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grayson10yearslater · 25 days

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YOU DON'T KNOW GRAYSON: The Construction of Dick Grayson's Identity in Grayson Act I

INTRODUCTION: WHO AM I?

Like many of us, I first heard of Spyral in Dick-centric hurt/comfort fics. In these fics, the focus is often on how lonely and miserable Dick was during his time as Agent 37. How even after he became Nightwing again, his brothers never forgive him for letting them think he was dead. How the relationship between him and Bruce has been poisoned forever because Bruce savagely beat him and forced him to play dead. Usually Jason, Tim, and/or Damian discover Batcave footage of Bruce’s beat down of Dick, find out Dick was forced against his will into going undercover, and shower Dick with the love and forgiveness he deserves (and also probably kick Bruce’s ass a little). I want to be very clear. I eat these fics up for breakfast. Part of the reason I was so eager to read Grayson myself was for the hurt/comfort fodder.

But Grayson, in tone and execution, is nothing like the fanfics I read. There’s whump fodder, yes, but there is also humor and charm and new gratifying heartfelt relationships built within. Imagine my surprise when I read Grayson for the first time and found that Bruce and Dick’s relationship is not strained and bitter, but actually very tender and nostalgic. Both during and after the infamous Nightwing #30, there is so much affection between them. What got lost in fandom telephone? If Grayson isn’t about Dick at his absolute lowest, being the most miserable and alone sadsack to ever sack, what is it about?

The promo material gives us the easy pitch: identity. “YOU THINK YOU KNOW NIGHTWING…” the ad tells us, “YOU DON’T KNOW DICK.” For my money, this might be one of the best DC house ads of all time. It so perfectly captures the theme and the tone of Grayson. It’s in your face, it’s tongue-in-check, and it is so excited to explore Dick Grayson as a character.

But then the question remains: Who is Dick Grayson? The last six pages of Nightwing #30, written by Grayson co-writers Tom King and Tim Seeley, ends with Dick himself telling us.

“Who am I? I’ve been a lot of things. I was a son. I was a performer. An acrobat. A member of Haly’s Circus. Part of a family, a legacy. Then came Tony Zucco. He murdered my parents, and I was alone. I was angry. A sad, angry boy looking for revenge. Any revenge. Then came Bruce Wayne. He found me, and I wasn’t alone anymore. I was his ward. I was a son again. He trained me. Focused me. And I was Robin. A colleague. A hero. Partner to the Batman, the Dark Knight of Gotham. I was part of a family again. Batgirl. Commissioner James Gordon. Alfred Pennyworth. I grew older. I became a hero in my own right. I was Nightwing. I was a teacher. A mentor. To Jason…Tim…Damian…and eventually, when I was needed, I was Batman. I was part of a legacy again. Then came the Crime Syndicate. They put a noose around my neck, and I was alone again. I was tortured. I was put in front of cameras. I was unmasked. I was a plaything. They strapped me to a machine, I was their weapon. A bomb. Lex Luthor stopped my heart. Killed me to save the world. I was dead. Or so it seemed. In secret, I was saved. Who am I? After all that, I wanted to go back. I wanted to be who I’d been. A son. Part of a family…a legacy. Robin. Nightwing. Batman. I wanted to go back. But I can’t. Something terrible is coming. And I have to stop it. My enemy is in front of me and I’m alone. Who am I? My name is Dick Grayson. I’m who you need me to be.”

This monologue lays out the foundation: Dick defines himself by his network of relationships, his family. From Dick’s very beginning, family is an all-encompassing word that holds both his biological family (the Flying Graysons) and his chosen family (Haly’s Circus at large) together. Dick sees the world relationally; he defines who he is by how he is connected to others. Even his time as the solo hero Nightwing is framed through the relationship oriented occupations of teacher and mentor. It’s telling that in his monologue he uses the word “legacy” almost as often as family. It’s not just about the individuals he’s connected to, it’s about having a web of connections at all. A safety net. Dick is a trapeze artist. The trapeze is not a solo act. Grayson dares to ask who Dick Grayson really is when he’s not a legacy, not a member of a team, not the ‘and’ after Batman?

STILL TWO BEST FRIENDS

Tim Seeley: One of the things Tom and I wanted to do, beyond the drama and conflict between Dick and Bruce, was not another story about the drama and conflict between Dick and Bruce. We didn't want to do another story about how the Robins are exploited and used and eventually turn against Batman. This is still about the two best friends in the DC Universe, but they fight and they have to ask each other to do things that they don't want to. But when it comes down to it, these are the two best buddies that there could be. When they have conflict, it's because it's important. It's because it means something. It's not something to falsify the drama.

To understand what Grayson is doing with the themes of identity and partnership, we have to unpack Nightwing #30. I could write a whole series of posts on Nightwing #30. It’s so densely packed and, by my money, one of the most misunderstood issues in fandom. Every time I reread it, I discover something new to munch on. For the purposes of this post, I will focus on how Dick and Bruce construct Dick’s identity.

Bruce frames their fight as a test. “I need to see if they broke you,” he says, “I need to see if you still have the heart you once had.” This is what Bruce and Dick are fighting over: after being tortured, having his identity revealed by the Crime Syndicate, and killed by Lex Luthor…is Dick Grayson still Dick Grayson?

Their fight is brutal. And why wouldn’t it be? Dick’s lost everything, even his life, and Bruce was helpless to save him. Both Dick and Bruce are at their lowest points right now. “I trained you to live,” Bruce yells as he strikes Dick in the face, “and I watched you die!” This fight is one of the most bloody, violent brawls we’ve ever seen between Bruce and Dick. It’s easy to see why this confrontation spread like wildfire in the whump-centric parts of fandom. It’s blood, guts, and tears.

The quote from Seeley at the beginning of this section is so illuminating. Despite the reputation this scene has gained in fandom, it was never intended to be “another story about how the Robins are exploited and used and eventually turn against Batman”. This scene is intended to break Bruce and Dick down in order to build them back up again. So why doesn’t that intention always come through?

I think it’s a question of genre. Both King and Seeley have gone on record as really enjoying superhero comics for their genre conventions. They are not interested in anything hyperrealistic or gritty. When Dick and Bruce beat the hell out of each other across the Batcave, it’s more equivalent to two characters in a musical breaking out into a dance number, as opposed to actual physical abuse. Compare this issue to New Teen Titans #55, where Bruce’s single punch there has more traumatic weight in the narrative than all the punches here combined. The violence in Nightwing #30 is much more a visual metaphor for Bruce and Dick’s emotional states. The emotional fight is the real concern for the plot, not the literal physical blows, a convention we see often in the superhero genre. And the emotional fight is over what Dick’s identity is now, after the events of Forever Evil. Who does Dick need to be next? Bruce needs Dick to be someone stronger, someone who can’t die, someone who can infiltrate Spyral and not be corrupted by them. Dick wants to return to comfort, to family. He wants to, as he says later on in this issue, “be who [he’s] been”.

For Dick especially, the violence here showcases his struggle with his identity in the aftermath of Forever Evil. As Bruce begins to tell Dick about the Spyral mission, he kicks Dick into the glass case holding the Robin costume. Dick is broken and battered, on his knees on the Robin cape, surrounded by shattered glass and the looming shadow of Batman. This is a visualization of what Dick feels internally: that by agreeing to stay dead and go on this mission, he is shattering everything he once was. Batman is killing him. Bruce is killing the person he used to be.

Dick can’t accept that. He outright says no and uses the Robin cape to choke Bruce out. Again, that sounds horrifically violent. But on the page, it just feels like symbolism. Dick chokes Bruce out with the Robin cape, tying them together back-to-back. He doesn’t want to leave Bruce again. He wants to stay together. If Dick understands his identity to be Batman’s partner, what does it mean that Bruce is trying to take that away?

Bruce and Dick are at cross-purposes with regards to who Dick needs to be next. As they throw punches, Bruce rattles off intel as Dick says the names of his family like a prayer. Bruce is acting from a place of terror. He just witnessed Dick die and his coping strategy is what it always is: become the mission. Bruce needs Dick’s identity to be mission focused, and that mission is staying alive and keeping their secrets safe (pointedly, the very same things Dick just failed to do). Dick needs to feel reconnected to his old identity, he needs to return to his family and be with them. Both of them are desperately trying to make meaning out of Dick’s death. When Dick tackles Bruce into the Batmobile, saying that he’s alive, it almost looks like a hug. They are not communicating here, but that does not mean they don’t care deeply for each other. It is the same tenderness they feel towards each other that provokes them into such a no-holds-barred fight. They are desperate; both of them will stop at nothing to not lose each other. It’s just that they have different definitions of salvation.

Nightwing #30 is an argument of ideology. After knocking Dick to the ground, Bruce plays the mentor. “Why do we fall, Dick? We fall so we can learn to get back up.” The Spyral mission is a very real, very urgent threat. But there’s also a part of Bruce that desperately needs to see Dick prove his invincibility again, for the sake of his worldview. Dick, at this moment, refuses Bruce’s lesson. He peels off the mask Bruce gave him. “No,” he says, “No, that’s not true. We fall because someone pushes us. We get up to push back.” Dick’s resolve is iron-clad. He will never just stay on the ground, not when someone pushed him. His desire for justice will always compel him back on to his feet. That desire belongs to Dick Grayson, not Nightwing, not Robin. Even as Dick argues against Bruce, he proves to them both why he is the only option for a long term undercover mission in Spyral.

Bruce continues to preach the necessity of Dick’s Spyral mission, no matter the costs. “After this, Bruce,” Dick tells him as he blocks Bruce’s punch, “after asking this, between us – it can’t be the same again.” Bruce knows. He delivers his explanation of his self-identity:

“I’m hurting you. My family. I’m making that sacrifice. Because I don’t give up. I don’t give in. But what about you? Are you them? Or are you me? After the Crime Syndicate captured you, tortured you, killed you – tell me Dick, my body, after all of this – will you give up? Will you give in?”

While Nightwing #30 has been laying the foundation of the plot of Grayson this whole time, this is the foundation of Grayson’s Act I’s thematic question: Who is Dick Grayson? Bruce here pitches it as a binary question. Is Dick him? A Bat who never gives up. Or is he “them”? The “them” is ambiguous. Grammatically, it refers to the other heroes who would give up and let Spyral use them. But I think it could be argued that “them” means anyone who isn’t Bruce. The Crime Syndicate. Spyral. The dead. Anyone who isn’t relentless and alive. Dick is a pillar in Bruce’s psyche. It’s an essay on its own tracking all the moments throughout canon and elsewhere stories where Bruce loses his grip on his own identity when Dick dies. He frames this as a binary question not out of sadism, but because this is how Bruce’s worldview works. It is just fundamentally more binary and egocentric than Dick’s worldview. Bruce does not construct his identity (or his understanding of Dick’s identity) in the same way Dick does.

Dick constructs his identity through the relationships he has with people, not if they are him or not. It’s a bringing together of people and identities within himself, not a subjugation. Having those identity defining relationships is an action, not an act of possession for Dick. And Bruce is asking Dick to leave those relationships behind. Dick’s identity is in freefall. He’s losing his family. He’s losing his mantle. After all that loss, one thing remains true: he “is not [Bruce’s] boy”. With that mission statement, Dick delivers the knockout punch that has Bruce forfeiting the fight.

This spark of independence is what makes Dick a survivor. This is what allows Dick to define himself through his web of connections without being a hollow person who has no true personality, no true self. Dick is not a child, a boy, who just belongs to someone. Not Bruce. Not Spyral. He is his own man. And while Dick will struggle with not being able to behave as a Bat does anymore once he’s in Spyral, if a Bat was truly all he was, Spyral would break him. Dick’s refutation here further proves to Bruce that he can survive this mission. “I win,” says Dick, just a small figure in a sea of broken, burning childhood mementos. Goodbye, Robin. Bruce embraces him in a sidehug, literally pulling Dick under his wing. “Good,” Bruce says. Their pose mirrors the photograph of young Dick and Bruce in the panel. The visuals here communicate what Seeley spoke of in his interview: despite the destruction, despite the goodbyes, this is still two best friends.

This is the catharsis of Nightwing #30, the resolution to this fight of ideology and grief. This moment is overlooked because it is so brief compared to the length of their fight. And it’s a messy resolution. I imagine that there are many readers who remain unconvinced of the necessity of the Spyral mission as Bruce’s posits, or the depiction of the physical violence, or many other messy things in the issue. But Dick isn’t unconvinced by the necessity of infiltrating Spyral. The next time we see him, he’s all in on the mission, ready to be “who you need me to be”. Bruce tells a horrified Alfred that he’s “fixed it”. Bruce and Dick both understand that they have to be apart for right now, just for this one problem, and then home will return to them. They both understand it as a sacrifice, not an estrangement. I think a lot of Spyral hurt/comfort fics assume that the Nightwing #30 fight was never resolved. It was. Perhaps in a way that feels unsatisfying to some readers, but Grayson does not make sense if one doesn’t accept that Dick has already made peace with Bruce before he left.

Dick’s relationship with Bruce is solid when Helena Bertinelli offers him a job at Spyral. It is Dick’s own personal sense of self that remains in jeopardy. The last three lines of the issue are Dick’s monologue: “Who am I? My name is Dick Grayson. I’m who you need me to be.” In bold red letters, the issue tells us “TO BE CONTINUED IN GRAYSON #1!” It could not be more clear what thematic questions Grayson will seek to explore. Can Dick really be whoever he needs to be? Can Dick really become the agent Spyral needs him to be and the double agent Batman needs him to be, all while still being himself? Will being Agent 37 break Dick Grayson permanently?

DOWNSIDE OF A SOLO ACT

“The downside of a solo act. No one around to see you do the cool stuff.”

The first four issues of Grayson are defined by identity crisis. The agents of Spyral struggle to get Dick to let go of his current identity that is rooted in Batman and become Agent 37 more fully. Dick struggles internally to adapt enough to Spyral’s culture to continue to be a double agent, while not engaging in any acts that break the morals he’s so firmly tied to his sense of self. Dick can no longer define himself by a family who isn’t there, so he has to define himself as the person his family once loved.

Grayson #1 sets the stage. We are dropped right into the action as Dick takes down an enemy on a moving train. He uses a gun, but not by shooting it. Instead, he uses it as a boomerang that hits his enemy in the head. On the last panel of the page, Dick sighs to him and says, “The downside of a solo act. No one around to see you do the cool stuff.” Readers turn the page, heightening the gag. Set-up and payoff: Midnighter watches Dick with a pair of binoculars. “Damn,” he says, “That was pretty cool.” This exchange is peak Grayson. Its snappy humor disguises the work it's doing to contribute to Grayson’s central dramatic question: Who is Dick Grayson when he isn’t Batman’s partner, a solo act? Midnighter, looking every inch like a Batman type, tells us that Dick is not as alone as he thinks. But the leather daddies in black aren’t here to rescue him from his loneliness, they are here as his enemies first. Dick defines himself through his relationships. How will his sense of self be challenged by people who don’t want to form strong bonds with him?

Even as a spy, it’s still Dick’s default to make friends. His first use of Hypnos, the mind control implant given to him by Spyral, is to make Ninel Dubov think they are close friends. He says: “I’m your friend, Ninel. You’ve been lonely and afraid for so long. I just want to help you. And you want to help me. That’s what friends do.” Yes, Dick is literally brainwashing the guy here, but his words are a solid definition of friendship. This is how Dick incorporates his friends into his identity: he’s there to help them. Even as Dick is doing the most Spyral thing in the world, using Hypnos on a target, he is still operating under his old construction of his identity.

But this classic Dick Grayson approach soon backfires. Ninel activates a very dangerous power in order to assist Dick in his fight against Midnighter. When Dick sees that Ninel is at risk of dying, Dick has to drop the friendship act. He goads Ninel into venting his power and completes the mission. In the past, Nightwing would have been able to talk Ninel down with sincerity. Agent 37 does not have that luxury. Dick’s always been talented at manipulation, by his own admission later on in the issue (“I-I’ve always been good at reading people. [...] Never used it – like it.”), but his people reading skills have always been used for the pursuit of justice. Now Dick is using the skills for morally ambiguous Spyral’s benefit. Under Dick’s own sense of self, he should be bad at being a spy. But he’s not. So what does that say about Dick’s identity? Is he really who he thinks he is?

Dick’s struggle to remain connected to the morals that define his place with his family is exemplified in Grayson #2 by Dick’s struggle to remain connected to Batman. Undoubtedly, Dick’s relationship to Batman is crucial to how Dick self-identifies. Over and over again in this run, Dick’s defines himself as Batman’s partner, Batman’s heir. Batman is emblematic of a moral system that is important to Dick’s understanding of himself, the same system that is at odds with Spyral’s definition of Agent 37. But more than that, Batman is emblematic of a person, a history of a relationship, that is critical to Dick’s self-identity. When Dick craves comfort and support, he reaches out to Bruce about their interpersonal connections. He wants to know if Alfred and Barbara are okay after attending his funeral. In order for Dick to feel centered and stable with himself, he needs to know that the people he includes in his self-identity are okay, too.

The downside to this way of being is that if Dick doesn’t have access to those people who are his foundation of self, he grows unsteady. But his Spyral mission, by design, keeps him cut-off from his family, for his and their safety. Bruce must rebuff Dick’s desire for comfort. “Birdwatcher,” Bruce stops and corrects himself, sensing Dick’s vulnerability, “the longer we stay on the line the more likely it’ll be intercepted.” It comes off as a chastisement, and it is, but it’s also Bruce giving to Dick the same comfort he would give to himself: focus on the mission. And Dick tries to. “Right. Yeah. Hey y’know what? I don’t need to know. Because I’m going to wrap this up before the flowers on my grave wilt. Over.” But even as he’s trying to model Bruce’s coping mechanism, his real desire bleeds through. Dick wants to return to his family. By returning to them, he’ll return to a congruent self-identity. When Helena sees Dick after this call, she notes that he looks “rattled”. Until he can return to his connections in Gotham, Dick is trapped in the identity limbo of being Agent 37.

Dick Grayson, however, is a character inclined to change, whether he intends it or not. Batman may be the most important connection in the web of relationships Dick uses to define himself, but he is not the only one, and the web is always growing.

Helena Bertinelli, code name Matron, is that first new connection. She is assigned to be Dick’s partner. As someone high up in Spyral’s food chain, Helena is an antagonistic force to Dick’s mission. Her personality is efficient and no nonsense. Their dynamic in Grayson #2 is reminiscent of the dynamic Dick had with Batman when he was Robin. The stoic, more knowledgeable mentor and the playful, confident student. But that dynamic is purely surface level right now. There is no foundation of trust between Dick and Helena, not at the start. Neither of them are under any delusions about their ability to truly trust each other. But for the mission, they must act as partners.

Spyral sends them to find a bioweapon enhanced stomach of Paragon in Farmington, Leicestershire. Their investigation leads them to Dr. Poppy Ashemoore, who has the stomach implanted into herself, and is now an enhanced cannibal attacking them. Dick’s got a plan to take her down. It’s a very superhero genre plan, he’s going to get her monologuing and then strike. He expects Helena, his partner, to have his back. She doesn’t. Helena orders Agent 37 not to strike. Dick’s confused; this is not how the story goes. “She’s a cannibal, Matron! She killed people and ate them! It goes like this: we knock her down, and we take her to the proper authorities!” Helena reminds him that his old ways of identification hold no value here: “She is not a supervillain. She is an asset who happens to be an incredibly self-sufficient genius.” Dick cannot accept the idea that a murderer may escape justice and be rewarded for it, so Helena uses the code word “tsuchigumo” and knocks Dick out.

After an issue of bonding, it’s a big betrayal. Back at homebase, Helena completes her lecture from the start of the issue about what a Hadrian woman is: “She is unconcerned with righteousness or virtue. She exists only for the prompt and unerring delivery of her charge.” Dick watches from the shadows, sick and defeated. Helena is training the girls, but her words apply to all those who work for Spyral, including Dick. This is the type of person he must become. A strong connection to Helena did not provide him with any relief, just more disconnection. Again, Dick must question his own self-identity.

The issue ends with Dick making a mission report to Bruce again. He’s internalized the need to not linger, but can’t resist one last attempt at re-establishing connection. Helena was a failed partnership, but Batman and Robin never die. This time, he appeals to a value Bruce also shares: nostalgia. They share a sweet memory about Babs and Alfred. Dick may not have his relationships present in his life currently, and he’s suffering for it, but the memories of the love he has for them cannot be taken away. Those memories can stabilize his self-identity for one more day.

But that is just duct tape on the hole in the dam. Eventually, the dam is going to burst. Dick could only juggle being half Agent 37, half his former self for so long. Grayson #3 serves as the ultimate nadir for Grayson Act I. In #3, the struggle between Dick’s relationship-centric self identity and the mission-centric identity of Spyral agents causes the death of two people.

Issue #3 opens with Dick establishing a new connection with a new character: Alia, codename Agent 8. After Helena and Dick are assigned a joint mission with Agent 1 (AKA Tiger) and Agent 8, Agent 8 meets Dick at the shooting range. She isn’t impressed with his shot: “Really? This is how the great Wing-Knight shoots? I see why Mr. Minos has Agent 1 and me bailing you out on this mission.” Dick corrects her. It is both a fact correction and an assertion of his identity. “Nightwing. And you should see me with a slingshot, Agent 8.” Even as Dick asserts his identity as Nightwing, he calls upon the distinctly Robin imagery of the slingshot. Dick’s framing his identity not just as Nightwing, but his time as a caped hero overall. Nightwing isn’t just the Nightwing suit - it’s the entire life Dick’s led up to this point. And that person, he begins with the oath Dick swore to Batman in order to become Robin. Nightwing is the legacy of Robin. And Dick is proud of that legacy. He would rather be good with a slingshot than a gun - that is what keeps him connected to Bruce. This is how he understands himself.

