did feel good. his hands slipped under your shirt, gently rubbing at your skin, his hands and fingers exploring your muscles.

“you are on fire, babe..” satoru murmurs, his voice laced with concern.

you hum in response, too comforted in his grasp. nuzzling further against him he chuckles.

“aren’t you glad I didn’t go to work?”

instead of responding you hold him tighter, not wanting to let him know he was right, even though he already knew the second your arms wrapped around him.

he chuckles, smile evident in his voice as he speaks. “uh huh. that’s what I thought.”

“I’m going to cough on you.”

he gasps, hand stilling on your back. “so you hate me?”

you roll your eyes, burying your face in his neck, lips pressing against his skin.

“yeah.”

“you’re lucky you’re unwell or else i’d push you off the bed right now.”

a comfortable silence falls between you two, your eyes finally drifting close as you feel yourself falling deeper into the pits of slumber.

satorus arms never leave you, neither does he. he could never leave your side when you’re vulnerable. (he knew you wouldn’t like him calling you that but whatever)

he’ll take care of you how ever long it takes, hours or days, he’ll be there.

he loves you and despises seeing you hurt or sick. he’ll just have to learn how to exorcise illnesses so they can’t affect you ever again.

—

not proofread because I get motivation at 2am before I go to bed.

[4nicolas]

satoru thinks he likes the moments after sex with you more than the actual sex itself.

I mean, don’t get him wrong he absolutely loved when the two of you fucked but there just something about the intimacy of the afterglow.

whether satoru was collapsed on top of you or you were collapsed on top of him it felt great. the warmth of your bodies combined made you feel even better.

the two of you coming down from your highs and simply enjoying one another’s presence was another kind of bliss.

he couldn’t get enough of you, he wanted nothing more than to keep you in bed all day; cuddling or being intimate he didn’t care. as long as it contained both your bodies pressed together.

although you were both sticky and sweaty you still felt incredibly comfortable. laying in your own fluids is gross, yeah, but with satoru none of that mattered.

even when the two of you were intertwined satoru still needed more, he needed his arms around you and his legs tangled with yours. he just needed you as close as possible.

your presence alone made him tremendously happy, having your physical touch was just an added bonus, he feels like the happiest man alive when you give him something as simple as a hug. so obviously cuddling was his favorite pastime.

the two of you breathing heavily, not speaking but all the words you wanted to get out being said. your love and adoration was already communicated through the past moments and laying in a comfortable silence was just the cherry on top.

satoru liked to trace little shapes on your skin, his fingers lulling you into a trance, he tried not to let you fall asleep though, he needed his precious lover to keep him company.

if you did find yourself falling asleep satoru would mumble your name or gently scratch your scalp, though if you were genuinely exhausted he would let you sleep.

when you did end up falling asleep he would try and maneuver the both of you under the covers, the added layer keeping you cozy, and being in satorus arms even more so.

other times satoru would try and coax you into taking a quick shower or bath, especially if you both went a bit rougher. all he wanted was the make you feel safe and comfortable and he would always try his hardest to do so.

sometimes the showers consist of satoru lazily holding you against his or vice versa, simply basking in the warm water and each others bodies. did satoru ever mention he loved being close to you?

he does tell you that, a lot actually. but if he didn’t he most definitely would make up by showing it. sometimes when you two take a bath together he’ll let you lay against him, gently massing your shoulders or arms after a long day.

he’ll give you space treatment if you really wanted, anything for you, just say it and he’ll get it.

one part he didn’t like was having to bother or move you so he could wash the sheets, which leads to him not cleaning them just to keep you comfy.

sometimes he would have you sit in the warm tub while he washed the blankets and took care of everything. he wanted to make sure you came back to a clean and fresh pair of covers.

he gave you royal treatment and he knows what that means because he was treated like a king his whole life. though he definitely did much better than that, he gave you all the love and attention you could need tenfold.

when all was said and done the two of you normally got cuddled up under the freshly washed blankets of your shared (king sized) bed, after having taken a nice hot shower or bath of course.

the two of you would hold each other close the entirety of the night, not letting go for a second, and you better hope you don’t have to pee in the middle of the night because you’re not getting out his grasp.

all in all during intimacy and the aftermath and he would take care of you the best he could. after all your the only person whose ever made him feel this way before. it was weird to care so much about one person, he didn’t know how to feel.

he tries his best and will continue to for as long as you two live (yes live, because you’re not breaking up ever.) satoru will do anything and everything for you because he loves you.

he loves you more than anything in the world and couldn’t imagine life without you, so for the rest of his life he will do everything in his power to appeal to you.

of course you tell him he doesn’t need to do all of that but he insists and who are you to say to the satoru gojo?

