#He literally fought untill his hands bled

[nichirinpen]

A Through Z with Gojo Satoru

Gojo Satoru x Reader

can also be read here on AO3

Word Count: 32,359

Synopsis: Snippets of your life as it is turned upside down by Gojo Satoru

Warnings: AFAB reader descriptions, Smut, penis in vagina sex, vaginal penetration, cunnilingus

Annoyance

If anyone were to ask Gojo how he felt about you, his personal assistant, he would answer, “An annoyance.”

It wasn’t your anxiety talking, it was something he said out right and frequently. The man’s tone cared an edge, his disdain dripping from every word when he was forced to acknowledge your existence. He held nothing back, often spitting out his annoyance when you were just a few paces away from him. Gojo Satoru hated you and he made sure to let you know at every moment. It was a wall between the two of you, a silent fire that he stoked to keep you at an arm's length. 

You couldn’t blame him, you weren’t exactly the best assistant. Asthmatic, out of shape from your previous office job, and no ability whatsoever to fight cursed spirits. The man frequently snapped at you as you trailed behind him, wheezing and clutching whatever new cramp had developed. Even with his eyes hidden you could see the irritation that bled from them. 

“Fucking annoying.” was a phrase you were used to, the words merely making your shoulders slump.

An annoyance was the perfect way to describe you if you were being totally honest with yourself. By all rights, a person like you shouldn’t exist.

Up until your late 20’s, you had lived a normal life. The highschool to college to office job pipeline was one you fell into with ease. It had been a decision made for you and you hadn’t fought it. After all, the society you lived in was simple: go to school, get a job, get married, have kids and then die. There were no cursed spirits, no gorgeous men with nasty tempers. Just a 9 to 5 and a small apartment. It wasn’t an exciting life, but it was simple enough and you were happy.

Until one morning, on a walk to work that should have been just 17 minutes in the winter chill everything changed. It was a walk you took every day with no issue. Despite being late you had been in a good mood, fully excpecting the lecture from your boss, then a smile and an offer of coffee to start the day. But the fates had other ideas and a car slipped on a patch of ice. Later you would find out it was a curse’s doing. A true, wrong place, wrong time moment. Had you been on time, you would have read about the incident, shaken from the possibility of being injured but forgetting it within days. 

Waiting at a red light, you had been too close to the street, not really paying attention to your surroundings. Habit, being too comfortable, is what pulled you from your normal life.

You had heard the car before you saw it, the screeching whine at first confusing you. And then it hit you, literally. The side of the car swiped you with enough force to send you into the light pole you had been waiting beside. Your head had slammed into the cold metal, the odd metallic sound of bone and metal clashing ringing in your ears. 

For a moment your vision went black and in the few seconds that it took for you to regain your senses, the barrier between being a human and being a jujutsu sorcerer fell. 

You had been thrown onto your back and when you sat up, fingers shakily swiping at the blood dripping into your eyes, hell had erupted. At least that's what it looked like. 

You had blinked, head throbbing as you faintly tried to decide if you had died or if you were still unconscious. Twisted, demonic shapes filled the streets of Tokyo. Some small, others absolutely massive. A majority of the writhing forms you could see congregated on the car that had hit you. The vehicle had been stopped by another light pole, dark smoke spilling from the crumpled hood.

You couldn’t tell if the driver was alright, too many shapes writhed around the car for you to see. They whined and howled, a cacophony that drilled into your aching head. Hand pressed to the cut on your forehead, you had blinked once, then twice, hoping that clearing the blood from your eyes would perhaps make the accident look normal. 

No such luck. 

If anything it seemed to bring more of the creatures into existence. They swelled and twisted, bloated and broken bodies clamoring about like living disease. To your horror many peeled away from the crashed car, latching onto the horrified and frantic bystanders. No one reacted to them, not when twisted hands and rotten mouths touched flesh. You had watched horrified as several of the creatures latched onto passersby, invisible parasites being whisked away as their new hosts ran for help.

One of the demons had turned, perhaps it was your unwavering gaze or perhaps it was the low huffed moans you had been letting out. Broken ribs tended to do that to a person. Either way it had darted past the many other people on the street, eyes locked on your pale and sweaty face.

You had scrambled backwards, hands scraping on the cold pavement as the twisted and dark form suddenly scrambled towards you with an enraged howl.

It was like a person made of oil slicked bramble. There was no face to speak of, the creature’s body ended in a strange hook shape where the neck was. But somehow it knew where you were. Twisted and thorny, it moved with a speed that was difficult to comprehend.

You had tensed, prepared to die as one tangled mess of a hand reached out. 

And the world froze, all of the demonic creatures flickering out of existence for a few seconds before time seemed to move again. The pause confused the demon, keeping it still, warily glaring a few feet away from you. And then it darted forward again, its howl somehow more enraged.

The hand it had been reaching for you with never made it, the demon’s body obliterated as Gojo Satoru appeared before you, wild eyed and angry.

Null. 

That’s the name the higher ups had chosen for your ability. You had been dragged, still bleeding to a dank room in an archaic building in Tokyo. Dizzy and barely standing, you let the white haired man do as he please. After all, he had cleared the street of those demons. Who were you to argue with this powerful stranger?

Gojo had been practically thrumming, your existence bothering him so deeply that he didn’t bother with teasing the old heads of the council that oversaw matters within jujutsu society. He had tossed you with little regard on to the floor in front of the confused and annoyed council.

The man, with all the venom in the world, had demanded your immediate execution. Your ability hadn’t just affected the cursed spirits. It had an effect on EVERYONE. From Sendai to Kyoto, all sorcerers within that radius had suddenly lost all use of their curse energy and abilities. Even the powerful Gojo Satoru, his limitless was made useless, his six eyes gone. For just a moment the world was normal. 

Your version of normal.

It had been terrifying for all involved, only Gojo having the wherewithal to pinpoint exactly where you were the second your ability had stopped.

Thankfully, more so for you than him, you had been spared. The man had scoffed harshly at the council's denial, teeth grinding together as they barked their rational at him.

The council, as scared of your ability as they were, appointed you as Gojo’s assistant. Your ability could stop him, they had murmured. If he ever went off the rails, defied them, started a war, you alone could stop him.

The unspoken part was that if you had to, if it came to that, they expected you to kill him.

Sadly, you would also became an annoyance to the council. 

You could see all levels of spirits, feel them before they appeared to an extent, but you couldn’t fight. Placing a curtain over a fight was beyond you. And you hadn’t been able to activate the ability since that first day. So you trailed the most powerful sorcerer in Japan as the most useless sorcerer in existence.

Bathroom 

The day had been a bust. You had woken up hoping beyond hope that it would be a good day. Sure everyday meant trailing after an irritated Gojo, but that didn’t mean it had to be bad. Two months in and you had been doing better, he wasn’t as nasty as he had been in the beginning. Still not a peach, but it was an improvement.

But of course you were wrong. It was like Gojo and the universe were in horrible synch, tormenting you for existing. 

He had dragged you from mission to mission, the glare hidden behind his blindfold practically burning a hole in your skull. The man had been in a particularly bad mood today, teeth grinding as he eradicated spirit after spirit with extreme malice. 

You had done the usual, sitting a ways away from the fight, watching it nervously and dodging the odd cursed spirit part that was flung your way.

The nicest part of the day, if you could consider it as such, was the two bites you had taken of lunch. Ramen from a nice mom and pop shop that had been near the cursed site. It had tasted a bit like home, the warm noodles practically melting on your tongue. Of course, you enjoying anything was illegal.

Gojo had stormed into the shop, slapping cash down before tugging you outside. You hadn’t even had time to protest, the man teleporting the two of you to the next mission site immediately.

You stood, aching under a hot stream of water, wanting it to wash away the deep well of sadness that tugged at your chest. The best part of your days anymore was the shower after a mission. It was depressing to acknowledge, but if you were being honest with yourself, it wasn’t much different when you had worked in the office. The main difference was no one hated you in the office and now you had a 6’3” man who wanted to make sure you knew he hated you.

The after work shower was always necessary, less a treat and more so because you had to. Gojo made a point to ensure cursed spirit guts and blood hit you as he fought. You had seen him fight clean and knew he could do it with every fight if he wanted to. But the man persisted with his childish antics, allowing blood to spray your way. Honestly, you had stopped caring. For you the baths and showers were more than just getting clean. It was also using the burning water to wash away the depressing feelings Gojo left in your skin.

Jujutsu High was more than just the school it professed to be. It was a veritable labyrinth, filled with classrooms, dorms, various places to eat and your favorite part, the showers. 

You never went to the one closest to your room. There was always a student either going in or leaving and they all had bad habits of not knocking despite the very clear sign outside the private bathing stall.

So you had asked Nanami Kento where he showered. The man had shown you a shower room meant just for the teachers. Large with 3 wide shower stalls and one massive communal bath, it was incredibly different from the cramped student bathrooms. If you hadn’t been in the school, you would have assumed it was part of an onsen.

It was rarely used, Nanami had explained, most of the staff preferring to go home. But it was well stocked and more importantly, private. The tall blonde had shot you a pitying look as the realization hit you that Gojo had intentionally not told you about it.

You were already stuck living in a dorm room, certain curse users having put a bounty on your head a month into being Gojo’s assistant. And you were stuck being tormented at ‘home’ as well.

Shaking your head you chased the thoughts from your head, staring up at the shiny shower head and the steam collecting in the air above you. Grabbing your shampoo bottle, you generously began to scrub, massaging your scalp, wincing as the soap hit the few scrapes you had managed to get. Despite your best effort, you occasionally were dragged into fights, much to Gojo’s annoyance. 

‘Damsel in Distress’ was a troupe you rarely enjoyed in media and yet here you were, being carried about by your ‘hero’ half the time.

Steam filled your lungs and you sighed, letting yourself relax beneath the warm stream of water. It was peaceful after the missions. No Gojo, just you and silence. 

Of course, the moment you thought that, the peace was shattered.

“There you are.” 

You let out a high scream, heart leaping into your throat. Whirling around you let out a noise of intense frustration. Gojo stood, one hand pushing the shower curtain aside as he gave you a very irritated look. His blindfold was gone, but he still had his gross blood slicked clothing on. It dripped onto the pale tile, rivulets sliding across the floor towards your feet. You shifted to avoid it, shivering at the cool air that was pushing past the warm steam you had been enveloped in. Bright blue eyes flicked over your form, narrowing slightly as his scowl deepened.

You clasped your hands over your chest as best you could, thighs pressed as tightly together as you were able. Anger filled your chest, burning hot as you struggled with what to do. Face red and heart thundering in your head you sputtered out a small indignant noise, too shocked to form words. 

“Relax. You have the last pair of tits I ever wanted to see.” 

You tried not to be hurt by his tone and his nasty words, instead opting to snap back and ask what he needed. 

“Yaga wants us to go to a stupid dinner tonight. Some idiot bigwig is gathering some of the clans for a chat.”

“Ooookayyy.” You dragged out the world, narrowing your eyes at him as you waited for whatever catch or cruel trick he would throw at you. Gojo said nothing, silently watching you with his stupid intense blue eyes. The long forgotten shampoo in your hair ran in sudsy rivulets down your chest and you blinked as a bit dripped into your eyes.

“Is that all?” The water beat down on your back, the warm steam tickling your nose slightly. You swiped one hand across your brow, flicking the soap from your face.

“You’re in my shower.” He had the gall to look upset. Gojo Satoru who you knew for a FACT had a penthouse apartment. The man had assigned you the smallest dorm room, purposefully didn’t tell you about the staff shower room and was now scowling at you like a 10 year old. 

“It’s the school’s.” You answered tightly, brow furrowing as you let your arms fall from your chest. If he was going to act childish then so were you. He scowled at that, mouth parting to snap at you. One hand on your hip, you gestured at the pale brown tile about you.

“This. This is your shower?” You let out an irritated huff, silently satisfied as his eyes narrowed, mouth snapping shut with a click as he bit back whatever comment he had. 

“You choose the school’s communal bath over your penthouse?”

“Not your fucking business.” The man snapped back, taking a step forward. Gojo was mad, you could see it in the lines of his body. He didn’t seem to notice the water seeping into his uniform, nor how his hair flopped about his eyes. His irritation was too strong.

“Noted.” You snapped back, turning and standing under the warm water again. Ignoring him seemed the best course of action. Your own blood was boiling and you would rather not find out what happens when one smacks Gojo Satoru in the face.

He remained for a moment, cursed energy practically choking you, before he teleported away. Your knees hit the tile, hands shaking as you swept wet hair from your face. 

Gojo Satoru would be the death of you. 

Cake

Gojo liked sweets. You had found out accidentally five months into the job. On a mission with you, Megumi had made an off-handed comment about his upcoming birthday. The boy was turning 14 and had shrugged at your surprise. The age of Jujutsu sorcerers always surprised you, they seemed too young to be fighting such nasty battles.

Regardless, you had latched onto it, making a mental note for yourself. Unlike Gojo, the boy was kind to you. He had sighed when you asked him why, stating that you were just doing your job and Gojo was having a tantrum. 

So you made a cake. You wouldn’t be able to see him for his actual birthday, the kids had winter break and the boy had mentioned going home for that break. So you made it a few weeks beforehand, feeling only a little weird about it.

Fighting cursed spirits was worse in winter. Sure you were just watching, but the cold seemed to invigorate the creatures. They seemed to thrive more in the snow, bigger ones becoming more active.

Holidays Megumi had told you. He hadn’t bothered elaborating, offering you a shrug in answer when you probed. You knew he had a difficult home life. No parents, a sick sister and apparently an irresponsible guardian. What little he confided in you, the guy sounded like a massive child.

“I’m surprised you bought a cake.” Nanami stepped in front of you, pushing the door open. You thanked him as you stepped through, balancing the cake case as carefully as you could. The small dessert had come out perfectly. A small two layer vanilla cake with coconut icing and fresh strawberries. You had gone the extra step, using chocolate icing to shakily write out ‘happy birthday’ and cover the strawberries with a light drizzle. Not as pretty as what one might get from a bakery, but you were proud of it.

“I made it actually.” You smiled at the raised eyebrow, the tall blonde looking at the cake as the two of you walked the hall to the teacher’s lounge. It was unusually quiet, a distinct lack of students made the hallways seem bigger. Not that there were many students, they just always had a habit of being around. 

“And why is it a surprise? Megumi is such a mopey kid. I thought he might need a little cheering up.”  You continued, stopping before the lounge room door. Nanami stopped in his tracks, a low ‘ah’ leaving his lips.

“What?” You frowned as he pushed the door open, ushering you inside. The look he gave you was pure pity, the man gesturing to a pile of files scattered across all desks.

“The students were sent on a mission.” He paused, adjusting his glasses as he stared down at you.

“And today is December 7th.”

Nanami gave you the date as if it should mean something. You shuffled over to Gojo’s desk, setting the cake down before looking over the curse Megumi had been sent after. It was a low level that looked to be more of an annoyance than anything. 

“Ok well he can have some when he’s back.” You placed a hand on your hip, flipping through the other files. Apparently Gojo had some missions as well and had decided not to have you join. You had a feeling it would get you in trouble with the council and sighed.

Nanami stood before you, one hand on his desk. For once the stoic man had an emotion other than pity plastered across his face. He looked amused.

“Today is Gojo’s birthday.” 

You stared at him, the file in your hand slipping back onto the desk as your hands went limp.

“Really?”

Nanami offered a nod, snatching a file from his desk before turning to leave. He paused at the door, looking back at your stunned face.

“And all the students won’t be back today. Some sort of holiday get-together is planned before the break.”

You stared down at the cake, a mixture of dread and exasperation churning in your stomach. The universe really did hate you. Perhaps your real cursed technique was shit luck for you and you alone.

With a sigh, you snagged the files off of Gojo’s desk, stomping over to the small couch in the room. Some reading would do you good. If Gojo wasn’t going to teach you about cursed spirits then you would figure it out yourself.

Part of you wanted to just go home, but you knew that meant risking Gojo teleporting into your room without warning. Last time he had done so while you were on the toilet and you did NOT need a repeat of that.

Curling up with the files, you sighed as you opened the first one. You had to hand it to Ijichi, he really made an effort to make the files as neat as possible. The details were just enough, keeping the sorcerers informed without needless clutter. And he always managed to order items from most important to least, it made it easier to filter out the low grade curses Gojo typically ignored and sent the students after. Even if he didn’t find them important you still liked reading about them. 

The curses Gojo fought were sometimes too much in both power and appearance. 

Since starting this job you had been plagued by nightmares. The horrid twisting forms each appearing in your sleep, taunting and chasing you with howls that stilled the blood. While still dangerous, some of the curses the students went after were at least goofy looking. It made for an amusing read. 

You let out a small sigh, trying to shake the cold fear that was always lurking in your veins. Flipping open the top most file you scanned it with a frown.

Today Gojo had apparently gone after a special grade. That was his usual assignment. You personally hated them. Your ability allowed you to see them in full as well as feel their energy to an extent. Special grades didn’t like you just as much as Gojo as they couldn’t hide from you. 

If you had to describe it, being around a special grade was like being dunked in ice cold syrup that weighed several tons. It was hard to move around them, breathing sometimes became painful. Paralyzing. Gojo usually dispatched them quickly so the discomfort never lasted long. But even a second of the feeling was enough to make you want to run for the hills and never step foot in Tokyo again.

If only. 

You jumped slightly as the man you were thinking of suddenly blinked into existence. His blindfold in one hand, Gojo shot you a glance before turning to his desk and sitting with a huff. He tossed the blindfold aside, pausing as he noticed the cake. You focused on the files in front of you, trying not to look as he inspected the small pastry. 

As much as you wanted to find the students and give them the cake, you knew by the time you did it would be ruined. So luckily for Gojo, he was getting the treat despite your quiet dislike of him. 

You slid your gaze slowly back to the man, eyes narrowing as he leaned in and tapped the cake case with one finger nail.

Gojo’s hair was down for once, his white locks messy in a way that looked good. He was a handsome man, you weren’t blind to his good looks. The light seemed to dance in his hair no matter where he was, as if the world were extenuating his beauty. It was almost irritating how perfect he always looked, even sweat covered and bloodied. 

You watched as Gojo opened the cake case, the man giving it a suspicious sniff before letting out a noise of surprise. He opened one of the desk drawers, pulling a fork from the confines. You blinked at that, files forgotten on your lap as you watched him eat.

Up until today, Gojo had always been rough. Nasty and blunt with you to the point that you didn’t think he knew how to smile.

But as he took the first bite, you watched a stranger step into his skin. Gojo smiled to himself, blue eyes inspecting the cake as he chewed on the first bite. His eyes practically danced, the smile on his face so wide you thought it might break. The man let out a small moan, stuffing another bite in his mouth as he dragged a finger through the icing. 

Your face went red as he licked the digit, the act surprisingly sexual. He paid you no mind, the man licking a strawberry before popping it into his mouth.

You were in shock, frozen on the couch as he smiled and devoured the entire thing in one sitting. Within 5 minutes flat, the man had cleaned the plate, not a scrap of icing or chocolate left behind.

You sat, mouth partially agape as he sat back, patting his stomach with a satisfied smile. Gojo caught your eye and the smile faltered.

“Megumi brought that in?” He asked. For some reason you couldn’t speak, shock still lingering in your chest. Finally you shook your head slowly, sitting up straighter as you addressed him.

“Uh no. I made that.”

Gojo ran his tongue over his teeth, blue eyes unreadable as he looked at you and then the empty cake plate.

“Oh.”

You hummed at that, gaze shifting to your hands. The air that hung between you two was awkward. Gojo seemed to be fighting between giving into his natural hatred for you and admitting he liked the cake. You waited quietly, squirming under his gaze.

“That was good.” 

Your gaze snapped up at that, a small smile making its way onto your lips. Gojo let out a small huff, annoyance flashing across his face again before it settled into a more familiar expression. 

“I like sweets on other days as well.” He scratched his cheek, gaze shifting to one of the files you had left on his desk. You snorted that, standing and carrying the other files over to him.

“Is that your way of asking for me to bake more for you?”

Gojo narrowed his eyes as he looked up at you. Snatching the files from your hand, he tossed them to the side. You leaned against the desk, refusing to back down.

The air between you two had shifted. Somehow the small cake had changed things. It wasn’t as tense, Gojo looked more relaxed.

“Maybe.” He snatched his blindfold off the desk, slipping in over his eyes before tilting his head in your direction.

“Will you be nicer to me?” It was pushing it but you had an opportunity you couldn’t let get away.

The man considered it for a moment, swiping a hand through his hair before nodding.

“I will.”

You beamed at that, feeling as though you had finally won somehow. Gojo smiled, before waving you away.

“Take the rest of today. I’ll finish up here.”

You were happy to oblige, practically bouncing your way to the door. Pausing in the doorway you flashed another smile at Gojo.

“Happy birthday.”

For some reason he flushed, turning his head away. 

“Whatever.” 

DDR

Gojo Satoru liked the arcade. Had you been told that when you first started, you would have assumed it was a lie. But having worked with him for over nine months, you knew different. Gojo was a complex man. He held an odd grudge against you. But once it began fading, you notice that for the most part, he was a rather obnoxious individual when he was around his students. 

Being dragged to an arcade after a mission was the last thing you wanted and you knew Inumaki and Yuta were exhausted.

“Just shut up.” Gojo had laughed, swiping a credit card as the arcade employee slid three game cards across the counter. You noted that the boys each got one and you were the odd duck out. 

The teenagers trudged off, both of them looking equally defeated. No doubt much like yourself, they had been expecting to be able to go home and sleep.

“You’re with me.” Gojo crooked his finger at you, marching across the arcade with a smile on his face. The smile was suspicious, but you shoved that feeling away. Gojo seemed to be making an effort to be nicer so you would accept it with as a little suspicion as possible.

You followed him, dodging the odd child here and there. Even in the dim and over stimulating arcade, he stood out. The bright neon lights flashed, colors reflecting in his snowy hair as he passed machine after machine. You were surprised when Gojo passed all the fighting games, sports games and instead went to the brightly flashing game near the back.

“DDR?” You asked incredulously as he stepped on the metallic dance pad. The man shot you an excited smile, swiping the game card. You watched as he tugged a second card from his pocket, swiping that as well.

“Gojo we just fought a special grade.”

The man tugged you onto the metal pad, jabbing the buttons on the machine. You watched as he scrolled through songs, his free hand tugging his blindfold off and shoving it in his pocket.

“Correction, Yuta fought. You sat on your ass.”

You decided not to point out that Gojo also did nothing. The man was having a rough time. Megumi’s sister had fallen into a coma. No one could explain it and no amount of money could fix the issue. You knew Gojo felt responsible, he was the one taking care of them after all.

So you complied, waiting as he picked a song. Gojo was kind, encouraging you to start as a beginner as he selected the highest level for himself.

DDR was difficult. But it was also fun.

You found yourself, sweating and breathless after just one song. But laughing. Gojo cleared each song perfectly, the man starting another round before you could register you two had finished the final song.

Wheezing, you placed your hands on your knees, watching as he scrolled through the selection. He seemed happy, truly happy. You could tell that he wasn’t thinking about the council, Tsumiki or curses. 

Was this what he was like before? You wondered, straightening as he selected the next song. No one had bothered to fill you in on the past. It wasn’t important for your job function. But you had heard snippets. Gojo had almost died, he had somehow lost his best friend and someone had died. There was a complex web spun between all of the sorcerers you worked with that occasionally spilled over into the student’s lives. You saw it affecting how the professors each acted, all of them trying to keep their students from repeating the mistakes from the past.

As the next song began, your train of thought dissolved. Gojo was insane, out of the corner of your eye you saw how fast he was moving, the man barely winded. You on the other hand, were very winded. Despite being on the easier level, Gojo seemed to be picking songs that were difficult regardless. But it was still fun.

2 plays became 3 then 4 and then another, time blending together as you kept playing.

“I DID IT!” You clapped excitedly, the screen finally reflecting back a ‘Full Combo’. An excited laugh left your mouth as Gojo suddenly lifted you, twirling for a moment. You clung to his shoulders, breathless and beaming.

He placed you back down, bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he flashed you a massive grin.

“Again?”

You nodded eagerly, telling yourself the pounding of your heart was due to the dancing and not because how close he had been.

Exhaustion 

You paced the room, teeth scraping at the skin of your thumb. Anxiety churned violently in your stomach, making you nauseous. Faintly you could feel the presence of cursed energy, they were all fighting. Gojo, Yuta, that Todo kid, Nanami, all of their energy flickered in your range of awareness. There were others. Cursed spirits and curse users. A more sickly energy that felt like snot against your soul.

“Stay inside”’ Gojo looked serious, long fingers digging into your shoulders as he shook you. His eyes were locked on your face and you winced as his grip tightened. There was an intensity in his gaze that had unsettled you. His grip was painful and your own hands had come up, grasping his wrists.

“Do you understand me?”

You had nodded, shaking slightly as you promised you would stay. Gojo had turned to leave, then turned back, one hand already slipping the blindfold over his eyes.

“No matter what you feel, stay put.” 

You had known what he meant. This command was going against the council. They had demanded you stay at Gojo’s side, no matter how risky the mission might be. And for the most part you had been, save when Gojo was at home. But not now, not when he looked so serious.

At least you were stuck somewhere nice. Gojo had silently handed you the keys to this small apartment just a month ago. The man had looked annoyed when you thanked him, half heartedly snapping he’d take them back. You knew it was his way of apologizing for his earlier behavior. He had furnished it himself according to Megumi, the boy nodding when you had given him an incredulous look.

You let out a sigh, flopping onto the plush couch. Light gray and made of a soft material, it was nicer than anything you previously owned. You ran your nail along the seams, trying to ignore the cursed energy that twisted in the edges of your mind. It was like listening to music two apartments over. Loud enough to keep your attention but never loud enough to actually make out the sound. You were worried, still new to the jujutsu world and with no way to help. Practically a baby compared to even the students. All you could do was watch and hope.

There was a sudden swell and your head snapped up, eyes searching the night sky outside the large living room window. Yuta’s cursed energy was loud, drowning out the others you felt. You shivered at the intensity, frozen on the couch, barely daring to breathe.

And then the world was quiet. It was worse. So much worse than the cacophony of fighting. 

Did they all die? You wondered faintly, sliding off the couch to start pacing again. Did they win?

Time stretched on, the world silent as the minute ticked by. Minutes become hours and still you paced, fingers nervously twisting together. You were so exhausted, wanting sleep, but unable to do so until you knew that everyone was ok. A glance into the kitchen told you it was past 2am, the dull light of the microwaves digital clock blinking sleepy at you.

The familiar soft movement of air signifying that Gojo had arrived had you spinning around, wide eyes searching his face. 

He looked tired and beyond that, Gojo looked defeated.

“Are they ok?” You fought the panic welling in your throat, stepping closer to the man and grabbing one of his sleeves. Megumi and Yuta’s energy had been strong, but that final burst by Yuta had you worried. Gojo nodded once, blue eyes locked on the floor. Your chest felt tight and you stared up at his face, trying to read the sadness that lined his mouth.

“Nanami? Shoko?” Another nod, but the pit of anxiety didn’t dissolve. You swallowed thickly, trying to figure out why he looked so upset. Someone had died, but who?

Your question was answered almost as soon as you thought it, the man peeling his lips apart.

“My best friend is dead.”

You blinked, barely catching the words as they slid past his lips. Gojo had spoken so softly that at first you were sure you had heard wrong. But then a single tear welled in his eye, dangling from one long snowy lash before trickling down his cheek.

“Oh.” It was all you could get out, your arms coming up and wrapping the man in a hug. Shoko was fine, Nanami tolerated Gojo, so who had died?

A chill ran down your spine as a small almost forgotten thought swam to the forefront of your mind.

“Who is this?” You angled the photo album towards Shoko, finger tapping the dark haired man’s face. She glanced over her shoulder, clearly distracted. But then she paused, brow furrowing as she looked at the photo.

Your eyes went from her suddenly reserved expression back to the photo. It was clearly Shoko and Gojo as teens. They looked almost exactly the same if a tad younger. Gojo had an air of spoiled rich kid about him, something it seemed he had yet to grow out of. The man standing between them had a soft smile that didn’t reach his almost elegantly shaped eyes. His dark hair was loose. Thick locks spilling about his shoulders in a way you recognized not as carefree but as the lack of care that comes with depression.

“Suguru.” Shoko fished around in her coat, pulling a cigarette free and lighting it. You sat quietly, afraid to press her for further information. The album lay limp in your lap and you shifted slightly as the other woman drew close, flipping a page.

A different photo of the trio, all of them laughing. Genuine smiles that radiated from ear to ear. It was before the first photo you realized. Something had happened to them, changed the teens into the shells of the adults they would be one day.

Shoko stared at the photo for a moment, lost in thought as she looked at a snippet of the past. There was a hint of sadness in the lines around her eyes and mouth. Almost mournful as if she were looking at someone long dead.

“Don’t mention him to Gojo.” She finally stated, exhaled a long trail of smoke, leaning away and looking out the window. You nodded, glancing back at the photos, questions dancing in your mind. 

He was motionless and rigid in your embrace. A moment passed, then another. You held him, letting silence fill the apartment. Fingers digging into your sides, Gojo began to shake, silent sobs wracking his body. 

Gojo’s knees gave out and under his weight you crumpled to the carpeted floor with a small yelp. His arms slid around your waist, face pressing in the crook of your neck as he began sobbing. You lay beneath him, one hand petting his hair. It was uncomfortable, the hard floor pressing against your back and Gojo slotted between your thighs. The man was too tall you mused, gently patting his head as warm tears slid down the side of your neck.

His pain was ugly, choked sobs and half howls leaving his throat. He shook violently in your arms, chest heaving as he struggled with each breath.

You don’t know how long you lay there. All you knew was that the sun was starting to come up when his sobs eventually stopped. 

He sat up, eyes red rimmed and cheeks stained with tears. Gojo’s hair had blood in it you realized, the normally silky white a rusty brown in places.

“Can I use your shower?” The man didn’t acknowledge the crying session, the grief. You nodded quietly, showing him to the bathroom and handing him a new towel. There were no clothes you had that would fit him but you were sure he would be fine. 

And he was, the man emerging from the bathroom 20 minutes later, dressed in sweats and a fluffy sweater you could only assume he had teleported home for.

“Tired?” You asked, holding out your hand. He took it wordlessly, letting you lead him into the bedroom. Your bed was queen size and you hoped it would be enough space. It felt weird to worry about that as you tucked a man who was essentially your asshole boss into your bed. 

Gojo let you, burrowing under the covers much like a kid might.

Turning off the bedroom light, you muttered a curse and closed the blinds as well. It was past dawn now, you had been up for over 24 hours. 

Sliding under the covers, you squirmed for a moment until you were comfortably facing away from him, doing your best to give him space.

You didn’t know why he had come to you of all people. Out of everyone, you half expected Nanami or Ijichi to be above you on Gojo’s list of people he would go to for help. You supposed this was different. It was a moment of weakness to some. 

An arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer. You stiffened for a moment before allowing Gojo to spoon you. He was warm and smelled like your shampoo. 

“Is this alright?” 

You murmured that it was, trying not to squirm at the odd feeling of limitless buzzing against your skin. He let out a small sigh, warm breath tickling your neck.

Exhaustion set in quickly after. Between the stress of the day and the warmth of Gojo behind you, sleep took you in a matter of moments.

Fighting

You didn’t know why you had been tasked with watching the trio. Gojo had been dragged off on a business trip, the man telling you to accompany the kids on the next mission. You had pushed for anyone else to do so, ignoring Gojo’s teasing that you wanted to spend time with him. He was so casual about such a serious issue. 

A cursed womb was growing at the Eishu detention center. You could feel it from outside. It was a different energy than you were used to, one that slid beneath your skin and licked at your soul with a poison tongue. If Gojo was here, you would have been fine, this was a level of energy he could handle. But the trio?

Even with Sukuna woven into Yuji’s very being, you knew better than to trust the demon. He was powerful, sure. But you had a feeling he would rather watch all of you die than do anything as human as helping.

Ijichi looked as stressed as you felt. The man turned to you as the kids stumbled out of the car, fiddling with his glasses.

“Something’s off about this mission.” The small man looked pale, sweat standing out along the side of his face. You nodded, your gaze sliding over to Yuji. It wasn’t something you needed to voice out loud. Both you and Ijichi knew this mission was given to them in the hopes that the spirit would kill Yuji. A smaller and even less pleasant realization was this was a good way to also get rid of you. 

The council was never subtle. Each mission, each action taken by them so heavy handed that you wondered how any of them slept at night. What you didn’t like was the addition of Nobara and Megumi. You assumed that was the council just trying to add to Gojo’s mental anguish when this all went sideways.

“I’ll lower a curtain whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded, motioning to the trio. There was a small crowd outside the walls and as you passed, Yuji stopped suddenly, a woman grabbing his sleeve.

“Please, my son.” Tears streamed down her face, “Please his name is Tadashi.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach as Yuji reassured the woman. He was so optimistic, the boy had somehow maintained a kind soul despite Sukuna polluting his existence.

With a sigh, you nodded to Ijichi, heading inside with the trio.

Everything went wrong. Inside the jail had been twisted and changed. Despite you having made the decision to take the lead and be the adult in the situation, you had found yourself silent. There was an air inside the detention center that seemed to spread a poison to your very soul.  The prisoners were just as twisted as the building. Something had changed them, made them look no longer human. It smelled foul as well and you weren’t sure if it was the bodies or the spirit itself.

The kids had been arguing, distracted and everything had exploded into a flurry of movement. You had felt the spirit a second before it appeared. The small warning did nothing for you, the words had barely formed in your mind before one of Megumi’s demon dogs was killed.

Blood spattered the broken concrete and your warning slipped out, half formed.

“WATCH O-” 

You didn’t know what the FUCK that thing was but you wanted nothing to do with it. Nobara had gotten whisked away, you only managed to keep the boys together by grabbing their sleeves.

Almost immediately you regretted it, a part of you wished they had both been sent away and it was just you staring this creature down.

It smacked you, sending you flying across the room. Your back and ribs erupted in pain and you lay stunned, unable to breathe like a fish out of water.

The boys jumped into action, as futile as it was. They were yelling at each other, Yuji being adamant and loud over Megumi’s quieter retorts. You lay stock still, unsure what to do. Your ability had worked once, never manifesting in training despite Gojo’s many attempts to kill you. He never did of course, always stopping right before his punch or kick would land. And sure you had been shown basic combat. But while you were getting decent at it, without putting cursed energy into it, at most you could take down an average sized man. 

Not curses.

You blinked once and Yuji’s hand was lying next to you. Megumi was missing and you hoped it meant he had run.

“SENSEI RUN.” Yuji screamed, pummeling the creature with his one good hand. It pulled you back into the moment and you shuddered. Inaction clung to you, the cursed energy pressing into your skin, suffocating you. There was nothing you could do and utter despair filled you.

The curse sent Yuji flying, the boy breaking through the concrete wall behind you.

Then there was one. You dragged yourself upright, wheezing as your ribs protested. Strangely enough, the curse didn’t even spare you a glance, walking past you as if you didn’t exist.

You turned, staring after it as it headed straight for Yuji. There was a wave of curse energy, exploding out from the special grade. You were knocked back, air stolen from your lungs once again. Beneath the dull hum of energy and the ringing in your ears,  faintly you could hear Yuji screaming.

“Don’t wanna die! I DON’T WANT TO DIE.” 

The words stilled your heart and suddenly, the world was quieter. Like a hand was pressed over your ears, dulling the world. It was your ability, you weren’t sure how or why it activated and you didn’t care. 

Null was weaker this time, you could still see the curse and its energy was faintly pushing back against your own. Pushing yourself upright, you ran towards Yuji, praying Null would hold.

The boy had collapsed against one wall, his remaining hand shredded, fingers turned to broken nubs. He was shaking, panting as he threw you a bewildered look. There was a howl that resounded down the hallway, Megumi giving some sort of signal. You ignored it, hauling Yuji to his feet and tugging him past the curse.

Null was weakening and at your guess you had less than a minute.

“JUST RUN.” You snapped, pushing the boy again. Yuji opened his mouth to protest but you shoved him again.

