#Also I think Rika's a girl??

[crystal-clear-crystalline]

Me, first seeing Rika: "Fakir looking ass"

[natasha-in-space]

"Ya know... I reckon, I know now. What... my favorite flower is. Do ya remember how I never gave ya a proper answer to that?" Chaewon murmured into the curly golden locks of the young woman pressed up tightly to her chest, her rough voice emanating with such foreign gentleness, she almost couldn't recognize herself. Oh, how she wished she could protect her dear friend from all the ugly and cruel things in this rotten world by simply holding onto her like this and letting her shed her tears freely into the thin fabric of her shirt.

"I reckon... I love wildflowers best of all. Ya know why, sunshine? They may be small 'n frail at first glance... But, they grow wherever they want to, scorchin' sun or whippin' winds be damned. They don't need anyone to fret over their every need. And no matter what anyone might try and do to put an end to their tiny blooms... their seeds will blow in the wind, findin' a new place to try again, leavin' something beautiful for us common folk to look at in the middle of the dry desert. 'Guess... I like wildflowers 'cause they remind me of you, Rika."

Some soft cowgirls for @marshmallowprotection 's wonderful cowboy au! Reading the first chapter of Rika's side story made me feel so utterly heartbroken for her... So, what better way to fix this than to give her a strong and tall cowgirl that is rough around the edges but secretly has a heart of gold? I always wanted to put Chaewon into the cowboy universe, but since we had so little info on Rika's backstory 'till now, it was difficult for me to do. Which is why I'm so excited to read this new story!

It's going to be painful to imagine how their fleeting romance will have to come to its inevitable and tragic end... But, that doesn't mean that what they shared between themselves did not make a difference to these two lost wildflowers in the middle of this hot and sandy town.

Make sure to go ahead and check out Wildflowers, it's really amazing and will definitely take your breath away with its play on our mysterious and complicated Rika Kim!

[minomadamu]

Ok I’ve caved and started reading the Higurashi manga bc I can’t do the visual novel. Maybe if it ever gives me a stronger sense of purpose but I’m on the third arc and rn the best characters are mion/shion and rika. I do not understand Rena and do not find her nor satoko compelling. Biggest weakness in comparison to Umineko rn is the anime bullshit that Umineko half drops half puts in a context where it’s more whatever (horrible skimpy playboy suits are given to demons instead of elementary school girls) (horny protag forced to flirt with demons who keep trying to kill him and think it’s funny) whereas Higurashi kind of only has the ‘punishment game’ going for it in these loops before it gets to the interesting Dam resistance stuff but the punishment game stuff isn’t very um. Funny or interesting. Like I get it they’re kids in a hamlet with literally nothing better to do but also does it have to be “cosplay as a sexy cat maid” every time “oh haha it’s funny bc keiichi wanted the girls in the sexy outfits but he lost so he must wear the sexy outfits, even though he’s a boy!” Like is it really that funny. I know. I’m putting up with it but it’s all this story can do until it decides to start being interesting

The second biggest failing in comparison to Umineko is that all of ep 1 is bad instead of like the first six hours. Sorry Rena I know you go into a dissociative mental state and commit horrible atrocities but when you aren’t doing that can you say anything other than ‘adowable’

[just-miru]

huh.. people really weren't kidding when saying wep's ending is fucking disappointing

[ranger-kellyn]

what i would give to have that certain gender je ne sais queer that sailor uranus and rika both have

[just-jordie-things]

doing that tik tok trend with yuuta where your bf ranks how mad he would be if another man touched you in different ways from 1 to 10 pls omg how do you think he’ll be

NO ONE LAUGH AT MY SCREENSHOTS OK I WANTED AUTHENTICITY !!!! also i love this idea <3

ok here's each hug from the trend and how yuuta would react:

"CATCHER HUG? who needs to be holding you like that?"

you giggle at the reflection of yuuta's wide eyes as he stares at the photo attached to his forehead from the tiktok filter.

"sometimes panda lifts me up when we hug!" you vouch for your friend, but yuuta's perplexed face doesn't change. he hits 8 on the screen to move on to the next filter.

"can't believe panda is trying to swoop in on my girl like that" he mutters as he waits for the filter to land on the next option.

yuuta's mouth is gaping wide before any sound comes out- although it's obvious that he'll rank this one low.

"CUDDLE?" his voice raises an octave from the offense he's taken by this hypothetical ranking game. you're absolutely losing it in a fit of laughter. "no one should be cuddling my girlfriend!" his thumb hits the 10 with an audible thwap to the screen. "ridiculous. cuddle my girlfriend and catch rika's hands" he mutters.

"oh, this is good!" all irritation washes away as yuuta beams at self hug. "love yourself baby, i do" he punctuates with a kiss to the crown of your head, unsurprisingly making this one number 1.

"no," his brows furrow again. "that's too intimate. absolutely not. nope" he hits 7.

"seven though?" you're curious why it's not lower.

"this game feels like a trap. i feel like there are worse things"

his expression flickers when side hug comes up next. concern, then understanding, then concern again. clearly he's searching through the context of what could warrant someone giving you a sidehug, it's just a matter of who. you find his undertainty to be funny, apparently.

"yuuta, we all hug each other like this. toge side hugged me just yesterday after a mission"

"yeah..." he trails off, before huffing and deciding on 4. "still not a fan. it's still touchy"

you cackle out a laugh.

"they're all touching!" you remind him, but he ignores you as the filter spins again.

"this is fine i guess" yuuta tilts his head from side to side before selecting 3. "self hug is still better"

"i don't think i realized how possessive you were till now" you say.

"i could be worse"

"WHAT THE HELL? absolutely not!" yuuta's fast to put waist hug second to last at option 9. "hip grinding hug more like it. nuh uh. that's cheating right there"

he doesn't understand why you laugh so much at the adulterous hug option, but he's already waiting for the next round.

"this... this is fine," he sighs, making it the second option rather quickly. "it's got to be under three seconds though" he adds as an after thought.

"three seconds?"

"are you sad? why does someone else need to hug you if you're sad?"

"what if you're not around?" you ask.

"then you call me??" yuuta's sass has reached new peaks with this filter game. "easy answer, dumb question" he selects 5.

"NO!" yuuta shouts. "that's too close to my girlfriend! and you're hurting her! look babe you can't even breathe," he gestures to the phone with annoyance, shaking his head and huffing some more as he selects 6. "if i could put this lower babe, i would"

"i believe you, honey"

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 2

tw: explicit content. 5k+ words. yuta/reader. female!alpha!reader, alpha!yuta, reader has a knot but also a vag. very barely dubcon, masturbation, fingering. mostly lots of pining. also light curse!rika/reader, but no monsterfucking (yet. curse!rika would 1000% hit it tho)

listen... it's not very smutty but read the fic. just read the fic. you're a tsundere and yuta and his curse girlfriend are smitten with you. it's really cute i promise.

Prompt: An Alpha finds themselves exhibiting omega traits in front of a stronger alpha.

Female alphas were less common than male ones, but they were common enough for there to be stereotypes about them.

Scary girls. Big girls. Strong independent women who didn’t need no men, ate pretty omega boys for breakfast.

There was a certain type of alpha – exclusively male, sometimes beta men were like this too – that saw a kind of challenge to it.

These sorts of dudes were obsessed with ‘alpha pussy’, swore it was tighter and hotter than any omega hole ever could be.

Never mind that there were some omegas who couldn’t take large knots without training, and anyone who wasn’t an omega needed a lot of practice before trying to take any knot at all.

It wasn’t about realism with these assholes. It was some weird, self-fellating bullshit about having made another alpha their bitch, being the alpha to another alpha.

Asshole alphas, that’s a good way to put it. A bunch of fuckwads who thought only with their knots and their egos.

Each and every one of them thought they were god’s gift to creation because they were alphas, born special and better than everyone else, all that garbage.

Yuta isn’t an asshole, but he is, shockingly enough, an alpha.

He’s a nice boy – maybe the nicest alpha you’ve ever met.

Makes it all the funnier that you get paired up with him on missions so often; the scary alpha girl and the gentle alpha boy.

You’d doubt his identity, too, if you didn’t know better. But you can smell it on him all the same. Unmistakable. Alpha.

And he’s strong, really strong, probably stronger than you, though the thought rankles.

Special grade, you’d heard – mostly because of the cursed spirit that hangs out with him.

But it’s not the spirit you smell when you sneak a discreet whiff of the scarf he’d left on the bench this one time. It’s an alpha, through and through.

It’s not the spirit that darts into the field on missions before you can, places himself between you and danger without even thinking about it.