—

not proof read, im tired and it’s 3am! :P

[4nicolas]

he was made to be kissed and adored 🥺

[4nicolas]

i truly believe i could never love another character like i love satoru what has he done to me

[4nicolas]

after years of dating satoru gojo you’ve come to realize one of the most difficult tasks was trying to get out of bed when he was there.

the man only slept four hours a day yet he always seemed to be there when you woke up.

satoru would normally get back home around three or four in the morning. at this point you had already been asleep for awhile.

he’d smile at the sight of your sleeping form, feeling a bit guilty he wasn’t able to be here before you fell asleep.

he tried to get home earlier but he always had so much to do. unfortunately his job interfered with how much time he got to spend with you, and quite frankly he hated it.

sighing, he would let his shoulders relax, reaching up to take his blindfold off before slipping off his jacket, his pants and shirt following. finally able to relax after hours of having infinity up.

slowly he would lift the covers, being careful to not wake you up. he’d slide in right next to you, claiming his spot in your shared bed.

he would gently grab your arms, moving them from the pillow you were cuddled up to over to him. he hated that pillow, it was always stealing his lover.

satoru would never admit this but he really liked watching you sleep. the way it sounds is exactly why he doesn’t tell you about it.

he loved seeing how peaceful you looked, especially when you were cuddled up right next to him. god he loved cuddling.

having you pressed up against him might’ve been one of his favorite things in the world. actually, scratch that. it was one of his favorite things in the world.

he was careful when he wrapped his arms around you, making sure you weren’t gonna stir as he got comfortable.

another thing he loved was when you would mumble something in your sleep and snuggle even closer to him. he loved you so much, oh my god.

everything you did made him so happy. he genuinely could not believe he was graced enough to come home to you every night.

his love for you grew everyday, every time you greeted him, every time you two hugged or kissed, every time you smiled at him, every time you two took a shower together, every time you two watched a movie together, every time you two were simply being lazy together.

he could go on and on about you, he loves you so much, he’ll never get tired of saying it.

as he falls asleep he thinks about you, thinks about how much he loves you and cares about you, he thinks about how he’ll always cherish you and always protect you.

but as daylight rolls around and the sunlight starts peeking in through the curtains, this is when satoru gojo is the most clingy.

as you wake up, feeling groggy and tired, you look down, seeing the position you and satoru had somehow achieved during the night.

the only limb you could move was your left arm, the reason being laid on top of your chest right now.

all you could see was his snowy white hair, light snores coming from the lump on top of you.

satoru had his full body weight on you, his legs were tangled with yours, his side pressed against your right arm, which you know is gonna be sore when you get up because of it.

as you moved your left arm, trying to prop yourself up, you instantly got tugged closer to the sleeping man you call your boyfriend.

his arms were wrapped around you so tight you were barely able to breath, let alone move. you tried escaping his grasp for a few minutes before realizing it was inevitable.

your only option was to wake up the sleepy sorcerer. using your left arm, you gently place it on the males shoulder, shaking him a bit.

he groans, nuzzling his face closer to your chest, returning back to his rest. you shake his shoulder again, whispering his name in attempt to get his attention.

he stirs, groaning again before muttering a low “what..?” against your shirt. you move your left hand to his hair, gently stroking it, hoping his conscious will convince him to look up at you.

after a moment, you hear a quiet sigh, watching as satoru lazily pulls his head up to look at you. a small frown on his face from being woken up.

the sight of him brings a small smile to your face. his sleepy cerulean eyes stared into yours, his hair was all messy and standing up in every direction yet he still looked so beautiful.

you never would understand how this man was able to look absolutely stunning no matter what he was doing.

your fingers continued carding through his hair as you softly giggled at his pouting face. “I need to get up..” his frown instantly deepened, he furrowed his brows, obviously not happy with your words.

he doesn’t make an attempt to move, resting his chin back on your chest as he replies. “mmm no thanks.” his voice was raspy, he knew you loved it and he always used it to his advantage.

you sigh, used to having satoru do this. it happened almost every morning. you were thankful when he got up easily, wondering what was different about those times compared to now.

“satoru… we go through this every morning.” you complains, groaning in annoyance. satoru only smiled, humming knowingly.

“which is exactly why you should know my answer by now.” his tone was smug, the tiredness in his voice still lingering.

he had an innocent look on his face, his small smile and incredibly distracting eyes making it difficult for you to fight him. “satoru.. please..”

satorus face fell slightly, quickly masking it behind his smile. he was weak to your begging, though he wouldn’t give up so easily.

the strongest sorcerer could effortlessly keep his partner in bed. cmon, compared to what he did everyday this was a piece a cake.

satoru leaned closer, bringing his face to your ear as he whispers, his voice low and seductive. “you really think that’ll work on me still, pretty?”

you glance at him, feeling your cheeks warm up at his compliment, narrowing your eyes at his expression. he had a smug grin on his face, his eyes traveling all over yours.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you mumble, playing dumb to his words, knowing they gave you butterflies.

even after years he still gave you butterflies, sometimes you felt embarrassed because he made you feel like a teenager in love for the first time.

satoru would never make fun you for it though, he loved being able to make you feel like that. all he wanted was for you to be happy and to feel loved and he took the way you acted as a sign he was doing something right.

“..really? you’re telling me you didn’t specifically lower your voice to try convince me to get off you?” that was 100% what you were trying to do, but you weren’t gonna admit it because it didn’t work.

you shook your head, causing satoru to raise a brow in disbelief. you raise your left hand in defense, trying to look more convincing. he only blinks, looking at your hand and then you.

“okay.. whatever you say.” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek before reclaiming his spot on your chest.

he sighs in content, acting as if he was ready to go back to sleep. you weren’t gonna let him win so easily, you just had to be a bit more… convincing.

“satoru.. cmon.. if you loved me you would let me get up.” this instantly got his attention, raising his head he pouted at you, “that’s not fair.”

you grin, feeling your hopes get up at the chance of being able to finally get up. satoru frowns at the sight of your grin, sighing dramatically as he mutters.

“if you don’t like me you can just tell me, yn..” his voice barely above a whisper. your grin drops, feeling a bit guilty before realizing this was his tactic.

