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[山ノ怪] toska

• pairing: Getou Suguru/Original Male Character

• synopsis:

he wakes up alone.

it's a weird feeling he should have been accustomed to by this point, and he actually was until recently. until his lover came back from the dead.

• warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, english being my second language and all that jazz

• notes: i lied (again.)

in my defense, the original idea of the yamanoke monogatari indeed ended, but then i watched the ending of the second season and contracted a severe case of

f e e l i n g s

written on a whim, so the quality is, err, questionable

[山ノ怪] today the world will end (you never know we may recover) pt. 1 and pt. 2

[山ノ怪] lost souls and reverie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] ‘tis but your name that is my enemy  pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue verità pt. 1

[山ノ怪] there is very little left of me (and it’s never coming back) pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue bugie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] toska pt. 1

i would recommend reading yamanoke stories on ao3, for some additional information

°

he wakes up alone.

it's a weird feeling he should have been accustomed to by this point, and he actually was until recently. until his lover came back from the dead.

they live together again, but sleep in different beds. Suguru was the one who asked for this; it's understandable, but it doesn't hurt any less.

Yamanoke is the one who sleeps on the couch.

he is also the one who wakes up first. it's fine, he still has some kind of muscle memory from the time he lived at the Yamanoke-dera, when he had to wake up around four in the morning for ten years of his life. he was simply cursed to become an early bird.

but, again, it's fine, it's a routine, something he used to do back when they were together. get out of bed, brush your teeth, make some coffee, wake Suguru up, wait for him to cook breakfast. good, simple.

Rei's the one who cooks breakfast now, to the best of his lacking abilities. he doesn't want to disturb Suguru, he doesn't want to push him. he wants him to rest, to take his time, to readjust. to feel safe, to feel alive again. it's been almost two months by now.

they skipped Suguru's birthday a week ago. he said it's unfitting to celebrate such a thing, he's not worth it. on his way home that day, Rei bought two strawberry shortcake puffs anyway. Suguru's eyes went soft as they used to do, if only for a moment.

the sun is sickeningly bright today, so he closes the curtains. but before — he looks out of the window, a long longing stare.

"the weather is nice, a-ah."

Yamanoke is not a good person; he would never think that of himself. he is selfish, amoral, apathetic towards most things, he killed people because he was told to, he used people because he wanted to, he tried to replace Suguru with Satoru to fill his rotting heart with something, but as soon as new opportunity arouse, he left the strongest sorcerer to chase after his dead best friend. and the worst part — he doesn't hate himself for any of these.

it wasn't hard to track Kenjaku, especially since Yome helped him with that. he said he'll assist Rei because "smokehead" should've been the one to free him, and not"some kind of cheap copy of mine". to kill someone as powerful as this ancient thing out of pure spite, out of childish grievance — truly, what a strange creature Yome is.

and now Yamanoke-dera is his domain again.

Yome devoured Kenjaku and all cursed spirits that lived inside Getou's body. while shinigami — the last inky gift from the monks — held him in its clawed grip, the white-eyed curse consumed his very being like it was nothing. it's hard to escape the manifestation of death and it's even harder to escape a resentful bride it seems. to Kenjaku's credit, he was his arrogant self until his very end.

"gochisōsama," Yome simply said and left Rei with the emptied husk of the man in his arms.

Yamanoke hoped the universe is more interested in Sukuna and Satoru killing each other, so he would not be interrupted in his technique.

his plan wasn't fool-proofed by any means. he only thought his domain will allow him to freely enter Suguru's [technically absent] mind, find the last spark of his fading consciousness and bring it back. luckily, his theory was correct, but he is more than sure it was a one-time thing.

Rei sometimes is fearful of the idea that he didn't actually bring Suguru back — instead he just reconstructed Getou from his own perception of him. just another memory, another 'ghost' for him to numb his egocentric loneliness.

as for Satoru... the man who tried to kill the King of Curses became the new one himself.

the bedroom door opens almost silently, the floorboards lightly creek under Suguru's steps. he is painfully thin these days, seemingly weightless and frail. he wears his hair down, untended long locks hide the scar Kenjaku left him with and most of his face. it's a shame, because Yamanoke loves his eyes. they used to be the colour of a tender wisteria flower; now they resemble a stormy morning sky. still beautiful, but so unfathomably dolorous.

the scar isn't that bad — at least compare to what it used to be. a thin pale line accompanied by several tiny dots, but now and again it feels like it is still bleeding. one time Suguru thought the top of his skull lifted a bit and a cruel toothed smile flashed in the foggy mirror of their shared bathroom; he smashed it in horror. Rei didn't ask anything, just bandaged his hand and threw away bloody shards.

the breakfast is mute. Yamanoke's cooking isn't awful per se; it's bland and leaves much to be desired, but it's edible. he promises to bake shokupan later to make up for this; Getou just nods absentmindedly. then they go about their day. separately.

°

Suguru barely sleeps. at night his steps echo through the flat, his hushed voice and heavy sighs crawl the walls like giant spiders, his loitering is that of a restless soul. it's like he's afraid he won't wake up tomorrow.

he never leaves the bedroom, though, since he doesn't want to disturb Yamanoke.

when he does sleep, his dreams are empty, just like his body. he's been stuck between death and un-life for a year and doesn't know how to deal with being alive anymore. he remembers impossible things like he was there, and he was and he wasn't, and he is and he isn't, and he will— will he..?

[what if he isn't real?]

sometimes, and he is truly grateful to whatever higher power watching over him it isn't a common occurrence, he has nightmares. he doesn't remember them at all — apart from the feeling of nausea and all-consuming nihility. he is always awoken by his own screams, Rei kneeling by the bed, holding his face, whispering something soothing. the fact that he still loves Suguru this way, still worries about such a disgraced, broken thing only makes his self-hatred grow stronger.

he is nothing but a wounded, yapping mutt that needs to be put down.

°

Suguru picks up smoking again.

he used to be a social smoker, usually bumming cigs off Shoko. as the girls became a part of his life, he quit all-together, relapsing shortly, only when the stress got better of him. Yamanoke guesses he found his old pack somewhere in the flat and decided to give it a try.

some smartass freudian phycologist would probably say that this way Suguru's trying to compensate his current inability to orally consume curses; and definitely something about his mom not breastfeeding him long enough when he was a child. Rei would say that picking up old habits is a sign of healing, even if said habits are harmful.

he knows Yamanoke isn't keen on the smell, so he usually sits at the balcony. he is there for hours, looking into the distance, cigarette after cigarette smouldering between his fingers. sometimes he just lets them burn, pestilent smoke making his eyes water and his throat tickle dryly.

it's still winter though. one night Yamanoke notices that Suguru is sitting out there only in his home clothes. a lone, hunched figure with a tiny speck of light where his heart would be.

the door slides softly to the side, and the white-eyed man steps out into the cool winter night. Suguru doesn't notice, too lost in his own thoughts. only when the blanket is wrapped around him, he flinches a bit and turns his head. Yamanoke smiles at him, dishevelled and still sleepy in the face. his hand lingers on Getou's shoulder for a moment longer than needed.

Suguru breaths out smoke and hides his face in Rei's wrinkled shirt.

°

Yamanoke's temporary suspended from his work at Tokyo Jujutsu High, which is surprising — he thought they'd fire him, period. but there's shortage in staff for the obvious reason, and it kind of makes sense they don't want to lose anyone else.

he's still sent on missions, when they have no other option, and he helps the bar he used to work at occasionally; he won't take full shifts because of Suguru. and now, when the mountain monastery is also gone, for once in his life he has a lot of free time on his hands, it seems.

so, Rei starts reading books.

he was never a fan of literature since he was never taught to love it. he's familiar with the basics, with the classics you kind of have to know, but there was always something utilitarian in the way he consumed it. there was no enjoyment, no interest — unless, of course, it was about kabuki plays, like Yoshitsune Senbon Zakura or Keisei Hotoke no Hara.

but he decides to try something new. he starts with Kagerō Nikki, moves forward on the timeline, comes across the Shirakaba-ha and suddenly learns a new word:

toska.

it's a complicated word, a nuanced feeling from a very different culture compared to what he's used to, but he thinks he understands it. a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning that grades into ennui, boredom.

it's a lot of samey terms in this definition, but in the state he is at the moment it makes sense to him.

there's also 'svetlaya toska': not the opposite of 'toska', but an extension of it. this one is peculiar, but Rei doesn't understand it. not yet at least.

he falls asleep on the couch with a book in his hand one time. in his dream Yamanoke is an old man from a faraway country. he just lost his loved one and is overwhelmed with misery, so he tries talking to people. he wants them to know how shattered he is, wants to share his grief with them. but it's all futile — people around are too apathetic and busy to pay him any mind. he's alone, forgotten and abandoned, and the only creature willing to listen is his old horse.

when Rei wakes up, his head is on Suguru's lap, tobacco stenched fingers gently run through his hair. he pretends to be asleep for a little bit longer.

°

one day Suguru says, "Rh— Rei... can you cut my hair?" the name is the hardest part, it seems.

this is another thing they actually used to do. after Getou defected, he tried to use things that were made by non-sorcerers as little as possible; he never asked the same from others though. at first Yamanoke was the one who would cut his hair — 5-7 cm, no more; later Nanako and Mimiko took over this duty of his. so, it's good, it's simple.

"sure thing."

"i mean... a haircut, up to here."

Suguru touches his neck near his earlobe.

it's almost april, and the heat is getting stronger by the day. every summer Yamanoke fondly remembers the first twelve years of his life: the monks used to shave his head clean, so he didn't have to worry about a mane that is trying to kill him for the better part of a year.

but Suguru without his long luscious hair feels weird, like an entirely different person.

"i'll try my best, love," his voice cracks at the end.

when he's done, Suguru's neck looks naked and vulnerable. shoulders so bare, delicate skin untouched by the sun and the bone at the base of it sticking out, without a curtain of raven locks to protect it. it reminds him of their high school years, but there's no peachy, naïve hue to it now.

he wasn't sure, if he should touch the bangs, so he cut it only a little, letting it freely fall down to Suguru's chin. by the end of their beauty session, to Rei's surprise, Getou gathers his hair in a small ponytail at the back of his head, leaving his face completely open.

a stormy morning sky seems to become a tiny bit brighter.

°

Shoko comes around to do a medical check on Suguru.

there's no outside intervention, body shows no signs of necrosis, nothing suspicious or concerning. his cursed energy is a bit unstable, but his vitals are fine, aside from a slight fatigue caused by the insomnia. she recommends a healthy night sleep, duh, and sleeping pills if it gets out of control.

"you can give him your pills, Rei," she says, eyebrows raised high.

Yamanoke averts his gaze and smiles awkwardly.

he's almost out. monks at the mountain monastery were the ones who came up with the recipe for his sedative and they've never shared it with anyone; he doesn't even know whether or not it is written down. after all, although not too effective since Yamanoke has alternatives, the pills were another method of control.

Yome probably knows the recipe; for someone who's been stuck in a box for the past six hundred years or so he knows suspiciously much about the Yamanoke-dera's affairs. but Rei doesn't want to deal with this cursed spirit, he's too unsettling and unpredictable. besides, he doesn't want to owe the Bride of Curses any more than he already does. one day Yamanoke will definitely go on a suicidal mission to kill him, but not now, no.

Shoko kicks him in the sheens.

"moron," she calls him, and her open palm is shoved into his face. limping a bit, he goes to fetch the pills he still has. on her way out Ieiri promises to do her best and compliments Suguru's new haircut.

that night Rei is restless.

the rain plays its dull drum on the roofs outside, the stars are hiding in the blinding shine of Tokyo. the cigarette he stole from Shoko burns his fingers and fills the room with acrid smoke; he misses the smell of burning incense. he is sitting on the kitchen counter, dangling his feet mindlessly; his heels hit the wooden surface with a muffled thud.

he doesn't understand what's the deal, but it's like he's lost. he doesn't know what to do, where to run. should he run? can he run? why run at all? what is going on? what is this sudden anxiety? what caused the disturbance in his mind? is it even his?

Yamanoke freezes as the bedroom door opens.

Suguru's forehead burns Rei's neck, when he joins him on the counter. he says nothing, only closes his eyes for a moment in an attempt to collect himself. smoke hurts his lungs and endless questions hurt his head. Suguru takes the cigarette and throws it in the sink. he drapes his arms over Rei's shoulders and hooks his foot over Rei's dangling one, breaking the rhythm. Yamanoke can feel two hearts beat: one in his throat, one behind the ribcage pressed closely to his side.

they look like a pair of broken puppets, their strings are irremediably tangled.

°

Rei wakes up to the smell of something delicious. it's almost midday. Suguru is the one at the cooker.

Yamanoke scrambles to his feet in a second, "a-ah, sorry, you must be starving. you don't have to do it, really. let me order something."

"no-no-no, it's fine. i wanted to do it. let me cook for you, dear. like i used to."

a small, shy smile touches his lips, and Rei's chest is filled with such tenderness it feels like it's going to shatter his ribs. something starts to burn, and Suguru turns his attention back to the cooker, unable to see fat tears rolling down his lover's face.

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[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue bugie

• pairing: Gojo Satoru/Original Male Character

• synopsis:

Yamanoke is his first sorcerer partner in a long time. he prefers to fuck normal people because they don't know who he is. they would fully commit to treating him like garbage if he asked them to.

he likes it fast, and raw, and ruthless, this way he has no time to think or hate himself. he's a god amongst men, he's a monster and a spoiled brat, he acts like one and deserves to be handled as such.

but instead he is stuck with his face buried in a wet pillow and his arse being eaten out by Yamanoke, slowly and methodically.

• warnings: 'tis but porn, smut if you will; english being my second language and all that jazz

• notes: i lied. 

it took me a month and a half to write dimmi le tue verità, but only a week to write this; i hate it here c':

also, just like that this series, [山の怪 物語] yamanoke monogatari, is done, it is the final "chapter" — unless something wild happens in the manga

i'll now proceed to pleasure myself with the second season of jjk, heh

[山ノ怪] today the world will end (you never know we may recover) pt. 1 and pt. 2

[山ノ怪] lost souls and reverie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] ‘tis but your name that is my enemy  pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue verità pt. 1

[山ノ怪] there is very little left of me (and it’s never coming back) pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue bugie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] toska pt. 1

i would recommend reading yamanoke stories on ao3, for some additional information

°

Yamanoke is his first sorcerer partner in a long time. he prefers to fuck normal people because they don't know who he is. they would fully commit to treating him like garbage if he asked them to.

he likes it fast, and raw, and ruthless, this way he has no time to think or hate himself. he's a god amongst men, he's a monster and a spoiled brat, he acts like one and deserves to be handled as such.

but Yamanoke takes his time.

Satoru wants to get on his knees, with Yamanoke's foot pressing down on his cock, and get himself off on this delicious pressure. he wants Yamanoke to look down at him and call him a pathetic bitch in heat while he grinds on the other man's sole, hands tied behind his back.

Satoru wants to get on Yamanoke's thigh and cum untouched from just rubbing sensitive skin of his dick on rough material of Yamanoke's pants. he wants to grab Yamanoke's broad shoulders, dull nails digging into inked body, while the man whispers sweet nothings and calls him a good boy.