Carves destruction with a graceful, brutal blade and then turns back to you with a sheepish smile asking if you’re all right.

He’s so… gentle. Careful. You’re not even sure he can get angry.

The closest you’d ever seen him to it was when a curse popped up behind you on a mission, while he was occupied with a special grade of his own on the other side of the room.

You’d seen a barrier appear in an instant, which must have been his domain expansion, and only a few seconds later the curse he’d been fighting was gone and the curse that ambushed you was impaled on his blade.

Even with blood on his face, he’d smiled at you.

Eyes shut, voice warm with sincerity, but the air was filled with a tense note of danger, barely constrained threat… just not towards you.

Somehow, you want to see more.

-

Prodding at Yuta Okkotsu is no easy task.

He’s about the most mild-mannered person you’ve ever met, and half-terrified that someone mistreating him would get on the bad side of the cursed spirit who hangs around him.

But you’re determined, and there’s not a lot that can stop you when you put your mind to it.

Alphas had a personal bubble – just like everyone else – and when another alpha gets into it, it usually sets them off.

You start to invade Yuta’s space; first, in small ways.

Leaning in when you hand him a soda, sitting a touch too close on a bench, lingering whenever one of you pins the other during sparring.

There’s a flush on his darling face, a tightening of his features as you see him catch your scent and react to your proximity before he represses the reaction completely.

But soon enough, that doesn’t phase him at all.

You've gotta hand it to him. That's some real control.

Soon he’s touching your hand when you pass him things, you can lean against him while you sit next to each other and he doesn’t bat an eye.

Neither does that supposedly scary curse of his, for that matter.

You see her, once, on a mission. A curse sneaking up behind you (it wouldn’t have been able to hurt you anyways) and you catch her, the curse Yuta normally keeps so carefully hidden.

Massive. Magnificent.

It’s not something you’d normally say about a curse but Rika comes with a scent all her own, fresh and woodsy pine, pricking at your senses while a gaping maw of sharp teeth closes around some pitiful lesser creature.

The blood splatters, on the floor, on her ‘face’. She has no eyes you can see, but you feel her gaze on you anyways. Heavy in the midst of the silence, until Yuta’s panicked voice rings out, and she disappears completely.

Pine lingers in your senses.

That’s not what Yuta smells like, though.

He smells so little, actually, so heavily repressed that you’re not surprised most people think he’s a beta. But your senses are better than most, and you can detect it.

Faint. Warm. Almost… oily? Like olive oil, maybe, something humble and smooth, but unexpectedly decadent.

Like the scent of a lone burning candle in an old shrine, not quite dusty, but with a book-like scent that came with ink and paper.

It’s hard to detect. You need to get closer to really pin it down.

Yuta’s physical abilities are weak, after all, so it’s easy to make up excuses to spar with him. More and more, since you can tell he’s no longer uncomfortable with you in his space.

One fine winter morning, you catch the opportunity you want.

A tumble on the ground (he was always so afraid of Rika coming out, but she never did when he fought you), a little scuffle that leaves the adorable gentleman alpha flushed and flustered, and you manage to snag his scarf off of him.

In the pocket of his jacket you leave him something in return; a band not quite large enough to be a scarf that you’d used to tie your hair.

It should have plenty of your scent on it, enough to make him sniff the air once or twice before he figured out it was there.

The thought pleases you. Like you can tease him a little bit at some random moment throughout the day, without even being there.

It’s five whole days before Yuta returns it to you.

His face a touch bashful, even though he must have known full well that you’d slipped it into his coat yourself. Eyes downcast, as if afraid to meet yours; Yuta Okkotsu, the special-grade terror.

He doesn’t ever ask for the scarf back.

Not that you remember it. It’s just sitting on your desk. You barely think about it.

It just happens that it still has his scent on it, but that makes sense.

It would have been in contact with his scent glands every day, wrapped around his neck like a collar. Like a warm embrace.

You don’t touch it, so it still smells like him. Warm and welcoming.

He’s really not much of an alpha.

After you spar, he always compliments you, careful to note any potential weaknesses between bits of lavish praise. His shadowed, dark eyes sparkle a touch when he tells you, a warm smile on his lips.

Yuta’s always doing that, complimenting people. You’ve never known him to disparage anyone. Never a bad word for a single person you’d met.

So kind. What kind of alpha is this sweet?

Somewhere deep down, though, you know. A real leader, someone people trust and rely on, a friend who would cross oceans for you, move mountains, if it would help you out even a little.

Sweet boy, like cotton candy. Comforting like a warm candle on a cold winter night.

So bright even thought Yuta looks like the gloomiest boy alive. Sometimes when you think of him your tongue runs over your lips, like you’re hungry for more.

You push him further.

You don’t avoid him when you’re close to your rut. In fact you make a point to be near him, get into his space.

Sure, you’d invaded it plenty now, but with your scent oozing out of you, pheromones heavy in the air screaming breed, breed, breed, and you figure something in Yuta will crack.

You never stop to think about whether or not you want it to.

-

It’s on a nice, sunny day that it happens. The most embarrassing moment of your entire existence.

Pre-rut is a bit brutal but you’re down to tough it out. Sparring with Yuta always helps, anyways.

You’re especially snarky, too, like you get during your rut, eager to taunt, to get more out of him.

“C’mon Yuta, that’s not all you’ve got, right? Ask your curse girlfriend for help, I’ll bet she knows how to lay it out.” Adrenaline fuels your heated banter as you watch Yuta pointedly avert his gaze, “You’re flinching and I’m barely hitting you.”

“I can do it,” He almost grumbles, but you think you see a shadow behind him, or maybe you just imagine it, lurking and eager to jump out, “And she woul- Rika is strong.”

The hormones are bad, though. Getting your body heavy with sweat and panting, moving around, lashing out at him, striking, grappling…

“That’s more like it!”

“You can take this much? Then - I’ll do even more!”

Who the fuck are you kidding. It’s the most fun you’ve had in weeks.

Yuta’s strong, stronger than almost anyone you know, he’s right in front of you, so close you can smell you can touch you get your hands on him and he on you and you’re rolling, rolling through the grass –

Yuta pins you, heavy breaths breezing over you, carrying the warm rich smell of him in your senses.

Sweat dripping down his forehead, mouth wide open, you can almost taste it (taste what?).

His eyes are dark and deep and beautiful and they look down at you like –

He’s looking at you like –

His lips curl upwards into the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, your heart skips ten beats and you – you just feel so warm –

underneath him – the comforting weight of his body against yours – that delectable smell dripping over you – his arms around you, holding you –

You cough out a noise you think is a laugh. Yuta tilts his head to the side with fondness written all over his face.

“That was a pretty heavy bout – good job!” He beams down at you, voice is full of praise pouring over you like liquid gold, “Are you alright?”

You open your mouth to tell him you are, and to your horror, you realize the noise you make. You’re purring.

Instantly your face is set on fire.

“I.” oh god. What. What the fuck, “I’m…” Your voice breaks in a rumble.

Oh god this is so weird, alphas don’t purr at other alphas, what’s wrong with you – “Yeah! Fine!”

You say it too loudly and it shows. Yuta’s so close to you there’s no way he can’t tell what’s happening.

Even otherwise, your voice is cracking like some kind of hormonal teenage boy and you just.

Evacuate. Evacuate immediately.

Your hands fly up to Yuta’s chest and you try desperately not to notice how surprisingly well-built he is as you shove him up and off you.

He offers no resistance, stepping up and offering you a hand which you ignore in favor of sprinting off, like a guilty person would do.

Seriously? Seriously? This would go down in history as the day your dignity died.  

Where was your pride as an alpha? Where was your – your anything, to be honest.

Why the fuck had you just?? Gone so completely gooey and melty underneath him when he smiled at you like that?

Even thinking back on it heats your face. Then again, the whole thing was super embarrassing, so your face was hot anyways.

It occurs to you, walking back to your room in great shame, that you weren’t actually worried about anyone finding out about this, just that it had happened.

Alphas don’t usually purr unless they’ve just knotted someone and they want them to feel good.

And omegas would typically only purr at close family members or intended mates; a lazy sign of comfort and peace, and very occasionally, a come-hither-I’m-feeling-frisky signal to their alpha.

Whatever conclusion could be made about you purring at Yuta from underneath him… there was no option that wasn’t utterly humiliating.

But you only had to worry about what Yuta would think.

You knew Yuta wouldn’t breathe a word about this. Probably not even if someone held a knife to his throat (not that they could… special grade and all).

…you start to feel kinda bad now, actually.

No matter how you’d poked or prodded, Yuta Okkotsu hadn’t snapped at you.