“don’t play the guilt tripping card on me, mister.” you retort, giving the side of his head a small flick. he whines, loosening his grip slightly.

“okay. I understand. you deserve better anyway, someone who isn’t as clingy or needy as me, right?” he mumbles in response, this might’ve been the most self aware he’s ever been.

you sigh, “satoru.. you know it’s not like that, I love you.” he simply shakes his head, rolling off of you and laying on his back.

he has a frown on his face, he stares at the ceiling blankly. you take this time to stretch, feeling your limbs for the first time since last night.

as you sit up, satoru doesn’t bother glancing at you, he doesn’t say a word. when you look over at him you feel a tug on your heartstrings, your body wanting to react to seeing him sad.

the urge to wrap your arms around him and hold him close growing every second you stare at his frown. you knew this was all part of his plan yet you couldn’t tear yourself away.

it felt all too natural, almost as if your instincts were telling you to comfort the man you loved. begrudgingly you look away, shaking away the thoughts of satoru.

you were not gonna give into him this time. instead you stand up, making your way to the bathroom to do your morning routine.

usually satoru would come in while you were brushing your teeth, he would wrap his arms around you and lean his head against you, but as you put the toothpaste on your toothbrush there was no sign of the male.

he was standing his ground this time, it would be funny, if you didn’t feel something eating at your stomach as you think about him lying there.

you can’t get rid of the image of him on your bed, sad and alone as you brush your teeth. feeling your restraint crumbling with every passing second.

you finish brushing your teeth, wiping off your face before slowly dragging yourself back through the door. you look at the bed, seeing satoru still there, he was really committed this time..

slowly you walk back over to the bed, dragging a hand down your face as you feel yourself giving in to the white haired man.

as you slide back in under the covers, satoru finally glances at you, frown still on his face. you both lay there, staring for a moment before you move closer, wrapping your arms around him like you wanted to do earlier.

you sigh, feeling your boyfriend make no move as you speak. “you know I love you so much, right..?”

satoru looks up at you, a small smile forming on his face and it makes your heart clench. he nods slightly, wrapping his arms around you as well. “..yeah.”

you squeeze him a bit tighter, the both of you pulling each other closer under the warmth of your blankets.

satoru nuzzles his face into your neck, pressing kisses into your skin, his hair tickling your jaw as he does so.

after a moment, satoru pulls back, smiling at you before leaning in, your lips meeting his. both of you smiled against the kiss, his smile from his victory and your smile in disbelief at how he can get you to do anything.

the both of you pull back after a few seconds, staring into each others eyes before satorus smile widens. “so… I win?”

you scoff playfully, ruffling his hair before sighing. “shut up. it doesn’t count because you actually made me sad.”

satoru chuckles, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I had to play dirty.. how else would I have got you to stay with me?”

you only shake your head in response, watching satoru with a small smile. he continues to press kisses all over your face, making sure no part of your skin goes untouched.

then he hums, completely relaxing against you once again. he lays his head on your chest again, listening to your heartbeat, feeling himself get lulled back to sleep.

as much as you wanted to be mad, a part of you was glad he kept you in bed. satoru didn’t sleep enough, and yeah you knew he had reverse cursed technique but you still worried.

as he fell asleep, you stared down at him, wondering how you were gonna deal with his idiocy for the rest of your life.

well, not that you were upset about it, it was fun, he was fun. satoru was an incredible lover and everything he did he hoped would benefit you, except when it came to your mornings together.

you knew you were gonna have to deal with this again tomorrow morning, but you would make sure to win then.

for now though, you’ll just let satoru have his way. you’ll let him sleep, knowing he’ll wake back up in an hour or two, having to leave you to go teach his students and exorcise curses.

but for now, he was all yours, and you’ll just have to have lunch with him instead of breakfast.

[4nicolas]

satoru gojo is physically unable to NOT touch you when he’s around you. it’s an impossible task for him, he needs his hands on you at all times and vise versa.

when you pass by him, he’s giving you a hug, running his hands up and down your back. before you leave he has to give you a kiss goodbye, maybe a bit more than one if you let him.

whether you’re in the kitchen trying a new recipe or simply doing laundry, satoru finds a way to touch you, he’ll hug you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck, his hands intertwined around your waist. and if you pull away from the hug he’ll chase after your hands, pulling you back in.

when the two of you were watching a movie together he loved holding you, or having his head in your lap. he especially loved when you would run your hands through his hair, or gently scratch his undercut.

your touch was so addicting, anything you did to him made him overjoyed. he loved you so much, and he loved getting confirmation that you loved him too.

when you got home, you’d instantly greet him with a hug, he would squeeze you back, loving the feeling of you in his arms.

when you two go out for dinner or lunch he always finds a way to sneak his hand into yours, feeling giddy as he walks beside you hand in hand.

he loved when the two of you would call it a day and get ready for bed. stripping down to almost nothing so you could cuddle skin to skin. satoru absolutely loved the feeling of your skin against his.

he would hold you so impossibly close throughout the night that you have to practically peel yourself off of him and out of his grasp to breath.

when he had you in his arms he always held you so close and so tight as if you were gonna disappear any second. he wanted your body as close as possible, and if you weren’t molded together what was the point?

if satoru had a long or particularly exhausting day his favorite thing to do was come home to you and fall into your arms. you always made sure to cherish and love him.

your voice and touch instantly calmed him down and made him feel better, everything about you increased his mood.