Satoru wants Yamanoke to grab his hair and use his mouth like a cock sleeve. he wants to feel his throat spasm around Yamanoke's dick, wants to hear his own promiscuous gagging noises fill the room.

Satoru wants it all, and then — some more. but instead he is stuck with his face buried in a wet pillow and his arse being eaten out by Yamanoke, slowly and methodically.

the pillow is wet because he's drooling so much. Yamanoke has had him in this position — arse in the air, left arm tied behind his back, right arm gripping white-eyed man's thigh — for quite some time. he can't tell for sure since his brain is closer to a horny mush than to an actual brain, but he thinks Yamanoke denied him his release at least four times now, calloused fingers closing tightly at the base of his cock once he's close.

he's tied up too, but not with a rope. no, it would've been too easy, too simple. Yamanoke used prayer beads from his tattoos, which means, first of all, with every tiny movement hundreds of cool beads roll all over his heated body and, second, since they contain a bit of his cursed energy in them they constantly buzz ever so slightly. they are around his neck, biceps and thighs, they cross his chest and, yes, as previously stated, they hold his left arm behind his back.

Yamanoke adds two fingers to his eagerly working tongue, and Gojo doesn't know if he should be on cloud nine or be begging for mercy. it's a lot.

"ah-huh, nghh— M-m— ah, Master, please..!"

they haven't talked about this dynamic, but even if Yamanoke never tried to assert dominance over Gojo, in the spur of the moment the name felt right.

"what do you want, hm-m?" Yamanoke practically purrs, stopping at once. "use your words, otherwise i won't understand you."

they both know that's a lie and they both know that by this point Gojo is unable to formulate words. he wants to cum, he wants to feel Yamanoke inside of him, wants his hot semen to paint his walls white, and he's too far gone to say any of that. he can only manage a whine, a pathetic glance over his shoulder and a wiggle of his arse.

"well then," Yamanoke says and places a kiss to the dimples at the low of his back, "back to business we go."

and he does indeed. only this time his other hand grabs Gojo's dick and starts to stroke him agonisingly slowly, but strangely in tact with his tongue and fingers. "Rei would be a perfect cruel torturer," Satoru would've thought if he could think at all right now. instead all he can do is to be left at the mercy of one white-eyed sorcerer.

in the meantime Yamanoke, although being very busy, marvels at the body in front of him. like a good wine it only got better with years. and as may he be reluctant to admit it, but Gojo's anatomy is dangerously close to being an example of peak human form. tall, agile and thin wasted, toned muscle with next to no fat, smooth, scarless skin that seems to glow, almost no body hair. Getou, who's a bit shorter, a bit sturdier and all in all a bit rougher around the edges, was and still is more to Yamanoke's taste, but it's hard to deny that Gojo before him is a delicious specimen.

truly, a god amongst men.

(however, continuing the food analogy, his character, on the other hand, is akin to surströmming; lucky for him, Rei's taste pallet is fucked.)

but Yamanoke slaps the rear of this divine being, and the moan that comes out of Satoru suddenly makes him a lot closer to us, mere humans, — for even if their origins are different, their desires are the same. and they are carnal.

Gojo looks over his shoulder again, a corner of the pillow between his teeth and brilliant eyes shining with unshed tears. he sniffs and lets go of the cotton pillowcase; his lower lip is trembling.

"there, there," Yamanoke coos; his thumb gently caresses the mark that flushes angrily against the milky white buttock. "sorry. let me make it up to you, dragonfly."

the last word is whispered into Gojo's neck, and his entire body shudders from its sound on his skin. he can feel wet lips plant a kiss to his temple, his cheekbone, under his jaw, to the protruding bone at base of his neck, to his shoulders, even to the fingertips of his tied arm. their lips never touch though.

Yamanoke's chest is flush against his sweaty back, clothed erection grinds against his bare arse, long loose hair tickle his sides a little; left hand still palms at Gojo's cock while the right one snakes under him and plays with his nipple. what an interesting time to find out that your partner is quite ambidextrous.

most of Rei's weight is on Satoru now, pressing him down, enveloping, grounding. he likes it. he feels safe, protected. even if there's nothing he needs to be protected from, even if he is "the strongest". or, maybe, exactly because of that. again, it's so incredibly strange to him that Yamanoke, who, mind you, on some unconscious level still hates him at least a little, can treat him this way. like he is the most fragile thing in the entire world, like he needs protection no matter what. he is so gentle, almost overwhelmingly so.

Gojo whimpers, sensing another orgasm approach, and it's like a signal Yamanoke's been waiting for, as he places one final kiss to Satoru's nape and flips him onto his back. 

there's immediate strain in his left arm, but nothing he can't take or hasn't taken before. more importantly, he's now face to face with Yamanoke, who sits between his spread legs and casts that polite smile down at him. he looks as calm as ever, but there's unmistakable excitement in his glinting eyes.

"let's try something, yeah? since you've been so good for me?"

the last part goes straight to Gojo's dick, and he nods eagerly, mouth slightly agape. he's been good. he is good. he's a good boy. for his master. for Rei.

Yamanoke's laughter is light and vivid, like a tiny silver bell. he pets Satoru's cheek and there's this adoration in his eyes, again. and it makes the other man beam. and a shiver runs through his body, again. and he feels his heart swell. and this is a lot for him, again.

"splendid," Yamanoke says and snaps his fingers.

the prayer beads Gojo is currently tied up with are no good for any fighting situation. sure, you can whip someone with them — once, since the monks didn't put much effort or sorcery into it. they are very unreliable and can be destroyed with even the tiniest amount of cursed energy. but because they're a part of Yamanoke's tattoos, he can manipulate them in whatever way he wants, which means—

as soon as he snaps his fingers, the prayer beads come to life. they shift along Satoru's body, untangling him almost completely. the cool sensation of their buzzing movement sends a wave of goosebumps across his skin.

Yamanoke takes his now fully freed arms, and the prayer beads follow, wrapping themselves around his wrists, tying them together. Rei positions Gojo's hands over his head, elbows high in the air and biceps nearly touching his ears. the beads slide down his spine then, around his torso, right under his chest, and back to his backside.

they go up again, crisscrossing his upper body a few times, so his nipples are pinched between two rosary strings. the beads go lower, around his waist, just above the bones of his pelvis, then to the back and down again, between his arse cheeks. they slither to the front of his crouch from one side, wrap around this new "belt" of his and go back down, but from the other side, effectively binding Gojo's aching cock at its base.

the only unbound part of him now is his legs, but Yamanoke sits right here, patting his thighs, and if Satoru was to fidget, he would most definitely hold him down. he's pinned like a—

"dragonfly, you look absolutely gorgeous," Rei purrs; his hand rests on Satoru's hip, massaging it gently. "such beauty presented so nicely for me. wish you could see yourself. pretty pink and breathless. should i go get a mirror for you? or maybe take some photos? may use it later, when i'm at the monastery. can you imagine how scandalous that would be?"

Gojo almost howls and thrusts his hips into nothing, because, yes, he can in fact imagine. skin, glistering with sweat in the muffled light of his monastic cell, shadow of his arched back dancing on the walls, red make up smudged and silky-black hair dishevelled, lips bitten in an attempt to silence his desperate moans, long fingers sliding up and down the shaft of his erect dick, feverish white eyes glued to a photo on the phone screen.

something, something, forbidden fruit and all, desecrating a sacred thing, very interesting, yes-yes, but the very idea of Yamanoke jerking off to him is way more enticing than any deal with the devil or whatever else gaijins came up with. who cares about the serpent when you can have a dragon?

Yamanoke giggles at his reaction, "oh, you like it, yeah? little pervert." he lightly spanks his leg, and Gojo mewls, wanting it to be a real slap like before. "bu-ut~ there's something else i wanted to try. a little experiment of sorts. oh, and i won't stop you this time. cum, if you can."

with that he places a sly kiss to Satoru's hip bone, leans back and away and snaps his fingers again. in his foggy state of mind Gojo can't understand what just happened for at least five long seconds. and then it hits him. all at once.

what Yamanoke did was imbue the beads with his raw cursed energy, which in turn made them vibrate. all 1080 of them. every. single. one.

the sensation hits him like a truck — unexpectedly and with such power and intensity that his body shoot up from the bed, only his toes and shoulders touching the sheets. his spine crackles from the sharp motion, mouth flies open in a silent moan. his eyes are shut tight in a weak attempt to lessen the amount of stimulus surrounding him.

an invisible hand brings Gojo down to the mattress, and he tries to close his legs, to somehow relieve the tension in his groin, to do something, anything. but this damned vibration is everywhere, he can't escape it. his wrists feel numb from the constant tingling of cursed energy, his cock aches and leaks all over his stomach, his nipples are so unbelievably sensitive it almost hurts, his hole can't stop twitching from all the stimulation. his body shakes violently, his mind races deliriously:

it's too much, too much, too much, too m—

distantly he hears another snap, and the vibrancy disappears abruptly.

"Satoru," Rei whispers, "open your eyes, please. look at me. i can't touch you."

he can't really process what the other man is saying, but there's no previous playfulness, no flirt in Yamanoke's voice, only uneasiness with a slight hint of panic, and that is what makes Gojo comply despite the temptation of embracing the darkness. he's suddenly so exhausted and dazed, his body feels impossibly heavy for his spirit, but he endures and pushes through the thickness of his own consciousness.

in the dim light of the room Yamanoke's white eyes almost glow, his mouth is a worried thin line. his hand hovers over Gojo's cheek, not quite touching it, so Satoru's first instinct is to lean into it, but, oh, right, he is still tied up. and also...

"infinity," he mutters under his breath and closes his eyes again.

truth be told, Yamanoke is his first partner in a long time, period. with all what's been happening lately, he had no time for anything other than work. so, he may or may not been a little overconfident in his ability to take things. he is Gojo Satoru after all.

narrow palm finally touches his cheek and he tries to chase the feeling. Yamanoke shushes at his weak attempt, soft lips kiss his burning face, long fingers brush hair off his sweaty forehead. Gojo hums, deeply delighted, and opens his eyes.

Rei's cradling his face, when he says, "Satoru, i'm going to release you now, okay?"

Gojo nods, still a bit slow with his cognitive abilities, and Yamanoke smiles at him. there's no snapping, no booming of cursed energy, no nothing — the prayer beads just disappear, freeing his body at last.

Yamanoke takes his arms and starts rubbing them gently, blood rushing to his numb limbs, all the while whispering something, something sweet for sure, but Satoru can't really understand the words, so he just basks in how kind the voice sounds, squinting blissfully. calloused fingers then move to his chest, avoiding his still agitated nipples, and massage skin under his pecs, where the prayer beads used to bind his torso.

he only realises Rei is talking to him, when he hears a bit of disapproval in his voice.

"hm-m?" he lifts his head up a little and only now notices that his stomach is covered in white sticky substance; yikes.

"you should've warned me beforehand," Yamanoke sighs.

"i didn't know!"

"liar."

Gojo puffs his cheeks out, "'m not."

"yeah, yeah, yeah."

Yamanoke goes to stand up from the bed; surprised, Satoru grabs his wrist, "w-what… where..?"

"going to clean you up," he states matter-of-factly. "then change the sheets and put you to sleep."

for whatever reason the last part sounds more like a thread.

"but you didn't finish," Gojo nods at the obvious tent in Yamanoke's underwear.

"i'll live."

he rolls his eyes and tugs at Rei's wrist, "i won't though."

"tch. selfish child."

"pretty please? i'll be a good boy for you?" he bats his impossibly long eyelashes, pleading.

Yamanoke shakes his head and tries to stand up again, jerking his hand away from Satoru. Gojo pouts for a second, but then latches onto Rei's waist, eager fingers digging in the plush of his buttocks. he nuzzles into white-eyed man's crotch, inhaling the strong musky sent of his arousal. at that the other sorcerer shudders, his hand flying up to bury itself in soft white locks.

"and what if i manage to convince you… Master?"

[crovatian]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTHHHHAJDJSDJDAAAAAA

[crovatian]

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue verità

• pairing: Getou Suguru/Original Male Character

• synopsis:

Yamanoke sighs, taking his shirt off, "i look like a yakuza."

he stands there, under Getou's observant gaze, for a few moments, and then Suguru touches his shoulder.

"you look gorgeous, dear."

"ah, i see, you flatter my tainted skin to get in my pants," he flexes his biceps, smiling. "that's smart."

Suguru laughs, "you've got me there, not going to lie. but," his fingers trace the intricate art of a peony flower, "i do mean it."

• warnings: 'tis but porn, smut if you will, not too explicit or kinky, but still; english being my second language and all that jazz

• notes: i shall never write smut ever again. 

also, um, happy belated pride, i guess?

also-also, listen, both Getou and Yamanoke are switches, but Getou has a bit more dom energy in him, like 70/30, while Yamanoke is 50/50; Gojo is 100% sub, fight me on that.

[山ノ怪] today the world will end (you never know we may recover) pt. 1 and pt. 2

[山ノ怪] lost souls and reverie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] ‘tis but your name that is my enemy  pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue verità pt. 1

[山ノ怪] there is very little left of me (and it’s never coming back) pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue bugie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] toska pt. 1

i would recommend reading yamanoke stories on ao3, for some additional information

°

[autumn of 2007]

they hopped on the late train to get to Shinjuku. it was a quiet friday evening and miraculously there was almost no one. Suguru fell asleep on his shoulder. it hurt like all eight hot hells, and it felt like someone was using his skull as a gong, but Rei could not dare to disturb the other sorcerer.

(the gong part comes from the fact that Yamanoke is an idiot who didn't take his pills. he doesn't really need them when he's at the mountain monastery — there's not much curses or even "ghosts" on the consecrated land — but the city is a very different story. it's not like he forgot either: he just thought it won't be that bad this time around. and then someone who's filled with cursed spirits fell asleep on his shoulder. what a moron.)

Shinjuku was bustling with life; people and bright lights blinded them as soon as they exited the train station. they walked past Kabuki-chō, ditching some very persistent hostesses and other questionable people. one girl even grabbed Getou's arm and tried to drag him away from Yamanoke and into some sort of cabaret disguised as an izakaya bar. the look on her face when Rei hugged Suguru by the waist and placed a kiss to his temple was priceless.

the flat is dark and silent, absolutely dead compared to the world outside. you can see the Sleepless Town from here, and the light emanating from its countless billboards, nightclubs and shops baths the rooms in a soft neon haze. it's nice, it's strangely soothing.

«we should shower», — one of them says and the other nods in agreement. it's fine, there's nothing to hide, they've seen each other naked. they've even seen Satoru naked; that was a truly cursed trip to Miyazaki Prefecture. poor Ieiri.

but... it is a little bit different now. before Yamanoke's tattoos were mostly bold dashes of black on his fair skin, nothing more than an outline with some fully inked parts here and there. but now it is finally done. his arms and shoulders are stained for the rest of the eternity, and monks already have plans for his chest.

there's no way he's going to find a normal job.

Yamanoke sighs, taking his shirt off, "i look like a yakuza."

he stands there, under Getou's observant gaze, for a few moments, and then Suguru touches his shoulder.

"you look gorgeous, dear."