Unflinching in his kindness. Eager to help always, with a hand or some friendly advice. Protective and powerful, never hesitating to put himself between you and danger.

You’d been inching into his space. Stealing his things. Taunting him during practice.

Honestly, if someone else acted like this to you, you’d call them a pest. You wouldn’t smile at them. Not like that.

Yuta must’ve been some kind of saint in a past life, if nothing you’ve done bothers him at all.

It’s weird. It’s all weird. Alphas aren’t like this, neither of you should be like this.

-

It gets worse. It all gets worse, so much worse.

Your rut is in full swing now, burning through you, searing holes in every ounce of sanity you ever thought you had. Nothing is sacred anymore, nothing is off-limits. There’s no shame left and no restraint.

The most heinous ideas flit through your mind, little flashes, lewd imagery of holes to fuck into and knots to squeeze, the tight press of flesh on flesh and dark eyes and lips that curve so gently upwards.

A scent that flutters just at the edge of your senses like the well-worn pages of familiar book.

The best you can do is stop yourself from crying out. The images get clearer, until there’s no denying what they are.

Yuta, on his hands and knees.

All spread apart.

Above you.

Below.

Smiling gently. Whispering words into your ear.

His lean form, the sleek musculature you know from so many fits of sparring, finally bared for you to feast your eyes. “Do you like it, alpha?”

Yes. Yes yes yes yes. Every fiber of your being cries out. The throbbing between your legs is unbearable.

“Do you want it?”

Never wanted anything more.

“You’re such a good alpha. I’m glad.”

Just the thought of the words, in his voice, draws a moan from your lips.

You want him. Want want want want WANT you NEED him where is he where can you find him? You’re going to hunt him down and –

The last remaining threads of your sanity grant you a burst of intuition.

A detail you’d never really forgotten:

The scarf on your desk. The one you hadn’t touched, hadn’t made smell like you. It should still smell like him.

Wait. Wait. What are you, some omega jerking off to the scent of your fucking crush –

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Crush. Okkotsu.

But you can’t get yourself to think about how that’s wrong, can’t convince yourself to deny anything when a pulsing, throbbing sensation between your legs screams mate mate my mate all mine –

Stumbling, staggering, all the way to the desk. Arm reaching out while you’re bent over and panting and nearly whining in your need.

Fuck. Pathetic, so pathetic.

And then you hold the scarf to your face, clutched in your hand like a lifeline. The scent of it is faint and inexplicably cozy, pure relief flooding through you.

It brings you to your knees. The ache between your legs demands attention and your other hand rushes to meet it, jerking and rubbing against your sexes while you sniffle and tear up.

Ruts suck when you spend them alone but this is better and worse than anything you’d ever experienced.

Bucking up into your hands, breathing in his scent like you can fill him in your lungs, inhale him like a cigarette and finally get rid of the pounding demand in your brain.

Every breath feels shallow, every grind against your hand only seems to make you hotter and hotter.

The ache in your core feels like being tugged around, demanding jerks of painful pleasure that don’t get you there, don’t get you what you need.

It’s all you can do to whimper and nuzzle into his scarf.

The primitive side of you urges you to pull it between your legs leg him take care of you, good mate, good alpha, let him feel you there, but your arm locks in place so you can keep breathing the scent like a lifeline.

When you finally do cum, you’re more exhausted than anything, spurting pitifully out over your hands and knees, knot bulging uselessly against your lower belly.

It leaks, slowly, painfully, as if to give you time to think about what you’ve done.

You decide you’d really rather not. Sliding a drawer open to pull out a toy, another toy, three of them, even – enough to overstimulate yourself to high hell, to keep every thought of Yuta and his scent out of your brain.

A vibrator in any hole you could fit it in, against anything that throbbed or ached. A fleshlight to fuck into, one a size too small just to make it hurt more.

Way less lubricant than you could have used, but somehow, your cunt leaks more than enough for all of it.

All to just barely stop the fantasies of a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy with a smile and a scent like the sun.

Without a doubt it’s the most miserable rut you’ve ever had.

You’re raw, red, and sore by the end of it and all you can feel is barely concealed rage at your own self for putting you through this shit.

You don’t even know if you’re mad that you fucked up, or that you’re crushing this fucking hard on a really nice dude you’ve been antagonizing for weeks.  

As soon as your rut ends, you steal another one of Yuta’s scarves.

You don’t give him anything in return this time.

-

Yuta likes women; this is something he’s known for a while.

It’s not until recently that he’s come to terms with the fact that he exclusively likes alpha women. He has you and Maki to thank for that.

In retrospect, considering his first love was a strong-willed young girl who proposed to him, it should probably have been more obvious.

Lucky for him, Rika also has a taste for alpha women, and she likes you much better than she liked Maki.

To be perfectly honest, it was Rika who liked you first.

The Rika he knew had passed on. The Rika beside him now is a curse that grew alongside him; in the image of his loved one, distorted and massive in all its malevolent glory.

She listened to him, for the most part, but perhaps because of some baser instincts of his – or perhaps some left-over preferences from Rika herself – she treats you with a particular affection.

You offer him a drink, moving just a touch too close to hand it over, and he feels Rika hum in approval.

His eyes glance over you unwillingly, your scent faint in his nose. It’s not as harsh as another alpha’s scent normally would be, either, which should have been his first warning.

Whenever you get close – too close, so much that it has to be on purpose – it’s almost overwhelming, so many emotions fluttering through him that he swears he can hear Rika giggling.

She likes it, too. You’re like fresh soil, like morning dew, the rainfall on a summer’s day.

He can tell, after one day he catches you right before your rut, wrestling with him, pinned underneath him and purring; you like him, too.

And then, he fucks it all up.

“Hey,” He calls you out by name and you turn back, meeting his eyes and walking back up to him.

The immediate response causes something dark and warm to burst in his chest; Rika purrs invisibly in his mind.

You try not to show it but you’re pleased when he calls out to you. He can smell it on you, happy pheromones that let him know you’re pleased he’s asked for you.

Not unlike an omega, and that thought really sets him going.

All this time you spent playing coy. Teasing him then running away, even from your own feelings.

You want him so bad but you’re so nervous, and seeing someone so strong and beautiful be so anxious about your want for him drives him completely and utterly insane.

It’s not like you’re cowardly, like he could be, sometimes.

You’re strong, you always give him a fight when you spar, you take the losses like a champ –

You would take his knot so so well RIKA PLEASE STOP THAT RIGHT NOW.

Now you’re staring at him, blushing like a schoolgirl, waiting for him to speak to you. So cute. So cute.

He’d caught you stealing his scarf again, you never gave any of it back. Are you building a nest? Do you like his scent like he likes yours?

Licking his lips, Yuta asks, “You’re – you’re an alpha, right?”

Oh. Oh, he should not have said that.

The surprise that flits across your face, and then the outrage, they tell him the same thing –

But his body receives a very different message, cock jumping in his pants at the scent.

All those times you’d sparred with him had trained him to get hard when you got in his space like this. Your scent wasn’t a threat, but a delicacy, and in his chest a rumble stuttered along with Rika.

“What the fuck are you trying to say, Okkotsu?”

Oh. Family name. You were really mad.

He could tell his face had already fallen by how you looked torn between pity and anger.

An apology lurched to stutter out through his lips, but instead –

Instead –

On the tip of his tongue, the edge of his senses –

“Are you… wet?” It sounds like a question, but that’s sheer politeness on his part.

He can smell it on betas as well as omegas, so it made sense that he could smell it on a female alpha, too.

Your face is hot, bright red, and so, so darling.

He can tell Rika is as thrilled to see it as he is, that she longs to reach out with one of her massive claws and clutch around your shapely waist, hold you in place for him to –

“What the fuck? Okkotsu?!”

Oh no. No no no no no no no. No! “Rika! Rika, don’t hurt her!”

She’s not hurting you. She would never hurt you.

This is probably worse.

“Hurt me? Fucking – ff – hng,” Yuta can’t stop the lurch in his gut, the wave of pure arousal that washes over him at the sound you make, “Get her off me, Okkotsu, you – ”

Your face is so red. Your scent. Your scent. It’s perfuse, a strong, tangy thing, delicious, he’d grown addicted to it and wasn’t that your fault?

Didn’t you do this to him, on purpose? Don’t you want him like this?

Slipping him little tastes here and there, shoving it in his face all the time.

Passing him a sample while you sneakily stole his scarf, hoarding his scent like a needy little omega?

Teasing him, getting in his face while you were in rut?

Purring at him when he pinned you underneath him?

Flushing when he called out to you, looking back, running up to him eagerly like an obedient, darling thing?

Yuta thought he liked alpha women, and he does.

