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hime-k0 · 7 months

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The Earth Kills the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 6.3k

Part two of The Sun Eats the Moon

Synopsis: A retelling of The Sun Eats the Moon in Suguru's perspective

(Warnings: forced relationships, bullying, non con touching, non con kissing)

Suguru liked you.

It wasn't even a crush. A passing interest, maybe. You were pretty. You had a nice smile. Though, he'd never directly spoken to you, he could tell that you were kind. Not in the artificial cherry most people were. Natural, like honey, never spoiling. You share the same homeroom as Satoru, and he'd always tended to be observant, unlike his friend. One thing he liked about you was how observant you were. You were constantly looking out for your friends, mere acquaintances, and everyone in your vicinity. Often, Suguru wondered if being a people-pleaser was natural or from a fear of not fitting in.

Suguru is observant. He notices the lingering gaze Satoru gives you when you walk away, hurrying to catch up with the rest of your friends. Satoru then turns back to the carton of chocolate milk you'd left him.

"Cute," Satoru says after a minute. It's more of an afterthought than anything. He pops the carton open. Suguru hears the fabric tear. He hums in agreement. The topic switches to something else, a hot celebrity maybe? Suguru can't remember. That day had been so insignificant to him. It hadn’t mattered to him for Suguru to remember anything further.

A few days later, Suguru noticed Satoru was spending a lot more time with you.

It was hard not to notice, actually. His friend attached himself to you like he'd die if he couldn’t. Satoru went everywhere with you now. Suguru caught him walking you from school, offering you rides in his new car, following you to the lunch hall. And if he couldn’t go to where you were, he’d drag you back to him. Watching you and Satoru was a bit like watching two magnets. North pole and South pole. So different, yet constantly finding the other.

“Tryna’ run away from me, now?” Satoru asks, a teasing lilt in his voice as he watches you fiddle with your bag.

You laugh, continuing to fish out your lunch box. “Just grabbing lunch.”

“Eat with us,” Satoru insists, “we found a great spot up at the rooftop.”

You meet Suguru’s gaze just then. He’d been silently lounging on a nearby desk, observing the two of you. He gives a smile. You return it. Polite. He wonders if your mother taught you to smile like that.

“I thought students weren’t allowed up there?” You ask Satoru.

The boy rolls his eyes. “So, who cares? It’ll be fun.”

You pause, right then. The tiniest of hesitation. Suguru wonders if you’re noticing just how different you and Satoru were. You, the people pleaser, meek, always more than willing to bend towards authority. Satoru was rougher, more resilient, uncaring of signs and rules. The gap between the two of you is astronomical. Could you feel it as well?

Whatever you’re thinking, it’s gone in a moment. You rise, giving Satoru another laugh. To Suguru, it sounds pretty.

“Well, have fun for me. Besides, I can’t ditch my friends. They’re waiting for me.”

With that, you give both him and Satoru a tiny wave, before disappearing out of the classroom. Suguru waves back. Satoru doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his eyes on your back until he can’t see you anymore.

“Got ditched again, hm?” Suguru teases. Satoru only groans, tossing his head back as he leans dangerously on the chair.

“Always leavin’ me for ‘em, too,” he complains, “so fuckin’ annoyin’.”

Suguru can only smile, getting up to follow his friend out the door. He can barely count how many times he’d seen this before, each with a different person. It starts the same. Satoru will cling onto you for a couple more days, and then ask you out. When you say yes, he’d date you for a few weeks before eventually getting bored and dumping you.

It’s a cruel cycle, something that’s just an inevitability with Gojo Satoru. The boy can’t stay in one place, he’s constantly moving around, never one to stop. For Satoru, Suguru was the most permanent thing in his life. Which made sense, they were pretty similar in terms of ideals.

A cruel cycle, and Suguru feels a tiny bit of sympathy for you. You were sweet, unlike the type Satoru typically went for. Honey. Natural. Truthfully, Suguru was a little disappointed as well. The type of disappointment he’d feel when someone took the last crab stick before he could. A fleeting feeling, one that ultimately wouldn’t matter.

◉

From the day they first met, Suguru knew one thing: Gojo Satoru has never been told no before.

It made sense. He was the only child to one of the most powerful families in the country. Spoiled from day one, some could say. Satoru grew up knowing nothing but wealth and prosperity. They met when they were both still in elementary school, still with high-pitched voices and large eyes. Suguru’s family was fairly affluent as well. Now that Suguru thinks back, perhaps their meeting had been orchestrated by meddling parents in order to form more connected. It didn’t matter, either way. It had benefitted all three parties, after all.

Yes, Suguru knew from the moment Satoru pointed at him and declared him his ‘best friend’, that Satoru had never been told no before.

Satoru was the Sun. The universe revolved around him, catered to him. Suguru supposed he wasn't much better considering he too spoiled his best friend in that sense. They were different. They'd been born different, coming from families who cherish them with wealth and power. Suguru supposes it was natural for them to be so intertwined. Like calls for like.

Suguru isn’t aware of the exact details, but he knows you rejected Satoru.

The boy doesn’t have to tell him. His friend is uncharacteristically quiet during that weekend. He has no interest in the arcade, or the next basketball tournament his team is going to compete in. Satoru just sits on top of Suguru’s bed, casually sucking on a carton of chocolate milk. Suguru glanced down at the abandoned PlayStation remote. He’d lost yet another game against his dark-haired friend with no complaints. Satoru didn’t even play

You’d really done a number on him, Suguru thinks to himself. Suguru would assume it’s heartbreak, but he knows his friend better than that. Something burns in his chest, but he’s pushing it away before he can figure out why. Nipping it in the bud. It was a cruel thought. A bad one. He should ignore it.

Well, it’s done. It doesn’t matter anyway. Satoru would eventually get over it. He’s not known to sulk.

He’s not there to see what Satoru tells them, but he’s there to see the effects.

It starts out small. Or perhaps just not noticeable enough. Gojo Satoru has always attracted attention, whether it was satisfactory or not. Lackeys, Satoru often calls them because they're too far beneath him to even be called equals.

Suguru notices their sudden interest in you before even you can. A harsh word here and there. Giggling at the word 'easy'. You peacefully trek on, not noticing the abuse until it turns physical. That starts at the end of Monday.

By Tuesday, they're already shoving you down each chance they get. You get surprised when it happens the first time, then the second, then the third. You have soft skin, plushy, Suguru could tell. He wondered if it was getting marked now. He wonders if you go home, peeling of your uniform, staring at the bruises of hands on your skin because you’re so fragile.

(They never go too far, not enough to completely injure. Suguru knows this because one time, one of the idiots had pushed you too hard. You’d stumbled, nearly hitting the back of your head with a metal locker. Satoru had seen. Suguru doesn’t know what Satoru did, but that particular one was gone the next time and the rest got the memo to scare, not injure.)

Satoru never takes part in this, but he keeps an eye on you sometimes. Tuesday evening comes and they both silently watch you through a window. You move through an empty hall, before they arrive again, slapping your binders out of your hands, chortling with each other. They're too far away to hear, but Suguru could bet it would sound like nails scraping against a chalkboard.

Out of the corner of his eye, Suguru watches his best friend. Satoru looks impassive, face blank as he stares down at your figure. Akin to a child watching ants burning through a magnifying glass, instilled with that innate desire to see them explode into ash.

When the lackeys leave, you bend down on the floor, collecting your stuff. Your hair covers your eyes, so he can't see your expression, but he can see your shoulders tremble. Were you-

A corral of people run to you. They lean down, picking up the stuff you had missed. You look up, your eyes are shiny but you're laughing when they say something. You wipe at your eyes, standing up as they lead you out of the hallway. Suguru had seen them hanging out with you before. They all seemed like they supported each other, supported you.

Suguru feels his frown deepen, conflicted. He doesn’t like it.

"It's not nice to pick on the weak, Satoru," he quietly says.

Satoru's eyes trail your figure out the door. He gives a small hum.

By Wednesday, your friends disappear from your side.

The abuse is getting worse, noticeable to the point where the rest of the student body is heavily avoiding you. Teachers won't raise a finger at what's happening. As much as they like to preach about their 'zero tolerance for bullying', Suguru knows they'll willingly turn a blind eye when matters involve Gojo Satoru. No teacher wants to deal with the wrath the Gojo family is more than willing to unlease for the sake of their heir.

Yet, you aren't getting it. You don't break, don't bend. He can feel the humiliation roll off of you in waves, yet you don't react. Which was strange because he knew your archetype. A people-pleaser, constantly bending over backward for other's sake. You want nothing more than to become part of the crowd again, completely invisible. You’re community-oriented. You thrive off of companionship. This ostracization must be killing you. Suguru doesn't get it until he spots your face, just once, narrowed eyes, anger.

Pride. He'd forgotten other people had that too. Though, Suguru admires it, a part of him knows it shouldn’t last.

Suguru thinks he does it because he pities you. You're a little naive. Suguru has your thought process figured out. You think if you take the torment long enough, Satoru would eventually just forget about you all together. Once he's done with you, you'd focus on picking up the pieces that used to be your life. It's not a bad plan, if you weren't dealing with Gojo Satoru.

The boy is a hurricane. Fast, unrelenting, unforgiving. Satoru won't stop. He won't stop until you're ruined and broken. Turned into a mere asteroid of what you once were.

So, Suguru decides to give you a push in the right direction.

The students have already created a wide circle for you by the time he steps in, bending down, picking up the stuff you had dropped. You're silent until he hands you his pieces. He doesn't bother responding to your timid thanks.

"Give in," he tells you, watching the way your eyes widen as you look up at him.

You're weak. Physically, emotionally. He could easily pick you up with one hand, crush your body with his fist. Satoru could eviscerate your body from existence. You don't stand a chance with him. With either of them.

His advice to you is good. Reasonable. And yet, he sees the face you make, the way you slowly get up. You won’t listen. That same burning feeling in his chest starts. It's gotten more painful.

You don't listen to him until you lose nearly everything. Just as he warned you. Friday comes. You become Satoru's. And it's a little too late for everything.

◉

Suguru doesn't think you ever learn that Satoru loves messing with you.

Or, perhaps you do, but you can't help it. You're too honest, too open. He often wonders if that's how you were raised. To be honest, open, vulnerable. Your parents must have filled your thoughts with delusions, coddling you with words of cheap motivation. The world is your oyster. You just had to reach out and take it.

Maybe now you're finally realizing, sitting on Satoru's lap, that all men aren't created equal.

Clearly, you weren't happy about it. Yet, you aren't complaining, sitting there pliantly legs firmly crossed, hands curled into tiny fists, staring rigidly on the floor. The first few times Satoru had done this in public, you were always biting your lip, tears threatening to fall. Now, Suguru thinks you just dissociate, coming back when Satoru laughs at something, jostling you in his arms.

It's a bit like watching a helpless bird on the ground, twitching and spasming after it had just collided with a glass window. Pitiful, but there was nothing that could be done. It's the inevitability of it all that makes him pity you more than anything else, really.

Every so often, your eyes would catch his. It's a quick glance, as though you were wondering if he was watching. He can barely catch it, but Suguru is observant. Much like you. It's meaningless, and your gaze returns to the floor. Your fists tighten.

Granting you mercy, Suguru stops looking at you during those times.

He's not sure how Satoru sees you. Perhaps, you're akin to a dog for him. Though, that might not be very good for you. Satoru hadn't been very good with animals when he was younger. Satoru had always been rough with any pets he came into contact with, pushing and tugging. Suguru doubted that had changed.

Satoru's is your official title. It isn't a relationship. It's an ownership. Unequal from the start. The one who holds the leash in the end, will always be Satoru.

It took a while for you to fully learn that.

Suguru didn't mean to catch the two of you. Looking back, it was probably because Satoru couldn't care less if someone was watching. Maybe Satoru was being obvious on purpose. It was a little while after school had officially ended. Suguru knew your usual routine would place you right at the library, scrolling through books. Satoru would most likely be there too, pestering you about this and that. It's the scene Suguru prepares himself to walk into.

Instead, you're wedged in between the white-haired boy and the wall, there's no space for you to do anything but sink. You're already crying (when was the last time you smiled?), trying to pull away but Satoru isn't letting you. He's gripping you by the chin, forcing eye contact. His sunglasses are off, tucked on his collar.

Suguru's close enough to hear. You're begging. Apology after apology. It's barely a whisper, but they're spilling out of you like a prayer. He can't discern the context, but he knows enough.

You made Satoru angry.

He's still smiling, but it isn't sincere. Almost bordering on mania as he tightens his grip on you, forcing you further into the wall. Suguru doesn't think Satoru has ever hit you before, but now he's wondering if quick violence was preferable to this.

"Don't be like that," Satoru chides as another squeak leaves your lips, "Where was that smile you were givin' him, hm? C'mon, pretty girl. You were wearin' it just a second ago."

"It-it wasn't like that, I swear," you continue to plead, still not realizing that it's too late, "he was giving me his notes. Please-please Satoru-"

"Wrong answer," he cuts you off, you flinch at his harshness but Suguru decides Satoru's being nice to you. He's been known to do worse, "we've been over this before, haven't we? Or did your stupid brain forget?"

You're choking down another hiccup. It takes a minute for you to calm down enough to speak clearly. Ever impatient, Satoru's hand digs into your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Satoru," you say, "it won't happen again."

He tilts his head, waiting. You wilt under his gaze.

"I'm sorry...’Toru."

Satoru gives a satisfied hum, pulling back and Suguru can practically see your lungs sag with relief. His mania is gone, replaced by something much more lighthearted and carefree. Suguru'd seen it before, but it was certainly something watching Satoru go from one high to the next. Even to Suguru, it's terrifying to witness.

Suguru decides to make himself known right then. He comes out of the shadows, acting as though he'd just arrived. His friend lazily gives him a wave, curling an arm around your waist. You try to scrub away your tears with your forearms, unaware of how much Suguru had seen. Another mercy Suguru grants you. He doesn't acknowledge it.

The three of you sit in the library for half an hour until you're done pretending that you're studying. When Satoru walks you home, Suguru follows. He notes that you barely hesitate to give Satoru a chaste kiss on the lips, and he wonders how often his friend has demanded one from you for you to be so casual about it.

He thinks he gets it when he and Satoru are walking on the street without you. To Satoru, you aren't a dog. You aren't a pet, something that he keeps to see bark.

No, you are just Satoru's.

◉

Towards the end of the year, Suguru realizes that Satoru loves you.

He's nicer to you, now. Suguru doesn't think you've realized how softer Satoru's gotten, but the change is there. He spots less marks on you now. The biggest evidence he has is that stolen moment of you and Satoru. You'd accidentally fallen asleep during lunch break, dozing off on your desk. Satoru was right next to you, gently pushing your hair out of your face. Satoru loves you.

You've changed too. Adapted, he should say. You cry less, now. Each time he sees you, you look more and more put together. As though, you're done mourning. The final stage of grief. Acceptance.

Despite how much nicer Satoru is to you, he's still just as clingy. Suguru notices that even now, none of your former friends speak to you. No one at school does. It's an unspoken rule to not mess with Satoru's things.

Suguru can still remember the last guy who hadn't gotten the memo. A new student. Freshly transferred. Suguru had heard the conversation. The guy was hardly interested in you. It was nothing more than small talk. The pat on your shoulder had been thoughtless at least, friendly at most.

Satoru beat him until the boy was bloody and had a broken nose. A week later, he'd transferred again.

You're off limits. To everyone but Suguru.

The Earth is the only planet capable of sustaining life within this cold solar system. It's close enough to the sun to feel the warmth, yet far enough so it doesn't burn. It's strong, too. A powerful magnetic forcefield, capable of shutting down the sun's cosmic radiation. Thus, the Earth spins happily around the Sun, surrounded by a sea of dead planets.

So, sometimes when Satoru can't walk you home. Suguru does.

It was just the beginning of spring. The school year was starting to end. The school itself was starting to slow down. Teachers were getting less and less strict, less work was given out. It didn't matter. Colleges had already been picked. They were all close to the end.

You don't say much when the two of you are alone. Suguru understands. It's hard to say much of anything when you're crushed by the weight of Gojo Satoru. But Suguru could have sworn he'd seen a flicker of relief when he came to pick you up and not his friend. You're clearly happier when it's him. Suguru decides he likes how that feels. It's a quick feeling of superiority. Something that quickly disappears when your eyes flick down.

He knows where your house is, but he lets you take the lead anyway. Suguru figures it's the least he can do, give you that sense of control when nothing you do ever really does anymore.

You and him have forged a shaky companionship. He's not sure what he is to you entirely, but you seem reliant on him in some way. it’s his fault, he thinks. He wonders if it has to do with the contraception he'd given you. He can still remember the trembling hands as you took it from him, curling the packet into your grip. That day he went home and his fingers felt strangely itchy.

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

When he asks you a question, you answer. At least you aren't mute, though Suguru doesn't think he'd blame you if you ignored him. Your voice is stilted, with enough words to answer the question, but still not enough to fully sate him.

And then, you break.

Just a bit.

A tiny piece of you shatters, and you show yourself to him.

He'd been talking about something insignificant, college, his plans. Just ramblings. Somehow, Satoru comes into the conversation and he's talking about the area of his friend's college campus, how Satoru mentioned that he's looking for apartments for the two of you to stay in. And then, you're uncharacteristically scoffing.

"Right," you say, head faced down on the sidewalk as you kick a rock, "because I'm following him there."

Suguru can't help but place the sarcasm in your voice. The bitterness. He's heard it before, but it's a fascinating thing hearing it come from you. And then Suguru realizes that you accidentally gave something away.

You were leaving.