Still, the back and forth between Dick and Agent 8 begins to cross the line into flirtatious. Her body language is clearly sensual as she corrects his form. “But remember, don’t anticipate the explosion,” Agent 8 tells Dick, “Cause the explosion. Can you do that, Wing-Knight? Can you do that for me?” Dick again reasserts his identity. “That’s not my name. My name is…” The next page reveals Agent 8 in bed gasping Dick’s name in pleasure. It’s a cheesy homage to the brazen sexuality of spy thrillers. But even still, it’s revealing. Nightwing doesn’t make up Dick Grayson; Nightwing makes up a part of Dick Grayson. Losing Nightwing does not mean Dick has lost his identity, it just means he’s lost the easiest way to sum himself up. There is hope for Dick’s self-identity, even as we nosedive to his lowest point. He may not be “Wing-Knight” anymore, but he is still Dick Grayson.

After their tryst, Dick continues to struggle with his identity as an agent of Spyral who should be using a gun, vis-à-vis struggling to understand Christophe Tanner, their target for this issue. “I don’t understand these things,” Dick says of a gun. “Going after a guy like this, with a tool like this. He’s in pain. He should stop the pain. How does this stop anything?” Dick’s worldview is so much about soothing hurt. He’s a fixer. Guns don’t solve emotional wounds. But this worldview has no place in Spyral. Agent 8 says so: “What do you know about guns?” But she might as well be asking what does Dick know about this spy world.

Dick, Helena, Agent 8 and Tiger track Tanner down. It goes tits up pretty quickly. Dick faces Tanner down alone. He tries to talk sense into Tanner the same way he’s been talking sense into himself: by reminding Tanner of his relationships. “I know about your boys,” Dick says. “I know you tried to save them, and I know what he did. Haven’t you had enough? Haven’t the guns done enough? We don’t need these to settle this. Tell us where the eyes are, and we all walk away. Think about your boys. Some things you don’t shoot your way out of.” Tanner rejects him and chooses his guns. Tiger comes to Dick’s rescue, but not without chastising him. Dick’s method has failed on Tanner. The worldview on which he constructs his identity has failed. Is it doomed to fail for himself, too?

The consequences of this are severe. Agent 8 blows up at Dick for endangering Tiger, her partner’s, life. She calls him out on a perceived hypocrisy: “Oh, yeah, you noble superheroes. Fire laser beams at people. Arrows. Batathingies. But a gun, no, no, never. God forbid! Not a gun!” Nursing the cheek Agent 8 just slapped, Dick can only repeat what he’s desperately holding on to: guns aren’t “the way [he] fight[s]”. His identity is being challenged at all fronts. He can’t risk revealing how much he holds on to the people of his previous life, so he can only cling on to their teachings. Guns aren’t the way he fights. His explanation only makes Agent 8 angrier. “You’re all like Batman,” she says, “little boys under little masks, crying about their dead mommies.” Dick, acting as both the double agent seeking information and the Bruce Wayne defense squad he usually is, asks, “What do you know about Batman?”

Agent 8 gives an ending argument that hits harder than her slap. “I know he still wears his little mask. What I don’t know is if you’ve taken yours off! You’re not a superhero. You're a spy. With a gun. You’re not Wing-Kinght or Nightwing or whatever. You’re Agent 37.” Here she reveals a flaw at the center of Dick’s identity - if Dick defines himself through his relationships, how can he endanger a partner by not taking the shot? Are Batman’s teachings getting in the way of helping people? But if Dick isn’t Batman’s teachings, who is he? Agent 8 would answer that by saying Dick is Agent 37, a spy who uses a gun. But can Dick really be that?

No. No, of course not. When presented with the shoot or be shot dilemma, Dick does the most Dick Grayson thing he can do: he finds a third option. Dick’s puts together the missing pieces of Tanner’s backstory, tracking him down to the school that his youngest and only alive son attends. He uses the weapon at his disposal that predates even Robin; he tries to talk it out. Dick encourages Tanner to drop the guns and meet his son. “Is that how you want him to see you? With your guns in the air?” Dick reiterates Agent 8’s own defense of guns to him, Dick understands that they “make things go faster”. But, as he tells Tanner, “what’s the damn rush?”

This time, Dick’s words reach Tanner. He confesses he stole the macguffin of the issue because he didn’t want to see his son through the gun. The Paragon eyes aren’t compatible with him, so he gives them to Dick. The two share a touching moment where Tanner is insecure about his looks scaring his son and Dick jokes about Tanner’s chest hair. This is the type of relationship building that is at the core of Dick’s self-identity. But just as Dick wins a laugh from his once enemy, Agent 8 shoots Tanner. Everything goes to shit from that moment on, right in front of Dick’s eyes. Tanner survives the shot and returns fire to Agent 8, killing her. He then falls off the roof and dies in front of his son. The parallels to both Bruce’s and Dick’s parents’ own deaths cannot be ignored; it is salt in the wound. Dick has defined his life by his mission to save people. Now, Dick is left alone on the rooftop, with nothing but blood, a gun, and Tiger’s desperate voice ringing through his coms.

As Tanner’s son finds his father’s body, still clutching his gun, Tiger speaks, “37. 1. Do you have eyes on Agent 8? Repeat. 37, do you have eyes on Agent 8? 37? 37? Agent 37!” Dick raises his head. Grayson artist Mikel Janín’s composition is spectacular here. Dick looks the reader straight in our eyes. “That’s not my name.”

This is the ultimate rejection of Dick’s Agent 37 identity. He will never be convinced of Agent 8’s and Spyral at large’s ideology. All it’s done is make two people dead and a little boy an orphan. This knowledge doesn’t change the fact that Dick’s mission isn’t over. Lives are on the line, in all directions. He has to be a spy. Agent 37 isn’t his name but still Dick must wear this disguise. How will he adapt?

As always, Dick’s ability to adapt is helped by the relationships he forms with other people. If Grayson #3 was about the ultimate failure of Dick and Agent 8’s partnership (and I don’t just mean romantically, I mean Agent 8 as an opposing ideology Dick cannot integrate into his sense of self), then Grayson #4 is the beginning of Helena’s growth into that web. Even though Helena has been tasked by the Director of Spyral, Mr. Minos, to root out the double agent in their midst, she and Dick continue to grow closer.

Grayson #4 starts out with their status quo sunshine-grumpy relationship. Dick is purposefully sucking a lollipop as annoyingly as possible and Helena karate chops it out of his mouth. Dick wraps up the lollipop to send it back to Bruce for DNA sampling, but plays dumb with Helena, who reacts with scorn and disgust. But even after this engineered tiff, Helena immediately tries to comfort Dick over Agent 8’s death. Dick rebuffs her, he knows that death “is part of the job”. He is playing the Agent 37 role that Agent 8 so wanted him to do. Helena isn’t convinced. She tries again to have this conversation with Dick and again is rebuffed. “Don’t worry,” Dick assures her, mistaking what I would argue is Helena’s genuine concern over him with her fixation on accomplishing the mission, “I’m focused. I’m ready. The mission is as good as accomplished.” The status quo is starting to shift between these two, but Dick hasn’t forgiven her betrayal yet.

The rest of the issue acts almost as a breather episode. The Hadrian students decide to raid Dick’s room for his panties. Dick catches them on the hunt, of course. But rather than turn them in for breaking curfew, he starts a cat and mouse game, leading them in a chase across campus. They want a game? Sure, Dick’s happy to play. This moment is silly and fun but it’s so revealing of how Dick recenters himself in his grief. He wants to be with people without having to be vulnerable with people. He wants to be in the air. He wants the chase. This is how Dick self-soothes a wound to his worldview, to his very identity.

Helena, out at night investigating Agent 8 as the potential Spyral mole, catches the group. She sends the girls back to their dorms and Dick to Mr. Minos, where he receives his punishment. He is to become the girls’ gay French acrobatics teacher. It’s pitched as a torture for Dick, and while the Hadrian girls are thirsty af, Dick loves being a teacher. Teacher is one of the ways Dick defined himself as back in Nightwing #30 and of course acrobat is Dick’s very essence. The cover story is framed as a punishment for Dick, but truly this is an opportunity for Dick to maintain his old, true, self-identity.

Helena has another opportunity for Dick’s self-identity too. Later that night, she sneaks into Dick’s bedroom. “I know why you came to Spyral, Dick Grayson.” Dick reacts with confusion. Helena gives an impassioned monologue. It’s a reversal, instead of Helena dragging Dick into the messy spy thriller genre, here Dick inspires Helena to dip her toes into the superhero genre, where impassioned speeches can reach another person’s heart. She says:

“I saw you tonight. Running across those rooftops. There was a joy in your movement. In your eyes. You loved the night. You loved the chase. You loved being the fearless hero. You loved being Nightwing. When you were outed by the Crime Syndicate. Believed killed. You knew you had to remain dead. To reveal that you were alive could endangered those you loved. Set your enemies against them. You had to quit being the hero. Being Dick Grayson. Now, you fear that you might lose who you are.”

Helena reads Dick like an open book. To know Dick’s motivations so well is dangerous, but Helena does not make Dick bleed for it. She simply walks towards the window. When Dick asks where she’s going, she turns and says, “I do not want you to forget who you are Dick Grayson. I want you to remember the rooftops. I want you to remember the night. I want you to remember Nightwing.” She smiles, which on Helena looks more like a smirk, “Chase me.” And Dick does.

For Dick, this is the remedy for the poison from the last issue. Agent 8 wanted Dick to be someone else. In her worldview, Agent 37 can only exist at Nightwing’s death. Dick must forget everything he was before to be Agent 37. In contrast, Helena wants Dick to remember who he is, which includes (but is not limited to) Nightwing. She wants him to be successful in Spyral not at the cost of his previous selves. Dick has to hide so much of his true identity and belief systems right now. But Helena, at least, can offer herself up as the means in which Dick can still feel safely connected to his old, true identity.

Dick started in Issue #1 utterly alone. He ends #4 chasing after someone who is sour, dark, and perfect into the night, a smile on his face. This ending allows Dick to metaphorically be Robin, Nightwing, and Agent 37 all at the same time. He is able to hold that multiplicity of identity within him because of his connection to Helena. Once again, being a partner act keeps Dick’s identity whole.

I HAVE HER

“This can’t…this…you can’t do this…I know you. I see what’s coming. You…you…can’t. I have…my enhancements. I have…powers. Dick…Dick Grayson...what…what do you have?” “I have her.”

Grayson #5 is one of my favorite single issues of all time. It should be part of a mandatory DC onboarding when it comes to writing Dick Grayson. It captures the core of his character, his ultimate truth: the unflinching determination to help people in the face of impossible odds.

The issue starts in media res. Dick and Midnighter are helping a woman deliver her baby as Helena tries to pilot a failing plane to safety. The mother dies. The plane crashes in the desert. The baby is alive and crying. Helena, Midnighter, Dick and the baby are two hundred miles away from civilization. Midnighter does the math: they’re dead. There’s no way any of them can survive the trek.

Dick refuses to accept that. If they die, the baby dies, so they can’t die. It’s just that simple.

Thus far, in Grayson, Dick’s ability to care deeply about strangers has been used against him. A good spy makes people think they care, but they don’t actually care. They exist in order to survive the mission or themselves. Dick’s mission is caring about people; he defines himself through loving other people. Grayson #5 shows us that this isn’t mere naivete. This is Dick’s most dangerous skill. He doesn't have to have special enhancements or powers. As long as he has "her", a person to save, Dick can do anything. His determination arises from his relational approach to identity.

This has been true for Dick since he was a child. Later on in the issue, after Helena and Midnighter have both succumbed to the elements, Dick tells the baby about a dream he once had. The story he tells is a heartfelt and poignant reference to Batman #156, “Robin Dies at Dawn”. “On this world,” Dick says, “I was Robin. I had to save him.” The syntax and order of Dick’s sentences here reveal that he defines being Robin as saving people and he is Robin. In order to be himself, Dick must save people. And he does, even though Dick’s story ends with rocks and darkness, the moral he gives to the baby is bravery in the face of any odds.

For those of us who are familiar with Batman #156, we know that Dick is hit with rocks and dies. Batman, guilty, grief-stricken, and alone on an alien planet with a monster about to attack him, begs for death. It’s eventually revealed that Robin is alive and well, Batman was just undergoing an astronaut simulation. This meta reference highlights Dick’s superpower in this issue. When Batman doesn’t have Robin, he begs for death. When Robin doesn’t have Batman, he finds more people to save. Dick is able to survive the loneliness and isolation that Batman isn’t because Dick doesn’t define his identity by one person or purpose, but by his ability to care for many people. Today, it’s this baby. Tomorrow, it will be someone else. That’s who Dick is. Dick’s devotion to life itself gives him determination.

Devotion is not something many call a strength anymore. After all, devotion so easily becomes zealotry. Grayson #5 itself warns us of this. A Saudi couple find Dick and the baby and the wife is overjoyed. “We have prayed for so long for a child,” she says, “And here, god has brought one from the desert.” Her husband disagrees. “What is this? God has not brought this boy. This is no God. Look. This is only a man.”

Dick is not a god. He is not even an enhanced guy with a supercomputer for a brain. He is just a man. But when a man makes serving other people his identity, he can do the impossible.

HEART IS AN AWESOME POWER

“Who are you? What do you hold inside? Is it love? Is that what you believe?”

If Grayson #5 is about Dick proving who he is to the reader, then Grayson #6-7 are about him proving that core identity to Midnighter and Helena.

Grayson #6 opens with Dick and Helena investigating a prison island. After surviving an attack from a robot orca, they find that their targets have already been slaughtered by the Fist of Cain. While Helena uses her Hypnos implant to get information about the issue’s macguffin, the Paragon Brain, from a surviving Fist of Cain member, Midnighter kidnaps Dick and takes him to the God Garden. There Dick and Midnighter finally have the all out brawl they’ve been building towards. As they trade blows, Midnighter reveals exactly what he thinks of Dick. He states as fact of all the worst fears Dick has about himself during the Spyral mission.

“You traded in the supertights for a decoder ring but you think you’re still the good guy,” Midnighter says, “But you’ve changed. You’re just lying to yourself. You’re one of them.”

Dick refutes Midnighter’s analysis of himself. First, by refuting Midnighter’s claim that he’s figured out Dick’s fighting style (“You can do jazz. How are you at punk rock?”). Dick is made up of more than what Midnighter claims he is. It’s easy to read this as a rebuttal against the naysayers of Grayson itself: Dick is more than just his mantles. He can carry a solo title with no masks, just as Dick Grayson.

“Comfort. Trust. Family. I gave that up to become a spy. A spider man. A tsuchigumo. I have changed,” Dick acknowledges. “But I’ll always be Dick Grayson.”

If that’s true, then how is Dick constructing the identity of ‘Dick Grayson’, if not by those ties of family and legacy? Issue #7 will answer that for us in time. Here in Issue #6, there’s still more setting up to do. After Helena is exposed mentally to the Fist of Cain’s plans for mass murder, she awakens to see that Dick is gone. She doesn’t know he’s been kidnapped. The first thing she asks is if Dick left her. Like Midnighter, Helena is suspicious of who Dick claims to be. Is he really her partner? Or will he abandon her the second it suits his goals?

As Issue #6 sets up the fears Helena and Midnighter have about who Dick is as a person, Issue #7 proves those fears wrong. Cue the transformation magic, Dick is about to go full magical girl.

Issue #7 is an ode to Dick’s legacy. As Robin, Dick represented spring: the joy and new life after the cold death of winter. As Nightwing, Dick represented rebirth, the great rebuilder after destruction. The mantles don’t represent those things intrinsically. They represent those ideals because Dick infused them with the essence of his own person, who lives by those ideals. Agent 37 does not carry that Dick Grayson legacy the way Robin and Nightwing do; it carries the reputation of Spyral. As Dick tries to convince the Gardener to let him and Midnighter stop the Fists of Cain, the Gardener calls him out on this. “[...] You, Dick Grayson, represent lies and treachery. The loss of ideals. The desire for power at the cost of innocence.” Here, in this world, Dick is no longer the benchmark of the superhero community, the guy everyone respects. He’s fallen. He’s been corrupted.

But he’s still Dick Grayson. He’s not going to let a fall stop him from saving people. The Fist of Cain plan to use the Paragon brain to make innocent people kill each other. Gardener believes that this bloodbath will serve as an example for all of humanity and help create a better world. Dick can’t physically fight her, so he uses his other skills: empathy and compassion.

He tells the Gardener a story about himself.

“When my parents died, I thought that was the end for me. I was freefalling. I thought that I was going to fall and fall until I hit the ground. But someone came to my rescue. He caught me before I hit the ground. He was my net. He taught me to focus my anger. To stop myself from hating the world. From blaming everyone for the evil of a few. And then, I realized how lucky I was. I realized I had to pay it back. I owed it to other people to be their net. I had to dedicate my life to being there to catch anyone who needed it.”

Dick’s anger is not an explosive, severed heads in a duffle bag kind of anger. After Dick’s parents die, he was never in danger of becoming a thug or a murderer, he was in danger of losing his idealism. Anger takes the form of mistrust, disconnection, and apathy in Dick. It’s “blaming everyone for the evil of a few”. It’s closing himself off from the world and all the love the world offers.

When one is faced with the type of acute trauma young Dick survived, it’s easy for that experience to make you selfish and isolated. Becoming the Robin to Bruce’s Batman saves Dick from this worldview. Robin gifts Dick a world of connections - from the bond he forms with Bruce and Alfred, to the people he saves every night on the streets. This is what Gardener is not understanding. There are evil people in the world. The world itself may even be cruel. But that’s not the point. The point is the friends you make along the way, the people you catch in your net. By limiting his scope to the people he can reach, Dick is able to love the whole world.

The Gardener, moved by Dick’s and Midnighter’s pleas, allows them to teleport to Tel-Aviv and save the day. The Fist of Cain are disguised as the band Sin by Silence; they intend to unleash the power of the Paragon brain at a concert for peace. “But I want you to answer a question Tel-Avi,” lead singer Clutch asks the crowd. “Who are you? What do you hold inside? Is it love? Is that what you believe?”

So far Dick himself has not dropped the L word. He speaks around it, citing family and catching people when they fall - terms and phrases that absolutely do share the same meaning as love, but don’t sound as cheesy when said aloud. Clutch is able to speak directly to the central dramatic questions of this issue on Dick’s behalf: “Who are you? What do you hold inside? Is it love? Is that what you believe?” Notice here how the order of Clutch’s questions directly ties the construction of identity to a belief system of love. Clutch intends to subvert this by proving that the true self of all people is a murderer, but Dick Grayson answers those questions in the affirmative. It is love that he holds inside of him. That is the belief he is devoted to. That is who he is.

Helena is starting to understand that. When Dick comes to her rescue, she succumbs to the power of the Paragon brain and attacks him.“Agent 37.” She corrects for his true identity. “Dick. You—abandoned me! I hate you! Kill you!” Dick dodges her attack and Helena is able to come to her senses and realize the impact that Paragon brain is having on her.

“I’m too angry, Dick. I have too much hate,” she says, confessing to Dick her own construction of identity. “I’ve killed. And I’ll do it again. I can’t…I’m too weak even with the Hypnos to get anywhere near the Paragon brain.” It’s only after Helena tells both Dick and herself who she is that she is able to tell Dick who he is. “But you, Dick Grayson. You have no hate. You would never take a life. Everything you do…it’s...”

She kisses him. It’s an appropriate action for her speech as this is all but a declaration of love. It’s a declaration of Dick’s nobility, the very thing both Midnighter and Helena were scrutinizing in the last issue. Helena says Dick has “no hate” but I think another way of saying that is that Dick is full of love. Kissing Dick “clear[s] [her] mind a little”, freeing Helena of the Paragon brain’s influence. Where once Helena flirted with Dick to assert her identity as the better spy, now she kisses him to center herself as someone who won’t give into hatred and mass murder. She kisses Dick as a way back to her identity, just as she lead Dick back to his identity in Grayson #4. They depart, refocused on the mission.

Dick eventually makes it on stage to destroy the Paragon brain. The brain, in Dick’s own words, offers him up the greatest temptation. “I—I can feel you. Whispering to me. Telling me it’s okay to abandon my code...to let go of my humanity. To fear. To h-hurt. To…k-kill”. And Dick is tempted to give into his hatred. As he recounts later to Bruce:

“I was about to smash the brain on the stage. I hated it. Hated what it had done, what it represented. I just wanted to see it in little tiny bits. But then I realized I’d be feeding the emotions the fist wanted to unleash here. I knew that the people who’d been influenced by its empathic attack wouldn’t stop if I fed it more violence. So I didn’t dash it to chunks on the stage like a guitar. I stopped. And I thought about everything I have. My family. My net. And I changed its mind.”

Dick’s ability to pause and reflect before he acts is crucial here. Even though smashing the Paragon brain to bits is ostensibly a good thing, Dick knows that actions of hatred will only beget more hatred. He has to feed the brain something different, show it a different path. He has to forgive it for making him hate it. He has to teach it about being grateful, about family, about helping people up when they fall. This is Dick’s Moon Healing Escalation moment. This is what has been at the core of his identity, since he pledged to never swerve from the path of justice in the wake of his parents’ murders. His ability to forgive, his ability to love, reminds the brain and everyone in its thrall to do the same.