"ah, i see, you flatter my tainted skin to get in my pants," he flexes his biceps, smiling. "that's smart."

Suguru laughs, "you've got me there, not going to lie. but," his fingers trace the intricate art of a peony flower, "i do mean it."

the touch is light and tender, but it makes Rei flinch all the same. his skin still feels raw because of the cursed ink; it's healed up, it's not bleeding, but it won't be "healthy" for at least three or four more days. it's business as usual.

they shower together. Getou washes Yamanoke's hair, and it is so intimate and weird, because, in Rei's mind, at the moment it's he who should take care of his partner, not the other way around. but he is grateful: the idea of having his arms up for more than a few seconds is currently petrifying — the sensation is not unsimilar to someone splintering his bones with small, but extremely sharp nails. so he leans into Suguru's palms and closes his eyes, relaxing.

behind his eyelids Rei sees a flash and something akin to tar washes over his body, engulfing him in black. the mass is suffocating and dark not only in its colour. it's foul and all-consuming, and it feels like hundreds upon hundreds of tiny creatures crawl up and down his naked body, clawing and scraping at him, wanting to get under his skin in an exuberant hysteria.

Yamanoke shakes the feeling off. it's going to be fine.

Getou is first to leave the bathroom. while he's waiting for Rei to finish, Suguru lies on the bed, sprawled like a starfish. beige cotton sheets are new and clean. the smell of soap and a faint aroma of white peaches fill his lungs. Yamanoke slept here only once, it seems; otherwise the sheets and the flat would already be drowning in smoky odour of incense. Getou still can't understand whether Rei really likes it, or it's just one of his monk habits. regardless, the thought makes him smile fondly. it feels like home.

some minutes later Yamanoke emerges from the steamy depths of the bathroom like some kind of an onryō spirit with damp hair covering most of his face. he even waves his hands in that very specific manner and howls for a bit. then he parts his hair like a curtain and sticks his tongue at Getou; what a dork. it's humorous, almost unfittingly childish, and also slightly unnatural — seeing him without his trademark makeup. a special form of trust can be found in this.

Rei's wearing nothing but his underwear, and all of his physique is on display for Suguru to enjoy. Yamanoke's upper body is a work of art, a masterful marriage of both craft and sorcery, truly, but Getou would not be a very good art critic, because instead of admiring the masterpiece that is in front of him, he almost immediately puts his hands out, beckoning the other male to the bed. and Rei is happy to oblige.

he straddles Suguru, settling on his lap, which makes them both exhale sharply. Getou sits up, his hands find their way to Yamanoke's sides, making themselves comfortable there. skin soft and still warm from the shower, it smells like fresh ink, Okayama peaches and a little bit of saffron. the latter comes from the body wash they used, so this fragrance is shared. it's kind of dizzying, but he wants more, wants to get closer, wants to dissolve in it, wants to completely lose himself. there's a familiar sense of comfort to it, one he desperately craved for the past couple of months, and he breaths it in, almost delirious, lips brushing Rei's clavicle.

"i missed you," Suguru whispers, but he's pretty sure the sound of his voice is lost in his lover's skin; oh, how wrong he is.

Yamanoke is a bit restricted in his movement, so he rests his chin on top of Getou's head and drapes his arms over his shoulders, enjoying the close intimacy of their position. Rei's right hand combs Suguru's hair, blunt nails lazily scratch his scalp. his left hand goes lower, calloused fingers caress broad back beneath them. at that a shiver runs through Getou's body, a pleased groan leaves his throat.

they stay like this for some time, remembering each other, finding out something new. did he always have this scar? was he always so thin? where did this weariness come from? when did his fingers become so rough? there is a strange delphic sadness to it — knowing that one has changed while the other was away and that the change is irreversible.

Yamanoke pulls away a little, breaking their embrace, and Suguru looks at him with the eyes of a lost puppy. Rei giggles, takes his face in both hands and leans down for a kiss. Getou turns away last moment, getting only a peck to the corner of his lips.

Rei frowns, "what's wrong?"

Suguru shakes his head, expression pained all of a sudden.

"what is it, love?" Yamanoke nudges other's cheek with his nose; that gets a tiny smile out of Getou.

"i don't want you to know what curses taste like."

"pardon..?"

he shakes his head again and kisses Rei's palm, then moves lower and places another timid kiss to his wrist, feeling the pulse there pick up. he looks up, a foxy smile dances across his lips, not quite reaching his eyes though. that makes Yamanoke wince slightly — both because his tattoos start there and because he knows something isn't right.

"your kisses can only taste like a blessing, sweetlips."

Suguru snorts, "did Satoru teach you that, dear? so cheesy."

"surprisingly, no. heard it from a visitor at the monastery. they weren't very successful with it though".

"don't go." Getou says and hides his face in Rei's chest; he can feel calloused fingers hover over his nape.

"hm-m?"

"the monastery."

there's a moment of heavy silence, and many distant voices of Kabuki-chō fill the room.

"wish i could." Yamanoke says with a sigh, and Getou's grip around his waist tightens. "but Yamanoke-dera is a beautiful place, you know. very peaceful and very distant. would you like to join me next summer? like a vacation?"

Suguru murmurs something that sounds like an affirmation or at least a noise close enough to it.

Rei takes his face in both hands again, making him look up, and suddenly rocks his hips forward, all while wearing the most innocent smile possible. that catches Getou off guard, a strangled moan leaves his mouth. Yamanoke uses this chance and plants a kiss to his parted lips.

their kiss is slow. for the first time in forever they have all the time in the world and they spend it on trying to recall what it's like — to have each other, to be together. once more. but when they finally do, there's strained hunger: they both want it all, all at once, but they also don't want it to end. ever. so they are stuck in this liminal state between gentle docile sensuality and engrossing burning passion, unable to take a step in either direction.

Yamanoke pulls away first, completely breathless, and rests his forehead against Getou's; the tips of their noses touch.

"sweeter than Buddha's lips."

Suguru laughs in mocking disbelief, "you're a monk, Rei!"

"that just means i know these things from the first-hand experience." Yamanoke places a soft peck to the other's lips.

"so, you've been cheating on me with Buddha while you were gone?"

"he reminds me of you too much, can't help it."

"my-my, such profanities you spew." Getou tugs on Rei's hair, making him tilt his head back and bare his neck, "you should be ashamed, dear."

"ah, when it comes to you — never."

Suguru hums, his lips graze over Yamanoke's pulse as he bites lightly into soft flesh of the presented neck. Rei groans, the sound resonates deep inside his chest, and now it's Getou's turn to roll his hips — once, twice, thrice... he would've loved to run his hands all over his partner's body, new tattoos tingling with fresh cursed energy. he would've loved to see him on his back, beautifully spread out, awaiting, begging. he would've loved to have his arms around him, pressing their bodies impossibly, almost suffocatingly close together. he would've loved to own both his flesh and his soul.

but that would have to wait until later, when they're both in a better state of body and mind; he can't trust himself right now. Rei is not made out of sugar glass and won't break: he once witnessed Yamanoke getting bodied into a wall, through said wall and then some more by a curse the size of a stag that appeared out of nowhere; the man just complained about his school uniform being ruined afterwards. even so, Suguru doesn't want to hurt him in the slightest, even if later the white-eyed man will say it was worth it. no, it wasn't. he is sick of seeing pain on his loved one's faces, he doesn't want to see it anymore. not now, not ever, not after…

here is their chance to explore each other, with nobody around to barge in and ruin the intimate moment. their intimate moment. that's it, it's all about them right now. no sorcerers, no monks, no nothing.

"Suguru," Rei moans his name out, "i can practically hear you think. that won't do, love."

before he can protest, Yamanoke is pushing him down onto the beige sheets, his hair being scattered across the pillows, his wrists being pinned down over his head. Rei's grasp is strong, grounding, but not bruising; he looks at Getou with half-lidden eyes and a certain mischief. Suguru smirks at him and kisses lightly the crook of Yamanoke's arm, where dragon's clawed foot sits.

out of the two of them, you'd probably think that he — the man who literally eats cursed spirits — is the one with the oral fixation; well, you'd be terribly wrong. okay, maybe it's a bit of an exaggeration since he has never seen Rei chewing on pens and pencils or consuming an unhealthy amount of lollipops (that's a Gojo habit), but between having his hands on Getou and having his mouth on him Yamanoke tends to gravitate more toward the latter.

so, as soon as Suguru is on his back, Rei's lips are on his neck, his shoulders, his collarbones and going lower, as low as their new position allows him without letting go of Getou's wrists. Yamanoke's kisses are light, he never bites, just nips on his skin a little, leaving pretty pink spots here and there. he spends an exceptional amount of time caressing Suguru's chest, almost like he wants to recreate a celestial map on it. he pays very special attention to two scars that cross his upper body.

Getou hates them. they're so ugly, so disgustingly putrid and nasty, a mark of his weakness and mistakes. yet for whatever reason Rei is okay with putting his mouth on them. there's something painfully kind in that gesture, and it only helps to reduce him into a quivering mess.

but then hands on his wrists are gone, suddenly reappearing on his hips. Suguru props himself up on his elbows just to meet with feverishly glinting white eyes; in the neon haze of Kabuki-chō lights they look almost mauve, somehow even more ethereal. Rei's thumbs gently rub his hipbones before sneaking under the waistband of his underwear and pulling it down and off of him.  

Yamanoke gives him a few slow strokes (that earns him a long breathy moan) and moves lower on the bed. he is hesitant for a moment, thinking whether or not he should get Getou's legs on his shoulders, and the latter, seeing this truly titanic struggle within his lover's mind, huffs, bends his legs and spreads them, firmly planting his feet on the mattress. Rei places a grateful kiss to his knee, then to his inner thigh, lower and lower, until he is nuzzling the spot where Suguru's iliac artery pumps blood.

soft lips close around him, enveloping in a blazing heat of the other's mouth. Yamanoke moves his tongue leisurely, lazy almost, up and down, without any real rhythm or pressure, and Getou can't help it. his hands are in Rei's hair in an instant and push down a bit more insistently, encouraging. he can't see it from this angle, but he can feel Yamanoke smile at that, and the next thing he knows is him being buried deep inside Rei's throat. and because, unlike Suguru, he still has a gag reflex, — thank gods for this — tight muscle spasm around him; it takes all of Getou's will power to not buck his hips.

one of his hand flies up to his mouth to muffle his seemingly endless stream of moans, but Yamanoke is quick to react. he stops the hand midway and intertwines their fingers, then gets up from his spot between Suguru's legs, letting go of him with a loud, obscene 'pop'. he's towering over his lover, looking for something in a way his face changes, his chest heaves, his lashes flutter. Rei's chin is covered in a mixture of precum and his own saliva, his gaze is soft and a bit foggy.

"there's no one to hear you, but me," he says and kisses Getou's knuckles. "let go, love."

he keeps their fingers intertwined and goes back to his ministrations, though Suguru knows he's being watched. a thought of Yamanoke tying him up if he tries to cover his mouth once more crosses his mind, and a shiver runs down his spine, but, again, that would have to wait until later. for now he has to pull himself together and relax, even if it sounds, um, contradictory.

(but that makes Getou wonder: can Rei use his other tattoos now when they're done? he usually only summons his dragons for obvious reasons, although there's plenty of additional elements to his sleeves, like flowers, clouds and prayer beads. they are mostly useless in a fight, sure, but with a bit of creativity some of them could be quite helpful in different situations. perhaps they would have to investigate it afterwards, yes-yes.)

in the meantime "pulling himself together" proves to be nearly impossible, thanks to Rei pulling him apart; but, come to think of it, that is the point, that is what he was trying to do. whatever deity blessed Yamanoke with that mouth of his and a truly mystical ability to know exactly where and how to touch Suguru should be worshiped as the god. mountain monks should build a giant shrine in honour of this deity instead of whatever they have in their monastery at the moment; banish the old one without any regret, level to the ground current chinjusha and pronounce this new god more worthy of idolatry.

...and this man was accusing Rei of blasphemy no more than twenty minutes ago.

he feels his body tense up, familiar heat pooling in his abdomen, and taps the back of Yamanoke's hand twice. the white-eyed man hums quizzically, the vibration of it makes Getou whine and throw his head back. Rei's chest quakes in silent laughter before he releases Suguru from the hotness of his throat, giving him one last, long lick from the base to the tip. he goes to sit up, mumbling something about rinsing his mouth first, but Getou pulls him forward by his neck into a kiss. their teeth knock, but neither cares.

their pose is a bit awkward with Yamanoke holding his weight on one elbow and Suguru almost hanging on his neck, neither lying nor sitting. the fact that his dick is rubbing on a relatively rough material of Rei's underwear doesn't help either. Yamanoke bucks his hips, moaning surprised, almost as if he didn't expect to do it himself, and practically collapses on top of Getou.

"off," he manages to say in-between heavy breaths and tugs on Rei's underpants, "want them off of you."

there is some more passionate kissing before they are finally able to separate. Yamanoke sits up, properly this time, and Getou follows him and his every movement. the way his hands brush hair off of his face, how they slide over his pecs and abs, then, agonisingly slow, pull the briefs off. their lips collide again the moment Rei's legs are free from this useless piece of textile.

Suguru's hand goes down, to where their bodies touch, and grabs both their cocks. the sorcerers moan almost in unison as he strokes them, movement sloppy and impatient, but satisfying none the less. he palms the tips then, gathering some precum and remnants of saliva, mixing their fluids in doing so, and reaches behind Yamanoke. the white-eyed man shudders as Getou touches the spot between his arse cheeks.

his finger slides past the tight circle of muscle with only the tiniest bit of resistance, and the very thought of Rei prepping himself in the bathroom earlier, only a room away from him, makes Suguru growl. he wants, really wants, to bite where Yamanoke's neck and shoulder meet, to mark him, to let him know what he's doing to him, but he braces himself; if only partially — Getou does bite his lower lip in the end.

he pushes another finger in; spreads and crooks them, trying to reach that sensitive bundle of nerves, and, shortly, he does. Rei's back arches at a near impossible angle, nails dig into the flesh of Suguru's sides, leaving red crescents in their wake. his insides are scalding hot; velvety, soft, pulsating. inviting and malleable to the point that soon enough they both know — Yamanoke is ready, and there's no point or willpower to wait any longer. although in another situation Getou would gladly spend hours listening to his partner's delicious mewling, enjoying his restlessness, his inability to keep his body still; but alas.   

the pose they're in is not a good one for the first time, but unless Yamanoke wants to be the one who does all the fucking (and at the moment he doesn't), it would have to suffice; his back's been through worse. besides, he wouldn't dare to let go of Suguru, not now, not when he's clinging to Rei as if he is the sleep to the freezing. it quickly stops being all that romantic if you think of the implications for too long, but, regardless, it feels like it. and, for some reason, it breaks his heart a little.

"i love you," he whispers as lifts his hips up. "i love you," he whispers as he slowly lowers himself. "i love you," he whispers as he bottoms out. the plush roundness of his arse meets firm muscles of Getou's thighs. they are still and silent for some excruciatingly long moments. their eyes are locked, their mouths are slightly agape, their breath is shared.

"i do. i do, i love you too," Suguru whispers back and his grip on Rei's waist grows a bit too tight for comfort.