Somehow, it never crossed Suguru's mind that you were still rebelling, even now. And yet, he can't shake off the heat in your voice, your words.

You seem to realize this too, freezing.

He lets you falter for a few more moments before giving you a reprieve.

"Satoru's idealistic like that," he let out.

Your shoulders lower, and for the sake of both you and him, he doesn't press any further.

He doesn't let himself let it go, even when he drops you home, arriving to his own house. Always cold. The mansion's lights are always off. No one's ever home. And Satoru's out of town.

It's better this way, Suguru thinks as he lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling. No distractions, he can think better, as he replays your words over and over again. You were leaving. You were leaving. You were leaving Satoru.

The night passes. When Satoru comes back to town, he's joyful as always, an arm slung around your shoulders. Suguru watches the way he coos at you, saying how much he missed you. You take his affections the way you always do, with a strained smile and wavering eyes.

You glance at Suguru. Suguru stares right back.

For a moment, Suguru thinks he understands why people are so enthralled with solar eclipses. The moon is seen as an underdog in most instances. It must be thrilling when a weak satellite can cover the sun's rays. Even for just a little bit.

Suguru doesn't tell Satoru. He pushes the burning in his chest, ignoring the itchiness in his fingers. Things are better this way, right? After all, the two of you come from completely different worlds. It's nonsensical to think otherwise.

Two weeks before graduation, you disappear without a trace.

And Satoru breaks.

It's a slow dissent. It comes in stages. The boy is angry at first, searching for you at school, when he can't find you there he loses his facade and demands where you are from your parents. They can't give him a clear answer because you're an adult now and you barely told them a thing before moving out. Suguru doesn’t think they knew what Satoru was to you. He doesn’t think they ever will.

The heat fades day by day, Week by week. Satoru starts to deflate the longer you aren't in his hold, his to mangle, and grab, and keep. He stops taking care of himself. His skin became paler, cracked lips, hollow cheeks. His eyes turn into this grayish blue that Suguru can't bring himself to look at for too long. He loses weight day by day.

Suguru had never seen him react this way before. Satoru was always shining. He was the sun. Now, the center of the solar system was dying. He can feel himself dying with it.

Satoru hadn't just loved you. Satoru had been obsessed with you. He breathed you in, inhaled your essence like oxygen. You'd been a part of him; a necessity. And then, you tore yourself away, leaving him bleeding on the concrete.

Guilt. Suguru feels it in his stomach, rising to his throat, threatening to stain his clothes. It's too late to say anything now, so he keeps it huddled deep inside of him. Suguru hopes it'll never come out. He helps the best he can, being there for his friend, his best friend.

It takes a month for Satoru to start eating properly again. A few months later he starts regaining his usual physique. The gray in his eyes stays for a bit longer than Suguru likes. Suguru supposes he should take what he can get.

A year passes like that. The evidence of what you left behind fades, like bruises disappearing on skin. Suguru and Satoru become college students. Then, they graduate.

When Satoru joins the business, Suguru, his right-hand man, his second, his best friend, is right next to him. They’ve always worked well together, but that doesn’t change as they shift into adulthood. Despite how different Suguru and Satoru were, Suguru liked to think that their personalities were stagnant; unchanging even to the times.

What Satoru feels about you remains stagnant as well.

Suguru doesn’t think about you often, these days. Barely a few times a year, when he feels nostalgic enough to get out his old high school yearbook. He’d page through, spot your smiling portrait face. He’d find himself staring at you far longer than he liked too.

At first, Suguru thought Satoru was the same. Much like how one thinks about a lost toy they cherished when they were younger. The resentment would fade with time. Satoru didn’t speak about you for years.

Suguru hadn’t expected the girls, however.

He doesn’t notice the first one. He sees her, but he doesn’t internalize it. She’s hurriedly putting on her clothes after a clearly exciting night, so Suguru respectfully averts his gaze. He’s more focused on his exasperation at how Satoru had missed yet another meeting with the board. They would be less than pleased if they discovered Satoru didn’t show up because he was hungover.

The second time it happens, Suguru has a passing thought of how familiar the girl looked, despite being sure he’d never seen her in his life.

The third time it happens, Suguru realizes all the recent girls Satoru’s been bringing strike an uncanny resemblance towards you.

It’s not anything too obvious, but all of them would look a bit like you. Most would have your skin tone, your hair. One had your eyes, not the color, rather the shape of it. Satoru had kept her around the longest.

Suguru doesn’t say anything about it. Part of him wonders if Satoru is even doing it on purpose.

Suguru loves Satoru like he would his own brother, but his recent hobby was starting to get on his nerves a bit.

“So much work,” the man complains, “Why can’t we just send all this off to Ijichi?”

“He has his own work to complete,” Suguru reprimands, “the sooner you stop complaining, the sooner we can finish.”

Satoru rolls his eyes but moves to another page of meaningless paperwork; Something that would be scanned into their system and then tucked away into a random file cabinet. They currently sat in Satoru’s grand kitchen, lounging on the barstools after Suguru had pounded Satoru’s door in. Satoru had let him in with an irritated look, complaining that it was the weekend and he had ‘stuff’ to do.

“He’s my assistant,” Satoru retorts, “my work is his work.”

“The reason why we’re in this mess in the first place is because you kept pawning off your job to the poor man in the first place. You’ve given him wrinkles from just the stress of being in your vicinity.”

“That’s insulting,” Satoru counters, “my presence is nothing but calming.”

“You do the exact opposite, actually. A black hole that sucks the soul out of everyone who hangs around you.”

“You hang around me all the time and you don’t have wrinkles.”

Suguru smiles. “It’s because I don’t respect you enough to listen to anything you’re saying.”

Satoru’s about to respond, when another voice interrupts him. Alluring, feminine.

“Satoru,” she coos, “When are you getting back here?”

From his seat, Suguru has a clear view of Satoru’s bedroom. Only her head is peeked out, and Suguru notes her bare shoulders. Your eyes, and your lips this time. She’s tilting her head, mouth curved in a coy smile.

Of course. Suguru can only roll his eyes. There’s that same burning feeling in his chest. During the years, it hasn’t really gotten any better.

“Coming, coming,” Satoru calls back, “just a minute, babe.”

“Stuff to do, hm?” Suguru drawls with amusement. Satoru flips him off.

"Worry 'bout yourself," Satoru says, "when's the last time you got any, huh? Honestly, when's the last time you've taken a break? A vacation?"

"I can't," Suguru replies, "I'm always stuck babysitting you."

“I’ve been waiting for half an hour, ‘Toru." The woman interrupts. "Can’t you just do it later?”

Suguru hadn’t even noticed it. He brushed it off, barely hearing their conversation as he shuffled around the papers.

Satoru had.

He hums. Straightening his back.

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind. You should head on home.”

At first, he thought Satoru was talking to him. Then, he hears the woman’s annoyed huff.

“Hold on, you’re kicking me out?” She asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” Satoru says, not sounding very apologetic, “I got a lotta’ stuff to do and you’re not gonna wanna stick around.”

His tone is light, but Suguru can’t help but place a sense of annoyance in them. The anger. His posture is stiff, almost like he’s primed for a fight.

‘Toru. She called him ‘Toru.

You used to call him ‘Toru.

“Seriously, I-”

“I hate repeating myself: Get the fuck out.”

There’s silence, and then Suguru can hear her mutter to herself as she shuffles inside the room. She comes out minutes later, not quite dressed, but presentable. She shoots Satoru a glare, to which he only waves off. The door shuts with a noticable thud.

“Back to work,” Satoru says, “do you feel hot? The AC has been acting up, lately.”

He carries on like that, back to normal, as though he wasn’t about to snap just a few minutes ago. Suguru follows suit, not aknowledging the outburst, much like he doesn’t aknowledge most things regarding you.

Later, Suguru laughs about the hypocrisy of it all. Satoru brings home physical reminders of you, but he refuses the remnants of you. The most intimate parts, he’d kept hidden away from his life, yet he still wishes to touch, to feel. He wonders how you’d feel if you knew that Gojo Satoru is wrapped around your finger, even now.

◉

Satoru had done something yet again. It's always something with Gojo Satoru. Suguru should have left him to deal with the legal team himself, but here he was, trailing beside the firm’s directors as the man droned on and on how well Mr.Gojo would be well taken care of how here our clients are family. He forces himself to push away that feeling in his chest, scorching his throat. He was getting sick of the constant blabbering. He’d glanced away for just a second.

And then he saw you.

You, not some remnant, not some picture, not someone similar. You. He knew it was you. A little older, a little taller. You’d switched the high school uniform for a blouse and a pencil skirt. Suguru stares. He’s tempted to say your name, seek you out, as though you’re old friends-

He reels himself back in.

You disappear through a frosted glass door, completely unaware of his gawking. You hadn’t seen him. Good. The firm’s director didn’t notice his pause, carrying on as though nothing happened. Suguru smiles and laughs at the horrible ice breakers, but he also steals a glance at the name of the door you went through.

Later, Suguru looks up Higuruma Hiromi. A well-established lawyer. Worked at the firm for nearly a decade.

You are his sole paralegal.

Law. He had never considered it for you. Now, he thinks it’s a little fitting. He can’t help it. He looks you up. You have no social media, most likely from a remnant fear, but he finds where you went to college, what your area of study was, where else you’d worked, your life. Questions he’d had for nearly a decade he finally has an answer.

Honestly, Suguru was a little mad it was all so easy.

He can’t see the entire scope of your life, but he knows you were happy after high school, away from Satoru. You seemed happy when he caught that glimpse of you. There was a slight smile on your face, you never did that with Satoru around.

Satoru’s a little pathetic, a thought he has to concede to. He’s still hung over you, while you clearly hadn’t thought of him in years.

Suguru stares at your picture a little more.

The burning feeling comes back again. Hotter, melting.

Oh.

Suguru is disgusted by you.

You, that bitch loitering in Satoru’s bedroom, that greedy firm director. Disgust, that sick feeling crawling down his stomach, seeping into his bones. He’s disgusted by the weak.

He’s even more disgusted when they think they can defeat the strong. Decieve them.

You always thought you were better than Satoru, better than Suguru, even from the beginning. Even when you rejected him. Even when Satoru’s goons were torturing you, you still thought you could get out of it somehow. Even when Satoru had his hand on your shoulder, claws sinking into your flesh, you were still looking for a way out. It was like watching a rat trapped in a cage, pathetically sniffing around for an exit.

The weak could never escape the whims of the strong. It was a truth of the world, something he’d always known and yet it’d take a decade for him to put the words together. The weak could never make a fool of the strong.

You are weak. A mere satellite floating along, before getting trapped in the Earth’s gravitational force. Suguru could crush you with one fist. Satoru could evisirate you to atoms.

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

“I’ve put together a legal team that will represent you.”

Suguru places the neat stack of documents onto Satoru’s desk. The white-haired man barely gives them a glance. Suguru knows Satoru won’t ever look at them, even when your name is hidden somewhere within the sheets, along with Higuruma’s. Suguru wonders how long it’d take for Satoru to figure it out. It’s a shame he won’t be there to see it unfold in real-time, but perhaps, once Satoru puts the pieces together, he’ll thank him.

Here, in the present, Satoru types away at his computer, barely paying attention to Suguru’s words.

“Oh, great,” Satoru says off handedly, “thanks, man.”

Suguru sighs.

“Uh, I love you?” Satoru tries again.

“Never repeat those words to me ever again,” Suguru responds, “I wish you’d be a bit more interested in this, considering it’s your fault the company is in this mess in the first place.”

Satoru gives a hushed hum of agreement. Suguru smiles.

“In other news: I won’t be here next week.”

That catches his best friend’s attention. Satoru gapes at him.

“You’re quitting?”

“No, idiot. I’m taking your advice. I’m taking a few weeks off. I already put it in the calendar that you never check so why did I even bother.”

“A vacation? You never take vacations, even when I beg you to,” Satoru squints at him, “What’s the occasion?”

Eventually, Satoru will figure it out. For now, Suguru wants to enjoy this.

“I worked hard this year. I should reward myself, shouldn’t I?” He reasons, “oh, and I have a surprise for you showing up in a week or so. Let me know what you think of it.”

“A gift? For me?” Satoru beams. “You really do love me.”

“Don’t push it.”

If Satoru was the Sun, then Suguru supposed he would be the Earth. Close enough to receive the star's radiance, but with a strong enough magnetitic field to shield from solar winds.

If Suguru was the Earth, then Suguru supposed you would be the Moon. A tiny cratered satellite he tugs along with him, forever in sight of the burning sun.

2K notes · View notes

hime-k0 · 7 months

Text

In His Divine Gaze

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Can also be read here on AO3

Word Count: 20K

Synopsis- Following the traditions of your village, you become a Shrine Maiden. However, unlike most, you meet your shrine's God.

Content Tags: AFAB reader descriptions, Smut, penis in vagina sex, vaginal penetration, attempted assault (mahito is a creep)

Whether we like it or not, life tends to follow tradition. Old and dusty rituals followed by people to cling to the past. It ties people to their heritage, to their families. It has explanations for the unexplainable and gives a face to old superstitions. Tradition crossed time, mixing the past with the present, often in tiresome ways.

Your village had a rather odd tradition once someone reached the age of 18. Called the ‘Path of Three’ it was a replacement for a birthday celebration for the new adults. Dragged out in the middle of the town, the idea was to choose your path in life. With the celebration you could marry, become a trader or go work for the village shrine.

In almost all cases, young individuals chose to marry and live in the village. It was the easiest choice for most, guaranteeing them housing and in most cases a blessing from the village elders. Marrying was the choice that guaranteed safety and a full belly most nights. Despite being behind the times, the village had plenty to go around. And besides, propagation in a dying village was needed and highly encouraged. Each year another elder passed and the village numbers dwindled further. The eldest of the village clung to the shreds of the past, refusing to admit that with each year, the end of the village drew nearer.

Second choice was becoming a trader. That path meant a chance at leaving the old woods, of adventuring across the country. It carried with it whispers of riches, good food and escape from under the thumb of the elders. Being so sheltered within the pines however, made it a less popular path. The youth of the village tended to be wary of adventuring beyond the deep woods.

The final choice, the shrine meant servitude to the old gods. It was rarely picked, the choice meaning nothing but a life of celibacy and working yourself to the bone. It didn’t help that the shrine was led by the oldest and nastiest woman in the village. Because of this most avoided it like the plague. Your mother had once described it as a nest of disease, the quiet comment earning her the ire of the village elders. They would never admit it, but the shrine was like the rest of the village, becoming forgotten by the new world.

In your case you chose the shrine. Marrying wasn't something you had wanted. Not when the only eligible partner was 17 years older than you and had a penchant for being drunk. He had dropped heavy hints in the months leading up to your birthday, clumsily pawing at you as if you were livestock. No matter where you went, he was there, stinking and laughing. Your parents had encouraged him, their hints at wanting grandchildren much heavier handed. Gifts meant for fertility had greeted you a whole month before your 18th birthday, followed by the wide smiles of your parents. The thought alone made you want to vomit but you persisted. Ignoring him and them to the best of your ability.

When it was finally your birthday, the look on his face when you made your choice had been enough to make up for his disgusting behavior. A shrine maiden made sense for you. Being a wife held no interest. Not when it meant having as many babies as you could and spending your days gossiping with the other tired women of your village. Being a trader meant long periods of time away from the village. Much like the rest of the village, you liked the deep pines you lived in. They offered quiet and solitude that the rest of the world seemed adamant on moving away from.

So you chose the shrine much to your parents dismay.

Like most modern villages, old gods and their shrines were starting to become mere whispers. As the new age seeped across the land, the strings of tradition were starting to fray. Superstitions and reverence were fading to stories that were told to scare children and nothing more. Some villages had even had the arrogance to tear down old shrines. To rid themselves of the past in favor of the cold stone and metal of the future.

Because of this, the elders of your village approved of your choice heartly. It had earned you a bundle of fabric, a sack of rice and a small kitten. Gifts were not typically given to a new shrine keeper. But seeing as you were the second person in almost 19 years to do so, the village elders were ecstatic. They needed more people to keep tradition alive, especially since the old shrine keeper was getting up there in years.

So you left the warm and bustling village and found yourself in the woods that surround it. Your farewells had been bittersweet, your parents whispering that you could always change your mind. You didn’t however, heart thrumming slightly at the thought of finally being away from the watchful eyes of the village. Being alone in the woods sounded like a godsend.

So, kitten tucked in the front of your kimono and a cloth bag of your possessions on your back, you made the trek into the deep pines. Just over a day's walk from the village, the old shrine was nestled in a thick grove of pine. The stone and wood of its walls were decaying. Here in the deep woods, nature was adamant about overtaking everything. Deep emerald moss and prickly vines twisted over the hunched form of the shrine. Almost as if the forest were halfway through swallowing the old structure, it became impossible at some points to see where the shrine ended and the forest began. Wood shavings and bits of stone littered the mossy steps up to it, the building seeming to shed like an old dog. You carefully skirted around the larger chunks, knowing that if you tripped and broke anything, no one would be able to rescue you.

The once vibrant red paint of the shrine was peeling in thick chunks from the worn wood. Spread about the lush forest ground like strang blood flecks. There was something eerie about the building. Even the foundation was crumbling, cracks like spiderwebs spreading from stone to stone. Though you admittedly were not quite religious and weren’t sure how much you believed in the old gods, something about this building seemed alive. As if an unseen being sat at its middle, peeking over the crumbling walls at you with many eyes.

The shrine keeper, Ama, was much like the building. Hunched in her old age, her rough skin and dark eyes drew a picture of one who had been alive for centuries. Ama, of course, was only 83, a near miracle in the village. The old woman did not see it as such, living this long was a curse to her. She was old, unkind and foul tempered.