But it looks like he especially likes alpha women who go all soft and squishy for him without saying as much, squirming and blustering and making faces like they’d like to eat him as soon as they thought he wasn’t looking.

“Don’t be upset.” His hands roam down to your sides. He doesn’t miss how you jerk at the contact. “I asked so I could help. Are you wet?” He says your name, a dark fire in his eyes.

You watch his tongue dark between his lips. Bite back a whimper. “Help me how? What’s – what’s she doing?”

“Helping me help you.” If you don’t want to tell, he’ll just check for himself.

His hands are cold, though, and you can’t stop the high gasp that escapes you when his hands dig under your waistband.

He murmurs a soft apology and the curse behind you chitters, chilled claws carefully wrapped around your torso.

Yuta drags your shorts and panties down in one motion, cooing softly at you when you shriek, one hand caressing your shoulder while Rika purrs, pressing herself up against your back.

Filling your senses with pine and Yuta’s oil, a scent like fire that burns to behold.

Warms you like sunlight.

“Yuta-” Even you weren’t sure what you were going to say, but his fingers between your legs send your brain for a complete loop. “I – what are you – we’re in – ”

“I put up a veil,” Yuta says, like (he knows) that was your only real objection.

Or maybe he’s lying. Yuta could tell you he was wearing Ryomen Sukuna’s underwear and you’d believe him, as long as he looked at you like that.

The smile you love so much is hungry, now, with those eyes dark with desire, with a curse clawing at you tenderly, like she just can’t let you go for even a second. Churning pleased little noises with every press and flex of her massive fingers around you.

Fingers darting to spread open your folds, even as you squirm. Bared in broad daylight with Yuta right in front of you.

Circling your hole while he looks you in the eyes, pressed close enough to hear you whine.

“I knew you were wet,” He murmurs, in a soft voice that sends liquid heat dripping down your legs, “Could smell it.”

Yuta leans in. He’s so pretty, so handsome, such a dark and darling thing with those heavy, soulful eyes.

He’s so close that when he whispers your name, you feel it on your lips. “You smell so good.”

He didn’t sound this hot even in your daydreams. He’s so close. So close. His breath ghosts over you like a curse hanging on your shoulder.

Your mouth falls open. Watering, like your cunt. Desperate for a taste.

And maybe you’re still an alpha after all, because finally, finally, you dive in and take what you want.

He tastes as rich on your lips as he’s smelled, soft and oiled and coating your senses. Blotting out everything until all you know is him.

Him, teasing over your clit with careful strokes. Growling into the kiss like he’s warning you not to pull back, Rika pressing you forward like you’re two dolls she can’t wait to smash together.

Arms dart out to his shoulders to steady yourself as he dips his fingertips into your entrance. Generous, broad strokes over your folds he spreads your arousal all over, returning to rub at your clit as he pulls away.

It’s good. So good. The oncoming pleasure builds and builds slowly with his ministrations, pooling heavily in your lower half. The urge to buck into it overtakes you, writhing for more friction as sparks begin to fly against your clit, closer, closer –

And then it’s you who can’t look away, locked in place under his gaze. “You’re going to cum for me? Do you want to?”

God it’s so fucking close, tears blot your eyes as you jerk into his fingers, and Yuta doesn’t even try to deny you.

He smiles at you, carefree. He already has his prey in front of him, unable to escape, uninterested in even trying.

You give him a feverish nod. “Will you tell me so? I want to hear you.”

Just a little faster, just a little more, more, “More please, please, make me cum –”

An exhale of a breath you hadn’t known he was holding, diving in towards your neck, nuzzling against your scent. Burying your face in his shoulder where his own was strongest.

It’s that breath that puts you over the edge, fast strokes of his fingers finally igniting the heavy pleasure pent up in your lower belly, the scent of him pouring over you.

You cum with a cry, mouthing at his neck just to soothe yourself, to taste him.

You feel the wetness of his tongue on your own scent glands. Hot. Drooling. He suckles at your taste, soft lips pressed to bare, vulnerable skin, and you let your head roll to the side to give him more.

All you can feel now is warmth. Warmth and Yuta’s familiar scent that makes your insides twist, the aftershocks still shuddering through you, twitching in his hold like some pitiful creature.

Every muscle in your body relaxes, and it’s only Rika’s grasp on you keeping you up. Fortunately, she’s strong. So strong.

Her head nestles into your shoulder, scenting you. Sweet, chilling pine on your sweaty skin. She purrs you through the bliss, cool against your body caught against Yuta’s own.

There’s a hilariously awkward moment where the two of you start catching your breath. Yuta looks flushed, handsome, as lovely as ever.

Still, his eyes find yours. He smiles. He’s always smiling at you, you’ve started to realize.

The thought makes you happy.

You like it. You like it a lot. Like him.

He’s even better than the fantasies.

“I’m going into rut,” Yuta says. “Because of… this.”

You swallow. “Oh. Okay.”

It’s hard to think too much about it, when the heat in your core is still dissipating, face burning up while you have yet to regain control of your limps

And between the two of you, Yuta must be the real alpha, because he’s the one who goes and just says it already.

“Will you spend it with me?”

“Your… your rut?”

“Yes. I want you to spend it with me.” He’s so close. You can feel the heat of his breath between you. "If you want."

A pause. You try, oh lord, do you try, to gather your thoughts for just one moment. “Are you going to try and mark me?”

“Can I?” His eyes are too light, too eager, the words too quick to fall from his lips.

Alphas don’t ask for permission like puppies begging for treats. But Yuta, your Yuta, he’s already pleading with his eyes.

“Maybe you should be more worried about me marking you.”

“Would you?” Barely contained excitement oozes from him, from his pheromones to his bright expression.

You think you hear Rika giggle behind you. Pleased. Razor teeth ghosting over your ear in a little kiss, as if to urge you forth.

It’s working. If you fuck this boy, you’re gonna bite him.

You’re going to sink your teeth into him the first chance you get, make him yours yours all yours forever and have him every way he can bend, mark him up until he fucks you back into submission.

You’ll fuck him and fuck his curse girlfriend, too.

But it would be weird to just say it, right?

“Maybe.”

He laughs at that.

Oh. Yuta’s always been pretty good at reading between the lines, hasn’t he?

Or, you think as he leans in for a kiss, forehead pressed to yours – maybe he was just good at reading you.

[takendruid]

I had. A thought. 👁️👁️ “what if Gojo DID curse Geto at the end of JJK0 the same way Yuta cursed Rika?”.

Also I might draw curse Geto attacking Kenjaku in Shibuya. Curse Geto isn’t about to just attack anyone who attacks Gojo senselessly like Rika because he’s not an 11 year old girl in love… he’s a 27 year old man in love… but I think seeing Kenjaku violating his own corpse would set him off. And I do think that Gojo would still be tricked by Kenjaku because curse Geto, as we know from jjk0, isn’t just Geto’s spirit haunting Gojo. It is literally Gojo’s grief personified into a cursed spirit, so curse Geto and “alive Geto” could be two completely different and co-existing things that would still fuck with Gojo mentally for a solid minute.

In the anime, Geto says “at least hit me with some curses” BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT HE SAYS IN THE MANGA. BRO LITERALLY WANTED GOJO TO DO TO HIM WHAT YUTA DID TO RIKA !!

They make me so ill.

I wanted to draw Geto in something resembling his priest outfit but ended up drawing him in a bleach shihakusho, so… yippee? Autism wins? I almost put him in something white and then remembered that black kimonos literally represent death, so keeping him in black would be perfect.

Pt. 2, pt. 3

[flutterylust]

“YUTA OKKOTSU, THE PERV...”

part 1. | part 2.

🎈PAIRING 🎈 : pervert!yuta x fem!reader

🚨 WARNINGS 🚨 : masturbation (m), lowkey depraved yuta ( He uses panties to jack off lol ), mentions of rika, oblivious reader, all characters are aged up btw ( college aged ).

🍎 NOTES 🍎: this is just a warmup, get ready for full blown smut next part >:) also who can tell I JUST watched JJK 0? I'm a little rusty at writing frisky stuff, many apologies! If I missed any warnings lmk but ya.... Consider interacting, smut will be out when i finally feel up to it. ^^

🌷WORD COUNT 🌷 : 1k

Intrigued!Yuta, who is a regular at a small local diner, family owned where the only employees are family members.

Intrigued!Yuta, who only stumbled across the place because his friends knew a certain girl in that diner.

Intrigued!Yuta, who just became entranced by your pretty face and easygoing personality, a stark contrast from his shut-in nature.