The issue ends with Midnighter breaking ties with Gardener. “I can’t be surrounded by liars and murderers without becoming one myself,” he says, “I’m not like Grayson.” Dick Grayson is a person who can surround himself with liars and murderers and not become one himself. Midnighter, the man who not one issue ago was Dick’s biggest naysayer is now all but calling Dick incorruptible. Dick’s had to give up a lot of the embellishments that traditionally define him in order to be Agent 37. But he’s kept the core thing that makes him Dick Grayson: his ability to love. The people around him are starting to take notice.

CONCLUSION: SAME OLD DICK

Grayson #8 marks the shift from Act I to Act II. It’s a tying up of loose ends and the opening up of new doors to explore. The macguffin of Act I, collecting the Paragon organs, has been completed. Mr. Minos, the enigmatic boss of the last eight issues, makes his play. He attempts to kill Helena, succeeding only in wounding her. She collapses in Dick’s arms, warning him of Minos’ betrayal. At the same time, Minos attempts to kill Tiger with the newly reassembled Paragon. Dick saves him and they work together to defeat the creature that has the powers of the Justice League. Even the Hadrian girls get to have their hero moment in this fight. Minos’ reassembled Paragon has a flaw the original did not: its heart. The baby Dick saved in the desert still claims the organ as her own. Dick does the one thing he’s been avoiding for the last eight issues: he picks up a gun and takes the killshot. He shoots the creature right where its heart would be. Tiger is astounded. “Agent 8 said you were a horrible shot!” Dick responds as an Agent of Spyral should, “Yeah, well, that’s what spies do. We lie.” This is the triumphant defeat of the villain. In this moment, Dick is able to incorporate Agent 37 into his self-identity without completely shattering the construction of self that came before. Being Agent 37 did not break Dick Grayson; Agent 37 is now another aspect of Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson still endures.

Meanwhile, Minos is killed off by the even more enigmatic Agent Zero. She calls Minos bait, a “cliched bat villain” meant to “attract Grayson into [our] web”. It’s clear she will be our new main antagonist. If Act I asked ‘Who is Dick Grayson?’, Act II will ask ‘Who is Spyral?’ Issue #8 ends with a tagline for Act II: “A NEW MISSION! A NEW PARTNER! SAME OLD DICK!”

Same Old Dick is the best conclusion I can think of for Grayson Act I’s thematic exploration of Dick’s identity. Grayson stripped Nightwing and Robin away from Dick, separated him from Batman and the entire Batfamily, and placed him into a situation that routinely demanded he forsake his own personal morals. And yet, somehow, Dick is still the Same Old Dick.

This is the brilliance of Grayson, its ability to synthesize such contradictions. Grayson is both a tongue-in-cheek parody of the spy genre at the same time it’s an earnest spy thriller. It’s both an interrogation and celebration of DC superheroics. It is a story about mistrust, loneliness, and isolation…but also one about friendship, the importance of the connections we form with other people. It’s a story about Dick Grayson, forced out of his element and into the shadows of espionage, still shining brightly as the heart of the DCU.

#dick grayson #dick grayson meta #grayson #grayson (2014)#grayson meta #agent 37 #DC comics meta #batfamily #Bruce Wayne #helena bertinelli #tiger king of kandahar #Midnighter #grayson10 #nightwing #spyral #monthly mod meta #mod post

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starcursedluvrs · 5 months

Text

"TALK"

I suguru x pregnant!reader

“And I’d be the immediate Forgiveness In Eurydice. Imagine being loved by me.”

part I of suguru x pregnant!reader (this isn’t completely canon compliant, and will probs be 3 or 4 parts and will go up to December 24th, 2017 on the current JJK timeline).

summary: you loved suguru more than anything in this world. and you could argue he felt the same for you. actually, he would end the world for you. so, he took you with him the night he defected, and you happily obliged. however, in the midst of the chaos of leaving your life behind, two little lines appear on a certain test causing you to rethink your entire plan.

A/N: heyyy!! i'm arden!! this is my first try at ever posting the fanfic I’ve written so please enjoy! I started this specific fic as a hobby back in December, and I finished it a little over a month ago (I’ve just been kinda nervy to post hehe) so here goes nothing! likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated <3

MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

warnings!: SPOILERS FOR GOJO’S PAST ARC. THIS IS A PREGNANCY FIC! 18+. nsfw. f!reader. suguru and reader are over the age of 18. explicit sexual content. unprotected sex/oral (f!receiving). breeding kink. fingering. creampie. pregnancy. unplanned pregnancy. lactation kink. mentions of child abuse. cute domestic fluff hehe.

wc: 14.5k

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September 2007

4:27 PM (16:27)

“Wait…so what are we doing again?” you asked, riding atop one of Suguru’s many curses. You were straddling the pink alien-looking curse, legs dangling off either side. One of Suguru’s large hands held your waist steady while the other controlled the motion of the cursed spirit. His chin was buried in the crook of your neck, so that he had easy access to press kisses into your skin.

Suguru left a line of sweet pecks down your shoulder before answering.

“This village in the sticks was reported to have kidnappings and abnormal deaths. Shouldn’t be anything unusual,” he said nonchalantly.

You leaned back against him so that you could look up into his honey irises, pouting. His hand left your waist, moving comfortably behind him to support both of your weight.

“Then why did you ask me to come along? Seems like you could handle it yourself, you’re a special grade. I’m only a semi grade-one,” you reasoned, reaching up to play with his stray bangs. He grabbed your hand before you could reach his neat, inky bun, pressing light kisses into your knuckles.

“Well, if all goes well, maybe we can find a hotel or do something nice. Charge it to the school and say it took longer than we expected, so we get to stay somewhere overnight without waking Satoru,” Suguru replied, smirking a bit on the last line of his speech.

“I like the way you think, my love,” you beamed, melting into his touch.

…

January 2007

You and Suguru had been in a committed relationship for the past nine months, and friends for even longer. You started secretly fucking around at the beginning of your third year at Jujutsu High. You had always been attracted to him, but given your tiny class size and the complexity of Jujutsu Society, you didn’t want to cause any drama or make things weird between you two.

Well, life doesn’t always go to plan.

Especially that one night at the beginning of your third year when you, Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru broke into Yaga’s liquor cabinet, stole two bottles of sake, and got a little handsy. With your judgment impaired, you might have let it slip that you thought Suguru was very attractive and often wondered how his sculpted body would feel beneath his Bontan pants and uniform shirt. The thought was reciprocated by the raven head.

One thing led to another, and the next morning, you woke up in a tangled mess of inky black hair and bedsheets. Suguru just held you, keeping your body close to his, whispering sweet nothings into your ears. It was nice, you did not have to say anything to fill the comfortable silence that had fallen upon you two.

Eventually, he placed a kiss on your forehead and started to pull his clothes on from the previous night.

Last night. Was last night a mistake?

Should you have let Suguru taken you out to dinner or something before he fucked you into tomorrow?

“Wait…Sug hold on.

What does this mean?

For us? Our friendship?” you asked in a panic before Suguru reached the door.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to,” he replied in his calm, collected tone, looking at the floor with his back to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you sat up, still covered by the soft sheets, pulling your knees into your chest, slightly offended.

“Just that we don’t have to make a big deal out of this if we don’t want to. We also don’t have to do this again if you don’t want to. I know this could complicate things if we keep at it,” he paced around to face you again, the distance still rather daunting.

“Okay.”

“Cool.”

The comfortable silence from before slowly turned awkward.

“Um…thanks,” you offer.

“…for…what?” Suguru inquired.

“Last night. It was…fun,” you flashed him an unsure smile.

A deep rumble came from his chest as he chuckled, “Yeah, let’s see how much fun you have walking today. See ya in class,” before leaving the room.

“SUG-“ you called after him, blushing at the cheesy line as he left the room, disappearing back into the cocoon of sheets.

…

March, 2007

You tried to keep your distance from him. Being a child of the Kamo clan, you were probably destined to be forced into some relationship that benefitted Jujutsu society, and not your happiness. This was just one of the many things that you hated about Jujutsu Society. Therefore, Suguru was all that more enticing to you.

You found yourself perched on Suguru’s desk the next week. Your legs were spread wide, held apart by his large hands to assure you didn’t squirm around too much and get away from him. Suguru was lapping at your folds like a man starved. He dragged his tongue up and down your slit, and worked his way up to your clit, giving it a little kiss and suck.

“Ngh Suguru. More.” You moaned, bucking your hips up to his face.

“That’s not how we ask,” he replied, pulling away.

“Suguru. Please.”

“What happened to complete sentences?” Suguru pressed one of his large thumbs to your nub, holding pressure, but refrained from moving it.

“Fuck YOU Suguru I-“

“That’s what I’m trying to do, doll. You’re just not behaving.”

He started to swirl his thumb around gently. It wasn’t enough to make you cum, but the pleasure was still intense.

“Suguru please, I need som-something inside. Fingers. Yours. Please.” You croaked out, your head going dizzy with pleasure.

“Awww, what’s wrong? Can’t think straight?” He said, plunging his slickened digits, adorned with a few silver rings, right into your core.

“At least you said please, so I guess I’ll let you cum this time,” Suguru voiced in that smooth, sultry voice of his.

He started moving those two digits back and forth in a “come here” motion, not giving you a chance to adjust to their circumference. A lewd squelching noise filled the room as he continued his ministrations. “You’re being such a good girl for me, taking my rings and fingers so well. Yeah, you like that, don’t you?”

You let out a loud moan, and Suguru immediately pushed his thumb in your mouth for you to suck on. That way, you wouldn’t draw attention to any unwelcome visitors who might be walking the halls of the school.

“You don’t even have to answer with that pretty mouth, your body is answering for you. You’re so tight. Gods, you’re gorgeous.” he whispered into your ear.

He put his mouth back on your clit to suck, and added a third finger. He kept thrusting it in and out, hitting that sweet spot that had you seeing stars, as if he had your g-spot memorized.

If Sugru ended up drowning in your juices, he would die a happy man. He absolutely loved lapping up at your sweet pussy, the earthy scent intoxicating to him.

Soon, you felt the familiar coil in the depths of your belly start to come undone, and your cunt fluttered around Suguru’s fingers, the stimulation becoming too much.

“Come apart f’me. I got you love. I got you. Cum f’me,” Suguru commanded in his pussy-drunk haze.

You let go as your orgasm washed over you, relishing in the pure bliss as Suguru helped you through the aftershocks. When you came to, he captured your lips in a hungry kiss. You could still taste your essence on his tongue.

The next night, you were folded over the same desk as he pounded into you with his fat length. The bathroom stalls. The pantry. Behind the bleachers at the field. You could not get enough of each other.

You and Suguru both fell hard and fast for each other. His unwavering sense of morality, intelligence, and kindness towards others drew you even further into his grasp. The way he spoke, his scent of freshly done laundry, his loyalty to his friends; these were all things that you loved about Suguru Geto. He was one of a kind.

As Jujutsu Sorcerers, you were well aware that your tomorrow was not guaranteed. Suguru made you feel alive, which, to you, was worth more than any amount of fame or glory that your clan could bestow upon you. He truly wanted to make the world a better place for you, and any future you might have together. On the third month of your official relationship, you confessed your love:

“Suguruuuu,” you giggled as he kissed up your neck.

You had been laying in Suguru’s bed, in the midst of a heated makeout session. Your back was pressed flat into the mattress, knees at an angle, and feet flat against the soft duvet. Suguru was positioned right on top of you, in between your knees. He held your face in both of his hands, and your arms clung to the back of his head, getting lost in the inky strands.

“I love you.” He whispered, as if he was telling a secret.

In lieu of an answer, you brought his head down into a deep, passionate kiss. Your tongues danced together for what seemed like forever and no time at all, until you broke the kiss and said, “I think I may love you more.”

“Unfortunately, doll, that’s simply not true. I’d end the world for you.”

You were hopelessly in love with Suguru Geto.

…

May 2007

“You have a list of baby names picked out? Dude you’ve been together for like a few months.” Shoko taunted, a cigarette tucked between her lips, clicking away on her silver flip phone.

“Oh, come on Ieiri, I think every person has a baby name list.”

“I don’t.” Shoko deadpanned.

“You’re a lesbian who has no desire for kids,” you shot back.

“Touché. I do have a cat name list, though, if that counts,” Shoko added.

“I think it does.” you replied.

“Ugh, fineee, gimme the list,” said Shoko, already grabbing the journal out of your hand. After scanning through the list of names, Shoko looked up at you and burst into laughter.

“Ok, you cannot name your kid Shigure. Or Kyo. Or any character from Fruits Bask-“

“Yo, WHO’S having a kid” interrupted the lanky, white-haired person with blacked-out sunglasses and a mischievous smile. Suguru appeared next to Satoru, holding a basketball, running to kiss you hello.

“NO ONE’S having a kid,” you replied.

“Ok, wait I need to know, do either of you have baby name lists? I feel like every person has them.”

Satoru sighed, and thought about the question for a second. Suguru sat on the ground and started rolling the basketball in the dirt.

“I haven’t even thought about baby names. To be honest, kids are kinda hard to have when you’re a sorcerer. You have to go on missions and then come home and change diapers, no thanks. Like, what if it poops on you? Also, I kinda wanna spite the old geezers in my clan.” Satoru added.

“You raise an excellent point, Gojo. This is one of the reasons why I love being a lesbian. Less of a risk for accidents,” Shoko took a drag from her cigarette.

“I can’t be the ONLY person here who has a list,” you sighed.

“Lemme see that-“ Satoru said as he grabbed your journal from Shoko’s grasp.

“…These are just Fruits Basket and One Piece charact-” Satoru snickered.

“Wait Satoru, have you read the new One Piece chapter yet? I heard it’s crazy.” Suguru cut in.

“Oh, no not yet, I haven’t had a chance to get the new volume,” Satoru whined.

“What are you doing right now? Wanna go pick up some coke from the vending machine, then get to that bookstore in Shinjuku and grab a copy?” Suguru explained with excitement.

“Honestly, a coke sounds amazing right now. Either of you wanna come?” Satoru gestured to you and Shoko.

“Nah, I think we’re gonna go steal some of Yaga’s booze,” Shoko informed.

“Yeah, he’s on a mission for the next day or so. Might as well take advantage of it,” You said, a little defeated and disinterested.

“…’kay see you guys later then.” Satoru said in a sing-songy voice.

Suguru walked up to you, pressed a quick peck on your lips, and said, “I’ll be back. Love you.”

But that wasn’t all.

Under his breath, so that no one else could hear, he whispered, “Don’t think this conversation is over yet, doll,” and walked away as if he hadn’t uttered anything. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and you felt your cheeks go hot as he walked away.

…

Later the same day, May, 2007

You were sitting on Suguru’s lap as he twiddled on his PS3 controller playing one of his games. Suguru was sitting on the floor, his legs criss-crossed while you leaned against his back, feeling his warmth though his clothing. You were sporting one of his large white t-shirts, wearing only your favorite pair of panties underneath.

“Sug?” You question softly, turning around to face him.

“Yeah, doll?” He replied not looking down from his game.

“So…about that comment earlier. Why did you say the conversation wasn’t finished yet? And which one? About the One Piece chapter? Or the baby names? I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable asking that question, I was ju-“

Suguru paused his game and looked at you, a smirk on his face.

“It did the opposite of making me uncomfortable, actually. It made me feel a little more normal, or as normal as we can be given our lifestyle. I have a baby name list too.”

Your heart fluttered. Of course he did.

“I saw the list over Satoru’s shoulder. And we actually had one name in common.”

“Which name?”

“Riko.” He replied softly.

His answer made you happy and sad all at once. You wish you didn’t have that name on your list. Riko Amanai had meant so much to the both of you. She represented the freedom that you could have from Jujutsu Society, as well as everything that was broken and corrupt about it. Riko’s death is what radicalized the both of you. She set you both on a path to work towards a better world.

For a moment, you thought about what your life would be with Suguru had you not been Jujutsu Sorcerers. You would probably get married as soon as you graduated, get a job somewhere. Buy a cozy house in the countryside. Make home cooked meals, have children, adopt some dogs. You would grow old together and not have to constantly worry about the fact that you could die a gruesome death in the morning.

You were lying down on your side now, your back against Suguru’s chest. Suguru moved a hand under your shirt, to your stomach, slowly rubbing circles, drawing you out of your trance.

“I love your tummy, it’s so cute” Suguru sighed into your ear.

You giggled.

“What’s so funny about that, love?”

“I’m sorry that just sounded so funny in the moment.”

“I don’t think it’s that funny, especially when my baby’s gonna be in there one day.”

He said it so nonchalantly and matter-of-factly that you thought you had misheard him. You blushed, hoping you didn’t mishear.

“SUG-“ you turned around and gave a playful slap to his arm.

After a pause of giggling from the both of you, Suguru just couldn’t let the topic get away from you.

“Ya know, I think about it a lot,” he continued.

“Think about what,” you questioned.

“Think about what our future would be like. A house that is actually full of love. And little feet running around.”

“Tell me more,” you said against his lips.

“Maybe we’d live in a really remote village away from everything Jujutsu related. We could get a little farm, raise some sheep, horses, chickens, crops. We could add to the world instead of just taking.”

“Why do we have to wait for the future to do that? Money isn’t the issue here,” You answered, referring to the handsome compensation you receive for such a risky career path.

“True, I could just fuck a baby into you right now.”

“I was talking about the house, and you knew that.” You shot back, a laugh escaping your chest at an attempt to be serious.

“That’s another thing I think about.”

“What?” You were taunting him now. You wanted to see where this was going.

“You, your tummy all round with my baby. God, you look so good when you’re stuffed full f’me,” Suguru slurred. From the dim light of his paused video game, you could see that his pupils were blown with lust. He kissed you hard and messily, tongue intertwining with yours.

Suguru removed your (his) shirt and started to kiss down your body, landing at your breasts, hovering right over a nipple.

“These would look so good with milk. So pretty and soft,” he purred, taking a nipple into his mouth.

The warmth of his mouth felt so good against your pebbled nipples, you couldn’t help but let out a moan. He licked and sucked until you were a drooling, wet mess underneath him.

“You like this, huh. Baby, I’ve barely touched you. And you’re already this worked up?” He taunted, moving to give attention to the neglected nipple.

“What else?” you slurred, ignoring his question. He still hadn’t admitted it.

“Everyone would know who you belonged to. All because of me.” He continued, releasing the nipple from his mouth.

His words sent shivers down your spine, and you felt your arousal start to pool uncomfortably in your underwear. You needed them off.

“Suguru, what do you want?” you asked the obvious question, just wanting to hear him speak more on the topic.

“I wanna stuff your pretty cunt full of cum ‘till you can’t take any more, doll,” he grumbled, grinding his impressive erection on your clothed cunt.

“Wanna get you pregnant so bad,” he continued pressing feverish kisses down the length of your body. “You’ve been asking a lot of questions about what I want.” He made his way to your panties, “But, before I take these off, I need to know what you want.”

Your hole was clenching around nothing at his words, you were getting rather impatient.

“Please touch me.” You whined.

“Hmm, I have been touching you my love,”

“Sugu- stop t-teasin-nghhh.” you moaned as one of his thick fingers started moving in a circular motion on your bud. Soon, one finger became two, and he moved them from your clit to your slick folds, swirling the juices around, occasionally ghosting your eager cunt.

“Suguru gimme your dick,” you begged.

“Baby, one, you can ask nicer than that, where are your manners? And two, I have to get you ready to take me first. Gotta make sure I can fit the most amount of cum in there as possible,” he let out a small moan on the last word.

“Open your mouth, doll,” he commanded.

You complied, opening your mouth as he stuck his two slickened fingers in, pushing them as far back as they could go. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a dark stain forming on his gray sweatpants. He must have been impossibly hard.

Your moans and gasps vibrated against his digits, and when he thought you had been teased enough, he finally offered you the sweet relief of his fingers filling you. Definitely not as large as his cock, but they reached the parts of you that you could not with your own hands. Suguru started thrusting in and out, curling his fingers along the way, hitting your g-spot with brutal precision.

“Sug-nghhh, I’m gonna-”

“Shhh baby, you can let go for me, I got you. So good f’me.”

With the thumb of his hand, he lightly stroked your clit, and you felt the familiar heat bubbling in your core. After a few more thrusts, and praises from Suguru, you were cumming all over his fingers. He helped you through your orgasm, your head full of wool as you came down from your high. Suguru brought his drenched appendages to his mouth and sucked, cleaning your fluids from his fingers.

“If only curses tasted this good. I can’t get enough of you.”

In your post-orgasm clarity, you realized that your boyfriend was still clothed. That wouldn’t do. You sit up, rummaging through sticky sweats and underwear to pull his dick out. A long strand of precum dripped from his tip, breaking away as you pulled him out of his boxers. His penis would never fail to surprise you; he was of average length, but so thick, you could barely close your hand around him. You wrapped two hands around his cock as your mouth watered at the beautiful sight before you. But, just as you were about to taste him, two of his strong hands pushed you back against the bed, forcing you off of his dick.

“What was that for? I wanna suck you off,” you pouted.

“Sorry, doll. We can’t waste any cum,” he said as his nose ghosted against yours.