On your first day she had tried to send you back to the village, snapping that the youth like you just wanted to dilly dally in the forest like pigs. Though you towered over her, Ama scared you. She had a fierceness in her gaze that matched the unsettling aura of the shrine. You had stumbled over your words, sputtering like a fish as she glared. Her boney fists had been like knives in your hips as she pushed you from the shrine. And you had let her, eyes wide and mouth agape as she slammed the shrine doors behind you.

That night you had slept in the shrine steps, shivering and sneezing as the night winds ripped through the trees. In the dark, under a moonless sky, the pines weren’t as comforting as they were in the sun. And yet, you didn’t feel too afraid. Having the oddly watchful shrine at your back felt somewhat reassuring. And blessedly the kitten you had been given had remained on your chest, the little orange creature purring away through the night. He sat tucked in your kimono, brown eyes half closed in that sweet way cats did when sleepy and content. You decided that night to name him Yuji. The name was fitting. He was only a few months old and already had been more helpful than anyone else in your life.

Ama had let you stay after that, grumbling about having wasted enough energy to deter you. Under the morning sun you had given her a stiff smile, trying to ignore the fact that you could feel all of your bones from sleeping on stone. The old woman had given you a brief look of respect before covering it with her bristling glare. She was quick to thrust a broom in your hands, commenting that at least you had the decency to bring a shrine cat with you.

And so you had begun your days as a Shrine Maiden.

Other than her, the only other shrine worker was a man named Mahito. He was in his 30s and had picked the shrine as his place of work even before the age of 18. Being an orphan and having no home he had been left with little choice. Much like with the stray dogs that made their way in, the village had discarded him as soon as they were able.

Mahito was quiet and unsettling. He reminded you of stories of yokai for some reason, his gaze odd and piercing. Though you tried not to judge one by their appearance, there was something about his lank graying hair and scarred face that made your stomach churn. It was as if he were something pretending to be a man, his skin sitting strangely upon his bones. His voice didn’t help either, the man’s words seemed to twist like snakes. The air around him felt tainted by just a single word. You tried your best to avoid him as you carried out the various tasks Ama set for you each day. It was easy enough given that his daily tasks seem to pertain to the basement and inner courtyard. You happily avoided both and the bugs that seemed to thrive there. The few moments in which you had to interact with him were short enough that you were able to power through them with a forced smile. If he was aware of his effect on you, Mahito, thankfully gave no indication.

And time passed like this. One year became two, then 6 and you were still running about the shrine and its grounds, following Ama's raspy bark as she pointed to this and that. Over time you grew stronger, the coldness of winters and the sweltering summers having little effect with each year. It was a quiet life with just the three of you. Incredibly different from the village where everyone seemed to know what everyone else was doing.

The village life didn’t entirely leave you however. Despite liking being alone, you often found yourself trailing Ama on her daily rounds, not wanting to be caught alone by Mahito. The old woman seemed not to mind, happily giving you small tasks on the upkeep of the shrine.

Despite time’s instance of wearing the building down Ama kept it as clean and tidy as she could. The forest and the elements made the task difficult. It seemed nearly everyday there was some new part of the woods pushing its way past the old stone.

You assisted Ama silently, never complaining about any duties she gave you. Some days it was finding and tossing all the spiders in the shrine, others it was tying new talismans on the outer Tori gate. Ama would never admit it, but your silent acceptance seemed to please her.

Each morning she waited in the inner courtyard to bark the morning’s orders. In your 5th year she began following you about, glaring at your work. Ama offered no praise and no help. But you were quick to learn that didn’t mean she was unhappy.

In your 6th year some mornings Ama would give you nothing to do, simply asking you to watch the shrine as she took a walk. You spent those days on the front stairs with Yuji, sewing and waiting for Ama to reemerge from the deep pines. She never said where her walks took her, but she always appeared happy afterwards. Just for a moment, when she stepped from the trees to the stone, you caught a glimpse of the woman she once was. She would stand tall, a small smile upon her face and then she would step from beneath the last pine and once more she was a hunched and twisted old woman.

With these walks, the wall between you and Ama seemed to have lessened. The old shrine keeper slowly let you into her world. Her anger you learned was due to the villagers. Less offerings were being sent to the god. And no one showed up to the prayer ceremonies. Each ceremony she preferred, each ritual of offerings she held, Ama seemed angrier and older. Her chapped lips would offer curses to the village after each prayer. It was a sad sight that seemed to worsen through time.

You sat through all of them, offering your silent servitude to a nameless god. Despite your best efforts to pry, Ama didn’t produce a name for the god. And as time flew by, you began to think that the God was perhaps lost to time.

It wasn’t uncommon. As the new age filtered in, stories of gods abandoning their shrines grew in numbers. They went where the prayers were and here in the deep pines, only 2 offered prayer to the nameless god. You had noticed that Mahito never attended, the pale man always skulking away when Ama made her pre ceremony preparations.

As the years passed, Ama grew weaker. Her odd little walks took more and more time and you grew worried she was going to get lost in the deep pines. But she always returned and you kept your worries silent. You were curious of course, what could be so important in the woods that Ama would risk a fall over twisted roots to go each week?

But one glare from her wrinkled face was enough to wither the question in your throat. You pretended to not care, to not count the minutes until she returned.

Yuji had grown to be a big cat, spending his days napping in the sun on the shrine’s roof and following you about during your daily chores. He sat with Ama each morning, waiting for you to enter the main hall. Yuji was a funny cat, watching Ama bark her daily orders at you before following you to whichever end of the shrine you had been sent to. You appreciated his company and his funny little expressions. Life in the shrine was simple and yet complete. Not once did you think of returning to the village. Here your heart was fulfilled.

Then one day in the fall, Ama was not waiting in the main hall when you awoke. Waiting for a few moments you took note that Yuji was not in his usual spot either. You thought to ask Mahito, but his face in your mind made your anxiety deepen. You stood for a time, ignoring the chill wind as it ripped through your kimono. Worry took hold and you had made your way to her room, wincing at the heavy incense smell that seeped from it. Prayer incense, the ones she only used when offering words for the dead. You paused before the door, unsure if you should enter. Ama, despite opening up to you, was still incredibly private. Her room was the only spot in the shrine you had not yet seen. But despite your apprehension at being scolded, your anxiety at her wellbeing was stronger. The scent had your heart in your throat as you quietly entered her room, shutting the door behind you quietly.

"I knew it would be you " She rasped from her bed, the many blankets seeming to do nothing for her shivering. "Mahito is not to be trusted "

Ama looked withered, so small under the futon that you almost couldn’t believe it was her. At her side was Yuji, the big cat looking like a small tiger by her side. The old woman’s glare held no sharpness, her eyes half lidded as she stared. Sweat clung to her face and hair, shining strangely under the flickering candle light.

“I am not dead yet.” She rasped, brow furrowing further as she tried to level a glare at you. You had merely nodded at her words, fetching fresh water for her to drink. The old woman had become decrepit in the past few years. Her hands and back twisted by age to the point that she looked almost like a tree. Ama had allowed you to help her drink before swatting away your attempts to feed her a thin broth. Her fingers, you noted, seemed stuck, clawed like birds feet.

"You must carry out my duty now." She had pointed with one shaking hand at a small jade box. It sat, half hidden in the sleeve of a kimono. As if Ama had been halfway through stashing it away.

You opened it, finding a map. The paper was ancient, creased over a dozen times and torn around the edges. You held it carefully, squinting in the low light at the faint ink. The map detailed the main shrine and a smaller, hidden shrine in the woods. Just far enough from the main shrine that it couldn’t be seen even from the highest vantage point. It wasn't one you had ever heard her talk about before and you had thrown her a puzzled look. Ama had huffed, then coughed violently as she glared at you.

"Go to the tree burnt by lightning and stay there. When the bell rings follow the rope to the oldest tree. Then wait, with your eyes on the ground."

You knew better than to talk when Ama was, instead throwing her another questioning glance. Ama had paused for another coughing fit, allowing you to help her take another sip of water.

"The god of our forest is old and blind. He will not harm you."

Her words had you frozen, brow furrowing as you waited for further explanation. Ama gave none, merely stating that you were to follow a small stone path to a bathing pool. The god would put his hand on your shoulder for guidance. Again Ama expressed he was blind and that you must be slow and steady when walking.

“If he falls, you must NOT look at him. Help him up without using your sight.”

She added that once at the pool you were to shut your eyes and stand there, to wait for his hand on your shoulder again before making your way back to the first tree. You were to repeat this once a month, more if the god called on you.

“How will I know he’s calling for me?” It was the first question you dared to ask. Ama seemed to approve, coughing lightly into one crooked hand.

“You just will. You are his new keeper.” The sentence was tinged with sadness, Ama’s eyes glittering slightly in the dim light as tears welled in her old eyes. She did not cry however, the old woman turned her head from you and buried her face in Yuji’s side.

And with that, the conversation was over. You stuck the map in your kimono, bowing once to Ama before standing.

“Keep her safe.” You nodded at Yuji who let out a small meow in response. It wasn’t bandits or thieves you were worried about. No, leaving Ama alone with just Mahito seemed like a mistake. But Yuji disliked him as much as you and you knew the cat would do what it could to keep Ama safe. You just hoped it didn’t come to that.

That afternoon you paced outside of Ama’s room for a time. What she had shared was huge, but part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the dream of an old woman. A story she had clung to and now was passing to you.

Just once couldn’t hurt, you decided. One trip to this hidden area of the shrine just to see. And so you made the hour trek to the hidden shrine. The story explained the days Ama was gone for hours on end. You and Mahito had never asked her why she disappeared so much but now you knew she would have never told either of you.

Ama was dying. That was the only reason she had seen fit to tell you. In your heart you knew it to be true. But it saddened you. The old woman was snappish and callous. But she had given you a home for the past 6 years.

The walk to the tree struck by lightning was difficult. Though you were much younger than Ama, the twisted roots seemed to grab at your feet. More than once you tripped and fell, hands and knees scrapping painfully against the forest floor. How had Ama made it through this by herself? The woman couldn’t even stand up straight, much less fully lift her legs anymore. It was a miracle she hadn’t broken anything on her weekly trek. You were quick to discard your sandals, the shoes more of a hindrance than anything else. It left the mud seeping through your socks, cold and unpleasant. But you could walk easier, so you grit your teeth and pressed on.

After struggling through the pines, you finally made it to a clearing. It had you pause, the sight somehow more terrifying than anything you had ever seen.

A lone tree stood next to the burnt husk of a small shrine. Around them in a perfect circle was 12 feet of ashen ground. It was as if there was a perfectly controlled burn that ignited only there. The pines around the area stood tall and untouched. Massive wardens to this odd patch of forest. It was silent in this part of the woods. Unnaturally so. No birds whistled, not even the whisper of pine needles met your ears.

You held your breath as you walked to the tree, half expecting the ground to erupt with flames as you crossed. Only the crunch of ash beneath your feet greeted you, the sound unsettling. Your socks left muddy prints across the ash and you grimaced at how covered your feet had become. There was no saving these socks and if you tripped again, your kimono was sure to find a similar fate.

The burnt tree smelled. It was faint, only apparent when you were right next to the crumbling bark. It was acrid and dusty, the smell making the inside of your nose tickle. It was also a tad sweet, like spun sugar. You ignored the anxiety that churned in your stomach, determined to at least humor Ama. The ash on your socks was at least proof you could show her you came here. Even if it had been a waste of time.

As promised a rope was tied around the burnt tree. It was a thick, bright red cord that was tied almost delicately against the black wood. Unlike everything else it was incredibly clean. The bright red gleaming in stark contrast to the drab woods around it. Unlike the shimenawa at the shrine, this rope seemed rather expensive. You studied it, searching for a talisman or the mysterious bell Ama had mentioned. The crimson twist of silk contained neither however.

You frowned as you ran a hand against the silken rope. Ama had asked that you wait until you heard a bell. Glancing at the husk of the shrine, you noted no bell there either. Had it been lost? Fallen somewhere?

You chewed your bottom lip, hand steady against the rope as you thought. 10 minutes. You would give it 10 minutes and then walk back to the shrine. It had already been well over an hour as is to get here and you worried about leaving Ama alone. Mahito was there, the man a silent threat in your mind. While he had never done anything, his presence alone was like a thorn in your side. You weren’t superstitious, but you trusted your gut feelings. They had been right about the suitor in the village, they were right in this situation.

Gods what an idiot. You let out a huff of air. Only an idiot would leave a cat to protect someone. Maybe thats why Ama sent you on this goose chase. This was no doubt a lesson in being less naive. Certainly less cruel than you knew she could have been and for that you were grateful. Still, it didn’t make you feel any less stupid and you dreaded the lecture you knew was awaiting you back at the shrine.

A bell rang, the noise cutting through the silence like a knife. You flinched, eyes wide as you spun about, searching for the source. There was none, the sound again ringing out, seemingly from thin air. It was high and soft, a noise you might’ve found comforting had it not been in the middle of the pines.

Swallowing thickly, you dropped your gaze and took a step. Slowly, but surely, you followed the rope by feeling alone. The silk slid under your right hand smoothly, never catching on your palm. You weren’t sure how long you walked for, the light in this part of the woods was shielded by the trees. Had evening begun to set? You weren’t sure, your eyes locked firmly on your own feet as you walked. From the ashen ground, you stepped into the mossy mud of the pines. Again your feet became wet and you made a mental note that next time you should bring the damn sandals.

If there was a next time. A small part of you felt trapped, like a rabbit being led to a cage. Surely Ama wouldn’t have sent you to your death. Right?

Finally your hand hit the end of the rope. A smooth knot met your thumb, quickly followed by rough wood. You had made it to the other tree and the stone path. Right at your toe tips was the mossy stone, nearly swallowed by the forest floor. The bright moss stood in contrast with you muddied and ash dusted feet. Wiggling your toes, you wondered how far the path was to the bath, how long you would have to wait. You stood, chest tight as your mind buzzed. Perhaps you had imagined the bell? But it had been so clear, so loud. You smoothed your hand over the front of your kimono, dusting off a few errant pieces of ash.

Ama had been right about the bell, perhaps it wasn’t imagined and she was right about the old God?

You waited with baited breath, fighting the urge to look around you. Ama hadn't stated what would happen if you looked, but her warning had been clear. You must not look at the old God.

Beneath your hand, the tree you leaned against felt cool. The chill seeped into your skin, a dull ache radiating into your fingers as you stood still and listened.

The silence in the woods was deafening now. It made your heart race, body tensed as if ready to run at a moment's notice. You were terrified. Ama had never said which God lived in these woods. But the past few years she had asked him to curse so many of the villagers. Her old age had twisted not just her bones but her soul as well. You had heard the muttered prayers, the floods and fires she had wished for. Your throat felt dry, vision blurring slightly at the edges as you stared at your feet.

Maybe it needed a sacrifice before it would humor the old woman?

A warm hand slipped onto your shoulder and you jumped, a small yelp leaving your lips. You almost looked up, before fear set in and your gaze snapped to the forest floor again. Tears clung to your lower lashes as your heart thundered in your chest. For a moment all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears and your vision blurred as the hand tightened its grip slightly.

“You’re new.”

The God sounded young, like a man in his early 30s. The sound threw you off, mind reeling as you tried to rationalize the voice. He sounded human and again you were tempted to look.

Internally you battled yourself. To look and NOT to look. To speak and to keep silent. Your mind grappled with the conflicting urges, finally settling on a horrible combination. You gave a jerky nod and a grunt.

He is going to kill me for my rudeness. You could feel the blood leaving your face as the hand shifted slightly. But the God did nothing, a small chuckle making its way to your ears.

“You can speak to me. I don’t bite.”

The sentence was so normal. Casual and teasing. It made your stomach churn and you swiped one shaking hand across your forehead.

“Th-thank you My Lord.” You cringed as you spoke, your voice cracking horribly on the last word. The old God merely hummed, gently squeezing your shoulder.

Taking that as a command, you jerked forward, shakily stepping onto the stone path. The path was thankfully smooth and you walked slowly, each step careful as you tried to set an even pace. You shook violently, each step feeling as though you were fighting your way through water. Heart thundering in your head, you tried to keep the shaking rasp of your breath quiet, terrified that he would take your fear as an insult.

The God was obviously much taller than you, from the corner of your eye you caught a flash of a perfect, pale foot. You were worried however that a faster pace would cause the god to trip. The path, while smooth, was still irregular in places. You found yourself stumbling here and there despite having eyes on the path itself. Ama had indicated he was blind, an odd quality for a divine being, but you would keep him safe. Or die trying.

“Where is Ama?”

The God’s tone was light, but you could feel how his fingers tightened slightly when he spoke her name. You weren’t sure what to say at first, eyes locked on your feet as you carefully moved forward. The words churned in the back of your throat, sticking together until you had a painful lump in your throat. You didn’t want to admit the truth because it scared you. Ama was dying and that would leave the shrine to you. It would leave you alone with Mahito. For the first time in your adult life, you would be without an elder to guide you.

The God cleared his throat, tone teasing as he spoke, “It is rude to leave a god waiting.”

You nodded sharply, fingers playing with the edges of your sleeve as you spoke.

“Ama is dying.”

It was all you could get out. The rest of your fears twisted in your stomach, a ravenous beast chewing at your innards. For a moment you wondered if you would vomit but the feeling passed.

From behind you the God sighed, hand tightening again as he followed you.