Yamanoke feels full. Getou is a big guy, sure, but that's the thing — they both are. still this is a lot, this is overwhelming, physically, emotionally and on some other level. they are impossibly close now, and here we go, that part was destined to happen the moment he lied about «it» being «fine»: he can sense every individual cursed spirit that resides within Suguru's body. big and small, new and old, strong and weak. all of them.

every. single. one.

it truly is sickening, andthe foul feeling from before comes back full force. more tangible than ever, it washes over him again and knocks the air out of his lungs. he thinks he may be wheezing like his trachea is being crashed and, perhaps, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head, but he can't tell for sure as all of his senses are replaced with viscous darkness.

"probably not the sexiest thing,"he ponders. "oh, poor Suguru."

this isn't his first time (although the situation as a whole really is... unique): episodes alike used to happen to him regularly when his cursed technique first started to manifest, and they were quite an annoying extension of it. back then constant meditations and near complete isolation were the only remedy. later he learned to control it and the monks learned to make a special kind of pills that kept him sedated enough to be a functioning human being; and all was well.

until a certain someone entered his life.

they've met prior to this, Yamanoke and cursed spirits of Getou Suguru. the first time it happened on accident, the last — on purpose, only a season ago. and the amount of curses almost doubled since then. oh you, benevolent fool, who refused to take a break and is now suffering for that.

funny enough, it's not that painful. the theoretical strain in his loin should be way worse than this fucked up state; it's "theoretical" solely because right now he doesn't know where his own loin is. where his anything is. the only thing he knows for sure is the drumming pain in his temples that helps him to even comprehend he's still alive. other than that he is just a small ball of energy floating in a never-ending ocean of curses.

in a way, it's kind of tranquil. and that's why it's also incredibly scary, he thinks, there's this promising temptation of eternal peace. why would you ever want to go back, ah, little thief?..

but he can feel something through this throbbing mass of nothingness that surrounds him. the lightest of brushes, as if a downy tuft of a dandelion touches his lips. a barely there murmur of his name caresses his ear; tender, worried, pleading. there's radiance in the centre of darkness, so bright it would've been blinding if he could really see. it envelopes him, pushes him closer to something solid, and

he's back. in his apartment, in his lover's arms. gasping for air like a fish straight out of water.

before Getou can say anything, Yamanoke pushes him down onto the bed, trembling hands planted on both sides of his head. Rei is towering over him again, but this time there's an unexpected viciousness in his ghastly eyes, in his entire form, and for a moment Suguru looks absolutely petrified.

"Rei..?" he asks, voice weak.

"you are the most idiotic creature i've ever met," Yamanoke hisses as he drops angry kisses to Getou's face, "and i've met Satoru!"

"wait, uh, is everything..? are you, ah..?" he tries to sound concerned, but the best he can do is not laugh, and even here he fails miserably. "Rei!"

"no. not talking to an idiot."

and he does not indeed. instead his lips finally meet Suguru's while his hips start going up and down, if a bit awkwardly at first. Getou moans into the kiss, large palms immediately find their way to the plush buttocks of his partner. he stops Yamanoke (partly, to his own remorse) and tries to talk some sense into him, but Rei ignores it and goes for the next best thing he can do right now — places his hands on Suguru's chest, pinning him down, and starts moving his pelvis in circles.

Getou groans, suppressing the urge to thrust his hips up, "Rei, please—"

"i am trying."

"that i can see, but," Suguru chuckles and reaches for the white-eyed man's cheek; Yamanoke meets him halfway, "seriously, are you alright?"

Rei's smile is gentle when he nods and nuzzles into his palm.

"you scared me, dear."

"sorry," Rei says and starts a slow, even rhythm, "didn't mean to."

"i thought i hurt you."

"you would never."

"you sound so sure."

his lips touch Getou's wrist, feel his pulse, "because i trust you, love."

"and if i'd say you really shouldn't?"

"then i'd call you an idiot again."

it's Suguru's turn to smile, and this time it reaches his eyes too.

they keep their leisurely pace. Yamanoke's hips move deliberately, his hands roam Getou's upper body, fingers brush over perked up nipples. the pretty pink marks he left on the chest are faded now, and he wants to renew them, again and again and again, but then he'd spend all night doing so, which isn't that bad of an idea, but there're other things he can do to make his lover deliciously miserable under his touch.

Getou beneath him is a work of art, and Yamanoke would be a way better art critic for he takes time to bask in his lover's beauty, in this masterpiece of human physique. all flustered and pretty, lips swollen and shiny, gaze so docile it's like looking into a fawn's eyes. his hands knead soft flesh of Rei's arse, his hips meet him half way. and not a single thought inside that precious head of his. simply gorgeous.

(a twisted side of Rei wishes for a second for him to be a petite girl with soft belly just so s/he can lean back and touch Suguru's dick through her/his skin, to feel him with her/his small hands, to make him moan like he's been blessed by the heavens the moment he sees her/his stomach bulge because of him being buried so deep inside.)

Yamanoke is only a human though, and soon enough waves of pleasure start to catch up to him too. his body trembles every time their hips meet, eyes roll every time his prostate is hit, and the burn in his thighs is getting more and more persistent. oh yeah, the part where Rei isn't doing all the fucking is gone right out of the window by this point.

he almost jumps when he feels one wide palm wrap around his cock while the other suddenly appear on his waist, pulling him close to the strong body in front of him; the searing breath on his neck makes an army of goosebumps march down his spine. after all, Yamanoke isn't the only one who can read his partner.

"aren't you a lovely little thing, dear?" low whisper caresses his skin, and Rei can't help but whimper.

Suguru's thrusts are more purposeful and powerful now, aiming for that sweet spot inside his lover. his hand on Yamanoke's dick goes for a faster pace than his hips, sending Rei into a confused bliss. he wants to trace patterns on the inked skin with his tongue, but stops himself once again, opting to mark his neck instead, sinking his teeth into the same spot as before.

mouth open in a silent moan, Yamanoke clutches Getou's shoulders; the other sorcerer hums, pleased with such reaction. usually when they do something intimate, it's Rei who's collected and calm, he's the one who watches his partner fall apart fully at his mercy. but right now he's a complete opposite, and seeing as tranquil expression leaves his face, being replaced with a lewd, lustful one — oh, that does things to Suguru.

[un]fortunately, it also brings him closer to the edge. with how Yamanoke spasm around him, with how sweetly he moans his name, how absolutely euphoric he looks while riding him. and all of this divine glory before him is for him. belongs to him.

"Rei, nngh, i'm... i'm gonna..."

Yamanoke leans closer to Getou's ear, practically purring, "don't you, ah, dare to stop then."

Suguru all but growls at that and thrust into Rei with a sharp snap of his hips. taken by surprise, Yamanoke throws his head back, and a sinful string of sounds leaves his mouth. although the song is hauntingly beautiful, it denies Getou his oh-so-desired kiss. he peppers his lover's body in soft pecks and dulcet praises instead, anywhere and everywhere he can reach, and still it seems like it's not enough. only when their lips meet again, his thirst is subdued, but never quenched.

[«even if our kisses tasted like curses, i'd love you all the same».]

ecstasy hits them almost at the same time. first it's Suguru who feels the tight knot in his gut snap, and then, as he bites, really bites into the unmarred flesh at the crook of Rei's neck, it's the other's turn, white eyes rolling and toes curling.

trembling bodies still after finally reaching their peak. faces flushed, lips parted. two as one. beautiful, sensual, unbelievably vulnerable. they stay like this, connected and pressed against each other in an effort to make the minutes stop.

night spilling over them like gasoline in all directions, and the dark blue over everything, and them holding their breath—

[crovatian]

just a simple medicine seller…

[crovatian]

[山ノ怪] there is very little left of me (and it's never coming back)

• pairing: Ryoumen Sukuna/Original Male Character, Getou Suguru/Original Male Character, Gojo Satoru/Original Male Character

• synopsis:

"ah, danna," a familiar voice called out, "you look a lot smaller than i remember."

Sukuna turned around, more annoyed than surprised with this person's appearance, "and you look a lot livelier than you supposedly should."

it was a given, of course, but once again — all monks do is lie. because right now Yamanoke, the Yamanoke, cursed spirit and all, was standing in front of Sukuna. alive and well, with white eyes glinting feverishly and full lips stretched in a sly smile.

• warnings: implied/referenced character death, spoilers for the latest jjk manga chapters, established relationship, canon-typical violence, sexual undertones in that one scene, english being my second language and all that jazz

• notes: i was supposed to write a pwp but then distracted myself with an unfunny joke so here we are now

[山ノ怪] today the world will end (you never know we may recover) pt. 1 and pt. 2

[山ノ怪] lost souls and reverie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] ‘tis but your name that is my enemy  pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue verità pt. 1

[山ノ怪] there is very little left of me (and it’s never coming back) pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue bugie pt. 1

i would recommend reading yamanoke stories on ao3, for some additional information

°

"ah, danna," a familiar voice called out, "you look a lot smaller than i remember."

Sukuna turned around, more annoyed than surprised with this person's appearance, "and you look a lot livelier than you supposedly should."

"why thank you, i am rather flattered."

 it was a given, of course, but once again — all monks do is lie. because right now Yamanoke, the Yamanoke, cursed spirit and all, was standing in front of Sukuna. alive and well, with white eyes glinting feverishly and full lips stretched in a sly smile.

 "do you eat enough, danna? Uraume sure is not treating you well. look at you!"

 Yamanoke took a step forward and his hands snaked under vessel's armpits, lifting him up, so they are at the same eye level. the audacity of this man; Sukuna should definitely cut him into a million tiny pieces. but still, it's somewhat nice seeing Yamanoke still lacks any and all self-preservation instinct even a thousand years later.

 "what took you so long? i thought Kenjaku would bring you back sooner," Sukuna asked, his vessel's feet dangling ten or so centimetres in the air.

"oh, but he never did. Rei-chan was the one who freed me."

"who?"

"Rei-chan! that one sorcerer who runs around drenched with my blood."

 Sukuna hums thoughtfully. so a fake turned out to be useful. interesting.

 "and where is he now?"

"ran off to find Kenjaku. he also said something about avenging his daughters."

 a blurry memory of two girls bowing before him and begging to kill the man wearing a priest's robe with stitches on his forehead flashes in his mind before disappearing, forever.

 Sukuna smirks, "i would like to see him try."

"oh, but Rei-chan is mine."

"hu-uh?" biting gaze of the King of Curses burns holes in his face. "did you suddenly forget your place?"

 yes, him becoming a curse didn't change much. he is harder to kill now, sure, but his self-destructive tendencies are also harder to get rid of. Yamanoke was, is and always will be just a pet, kept for entertainment purposes. and his place is still at his master's feet.

 so, he puts Sukuna down, but instead of lowering to his knees he tilts his head. the inception of an idea obvious in how his smile changes, baring the pearly teeth.

 "hm-m, danna, but you are smaller. i wonder… can i eat you?"

 Yamanoke pulls on the collar, opening his kimono. a long thin line sited in the middle of his torso splits his skin. inside is a twirling darkness created by curses he devoured. his very being was created as a twisted marriage between hundreds upon hundreds of cursed spirits that lived on the grave mountain. and that is exactly why he is "the bride".

 to kill Yamanoke is to free all the curses. the majority of them comes from the Heian period and although relatively small, they can give most of the modern sorcerers a run for their money. they are fierce, relentless and full of ancient fear and panic — what a perfect source of endless energy. perhaps that's why the monks decided to capture him, but who really knows these days.

 the split widens, black tendrils pick out like tiny adders. white eyes glint with eagerness, waiting.

 Sukuna chuckles, "perv."

 the King of Curses reaches out, his sharp fingernails caress smooth borders of the split. that's where the life exited and the spirits entered; that's where townspeople stabbed Yamanoke when they pronounced him a worthy sacrifice. Sukuna's fingers push past the skin.

 his insides are cold. well, there's actually nothing inside Yamanoke's abdomen, or chest, or anywhere; he's nothing but a shell. still, having one's hand within his body feels like messing around in someone's guts. squishy, soft, pulsating. usually curses that live inside would tug onto poor fool's limb, trying to suck them in and swallow whole. but even if Sukuna is "smaller" at the moment, they are too scared to even attempt.

 Sukuna moves his hand higher; the split moves with it, closing from below and opening above. Yamanoke's eyes roll back when the King of Curses stops under his chin, almost cleaving full lips as well. a bit more and his head will open up like a blooming bud, maybe then…

 something small flies past them, cutting Yamanoke's cheekbone.

 "oyomesan, let go of Sukuna-sama. please." despite the use of honorific there was nothing but disrespect and spite in Uraume's voice.

"ah, little plum! you're here too." it tickles him, when Yamanoke speaks, so Sukuna pulls his hand out.

"obviously. i shall always be by Sukuna-sama side."

"aside from those times when danna literally flights from your company. or when you were glued to Kenjaku's hip."

"you..!"

 Sukuna is too old to deal with their childish bickering.

 usually it's a lot of fun — watching people go at each other's throats, showing their true ugly faces; but with these two... he should have kept them apart for all of the eternity, honestly. Uraume's loyalty is a welcomed part of their character, but they sometimes take things to heart, extremely close. and Yamanoke is always there to pick on them because of it.

 "cut it. both of you," the King of Curses says, and there's a wave of something, almost of an earthquake quality; that brings a mad grin to Sukuna's face, "oh, we have things to do."

 °

 the bothersome fact that Yamanoke is bothered by the words of Sukuna bothers the sorcerer a lot. and yeah, ha-ha, what a funny sentence, go read a thesaurus or something, Rei, but he is so perturbed because of his little chit-chat with the King of Curses that he is about to make the biggest mistake of his life. well, the second biggest. 

 and another "well" — he has already done it.

 truth be told, the mountain monastery didn't call for him this time; he lied to avoid any and all unnecessary questions from Yaga, Ieiri and Gojo. especially Gojo. apparently, it raises less suspicions when it's the shady mountain monks' initiative, not the other way around. marvellous, truly marvellous.

 so, he went to the Yamanoke-dera out of his own volition.

 to keep one's name, to keep curse's name, alive like this is to feed its owner a lot of energy. and if Sukuna wasn't lying (fat chance, uh-huh) then the monks changed just enough of this ancient Yamanoke's story for it to be more acceptable for the populi, but still considered as "his". what vantage can positive image like this give to a curse? cursed spirits are born and bred on fear and negativity, what is the point in adding light to their names, in making them almost heroic? does it has something to do with the King of Curses or was it just a coincidence? moreover, the owner of the name, the curse, has to be somewhat alive to feed on said energy. the ink for Rei's tattoos wasn't made out of Seiryū's blood, obviously, but to think that he's forever covered in blood of someone who used to be a human — it's a bit nasty, to say the least.

 Yamanoke needed answers, so he struck a deal with the monks.

 and just like that almost three weeks of his life, his back and his right arse cheek (the real loss) were gone, buried under layers of inky hell. but in return he got himself one honest answer to any question.

 naturally, he asked, "what the actual fuck?"

 well, no, not exactly, although the temptation was strong. and, admittedly, it would have been funny. but no.

 strangely enough the mountain monastery was rather generous whenever he asked for any "earthly possessions", however they always turned into angry hoarding goblins whenever he asked for information. given a chance — the chance, perhaps — Yamanoke would not waste it now. but, referring to the previous statement, there were many complicated questions and only one answer; he has to choose wisely.