“But I just wanted to make sure, you never said it out loud. Do you actually want this? Can I actually get you pregnant? Don’t wanna pressure you if it was just a kink.” He looked into your eyes with concern, needing your verbal confirmation to continue.

“Suguru. Put a baby in me.”

You think you broke your boyfriend after saying that. He let out a grunt from deep within his chest and grabbed a pillow from the pile that fell off the bed in during your earlier activities. He placed the pillow underneath your lower back and whispered choruses of “I love you,” on your skin. Suguru’s fingertips traced over your skin, eventually grasping your legs, throwing them over his shoulders.

“I don’t deserve you, doll.” He pressed a quick kiss to your nose.

“This is called a mating press,” Suguru explained as he grabbed his cock and lined up with your twitching hole. “I did some research as to what position would get you pregnant the fastest, and I think this one has a good success rate.” He sounded so methodical in his explanation, which was so in character for him. Of course your Suguru would do research into this. He would do anything for you to make you happy. And you would do the same for him.

When he pushes the head in, you both gasp at the contact. He kept sliding in until his balls slapped against your ass and your pelvic bones met. There was such little resistance, and you let out a sob as he bottomed out.

“You ok, baby? You’re taking me like such a-a, nghhh- good girl. Feels like heaven in your pussy. My pussy.” It was so attractive when he got possessive over you, your ovaries felt like they were about to burst in more ways than one.

“Sugu- ngh- move-“

Instead of moving, he licked the inside of your upper thigh, dragging his tongue impossibly slow to tease you.

“NGH- plea-ahhh please,” you could feel tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. He made it so easy for you to fall apart.

“Good girl, look at you using your words,” he sounded wrecked, his voice gravely with arousal. And with that, he began moving. At first, his thrusts were slow and deep; you could feel every vein and ridge on his dick. His balls slapped against the fat of your ass, creating an embarrassingly loud clapping sound that bounced off of the walls. It felt delicious.

You weren’t just having sex - he was making love to you. It was emotional and sensual. The tears you felt earlier spilled over on to your cheeks as Suguru picked up the pace, his cock pistoning in and out. He kissed your tears away as you muttered broken moans of both his name and explicits.

Suguru’s grip was surely going to leave bruises in the morning. One hand was holding your body in place around your waist, while the other kept your leg over his shoulder. He let go of your leg for a moment as he grabbed another pillow that was somewhere in reach, and gently slid it under your hips so that he could reach you at a deeper angle. Your vision went blurry. He was impossibly deep, you thought you could feel him rearranging your intestines.

Finally, his thrusts started getting sloppier. You knew Suguru was close.

“Gonna fuck my baby into you,” he half moaned. “Fuck, love, I’m close. Want ya to let go first,” and with that, he moved his possessive, bruising touch to rub your clit. After a few rotations around your nub, you let go, your vision going white as you came hard, your cunt clamping down on his cock.

The vice grip of your pussy is what finally sent him over the edge, and Suguru began to fill you up with his thick load.

“Thank you, baby, thank you,” Suguru chanted, like it was a prayer, and you were the goddess who was receiving his offering. You laid like that for a while, him still inside, your hips tilted up to keep his cum inside of you. He left a trail of kisses down your sweat-drenched neck as his cock softened in your walls.

After about fifteen minutes, you felt Suguru starting to fill out again, his body gearing up for round two.

And then three.

And then four.

You lost count of how many times you had cum that night. Your tummy sported a small bump with the amount of Suguru’s seed trapped in your womb. You were so full that you couldn’t possibly take any more. And Suguru loved you like that.

Of course, he loved you always, but this was different. He took one of his large hands and gently massaged your sore, slightly swollen belly, pressing wet kisses all around.

“I hope our baby looks like you,” you whispered into the crown of his head.

“I was just thinking the same thing. I hope our baby at least has your eyes. I get lost in them sometimes,” he responded. “Ya know, your eyes are probably my favorite part of you, besides your tummy. And your beautiful brain. And every other part of you.”

“I love you so much, Suguru. I don’t think I can put it into words. You’re such a good man, so good to me. You’re gonna be the best dad one day,” you confessed.

“Hopefully, that day will be soon,” he smirked, “I’m gonna go get you water and a hot washcloth to clean you up. Want anything to eat?”

You smiled back at him and shook your head, blowing a kiss to him before he left.

You expected yourself to be more freaked out by his comment, “hopefully, that day will be soon,” but you couldn’t help but feel excited. Life as a Jujutsu Sorcerer was so unexpected, you never knew when a mission was going to be your last. You decided it wouldn’t be a bad thing to have a little mini Suguru running around, allowing the three of you to finally have the family that neither you nor Suguru ever did.

…

August 2007

It was a disgustingly hot day outside. You were so sweaty, you felt your clothes sticking to you, and the humidity felt as if you were walking through a sauna.

Since it was so unbearably hot outside, you and Suguru decided it would be a nice day to go to a water park. Of course, that meant Satoru and Shoko had to tag along.

You and Suguru were in charge of packing, as the other two would not have chosen enough food or towels for your journey. They would probably also forget things like sunscreen and umbrellas, opting to fill your beach bags with bottles of booze and sweets. You and Suguru were practically the parents of the friend group at this point; sometimes the other two would even refer to you as “mom and dad.” Suguru would give you a smirk any time this happened, reminding you of the conversation you had back in May.

After you fought Satoru on the fact that he could not in fact take an entire box of ice cream mochi to the water park, you were set to leave on your adventure. The four of you and your bags all piled in the car of an assistant director. Excitement and easy conversation flowed through the vehicle, as all of you relished in the relief of the cool air conditioning.

Shoko sat in the front, smoking a cigarette, choosing which CDs to play, while you sat in the back with Satoru and Suguru. Suguru, being the gentleman that he is, gave you the seat behind the driver’s side. You tried to resist, explaining that he and Satoru would have more leg room if you just sat in the middle, but Suguru insisted.

The four of you finally arrived at the water park about an hour and a half later.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

As you walked through the wooden gates, the park was swarmed with families, teenagers, and college students. There were colorful slides entangled in each other at the center of the park, with a lazy river surrounding it. To the left, there was a wave pool with people attempting to surf, and to the right, there was another large pool with buckets of water that would dump on patrons randomly. The lounge chairs were spread throughout the park, and it seemed like the entirety of Japan had come to this one water park to beat the summer heat.

“Ok guys let’s stay together and try to find some lounge chai-”

“Shoko! I’m gonna beat you down those slides, ready?” Satoru screamed with glee, like a young child.

“Hold on, lemme finish this,” Shoko replied, motioning to her cigarette.

“NO! We. Are. Going. To. Sit. Down. Let’s just stay together, it’s a madhouse here,” You put your foot down.

“If I wanted to be mothered, mother, I would have gone home for the summer,” Shoko rolled her eyes at you. You just ignored her, too bothered by the heat to even come up with a good comeback.

“I sent out a curse to go find us a spot - wait. Where’s Satoru?” Suguru chimed in.

“Let’s be logical about this. Where is the nearest ice cream stand?” You asked.

“Ha, there he is,” Shoko nodded her head towards the nearest ice cream stand. In the line of children, there was one with white hair who was almost as tall as the stand itself. Bingo.

You marched over to the line, and went to tug Satoru by his ear back to the group. Alas, his Infinity was on, and you could not touch him.

“Oof, I would not wanna be him right now, that one has a temper,” Shoko joked, as she put her cigarette out over the trash can next to them, watching you and Satoru argue. In that moment, Suguru couldn’t help but stare at you, taking in how beautiful you looked against the summer sun. You were glowing, radiant, even as you berated his best friend.

“I haven’t seen you look at someone the way you look at her.” Shoko broke Suguru’s thoughts, pulling him out of his trance.

“Yeah.” Suguru responded, smiling.

“Wow, you didn’t even try to deny it,” Shoko smirked back. “OOooo someone’s in looovee,” Shoko teased.

“I am. And I’m so lucky. I love her more than anything in the world,” Suguru said with a content sigh.

“Ok, now you’re just gonna make me vomit, that’s so sappy,” Shoko stuck out her tongue, making a fake gagging sound.

“It’s true,” Suguru responded, still in his trance.

“What if I can treat her better than you,” Shoko teased.

“Maybe,” he said, the slightest flicker of insecurity in his eyes. “I don’t think I deserve her sometimes. She’s not as tainted by curses and cursed energy as I am. She’s not the one who absorbs curses day after day.” He looked tired. Shoko noticed the bags under his eyes, but just as she was about to say something, you came running with Satoru’s wrist in your hand, pulling him with an ice cream cone in his hand. The ice cream was beginning to drip everywhere.

“I can’t believe they only had vanilla. What a ripoff,” Satoru sighed, annoyed.

“You dumbass, you didn’t even get napkins!? How am I supposed to call you a functioning adult, you’re literally about to turn 19, and you didn’t even get napkins?!” You berated him again.

“Oh, looks like the curse found a place for us to sit. It’s keeping the area clear so non-sorcerers aren’t determined to sit there,” Suguru interrupted.

You all walked towards a little spot in the shade with three lounge chairs and a table. You figured you would just share your lounge chair with Suguru and sit in his lap. Or he could use your lap as a pillow and you could braid his hair. Either worked.

Just as you were setting out your towels on the chairs, you heard a PLOP and crying following after. A little kid had slipped and fallen down on the concrete. He used his hands to break the fall, and the skin of his palms were broken a little bit, blood splintering through the cracks. He started hysterically crying.

“Oh no, sweetie! Are you okay? Where is your grown up?” you rushed over to the kid.

“I think I packed a first aid kit in the bag, let me get it,” Suguru added.

Of course he did, that man was prepared for the end of the world.

Suguru took an antiseptic wipe from the kit, and bent down so that he was at eye level with the kid.

“This is probably going to sting, but it will feel better I promise. Your bathing suit is dope by the way, I love the colors,” Suguru cooed at the kid, trying to calm him down.

“You remind me a lot of my little brother, his name is Noritoshi. He’s really brave. Are you brave like him?” you added.

The child stopped his hysterics and let Suguru clean him up, listening to both of your kind words. He nodded his little head of pink hair at your question and pointed towards an elderly man slowly, but frantically making his way over to the kid.

“Yuji! What happened?” the old man asked.

“I falled and getted a boo-boo,” the kid, called Yuji, sniffled.

“He slipped and hurt his hand, we have some antiseptic disinfectant and bandaids though, so we fixed him right up,” you told the man as he got closer.

“He was really brave,” Suguru added, smiling down at Yuji.

“Thank you, so much. You two are very kind,” the man said in a monotone voice. Though his voice showed no emotion, his eyes did. His eyes looked tired, but definitely grateful to the kindness of you and Suguru.

“Feel better, dude!” Suguru yelled to Yuji as his grandfather led him away.

After about an hour of tanning on the lounges with Shoko, you looked to see where the boys went. It wasn’t very hard to spot the two best friends, as they were acting like children, making big waves in the lazy river. On Suguru’s shoulders, you noticed something: the kid with the pink hair from earlier.

Suguru and Satoru were having some sort of chicken fight with him, all three of them laughing and having the time of their lives.

“You are hopeless,” Shoko rolled her eyes, a new cigarette in between her lips.

“What do you mean?” You replied.

“Don’t play dumb, I know what you’re thinking,” she smirked back.

…

September 2007

“Suguru, you look like you’ve lost weight, are you okay?” Satoru asked, as he twirled a pencil in midair with his Infinity technique.

“Just tired,” Suguru responded.

Over the past few weeks, Suguru had developed dark circles and bags under his eyes. He looked pale, and was often exhausted. Not too exhausted for you though, apparently.

It seemed the two of you spent more and more time together holed up in one of your rooms when you weren’t on missions. It was just so nice in your own little world, away from everything. You didn’t have to care about who lived and who died. You only had to focus on each other.

Satoru attempted to carry on the conversation.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“You probably won’t see me for a while again.”

“Yo, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I need to get out of here. Both of us do. We’re not fit for Jujutsu Society.” Suguru said, referring to the two of you.

“Ha, ha, so funny.” Satoru sarcastically added.

“It’s not a joke.”

“What do you mean? Dude, you’re a special grade, you seriously think they’re gonna let you quit?”

It was true. The elders wouldn’t just let Suguru run away and walk free. If he was not with Jujutsu society, he was probably against it. And letting a special grade sorcerer and his grade one partner roam free would pose a threat to the stability of the elder’s iron grip on the status quo of Jujutsu society.

He’d have to get the elders to denounce and force you out.

So, here you were, flying with the man who was your boyfriend, your one and only, on the back of a curse, headed out for a mission, and hopefully, some much needed seclusion with Suguru.

…

7:03 PM (19:03)

You and Suguru decided to split up for the mission. It had been reported that there was a sighting of two possible curse users and a separate cursed spirit. Thus, Suguru wanted to deal with the curse users, and you to deal with the curse itself.

You exorcized the curse with ease, using piercing blood to slice the monster in half. There were a few other lower level curses, which you could have eliminated with your eyes closed. It seemed too easy. If Suguru was sent on this mission, there had to be something else, another factor. After a few minutes of patrolling for any other cursed energy residue, you decided to find your way back to Suguru.

You found him standing outside of a small house on the outskirts of the village. He seemed out of it; he was staring right at the door, but did not enter. As you approached, you saw the strong cursed energy residue leading from the door.

“Sug, I exorcized those curses. I know you hate the taste of swallowing them, I didn’t want to make you do that if you didn’t have to.” If Suguru heard you, he showed no acknowledgement.

“Suguru?” You pinched the sleeve of his white collared shirt.

“Dude? Did you hear me?” You squeezed his thick bicep, pushing your manicured nails into his skin, effectively bringing him back from whatever plane of reality he was on.

“The locals in the village told me this is the home of two little girls, twins. Their descriptions match the ones for the curse users. So…” He insinuated, leaving the rest for you to figure out. His amber eyes were dark and cold.

“Oh.” You said. You and Suguru had both been through a lot and hated Jujutsu Society. You and Suguru had your incident with Amanai a little over a year earlier, and your uppity clan kept you from your mother, a heartbreaking decision by the family head in order to give you the best possible chance of becoming the leader of the clan. A position which you despised.

Over the past few months, in the afterglow of sex, you two would lay there, embraced in each other's arms, dreaming of a world without curses, without clans, without people to produce those curses. “Monkeys,” as Suguru referred to non-sorcerers, from which curses were created. In your and Suguru’s fantasy world, you wouldn’t even have a reason to use curse techniques. You could get married, have children, live a peaceful life without fear of a curse coming to take that happiness away.

The bottom line is you knew Jujutsu Society was unfair, but never would you think you would be asked to harm a child. What was wrong with these people? You thought of your little brother, Norotoshi, who was also six years old. He was supposed to be your “competition” for the title of family head, but you never really wanted to fight him. He was just your sweet little brother.

How could you harm someone that is the same age as your little brother?

A wave of nausea ran through your body as the reality of the situation dawned upon you. Suguru kneeled down on the floor with you, rubbing your back and holding your hair back as you vomited.

“Shhh, I got you.” He wrapped you in an awkward embrace on the floor, and pressed a kiss to your sweat-sheened forehead. “It’s going to be okay. I have a plan.” Suguru’s entire demeanor changed in an instant. He smiled, but there was no emotion behind his eyes, and his voice sounded like it was coated in honey.

His behavior was strange, but helped you to feel more at ease. Suguru gave you some hope to cling on to.

…

8:46 PM (20:46)

You were both sitting on the stairs leading up to the front of the house. You were leaning on Suguru as he brushed a hand over your hair, occasionally placing a kiss on the top of your head. You had finally finished sobbing into Suguru’s chest after an hour, the teardrops staining through his white collared shirt. You felt so many emotions. Anger at the broken system. Hatred, for the Jujutsu Society elders. Confusion, for what would happen once you committed to your plan. Grief, for the people in your life that you would lose. Betrayal, from the society that was supposed to protect people. Suguru sat with you and validated your feelings, making you feel like you and your emotions were the only things in this world that matter.

The plan was simple. You were both going to defect.

Both you and Suguru were sick and tired of the way the world functioned. You were sick of watching comrades, comrades who were teenagers, who were children, die.

During one of your late night conversations, Suguru once said,

“If being a Jujutsu Sorcerer is like running a marathon…

What if what’s at the end of that road…

Is a mountain of our fellow sorcerers’ dead corpses.”

In that moment, Suguru had played it off as some dark joke, but part of you knew that he was right.

As for the plan, you two were to wait until some of the elders of the village led you into the small house, as they apparently kept multiple locks on it to keep the supposed dangerous young girls at bay. Then, you were going to take the young sorcerers on the back of one of Suguru’s curses and run to Kyoto and find somewhere to stay for the night. Suguru said he would “take care of the rest.” You trusted him with your whole being, even if that meant him ending the lives of a few non-sorcerers. It would serve them right for causing the very existence of curses.

…

9:01 PM (21:01)

The two elders from the village arrived shortly after. You took Suguru’s hand and shared a reassuring glance, his thumb rubbing gently over your hand as if to say, it’s going to be okay. Shaking with exhaustion, anxiety, and some of the nausea from earlier, you slowly made your way up the stairs as the elders parted the shoji doors. The building seemed to be one long room with some sort of wooden cage at the end, almost like the house was made to hold animals at some point.

The building was dimly lit, but you could see the outline of two small figures huddled together in the center of the wooden cage. Your stomach turned once again, and you tightly squeezed Suguru’s hand.

“What is this?” Suguru firmly questioned, his free hand going up to brush his bangs away.

The two of you stepped closer to the makeshift prison, and the two small figures were shaking. As you made your way towards the children, they had obviously been beaten. They were covered in dry blood, scratches and bruises. They both had one black eye.

How could these children, these SIX year olds, legally be kept like this? THESE were the scary curse users that were terrorizing this village? It was disgusting.

“My grandchild was on the verge of death because of these two,” spit the woman who led you in.

“These two use strange powers and often attack the villagers.” defended the other man in your presence.

Suguru dropped your hand and squatted down to be at eye level with the girls, pinching his nose bridge between his pointer finger and thumb.

“So you mean to tell me that you monkeys think that these little girls, these children are responsible for the incidents that have been occuring, is that correct?” Suguru grumbled, his voice icy and dangerous.

“I already dealt with the cause of the incidents, they’re innocent children, what is wrong with you people,” you cried. You were full of rage, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

One of the young girls, clutching a well-loved stuffed animal, bravely spoke up and declared, “We didn’t mean to hurt anyone on purpose, they were trying to-”

“SHUT UP YOU MONSTERS!” The elder woman screamed.

“Your parents were the same. I knew we should have killed you when you were born,” the man added.

“Exactly, twins are bad luck. We should have known better,” the elder woman snorted.

Suguru looked down at the girls and whispered something that would not have been obvious to someone who did not know him as well as you did, “It’ll be okay.”

He started drawing a curse from his arsenal of cursed spirits, and gave you a nod. The signal to go ahead with the plan.

That same silky smooth, almost frighteningly nice, voice that Suguru only used when he was especially angry.

“Let’s step outside for a second, shall we?” Suguru tutted, producing the same pink cursed spirit you flew on to get to the village. He walked out the door with the two older adults and shot you a glance.

I’d end the world for you.

It was the same expression he bore when you confessed your love for each other, all of those months ago.

The girls immediately stood up when they sighted the curse. They were terrified, understandably so. You moved towards the thick metal lock of the wooden cage and knelt down.

“Hey girls, I’m not going to hurt you, I’m here to help. You’re safe. I know it must seem so scary right now, but me and the other man you saw me with are going to get you out of here.”

You told them your name, and assured them that you were like them. Using your piercing blood to cut through the thick lock, you explained to them about your technique and talked to them about your little brother to keep them (and yourself) calm.

As soon as the lock broke, the girls ran to you and hugged you tightly. They were shaking, crying, and clinging to your body. A series of thank you’s flooded from their mouths, and you kissed the top of their heads, attempting to dry their tears away.

“The pink curse over here is going to take us to safety. Suguru, that man who’s talking to them, is also a sorcerer, and he’ll meet us wherever we get to.” you explained.

You sat the girls on the curse side by side, and then climbed in back of them to make sure they did not fall. Using Supernova, you blasted a hole through the roof, and the cursed spirit started to levitate off of the ground. Quickly, you gained altitude and left the village behind. You covered the girls eyes as you looked back, just to see what was happening. The entrance to the house was ablaze and you could make out Suguru’s cursed spirits crawling throughout the village.

Shit. Well, there wasn’t any turning back now.

…

The Next Morning

Overnight, you had flown the girls to a small hostel on the outskirts of Osaka. You purchased a small, private room for the three of you to stay in.

As the sky turned from a deep purple to a ombré of orange and blue, nausea from the previous evening returned in full force. You held yourself over the toilet as you threw up what felt like your entire gut. You stayed like that until you heard four small feet walk into the bathroom behind you.

With the light properly shining on them, you got to see how truly filthy they were. The girl, who called herself Mimiko, had short brown hair that was knotted, matted, and crinkled with dry blood. Her sister, Nanako, was not faring much better. Her blonde curls were also matted, and there was crusted blood left on her forehead. They both were covered from head to toe in bruises, had dark circles around their eyes, and seemed to be alarmingly skinny.

“Um… are you okay?” Nanako asked. You took a deep breath, happy to focus on something other than your churning stomach for a moment.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think it’s just nerves.” You answered.

“Let’s worry about you two, I’ll run you a bath, then we can go to the 7/11 across the way and pick up some food. Sound good?” You declared.