The walk was silent, the path before you seeming to stretch on for miles. As you walked the sun barely shifted its position in the sky. Time was passing oddly, much more slowly than your body knew it should be. Perhaps a side effect of being near a divine being. Occasionally you felt the urge to speak, to break the deafening silence. But your fear would quickly wash the impulse away. The divine being was real, warm at your side. Your life quite literally was in the palm of his hand.

You shivered at the realization, again fighting the urge to peek over your shoulder. Even the small glimpses of his foot felt entirely wrong. As if you had committed some unspoken sin. You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you walked, mind flipping back and forth from the God at your shoulder and how fragile Ama had looked before you left.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the path stopped. The smooth stones went right up to the steaming water of the spring. You stopped, hands clasped at your waist and gaze locked on your feet. Ama hadn't really explained what to do at this point. Did he need help undressing? Did he need help bathing?

The God answered your unspoken questions for you, his hand slipping from your shoulder. From behind you, the sound of robes hitting dirt sounded out. You quickly shut your eyes, fingertips digging into the flesh of your palms as you tried to keep your breath steady.

“How many steps to the water?”

The question startled you and you shifted, sliding one eye open and searching until you found the pale foot. Beside it was a shimmering blue kimono, carelessly dropped on the moss and stone. From the foot to the bath was about 2 feet of space. You told the god as such, quickly closing your eyes again as he moved forward.

“You can look you know. I can’t tell either way.”

The god was teasing as he slipped into the water. But you frowned at his words.

“If you can’t tell either way then how do you know i haven’t been looking.”

The darkness behind your eyelids was strangely complete despite the sunlight filtering down from between the trees. You could hear water splashing and the God chuckling under his breath.

“Ama told you not to look right?”

Your brows furrowed and you resisted the urge to peek at him. For some reason you pictured a twisting smirk sitting on the god’s face. The man chuckled and you shifted uncomfortably.

“I bet she told you I'm old as well.”

That had you slowly opening your eyes, narrowed gaze slowly moving to the edge of the pool. He was right, Ama had called him old. But the foot you had seen was too youthful. Curiosity finally overpowered you, swelling until you could no longer ignore it.

You slid your gaze up and froze as you locked eyes with the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Water clung to his pale skin like translucent pearls, they glittered in his snowy hair and on his lashes like fragments of stars. Your breath hitched as met his gaze, feeling as if the god could see your very soul. His eyes were a brilliant blue, glittering like the sun on a bluejay’s wing. You had never seen anyone with such vibrantly colored eyes before.

A trader had once brought a shard of brilliant blue stone to the village. Aquamarine he had called it, chest puffed as he had described the difficulty he had obtaining it.

The God’s eyes looked as if they were cast in from that stone. So brilliant and bright that for a moment, you found yourself lost. And then he shifted and your slight trance was broken. Fear slithered into your heart and you tensed, half expecting for him to smite you where you stood.

“Do I still look handsome?” He asked in a teasing tone, one pale hand scooping water over his tousled hair. You licked your lips, throat feeling oddly dry as you fumbled for words.

“Um. Yes. You are truly beautiful.”

You flushed as you admitted it, internally cringing at your words. Surely that was some sort of blasphemy. You had ogled the man at his request, but what if it was a test. Ama had been so clear in you not looking and you had broken the rule almost immediately.

He rest his arms on the edge of the steaming pool, his gaze set slightly above your right shoulder. You tilted your head, quietly picking up one arm and waving it. He didn’t react, instead dunking his head beneath the water. For a moment you were flooded with shame for questioning the validity of his blindness. But Ama had been wrong about his age. You watched the surface of the water, picking at your thumb nail. Did she know? Or had she simply been following the rules of the shrine keeper before her?

You waited, watching nervously from the stone path as his shadow sunk deeper in the water. The steam blurred your vision slightly, warm tendrils brushing against your skin like a ghost

If he was blind how would he know which way was up? It felt like a stupid question but after a few moments had passed, your worry grew. Could a god drown?

You didn’t think so but you also didn’t think any would look so human. It was unsettling how human he looked. And yet there was that hint of otherworldly quality. As if someone had taken the purest snow from the tallest mountain peak and sculpted it into the shape of a man.

Another moment passed and you flinched a crow called out overhead. It snapped you out of the odd poetic reverie you had been in. Kneeling, you leaned over the water, trying to swallow the rising panic that was blooming in your chest.

The steam from the pool felt nice against your skin, the warmth welcome in the chill of the day. You couldn’t see him, the water was an odd greenish blue. The color was unnatural and too intense for you to see anything past shadows in the water.

Should I swim after him?

The color of the water was incredibly off putting, but if you let your local god drown, that was an ultimate sin wasn’t it?

“Worried?” He emerged from the water with a devious grin, wrapping one hand around your wrist. You let out a shriek in response, resisting the urge to smack him on the shoulder.

“You-you.” You began to sputter, mind fighting itself. On one hand you wanted to tell this divine being he was an idiot. On the other hand, you were terrified that at any moment, he would punish you for your impudence.

“Satoru.” He let your wrist go, sinking back into the water to his chin. His skin was flushed slightly, the heat giving him a nice rosy pink across his cheeks and tops of his ears. You frowned at him, waiting for further explanation on the name he just dropped. Was he calling me Satoru?

You chewed the inside of your cheek, scrubbing the water droplets off your wrist with a corner of your kimono sleeve.

“That’s not my name.” You finally gumbled quietly, warily watching the god as he lazily swam about the pool. The man laughed, shooting you a look.

“Of course it isn’t stupid. It’s my name.”

Your mouth fell open and you stared for a moment. “Is….Is that allowed?” You sputtered out. It felt wrong and entirely too intimate knowing his name. All the stories you had grown up with had painted the picture of gods who accepted perfect adoration. Of titles such as ‘your eminence’ and ‘honored one’ being used. Not actual names. It was an unspoken fact that any gods that did have names had given pseudonyms of sorts. Long gone were the days of knowing a god’s actual name. Names held power for beings such as them and there was no need for any mortal tongue to speak them.

Satoru was certainly his true name. It was too simple to be anything else. You recalled the stories traders would sometimes share when passing through the pine village. Of god’s with names, title really, like ‘Curse Devourer’ and ‘Blood Manipulator’. Names that made you wonder how kind these gods were. How cruel they might be.

Satoru snorted, shaking his wet hair from his eyes. “Am I not your god? Are the rules not for me to make?”

He made a good point. You hummed in response, pulling your knees to your chest as you thought. As the god bathed you pondered why Ama had put so many rules in place. Perhaps it wasn’t to protect you but to protect him?

Overhead the sky began to grow dark, the sun beginning its slow descent to kiss the earth. Purple and orange bloomed across the horizon as if a great paint brush were stirring the clouds. The beauty was simple, something you rarely noticed at the shrine with all the tall pines in the way. It was then that you realized just how long you had been away from Ama.

Was she alright?

You were so lost in thought you didn’t realize the god had finished his bath until he stood before you, unashamed at his nudity. You slapped a hand over your eyes, face burning as you stuttered out protests. Of course he was unabashed in his nudity. The man was the image of perfection. The small look you had gotten at his more, delicate part, left your mind in a very depraved place. It was unfair just how beautiful ALL of him was.

You stood silently, back to him until once more the warm hand was upon your shoulder. This time you glanced up at him, taking in his pale eyes and even paler hair up close. He was divine.

“Tell Ama I'd like to see her once more.”

You murmured that you would, turning and starting the slow walk back to the burnt tree. Satoru left how he had arrived, silently with the soft sound of bells ringing out. You waited for a moment, gaze locked on the sky until finally, you began walking again. Threading your way through the many trees you found yourself back at the shrine. The sun was low in the sky and in the pit of your stomach, fear twisted with sharp spines and teeth.

Ama was dead.

You found her, small and frail, where you had left her. It was as if she were asleep and initially you thought she was. But a shifting of the shadows in the room and you realized Mahito was sitting beside her.

The older man looked at you with his odd eyes, his face anything but mournful. You said nothing, biting back the sudden rage that filled your veins. There was no proof, no indication of the truth to your thoughts. But you knew he had ended her life. His pale, gray tinged hands sat on his lap like sickly spiders. They twitched under your gaze. Culprits. Yes Ama had been dying, but he had taken her last breath from her.

You carried out Ama’s funeral rites alone. Well, nearly alone. Yuji stayed plastered to your side, the cat was on edge. He was jumpy, fluffing up at the smallest sound. Mahito had been cruel to him in some way. Ama’s body had been alone save the creep at her side when you had come home, the cat hiding in your own room. You silently comforted the cat as you stood guard over Ama’s burial. Under your watchful gaze, you prayed for her soul. You hoped that in some way, with his divine powers, Satoru would see her one last time. That Ama would find the peace she had lost.

You didn’t sleep that night. Locked in your room, with Yuji on your lap, you sat and watched your door. The dark hours ticked by and you remained still. From various parts of the shrine, old wood settled and the wind found its way through cracks in the foundation. And from the hallways, foot steps. Slow and calculated. Each one placed just so to create the least amount of noise. You sat tense, hands gripping your knees as you waited.

That night nothing happened. Nothing but footsteps, pacing the hallway outside your room for hours.

“You seem tired” Satoru mused, he was half out of the bath, one finger running gently over the brightly coloured candies before him. Ama had been right, that you would just ‘know’ when Satoru needed you. It was an odd tickle in the back of your mind, like a ghostly finger was poking at your brain. Your second walk had included Yuji. The cat had thrilled Satoru, the god practically squealing over the softness of the tabby’s fur.

The baths occurred randomly, sometimes multiple times a week, sometimes nothing for two weeks. With each occurrence you learned more about the God. He liked sweets, he was apparently friends with the ‘Curse Devourer’ and he seemed to really like teasing you.

“You know that ignoring me does you no good.” Satoru was sitting, crossed legged and entirely nude. He was sitting right in front of the bathing pool, a teasing smile plastered across his face. You stared at a point slightly over his left shoulder, hands neatly clasped on your lap.

“I’m not ignoring you.” It was a partial truth. Today instead of talking with him, you were speaking when spoken to.

“You’re not looking at me.” He shifted, moving forward until one of his knees tapped yours. You flinched, feeling a blush spread across your face as he leaned close. He was determined to get you to look at his face and you were determined to not accidentally see his dick again.

“For a shrine maiden you’re rather bratty.” Satoru teased, on hand fiddling with the worn sleeve of your kimono. That caught your attention and your gaze shifted, a small burst of anger shooting through your veins. You met his gaze, ignoring the warm wave of emotion that curled in your abdomen. Satoru’s jewel-like eyes glittered with amusement. He was so close you could see his lashes, silver white and so fine that it looked almost as if he had snow stuck to his eyelids.

“What do you want?” You sighed, clenching your heads together in an attempt to suppress a shiver. Satoru’s gaze narrowed slightly, his playful look melting away and suddenly, you felt exposed. As if he had undressed you and were peering past your flesh and into your soul. The look stole your breath away.

“When are you going to tell me what's bothering you?” His voice was low, warm breath tickling your cheek as he leaned in and ran a finger from your shoulder to your elbow. The shiver rippled across your flesh accompanied by a burst of heat between your thighs. You flushed, resisting the urge to slap his hand away.

“You need to learn some decorum.” You muttered, shivering again as his large hand rested gently on top of yours. The concerned, piercing look vanished, replaced again by the teasing and idiotic grin of his. You were beginning to realize that his cheerful and annoying exterior was a mask. Despite being a divine being, he had the behavioral habits of a human. It was odd.

You let out an outrange gasp as suddenly Satoru pitched backwards, falling into the pool. The move gave you a clear eyeful of his nether region in all its glory. He cackled as he surfaced, flicking a handful of water towards you.

“You ass!” You sputtered, scooching backwards with a glare. Satoru shot you a grin that was beyond pleased.

“That’s no way to talk to your God now is it?”

“I am tired” You finally murmured, watching as Yuji batted a small blue candy across the path.

The day after Ama had been laid to rest, you had made the long trek back to the village. It was your duty after all. Mahito did not join you. The man had taken to skulking around the shrine, always just a few feet away. You could feel his gaze on your skin, the hidden intensity that was brewing just under his pallid flesh. It scared you. But you were alone and you had to be unshakable. You had to appear as Ama did, cold and hard in the light of the world.

The Village elders were not saddened by Ama’s passing. It had been expected and if they had been honest with you, they had been wanting it for some time. They hated Ama as much as she hated them. The follies of the elderly, holding onto grudges decades later.

You had merely nodded when they appointed you as the new Shrine keeper. It made sense, Mahito was still considered an outsider of sorts. You didn’t care either way. The village hadn’t changed since you had last seen it. Your parents were older, but still stuck in their ways. They had come to you, whispering about how it wasn’t too late to marry, to have offspring.

You had left without a word, stopping only once to buy a small canvas bag of candy.

“You could join me.” Satoru teased, flicking an orange candy towards you. Rolling your eyes, you took it, gently blowing a speck of dirt off before popping it in your mouth. The God pouted at you, cramming a handful of the sweets into his mouth before dipping beneath the steaming water. He was like a child sometimes, his cheerfully obstinate attitude boardline annoying at times.

That is why you didn’t tell him. Didn’t mention the footsteps that kept you awake. Didn’t tell him how sometimes, the door to your room would slide open just a crack. How one pale eye would press against the slit and watch you for hours. You didn’t tell him how you slept waiting for him after the bell tolled. How his hand on your shoulder woke you from the micro naps. Didn’t tell him how you napped in the forest, under fallen trees in beds of moss. Because the shrine wasn’t safe any more. A beast lurked within the halls, waiting for you to falter.

“I’m just saying.” Satoru reemerged, “Maybe the steam will wash away your stinking attitude.”

You leveled a glare at the man, grateful that he couldn’t see the action. It was for sure blasphemy to do so and you took a tiny amount of satisfaction in the action.

“You make ask one blasphemous question.” Satoru for once hadn’t jumped right into the bath. He sat in an ornate sky blue kimono adorned with golden cranes, propped on one elbow against a large rock. The look on his face spelled trouble, the man could barely contain the grin that spread across his face. The sunlight streaming through the pines tinted the tips of his hair a soft yellow. It gave him an oddly homely look, his face somehow softer when not framed in pure white. The look wasn’t enough to hide amusement that was slowly growing in intensity. He was baiting you, seemingly already knowing what you would want to ask.

You were tempted to make your question about his habit of wearing women’s kimonos. Part of you was curious if there was a Mrs. God of the bath. But another, smaller part of yourself didn’t want to ever find the answer to that question.

You sat, carefully tucking your legs beneath you as you mulled over what exactly to ask. Yuji flopped over next to Satoru, the orange tabby squirming about on the stone as he waited to be pet.

“Are you actually blind?” You tensed as you asked the question, fully expecting to have failed the test he put forward. Ama had misled you on the other facts about the God and you had been burning with curiosity about if his need for a guide was just another inaccuracy. It wasn’t a test however, Satoru merely tilted his head as he considered the question.

“No.” He looked serious for once, the expression killing the burst of irritation that threaded through your veins. Satoru drummed his fingers against the mossy stone path, stopping with a smile as Yuji butted his head against the god’s hand.

“I have sight, I just can’t bear to use it in your realm.” He gestured around the two of you, face half twisted in a grimace.

“It’s too much. There’s too much going on with you humans and your curses and prayers.”

Satoru ran a hand over his face, one glittering blue eye peeking out from between a crack in his fingers. You chewed at your bottom lip, unsure of how to respond. His answer really didn’t make sense.

“Look.” Satoru moved until he sat before you, hands on your knees as he leaned forward. You stiffened at his closeness, heart beat skyrocketing as his warm breath tickled your face. Even sitting he was taller than you.

“Look at me.” He took your face in his hands, directing your gaze. You held your breath, afraid to breathe on him. It was terrifying being so close to him.

This close you could see every long eyelash. They glittered, silvery white like the wings of a crane, so long that they touched his cheeks with each blink. Up this close you could smell him as well, the scent of bergamot and oranges filling your nose.

“For a few seconds, I’ll look.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that and nodded stiffly. All you could think about was his hands, thin fingers that sat on your cheeks, thumbs barely touching the corners of your lips. He was warm, his skin was soft. In that moment, Satoru felt human to you.

And in the next moment, you understood exactly what he meant.

As you stared, something changed and all of sudden his eyes were no longer shiny gems. He blinked and all of a sudden you were staring at stars. Satoru’s eyes were blue and radiant, clearer than the sky and deeper than the sea. They glitter as if filled with a thousand stars. As if someone had compressed all of the night sky beneath the sea.

It took your breath away. He was beautiful and terrifying all at once. And you felt utterly insignificant. He could see you, all of you.

And then he blinked again and you were staring at his jewel-like eyes. They seemed dull in comparison, still beautiful, yes. But so dull in comparison to the beauty he had shown you for just a moment.

“You have issues.” Satoru quipped, letting your face go. You scowled at him, rolling your eyes at his perfect ruining of the moment. Once again he was the flippant man who you could barely call a god. You looked away as he stood and stripped, the man jumping into the steaming pond with a laugh.

“No thank you, My Lord.” Your response dripped with sarcasm, the last two words twisting on your tongue slightly. Satoru frowned at that, eyes narrowing as he picked through the remaining candies.

“Careful there, human. I can hear your disdain.” He waggled a finger in your direction, an absolutely maniacal grin on his face, “I might have to punish your sinful mouth.”

You hoped he could feel the glare you leveled at him. His playful banter may have been welcome under better circumstances. But today, after weeks of practically no sleep, you were tired of the teasing.

Satoru seemed oblivious, popping the last of the candy into his mouth. He rested his chin on his arms, glittering eyes running over your form. For a moment you froze, certain he could see you. See the pain and exhaustion that sat on your shoulders. But no, it was the lack of sleep getting to you.