 [«you already know the answer, child».]

 ...in the end, that led him to a box.

 made out of some kind of a sacred stone, it was as long as a femur and as wide as a pelvic bone of an adult male. the metrics he used to determine the size surprised even Yamanoke himself. maybe he already knew what's inside. maybe he had seen it in a dream. maybe he should've walked away.

 but instead he opened the box and marvelled in utter bewilderment at what he found in it. a pulsing mass, broken and almost entirely drained of any bodily fluids, yet somehow alive, it looked at Rei with the same white eyes he possessed.

 mesmerized, Yamanoke reached for a knife he took from one of the monks who guarded this place and cut his palm, spilling fresh blood onto the thing before him. it drunk, frenzied thirst emanating from its very being, and slowly took the form of a man.

 "ah, little thief," he said, voice deep as leopard's growling, "you finally came."

 Rei took a step back and the man took a step forward, reaching out to touch his face, but was interrupted by a paper ofuda sticking to his hand. they turned around, almost synchronously, to see a bunch of monks standing there, in all their battle-ready glory; the old Monshu of Yamanoke-dera was also here. the man tsked and flicked the ofuda off.

 "lend me that knife of yours, will you, little thief?"

 watching this man slaughter twenty or so people without any effort or remorse was like watching some twisted caricature of Yamanoke himself. their resemblance is that of a parent and their child. he is a bit taller and slimmer and his skin is inhumanly white and unmarred, but his facial features, the way he carries himself, even his laughter (although a bit maniacal) are almost identical to Rei's. and his eyes — as pale as the moon with the gaze as dark as the ocean. it's unsettling.

 but, come to think of it, the fact that he feels nothing, as his brethren and his mentor are being murdered right in front of him, is way more unsettling. he never hated them per se; it was always "the vow", "the mountain monastery" and "the monks", not "Kenji", "Shinji" or "Akira". people of the Yamanoke-dera did nothing horrifically bad to him, they were just cogs in this weird machina with daemon replacing its deus. they taught him everything he knows, guided him through hard times and were his family up until the point; he really liked some of them. still, he did nothing to help and suffered no grief when one of their heads rolled to his feet.

 "you can call me 'Yome' since we share the name," the man, the Yamanoke, said, when he was done.

 they were sitting inside chinjusha at the moment; the very same chinjusha the monks buried the stone box under — and they say monks don't have sense of humour. Yome, still practically naked, but wearing late Monshu's haori now, was drinking tea, as if it wasn't him who went on a killing spree. his face that resembled a hannya mask just minutes ago looked peaceful, blissful and he generally was at ease with the world around, it seemed.

 all residents of the mountain monastery were dead; except for Rei.

 Yome spared his life as a goodwill gesture, a gratitude of sorts. for freeing him, for letting him see this new world and for making him a delicious cup of tea. he also said something about being bounded by blood and becoming one as soon as he's done with some unfinished business, but Rei chose to ignore that part for the sake of his own mental stability.

 "oh, and one more thing, Rei-chan," a smile stretches Yome's full lips; it would've been endearing if they weren't covered in blood. "if you escort me to the King of Curses, i'll tell you a little secret about your lovely muko."

 °

 and that's how Yamanoke Rei ended up trailing after presumably dead Getou Suguru.

 well, Rei knows it's not really him — Yome told him on their way to Tokyo — but it doesn't make things easier. one part of him wants to tear this creature to pieces, destroy its very atoms (and for once in his life Yamanoke knows it's his own anger, not ink's influence), while the other wants to hold his lover close and never ever let go. theoretically, he can do both: his domain will do the dirty work of banishing the curse, whereas he himself will cling desperately to the remains of Suguru. however, for this to occur Kenjaku needs to look him in the eyes. unfortunately, this thing is not that stupid.

 "i missed you, dear," Kenjaku smiles, voice sweet and eyes shut tight.

"don't."

"ha-ha, okay-okay. so serious."

 if Rei's lucky, his dragons can constrict Kenjaku for a few seconds which should be enough. but from what he knows pseudo-Getou can use Reverse Cursed Technique and, if needed, will simply gouge his eyes out to avoid the risk. the bastard knows Yamanoke won't hurt this body.

 "i wonder, what would your lovers say if they knew you're in cahoots with some ancient cursed spirit."

"thanks to you i have none at the moment."

 using the new tattoo can be dangerous. firstly, he doesn't know how to control it properly, there was no time to learn any tricks. secondly, since Kenjaku has Suguru's body, there's a possibility he can just absorb the curse, and who knows what would happen then.

 "you can always join me. i'm sure Sukuna will be ecstatic to have two Yamanokes as his pets."

"tempting, but i don't want to go to jail for courting an underage student."

 Kenjaku laughs at that, almost sincerely.

 hand to hand combat is an option — not a good one though. Yamanoke's at disadvantage, his back's sore and, again, he cannot do much against someone who heals. breaking his neck might work, but, obviously, he won't do it. still, getting closer to his face maybe useful. he has to do something, he has to at least try.

 suddenly the floor beneath their feet trembles, not unsimilar to an earthquake.

 Gojo's tone is somewhat playful when he says, "Rei, you have exactly five seconds to prove you aren't with mr. old-lady's-handkerchief," but you can clearly feel his irritation.

 Yamanoke opens his mouth to call him an idiot, but is unfortunately interrupted by Kenjaku who grabs his hand and spins him, rather theatrically, hugging his waist from behind. curse user then places his chin on white-eyed man's shoulder, nuzzling into his neck, and sways from side to side a little.

 "i'm afraid, you are too late, Satoru. Rei-kun and i are madly in love again," he says in a very distinct Getou manner.

 the disgusted look Rei and Satoru share is more than enough for the latter to withdraw his question.

 "eh, it was worth a try anyway," Kenjaku sighs and pushes Yamanoke away. "you two need some time to catch up, so i'll be on my way. don't bother with the escort."

 what happens next is a series of events that can only be described as chaos.

 Kenjaku turns away to leave, but stops abruptly as his eyes fly open, involuntarily, meeting dark furious gaze in a broken piece of glass. reflection is enough for Yamanoke's domain expansion; for just a second curse user feels fear circulating through his veins.

 at the same time Gojo leaps to attack, and is interrupted by none other than the King of Curses, who's sporting an arrogant smirk and Fushiguro Megumi's face. they bark something at each other, but it's hard to understand as they are too high up in the sky.

 a second passes, and there's a person standing in front of Rei, cutting his line of sight; Kenjaku exhales nervously, being able to move again. shock wave from the Gojo's and Sukuna's attacks destroys a few surrounding constructions and forces everyone to come down to the ground. Uraume, although a bit late to the show, also lands by their Master's side.

 "oh, this is going to be so much fun," Yome smiles, meanwhile in the background Uraume is being punched by Gojo. "i thank you again for setting me free, Rei-chan."

 in a low cut of the kimono Rei sees as a thin black split on Yome's skin opens, and a nasty wave of goosebumps gallops through his body. what has he done?..

[crovatian]

[山ノ怪] 'tis but your name that is my enemy

• pairing: Ryoumen Sukuna/Original Male Character

• synopsis:

once upon a time there was the King of Curses and his name was Ryomen Sukuna.

and once upon a time said King of Curses decided to rest by the lake that climbed a mountain. he fell asleep and in his dreams he saw a person with eyes as pale as the moon and gaze as dark as the ocean, and when he awoke from his slumber someone akin to his somnambula stood before him.

• warnings: implied/referenced character death, implied/referenced sex, yamanoke from first half of this is not yamanoke from previous works mind you, english being my second language and all that jazz

• notes: welcome back to my yamanoke bullshit?? 

also, i reread it few times and, yep, i would say, it's hard to "enjoy" this part without reading one of the prior ones, sorry

[山ノ怪] today the world will end (you never know we may recover) pt. 1 and pt. 2

[山ノ怪] lost souls and reverie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] ‘tis but your name that is my enemy  pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue verità pt. 1

[山ノ怪] there is very little left of me (and it’s never coming back) pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue bugie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] toska pt. 1

i would recommend reading yamanoke stories on ao3 actually, for some additional information

...wtf did you do to my text, you acursed blue site? some lines were messed up, but i fixed it, i think?? again, you’ll be better off reading it on ao3

°

[呪いの嫁] Bride of Curses

once upon a time there was the King of Curses and his name was Ryomen Sukuna.

and once upon a time said King of Curses decided to rest by the lake that climbed a mountain. he fell asleep and in his dreams he saw a person with eyes as pale as the moon and gaze as dark as the ocean, and when he awoke from his slumber someone akin to his somnambula stood before him.

lake water was lapping at their bare feet, midday sun was gilding their bruised skin. their long hair tied low with a ribbon looked dishevelled, their full lips stained with blood looked delicious. they were wearing nothing, but a white kosode.

"ah, you are awake, danna," they said, voice deep as leopard's growling. "my apologies, i did not mean to disturb you."

Sukuna sat up, too curious to simply devour this human, "and who would you be?"

"'Yamanoke' is my name, danna," Yamanoke said and stepped out of water. "you can call me as such if you wish."

"this is not what i asked of you, but i'll let it slide for now. what happened to your face?"

"people, like small children, tend to grow bored with their toys. some just throw them away, others like to break them before doing so."

"you have a tongue of a snake. to cut it off would be..."

"...a shame. for i know how to use it in more than one way."

Yamanoke sat opposite Sukuna and untied his hair. like a silky black veil they covered his shoulders. if not for the scruffy appearance, he would've looked beautiful, Sukuna noted. like something the King of Curses would gladly have in his possession.

ignoring burning eyes of the cursed spirit, Yamanoke started untangling his hair.

"are you an asobi, then?" Sukuna asked, propping his cheek with one of his hands.

"to be an asobi is to be a very masterful and respected woman, and i am afraid i am neither of the three. were my looks and my voice not enough to reveal this unfortunate fact?"

"it was, though that doesn't mean much to me."

"oh, if it is truth, then you are very kind, danna."

Sukuna laughed, and nearby trees trembled with the sound of his laughter.

"although your eyes are pale, you should still see who is in front of you."

"indeed, i do. though that doesn't mean much to me." Yamanoke smiled, slyly.

"again, you talk a lot, yet your words are empty. answer my question, mortal. now."

the human sighed, "many would sooner call me an yahochi than an asobi, danna. i simply enjoy keeping company with those who desire entertainment albeit it with my music or my body. mostly the latter, of course."

Yamanoke shifted a bit, adjusting his kosode, and Sukuna noticed traces of dried blood and crescent nail marks on the inner side of his thighs.

 [he would have loved to be the one who left them.]

"and yet you are here, almost at the top of a mountain. bloodied and beaten, and practically naked." 

"i believe fate herself brought me here. to meet you, perhaps."

"i do not have patience for your antics and i do not need a knife to cut your tongue off."

"but i am sincere, danna. are you not a customer? can you not enjoy a good imayō?"

Sukuna huffed, "you do not have pants on, yet you expect me to believe you own a biwa."

"oh, but i do own one. i can even wear a jūnihitoe if your eyes would be more pleased with its bright colours rather than with my naked form. come tomorrow and you will see."

aside from the way he sat and wore his hair, Yamanoke was not effeminate. he was quite tall for a human, his shoulders were wide, his legs and arms, although long and lanky, were not devoid of muscles. his face had certain softness to it, sure, but his voice was deep and strong, and there was no way anyone would mistake him for a woman.

still, the idea of seeing him in a female attire intrigued Sukuna.

"knowing well who i am, what makes you think, i won't end your life here and now?"

"nothing, i suppose. if you wish to do so, please, do. but if you decide to listen to my music and happen to enjoy it, then i, of course, shall ask you for a gift."

Sukuna smirked, amused by this bargaining, "and that gift would be your life."

"indeed, danna. if it is not too much of an ask."

he wasn't pleading or begging. he wasn't even scared. cold, probably, but definitely not scared. this man was empty. curses are simple creatures, and if Sukuna wasn't who he was, this sort of frigidity would've been irritating, almost offending.

what an interesting addition to his collection this human can be.

"come back when you are healed. i want to see a blooming flower, not blooming bruises. and," Sukuna shrugged karaginu off of his shoulders and threw it to Yamanoke, "cover yourself. i hate the very idea of one of those pathetic human beings trying to get their dirty little hands on my things. but even the dullest of them would not dare to touch you if you show up in this."

Yamanoke hid his face in waves of dark material and inhaled deeply, "ah, danna, see, i told you — you are very kind."

°

although it's been many, many years, Sukuna still somewhat remembers what's it like to be a human. so, thanks to these memories, he is more than aware that two days is not enough for a heavily bruised human body to recover properly.

but when the King of Curses woke up today — two days have passed since their little rendezvous — Yamanoke was standing before him. this time he even had appropriate clothes on.

"i told you to heal up, not use paint," Sukuna ran his finger along Yamanoke's cheek, whipping off some of the white.

"could not bear to live another day, knowing that my frail being is what keeps you waiting, danna."

"too much honour you take upon yourself, don't you think?"

"mayhap. and yet you came here today."

truth be told, he never left. not because he couldn't wait for this human to return (Sukuna half expected him to never show up again, actually; in that case he would've just destroyed the nearest town — with or without Yamanoke in it), but because this place was quiet. people that lived at the foot of the mountain would not dare to come this high up for they feared curses, while said curses were too scared of Sukuna to even leave their hidey-holes. so, this place was pure of their stench and their weak cursed energy, and nature was his only companion (until recently).

wreaking chaos is fun, but even the legendary King of Curses needs some time to recuperate, to relax.

"why didn't you run?"

"my-my, danna, how could i?" Yamanoke sat opposite Sukuna like before and propped biwa on his knees the way an asobi would do it. "leaving after promising a performance — what a horrible performer that would've made me, ah."

"and you think your skill is enough to earn my mercy?"

"it may just be. either way, i can promise you will be entertained today," he fixed biwa pegs and took a plectrum out of his sleeve. "is there a particular imayō you would like to hear first?"

"surprise me, mortal."

Yamanoke hit the strings, "as you wish."

his voice was silvery, perfect for that type of performance; it's almost like it crept inside one's chest and made itself comfortable there. it made Sukuna strangely comfortable as well.

Yamanoke sang a tale of a boy who was born among priestesses of the goddess Ame-no-Uzume. his mother was kind; she taught him the art of her sisters and those sisters taught him the art of life. when the boy was old enough to scare away crows, he dreamed of a man with two faces and four arms who sat atop the mountain of human bones.

he travelled alongside his mother and her sisters: he helped them brush their hair and put their many hitoe on, he held their parasols and tended to their instruments. sometimes the boy even performed with them, but was not allowed to come into tents with customers; he was granted this privilege only after his mother's death. she got sick and had to stay behind, separated from her sisters; her son was by her side, loyal till her very last breath.

the boy buried his mother and willingly trapped himself in a town at the foot of a mountain. the townsfolk didn't like him, they were fearful of his white eyes, yet they'd never turn down his services. both men and women, rich and poor were common visitors of his humble shack. some left him with gifts and money, others — with bruises and broken bones.

one day the dream from his childhood came to haunt the boy again. two faces, four arms, burning eyes and cruel smile. flurried with the vision, the boy couldn't treat his guests properly and got hurt. running away from sticks and stones, he ended up almost at the top of the mountain, by the lake that bravely climbed it.