Mimiko’s stomach rumbled. “I think your belly answered for you, Mimiko,” you chuckled softly.

…

While the girls bathed, you went down to the Lost and Found of the hostel and grabbed a few items that looked like they would fit the twins: some hoodies, leggings, and a skirt. You also fixed yourself up, washing the vomit out of your mouth and splashing your face with hot water from the sink.

Once the girls looked decent enough to go outside without raising suspicion, the three of you ventured out to the 7/11 across the street.

The smell of food was a welcome scent as you walked up and down the rows of food, snacks, and other items. You grabbed whatever you thought a few six year olds would like, and on your way to the cashier, something caught your eye. A row of 100 yen pregnancy tests and other feminine care products. Whether it be a metaphorical gut feeling or the actual nausea that had persisted for the last few days, something told you to purchase a stick to pee on, just in case.You snuck the test into the pile of items you and the girls were purchasing.

When the three of you got to the hostel, the girls scarfed their food down, and you tried to take little nibbles and sips of water. You put the twins down for a nap.

You tried your best not to think about Suguru. You didn’t know what to think of him anymore. The man you spoke to the previous night could not have been your boyfriend. The Suguru you knew would never kill without a point. He would never just murder an entire village of people.

You hoped and prayed that you were wrong. That he didn’t actually harm anyone and just showed off his curses to teach the people of the village a lesson.

Wait.

What if he was killed?

It was all so confusing. You loved Suguru. He’s the one person who seemed to have love for you, besides your younger brother.

Noritoshi. A pang of guilt wracked through your frame, heightening the gurgling of your stomach.

If he murdered those non-sorcerers…you would have been deemed an accomplice.

So…

What would he think?

Your baby brother?

Would he be okay?

He’s a boy with an inherited technique in the Kamo clan. But would people look out for him? Would they keep him from your mother as well?

In your spiral of thoughts, you noticed the 7/11 bag on the counter and remembered the supplies you bought earlier that day. You grabbed it as quietly as possible, as to not wake the girls, and stepped into the bathroom, clutching the goods inside. Your hands were shaking from lack of food over the past day and a half, but as carefully as you could, you retrieved the pregnancy test from the bag.

The box was small, but felt so heavy in your hand.

Why not? It probably won’t be positive, you told yourself.

Why do I have to convince myself it won’t be positive, you thought.

You know what, it will get my brain off of Noritoshi and Suguru for a bit, you reasoned, pulling apart the tucked in top of the box.

After you fully unwrapped it, you read the directions, and followed suit. You put the test in the cup on the sink of the bathroom, and walked out to see the clock in the room. You waited five minutes until the results developed.

Wait…this was probably a bad idea.

What were you thinking?

This was so stupid why would you go and do this in the first place?

You needed to get some air, your chest felt tight. You felt the nausea creeping back again.

Suguru, where are you?

You grabbed a room key off of the counter and slowly walked out into the hallway, desperately trying to keep yourself from waking the girls. One of the first things that caught your eye in the hallway was a vending machine.

Maybe some soda would help settle your stomach?

You walked over to the machine and plucked a few coins from your pocket, listening to them clink through the slot. You selected a Ginger Ale and Coke, reasoning that if you didn’t drink it, Suguru would when he got back.

If he got back.

No. You can’t think like that.

You took as long as you could getting back to the room, stepping on every other square of the carpeted floors, trying to ground yourself back to reality somehow. You arrived at the door a few minutes later and opened the door.

The windows in your room were wide open, allowing a little breeze to blow the curtains. You dropped both bottles of soda.

You had locked the windows before leaving the room. You made sure of it.

You panicked, running for the girls to make sure they were okay. Alas, they were sleeping soundly, no new scratches or blood on them.

You turned your attention to the bathroom, where the door was closed and you heard some rustling.

Slowly making your way towards the door, you lined up your piercing blood technique, in case you were about to be attacked.

“Baby, is that you?” you heard from the other side of the door.

“Suguru.” You didn’t know if you should be more frightened or relieved.

Part of you wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and kiss the scratches and dried blood away from him. Other than that, he looked relatively unharmed. His usual neat bun was not apparent on the top of his head, instead he let his hair hang loose, his bangs tied up in a messy half-up-half-down. He was dressed in all black, a dark oversized crew neck and baggy black sweats. As insinuated by the dark bags under his eyes, he didn’t look like he had eaten or slept in the past day or two.

“Whose blood is that? Yours? Or someone else’s.”

“That’s one way to say hello.”

“Answer.”

“Doll, what’s wrong?”

“Suguru, are you okay?”

“My love, I took care of everything. We’ll be safe for the next few days, alright. We just have to lay low for a little while.”

“Suguru, answer me.”

“Shhh, everything is okay, doll. Your body's working overtime right now, and the pregnancy hormones can’t be helping.”

What?

You stared at him. No way.

“That test is your’s, right?” he questioned, his face filled with concern. “It’s positive.”

You stared at him, then at the test. It was.

“I- I’m gonna be a dad,” Suguru’s face cracked into a sincere smile.

He picked you up and spun you around, planting kisses all over your head and face.

“And you’re gonna be a mom! To my baby. Our baby. You’re gonna be the best mommy, you're so good with kids.”

You stayed silent; you were still processing everything that just happened.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he cradled your face gently in his hands.

You stood frozen, thinking of words to say, but they never made it out of your mouth. Your vision went blurry with water, and the churning feeling you had been trying too hard to suppress returned to your stomach. You gagged, running over to the toilet.

As you held yourself over the bowl, your body felt like it was trying to expel all of your organs out through your mouth. Suguru leapt to your side and held your hair back as you threw up, rubbing soothing circles into your back.

“Shhh, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out, this is just one of the best things that’s ever happened.” Suguru cooed.

You took a deep breath and wiped any stray vomit from your lips with the back of your hand.

As you hurled your guts out, you felt his large, warm hand, rubbing circles on the small of your back. The other of his hands went to hold your hair out of your face.

You stayed like that for about an hour, just sitting there, pondering your impending motherhood.

Mother.

You were going to be a mother.

It simultaneously freaked you out and surprised you. Suguru, the person you loved most in this world, actually got you pregnant. Of course he did. He always stuck to his word.

When that man was committed to something, he was going to have it. He was possessive, territorial even. That made him all the more dangerous, but it wasn’t him you were afraid of or for. You were afraid for the rest of the world.

I’d end the world for you.

His promise echoed in the back of your mind.

“Sweetheart, it is going to be okay. I think I may have gotten too overexcited and freaked you out. You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to, I’m here for whatever you need. But, thank you. Thank you for this precious gift.”

It was a gift that forever linked the two of you together.

…

September 2007

You found her waiting on a bench in the center of Shinjuku, trying to find something in her pockets, probably a lighter for her cigarette.

“Hey, need a light?” Suguru asked, offering out a lighter.

“Hi,” you waved shyly.

“If it isn’t the criminals, trolling girls who smoke?” Shoko replied

“Just testing our luck I guess, '' Suguru joked.

“Mmhmm, well, I’ll go ahead and ask. Any chance the charges are fake?”

“No, unfortunately not

“Then I’ll ask another question, why?”

“To create a world of only Jujutsu Sorcerers,”

“We don’t want anymore of our comrades to die,” you doubled down on Suguru’s point.

“Ha, that doesn’t make sense, but whatever,” Shoko said, picking up her phone and dialing a number. Someone on the other line answered.

“Hey, Gojo?

Yeah, found ‘em.

Shinjuku.

No way, I don’t wanna get killed.” She said before quickly hanging up.

“Do you have the thing we talked about?” Suguru asked before walking towards the area his best friend was said to be.

“Yes, I’ve got her,” Shoko looked into his eyes,

“Okay, I love you,” Suguru said, placing a kiss on your forehead and walking off.

Shoko put her cigarette out.

“Shoko I’m okay, just, um, okay how do I put this…”

“Dude, spit it out, you're scaring me.”

“I’m pregnant.” you blurted out.

“Shit.” the mousy brunette replied.

“No, it’s okay, really, I’m happy, we’re happy, just…scared - ”

“Did you not use protection? You of all people? The mom friend? Well, now, I guess literal mom friend,” Shoko put her hands in her hair, scrunching it out of stress, “And you’re a fugitive! Both you and Geto have been sentenced to death by the elders. Jesus Christ Y/N, how the fuck are you going to raise a child as a fucking criminal.”

“I’m sorry Shoko, I-I couldn’t,” your last word was muffled by the huge lump in your throat. You knew Shoko of all people would rip you a new one, but you didn’t expect it to hurt this much. Tears clouded your vision, and you were sobbing so violently, that you started to choke on the snot and water running down your face. People were staring.

“Woah, dude. Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here now,” Shoko reached down to wipe some of the snot off of your face with the sleeve of her uniform. “Come on, let’s go get you cleaned up, I have some supplies that I brought in my bag.”

Shoko grabbed your hand and led you into the nearby metro station. You rushed past the crowds of people, until you made your way into the gate. Shoko kept leading you further underground until you reached a room that was sectioned off for mothers and infants.

“Get inside, we shouldn’t be bothered in here for a while,” Shoko stated, her tone gentle. You walked in, and she locked the door behind you.

The room was small, but cozy. There was an infant changing table to the right, and to the left, there was a small blue couch with a table next to it. There were a few blankets packaged in sanitary wrappers laying on the side of the couch, and the room was decorated with pastel flowers all around. You felt completely safe for the first time in a while.

“Sit,” Shoko commanded. You complied and took a seat on the couch.

“I got one of those portable ultrasound things from the infirmary. I don’t know why we have these things but, hey, it’s coming in handy.”

“How did you know to bring an ultrasound kit with you?” you asked suspiciously.

“Oh, Geto told me to bring one. So, I kind of already figured you were pregnant, or you had some kind of internal bleeding. But with the way he was being so secretive, I figured the former.” Shoko replied, fiddling with the machine. It looked like a tiny foldable computer, the probe attached to a wire that fed into the screen.

She KNEW???

“If you knew, then why the fuck did you make me say it out loud?” you demanded.

“Because I needed to be sure this wasn’t a trick or something to kill me,” she shot back, “If ya didn’t know, your boyfriend -”

“Fiancé -”

“Fiancé, whatever, killed an entire village of people.”

“I know, but he did what he had to do. We’re trying to make the world a better place, a place without curses, so you don’t have to keep seeing people die.” You refuted.

“I’m not talking to you about this right now, I’m here to make sure you and the fetus inside of you are okay. You chose your path, and I chose mine. I’m not trying to change your mind, what’s done is done. I don’t support what you two did, but you’re still my best friend. I’m here for you,” Shoko finished and scooched on the couch to give you a hug. You were crying again, fat tears streaming down your cheeks.

After five minutes, you two finally parted, and Shoko reached into her bag to produce some supplies. She pulled out sanitizer, a bottle of gel, a pair of gloves, and a little blue cloth. Shoko sanitized her hands, and gave some to you as well. She then put the pair of gloves on and asked you to pull up your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Finally, she tucked the blue cloth into your pants, so that the gel would not get on it.

“This might feel cold. I also don’t really know if I’m doing this 100% right, so, you should probably find someone with a medical degree and not just reverse curse technique to look at you,” Shoko added, the usual banter reappearing between you two.

She squeezed some of the cold jelly-like substance on your abdomen. You winced at the uncomfortable feeling. Shoko took the end of the probe and started gently pushing it around on your stomach. After about a minute, something appeared on the little screen.

Woah.

That’s your kid. Your and Suguru’s baby. You started crying again.

You loved them already, and only wished Suguru could have been here to see this.

“Yeah, there’s a whole-ass kid in there,” Shoko confirmed.

“As opposed to a half-ass kid?” You joked. Shoko laughed.

Next, Shoko reached into her bag, producing a thick textbook. She turned to a page that was marked by brightly-colored post-it notes.

“Okay, based on this development textbook, you’re probably about 9 to 10 weeks along. Can you use your technique and give me a blood sample fast?”

9 to 10 weeks.

That’s a lot farther along than you thought.

You took a deep breath. “Okay,” and slowly produced a handful of blood from your palm, dropping it with a PLOP into the test tube Shoko held out for you.

“I’ll run a test on this once I get back to the infirmary at school, I just wanna check your hGC levels to make sure they’re good. But in the meantime, start taking these,” she produced yet another item from her bag. “They’re prenatal vitamins. Also, I know Geto has to have some connections somewhere with doctors. Have him find one for you. I can check on you once in a while, but not all the time or it will get suspicious. I love you, but I’m also an eighteen-year-old who doesn’t have a medical degree yet. I’ll leave first with Satoru to make sure there aren’t any sorcerers around so that you and Geto can escape. Stay safe and healthy, please,”

“Safe and healthy, coming from the chainsmoker?” You joked.

Shoko rolled her eyes as she gave you a final hug, exiting the room, leaving you alone with the bag of medical supplies and textbook.

…

Mid January, 2008

As the months passed, you did not think it possible, yet you fell deeper in love with Suguru. He doted on you and the twins constantly, spoiling you with gifts, having his followers help construct a lavish living space for you in the back of the monastery. Mimiko and Nanako shared a large room, their western-style four poster beds were adorned with silks and all of the stuffed animals they could desire. They had large walk-in closets full of dress-up gowns and expensive designer brands.

“Only the best for my girls,” Suguru would say.

As for you, he had a beautiful master suite built, the double walk-in closet filled with comfortable, yet elegant, maternity clothing and a California king bed dwarfing the rest of the room. The walls were painted white with navy and gold accents throughout the room.

When he was not tending to his cult, Suguru also kept you close to him as much as possible. Sometimes, he would even have you sit with him as you both tended to his followers throughout the day, him consuming their curses and you collecting their money.

Though he saw you as an equal, he was still overly protective and territorial of you now that you were carrying his child. He would sit you down on his lap in front of your followers, his hands caressing your now-evident baby bump, proclaiming to both you and the people in the cult that you were a goddess among mere mortals. When the monastery was empty, sometimes he would just sit and hold you, breathing in your scent. You would sit like that for an hour sometimes, him feeling the baby kick against his large palms, trailing kisses up and down your nape. You would curl yourself up as much as you could to put your ear to his chest, his heartbeat drumming with excitement.

When you weren’t helping Suguru, you were with the twins. Playing with them, going on walks, teaching them little things about the world that they missed while living in that cursed village. They were really excited to have a new sibling and talked about all of the clothes they would dress the new baby in. You had to remind them, of course, that the baby was not a doll. They also threw out name suggestions, but you had to tell them that unfortunately, “Princess,” and “Hello Kitty,” were not appropriate names to call their soon to be baby sibling.

At the end of your long days tending to the needs of non-sorcerers that were actually useful to your cause, Suguru would have you both change out of your robes and start to cook dinner while you played with the girls. True, he could have hired someone to cook for your little family, but he wanted to take it upon himself to make sure that you were getting all of the nutrients and rest you and the twins possibly could.

You somehow succeeded in carving out a nice life for yourself under the harshest of circumstances. Sure, it wasn’t the utopia you and Suguru had always imagined all of those nights back at Jujutsu High, but you had a little family of your own and were working towards a better, safer world.

…

After he finished tucking the girls into bed one night, you curled up with Suguru on the couch, your head tucked against his chest, and knees in between his hips, using him as a body pillow. One of his hands was around you and the other was used to cradle his head on the arm of the couch as you both laid there.

None of your pre-maternity pants fit you anymore, so you threw on a pair of Suguru’s gray sweats and a white t-shirt. You practically lived in his clothes at this point.

He started rubbing small, gentle circles on your swollen belly, seemingly in awe of your changing body. If you ever got insecure about your stretch marks, or how much weight you gained, he would make you stand in front of the mirror in your shared chambers, kissing every inch of your body. In the shower, he would take the time to wash your hair and help you shave. He wanted to let you know that you weren’t alone. Suguru was right there the whole time.

You felt a fluttering in your stomach where he was rubbing your belly, and Suguru gasped, breaking the serene silence.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered to your bump. Joy flashed through his tired eyes as his lips curved into a dopey smile. Then, he leaned up to press sweet, wet kisses into your neck.

“The most beautiful woman in the world. How did I get so lucky?” Suguru cooed.

“You’re stunning,” he continued, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss.

Since falling pregnant, you were sensitive to the slightest touch. Your fiancé was sensitive to the slightest glance from you. Your sexual appetites had grown increasingly insatiable.

From his words and kisses, you could feel yourself drenching your underwear. As Suguru’s tongue continued to slither into your mouth, you absentmindedly started grinding against his muscled thigh, the friction feeling delicious on your clit.

“Ngh- Sugu- p-please touch me. No teasing. Need you,” you moaned.

“Do you need my fingers? I bet I can take you right now from how soaked you are,” he purred.

“Don’t care. Want something inside,” you whined.

“Lemme check you first. Don’t wanna hurt you.” And with that, he felt your soaked, clothed cunt through your pants and underwear. You were so wet, that a dark, sticky patch was starting to form on your sweatpants. You nearly ripped the pants off of you in the midst of your carnal need to have some part of him, any part of him, filling you.

Suguru got right to work, stripping you of the layers concealing you from him. After a few circles on your clit, he sunk his middle finger into your cunt. There was no resistance; he was able to sink his finger all the way down to his knuckle. So, he added a second finger, which you took just as easily.

You felt relieved to finally have something for your fluttering hole to suck on, but you needed more. You needed to be stuffed to the brim, completely full of him.

“Suguru I need you inside,” you gasped, your cunt continuing to clench on his thick fingers.

“Whatever you want, my love,” he replied, slipping his fingers out. You almost cried at the loss of contact, but you knew you were about to be rewarded tenfold. Suguru pushed his sticky fingers into your mouth as he rearranged the two of you. You licked his fingers clean, and he let out an unrestrained moan at the way you deepthroated his digits.

Suguru sat you up, and scooted himself against the back of the sofa. He took his length out from his underwear, letting it smack his stomach, the tip weeping precum. Suguru removed his fingers from your mouth and used the remaining spit to cover his cock; a makeshift lube for the two of you. While he stroked himself, you climbed up on his lap and attacked his mouth with fiery, desperate kisses.

He helped you remove your top, and then shed his remaining clothing articles. When he took your top off, you could tell that Suguru’s thoughts about the day had gone out the window. Suguru always had a fascination with your tits, now even more so that your tits had grown at least 2 cup sizes since pregnancy. He took one of your pert nipples into his mouth, sucking softly and grinding up into your wet heat, letting a grunt rumble through his chest.

“Love, please,” you cried out, tears threatening to spill down your face.

With your pleading, he helped you to climb on top of him and lined his cock up with your greedy cunt. You slowly sunk down on his dick, feeling every ridge and vein inside of you. You both hissed as he breached your tight hole.

Finally, you thought.

Suguru resumed his sucking on your nipple, moaning around your soft mound, sending vibrations through your body. You were so overstimulated and sensitive that you felt like you were about to cum right there and then.

He could feel that you were close by the death grip you had on his cock. So, he reached one of his large hands down from your waist and found your clit. You sunk your nails into his wide shoulders in response.

“Give it to me,” Suguru growled on his way to give your other nipple the same treatment.

The coil in your tummy snapped, the sensations driving you hard into your climax. Suguru moved to nibble on your earlobe, whispering what a good girl you were.

As you came down from your high, Suguru’s hands moved down to your bump, staring in awe.

“I told you I love this tummy,” he commented, his large hand splaying across your bellybutton. He pressed his forehead against yours. “I think it’s so beautiful, that your body submitted to mine.”

“Mr. Geto,” you said with a fake gasp, sarcasm dripping from your voice, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re getting off on my predicament, you pervert.”

“Touché,” he smirked. “I think it’s hot your body is going through all of these changes, just because of me. You’re mine,” he growled out the last words.

“I’m yours,” you confirmed.

“Suguru, I’m tired, I don’t know if I have the energy to ride you like this.” You realized he still hadn’t cum yet, he was probably in pain with the deep arousal he felt.

“Okay, I’ll carry you to bed and we can finish there,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead and slipped out of you, your juices trailing behind in a sticky string where you were formerly connected

He then picked you up, bridal style, and started the short walk towards your room. The cool air felt sensitive against your hot pussy and swollen clit, your arousal and cum now rolling in small beads down the back of your thighs.

He set you on your side on top of your California king mattress, covered in fine fabric sheets. Then, he took one of the large decorative pillows and pushed it in between your knees to allow him easy access to your cunt. This position would also allow some relief to your aching lower back. Suguru knew you loved it when he massaged your back, so he started there, pushing circles into the sore muscle and kissing up your spine.

His erection rubbed up against the back of your thighs, rendering the both of you delirious.

When you both couldn’t take it anymore, he finally slipped into your warm, wet heat again.

“How would you like me to fuck you, love?” Suguru questioned.

“Slow and deep. Wanna feel all of you,” you drooled.

“Mmm, sounds perfect,” he responded, pressing wet kisses into your neck. With that, Suguru started a long, deep thrust into the depths of your pussy. You felt every part of him; every ridge, every vein. You made a sound that you didn’t even know could come out of you.

Suguru picked up the pace a little bit, leaving little whimpers and groans in your ear as he rutted into you. Suguru was usually pretty reserved during sex, but he recently started to be more vocal for you. It spurred you on even more, made you even more aroused, which felt impossible at this point.

“I love it when you whimper-nGHH,” you moaned, as Suguru punctuated the end of your sentence with a particularly harsh thrust. The sex started to feel desperate, animalistic almost. Suguru felt something primal within him snap. He needed to fill you, to stuff you so full, he would watch his cum leak out of your pussy.