The cursed energy was slowly growing back to its normal level. Fear and anxiety tangled in your stomach, the urge to flee overwhelming. But you were the adult in this situation. You had to buy Yuji time to flee.

“I’ve got it.” You shot him a smile that you knew didn’t reach your eyes, turning to face the curse. Yuji’s footsteps began to fade and you braced yourself as the special grade turned to face you.

It was confused. You were insignificant, barely giving any curse energy off. That’s why it had ignored you. At its glance you were nothing but a regular human, not worth a fight, not when that boy carrying the ultimate curse was around to absorb.  But there you were, suddenly sucking in all the cursed energy around you. Like a black hole.

The curse spirit was hesitant to approach you and that gave you time. You willed Null to come back, trying to recreate the panic that Yuji’s scream had created. Nothing happened.

In the moment when you did nothing, the spirit’s hesitation dissolved.

It was before you in a second, one large hand whipping out and smacking into your chest. 

There was a second where you realized you were flying into a wall and then darkness took you.

When you awoke the first thing you registered was pain. It sat heavy in your chest, burning up into your throat. You opened your eyes slowly, each lid sticking slightly as if glued together. 

The room around you was so white it was painful to look at. Sunlight streamed in, bright and cheerful in a way that made your headache.

It took a moment for you to register why you had passed out. Panic flooded you as the memories hit, the curse spirit and Yuji’s broken body. 

You bolted upright, ignoring a sudden wave of dizziness as you launched yourself out of bed. 

“Hey now.” An arm wrapped around your waist, catching you as you fell. Satoru had apparently been sitting at your bedside, the man tossing the manga he had been reading aside.

You clung to his arm, still trying to make your way to the door.

“The kids.” You rasped, throat burning with each word. Satoru sat you back in the bed, pulling the blankets from where they had fallen.

“They're fine.” He paused, the black sunglasses perched on his nose sliding down a fraction, showing you one shiny blue eye. “Well. Yuji is fine. Megumi thinks he’s dead.” 

You gave him an incredulous look, mind reeling from his admission. Gojo nudged you, sliding onto the bed with a sigh.

“Took some money to pull it off.” Satoru shrugged, “But only you, me, Yaga, Shoko, Nanami and Ijichi know.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, deciding that now was not the time to question him. A migraine was forming, mixing with the ache in your chest.

“You used your ability.” Satoru hooked his finger under your chin, tilting your head back to look up at him. You nodded, letting him lean in and kiss you. His lips were soft against yours, Satoru kissing you as if you might break. It felt like a real possibility.

He thread his fingers through your hair, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. When he pulled away your head felt like it was swimming.

“It didn’t work like last time.” You mumbled, pressing a hand against your left eye in a futile attempt to stop the throbbing pressure that sat behind it.

“What set it off?.” Satoru shifted, slipping his arm around your waist and holding you closer. You rested your head on his chest trying to recall the moment. The hand in your hair was lulling you to sleep, the comforting action helping with the pain in your head for some reason. You thought of Yuji’s screams again, a shiver running down your spine.

“Yuji.”

Satoru was silent, one hand toying with your hair as he thought. You watched his face, noting the distant look in his eyes. Satoru glanced down at you, blue eyes barely visible behind his glasses.

“Extreme panic brings it on?” He let out a small laugh, “Incredibly unreliable.”

You weren’t sure it was panic that triggered it. But you didn’t have the energy to argue, instead lifting yourself slightly and planting a kiss on his lips. Satoru smiled, deepening the kiss with a small grunt. The room was quiet, and you sighed as you pulled away.

“Oh yeah.” Satoru had a smile on his face that spelled trouble, “I sorta freaked out when they found you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pulling away further and sitting up. He remained relaxed against the pillows. With one finger he slid his glasses down his nose, blue eyes glittering as he stared at you.

“Shoko was barely able to get you back together.” Satoru shrugged, “And I might’ve let it slip that we mess around. In front of Megumi.”

You shot him a glare, one hand coming up to prod at the tender flesh of your chest. It did feel as if you had been stapled back together. The simple slap from the special grade was enough to almost kill you.

“They did this on purpose didn’t they.” 

He knew you meant the council, giving you a nod. Satoru’s face was grim.

“I’m going to make them regret it.” 

Grin

“I have a feeling you are about to ruin my day.” You barely looked up from your desk (his desk). Satoru stood next to you, rocking on his heel, a massive grin plastered on his face. That grin meant only one thing, trouble.

The files spread before you were all half finished. If there was one thing the perfect Gojo was bad at, it was paperwork. At least you were used to taking care of files. Being able to actually complete something made you feel a little less useless.

“I need to prevent another execution.” Satoru looked so smug, the grin so wide you thought it might split his face in half. You looked up from the paperwork, brow furrowing. He didn’t need you for that and he certainly didn’t need to look so manic.

“Wha-” Your question was cut short as he teleported the two of you. Staggering, you internally groaned as you realized he had pulled you into a council meeting. The elders were equally surprised, a quiet murmur of outrage rippling through their ranks.

“I am requesting a halt on the execution of Yuji Itadori.” Gojo looked around the room, his hand still wrapped around your bicep. 

They all objected, speaking over each other. Thinly veiled threats and insults were thrown out. They were afraid you realized. So much more than when Yuta had been up for execution.

“He’s a vessel of Sukuna, we MUST eradicate him.”

“You ask for madness, Yuji Itadori is a threat to all of society.” 

“This is too far even for you.”

Satoru stood, one hand in his pocket, still grinning. You stared at him from the corner of your eye, wondering what he was planning.

“Give him the option to eat all of fingers. Then we kill him.” Satoru waited as another round of protests started up.

“If you don’t. I’ll just kill everyone here.” He shrugged and the elders erupted in an out pour of rage. You knew he could do it, you just didn’t know why you were here. Gojo could threaten a bunch of old idiots just fine by himself.

“You. You must use Null. End Gojo’s madness.” A Counsilman to your left snapped, hidden by the stupid screens they all sat behind. You stared for a moment, the pieces falling in place. Gojo had brought you here to show them that the one thing they had secretly been banking on, was useless.

“Um.” You paused, noting that the room grew quiet as you spoke up. “I’m with Gojo on this one.”

You cringed internally, half expecting to be struck down where you stood. The Counsilman who had given you the command sputtered, half formed word spilling from his lips as he struggled with your answer.

“Stop him!” Another person snapped. You felt your irritation rise. Being bossed around by Gojo was one thing. You witnessed him risking life and limb nearly every day to keep order in Japan. To some extent he had the right to be an asshole. But these old idiots sat around all day, resting on the names of their ancestors as if they shared in the accomplishments of old.

“No.” You huffed, shooting a glare at the screen. They didn’t know you actually couldn’t stop the man. Gojo had been very careful in not letting it slip that you were in fact useless. But you weren’t about to reveal that hand to them. Better for you to ride it out. A happy Gojo meant a happy you. 

In less than 5 minutes, the council relented. They were angry, telling Gojo it would be his head if anything went wrong. He had laughed it off, teleporting you away again.

“You are going to be killed if you keep it up.” You grumbled, rubbing your bicep. His grip mixed with the odd buzz of limitless made your skin feel itchy. You noted that he had taken you to his apartment rather than the teachers lounge. It would take 20 minutes to get back by train and you sighed at the prospect of not getting the files done till late. Turning to chide him, you stopped, frozen by the manic look in his eyes.

Satoru’s lips were suddenly on yours. You squeaked in surprise, hands coming up to his chest, fingers digging into his jacket. Pressed against the hallway, his thigh slipped between yours, the man caging you in with his arms. Limitless tickled your lips, his soft warmth making you lean into the sensation rather than away as you tended to.

Satoru’s kisses were fast, teeth clicking against yours as your mouth opened. He tasted sweet, tongue sliding along yours, teasingly lapping at your teeth. Your mind was reeling, small gasps making their way through the air as Satoru roughly kissed you.

The ends of his snowy hair tickled your face, the man cupping your cheek with one hand. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, swaying as you leaned into the kiss.

Satoru pulled away, licking his lips as he tugged the blindfold from his face. Your legs were like jelly, your core soaking wet from something as simple as kisses. He smirked at you, taking in the red tint to your lips and shaking breaths.

Satoru was like a god, a cocky and ambivalent god and now his attention was on you. It felt odd and in the back of your mind you knew you shouldn’t sleep with him. 

But what was the harm in one time?

Satoru tugged you down the hallway, large hands peeling layers from himself. You followed suit, leaving a trail of your clothing down the hallway until you were in his room, shivering and bare. Like the rest of his penthouse apartment, large windows showed the city below. The sun was already setting, gold light throwing shadows over your skin and the minimalist bed behind you.

Satoru paused, brilliant blue eyes raking over your form. It felt as though he were looking at your very soul. You shivered under his gaze, allowing yourself to stare at him. He was sculpted perfectly, each muscle textbook, his limbs as long as they were reminding you more of a willow tree than a spider. You flushed slightly as you took in the pale trail of hair that led from his belly button to his stiff cock.

Of course Satoru was big. The man had the ego to match and the arrogance that fit someone as well endowed as he was. You would have laughed at the realization if you didn’t feel like you were being stared down by a panther.

And then he was on you. With a gasp you fell back on the large bed, Satoru kissing you harshly, large hands tugging your thighs open. You shuddered, squirming beneath him as limitless touched you. It was too much, the buzzing along your skin overstimulating as he pressed against you. 

Satoru had been surprised when you mentioned you could feel it. Even more surprised when you explained the odd buzzing itchiness it caused.

As if he could read your thoughts he pulled back and you let out a noise of surprise as Gojo turned limitless off.

“That’s not safe!” You tried to sit up, only for the man to push you back onto the bed. Satoru had a wild look in his eyes that told you he did not care. 

“You said you don’t like how it feels.” Satoru leaned in, licking the side of your neck. His breath was warm against your ear, the man nibbling at the soft flesh, “I want you to enjoy this.”

It was a surprising statement. In the small moments that you had allowed yourself to see him as beautiful, you had mused that Satoru would be a selfish lover. It just seemed his speed, the man being so incredibly distant with everyone, putting on that childish facade.

The man above you seemed alien. Pale hair tickled your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck, biting your breast as he passed in on his way lower. You shivered as warm breath brushed against the wet juncture of your thighs. 

Satoru looked at you from beneath snowy lashes, large hands coming up and pining your thighs open.  He was teasing you, that big grin back on his face as he watched you squirm. 

His head dipped down, tongue flicking out to lick a stripe along your folds. Satoru let out a small huff, pressing his tongue flat against your clit.

You whined at his actions and then gasped as he slid two fingers within you.

“A little warning next time!” You panted you, back arching as he curled the fingers with you. Satoru’s fingers were long and the man was easily able to reach your G-spot, relentlessly pushing into you as he lapped at your folds. The man merely laughed, the sound humming against your clit as he sucked the tiny bundle of nerves. You moaned, head falling back into the pillows, hips rocking against his fingers as he pumped them into your warm heat.

Satoru nipped and sucked at your clit, relentless in his actions. Lips wrapping around the small budd, he curled his fingers just so, gently fucking into you at a steady rhythm. Your hips canted against his face, moans filling the room as you moved against his face. 

You were close, so close. The tight ribbon of pleasure drawn taught in your stomach. You hastened your hips thrusting, chasing your release.

He paused, looking at your panting and shivering form. You gave him a disappointed moan, shooting a confused look at the man. Satoru grinned. You realized what he was about to do a second before he did. Your half gasped ‘don’t’ barely left your lips as he turned Limitless back on. The odd buzz hit you from both his fingers and his tongue and you came undone.

Arching off the bed you let out a long moan, hips rutting against his hand and mouth as you came. Your walls fluttered and squeezed his fingers, thighs shaking about his head as you rode out your orgasm on his fingers.

“Yo-you ass.” You gasped, lying limp against the bed sheets. It wasn’t true irritation, more shock than anything. You didn’t think the man would ever do something like that. Hell you had never thought the technique could be used for anything but keeping him safe. 

“You like it.” Satoru laughed, shuffling up the bed and pressing a kiss to your lips. You accepted it, twining your arms around his shoulders, allowing your legs to fall open wider to accommodate his hips. His cock was stiff against your thigh, a thin trail of precum dripping onto your hip.

Limitless was off thankfully and you sighed as he lined himself up.

The grin was back and you found yourself smiling up at him. 

“Fuck.” He hissed as he pushed himself in, gritting his teeth as he bottomed out inside you. Air left you in a small whoosh and you gasped, hands moving to his biceps in an attempt to still the man. Your walls fluttered about him, struggling to accommodate the man. Satoru was large, almost painfully so. You shuddered, beneath him, inhaling quietly as you willed yourself to relax. He was surprisingly patient, blue eyes searching your face with mild concern until you gave him a small nod.

Satoru snapped his hips into yours, the man letting out a low grunt as he set a fast pace. You clung to him, feeling over-stimulated. The head of his cock dragged against your walls, mercilessly pumpling into your wet heat as Satoru chased his own end. He wasn’t concerned with your pleasure, the man let out low moans of pleasure in your ear. You hooked your legs around his back in an attempt to steady yourself, canting your hips upwards and matching his pace. 

The man was relentless, pressing into you roughly, each thrust bruising in its force. He shifted, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he gripped your hips with both hands. Satoru let out small moans, his thrusting becoming more and more erratic as he neared his release. You whined beneath him, the over stimulation becoming almost too much to bear.

“FUCK.” He snapped, hips snapping into yours a final time, his warm release flooding you.

For a moment you lay, panting, staring at the high ceiling of his apartment. 

Satoru rolled off you, trotting to the bathroom. You sat up, looking at the mess spilling from between your thighs.

“Did…Did you cum in me?” You gasped. Satoru poked his head out from around the doorway, blue eyes going from your face to your thighs.

“I’ll get you plan B.” He shrugged, “It was a one time thing, my bad.”

You sputtered at that, sitting up and gingerly rolling off the bed. Your hips ached and you winced as you took a step towards the trail of clothing you had left in his hallway.

My bad. The man was a child. You huffed angrily, pulling your clothes on and stomping from the apartment. The door slammed behind you with a satisfying noise.

It was only when you were a block away did you realize your purse was still in the office and you had no way to get home without the infuriating man.

Hungry

“I’m hungry” You sighed, pressing a hand against your stomach, leaning forward slightly. The pressure did little to help the deep ache. It had been at least 8 hours since you last ate. Looking back you regretted not having more than a bit of toast.

At your side Satoru shushed you, his gaze intently set on the phone in his hand. He was playing a stupid game, thumbs flying across the screen as he matched sets of little cute characters. You rolled your eyes, squinting up at the sliver of sky that peeked out from between the trees that surrounded you.

The pair of you were stuck on a mission. The kids were training, Shoko was busy and Gojo had gotten restless. So Yaga sent the two of you off, with the not at all subtle warning that the mission was business and not for pleasure. An embarrassing statement given to you in front of Megumi and Nobara. Both of which thankfully had the decency to pretend they didn’t hear.

“I think you being here has it hiding.” You muttered, shifting again in an attempt to ignore the pain in your stomach. 

“Curses don’t hide.” Satoru finally looked up from his phone, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. You resisted the urge to tell him that if you were a curse you would hide. Satoru was already being an ass, you didn’t want to stroke his ego.

“I know you can fight on nothing but a can of soda and bubble gum, but I need food.” You stood, wincing as your knees creaked. The two of you had been sitting for so long your joints felt ancient.

“You won’t be fighting.” Satoru pointed out, standing and shoving his phone back in his pocket. He turned without a word, marching back the way you two had come so many hours ago. You made a face at his back, stomping after him. The woods were starting to grow dark, the sun setting quietly. It was pretty, the deep shadows making the trees go soft around the edges.

The walk was silent but quick, the two of you back in civilization within 15 minutes.

“You head to our room, I’ll get takeout.” Satoru flicked his keycard at you and you caught it, gratefully hurrying towards the small hotel Yaga had booked. You paused, turning to glance as he walked towards the main street.

“Nothing too sweet!!” You yelled after him, sighing as he flipped you off over his shoulder. 

Making your way to the room, you let yourself in. Satoru should be gone for a bit and despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach, you wanted a shower. Sitting beneath the trees made you feel dusty and stiff.

Quickly stripping, you stepped into the rather large bathroom. It was plain, simple white tile and toilet with a large clear glass shower. 

“This is too much.” You muttered, turning the shower on and sighing at the THREE shower heads. You had a feeling Satoru had either booked the room or demanded Yaga find something so ridiculous. Stepping under the warm multi stream, you hummed to yourself.

“Maybe not.” The shower felt heavenly. Warm water from all sides, it made lathering soap a challenge but you didn’t get cold.

You let yourself relax

“I knew you’d like it.” Satoru was smirking as he leaned against the glass door. His figure was blurry, the steam thankful providing some cover. You glared at him, turning your back as you went for the shampoo.

“I had Yaga book the most romantic room.” 

You could hear his clothing hit the floor, the glass shower door sliding open. A brief draft of chilly air hit you and you sighed.

“You said it was a one time thing, Gojo.” You kept your voice clipped, pushing ice and sharpness into your words.

His hands slid onto your waist, chilled fingers sending a shiver down your spine.

“I know I did. But.” He paused, resting his chin on your shoulder. You could see him watching you out of the corner of your eye. Water flattened his hair, rivulets running down his face and catching on his long eyelashes. His long fingers were splayed against your hips, unmoving as he waited for you to respond.

You stared at the shampoo bottle in your hands, letting the man press against you. Satoru was warm, his much taller frame practically swallowing yours from behind.

“You hate me.” You finally allowed yourself to speak. It wasn’t true and you knew it. Gojo’s nastiness when you had initially met had been because of the council. You were just unfortunately the easiest target for his ire.

The man shifted, pressing his lips to your shoulder. It hid his bright eyes from your gaze. You waited, not wanting to press him.

“I’m sorry.” Satoru’s voice was soft as he pulled away. You turned, looking up at him in mild surprise.

“I didn’t think you knew how to apologize.” You teased, offering him the shampoo bottle. Satoru took it with a smirk. 

“You know I can be sweet.” He wiggled his eyebrows with the statement, making you laugh and smack his shoulder. Satoru lathered his hair, shooting you a quizzical look as you stared up at him.

“What happened to it just being a one time thing? To being fuck buddies.” You gestured at the large shower. “This is a bit romantic for that.” 

Satoru paused, the sudsy water running down his chest. He seemed for once, unsure what to say. You picked up the shampoo for where he had left it, scrunching your nose at the incredibly sweet smell that left the bottle. Vanilla, brown sugar and syrup all mixed together in a potent sludge. You shuddered slightly as you worked it through your hair, waiting for Satoru’s response.

“Shoko is one of the only women I am close to. She’s a good friend. Only a friend.” Satoru paused, one hand slowly massaging his scalp as he stared down at you.

“I don’t have time for dating. No interest in heirs or a wife like my family wants.”

He shrugged, tilting his head back and letting the water run over his face. You quietly continued washing yourself, not wanting to interrupt him finally opening up. Satoru sighed, shifting to look back down at you.

“I am hesitant to officially start anything because it may end with your death.”

You flinched at that, brow furrowing as you opened your mouth to question him. Satoru stopped you before you could, one hand pressing gently against your lips.

“I am the current head of the Gojo clan. Since I was born there have been countless bounties on my head.”

Satoru offered you a small shrug at your look of horror. He seemed unbothered, as if he were discussing the weather with you. 

“If I officially date or enter an arranged marriage, some of those bounties shift.”

The hand on your mouth slid down, Satoru lightly wrapping his fingers around your throat.

“You would be used to hurt me, to get me to use my powers for whoever held you.” 

You shivered at his words, one hand coming up to caress his wrist. It was sad. A man who stood on the top of the world and had no one. Even his closest friends were held at an extreme distance.

“We can keep it a secret.” You offered quietly. Satoru hummed at that, his hand dropping from your throat.

“We can try.” Was all he had to offer, a small smile on his face. You nodded once, heart fluttering in your chest slightly. 

“Food is getting cold.” He pinched your waist, tugging you from the shower and offering you a big fluffy towel. You wrapped it about yourself gratefully, sneezing once as the chill of the hotel settled against your skin.

“Please tell me you found something good.” Now out of the shower, your hunger was reinvigorated, your stomach growling loudly as you followed him back to the beds. Satoru shrugged, tightening the towel about his waist and gesturing at the spread he had laid across one bed. Udon, tacos, pasta, pizza, sushi and various pastries. All laid out in neat little containers. You almost moaned when you saw the food, mouth watering as you hurried to the bed.

“Couldn’t decide so I got a bit of everything.” Satoru tossed you a pair of chopsticks, the man immediately going for an eclair. You ignored the sweets, picking up one of the tacos and cramming it into your mouth. Flavor erupted across your tongue and you chewed quickly before snagging another. It was rude but you didn’t care, tugging one of the armchairs from the little seating area over to the bed. Your hair dripped onto your shoulders and back sending a chill down your spine. 

“Maybe the curse was hiding.” Satoru mumbled around a mouthful of pancake. You shot him a questioning look, a slice of pizza halfway to your mouth.

“It was probably afraid you’d eat it.” He chortled, gasping as you hurled a cupcake at him. Satoru caught it with ease, shooting you a wink before cramming it in his mouth. You rolled your eyes, biting into the pizza slice.

It tasted like heaven. Relaxing in the armchair you ate quietly, mulling over what Satoru had told you. 

What kind of life was it, to know you and your family would be forever hunted? 

Idiot

“He’s an idiot.” Utahime huffed. You offered the other woman a short nod, unsure of how to respond. Gojo was of course the cause of her irritation. Utahime was always upset with him and part of you wondered if she went out of her way to find a reason to be pissed. In the past year you had only seen the woman twice and each time she seemed more and more irritated not only with him but you as well. You knew it was all because you had the gall to defend Gojo, the ultimate crime, on your first meeting.

“Fucking asshole.” 

You jumped as the strange sorcerer kicked the subway wall, the woman hopping on one foot as she massaged the other. Anger radiated off her, practically filling the empty subway with her cursed energy. 

Utahime did not act at all how she presented herself. The soft garments of a shrine maiden were merely a shell over the rough edges of the sorcerer. You flinched as her cold gaze met yours, shivering as she took a step towards you. She was completely ignoring the cause of her ire, the tall man pouting next to her.

“Don’t you agree?” Her steely gaze was locked on your face, arms crossed as she waited for your answer.

Utahime was mad because per usual, Gojo ignored protocol. The simple joint school mission the pair of you had been sent on was almost immediately sidetracked by the appearance of a special grade. Of course the man couldn’t resist, making a bee-line to the curse and eradicating it. That meant he ignored all regulations, failed to inform the Kyoto school headmaster and created a mess he didn’t have to clean.

You had come here to learn about Utahime’s ability. It was as close to yours as anyone figured you would get. But now with Gojo’s actions, she was refusing to open up. It was slightly irritating and paired with her attitude towards the man, you were a bit frustrated.

Everything went back to Gojo. All the thorns in your side and headaches were usually caused by him.

But what little you had learned, he sort of had the right to act as he did. You loathed to admit it, but the man was powerful and deadly accurate. The council even begrudgingly admitted the fact.

“I mean.” You cleared your throat, looking at your shoes. Utahime’s glare burned a hole through your skull and you tensed as you continued.

“He is but, he’s earned it?” A question, not a statement and you cringed as Gojo let out a triumphant laugh. A glance upwards told you that your response had landed you squarely on Utahime’s shit list.

She was staring at you out of the corner of her eye. Suspicion was stamped across her face. You tried to ignore it, leading her to the mainroom the teachers would view the Goodwill Event from. Before you could slide the door open, a hand was on your wrist.

Utahime stepped close, eyes narrowing as she sized you up. Her eyebrows shot up and a look of pure shock and disgust crossed her face.

“He’s fucking you isn’t he?”

Your mouth dropped at that, cheeks flushing as you began sputtering. She was so blunt about it and smug. Utahime stepped back with a scoff, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“I suppose if you want a man child as a hook up thats fine.”

Judgment dripped from every word and you could practically feel it exuding from her pores.

“Careful there.” You jumped as an arm slid around your waist, relaxing as you realized it was the idiot in question. Satoru looked incredibly happy and you sighed.

“You scarred them for life didn’t you.”

“I brought their friend back from the dead.” He protested, pinching your waist as he stepped away, flinging the door to the room open. The man let out a loud laugh, spinning into the room with a flourish. You sighed, making a face behind his back.

“See. Idiot.” Utahime hissed, stomping into the room.

She wasn’t wrong. There were times when his arrogance bordered on stupidity. But he was your idiot.

Not that you would admit that to him. Satoru was smug enough as it was, you didn’t need to add to his ego more than you already had.

Jab

You ignored the sharp jab to your side, shifting slightly to avoid the next one. Behind you, Satoru shifted closer, his knee pressing into the back of your thigh as he leaned in.

“Move it.” The words tickled your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Shut up.” You hissed back, trying to move your lips as little as possible.

The man was bored and acting out, totally ignoring the elder who spoke before the small gathering. Yes the woman was speaking in the flattest monotone you had ever heard. And yes it was all just formality, a fancy speech that did nothing to rid the curse you could feel slithering about the old forest miles away.

But it was their village, their rituals and their village elder. Yaga had already briefed the two of you on this and despite being forewarned, Satoru was still acting like a child. Part of you wished you had been kept from the mission. That Gojo still hated you so you could avoid his child-like mask.

Another jab. You let out a small huff, sneaking your hand behind you and grabbing the offending finger. The familiar buzz of limitless hit you, running along the skin of your hand and up your elbow. Satoru shifted slightly, a noise of annoyance leaving his lips.

“We ask that you rest before going after the demon.” The village elder was now staring straight at your tormenter, her lips trembling slightly as she spoke. While she had been speaking, the sun had set, the chill of night settling over the small village.

“It is strong and has killed many.” With a trembling hand she gestured to a small cabin at the edge of the village. It stood outcast, squarely between the start of the forest and the end of the village.

“That house has been prepared for you and your wife.”

Your eyebrow twitched at that and you squeezed Satoru’s finger as hard as you could to stop him from laughing. It never ceased to amaze you just how stuck in their ways the elders of villages were. 6 missions in and you had yet to not be labeled as the white haired sorcerer’s wife. 

“Thank you for your kindness.” You quipped, quickly bowing and tugging Satoru to follow you. He did so without complaint, snickering quietly as you trudged to the small house. You were painfully aware of half the village watching as you did so. 

“Such a diligent wife.” Satoru teased, moving ahead of you to slide the door open.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, pushing past him and into the cool home. Winter’s chill bit at your skin, the small home had no fireplace to speak of. It was just an eating room and a bedroom.

“I think sacrifices used to live here.” 

You turned, throwing Satoru a questioning look. He pointed to the ceiling and you paled at the strange talismans that were carved into the moldering wood. It was old writing, barely legible, but you could still make out some of the prayers.

Good Harvest.

Boy Child.

Rain.

Full Stomach.

Anxiety twisted in your stomach and you bit your lip as you tried to recall the elder’s boring speech. Something about being sent a gift, about a brighter year to come. Words you had assumed were their hopes of having the curse eradicated.

“It's a trap.” Satoru shuffled over to the futon, flopping onto it without a care. He was too tall for it, his feet hanging off the edge. The man hadn’t bothered taking his shoes off, pointedly ignoring polite behavior. You followed suit, sitting beside him. Tucking your knees to your chest, you rested your chin, letting out a sigh.

“You can take it down right?” 

Satoru snorted, shifting his glasses to stare at you with one bright blue eye.

“All this time and you still doubt me?”  He pouted at you, reaching over and jabbing you in the side. You huffed at that, then froze as a ripple of curse energy hit you. The beastly curse was moving closer.

“It knows we’re here.” You whispered, shifting closer to the man. Satoru hummed, shifting to his elbows. His glasses had slid to the end of his nose and you shivered as his intense gaze swept around the room.

“This house might be part of it.”

“WHAT?” You clamped a hand over your mouth as the shriek left you. Horror churned in your stomach, your heart thundering in your ears as you felt the curse move even faster.

“Relax.” Satoru tugged you down next to him, one arm sliding about your waist. You opened your mouth to tell him you would NOT relax, when you felt the familiar tug of teleportation.

“FUCK!” You yelped, clinging to the arm about your waist. Satoru had pulled the two of you above the small hut. You gasped as a massive, slithering black shape slammed into the side of the house, squirming through one of the windows. A thin trail was left behind, the ooze twitching like maggots on the dry dirt.

“Weird.” Satoru sighed, tugging his glasses off and flinging them aside. You watched them disappear into the night, sighing as you knew after this, the man would have you looking for them.

A howl resounded below you and you watched in horror as the oozing mass wriggled from the house, barreling towards the village. Satoru hummed, watching it go with a look of mild disinterest.

“It’s going to kill them.” Your nails sunk deeper into the fabric of his sleeve. The curse was almost at the first house, the trail of sludge left behind slowly squirming after it.

“They were going to let us die.” Satoru had a look on his face, one you hadn’t seen before. It scared you, a look so apathetic it bordered on cruel.

“Satoru, it's going to kill them.” You snapped, squirming in his grasp. He was several feet above the ground and you knew a fall from this height could kill you. But you needed him to move, needed the look to leave his face.

There was a scream, high and faint as it was whisked away by the wind. 

“SATORU.” You yelled, pounding your fists against his arm, willing him to move. Willing null to activate for just a second. The sound of his name seemed to spur him into action and you gasped as suddenly you were on the ground.

The world spun around you and you fell backwards as you lost your fight against his teleportation. Faintly, you could hear the sounds of fighting, screaming. There were prayers as well. All of them muffled as you retched.

You didn’t know why it was affecting you so badly this time. Normally you could swallow the odd sensation. You swiped a shaking hand against your mouth, sighing as you turned to see a village in shambles.

Satoru stood in the middle of it, steely gaze sweeping over the trembling villagers who watched him in a mix of awe and terror. He had killed their strange god and destroyed half the buildings around him in the process. You noted that the little cursed hut remained intact, although it looked more aged, as if the years had finally caught up to it.

“Entertain another curse like that and it won’t be just the houses I destroy.” Satoru snapped. You shivered as he appeared before you, the man roughly pulling you to his side. As you were tugged through to the next location, you swore you saw a tear fall from his snowy lashes. 

When you returned to the school campus, Shoko had pulled you aside, asking how Satoru had seemed. You told her what happened, giving her a questioning look when she seemed to deflate. 

“It's nothing. Just the anniversary of a bad time for the both of us.” Was all she would say.

Knife

“When you activate null, use this.” Naoya Zen’in held out his hand, the large knife balanced perfectly on his palm. The blade was odd, curved in multiple places like a snake. It shone a soft silvery white, looking more like it was made from a shiny fabric than any metal. The blade stood in stark contrast with the deep burgundy hilt. The burgundy seemed to be an odd lacquer, bits of the same silver peeking out here and there. It looked a bit like a dragon’s head, sharp details sticking out here and there.

Made sense,  You thought dully. The council had told you to retrieve the ‘Dragon’s Fang’.

It had been 3 months since you entered the world of Jujutsu sorcerer. 3 months since your normal life ended and the drudgery of being Gojo’s assistant began. 

“He can still fight without his powers.” You murmured, staring at the shimmering blade. It was special, held in the large armory the Zen’in family watched over. Super secret unless of course you were a Zen’in or listened to gossip in the sorcerer world. Despite the family’s reclusive and in your opinion, incestous lifestyle, information still slithered from their estate. You had a feeling some of it was intentional, the family throwing their weight around while trying to come across as more elite than other clans. It honestly annoyed you, it was bad enough that you were looked down upon for messing with other sorcerers powers a few months back, but now with the Zen’ins? It was a whole other level of snubbing.

The council had sent you to the Zen’in estate with no notice. You weren’t sure what Gojo had done, but they were pissed, practically shaking as they demanded you follow their orders.

It wasn’t the quietly spoken “if he goes rouge, take him down”. No this time it felt like an assassination order. 

Entering the estate had only added to that feeling. The servants only had sharp looks and silent pointing as they guided you from the entrance to Naoya. He was even worse, the man flashing you a smile you knew he thought was charming and you thought was akin to a serial killer.

“Yeah but even if you die you’ve still done us a service.” He followed the chilling words with another horrible smile. You shuddered, slowly reaching up to grab the knife.

Your plan had been to avoid touching the man, but Naoya was quick. His free hand came up, quickly trapping your own hand in his grasp.

You suppressed the urge to yank your hand from his grasp, trying to offer him a polite smile.

“You know.” The man moved closed, the sleeves of his haori brushing against your arms. There was barely any space between the two of you and you winced as the position angled your wrists painfully.

“If you do survive, I’m in need of a wife.”

There was a moment of silence, the man leering down at you. 

“I uh. What?” Was all you could manage. A mixture of amusement and rage twisted in your  chest. Jujitsu sorcerers seemed to all have issues with ego, the surety with which they carried themselves borderline narcissistic. 

“Well, your ability might be useless after Gojo is gone. But having a wife who was strong enough to take down that sorry excuse for a sorcerer. Well.” 

He laughed sharply, fingers digging into your hand. The embossed hilt of the blade was sharp in places and it bit into the palm of your hand painfully.

“Let’s just say that's a good look for me.”

Silence fell after his words as you struggled to think of a response. Insulting him would only land you in hot water, but staying quiet might be taken as acceptance.

“Mr. Zen’in.” You began, flinching slightly when the man let out a huff.

“Call me Naoya.” His hands were like steel vices, pressing into your flesh with the subtle nastiness that ran through his family.

“Mr. Zen’in.” You persisted, slowly wiggling your hand out of his. The hilt of the blade hurt, scraping your palm as you worked your hand free.

“As flattering as your suggestion is. I must politely decline.” Your palm was bleeding. The cursed blade had torn two lines through your flesh, like gnarled claw marks. You curled your fingers, letting the hand drop to your side. Blood spattered from between the digits, dripping to the expensive tatami beneath. It was rude, but it was the only insult to the Zen’ins you could actually get away with.

“Think you’re too good for me, don't you?” Naoya hissed, his eyes narrowed to slits. He looked like a large snake, his fangs bared at the little mouse that had bit him.

You shook your head slowly, licking your lips as you thought how best to answer. On one hand you could lie and tell him something to stroke his ego. On the other hand.

“You wouldn’t want Satoru’s sloppy seconds would you?” It was a lie of course, the man couldn’t stand you. But Naoya didn’t know that.

You regretted the words however, almost instantly. Your head snapped to the side as Naoya slapped you. A gasp left your throat as you staggered, ears ringing from the force of the slap.

“Fucking whore.” He hissed, one hand wrapping around your bicep as he began dragging you through the halls of the estate. You stumbled after him, dazed and in pain. 

Before you knew it you were being shoved harshly, falling to the pavement in front of the Estate. Naoya stood over you for a moment, the knife clutched tightly in his hand. 

“The Zen’in don’t lend weapons to whores.” And with that, the estate doors slammed shut. 

You sat on the pavement for a moment, one hand prodding the cheek he had slapped. Had the asshole really used cursed energy to hit you? Overkill, everything about the Zen’in family was plain overkill.

There was no taxi to take you back into the city. Of course not. You were the council's dog, the thorn in Gojo’s side.

Tears welled in your eyes as you walked and you swiped a hand roughly against your cheek. It came away stained by blood, he had split your lips.

“Just what I need.” You sighed, trudging along the quiet street. The sun was nearing the end of its arch, sunset not too far away. How long would it take you to get back? A glance at your phone showed you a low battery and several missed calls. You sighed, quickly searching to see how long it would take a taxi to get to you.

Too long was the answer. It looked to you as if Naoya had done something. The closest car was a 40 minute drive from your location. You shoved your phone back in your pocket, stifling the urge to scream.

“So you ignore my calls in favor of Naoya Zen’in? Why am I not surprised?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Gojo’s familiar tone behind you. He had found you somehow and you hoped he wasn’t irritated enough to deny you the use of his teleportation skills.

“The council sent me there.” You turned, offering a small scowl. It was met with a furrowed brow, Gojo pressing his lips into a thin line. Even though his eyes were covered you could tell he was leveling a glare at your face.