"but the ending of the tale is for you to decide, danna," Yamanoke smiled and that smile made his eyes glint feverishly.

 °

[呪いの王] King of Curses

"Yamanoke-sensei!" the brat yells, waking Sukuna up, "you're late today. is everything okay?"

"ah, Itadori-kun, i'm terribly sorry. didn't mean to make you wait for so long."

"nah, it's fine, i was just worried."

"no need. a furby distracted me, that's all," Yamanoke ruffles brat's hair and goes on to explain today's exercise.

Sukuna can feel the warmth of his hand; he hates it.

name, eyes, cursed energy — normally, these are the things by which you would recognise someone. and although he had it all, this Yamanoke was nothing like his Yamanoke. this one was a fake.

the more time Sukuna spent on the mountain listening to Yamanoke's music, the more restless cursed spirits that dwelled on said mountain became. neither of them was bothered by this little inconvenience, but the same couldn't have been said about the locals: curses started killing their cattle, stealing their children and simply wreaking havoc whenever and wherever they could.

as any sane person of Heian period would, people at the foot of the mountain thought it was the wrath of a god, so they decided to propitiate it by sacrificing one of their own. and since Yamanoke was the equivocal outsider who has been spending an awful lot of time atop the mountain lately, they decided that the honours shall be his.

"what even are you?" Sukuna asks after the brat passes out during meditation session, too exhausted from his previous training.

white eyes widen, "pardon?"

"you've heard me. answer the question, mortal."

"well, my name is Yamanoke, oh venerable King of Curses," polite smile touches his lips and he bows his head a little. "is there anything specific you'd like to know?"

obviously, there was no god on the mountain.

trapped inside a sacral chest, Yamanoke felt all the lament, all the bitterness, all the anger that's been brewing inside him from years of abuse and ostracisation merge with cursed spirits of the mountain and flood his mind and heart, turning him into a curse.

oh, how glorious he looked, killing those who wronged him, their hot blood painting his burial attire red.

"are you a monk?" Sukuna inquires.

"i was raised by them, yes. high up in the mountain monastery of Okayama Prefecture. but you probably know it as Mimasaka Province. may i ask, why my humble being interest you?"

"no." the answer makes Yamanoke laugh.

the Yamanoke made that mountain his domain, just to spite people, it seemed. their heads were still full with memories of carnage, so locals began to think of the mountain as of a shintaizan and went to great lengths to appease their new god. although Yamanoke was no kami, he liked playing the part — he even "blessed" townsfolk and travellers from time to time.

but, surprisingly, it didn't change much. Yamanoke was still singing, dancing and, indeed, entertaining Sukuna in many other ways. and all was well.

until the monks came.

"what's the name of your monastery?"

"Yamanoke-dera."

"huh?"

those monks tricked Yamanoke. he could never pass up the opportunity to play for those who asked, and becoming a curse only made this habit of his worse. so, they captured him, broke his body and put him in tiny box made out of sacred stone.

then, after they were finished with this twisted version of sokushinbutsu, they, apparently, build a monastery on top of his domain. oh, the disrespect.

"it is said that "Tsuyama-no-Kae" was the name of a miko who became a bride of the mountain god."

Sukuna huffs, "lies."

well, not entirely. Yamanoke was a bride — Bride of Curses that is.

"was she your bride then?"

"no one allowed you to question me, mortal."

Yamanoke shrugs, "was just interested whose name i stole."

"you stole your name from a harlot. and somehow also managed to take after him."

the sorcerer completely ignores Sukuna's jab, "so, the story was a lie, huh? Yamanoke was a man."

"who knows, i may be the one lying. after all, why would you even trust a curse?"

"why not? in the end, you won't gain anything from this conversation, while the monks could benefit from a pretty tale on their hands."

"and you are not completely braindead. who could've thought."

"oh, thank you, it's an honour," Yamanoke laughs again. "but the real question is — why would they keep the name? why would they name their monastery after someone like him?"

the brat steers awake, disturbed by their talking, "that is something for you to solve. until our next time, mortal."

yes, this Yamanoke is a fake. but there is anger festering under his skin, there is hatred hidden behind his eyes, there is something else he inherited from the Yamanoke. gods know how or why he's able to do so, but he did.

and maybe this mountain mystery can keep Sukuna entertained. at least for now.

[crovatian]

The Ultrakill effect

[crovatian]

[山ノ怪] lost souls and reverie

• pairing: Getou Suguru/Original Male Character

• synopsis:

realistically, he should've moved out and back to Okayama once he graduated. or, even better, he should've skinned his arms and ran away with a kabuki theatre troupe. oh, what a life he could've had.

but he fell in love and his love fell into madness.

and Yamanoke was too late to help.

• warnings: angst, hurt no comfort, established relationship, implied/referenced character death, implied/referenced sex, yamanoke being miserable, english being my second language and all that jazz

• notes: welcome to another yamanoke related story, heh

[山ノ怪] today the world will end (you never know we may recover) pt. 1 and pt. 2

[山ノ怪] lost souls and reverie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] ‘tis but your name that is my enemy  pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue verità pt. 1

[山ノ怪] there is very little left of me (and it’s never coming back) pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue bugie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] toska pt. 1

i would recommend reading yamanoke stories on ao3 actually, for some additional information

°

you wake up, still in your makeup, eyelids feeling heavy and gross. you sit up and across the room you see tired expression of Yamanoke Rei looking at you. you look back.

he rubs his face, smearing red paint over his eyelids. his eyes look like he was crying, but these days he's too hollow to do so. his long hair tangled into something that used to be a momoware with half the pins and kanoko ties missing. he's a mess.

it is a mirror though and, unfortunately, you are Yamanoke Rei.

you are a mess.

Yamanoke shakes his head, two more pins fall onto the bed. he gets up, drags himself to the kitchen, evading glass shards on the floor, and puts the kettle on. while waiting, he stares out of the window; Shinjuku in the morning is as lively as ever. how nauseating. he should move out.

realistically, he should've moved out and back to Okayama once he graduated. or, even better, he should've skinned his arms and ran away with a kabuki theatre troupe. oh, what a life he could've had.

but he fell in love and his love fell into madness.

and Yamanoke was too late to help.

it's been almost two weeks, and he still can't make heads or tails of it all. the girls are gone, the body is gone, everything is gone.

"fucking vow..." he hisses, reminding himself a bit too much of a certain someone; his tattoos buzz with cursed energy. the kettle starts to whistle.

albeit nearly unbreakable, their binding vow is useful, Yamanoke nudges himself. most of his autonomy came out of it; and also this flat.

for the sake of convenience all students of Tokyo Jujutsu High are supposed to live in the school dorms. Yamanoke used to live there too, but after the summer of 2007, when his tattoos were finally done, he asked the mountain monastery for his own place in Tokyo. he was still living at the dorms with Suguru, Shoko, Satoru and the others, but preferred to stay in the city for holidays, on weekends or after secret nights out. he was raised by monks, sure, but he has never been a devotee.

so, that's one positive. the negatives on the other hand...

Yamanoke Monastery is hidden deep in one of Okayama's mountain forests. it would make sense to send your prized possession of a child, your little murderous tool to the closest school for sorcerers — that being Kyoto Jujutsu High. but no, the monks decided, the more time said child would need to come back in case of an emergency, the better. thus, they sent Yamanoke to Tokyo.

sure hope nothing bad will come out of it, eh.

°

the first time he was too late happened right after Yamanoke got his flat.

(he isn't sure, if he should count escorting the Star Plasma Vessel mission as the "first time" though. it wasn't his assignment, it never could have been, still he feels partly responsible. like, what if they picked him up on their way back to Tokyo, maybe he could have helped, could have distracted the invisible assassin for long enough, so Suguru and Amanai would get to safety, do the ritual or whatever the fuck Tengen wanted the girl for.)

he was excited to tell his friends what he'd bargained out of the monks. he was also incredibly happy his tattoos were finished; no more puking cursed ink, sweating blood and being borderline comatose for days while they heal. his skin was still raw and irritated, but at least it was better.

unfortunately, his triumph was short lived. Yamanoke knew that at the moment he, probably, looked exactly what his name suggested he is (that being, a ghost), but, somehow, Suguru looked even worse. he was uncharacteristically pale and thin, his eyes were sunken and red-rimmed, his lips were chapped and faded. his every move yelled that he was exhausted — both physically and mentally.

it felt like Yamanoke's arms caught fire, ink moving under his skin, seeping into his veins, into his soul. tiny droplets of curse's blood turning him into a curse.

he felt enraged, as if his rage belonged to every living soul on the planet and at the same time to someone very specific, very ancient. he felt trapped, in this situation, unable to do anything, and in a tiny stone box, his limbs broken and twisted. he felt truculent, ready to fight the sun, the moon and the entire world of sorcerers.

Yamanoke was gone only for three months, but it felt like he dropped off of the face of the earth for a millennia.

he felt late.

the only thing he managed to do was to wrap his burning arms around Suguru's waist and plant a soft, apologizing kiss onto his neck. as Getou's body relaxed into the embrace, Yamanoke's sudden outburst eased off as well.

that day he also had another "first time" of his.

Getou and Yamanoke were intimate before. nothing outside of sensual handjobs in the dead of night and heated fellatios right after a couple of especially fucked up missions (Rei wants the image of Suguru's flustered face with bitten lips and half-lidded eyes, trying to muffle whiny moans with his hand, burned into his cornea). it's hard having a proper sex life while living in a close proximity to the almighty jujutsu sorcerers. then walls not only have ears, but they also suddenly possess prying eyes and chatty mouths.

but in a dark room of his new flat, illuminated only by lights of Kabuki-chō, the two of them finally became one. their movements both lustful and tender, their expressions both blissed and pained, their bodies both familiar and novel. they were tired, but they could not dare to separate. from the outsider's point of view they looked like Water Serpents: beautiful, sensual, unbelievably vulnerable.

Yamanoke was too late, sure, but there still was something he could save.

°

the second time happened when he came back from the mountain monastery literally half a day after Getou left for that mission. if only Yamanoke knew (and, honestly, he should've known better by this point), he would've followed him immediately. because no sorcerer should face curses alone, special grade or not.

especially, if said curses are actually just people. Yamanoke — someone who was sold to the monks for a hefty sum — knows of it firsthand.

a couple of days later and Suguru is on his doorstep, holding two scared girls, half covered in blood himself. Rei living near Kabuki-chō is probably the only reason they haven't been arrested looking like this.

the girls are hurt, and neither Getou nor Yamanoke have proper medical training, but they tend to their injuries to the best of their abilities. after the girls are taken care of and safely tucked in duvets in Yamanoke's bedroom, it's Suguru's turn. physically he's fine, but he spends close to an hour showering, and all that time Rei sits at the door to the bathroom like a loyal guard dog. then Getou tells Yamanoke everything and asks him to look after Nanako and Mimiko while he deals with some unfinished business.

in return he makes Suguru promise he will be back. Getou cups his face and places a small kiss in the corner of his mouth; Yamanoke winces, uncomfortable memories flooding his mind for a moment, but takes it as a "yes". they spend a few hours on the couch, unable to sleep, and then Suguru is gone.

in the morning there's a bit of a problem as Yamanoke realises he's left alone with two traumatized girls.

you see, Yamanoke was born with white eyes, and that's how the monks knew, he had the — thrice be damned — affinity. growing up, he didn't think of it too much. occasionally, when the monks sent him to a nearby village on his own, local kids would call him yūrei. but Yamanoke knew he wasn't dead and he wasn't lost, so it didn't bother him.

only when he came to the big city, he realised that people were really uncomfortable because of his eyes. to some he reminded mononoke, to others — the dreaded foreigners. and, of course, those, who saw the outline of his tattoos, immediately thought of yakuza.

so, Yamanoke took notice and decided to ran with it.

he started using red eyeshadow, doing his onnagata style eye makeup every day, almost religiously so. it made random people jump, it irritated curses. he absolutely loved it.

but now there are frightened children in his flat, so he had to ditch the dark part (幽, yū) and be left only with the spirit (霊, rei) — which, honestly, was running low.

Yamanoke was the only child of the mountain monastery, since local monks had no need in sāmaṇeras. they only wanted someone who will live through their grandiose cursed ink project. monks told him that they use Seiryū's blood for his tattoos and that he should be grateful and honoured. a bold claim Yamanoke himself has never believed.

(that being said, monks couldn't care less about his cursed technique — until it became a problem of course.)

so, Yamanoke's first real interaction with someone his age came from people at Tokyo Jujutsu High and never has he ever dealt with someone younger than the age of fifteen. he didn't mind kids, he just didn't know how to act around them, what to do. in the end, he's still a tall man with long black hair and weird eyes, his looks alone will frighten any child — previously traumatized or not.

in the meantime, girls are awake and nervous, he can sense it even from another room. maybe he should make them some tea with breakfast. kids drink green tea, right? no, you idiot, they are kids, they need something different. cocoa, perhaps? there's no such thing in his kitchen though, but there's a konbini just around the corner. maybe he should buy some sweets too? kids like sweets; Satoru likes sweets — and he is a child.

gods, they are children. him, Suguru, Shoko, Satoru — they are still in school, they can't take proper care of themselves, how can they take care of others?

"i'll buy kfc," he mutters and grabs his jacket; he's as lost as he has ever been. "and fruits. white peaches. great."

he truly is an idiot for not leaving neither anything resembling food on the table nor a simple note explaining his sudden disappearance to the girls. so by the time Yamanoke's back thirty minutes later, Nanako and Mimiko had ravaged his kitchen, found nothing of nutritional value and resorted to eating leftover bread he baked right after coming back from the mountain monastery. Suguru's going to kill him.

at least they didn't hurt themselves?..

as soon as they see him, girls scatter like roaches with the lights on, hiding behind the couch, their cheeks still staffed with the bread. and Yamanoke just stands there, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. it's like he has zashiki-warashi in his flat now.

"um… it's fine… girls," he tries. "i brought you normal food. well, sort of…"

blond head peaks from over the couch, "where is Getou-sama?"

"don't know," he says.

he thinks he might puke because of how strong chicken he bought smells.

brunette shows herself as well, "when will Getou-sama return?"

"don't know," he says again.

maybe chicken has nothing to do with it, maybe he's going to puke anyway.

"will he return?"

Yamanoke feels something hot and wet sliding down his cheeks. ah, that isn't good, that's very, very bad.

"um, sorry," he swipes some tears away, but bigger one's start to fall, fat salty droplets crashing onto the floor. "sorry-sorry," he tries to smile, but his attempt is futile. "i'm just… just…"

something touches his leg; Yamanoke looks down and sees Mimiko hugging him. unsure and mortified he gently pets her head.

"it's okay," Nanako says and hugs his other leg. "we'll wait for Getou-sama together."

two more days later, and Shoko's knocking on his door.

"Yaga sent me." she says.