“Suugguuhh-“ you felt your second orgasm of the night closing in on you.

“Cum with me, doll, lemme fill you, ngh, u-up,” he grunted, moving a hand down to toy with your clit. “You look s-so good, full of me. Ngh- your tummy all round, tits all plump, making milk for my m-my baby,”

For some reason, that sent you over the edge, clamping down on his cock and coming hard. Your cunt sucked him in with a firm grip, and you could feel that he was close too. As he continued to fuck you through your climax, his heavy balls slapped once more against your thighs, and he came with a gasp, a series of, “I love you’s” and “Thank you’s” flooding from his mouth.

He fucked himself through his orgasm, and finally collapsed into the mattress. After a few minutes, Suguru pulled out, watching in awe as his release dripped out of your hole. His fingers traveled down to the mess the two of you made and swiped his pointer and middle fingers through your folds.

“I probably sound like a broken record, but I don’t know what I did in my past life to deserve you,” he said, kissing the top of your head, moving both of his hands to rest on your bump again.

“C'mon, let’s clean you up, doll,” he said, trying to drag you out of bed. But you were already fast asleep.

Suguru smiled to himself, running to the bathroom to get some warm compresses and clean towels. When he finished cleaning you up as best he could, he made his way to his closet, where he fetched his favorite graphic t-shirt. He handled you with more care than he would a butterfly or a flower as he dressed you, and headed to the bathroom to clean himself up.

After he deemed himself decent enough, Suguru walked over to your sleeping form and bent down to the level where your belly was. He criss crossed his hands and rested his chin on them.

“I love you and your mommy so much, little one. You’re so loved already,” he whispered, reaching one of his hands towards your belly.

Suddenly, he felt a small fluttering beneath his hand. Suguru smiled, his eyes alive with pride and wonder.

…

The next morning, you awoke to the smell of something delicious.

And four little feet running across the floor.

“Shhh, Nanako, you’re gonna wake up Kamo-san,” Mimiko warned her sister.

“It’s okay girls, I’m already up,” you sighed, yawning. “You girls sleep good?”

“Yeah. Can we get crepes today?” Nanako asked, changing topics rather quickly.

“It depends on what time me and Suguru get done at the monastery, but there should be enough time. The baby has been craving some chocolate,” you chuckled.

“I have a new name for the baby,” Mimiko declared, starting to climb on your bed.

“Oh, yeah? What?” You scoop her up and bring her into your lap somewhat successfully.

“Peach. Like the princess,” Mimiko said, matter of factly. She looked down right proud of herself.

“Mimiko, that’s a fruit. I think it should be Sparkles,” Nanako responded back to her sister.

“Well, we’ll have time to think about what the baby’s name should be, but for right now…I think we should eat some breakfast and see who can get dressed the fastest,”

“Geto-san made some breakfast,” Mimiko stated.

“And I helped,” Nanako exclaimed, attempting to have her voice heard in the conversation.

“I helped too,” Mimiko scolded with jealousy.

“Why don’t you girls go help set the table too and I’ll be there in a minute,” you said, pressing kisses to their foreheads.

“Fineee,” Mimiko rolled her eyes playfully.

You freshened up, brushing your teeth and wrapping your body in a luxurious silk robe Suguru had purchased for you.

As you made your way down the long corridor and into the kitchen, you could hear the sizzle of something cooking. You turned the corner to find Suguru, shirtless, standing over the stove of your enormous kitchen. You decide to sneak up on him, letting your finger creep around his waist as you pulled him back into a hug. You couldn’t press yourself flush against him, as your stomach got in the way.

“There’s my girl,” Suguru cooed.

“You’re making breakfast?” You beamed with tears in your eyes at the stack of American-style pancakes next to the stove. For some reason, this small gesture was making you really emotional.

“Of course, baby. I let the chef take off this morning to spend some time with my beautiful girls before I have to head over,” he replied, snaking his arm back to grab on to yours and place a kiss on your palm.

It was so domestic. It was so normal.

“Okay, order’s up. Mimi, Nana, will you help me put these on the table?” Suguru asked.

“Yes Geto-san,” Mimiko sang as she skipped towards the tower of the fluffy, golden deliciousness.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Suguru whispered, giving her hair a ruffle.

…

After the pancakes were eaten, and the syrup had ended up on the faces of the twins and Suguru, you pried the girls out of their seats to get dressed for the day. You and Suguru headed back to your quarters to change into your robes.

As you let the luscious silk fabric cascade off of your body as down to the floor of your shared closet space, you felt the presence of your fiancé behind you.

“Hi,” he smirked into your shoulder, starting to press kisses up your neck.

“Hi,” you whispered back.

One of his large hands reached down to your bump, caressing it with the lightest of touches.

“Can I listen to her?” He asked like a giddy child.

“My love, you never have to ask, you’re always welcome to,” you beam as he excitedly makes his way towards your protruding bump. “Baby’s been hanging out towards the bottom today if you want to feel them move,” you added.

“Hi baby girl, this is your da-”

“Baby girl? What makes you think the baby's a girl?”

“What makes you think she’s not?” he quipped, his usual banter-like tone making you giggle.

“As a wise man once said to me; touché.” The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, soaking in each other’s presence. After all, slow moments like this would be rare when the baby arrived.

Your peace was disrupted by a loud knock at the door.

“Geto-sama, Kamo-san, there is someone here to see you, he says it is urgent” you heard Suguru’s assistant shout through the door.

“Tell whoever it is that they have no right to request my presence. I will meet with them when I am in my proper attire,” Suguru snapped.

“Of course, master. It’s just… this kid…”

“No exceptions, I don’t care if it’s Satoru fucking Gojo himself, whoever it is can wait,” Suguru pressed, getting annoyed now.

“Yes, of course, I wi-AHHHHHH,” a blood curdling scream erupted from the other side of the door, followed by a loud thump.

Sensing danger, Suguru leapt into action, putting himself in front of you and summoning a curse. “Who’s. There,” he demanded.

Blood started to leak under the door and into the marble tiles of your room.

Suddenly, the door flew open to reveal the collapsed assistant on the floor, covered in her own blood. Next to the body, there was the figure of a small boy drenched in the scarlet substance.

“Noritoshi?” you questioned, tears filling your eyes.

…

END OF PART I

dividers by @bunnysrph

#geto #jjk #jjk geto #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen fic #suguru smut #suguru geto smut #suguru x you #jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #jjk spoilers #gojo satoru #shoko ieiri #fem reader

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angelnthsnow · 8 months

Text

All Too Well

pairing: joe burrow x fem!reader (+18)

summary: enemies since childhood, y/n and joe burrow meet again in LSU, joe to play for the university's team while studying consumer and family financial services and y/n to study mechanical engineering, while also being a cheerleader for the team. what happens when they encounter each other after a fateful night?

word count: 7.1k

warnings: cursing, implied smut, fratboy!joe, asshole!joe, reader skinpicks, angst, use of y/n, author not knowing how an american uni works.

author's note: first published fanfic! i hope you enjoy! keep in mind english isn't my first language, so i'm sorry in advance for any mistakes, also this wasn't proofread bc it's too long and i'm lazy lmaoo.

Sat in the airport, legs over your luggage, you started to question the decision you had made a month ago. It all started in June, when an old colleague from LSU reached out to you via email with a simple, yet — to you — terrifying invitation.

Your colleagues from university were planning a Fourth Of July party in Baton Rouge, the one place in earth you swore to never step foot on again. Well, it's not like the city itself had done anything to you, more like the college life did. Your college years were a part of your life you desperately wanted to forget, partly because going to LSU meant giving up on your dream of studying abroad, and partly, well, let's just say a certain blonde with a degree on consumer and family financial services was to blame.

With an acute voice echoing through the airport gates, you sighed, getting up to get on the plane.

As the aircraft was in the air, you get your playlist blasting on the headphones and not long after that, you drift off to sleep.

You wake up when there's 20 minutes left to land on the city, and as you get your phone to send a message to your friend, Emily, the device decides to make this trip a little harder than it should have ever been. On that bright screen, on a small box with "Years ago on this week.." written over it, was the picture.

It was night when you woke up, tangled on the white strawberry sheets of your own dorm bed. Opening your eyes quietly, you saw the one man that had put you on that position earlier. Sat with his back to you, there was Joe. He had only his sweatpants on, and you could see the reddish marks, the ones caused by you, were starting to fade on his skin. His hair was messy and he breathed slowly, seeming oddly calm giving what had just happened.

Joe and you had been, well.. enemies? since you could remember. It all started in school, you had a dream of becoming a world famous dancer, a cheerleader in college, and Joe just thought it was stupid, all of it. He was quite shy, but you knew he had a dream as well. Joe wanted to be a football star, but nobody knew that. He'd just let it slide once when you two were fighting on the school's playground. When you two got to the age in which people go to university, you thought you had finally seen the last of him. How foolish, truly. After two years of studying engineering at Louisiana State University and being in the cheerleading team, there he was, ready to make your life miserable for another few years.

That was, of course, until now. You'd never imagine you see him like this; half naked, messy hair and your cat on his lap as he caressed her head, whispering in a baby voice to her as she purred softly.

You smiled, because why wouldn't you? Shifting quietly on your bed, as if he was a scaredy animal you could scare away with any abrupt movements, you get your phone, taking a picture of him. It was dark, blurred, but you didn't mind, you could tell it was Joe, his big silhouette right in the center of the photograph. In your head, you knew you wouldn't need to keep this blurry memento, you were certain the amount of opportunities to take pictures of him now were infinite, or so you thought, drifting to sleep again.

The pilot's voice pulls you out of your little daydream, announcing the plane had arrived in Louisiana.

"I shouldn't have come." You chant in your head as you exit the plane, heading over to the landing area to wait for Emily.

You and Emily had met in LSU, and became inseparable since then. She was your roommate and, despite being highly introverted, you managed to develop your longest friendship ever with her.

When Anna, the colleague that invited you to the party, emailed you, Emily was the first person to text you, begging you to come and enjoy a night with the people you hadn't seen in so long. She also missed you a lot since both of you hadn't seen each other much after college, of course, you somehow managed to see each other every year and talk almost everyday, but it wasn't as close as you wished.

Emily lived in Louisiana with her husband, Dave, who had also gone to LSU with you, and of all the times you had seen each other, she had gone to your home, so you technically kind of owed this to her.

Waving in a frantic manner, there she was. Slightly different from last time, but still your best friend. You smile, walking towards her.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she says once she gets a hold of you, hugging you as if you could run away at any moment. You kind of wished you could, but she made everything better. She had that superpower.

"I'm glad I could come, Ems. I've missed you so much." You smile, looking at her as she helps you with your heavy bags.

The two of you start walking towards the exit to her car, catching up after a long time. Emily put you to date on what every single old colleague was up to now, and you laughed at the amount of gossip she was able to retain.

"Where's Dave?" You furrow your brows, just realizing someone was missing.

Emily opens the trunk and you help her put your bags on it. Panting after carrying so much weight, she replies "Home. He was working so he couldn't come, but he's super excited to see you." as you two get into the vehicle.

And with that, the engine starts and soon you're on the highway, on the way to her house.

The week in Emily and David's house had passed very quickly, and you throughly regretted ever wishing you hadn't came. She had shown you every bit of the city, and things had changed a lot. Now, you were in their guest room, getting ready to the reason that had you coming all the way from New York to Louisiana.

It was fourth of July, and you had heard fireworks all day around the neighborhood, even stopping to watch them for a bit before going for a shower.

"They're pretty, aren't they?" Emily said through the kitchen window as she saw you looking up outside.

"Very much." You turned around, smiling at her.

"Anna told me they're having fireworks tonight, I think you'll like it."

You got a bit excited, you've always loved fireworks, they were like drawings in the biggest canvas you could ever get, the sky.

"Looking forward to it!" You said, going up the stairs to get ready.

Looking in the mirror, you sigh. You wore an USA flag bodysuit and jean shorts. This whole patriotism seemed stupid, but Emily dragged you into it, alleging you were allergic to fun. Nonetheless, you looked good.

"Y/N! Let's go, we're gonna be late!"

Breathing in deeply, you close your eyes and stare at yourself one last time. You knew Joe would probably attend the party, he loved parties, and still, you came. You couldn't give up now, you couldn't get this stupid thing get to you. He probably doesn't even remembers everything that happened that day.

You shake your head, moving those thoughts away as you go downstairs, seeing Emily and Dave ready sitting on the couch.

"You look amazing! I told you you'd rock this fit." she gets up, hugging you.

"You too, Ems." you laugh, fixing your hair after she lets you go. "Shall we?"

"After you, Miss United States!" David jokes, signaling for you to get out of the house first. You laugh, rolling your eyes.

The three of you get in the car, and the drive to the party is filled with singing and more of Emily informing you of your colleague's current lives.

When Dave finally pulls over to the party, you can already hear the loud music in the car. Looking out the window, you see the last thing you'd expect to see today: Joe's parents house.

When Robin and Jim were away, Joe would always throw parties in his house instead of in the frat house. It made sense, giving the fact his house was a bit bigger. Snapping back to reality, you froze, but still had hopes of not seeing him tonight, after all, the amount of people that would come to the party was huge.

Entering the house, you were struck by fairy lights hanging on the roof, from a wall to another, and USA flags all over the house. There was a big wood table in a corner with punch and other drinks, but other than that, the place looked pretty much the same. It was weird coming back after all these years, but it still had a familiar air to it.

After almost 50 minutes, Emily was already drunk and fooling around somewhere with her fiancé. You were finally alone, and by now you had roamed the entire house, gladly not meeting Joe not even once. You thought about leaving, but not before going to your favorite spot in the house, the only one you hadn't explored today yet.

Joe's house had a small attic, which you adored. When he threw parties in high school and you couldn't get away from your friend's pleas to come, this was the place you found yourself in. So, after 6 years, there were you again. On that narrow wooden space that had a somewhat medium window with a view to the back of the house, where the party was most wild. You were surprised to see they hadn't moved a thing, it felt like you had time-traveled to your school years.

In front of the window, there was an old blue armchair, the one you would sometimes sleep on waiting for Emily and the others to want to go home. The rest of the attic was filled with boxes, some with trophies and pictures of Joe, with his family, his team, and his coach.

You sat on the armchair, arms hugging your knees as you looked at the window, the music that once made your head hurt because of the volume was long gone, sounding now like white noise.

Entering the football team frat house, you could see neon lights and hear music blasting through the speakers. Soon enough, all the other cheerleaders and Emily were dancing and having fun, after all the team had won the game, there was no reason not to celebrate. Except for you, because a win for LSU immediately meant running into Joe Burrow, or seeing his face all over the university for a week or so.

Sitting on a couch in the living room, you had a privileged view to the enormous door that swung open, revealing a sweaty but smiley Joe. He walks in as he normally does, exhaling an air of cockiness around him. He has a bottle of beer in hand, and already looks drunk as he laughs to his teammates. After being showered in praises and congratulations, he's free to walk a bit further, which is when he sees you. His eyes immediately glance at your jersey, and you immediately regret having done what you did.

Earlier that day, before you left for the party, it started to snow, and you realized you hadn't brought a single coat to the game. The girls were about to leave and they didn't want any delays, so you looked around for anything that could cover your body and protect you from freezing.

The only thing you could find was an old LSU football team jersey with the name "BURROW" stitched on the back. You sighed, but tried to confort yourself by thinking nobody would see it, after all, the lights at the party were pretty low.

All of it cumulated to this moment. This disgusting look he gives you as he looks down, glaring at his jersey. "What the hell are you wearing?”

Of course he would recognize it, it was his, after all. You cursed yourself mentally in all the languages you know, and prayed that Emily would come to you out of the blue to take you home. She didn't.

"Please, don't start, Joseph." You say, trying to ignore him. "I was cold and this was the only thing I could find."

“Yeah, right. Just say you were trying to piss me off, like always.” he scowls.

"Not everything is about you, QB." You get up, furrowing your brows at the audacity, annoyance dripping in your voice.

“Everything is most definitely not about you either, cheerleader.” he scoffs, and his teammates laugh. “You're still not even good at that.”

"And you're still not even good at your little games, idiot." I scoff. "Let me remind you, I'm the one going to the national competition while you're still playing football in college."

This time, his friends mutter a low "oooh".

He's stunned for a moment, then he scowls and gets closer to your face. “Watch your mouth. This is my last season here anyway, then i’m going straight to the NFL and everyone's gonna know my name, who knows what you’ll be doing.”

You just still didn't know he actually meant it.

"The NFL?" You laugh, hands on your chest. "You know, Joey.." You say, calling him by the nickname his friends had given him, in an attempt to piss him off. "To be on the NFL, you gotta be one of the greats." You stare at him, getting closer. "Something you.. are not."

He scowls, and his friends are surprised, the nickname really got to him. Before you can get another word in, he grabs you and pulls you close, his voice is low and cold. “Who the fuck are you calling Joey? You don’t get on the nickname level with me, Y/N."

Your squirm under his touch, trying to get off of him. A bit of fear seems to be creeping up in your eyes, and you try your best to not let it show.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You slap him, getting some inches away and staring at him in awe.

He recoils a bit, then glares. His lips are trembling, and you’ve never seen him angry like this, even his breath is shaky. He doesn't look like the Joe you once fed turtles in kindergarten with. He clenches his fist and looks around, he’s got the attention of everyone at the party “Are you seriously gonna slap the quarterback?”

"Fuck you! You're a horrible person that thinks that because you're a star you can do whatever the fuck you want, well, breaking news, YOU CAN'T." You scoff, angrier than ever, while removing the jersey off of you, throwing it at him, eyes swelling with tears.

"You're a fucking parasite, a manwhore who thinks everything's about you. I hope you never get to the NFL." This time it comes out lower, like a personal threat. You desperately crave to hurt him in a way he won't be able to laugh at or make jokes. Turning around, you walk out of the house, everything seemed to suffocate you.

He's stunned, no ones ever talked to him like that, specially you, the one person he was so used to getting shit from. He just stares at your back, the BURROW that was once hidden by your messy hair now gone, in his shaky hands. A range of emotions go through him. He's mad, but then there’s a sadness, he feels unwanted, as if the only reason people talk to him is because he is the quarterback. He doesn’t want you to leave like this, but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just yells “Where are you even gonna go?!”

"Somewhere you're not!" You scream, not even bothering to turn around to face it, crossing the door and walking through the garden in front of the house.

At this point, the party had gone back to what it once was, a loud, fun mess.

He sighs, then chases after you. When he catches up, he grabs your arm and forces you to turn around to face him. “Where the hell do you think you're going? You're not safe, there's a bunch of drunkards out there today."

"Like you give a fuck." You shrug, shaking your arm to get away from his grip. You turn around and start walking, the cold getting to you again. The snow fell mercilessly and all you had was the thin sweater that covered your cheerleading clothes.

He sighs, then realizes you’ll freeze outside. He puts his arm around you and pulls you in. You're so incredibly small compared to him you can feel his heart beating fast and his muscles tense from anger. “I do care. Just… come back inside, you're gonna freeze out here."

"Leave me alone! I fucking hate you!" The tears start falling as you punch his chest in a frantic way. It didn't hurt him, of course, but you didn't know that.

He scowls when you do so, gritting his teeth, then just watches you cry. He sighs and pulls you in tight, his body heats yours up. He rocks you like a baby, and whispers “Let me explain. I didn't meant for things to be like this.”

"Like what? Like living hell?" You away from his embrace, but part of you wishes you hadn't. Joe was so big and warm you didn't even needed a coat. "You hate me. Why are you even doing this?" you yell, the loud blasting music from the party muffling your screams. "Go back to your stupid party with your friends and your girls. I'm going home."

He grabs your arms and makes you turn to him. “I don’t.. hate you. I just get mad and take it out on you. I know that’s not right, i’m trying to fix it. Let me take you home.”

"Oh please." You scoff, tears still falling. "No need. I'll walk." You say, shivering due to the cold.

He sighs again. “You're not going home alone, it's not safe. I don’t care if you hate my guts, i’m not letting you walk alone.”

Joe's words and actions pierce you like a bullet. Never, in a million years, you had imagined you'd hear him talk to you like this. Of course, it was still rude, but there was a sweetness to it. You say nothing, as you couldn't bring yourself to. As he puts the jersey you once threw in his face back on your shoulders, the shivering reduces a bit, and your lips stop trembling, their reddish color that was once white from the cold, reappearing. His big hands stroking your back felt so gentle, and helped you get rid of the cold as he gently and quietly led you to his car. He opens the door to the passenger seat and waits for you to get in. You do so, surprisingly, and he closes it, turning around to get into the driver's seat.

He climbs in the drivers seat and starts the engine. The warm air that comes out of the vents warming you up as he looks over at you. You watch him drive, he seems so focused, and when he speaks, it’s in a quiet voice “I'll walk you to your door, then you should probably take a hot shower to warm up, your gonna get sick like this.”

"There's no need. I'll survive." you say, pulling the jersey closer and breathing in the warmth.

“I'm not gonna risk you getting sick just because you decided to be stubborn now.” You can’t help but notice how gentle his voice is, a nice contrast to how cold he seemed towards you at the party.

"Fine." You whisper, and after a few moments in silence, he finally pulls up to the dorms. You open the door of the car and get out, the cold getting to you again. You sigh.

Joe does the same and the two of you walk in silence towards the entrance of the building. Once you reach the door, you turn around, "You've done enough, Burrow. I mean it. Go back to your party, you have a win to celebrate." You say, grabbing your keys and unlocking the door.