Sure, Intrigued!Yuta had gotten rid of Rika, but after years of avoiding people, especially women, he couldn't find within himself to introduce himself to you as warmly as you did. He couldn't bring himself to shake your hand with how sweaty his palms were!

Intrigued!Yuta, who keeps recommending that diner run by your parents to friends when they all want to eat a cheap meal. Intrigued!Yuta, who ends up going alone after his friends are sick of eating the same stuff every single time they can go out.

Intrigued!Yuta, who learns how you need to keep working for your parents in return for them paying off your university's tuition. You were going to make such a wonderful nurse, although he did worry a curse might latch onto such a wonderful person like you! He loves speaking to you during the slow hours.

Pervert!Yuta, whose innocent feelings towards you shift when you accidentally drop your notepad on the floor and you bend to pick it up, accidentally flashing him a glimpse of your black, lacy panties.

Pervert!Yuta, who gets to his dorm room and finds his hands reaching down to unbuckle his belt. Not unfamiliar with the constricting feeling inside his boxers, just remembering your risqué panties. He wasn’t a saint. He had masturbated a few times. But it never felt so depraved. He never felt so gross and perverted palming over the growing bulge in his boxers, imagining you, someone he wasn't even talking to remotely romantically.

Pervert!Yuta, who has post-nut-clarity, feeling an insane amount of guilt about cumming to the image of how smooth your thighs looked and how your panties were so snug against your fat cunt, outlining the crease of your labia.

Pervert!Yuta, who immediately feels guilty the next time he sees you, unable to see you innocently again. Everytime you come to chat with him, he tries to focus but his focus shifts. All he can imagine now is kissing and nibbling your plump, glossy lips until you're both out of breath and dazed. All he can imagine is how your lips would look and feel trailing down his abs to the hem of his boxers.

Pervert!Yuta, who begins having the desire to drop something on purpose so he can have something to gawk at.

Pervert!Yuta, who is now taking his time eating his food and hanging around you at the diner. His hands practically shake at the scent of your sweet perfume as you bend over to take a plate off his table, annoyed that he won't leave yet despite all the other patrons having left a while ago.

Pervert!Yuta, who finds out what perfume you wear and buys it impulsively, debating whether or not to gift it to you or keep it so he can smell your signature scent whenever he wants without making you stick around so at the diner to see you and get his fill of you.

Pervert!Yuta, who walks past a lingerie store, eyes skimming past the storefront before stopping completely at the sight of a pair of panties that looked similar to the ones you owned.

Pervert!Yuta, who can't help himself and buys them, not really bothered to think about the size.

Pervert!Yuta, who decides when he gets to his dorm room that he won't gift the perfume to you and instead takes the bottle out of its package and sprays some of it's contents onto one of his worn-down hoodies, pressing the soft fabric against his face with one hand, deeply inhaling the familiar, hypnotizing scent, his free hand working on his belt buckle.

Pervert!Yuta, who makes quick work of pulling his pants down, letting them pool to the floor, palming at his growing erection as he inhales your scent, imagining things he hasn't yet seen. Imagining that it was your soft and feminine hands palming at his bulge instead of him.

Pervert!Yuta, whose boxers are becoming tighter by the second just imagining you out of your waitressing uniform wearing only a matching set of lacy black underwear he has dreamt of and ruined so many of his boxers over.

Pervert!Yuta, who lets his boxers pool at his ankles along with his pants, decides amidst his hazy lust-filled brain to use the panties he just bought to masturbate, imagining it was your cunt instead.

Pervert!Yuta, who starts off slow, wrapping the new panties snugly around his cock, aided by the copious amount of precum and some of his spit. Imagining you straddling his cock, shifting those lewd black panties to the side and kissing the tip of his cock with your dripping fat cunt before slowly enveloping his cock in your tight heat.

Pervert!Yuta, whose cock weeps with arousal at the thought of your tight and greedy pussy swallowing him whole, having to settle for using drenched panties he thought looked like yours to mimic how snug your cunt would feel around his member.

Pervert!Yuta, who just knows he'd be stretching you out so painfully good and making you see stars, hips stuttering up into the panties just imagining how your face would scrunch up at how unbelievably good it all felt, his balls tightening, having reached his peak before his bulbous cockhead released a sticky mess all over the intricate black lace he held and his hand, fat creamy globs of cum dripping down his palm onto the white sheets on his bed.

Pervert!Yuta, who still is unsatisfied.

Pervert!Yuta, who wants to see and feel the real thing.

Pervert!Yuta, who's willing to try to change and become more extroverted to get on your level.

THANKS!!

shy.

please do not steal or copy my work!!

[natasha-in-space]

I think not nearly enough people comprehend just how messed up Rika's and V's relationships truly was, actually. It is so easy to get hyperfocused on the big climax of their toxic obsession: the cult, the physical violence, and the secrets. But, like... You ever actually sit down and think about the sheer fact that V looked at Rika: a hurt, traumatized girl, terrified of being her true self, desperate for love she didn't even have a clear idea of in her own mind, safe for some very vague feeling she deemed to be 'love', and... He saw beauty in it. He was never malicious about it, nor did he even realize it fully, not until MC came into his life and pushed him into reevaluating his own worth as well as his views on what love truly is. But, at the time, he saw all that hidden pain and trauma in her, and he saw beauty in it. He was intrigued by it. It fascinated him. He desired to transform it into something even more stunning with his own two hands, analogous to an artist fixing his next big masterpiece. And she was his masterpiece. One he would paint and bend and mold into something he knew he wanted to achieve. It wasn't even a want, it was a craving. Not really knowing that he was just so racked with guilt and self-hatred after his mother's death, that he was merely trying to prove himself to no one but his own troubled and scared mind. To prove to himself that he could be an artist, and that he really could love like the sun. That he could save someone this time around, instead of losing them. Because, truth is, he could never be an artist, not in the way his soul truly longed for.

Rika was both his muse and his creation at the same time.

That's why he never encouraged her to get the help she desperately needed if she didn't want to do it herself. That's why he never got involved in any extreme ways until it became far too difficult for him to handle. That's why he told her time and time again that she was beautiful and perfect just the way she is, even when she herself would doubt and be deeply disturbed by his eager willingness to sink into the deepest of lows for her.

In a way, neither of them truly knew each other. It's a fact that they cared for each other at one point in time. But they didn't see each other as equal individuals to grow and change alongside. For Rika, V was her sun she adored and loathed all the same. He was not a person, he was just an anchor that kept her steady and a cruel reminder of all she could never be. For V, Rika was his canvas to pour his locked away feelings onto. She was not a person, she was a living proof of his ability to create and love in a way he desperately craved.

And in the end, that destroyed and scarred both of them. Not only them, but also many completely innocent individuals who were caught in the crossfire.

What a big, complicated, and horrible mess these two are.

[cythena]

SHE'S NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND RIGHT?

ꨄ︎ synopsis . yuta okkotsu and maki zenin were never official no matter how much flirting you watched and it irked you to no end. yuta was so precious and had no clue maki was playing him. but they're not dating right, so it's okay for him to mess around.

warnings . semi-cheating if you wanna count it, mean!maki, breeding, unsafe sex, pnv, porn with plot, marking, praise, soft at the end, not a lot but minor angst, reader and maki don't get along, manipulation, unrequited love

word count . 2k words

notes . maki is super ooc in here but it's just for plot and not proofread

sitting on his lap, toying with his hair, and tight hugs, maki zenin was so touchy with your close friend yuta. every time she entered a room, a boyish grin tugged at his lips while his eyes shimmered at her. he was eager to bring her close to his side in a group setting. from your distance, you could see her emotionless eyes looking straight through him. affection surged through his veins and every action he made. even without her presence, yuta was love struck and you were forced to watch it.

on outings with just the two of you, he'd barrage you with questions about what she would like. he wanted girl advice from you. then he'd follow up your answers with "you're such a good friend y/n!" which you would prefer rika ripping you apart than hearing again. you would side with the curse who seemed hyper aware of maki's intentions. she was also smart enough to warn yuta and do what she could to stop him. it seemed everyone was doing what they could. inumaki tried his best to communicate his worries about their mutual friend. it would take a village to keep yuta away from her unfortunately.

still no one was as upset and jealous as you were. yuta was the sweetest boy you've ever met and seeing him put his all into her was heartbreaking. he showered her with gifts and compliments. she'd respond gratefully sometimes then shun him others.

like the one time, he bought her a necklace. you mentioned it from outside of a window and he bought it for her. she wore it all the time, which made you really think she appreciated it. she tricked you and yuta as within two weeks she ripped it off and replaced it with a new one — one that she claimed was from another friend. of course yuta didn't do much. it was obvious it hurt his feelings to see his thoughtful gift tossed to the side, quite literally when you found it outside on the field. so you kept it.

the necklace was hidden under the neck of your uniform. it felt good to know it was truly appreciated. yuta didn't deserve maki. she took advantage of his kindness and made him weak. she took every part of his soul and stripped it away from him and put it back just to repeat. it was almost numbing to watch.

almost like it was now, watching maki dig her claws into some guy at the party while yuta went to refill her drink. he wrapped his hand around her waist while she giggled into his ears. yuta returned with her cup in his hand and maki pushed herself off of the other boy. he sat down next to you while she made herself comfortable on his lap.

she rubbed her nose against his neck, whispering something to make his cheeks go red. she pulled away to look at you, her eyes flickered over your appareance. then they narrowed at your collarbone.