all day whether it be when he’s teaching or doing missions you’re on his mind. he’s thinking about you and wondering what you’re up to, wondering if you miss him as much as he misses you.

he can’t help but call you every so often every ten minutes he needed to hear your voice, if not only helped him focus during missions but made him feel more at ease.

exorcising curses was not only a physically taxing job but also a mental one. even the strongest sorcerer needed his lover to comfort him after work.

and if he ended up teleporting to you after a mission or two so what? he missed his baby and you were far more important than any curse.

you’d get onto him, telling him he needed to do his missions, he was the most important sorcerer and as much as you hated it he wiped out a big portion of the cities’ curses.

he begrudgingly would go back, fufilling his duties for the day, but only after a quickie or two. it’s a stress reliever and your body and love gave him the energy to complete the rest of his tasks.

the highlight of his day is when he got to come back home to you. grinning at you with that big boyish smile as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks. it made you feel butterflies even after years of being with him.

oh man he loved you so much. everything you did he loved. he cherished your voice, your smile, your eyes, yours hands, everything about you. you were just so perfect.

how did he get so lucky as to have you? everyday you made his life so much better and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

he especially can’t wait for the day he puts a ring on your finger. he knows that’ll be so much better.

[4nicolas]

happy birthday to my king

p.s: (Yuji and Megumi made the cake, Nobara kept "tasting" if its good)

[4nicolas]

posting this as tradition, the only day you can reblog this

[4nicolas]

yuji itadori x male reader

!MDNI! 18+

-yuji itadori loves dick, it’s who he is!

wrd count - 2100+

cw - making out, blowjobs, handjobs, slight edging, aged up yuji (bro is NOT a minor in this), amab reader, cum swallowing.

—————————————————————————————

yuji itadori loved dick, that much he knew. he never really thought too hard about it, it was simply a fact about him. obviously he didn’t go around announcing that he loved dick, but it always lingered in the back of his mind.

yuji itadori also loved you, that was something he was certain of and thought hard about. he loved being around you, and your dick was like a bonus. he especially loved when you two would cuddle leaving occasional kisses, followed by a make out session, which then turned into his favorite part, getting to touch you.

he felt your hand move up the side of his cheek, pulling him in closer to you, smashing your lips together. your lips soft against his as you kissed him so passionately, yuji felt himself falling in love with you all over again. everything you did to him was intoxicating. your love was intoxicating.

he kissed you back, returning that same passion while moving his arms to wrap around your neck. your thumb moved in a circle, rubbing his cheek and yuji couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

you hummed, he could feel your smile against the kiss at his reaction, it made his head feel fuzzy. the two of you were sitting on yujis bed, him straddling your thighs as your free hand rested on his hip.

you ran your tongue across yujis bottom lip as one of his hands slid up into your hair, his fingers scratching gently at your scalp before he opened his mouth for you.

you acted instantly, shoving your tongue in his mouth, exploring every part of him. he groaned into the kiss, his hand digging further into your hair.

he didn’t bother fighting back, simply letting you take control and do your thing. he would kiss you all day if you’d let him, which you probably would if not for school and missions.

after a moment, yuji started running out of breath and he knew you were too but he didn’t want you to pull back, he wanted even more of you.

reluctantly you had to pull back, feeling as if you couldn’t breath, separating from yuji, you take a quick breath and look at him, his eyes clouded over completely with hunger. you smile, shaking your head, yuji blinked, not speaking as you look into each others eyes.

yuji was breathing heavily, his lips were puffy and red from your kissing, yet he still leaned back in, pulling you closer, your lips on his once again. you two both returned to the same motions as before, his hands in your hair as your tongue moved around in his mouth.

the passion from earlier was replaced by a desperate need, the both of you growing needier, movements were getting sloppier, and rougher as the make out session progressed.

you were sure yuji could feel how hard you were against him, his ass practically pressed on your growing erection. his own dick was pushing against your stomach, the crotch of his pants stretched around his buldge.

yuji moved his hips down on your dick, eliciting a low groan from you into his mouth, as soon as he heard you make those sounds he could feel the blood moving from his head and he knew exactly where it was going.

yuji wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait, he wanted his mouth on your dick, or his hands, just, he needs one of the options. all he wanted was to feel you, in any way, preferrably one where he gets to suck you dry.

moving his hands to your chest, yuji pushed back, staring into your eyes before glancing down, licking his lips at the sight of, well, you. you smiled, sensing his urge to please you. you hummed in acknowledgment, scooting back and spreading your legs slightly for him.

yuji grinned, mumbling something before tugging at your shirt. raising your arms, yuji was on you fast, pulling your shirt off and throwing it somewhere on the floor of his bedroom.

as fast as your shirt came off his lips were on your neck, he trailed kisses down your neck, sucking and biting along the way. you let out occasional groans and grunts as yujis teeth met your neck.

pain shot through your body for a moment, you glanced down seeing the male in front of you still attached to your neck. that was definitely gonna leave a mark, knowing yuji that was exactly what he wanted.

yujis kisses and bites littered your neck, marking up your neck, eventually he found a place that caused you to whimper. that sound was music to his ears, in a flash he started to attack that area, forcing you to let out more noises, and frankly you were embarrassed he got this much of a reaction out of you.

deciding he made enough marks on your neck, he traveled down your collarbones, leaving kisses and bites there as well before doing the same to your chest. his lips found one of your nipples and yuji couldn’t help but suck on it. the sensation made you gasp, moving you hand up to grab yujis shoulder.

he moved to your other nipple, doing the same, smiling against your bare chest at the small whines you make before his lips were on the move again. he moved down you stomach, kissing around your belly button before reaching right. wrote your v line. his lips lingered above your pants for a moment, he was thinking about something, and you had a clue what it was.

yuji pulled back ever so slightly, looking up at you, asking for permission. you felt your dick twitch at his expression. his honey brown eyes wide with anticipation, his lip quivering slightly.

you smirk, a mischievous gling in your eyes as you speak, “wouldn’t it be so funny if I said no..?” upon hearing this yujis eyes widened more, quickly returning to normal as his brows furrowed.