“I wanna see you safe in your house before i go, I feel responsible for you getting cold out here.” he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t care about you, when it’s clear from the way he’s acting he only thinks of you and your safety right now.

You nod, his gentle words feeling like daggers in your heart, making you almost regret the way went a few rounds with him earlier.

Getting into your aparment, you take off your shoes, holding the door for him to do the same, and when he does, you lock it again, before making your way to the small kitchen.

"Can I get you anything? Water, tea..?" You ask, trying to be a good host. You and Emily never expected no one to come to the apartment, so there was never many food or drink options.

He follows you to the kitchen, shrugs and looks around. The apartment is not very big, but it’s homely. From the kitchen, you can see the entire living room, including the door, and then there's a small hallway that leads to the rooms and bathroom.

He looks at you when you offer him something and smiles, it breaks his scowl, it looks good on him. He looks at you for a moment, then says “Can i get a glass of water?”

You nod and get on your tip toes to open the cabinet, getting a glass and then filling it with water, handing it to Joe as you take a seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen's island.

He takes the glass and drinks from it, still holding on to his scowl, but it slowly drops off as he begins to relax. He sits down beside you, close enough that his knees are touching yours “Your apartment is so different from mine.”

You sigh, making small talk with him was the last thing on your list for today, but still, you gave it a shot.

"How so..?" You say, not even bothering to look at him. Instead, the cup of water you had poured to yourself in front of you was the one getting all of the attention. The fact that the only person in the entire campus that hated you was the one to bring you home was already embarrassing enough, so you were still to wrap your mind around the fact he was still here.

He watches you and looks around the kitchen, not sure how to explain it to you. For a few moments he just looks at you, trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know how to explain it, it’s just different from anything i’m used to.”

"Calling me poor now, are we, Burrow?" You shrug, letting a small laugh fall from your lips.

He glares, then realizes you were joking and laughs a little bit. You can notice he still smiles when he looks at you, which is surprising considering how he always scowled at you. “I'd never call you poor, especially not after seeing your outfit tonight.” he looks you up and down.

"Mr. Joseph Burrow's a fashionista?" You chuckle, this wasn't something you'd ever expect from him. There wasn't any monograms or brand names on the sweater you wore, but if you were a someone into good clothing, you'd recognize it.

He laughs and shakes his head, he can’t help but notice your curves and he looks down, trying not to stare. “I wouldn’t consider myself a fashion guy, i just know something looks nice when i see it.. and your outfit looks very nice on you."

"Yeah, sure.." You nod, standing up and grabbing both of the glasses. You take them to the sink, putting your hair up in a bun and washing them. "I'm okay now, Burrow, really. I don't know why you did what you did tonight, but thank you." The thank you comes out like a whisper, but you pray he does notice. "Come back to your party, enjoy your teammates and your girls. There's still time."

He shifts in his seat and watches you as you wash the glass, his mind is conflicted. Part of him wants to follow his teammates back to the party, the other part wants to stay with you, see how long the small talk can go before it turns into a fight again. His eyes watch you as his breathing starts to pick up a bit. When you thank him, he realizes you don’t want to talk about the fight or why he did what he did at all.

He shakes his head and stands up. “I guess I better get going then."

"Yeah.. of course." You flash him a shy smile, and the awkward silence sets in again.

He notices your smile and smiles back, not knowing how to express himself right now, although he doesn’t know how to leave either. He just awkwardly stands there, staring at you, his eyes are locked on yours, he can’t help but notice how beautiful they are. The two of you lost in your own thoughts, the silence filled with tension. Then he speaks “Can i ask something before I go?”

"Yes."

“Why'd you wear that jersey? You knew it would piss me off, so why’d you wear it?”

You sigh, you had already explained that, but Joe seemed so drunk you thought maybe he had forgotten. "I told you, I was cold and I had forgotten my hoodie." you point to the couch, where the green hoodie rested on. "I knew it would piss you off, and trust me when I say I wasn't going for that today, but it happened. I'm sorry for it, you can have it back now." You say, taking the jersey off for the second time that night, except this time you don't throw it on his face. Instead, you just gently hand it to him, like a peace offering.

He takes it, looking down at it in his hands, then he looks back up at you. He sighs and is suddenly filled with mixed feelings, anger, sadness, his emotions feel overwhelming. He doesn’t want to yell and argue with you again, but he also doesn’t want to leave. He can’t stop looking at you and your eyes, he can’t help but love how pretty they are. "Can I please keep this? Please..?" he whispers.

"Why are you asking me that? It's yours, it has your name on it." You say matter-of-factly, fidgeting with your hands, something you do when you're nervous.

You can tell he’s trying really hard not to smile at you, his voice is soft when he says “Yeah… but it’s got your sweat on it… your smell… I want something to remind me of you… even though, you know… we always seem to get each other mad.”

You don't understand, after all, you see each other every single day. The best "something to remind me of you" he could ever ask for was standing right in front of him everyday.

You furrow your eyebrows. Years of fighting, screaming and pissing each other off leading to this moment was something you couldn't wrap your mind around. "Do I need to remind you we hate each other? Until this morning, you'd get me suspended from LSU if you could."

He laughs, and you’ve never seen him in such a vulnerable and soft state. "We both know I don’t wanna get you suspended from LSU, I mean, come on.. just look at you.” he stares at you, you see his eyes roaming your body like he always does, but there’s a different look about them. "You deserve this scholarship more than I do, you've always have."

"Yeah.." You scoff, not believing a word, looking at the jersey on his hands and then at his eyes. His big, blue eyes that you got lost in countless times before.

He smiles at you, realizing the snarkiness he just heard. He doesn’t mind the teasing, in fact, he kinda likes it. He stares at you for a minute, then he looks back down at the jersey “I like how it fits tight on you.” he says without realizing it.

"Tight? You're big as hell, it looks huge on me." You laugh, remembering how the jersey looked on you when you put it on earlier today.

He laughs silently to himself, a big smirk appears on his face. He looks at your body, then smiles. “You're just too small, but I do like how it fits on you."

You feel goosebumps throughout your entire body and your cheeks heat up. You curse yourself mentally for letting it all show so easily.

He's still staring at you, but doesn’t realize just how much he’s making you blush. He continues to speak in a low voice "I can see your belly button when you dance for us on the field.." He pauses, but decides to go on, and it's like you can hear the engines turning in his head. "I can see your bra strap when you go so high in the sky I feel my hands covered in cold sweat in fear that you'll fall and I won't be there to catch you. I can see your collarbones when you get so close to me when we're fighting that I wish I would just lean in and shut you the fuck up. I can see how you blush when I sweep you off your feet and leave you speechless, like i'm doing now." He steps closer. "I can see all of you. Matter of fact, Y/N, I think you're all I have ever wanted to see." He states, like it's a fact, like he has always known that. You feel your eyes starting to water and you feel stupid. "Every inch of you looks amazing in that jersey, it fits you like nothing else i’ve ever seen."

You sigh, it's almost like you can feel your skin being touched by him just by the way he’s looking at you. You feel like a forest fire, and his voice tone doesn't help. "Stop.."

His voice is so low when he talks, you want him to keep speaking. You want to hear his voice go on and on, to get you worked up, but also to lull you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in years. He keeps staring at you as he speaks “Just look at your shoulders, the fabric wraps all around them so perfectly, they’re such beautiful curves, just like the rest of you. Just look at you.. Jesus." He sighs.

You squirm under his gaze, but in a split second you're reminded of everything that happened before this moment. Before being here, in your small dorm, talking to the man you earlier thought to be the meanest person you knew. "I won't fall for it. I'm not the girls you get after winning games."

He chuckles and looks away, clearing this throat before going on "Those girls are just something to make me feel good, they don’t even mean anything to me. But you.. even when you make me angry, I want nothing but to feel you in my arms. You make me feel so good, even when you piss me off.”

"You don't mean that." You mutter, trying to stay calm. You pick the skin on your arms while staring at him.

His eyes shift back to yours when you speak, he sighs and you can tell for a minute he’s conflicted on what to say. "I know you don’t believe I mean all those words, but honestly, I mean every word. You are the only girl who's ever made me feel something, even if we’re arguing, that means we at least have some emotion we want to put towards each other. I'd rather have you making me mad than have someone making me feel nothing at all."

A single tear slides down your cheek. "You're drunk, that's what it is. You're drunk and this.." You point to yourself, and then to him, "..must be a prank."

“I know that’s all we’ve known for years, but maybe the reason you make me so mad is because I have feelings for you. You are the only girl I have ever wanted to talk to like this. You're the only girl that makes me feel this way. I never want to stop talking to you, I just want to tell you how beautiful you are, even when you make me mad, or when you push me so far it makes me want to push you towards the wall and kiss you."

You stare at him like everything you've ever known has finally made sense. A few more tears drip from your eyes and you sigh. "You promise?" it comes out in a whisper.

He smiles and you can tell it's not a fake drunk smile. This is the smile he flashes at someone when he's letting down his guard and being completely honest and vulnerable. "I promise. I don't want anyone else, I want you. I wanna be the guy who makes you happy like no one else could. I want you to be there when I get into the NFL and I want to be able to look for you on every game, waving at you when I see you're wearing my jersey because you finally want to, because it means something."

You look up, melting over his voice, your eyes meeting his like never before. His eye color seemed different now, a more vivid blue. His eyes seemed more relaxed, a nice contrast to the ones full of rage that always came with a furrowed brow. "I want you, too." You whisper.

He smiles, a real and sweet smile. This time when his eyes roam your body, you feel like he isn't looking at you in a nasty way like always, he's just looking at you because he thinks he's the luckiest boy in the world.

You smile, "Do I need to call you some names to have you kissing me now?" It makes him laugh, and your eyes lock on his. There isn't any words, just feelings, and you can see it in him when the realization sets in that you want him too.

You get on your tip toes as Joe pulls you towards him, your lips finally touching each other. Your belly feels as if you just rode a rollercoaster, as if the LSU football team had won, as if there was fireworks inside of you like there's in the sky on the fourth of July. But instead it was all him, the same boy that you once hated so much, doing all of this to you without even trying.

Immersed in your thoughts, you didn't notice when someone opened the door and came in, what gave it away was the smell, and you wondered if it would ever change.

"Joseph..?" you froze, again, but still managed to turn around on the armchair, feet now touching the ground.

His eyes meet yours for the first time in.. well, years, since that fateful night. He looked.. the same. Although his hair was shorter now and he looked bigger than ever, his face was the same. The same mesmerizing ocean blue eyes, pointy nose, and rosy cheeks, which you always found funny, because it looked like he had blush on. He wore a threadbare white shirt, shorts, and a tennis shoe, but they weren't the same as years ago, and you thought to yourself how an outfit of his now would cost probably more than your monthly earnings. He also wore a USA flag headband, which you had seen earlier laying on the wood table for everyone to get one. You thought it looked.. funny.

"Y/N." He nods. It felt like forever since your name had left his lips for the last time.

"Sorry, I-" You start, getting up from the chair as you wrote a full apology in your head for being in a private part of his home. "I thought nobody would need the room, I'll leave now."

"Nobody does." He takes a sip of his drink, his hands looking huge as he holds the red cup. "Dave told me you came with him and Emily, had to see it for myself."

He says, getting closer and finally leaning onto the window, arms resting just above it. Another sip, and you find yourself sitting again.

"How'd you know I was here?" You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding a thing. His eyes don't wander from the view. You're stiff, and you think you've probably never felt so nervous.

"You always are."

If you thought your eyebrows couldn't furrow any more, you were wrong. As soon as the words fell from his lips, you were in complete shock. Does that mean he knew that, all this time, you spent the parties in his attic, alone, dying to go home? That he knew you slept here, not once, not twice, but several times before?

"What?" Is all you manage to say, embarrassment taking over you.

"I mean, when I threw parties in high school you were always here. I know you don't like parties but you would always come because of Emily, and somehow your nights always ended here."

Your eyes widened, and you swore that if your mom could see you now, she would say something along the lines of You look like you've seen a ghost.

You kind of felt like you had.

"I'm surprised you like the place, it's kinda small." He finally shifts, taking his arms off the window and setting his now empty cup on the small wood piece that rested under the window. You blush, after all this time.

When you woke up in the morning, Joe was no longer there. You didn't panic, just thought of it as typical him. Getting up from the bed, you saw Emily on her chair, watching something on her computer.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." she says as she hears you yawn.

"Morning, Ems." You smile, sitting up straight. "D'you have a good night?"

"Obviously, duh. Dave's a gentleman." she states, bragging, and you laugh. "He also told me you and Joe left together last night.. what was that about?"

You sigh, flashes from the night before coming back to haunt you. "We.. uh.." you start, but words can't really explain what went down in this apartment yesterday. "We kissed, and had sex.. and, uh.. he might've said he likes me.." you whisper, like it was a crime.

"WHAT?!" Emily jumps from the chair, startled. "Y/N.. Oh my God.." she gets closer to you, getting on her knees in front of you. "How was that? And, most importantly, how's that gonna work now?" she states, as if something had changed overnight.

"What do you mean?" you furrow your eyebrows, confused.

"Well, you know he's been drafted to the NFL, don't you?" she says as if it was something everyone knew, incluiding you.

You felt your heart sink.

So it was a prank, after all. The worst one he could ever pull on you.

He left, and he wasn't coming back.

You knew he meant every word he had said last night, but he also had really left. Joe had confessed his love to you the night before just to leave in the morning, leaving you mercilessly stranded.

You don't say anything, because how could you find the words to? Emily immediately understands and hugs you, but the only embrace you could possibly want at the time was miles away now.

You were surprised at his ability to pretend like nothing had happened, like the last few years hadn't been torture to you, wondering where did it go wrong. Years of blaming yourself, of recalling the night over and over and-

"No need to be ashamed, Y/N." he chuckles, the sound of it filling the quiet room.

"I'm not ashamed." you lie. Letting him see through you was the last thing you needed today. "Just thought nobody knew."

"Well, if it helps, I'm the only one who does." he finally sits on the ground, back glued to the wall where the window was. A beat, and then he was back with the personal questionnaire. "How are you?"

"I should be the one asking that question. Huge team, getting all the girls, abnormal paycheck.. Superbowl." your words dripping with disgust as you stare out the window, hoping for something, anything, anyone, a divine intervention to get you out of there.

"I don't really get that many girls," he says as he stares at you. One of the things about him that bothered you so much was his courage. You could never, ever, not a million years, bring yourself to stare at him the way he'd do to you. It was intimidating, raw, and worst of all, familiar. He'd always do this when the two of you fought in high school, that's how he'd always win the arguments, not by words, by having the courage to look you in the face and leaving you feeling vulnerable and naked under his gaze. That's also the same way he stared at you that night, after saying all those nice words that made you melt under his touch.

"Mhm.." You nod, not knowing what to say.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" he questions, again.

"I'm fine, finishing my doctorate now."

You don't know why you told him that, but it felt right.

He lets out a breath, "Fuck, Y/N.. That's huge." he congratulates you, and although he couldn't see it due to the poor lighting, it makes you blush. You had never seen it as that big of a deal, it was just the thirst for knowledge you always had, but it was nice knowing someone Joe thought about it as something nice.

"Thank you"

"Thank you coming today," he finally says, awkwardly, as he gets up, grabbing his cup as he does so. "tell your folks I said hi."

"Will do."

He opens the door and gets lost in the crowd, leaving quietly and sneakily like he did that night, and you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding.

#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #nfl #cincinnati bengals #bengals #reader insert #joe burrow x oc #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #y/n

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jayniks · 2 months

Text

SEX NOTE (p.js)

after summoning heeseung, you wandered around your room looking for any ideas. Seeing your poster of your favorite band, you thought "why not invoke the guitarist?" and that's what you did, although the situation was quickly reversed when you saw how malicious he was.

WC . 2,3k

PAIRING . Shinigami!jay x fan!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), oral sex (m receiving), tease, anal sex, mouth fucking, a little cuck!jake?, mentions of Jake's mom and Jake himself, magical appearance, chocking, a little filler just like in the original series, degradation, tying, unreal themes, a bit of noncon?, squirt, curses, let me know if I left something out.

< go back . next chapter >

Let's forget about that awkward interaction with Jake and let's talk about you, although let's not let pass that you avoided each other for 2 days in a row, what matters is that now you two are talking. About what? I don't know, he mentioned something about a trip to Australia for a week to see his family but you weren't paying much attention, you were aware that he was probably abandoning you to avoid any more awkwardness, after all, no one would act nice after listening to his best friend that he knew since he was 3, who helped her in her worst moments, fucking they favorite idol NEXT to his room.

"Dummy, are you even listening to me?" Jake asked in a somewhat tired tone. His words brought you out of your trance and you just nodded, "really? summarize what I said" he looked at you seriously. "Um, are you going on a trip home?" You exclaimed without much confidence, maybe you should have listened to him but you felt physically and mentally exhausted after that night in which a magical book fulfilled your fantasy. "Oh yeah? And why?" He looked at you again with those judging eyes, God, how you hated him. "I don't know," you admitted, already imagining the scolding that awaited you. "I'm going to Australia to see my family, I'll only be gone for 5 days, please don't come into my room, take care of the apartment" he warned you, you knew it was better to listen to him.

"Yes Jakey, I understand, please send my regards to your mom-" you didn't finish the sentence because you were interrupted by your friend, "No, you're going to take her away from me, it seems like she loves you more than me," and with that lie he left the dining room to go pack his bags in his own room. Within hours, you were at the door hugging goodbye, after all, you didn't hate him that much. The house was desolate, you felt more alone than ever.... it's good that you had the book to help you. It was a little selfish and self-centered that you cared more about the book than your own best friend who watched you grow up. But you know what else grew? Your desire to try more people.

You ran to your room and sat at your desk to prepare to look at the notebook. You just did that, watching it for almost 10 minutes, maybe waiting for it to start writing itself. Finally, you opened it, there was what you had written about Heeseung yesterday, in the first few lines of the page. You had the decision whether to repeat the same thing from yesterday or write a new story below. You scanned your room for something, anything, to find any answer to a question you hadn't asked yet. Your favorite Chinese actress? No, she was in a relationship. Your teacher? Ew, gross. Your favorite band? No! There were a lot of people and you would just go on the safe side- OH GOD! YOUR FAVORITE BAND!

Sure, Glam was your favorite band years ago, but it was a band from the '30s, the members were already dead, although you were hyper fixated on the guitarist, Jay Park. Of course, he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen before; his upturned nose, his strong jaw, the way his cheeks are marked when he smiles, those skillful fingers... if you were to mention all the reasons why you love him you would probably never finish and this fanfic would never be published.

You grabbed the same pencil you had written about your night with Heeseung with, hoping to capture a new adventure, this time with Jay. Emotions overwhelmed you, but this time you wanted to give it a different touch, perhaps less imaginative and more direct. You sat at your desk, ready to put every detail on paper. "Jay Park from the Glam group will appear..." you began to write, but suddenly the pencil stopped working. Frustrated, you looked at the tip, trying to figure out what had happened. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You decided to try scratching the pencil on a piece of paper to the side. But no matter how hard you tried, there wasn't a single mark. Resigned, you grabbed a permanent marker, determined not to let a simple pencil stop you. With a firm hand, you started again: "Jay Park from the group Gla..." But, just as you were about to finish the word, something strange happened. The letters began to fade before your eyes, as if the paper was rebelling against your attempts. Desperation took over you. You gripped the marker tighter and began scratching furiously on the page, as if the simple act of writing could exorcise the frustration you felt. But in your outburst, the blade tore with a tearing sound.

Suddenly, the book opened on its own, as if it had a life of its own. The pages began to move, creating a ghostly wind in the room. Dark letters appeared on the torn page, slowly forming a sentence: "For being greedy, you will be punished." Fear paralyzed you, a chill ran down your spine. It was as if the book was alive and aware of your desires and failings. You felt a rising panic, a primal fear that told you something terrible was about to happen. You closed your eyes, resigned to your fate, waiting for the punishment that, according to the book, you deserved. The room fell into a deep silence, and you prepared to face the unknown, your blood freezing and your heart pounding in your chest...

Silence.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes of silence, and nothing had happened. Confused, you looked around, but everything remained the same. You thought maybe you had read it wrong, but no, nothing had happened. You sighed in relief, trying to convince yourself that maybe the book had just played a prank on you. Maybe you had imagined it all, the result of your sexual frustration and lack of sleep. Yes, that must have been it, you were delirious, right? With a slightly clearer conscience, you turned to make the bed that you hadn't tidied since Jake left for Australia. Time had passed quickly since then, and the mess was piling up. But just as you were going to start cleaning, you felt a chill run down your spine.

When you turn around, you almost had a heart attack when you see the guitarist of your favorite band sitting on your bed, looking at you with a machiavellian smile. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Weren't you expecting me?" He said, faking a pout as he spoke to you. You were petrified. How was it possible? Had it just appeared out of nowhere? Your mind couldn't form a coherent thought when suddenly he grabbed you by the neck, choking you, and threw you hard onto the bed. "Honestly, I didn't expect to show up like this. I thought you would use the book wisely," he hissed. His words surprised you. Did you know about the book? Nothing made sense. What was happening? "You're wondering a lot of things, gorgeous. Do you really think a book like that would come alone?" He chuckled, his tone clearly mocking, "I'm a Shinigami. Who do you think gave your friend the note?"

Oh right, Sim fucking Jaeyun.