The walk back to the burnt tree was painful, you felt dizzy and all you could think of was your bed. You barely registered the warmth of his hand on your shoulder until it was gone. Satoru left without a word, fizzling from the mortal world as he always did.

You stood for a moment, swaying before you began the long walk back. Yuji followed you carefully. The cat had an easier time of traversing the twisting roots. He was kind to you however, sticking close as you stumbled clumsily back to the shrine.

“Where were you?” It was the person you least wanted to see. Mahito leaned against the entrance of the shrine. His black robes clung to his thin form like a death shroud. You felt a dull pang of anger. He must be sleeping whenever you were away from the shrine. His late night stalking seemed to have no effect on him, the man always alert, shiny eyes staring at you from beneath his lank gray hair.

Skirting around him, you scooped Yuji up, pointedly not looking at the man.

“Shrine duties.” You offered quietly over your shoulder. Mahito pushed off the wall, walking beside you as you slowly made your way deep into the shrine. He smelled odd, musty and wet as if he had spent the day in a basement. The smell filled your head, adding to the dizziness that already clung to your mind. You felt like passing out, but he was the last one you would let know that.

“I could help.” Mahito took a few rushed steps, standing before you and halting your path. You squinted at him, tightening on your grip on Yuji. In that moment you realized how much taller he was than you. That his form, as thin as it was, was muscled. He had one hand in his hair, allowing the sleeve of his robes to shift. You could see his hidden strength rippling under his plaid flesh.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” A statement, not a question. His eyes raked over your face, looking for the cracks in your exterior. You merely titled your head to one side, leveling glare at the man.

“I am the head of the shrine now. When I have something I’ll let you know.” You pushed past him, heading to your room without a glance backwards.

Months passed. Summer heat, then fall winds, until winter blanketed the pines in snow. Sleeping outside was no longer an option. Now you took rest at odd moments, hidden in the nooks and crannies of the shrine. Never a full sleep and never for more than 15 minutes at a time. You were becoming a husk.

Satoru knew it, the man’s teasing tone melting into concern. He was softer with you, gentle hand lingering longer than it usually did. You grew quiet, your energy focused on just existing.

And as a husk, you faltered.

One night in your room, on the soft blankets of your bed, your body finally caved. The need to sleep crashed into you like a tsunami, drowning you under the blanket of exhaustion. You fell asleep, alone in your room.

When you awoke it was a struggle to pull yourself from sleep. The sleep was so deep that it was as if you were trying to pull yourself from a pool of syrup. It coated the insides of your lungs and mind, trying to suffocate you back into the deep abyss of sleep. Your eyelids slipped open, the action achingly slow. It felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds. For a moment all you perceived was the deep darkness your room was cast in. The night had seeped in your room through the open door.

Open door.

The realization sent a jolt of panic through you, throwing off the last shreds of sleepiness from your mind. Clarity hit you like a bolt of lighting and it was then that you realized the predicament you were in.

A hand, cold and clammy, was pressed against your mouth.

You let out an enraged shriek, the sound muffled as the hand pressed harder against your mouth. The pressure was crushing, thumb digging painfully into the soft skin of your cheek. You struggled against Mahito, one hand coming up to swing at him. The pale man leered down at you, his other hand already beneath your kimono, thumb digging into the soft flesh of your left thigh.

He straddled your other thigh, erection straining against his robes and your skin.

You let out an indignant scream, teeth scraping at the skin of his palm.

“Shut up.” Mahito hissed, leaning in, his weight crushing as he put his face close to yours. You glared at him, raking your nails over his arms and shoulders. His clammy lips were on your skin, pressing against your neck as his warm breath stuttered out.

To your right, a loud hiss sounded. Yuji, back from one of his nighttime walks. The orange tabby ran at the man, hissing and spitting up a storm as he sunk his claws into the hand at your thigh. Mahito howled in pain, hand pulling away from your mouth as he backhanded Yuji. He hit the cat with such force that the small creature flew through the shoji screen to your room with a whimper.

You let out your own howl, anger and pain mixing in an animalistic noise. With his weight shifted, you were able to partially sit up, craning your neck back before whipping forward and headbutting the man. Mahito let out a gurgling cry, warm blood spattering on the front of your kimono as he fell backwards. With a cry, you kicked him off, heels connecting with his stomach and groin as you flailed about.

Without a second thought you were up, pushing through the remains of your door and picking up Yuji. The tabby was limp in your arms and a choking sob spilled from your lips as you fled from the shrine. Your feet stung against the rough stone and as you made it to the front entrance, the cold hit you, seeping into your skin.

“Wake up kitty.” Warm tears stained your cheeks as you ran, contrasting the freezing snow that fell silently around you. “Please.”

The world was silent except for your broken sobs as you fled into the pines. Your cries echoed off the tall pines, making the dark woods sound plagued by ghosts. The snow was heavy, thick flakes quickly covering your tracks as you weaved through the dark trees. It was a small blessing as from behind you, Mahito was yelling. Snarling for you to return to the shrine as he attempted to follow you through the storm. Unlike him, you didn’t need to see to know where the burnt tree was. It was second nature at this point.

Your bare feet slid through the snow, toes jamming against the hidden tree roots as you scrambled for the only place your mind could think of.

But he wasn’t there. The tree stood alone, a dark jagged line against the blinding white of the snow. Satoru hadn’t called for you, of course you were alone. Your god wasn’t in the shrine, wasn’t on this mortal plane. He had left you alone when you needed him most. Satoru had left Ama alone when she needed him most.

What use is the God of baths? The God of an empty shrine and a single shrine maiden. Am I merely a plaything for the divine?

The snow clung to your cheeks, the cold seeping into your skin, your bones. In your arms, Yuji lay limp, you couldn’t even tell if he was even breathing. Part of you refused to look, refused to acknowledge the possibility that he was gone. That you were completely alone.

From a distance, the muffled shouting from Mahito rang out across the snow. You turned slightly, squinting through the snow. The weather was complete, it was snow that you had loved to watch as a child from the comfort of a warm bed. Now it was swallowing you whole. The snow covered your feet, the limbs were numb and you knew that within a few more moments the damage to them would be complete. Your fingers had paled, tinged with the unnatural blueish gray of frost damage. And you were growing warm.

‘There was a name for it’, you thought faintly, letting yourself sink to your knees. The growing drifts of snow swallowed your hips as you slumped down. There had been a boy in your village who had gone out in a particularly bad storm. No one knew why he had gone out, perhaps to play. Regardless of the reason, he had died, found days later half undressed in the snow. His parents had been confused but the village healer had murmured something about snow delirium.

Mahito’s shouting grew fainter and you couldn’t decide if it was him moving away or your hearing somehow going. You buried your face in Yuji’s warm fur, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes. A dull ache burned in your chest, urging you to lie in the snow. To sleep, just for a moment.

“What have we here?” A low voice, smooth as silk and full of curiosity slid around you. It was soft and comforting in a way that was almost unsettling. With effort you looked up, brows furrowing as you took in the man who stood before you. Dressed in all black robes from head to toe, he stood out against the snow like a wraith. The wind seemed unable to touch him, the deep silk robes and his inky hair unnaturally still. He was like a statue, save for the occasional gentle brushing of snow from his robes. You blinked slowly up at him, taking in his fox like features, the long lashes that kissed his cheeks with each blink. He was the second most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Death has come to walk me away. You thought dully, standing with effort. Your limbs resisted you, joints stiff with the cold and groaning in protest. The man watched, his look a mix of mild curiosity and something that bordered on concern.

“You.” You began, voice hoarse and cracking with the effort, “You can take me but save him, please.” You held Yuji out with some effort, swaying as your breath stuttered in your chest. Your plea seemed to confuse the man, one thin eyebrow raising as he took in Yuji. You offered the cat to him, trying not to let the tears you felt dancing in your eyes fall. Your arms shook slightly, the cold full set in your muscles.

“You’re Satoru’s human.” It was a statement and a strange one at that. His words had you still, breath catching in your throat as finally, hot tears poured down your face.

“Yes. Yes, I am Satoru’s Human. His Shrine Maiden.” You sobbed, clutching Yuji to your chest again. The shadow of a man let out a low hum, eyes taking in your disheveled form. You knew he could see the blood, how your robes were hanging open in an unseemly way. Something in his eyes darkened and you flinched as his gaze suddenly snapped from you, fixing on a point over your right shoulder. Distantly, you could hear Mahito shouting, the words ‘Bitch’ and ‘Mine’ echoing faintly through the pines. The strange man heard it as well, his thin brows lowering until a thunderous scowl sat upon his face.

“A mortal dare lay hands upon a God’s possession?” His comment wasn’t for you, strangely enough it seemed directed at the sky. You felt a bit concerned at being called a possession. But the concern was faint, slowly fading as the last of the warmth seemed to drain from your limbs. With it went your strength and you found yourself crumpled in the snow again, arms locked in place as you cradled the limp form of Yuji. For a moment the world blurred, black spots popping across your field of vision as you went slightly limp.

“You’re safe now.”

A warm hand took yours, pulling you gently to your feet. And suddenly, the world was gone.

No. That wasn’t quite right.

The world fell away.

You both existed and didn’t, pulled into the great expanse that was the home of the stars. Earth as you knew it, the pines and the snow scattered into wisps akin to mist. The sky swelled around you and suddenly you saw it. The home of the divine. Beyond the clouds, twisted in among the stars. It glittered as the largest star itself, a shifting space. First a palace, then a planet, a forest, a shrine, then back to a palace.

There was no hot, no cold. You weren’t even sure you would call the state you found yourself in as ‘alive’. It was a state of existence that transcended the physical. Yuji was both his own bright soul and yet he was part of yours, intertwined in what was your chest.

The man in black robes was more physically there, he seemed able to keep his shape despite the odd ripples and the twisting urge to just…dissipate.

Your guide landed elegantly upon the shimmering marble floors, tugging your floating and dumb struck existence down. Warmth radiated from his hand, through you until suddenly you existed again.

You let out a sharp and startled gasp, fingers digging into Yuji’s fur as you reeled at the sight around you. It was beautiful, otherworldly and entirely too much. You faintly registered the existence of other beings passing by, their presence immense and overwhelming.

The floor was white, then gold, then shimmering like sunlight caught in a raindrop. Doors faded into existence and opened to reveal worlds beyond your comprehension. Beings that looked human stepped from them and down hallways that built themselves. This realm was never ending and never resting. It’s form twisted and bent to the needs of the individuals that traversed it.

The largest man you had ever seen stalked past. His hair was the color cherry blossoms and he had too many arms. You caught his eyes and shivered at the look of pure disgust that twisted his already mangled face. His form was familiar, something you had seen on a scrap of aged parchment. A demon that used to walk among men.

The realm was living. It’s consciousness touched yours, gently probing. Like a curious cat it was looking in every nook and cranny, quietly waiting for you to give it a nudge. If you so willed it, the realm would twist for you, become the path to wherever you needed.

A woman emerged from a door shaped like a coffin lid. It was almost too small for her to exit, and she had to twist herself like a cat to pull free. Her long white hair covered one eye, falling down her back in luscious waves. She paused at the sight of you, single dark brown eye taking you before she offered you a small nod. You found yourself compelled to nod back, watching as she turned and sauntered up a staircase made of stardust.

“Look at me.” It was the man in black robes, one pale hand lifting your chin. You shivered at his touch, brows furrowing as another wave of confusion rocked you. In your arms, Yuji stirred faintly, head lifting weakly. You blinked, gaze shifting from the cat, to the man in black, then back to the twisting palace around you.

Behind your guide was a new man, his tired eyes pinching in the corners as he came to a full stop to look at you. Unlike the other beings of this place, he was in a full western style suit. It was a dull gray, contrasting with the glimmering almost gold color of his hair. Exhaustion visibly clung to him, you could feel it through the realm’s odd connection. It made you sway slightly, lightheaded in its intensity. He let out a sigh, making a point to turn and walk in the opposite direction.

“You survived. Surprising given how close to death you were.” The man murmured, a strand of his dark hair falling in his face as he leaned closer. He ran one long finger down the side of your face, frowning slightly at something he saw.

“Did I die?” You asked weakly, afraid of the answer. Your odd companion raised one eyebrow, straightening as he tilted his head to shoot you a rather cold look.

“I’m the god of curses. Not death.” He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I suppose however I have assisted in cursing a human or ten to death.”

He saw your look of confused terror and offered you a comforting smile. “Suguru. Call me Suguru.”

You blinked, holding Yuji a little closer as you inhaled in an attempt to calm yourself. Everything was happening too fast. You were still reeling from Mahito’s attempted assault.

“Where is Satoru?” You almost didn’t dare to ask. Part of you was still full of dull anger at the fact that he hadn’t been there, that he hadn’t been the one to tug you into this divine realm. And a smaller, nasty part, was wondering if he had abandoned you. The final shrine maiden of the deep pines left to tend an empty shrine.

Suguru smiled and this time it was awful. A terrifying grin that made the corners of his dark eyes crinkle. It was as if all of a sudden you were an injured deer standing in front of a bear.

“He’s taking care of matters on the mortal plane.”

You knew without asking that Mahito was most likely facing a terrible terrible death. It made you feel small for some reason. Small and utterly human.

“I’ll take you to his realm.”

You blinked at that, slowly following him as Suguru made his way quickly through the shifting palace. The building seemed to understand that you were human, tiles of marble clicking into place before your very feet as you followed behind a God that had no need for such niceties. He walked across the bare expanse of space as if it were nothing. It most likely was, the man was divine.

Almost as divine as Satoru. You thought. As if he knew, Suguru’s head jerked, the man shooting a look over his shoulder. Surely he couldn’t read your mind.

‘I certainly can’ It was his voice, inside your mind and poking at the innermost expanse of your brain. You swallowed your thoughts, trying to keep your mind clear as you followed. It was easy enough to do, your mind drowning in anxiety as you tried to avoid the dark God’s glances.

In your arms, Yuji had fully awoken. He sat contently in your arms as if nothing had occurred. Looking down at him, you watched him blink back up at you, a small purring starting up in his chest as he settled deeper in your arms. The tabby seemed un-bothered by the shifting world around you. The marble floor, golden walls and plant life that seemed to blink in and out of existence. All of them ignored in favor of staring up at you. As if to the small orange cat, you were somehow above all else.

“One little jump.” Suguru turned, wrapping one arm around your waist as you came to a halt beside him. Before you was a door way and beyond it, a deep void of black littered by many stars. You shot him a questioning look, the hall you had been in simply ended. There was nowhere to jump to.

The smile Suguru gave you this time was not at all comforting. It was better than his vicious smile, but it still made your stomach churn as his grip tightened.

“Wh-” Your breath left your body before you could complete the word. Suguru had jumped, straight into the void and you were being sucked down. Faster than anything humanly possible. You would have screamed if it were possible, but the void was all around you, crushing you.

And then you were back on your feet in an endless field of soft white grass. Your vision swam for a moment and you struggled to stay upright. Yuji let out a little whine, the cat puffed up as he too fought the after effects of the jump.

“Tell Satoru he owes me.” And Suguru was gone. You stood for a moment, frowning at the space where he had left you. The field was silent, stretching on for miles. The grass moved in a warm breeze tickling your feet.

Everything was too informal. Your mind yelled at you that you must’ve died. Something had happened in the snow and now your mind was showing you a nice little fantasy before you died.

Perhaps you had died back in the forest when Ama had asked you to make the first trek to the bath. Tripped on a tree root and fell down the mountain side.

“Oh!” You blinked, backing up a step as a dark shape cut through the field. It was large and fast and on you before you could run.

“OH!” You let out a laugh that was a mix of relief and astonishment. A large black dog stood before you, intently sniffing the edges of your kimono. He was shaggy, fur sticking up oddly in places. The dog let out a small bark, nudging your hip with his nose. From your arms Yuji let out a meow, ears pulled back as he stared down at the dog. They stared at each other for a moment, a silent conversation rippling between them. Then they relaxed, Yuji settling in your arms and the dog wagging his tail happily.

He nudged your hand again, taking a step forward. When you didn’t follow he repeated the action, letting out a low ‘boof’ noise. You took a step forward, slowly following the large dog as he trotted across the field.

For a while there was nothing but the pale grass and the warm breeze. Occasionally you could hear things drifting through the lazy wind. Laughter, conversations, a whisper, all of them faint like memories you couldn’t quite recall. Despite the stress of being pulled to this place, you didn’t grow tired as you walked. It was as if time didn’t exist in this place, keeping the aches of mortal life at bay.

From the grass, a house arose. Logically you knew you should have been able to see the sprawling estate from where you entered the field. But like the great hall before it, the building seemed to materialize from the air, building itself stone by stone.

As the main door slid into place, a zen garden entrance built itself around you and your companion. You let out a small gasp as the grass slid away from your feet, small stone pebbles quickly taking its place. It made you stumble slightly and at your side, the dog quickly leaned into you to provide support.

You stared in awe at the tall stone walls and the deep blue tile of the roof. This estate was much like the ones in your world. Built normally for the lords of the land and something you had only observed in paintings. No one in your village was wealthy enough for an estate of any kind. Not even the elders who were born from old noble families. Like the traditions they clung to, they had become obsolete under the new world’s technology.

You stepped up to the door, murmuring a small ‘hello’ as you tentatively entered. The estate was silent, no servants it seemed and the master of the house had yet to appear.

Yuji lept from your arms, trotting down the long main hallway after the shaggy dog. You followed them nervously, wincing as your bruised and dirty feet touched the spotless flooring. It felt wrong to sully this grande estate with your mere presence.