“It didn’t go well.” You mumbled, pressing your hand against the tender spot on your cheek. There was probably a hand print nicely formed on your face by now.

You flinched as Gojo took a step forward, grabbing your wrist as you withdrew it from your face.

“Ah.” Was all you could think to say as he inspected the already scabbing cuts on your palm.

“They sent you for the Dragon’s Fang?” Gojo’s tone was even as he inspected the cuts. You nodded slowly, watching his face warily. If he knew the blade’s name then no doubt he knew the reason you were told to retrieve it. 

“Naoya is an idiot.” The man scoffed as he let your hand drop, turning his attention to your cheek. You winced as his finger prodded it, limitless buzzing uncomfortably against the bruise.

“What did you say to piss him off?” Gojo’s lips were twisted in a scowl, his irritation for once not directed at you.

“Well.” You cleared your throat inhaling sharply, “He told me I'd make a good wife.”

Gojo scoffed at that, pulling away as he stared down at you. The bruise on your cheek burned as you flushed, squirming slightly under his hidden but still intense gaze.

“So I ah.” You paused again, not able to get the words from your throat. Silence stretched between the two of you for a long moment. The man was still, hands in his pockets as he waited for you to finish.

“So I told him he wouldn’t want your sloppy seconds.” It was barely a whisper that left your lips, but Gojo heard you clearly. The man let out a loud laugh, one hand patting you on the shoulder as he did so. You were surprised at how unbothered he was by it. You had expected anger or annoyance per usual. This was different.

“Oh that’s perfect.” He mimed wiping a tear from his blindfold, still chortling. “I can’t wait for the next meeting we’re in.”

You shuddered as he teleported you without warning, the dizzying lurch in your stomach almost too much to bear. The familiar halls of Jujutsu high surrounded you and you shuddered, trying to rid yourself of the after effects of being pulled through space so roughly. You realized he had set you down in front of Shoko’s office, the familiar door a welcome sight for your aching face.

“Why?” You asked, panting slightly as you straightened. The urge to vomit never got easier to swallow, his stupid ability’s side effect lingered like a bad omen.

Gojo grinned, leaning in to gently pat your stinging cheek. His breath smelled sweet, the scent of spun sugar and chocolate filling your nose.

“So I can slap the shit out of him.” The man laughed as he pulled away, the grin turning devious as he turned to knock on Shoko’s office door. 

“And to ask why he wants my sloppy seconds so bad.” 

Lie

He was lying.

“Just friend with benefits” A grunted moan, his hands tight against your hips, grip painful against your soft flesh. Satoru’s hips thrust against yours, driving his cock deeper into your warmth. His pale face and hair were drenched with sweat, the man somehow not tired 3 rounds in. You writhed beneath him, breathless and aching. He was merciless with each thrust, the head of his cock hitting your cervix with deadly precision. Between your thighs he looked like a pale god, chiseled muscles flexing with each thrust into your core.

“Won’t happen again.” His tongue was on your throat, lips sucking at you as if you were the sweetest nectar. You moaned beneath him, fingers gripping the mattress in an attempt to ground yourself. Satoru’s cock pulsed within your walls, his sloppy thrusting becoming more erratic as you let out a small cry. Each thrust dragged the fat head of his cock almost completely out of you before he slammed back in with dizzying force. You came around him, fingernails biting into his back as he spilled his own release within you. 

“Last time.” Satoru’s moan was muffled by the pillow your head was shoved into. He pounded into you from behind, fingernails biting into your hips as he chased his end. You felt as if you were made from jelly, soft moans barely escaping your throat as he slid roughly in and out. The slap of his balls against your clit and thighs echoed in the empty room. Mixed with your low moans, it made for a lewd cacophony. You clenched around him as he bit the back of your neck, a low cry leaving your throat.

“No more.” He huffed, white hair slicked to his forehead as he thrust slowly into your cunt. His lips were on yours, soft kisses swallowing your moans as he caressed your breasts. This was more gentle than usual, almost loving. Satoru was savoring you.

Satoru was addicted to you. And he was lying to you both.

Moan

You hadn’t meant to moan. The sound had slipped out as you stretched, the warm sun and sand eliciting the noise from you. Not that you cared, this was a well earned vacation, one you had practically begged for. Sure you had to go alone, everyone else having missions and no free time. Your eyes slid shut and you let out a content sigh. It was worth it just to relax under the bright sun. You had earned this, the past year had been shit and more recently had gotten confusing. Satoru hadn’t said anything about the two of you sleeping together. He hadn’t acknowledged it. And while you were fine with it being a one time thing, it did feel a bit odd to not even talk about it. A simple ‘That was great but never again’ would have been preferable to the silence.

“Geez, didn’t realize the beach was a porno set.” 

Your eyes snapped open at the familiar voice. To your right sat Gojo, wearing nothing but blue swim trunks. You pretended to not notice the trail of hair that snaked beneath the rather low waist band of his shorts. He shot you a teasing grin, pretending that he was blind to your annoyance. You propped yourself up, leveling a glare at him.

He was drawing stares with his physic. Even out here on a rather remote beach, the man stood out as a model. Long limbs and the shock of white hair made it so he was the center of attention always.

“Are you skipping out on a mission right now?” Despite it being your vacation time, your mind immediately leapt to the pile of files you knew was sitting forgotten on his desk. Satoru snorted, lying back on your beach blanket and crossing his arms behind his head.

“I finished early. Just didn’t tell Yaga yet.” 

He was responsibly slacking off. A different route than he normally took. Still, with him here, that put you in the hot seat if Yaga and the council figured it out. 

“Go away.” You huffed, lying back down and closing your eyes again. Focusing on the sound of the ocean and seagulls, you tried to ignore the feeling of the back of his hand against your thigh.

“I’m not allowed to visit my favorite assistant?” You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that he was smirking.

“I’m your only assistant.” You quipped back, nestling further into the blanket and the sand beneath. If only the sand would open up and swallow the man whole. Satoru was silent but remained beside you, his warmth somehow competing with that of the sun. 

“So what's the plan for tonight?” He asked it so casually, as if you were a couple deciding on the next step of their vacation. You propped yourself on your side with a huff, scowling down at the man.

“I am going to get wasted at the hotel bar and you are going to be at the highschool filing reports for Yaga.” 

You jabbed your finger in his chest to punctuate your point. Satoru grabbed the offending hand gently, holding it to his chest. 

“Or we could get drunk at the hotel bar.”

You scoffed at that, tugging your hand free and standing. The white haired man followed suit, stretching as he did so. You pretend to not notice the tight planes of his chest and stomach tensing as he did so. He looked good in the sun. Too good.

“You can’t hold your alcohol.” It was a fun fact that Satoru seemed to pass around like it was the most important fact about him. Any adult sorcerer working in the Tokyo area probably knew that Gojo Satoru couldn’t drink. 

“Wanna bet?”

You paused, one foot extended to start your trek back to the beachside hotel. Satoru did keep his bets. You had heard as much from both Shoko and Nanami. Usually his bets were stupid and the prize for winning involved him spending money in some way. But you wouldn’t complain about the Gojo family account being used to buy you a treat.

“What are the stakes?” You tucked your beach blanket under your arm, squinting as you stared up at the man. The sun threaded through his white hair like slivers of gold. His hair reflected the light so well it was difficult to look at him without sunglasses.

“First person to tap out loses.” Satoru looked so confident that for a moment, you wondered if he could seriously out drink you. But no, you smiled, giving him a small nod.

“And if you lose?” 

The man hummed, tapping his chin mockingly as he thought. He looked beyond amused at the thought of you winning.

“I’ll have Yaga extend your vacation and you can use my debit card for one whole day, no questions.” 

That had you pause. Extended vacation was an easy thing for him to do, but that paired with unlimited access to his money felt odd. You narrowed your eyes at him, waiting for the catch.

“And if you lose.” He paused, licking his lips as he stared down at you. Silence stretched between the two of you before he let out a laugh. 

“You’ll see.”

You didn’t like the sound of that but you didn’t think that you could lose to Mr. Lightweight. It was well worth the risk.

Or so you thought. Your mind changed when you were 10 shots in, Satoru keeping pace with you easily. This was not the man who couldn’t keep his alcohol. He sober where as you were struggling to not gag as you forced your 11th shot down. You had agreed to some expensive monstrosity. The bartender having pointed out how high the alcohol volume was per shot. Satoru had bought the bottle, setting it on the table between you. A black label and shockingly pink liquid inside, it didn’t look appetizing. You were pleasantly surprised with your first shot. It had initially been delicious. But now all you tasted was sickeningly sweet liquor that slid slowly down your throat like a nauseating honey.

The room swayed around you, low lights and loud music creating a confusing haze in your mind.

“D-did you just want me drunk?” You slurred, one shaking hand reaching for the bottle to pour your 12th shot. Satoru grabbed your hand, holding it in his. The large hand around yours was warm and you swayed slightly as you traced the veins that threaded over the back of his hand.

“I didn’t think you would go this far.” He sounded perfectly sober. If it weren’t for the light blush across his cheeks you would have assumed he hadn’t been drinking at all.

Maybe he hadn’t. You thought dully, leaning across the table to scrutinize his mouth. Maybe he’s been teleporting the alcohol out of his mouth.

It was not a logical thought, but you were well past that point. There was no way you were losing to Mr. Pretty boy. Grabbing his face with one hand, you glared at his lips.

“You’re cheatin’.” You mushed his cheeks, squinting at his plush lips. Satoru let out a small chuckle, sticking his tongue out.

“Am not.” His response was childish as were his actions, the man teleporting the two of you and the bottle from the bar to a room. For a moment it felt as if your stomach was left in the hotel bar. It took all of your willpower not to vomit, the lingering effects of his ability causing the room to sway even more.

You gawked at the large room, faintly realizing it was the penthouse suite. The very one you had joked to Yaga about booking only for the man to go pale and ask that you please don’t. It cost over 2500 dollars a night.

And you could see why. It was essentially one large and very open apartment with an immaculate view of the ocean. The large floor to ceiling windows showed off the ocean glittering beneath a full moon. You let go of Satoru’s face, swaying slightly as you walked over to the windows.

“Th-this is your room?” You glanced over your shoulder, hands pressed against the cool glass in an attempt to keep yourself steady. He nodded, joining you with a small smile.

“The school doesn’t pay for me.” 

It made sense. The man never wore generic clothing brands, he always chose the most expensive restaurants for lunch and he seemed to have a taste for wasting money on tourist trap sweets.

You watched the waves crash against the glittering shore, entranced by the dancing moonlight. It was better than anything you could have seen from your small room. You had somehow booked one of the few rooms that faced the parking lot. 

The dark waves swelled and abated, a mesmerizing repeated action that had you in a slight trance.

“Did I win?” His voice had become huskier and you turned in time to see Satoru downing another shot. That put him at 13. You let out a scoff, marching unsteadily over to him and reaching up to snatch the bottle away. He held it above your head, blue eyes glittering in amusement as you let out a noise of frustration.

“You’re cheating!” You snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest. Satoru scoffed at that, turning to place the bottle on a nearby side table.

“How so?” He crossed his arm, looking down as you jabbed at him again. With a huff you made a wild gesture at his face then around you.

“Teleporting the shots.” 

Satoru blinked at that, blue eyes widening slightly before he burst out laughing. His shoulder shook dramatically as he doubled over, cackling like a mad man.

“Y-you think I’d waste energy on teleporting shots??” The look he gave you was pure incredulity. As if he couldn’t believe how stupid you were. You felt your face flush, embarrassment swelling in your throat as you tried to think of a response. 

The alcohol made it hard to think, it dampened your mind's ability to snap a little retort at him. So instead, you doubled down.

“Yes.” You said it with as much mustered courage as you could. Internally you were beginning to doubt yourself. But you didn’t want to admit defeat. You were too proud.

Satoru let out another barking laugh, leaning in close. You could smell the sweet liquor on his breath. It radiated from him as heavily as it must’ve been radiating from you. 

Didn’t mean he drank it. You thought, leaning back as he closed in further. Satoru proved you wrong with a kiss.

He tasted as if his mouth had been drowned in the liquor. And in a way it had. You moaned as he lapped at your lips, the man slipping his tongue into your mouth. Unlike earlier, the taste didn’t make you want to gag.

No, on Satoru's tongue it was somehow sweeter. His hand gripped your waist, pulling you in closer as he deepened the kiss. You followed his tongue with your own, leaning into him. Letting Satoru guide you to the large bed.

You were inebriated, more so than him, but you didn’t care. The buzz in your head fueled your actions. You were ravenous, wanting to taste him. Wanting him to devour you.

You blinked and your clothes were off, his large hands parting your thighs as he lapped eagerly at your folds. The warmth of his mouth sent shudders through your core. You moaned, rutting your pussy against his face. Satoru held your hips in place, laughing as you let out a small whine. He kissed and lapped at your clit, eating you out as if it were his last meal.

You shuddered with each moan he released against your warm flesh, the vibrations adding to your mounting pleasure.

The heat in your stomach was tight, a taut rope ready to snap as Satoru sucked at your folds, his tongue laving against the soft flesh.

Satoru flicked his tongue against your clit, teeth scraping against the sensitive bud as he pushed deeper into your heat. You came as he thrust two fingers into your cunt, the simple intrusion enough to send you over the edge. Walls clenching around his long fingers, you moaned into your palm, shuddering as Satoru continued thrusting his fingers into you.

You blinked again and he was climbing on top of you, his lips sliding against yours. You drank him in hungrily, the taste of alcohol and yourself strange against your tongue. Threading your arms around his neck, you pulled him close, allowing the tall man to slot himself between your legs.

Satoru’s hands slipped beneath your lower back, tilting your hips up and letting his cock slid into your core with ease. You moaned as he bottomed out, thick cock filling you completely. He set a soft pace, each thrust almost loving as Satoru chased his own release.

You moaned against his neck, hips chasing his as you felt a second orgasm building. The rough patch of pubic hair at the base of his cock kept catching on your clit, sending small waves of pleasure through your stomach. You shuddered beneath him, walls pulsing as he dragged the head of his cock all the way out before plunging back in. 

“Satoru.” You slurred breathlessly, your tone begging. The man groaned in response, his grip tightening on your back, his pace picking up. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, your walls fluttering widely around him as he slammed back in to the hilt. 

“Cum.” Satoru rasped, his lips tickling your neck as he hastened his pace. You shuddered at his words, a small orgasm washing through you. Walls clamping down on his cock you let out a cry as he pulled back, hands grabbing your hips. Satoru slammed into you, his chest and face flushed as he chased his end. Your walls clenched around him, almost too sensitive as he slammed into you again and again.

Satoru came with a growl, his hips slamming into you a final time, hips flush against yours as his cock spilled within you. The heat made you shudder, your walls flutter lightly as his cock jerked within you.

You blinked and the blankets were tucked around you. Satoru had cleaned you up, slipping into bed beside you with a smile.

“There’s water in the bedside table if you need it.” His voice was low and tired, the man burying his head beneath the pillows. You hummed in response, moving closer to his warmth. Your pussy ached. One one had he had been rough and on the other you wanted more.

“I’m never drinkin’ again.” You giggled into the pillow, your eyes sliding shut as you tried to block out the spinning room. Satoru snorted at that, mess of white hair peeking from beneath his pillow, “Yeah right.”

You halfheartedly shoved your foot into the back of his knee, snickering as the man let out an indignant huff. 

“Next time I’ll win.” You murmured, snuggling closer to him. Satoru let out an amused noise.

“See? Already talking about more alcohol. Deviant.”

Nasty

He had stopped being nasty. Between the cake and Naoya insulting the two of you it wasn’t really a surprise. The natural progression of relationships dictated that this was the next logical step for the two of you.

It just felt wrong. You walked on eggshells around the man, afraid to do anything that would bring back his ire. In your eyes he was the unknown factor. While you were fine with moving into a less volatile work environment, Satoru was as ever, unreadable. 

So you were cautious, the mouse that followed the lion on its rounds, waiting to be eaten.Satoru noticed, of course. Nothing went unseen by the six eyes.

“Can you act normal?” It was snapped at you mid battle. Satoru had his fist lodged in a curse’s abdomen, shooting you a blindfold covered glare as he yanked his arm free. You offered the man a look of confusion, jumping out of the way as the second curse smashed its fist into the concrete beside you. A howl of frustration made you wince and you were quick to dart behind Satoru as the curse swung again.

The sorcerer was quick to dispatch it, barely looking at the howling mass and instead turning to you with a glare.

“You keep acting like you’re waiting for me to jump you.” The words were snapped, closer to what you had grown used to the past few months. And he wasn’t too far off the mark. In a way you were waiting for a version of that. Waiting for him to snap at you with the annoyance he had always reserved for you.

“You’ve gotten a lot nicer.” You murmured, side stepping the dissolving curses to follow him to the next location. Satoru huffed at that, seeming to struggle for a moment before answering.

“I’m stuck with you.” He pulled his blindfold down slightly, allowing one glittering blue eye to peek at you. In the bright sun it looked as if his eye were glowing, the glittering iris eerily bright.

“No point in putting energy into being nasty.” 

You hummed at that response, clasping your arms behind you as you trailed the sorcerer. His words were woven with something else. An emotion he was trying to keep from you. 

Silence stretched on between the two of you as you walked back to Jujutsu High. For once he didn’t teleport you away, leaving you to walk alone. It was nice, the cool breeze threading through your hair as you walked beside him.

“Is there any sweet I can make for next week's mission?” You decided to break the silence, not wanting to let it linger too long. This was an olive branch of sorts. Testing to see if things had truly changed. 

Gojo glanced over his shoulder at you, gaze hidden as always. You noted the breeze that didn’t touch him despite whipping up your hair around your face. The man walked, a sort of affront to nature. Existing as a contradiction to your old life and the rules of the world as you knew it. And he looked so human as he did so.

“Anything at all?” He asked. You nodded, pausing as he stopped walking. The tall man thought for a moment, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

“Do you know how to make Kikufuku?��

You blinked at that, not expecting it. The dessert was a little difficult but you figured you had a week to try and perfect it. And you had a feeling he might eat any failed attempt you gave him anyways if it was sweet enough. 

“I can do that.” You offered him a small smile. Satoru smiled back, turning to continue back towards the highschool. You followed, not minding the silence that settled between the two of you.

Orgasm

“One more.” He groaned, white hair covering his brilliant eyes. You whimpered at that, shaking your head as you attempted to weakly push him away. Satoru was like a statue, his lips latched on the soft flesh of your neck. 

The two of you had been at it for what felt like hours. Your abdomen ached from cumming multiple times. His fingers that had been like silk earlier were now tormentors, dancing over your sensitive flesh. You had no idea how he was able to keep hard, the man having emptied himself within you at least 4 times now. And yet he persisted.

“He was hit with a stupid curse.” Shoko looked more exhausted than usual. The bags under her eyes were darker, intensifying the dirty look she was giving Satoru. You nodded slowly, wondering why of all people, you had been woken up in the middle of the night for this. It wasn’t like you could reverse a curse. Shoko was the best healer in Tokyo and if she couldn’t fix it, no one could.

“I can’t undo it so he’ll need to ride this one out.”

You glanced back at Gojo, taking in his blown pupils, glassy eyes and pink dusted cheeks. It was a look you had seen only during sex. He looked ravenous and slightly in pain. 

“Shoko please do not tell me what I think you’re going to tell me.” Dread swirled in your stomach. In the research you had done alone, you had come across curses of a nastier variety. Nasty in that they tended to infect humans in ways that broke down self control, caused them to attack or worse. You had read of a curse in Kyoto that had existed several years ago. It had been used by a curse user Geisha to influence her male patrons. To have them literally die without sex.

The small brunette gave you a nod as the answer.

“Please.” Satoru was begging. It was so unlike him and you knew that the curses effect was still holding strong. You let out a garbled moan as he slid two fingers into your cunt, thrusting sloppily into you.

“Just keep him busy while Nanami finishes the thing off.” Shoko shifted to the side as you pulled Satoru from his seat and towards the door. Almost immediately his hands were on you, sliding beneath your shirt as if his best friend wasn’t 4 feet away.

“And if Nanami fails?” You weren’t aware of anyone being able to keep the blonde busy and shared a look with Shoko. It was the, we don’t get paid enough for this shit look. The answer was they kept throwing sorcerers at the thing until it was taken down. That's why Gojo had gone first, it was a special grade and he should have dispatched it with ease. It was concerning that instead he was a mumbling mess groping you without shame.

“One more.” His voice was raspy in your ear. Satoru’s lips latched on your ear, his thumb roughly pressing against your clit. The two fingers within you thrust sharply against your aching heat. Your walls quivered around the long digits, too sensitive to do what he asked. You shook your head, wordlessly moaning as you threaded your fingers through his hair. Tugging at his head did nothing to deter him, the man merely moving his lips to your breast, ignoring the small whine you let out.

It wasn’t easy getting him to your apartment. The man was determined to fuck you, location be damned. A small blessing was how close your apartment was. You dropped your keys twice, each time due to Satoru’s hands being somewhere they shouldn’t. In truth you were slightly nervous as well. This felt like taking advantage of the man. Yes he was practically begging for it, but you still felt odd about it. 

“Damn you Shoko.” You muttered, tugging him inside your apartment and locking the door. This went way beyond your job duties. Way beyond the relationship you currently had with the man. 

Satoru’s blue eyes were like beacons in the dimly lit room, taking in your swollen lips and half lidded eyes. He still looked ravenous, pupils dilated as he took in your flush form.

“One more.” 

Satoru moved, almost too quickly to follow. You shuddered as his hot breath met your wet cunt, the man staring at you for a moment from between your thighs. With his snowy hair and brilliant eyes making him look almost vampiric. Demonic.

You let out a shrill moan as Satoru began lapping at your clit. His warm tongue moving in tandem with his lazily thrusting fingers. It was too much, overwhelming. It was as if electricity crackled beneath your skin, stemming from his mouth and fingers. Satoru moaned against your folds, his tongue lapping languidly at your heat. 

He seemed drunk on your taste, the man making obscene noises as he drank in your juices. It was too much and you found yourself somehow cumming again, the small orgasm ripping painfully through you. 

Every cell in your body seemed to shake, your breath catching in your throat as Satoru lifted his head. His lips parted and you whined as you waited for him to mutter ‘one more’ yet again.

And then something shifted.

Satoru blinked once, then twice. He sat up, one large hand rubbing over his face and into his sweaty hair. You waited, holding your breath as he shuddered, shaking his head as if to clear it.

To your immense relief, Satoro looked back at you with clear eyes. The odd glazed look having vanished. Nanami was successful.

“Oh thank god.” You rasped, allowing yourself to shift away from the man. On top of being immensely sore, you were becoming uncomfortably aware of how much of a mess you were. A mix of saliva, sweat and cum was drying on your thighs and the sheets beneath.

“Fuck.” Satoru was equally raspy, wincing as he stood. You noted that his raging boner had settled down, the appendage looking just as sore as you felt. 

“Shower?” You nodded at that, taking the hand he had extended you. It took immense effort, neither of you able to fully stand. Between the two of you it took nearly 10 minutes to hobble the short distance to your bathroom. Your legs felt like jelly and you knew Satoru’s hips were killing him. 

The hot water was a balm against your aching flesh, the two of you helping the other wash the dried aftermath of your coupling. Satoru looked apologetic as he did so, the man uncharacteristically quiet as he helped. You paid it no mind, grateful as he teleported you to his apartment. Neither of you had the energy to clean your bed and you refused to sleep in the mess. 

Instead the two of you collapsed in his massive bed, Satoru pulling you into his arms as you began to drift to sleep.

“ ‘M sorry.” He mumbled against your hair. His hands were warm against your skin, holding you close. You let out a small hum in response, feeling exhaustion settle into your bones.

“If I ever find out you got hit with that curse on purpose I will kill you.” It was barely a whisper, your lips pressed against his chest as you allowed sleep to take you. As you fell asleep, you almost swore he laughed.

Pain

“Hold still.” You sighed. The teen grumbled at you, wincing as you tightened the bandage. Yuji had gotten badly injured. Not his fault, you in part blamed Nanami, the adult who was supposed to be watching him. But truly the fault lay with Mahito, or whatever his name was and Gojo for allowing Yuji on this mission.

The fight had pummeled the kid so badly that you were surprised he was conscious. You held another bandage over a weeping hole in his hand, trying your best to not hurt him further. Blood and dirty tissue were strewn across the classroom around you, the makeshift attempts at stemming the bleeding creating a gorey mess.

“Don’t start.” Nanami sighed as you leveled a look at him as he entered the makeshift base. You bit your tongue, merely nodding when he offered to take over. Nanami was upset, no that wasn’t right. He was furious. 

“I'm going to find Gojo.” You stood, brushing your skirt off and grimacing at the drying stains on the gray fabric. Nanami nodded, focused on the trembling kid before him.

“Don’t kill Gojo, if you can help it.”

You laughed at that, only slightly amused. The blonde knew you and Satoru well. As you left the building, you passed a panicked Ichiji, the man stammering into his cell phone as he rushed up the stairs past you.

The train ride was uncomfortable, the dried blood on your skirt getting you many stares. But you ignored it, focusing on your anger. As an adult it was your job to keep the students safe. That line of thinking extended to all of the Jujutsu Staff. Taking risks was part of the job, yes, but recently it had felt as though they were placing the kids directly into harm's way. The council was behind it, the old idiots determined to bend the world to their whims. But the teachers could still twist the rules to keep the students safe.

It was easy enough to find Gojo. For once he wasn’t on a mission. The man was actually doing paperwork, sunglasses perched on his nose and a popsicle in his mouth. You entered the staff room with a clatter, the door slamming shut behind you noisily. 

“You are a pain in this world’s ass.” You huffed as the man looked up from a file. Satoru raised an eyebrow, pulling the popsicle from his mouth with a wet smack.

“Hello to you too princess.” The white haired man looked at you warily, his tone carrying an unspoken question.

“Yuji almost died.” You sat on the desk, purposefully covering the file he was working on. It was a move he frequently pulled on you and you figured it was about time for a taste of his own medicine. Satoru sat back, popping the popsicle back in his mouth as you continued.

“This is the second time, in only a few months.” You gestured widely, trying to keep your anger in check. In the back of your mind you kept seeing the teen’s hands, full of holes as if someone had taken a drill to his flesh. It was horrific and you knew despite his smiles and reassurances, Yuji was in pain. Not just physical either. There was a mental toll to this job and it had been made a thousand times worse with that mission.

“If you aren’t careful he might make that curse bond or whatever with Sukuna.” 

“He already did.” Sstoru tossed the bar popsicle stick into the trash can, shrugging at your incredulous look.

“WHAT?” You sat bolt upright, eyes wide as you took in his calm demeanor. Satoru ran a hand through his snow hair, shrugging again as you sputtered at him. There were rules to follow when something like this happened. Reports to file, a council to inform. None of that had happened as far as you were aware. 

“How do you know?” You tried to calm yourself, fingernails digging into your palm as you stared at him.

“Call it intuition.” Satoru stood, gently lifting you from the desk and setting you aside. You huffed at this, lips pulling down in a scowl as he went back to the file you had sat on. One hand threaded through his snowy hair, the man letting out a sigh as you stood closer to him.

“Should we talk to him about it?” Your tone was more defeated now, shoulders feeling heavy as you stared at the impassive man.

“No. It's not like he would be able to talk about it.” Satoru sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a questioning look, your anger leaving you as he answered.

“Sukuna would make sure of that.” 

It made sense. You sighed, looking down at your blood stained skirt.. The sorcerer was infuriatingly always right. A realization made you laugh out loud and you shook your head as Satoru shot you a questioning glance.

“I was just thinking. I used to annoy you and now here you are annoying me.” 

He laughed at that, offering you one of his brilliant smiles.

“You’re still a pain in my ass.” There was no venom in his words, just a light teasing that made your heart flutter slightly.

“You love it.” You muttered, bumping your hip into his chair with a small grin. Satoru nodded, gazing back down at his paperwork as he answered.

“I do.”

Queasy

He was being an idiot. You knew it, Gojo knew it and worst of all, the council had enabled it. Another child saved from an execution. Postponed was the actual verdict but you knew if Satouru had his way, Yuji Itadori would live. 

But now? This was too much. All of the school was under the impression Yuji was dead. Satoru had laughed as he told you the plan, the manic grin on his face only a little unsettling. He had Nanami and Yuji parading all around Tokyo, investigating things that at last glance, were missions assigned to Gojo.

“Fuck.” You sighed, tossing your fork back on the plate. Food had been weird lately. The stress of the job and the added Yuji secret had been making your stomach go sour. Queasiness struck you at random points of the day and you resisted the urge to vomit. 

You had thought rice and curry would be safe. When you ordered from your favorite restaurant, you had intentionally left a note asking that they make it as mild as possible and they had. But four bites in and you couldn’t finish. You stared at the nearly full plate, willing yourself to just eat a little more. 

In the past week you had barely eaten, the odd feeling making it impossible to stomach much past liquids. It was affecting what little work you did, Gojo noting that you were slower than usual. He was joking, he assured you, the man more willing to be handsy with you now that the secret of your relationship was known among the students.

Lifting another bite to your mouth, you paused, then bolted. Nausea swelled in your throat and you barely made it to the toilet in time, the little bit of food coming right back up. Heaving into the toilet, you faintly wondered if you should get a check up from Shoko. The woman was busy but you knew if you asked she would put everything down to assist.

“Ew.” 

You flinched at the familiar male voice, lifting your eyes from the white ceramic. Gojo was leaning against the doorway, a box of mochi in one hand. He popped one of the small treats in his mouth, watching you glare up at him.

“Need time off?” He asked around his mouthful. You shook your head, shakily standing and flushing the toilet. Swiping a hand across your mouth, you let out a sigh.

“It's just stress.”

Gojo hummed at that, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively, “You know what's good for that?” 

Rolling your eyes, you stepped around him, shuffling back to the kitchen. The food smelled too much. It wasn’t bad, it was just off putting. You put it away, dry heaving once and shuddering.

“Are you sure it's just stress?” Gojo had followed you, still eating the mochi. You knew that within the next 10 minutes they would be gone. The man ate enough sugar to put a normal person in a coma.

You opened your mouth to answer and then gagged again as the sickly sweet smell of the mochi finally made its way to you. Of all the flavors, strawberry had to be the strongest. You hurtled to the bathroom again, this time vomiting bile. Your stomach was empty and you let out a whimper at the tight cramping in your belly.

Satoru had followed you back, sans the mochi. He looked concerned, blue eyes roving over your form before moving off you and locking on the small wicker basket you kept next to the toilet.

“I know you consider us fuck buddies.” He started. You grimaced at that, heaving into the toilet again. He considered what you did as friends with benefit. You loved him. Not that you would admit that, it would take an eternity before you did. Gojo Satoru was a man who couldn’t love you back, not the way you wanted him to.

“So this question might be crossing the line. I don’t know.” He shrugged, gesturing to the basket beside you, “When’s the last time you had your period?”

You froze at that, eyes sliding to the unopened package of pads that sat neatly beside you. A package you had bought well over two months ago.

Stress. It's just stress. You thought faintly. There was a buzzing in your head and you swayed where you kneeled. 

It couldn’t be. You felt sweat sliding down the back of your neck, your stomach cramping and writhing in your abdomen like a feral animal. Satoru was silent, eyes widening slightly as he took in your panicked expression.

“Oh fuck.” And he teleported. 

The nausea vanished as a sudden wave of anger and sadness hit you. Tears welled in your eyes and you let out a strangled cry.

That was his reaction to finding out he potentially got someone pregnant? What else could you expect from a man who reminded you, with his cock firmly buried inside you, that this was just a ‘thing between friends.’

“Here.”

You flinched at his reappearance, mouth parting in shock as he handed you a boxed pregnancy test.

“Did you steal this?” You asked incredulously, standing and quickly pulling down your pants. Sitting on the toilet, you blushed slightly, realizing Gojo was not going to budge from his spot at the door.

“Not really.” He shrugged at your irritated huff, “I put money on the counter.”

You sighed, trying to ignore the fact that he was staring as you peed on the stick. This was the most humiliating thing he’d ever done, you decided. An invasion of privacy that you weren’t prepared for. You supposed regular couples would have no issue with this. But with Gojo, you still weren’t sure he saw you past the pleasure you provided.

“Now we wait. You gingerly balanced the stick on the edge of the sink, grimacing at the sight. Saturo hummed in response, turning and marching back to the kitchen. You moved yourself to the living room, not wanting to watch the stick. Sitting on the couch, you let out a sigh, pulling a blanket over yourself.

You were cold and tired. Just stress things right? You prayed that was the case. In three minutes time you would find the true answer and it was all you could do to keep from crying.

You had barely gotten used to this strange sorcerer world. The idea of a mini Gojo Satoru running around was terrifying. 

Shoko had once mentioned that as a child, the man had bounties on his head. The world as is was fucked up as it was, addding sorcerers to the mix had only shown you it was fucked up with supernatural powers.  

“Here.” You blinked in surprise as Satoru brought you a cup of tea. Taking it gratefully you took a tiny sip. The warm liquid slid down your throat comfortingly, settling in your stomach. Thankfully, the tea didn’t seem to trigger your nausea.

For a moment the two of you just sat, the air between you tense. And then your phone went off. You flinched, turning off the alarm and staring wide eyed at Satoru. 

“You want me to look first?” 

You nodded at that, feeling a mix of fear and relief as he got up and marched into the bathroom. Silence, then he was coming back out, the test and the box in his hands. Satoru looked from one to the other, stopping before you. 

Turning them both towards you, he stood, his expression neutral. You looked at the stick and felt your heart sink. 

Double lines, you were pregnant.

“These things aren’t always accurate.” Gojo slipped the stick back in the box, tossing them in the small waste basket you kept in the living room.

“We should schedule a blood test.”

He was surprisingly calm, sitting beside you and sliding his hand down your back in a comforting motion.

“What if it's accurate?” You stared at the wastebasket and the small corner of blue that peeked over the edge. In your chest, your heart was thundering away. A mixture of fear and an odd sense of wonder churned in your stomach. The tea you had drunk felt like too much now, sloshing in your stomach in a sickening motion. 

“Then we’ll figure it out.” Satoru pulled you closer, and you rested your head on his shoulder, allowing him to slip his arm around your waist.

“What if I want to keep it?” You weren’t sure what to do. Your powers were unreliable, Gojo was the most powerful sorcerer in all of Japan. Had you ever wanted kids? You didn’t think so. But there was this odd feeling in your chest, a heaviness that was twined together with your secret love for Satoru.

“Then we keep it.” His answer was soft, murmured into your hair. You nodded, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. It had taken a moment but you realized in all of his answers he kept saying ‘we’. 

“You won’t leave me?” Your voice cracked slightly and you shut your eyes, body tensing as you waited for his answer.

Satoru pressed his lips against your forehead.

“Never.” He laughed slightly, “As much as you might annoy me. I’ll always take care of you.” 

You shifted, looking into his eyes, searching for the catch. Satoru offered a soft smile, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“We’re in this together.”

Relax

“How am I supposed to relax with your damn eyes glowing in the dark?” 

You were beyond exhausted. Almost two days of no sleep, subsisting off of energy drinks and snacks from vending machines. The mission had been a bust, the curse user you had been sent after being given the heads up beforehand. Smug bastard that they were, they had dragged you and Satoru across two cities till finally you had cornered the curse user in a small village alley. 127 whole miles from the original spot you were supposed to have finished the mission. 

Despite the lack of sleep, Gojo had dispatched the curse user with ease. Hell maybe because of the lack of sleep. The man was a monster, something you were realizing more and more with each passing month. A good monster but still, you were glad you weren’t on the curse’s side of this battle.

“I’m not sleepy yet.” Satoru mumbled, eyes locked on the book in his hands. You scowled at that. It was pitch black in the hotel room, EXCEPT for the eerie glow that his eyes gave off. It let him see in the dark, see practically everything. And right now, it was making it impossible for you to sleep. Even across the room they glowed like annoying beacons. Everytime you managed to drift off, if you shifted ever so slightly, the blue glow would appear, burning through your eyelids.

You knew it was because he kept glancing at you. 