"hey...that's mine," she hissed and reached towards it. yuta's eyes widened when he realized it too. you covered the charm with your palm and rolled your eyes.

"not like you cared about it anyways," you said and gestured to the one she wore now. "i found it on the field."

"it fell off while training."

"no it didn't. i've worn it for weeks and it's never failed on me." you glared back at her.

yuta glanced back and forth between you and maki. he felt his heart swell when he realized you kept it. but he pushed it down, it was maki's necklace.

"well i want it back."

"now you want it, so you can dispose of it properly?"

"i want it because yuta gave it to me."

"you replaced it in an instant with some cheap thing from your new boy toy," you scoffed.

maki's chest heaved as she grew angrier. "your keeping my scraps. i can see your upset yuta chose me over you."

"kiss my ass."

you stood up. maki too soon after, but hesitated to follow you through the crowd. you made your way to the kitchen for a drink yourself. you fit yourself in your own little corner to think about it. maki and that same guy from earlier crossed your field of vision. it snapped you out of your thoughts enough to pay attention to them.

was worrrying about yuta even necessary? it was when maki and some guy were leaving together and yuta was clueless. so you went back to find him. he was waiting by the stairs.

"y/n! i'm sorry to ask you after your argument with maki but have you seen her?"

your blood boiled. you glanced to the door like you should tell him but instead you-

"follow me."

you pulled him upstairs. he followed you intently into a bedroom where you shut the door and locked it behind him. he looked around the dark room until he found a lamp. it dimly lit up your surroundings. it smelled of jasmine and other flowers.

you invited yuta to sit on the bed with you. your thigh pressed against his. he shifted uncomfortably, tugging at his collar at the sight of your thighs in your short dress. he couldn't help but look at your figure. he would be lying if he said he'd never noticed — admired — it. and your face. he always thought you were so pretty and had a great smile. his heart fell when he realized he didn't get to see it as much recently.

"yuta..." you started, "y'know, i've liked you since we were first years. i always thought you were really sweet."

he almost choked on his words. but why were you confessing to him now? you placed your hand on his upper thigh, dragging it higher with a sly grin on your face. you looked up into his eyes, staring into them, not through.

"you liked me? i-"

you nodded along with his words, basking in his flustered state. he tripped over his words as he tried to form another sentence but ultimately let himself fall short. you didn't mind. instead, you let brought your hand to the back of his neck. he leaned into your touch before putting his own hand on your wrist.

"no, we shouldn't- maki, it's wrong," he rambled. your grin went lazy. your thigh crossed his as your legs spread further. his arm dropped now.

"she's not your girlfriend, right?"

he shook his head.

"so we don't have to worry about her."

he nodded.

you muttered a yeah before letting your lips touch. months of stress lifted off your shoulders. yuta held your hips and shifted you onto his lap to deepen your kiss. he wanted to taste everything you had to offer in this moment. your tongues danced with each other while your hands grabbed everything they could. they squeezed each other and yanked on clothes until they were off. you sucked a deep purple bruise onto his neck, one he wouldn't be able to hide.

"yuta!" he grinded you against his bulge, black eyes losing all light and filling with lust. your nails dug further into his shoulder as he flipped you over so you were underneath him. he finished pulling off his own pants. "did you two ever-"

he shook his head. "no," he said in between kisses. your panties were tossed to the side. you had no where to look but at him. "i need you so bad, not her, i need you y/n."

his rubbed his hand against your sopping cunt. he brought his two fingers against into his mouth to savor you. he moaned at the intoxicating taste on his tongue then pressed them into your mouth for a taste. he kissed you again in hopes of tasting it again. within his foggy brain, he knew he wanted to taste more but he needed to feel you and his cock throbbed.

"put it in."

you wrapped your hand around his shaft. he silently praised you as you guided his tip to the entrance of your hole. you tilted your head up while he pushed into you. your lips parted in a sweet gasp, one that yuta swallowed with a kiss. you let him completely slide into your hole and fill you.

yuta chuckled. "i'm impatient, i couldn't wait-" he smacked his hips against yours, "anymore." he inhaled your perfume that settled on your collarbone right beside the necklace. he clenched the charm in his other fist, holding it tightly while he fucked into you. you arched your back into his chest.

"o-oh my...yuta," you sighed. "i'm gonna-"

"yeah? wanna cum?"

you nodded. drool began to slip from the corner of your lips.

"words please?" he whispered, "i wanna hear you say it." he slowed down to focus attention on your clit. your eyes fluttered from the circles he rubbed. his cock still filled every part of you. he used his other hand to hold the back of your head and look into your eyes.

"...please yuta...please make me cum." you smiled. "i love you so much."

the words slipped from you and you wished you could take them back. he hungrily sucked marks along your neck and peppered your skin with kisses until he reached your ear. "i love you too, always have."

the walls of your pussy spasmed around him. he felt you pulling his deeper than he thought he could go. the feeling in your gut released. yuta admired the way your eyes widened. your cute expressions were uncontrollable. in blissful heat, your body shuddered. yuta toyed with your breasts now, moving down to kiss them.

"i- can i cum in-"

you cut him off. "inside yes! i need it yuta!" you begged him. your head sank deeper into the pillows. he thrusts became desperate to fill you up now. a whimper of your name spilled from his tongue. he didn't bother trying to hold back anything now. moans and curses filled the room as he tingled with excitement. he sank as deep as he could inside you while he emptied himself.

you bit your lip and gazed at his flushed face. he helped you sit up while he ran to the bathroom. yuta returned with a towel and water bottle. her wiped you off while you sat in silence. he helped you drink water before closing the cap and sitting beside you. he cuddled up against your side with his head nuzzled in your neck.

"y...yuta," you mumbled.

"yes?"

"what do you mean you always loved me?"

he pulled away from you to look you in the eye. he cupped your cheeks. his thumbs stoked your skin soothingly. he gave you a soft smile and a peck on the lips.

"i mean that i've always loved you. sorry i didn't show you, i was scared you didn't feel the same. but i wanna make it right now, so i'd like to be your boyfriend."

"officially?"

"yes. i want to be yours."

yuta reached over and undid your necklace, tossing it somewhere in the dark room. he shushed you before you could protest or get up to find it. he pulled you back into his chest, silencing your worries, "i have one just for you. no need for that one anymore."

[sorcerersseestars]

LIMERENCE (III)

PART I, PART II

preview: So maybe this was unexpected, but maybe not. Your parents had always told you to be careful who you lent your heart to, but even more careful about who you made promises—or rather, vows—to. You were never fond of listening to their advice, however life saving it turned out to be…

word count: 11.9k

warnings: Violence/violent thoughts, mentions of illness/injuries, mentions of choking, vomiting, and blood, actual romance finally?? 😳

song rec: Mahler Symphony III, mvt VI <3 for nostalgic/bittersweet parts

NOTE: JJK0 edit! In this timeline, Geto invaded the school, failed to obtain Rika, but left unscathed. The twins depicted as mid-late teens.

“WILL YOU please lay off for once?” The man sighs, an unusual note of annoyance threatening to creep into his voice.

“But, Master Geto, this is horrible! They look like they're on death's door and you basically dropped them!” The girl exclaims loudly. “Who even are they?”

He hoists your limp body back over his shoulder, easily handling your weight. He had set you down for a few moments, as his shoulder had begun to ache after being burdened in one position for too long, but he intends to move you to a more permanent place than the ground he had momentarily set you on. He begins to walk away and, like always, the girl is his shadow, following behind immediately with no hesitation.

"I didn't drop them, Mimiko. My shoulder was hurting, so I had to put them down..."

"You practically did. If that's how you treat someone who's unconscious, remind me to never pass out around you. It looks like they hit their head when you 'didn't' drop them."

"Well, they have a price to pay. I wasn't necessarily trying to be gentle," He chuckles bitterly, “Let this be a lesson to you and Nanako. Don’t make a deal you’re not willing to follow through with until the end. It could cost you your life.”