But there was no one around to complain. You stepped carefully regardless, trailing past multiple sitting rooms, closets, open spaces you had no name for. There were rooms full of paintings and glass sculptures. Rooms full of the most beautiful kimonos you had ever seen, rooms filled with books and scrolls strewn about like small mountains made of paper. There were rooms that opened into the field again, the wood flooring twisting strangely into the pale field as if the world and the estate were one structure.

The shaggy dog stopped at one of the doorways, darting into the room and flopping onto a large futon. You stepped after him, smiling as you realized it was the dog’s room. There were ink portraits of the shaggy beast all over the wall, the scrolls hanging in a neat line.

“Are you Megumi?” You asked the dog. Megumi huffed in response, shifting to let Yuji sit on the futon next to him. His job seemed complete and now the dog was drifting off to sleep with your cat at his side. You watched them quietly for a moment before exiting the room.

The hallway of the estate seemed endless, stretching on impossibly long. Logically you knew there was no way it could fit inside the exterior estate you had seen. But like the rest of this realm, it seemed part of a large odd being.

You grimaced as you passed a mirror, stopping taking in the bags under your eyes. Bruises littered your exposed skin, in part from Mahito’s assault. But the blueish tint persisted in your fingers and toes. You wiggled your toes, wincing at the small twinge of pain that radiated up your legs. Leaning forward you took in the blood dried over your chest and kimono, grimacing as you scratched a nail over one patch.

I could use a shower. You thought sourly, flicking a pain needle from your shoulder. An odd warmth tickled the back of your mind and you flinched as next to the mirror, a doorway appeared. It was a plain sliding door, unassuming and entirely out of place in the luxurious hallway. You stared at it for a moment and then slid it open cautiously.

It was a bathing room. Much more luxurious than you had ever been in, but still simpler than the halls around you. White tile lined the wall, small pale blue flowers painted here and there. They led to a large stone bath inset in the floor, already filled to the brim with steaming water.

Stepping inside the room, you carefully slid the door closed before peeling your kimono off. It fell with a sad rustle onto the clean tile, looking like a rag more than an outfit.

Shuffling over to the bath, you leaned over it, taking in the crystal clear water. It poured quietly into the pool from a brass crane head. But it didn’t overfill, despite the constant flow, instead the water lapped at the stone edge of the bath.

Almost too clean, You mused, turning around to look for a container for some water. It felt rude to even think about stepping in the bath before attempting to scrub some of the grime off. The room was empty and you almost had time to frown. But the house knew what you wanted. You jumped as a small wooden bucket suddenly popped out of thin air, clattering to the floor and spilling a small vial onto the tile. You approached it slowly, picking both items up with hesitation. They appeared normal enough, smooth wood and beautiful ceramic. Filling the bucket with water, you twisted the vial open, sniffing it cautiously.

The smell of lychee and something else that was oddly sweet drifted from the neck of the bottle. It reminded you a bit of some of the candies Satoru had a fondness for. You sat on the floor and then paused. There was nothing to use to wash yourself with.

This time the house dropped a washcloth right on your face. You laughed at the magic and absurdity of it, trying your best to think thankful thoughts towards the house.

As quickly as you could you scrubbed your skin, praying for the sensation of Mahito’s hands to leave your skin. As much as you didn’t want to acknowledge it, his touch clung to you like ghostly hands.

Perhaps boiling water will do the job. You tossed the washcloth into the bucket, noting with a grimace how dirty the water within was. As you stepped into the warm water, the bucket vanished with a small pop. You stared for a moment in shock, one foot submerged.

“Thank you.” You slid into the water, looking up at the ceiling. A few of the tiles rippled, as if the estate were acknowledging your thanks.

The water, like the realm it was in, was divine. You let out a sigh, sinking to your chin and closing your eyes. The warm water seemed to seep into every pore, relaxing your muscles and pushing the sensation of your assault from your skin. You allowed yourself to sink under the water.

From head to toe, you were warm, you felt safe. Alone, but safe. Squeezing your eyes closed even tighter, you fought the tears that welled in your throat. A twisting mix of grief and anger sat in your throat and you fought to swallow it. Beneath the surface, you let out a silent scream of frustration.

You should have swallowed water with such a stupid action. But the house had shifted again and your head was above water, the bath suddenly less deep. You let out a small sigh, resting your chin on your knees. No hidden emotions it was, at least not beneath bath water.

Hours passed and still the water remained a consistent perfect temperature. In the steam you had time to ponder. To face the emotions that roiled beneath your skin. You had been assaulted, yanked into a realm you had no place in and now you were alone in a magical house.

What future was there for you? Could you even go back to the shrine, to the village?

No.

There was no one there for you. No one who wanted to take the long trek up to the shrine. Like the old temple, you were to be forgotten up on the mountain between the pines. As with the shrine keepers before you, your bones were meant to grow mossy beneath tree roots and the rubble of the temple as it moldered and fell.

Looking at your reflection, you thought about Satoru, of why he had even been in the mortal realm.

“Surely there are baths in the Divine realm?” You asked, watching as the god felt his way along the stone edge of the tub, the man slowly stalking after Yuji. The cat seemed amused, stepping just out of grasp but chirping to let Satoru know exactly how far off he was.

“Of course there are.” The look he shot over his shoulder told you exactly how stupid he found the question. You flushed, rolling your eyes as he ignored the unspoken question.

“Then why come here?” You moved closer to the edge of the pool, daring to dip your toes into the warm water. It was a move you would never do when he was closer, you had a feeling the god would find it funny to pull you in.

“How else can I answer prayers?” Satoru grabbed for Yuji, missing as the cat neatly jumped over his grasp and bolted back towards you. The little cat was triumphant, butting his head against your hip with a purr. You noted with amusement that he looked incredibly smug.

“If I never experience the simple tasks of humanity, how can I accurately gauge the urgency of a prayer?”

You were tempted to tell him that bathing was perhaps not the best thing to gauge prayers against. But your train of thought was interrupted as his hand landed on your foot. You froze, tensing as you waited to be pulled under the water. He had somehow moved faster and farther than was possible. You had blinked and he had moved.

Satoru didn’t pull you under however, his long fingers wrapping around your ankle as he stared up at you.

“I bathe here to listen to my shrine keepers. To hear about humanity from a human.”

You merely hummed in response, pulse thundering in your ear as his thumb gently rubbed against your skin. There was a heat in your veins, shooting from his touch to your abdomen, coiling and trembling as you stared into his eyes.

“What good is a God who can’t listen?”

You ruminated on the past until your skin grew pruney from sitting in the water for so long. The house in its odd connection with you had a towel and new kimono all ready before you even fully stepped from the bath.

The kimono, much like the house, was ridiculously luxurious. A light purple with hand stitched cranes across the bottom. They twisted across the purple in a long line, wings outstretched and in mid motion. You felt too plain and human to wear such a garment. Spun from the finest silk, it slid on like a second skin. Perfectly tailored to fit you. Even the obi, you found yourself in awe of the cream colored fabric and the literal thousands of tiny stitched sage green bamboo shoots. These were the clothing of a woman far more grand than yourself. Royalty wore such items, not humble shrine keepters. Sliding the obi into place you patted the fabric absentmindedly.

You had bathed, gotten rid of your ruined kimono and now had no idea what to do. It felt odd to be alone in such a vast estate. Yes Megumi and Yuji were with you, but if you had to guess, they would most likely be sleeping for a while. You weren’t sure how, but you were fairly certain Yuji had been brought back to life. The cat had been so still in your arms, yet this realm seemed to have given him a second chance. You were sure the small tabby must be exhausted from whatever blessing had brought him back.

You were alone, so you wandered. The hallway was never ending, twisting and turning here and there. You passed countless sitting rooms, kitchens and bathrooms that were larger than the entire shrine. There was no sense of time in this place. No need to eat nor to sleep. You existed in a way that was outside of being human. Still, the habits of humanity called to you. In one of the ornate kitchens you stopped and ate the small meal the house pulled into existence. Rice, miso soup and an egg. It was simple but the best meal you had eaten in ages. You cried as you ate, wiping tears away as you savored the food.

The house seemed to understand what you needed before you did. To your surprise you found a room opening soon after you finished eating. It was simple, the house seeming to know the luxurious rooms made you uncomfortable. This room was small, with a plush futon and blankets within. You were quick to drop to the futon, pulling the blankets around you. The room was warm and quiet. Despite being in a state without physical needs, the exhaustion from the mortal realm was still in your bones and you quickly drifted off to sleep.

You had no idea how long you slept for. All you knew is you awoke with a jerk, breath catching in your throat. For a second your brain grappled with the fact that you were not in the shrine, panic swelling in your chest. But the house creaked around you, the sound bringing the world into focus.

Satoru was crouched before you, chin in one hand as he seemingly watched you. He smiled as you sat up. His eyes were the incredible star like blue again, glittering as if lit from within. It was a tad unsettling, but for the most part you found yourself breathless, pinned by his gaze.

“Sleep well?” His hair was damp, laying flatter against his head than normal. You found yourself reaching out and flicking at one snowy strand with a frown. The man ducked away from your touch, grabbing your hand and pulling you up as he stood. He seemed freshly bathed and manic. The grin he normally wore when making teasing comments was plastered across his face. He was practically bouncing as he pulled you from the room.

“Have you seen the whole house?”

You stumbled after him sleepy, murmuring that you doubted you could if you tried. Satoru laughed at that, shooting you a brilliant smile. He pulled you excitedly from room to room and you realized that now the estate actually had a normal layout. It was a modest size, still littered with luxury, but you could actually make sense of it.

“Why does it look so different?” You stopped in your tracks, tugging your hand from Satoru’s. The man paused, running a hand through his snowy hair. He seemed surprised at the question, brilliant eyes roving over your form.

“I was away. The realm scatters a bit when I'm not here.”

The answer made some sense. From what little you could tell, you knew it was living. Perhaps not as you were but it existed as its own being in the realm of the gods.

Satoru gently grabbed your hand again, tugging you over to a large window. From here you could see the pale field and beyond it, a glittering blue sea. You had never had the chance to see the ocean when you were in the mortal realm. It was too far a trek, but the stories you had heard didn’t do the body of water justice.

“We can go there later, I can show you the prayers that wash ashore.” Satoru murmured. He was standing behind you, warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke. You shuddered slightly, leaning against him as you stared out across the field. He was warm, large form easily overshadowing yours. One hand came up, resting on your shoulder, much like he had just days ago. It was a familiar feeling and you felt yourself melting against him.

Emotions you had crushed and swallowed came bubbling to the surface. A burning ache coiled in your stomach, tangling with the heat that radiated from his touch on your shoulder. You tilted your head slightly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Satoru was staring at you intently, his gaze asking an unspoken question. He looked hungry. It both thrilled and scared you. A shudder ran through you as you turned back, looking at his reflection in the glass.

“Yes” You offered an answer to the question he had not yet asked. A thrill of heat rippling from your belly to your extremities.

His hand slid down your side, large fingers curling into the silk of your kimono. You shuddered, heat coiling in your stomach as his warm breath tickled your right ear. Satoru paused, his other hand gently holding your waist.

“Are you sure?” The question was spoken softly, his normal teasing tone replaced by something so gentle that for a moment you were speechless. But only a moment, you nodded, placing your hand over his, fingers sliding to his wrist in a silent gesture asking him to continue.

The hand that had been tangled in your kimono, dipped beneath it, pushing past the silk of your juban beneath and pausing as he touched the bare flesh of your thigh. Your breath hitched, face flushing as you realized that the house had never provided you undergarments other than the juban. If it could, you were sure the house would be chuckling, in perfect sync with its master.

Satoru was laughing, the sound low and breathy as he pulled you closer. Your back was pressed firmly against his broad chest and you let out a small gasp as you felt his erection press against your backside.

His hand moved to the juncture between your thighs, warm fingertips sliding over your clit and delving into your folds in an inquisitive motion. You shuddered, breath hitching as you struggled to stay upright. A few seconds pressed against him, that's all it had taken for you to become soaking wet. Satoru chuckled in your ear, lips pressing against the soft skin of your throat as he gently swirled his finger tip around your entrance. The muscles fluttered in response, clenching around nothing as he teased the opening. Your legs shook and you gripped the hand that held on your waist in a death grip. He was the only thing keeping you upright, his gentle actions somehow making your mind both empty and overstimulated all at once.

“Do I really have such an effect on you?” It was the teasing tone you were used to and you shot a look over your shoulder, knowing that your flushed face and parted lips did nothing to convey the small flame of irritation. The emotion dissolved as his lips captured yours. Your breath caught as you melted into the kiss, his lips were warm, sliding against yours with a barely contained hunger. Satoru was shaking slightly, breath puffing from his nose sharply as he licked against your lips.

The arm at your waist slid up, finding its way beneath your kimono and grasping your breast. You moaned against his lips, leaning into the touch as Satoru ran his thumb over the peak of your nipple. The moan granted him entry and you shuddered as his tongue ran over your teeth, tangling with your own as he deepened the kiss. It was desperate and feral, your teeth clinking together as each kiss grew sloppier and more hungry.

The hand on your breast tightened, steadying the both of you as Satoru plunged a finger into your entrance. There was a brief sharp pain and you froze for a moment before relaxing again. The sensation dissolved into pleasure as he gently delved deeper. The rough pad of his finger rubbed against the sensitive inner heat of your pussy. You shook in his grip, hips moving in sync with his finger thrusting. The man moaned into your mouth adding another finger. It stretched you, but felt divine. Satoru was blessed with long fingers, his touch reaching the deep sensitive parts within you. He curled his fingers, hitting a new, deeper spot that sent a wave of pleasure through your veins.

A low moan split the air as you broke the kiss, neck again slightly. You gripped his wrist in an attempt to steady yourself, hips grinding gently against his palm as Saturo continued his gentle finger fucking. The god shifted, knee nudging your right thigh aside and opening you wider to him, The action had your clit pressing against his palm, the warm skin rubbing gently with each thrust of his finger. It was delightful and too much. You squirmed, panting in his arms as he gently bit at your neck, tongue laving against your pulse.

“S-shouldn’t.” Your words stuck in your throat as you struggled to stay upright, “Shouldn’t we be in bed?”

Your flush deepend as Satoru let out a sharp laugh. It was no secret you were inexperienced, the life of a shrine maiden was one of celibacy. And he knew that, being one of the Gods who had no doubt set the rules for temples. You squirmed in his arms, mind fuzzy as his finger slipped from you, cunt suddenly clenching around nothing.

“We can.” Satoru lifted you easily, the quick action making you dizzy. You clutched your Kimono close, the garment mussed and only being held by your Obi. The room around you seemed to twist and then you gasped as suddenly you were in a different room. There was a lurch in your chest and for a moment you thought you might vomit.

“Sorry.” Satoru offered you a small grimace, gently setting you on a large plush bed. “First time is always unpleasant.”

How did we get here? You wondered, blinking up at the tall ceiling. This room was dark, the walls a blue that was almost black. Spots of glittering gold and white appeared here and there, vanishing almost as quickly as they appeared. You frowned, propping yourself up on your elbows as you took in the sight. Your first impression was wrong. The walls were clear. It was the night sky that twisted about you, the stars and clouds of dust playfully twisting about as small points of light.

“No one can see us here.” Saturo shed his own robes, the silk sliding off with a familiar noise. Just as on earth he was unabashed with his nudity. You might have thrown him a look had you not been in awe at the room around you. The bed, draped in warm furs, was the only furniture in the room. It was like a nest, slightly deeper in the center. You let yourself fall back, staring at the dancing space around you.

“How much can you see from here?” He had explained his ability to you and while you had an understanding, you had a feeling he had simplified it for you. Saturo grinned, stalking over to the bed and crawling onto it. He moved like a beast, each move calculated as he drew closer to his prey.

“I see everything.” It was a simple answer that implied such grandiosity that it was almost unimaginable. He crouched over you, a perfectly sculpted man. And he ignored the twisting beauty around him, instead focusing on you.

“Why me?” It was something that had been tugging at the back of your mind since he had first started teasing you. Without him ever stating it, you knew he was never like that with Ama and you had a feeling perhaps he had never been like that with any other mortal.

“Why not you?” The answer was followed by a grin that was so smug it was insufferable. You scoffed, lightly slapping his bicep. Saturo cackled, leaning in and capturing your lips. It was a non-answer and you decided you were fine with that. You melted against him, opening your thighs to allow his hips to grind against yours.

He was a man starved, one hand tangling in your hair as with the other he pinched and pulled at your left breast. You moaned against his lips, hips canting up against his. His cock slid against your wet folds, warm and stiff against your clit. The smooth skin gave way to the rough white thatch of hair at the base of his cock. It created a different kind of friction, one that sent lightning bolts of pleasure through you. The sensation made you shudder, hips shifting so you could open your legs wider. Satoru grunted in frustration at your kimono, tugging the silk roughly until the belt gave and you were able to slide your arms free. He slid his arms beneath you, mouth latching onto your breast as he lazy thrust against you.

It had you breathless, small choked moans leaving you as you grinded against him. There was a burning, tight sensation growing in your abdomen, building with each pass of your clit against his dripping cock. You chased it, slick folds pressing against his cock, creating a low lewd noise with each pass. Satoru moaned against your breast, the pace of his thrusting quickening as he matched your mindless desire. You threaded one hand through his hair, the other sliding over the expanse of his shoulders.

“So close.” You whispered, head falling back and eyes closing as you canted your hips against his.

Satoru let go of your breast with a small pop, leaning back and grinning down at you. A low whine of displeasure left you, lips pulling down in frustration as you panted up at him. He looked smug, one hand fisting around his cock as he gave it a quick pump, thumb smearing the mix of your juices and his precum over the head.