“Damn it.” You huffed. Throwing the blankets off, you slid out of bed, stomping the few feet over to him. Anger and exhaustion made you bold, turning off the normal filters that kept you polite. Now was not the time for niceties. You were tired and he needed sleep as well. Normal behavior be damned.

Satoru made a noise of surprise as you pulled the blankets from him. The book was tossed to one side as you straddled his thighs, gently pulling his member from his boxers. You ignored the grin he gave you as you bent down, gently licking the soft skin of his cock. It twitched in your hand, quickly hardening as you lapped at his skin. 

Satoru finally closed his eyes, the room truly dark as you gently sucked the tip of his cock. The room silent except for the soft lewd noises your mouth made against his skin.

You swirled your tongue over the head of his cock as you slowly slid his member further into your mouth. He wouldn’t fit in your mouth fully, the man was too large for that. But what didn’t fit in your mouth, you gently pumped with one hand. He was stiff and warm in your mouth, strangely sweet against your tongue. Not that you would ever complain. Saliva pooled from your lips, coating the rest of his length as you flattened your tongue against the head of his cock. He thrust his hips against your mouth, murmuring something you couldn’t quite hear.

Bobbing your head up and down, you hollowed your cheeks, slowly pulling against the tip of his cock. Satoru let out a muffled moan, one hand threading in your hair as he urged you further down his cock. You resisted the urge to gag, letting your throat relax as you humored the man.

“Good girl.” Satoru breathed out, the hand in your hair tightening as you took him down your throat. You scrunched your face as his pubic hair tickled your nose. It took all of your effort not to react, instead taking a deep inhale through your nose to try and fill your aching lungs. 

Satoru was too big, your throat ached as he began to gently thrust up into your mouth. You gripped his thighs to steady yourself, letting him take control. 

His thrusts were gentle, rutting against your throat with a rhythm you could take. Drool pooled from your lips, coating the base of his cock as you stifled a moan of your own. The grip on your hair tightened as you pulled all the way back, lips stopping to suck at his tip. You teased him for a moment, tongue laving at the underside of his cock. It let you breath while also teasing him a bit.

Satoru’s grip in your hair was iron, the man shaking beneath you as you slowly lowered your head again. Inch by inch you took him back, allowing him to push all the way back into your mouth.

“Fuck.” It was a small breathy moan, Satoru’s grip loosening as you took control. You took it slow, teasingly bobbing your head along his length. Just fast enough to build to his release, but not enough to send him over the edge.

This was your little revenge for him being such an ass during the mission. 

You let out a muffled yelp as his hand tightened in your hair again, pushing your face back down his length. Drool smeared across your nose and cheeks as he thrust up into your mouth, chasing his release with no regard for you anymore. 

A silent two can play this game from him.

Satoru’s low grunts and moans filled your ears as he pounded his length into your throat. It was bruising and you nearly gagged as he dragged his cock back then thrust it deep within your throat. Satoru ejaculated into the back of your throat and you swallowed instinctively. The warm liquid slid easily down your throat and you groaned as he kept cumming. His large hand massaged the back of your head as you swallowed his full load, a quiet praise falling from his lips.

With a sputter, you pulled yourself from him, coughing as you massaged your throat. On one hand you were a little pissed but on the other, you hoped he was finally tired.

“Go to bed.” You rasped, trying and failing to clear your throat. Satoru laughed at that, tugging you beside him and nuzzling your neck.

“Relax. You’re going to give yourself a stroke with how much you stress out.” His words carried a hint of sleepiness, the man’s eyes blessedly closed as you tugged the blankets over the two of you. He was being an ass again but you were too tired to fight him. Instead you allowed sleep to swiftly take you.

Sealed

“Suguru?” His voice sounded broken. Your heart ached from your hiding spot, fingers digging into the subway tile as you listened to the man you love break. Anger, incredulity and pain. They radiated from him in violent waves that painted the subway with his cursed energy. 

“You CAN’T be Suguru.” Rage had won, Satoru struggling against his bonds as he faced the imposter. You couldn’t hear the other man, his thin lips barely moving as he spoke to Satoru.

Not that it mattered. The situation was far beyond your abilities. Even if null worked now, you doubted it could do anything against the odd black prison Satoru was currently within. 

You had heard snippets on the way in. The curses who were intelligent enough to speak, Yuji who had figured it out somehow. All painted the picture that horrified you.

They meant to seal Gojo Satoru away. 

It meant destruction of the world as you knew it. And there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

So, as the reanimated Suguru moved to finalize the seal, you leapt forward. 

Your presence had been unnoticed, Your stupid ability kept you hidden from them until you stepped from behind the pillar.

And by the time they realized it, your hand was in his, and the seal was complete. 

You let out a terrified scream, fingers tightly gripping Satoru’s hand as pitch black surrounded you. It felt odd, as if all the air were being sucked from your lungs. You were being crushed and pulled apart at the same time. 

Then the black peeled away, a sea of chattering skeletons unveiling themselves to you. Beside you, Satoru sat slumped, eyes locked on the twisting black plane beneath you. He was in shock you realized. Whether from seeing his dead friend or the impossible task of sealing him, he was frozen. 

The skeleton’s hissed, swelling forward, arms posed to attack. You flinched, arms coming up in a futile attempt to push them away, to keep Satoru safe. He was the only way out, you had to keep him alive.

There might not be a way out. It was a harrowing thought and one you were quick to swallow. You would not give in, not while you could still claw and scream. 

The skeleton’s stumbled back, flattening against the dark walls of the cube. They were mushed into the sickly black, weakly fighting against null. The walls absorbed them greedily, the collection of bones clawing to be free from the darkness.

“Why now.” You laughed bitterly, the sound of your voice being absorbed quickly by the walls around you. Null was listening fully. It was like breathing, happening as you willed it with no thought involved. 

Your powers crumbled the skeleton mob, clearing the space around you with ease. But it did nothing against the cube. The walls absorbing Null like it was nothing.

A Prison just for him, You couldn’t remember where you had heard that. But it might explain why your ability did nothing to the prison itself.

“FUCK!” You kicked at a loose bone, watching as the skeleton’s slowly began putting themselves back together. They were moving at a snail's pace, bones inching across the rippling black walls, before snapping in place.

Beside you Satoru remained still, staring at the ground. His hands were limp in his lap, hair hiding his eyes from your view. You had a feeling however, that they would be dull. The brilliant blue smothered to something darker. More human.

It didn’t matter either way. You could do what you had been doing best for the past year. Buying time. However long it took, however many Eons you were trapped. You would keep going until Satoru was ready to be himself again.

Tummy

Training break is what he called it. Work interruption is what you called it. Either way you had relented, allowing Satoru to bend you over the desk with little protest.

His warm hand was on your stomach, gripping the soft flesh as he drilled into you from behind with slow precision.

“Not yet.” Satoru whispered, rocking into you slowly. You moaned in response, fingers gripping the edges of the desk. Your bare breasts were pressed against the many scattered files , the paper rustling slightly with each thrust. Satoru’s cock was like velvet, slowly pushing in then dragging out at an infuriating slow pace. Each thrust built the pleasure twisting in your abdomen, but not enough to cum. You whined, trying to push back into him. The man merely laughed, stilling within you.

“If you’re going to be a brat then I’m having my fun without you.” He pulled free, flipping you in a fluid motion. A frustrated protest left your lips as he moved you, brow furrowing as a wave of irritation threaded through your veins. Your back hit the desk with a thud and you let out a gasp. Slightly dizzy, it took you a moment to realize he had only partially meant what he said.

Satoru had been saying, ‘Just this once’ a lot since you had first fucked in his apartment. The man was adamant on not giving what you did a label but also hungrier than a starved dog. You spent half your days sore from being drilled into. He was relentless.

“Be good and maybe I’ll let you cum.” Satoru panted, holding your thighs closed as he gently nudged the head of his cock between them. You gave him a small scowl and a nod of affirmation. 

Satoru set the slow pace again, using the slick of your folds to lubricate your cock as he languidly thrust between your thighs. Each thrust had the underside of his member catching on your clit and you whined, canting your hips against his.

“Be good.” He snapped, pace picking up as he shifted, freeing one hand to smack your ass. You yelped at that, quickly slapping a hand over your mouth. As much as he liked to break the rules, you were mortified to be in the office, pants discarded on the floor and Gojo between your thighs. The absolute last thing you needed was Nanami or Yaga walking in on the two of you. As unbothered Satoru would be by that.

The lewd sound of his cock dragging through your wetness filled the room and you prayed that everyone would stay out on their missions for as long as possible.

Satoru rutted against you, teeth grit as his cock pressed against your warmth. Beneath him, you remained as still as you could, hips canting slowly against his. The warm underside of his cock nudged your clit with a lovely precision, gently coaxing you closer to orgasm. You fought the urge to spread your thighs, to beg him to fuck you. Satoru was fixated on your thighs and you knew any movement from you would have him chiding you and starting the process all over again.

“Wanna cum?” He panted out and you nodded eagerly, squirming against him. Satoru picked up his pace, pulling your thighs as flush against your abdomen as he could. He rutted against you, freeing one hand to rub against your clit. His thumb was rough, actions hurried as he swirled the pad of his finger against your clit. 

You moaned quietly begging him for more. Juices dripped down your ass and you knew some of the files beneath you were ruined. But you didn’t care, too focused on the tight heat in your stomach and how Satoru’s cock slipped, nudging against your entrance.

He pinched your clit, tugging it roughly and you came undone. Walls fluttering around nothing you whined.

“Good girl.” Satoru huffed out, still sliding his cock through your folds. He was close, his eyes half lidded, cheeks dusted pink as he rutted lazily against you. Satoru came with a small groan, his seed spilling across your stomach, warm and sticky.

He stood still, cock growing limp between your thighs. You lay on the desk bracing yourself for his stupid habitual sentence that ruined every intimate moment you had together. 

But instead of the usual ‘Just this once’ he asked.

“Wanna be fuck buddies?”

Umbra

Satoru was like a celestial being. It was something no one could deny, no matter how irritated they were with him. He was like the sun, shining down upon the common folk of earth. Bright and cocky he alone kept the world in balance.

In contrast, you were the moon, hidden in shadow. A quiet and simple celestial body with little to add.

And together you created an eclipse, your union the Umbra hiding his light from earth. 

You hadn’t meant to use your ability. Null turning on was never intentional. But in your intense anxiety and fear for the students, it was like a switch was flipped.

The curtain that had been placed around the goodwill event flickered and shattered. To your right Utahime gasped as if she had been punched, eyes going wide as she stared at you.

“Turn it OFF.” Satoru snapped, one hand grabbing you by the bicep, the man shaking you roughly. He and the rest of the world sounded like they were underwater. Null seeming to slow time down for you by a fraction of a second. You let out a squeak of pain, concentrating.

Utahime was yelling something, her face pale and sweaty. Both of them were nervous and panicked, no doubt feeling exposed.

No one liked when you used null. It stripped them of their abilities, of a core part of what made them who they were. Like a piece of me died. That’s how Gojo had described it.

You shuddered in his grasp, willing the ability to just fucking stop. And it did, a dull rush of sound started up again and the world was as it had been. Gojo was off, rushing into the woods with Utahime on his heels.

You stood alone on the pathway, useless again. The sound of distant fighting met your ears, woven beneath the rustling of tree leaves. 

Why attack the students? Why keep just Gojo out? You stared at where the curtain had been, the path untouched as if nothing had happened.

To keep him distracted from their true goal. Your head snapped around, gaze locking on the school building. It was empty save the few sorcerers who guarded the various vaults of the school. 

You turned fully, darting back towards the school. There was no reason you should have. In truth you should have called out, found someone else to alert. Hell found one of MeiMei’s crows to alert. But there was no time.

You ran, senses on high alert as you searched for cursed energy. Everything was muddled, Yuji and Todo were fighting something strong. It overpowered the area, mixing with the natural energy Gojo exuded. But there were other energies, quieter but you could still feel them.

There was one you didn’t know. Slimy and cold, itching beneath everything else. You turned a corner, concentrating on holding onto the feeling.

And you froze. An odd man stood mid step, looking equally as surprised as you. He was sickly looking, pale with many stitches woven into his skin. His arms were full, items that exuded strong energy, no doubt stolen.

Definitely stolen. You shuddered as your body recognized the dull throb that was Sukuna. It was a painful energy to be around. A finger, they had one of his fingers.

“Did you make me go wiggly?” The being asked, tilting his head to one side. You frowned at his question, body tensed to flee. There was something about him, something off beyond the fact that he was a cursed spirit.

“Wiggly?” You were hesitant to talk to it, but maybe you could stall it long enough for someone else to notice. The spirit nodded, shifting its stolen goods slightly.

“Like all the cursed energy was being sucked into one point.” He laughed, the sound high and manic. “It was hard not to give in and just disappear.” 

A patched spirit, human like with stitches. If it touches you, it changes your soul. It will kill you in the most painful way possible. 

You remembered then, Nanami’s grim report. Of the boy Junpei and the spirit that killed him. Mahito. His name was Mahito.

He took a step forward, dull gray hair falling in his face. You took a step back, legs shaking slightly. Mahito squinted at you, a grin spreading across his face.

“It WAS you wasn’t it?”

The laugh again, unpleasant against your ears. Mahito took another step, the wolfish grin plastered across his face.

“He’s not going to be happy to learn about you.”

You wanted to ask who the cursed spirit meant. But Mahito lunged forward and you kited to the right, dodging his half hearted attempt to touch you. He merely laughed, quickly disappearing over the campus wall, his limbs having twisted to awful horse like hooves.

You stood for a moment, watching where he had disappeared before turning and rushing back to the forest. 

Satoru saw you before you saw him. He was on you in second, arms wrapping around your waist. Normally you might’ve pulled away, not wanting the other teachers to see the affection. But you were terrified. Somehow, having your existence acknowledged by Mahito was the worst feeling.

“Mahito.” You panted out, wincing as Satoru’s fingers dug into your sides. 

“He took a finger.” You gasped, trying to catch your breath as you twisted in his hold, jabbing a finger over your shoulder. “Other things too.”

Satoru was silent, his hands clenched at his sides. You realized what he was waiting for and waved your hand in front of your face.

“He didn’t touch me. I promise.” 

Your words relaxed the man, but only by a fraction. Beneath his blindfold, you could see the furrow of his brow and the clench of his jaw. He was pissed, mind working double time as he thought out his next move. 

Mojito’s days are numbered, You thought faintly, turning as Utahime and Nanami caught up with the white haired sorcerer.

Void 

Volcano head was screaming something. You couldn’t hear from your spot next to Yuji, squinting as you tried and failed to follow the fight. Gojo was too fast and the curse was trying pretty well to keep pace. Beside you, Yuji was tense, leaning forward as he took in the fight. It was a learning opportunity, though you hoped he was getting more from it than you.

Satoru was showing off and you had a feeling the Curse was as well. It was angry, insulted and blood thirsty. You shifted in your spot next to Yuji, nibbling at your thumb as you thought about using null. It wasn’t like you could conjure it up at will, but if something went wrong it would be up to you to protect Yuji.

What a joke. The critical part of you was quick to quip. And it was. At most you could buy the kid a few seconds. Hell you had a feeling Sukuna would do more for the kid and not even out of the kindness of his heart. I am pathetic. You thought tiredly.

Something changed and all of a sudden Satoru was before the two of you. His demeanor was more serious and you shivered as he extended limitless to the two of you. Around you the earth changed. Suddenly fire and lava sprang up on all sides. Heat pressed against your skin, hungrily lapping at limitless as it tried to singe your flesh. You were trapped in a ball of molten earth, the Curse spirit looking triumphant at whatever he had caused.

“You know.” Satoru started, hooking one finger into his blindfold and tugging it down. “The best way to get rid of a Domain expansion, is to lay down your own.” 

Domain Expansion. It had been explained to you once in an attempt to see if it was something you could achieve. Null functioned similarly, or so they thought. But alas you had never gotten past basic combat. Still you remembered enough and you shuddered as you watched lava bubble around you. He was explaining it for Yuji’s sake, not yours. Still showing off as the teacher he was.

No one sees Infinite Void and lives. Nanami had stated once. Satoru never let them. And you could see why.

As the words left his lips, the volcanic field around you was sucked into an abyss of black. It was the night sky. Space and all its stars. It was the gap between cells, the void between atoms. The void stretched on for Eons, spirling farther than your human mind could comprehend. It was beautiful and it was terrible.

You and Yuji clung to Satoru’s waist. He hadn’t said anything to either of you, but you knew without asking. If you got separated, you would vanish, become part of the void that stretched on without end. 

He shifted and suddenly your trio was behind the Curse. Yuji was in your arms and you were tucked in the crook of Satoru’s left arm. You shared a bewildered look with the teen. In the void, there was too much. You were frozen, unable to act. And yet Satoru cut through the space as if it were nothing. 

The curse sputtered before you, gasping as if it were failing to draw air. Did curses breathe? Did the rules of the world matter in this void? 

Satoru was saying something, his free hand gripping the top of the curse’s head. You barely heard it though, mind churning as you stared at the void beneath Satoru’s feet.

Did the council truly think you could ever defeat someone like this? A mortal God. The thought almost had you laughing at the sheer absurdity. Were you watching Gojo? Or was he watching you, the one with the power to crumble the world he stood at the top of as its God?

You felt Yuji tense in your arms and you looked up in time to watch Gojo rip the curse’s head from his shoulders. The man looked terrifying, the void crumbling around him like shards of moonlight. Even murderous, he was still beautiful. 

You and Yuji sat, still clinging to each other as Gojo questioned the curse. IT didn’t work, a different curse springing into action, a field of flowers springing up around your group. The scent of the flowers made it hard to think and you and Yuji watched as Satoru chased after the two. 

“Too much or not enough?” It was hours later and you glanced up from the paperwork you were working on. Satoru had his head tilted as he looked down at you, one eyebrow raised.

“What was?” You looked back down at the report, wondering how best to put into words how the night went. Yaga wanted detailed reports when it came to Yuji, understandably so. But you were having trouble putting the night into words.

“My teaching.” Satoru rested against the desk, crumpling a few of the finished files you had set to the side. You shrugged at that, inhaling quietly as you penned a half hearted description for Yaga. Satoru watched quietly, eyes narrowed as he read each word. He hadn’t put his blindfold back on yet, the brilliant blue of his eyes unsettling as ever.

“It’s called Infinite Void.” Satoru jabbed a finger at the report. You shot him a look, nudging his finger out of the way as you finished the report. 

“I know. Yaga wants descriptions.” You gestured at what you had written. It was a lackluster description in your opinion. There was no way to put Infinite Void in writing. Anything but the domain was just a pale imitation.

“I can’t exactly accurately describe infinity with mere words.” You shoved the report in its file folder, tossing it in the complete pile. Satoru hummed, holding his hand out. You squinted at him, then took it with a sigh.

He teleported you to his apartment, walking over to the kitchen counter where bags of take out sat waiting.

“I'm not sure we’ve eaten yet today.” Satoru was right of course. Things had been too hectic the past month and not eating was starting to become a habit with the two of you. It wasn’t healthy and you grimaced as your stomach suddenly awoke, grumbling unhappily. 

Per usual, Gojo had ordered from several different restaurants. While he tackled the many sweets that had come with the order, you picked at a pasta bowl that had been in one bag. 

“Did it scare you?” You pushed the noodles around the bowl, watching Satoru’s face as he licked icing from his fingertips. “Using Infinite Void for the first time?” 

The man thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Why would I be?”

You looked back at your meal, taking a small bite as you thought. Of course he wouldn’t be. Between his other techniques and the 6 eyes, his domain expansion was just the natural next step. Still, it made you wonder. 

“What does it look like to you?” 

You blinked at his question, swallowing your bite as you carefully considered. Satoru’s eyes were locked on your face, two unblinking blue skies.

“It's like you.” Your answer was as truthful as you could get. It was the only way to even come close to accurately describing the domain. 

“Terrible, overwhelming and yet beautiful.” 

Satoru laughed at that, popping a strawberry in his mouth. “You think I’m beautiful?”

You shot him a glare. “I could be blind and still recognize your beauty.” 

He let out a small laugh at that and you rolled your eyes. Gesturing at him, you let out a small sigh. “You are a God among us are you not?” 

Satoru shrugged at that, something in his eyes changing as you spoke. There was something guarded in his expression, as if he had heard this before.

“Your looks, your powers. Everything is stacked in your favor.” 

You didn’t need much knowledge of the world of curses to know that he was at the top. Gojo Satoru was the envy of all, even those blind to the curses around them. He waded through humanity an Adonis among the masses.

“Is that why you sleep with me?” He smirked as you sputtered, “A gold digger for the Gojo clan money and power?”

Satoru dodged as you chucked your fork at him. You were part angry and part amused. Of course he would get out of an actually serious conversation using sex.

“I sleep with you because unfortunately I like you.”  The heat in your cheeks was an inferno. You could feel the blush extending down your neck. It wasn’t something you had ever admitted out loud. Not when beneath him in bed, nor bent over a desk. No matter how much you had felt during sex with the man, you had always kept it to yourself. To you, it was a girlish crush that he would brush to the side. Satoru wasn’t one for serious emotions. Not when he could hide behind his normal facade.

“The real you that you show me shards of.” You clarified, cutting him off as he opened his mouth to respond. A silence fell in the kitchen as the two of you began eating again. You felt mortified, embarrassed at the partial confession. If only null worked on me, you mused, wondering what it would take to disappear from the apartment without Gojo’s help. But alas, that wasn’t in the cards. Even if you could suddenly teleport it wasn’t like you could flee from this world and your responsibilities in it. 

“I like you too.” He murmured, so low that you almost didn’t hear it. The words shocked you to your core. He seemed incapable of such emotion and yet here he was, eyes locked on his plate. Satoru was unable to look at you as he admitted it. 

You merely hummed in response, knowing better than to push it. This was as close as you would get to love from him.

Weightless

There was nothing but air around you. The sky was to your back, the ground oh so far below. 

It had launched you. The curse had moved around Gojo and instead had wrapped one vine-like limb around your legs and flung you into the sky. 

For a moment you had spun, end over end. A dizzying ascent that had you nearly pass out. You weighed nothing, your organs were all rearranged, trying to crawl out your throat. Far far below you could see the dark speck that was the massive curse and an even smaller white speck that was Gojo. 

With a sickening lurch you reached the peak of the arch. Your body seemed to freeze, movement stopped for just a second before gravity grasped you and you plummeted to the ground. Tears streamed from your eyes as a silent scream bubbled in your throat. The ground hurtled upwards the small specs of trees becoming larger with each passing second. You could see the leaves now and your eyes slammed shut as you let out a high wail. Body tensing you waited to feel yourself crumple.

“Gotcha.” Satoru’s arms wrapped around you and your sudden descent halted. All of the air felt sucked from your lungs and you gasped as you struggled to breathe. Just feet below you was the forest floor, the green cheerfully rustling in the low breeze. Your fingers dug into his jacket and you trembled as your mind tried to come to terms with the fact that a few seconds later you would have died.

There was the odd tugging pull as Gojo teleported and you were back in the hotel room you had rented out for this mission.

“T-the curse.” You managed to sputter out, knees shaking as you sat on the bed.

“Blam.” Satoru punched one fist into the palm of his other hand, a large grin on his face. He looked beyond smug, adjusting his blindfold with one finger. You let out a small sigh of relief, feeling some sense of safety seeping back into your veins. This mission had taken too long for your liking and you knew Yaga was going to have a fit when you got back.

“You need to get used to that.” The man flopped onto the single armchair in the room, adjusting his blindfold.

“Being flung?” Your heart was still pounding, the words barely making it out of your throat. The look you threw at him was a mix of annoyance and incredulity. In the several months you had “worked” for the man, never had he brought up “Being Flung” as one of your job duties.

“Uh, yeah.” Even with the blind fold, you could read clearly the ‘are you stupid?’ look plastered on his face. You opened your mouth to tell him off and shrieked as suddenly his hand was on your wrist.

And you were weightless again. 

“SATORU!!!” You howled, eyes tearing up as you plummeted from who knows how high. There were only clouds and cold biting air. A plane of bright white that dizzyingly spun past you as gravity latched onto your flesh. Tears filled your eyes as stinging, icy air bit at your face and exposed skin. You couldn’t see the ground as you fell, the fluffy clouds hiding your horrible fate from you as you plummeted.

“IT’S NOT SO BAD.” Satoru was next to you suddenly, letting himself fall as he grabbed your hand. You let out a wordless shriek, rage and fear mixing in your stomach as you fought the urge to pass out. Fear filled your head like a thick syrup, the urge to survive grappling the inevitable death that awaited miles below you.

The ground was visible now. A horrible patchwork that became clearer with each passing second. Farm land and cities painted themselves before you with a dizzying speed. Your heart was in your throat, pulse a thunderous roar in your head as you let out another howl.

“Relax.” Satoru huffed. You were back in the white expanse of sky again, no longer falling. High above the clouds where the air was thin and cold. Dew was quick to collect, a chilling cover that did little to calm your frantic pulse. Satoru held you in his arms, scowling down at you. His chest pressed against your back, arms locked tightly at your waist as he let out another sigh.

“You need to be able to react well to attacks like this.”

Slipping his blindfold off, Satoru stared at you with his brilliant eyes. They rivaled the sky you realized, still able to find him attractive despite the fear still threading through your veins.

“Curses will always try to separate and concur.” 

He shifted you in his arm, face close to yours as he held you close. Satoru’s breath was sweet and warm, surprisingly welcome against your chilled face. It nearly made you loosen your hold on your anger. And then he opened his mouth again.

“It's easier to pick off the weaklings and then focus on me.”

Words formed and failed to pass your lips. You were beyond pissed at the man. Despite his angelic looks and charming grin, he was a devil.

“F-fuck you.” You managed to sputter out, fingers digging into his sleeve as you tried to avoid looking down.

“Ah, you wish.” He cackled. You silently cursed him as the man teleported you back to the hotel room. Gojo was your personal devil, you decided.

Xeric

“Five letter word meaning a very dry habitat.” Satoru was hunched over a wordscross, the man so bored he had resorted to reading the newspaper. You sat beside him, watching as the airport flight board went through its cycle, wincing each time your flight number was displayed.

Delayed by 2 hours. You weren’t sure you could last another 2 hours with the whiny man baby. He had gotten nicer since the night he had come crying. The past 3 months it had been easier to be his assistance. But now that he wasn’t hating your guts, you were being given the same aloof rich toddler routine he gave everyone else.

You knew it was a facade. That Satoru was unable to let anyone in. The event in his teen years that he refused to talk about had changed who he was. Made the man a wolf in sheep's clothing.

“Hey.” He nudged you with one knee, sliding his dark shades down his nose. Satoru regarded you, his other hand shaking the newspaper in your direction again.

“I asked a question.”

You shot him an exacerbated look. The past 2 weeks you had been on a mission with him. Being dragged to the middle of nowhere to find a special grade spirit terrorizing a small village. While Gojo had been stomping around the forest, you had spent the days surrounded by the old women of the village pestering you about your ‘husband’. It had been horrible, the old women unabashed in their curiosity about the handsome man and how well he made love. 

Gross.

With a small sigh, you looked at the question again, trying to think of a suitable answer. Surprisingly you had it. 

“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you can’t just teleport us back.”

Satoru whined at that, leaning back in his chair, head tilting back as he let out a dramatic sigh.

“I dunno ask Yaga. He’s the one bitching about keeping a low profile.” 

Fair enough, you grimaced as you thought back to the talking to you had started getting weekly. Yaga was determined to reign Satoru in and was fully intent on using you as the vessel to do so. Not that you could do anything to stop the snowy haired man even if you wanted to.

“Xeric is the answer.”

Satoru gave you a look, “That’s not a word.”

You shot him a glare, “Don’t ask for my help if you aren’t going to take it.” 

The man hummed, stretching his long legs out. He had worn an all black ensemble today. Black slacks, loafers and a turtleneck. It made his hair look even more shocking. Satoru was handsome in an unearthly way today. It upset you to acknowledge it, cheeks heating up at the thought.

“Use it in a sentence.” He sat back, sliding his shades back up to hide his eyes.

“Google it.” You huffed, crossing your arms and looking away. Without looking you knew he was making a face at you. The man was a child. A small part of you almost liked it better when he hated you.

His hand finger walked from the armrest of the airport bench onto your thigh. Satoru tapped and nudged your thigh until you turned with narrowed eyes.

“Fine.” You paused, then grinned at him, “You make my pussy xeric.”

You weren’t sure if you were using the word right. But it was worth it to see the look of utter shock on his face. He let out a small bark of laughter, turning to his phone to no doubt search up the word.

You let out a small groan, watching as your flight details painfully adjusted.

Delayed by 3 hours.

Yelling

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” 

Satoru was screaming and you could barely hear him. There was a loud buzzing in your head, as if a million bees had settled in your skull. You felt heavy, your limbs were somehow miles apart. Moving felt impossible, you were too tired, too heavy, too scattered. 

‘Sleep. Sleeping would be good.’ You thought tiredly. The feeling was intense, too difficult to resist. Your eyes slid shut, darkness filling your mind and making the buzzing worse.

“FUUUUCK!” 

Your eyes slid open, each eyelid somehow heavier than the earth itself. Through your blurry vision you could see Megumi and Satoru. Both looked panicked. Satoru’s blue eyes were uncovered, pupils dilated as he shakily picked you up. He winced as you let out a protest, more a screech than any word that had tried to form. Everything hurt, waves of fire swelling beneath your skin. Your veins were filled with lava, burning your very soul as he pulled you from the field to a sterile room.

Why is he yelling. You wondered faintly, brow furrowing as you tried to find your mouth, It was too far to use. But it was right where it should be. You licked your lips, struggling to find words that piled uselessly in your throat and silenced you. Your lips tasted of iron, the metallic taste filling your mouth unpleasantly.

Shoko was yelling now, furiously pointing at you and then jabbing her finger into Gojo’s chest. Beside them, Megumi looked pale.

‘Poor kid.’ You thought sluggishly. ‘Where were Yuji and Nobara?’

“FIX IT!”

He was yelling again, hands in his hair this time. You winced, the lights too bright. They reflected from his hair in a strangely blinding way. You tried to wave your hand, to tell him you were fine. It was impossible to tell if it worked, you felt too tired. Sleep, you just needed sleep. Your eyes slid shut again and you gave in to the urge to sleep.

You dreamt of a void. Endless and darker than black. It didn’t scare you, something about it was comforting. The deep black was familiar. A part of you that was sleeping just beneath the surface. The part of you that was Null.

When you awoke, he was yelling again. It was distant, as if he was a few rooms away.

“Sensei. Are you ok?” Yuji sat at your bed, the manga he had been reading forgotten in his hands.

You blinked, licked your lips and nodded. Part of you felt ashamed. This wasn’t your first time ending up in a hospital due to your own incompetence. It was a tired routine that your body was beginning to resent. But the rest of you was too tired to care. Pain seemed to have made its home in your bones, twined beneath muscles and fat to bite at your very core.

“How long have I been out?” You rasped. From the hallway you could hear Gojo’s voice becoming louder.

“5 days.” Megumi stepped into the room and you caught a glimpse of Satoru and Yaga in the hallway. Both looked beyond pissed. The boys shared a glance, some unspoken agreement passing between them.

“What happened?” Your throat stung, each word so faint that you barely heard yourself. The boys shared another glance, a heavy darkness hanging between them for a moment.

“That simple mission wasn’t simple.” Megumi sat on the end of your bed, mouth twisting in a frown. His hair looked more disheveled than usual, dark bags under his eyes adding to his beaten down look.

“It was a special grade and two cursed wombs.”

You blinked, mind sluggish putting it together. The council had been upset about something, again. Your mind couldn’t be bothered to piece it together. But there was a bridge, a curse that had been horribly wrong.

You and Megumi were stuck, the curse swelling larger than life. It wasn’t going to be a simple fight. As it shed its previous skin, you found yourself staring at a massive man-like creature with too many arms and eyes. It had eaten more than one of Sukuna’s fingers. 

You shared a glance with Megumi, the look the boy giving you showing you that he was thinking the same thing. Had it been fed the fingers? Was this a trap?

“Ah” You let out a tired rasp, settling deeper into the plush pillows you were propped up on. For some reason you thought of Mahito, of the school event. Was this the result of that?

You were too tired to ponder on that, choosing instead to glance about the room you were in. Now that you were more awake you could tell the clinic you were in was a lot fancier than it needed to be. The sheets you were on were definitely silk and that walls had medical equipment that looked more expensive than your apartment. That was typical of Satoru, always the best that money could buy.

“Why is he yelling?” You rasped out, eyes half lidded as you stared at the closed door of your room. Satoru was beyond pissed, something that was rare for him to show in front of others. Any emotion was rare for him to share. The man put up a facade of cheerful, carefree idiocy so much that it was hard to believe he was anything but that. 

“Uh.” Yuji made a face, again sharing a glance with Megumi, “He might’ve tried to go kill the council.” 

“Yaga stopped him.” Megumi sighed, rubbing the palm of his hand into his left eye.

“Idiot.” Yuji snickered. No, not Yuji. Sukuna.

“HEY!” Yuji yelped, slapping his hand over the mouth forming on his cheek. It didn’t deter the old curse, a new mouth forming on the back of the offending hand.

“Hello dipshit.” The mouth cackled. You hummed in response, lips pressing in a thin line. You were the dipshit in question. Sukuna had made it known his opinion of you when Gojo had first introduced you to the boy. You liked to think that you unsettled the curse. After all, unreliable powers made you unpredictable.

“I’m so sorry Sensei.” Yuji stuffed his hand in his pocket, sighing as the mouth popped back up on his cheek. The curse was persistent today. 

You watched as the curse cackled, seeming to enjoy how uncomfortable he was making the boy. 

Sukuna is an idiot. You decided. It didn’t matter that he could probably rend the earth in half with his bare hands. He was still an idiot. All brute strength and no brains. Ok maybe some brains, no one got the legendary status he did without some effort.

Your head was aching, hell everything was and the Curse’s laugh was getting on your last nerve. Thinking back to the dream you had well passed out, you focused on that deep null feeling that you had swam in.

“AH!” Both boys flinched as a weak wave of null rippled out around you. It had the desired effect, the mouth on Yuji’s cheek closing with a snap. You smiled, inhaling deeply and focusing again to release the feeling. 

“You figured it out!” Satoru flung the door open, striding in with a rather manic look on his face. You nodded stiffly, offering an apologetic smile to the room.

“One good thing about this I suppose.” 

Gojo merely hummed at that. He was upset, you could see it in how he stood, fists jammed deep in his pockets. The boys could tell as well, both giving him a concerned look.

“Glad to see you’re up.” You smiled as Nanami entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He had a small pastry box in his hands. 

“Are you done yelling?” The blonde leveled a sharp look at Gojo. Satoru huffed, running a finger over his blindfold.

“Depends, is there a donut in there for me?” 

For a moment Nanami just glared, allowing Yuji and Megumi to each snag a treat from the box. Then he relented, passing the box to the white haired man. Gojo took it with a noise of excitement, flopping next to you on the bed. You gently took one of the chocolate donuts, biting into it carefully. Next to you, Satoru crammed a jelly donut into his mouth, not caring about the mess he made. He leaned close to you, licking his lips with an odd gusto.

“I am in fact not done with yelling.” He murmured in your ear. It was not a whisper, Nanami shooting him a glare and the boys both sharing another cryptic look. You let out a sigh, wondering faintly if there was a way you could turn null on permanently. 

Zealot

“Don’t say his name.” Satoru snapped at you with a ferocity bordering on rage. It stunned you for a second and you physically recoiled, one foot sliding back as you tensed. The man’s uncovered gaze was usually unnerving as is. But now, it was positively poison.

“A-alright. Sorry.” You stammered out, shifting a step away from him. Shoko had been right of course. Stupidly you had thought the two of you had grown close enough that you could start to peel back the layers that Satoru shrouded himself in.

In the months you had been working with him you had learned that his cheerful and arrogant behavior was to cover how he truly felt. The man exposed nothing about himself, not who he cared for and definitely not how he felt. Satoru presented the world with the facade of a confident jujutsu god.

It slipped from time to time. Usually when he was startled, like with you using null from the first time. Or when one of his students was put in danger without him around to help. It was rare but it happened.