The young girl frowns, confusion clear in her bright eyes. “But Master, aren’t they a sorcerer and not a monkey? I feel their cursed energy, even though it is weak. Why are you acting like this, Master Geto? I feel like…I feel like I don’t know you right now. How can you be so kind to us and then…and then treat this sorcerer…”

Her voice that started strong, as she means her words and thus began her inquiry with conviction, now gradually fades in volume until nothing can be heard but the roar of the wind.

He turns away quickly, trying to conceal how wide his eyes are, to hide the quiver that runs down his neck and through his fingers, to bury the contradicting feelings and morals that are tearing him apart. Yes, he has always been praised for his gentle nature and softness of his soul. Yes, he has always been commended for his strong moral compass and even sometimes accused of being self-righteous. Satoru had a tendency for the latter, but you…you would always readily agree with Geto and would look to him for an example. He remembers your eyes on him when Satoru pledged to kill all of the sorcerers that had involvement with Riko’s death during the Star Plasma mission. You had instantly laid down your weapon when Geto told Satoru that it wasn’t worth anything, that it wouldn’t change the tragic outcome that had already fallen upon them.

But when Geto later had—in the view of the sorcerer’s world, and most definitely in your view as well, he can only assume—his fall from grace, you had not looked to him or followed him then. But as he only had one opportunity to speak with you after, he could not pretend to fully understand your entire opinion of him—did you despise him, did you feel betrayed by him, or maybe, deep down, did you understand?

He doesn’t know what you truly think, and probably never will. And yet he cannot hold back about what he thinks about you—you, a pivotal figure in the Jujutsu world, a strong sorcerer who also has a strong attachment to the strongest sorcerer. You, who represent and fight for the future generation of sorcerers. You, who often put your life on the line to save mere monkeys, and teach others to do the same.

He turns back to Mimiko, who looks to him with wide, hesitant eyes. Her presence alone reminds him of his purpose, of his mission, and he quickly summons his resolve. He has his reasons, after all.

“Master, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean to doubt you or disrespect you—“

Geto sighs, expression softening at the slight tremble in her voice. “It’s quite alright, Mimiko. I am the one that should be apologizing. It’s just that it is difficult for me to be in their presence, knowing what they are and who they are close to. It makes me someone…someone that I sometimes wish I wasn’t. They are both symbols of everything we despise, of everything we are fighting against. I can’t help but feel disgusted and irritated in their presence.”

She blinks slowly, processing his words. "So you mean them and...are you talking about this sorcerer and Gojo Satoru?"

"Very good," Geto praises, but he does not smile. "Those two have been on my list a long time."

Mimiko raises an eyebrow. "I understand about Gojo Satoru, of course, but why this person? I don't recognize them from our black book. Aren't they just a teacher at Tokyo or something?"

"(Y/N) was our classmate at Tokyo, and it is true that they teach there now. They are particularly special to our situation, you could say. They could turn the tide for us," He pauses, then shakes his head decisively. "No, they will."

Mimiko's lips twitch as many more questions threaten to burst out, but she holds her tongue and instead takes in her master's expression. Excitement glitters in his dark eyes, or maybe anticipation. He looks like he has cracked the code to something very important, giving him an almost manic appearance. But there's also something else in his countenance. She can't put her finger on it, but an emotion akin to regret occasionally interrupts his otherwise eager expression.

"They have always been infatuated with Gojo. I can't say it was love at first sight, but as close as you can get to that. I knew that, eventually, they would fall for Gojo. For a long time, I never thought anything of it, other than the fact their heart was going to be broken someday. After all, he was notorious for his arrogance and, well...philandering, I guess you could say, back then."

Mimiko rolls her eyes. "You mean he was a playboy."

"So, you get my meaning," Geto chuckles. "Yes, he has always been like that. And ever since the night that...that I rescued you and Nanako, ever since we went our separate ways, I haven't been able to lure him out. Not that I've wanted to, yet, but you know my goal."

"Yes," She breathes out the word almost instantly. "To eliminate all non-sorcerers, for the betterment of our world."

"That's the end goal, yes," He says, letting out a grunt of assent. "But remember what I told you and Nanako all that time ago?"

He turns to face her, eyes searching her expression, wondering just how firmly she believes in his ideals.

She looks up at him instantly, eyes glinting with a determination and purpose beyond her age. The intensity of her gaze almost startles him. "Gojo is the sorcerers' figurehead. Once he is eliminated, they will panic and we can make our move. They won't have the advantage anymore."

"Figurehead...maybe I said that before, but he is no figurehead. The higher-ups are, definitely, but Gojo...Gojo is the real deal. As much as I hate to admit it, we are no longer equals and haven't been for a long time. He is the most difficult to handle, and that's why we have to take him out first."

"Even though you didn't get Rika? I thought acquiring that cursed spirit was necessary."

Geto sighs, "You wound my pride by reminding me of that failure...but, no, that won't be necessary anymore."

He enters his room and haphazardly deposits you onto his bed, although it is still considerably gentler of a movement than before. His eyes sweep over your form, scrutinizing your sickly appearance. You look rather convincing for his case.

"Why not?" Mimiko prompts after the silence stretches out too long. Her patience can only last so long—he has been avoiding what she has really wanted answers for this entire conversation.

He nods to your form. "Gojo will come for them soon. He knows this is my doing, I made sure of it. And once he sees their condition, knowing that he caused this...and after they explain our little Binding Vow we took, his worldview will shatter."

He doesn't elaborate. Mimiko, who was listening with rapt attention, shakes her head in confusion. "Master, please explain this to me. What do you mean to happen? I thought you wanted to dispose of him."

"I did, once. When I was angry with this world, angry at his sudden insistence on helping the weak, I did. But I've never truly wanted to kill him, just as he has no desire to kill me. He's supposed to, but he won't. We were best friends, after all. After this happens, after they succumb to this disease, then I can't imagine he will ever want to help anyone ever again, monkeys included. Even if he doesn't join us, he will no longer be a threat."

His dark eyes trail over your form, taking in your gaunt cheeks and thin hair. He lingers on your closed eyes—even though you are unconscious and technically resting, the fatigue that plagues your features does not fade in the slightest.

“Which disease, Master?” Mimiko prompts, seeing that Geto’s mind has drifted. His eyes quickly shoot up to meet hers.

"They are afflicted with Hanahaki disease. This is what I anticipated all those years ago as I watched them fall head over heels for Gojo. That he would be too cautious to show his affection to them and they would believe their love to be one-sided. It is not, I know it is not, but I convinced them otherwise. I made a Binding Vow with them to guarantee that they wouldn’t notify anybody else about their condition, once it has befallen them. They vowed to keep quiet until they sensed they were close to death."

“They took this Vow willingly, or…?” Mimiko asks in a hushed voice, as if afraid to offend her master.

“Yes. I told them that one day they would fall prey to this disease, that their love would be unrequited—they easily accepted this. I convinced them that letting them succumb to the disease would be…would be for the best.”

Fear and confusion pulse through Mimiko, quickening her heart rate. She is quickly piecing together all the information that pertains to her master, and through every line of thought she comes to the same conclusion. She squeaks out, “But won’t he come for you?”

Geto shakes his head calmly. “No, he’ll come for them.”

“That’s not what I meant, Master,“ She says with urgency. “Won’t he kill you?”

“And what would that accomplish?”

“He’ll be angry, he’ll want revenge! You implied that he…that he loves them, too.”

“Killing me will not bring them back.” He says simply, coolly. “It would only bring him more pain. His love and his best friend dead in one night? It would be too much to bear.”

Mimiko shakes her head worriedly. “Even so…would he really consider you his best friend after that? I think you are misjudging the situation slightly, Master…”

Geto laughs, “You believe me to be a fool. I can’t say I disagree, but I know him. Too well.”

“Can I ask you something, Master?” She asks quietly. He nods his consent with an intrigued expression. “Did he ever expect you to defect? When you two were close, did he ever know this side to you? If not, then…how do you expect to know him at all, either?”

Geto says nothing, train of thought interrupted by a bright sound. Mimiko’s point is clear, clearer than the peals of the bells from the rustling wind chimes outside. The wind that consumed Mimiko’s words before now disturbs his thoughts with this incessant chiming.

He eventually says, “He will be defeated, especially with the knowledge that they agreed to this. That they agreed to die for him.”

“Why did they?” Mimiko whispers, gazing at your broken form with unbridled pity in her eyes. “What did you promise them?”