“Let me take you?” His voice was husky, the blue of his eye eclipsed by how blown his pupils were. You nodded, heart pounding in your ears. Excitement and lust coiled in your abdomen, you ached in a way you knew would only be satisfied once he was within you.

Satoru was not gentle you were coming to realize. He was careful, mindful of where each touch landed. But gentle was not a word you would use. He was hungry, impatient and feral in his need.

And you didn’t mind. His rough fingers dragged pleasure from deep within you. Each touch making your legs shake, back arch and moans slide from your throat. He was a beast but one that knew its prey well.

“Good.” Satoru huffed out. He remained as he was, kneeling, cock stiffly pointing upwards. You noted with a blush that his white patch of pubic hair was drenched from your earlier grinding.

Satoru shot you a grin that bordered on manic, taking your thighs in each hand and spreading them farther apart. You shivered slightly with the action, the wet between your thighs being brushed by cold. But only for an instant.

Satoru sheathed himself within you in one fluid motion. You let out a silent gasp, the air caught in your throat as the walls of your cunt fluttered about him. He stretched you completely, almost uncomfortably so. But the dull ache gave way to pleasure as he began to move.

Satoru seemed content to remain kneeling, his brilliant gaze locked on your face as he thrust into your warm heat. He looked powerful, muscles rippling with each thrust, an iron grip on your thighs. You shuddered beneath him, for a moment pleasure forgotten as you viewed the god above you. He was otherworldly. White hair shimmering as if made of stardust, blue eyes piercing your very soul.

The thoughts dissolved as he thrust again, dragging his cock nearly all the way out before plunging back into you. The pace he set was rough, each thrust pushed pleasure through you. Beneath him you were breathless, matching his roughness as best you could.

The pleasure was mind numbing, your legs shook in his grasp as the head of his member kissed deep within your heat, hitting your cervix with an aching accuracy. You arched, hips stuttering against his as you chased the heat coiling in your stomach. Each thrust built it higher and higher, a taut string close to snapping.

Faintly you registered that you were moaning, half words falling from your lips as you tried to ask him for more. To go faster.

Satoru laughed, the sound triumphant and breathless. He fell forward, capturing your lips with his, the hunger behind the action making his nose smash against yours. You didn’t mind the clumsiness and the slight pain. Arching against him, you panted against his mouth, arms sliding around his shoulders to pull him closer. Satoru’s kisses were sloppy, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip.

You moaned, hips canting against his as your clit caught against the rough hair at the base of his cock. It sent a thrill of pleasure through you and as you moaned, he thrust again, grinding his hips into you.

Breaking the kiss, Satoru moved his head to your neck, kissing the soft flesh beneath your ear.

“Cum for me.” The words were low and growled, sending a shiver down your spine. You huffed out a low moan, unable to respond. His hands were on your hips, the man kneeling again, lifting you on his lap as he thrusted up into your tight heat.

The change of position sent stars across your vision and finally, the heat in your abdomen snapped.

You came with a cry, hands clawing at Satoru’s back as he kept thrusting. The walls of your cunt squeezed and fluttered around him, your orgasm prolonged by the rough movements. You let your head nestle in the crook of his neck, panting as he kept going.

Satoru’s arms shook slightly, his movements becoming erratic as he fucked you. The grip on your hips was bruising as he drilled into you. Satoru shifted, his teeth catching on your shoulder as he let out a low snarl. You shivered as he finally came, the warmth of his release filling you completely.

For a moment the two of you remained locked in place. Satoru’s teeth in your shoulder, hands keeping your hips locked against his. Now, not trapped in the heat of lust, you felt hazy, mind reeling from the intensity of his actions.

“Sorry.” Satoru finally pulled back, gently lying you on the bed and rubbing his thumb over the red indents in your shoulder. You murmured that it was fine, arching with a gasp as he pulled his now flaccid cock from you.

Satoru disappeared for a moment, then was back, a towel in hand. You blinked, mouth parted to question him.

“Teleportation.” He muttered, concentrating on cleaning you, then himself before tossing the towel away. Satoru flopped next to you, tugging the blankets over the pair of you with a satisfied sigh.

You watched him, curled on your side. A sudden feeling of awkwardness suddenly filled you. What would happen to you now?

Satoru seemed unbothered, nestling close to you, one arm thrown casually over your waist.

“What now?” You asked, the words sticking slightly in your throat. You were afraid that he would tell you it was time to go back to the mortal realm. To the emptiness and lonely life.

Satoru’s eyes had closed, but he cracked one brilliant eye open, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

You bit your bottom lip, one hand coming up to pull the blanket closer to your chin.

“I’m human. I’m not meant to be here.”

Satoru hummed, opening his other eye to stare at you. His gaze seemed to read your soul and you shivered as his unblinking stare lingered.

“Do you want to go back?” His tone had a hidden emotion beneath it, something in his eyes making you hesitate before answering.

“No?”

He seemed pleased with that answer, the large grin you had come to secretly love. Satoru propped himself up on one below, looking down at you, expression becoming serious.

“Would you want to stay here forever?”

The question was odd but you nodded, hoping you understood him correctly. In the hours you had spent with him, you had come to enjoy Satoru’s teasing and playful nature. He was both a terrifyingly beautiful man and the biggest idiot you had ever met. An eternity with him, in the house surrounded by pale fields. You would enjoy that. Plus, Yuji would be safe, he wouldn’t know the pain that the mortal realm brought anymore.

Satoru sat up, blankets falling from him as he regarded you, face unreadable.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded again at his question, fingers playing with the edge of the blanket as you waited for whatever it was he was building to. Satoru was silent for a moment, then brought his hand to his mouth, biting down on his thumb.

You gasped at the dull noise it made, sitting up as you shot him a confused look. The man seemed unbothered, extending his hand to you as if offering you something.

“If you’re sure.” He was watching you closely, blue eyes following the slight changes in your body language as you glance at him, then his hand in confusion.

You blinked. Satoru’s blood was golden, beads that looked akin to jewelry sat neatly upon his skin. You glanced up at him again, eyes searching his face for an answer.

“I am sure.” You murmured, not quite understanding what he wanted you to do. Satoru smiled, lifting his thumb closer to your face and wiggling it.

“The blood of a god is coveted by some.” He looked strangely smug, “It contains the secret to immortality.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, waiting for the manic smile to hit and for the god to tell you it was a joke. But when he didn’t, you cautiously leaned forward, wrapping your lips around the digit.

His blood tasted of sunshine and yet was also nothing. You shuddered as you pulled back, nose wrinkling slightly as you licked your lips, swiping the remnants of the droplets. Nothing happened. You felt the same and you again waited for the infernal smile you knew he was going to throw your way.

“What would you like to be the goddess of?” Satoru asked, itching the thumb. You noted it was completely healed as if nothing had happened. For a moment you sat, mind racing as you struggled with the odd nothingness of what had occurred. Pondering the question, you flopped back down, pulling the blankets close as you thought. If he wasn’t playing a prank, what would you be best at?

You thought of the village that was your home and the gods they whispered about. Turning over different jobs, of things in nature you enjoyed. There were too many options. But finally, you thought of Ama, of the shrine. Of the loneliness the old woman had experienced.

“The goddess of forgotten shrines and their keepers.” You murmured. Satoru seemed surprised at your choice, humming as he thought.

“I think that one isn’t taken.” His brilliant blue gaze raked over your form and you shivered as a warmth spread through your limbs. It was as if you had gulped down sake, the sensation unlike anything else. A buzzing existed in your limbs, fizzing through your veins and nerves like sunlight itself was warming you from the inside out.

“There you are.” He laughed, reaching out with one long finger and tapping you on the nose. “It’ll be strange at first. Hearing them when they pray. But you’ll figure out how to filter it.”

You frowned at that, nestling deeper in the blankets as you concentrated.

Silence.

Then.

“Whoever resides here–”

“I’m sorry, I’m old–.”

“They forgot about this place, I hope my staying here doesn’t–”

“Are you still here? Can you —”

Fragments, barely whispers twisted through your mind. You sat upright, eyes unfocused as you tried to listen to them. There were too many and they were all so quiet.

“How many abandoned shrine keepers are there?” You turned, fighting back an odd sadness that swelled in your chest. Satoru hummed, leaning back on the plush pillows, fingers drumming lightly against his bare chest.

“Too many.” His piercing blue eyes fixed on the ceiling, “Plus the accidental shrines.”

You tilted your head at that, shivering slightly as another whisper danced through your mind.

“Humans create their own shrines without realizing it.” Satoru focused on you, reaching out to run a hand along your bare side.

“Children with sticks and plush toys. Adults with their particularly set up kitchens.” He shrugged, his expression one of amused resignation, “They don’t realize that they do it, that their thoughts are structured like prayers.”

Satoru’s gaze slid away from you, his expression becoming somber. “They tend to get ignored. None of us see merit in picking up their prayers.”

You swallowed the hurt and irritation that welled in your stomach. Satoru was a god, he had admitted to thinking something as simple as a bath let him see how humans lived. He and no doubt the others had such a removed view of how humanity lived. Human needs and emotions were foreign. Yes, Satoru had emotion. But it always seemed guarded or inappropriately placed.

You lay back in the blankets, dwelling on the echoed whispers in your mind.

“Will I disappear if they stop creating shrines? If they abandon the notion of gods?” You asked, eyes searching the dark expanse above. Satoru rolled over, slipping his arm over your waist and pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“The last prayer Sukuna got was well over a thousand years ago. He’s become a bit of a recluse, but he’s still here.”

You had no idea who Sukuna was but the thought was comforting. Satoru rested his forehead against yours, flashing you a brilliant smile.

“You don’t have to worry.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, eyes searching his. The man snickered to himself as he continued “I’ll always be here to worship you.”

You rolled your eyes at that, letting a small puff of laughter out. His response tickled your mind however and a question arose.

“What are you even the god of?” You should have honestly asked sooner. With all his joking and lackadaisical attitude, you had assumed he was something soft and kind. But Satoru’s response about ignoring small shrines lended to a more arrogant nature under his cheerful facade.

The man grinned, the smile sharp and unlike anything you had seen before.

“I am the god of power.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that. “So, War, physical strength?”

He shook his head, then paused and nodded. “Yes and no.”

Satoru sat up, flexing his arms. You watched the muscles jump and ripple as he did so.

“There is also power in names, in blood ties. Power exists now in money and goods.”

He spread his arms wide, looking a tad manic.

“For humans, to feel powerful, look or sound powerful, they crave it.”

You shuddered as you listened, thinking of Mahito, of the village you had grown up in. Satoru looked at you, his gaze serious.

“I alone am a god ingrained in the nature of humans.”

You hummed at that, eyes shifting away from him and back to the great expanse of black. Whispers tickled the back of your mind, gentle wishes and murmured prayers for help twisting together into a droning hum.

“Ok not the only one but, the most powerful one.” You glanced back to see Satoru wiggling his eyebrows at you. Laughing, you pulled the blankets closer, peeking at him from around the soft fabric.

“The power god is the most powerful? How poetic.” Your tone was teasing and you let out a squeak as Satoru yanked the blankets up, sliding beneath with you. His face was close, the intense blue of his eyes drilling into your soul as he wagged a finger at you.

“New gods don’t get to be bratty to old gods.”

You snorted, “You’re right grandpa, I apologize.”

You shrieked as he started tickling you in response, Satoru cackling like a madman as he did so. While he might not have realized it, the interaction felt so human. It was a connection you had silently wished for while at the shrine. To have a friend to hold. One who you could laugh with.

“I’m going to do good for all of them.” You murmured when he finally stopped, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. Satoru raised one eyebrow in question, his hands pulling you closer beneath the warm blankets.

“My shrine keepers.” You elaborated, “I won’t abandon them.”

Satoru hummed at that, “You better do good.” His tone was teasing, but the look on his face was serious. It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, the man sighing as he fiddled with one strand of his pale hair.

“I may have broken a rule or two by bringing you here and letting you become a god.”

Your mouth dropped open at that and you sat up, heart racing. Satoru saw your panic and was quick to follow, pulling you into a hug.

“As I said. I’m the best. I get to break rules.” His tone was too casual for your liking and you shot him a glare, irritation swelling in your throat. Satoru could tell you were about to snap out something harsh, the man burying his face in your shoulder.

“They might be mad, might take you aside to make sure I didn’t pressure you.”

He shrugged, lifting his head to look at you. Part of you murmured that after haze of sex was a time when most people had lowered inhibitions. But it wasn’t like you could have just gone back. You had already committed to living with Satoru, even as just a human. The forever promise was a bonus.

“But that's all they can do.” He finished, flopping back onto the bed with an irritated sigh.

“The red tape bastard is going to have a fit and all that’ll be is annoying.”

You lay back down, pulling the blanket over the both of you. There was still no need for sleep in this realm. Even after the slight workout you and Satoru had done. But you felt mentally tired. You knew you would have to face the other gods, the consequences of Satoru’s actions. Warm and snuggled next to the man, your eyes slid shut. Sleep came easy. The prayers of your shrines lulling you into the deep abyss of slumber. You could deal with the outcome later. When you awoke, your first task would be tending the shrines.

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hime-k0 · 9 months

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their daily lives remain remarkably the same even with Gojou being a cat

[more catoru here]

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hime-k0 · 2 years

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wip

i like him a normal amount

#scaramouche #kunikuzushi #wanderer #genshinimpact

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hime-k0 · 2 years

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greatest creation.

#raidenshogun #scaramouche #wanderer #kunikuzushi #genshinimpact

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hime-k0 · 2 years

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dasurv

#scaramouche #wanderer #genshin impact #digital art #artists on tumblr

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hime-k0 · 2 years

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some old scara i did when inazuma first came out. i was playing with the idea of him being trained to serve as a general of some sort for the shogunate 🥹🥹

#scaramouche #wanderer #kunikuzushi #genshinimpact

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hime-k0 · 2 years

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Hi, hello there! My name is Yana, and I can draw for you! :DD

I draw anime-styled character illustrations! I can draw you icons, half-body shots, and full-body shots! My work is fully rendered, and I will do my best to finish it quickly too! I can draw a plain jane or a full-on Genshin Impact character!

I am chill with drawing almost any character! However, please take note of my do's and donts!

Icons: 5$ (1 Day)

Bust / Full Body shots: 10$ (2 Days)

Full Body: 20$ (3 Days)

(There will be additional charges when you add another character, and for more details!)

Do:

Humans

Video Game Characters

Original Characters

Hybrid humans/Furries

Don'ts:

Buildings!

TOO much details, complicated designs!

Mecha (Robots)

Extreme NSFW

For more questions, feel free to ask me! Thanks and have a nice day! <333

Find me on twitter and fiverr!

Twitter: https://twitter.com/_himek0

Fiverr: https://www.fiverr.com/di_yana/draw-cute-anime-style-character-illustrations

Thank you! <

#artph #artists on tumblr #open for commissions #digital commisions #commisions open

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hime-k0 · 2 years

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Same man, different guy

Summary: You moved from Gotham, to start a new job, a new life in Bludhaven. You'd gotten entangled with the Red Hood and you just need a fresh start. But sometimes, your problems follow you.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Jason Tood (The Red Hood)

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Only, handcuffs, blindfold, guns, swearing, spanking, face slapping, teasing, pet names, jealousy, this is probs not healthy, confessions, tiny bit of hurt but mostly comfort.

“Hey Dick,” you call across the bull pit, “how's it going?”

“What's up Deputy Inspector? Didn't think I'd see you around here after your promotion.”

“Just came down to grab a cup of coffee figured I'd swing by and say hi,”

“So, how's the new job going?”

“Really, good. It's nice to be back from Gotham. Love the place and Batman's great, but it's just not home, ya know?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Maybe we could catch up? Grab a-” you’re dumbstruck as a man walks out from the Sargent's office. He's tall and like your nanna used to say 'built like a brick shithouse', a tight brown leather jacket wrapped tightly over his broad shoulders, hair is almost as dark as Dicks except for the streak of white that runs through the front. Fuck, he has to be the hottest guy you've ever seen. He saunters his way over to Dick, while you stand there staring at him like a deer in headlights.

“Jay, this is the officer I was telling you about. She just moved back from Gotham,” Dick claps his hand on Jay's shoulder, “this is my little brother, Jason,”

“I thought your brother was 11?” You ask, shifting your head to the side. The man, Jason, hasn't said a word and he seems to be avoiding eye contact. He looks… you want to say guilty, but you've no idea why. Was he in trouble with the Sergeant?

“Dami is 11. Jay is one of the middle ones and he's only in town for a few days so I'll have to get a raincheck on drinks. That cool?”

“Yeah, no problem. Have a good night.” You’re disappointed that Dick’s busy and consider asking to hang out with the both of them. Dicks brother was.. Well he was fucking hot. And Dick is the nicest person in this fucking precinct, hopefully you'll get a chance to catch up with him another time. Luckily for you the new records clerk was on her way to the bar and offered you to join her.

Xxx

It's around 2am when you finally leave the drive bar on Oracle St. You’ve had a nice night with Riza, she’s had at least one to many and after you put her in a taxi home, you decide it’ll be faster to walk home.

It's only 2 blocks to your apartment, you know crime rates are unusually high for this time of year. But you’ve heard rumors of Nightwing being spotted after only being in this city for a few days. You'd moved here to get away from all those fucking vigilantes. At Least it’s just Nightwing you think and not- HIM. Him. He who had turned your world upside down and almost ruined you. You have to admit having Nightwing around does make you feel a tiny bit safer. Along with the 6 shooter in your purse, you're sure you can make it home without incident.