"huh."

"i'm supposed to tell you that he's worried you didn't come to school after the weekend," she gets her pack of cigarettes out, and Yamanoke closes the door behind him. "all things considered, you know."

"how very nice of him."

"yeah, Satoru was also eager to say hi."

"he isn't here though."

"he wasn't allowed." she shrugs and gets the lighter out as well.

"no, i mean Suguru. he is not here."

"oh, i know. i told them so."

Shoko takes a drag of her cigarette. the smoke comes out in rings.  

"i'll be back in a few days. gotta patch myself up a bit more."

"need any help?"

"no, just some rest."

"well, suit yourself. but i'm not letting you copy my homework afterwards."

Yamanoke laughs, "thank you, Shoko, i'll keep that in mind."

"Rei," she says, suddenly serious. "be careful, okay?"

he just smiles, helplessly, and walks her to a nearest bus stop.

later that day Suguru is back. he spends the night at Yamanoke's (all four of them sleep together on the floor; it's a novel concept), then takes the girls and leaves for another week.

still, Yamanoke thinks, there is something he can save.

°

then, the third time comes around.

when the news of Suguru's death (his murder rather) reached Yamanoke, he made it home from Shinjuku Station just fine without breaking down. he stayed calm, he stayed collected, even though it took all of his will power.

at home he tried to make a cup of tea to calm his nerves, but the jar didn't want to open, so it met its imminent demise after hitting a wall, tea leaves and glass flying all over the kitchen. it was a nice tea and it was a nice jar, but he can buy exactly the same tea and exactly the same jar, which, unfortunately, does not apply to the man he lost that day.

he was still staring at the scattered tea leaves and glass shards, trying to find answers in their pattern (have it been hours by this point? it felt like it, sure, but in reality only twenty minutes have passed, at most), when someone knocked. Yamanoke turned his head at the sound, snapping out of it. slowly, he walked to the door, bloody footprints trailing after him.

he won't come. he wouldn't dare. he is not that dumb.

he did come. he did dare. he was that dumb.

"he" is Gojo Satoru, standing in the doorway, his hair shining brightly in the winter sun. like he is some kind of an angel. how appropriate.

"merry christmas." Yamanoke says and empty smile stretches his lips.

Gojo frowns, "you're bleeding, Rei."

Yamanoke nods and shifts his weight onto injured foot, leaning against the doorframe.

"did you come to receive your present? afraid, you already took everything from me."

they are silent for five excruciatingly long seconds. Yamanoke keeps smiling, Gojo keeps frowning, and the world around them keeps spinning madly on.

"you didn't have to kill him, you know, " Yamanoke sighs. "you could've just captured him. or even let him get away like you did before. you could've done something. anything. you are Gojo Satoru, it's possible for you, right?"

Gojo glares at him over these stupid oval glasses. Satoru is taller (if only by five centimetres), but it's Yamanoke who's looking down at him. there's no excuses he can make now, when his hands are covered in blood of one their own kind, while Yamanoke's are clean. well, an argument can be made here, but for now it's only a theory.

"he was trying to kill my students. children."

"they're sorcerers, not children. and he is your friend. you were…"

"i don't have patience of a monk, Rei."

"neither do i. but there should always be simple humanity."

"he was out of it, he was a curse user."

"what does it matter! if we serve the world of sorcerers and we kill innocent people when the higher-ups wave their hand, does it make us into curse users?"

"Rei…"

"if we want to protect people we love and care about? does it make us curse users?"

"Rei."

"and what if…"

"do you think you're the only one who's hurt?!" Gojo grabs his forearm, and that's the last straw.

the touch.

Yamanoke's sleeve explodes with ink and colour, pieces of cloth flying in the air. it's a tight space and he isn't too stable to control himself. if not for the limitless or the six eyes or whatever else bullshit Gojo Satoru has up his sleeve, he would probably lose entire right side of his body. again, how appropriate.

instead, dragon destroys the outside wall behind Gojo and shoves him a bit to the side because of its sheer size, then it pops like an iridescent bubble, reappearing on Yamanoke's skin.

"no, i do not," he says, voice surprisingly calm. "i'm not even the one who's hurt the most. i am as guilty as you are. the difference is you get to walk away a hero, a saviour, while we have to stay and try salvaging what's left. farewell, Satoru, i have many things to do now."

°

he turns the stove off and pours some hot water into his cup. two weeks later, Yamanoke, unfortunately, isn't very successful with the salvaging part.

(Mimiko and Nanako branded him a traitor for not being there, for not helping their precious Getou-sama. kids can be so cruel sometimes. still, Yamanoke told them that there will always be food, beds and a caring soul at his place if they choose to come back.)

he still doesn't know who he would've stopped if given a chance. he should've stopped Suguru, he probably even could've. but deep inside he's sure: he would've stopped Satoru, even if the price was his own life.

it's idiotic and probably selfish, but he has never seen Suguru's smile shine so bright during their school days. maybe it was just a "cool teenage angst" at first, but as the years went on it became obvious Getou wasn't happy with what he was doing, with how his life was going. something was eating at him, and at the moment Yamanoke had failed to recognise what it was. then the mission happened, then the lonely summer and then — the accursed town.

and he was too late to help.

"Rei, what a mess," Getou says and shakes his head disapprovingly; he's sitting on the kitchen table like it's his kitchen. like he's alive. "clean the glass already, dear."

oh, right, this.

the closest thing Yamanoke can call himself would be a "spiritual medium". there isn't much spirituality in his ability to get into someone's head, but he doesn't have a better word for his technique. regardless, because of it he is quite susceptible to other's thoughts and emotions, to cursed energy that surrounds everything — and can see ghosts.

those aren't really souls of the dead though; those are just clots of energy left after someone is gone. they hang around, shaped like their owners, and do things they used to do while they were there. you can even convers with them, and since they think they are very much alive, they are compos mentis still. they just don't know what came after.

the more time the decedent spent in a certain place, the stronger their "ghost" in said place is. so multiple "ghosts" of one person can exist — and multiple Sugurus can haunt him for the rest of the eternity.

luckily, Yamanoke knows how to get rid of "ghosts" (aside from drinking himself silly).

but drinking is one of the options, yes. the other being special pills that monks make for him; he says "special", but it's just an extremely strong herbal sedative he's been taking since puberty hit him. lastly, he can just feed these clots of energy to his dragons.

he won't do it to this one though. he doesn't want to be alone now.

"sure, love," Yamanoke leans into spectral frame of his dearly beloved; "ghosts" are not tangible, but he can pretend, he's good at pretending. "in a moment."

Suguru smiles at him, kindly, if a bit tired, and wraps his illusory arms around Yamanoke. there's no warmth, no pressure, only faint buzzing of cursed energy.

there is nothing to save anymore.

[crovatian]

hello, my name is

[crovatian]

[山ノ怪] today the world will end (you never know we may recover), pt. 2

• pairing: Gojo Satoru/Original Male Character, Getou Suguru/Original Male Character, Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru (mentioned in passing)

• synopsis:

as expected, Yamanoke's cold shoulder was reserved exclusively for Gojo.

after that night Yamanoke all but ignored him. granted, Gojo wasn't trying to break his own neck ever since. still he wasn't too pleased with the fact.

• warnings: fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, english being my second language and all that jazz

• notes: welcome to part two; stick around to witness the birth of another yamanoke related story, heh

[山ノ怪] today the world will end (you never know we may recover) pt. 1 and pt. 2

[山ノ怪] lost souls and reverie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] ‘tis but your name that is my enemy  pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue verità pt. 1

[山ノ怪] there is very little left of me (and it’s never coming back) pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue bugie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] toska pt. 1

i would recommend reading yamanoke stories on ao3, for some additional information

°

as expected, Yamanoke's cold shoulder was reserved exclusively for Gojo.

when he wasn't smiling with students and teaching them about inner peace, tranquillity and importance of balance between physical and mental strength, Yamanoke spent his free time at Shoko's, smiling and drinking coffee there. alternatively, he smiled and meditated with Yuji (and Sukuna, apparently? there was a weird fluctuation in Itadori's cursed energy, but Gojo decided to pay it no mind, at least for now). one time he even baked Nanami bread — and he dared to smile while presenting it as well.

(bread was the only thing Yamanoke could actually cook, since he was too used to ascetic lifestyle; this man can take a bite out of a raw onion without batting an eye; but making bread was a little hobby of his).

oh yeah, Yamanoke smiled a lot. it was a polite smile, the exact type monks give you when you enter a temple. and Yamanoke looked nothing like a monk these days. actually, come to think of it, for as long as Gojo knew him, he never looked the part. not with his long hair, red onnagata eyeshadow and signature tattoos; although the latter was the monk's fault.

regardless, Gojo liked his smile. it was grounding. back when they were students, if Yamanoke was to smile in his general direction, Satoru would immediately feel waves of serenity washing over him. Shoko says it's because of the cursed energy; he thinks it's because of the dimples.

after that night Yamanoke all but ignored him. granted, Gojo wasn't trying to break his own neck ever since. still he wasn't too pleased with the fact.

a very naïve part of Satoru thought that when one side of a love triangle dies, the other two get together (not necessarily romantically) to cope with the loss. sadly, their case was different. he and Yamanoke never fought over Suguru's undivided attention. they never needed to convince him to choose. they played two very different roles in his life and knew way too well — one cannot give what the other can, and vice versa.

so, they were friends, not rivals. at least they used to be; then they almost turned into complete strangers. and now what?

Gojo couldn't understand what they have become. he wanted to figure it out, but...

during the day Yamanoke would avoid him like the plague, hanging around as many people as possible, being his friendly self, so Gojo couldn't talk to him properly, face to face (although the idea of just snatching him away did cross his mind).

in the evening Yamanoke hid himself in his room, doing his mysterious "monk routine". but, again, he is (used to be) in active relationship with a man, has tattoos, wears makeup and used to live in walking distance from Kabuki-chō, because he worked there. monks would've burnt him at the stake for breaking half a dozen of their precious rules if not for his "affinity". at least Gojo thinks so.

(he isn't a very reliable source, he's quite biased — hating the higher-ups, the mountain monastery and any form of authority with burning passion and all.)

and during the night Satoru would be the one to hide. or rather wait. feeling stupid and extremely childish, he was waiting for Yamanoke to come to his room.

there was one time, though, when Gojo was lucky enough to catch him alone.

Yamanoke was sitting at the dorm porch, drinking tea and watching evening clouds pass by. he was so peaceful, blissful and at ease with the world around, that he, apparently, decided to tolerate Satoru just this once.

"hiya, Re—" Gojo started, plopping himself down on the porch.

"do not use this name." Yamanoke said calmly, but there was a warning in his voice.

oh yeah, technically speaking, "Yamanoke" wasn't his name; he didn't have one at all. monks took him in when he was three or four months old and never bothered with it. for the longest time he was just "the child". then, when the time has come, and he was sent to tokyo jujutsu high, he took up the name of the mountain monastery he grew up in, thus becoming "Yamanoke". he chose his first name, one may say, his real name, after he turned sixteen.

"it's only for the three of you," Yamanoke said, his ghastly white eyes sparkling. "i don't want either monastery or school to know of it. want to have at least one thing that truly belongs to me."

but Satoru wasn't allowed to use it now. like it's no longer a secret, but a curse.

"okay-okay, Ya-ama-cha-an~" Gojo said then and cringed internally: he used to call Yamanoke that to get on his nerves. "why did you come back?"

"told you already, Yaga asked me to."

so, they aren't pretending that night didn't happen, that's good. that's something.

"su-ure, but Yaga also asked you to do the same thing a year prior."

"was too busy sucking dick for money. now i have nothing better to do, partly thanks to you."

"wha..?" was Gojo losing his mind? finally?

Yamanoke's laughter was as light as a breeze, "said, it doesn't matter. not anymore, it seems. i'm here now, teaching. who could've thought, huh."

truly, who could have.

neither of them wanted to teach after they graduate: Yamanoke should've joined a performer troupe, while Gojo was meant to become a menace. Shoko was the luckiest, thus not included on their misery list. patience, morality and responsibility were more of a Getou thing. he was always good with kids and had potential to be a spectacular mentor. but evidently life had different plans for the three of them (for the most part — Satoru is a menace indeed).

"liked your glasses better," Yamanoke said, taking a sip of his tea. "you look silly with your hair up. we have a broom like this back in the monastery."

"ah~" Gojo comedically clutched his heart and threw his head back. "your words hurt me, Yama-chan!"

"you're a bad actor, furby."

"doo?"

Yamanoke giggled, and Satoru felt his chest getting warm.

"bu-ut~ if i'm a furby, that makes you a daruma."

"have to work on my beard then." Yamanoke rubbed his chin.

"sorry to disappoint, but you have to hit puberty first."

"i'm literally half a year older than you."

"can't hear you over that babyface of yours."

Yamanoke shook his head, jokingly disappointed, "next to you i am a bear."

Gojo gasped, deeply offended.

he should've asked Yamanoke about them, it was a perfect opportunity, but he simply couldn't. for a moment it felt like his blue spring again.

so Satoru kept waiting. and you know what they say: all good things come to he who waits. Yamanoke indeed visited him again.

the first visit happened a week before the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event.

that night Gojo couldn't sleep, but what else is new. he was lying on his side, staring at the wall, his back facing the door. and then he heard them — quite steps in the hallway. as they stop in front of his door, Gojo stops breathing, afraid to scare their owner away.

the door creaks, being opened.

Yamanoke's movement is of a fox in a temple; he's here to desecrate something sacred. Gojo shivers at the thought and squeezes his eyes tightly shut. unfortunately, it doesn't change much.

it is so strange to Satoru that someone treats him this way, like he is made out of the first autumnal ice — one unwary motion and it will break. yet that's how Yamanoke acts, his touch almost ethereal when his hand comes to rest on Gojo's waist. he wants to reach for it, to intertwine their fingers, but, again, he's too afraid to scare the other man off.

they fit nicely together. Yamanoke's knee is between his legs, curve of Gojo's ass is placed well in his pelvic region, and his back flush against the white-eyed man's chest. they're so close, Gojo can feel Yamanoke's deliciously protruding hip bones even through the fabric of their clothes and sheets.

he feels strangely drunk, like he's sixteen again.

there's a tiny scar on the back of Gojo's neck, his hair is just long enough to cover it. if you don't know where to look, you'll miss it. Inverted Spear of Heaven left it, and Satoru didn't heal it properly, leaving him with this pale line of skin. an eternal reminder of those who he couldn't save. he can't see it, but he knows it's there; he is acutely aware of his own body.

so when Yamanoke kisses him there, lips soft and dulcet, it's like Gojo's body is struck by a lightning.

"Rei, i—" he needs to say something, anything, because he's overwhelmed by this simple show of affection or something as close to it as they can afford.

"no, no. don't talk," Yamanoke's hand moves across his torso to his neck and stops there, fingers flutter over his throat. "unless you want me to go away or stop, do not say a thing. please."