You shifted to the kitchen of your apartment, fiddling with a hand towel. The air was tense, Satoru standing with his back to you. 

“I didn’t mean to snap.” The man sighed, walking over to you. Satoru leaned against the counter, sliding his hand across the smooth granite.

“He’s a dead Zealot. That’s all he is.”

It was a lie. You didn’t need Satoru’s six eyes to see that. 

“He left the jujutsu world, became a cult leader.”

You stood, one hand limp against the counter top. He was being incredibly open. It scared you a little to see such raw edges exposed.

Beneath the shiny and perfect exterior sat tangled and ripped edges of hurt that he had swallowed. Never acknowledged, it had years to grow, years to fester within the hidden most part of his soul.

“Suguru killed humans, his own parents.” Satoru spat, he was angry, but not entirely with his best friend. You could tell some of the anger was directed inwards, chewing at the open wound. He blamed himself. Blamed decisions he did not make and could not have stopped.

“He died as he lived, cruel and heartless.”

You slid your hand across the counter, gently touching his finger tips. Satoru pulled his hand away, the look in his eyes steely as he regarded you.

You swallowed the hurt, trying to assume a comforting expression.

“You don’t mean that.” Your voice was soft and unsure. Satoru laughed harshly, smile too sharp, eyes too bright.

“Nothing good comes of a zealot.” He turned, yanking the apartment door open. You flinched as the door slammed behind him, stomach twisting in knots. Satoru had cried so hard when his friend died. He had poured his heart wordlessy into the air, into your arms. 

You knew he hadn’t allowed Shoko to deal with the funeral rights. That there really hadn’t been a funeral, just a quiet burial.

He hadn’t been able to cremate his friend's body. Hadn’t wanted Shoko to see Suguru as a shell.

Emotions from the past bubbled within him, a churning mess of molten guilt and rage. Satoru could spit and snarl as much as he wanted, but you knew beneath it all he would always love Suguru.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hii :) i love ur fics & i was wondering if you could do childhood friends to lovers with friends to lovers w/ miles morales (e-1610) where they're mutually pining but think that they don't feel the same but literally EVERYONE else sees it. bonus points if there's a confession in the rain or an accidental confession while crying when one of them gets seriously injured. sorry if my ask is either too descriptive or not descriptive enough thank you for your time <33

(Hello! Of course I can, lovely! Enjoy!)

Taglist

Frontline Confessions

Your guys' crushes on each other was practically orchestrated by y'all's parents

They always knew you guys would in some way like one another

You guys were best friends growing up, never leaving each other's sides

You also forced your parents to be friends just so you guys could hang out even more

You guys were always connected by the hip

If one was near the other was following closely behind

Miles and you always shared everything, sometimes you would come home at like 6 and your parents would be like

"Whose sweater is that?"

"Miles!"

And look at each other knowingly

Rio and your mom were mostly excited, as Rio wholeheartedly approved of you as she thought of you like a bonus child

Everyone could tell you two liked one another, it was no secret

But you guys didn't even know you had feelings until you guys got older

Miles would do anything for you

And I mean anything

Constantly sketching you, you and him as a photo on his lockscreen, he was bursting at the seems trying to keep it in he was Spider-man, but you found out

You guys had those little kid marriages under the slides at recess

You and him fended off childhood bullies or one who teased you guys

Only you two needed each other honestly

You guys obviously had other friends but always were each other's number one

The one to walk with you anywhere just to hold your hand

You guys had "platonic" affection but really just acted together

So many people thought you two were dating when they saw you guys

Ganke actually thought you were dating for like 6 months

You guys denied it over and over but couldn't help but wonder if you guys would ever actually date

His mom was constantly teasing him about you

Half of your closet was really his because he knew he wasn't getting them back

You guys were always out with one another, getting food, hanging on top of rooftops, sneaking away from your parents

He sometimes swung you around on his web shooters

You guys would also hang out at Uncle Aaron's apartment

You were there with the good and the bad

And Miles really needed you in the bad

He was always outside knocking on your window, or sneaking inside or just standing in front of your apartment door

You guys had movie marathons or pulled out old photos of you two when younger

"Look at your missing tooth!"

"Well, look at this horrible ponytail! What is this?!"

"You cut off half of it!"

"Oh, right-"

You guys always were seen giggling, holding each other or laughing your heads off

Everyone would look and know

Begging to be put out their misery

Confessions didn't happen for a long, long time, until a certain time you were almost bleeding to death

"Holy- I'm so sorry, (Name)!"

Miles panicked, by your side and spitting out apologies as you bled, holding your newly adorned soon-to-be battle scar.

"Are you okay?" Miles asked, glancing behind himself as Peter fought, Gwen and the rest of your friends desperately trying to keep up without you guys.

"Are you okay to fight?" Miles asked, grimacing at you and even more so at the look you gave him.

"I think I'm dying, Miles!" You yelled, holding your side in the pain as Miles tried to help stop the bleeding.

"Don't die! You can't die!" Miles said once more, trying to convince himself more than your blood piled beneath you.

"Why not? I'm gonna anyway!" You bickered back, much less concerned for your wound than Miles.

"Because I still have something to still tell you!" Miles tried once more, his own small tears in the corners of his eyes at the thought.

He couldn't lose you.

"Tell me then! What's the point of holding it in now?!" You continued on, shaking your head as your hand was almost coated red.

"I can't!"

"Why not?!"

"Because I'm scared you won't like it." Miles revealed, shaking his head as you gave a look of disbelief.

"Who cares! I'm dying." You countered.

"I like you! I've liked you since we were kids! And I don't want you to die because I'm scared!" Miles yelled back, looking down at his hands as they both tried to stop the blood, making it better, somewhat.

Miles then noticed his mistake, not able to take back his words but instead being able to slowly look up at you, grimacing at himself.

You couldn't help but stare at Miles, barely believing your ears, much less now.

Much less with the boy you had liked since you were kids.

"...you like me?"

"...yeah."

Miles stared at you for a moment, like the world went away as he took in your face as you spoke.

And suddenly, Miles laughed.

Miles laughed hard, the tears in his eyes turned to relief as he laughed. As your best friend, and maybe now more, laughed, you couldn't help but join in.

Miles then took a moment, turning it over in his head before he launched forward, bringing you in closer to him.

You and Miles stared at each other, closer than normal, then suddenly, you couldn't help but lean in and kiss him, one you wanted to do for so long.

The kiss wasn't long, but it was waited for, dreamt about and slow and passionate, lips moving together almost like they were meant to be.

Miles pulled away, not away from you but away enough he could laugh, smiling in victory.

"Have you wanted to do that for as long as I have waited to do that?" You laughed at the both of you, and so did Miles as he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah I have." Miles shook his head, the same smile there as he hugged you, arms around your waist as he almost pulled you into his lap, but stopped.

"Ow, ow, ow!" You cried out, punching his arm, cause even if you liked each other, you were still best friends, and friends hit.

"I'm sorry! Shit! I'm sorry!" Miles cried out, wincing as he looked at the blood on his arm, wiping it away quickly.

"We gotta get you out of here." Miles said, tucking his arm under yours and starting to lift you to your feet, a bit too rough at your circumstances.

"You think I don't know that?!"

"Don't make me leave you here!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagslist:

@mushystrawberries

@sweetheartlizzie07

[t-tomuras]

♔ ─── • 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki | Tenko Shimura x F!reader

Warnings: Cyberpunk AU, Tenko majority of this fic, mentions of public masturbation, body modification to both reader and Tenko, nipple play, biting, drinking, mutual pining, creampie

Wordcount: 8.5k

Notes: Reupload

Tenko doesn’t even try to look like he’s busy, barely dressed presentably with tired eyes and stark white locks tousled like he’d just dragged himself from bed. It’s not like anyone can say anything to him, they can whisper amongst each other with lips curled in disdain as much as they pleased, he could not give more than two shits. The hushed voices meant nothing when his father was a member of the board of directors with heavy investments into the company that kept Tenko and his family in the lap of luxury, Kotaro willfully ignorant to how the other half lived. Ignoring the easily remedied struggles and furthering the division in classes with a polished shoe on the backs of the poor he used as stepping stones. 

Tenko was a starry eyed boy once, delusions of grandeur his father was quick to squash with harsh words and harsher punishments if the former didn’t do the trick. Tenko preferred his mother and favored her in disposition, coddled by her as a result and gently shushing his cries as she administered his immunoblockers; distracting him by asking about his ‘inventions’ before his father stormed in with unabated rage. 

“You’re ruining him,” Kotaro would hiss like he hadn’t been doing that himself. Modifying his child with artificial parts to replace the ones he deemed defective simply because he could. Altering him and putting heavy stress on his body at such a young age that inky locks bled into ghost white down to the follicle, cutting away the evidence of the change until the color was even all throughout. Nobody would ask any questions, hardly anyone batted an eye at bodies decorated with chrome; regardless of the age. 

By the time Tenko was an adult the light had dulled but not quite died behind his eyes, taking a job with little responsibilities Kotaro forced onto him without a fuss simply because it was easier. The more painless option. 

But Tenko still had his sharp mind and kind heart, spending the first year of his employment creating designs for body modifications and implants meant to help those that needed the boost; coming to meetings with solid foundations to manufacture them at low cost. His grin was never wider when the board accepted his ideas, created the prototypes and ran their ads that assaulted the masses without relent. 

Only for the price of Tenko’s design to be ten times the proposed amount despite how it was produced below cost. Every executive praised him for saving them Eurodollars they already had a surplus of, the fact making Tenko’s fingers twitch, blunted nails digging into his overly starched pants as he fought the urge to claw at his throat or rub at the calloused skin around his eyes. 

A piece of him died with every instance, new projects he was placed on with the notion of improving lives but the hope is dashed each time. The designs altered and crafted for military and arms usage, plans drafted for field testing or exorbitant price tags for public use that only the upper class could afford. 

It only took two years to crush his spirit completely, reduced him from the optimistic boy his mother cherished to the corporate slag his father heavily modified from adolescence to adulthood. A literal shell of who he once was. 

Now the days just blend together, Tenko openly watching whatever Brain Dance he got his hands on to pass his time at work no matter the ire it incurred. He wasn’t afraid of Kotaro anymore, what more could he do to him at this point besides push him into psychosis? Tenko almost felt like he was halfway there despite the (mostly) clean bill of health he received from their overpaid physician. 

Gotta love those premium plans. 

The BD ends too quickly for his liking, pulling him from the world of gore he’d chosen to insert himself in and back into the sterile glass cage he called an office. Dulled carmines scan over moving bodies in pristine suits with disinterest, the same overly manicured people passing by that he saw every day. 

Except one.

One that stood out, to him at least, your eyes flitting from person to person as you walked too close to a man much larger than yourself. You held your hand to your temple for a moment, Tenko barely able to catch the orange gleam to your eyes that signaled you were on a call before they faded back to their original color. You step closer still, Tenko swiveling in his desk chair as he watches with piqued interest when your lip pouts out and brows furrow with (what he assumes from this distance) frustration. You hasten in pace, managing to get ahead of the man he recognizes as a level three clearance suit before you’re tripping over your own two feet intentionally, grabbing his arm for stability but ultimately bringing him to the ground with you. 

Tenko’s hairless brow raises, watching the scene unfold as the crowd splits around the two of you. The man looks agitated at first until he looks at you, face morphing into a sympathetic gaze as you apologize and rises to your feet, touching the male much more than Tenko considered normal until he notices why. Your hand glides up his shoulder, waving over the ports behind his right ear and pulling out a chip of heaven knows what software or data without the man noticing before slipping it up your own ill fitting outfit Tenko thought looked unnatural on you. 

You looked completely out of place and now he can tell why. 

When the employee helps you steady on your feet, you create distance despite how it seems the man wants the opposite. You look animated in the way you wave your hand and laugh off your feined clumsiness, finding an excuse to head in the opposite direction before ultimately parting ways. 

Tenko follows when you make it to the elevator to likely head to the lobby and out of Militechs tower. The doors sliding shut but your sigh of relief is premature when it slams back open, eyes wide for a moment when Tenko steps on to join you. He settles next to you, nodding quietly with a smirk you finds unsettling instead of friendly. Tenko doesn’t miss how you side step closer to the wall and fidgets with the sleeve he saw you conceal the stolen chip in. You’re thankful the ride is short, stepping off first with hurried strides and without a word to him, slipping into the sea of bodies that crowd the main floor. 

He loses you in the crowd but figures you’ll definitely be heading for the exit. Tenko makes his way through the large glass doors, head on a swivel as he scans over the people in the courtyard until he spots you again. You’re already completely down the stairs but you make no effort to turn around to see if you’re being followed. You know it makes you easier to spot, that it admits guilt. The only reason Tenko even spots you are the cornea implants he’s finally thankful for. 

Tenko takes the steps two at a time, careful not to look like he’s chasing you so he doesn’t draw attention to either of you. It isn’t until several twists and turns over different streets and the crosswalks traffic light that you’re sure you’ve lost him, making a call to the Fixer that gave you a shot. 

The dialing tone rings twice before an encrypted name flashes over the call log projected in front of you that only you can see. A deep voice sounds clear in your head, asking if you’d gotten any of the results you’d promised. Tenko manages to catch up with you then, hearing you talk and stopping short before he steps around the corner; pressing his back against the wall and slowing his breathing to listen in on the one sided conversation. 

“Yeah I got it, I’m sending over the data now. . . What? The fuck do you mean that’s not what you asked for? It was the guy you said!” 

There’s a short period of silence, filled with your ragged breathing before you raise your voice once more, “That wasn’t the fucking deal— BITCH!” 

He knows the conversations come to an end when you curse loudly. It’s almost childish the way you stomp your foot, Tenko peeking around the corner in time to see you tousle your hair in frustration, taking the chip you’d swiped and tossing it to the ground, crushing it for good measure before you stomp away. He almost snickers, smirk tugging his lip upwards when your head turns sharply in his direction, face pinched in a scowl. Tenko thinks you’ve spotted him for sure, prepared to make it look like he simply bumped into you while rounding a corner but when he hears your steps receding he breathes a sigh of relief. 

For whatever reason, he doesn’t know. 

Tenko just knows you’re the most excitement he’d experienced in a long while, making the thought of heading back to work even less appealing than usual. 

So he decides to follow you, assuming he’s doing so at enough distance not to be noticed but he’s wrong. You’re wary of everyone, if there’s ever a lingering presence you’re more than aware of it and you were already on edge. You make it hard to keep up but Tenko is faster than he looked, long strides growing in pace when you start to weave through the crowd in an attempt to give him the slip. He may have the speed but you’ve spent most of your life dodging suits and lying low. 

He doesn’t call out for you, try and get you to stop but follows leisurely. It almost makes you angry, wanting to whirl on him and zero the threat as you move further and further towards the Edge. Into familiar territory where grime and graffiti cakes every surface and for once you have the advantage. Even if it’s slight. 

You cast a sideways glance, catching Tenko looking around the shadowed areas he follows you through that are marginally brightened by flickering holograms and neon lights. He lives in his own apartment close to the Edge, baffled by the contrast between this area and his own. You seize the window of opportunity, lurching forward into a sprint, shouldering through bystanders and taking paths you’d taken time and time again to shake lawmen or greedy fucks looking to rip from someone else. It’s too late when Tenko notices you, breaking into his own hurried pace but you already know you’re home free. 

You hop for a rusted fire escape of a decaying building forgotten in the expansion of industry when you round another corner, hoisting yourself up onto the iron walkway to crawl through an open window. The floorboards groan under your weight but give no other complaints when you stand still, crouching at the windowsill to scan for the man following you; relief flooding your system when you watch him continue deeper into the slums of Night City. You wait for a short spell before emerging from your hiding spot before heading home. 

Tenko wanders longer, taking in the sights long after he’s lost you and finds that even in states of decay he likes this side of the city better than where he’s from. 

Even if there are men getting milked by machines strapped to their pelvises with their tongues lolled out in ecstasy in plain view. 

Anything was better than the thick glass he was forced behind to keep him clean, "above the rest." Never realizing how quickly the panes would shatter, how fast he would fall as soon as he stepped over the edge. 

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Tenko spends more of his time venturing the slums you’d lead him to, learning quickly that he should change his clothes to something more relaxed than the pressed suit he was forced to wear to work. Lest he get mugged, again. 

He finds he blends in easier with the simple black sleeveless tee, tight black pants and red cloak overlay with an iridescent crimson inner collar that makes his eyes gleam dangerously. Now Tenko looked like he belongs, rugged in his looks with the scars from childhood that decorated his left eye and right corner of his lip.

Tenko wanders aimlessly, finding all the history and getting glimpses into the lives he’s always been oblivious to until now.Patroning whatever amenities the outer limits of Night City had to offer, always looking around with the thought in the back of his mind of seeing you again. Watching intently when someone moves quickly in a swarm of people, scanning more than necessary and sitting on train rides through the city until the very last stop. A quiet sort of desperation, Tenko wouldn’t consider it that, of course, he was just a naturally curious person and he found you more than interesting; even from such a limited exchange. 

You’d seen him in passing plenty though, more often than your suspicious mind could care for. You watched how he looked around at faces on the train deeper into the underbelly of Night City while you picked their sockets, quick to get out of his sight each time. Tenko didn’t look at people the way you did, like a walking payday, no; he watched like he found them interesting for whatever reason or like he was looking for someone. Looking for you. 

It bothered you, made you grit your teeth each time you saw him because, even if he was looking for you, what did he have to gain? If he wanted you arrested or charged he could’ve done it by now. 

Tenko confused you. He was an easy enough read too, definitely didn’t belong in your world with how he carried himself, even if he did carry the same hunch to his shoulders. The kind you get when you’ve been beaten down and kicked by corpos just because of your financial standings. Some looked worse than others, he just wasn’t quite there yet. 

He catches you by sheer luck one day, watches you intently; you know it’s him simply by the feel of his eyes on you. Like the first time he watched and chased you on your first (and last) bungled job from a Fixer. You ignore him the best you can, choosing not to draw too much attention to yourself because you needed the eddies and swiping software was the fastest route. 

It was like a show for Tenko, watching with rapt attention at how nimbly you skirt around your targets, avoiding getting caught with a bat of your eyelashes and an apology if they seemed they were wise to you. It made him smirk, one you sneer at when you cast a glance in his direction before disappearing out of the doors when the train reached a stop you found suitable. You knew when to book-it but Tenko wasn’t so easily dissuaded. 

You grit your teeth as he keeps pace, dodging quickly around corners and he’s not exactly sure why he’s chasing you, but Tenko’s feet carry him forward. He’s thankful for the lung implants, thankful for the chrome his father pushed because he wasn’t a healthy child for the first time in his fucking life. They help him in his pursuit but maybe he should install some software that gives him a bit faster reaction time. Tenko follows you around another corner, dimly lit despite knowing better of the dangers only to end up with his feet kicked from under him. The back of his head hits pavement, jarring his senses when a knee digs into his chest with sharp silver claws poised close enough to his jugular that the cool titanium knick’s his skin when he swallows. 

You’re both panting for breath, wild look in gleaming eyes above him when Tenko regains his bearings. Another set of claws digs tightly into the fabric of his shirt, tearing it when you lift him despite your knee being planted firmly in his diaphragm that makes him wheeze. 

“Why, the fuck, are you followin me?”

Tenko doesn’t answer, he doesn’t fucking know why he was following you, not really. Because he found you interesting? Because he was curious? Neither of those seemed like good enough reasons to not have pretty claws shoved through his throat but it’s obvious in how your hands shake that you’re anxiously expecting an answer. 

“I don’t know,” it’s quieter than the both of you expected and whether it was shock or you believing him, he’s unsure, but you release him. Your hands move to your hips, bottom lip pouting out with your knee still settled to keep him pinned and that’s the only thing that keeps him from chuckling at the way you look now. From threatening to cute (for a petty thief with an obvious violent streak) in an instant. Tenko learns quickly though that you shift temperaments at breakneck speed because you’ve got him shoved down flat against concrete before he can even blink again. 

Your hand shoves his face to the side, palm pushing into his cheek but keeping your prominent claws lifted carefully away from his flesh while you scan him. Your eyes glow a vibrant blue, data scrolling through your irises for only a moment, lids sliding shut when they revert back to your natural eye color. 

“What’s a suits kid doin around the slums? Shouldn’t you be kicked back at the top of daddy’s tower?”

There’s a notable disdain in your voice, more so than he’s picked up from overheard conversations and a general understanding of the overt class differences. That doesn’t mean the comment doesn’t churn at his organs, the ones that he was allowed to keep, anyway. Tenko turns his head, once dulled carmine burning into brilliant crimson flashing dangerously in a way that makes your own heart race, your eyes widen a fraction at the change in disposition. 

“You say that like a bitter pet cast aside by its owner.” 

“You’re not exactly in any position to be insultin me, choom,” you snarl back, leaning nose to nose with the titanium threat thirsty for blood sitting cold against scarred and calloused skin. His hands find your hips, action surprising you enough to make you falter and lean away from him but he sits up to follow. 

“I think I like this position, actually.”

You settle he must be stupid, fighting the heat that courses through your blood and the throb to your clit the darkened tone of voice and teasing comment causes. You pry away his hands to stand to your feet, pressing the low heel of your boot into his lower abdomen so he doesn’t rise with you. 

“Don’t follow me again or daddy’s gonna be cashin in on that expensive policy he’s got on you.” 

You’re sprinting further into the low light and out of Tenko’s sight before he can even respond, leaving him to rub at the soreness of his skull in a vain attempt to soothe the ache within. He’s got a smirk on his face, though, scar on his lip tugged upward with the expression while he stares into the limited darkness you receded into. 

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It agitates you just how often you run into him after the first encounter, colliding with his chest in cramped train cars most often, curling your lip when Tenko catches the chip you’d swiped from someone taller than you. He holds it out to you with a smug look, palm up and suspended between your bodies before you’re snatching it and shouldering past him with an annoyed pout that continues to grow more cute than biting to him. 

You always slink away at the next available stop after running into him, he’s learned, a quickly predictable pattern Tenko tracks after the fourth encounter. Your patience wears thin when it comes to him but killing a corpos son, especially one that’s employed high enough in the corporate tower to show status, is more trouble than it’s worth. That’s what you tell yourself, anyway, each time you leave him with an empty threat of his spilled blood and to leave you alone if he knew what was good for him. 

Though, by the fifth encounter, you wish you would’ve torn into his skin whenever he gets the upper hand on you. You weren’t paying attention, had let your guard down with the consideration that you hadn’t seen Tenko at all (not that you were looking for him) and reasoned maybe he either got bored or had finally taken the hint. 

But, no such luck. 

You round a corner on the path to huck your haul to the highest bidder but find yourself pressed between a solid body and a filthy wall. You thrash wildly, throwing your head back with the hope you’ll catch the fucker's nose after the assailant takes both of your wrists and pins them behind your back in an iron grip. 

“Quit your fightin,” the familiar voice breathes against the shell of your ear and, surprisingly, you relax slightly in his hold. He pulls a cord from his throat, jacking it into one of the ports behind your ear, making you thrash once more even as he shushes you, “you scanned me, be good and let me see what you have to share.” 

Even with the coo, the unintentionally sultry purr of his voice, you snarl and work to keep him from gleaning more than he needed to know about you. Corrupting whatever data he attempts to download, snarling at the error messages that display before he yanks the cord from you out of frustration. 

Your head leans back, resting against his shoulder while he looks down to glare his annoyance, “you could always ask what you want to know.” 

You’ll admit the relentless interest of Tenko piqued your own, if only moderately. You find him an enigma despite having all the information you needed on him. Who his father was, where they both worked, every implant in his body and immunosuppressant he was on, right down to the serial number and brand. Even with all of that, Tenko still held the advantage simply because of his financial status, he could’ve had you arrested time and time again by now, but he hadn’t. It’s far from a sturdy foundation of trust but every dog deserves a bone from time to time. 

You offer your name when Tenko doesn’t step away from you or make a move to release his hold. There’s a skeptical raise to his brow, staring at you until you sigh and relax further in his grip, “nothin to know about me in any database you’ll search in.” 

You made sure of that, spent countless hours in deep dives meticulously erasing any trace of your existence so it wouldn’t be brought to an end. When the creases in his forehead only deepen with his scowl you giggle, shrugging as best you can in your position, “don’t gotta reason to lie to you either.”

It far from placates him but at least he knows what to call you now, releasing his hold on your arms and stepping back enough for you to turn around. He thinks you’ll slink away again now that you have the opportunity but you don’t, you lean against the wall with your arms folded over your chest instead; obviously chewing the inside of your cheek like you were heavily considering something. 

“Why do you keep coming here?” The question this time lacks any accusation or venom compared to the first variation. He actually feels inclined to give proper response, even if it doesn’t actually provide a real answer for you. 

“I like it better.” 

That baffles you, enough to actually make you snort a bit before you break out into a genuine laugh. A corpos son with everything in the world at his fingertips simply because of where he was born and who he was born to, preferring the downtrodden.

“You’ve definitely got a few wires crossed,” you say in good nature, laughter dying down into something softer, smile still on your lips that brings one to replace his scowl. It’s small, a smirk if anything, but there’s a definite shift in your interaction now. 

A silence settles between you but it’s far from uncomfortable, Tenko’s hands shoving deep into the pockets of the red coat he wears. You shift your weight on the balls of your feet, rocking slightly as you consider what you want to do next before pushing off of the wall behind you. You take a few steps out into the street, turning to face him when you notice he’s not following. 

“Been chasin me for weeks and now you don’t follow? C’mon, don’t stand there like a gonk.” 

“Where are we going?” He asks but still comes at your beckoning, stride falling in line with yours.

“Somewhere actually worth likin in this shithole.” 

You take him to the official, unofficial, spot everyone looking for a good time went to and where the lawmen didn’t venture. 

Supernova 

A club where it didn’t matter who you were, as long as you paid your tab and didn’t kick up too much shit there was no last call. Tenko looked around in awe, neon lights acting like a beacon and the patrons a moth to its splendor. The interior is lit with black lights reflecting the right colors off of every surface and scantily clad women and men decorated in pretty patterns to hypnotize and entice drunkards looking to blow off some steam. 

It was lively, to say the least, but Tenko stuck close to you as you guided him to the bar, handing him one of two bottles you’d taken from behind the shelf. 

“You’re paying,” you yell over the music but he hardly hears you, agreeing with a nod when you laugh and tug him deeper into the throng of bodies into the open space in the center. You stop somewhere in the middle, turning to him when the music changes and you bounce to the beat with your drink in the air before you practically howl in excitement and knock it back with the bottom up. Your eye cracks open to see him standing stiff despite all the movement around him, moving your hand to lift his own bottle to his lips in a silent bid to drink. 

Tenko doesn’t need much prompting from you, following your lead and emptying his first bottle with a hiss at the carbonation before you’re grabbing two more. You shove one into his hand, already tilting the drink to your lips while dancing around him in encouragement to move with you. 

He empties his drink after you, grin spreading as the alcohol warms his blood and melts away his reservations. Tenko grabs a shot for himself off a passing platter, knocking it back in one swallow while he takes your hand to lift high as you circle around him. Your smile matches his, the music changes again as Tenko pulls you to him to sway with the tempo, hands planted firmly on your hips to keep you close.

Tenko presses your back flush to his chest, his hands aiding in grinding the fat of your ass into his pelvis with the beat as his head dips. You feel him rest his nose in your throat, lips ghosting over your feverish skin from the collective heat that he only seems to worsen in the best of ways with his touch. You can feel his growing erection pressing into you and when the music ends the jarring mood switch leaves you reeling. It brings you back to your senses for a moment, like a bucket of ice water being dumped on you. 

You pull away from Tenko, straightening your thin jacket and smoothing your clothes like it could abate the flusterment you felt before you’re heading for the exit with some flippant excuse he doesn’t hear. His fingers run over his throat but not in the urge to scratch, bringing it up to run through his hair for a moment before he’s following you into the open air; finding you sitting on a bench with your head tilted up to the sky. 

“Needed a breather,” you offer without prompt when he joins you and Tenko accepts the answer, agreeing as he clears his throat. The music only felt like a low thrum instead of the heavy pulsing that it was at this distance, sounds of the city joining the noise in harmony. 

“Wish the breeze didn’t smell like shit,” you add after a moment, nose scrunched up in disgust while you still try and enjoy the cooling air. Tenko chuckles, shoving his hands into his pants pockets as he slouches down into the bench when he feels a familiar edge of an item that he pulls from its confines. 

The motion catches your eye, craning slightly to see the small square in his hand but you don’t ask what it is but you can see for Ten, scrawled in pretty lettering. There’s a slight upward pull to his lips, a look of fondness on his face as Tenko’s thumb gently runs over the worn, handwritten label on the front. He sees your interest, smirking as he digs into his pocket for the compact visor to hand to you, “wanna see?” 

“What is it?” You question but still take the visor and fit it to your face. Tenko pushes the BD into the visors slot, all the settings for it preadjusted perfectly because of his continuous use of it. 

“Just wait,” he takes the cord from his port to link with you so Tenko can join in the experience. He pushes a toggle and instantly you’re transported from the cage of noise and light into a hilly plain of lush green grass with Tenko at your side.

You look around in awe, nothing but tall grass over hilly plains for as far as the eye can see. A breeze rolls over the terrain, making the blades move in a way that looks like ocean waves. It’s almost overwhelming, the joy that floods your body as you breathe deeply and don’t smell the stench of your industrial prison. You tilt back with your arms spread like you’re willing the gust to caress every part of you, the wind whipping the torso of your jacket away from you. 

The experience is breathtaking, opening your eyes to a sky full of more stars than you’d ever seen in your entire life, uninhibited by light pollution. 

“Where did you get this,” it comes breathlessly when you finally remember you’re not alone in this foreign place. You turn to look at Tenko, fighting the rush of heat that warms your face at his soft expression, like he found your reaction precious. 

“It belonged to my mom, she always showed me this after implants,” his look changes into something more somber with a touch of resentment, a mixing of memories both fond and not. You reach for his hand, gaining his attention again as you step closer to him, squeezing his palm with a reassuring pressure. 

You lean your head against his shoulder, standing in amicable silence with the sound of grass being rustled by another pleasant breeze until the sequence ends. You pull the visor away, met with the now empty lot on the outside of Supernova save for you and Tenko. You're resting against him now, supposing you’d drifted closer subconsciously while in the simulated world but you don’t move away from him. 

There’s a look shared between you both in the closeness, searching in one another’s eyes for something you weren’t entirely sure what it could be. It seems Tenko does, though, as his hand comes to rest against your cheek, thumbing over the skin just below your eye. His gaze flickers to your lips, leaning closer and when you show no signs of rejection he tilts his head to finally kiss you. 

It’s tentative at first, featherlight until you return the pressure, leaning into him for more and he runs with the reaction. His hand slides to cup behind your ear while the other pulls your body closer to him by your waist, making a noise of approval when you melt into him. Tenko’s lips are somewhat rough but the contrast feels divine against the tenderness of your own. 

Your hands find his shoulders, creeping slowly into his lap as the tip of his tongue traces over the seam of your lips in plea for entrance; mewling slightly as you grant it. You’ve just barely straddled him and gotten a taste when a jarring chime signaling a phone call rings through your skull. 

Tenko groans when you pull away to answer, lips kiss swollen and lids hooded as he waits to continue but you’re standing up before he can protest. 

He’d distracted you, completely forgetting that before you came here with him you were supposed to meet with a buyer. You’re offering apologies to whoever is on the other end of the call, fixing yourself with the promise you’re on your way. 

You leave Tenko on the bench, once again having him watch your back as you sprint away from him only this time he’s left with a different sort of ache. 

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Your interactions shift dramatically after the heated kiss you blame solely on the alcohol in your system that night and the flood of emotions you felt during the BD he showed you. Tenko always presses against you with intent now and you’re hyper aware of every plane of his body compared to any time before. It always takes you a moment before you’re pushing him away, halfheartedly threatening, “I’ll flatline you if you get handsy, choom.” But you actually like the closeness and when you remove yourself from him there’s a notable reluctance. 

You lie to yourself that you only miss the feeling of the breeze on your skin and not the blazing touch of his fingers groping at your body to bring you closer with a desire for you that gained him nothing but affection. Telling yourself that the way he groaned when your tongue slid over his doesn’t plague your thoughts and if it does it’s driven by lust alone. 

The thoughts only worsen, the longing sitting heavy in your chest when you stop seeing him. It’s not obvious at first, there had been times where you’d only see him every couple of days because he did have obligations but he was never gone long.

You start to look for him now too, ignorant of how you shared the same desire Tenko did after your first meeting. Searching for him on crowded trains and peeking down dimly lit alleyways and taking second glances when you see a swatch of ghost white in the dingy streets, fighting disappointment when you realize it isn’t him. 

He sneaks up on you though, just when you stop looking for him with the notion that he decided he didn’t find you or your world that interesting after all. That he didn’t prefer it over the comforts wealth had to offer. Tenko catches you right before you take the stairs for the train's waiting area, stifling your startled yelp with his hand, the other grabbing your wrists reminiscent of the day you took him to Supernova.

“Miss me?” He breathes through a chuckle, taunting laugh in your ear that sends arousal bubbling in your gut. He doesn’t miss how the rigidity quickly leaves your form even as you begin to squirm in his hold, especially not when Tenko pushes his entire body against yours so when you writhe weakly for freedom he’d get friction to his crotch. 

He would be embarrassed by how quickly his cock swells from the minimal stimulation if the sexual tension between you both hadn’t been mounting since your first shared kiss. Tenko’s every waking thought revolves around that memory. One moment having you held tightly against him with your tongue mingling with his only for you to all too quickly pull away from him and leave without much explanation. 

Tenko would’ve pushed his luck a bit more, let his hands explore you again in the following few exchanges but he’d been neglecting his few duties at work enough for his father to take notice. He half assed everything he could but it still took over two weeks to get Kotaro off his case enough to slip away without notice. 

And you plagued every thought of his and by how you react to him now he knows you felt the same. You had to have been, he can’t be making it up. There’s no way, not when you’re looking at him the way you are, parting your pretty lips and batting your lashes at him with that arch to your back that made him wish a BD didn’t include someone’s fucking face when all he wanted to see was yours the nights he desperately needed relief. 

“Almost think you want me to catch you like this,” Tenko breathes into your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder with one hand pinning both of yours to the wall above you while the other firmly holds your hip. 

You turn your head the slightest bit, eyeing him from the side, “and if I said I did?” 

It makes a shudder wrack down his spine, exhaling slowly as his grip tightens and lids slip shut; you emphasize the question by grinding your ass back against him, eliciting a choked groan Tenko tries to bite back. He pulls you further back against him, his chest flush to your back with his hardening cock prodding against the curve of you. Tenko’s fingers slip under the band of the baggy pants that hang low on your hips, growling when he comes into contact with the skintight bodysuit that covers your cunt. He sucks his teeth, pinching the seam to pull it away before releasing it, the fabric snapping back to your skin with a light popping sound that makes you yelp at the sting. 

“Wear somethin less complicated,” he growls but there’s no bite to it, teeth grazing over the skin of your shoulder to tease you further. Your complaint dies in your throat when nimble digits finally slip beneath the fabric, brushing his middle finger over your clit as his ring and forefinger part your folds. Tenko relishes the sticky sound mixed with the way your body shakes with a shuddering breath, hips jerking into his touch. 

Tenko sighs, humid breath making you keenly aware of the slight dampness on your skin from his teeth and tongue before his lips brush over your throat. His tongue darts out to taste the light sheen of sweat, alternating between pecks and licks with a playful nip that has you turning your face away from him to give him more access. You make a sharp noise when Tenko’s fingers delve further, heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit to keep hearing your muted whines through bitten lips as his index and middle finger tease at your hole. 

“H— here?” You question and he laughs when your hips buck, trying to urge him where you need him with a pleading whine, pressing your forehead in embarrassment to the abrasive concrete wall in front of you at the sound. 

Tenko releases your hands, bringing the hand not toying with your slit to cup your jaw and tilt you to face him. “I’m sure there’s worse things that’ve happened out here,” he purrs as his fingers continue to tease, making sticky sounds that bring a smug grin to his face that only makes your pout deepen. 