“…you wouldn’t.” his voice spoke, it being the first words he said in awhile. you purse your lips, pretending to think as yuji stared at you, not knowing what to say.

you let the moment last a minute longer before chuckling, “I kid, go ahead, ‘m all yours.” your voice was low, the lighthearted teasing tone gone.

yuji swallowed, a smile quickly following as his hands found your waistband, tugging your pants down he also threw them somewhere, following your shirt.

your legs shook at the cool air before yujis mouth met yours, shaking all thoughts from your mind. the kiss was sickeningly sweet but before you could make a move a hand wrapped around you through your boxers.

moaning into the kiss, yuji pulled away, stroking you through your underwear a few times. you bucked your hips up, pressing further into yujis hand. yujis grin widened at this, tightening his grip, making you groan.

you could feel the precum seeping through your boxers, it had to be all over yujis hand, that thought made you breathless. staring at yuji, you were met with a pink head of hair looking down, his attention was solely on your dick.

your stomach felt queasy as yuji concentrated on you lower half, it felt exhilarating to know he put your needs before his.

your whole body tensed, feeling the familiar warmth in your stomach as your dick twitched. “yuji- i’m gonna..” you mumbled, yuji turned up, looking at you before moving his hand off your clothed dick.

he smiled at you innocently as if he wasn’t toying with you right now, you frowned, yujis hand moving to your thigh in the process. his hand gently rubbed at your thigh, massaging the skin there before moving down.

his hand stayed resting on your thigh for a moment before you felt the familiar grip around you again. the feeling of something cradling your dick was strange, but it was nice, especially knowing it was yuji.

as much as you loved what was happening currently, you wanted more than anything to feel yujis skin, to feel his bare hand against your cock. yuji palmed at your crotch awhile longer for moving to the top of your boxers.

finally. you felt yujis fingers slip under the waistband of your boxers, slowly pulling them until your dick was free. the air felt cooler than before against your most sensitive area causing you to shiver.

yujis head moved down further, his warm breath traveling over your dick. your hands moved to the sheets, gripping them as you tried to be patient for what you’ve been wanting all night.

yuji took his sweet time admiring you, he loved your body so much, he loved you, and he loved your dick too, though that much was obvious. he thought everything about you was perfect, he truly couldn’t believe he gets this all to himself.

licking his lips, he lowered his head, taking your tip into his mouth. you let out a gasp at the warmth enveloping you as his tongue licked around your slit, practically savoring your precum. yuji loved the way you tasted, hell he could go on about the things he loved about you.

you threw your head back, groaning as yujis mouth treated you like you were a five star dinner. his mouth was so warm, it felt amazing. one of his hands gripped your hip as the other massaged your thigh, all you could do was accept what he was giving you.

yuji loved your reactions, the noises you made only motivating him, he wanted to give you everything you wanted. taking his mouth off you he licked a strip from the base of your cock to the tip.

he looked up at you, seeing your adams apple bob and your chest rise and fall. he grinned, loving to make you act like this, his mouth was back on your dick, slowly taking you in fully as you let out a moan.

his mouth moved up and down, his tongue lapping up any precum dripping down. he continued to slide up and down your dick with ease, his saliva completely coating you.

every second yuji spent on your dick you felt yourself coming undone, his mouth did wonders. the feeling of his tongue sliding around you made your mouth dry, you wanted so badly to kiss him, but he took his duties on pleasuring you very seriously and he wouldn’t stop until you came.

yujis sucking pace was unruly, you were barely able to react before he did something else that rocked your world. if he kept this up you weren’t gonna last another minute. your breathing was heavy and labored as yujis eyes looked up at you.

his eyes were watering, clearly struggling to fit you in his mouth even though he’s done it so many times before. his mouth moved up and down in such a way that made your breath hitch, his drool was dripping down your dick in between your thighs, but you didn’t care, he was incredible.

his face alone could make you cum. in fact, it was, before you could speak the warmth appeared in your stomach, you couldn’t breath, it was too much. shakily raising your hand you came, yujis eyes widened for a second, returning to a more serious look before his mouth tightened around you.

he stayed on your dick as your cum shot down his throat. a wave of pleasure ripped through your body as yuji pressed his face further against you, burying his face into your crotch.

you laid back, closing your eyes as you rode out your high. yujis grip on your thigh and hip lessened before moving to your stomach, he used his hands to push up, slowly taking his mouth off your dick.

he looked up at you, a proud look on his face before he went back down to make sure he got all your cum. he licked up and down, cleaning your dick off before moving up to rest his head on your chest.

catching your breath, you finally open your eyes, seeing yuji content as ever after swallowing your literal dna. he simply smiled, all giddy about what he did.

you shook your head, smiling softly at the boy. he was a mess, but you loved him for it.