Gojo wants him to stay and continue, so he bites his tongue and hums lowly. the hand travels further up and stops again at his cheek. it's a funny position, Yamanoke's left palm cupping Gojo's right cheek, but he doesn't care. he likes it.

they stay like this for some time. Yamanoke's gently petting his cheek and kissing up his neck, tracing the outline of Gojo's jaw with his nose. its tip is a bit cold, and it makes Satoru smile. Yamanoke's other hand is over their heads, in Gojo's hair, slowly scratching his scalp with blunt nails.

[it's nice, it's safe.]

but he still wants to touch Yamanoke. wants to feel his skin, wants to see his face. maybe there's a tiniest brush of pink tint on his cheeks, Satoru hopes. maybe his ghastly white eyes have this special feverish glint they tend to get then Yamanoke is excited. maybe there are traces of guilt all over his features and that's why he won't let Gojo see him properly.

[it's unbearable.]

Yamanoke behind him shifts, his arms wrap around Satoru, holding him tightly by his middle. closer than before, he can feel a second heartbeat.

"told you to stop," bared teeth scrape the skin at the nape of his neck. "stop thinking. it's so loud. so futile. no point anymore. be quiet, or i'll make you."

"you're bad at being threatening. that sounds more like a promise." he laughs, but there's a lump in his throat.

"Satoru."

Yamanoke's hold loosens a bit, and Gojo can turn around now, can look at him, can get a confirmation of his worst nightmare. so, he avoids it all and hides his face in the crook of other's neck (again). the smell of Okayama peaches and incense not as strong as before.

he feels a pulsing artery just beneath his lips; he can bite into it if he wants to.

"doesn't it feel like we're betraying him?" he mutters into Yamanoke's skin instead.

they both had feelings for Suguru, it wasn't a big secret. it's just the moment Satoru chose to become the strongest, he chose Yamanoke.

there's another scar Gojo has. it's just above his left eyebrow. usually you can't see it because of his fringe or his blindfold. it's also Fushiguro Toji's handiwork, his mistake and the reason of his defeat.

Yamanoke kisses this scar as well. the answer to Satoru's question is loud and clear.

their embrace is tight again, one hand rests on Gojo's lower back, the other is on his neck, caressing it with calloused fingertips. their legs are entangled, their foreheads are touching, their eyes are locked.

for a moment Satoru senses something slithering over his body, like two giant snakes wrap themselves around him. it's like getting goosebumps when you get in hot bathwater, and he knows it's Yamanoke's doing. it's his dragons. by all accounts Gojo should be alerted by that: even if their form is ghostly, their bodies have mass, their coils posses pressure, their scales scrape his skin. he knows what they're capable of, tearing to pieces curses and sorcerers alike. but maybe he is under their predatory thrall, because he thinks he would be fine, if they were to eat him alive now. he would be at peace.

and then, Yamanoke kisses him on the lips.

so that's what Suguru felt when they were together. this suffocating tenderness, this selfless dedication, without fear, without frenzy, without force. he hated it and craved it all at the same time.

he was scared by it. he wanted more.

he woke up alone.

the pillow behind him kept warmth of the other body, and Gojo buried his face in the soft textile, trying desperately to salvage what's left of it.

[it's pathetic.]

the other visit, half of it, really, happened the night the monks called for Yamanoke.

it's a part of their binding vow. the mountain monastery can call for him at any time from any place for any reason and in return Yamanoke gets... something. Gojo didn't actually know the second part of the vow — those monks were extremely secretive.

(though he knew that the mountain monastery was shady: they had a cursed mummy from the Heian period in their metaphorical basement. the higher-ups won't let Gojo do anything official about it, and he thinks Yamanoke won't be too happy if he was to just barge in and steal it. but maybe one day...)

it also just so happened that every time Yamanoke was called upon, something terrible occured.

august of 2006; entire summer of 2007; september of 2009; three days before christmas of 2017. yamanoke wasn't exaggerating when he said he blames himself as much as he blames Gojo; probably, even more. maybe, all of this was just a grim coincidence — all time, every time — but it sure didn't feel like one.

some sick part of Satoru, the very same part that fought Fushiguro Toji, wanted Yamanoke to burn the damn place to the ground, with all of its inhabitants trapped inside.

regardless, a few hours after the sun made the hills its grave that day convoluted mess of cursed energy shaped like Yamanoke stood hesitant in front of Gojo's door. unease was rolling off of him, Satoru felt it even through the walls.

but Yamanoke never came in. he just stood there, troubled with something. Gojo wanted to get up, swing the door open and drag him in. he would be the one who holds, not the one who's being held, if needed. he would do anything and everything to make Yamanoke forget about whatever is bothering him, because Yamanoke being angry with him is fine, but Yamanoke being this tense is downright abnormal.

he is Gojo Satoru, it's possible for him.

...right?

but he was still lying in his bed, unable to move, like he was petrified by the white eyes watching him from behind the door.

finally, Satoru hears a whisper: "don't do anything stupid while i'm gone," and then — quiet steps getting even quieter, until they're replaced by deafening silence.

[it's over.]

and so, october 30th 2018 was the last time Gojo saw Yamanoke.

[crovatian]

[山ノ怪] today the world will end (you never know we may recover), pt. 1

• pairing: Gojo Satoru/Original Male Character, Getou Suguru/Original Male Character, Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru (mentioned in passing)

• synopsis:

"couldn't tell if you were being strangled or choking on something," said the voice, its owner standing in the doorframe, dark like a shadow. "heard it from the other side of the house. too loud."

Gojo flinched, his eyes wide and panicked if only for a moment. so, he didn't imagine it, Yamanoke is back in Tokyo.

• warnings: fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, english being my second language and all that jazz

• notes: as your local getou apologist, i can tolerate gojo only when he is miserable, so this is exactly what this fic is about; part two will probably be written at some point, i hope?

[山ノ怪] today the world will end (you never know we may recover) pt. 1 and pt. 2

[山ノ怪] lost souls and reverie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] ‘tis but your name that is my enemy  pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue verità pt. 1

[山ノ怪] there is very little left of me (and it’s never coming back) pt. 1

[山ノ怪] dimmi le tue bugie pt. 1

[山ノ怪] toska pt. 1

i would recommend reading yamanoke stories on ao3, for some additional information

°

"couldn't tell if you were being strangled or choking on something," said the voice, its owner standing in the doorway, dark like a shadow. "heard it from the other side of the house. too loud."

Gojo flinched, his eyes wide and panicked if only for a moment. so, he didn't imagine it, Yamanoke is back in Tokyo.

(the problem with the "imagine" part lays in his cursed energy: half the time Yamanoke feels like a strong human, half the time like a weak sorcerer, and half the time like a curse; it gets confusing and, yes, there are three halves to this man, don't ask how or why; probably because beside Yamanoke himself there's also his tattoos, which is another topic in on itself)

truth be told, yes, he was being strangled and he was choking, both at the same time. metaphorically speaking, by his past and on his power. literally — with his own two hands.

"since when do you live here?" Gojo croaked, said hands falling onto white sheets, pathetic and useless.

"since Yaga hired me half a day ago. right after you got your student killed."

"i—"

"don't care."

ah, he is still hard to talk to.

actually no, scratch that. Yamanoke is extremely polite, easy and nice to talk to; it's just, unfortunately, at the moment and for the rest of their days Gojo is the only one who he sincerely hates. it's a harsh, but rather fair treatment for someone who murdered your soon-to-be husband.

hell, as if Gojo didn't already hate himself for that.

they used to be friends, Yamanoke being the latest addition to their school year. a monk boy with ghastly white eyes and affinity for curses’ blood. it was so weird, meeting him for the first time, unable to fully understand who's in front of you, a strange liminal creature.

Yamanoke was pleasant though, if a bit too formal — apparently, there were no other kids at the mountain monastery where he grew up; but eventually they all got along, pretending like nothing's wrong.

maybe because of their shared connection to curses, him and Suguru developed this other kind of attachment. the intimate one.

yet they laughed 'till they cried, they trained 'till they were exhausted on the ground, they fought curses 'till they were beaten bloody — together, all four of them. the world could've been ending tomorrow, and that would've been fine with them, because they were young — it felt like nothing, like they are gonna live forever.

and then…

Gojo closed his eyes, wishing for the world to, indeed, end and waiting for some more verbal abuse.

honestly, that was the worst. if Yamanoke wanted to hit him, he would've allowed it; he deserves it. but the man was [almost] never physical, not even in his cursed technique. sure, Gojo can throw a quip or two at him too, but it's effectively useless, if they just slide off of Yamanoke, leaving him with a taste of stale vomit on his tongue.

in the meantime, closing eyes didn't help at all: Gojo still felt everything as if they were wide open, his mind submerged in boiling agony. the six eyes won't ever let him be oblivious. deep inside he thinks it would haunt him even if he gouged them out with a rusty spoon (he may try it one day anyway).

when Yamanoke took a few steps forward, it didn't startled Gojo. the dip of his bed did. he was about to turn around, but was stopped shortly by other's hand, cool fingers covering his burning eyelids. then, still a bit confused, Gojo felt the hand tug back, and followed the movement, his head resting on Yamanoke's shoulder.

and for just a moment the world around Gojo Satoru went blank.

"i blame myself as much as i blame you," Yamanoke said, voice barely louder than a whisper. "and i'll make sure you won't forget what happened and what you did. that you did it."

"but," Gojo felt Yamanoke's breath shift lower, to his neck. "there's no point in that if you die or hurt yourself," lips, light like butterfly wings, brushed the red marks in shape of his own fingers. "so don't you dare do that again."

the noise he let out, when Yamanoke bit him, sent a shiver down Gojo's spine. it was merely a whimper, a quiet mix of anguish and pleasure, not enough to even be considered a moan. but it made the other man smile, ruthlessly, in the crook of Satoru's neck.

"good."

he felt the body behind him move, assuming a more comfortable position. laying down. distantly, like his head was in another universe, he thought: whatever is going on, you have to stop it. now, at this exact moment, right this instance, before it's too late, goddamn it, Satoru, come to your senses, you bloody moron. his mind yelled at him, while his body followed Yamanoke onto the sheets.

"we really shouldn't—" he tried, breathless for some reason.

"i'm not doing anything with you," Yamanoke almost spat these words at him. "but i'm not leaving you alone while you're being suicidal or whatever this is."

so, it's not about having sensual sex with your dead best friend's ex-lover to make yourself forget about everything else. it's way worse — it's about said ex-lover being a half-decent, caring person. Yamanoke hates Gojo, sure, but he still thinks of him as a friend. oh, how sickeningly cruel.

"you can't do this," he says, he pleads. "you can't."

"is that so?"

Yamanoke's other hand snakes over his torso, locking him in a loose embrace, and, yeah, right about now Satoru wants to rip his own heart out and throw it to the dogs.

he remembers the autumn when Yamanoke came back from the mountain monastery, his tattoos finally finished. he was exhausted and looked like death, barely able to move his arms. yet he wrapped them around Getou's waist as soon as he noticed how tired the other man was. and Suguru just melted.

usually these two weren't big on pda, but at the moment there's been only them and Gojo, so they felt safe. Gojo, on the other hand, felt like crushing someone's skull — they were so fragile and soft together, he couldn't bear witness to it. it was too much.

Satoru's whole body shudders violently, and under him Yamanoke freezes.

"do you want me to let go of you?" he asks carefully, no traces of spite or bitterness in his voice, and it is bad, so-so bad, way worse than if he just took everything from him.

people don't ask if Gojo Satoru wants anything. they don't ask whether he's comfortable or not. they don't ask if he needs space, if he's tired, hurt or scared. the moment he chose to become "the strongest", he lost any right to this.

he wants to yell: "bash in my brain and make me scream with pain, then kick me once again, and tear my chest apart. fracture my spine; be rough, i swear that i'm fine. your fondness makes me whine, and i can't take it now. try breaking my arm like you did, when i told you i killed him. kick me like a pathetic stray that i am. be raw, be furious, be unkind. be anything, anything but this."

yet he only manages a soft "no", before giving in into Yamanoke's embrace completely.

Yamanoke's skin smells of ink, Okayama peaches and incense, if only faintly. did Gojo's unprompted break down interrupt his meditation? or has he visited the mountain monastery lately? considering the circumstances of his return, most likely the latter. maybe that's good, maybe they won't call for him any time soon. Satoru doesn't want him to go.

Yamanoke also still smells of Suguru.

for the most part Yamanoke was quite open: when Getou defected, he didn't even try to hide the fact he was still seeing him. maybe, he wasn't really into Suguru's new ideas (at least Gojo hopes so), but Yamanoke has always had his moral compass set vaguely on "neutral", so it wasn't much of a deal breaker for him. it was for Satoru though.

so, while he spent ten or so years being both a nuisance and a lapdog to the higher-ups, they spent this time together, cult leaders or not.

(again, Gojo's almost 90% sure Yamanoke has nothing to do with Getou's curse users; he never showed up during night parade of a hundred demons or Getou's prior visit to Tokyo Jujutsu High. he was, however, present to receive the news and wasn't too happy about it.)

he can imagine it painfully clear — them, waking up together in the morning, lazily untangling their legs; Yamanoke getting up first to make some tea or coffee, waiting for Getou to cook them breakfast. he can imagine them talking in quiet, tired voices in the evening, when Suguru comes back from his fake monk routine, Yamanoke probably being the one who taught him how to behave the right way. them, taking bath together, nothing explicit, just relaxing after a long day; Getou, laying in hot water, and Yamanoke, washing his hair, both of them peaceful. then, going back to bed, wearing something the other bought, or not bothering with clothes at all; Suguru tracing Yamanoke's tattoos, while he murmurs sweet nothings.

simple domestic things Satoru can never afford.

"you smell like him." he says and hides his burning face in the crook of Yamanoke's neck.

Yamanoke only hums in response and places his chin on top of Gojo's head, tucking him closer. with his eyes still covered by the other's hand, Satoru falls into deep slumber, no dreams follow him there.

[crovatian]

it may be a hellsite, but it’s my hellsite

[crovatian]

vanum

people who refuse to accept death are those who become villains that's how you see yourself — or in a public eye who are you really? a villain or mayhaps a tragic hero, a misunderstood soul or simply a gray mass of regrets and childishness that won't allow you to ever become anything more than a self-fufilling joke and the more you tell this joke the more real it sounds, the more terrifying

when was the last time you've been at a funeral? when you were a kid then you skipped your best friend's wake and now they call you cold-hearted and ungrateful

"oh, i don't feel so good" "oh, i have to study for the exam" "oh, i just don't want to go" and you don't want to go because it's always miserable and awkward and that doesn't mean you didn't care for your grandpa — you loved him dearly and you have his pocket watch now — but all you can do is to stare at the sky and think "i'm next"

it's not really the horror of not existing, it's more of a fear of being unable to explore the world around you if you were to wake up tomorrow in the form of a conscious cloud that no one can see, you would not mind all that much

but you think you are cursed, and they think you don't care "everything i love dies", you say and there it is, there's the joke: everything dies — regardless but it's your way of making yourself meaningful a masochistic form of self-actualisation

it was supposed to be a different story a story of how people who can't accept death become villains because they are looking to cure it but accidentally stray from the path because they try and try and try again and they fail every time for Death is inescapable and absolute so in the end they decide to destroy something beautiful to feel alive again and it just spirals down from here but that sounds a bit heroic and you are no hero you are empty you are simply a bad omen