Jake was coming back from shopping, it was not his best day, the plastic of the bag he was carrying broke and his purchases flew due to the storm that hit just 4 minutes ago. He sighed in defeat, looking down to avoid getting soaked by the rain because his umbrella bent and broke. He wasn't looking forward so he ended up colliding with a stranger. He was going to turn around to apologize but there was no one there. He looked at the floor and saw a black notebook that was covered with a layer of plastic so it wouldn't get wet. At least he won't return home empty-handed.

Let's go back to where we left off, 'Jay' turned you around putting your arms behind your back. He took off his belt and tied your arms with it, leaving you completely at his mercy. He grabbed your hair, pulling you back and turning your head a little to whisper something near the juncture of your ear and cheek. "I didn't steal that fucking book so that a dirty human like you could come and desecrate it, scratching it and destroying it just out of anger," he spat with venom in his tone. He proceeded to throw you to the ground, kneeling in front of him while he looked at you superiorly. Your response was to look him in the eyes with pleading eyes, praying that he would even take pity on you and not hurt you.

He took your jaw in his hands, forcing you to look at him, and then he parted your lips, putting his thumb inside your mouth. "Let's see how well you know how to use that beautiful little mouth" he let out along with a deep laugh and then grabbed his erect member and passed his head over your lips, smearing them with pre-cum. You took the hint immediately and gobbled down what you could, leaving a considerable portion out due to its size, something that Jay didn't care about because when he heard your first 'gag' he pushed your head until your nose was touching his pelvis.

You were surprised and your throat contracted, you felt very strange, but you didn't think much about it either because he took his member out of your mouth the same way he put it in. You were about to breathe when, oh surprise, he thrust it back in! He made that move repeatedly, fucking your throat to his pleasure. "This is what you wanted, huh? You needy fucking slut". The boy exclaimed with a harsh voice, but do you know what else was even harsher? Your throat. His cock entered and left your throat with inhuman ease (because he's not human hahaha), letting drops of your own saliva mixed with precum fall into your mouth. You felt like you were choking, so Jay, being the gentleman he is, pulled his cock roughly out of your throat, holding onto your hair to keep you still as you took a sharp breath. He looked at you superiorly and proceeded to laugh at your state, "God, look at you, so pathetic, and we're just getting started," he smirked. Taking advantage of your weak state, he threw you on the bed with your legs bent, face down, leaving your butt within his reach and whim.

You had your head down so as not to turn around to see him, although I don't blame you, it would scare me too. You felt his cold hands caress your back and pajama pants. The calm was short-lived when you felt him tear your pants, making a hole in the center, right where your holes were. You couldn't see anything, and you felt disgusted by the fact that the fear you felt was turning you on. Your panties were wet, as were your buttocks from the licks Jay left behind. You swallowed dryly as you felt him rip your panties for more access, although that wasn't the worst, that came when you finally realized he wasn't going for your pussy, he was going for your asshole. You were going to protest about that but the scream that left your throat silenced all the words you had learned so far. He entered your inexperienced hole with the same force he used on your throat.

Your forehead hitting the headboard wasn't the most painful thing, curiously neither was his thrusts, it was the way your back was bending to keep you in a position where you wouldn't break. You knew Jay was talking to you, but you didn't understand, your mind was clouded by two things: pleasure and pain. Because of the position you were in you could feel your juices running down your legs and the splash when his sack hit your pussy. You couldn't take it anymore, it was too much for you, you began to feel that tickling in your belly that was so familiar but so different at the same time, it felt like your orgasm was close but much more powerful.

Jay's tip was mercilessly pounding that space inside you, which was enough to make you collapse, spurting his sack that only did more than slap your pussy to splatter more. Your throat was hot from the screams that came from it, being replaced by long sighs once Jay stopped for a few moments, perhaps to make sure you were okay, was there any goodness within that mocking creature? Well, no, because he proceeded to resume his thrusts with the same brutality as before. He crouched down a little so he was at the same height as your head so he could whisper some words to you that you had barely caught, "I'm not done yet."

Jake had tried to call you to let you know he was returning; he had bought the ticket for the next week. Once inside your shared apartment, he proceeded to look for you. "(___) you will not believe me!" he shouted excitedly, hoping his voice would resonate in the silence of the apartment. However, he received no response. He walked through the living room and kitchen, but he didn't find you. He heard sounds similar to your voice, which was a relief, but worry began to grow inside him, because he also heard other sounds accompanying yours.

Jake approached the door, narrowing his eyes in curiosity and some trepidation. The sounds were like knocks, followed by slimy-sounding splashes, clear enough to pique his interest. Without a second thought, he turned the knob and slowly opened the door. What he saw on the other side left him speechless, his best friend being ridden by another person he couldn't recognize.

Taglist:

@nshmrarki @cha0thicpisces @seokseokjinkim @kimsunoo2003 @rikisave @strxwbloody @nyfwyeonjun @enhalusional @kgneptun @fleurixzs @simpjay

Enha Taglist only:

@lilyuwon @myywonie @ratedjaeyoon

(I couldn't tag the others)

A/N: omg guys thank you so much for those 700 followers! I honestly didn't expect so much love from your part 🥺🫶 also, let me know if y'all want a kinktober ^^

#enhypen smut #enhypen fic #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #jay smut #jay hard hours #sex note series chapters

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hazzyking · 1 year

Text

I have head cannons, or I think that's what they're called. This is the most I've written since I was in high school, which I can't believe was 5 years ago. Thanks, live action one piece. And Buggy simps. If it wasn't for you all, I wouldn't be writing as much as I am today 🙏🏻🤡

Buggy Body Part Headcanons

Okay, so the thing I like about Buggy is that even if he's not immeadatley near you, he can still be there. Example's:

Leaving you his dick, honestly, I feel like he'd do it as a joke expecting you to be Creeped out and never thinking you'd ever use it. And then, much like the fanfic, using it at the worst possible time

I can see him being involved in talking to someone on the ship. Then, he sees you, so he removes his hands and goes to grabs your ass from far away.

And in a fluffier fashion if your afraid of heights he'll offer you his hand to hold when you walk down the stairs or if your walking down a ladder or climbing his hand will be placed on your butt to offer you that support. And even though it's not attached to his body, it supports you well.

If you had a rough day he'll leave an ear behind so you can talk his ear off (literally) while he's working. He'd much rather be in person but this is for when he can't be with you fully.

In the morning, if he wakes up first, he will remove his head and leave his body behind so that way he doesn't wake you. This is important because I feel like he's not a fan of separating his head from his body.

To spice things up he will leave stupid parts of him behind like his hand and you'll be like "what the hell am I supposed to do with this" and then when night time comes you'll know exactly why he left it 🥴

Honestly, him leaving parts like his head or his hand or his dick is fine for me to imagine. But when it's smaller things like his ear or his lips is weird to me. But I had this cute thought like what if he suddenly had the urge to kiss you, but he couldn't get to you fast enough so his lips just float on over and kiss your hand or cheek

I can see at the beginning of your relationship with Buggy. Him leaving parts of himself behind specifically to bring you comfort is unsettling at first and probably started off as a joke but as the two of you continue together it becomes more normal and comforting to a point where if he leaves and "forgets" to leave you with any part of him, you get all upset. And he won't show it. But he will come to regret it too.

#one piece #one piece live action #live action buggy #live action buggy the clown #buggy the clown #one piece headcanons #buggy the clown headcanons #buggy x reader

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aonungsmate · 2 years

Note

Hellllooo

So I was reading ao’nung x reader fanfics and like I came up with an idea that was stuck to my head ever since. So like there’s a sound on TikTok where it’s like : “you’re not good enough for my daughter and I don’t want you to be around her, end of story” …..”so why don’t you give me one last chanc-“ but on ao’nung x sully!reader where she’s like younger than neteyam and Lo’ak, she’s the kind of girl who can be strict but gentle at the same time, help her grandma and mom to make food, heals, the type of girl that dads would be like “girls like you shouldn’t be bla bla bla” the type to walk grandmas on the cross way, type to open a bakery by herself and call it the Sully’s Family Bakery 💀 . So ao’nung wanted to court the reader but Jake, Neteyam and Lo’ak aim buying it so ao’nung had to come with some Metkayina specialty and gifts and maybe even fruitier a song 💀 but Jake is just a protective dad and it turned down to reader scolding 4 dudes who’s like almost twice her size about how she’s mature enough to know who would treat her right and stuff and kiri, Tuk and neytiri is just enjoying the scene 💀

I Hold The World, But You

Ao'nung x Sully!Reader[Word count: 2.8k]

Ask and you shall receive- This is me ditching my written reports to feed all of you <33 Thank you so much for requesting anon!

Warnings: Nothing notable! Please do inform me if there is!

Ao’nung has never really known what it means to be alive. He never faced any oppression nor any hardship of notable difficulty due to his social status. Being the son of the olo’eyktan entails so much prestige, but he’s never really known how to live. Not until he met you.

The moment you were born, you have always known the dangers of living. Having been born into a family with warrior parents, who were both victims of war, evident pain is still visible in their eyes. You were Jake Sully and Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite’s third child, their first-born daughter after they decided to call Grace’s daughter, Kiri, their very own. Growing up as the daughter of the Toruk Makto and olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya meant bearing the horrors of reality that the na’vi have been facing for years. Your father was deemed responsible for leading the forest people into many victories against the sky people, along with your mother and the former olo’eyktan, Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyitan, one of the finest warriors that the omatikaya clan who was known for leading the na’vi against the RDA forces in the assault on The Tree of Souls.

“I tried to kill your father the first time we met.”

Having been born into Jake Sully’s family meant so much more than being a warrior’s child. Your childhood was filled with love. Your older brothers, Neteyam and Lo’ak, complete polar opposites but are both very protective of their younger siblings. Neteyam, the finest candidate for the next olo’eyktan, the one who obeys to live up to expectations and earn the title of being a mighty warrior, and Lo’ak, the older brother who gets into so much trouble to try and live up to expectations, most protective of you, but incomparable to your father, who acts as both armor and bow against the dangers of the world.

You grew up being taken care of by your older sister Kiri, befriending nature through her imaginative mind and immense affinity for connecting herself with the things that surround her. Your family always knew that there was something special going on between Kiri and the world itself. As if she’s connected to the things you see everyday, she would always see things from a perspective that you would assume Eywa would have.

The scientists were not the only people left in Pandora. You have also been introduced to Spider, a human child that was too young to be put through the cryo chambers. He has greeted each of you as friends, and you do the same with him. Despite your mother’s distaste in his presence, she couldn’t really do anything, for you and your siblings loved him as you would a friend. You thought he was a strong person. Someone you look up to, because he always seems to overcome his limitations as a human.

It wasn’t long before Tuktirey was born. The most adorable sister you could ever have, although a bit of a telltale, much to your brother’s chagrin, she was loved by the whole family. She looks like a bit of your father, and a bit of your mother. Tuk practically looks like a mix of your parents. You love it when she would play with your braids. But most of all, you love it when she would turn to you for more stories and dreams that you would have, carrying the innocent curiosity that a child like her would have.

You loved your siblings. You really do.

But right now? Things are just being so ridiculous.

“No, you cannot court my sister, Ao’nung,” Neteyam shook his head firmly, placing a protective arm in front of you, attempting to shield you from your suitor. There your brother was again. He’s having one of those stingy fits where he would deprive you and your lover of spending time together. Apparently, there was this thing called ‘codes’, where you cannot see your friend’s sister in a romantic way. The idea of it was ridiculous for you.

Really.

“Brother, you cannot have a say in this. You are not the one who is being courted,” you pushed his hand away, flashing a bashful smile at Ao’nung, being enraptured by his viridian eyes. Your eyes were swirling with love and a mix of nervousness as they met those of Ao’nung’s, only to be interrupted by Neteyam. “You are not to be courted by him (y/n), that is final.”

Just what bad deed have you done to deserve this? You obeyed your elders, went to hunt when told to, helped your fellow na’vi when being asked for help, learned healing, and healed others. Eywa! You even learned to cook many dishes after hearing your grandmother complain about how the food being prepared is becoming bland, if it were not for her cooking teylu. You would always say yes to anything that your family asks of you.

You always thought that you would not be able to say no to your family. Maybe there are things that do surprise you. Just like how your brother Lo’ak, is hissing at Ao’nung at this very moment.

“What is going on?” you ran towards the direction of the two young men, carrying firewood that your mother had asked you to fetch for her. There, you found your older brother hissing at your friend, for an unknown reason that somehow, you didn’t want to know. Therefore, being the most resourceful person in the scene, you opted for the firewood, pushing them in your brother's arms and pulling him away from the metkayina boy. “I am sorry Ao’nung, we will see you tomorrow!” With a sweet smile on your lips, how could Ao’nung complain? A boy who’s as smitten as him could never go against your wishes to stop the fight before it escalates. Ao’nung’s head always tends to tell him to go big or go home, but right now, that saccharine smile was his priority. He wouldn’t take the risk and make you cry, no.

He would rather battle a hundred akula than do that. He vowed to protect you after all.

Even from himself.

But that one just seemed impossible. He feels Eywa whispering to him that you are his muntxate.

He sees you as someone he would spend the rest of his life with.

Arriving at your marui, you sighed at your father’s questioning gaze after just seeing you drag your older brother back, as if he was asking just what trouble he got up to.

“What is it this time, Lo’ak?” He crossed his arms, tapping his left foot in impatience. You squinted at your father, knowing how he’d react if he knew he was in a disagreement with Ao’nung.

“Dad, I found him hissing at Ao’nung again–!” “You telltale– I knew that bastard had a bad influence on you!” Lo’ak hissed, his tail swaying back and forth with betrayal written on his eyes. You scoffed, side-eyeing him for a second before facing your father with pleading eyes.

“Bravo Zulu–” “Dad!” you yelled in disbelief, your jaw dropping when your father shook Lo’ak’s hand with pride evident on his face, menacing grins both on their faces. You could feel a migraine turning into aneurysm when your eldest brother entered the marui, “Dad, you wouldn’t believe Ao’nung– Oh, you’re here baby sis!” He chuckled nervously once he noticed your small figure in front of his father. You responded with a glare, crossing your arms at the three men towering over you who take pleasure in making Ao’nung suffer.

Clearing his throat, Neteyam puts a hand on your shoulder, coaxing you out of the pod, telling you that he has something to share with your father and Lo’ak. Refusing to be excluded in a conversation you knew was going to be about how they were going to torment the metkayina you love, you stood your ground and bore your fangs, something that you did very seldom towards your family.

“No.”

Neteyam squinted at you in return, turning to your father for help, instantly getting his support in a matter of a few seconds. “Yeah babygirl, we really need to talk about that trouble tailing your shadow every minute of the day, ‘kay?” Your father said, giving you a smile of reassurance and pressed a kiss on your forehead that did not faze you, even for a bit. Fate seems to be on your father’s side as you heard your mother calling for you in the background. You groaned in annoyance, rubbing a palm on your face causing Lo’ak to snicker at you, “Oh yeah sis, best get moving before mom gives you a whooping huh?”

You’d definitely get back at him when the time comes for him and Tsireya.

Bearing no choice in the matter, you were forced to evacuate your home and walked towards the direction of your mother.

Your brothers and your father on the other hand, were having the time of their lives imparting their knowledge about your suitor and what they would be doing whenever they would see the boy approach you. They have devised ‘the most sneaky’ plans to make Ao’nung back out in his courting, but were not able to deduce that the said young man was actually on his way to their pod as they were conversing with each other, bringing them to this very moment.

“I would like to court your daughter, sir. She is as beautiful as the ocean, and her whole being might as well be my sustenance as I cannot imagine life without her.”

The na’vi are known to be spiritually connected to Eywa, singing and dancing is embedded in their hearts. So no one could really blame Ao’nung when he broke into a song.

“I want to court your daughter,” he started, undulating notes while clenching his fist.

His eyes meet Lo’ak’s and then Neteyam’s, going back to Jake’s, “I know you don’t think I ought to.” He smiled, reminiscing his earliest memories with you, a smile tugging at his lips, “I’m not bad, I’m a great guy you’ll see,”

“I think that you should be–”

They were all sitting on the marui, silence overtaking when Jake suddenly slammed a hand on the floor, hiding his face from view, until Lo’ak burst into fits of laughter, wheezing at Ao’nung his father and Neteyam following suit. Ao’nung chose to ignore Lo’ak’s outburst, pursing his lips in deep contemplation. He would definitely get him back for this when he asks his parents to court Tsireya. Ao’nung licked his lips out of nervousness, seeking validation from your father’s eyes.

“I’ll be honest Ao’nung. I don’t care if you're the goddamn chief’s son,” Jake straightened his posture, emphasizing that he was much mightier than Ao’nung was at the moment, he was Toruk Makto for god’s sake. “You’re not good enough for my daughter, and I don’t want you around her, end of story.”

Ao’nung winced at Jake’s statement, his insecurities taking over his mind. He was the mightiest hunter in the clan that’s for sure, but who’s to say that you were looking for a hunter? A na’vi as charming and lovely as you is sought by most men. He would know because you were much like his sister, whom he finds himself being protective of, most of the time.

“With all due respect JakeSully, I understand why you are being protective of her. I have a sister myself, and might I remind you, your son desires to court her too– So why don’t you give me one last–”

“Get outta here.”

He sang his heart out, yet he still got denied?

Does Eywa hate him? Ao’nung immediately mutters an apology after thinking that way, his mind going in circles as he thought about his options. Then he remembered, go big or go home. Of course the answer to his problems has always been inside of him.

And so, Ao’nung prepared all sorts of things that he could give to show you and your family that he’s a good provider. He foraged in the morning, hunted in the afternoon, twisted the most intricate design he could do on a necklace. This very process went on and on for days. He figured that he would rather put his feelings into action than waste his time bumping shoulders with your brothers to convince them to let him see you. He knew that they would be as stubborn if he didn’t show them what he could do.

His preparation did not go over five days, eager to please you in a matter of short time. He wants to prove himself and he will. After putting his gifts into baskets, he asked Tsireya to come with him in an attempt to distract Lo’ak and avoid disruptions from him. His sister was aware of the Sully brothers’ antics and pitied her own brother, giving him a nod of agreement and took one of the baskets to carry towards the direction of your home. He carried in his left arm the biggest catch he could find that day to offer to your family, along with numerous baskets balancing on his right arm.

It didn’t take long until he reached the opening of your marui, catching the whole family on the floor, preparing dinner. He carefully placed the baskets on the side of the marui and kneeled before the entrance, making you raise your eyebrow at the sudden gesture. Your heart soared when you heard him speak, “Yawntu, I ask for permission to extend this gesture as the beginning of our courtship,” his voice growing smaller as he went on, “So, I offer you this necklace as a promise of love and declaration of commitment to you and only you..”

He pulled out a smaller basket from the satchel he was carrying, presenting you with the most exquisite necklace you have ever seen, precious stones attached to both ends of the fang in the center. You could feel your face heating up, getting nudged by your mother, with Kiri snorting at the corner as soon as she laid her eyes on your flushed face, and Tuk, she was giggling on your mother’s lap, casting a knowing grin at you.

“I accept–”

“No. no. no.” Jake immediately interjected the proposal, standing up from his position, towering over Ao’nung in a matter of seconds, effectively making Ao’nung feel intimidated, his tail swishing in newfound threat, whilst your father’s was flicking from left to right, the end of his tail dragging on the floor to display his protectiveness over you. Proving to be your father’s sons, Neteyam and Lo’ak copied him, standing behind their father, hissing at your suitor.

You have prayed to Eywa that she would somehow bless you with everlasting patience, but perhaps she simply does not want to show mercy to your father and older brothers.

As if Kiri, Tuk and Neytiri were anticipating what was going to happen, they all huddled up together in one corner, deciding to watch things unfold.

“Yes, I accept.” You said with gritted teeth, walking towards the entrance, your tail in full display as it seemingly found vigor from all the pent up anger that you have been feeling ever since your brothers found out about Ao’nung’s plans to court you. Your mother’s smile widened in pride as she saw you display protectiveness over the mate you wanted to choose. You glared at your father, walking in front of Ao’nung to shield him from their gaze.

“This is my life, and I will find a mate for myself,” you said, “I have been nothing but compliant my whole life, and I will not break that streak by not following my heart!”

The three tall men feet taller than you gulped, their ears flattened at your dilated pupils and snarl, currently afraid for themselves. You momentarily turned at Ao’nung, smiling at him sweetly and showed him your neck, gesturing for him to put on the necklace that he had assembled for you, earning angry hisses from your father, making you huff, unfazed by his threats.

“I will rip your throat into shreds if you so much hurt a single hair on–” “Ma’Jake.”

“Oh no, dad we are not done yet,” you crossed your arms, making Jake look away in defeat. Neteyam chuckled at his father’s surrender, making you raise an eyebrow at your brothers, “The two of you have a lot to explain as well.” “We do?” Neteyam frowned, making him elbow Lo’ak. “Damn sis, I have a good reason for–” “No you don’t! You are in the middle of asking Tsireya to be her mate too!”

As if on cue, they all sat before you simultaneously, their tails tucked between their legs. They could only wince at your words, a flurry of apologies thrown at Ao’nung, making you raise your nose up at your brothers and father, threatening them that if they so much treat your suitor badly again, you would find a way to live in a separate marui with Ao’nung.

And they knew to take your words seriously.

—

Muntxate - wife

Bravo zulu - military slang for well done

Teylu - beetle larva; delicacy in Omatikaya

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