You're almost at the end of the first block when you hear a noise down a nearby alley. Carefully you pull out your gun, stepping slowly in the direction of the noise. The street lamp flickers overhead and you can see two figures in the dark. It looks like one is beating the other.

“Freeze Police,” you shout, pointing your gun at them. The one standing drops the other and they fall to a heap on the ground.

“Well, if it isn't my favourite officer,” a deep husky voice calls from the darkness.

“Hands above your head,”

“Now if I remember correctly,” he steps onto the light, his bright red helmet glistening under it and a crowbar swinging in his hand as he approaches you, “you're the one who likes to be tied up. Not me.”

“You,” you glare at him. Why is he here? Did he follow you? Fucking hell. It was him who didn’t want to open up, who didn’t want- whatever was going on between you. So you left, because having him so close and him keeping you so far away was slowly killing you.

“Did you miss me, officer?”

“You.. you followed me.” Why has he done that? What was the point? So he could keep stringing you along?

“Just happened to be in town. Thought I'd say hi,” what an asshole. It’s definitely so he can keep stringing you along. He's getting closer. And all you can think is that you moved here to get away from him. He clouds your judgment, makes you stupid and pliable and you're so fucking happy to see him.

“Right, so it's just a coincidence that you're here then?” You try to sound like you don't believe it, but he just keeps getting closer.

“Why are you here? I thought this was Nightwings turf?” you step back, needing distance to keep your head on straight.

“That why you ran away?” He's almost on top of you now, with every step you take back he takes two forward, “think you could hide behind him?”

“No, I.. I didn't.” fuck, he’s so close now. You can smell the sweat of his long night and that faint hint of leather that always seems to follow him around.

“Didn't what officer? Want to hide or run away?” He steps right into your space, taking your wrist in his hand, pulling the gun away.

“That's-”

“What? Yours? We both know you aren't going to shoot me, don't we?”

Fuck, this should be easy you should be able to say no. To fight him, but you just- you really don't want to. “I won't shoot you,”

“There's my girl,” he coos, holstering the gun in his pants, “now, tell me. Did you really think you could hide from me?” His fingers slide under your jaw forcing you to look up at him.

“No,” you admit. You hadn't, not really. It was childish, but well- “I didn't think you'd care.”

“Care?” if you could see his face, he’d probably look confused. Instead the shiny red helmet stares down at you.

“I didn't think you'd notice I was gone,”

“I notice everything.” his thumb grazes along your jaw, “Even when my girl is flirting with her underlings.” his fingers tighten on your face, the lights in the helmet seem to stare you down.

Huh? What is he talking about? You barely get a chance to think about it. His massive strong hands wrap around you, lifting you up into him and pressing you into the wall. “Red!” You squeal, “what are you-?”

“I'm faster,” he says, taking off towards your apartment. You can only hold on for your life as he sprints down the street, then running up the fire escape. How does he know where you live? Probably the same way he knew where to find you when you moved. Why couldn’t he just let you be? Probably for the same reason you struggle to say no to him.

“Did you come all this way just to bring me home safely?” you joke, trying to ease the growing tension in your tiny apartment. He doesn't answer, instead he turns and walks back towards the window. Your brain is telling you to let him leave, that this is for the best. But your pussy aches more and more every second that you’re close to him. There is only one thing to do, you need him to stay and you know there is a sure way to bait him without spilling out your guts and feelings all over the floor in front of him. “I'm sure Nightwing could have done that."

He comes to an abrupt stop and if you could see his eyes through the helmet you're sure he'd be glaring at you. “Well, officer. I was just going to leave you alone,” he exaggerates extending his arms out, “seeing as you're so keen to be rid of me,” he kicks off his boots, “but after a comment like that,” his jacket goes, landing on the back of your couch, “maybe you DO need the reminder,” he rips off his belt, his body looming over you and his shiny red helmet staring you down.

You reach up, eager to take the helmet off, to kiss him. But he's faster, grabbing your hands in his one and holding them above your head.

“Ah, ah, ah. You know the rules.”

“Do I?” You tease, stepping back towards your bedroom, you hop kicking off your heels which make him much taller.

“Do you need a reminder?” His fingers toy with the line of your tie.

“Yes”

“I can do that.” His free hand grabs your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder, by your arms throwing you over his wide shoulder, your feet dangle in the air as a loud crack rings in your tiny apartment where he slaps you on the ass. “That's for what you did today,”

“What did I?”- he does it again.

“No back talk,” Smack. “I saw you,”

“Saw me what?” Red slaps you on the underside of your ass.

“Hitting on that idiot coworker of yours.”

“Grayson? Wait- how did you-”

“So you do know what I'm talking about,” two slaps land and you can feel yourself start to soak through your pants.

“he's just a friend, we were in the aca-” he kicks your bedroom door open.

“I don't care, just be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

Your room is pitch black as you step into it. Red almost trips over some of the boxes you still haven't unpacked as he enters, nearly dropping you. “There is nothing going on. We're just friends,”

“Listen to me,” he commands in the tone that makes your body quake, his fingers pulling at your tie forcing you to look up into the dim lights of his helmet, “the only words I want to hear from you are yes Red, please Red, thank you Red or our safe word. Ok?”

“Yes, Red, But-” his hand slaps your face and you get a shiver down your spine. Fuck, it's only been a few weeks since you moved but you realise how much you missed this, missed him.

“Stand there. Close your eyes. Do not look.” You give him a nod, disoriented about where you were in your room and without a light you can barely even see with your eyes open. Still, you clamp your eyes shut. You hear the clicking of your side lamp, the shuffling of something, but no matter how much your curiosity is peaked you keep your eyes squeezed shut.

“Ok, little officer. Open your eyes.” You peek one eye open, and the soft light nearly blinds you. He's thrown something over it, a scarf you think and it's done what he wanted. You're illuminated while he is swallowed in the shadows. A glimmer of red catches the light in the corner and you see his helmet sat on your side table. He's taken it off.

“Strip.”

“Yes, Red.” You start pulling at your buttons, your tie, trying your hardest to get everything off, until you hear a cough and your gaze is drawn up.

“Slower.”

“Yes, Red.” You take your time with each button, giving him a show while you slide off your blouse. Your fingers glide along each item on your belt, placing them carefully down before bending over from the front as you slip from your pants.

“These will come in handy,” Red reaches out, taking your handcuffs and twirling them around his finger, “come here,” his finger pokes out of the darkness summoning you towards him.

You crawl across the bed, hoping that maybe this will be the time you get a glimpse at his face. The darkness swallows you the closer you get to him, his hands wrap around your wrists, flipping you onto your back and clicking the cuffs on and around your steel bed frame. “Red? What are you-?”

“Can't have those little hands of yours wandering.”

“I wouldn't”

“No. One more thing little officer,” his hands slip over your hair, lifting your head up as you feel the soft silk of your tie wrap around your face. His sweat dripping down onto you as he presses his forehead onto yours. “You know you can’t see my face,”

“Yes, Red,” fuck you want to see him, to touch him. But it was always the main rule, you couldn’t touch him, couldn’t see his face. The only thing you really knew about how he looks is what you can feel. That his hands are rough when he takes those gloves off and his lips are softer than anything you’ve ever felt before.

“There's my good girl,” his breath fans your face and you feel his lips press into yours, his teeth latch onto your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. His calloused hands travel up your bare body, tugging and pulling at your skin.

“Please Red,” you arch yourself, pressing up into him. To feel more, to feel as much of him as you possibly can. His cold armor grazes your inner thigh as he climbs nearer and the chill makes you twitch.

“Did you miss me after you when you left, Sweetheart?” his fingers graze up your leg, “Did you take care of her while I was gone?”

“Yes Red, please” you wiggle your ass closer to his fingers, hoping to get him to touch you. It’s been so long. Too long. You couldn’t exactly find a suitable replacement or any replacement for the way Red made you feel or how hard he made you cum.

“I don’t think you have.” His fingers part you, scooping up your juice into his mouth. You moan at the sensation, letting out a huff at how quick the touch was, “tastes like she’s been neglected.”

“Red, I-”

“What is it? Couldn’t do it yourself Sweetheart? Those little hands not enough for you?” he says, closer than you expected. You feel his breath on your cheek, his fingers gently gliding through your pussy. “Need big bad Red to take care of you, don’t you little officer?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Red.”

“Good girl,” you feel his smile on your neck, soft kisses pressing into your skin, his thick fingers inside you. “Shit, you’re clenching so hard already. You need this, don’t you?”

“Please Red, Please,”

“That’s what I thought.” you turn your head, trying to find his lips. “What are you lookin for there?” he asks, pulling away. His hand holds your neck, tilting your head in what you assume is the direction of his face. “Do you want to kiss me? Is that what you want?”

“Ah huh,” you try to nod, but he’s got you firmly in his grasp.

“Tell me who you belong to”

“Red,”

“Again,”

“Red, please.” you plead, for a second before his lips meet yours. It’s gentle and fierce, a reclaiming. His fingers speed up pounding into you, while his tongue explores your mouth. You feel something nudging at your legs and the bed begins to shake. You don't give it too much thought, to be caught up in how sweet his kisses are and how good his fingers are fucking you. Faster, harder he goes until your almost crumbling in his hands.

You're so close, just a little more. But as your pussy starts to spasm, he takes his fingers from you. Swallowing your protests with his tongue and capturing your face with both hands so he can kiss you deeper. You press what you can of your body into him, needing more and more of him.

“You’re desperate for me aren’t you?”

“Yes, Red. Please. Yes,” you pull at your hands, the handcuffs clang and rattle on your bedframe, “Let me touch you,”

“You know the rules,” he tuts, drawing himself back away from you.

“Red? Where did you?”

“Still here, sweetheart,” his bare hand floats up your tummy, fingers pinching at your nipple. You hear something bang onto the floor and you can only assume it’s his armor. You squirm and writhe on the bed, the metal of the handcuffs biting into your wrists.

“Red, please.” you beg, kicking your legs up until you hear a soft chuckle to your left.

“You poor thing. You need more, more of me. Don’t you?” the low rumble of his voice whispers into your ear.

“Yes,”

“Then stop pulling on these,” his fingers loop through the inside of the handcuffs, “You're hurting yourself.”

“Sorry,”

“Don’t be, just be careful.”

“Yes, Red.” your hands drop and you wince at just how sore your wrists have become. Your head drops back onto the pillow and you try to relax, to ignore it.

Instead you’re surprised. The latch on the cuffs comes undone and calloused thumbs rub over the sore spots before soft kisses are pressed into your skin and places them above your head, “Promise me, you’ll keep your hands here,”

“Thank you, I promise,”

“Good girl. Hold onto the pillows if it helps just-”

“No touchie, I know.”

“Good. Now spread your legs for me Sweetheart.”

His thickness, parts you. Swiping and collecting all your juices on his cock, “Please, stop teasing.”

“You teased first. Now it’s my turn,” he continues to toy with you, pressing in just a bit before he pulls back. His forefinger rubs slow torturous circles over your clit. His other hand presses your leg back until it’s at your chest. “You’re making such a mess, dripping onto your nice clean sheets Sweetheart,”

“Sorry Red,”

“Don’t be sorry. I love it. Are you ready for me?”

“Yes,”

“Beg for it.”

“Please, please Red. I need it, need you,”

“Tell me it’s mine,”

“Yes. Yours, all yours. All of me, whatever you want,” your head starts to spin with pleasure and anticipation, “Please fuck me,”

“No, need to be dramatic,” he thrusts fully inside you, grinding his cock into your pussy. His hand tightens on your thigh, digging in so fucking delightfully as he releases a deep breath, “I fucking missed you,” he leans over pressing your leg down further and pushing himself deeper. His mouth finally reaches yours and you just can’t help the way you react.

Your hands fly into his hair, holding him close. His hair is so soft, longish and curly as it twines through your fingers. You snag his lip between your teeth sucking on them so he can’t tell you to stop. You moan into his mouth, delighted that even if you get nothing else tonight, you got this. Got to touch him even if it's his hair, just for a second.

“Now, now, little officer,” he pulls back, taking your hands in his, “Keep those up here. I won’t tell you twice.” he thrusts into you, holding your hands in his. You wish you could see his face, touch it, touch his skin with your hands.

“Sorry, I just-”

“I know you want to touch me. I just- You won’t like it,”

“Please, I can’t see. Just- just this one time.”

“And if I tell you to stop?”

“Then I will stop,”

“You may touch my hair,”

“Thank you Red,” your hands move slowly, reaching up to where you assume his head is. You twirl a stray curl around your finger, pushing it from his face. “Thank you,”

“Since you’ve got a hand in my hair,” his fingers twine through the front of your hair, tugging your face up to meet him so he can kiss down the column of your neck, your collar bone, your shoulder. His teeth sink in every few seconds, before his tongue lathes over the marks.

The sting zings through your body and down into your pulsing clit. You pussy pulses and Red's cock throbs in response. “I can feel you getting close,” he picks up his rhythm on your clit, his hands tightening on your thigh and in your head. The pain of his harsh grip increases your pleasure, “harder, please harder,” you moan, finding your mouth meeting the hard lines of his shoulder. You press your lips into it gently, sucking down on his soft skin. Fuck, you've never gotten to feel this much of him before.

“I need you to cum for me. Please. Sweetheart.” he pants in your ear, his hot breath fanning down your neck. “I’m so fucking close,” you arch up, rising to meet his deep and hard thrusts. He hits that spot right inside you and fireworks start behind your eyes. Your body shakes and quivers and he’d see your eyes roll back into your head if it wasn’t for the dark and the blindfold. You release a series of moans, cries and plea’s for more and more. His name desperately falling from your lips like it’s the only word you know.

“Yes, that’s it. Give it- Give it all to- Me Ahh, Fuck. Yes. Like that,” he moans when you tug on his hair, “Just like that.” his thrusts start to stutter, his breathing ragged. “I’m- I’m - Fucckkk” he presses in deep, his cum filling your pussy up with every gyration of his hips.

“I missed you,” you sigh, as he lays down atop you. His face pressing into the crook of your neck. You rake your hands through his hair gently, noticing that a bit at the front feels coarser from the rest. Probably from the helmet you guess.

“Could you-” he whispers, his breath ragged and hoarse. His fingers find yours in his hair. Slowly he guides them down to his cheek, “Here,”

“Like this,” you ask, brushing your hand from his strong jawline, up his sharp cheekbones and to the small scar on his eyebrow. Your hand moves slowly as your nails graze his face, “is this ok?”

“Perfect,” a silence fills the room. You keep quiet, not willing to jeopardize whatever has come over him, that's allowing you to touch him.

“Why did you leave me?” His voice is soft and almost scared. You wish you could see him, to reassure him somehow, in another way.

“I-”

“You.” you feel him move, rolling to your side, he reaches behind you and you peek your eyes open. The light from the room floods through your tie. You can’t see, but you know he's got the light on you.

“It wasn’t enough.”

“I wasn’t enough,” the sound of defeat echoes in his voice. You feel the bed bounce, like he's moving. You throw your arms out into the air, hoping that your able to grab him. Thankfully, dude is massive.

“Stop. That’s not what I meant.” you sit up, latching onto what you think is his hand. “Are you there?”

“I’m still here.”

“What I mean is. I know your job is scary. I know you're not exactly one of those guy's that worships the Bat either. But, I just-” You sigh, your hand creeps up his arm, making a beeline for his face, “It’s always like this. We have a good time and you leave and I need more.”

“More what? Money? Sex? I can do that.”

“No. I don’t- You’re not getting it.” you shake your head, “I just want you. That’s all I ever wanted and I knew it wouldn’t happen.”

“So you left me,”

“No. I left for me. Because this- we could never be more than this. You don’t want that and it’s not fair for me to push it on you. So I left.”

“What if I did want more? What if these last few weeks without you nearly killed me and I-”

“You won’t even let me look at you Red. I don’t even know your name. Look it’s- It is what it is. This has to be the last time though. Because leaving the first time nearly broke me. So just go, so I don’t have to watch.” You feel those tiny pieces of your heart start to fall again, you had left without saying goodbye because you knew it would be awful and somehow this was a million times worse.

You nearly jump out of your skin when a calloused finger wipes the tears from your cheek. “Oh my little officer,” his fingers drift up and you freeze. Your heart all but stopping as his fingers graze the bottom of your blindfold.

“This isn’t-” you clamp your eyes shut as your feel the fabric start to shift upwards, “You don’t have to,”

“I want to.” his lips brush across your eyelids, “Just- don’t freak out?”

“Why are you some kind of ogre?” you giggle but it sounds strained, “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure about you. Open your eyes for me sweetheart.”

You blink, then again. Your eyes blurry for a moment before he comes into view. His eyes are the first thing you notice, fuck. They're so blue, worry written in them like it's all he's ever know and there's something else, something deeper, like a fear that has been burned into his eyes.

You register the scar next, it almost slices through his left eyebrow and makes him look super badass. It looks old and new, like something brutal must have happened. Bringing your hands up, you brush your fingers over the hard lines of his face. Your eyes dart up, when a stray white curl falls into his face, “You’re beautiful,” your voice so soft, you're not even sure he hears you. But he leans into your touch, his soft stubble grazing your palm. “Are you ok with this, Red?”

“Hmm.” his eyes flash open, “Jason,”

“Right, Jason. So what now?”

“For right now. Can’t we just, I dunno. Be? And worry about the semantics in the morning?”

“If that's what you need. Come here.” you lay back, twirling his curls through your fingers when he lays down on your chest, “Just don’t be gone when I wake up ok.”

“You’re stuck with me, Sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

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