…

…

…

then it hit you, “wait yuji, did you ever-?” you were cut off by a pair of lips on yours. the kiss was short but relaxing. yuji sighed, “don’t worry about it, this was plenty of enjoyment for me.” turning, he laid his head on your chest, completely relaxing as his entire body weight fell on you.

all you did was shake your head, wrapping your arms around the boys waist. it was enough for now.

—————————————————————————————

oh yeahh, I got into another writing mood at 4am, if theres mistakes too bad so sad!! sorry for any female followers I have, I have no clue how to write for anything but men so….🗣️🙏🏼

I also have a thing for pink haired men!

[4nicolas]

can we talk about how nice it would be to cuddle true form sukuna? mfer could cradle you with four arms, he’s also giant and definitely warm.

heian era sukuna x reader

—————————————————————————

when you woke up, you felt like you were trapped, unable to breathe, unable to move. opening your eyes slowly, you squint, realizing why you felt this way.

a head of spiky pink hair laid atop your chest, just barely grazing your neck and chin. sukuna was laying on top of you, his head resting right below your collarbones and his body halfway on yours.

two of his arms lay over you, one pushed up over your shoulder, tucked neatly under the pillow, the other lazily laying over your waist.

sukunas other hands lay resting on the other side of you, his top pair of arms trapping your head between them. one of his legs was tangled with yours, rendering your legs unable to move as well.

unable to do anything you simply closed your eyes, listening to sukunas light snores and the way his bare back rose ever so slightly signaling he was still breathing and alive.

his presence was calming to you, which was something you’re fairly sure only you could say. when he was around you, your body felt more at ease, feeling protected by this walking natural disaster; you weren’t scared, you could never be, in fact you were enthralled by him.

the way he looked at you, the way his hands moved up and down your body, praising you even though thousands praised him. he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, his eyes always holding a certain longing in them.

you learned to treasure these moments, sukuna rarely ever shown a “soft” side. it simply wasn’t who he was. he grew up being a feared murderer and that was who he grew into.

everyone knew sukuna as the king of curses, the embodiment of evil, an abomination, but to you, he was just sukuna.

the same sukuna who cradled you in his arms after a long day. the same sukuna who listened to you rant about your day and random topics you enjoyed. the same sukuna who would have uraume fix you the best meals, making sure to take care of you before him. the same sukuna who would kill everyone in the damn world for you.

no one saw this side of sukuna, that was a fact, you were the only exception, the only person in the entire world who could be so close to sukuna.

sukuna always made sure you knew that, telling you that no one else deserved his attention like you, how he’d kill anyone else who tried to do the same things you did.

a low groan and slight shift brought you back to reality, seeing the pink haired man move, adjusting his position. you felt him take a deep breath before turning his head to face you, propped up on his chin, his eyes examined you.

you were sure you had terrible bed head, your face felt puffy and you could feel yourself sweating but that didn’t stop him from looking at you like you were everything.

his eyes were so impossibly soft, his pupils were dialated, you were unsure whether it was from just waking up or something else. the both of you stayed silent, each of you getting refamilarized with the wrinkles and crevices of your faces.

you always thought sukunas eyes were beautiful, the deep crimson seemingly pulling you in. his eyes were captivating, so unique that even animals stop and stare.

everything about sukuna was unique. sukunas lip upturned slightly, a soft smile forming on his features. “g’morning…” he spoke right into your face, his voice deep and raspy from just waking.

you couldn’t help but smile back, swallowing as you returning the goodmorning. sukuna sighed, sounding content as his arm to the left of your face went up to cup your cheek.

you instantly leaned into his touch, his hand was rough and calloused but he touched you with such gentleness it didn’t even matter.

your mornings normally went like this, you woke up first, sukuna waking up shortly after, leading to lazy cuddles and warm bodies pressing against each other.

a comfortable silence fell over you, the two of you were lost in one another’s eyes, unable to tear away. you closed your eyes, leaning your head back before exhaling.

you could feel sukunas eyes still on you, observing sleepily. sukunas thumb starting rubbing circles into your cheeks, his hand on your waist traveling up and down.

the contact made you smile, looking down at sukuna. wiggling your arm from underneath his body you wrapped it around his back, feeling his muscles and scars from everything he’s done.

sukunas body was that of a deity. it exceeded anything close to ethereal. everything about his body was scarily strong, his arms and legs huge and powerful.

one could say having two faces and two sets of arms was weird yet it benefitted everything that he was. this man was made to be worshipped, he was something extraordinary, straight out of a fairytale.

your hand rubbed his back, his body seemed to relax even further against your touch. you were at peace, well as much peace as one could be squished under four hundred pounds of pure muscle.

now sukuna closed his eyes, copying your actions from earlier as his pushed his face into your chest, taking deep breathes, just enjoying the moment with you.

sukuna always slept with his shirt off, whether it was a preference or it was for you, you didn’t know, but he did. you recalled hearing him say something along the lines of enjoying the feeling of his bare skin against you, but you might’ve dreamt that.

every chance sukuna got he tried to be impossibly close to you, his hands lingering on your hips, cupping your cheek, holding your hand, kissing your knuckles, hugging you.

his favorite thing was to be with you; killing people who pissed him off was close second, and eating those people was third. when sukuna was away from you his mood plummeted, he acted like a completely different person the moment you were more than ten feet away from him.

you’ve brought this up before, but he simply shrugs it off, ignoring it in a way. you thought it’s because he didn’t want to admit to being clingy, scratch that, you knew it was because he didn’t want to admit to being clingy.