“Stop teasin daddy’s b—“ a gasp tears from your throat when both of Tenko’s fingers shove into your cunt to the last knuckle, scissoring and curling to stretch you with no warning. He swallows your moan, taking the opportunity to meld his lips with yours in an open mouthed kiss and slide his tongue over yours. He gives you no reprieve either, sucking on the wet muscle while pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm so all you can do is mewl and buck into his touch. He likes the way you jerk each time he gives pressure to your clit, uneven and desperate for more of him as Tenko ruts his own hips in tandem to give him some modicum of relief. 

You only part for air, your chest heaving and gaze clouded with lust but you pull away when he attempts to bring you back for more, giggling slightly when he snarls at his second attempt. 

“I— I don’t live far,” sentence broken with heavy breaths but when he doesn’t take the hint you reach between your body and the wall to take his wrist. “C’mon choom, maybe I’ll even let ya log it for a BD.”

He wishes that didn’t sound so appealing, even for a joke, growling when he pulls his fingers from you and stepping away, popping the digits in his mouth to swirl his tongue around them to have a taste of you before you’re pulling him along. 

Always following you, always on your heels but it’s always felt right no matter the circumstances. It feels even better when he crosses the threshold to your tiny studio apartment for the first time, dimly lit with plenty of neon he doesn’t have the time to focus on before you’re pulling him to you for a kiss of teeth and tongue. He pulls your body to his, hands on your hips as he walks you backwards to your mattress, stopping to undo the belt that keeps your baggy pants up until they pool around your ankles. Tenko works on his own clothes, shimmying out of his pants as you pull the straps of your bodysuit down your shoulders, breasts falling free for his viewing pleasure. 

He thinks you look beautiful like this, iridescent hues decorating your body in different shades that makes him hate every second he’s not touching you. 

So he remedies that, hooking his fingers into the clothing to help you push it away as he lowers you to the bed, lips blazing a path along your skin. The sounds of your airy sighs goad him, latching onto a pert nipple as his fingers pinch and pull at the other before he alternates to evenly split his attention. You whine after a moment, dangerous chrome claws tugging delicately at ivory locks to pull him from your chest despite his half-hearted groan of protest. 

Tenko rests his hands on either side of your head, caging you in beneath him when he lifts himself. A moment of shyness crosses over your features, bottom lip rolling between your teeth as you legs frame his hips and your ankles interlock at the base of his spine to pull him closer. He gives an experimental roll of his hips, jaw falling in a silent groan at the electricity that jolts through his system at the feel of warm velvet caressing his shaft; both hissing when his mushroomed tip bumps your puffy clit. 

He lowers to kiss you again, finding a slow rutting rhythm of his hips, coating his cock in your approving wetness until you’re whining with need and impatience against his lips. You nip at his bottom lip when he pulls away the slightest fraction, lids hooded as you gaze at one another before you reach carefully between your bodies to take him in your grasp. You like the way his jaw falls, sharper exhale leaving his lungs as you guide him where you need him most, aligning the leaky tip with your entrance. 

Tenko lowers himself to his elbows, canting his hips to push into you, groaning into your mouth as he stretches you inch by inch. You arch into him, moaning in turn, digging your heel into his back like you couldn’t wait another moment for him to completely fill you. His tongue slides over yours, sighing as he sucks on the muscle when he bottoms out, rolling his hips in small circles that gives friction to your clit with each thrust. 

You curse at the feeling, Tenko parting with a rumbling chuckle as you bury your nose into his throat before he changes pace. He drags his hips back, pulling out until only the tip remains engulfed in your warmth and shoving back in quickly with a groan at the lewd squelch the action makes. He jolts your body with each thrust, curve of his cock hitting perfectly into that spongy spot that has you whimpering his name with every contact. It’s hard to be mindful of the weapons at your fingertips with the blinding pleasure, pushing your palms into his back with your fingers splayed open so you don’t filet his back. 

The coil winds tightly in your abdomen though and gasping in sharp intakes hardly gives you the outlet you need. Tenko knows you’re close, your thighs trembling against his hips and each tight squeeze of your cunt around him brings him closer to his own demise. He feels like he’s driving directly toward a cliff he’ll careen off of at any given moment and he’s slamming the petal to the floor to reach it faster.

He’s groaning your name between curses, caging you beneath him with his hair falling in a curtain so all you can see is him. The name Tenko has never sounded sweeter than the breathy way you moan it, trying in vain to tell him what he can already feel before it happens. Tenko shifts his weight to support it on one forearm, bringing this hand down to grasp firmly at your hip and tilting you to take one sharp thrust that snaps the coil inside you. 

Your jaw falls open, back arching into him as your body trembles, light dancing behind closed lids whose splendor makes what Night City has to offer incomparable as you cream his cock. You pull him to you, arm hooking behind his neck as your teeth sink deep into the skin of his collarbone to muffle your moan and the sensation pushes Tenko over the edge, fisting the sheets behind your head as he empties into you. He ruts into you slowly, fucking you both through the waves of your climax, hips stuttering with risidual the risidual convulsions of your cunt. 

You kiss tenderly at the indents of your teeth on him when you come down from your rapture, running your palms up his spine to pull him closer. Rolling your hips slowly into his until the tension melts from his body, appreciating the feel of your lips up his throat and lavishing the scars that litter the expanse with affection, pulling away only when the rolls of his hips come to a halt. 

Tenko reluctantly pulls his softening cock out of you to lay on his side, already missing the closeness even when he pulls you close to tuck into his chest. Your breathing slowly evens in the afterglow of your coupling, silence settling between you save for an electrical hum that’s ever present in your world. You almost think he fell asleep, giggling when he groans as you shift to lay on your stomach like you’ve disturbed him. One of his eyes cracks open, lively crimson simply taking in the unguarded ease that floods your form and features before a smile finds its way to his lips. 

Tenko moves to pull you closer once more, fingers brushing over the top of your thoracic spine, feeling indents instead of smooth skin though that wasn’t unusual for most people. You turn further, pressing your back flush with his chest and pulling his arm to drape over your waist, giving him a better look at what he felt unintentionally.

“More chrome?” He asks the seemingly innocent question, burying his nose into your hair to fill all of his senses with you. 

Your fingers reach for his, fiddling with his bitten cuticles, smoothing over them with a delicate touch as you consider your response. Tenko was here, you’d allowed him into your life in every way but one and you figure he’s earned this vulnerability as well. Your sigh draws his attention, feeling him shift behind you and you tilt your head to look at him when you finally answer, “deep dive port.” 

“Deep dive? What’s a net runner doin picksocketing for ennies?” 

“Survivin,” you laugh but it’s dry and humorless, tainted with more bitterness than you intended. He shifts to sit up, leaning on his forearm with that look on his face that you’d learned meant he wanted to know more. You turn to lay on your back, pupils sliding from his eyes to his lips and over all of the seams that decorated his exposed torso that told this history of his childhood before finally choosing to stare at your bare ceiling. There’s another deep intake of breath, followed by a heavy exhale as you tell him your past, how you’d been sold to a corporation long since forgotten after the crash of the old net. There were a handful of other kids, some excelling and prospering with their upgrades while others expired at different stages, thrown out like faulty hardware instead of human beings. 

Instead of children. 

“Technology advanced but some of our bodies weren’t compatible with the upgrades so they opted to eliminate us and start again. I couldn’t tell ya how I escaped, don’t really remember much besides all the carnage.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, like he’s digesting your past even though it churns his intestines and gives rise to the urge to claw at his skin again. They twitch in your hold, bringing his attention to your hands, “the claws?”

You don’t respond right away, lost in the thoughts of your life before you remember the BD Tenko had shown you weeks prior, the encounter that shifted your relationship to what it is now. Whatever it is now, anyway. You remember the feel of the breeze on your skin and if you think hard enough you can almost consider what the fresh green grass would smell like. Tenko’s fingers lace with yours as she stalls, pulling you from your thoughts once more as you continue to explain. 

“Don’t last long in the underbelly, enniless and without some sorta claws. I’ve always been pretty literal,” you smile at him but it’s devoid of any joy, wry in its nature. “We were never meant to fuse with machines.”

Tenko’s jaw sets tightly, grinding his teeth over all that you’ve told. What this world has done to the both of you, his fury burning deep in his chest and you take notice of it. Attempt to diffuse it with a gentle brush of your knuckles to his cheek with a delicate smile.

“Will you show me the BD again, Ten?” 

“Tomura,” he gives you a new name for himself to accompany his conviction and though your confusion is evident he brings your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles that are still organic, where your claws stop, as he decides on a future for the both of you. “I’ll do you one better, I’ll take you there myself.”

[kim-ruzek]

First, Burzek engaged, yay!

Let me say that this is in no way a trolling question, I genuinely want to know your answer, do you think Adam should have gotten a different ring for the proposal?

I like that the ring has withstand all their ups and downs but it also reminds me of all the heartbreak they went through. I'd hope that they could have got a new ring to signify new beginnings.

I ADORE the fact that it's the same ring. I have headcanoned for literal years that Adam kept the ring, and that when they get engaged again that they'll use that ring and I'm extremely happy that he used the same ring.

I just think it's really sweet and I love what it symbolises. Kim handed it back because Adam wasn't really ready to marry her - she gets it back and accepts it back because they FINALLY are, both of them. It's also her ring. Adam went out, he looked at rings and he found the one that, to him, said Kim and any other ring would just be the second ring. And also I don't think any ring would feel as perfect to Adam than the one he originally picked.

And the reason I love it the most - it's uniting their past with their present and future. As they said, they've fought for their life, has literally bled for it. They've had each other, they've lost each other, they've hated and loved and struggled. And now they're here, partners, family, knowing where they stand and knowing just how hard they fought to get there.

A new ring to symbolise new beginnings, imo, would feel very unlike them and for them, I think it would be like brushing over their past, shutting the door on it. Whereas they're embracing it; they're looking at what they've been through, and they're acknowledging that it all lead to here and now.

It's also healing. They've climbed, clawed and fought their way to be back at the point where they can be engaged again, and the ending of the last engagement hurt them both so much so having that ring back on Kim's finger and knowing they've finally made it is super healing and is a visual reminder that everything they went through was worth it.

Also they're not having a new beginning, imo, and also I think in their minds. It's not a fresh start. They didn't wipe the slate and restart afresh. They built this on the foundation of their past, the good and the bad. It's a circle, really. Everything they've been through since Kim handed that ring back has just been the path back to her getting it back.

And then of course it's just so fucking cute that Adam's kept it over all these years and what that symbolises. That she's always been his girl. That, as he promised her, he will ALWAYS keep fighting for them, because a part of him has never given up hope that one day it'll be back on her hand - as shown by him keeping it. It's a visual symbol that Adam has never stopped loving her.

I also just really love the thought that he's spent the last like seven years paying insurance on that ring. Not even (just) for the chance that maybe one day she'll take it back, but because AS I'VE ALWAYS SAID giving up that ring would be giving up on them in his mind, and Adam's never going to do that.

Plus, there's never been a time I think Adam's got to where he could think about giving it up. First he'd keep it because surely Kim will come back, then it's just too painful to acknowledge the implications of him giving it up, and then they were kinda working things out. Then Al died and he just pushed it out of his mind because he tried to seal a line under them. And then Kim got pregnant, and they've been in this weird limbo of being family and partners and they've fought but then Kim made him Mack's guardian and she was shot and they were living together until finally... they are together.

Thank you for asking!! I have thought about this A LOT over the last few years and I do so love meta talking about Burzek.

[terrence-silver]

Could you please do Terry telling John about Beloved or introducing them to each other?

Thank you 😊

---

John Kreese wasn't exactly always all for the kind of people Terry tended to lead around on his arm; hook, line and sinker. He let that be known at times, in a paternalistic way someone slightly older lets these things be known --- and Terry was rich enough to where someone needed to be sincere with him once in a while --- someone who wasn't a paid suck up --- for his own good.

Wasn't John's manner to pussyfoot around.

Terry knew that and John knew that he knew.

Sure, call him old fashioned, but he believed in something called real, proper, goddamn love; people meet, go steady, like each for all the right reasons and settle down honestly, as they should. An ideal as universal and American as sliced pie and the pickled fence it went hand in hand with. He fought for that dream. Bled for it. Before Vietnam, John could even see himself coming home to such a life if what happened to Betsy didn't happen. She died. That was it. John didn't run from the hard facts and hard knocks of life, instead, he faced them head on like a man should. Much like Terry had to face that pretentious, fortune hunting high-end paid escorts, crooks after his money and influence and perfumed whores of any persuasion no matter how slick about their trade weren't necessarily the right kind to bring home. Fuck, yes. Have fun and enjoy life with, yes. Blow off some steam with and have orgies with on a private island or whatever Terry got up to these days, sure. But not to bring home. Least of all, expect John to take it all seriously. It wasn't the whoring itself as much as it was the lack of honest intentions. Hell, John tended to feel like something of a mother hen sometimes, teaching a grown man who and what to date when Terry was more than capable of taking care of himself and was slick as the slickest among them himself. He worried that the Cobra would encounter a greater predator in the gardens of life than itself and that struck him as ludicrous at this point when Terry was literally gracing the cover of Forbes. He supposed he worried the way an older brother or a father does. The way a Captain does. He supposed he sometimes still tended to see Twig in Terry, flustered about the concept of second base.

He saw Twig, in shimmers, as he spoke, through the occasional sheen in Terry's eyes.

He hasn't seen Twig in Terry's eyes for years.

-"So, how do you know?"- John amused himself, grimly, mustering a sincere half-grin, questioning Terry as they stood on the balcony of his mansion overlooking the vista. He was listening for nearly months about this special someone to the point that he caught that Terry actually wanted to be questioned more on the subject and for John to show an interest and he took as a cue to do so. Deduced that much. The subject of you was like a mouse Terry dropped at his feet, waiting for his praise.

-"I know."-

Terry giggled, elongating his 'know' into suggestive lengths as was his habit, cheeks puffed under the weight of his wide, crooked smile, his pores practically lighting up with mirth. His twinkling beam taking up the space of his entire face until his eyes and overall features were barely visible and hooded under his brow. Man was quite literally all smiles. Well now. Usually, Terry would go into salacious details, but now, he appeared more like a flustered boy, talking about a school crush.

-"That good, huh?"-

John has to quip, elbowing Terry into the side. The sex must've been out of this world...with this near-mythical being in question. -"You surprise me, Lieutenant."- He adds, entertained. -"Thought there wasn't anything under the sun that can get you whipped that much."- Usually, Terry's desires were extremely physical and in a sense, he couldn't help but be proud of the man Terry grew up to be since the army. Most eligible playboy in California. Who would've thought? -"Thought you tried it all."- He has to continue, now more serious, feeling Terry might conflate lust with love at times, making little to no differences between the two. Think just because someone can do outstanding endeavors in bed, it must mean that someone is innately special. John wasn't a prude --- far from. He had his share of life. He just hated to see a friend making a goddamn fool out of himself over some tail.

-"You know, we talked after it, man. Really talked."- Terry tries, fiery.

John's interest is renewed. Talked?

-"The way you and I talk."-

Terry explains fondly, vehemently, fingers reaching and pointing towards his own torso and then John's for emphasis, and John's taken back to a time of campfire chats deep into the night during long patrols in the bush. Comforting Terry when he was sick during marches and rambling on for hours to keep him awake and from succumbing to his wounds. Sharing dreams and hopes. Talking to pass time. Alleviate fear. Times of trouble, turns out, serve as the best moments a man can have the talk of his life and somehow, forging a brotherhood baptized in blood and John understands then. -"Never thought I'd be able to do that with anyone ever again."- Terry finishes off, Twig loud and clear on his face. John Kreese figures then, nodding, that you're not someone he'd mind meeting.

[what-the-stark]

@zemothethirteenth | Continuing from x

Shit. Tony reflexively caught the stranger's hands as he shut down the combat subroutines that requested authorization at the ineffectual assault. And this, this was what he'd feared when Ultron had made its stand here, what he'd known would happen, even as they fought and bled and died for these people who were innocent of everything but being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The guilt he felt now was an old friend, a familiar ache that flared up at every opportunity, and its return was more than merited today.

Before Afghanistan, he hadn't seen what he truly was before he'd ended up with a hole punched in his chest by the literal labors of his own two hands. The real losses he'd suffered before then hadn't seemed like losses at all. They had been incremental, invisible, each one so small and dark and sharp that they'd lessened him for years, for as long as he'd accepted what he'd thought had been his legacy.

For the people who'd suffered for that apathy, for that ignorance, every injury had been heavy, immediate. Permanent. Tony hadn't noticed his soul was being stolen away until he was forced to against his will, until taking responsibility was no longer a figurative concept.

These people had paid the same price as the others, and nothing he could do would repair the damage, there was no scenario he could envision, no tech he could create, nothing that money could buy to make any of this okay for them.

Part of himself had been left behind in a cave years ago, and today he'd lost an indefinable measure more, hidden among the fragments of earth and stone and flesh that still sifted down from the sky.

"Hey, c'mon. Stop that. Please." Shifting his grip as gently as he could, Tony scanned him — he looked military — and took note of several possible injuries that flared an angry red on his HUD overlay. "I'm so sorry, man. I really am. But you're gonna hurt yourself." Pausing a moment, he retracted his helm, his expression entreating. The guy was clearly in a dark place, and Tony couldn't lose another one if he could help it. "I will totally carry you bridal style over to the camp if you won't come with me. Not even kidding."

[sinestrosmind]

Eshra to Chief:

“I want to know why you’re scared.”

“I WANT TO KNOW…” Prompts

The slider thrashes in his sleep, breathing labored. His brows were furrowed, lips a tight line, almost as if he were in pain. And if Chief were to wake and be honest, he was in pain. Very much so.

His markings were on fire- literally on fire. Chief could hardly see through the yellow flames that rose from his face stripes. His tormentor, a twisted, dark version of himself, markings ablaze like his own and eyes a blinding white inferno, just smirked. Sadistic. Cruel. Twisted.

"Just give yourself to me," the entity purrs, voice a sickening, twisted version of Chief's own that echoed in the void his mind had trapped him in. "It won't hurt anymore if you do, I promise."

Chief hisses, wild and angered and pained. He hated how his counterpart talked so sweetly like that, cooing promises with a tilt of its head while Chief burned alive. Defiant as always, the slider draws his blades despite the pain he's in, and the shadow sighs. "This little dance again, ̴͈̝̾͠ ̸̪̘͑͗ ̵̯̌͌̽ ̴̜̀̆̕ ̸̼̿͜͜ ̸̫̜̩̃ ̸̛͕̞͈͌̒ ̷̛̼͛̍ ̸̟̅̎̀ ̷̨̙̫̋͂̉ ̶̪̙̝͝ ?"

They both knew how this ended, but Chief still fought. Every time, he still fought. Because he was scared, and that entity knew it.

Chief's tormentor drew his own swords, blades forged from literal fire, the flames starting from its palms and extending outward until it again mirrored its counterpart again. And no sooner did the imposter get into a battle stance did Chief rush forward.

The two clashed, but Chief's tormentor was faster. It got more hits in, the fiery blades leaving burning cuts that glowed instead of bled. The shadow manages to knock one of Chief's swords away- his katana. Perseverance. Chief continues to fight despite the fact, but the entity makes quick work of his ō-wakizashi. Diligence.

Methodological. Symbolic. A message.

Chief will not persevere. He was not diligent. Once again, he will not win this battle.

The entity rushes in, a mirror of how Chief started the fight, and it pins the slider to the hard floor of the void. Panicked, terrified, a wild animal cornered, Chief bites and claws and kicks, hissing and clicking, trying to free himself. A futile last ditch effort to try to come out on top for once.

The entity raises one of its burning blades above its head, tip pointed directly at Chief's plastron, and despite the yellow fire lapping at his skin on his markings and his wounds, the slider's blood runs cold.

A hand raises in defense, and as the shadow drives the blade down, Chief screams.

Chief wakes with a start, heart pounding in his chest and eyes wide in fear, watering in pain. He was shaking, terrified, eyes darting around his surroundings, confused as to why he wasn't in his own little makeshift home in some back alley of the Hidden City. Had he been kidnapped? Was he drugged? His mind whirled with possibilities of what could've happened, why he was here in this unfamiliar place.

Then he remembered.

He'd crashed, fallen asleep in a place he doesn't normally. Not safe. Not safe. That's why that.... thing appeared in his dreams again, isn't it? So aggressively and vividly Chief feels like his stripes are still burning. Still feels searing cuts left from those fiery blades. The burn of a blade made of fire piercing his plastron. It's because he was vulnerable, wasn't it? An easy tar-

A voice pulls Chief out of his frazzled mostly-awake-but-still-exhausted mind and he goes stiff. It sounded worried. Firm, but worried.

"I want to know why you're scared."

--Scared?

Chief is many things, but scared? Scared is not one of them. It is. He is. He's terrified.

"I'm fine." The slider lies easily, his tone sharp and rough, defensive, hiding his fear of his nightmare- of that monster that haunts his unconscious mind- behind his usual exhaustion. "I'm fine," he repeats, softer, attempting to reassure this time. "Don't worry about it."

[solsearchingnights]

Coming Late 2023: Desert Rose Agate

An Empires S2 fic, featuring The Sheriff, the King of Gobland, and the King of Chromia.

They knew it was going to be a risk, jumping into another world, branching from the Empires seed. But after everything they'd done, the literal demons they'd fought and the friendships they'd strengthened for lifetimes, what was one more leap into the unknown?

But maybe there was something wrong here. Maybe they should know better than to trust fate to let them have peace. Maybe there are things about themselves that are ugly and cruel and have stayed buried- until now.

art by the incredible @doodleshrimps (seriously so nice to work with, go commission her)

Below the cut is the prologue. Just a short bit that will be the only snippet I share until it starts releasing.

Prologue

Scott was familiar with picking new worlds. There was an art to it, matching a newly branched server to your group, your needs. Especially when you got this deep into the root system of world generation. The limitations of the server’s code capacity, types of natural magic it hosted, and calculating its longevity when players start siphoning resources, were all part of the long nights Scott had spent combing for perfect worlds.

“And you’re sure it’s stable?” It must have been the fourth time he’d asked.

fWhip, thankfully, understood his hesitance. “Yessir. Look, check the lineage. Recognize any of the parent worlds?” He bounced on his toes, too excited to be put off by Scott’s hesitance.

Scott had noticed. It made him more nervous than he wanted to admit. “I wouldn’t call that a good precedent for a stable world.” He pointed into the hologram. “And there’s some cross lineage with the 20w14 line. Does that not worry you?”

Eyes rolled. “It’s an old root. You’d be hard pressed to find anything in this side of the systems that wasn’t connected in some way.”

“But it’s almost as close as the Empires node. If we’re letting that take credit for the ruleset, you don’t think anything else might link in?” Scott wrapped his arms over his chest. It was more of a self-soothe, than a show of confidence. 

“The Hermitcraft line is just as close, and intersects with 20w14 more than this one does. They’ve had no issues with it.” fWhip made a good point.

Sparks danced over his arm as Scott’s fingers dug in.“I just don’t feel like having another demon sibling, quite like last time. I hope you understand my worry.”

fWhip nodded, settling down just a little. “I know this is a big ask. And you don’t have to sign on this time. Hell, I don’t know if anyone outside of Pix and Sausage are on board yet. I haven’t asked.” He reached out a hand, asking for permission.

Scott stepped into the touch and reached out to hug fWhip in return.

“But there’s one more thing that I think you need to see before you turn me down.” With his free hand, fWhip moved the projection, pulling up the live code of the world in question. “This. I’ve had it checked over by a dozen people, including Gem got me in touch with Doc, so that means the Hivemind has looked it over.”

The code in question was inactive, but Scott saw the player checks running every second or so. It was looking for someone to attach to. “Immersion code? That’s exactly like Empires, fWhip.” The code that bled to magic, letting players genuinely live as citizens of the natural world. It’s how Lizzie and Jimmy had been ancient, and Pixlriffs had inherited a kingdom with a religion that knew him by name. How Scott’s own death had been part of prophecy.

fWhip rubbed Scott’s arm and smiled encouragement. “Not exactly. There’s more. See these lines?” He pulled out a section to examine. “It’s the intensity modifier. This world had a code mutation and we can change the modifier individually.”

“Individually?” Scott took the hologram from fWhip to examine closer. “Like, on a player-by-player basis?”

“Yes!” fWhip’s eyes sparkled. “If you don’t want to get lost in the world, you can dial it back, let yourself be aware.”

“How would that even…” Scott was in awe. “How will that even work, if some people are ingrained in the place for millennia and others just drop in?”

“Probably much the same as normal. The biggest difference is gonna be that you can choose to know it’s not your native world.” He pointed a thumb at his own chest. “I’m gonna be somewhere in the middle, so I can be pulled out if something goes wrong with the maintenance. And Pix is going to just be a little written in. He wants to keep up with his journalism out here at the same time.”

Scott hummed, weighing his options. “So, in theory, if things start to go really wrong, you’ll be able to pull us out?” His arm around fWhip’s shoulder tightened. “Before I kill myself, thinking it’s the only way to protect the rest of you idiots?”

“I won’t promise it, but I’m pretty sure we can do that. It’s a risk, but it’s a hell of a lot safer than last time.”

With a heavy sigh, Scott waved his hand to reset the projection. “Why are we even doing this? These things always end in trauma and disaster.” The words rang hollow. He could feel the pull of the world.

“Because we’re players. It’s what we do.” fWhip zoomed out the projection, showing a larger piece of the server network. “Dogs bark, hippos crush, and players cultivate world generations.”

He knew his friend was right. “If I agree, I think–” He ran a hand through his hair. “I think I’d still want to do full immersion. I’ll talk with Jimmy, if this is even a good idea.” He stared across the small room, tracing woodgrain along the walls with his eyes, trying to find confidence in his words. “But I trust you, and Pix, and anyone else who’s only partially in. If I’m gonna get involved, I might as well get the full experience.”

fWhip made a small, confused sound. “Even after last time? I thought you’d be all for keeping a distance from the integration.”

“Handsome,” Scott pulled away from the one-armed hug but smiled at fWhip, “what’s the point in being a player if I can’t play? And last time wasn’t all bad. There was enough good things to be almost worthwhile.”

“If you’re sure.” fWhip grinned. “Talk to Jimmy. I’ll send you this info so you can fill him in. And I’ll see you both in a month for the launch.”

Scott laughed, knowing fWhip’s confidence was well founded. He was absolutely sure that he and Jimmy would be there. And Scott couldn’t wait to fall in love with a new world.

[beth--b]

Picking up the Pieces (as the world comes tumbling down)

Steve was fairly certain that he was going to die.

The odds were against him after all. He was alone in the Upside Down, he was being attacked by killer bats and he had no way to defend himself.

That didn't mean he was going to give up though.

The next few minutes were a blur of fighting and pain, then the terror of seeing Robin, Nancy and Eddie join the fray, each of them coming to what felt like literal hell, to save him. Pushing through the pain he fought back with renewed vigour, until they were finally able to run away.

His father had always said 'real men don't run away from a fight' but Steve felt no shame in running like hell to get himself and the others to safety. Granted there probably wasn't any real safety in this place, but anything had to be better than staying out in the open, exposed to any and all of the creatures to be found in the Upside Down.

Somehow they got out.

Read it on ao3 here

Most of their time in this messed up version of their town was lost to Steve. He knew they went to the Wheelers, that they biked to the trailer park and somehow they didn't fucking die. He knew all that, but it was like he was watching someone else do the things they did. The bites burned and ached, it was hard to think or focus so he just went along with the group, pushing through and shoving the pain down to a corner of his mind. The most vivid part of the whole ordeal was Eddie Munson handing over his vest so Steve didn't have to run around shirtless as well as injured.

It wasn't until Nancy almost got taken by Vecna, until they were back through the gate, that reality truly set back in.

He hurt.

He hurt so fucking much.

How he had managed to run, to ride a bike, he truly didn't know. He must have been running on pure adrenaline and now it was wearing off and he could feel everything.

The bites, the scrapes along his back. The fucking pain in his neck from being strangled by a bat.

He managed to stay upright long enough to slip away to the bathroom. With the door latched behind him he pressed a hand to his side where the worst bite was. He doubled over, the pain making his head spin, and tried to slow his breathing down.

"Fuck," he muttered, pulling his hand away to find he had bled through the makeshift bandage Nancy had tied around his middle. He tried to find something in the medicine cabinet above the sink, but found nothing beyond some bandaids and aspirin.

Sinking down to the floor, he readjusted the bloodied bandages and closed his eyes, a short whine passing his lips before he pressed his free hand against his mouth, stifling the sound. He held his breath a moment hoping none of the kids had heard, only relaxed when none of them knocked on the door.

He moved his hand away from his mouth, bracing himself against the vanity to try and stand, when someone knocked.

"Steve?" came Eddie's voice from the otherside of the door.

"Just a-just a minute," Steve replied, trying to push himself to his feet. Instead of standing he soon found himself back on the floor, dizzy and groaning.

"Steve, I'm coming in," Eddie called, before opening the door. He was on his knees at Steve's side an instant later. "Fuck, Steve, what do you need?"

Steve just shook his head and clutched at his side. Eddie tracked Steve's movements and he cursed at the blood soaked bandages wrapped around Steve's torso.

"Ok-ok, Stevie we need to do something about these bites before you bleed out on my bathroom floor."

"First aid kit?" Steve asked, looking around the bathroom like it might suddenly make a first aid kit appear.

"Ah no, I mean not one that'd help anyway. Stay put I'll ask the others," Eddie scrambled to his feet and back out to the others.

Steve just resigned himself to staying put and tried to keep pressure on his wounds. Moments later Eddie was back with Nancy and Robin in tow.

Nancy set to work removing the makeshift bandage that had partially stuck to Steve's side, while Robin dug through what appeared to be Dustin's backpack.

"Got it!" Robin cried, brandishing a small first aid kit in the air before passing it to Nancy. Despite it being cramped in the tiny bathroom Eddie squeezed his way in, helping Steve lay back with his head in Eddie's lap. Eddie ran his hand through Steve's sweaty hair, attempting to soothe him in any way he could while Nancy and Robin disinfected and re-wrapped Steve's wounds.

Steve let himself drift, letting the soothing motion of Eddie's fingers carding through his hair relax him, at least as much as one can relax while two people pour antiseptic on gaping wounds. He found himself wondering when exactly he had started to find Eddie's presence soothing, comforting. He couldn't dwell on it too much though, this was not exactly the best time to decide he maybe had a crush on someone. Especially when said someone was on the run from the police and they were trying to once more battle monsters from another world.

He was pulled away from his spiralling thoughts when Nancy broke the silence.

"It's not the greatest, but it's better than before," Nancy said, sitting back on her heels.

Steve blinked up at her, then just closed his eyes again and nodded in thanks, relaxing back against Eddie for a moment before trying to sit up. Nancy stood and washed her hands before leaving the small bathroom, giving Steve space to get off the floor.

Robin was still on the floor by Steve's side and she squeezed Steve's hand before standing as well.

"Just stay down until you're ready Steve, and next time you're bleeding half to death tell somebody dingus!"

"Sorry Rob," Steve muttered, exhaustion clear in his tone. Robin grabbed the first aid kit and left the bathroom, following Nancy back out to the rest of the group.

"You doing alright now Stevie?" Eddie asked quietly, hand still running through Steve's hair.

Steve was exhausted and still in pain, though at least now he wasn't actively bleeding.

"Better," he finally answered. "Can you help me up?"

"Of course." Eddie helped brace Steve from behind until he was sitting up again. Steve paused, taking a few deep breaths and Eddie just sat there, supporting him as he tried to regain some strength. Once Steve started to move again Eddie just stayed close, hands nearby incase Steve needed any help.

Once Eddie seemed certain that Steve was not about to keel over he backed off a little, following him back out to the living area.

Just before they entered the room Steve turned to Eddie, causing the metal head to stop in his tracks.

"Everything ok?" Eddie asked, looking Steve over as though he expected to see him bleeding once again.

Steve nodded, reaching out to grasp Eddie by the hand.

"Thank you, for everything I mean. For following and helping, for the vest…for keeping me calm in there. Just… thank you."

"No problem Stevie. No problem at all," Eddie replied, squeezing Steve's hand for a long moment.

Then the kids were there, asking if Steve was alright, demanding to know what they had seen.

Steve and Eddie were pulled in different directions by different teens but they continued to watch each other.

Steve decided that when this was all over that maybe Eddie Munson was someone worth taking a risk for.

[scopop08]

Little Soldier by The Crane Wives is such a treebark coded song, and i will be elaborating.

On the broken backs of all the words we spared

Like little soldiers in the trenches

It was a march we made towards ruin and despair

But we held hands all the while

Holding everything they wanted to say to spare the other, carrying on despite everything, hand in hand, leading themselves to their own destruction. The literal war they were in, holding on to the slim and fast fading hope of victory and steadying eachother through.

I swear that I loved you

Oaths sworn to the other, taking that trust and love and looking on it in retrospect, saying "I'm sorry. I knew we couldn't win. I know everything I said and did. I swear that I loved you then despite what happened."

Beneath the table you would offer up my bones

And all the dogs would lick your fingers

This applies more to Ren, offering himself up to the Red King, letting the flames and hunger consume him as the Red King's influence tore through Ren's original intent and kindness. Being worn down completely.

And I dragged you through every room inside our home

But you still held me at night

What Ren put Martyn through the entire time, having to behead the person closest to you, watching as every bit of who you once loved is stripped away by the fear and violence he had created. Staying by his side through it all. Being a loyal hand to the crown that is consuming everything you stood for, seeing your ideals slip away right before your eyes. No matter what Ren put Martyn through, Martyn couldn't leave him, he was in too deep. It's his home too.

I swear that you loved me

Martyn seeing the Red king destroy Ren, steadying himself in his cause with the memory of what Dogwarts was when it was just Renchanting. Reminiscing on the nights they spent together in that terribly cold basement, the look in Ren's eyes as he promised Martyn that they wouldn't only survive, but win. How the dog's face lit up as he talked about enchanting, how his smile softened as he looked at him. Ren loved Martyn, Martyn swears it. No matter what was happening at the end, how much of Ren was left. He loved Martyn.

We didn't give up, we wouldn't dare surrender

It was an honest loss

Self explanatory, they fought their hardest until their last moments, protecting their home. (Protecting the person that was their home). Dying at their own alter, hearts and teeth laid bare.

Now the aftermath will ring with songs you've sung

All of our words sent home in boxes

The battle of Dogwarts, the mark the two left, would signal the very beginning of the end. Nothing would last much longer after, directly responsible for the outcome of the series, even though they wouldn't live to see it.

I fought with tooth and nail before the flag had flown

But you were already gone

Martyn was fighting for Ren and by Ren's side since the very beginning when he stumbled across Renchanting. In tandem, the Ren that began third life with Martyn was gone before the final battle of Dogwarts, before the flag had even been made, much less flown. Martyn fought for his king until his final moments, if there were no weapons we wouldn't have hesitated to stake his life in a battle of bare fists to protect Ren. Ren who, by that point, was long gone, hollowed out by the fury of the Red King and used as a vessel for blind violence. Martyn could've looked Ren in the eyes as they both bled out on the alter and instead of any recognition that his partner was laid there, dying before him, he would've seen the eyes of a wild animal. Terrified and furious, ready to chew it's own limbs off before it surrended to death.

I'll swear that I loved you

Both of them justifying the outcome to themselves as they fall through the void of death before moving on to whatever would come next. They'll swear that it all happened because of the love that they held for each other. Ren never would have summoned a war god and let it tear out everything that he stood for until he was an empty shell if he didn't think it would protect Martyn. He was sacrificing himself in the hope that the act would allow them to win, Martyn to live. Martyn only stayed once everything started to fall apart because of his love for Ren. Because he was desperately clinging onto the fond memories of before the real war started.

They have to swear that it all happened because they loved each other, because if they didn't, all of it would be meaningless. Everything they put the other through had to have happened out of love, because otherwise it would've been out of cruelty, a mutually assured destruction.

[feelin-lo]

"End of an era, Start of an age"

The tale of the eternal Snowstorm.

As loyal as a dog but as strong as a dragon. As graceful as a falling feather but as deadly as an avalanche. Before the terror of the Tsaritsa, a more mellow archon fought, from the highest peaks of their snowy home.