he would never say such foolish words yet here was, pressed up against you, arms wrapped around you tightly with his face pushed into your chest.

moving your hand up his back you reached his hair, gently combing the pink locks, scratching his head tenderly. sukuna groaned into your shirt, taking in a deep breath before exhaling.

sukuna loved breathing in your smell, there was something about it that made him feel giddy, excited even. he loved holding you in his lap, simply holding his face in your neck as he inhaled your scent.

when he’s stressed or frustrated about something going on, your scent would bring him back to earth, helping him focus and be more alert from you just being next to him.

your body always brought him back to his senses, whether it be the softness of your hands on his body or the hugs you give him. he couldn’t get enough of you.

sometimes he wondered if you put him under a spell, that maybe you had some technique that causes him to act like this. he was not used to feeling so… so strongly about someone.

the way his heart would beat faster when you were around, the way his stomach gets queasy when you touch him, the way you intoxicate him with every little thing about you.

he often thinks about what he’ll do when you’ll die, hell if you get killed, many people have it out for sukuna and he was constantly on edge fearing that you were in danger.

he hated when you were away from him, scared you weren’t going to come back. he would even go as far as to send uraume to watch you from a distance, not wanting to take any chances.

he cared about you and it hurt him. it hurt him how you were leverage against him, something that made him weak, something that could be used against him.

none of this mattered right now because you were in his arms, protected from all danger. as long as he was here you wouldn’t have so much as a scratch on you, and if you were to return injured, even something as little as a scratch, the thing that caused it would be in for a new world of pain.

his hands held you tighter, pulling you closer to him. as long as he had you here, he didn’t have to worry. he was fine because you were cuddled up against him.

you felt yourself growing tired again because sukunas warm weighted blanket-esk body was on top of you, not that you were complaining but you really didn’t wanna go back to sleep.

not like you had any say in the matter, as long as sukuna sleeps, you sleep, even if he didn’t join you until 1 or 2 in the morning.

sukuna shuffled above you, extending his leg further over yours to make double sure you weren’t going anywhere, even though he knew you’d never try.

his hands return to their normal places as sukuna feels his eyes growing heavy again. he could worry about you when he was awake and you were out of his arms.

until then though, he was happy, happy being in your arms as you were in his.

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yeah uhm, I freaking love sukuna and had this idea at 3am. i’m tired and don’t feel like proofreading so if it sucks, sowwy!

that’s all.

[4nicolas]

ROCK PAPER SCISSORS

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satoru gojo x male reader

-you and gojo were trying to decide where to eat but he insisted you picked, obviously you didn’t care so instead suggest a game. satoru agrees but puts his own twist on it.

cw - kissing ig, they’re kinda gay, gojo is bad at flirting

wrd ct - 1600+

this was made with male reader in mind but I don’t think the gender is specified.

this takes place during the hidden inventory arc before suguru geto left.

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the streets of tokyo weren’t ever this busy, I mean yeah obviously they were busy, but today as the people of japan walked the streets you and satoru can’t help but feel cramped. the two of you were practically pushed up against each other, shoulder to shoulder.

the two of you had just got back from a mission at an elementary school, easily exorcising the curses that lie dormant there scaring the children both you and gojo were starving. who knew saving people could be so tiring!

wanting to get out of the crowd gojo grabs your hand attempting to pull you somewhere secluded, which was difficult because there were not only people in front of you but also surrounding you.

you could feel gojos growing annoyance as he shimmed in between men and women with you being dragged along behind him. you could hear gojo muttering small apologies as he practically shoved these people aside.

it felt like an eternity before you made it to an empty alleyway. “oh yeah, real smart bringing us to a creepy, dark alleyway, satoru” you poked at him. “aw cmon, you’re with the strongest sorcerer, no need to worry babe.” he smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but stare at him.

you felt your cheeks warm up a bit at the stupid pet name he used even though you knew it was a joke. he used those dumb nicknames on you all the time, you should be used to it by now, right?

shaking away your thoughts you zone back into what satoru was saying. “anyway, I doubt anyone would try and mug us or shoot us or whatever criminals do.” you shrugged at him, he was probably right but still, you could never be too cautious.

gojo suddenly clapped his hands together, grabbing your attention even more as if he already didn’t have it. “now, back to the matter at hand, where do you wanna eat?”

gojo started naming places, waiting for you to say one of his listed options. he was counting on his fingers and already listed surrounding eateries. you lack of response made him look up, blinking a couple times before waving a hand in front of your face.

“hello? earth to F/N?” you looked at him before speaking, “oh I don’t really mind where we eat, you can pick.” gojo hated when people said that. you knew this but still didn’t pay any mind to it.

satoru deadpanned you. you laughed at his reaction before sighing, “no but seriously, you can choose.” uhhmmm… no? he can’t. suguru chose last time, he chose the time before that and shoko chose the time before that. so it’s your turn.

he shook his head, almost in disbelief how you forgot the turn system. “it’s your turn.” “what?” he deadpanned you again. “the TURN system. you know where we all choose on different turns. and since suguru, me and shoko have went recently, it’s you turn.” he poked your chest, satisfyed with his response.

you laughed at him, “you actually keep track of that?” satorus silly habits always made you laugh. this reminded you of the time he got mad at principal yaga for assigning a mission to you and suguru when it was “clearly his turn to go on a mission with you” suguru didn’t care what happened and yaga eventually gave in to his demands, not wanting to wind him up even more.