Their most loyal, a blue haired boy with a great sword.

His skills unrivalled by any mortal hand, Osial struck the mighty boy down, his once great sword, shattered like glass, lost in the infinite abyss of the ocean. His body, torn and broken by the great lord of the vortex, with his final warm breath, he froze himself and the beast with an unknown power.

The god of geo finished the beast, carrying the frozen soldier to the foot of his home. When the harsh flames of war extinguished, he was freed from his self inflicted prison.

His will carved in stone he remained, protecting his icy lands, reluctance in his frozen soul.

[gutouhua]

𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐯

title. tamed (shrine master’s bride part v) [on ao3]

rating. explicit

pairing. sukuna x f. reader

wc. 8.6k+

tags. low self-worth & self-esteem, mentions of ownership, sukuna has monster-like features (like elongated canines), eating fish, sukuna thinks about eating out reader, physical abuse to reader (not by sukuna), no beta we die like rex lapis

a/n. um idk how to feel about this ch but here it is ;-; can you tell i hate writing action scenes since i literally skipped over the action lmao. but omg thank y'all for hanging on & sorry i couldn't update earlier sldkfjskdf i had writer's block but hope this longer chapter makes up for it! no smut but next ch will feature face-sitting :D

“Do you think she knows?” A servant whispered to another. He trimmed the bushes lining the pathway to the main entrance of the Shirogane family’s residence with his back slightly turned so that his voice wouldn’t reach too far. There were eyes and ears everywhere so it never hurt to be too careful. 

“Probably not.” The other replied, stopping momentarily to lean closer, his tone conspiratorial. “It’d be quite obvious if she knew…she’d be throwing a fit and whatnot, making her unhappiness known to everyone. It’s a good thing she doesn’t know otherwise we’d all be suffering and–”

“What are you whispering about?” 

The two servants suddenly jumped at the sound of the Shirogane family’s prized daughter and immediately bowed their heads low in practiced prostration in hopes of appeasing her. But she would not be so easily tempered – she was used to bows like that, courtesy and respect weren’t given to her, it was owed to her. She didn’t give them permission to get up, so they stayed as they were, not daring to move or so much as utter a sound until she said something.

Hikaru had gloved hands crossed over her chest, fingers tapping impatiently against an arm. Trailing behind her was her poor maid, heaving and lagging behind her master with arms full of large, fancy boxes and decorated bags. Hikaru had probably just returned from a shopping trip in the city. 

“Well?” she said, expectantly.

Neither of the servants bothered pointing out that they didn’t dare say anything since she hadn’t explicitly asked them because answering her prematurely could very well be a death sentence. Servants were reliant on the whims of their masters, and Hikaru was not a kind one. 

“Are you going to tell me? Or shall I have the two of you strung up and inject mercury into your veins until you say something?”

They shuddered and fought the urge to cry out. Tales of the infamous torture technique of the Shirogane family were well known throughout the lands. It was a cruel method, one that slowly replaced every drop of blood in your veins with the silver mercury of the Shirogane family until nothing but mercury flowed through your body and your flesh bled pure silver. 

One servant spoke hesitantly while the two kept themselves in prostrated positions. “We were…just wondering if my lady had heard that with my lady’s upcoming pre-nuptial celebration with Kamo Masaru that–”

“Well of course I know that,” she snapped, tapping her heels impatiently on the immaculately laid out stone path. “Tell me something I don’t know, or is that too much thinking for lowlifes like you? Too dumb and stupid to do anything except listen to your masters.” she sneered. 

“Ah yes!” The servant squeaked, thin frame trembling like a leaf in the wind. “We were simply unsure if you heard that your cousin–”

“What about my cousin?” she interrupted again, staring hard at the cowering servant.

“That your cousin was going to come…” he finished lamely. 

Hikaru was silent for a moment, long enough for the servants to sneak a peek at her before averting their gaze yet again when she screeched out a reply. “She’s coming? But that’s impossible! She can’t come because she should’ve–” Been killed or eaten or whatever by that monster! How was it possible that you were still alive, and not just alive, but well enough to return to the family home? It was impossible. Unbelievable. Hikaru wouldn’t believe anything about you until she heard from her grandmother. 

Without even looking to see if her servant was following, she stormed through the main entrance in a hurry, disappearing in a flurry of voluminous skirts and ribbons and laces. The two servants who were trimming the bushes earlier cast Hikaru’s servant a sympathetic glance, but it was ultimately lost on her since she could hardly see atop her towering tower of boxes. 

When they’d both left, the two servants turned towards each other and said the same thing to each other. 

Fuck.

Hikaru stormed through the hallways, anger in every thunderous step she took. Any servant or Shirogane family member who saw her knew to flee as soon as they heard and saw the fury on her face. 

Hikaru needed answers. And she needed them now.

“Grandmother! Grandmother! Where are you?” 

Shirogane Hatsuko sat behind her desk with a steaming cup of tea in one hand, the other on a book, and had her eyes closed, breath even, as she readied herself for whatever demands Hikaru was about to launch forth. 

“Grandmother!” Hikaru slammed the door open with such force that the walls shook. 

Hatsuko turned to the source of her disturbance, face wrinkled in great displeasure. “Hikaru. What have I said about slamming open doors? It’s unbecoming of the future head of the Shirogane family.” Not that Hikaru had to abide by any rules as the future head. She was the golden child, spoiled, and whatever rebukes Hatsuko had for her ultimately flew right over her head as she believed none of them applied to her. 

“I’m sorry grandmother,” Hikaru said impatiently, not at all sorry. She plopped herself down in a cushion across from her grandmother, her layered skirts spread haphazardly in her haste. “But, grandmother! Do you even know what I heard from a servant just now? Something terrible!” 

The Shirogane head took one look at her angry granddaughter, closed her eyes, and counted to three with practiced precision before she opened them slowly. She exhaled. “And pray tell me, Hikaru, what exactly did you hear?” 

“That she's coming to my nuptial celebration! Is it true?” 

Hatsuko set her tea cup on the table and smoothed non-existent wrinkles out of her kimono before placing her hands on her lap. “Yes it is, Hikaru. Your cousin is coming to the celebration, which should not be surprising to you. She is family, after all. Why are you so concerned?” 

Hatsuko knew why, but politeness and niceties were sewn into every fiber of her being, in every word and every action, and this extended even to those she found unpleasant. And especially to family. 

“Because I don’t want her to come,” she whined, squirming in her seat. “Can you find some way for her not to come? Make up an excuse or something? She’s such an eyesore and an absolute disgrace to our family! Imagine what the others would say if they saw her at the celebration! They’d make fun of me, I just know it!” Flinging herself across her grandmother’s tears, Hikaru wept, fat, theatrical tears, wetting her grandmother’s expensive kimono in the process. “You have to do something about it or I fear I will never recover from the shame, please grandmother!” 

Hatsuko looked down at Hikaru and wondered how two people so close in age could be so different from each other. While you were humble and quiet, and lacked confidence and the inherited skills of the Shirogane family, Hikaru was arrogant and ostentatious, and confident, audacious even, in her cursed technique. 

“She’s already been invited.” Hatsuko’s tone was final with no room for argument, but nevertheless, she tried to placate Hikaru, smoothing her black tresses which were curled and pinned up in a western fashion that she didn’t entirely approve of, but Hikaru liked it so she let her do as she pleased. 

“Well just uninvite her or something,” Hikaru said petulantly against Hatsuko’s lap. 

“I cannot, for it would be improper and reflect badly upon our family if we did not invite her.” Hatsuko worded her words carefully, knowing that if nothing else, Hikaru valued her reputation, and as such might see reason with her response. 

Hikaru thought about it for a moment, brows knitted in deep thought, before she raised her head, frowning at her grandmother. “Fine.” She jutted her lower lips out. “But she has to be placed at the back, far away from the front of the table. Put her near all the lower-class families and branches. She’s already lucky enough to be invited so it shouldn’t be an issue for her.” 

“If that is what you wish,” Hatsuko accepted. “Then I will arrange it as such.” It pained her to have to treat you like that, to add another heaping dose of prejudice into your overflowing cup, but there was little she could truly do. 

Hikaru brightened immediately, already getting up and bounding towards the door upon completion of her task. “Thank you so much, grandmother! I knew you loved me more than her!” 

Something deep inside Hatsuko twisted, like barbed wire embedding itself into flesh, and she fought the rise of bile that threatened to spill forth with her lies. She cleared her throat and straightened herself. “Of course, dear. You are the pride and joy of the Shirogane family. There is nothing we wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know,” she said sweetly, bouncing up and towards the door since she got what she wanted. Now she just had to devise a plan to humiliate you. Your husband probably wouldn’t deign to come with you because there was no way he’d love you enough to do so, so it would be easy to torment you. 

A devious smile stretched across her beautiful face. “I’ll be going now! I can’t wait for the celebration!”

Hatsuko smiled thinly and watched her Hikaru leave, the giddy hum of the young woman an ominous sign of chaos to come. 

In the days leading up to Hikaru’s nuptial celebrations and your informal visit back to the family, you’d felt listless and nervous, busying yourself with every task under the sun, almost robbing Momoka of all her tasks. Worried that you’d exhaust yourself, Sukuna had pulled you aside the day before, locked you in your shared room, and had so thoroughly fucked you multiple times that you felt too boneless to do anything.

Sukuna had accomplished his mission. And you had felt relaxed…until the next day. 

“Do I look okay?” You fretted, mirror in hand as you meticulously smoothed your hair and every wrinkle you thought might be in your clothes. 

Sukuna kissed the crown of your head, breathing in a mixture of jasmine from your shampoo and his favorite musky scent unique to you. “Of course, wife, you look stunning as per usual.” 

“N-Not now,” you said nervously, stomach a coiled mess of knots and strings.“Or you’ll mess up my hair.” And much more than that. 

“Then later?” he asked, heavily. His eyes dripped with liquid crimson, a syrupy promise of sweet desire and fulfillment. 

You knew that look, found yourself craving it sometimes throughout the day (much to your distress), and pressed your thighs together at the sudden dull ache between your legs. “Yes, later,” you murmured. 

The carriage hit a rock, almost jolting you from your seat, but Sukuna steadied you by trapping your legs inside his. The confined space made you overly aware of just how close he was, so close that you could feel the heat from his thighs seep into your kimono. He stayed like that, pressed against your legs, until he was satisfied and released his hold, leaving you bereft of his warmth. 

Before you could dwell on the loss, he shifted over to make room for you on his side of the carriage, patting the space next time him in a silent command for you to come over. You started to get up, bending gingerly before he suddenly moved and tucked himself on your side of the carriage, almost squishing you with his massive frame. It would appear that one side of the carriage was just barely enough room for you and him. 

“I was going to come over.” You gaped at him. 

“But how could I let you do that? Especially with you wobbling all over the place? See.” He placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh lightly. “Even now, you’re shaking.”

You spluttered an excuse. “T-That’s because the carriage is moving! It’s not because of anything else!” 

“Of course, wife.” He flashed white teeth, canines glinting sharply, dangerously close yet you weren’t afraid. There was something alluring about it, you thought, unconsciously leaning closer before you were mere inches from his lips. 

A throaty chuckle broke you from your trance and you lurched backward, hoping he wouldn’t think too much about it. 

“Sorry–I…didn’t mean–” Embarrassment colored your tone.

“Fascinated by them, are you, love?”

“They’re pretty,” you admitted, voice low like it was a secret. “I don’t know why I never noticed them until now.”

“They’re not so prominent unless I get excited.”

“Excited?” You cocked your head a bit to the side, confused. But why would he be excited right now? 

“Aroused,” he amended with a sly smile. Sukuna kept his eyes trained on you, relishing the growing blush he could clearly see under the moonlight because of his enhanced senses. 

Oh.

Oh.

Now that you thought about it, between bouts of lovemaking you hazily remembered seeing flashes of sharp canines, and could faintly remember accidentally touching something sharp momentarily when kissing him sometimes. 

“If you keep looking at me like that, wife, I’ll want to devour you myself,” Sukuna drawled. 

He would’ve had time for a short romp before the party if you’d agreed to let him teleport the two of you, but you had insisted on a “proper carriage” for appearance's sake since you’d claimed that your family would look down on him if he showed up on foot without a carriage. Sukuna could care less of what they thought of him, that’s how he’d lived for the past hundreds of years, after all, but if you wanted something, he would be remiss to not oblige. 

“We’re almost there.” He opened the carriage’s window and inhaled deeply, wrinkling his nose at what he smelled. Indeed, the two of you were almost at the Shirogane residence. The stench of humans was growing stronger. 

When he looked back at you to find you fussing with your hair again, he said, “You look perfect, love. Don’t worry.” 

“Easier said than done,” you mumbled, but you ceased your motions, instead placing your hands in your lap and interlacing your fingers to tightly squeeze them to take off some of the stress you were feeling. 

When the carriage finally stopped before the entrance to your former home, a servant announced aloud that Ryomen-sama and his wife had arrived, a cue that it was time to leave. You moved on instinct, having to open doors for yourself for as long as you could remember, you thought that it’d be no different now that you were married. But Sukuna leaned over, his massive frame almost engulfing the moonlight from your vision, and held a hand over yours, stopping you from pushing open the door.

“Allow me.”

In an effortless motion, he pushed it open then opened the door from his side and held a hand out for you when he reached your side to help you out. You took his hand gingerly, familiar callused warmth keeping you warm despite the slight chill, and slowly stepped out. Your kimono had more layers than you were used to, hair ornaments were a bit heavy, and your sandals were slightly higher than usual, so you didn’t want to trip and make a fool of yourself. 

You appreciated the gesture. Loved him even more for it.

Even though you shouldn’t. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you held his hand. 

He nodded, a handsome smile gracing his face, and placed his free hand at the small of your back to help steady you as the two of you made your way into the main residence and waited in the main hall with the other guests. You waited for him to let go of you, to put some distance in between the two of you, but he didn’t even as more attendees filed into the room. 

Trying to get his attention, you tip-toed, accidentally pulling his sleeve when you lost your balance for a moment. 

“Oh–sorry,” you whispered nervously. 

“Nothing to be sorry about, love. I’d even kneel for you if you wanted me to.” He laughed, drawing the attention of a few people nearby. “That’s how much you’ve tamed me.”

Tame. The word felt foreign on your tongue, sticky seductive honey that held the implication of sweet domesticity and something more that lodged uncomfortably in your throat. A quiet knot of ownership. 

You swallowed hard, giving him an aggrieved look while hotness crept up your neck. 

Sukuna could tease you all day long, loved to see those cute expressions of yours, thought it was endearing how you squirmed and grew red under his gaze, but he knew there was only so much you could take before you combusted. “You are much too cute for your own good, little wife, but tell me. What is it that you wanted to say?”

“I–” You frowned, thinking of what you were going to say before the hand he had rested around your waist tightened infinitesimally, reminding you of your request. “I was going to ask when you were going to let go of me.”

“Never.” His response was immediate and razor-sharp as if to slice through any doubts.

“I see,” you murmured. But perhaps in the future. No one ever held on to you for very long, whether by choice or not. 

Noticing your slight change in mood, Sukuna asked, “Would you like something to eat? Or something to drink?” His voice was gentle, red eyes trained carefully on you while he scanned his peripheral for a servant, ready to flag one down to get something for you. If you were hungry or thirsty, he’d make sure you had something to eat and drink no matter when the actual banquet started. He didn’t run on other’s time, they ran on his. 

“N-No…I’m fine…Just stay here.” Besides, you weren’t sure if you’d even be able to keep anything down anyway and who knew when you’d see Hikaru. It’d be better to have someone you were comfortable with just in case. 

“Very well,” Sukuna acquiesced, but he was still careful and led you to an empty seat at the end of the table, eyes narrowing when he saw table cards with his and your name there. If he didn’t know any better, he’d make a fuss over having to sit in such a demeaning position for his rank, but he knew you wanted to be as far away as possible from your cousin so he stayed silent, fury boiling and covered just barely by your presence. 

As guests slowly filtered into the room, taking their respective seats at the large table, you watched the door with a wary gaze, trying to prepare yourself for your cousin. After what seemed like a millennia of holding your breath and remembering to exhale when you felt like you couldn’t breathe, you saw her. 

Hikaru wore a heavy-looking sakura pink kimono with chrysanthemums embroidered throughout and a matching floral ornament in her hair. Her glossy black hair was styled high on her head and her pale skin contrasted with the shiny red lacquer on her lips and nails. She was a vision of perfection, especially on the arms of Kamo Masaru, a talented cursed blood technique user and the heir to the Kamo family. 

Instinctually, you shifted away and averted your eyes, trying to hide behind Sukuna’s large frame in the hopes that she wouldn’t see you, but there was no mistaking her cold gaze, like icy daggers that were softened only by the warm, sturdy presence next to you.

If you were more confident in yourself, perhaps you would’ve stared back and made her think that you had nothing to be afraid of, but even as you were now, technically married up into a higher position than her, you knew that you stood no chance against her. 

Noticing the way you uneasily tensed, Sukuna leaned forward, imperceptibly, as if he was casually rearranging heavy limbs, and purposefully gave your cousin an aloof, cursory glance before passing over her as if he was viewing a speck of lint on his kimono. 

Hikaru, who was so used to fawning and words of flattery, could not help but scrunch her pretty face up at Sukuna’s dismissal before she realized the number of eyes that were on her and carefully schooled her features back to place with a serene smile. Anyone looking at her wouldn’t have noticed the minute change in her expression, but you were attuned to them. Had learned to read Hikaru’s emotions because your life depended on it. 

When Hikaru finally seated herself near the head of the table, primly folding herself into a perfect seiza position, she turned towards your direction and raised her voice to address your husband. Unbidden panic threatened to spill forth, and you fought to stifle it, smothering it best you could. You would not allow it to bring shame to Sukuna or ruin Hikaru’s celebration. 

Calm down, calm down, you repeatedly told yourself, ignoring the anxiety that seeped into every word you chanted while trying to keep your attention on the conversation at the same time. 

“I’m glad you could join us from so far away, Ryomen-sama,” Hikaru said pleasantly. “I trust that your journey here was not too arduous?” 

Sukuna nodded. “Fine,” he said curtly. 

Then she turned her attention to you, voice so saccharine that it made your bones ache, but not sweetly, as it should’ve felt when a family member welcomed you back home, but sickly, like when you eat too many sweets in one sitting. It made you feel nauseous. 

“And you, cousin, how are you doing? How is your married life?” 

Sukuna drew himself back a few inches so he wasn’t blocking your view. Now that Hikaru had so blatantly addressed you in front of everyone, Sukuna could no longer shield you anymore and you could not just ignore her. There was no way out except to respond. 

You took a steady breath in, steeling your emotions and willing your voice to not waver when you spoke or give anyone else more reason to think that Sukuna had gotten the short end of the stick in marrying you. Nothing could mask your plainness when compared to Hikaru and her stunning features. 

“I-I’m doing fine, thank you,” you replied, hating the way your voice pitched higher from your nerves. 

Hikaru frowned. “Just fine? Why cousin, it seems to me that Ryomen-sama treats you more than just fine.” 

You scrambled to respond when you realized that in your bubble of anxiety that you missed her second question. “Oh I meant—” 

“In fact,” she continued, completely ignoring you, “I feel that he treats you more than just fine.” 

She lowered her gaze to peruse your appearance, lips curling at the sight of your expensive garments and hairpins. You fought the urge to hide from her scrutiny. 

“Look at that stunning kimono you have on right now. It is nishijin-ori, is it not? I’ve heard that that fabric is extremely rare, usually reserved for royalty and the most expensive fabric in Japan, costing more than a year’s worth of wages for most commoners. And the fact that it was created by the Aoki family, the most famed tailors throughout the land yet you’re still unsatisfied…”

Hikaru huffed, disapproval etched into her face. “That isn’t very becoming of someone from the Shirogane family. What would others say if they knew such a greedy, materialistic person came from our esteemed family? It would tarnish our good name! Why must you act like this, cousin?”

You looked around frantically as people began to murmur and nod in agreement, accepting her words like they were the law despite the fact that she was very, very wrong. Panic settled coldly in your bones, freezing any confidence you thought you had.  

You were more than grateful that Sukuna had even bothered to buy you new clothes — especially tailored pieces that weren’t premade — and you knew that the Aokis were famous for their clothes, but that was it. Unaware of the fact that he had Aoki-kun make your kimono out of nishijin-ori, you’d simply viewed the kimono as a pretty, treasured gift — certainly not one that was predominantly reserved for royalty. Had you known, you would’ve never let him do that or wear the kimono to the banquet. 

“I…I didn’t–it’s not like that–” You were losing already, and you’d hardly even said anything. The whispers and stares continued to grow the longer the silence dragged on, until the weight of it all began to push against your chest and squeeze the air out of your lungs, forcing you to draw in short, shallow breaths. 

You heard a quiet crack next to you, drawing your attention to your husband. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his hands gripped the edge of the table with such fury that you swore he would’ve broken the wood in half had you not tugged on his sleeve. Twisting sharply, you were met with blazing, infernal eyes that cooled instantly upon seeing your distress. 

“Love,” he murmured, ignoring the stares of your family. “Do you want to leave?” 

It hurt, the familiar pressure clawing at your throat, the burdensome stares of your family, the helplessness you felt. You weren’t sure what would be worse: suffering the shame of leaving with your tail tucked between your legs or staying and being unable to respond to Hikaru’s humiliating jabs. No matter what you chose, you’d lose. You always lost against her. It was inevitable. 

When you didn’t answer, Sukuna whipped to face Hikaru with fiery eyes and sharp teeth bared at her, barely able to contain the growl in his voice. “Let’s get one thing straight, Hikaru. It was my decision to buy the clothes despite the fact that she didn’t want them. And I wanted her to wear them because as my wife, she should have garments befitting her station, should she not?” 

“Or did you expect her to wear something cheap like the kimono she wore when she arrived at my shrine? Or servant’s garbs like the ones she wore before I had Aoki-kun tailor new garments for her? Or wait, don’t tell me–” His tone turned savage, pretty lips curled up in disgust. “The Shirogane family is so poor that they cannot outfit my wife in proper garments. No wonder.” 

A collective gasp of horror sucked the air from the room, leaving you feeling light, almost heady from the twist of pleasure you got. There was finally someone to put your family back in place and even if it wasn’t yourself, you welcomed it nonetheless. Your turn would come, but for now it was more than enough that Sukuna would help you despite having no obligation to do so. You were forever grateful to him. 

“Ryomen-sama you dare—”

“Hikaru.” A sharp command sliced through your cousin’s words, demanding acquiescence, and you looked towards the source of that voice, knowing that there was only one person who Hikaru had to obey.

Your grandmother.

She’d aged since you’d last seen her, new lines in her forehead and grooves that burdened her silver eyes, and you wondered if there was some issue that she had to deal with while you were gone or if she was truly beginning to grow old.

Growing up, you always thought of her as some sort of invincible, never-aging, powerful being — she certainly seemed that way especially when your parents were alive — but now you weren’t so sure. With Hikaru getting married to the Kamo heir, it became increasingly clear that she was getting old, tired even, and was ready to step down from her place and let Hikaru lead. 

Your grandmother retiring was a good thing, but you couldn’t help the aching pang of knowing your cousin would inherit the title that was supposed to be yours. But perhaps it would be better anyway, you thought, you had nothing to offer to your family, and Hikaru could be a nasty person to you, but she never did anything to truly endanger your father’s family. 

You continued to stare intently at your grandmother as she gave Hikaru a firm glance before turning to address your husband.

“Ryomen-sama.” Her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the authority behind it. “On behalf of my unruly granddaughter, I apologize for her insolence and rude behavior towards you. I hope you will be willing to overlook her mistakes on behalf of the Shirogane family.” Your grandmother bowed low, the lowest you’d ever seen her bow, before sitting at the head of the table.

Sukuna did not want to forgive her at all, but you’d want him to so he flicked his eyes briefly at your grandmother before turning his attention back to you. “Only because my wife wants to forgive.” I do not. 

Decades of diplomacy and leading a family as prominent as the Shirogane had honed Hatsuoko’s skills, and she took that as a sign to move on to a different conversation. Her tone grew gentle. “My dear granddaughter. I am very happy to have you back home and see you doing so well. I trust that the journey here was not too difficult? I know that Ryomen-sama’s shrine is a bit far from here.”

You fought to keep the smile out of your voice since propriety was necessary in public. “Thank you grandmother, I’m happy to see you as well. Everything went smoothly, nothing to worry about.

Thin lips turned up slightly at the edges, a ghost of a smile.

“That is good,” she said warmly before her voice grew again, a mask of diplomacy sliding over her with practiced precision. “I humbly welcome everyone to the Shirogane family residence. Today we celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my granddaughter and Shirogane heir, Shirogane Hikaru, and the Kamo family’s heir, Kamo Masaru. It is a joyous occasion, and I thank you all for coming.”

While she spoke, servants appeared behind each guest like soundless ghosts, setting fresh, steaming trays of food accompanied by shots of sake before each guest before disappearing just as fast as they’d appeared. 

“Let us toast. Then we will enjoy a bountiful meal.” She raised her glass and waited for everyone else to do the same. 

You eyed the sake cup with weary desperation. You’d tasted it once when your father died (you were too young to drink it when your mother died, otherwise you’d have tasted it twice), and had swallowed the liquid bitterness despite the fact that you hated how it pooled in your stomach, warm and unyielding and a harsh reminder of what you lost. Now every time you thought of sake or alcohol in general, you thought of your parents’ death. 

Sensing your hesitation from the way your hands shook when holding the cup, Sukuna took the drink from you before you could protest. A small smirk graced his features, as if he’d meant to do it all along. When your grandmother raised her glass up for a toast, he did the same for your glass and his, before finishing the alcohol in a single breath. 

“Sukuna! You didn’t have to drink it for me!” you whispered furtively. “I don’t want you getting drunk in my stead.” 

Two shots of sake were akin to a drop in the ocean to a creature like him who’d downed entire cellars of sake in one sitting before, but you didn’t know that, which made your concern all the more endearing to him. “Hmm,” he hummed, as the two of you clapped your hands together along with the others, muttering a quick itadakimasu, before eating. “Can’t have a drunk little wife on my hands, can I? I have to protect you.” 

You hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol the entire night, but the way your face warmed made it feel as if you’d drunk a whole bottle by yourself. “That much alcohol isn’t enough to make me drunk…” 

“Not enough to make you drunk,” he agreed, picking at the meat in front of him while wishing he could eat your cooking instead. Or even better, you.

He didn’t even need to eat, did it mostly to indulge you and because he liked your cooking, but he’d always take you over any mortal food. The thought of you squirming above him, slick cunt dripping juice into his mouth almost made him want to drag you from your seat, toss you over his shoulder, and find a closet to feast on you. 

But he didn’t. 

Sukuna was learning to be tamer around you. 

“But look,” he murmured, bringing his thumb to your face to wipe a grain of rice stuck to the corner of your lip. “It would probably be enough alcohol to make your pretty face pink like it is right now. And I don’t want anyone else to see you like this.” 

You nearly dropped your chopsticks but held on to them for fear of ridicule from your family. “O-Oh…um, Sukuna. That–that’s—” He’d said flirtier, dirtier, things to you before, but they were all in private. Now you were in public, in front of your family, and you didn’t know how to act. 

“Eat, my love.” Sukuna fished his chirimenjako from his tray, the action reminding you of how your father used to do that for you, and set it in your rice bowl. “I know you like these fish things. Eat mine.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, grateful to have something else to focus on. Concentrating intently on your tray, you ate your dinner, keeping yourself as composed as possible despite Hikaru’s cold glare that shot through Sukuna’s imposing body. The fact that this was your first time eating with your family in years was not lost on you. And especially not lost on Hikaru. 

Time passed quickly, and soon everyone had begun to wander out of the dining room and into other spaces. Needing to use the restroom, you excused yourself after telling Sukuna where you were going. He grabbed your arm, asking if you needed him to come with you, but you told him with a smile that he couldn’t regardless of what you wanted because you were using the ladies' room. Sukuna pouted, but you promised that you’d be back as soon as you could, and it was only after a reluctant kiss that he finally let you go. 

You finished your business quickly, wanting to get back to Sukuna as soon as you could and go home before you realized that you still hadn’t given your grandmother the gift that you’d brought her. Hoping that she’d be in her room, you hurried through the corridors, slipping past drunken guests, and made your way to the front of her room. 

“Grandmother?” you whispered. “Are you there?”

You waited a few seconds for a response before you asked again. “Grandmother? Are you—”

“What are you doing?” 

You jumped, nearly dropping the gift in your hand, before shoving it hastily into your sleeve and turning on your toes, dread coursing through your veins. 

“Hikaru…I’m sorry–Nothing, I wasn’t doing anything. I’ll just leave. Thank you for your invite.” You quickly bowed once before leaving, and walked as fast as you could in your kimono, cursing the damn contraption for slowing you down — it was pretty, yes, but incredibly difficult to move, and move quickly in it. 

A sigh of relief broke out from you when you made it to one of the gardens in the residence, but your celebration was cut short when you felt liquid metal, a stinging cold against your wrist, squeeze hard, forcing you to turn and face your attacker. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hikaru sneered, letting the silver liquid slither up your arms so that it coiled around your neck like a pretty, poisonous snake, ready to strike at any time. 

“You think that just because you’re married to Ryomen-sama,” she sneered his name, “that means you’re suddenly better than you are. That you’re not trash. But don’t lie to yourself. You won’t be married to him forever. He could easily find someone much better than you, replace you, and leave you with nothing and no one would think otherwise.”

You were acutely aware of the fact that if Sukuna wanted to, he could abandon you at any moment, but at the same time, you held a wild, desperate hope that perhaps he liked you just enough — even if just the bare minimum — to let you stay with him. Even tolerance would be enough for you. All you could hope for. 

“So don’t forget your place. Don’t forget who you are. Someone useless, someone unlovable. A member of the Shirogane family, even if you’re a failure. So remember that I control you!” she spat, wringing the mercury tighter against your skin as if to emphasize her claims. You were sure that there’d be bruising now, bruising that’d be hard to explain to Sukuna. 

You wanted to scream at her. To take her by the shoulders and shake her until the cold hard truth – that no one had ever treated you like a member of the Shirogane family – was beaten into her. But you knew you couldn’t because saying those things would be akin to social suicide for Sukuna, so you tried for softer words while clawing feebly at the liquid death that encircled your neck. 

“H-Hikaru…listen–I…people might hear us and the latter half of the celebration will start soon, so let’s talk about this later.” 

But Hikaru would not be so easily coaxed into agreement. “Later? You want to talk about this later?!” 

Her shrill voice rang so loudly that you winced and looked worriedly at your surroundings, hoping that no one heard, especially not Sukuna. “Later?! You want to talk about this later?” 

You winced at her shrill voice and looked worriedly around you, hoping that no one had heard when a sudden sting of pain jolted your attention back to Hikaru. She’d used her mercury to whip you, hard, the impact of it was so strong and caught you so off guard that it knocked you back a few steps, making you lose your balance and trip into a stone bench. The rock dug into the back of your thighs, bruising hard, and you reached up to soothe the sting on your face only to draw back in half-panic and half-surprise at the wet warmth you felt on your fingertips. 

You had grown comfortable with Sukuna’s gentle ways. Too comfortable.

You could feel the tears well up in your eyes, fat drops that threatened to spill forth and betray what little strength you had, but you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to focus on the pain and the blood. You wouldn’t let your tears betray how you really felt. 

And then there was the matter of Sukuna. You didn’t want your husband to see you like this — for him to see you in such a pitiful state, somehow who couldn’t even protect yourself. Someone at the mercy of another, having to pitifully beg for even a scrap of Hikaru’s leniency. If he saw you now, he’d think you were disgusting and worthless, and he’d realize that you simply weren’t worth it.

You knew it, had expected it to happen since he was bound to find out about your past, but you were hoping you’d have a little more time to prepare him. A little more time to prepare yourself. Some nice memories to tide over the ache you’d feel when you would eventually be discarded.

But there was never enough time. If you learned anything in life, it was that time was servant to none and master to all. It didn’t care that your mother was young, in her primes, or that you were too young to lose your father. Time took them anyway. So what else were you to do besides submit?

Crumpled and defeated, not even caring that your pretty new kimono was dirtied and ripped in multiple places, you kneeled. You kneeled before this angry goddess, taking in every insult hurled at you while your body slowly caved in from the pain your liquid metal jailer wrought on you.  

“Know your place, whore,” Hikaru seethed. She grabbed a fistful of your hair, hair that was just starting to grow healthily, and yanked it sharply to force you to look at her. You bit your tongue hard to stop the cry of pain that’d come out, tasting bitter, metallic blood. “You’re just a slave—”

“My wife.” 

A two-worded revelation from your savage god. Pure relief flooded through you, barely enough to smother the intense shame and disgust you felt from yourself. 

Sukuna was here, but you couldn’t be sure if it was a good thing or not. 

Hikaru spun on her heels to face the intruder, anger etched into every fiber of her being, but when she saw who it was, her demeanor changed instantaneously, molding her expression and posture into picturesque gentility. 

“Ryomen—”

But Sukuna ignored her and made a beeline for you, kneeling on the hard floor before reaching his hand out for you to take. You slipped your shaking hands into his while keeping your gaze lowered, not daring to see what expression he had on his face right now. Surely he would be irate and berate you for ruining an expensive kimono or criticize your lack of decorum and sneer at your weakness. 

Sukuna, however, addressed your cousin first. “What were you doing to my wife?”  His voice sounded unaffected, but his calmness belied an undercurrent of violence just barely contained. He didn’t want to scare you off. 

“What do you mean?” Hikaru asked dumbly, batting her eyelashes at him. “As the future head of the Shirogane family, it is my duty to discipline members of the family when they’re misbehaving.”

You could feel his grip tighten imperceptibly on your waist. 

“Your family?” he scoffed. “She is my wife and thus bears the surname Ryomen, making her no longer a part of the Shirogane family. Instead, she is now under my protection and care and if anyone is to discipline her, to teach her the error of her ways, it will be me, and not some outsider.” 

Hikaru’s expression darkened, as if she couldn’t believe that there would be someone so bold as to question her authority not once, but twice. Her original plan of getting on Sukuna’s good side changed because he’d insulted her pride and status. She would not let his comment go. “You have no idea what you’re talking about and who you’re talking to.”

Sukuna arched a fine eyebrow. “Oh do I?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “Last time we met, you only knew me as her cousin,” she spat the word out as if it was poison. "But what you don’t know is that I am the heir of the prized mercury cursed technique of the Shirogane family and the future head of the family.” 

Sukuna was beginning to see everything very clearly now — what and how you suffered in the past. It didn’t matter that your grandmother was the head of the family and kind to you if she turned a blind eye to Hikaru’s cruel behavior towards you merely because she had inherited the Shirogane family’s dying cursed technique. And if the family head showed such ignorance, then clearly the rest of the clan, whether they scorned you because they saw your grandmother as a role model, or because they themselves didn’t want to get shunned for siding with you, would not have helped the situation. 

You must’ve been so lonely.

And if your loneliness was anything like his, it was not just simply loneliness, but a demon that consumed you. 

The first few hundred years after he became a cursed spirit, he suffered daily from this loneliness, seeking a feeling, something exhilarating, overwhelming, powerful enough to get rid of the loneliness that ate at him from the inside out. It threatened to consume him whole, leave nothing behind, and every day he fought against it. He murdered, tortured, and plundered his way through his new life before he finally decided that he was tired of it all. That he wanted to settle down in one place. 

Life was peaceful at the shrine, a calm respite from the noise of the world, and he enjoyed his few servants. His days passed without any trouble except for when he received a sacrificial bride (they were often distraught and it’d take them many weeks or months to calm down). But loneliness chipped away at him, like water against stone, and each passing year further solidified his belief that he’d never find an end to his loneliness. 

Until you came along. 

Sukuna didn’t care that the Shiroganes were powerful cursed technique users – there had been no one in centuries who even came close to rivaling his power, so he was not going to simply sit by and watch as some impudent spoiled human brat hurt you. 

“And what of it?” Sukuna replied coolly. “What of the Shirogane family?”