satoru looked offended, “uhh, obviously I keep a track of it. how else will we know whose turn it is?” he was acting like this was common knowledge. you laughed again causing satoru to bounce back, “well how would you decide, F/N?” he crossed him arms over his chest.

you looked at him, contemplating what you would do, and as if a lightbulb went off in your head you snapped. “I know. I would probably just use the classic rock paper scissors. you know, winner picks.”

satoru squinted at you, seemingly dumbfounded by your choice of words. his arms drop to his sides and sighs, exaggeratingly so. “fineeee. i guess, we can do rock paper scissors.” you were about to be shocked by how easily satoru gave in before you heard a “but,”

you raised your brow at him. “-but best to three, loser pays, winner decides, AND-“ oh boy. “-every time we draw the same sign, we have the kiss.” now you really were shocked. your eyes widened at his sentence.

while you were still unable to respond, satoru slyly smiled. enjoying your look of shock and what he thought was flustered but he wasn’t sure. instead of responding you nod, “okay, alright then, best to three.” you raised your fist to your palm and satoru grinned.

he put his hand up to his palm opposite of you before he started counting down. three. two. one. you threw out scissors and looks at satorus hand to see rock. he beat you in the first round.

the both of you went again, going on the count of three before drawing out paper. you look up, seeing satoru also had paper. before you could react satoru chuckles, “well… you agreed to the rules F/N.”

satoru steps closer, inches away from your face. you can feel your body betraying you by making your face and the tips of your ears red. satoru stood in front of you, waiting for you to initiate the kiss.

hesitantly, you moved your face even closer to his, feeling his breath on your lips before closing the distance. the kiss was very short. basically just a peck. you backed away getting even more flustered.

you tried to hide it by jokingly wiping your hands across your lips. satoru simply watches, a shit eating grin on his face at your reaction.

“I mean it wouldn’t have hurt if the kiss was longer but.. whatever!” satoru smiled at you, his eyes creasing in the corners before putting his hands back up.

“it’s still 1-0 you know.” satoru spoke slightly dragging out the ‘w’. you raised your hands back up, getting ready to play again.

three. two. one. you threw out rock, satoru had scissors. 1-1.

satoru frowned for a moment, almost disappointed in the round. you thought nothing of it and continued on.

you both got ready to play again, putting your hands up. three. two. one. you had paper, satoru had rock. you won again, 1-2.

you began to felt nervous almost expecting there to be another tie that forces you to kiss gojo. the two rounds went by fast but all you could focus on was the quick kiss you both shared.

trying to shake your thoughts away, you raised your hands up, meeting gojos. three. two. one. you drew scissors, satoru drew rock. 2-2.

satoru hadn’t spoke in the past couple rounds instead focusing on his hands. you wanted to say something but nothing came to mind, instead you did the same as him, looking directly at your hands.

three. two. one. you looked at your hand seeing paper, and nervously looked up at satorus. rock. you had won, which meant you chose and he had to pay. which satoru saw as a win, he already wanted you to choose and planned on paying.

you let out a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking back up to satorus gaze. he’s staring behind you. you turn around, not seeing anything before turning back to see satoru a few inches away from you, similar to when you kissed.

you both stayed silent, simply breathing before you broke the silence. “well I guess I won.” gojo smiles, glancing at your lips. “yeah, guess so.”

you went to back away from gojo but before you could even turn your head, his hand grabs your wrist.

not expecting the contact, you jump, looking at him. “what’s up with you today, man..?” you question him in a joking manner. he stays silent, observing you.

satoru sighs, dropping his hand from your wrist, disappointment crossing his features. he puts his hands in his pockets as you stare at him.

“what’s wrong?” your voice comes out in a joking manner but you both knew it wasn’t a joke.

satoru looks you in the eyes before looking up. “nothing, just thought you would’ve gotten the hint from that, but turns out not.”

you still weren’t quite grasping what he was saying, clearly stated by your confused look.

satoru sighs even louder than before and looks back at your face. “do I really gotta spell it out for you?”

you blink, once, then twice. trying to piece together what he was saying. how he agreed to play the game if there was a chance to kiss you, the way he frowned when you didn’t tie, the way he looked at you. hell, the way he’s currently looking at you.

as if tiny cogs were turning in your brain you suddenly felt like the dumbest person alive. satoru gojo was flirting with you. in his own weird way yeah but he was still doing it.

the stupid pet names, lingering glances, constantly wanting to be around you. you understood now that gojo liked you.

still staring, satoru started to walk past you but before he could you grabbed his wrist. “thanks for making me feel even dumber than I already am satoru.” you mumble, seeing him turn to you, face still before turning into a smile at your realization.

“well, actually you figured it out faster than suguru thought you would’ve.” ignoring his words you pull him towards you, smashing your lips together.

this kiss was longer than before, way longer. it went on until the two of you had to take a breath. satorus arms wrap around you, yours finding their way from his arms to his face before shaking your head.

“did you say suguru thought I would’ve took longer to figure it out?” satoru laughed, the two of you separating before making your way out of the alleyway.

“it’s a long story, in fact we can talk about while we eat. speaking of which where are we eating?” gojos hand held yours as you walked, unsure of which direction to go in unless you named where you were going.

“oh right.”

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yoo no way, nick made his first post. how crazy is that. anyway i’m having jjk brain rot rn and really wanted to write. here’s something I threw together real quick. hope someone enjoys it.