Hikaru’s face contorted in anger, beautiful features turning ugly. “Why you—”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” he thundered, eyes glowing red. “To go against her is to go against me. And to go against me is to go against god.” 

Not a single sound could be heard from Hikaru despite the fact that Sukuna had interrupted her. 

“It would appear to me, weak human, that your family has not educated you about your history nor the identity of their superior. For I am their god, whether they acknowledge it or not, which means that not only am I owed respect from your family but that my wife is also owed the same respect. I do not care if you are more powerful,” he said the words mockingly, “than my wife, because I can assure you, you are most certainly not better than her, and are in fact worth nothing compared to her. In my eyes, she is worth much, much more, than your paltry cursed technique.” 

Stunned silent, Hikaru looked at Sukuna, silver eyes glinting with pain. Yet indignation reigned and she couldn’t help challenging him. “If you think the Shirogane family’s cursed technique is so weak, then you won’t turn me down in a friendly match, will you?” 

“Very well.”

A friendly match?

No, you couldn’t let the two of them do that. You’d seen the destruction that Hikaru had wreaked before and had watched with silent horror servants writhing in agony through half-opened windows and doors left ajar. Cruel handiwork on shattered masterpieces you had to patch up every time she was finished with them. And sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of her sparring with her instructor (the same one you had many years ago), and be half-terrified, half-awed by the sheer power she had. Power you should’ve had but didn’t. 

Sukuna was formidable, no doubt, but you couldn’t risk him getting hurt on your behalf. 

“No!” The two of them spun to look at you, and you fought the urge to shirk at icy silver eyes that had traumatized you and molten red ones that you’d grown to love so much. 

“I-Please don’t fight. I don’t want you…two to get hurt…” At first, you thought only of your husband, until you realized that Hikaru getting hurt would surely spell doom for Sukuna. The Shirogane family would want someone to answer for her injuries and heavens forbid her death, if it happened, and you would be the perfect scapegoat for it. They’d spin a tale of how you, the eldest cousin, was jealous of Hikaru and had devised a plan for Sukuna to get rid of her for you so you could seize her position. 

Never mind that you wanted and cared nothing for that, but your family would use you as a scapegoat and Sukuna would get caught in the crossfire simply by association with you. But Sukuna only looked at you with a devastating smirk, one that made you hope and despair at the same time. He was going to fight her, regardless of what you said. It made sense, you thought wanely. Why would he ever listen to someone as weak and useless as yourself? 

“I will be but a moment, love,” he said nonchalantly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before setting you gently on the bench. 

Hikaru manipulated several streams of mercury into the air, ready to attack Sukuna as soon as he turned around, and when you saw it, your legs were moving before you realized it, running to do something, anything, to shield him from the mercury – you had a firsthand experience of how acutely they hurt – but then you were in his warm embrace, face pressed against his chest and breathing in his scent when you heard someone howl in pain. 

When you finally dared to open your eyes, you found Hikaru crumpled on the ground in pain, hurt in the same places you were while Sukuna hadn’t taken a single step from where he was. 

“R-Ryomen-sama! How dare you do this to me!” Hikaru stood shakily, trying to come to terms that someone had just hurt her and summoned more mercury, ready to shoot those streams at Sukuna when—

“Enough.”  Your grandmother’s voice held no room for argument, and Hikaru obeyed, immediately getting rid of her mercury. 

Sukuna looked at Hikaru with such heavy distaste that you could almost feel the sting yourself.

“I didn’t realize that the Shirogane family had fallen so low,” he remarked with disdain, “become so uneducated, and so uncouth so as to not recognize their god, the King of Curses. Do something about it. I don’t want my wife’s family to be known as weak, ignorant people, nor do I want to be disappointed again by them.” Sukuna effortlessly lifted you from where you sat before you could mutter a protest. “We’ll be leaving now, Shirogane-sama.” 

You craned your neck up to look at your husband before turning to your grandmother who was helping Hikaru up. “We’re leaving?” you murmured nervously. “Just like that?” 

“Of course.” He arched an eyebrow at you, confused, as if you were the crazy one. “There’s no need for us to be here anymore, and I want to tend to your wounds as soon as possible, so I’ll teleport us back,” he said simply. 

“O-Okay…” 

You held on to him tightly, perhaps tighter than needed, and a few moments later you were back at the shrine. The calm, familiar environment enveloped you, and you sighed deeply, glad you had some place to return and find solace because the Shirogane residence was certainly anything but peaceful. 

As Sukuna carried you to your rooms, asking Momoka for a first aid kit on the way there, you wondered how you were going to approach him tomorrow morning. It was a given that he’d surely have questions for you — remarks, at the very least — about what happened, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to open up to him yet. 

But perhaps he wouldn’t even care to listen to you. He could just be acting courteous to you, bidding his time before he divorced you and ran you out of the shrine. It sickened you, bile rising unbidden, at the thought of him abandoning you, and you vehemently fought to keep it down while clinging harder to Sukuna and burying your nose into the crook of your neck, focusing on his calming scent.

If only this moment would last forever. If only you could live in this illusion for the rest of your life. If only he would love you unconditionally; want nothing in return. 

Wonderful yet impossible. 

Nishijin-ori (西陣織, lit. 'Nishijin fabric'): is a traditional textile produced in the Nishijin (西陣) district of Kamigyō-ku in Kyoto, Japan. Originating in Heian-kyōto over 1,200 years ago, the weaving is known for its highly-decorative and finely-woven designs, created through the use of tedious and specialized production processes. It is well-regarded for the high quality and craftsmanship of the resulting fabrics, commonly used for high-quality obi and kimono. Taken from Wikipedia.

if you like what i write [tip jar / comms open]

[absolutepokemontrash]

Date bled or demon bros react to mc likes to nap and cuddle throughout the day

I’ll do the brothers! :D

Lucifer

…MC get off of him. He’s in a meeting.

Aaaaaaaaand they’re napping. Wonderful.

At first, Lucifer is annoyed that he’s got another Belphie on his hands, especially during the time when Belphie’s locked in the attic. How dare MC remind him of the brother that he’s holding under house arrest >:c

But once the relationship grows, Lucifer submits to the snuggles. Luci quickly realizes that he’s very not used to cuddling.

As long as MC isn’t napping through their classes, they’re good. Nap whenever you want, MC, just make sure your homework is done.

MC should expect the cuddling to be one sided in public, but behind closed doors? Hoo boy, the man’s attached to MC like a koala to a tree.

MC may have also accidentally fixed his sleep schedule… it’s just… why does he feel sleepy when he sees them nap? *yawn*

He’s just going to rest his eyes for a second, the paperwork can wait.

Mammon

G-gah! Stupid human! What do they think they’re doin’ cuddling up to him like that!? They do know he’s a demon right?

For the first little while, Mammon tsuderes it up, but he gets so easily flustered whenever MC leans on him that it renders everything he says pretty much meaningless.

The first time MC ever fell asleep on him it was absolutely magical. He slowly patted their head and refused to move until the next day. Sure, his back hurt and he didn’t get any sleep, but MC was just so cute dammit!

Deeper into the relationship, Mammon is the happiest demon alive because he doesn’t need to ask for snuggles! He just plops himself down next to MC and his human just cuddles up next to him!

His absolute favourite thing is when MC falls asleep on his lap. They did it in public once and Mammon took this opportunity to flex. Yeah, he has a cute human that likes to cuddle him, do you?!

Mammon’s only wish is that MC would be more awake when he’s explaining his totally legit business ideas, they always seem to fall asleep once he gets goin’

Leviathan

SISJDJSJSJDJDJSJJAJAKALSKA- PHYSICAL CONTACT?!?!?! WITH HIM?! it’s more likely than you’d think.

First part of the relationship when Levi had just made a pact with MC, he was kind of confused. He had tried to murk this normie just a couple of days ago and now they’re cuddling up next to him? What’s that abou-

Levi.exe has stopped working.

Yeah, Levi blue screening happens a LOT. It takes literal months for MC and Levi to snuggle properly on a regular basis.

As totally Kawaii MC is when they nap on him, they just need to see how this fight scene is animated! MC! MC! Look! Homura and Mami are- WAKE UP AND LOOK AT THIS!

Cuddling in public causes Levi to die a flustered death. Fs in the chat everyone, had a good life, he did.

Though, it makes him feel so much more comfortable whenever MC just holds his hand out in public and doesn’t make a big deal about it. It makes him feel safe ^.^

Satan

At first, Satan was taking notes on how this human got so comfortable so quickly that they just started cuddling people and napping everywhere. Hm, humans appear to be quite adaptable… interesting.

They also seem to lack any sense of danger. Well, at least this one does.

Later down the line though, when MC first crawled into Satan’s lap to nap, it rivalled the first time a cat chose him. This was wild.

Snuggles… while reading stories… yes please…

Okay, that part sounded better than it ended up being. MC fell asleep while cuddling and ended up right on Satan’s arm, then in their sleep, MC basically locked Satan’s entire right side into a vice grip and couldn’t be pried off. Basically, Satan had to reread the same page of his book over and over and over again because he didn’t want to wake up MC.

Well, call it a learning experience, and Satan loves to learn, so next time, he was prepared for MC’s death cuddles.

Apparently he wasn’t prepared enough because the exact same thing happened again… multiple times more.

MC is literally a walking relaxant, Satan is significantly less filled with burning rage when they’re around. Notice I said less filled, he will still cut a bitch.

Asmodeus

Oh~ how bold! MC just plopped themselves down next to him and cuddled up close to him!

At first, Asmo was amused by all the cuddling MC was doing and made quite a few less than wholesome jokes about it. The Avatar of Lust has a dirty mind! Shocker!

But hark! (The herald angels siiiiing-) Asmo actually… likes platonic snuggles?!?! What is this sorcery?!

If MC and Asmo don’t enter a romantic relationship, my man still needs his cuddle quota met, ASAP.

If they do end up dating, hoo boy, MC and Asmo sure do a lot of snuggling, and “snuggling”.

But overall, Asmo loves being held and cuddled, and sleep is good for one’s skin!

Beelzebub

*sniffle* Beeeeeeeeeelllllllllpppppphhhhhiiiiiiiiieeeeeee-

Congratulations MC, they have made Beel more sad about his twin being gone just by existing :D

Once the custard incident happens and MC and Beel grow closer, oh man, oh man oh man, is he in desperate need of cuddles.

If MC ever falls asleep anywhere and needs to get from point A to point B, fret not, Beel is prepared. He will gently pick them up and they will awaken at point B. How nice!

Once Belphie gets his ass out of the attic, MC has competition.

Not really, Beel has enough love to go around. Both his sleepy beans can get carried around and cuddled with. Beel is big and strong for a reason.

Since MC has a vice grip while they cuddle, Beel kind of walks around with them clinging to his arm like a sloth to a tree. Belphie also picks up on this behaviour and starts doing it too.

Someone (*cough* Levi and Mammon *cough*) took a picture and posted it on Devilgram and now it’s kind of a meme template.

Belphegor

Gasp! Whomst- whomst is this human who comes before him and cuddles up close to him? This must be his soulmate! His other half! His destined partner!

…his destined partner was drooling all over his cardigan.

Ah well, two can play that game motherfucker. *SNORE*

Anyway, Belphie and MC? I would say power couple but in reality, the two just do a lot of snuggling and sleeping, it’s like they’re attached at the hip.

The two are always touching in some way, Belphie resting his head on MC’s shoulder, MC attaching themselves to Belphie’s torso like a koala, the two of them trading spit with each other… you get the idea.

It gets weird when the two start legitimately visiting each other in dreams, it gets so frequent it basically becomes a date night thing to just sleep and do weird shit in dreamland.

“Hey MC do you wanna hang out?” “Sorry, can’t, it’s date night. *SNORE*” “Yeah, shoo. *S N O R E*”

On their most recent date, MC and Belphie fought a dragon and then ate a giant cake.

[immaaskchu]

A Mere Human

TW: angst, death, fighting, blood

unedited

They say nothing is absolute, but the screams, sweat and fatigue were vivid. Thundering footsteps, war-cries, the sound of metal clashing were all too close considering you were in the medical tent.

“Retreat!”

How? There were at least a dozen injured soldiers. What were you supposed to do? There’s no solid solution for problems nobody every thought they’d encounter.

You stayed.

Protecting the injured was your top priority. So, using what little training you had, you put it to use. You fought. It didn’t matter how many weapons they had. You fought. No matter how many cuts, how many gashes or strikes to the stomach, head, arms, legs, face or torso. You refused to fall.

Each passing second hurt more than the last, until your body went numb. Fighting your hardest to protect the weakened. Ordering the weakened soldiers back down onto their beds. No body came to help.

Your kindness was your downfall.

No matter how much the war-lords and army men called you a fool you didn’t listen; nor when they told you your kindness would someday get you killed, you didn’t listen. You fought will all your might, down to the last piece of energy your body could hold.

But everything has its limits. Especially mere humans.

Nobunaga ran to the medical shelter with all he had. No one had ever seen him panic before. Who could blame him? The soldiers in the tent screamed your name before a loud thud fled through the air.

Katana drawn, bursting through the curtains only to cut down everyone who stood in his way. Barely even glancing at the injured men who had tried their best to fight off the enemy and compress your wound as you bled.

There was a hole in your chest. A literal hole in your heart. The heart he claimed and swore he would love and protect till the day he died.

Dropping to your side at such speed you knew, even half conscious, that had hurt his knees. Helping applying pressure to your chest as Ieyasu did his best to heal you. Nobunaga refused to let you die.

Yet death cannot be held in the hands of a mere human. As much as a demon as he claims to be, he will forever be nothing more than a mere human. As you will forever be. That will forever be the reason your life was slipping through his hands.

“Fireball! Fireball, open your eyes. Open them! Hey, hey, hey, hey! Fireba- Fireball stay awake.” He repeatedly pet your cheek in a pathetic attempt to keep you alive.

“You’re going to be alright. Fireball, I’m begging you, please open your eyes.”

Nobunaga has never cried. Not until the very moment he felt your heartbeat soften. You were dying and he held no power over it. All he could do was watch as the light in your eyes faded.

“Nobu- naga-,” gasping and wheezing for air, you tried your best to speak, “I love- you.”

“Stop talking like you’re going to die.” He knew you were. You were slipping.

You were slipping,

you were slipping,

you were slipping

and he knew.

Nobunaga knew there was nothing he could do.

“You’re not allowed to. If- if you die I’ll kill you myself, you- you monkey!”

Laughing only caused you to throw up blood.

“That’s- not how- it works,- Love. Could you,- smile- for me?”

“I do not see how smiling will solve this.” Yet he did so anyway.

“Fireball…? Fireball! Fireball don’t die! Fireball please… Please don’t die.”

Chest heaving, he couldn’t breathe. It didn’t matter how much air he took in, the harder he sobbed the harder it became.

“I’m ordering you not to die…!”

A human posing as a demon cannot stop the power of a God.

~MOD REM

[mini-melo]

hahaha im writing this as im working online, and while my doc said i shouldnt tire myself, i literally need to write this or im gonna burst.

this is more focused around the hermits and tommy's interactions before ghostinnit happened. also, the hermits here are the ones closest to tommy and also the most i could write at midnight and trying to fight off meds that mke me sleepy.

anyway, feel free to request any scenario or just tommy vibing with other hermits. i'll do my best to write it.

anyway, without further ado, i present a part of my hermit!tommy au that isnt angst, finally.

---

GRIAN

Tommy took to Grian like water off a duck's back. It didn't take long before both were wrecking havoc among the server.

For Grian's part, he takes one look at this tall gremlin, and practically adopts him. Gremlins of chaos should stay together, after all.

(He wants those haunted eyes of the newbie to be gone. He wants to help him just like Hermitcraft helped Grian in the aftermath of YHS and EVO.)

They start small, rearranging the contents of Lookie Lookie at My Bookie. Then they get pink carpets and covers the heart in Mumbo's base with it.

They grab baby Yoda from Scar again, and set up a treasure hunt filled with chicken canons and slime blocks in the most infuriating parts of the hunt.

(Grian introduces Poultry Man to Tommy, and then Pesky Bird is born.)

Tommy never thought he'd have any more brothers after DSMP happened, but here we are, with Tommy in full Pesky Bird attire, setting up a giant chicken above the Omega Tree and Grian—sorry, Poultry Man—makes poop made out of diorite until it touches one of the gigantic branches.

And, hey, if Iskall tried to stifle a grin as he complains at the laughing duo, then that's between him and his now-clean tree.

---

XISUMA

It wasn't Xisuma who actually emotionally adopted Tommy. No, no, it was Tommy who forced himself into the admin's life.

Tommy is a traumatized child from a server with a corrupt admin. A server with a fixed set of lives. A server with a ghost, with hybrids forced to hide themselves or limit themselves, or even cut off their extra appendages unless they want the admin to permanently kill them.

But Tommy is also smart. He started more than one nation, he led an army in more than one war, he fought two withers and came out alive, he's bled and died so much that he's lost count.

Tommy knows what corruption in a person looks like, but he also knows what a proper admin is.

(He has to thank SMPEarth for that, war-torn as it was. At least then, no admin abused their powers. At least then he could respawn and freely watch his dad Philza Minecraft soar in the sky with no care for the world.)

Because of this, Tommy can be seen around Xisuma if he isn't around his fellow gremlin. Tommy watched him tend to his bees, make more towers, make some redstone contraptions, and most importantly, learns about this unbelievable, utopic land that Tommy's found himself in.

When Tommy started making his starter base, he made it beside Xisuma's mega base. He tried to replicate the style of Xisuma's, and while not quite perfect, Xisuma hugs Tommy regardless.

(He's never be proud of his accomplishments before, no matter if he braided Techno's hair as a child, nor if he gave his most valuable possessions and a life to win a war.)

Xisuma, Tommy thinks, has been more of a father than what he remembers from Philza and his childhood.

---

ZOMBIECLEO

When Cleo managed to save Wilbur's coat, Tommy all but clings to her. In the DSMP, you can't trust anybody with your valuables, whether they offered to fix it or not.

Tommy took a leap here, to lend the coat to Cleo and praying to gods he didn't believe that she'll fix it instead of burning it.

(It's the only thing Tommy has of his family. Or, well, the only family he acknowledges. Wilbur was more of a father than Phil ever was, when they were children. Granted the bar was pretty low, but Tommy liked to cling to even the smallest bit of affection.)

Cleo smiles and teaches Tommy how to stitch and pose armour stands. Tommy isn't the best, with his sloppily made leather armour and wonky amour stand, but Cleo still praises him, and Tommy thinks it's the prettiest thing he's ever made.

Perfection isn't the point of this, anyway. Cleo taught Tommy, however unconsciously, to be patient and be proud of his own work. Tommy thanks her with two armour stands hand in hand at the entrance of her zoo, Cleo and Tommy's head on each of it. There are sloppily made copies of their outfits, even his coat's own stitches and Cleo's tears in her own clothes are there.

(Tommy eventually makes armour stand stories in a room dedicated to it in his mega base, later in the season. Cleo will unashamedly admit she shed a tear.)

---

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream IV // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait to confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history

Warnings: Swearing, grief, mourning a relationship, sadness, angst, war/death, mention of strict parents, and fluff

Words: 3.1

A/N: This is a disclaimer: just because the reader and Luke start to get along better and have a date does NOT mean she isn’t grieving her relationship. Whether the love faded or not with Peter that is still a large part of who she was/is or don’t expect her and Luke to fall into a relationship immediately.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The phantoms had disbanded for the night, leaving Julie alone in her room surrounded by books and Flynn. You’d snuck down to the basement as you had since you arrived in 2020 from a different world. The wardrobe that quite literally changed your life was in the back corner, unassuming for the young girl.

Your e/c eyes pinned to the antique wooden furniture that had traveled from England to America as if fate had guided it. No matter how long time went by you’d never been able to touch the wardrobe, let alone touch remotely close. A part of you feared finding if you could return to Narnia or not.

It was something you kept private from the new people helping you to assimilate back into a life on Earth. The boys often refused to leave you for very long after the traumatic disappearance, even when you urged for space. It had almost been as tricky as negotiating peace with a land boiling with civil unrest.

Alex had taken to holding your hand as you slept for peace in both him and you; he’d noticed the state of sleep you endured. It was fitful and often filled with memories in the form of nightmares. The one from last night reared its head once more.

An intake of breath as you pulled your fingers closed to your cheek. Eyes on the movement before you released the bow. The arrow sailed true into the unsuspecting enemy with a faint whistle as it travelled.

The body dropped, one of many of the battles you had attended since defeating the White Witch. A life was still a life, and taking one was incredibly difficult. You saw it in the eyes of Peter, heard it in Susan’s strained voice, saw it in the way Edmund carried himself, but the most heartbreaking was the feeling of Lucy’s tense shoulders in certain moments.

Edmund and Lucy had been children when the White Witch had reigned and fought. Lucy had been only nine years old when her foot first touched Narnian snow. At that tender age, she’d watched the evil of the world up close. Edmund not that incredibly older. The youngest Pevensie had watched her brother take his last breath. Felt the trauma of Edmund’s gasping as the cordial bled one life-giving drop of liquid.

“I’d like to say it gets better, but it truly doesn’t, Your Majesty.” General Oreius’ announced from his station beside you. It was a lull in the tension building as people got ready for the enemies on the horizon.

Oreius’ addressed you but kept his gaze on the approaching army from an enemy land; the General was gifted in multitasking. He’d stopped to give you a little peace in only the way he knew how to.

“Thank you, Oreius.” You informed the General as he took off into the land ahead, leaving you to hold off the enemy with arrows. The short lapse is a game-changer for you as you run into battle.

Last night’s dream had been a reprieve from the dreams of Peter staring sadly at you curled around Luke. It hadn’t happened, of course, but that didn’t dim the bonfire of emotions you felt for the hazel-eyed guitarist.

You couldn’t quite figure out if you loved Peter the way a wife should love their husband. It wasn’t solely Peter that made you come to the wardrobe frequently. It had to do with the family that became yours when your parents had been shitty.

“Hey.” Julie spoke, stepping up to your side. The first person to have found you in the basement where you had an entirely different life.

“Hi.” You murmured, breaking your stare to meet the lovely teenager who had taken your brother and friends into her home. Even if it hadn’t been a smooth start, the band had grown infinitely closer.

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” Julie softly questioned with soft brown eyes taking in the action you’d known for years. Your fingers brushed a strand of her gorgeous coil hair behind her ear with a gentleness you’d done so with Susan and Lucy.

Julie watched as your eyes saddened, “I don’t know. Mere seconds before I stumbled out of the wardrobe into your home, I was an adult. I had been in my early ’30s reigning beside my husband, and then I was the same sixteen-year-old girl breaking the chains of the Mercer name.”

“You feel guilty you left Alex, Luke and Reggie without answers, but you feel like you’re betraying your new family?” Julie questioned, shifting on her sneakers to stare at the emotional mask you’d developed in Narnia.

“Something like that.” You simply replied, casting one more look at the wardrobe in your haste to leave the basement.

Julie waited until you had left before she opened the wardrobe with a loud creak. Her hands brushed material hanging before her hand met a solid surface. Her face dropped at the physical evidence that Narnia couldn’t be reached from this wardrobe again.

Julie adored you, but she wanted to know how true happiness looked on your pretty features. Even if she had to give up you just so you could be happy, it was worth it, so when you left the basement each visit, she’d check the wardrobe.

It always failed. Not a speck of snow or a call of your royal title. Had Julie not seen you tumble out of the wardrobe, she’d have never believed the story.

“One day.” Julie murmured to the silent wardrobe.

Your foot barely passed the threshold of your attic space when your ’90s friends dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Each wearing a big grin that matched the fake one you plastered on.

“Where’d you go this time?”

“Top of the Hollywood sign.” Reggie piped up, skipping over to distribute a cheesy tourist keychain of the sign. Had it been someone else than Reggie, you would have joked about it, but you never could with the sweet puppy like teenager.

“Thank you.” You told the boy who had taken to grabbing little souvenirs for you. You couldn’t remember when he’d sat beside you, but he’d softly informed you how much he’d missed you. 

In the year following your disappearance, Reggie had built up a collection of trinkets he thought you’d love; he was the one with the most optimism. Even if he believed you’d met an end, that little spark of hope never died. He wouldn’t be Reggie Peters if the hope wasn’t there.

“I wish I knew if my parents kept that box.” Reggie sighed, referring to the trinkets he had collected the year you’d gone missing. You merely squeezed his shoulder in response before catching gazes with Luke.

“Flynn still here?” Alex questioned, pushing himself to sit on the box bench underneath the window. He’d proudly chosen the wear one of the t-shirts Flynn had personalized for the band.

You shrugged, “Dunno. Julie found me.”

Reggie and Luke were oblivious, but Alex knew to the core of his soul where you tended to spend alone time. Alex would see how you’d return with that ache in your eyes more prominent, and your lips quirked down just enough for him to tell. He saw the guilt when you looked at Luke, the way you thumbed your ring.

“Do you want to hang out? Maybe to use Julie’s computer to search for our childhood friends? See if Sarah got valedictorian?” Alex asked, swinging his feet, trying to pull you from your thought which he was successful with.

“Sure.”

Reggie and Luke watched as you and Alex left the attic for some one on one time together, leaving the two.

“I wonder where they’re going?” Reggie questioned, staring after the closed door. His hands pushed into the back pockets of his jeans.

Luke shrugged, “You wanna write a song?”

“Sure! We could-”

“Not country,” Luke told the bassist, who pouted but followed as his best friend poofed to the garage. 

The two Mercer siblings wandered the streets of Los Angeles, each in their own thoughts but comforted by the odd brush of their arms. For Alex, it felt like the old days when you both snuck out of the house just for some air. To just to leave the tense expectations shoved on their shoulders by their perfectionist parents.

“If I’d never disappeared and you didn’t die, where do you think we’d be?” You mused, thinking of all the what-ifs. Would you have gotten together with Luke? Would Sunset Curve had gone on to do sold-out shows.

“I don’t really know, to be honest. I think if we’d gone on to be successful that Reggie would have a ranch somewhere. He might have even released an EP of country songs. I think you and Luke would be together.” Alex thought with a bittersweet smile.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Where do you think you would be?” You questioned the older Mercer, who simply shrugged, “I like to think you would have been happy. Whether that was with someone, who was worthy of you or just by being yourself. Maybe you would have started a charity or been an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community.”

Your e/c eyes caught the smile growing on your older brother’s mouth, bringing a lightness to your body.

“I don’t think it matters. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. If we had survived, I would have never seen you again.” Alex confessed, “I think we were always meant to meet Julie.”

You went to open your mouth when your eyes found one of the last places you wanted to be. Somehow you and Alex had walked into the area where the country club was sitting just as it was back in the ’90s. From a distance, you could see the unmistakable form of Sarah, the girl in your grade who had always unwillingly competed academically with you. Sarah was just another girl with heavy expectations from her own wealthy parents.

“Is that Sarah?” Alex softly chuckled as the girl, now a woman, holding the hand of her husband with genuine happiness, “She looks happy.”

“She deserves it. The rivalry all our parents had was insane, so I’m happy one of us got the least complicated life.” You informed Alex bumping your hip against his leg as you talked with the pink-loving male.

England, 1940s

Four youth occupied one of the many rooms in the manor that didn’t hold a candle to Cair Paravel grand size and beauty. Not that the four confused siblings spent time taking a gander in the room. Each focused on how they’d lived well into their thirties before regressing back to the ages they were when they stepped into the wardrobe. There were minor changes.

Edmund wasn’t acting like a knob, Susan inserting herself as dominant, and Lucy was quieter than usual. Peter, however, had a boiling rage he could barely contain within himself.

“Do you think Aslan did this?” Susan questioned her siblings. A single tear rolling down her face at the grief she felt.

Each Pevensie was in the beginning stages of grief. They had to grieve the life they had lost in a magical place. A place where the war didn’t ravage like it did to their home country. For the suitors, she’d only just started to seriously look into.

Not a single shred of evidence tied themselves to Narnia.

“Who else?” Peter scoffed, bringing a gasp from Lucy’s mouth. They had all proudly reigned with Aslan in mind. Not a word is spoken against the great lion who’d died for Edmund and came back to life.

“Pet-”

“This is your fault.” Peter told his younger brother with a grimace on his face, “We had everything we ever needed in Narnia. Why did you need to catch that stupid stag?”

Edmund’s eyebrows furrowed, “You make it sound like our lives were perfect. Newsflash, King Peter, but it was far from that. You barely focused on your marriage, let alone Y/N.”

“Edmund.” Susan admonished, glancing between her brothers as if watching a tennis match. The only sister paying attention as Lucy stared out the window at the overcast day.

“It’s true! His marriage was a sham, and he lied to the entire kingdom!” Edmund shouted with a heated glare, “You acted like you were the most important person in Narnia, like the only reason the place worked was because of your hand solely.”

“Shut up,” Peter growled, stepping right up to his little; Edmund had lost a lot of inches, brother with a sneer. Their hair mussed from rubbing against the furs.

“Just because you’re older and you had High in front of your title doesn’t lessen our power too.”

“STOP IT.” Lucy screamed, stomping her foot, “Who cares about that. How about we focus on where Y/N went? She was right with us in there, and then out of nowhere, she’s gone.”

“I know.” Peter’s shoulder dropped in defeat as it settled further into his mind. Not only had he lost the years he’d lived, but he’d also lost you somewhere along the line.

While you’d fallen out of love, or maybe you’d never even been in love with Peter; he’d faithfully kept feelings for you. Part of him had always known your heart was taken by another, but he cherished the times you had together.

“And she’s not in another place right now. She’s somewhere in the far future.” Edmund added with his arms crossed over each other, “She never elaborated on when, where or what the future looks like. How can we find someone that doesn’t exist yet?”

“We hope our future selves can find her.” Susan finished sending a look at each of her siblings, “In the meantime, let’s live our lives for her, so we have tons of stories for her to listen to.”

Molina Household, America 2020

Luke Patterson shook in his black vans, his best pair he owned, holding simple flowers Julie had gotten. Money from busking down at the pier for some cash the boys could have for anything they wanted. They always left money with a note when they got items.

The flowers’ stems were definitely in a battle to survive the grip from the scared teenage ghost. He’d started the day with a tickle in the back of his mind to ask you out. Just a simple date with no strings attached to see where it could go. He couldn’t chicken out when he’d already knocked, and the door was opening.

“Oh! Luke.” You gasped, blinking at the sudden appearance of the phantom. Luke’s eyes melted at the oversized flannel layered over a cropped dark blue sweater.

Your style pre-Narnia and during Narnia had coalesced over the few months you’d found yourself on Earth. Your love of cropped tops returned with a modest twist, the modesty unshakable.

“I know it’s been hard adjusting from Narnia, but I was wondering if you would go on a date with him?” He blurted, dancing on the balls of his vans with an expression of pure nerves.

Your mind flew twenty miles an hour thinking through the implications of accepting a date with this teenager. A dead teenager at that. Sure he was only a year older, but fate had a sick sense of humour. 

“I don-”

“I know in your other world you have a husband. I get that, but there’s something undeniable between us. It’s been there since the ’90s, and we always just pushed it away. I learned over the twenty-six years that life is too short.” Luke pleaded, slowly pushing the pretty bouquet into your arms, “Just one date to see if this is worth pursuing.”

You should have said no, but you couldn’t, “One date.”

Luke mentally pumped his fist in the air in celebration as if he was starring in a John Hughes movie. As if reading his mind, you teasingly thrust your hand in the air, the very same hand coming into Luke’s grip.

“There isn’t a lot that we can do, but Willie knows a guy unaffiliated with Caleb. Well, he knows him through a few guys, but he hooked me up. In this lovely basket, we have a menagerie of food that I can eat.” Luke spoke proudly with that same twinkle he always had with you by his side.

Your lips parted in pure elation. Luke Patterson was taking you out on one of the things that had been on your bucket list. A picnic date, something you and Alex each desired to enjoy.

Luke led you down a few streets to a park notorious for cute dates. Julie stood over a cliche checkered blanket. In her hand was an old iPhone or iPod hooked up to a Bluetooth speaker, a playlist curated of your favourite songs ready to go.

“You remember how to use this?” Julie questioned the teen ghost with one raised eyebrow. Luke nodded in his mission to unpack the food in a form that was as romantic as possible.

Julie nodded before casting a quiet goodbye to the two ’90s teens.

“How’d you know?” You questioned Luke as he poured a glass of the beverage he’d chosen. His ever-changing eyes flicked up to yours with an endearing expression.

Your eyes scanned his messy hair. He had taken the time to meticulously styled for his date with you. He’d chosen that gorgeous purple corduroy long sleeve shirt that turned his hair to melted milk chocolate. He hadn’t done a 180 on his style; he’d never tell you he’d styled his hair off his forehead into what Alex had dubbed the Prince Charming hair.

“1994 in the studio for Alex’s fifteenth birthday. Bobby snuck some alcohol he’d collected from his uncle’s BBQ and his father’s stash. We got drunk for the first time and played truth or dare.” Luke recalled with a smile. 

He remembered how much of lightweights they were and the way his heart fluttered when Alex answered Reggie’s question. He explained how his ideal date was a picnic in a park with either a guy he was seeing or his celebrity crush. He’d mentioned it was something he shared with you, and then all Luke could think about was taking you on a picnic.

“Dealing with Alex’s hungover ass was a nightmare.” You grunted, swiping one of the pieces of watermelon from a container.

“I can only imagine.” Luke chuckled, slowly shifting closer to you with a sandwich in his left hand. His right arm slowly slinked over your shoulders to rest, the movement halting as your shoulders tensed momentarily.

“Were you really gonna confess that night I disappeared?” You asked the guitarist currently focused on the delicious sandwich. It reminded him of his mother packing his lunch every day, even in his high school years despite telling his mom he could do it himself.

“I was. I chickened out.” Luke admitted and had he been alive, his ears could have flushed along with his cheeks. The bashful ghost struggled to meet your gaze, “I had-have this massive crush on you. I’ve had it since you called me your knight in shining armour-”

“When I sliced my knee open, and you carried me home.”

“I’ve never told anyone, but you’re kinda the reason why I started wearing no sleeves. The guys and us were watching a film, and you mentioned something about the actor’s arms.” Luke snickered with a smile that faded at your sheepish grin, “Oh my god, you knew.”

“Bobby let it slip, ‘I watched him cut the sleeves of his shirts, stitch the raw edges of the fabric, prick his fingers a ton, and he nearly broke my foot’”

“Yeah I almost dropped a weight on him.” Luke snorted, shuffling to lay his head to rest on top of yours. He’d quickly learnt in his mission to gain muscle for your attention that he liked the exercise. He continued to get in shape and grow some muscle, but he still wore sleeveless shirts for you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Luke beamed at your words, “Nah, you’re the beautiful one.”

The rest of the date was everything you had ever wished for. Luke went above and beyond your expectations, even as a ghost. He’d packed a sweater to help you into when the night appeared, and the cold came. He held your hand on the way home and walked you straight to your attic door.

Luke didn’t push for a kiss either. He simply raised your clasped hand to press a lingering kiss on the back of your hand.

“Sweet dreams.” Luke murmured before he walked down the stairs. The euphoria ensuring he forget his ability to poof.

He wore the same lovesick expression into the studio where two ghosts waited for all the details. Alex and Reggie each buzzing in anticipation for their guitarist best friend.

In your room, you analyzed your feelings closely.

The guilt wasn’t as suffocating as you’d anticipated after going on a date that wasn’t with Peter. Just the guy that had been a reason your marriage with Peter wasn’t how it should have been. You also knew in your heart that Peter would want you to be happy and move on. In fact, in the last two years of your marriage, things had changed to just being two best friends married. 

Your eyes met the window of your attic bedroom with a small smile. Your right hand slowly sliding the symbol of love from your finger. For the first time in a very long time, your wedding and engagement band left your hand.

“I’ll always love you, Peter Pevensie.” You murmured from your place in front of your dresser. The two rings slid into the old jewellery box where they would stay.

The only signs of your previous relationship status are just memories and a pale line on your ring finger.

Time to move on. Time to accept that Narnia was in the past and not in your future. Time to accept that Luke Patterson always had and always would hold your heart in his hands.

Tag List(s) PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!

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