“They came to me, begging to spare him. They knew I would come after him some day. They admitted to me that he had direct orders to kill me, but could never go through with them or even think on them. They feared this weakness of his would cause him to hold back and leave him vulnerable if I ever decided to go through with my plans. But I, of course, needed something valuable in return if I were to promise to spare him. And this is the only valuable exchange I could came up with…a way to defeat him without ever needing to physically do so. They didn’t hesitate to lay down their life, and I…”

Geto pauses, reflecting on his feelings for you. You had once been a good friend, although he always thought you were too lenient towards Gojo—always walking around with large puppy eyes for him, at times blind to his faults. At one time, you and Geto were so close that he perfectly knew your order at the local cafe, down to the two sugar packets and only a few droplets of cream, and that you would only ever go to bed earlier than 2 am if you knew they were serving your favorite breakfast in the morning. In comparison, Geto doesn’t know much of you anymore—but he knows your literal fatal flaw—you give up too much of yourself for Satoru, this time being your life.

“Well, I have to admit it didn’t feel great guaranteeing the death of an old friend, but…it is for a higher purpose. Our purpose. It’s for the sake of the entire world. If Gojo goes down, in one form or another, we will be able to infiltrate and dismantle their whole society. Their death won’t be in vain.”

A new voice pipes up from behind him, soft and choked. "That's too cruel, Master Geto.”

He looks over to the doorway and sees only long, dark brown hair and shaking shoulders.

“Nanako?” He questions quietly, tone gentle, yet curious.

Nanako slowly turns around, her face revealed inch by inch, and he is surprised to find glossy eyes and rivulets of tears pouring down her cheeks. One hand is pressed over her mouth as if she is trying to rein in her emotions, but is failing.

“I know it is for the betterment of our world—“ She is stopped by a telling rasp in her voice. “But—I really can’t believe in love and goodness anymore if they die.”

Before she can hear any response from either her sister or her master, she turns on her heel and races down the hall.

The air in Geto’s lungs is stuck and feels like it’ll be forever suspended there, but then Mimiko says, “She still believed in that stuff?” and he can finally exhale.

Gojo Satoru isn’t having a good night—or, rather, a good morning. Ever since you called him at 3 am, he has been wide awake and filled with a jumble of emotions. He was so relieved to see your name pop up on his screen—he thought it was a good sign, that maybe you didn’t hold his ghosting you for months against him. He was also glad that he didn’t have to initiate contact with you, which he honestly didn’t feel like he deserved after how he’s brushed you aside—although he couldn’t shake off the feeling that maybe he was just a coward and in denial about it. He’s often in denial about things pertaining to his feelings—oftener about feelings involving you.

Ever since the call ended, when your screams and near unintelligible speech were abruptly cut off, Gojo has been frozen: hands shaking, vision coming in and out of focus, mouth turning to sand. He can’t reach you right now. He wishes he could teleport instantly to you, but he remembers Shoko’s news that you have moved to a new apartment about a month ago. Shoko had been shocked when he admitted he didn’t know, and further so when he didn’t proceed to ask for your new address. Gojo always used to come by and bother you at your last apartment, after all. And here his past behavior comes to bite him in the ass.

His mind begins to race, full of regrets and hopes and fears; his thoughts fly by faster than they ever have before. It makes him think of you all the more, and memories he had long forgotten begin to surface.

It’s funny how fast he is inundated with memories. In school, you had always teased him about how slow he was in school, specifically how slow of a test taker he was. He would always finish last, no matter the day, no matter the subject.

“You must be a slow thinker,” You used to tease him. Once you had followed it up with, “I’m surprised you even take the tests seriously. I figured you’d just Christmas tree it and be the first one done just to get it over with. Wouldn’t ‘the strongest’ want to focus on training more anyway?”

Your mischievous smile flashes through his mind, your laughter so full of mirth that he hasn’t heard in forever also rings through his mind; his chest aches. Back then, he didn’t exactly know what to think of how you could never stop poking fun at him—he didn’t understand what you meant by it, but he sorely, sorely misses it now. Back then, he couldn’t help but try to fire back with something he found equally as insulting, but it never had the same effect. His face would always be flushed and his charisma would melt away, revealing a stuttering and helplessly in love boy. Nobody could look at him and recognize him as what would be the strongest sorcerer in their age, or relate him to the cocky, rich Gojo heir who was rumored to be head of his clan soon. He was a mere boy would wanted to impress a regular sorcerer of no material or familial importance or fame, a sorcerer who was smart and witty enough to cut down his personality—or, rather, his persona—down to his raw self with just a few words. And yet when Shoko and Geto would poke fun at his crush on you, he would vehemently deny it. He didn’t truly believe it himself—or didn’t want to believe it—because of how vulnerable you made him feel. Despite all the signs, he maintained his claim of not liking you, which was hard to believe with his strong need to impress you.

He couldn’t use his charm or fame to get to you, so he wanted—no, needed—to impress you through other means. For example, Gojo did indeed prefer training to studying, but he couldn’t just say that, otherwise he would reveal too much. So whenever you would tease him about his molasses pace in academics, Gojo would begin to either shrug or quip back with something about how you were quite the opposite, a quick learner with perfect grades but always the first one to be beaten in a spar and the last to understand a new technique. You never seemed offended or even embarrassed by his claims, which irked him, considering how ruffled he would get if you said something similar to him. You would just smile as if you knew something he didn’t.

The real reason why he tried so hard in academics is—surprise, surprise!—that he wanted to impress you. He found that you were difficult to impress—you didn’t seem to care about how strong he was as a sorcerer, or about his looks and charm. In Satoru’s view, you always seemed to prefer his best friend Suguru for his mind and moral compass. Suguru was naturally book smart and didn’t have to work hard to get good grades; if Gojo fell behind, he thought he wouldn’t have a chance with you at all. In actuality, you cared little about others’ grades, but you were amused—and, okay, maybe a little impressed—by how diligent Gojo seemed to be.

Either way, you’d be destined to fall for Gojo Satoru anyway. Either way, Gojo Satoru was destined to be oblivious to your attraction toward him.

But, your love for him was inconsequential—either way, he would always come for you. Even if you hated him, he would be there, with no ounce of hesitation. He wouldn’t think twice when it came to you, even if it involved someone he also had a painfully complicated relationship with.

His former best friend, someone he truly believed to be the only one to understand him, blindsided him all those years ago. Even you, who were always so perceptive and attentive to your friends, hadn’t anticipated Geto’s horrific exit from society.

That was the first time you had seen cracks emerge in Gojo’s mask. He remembers your concerned gaze on him when he would forget to laugh when a joke was told, or at how quickly his perpetual smile would fall once he thought nobody was looking.

“We’re all shocked,” You had tried to console him once, even though he acted like he didn’t need it. “It’s not your fault, Satoru. Nobody expected this…”

You two were enjoying ice cream, sat lazily on the steps of the school. It almost felt normal, but the fact that Satoru’s treat was untouched broke the illusion for you.

“Who said it was?” He tried to laugh like he normally would, but it sounded faker than he anticipated. “If that idiot wants to go running off like a little bitch, let him.”

Your brow had furrowed as you tried not to glare at him. You hated when he used misogynous terms like bitch or pussy when describing someone negatively, but he couldn’t give a flying fuck right now. You knew he was struggling so you said nothing on this, but your sharp gaze reminded him of his fault nonetheless.

“It’s a little more than just running off,” You had sighed. “The report was…”

You trailed off, not wanting to recount the atrocious crimes someone you believed to be so gentle committed.

“Like I don’t fucking know that.” He snorted bitterly, angrily.

The mask was slipping more, that much was obvious. You wanted to help ease it off, but knew you would likely have to press him. It wasn’t healthy for him to be holding everything inside.

“There’s a rumor that they’re going to assassinate him,” You said quietly.

“It’s no rumor,” He said, voice quivering from trying to hold back his emotions.

“Really?” You turned to him with rapt interest, but he didn’t elaborate. The school-wide known yapper sat silently, his jaw clenched.

“Why are you holding back?” You suddenly accused. “You never say so little.”

“He shook his head, avoiding your eyes. He felt like he could snap at any second, that his mask would shatter for good and he’d be completely exposed in front of you.

“Why are you holding back?” You repeated more loudly. You didn’t seem like you were going to give this up.

He suddenly threw his uneaten, melted ice cream to the ground. There was a palpable crunch as pressed his palm down on the cone, shattering it. You flinched, momentarily caught off guard, but deep down you weren’t surprised. He had so much guilt, anger, and sadness sitting dormant inside of him, and it was only a matter of time before it erupted.

Your eyes followed his figure as he pushed himself up and started to walk away. He didn’t glance at you—but it guessed he was being avoidant rather than spiteful.

“Don’t you dare walk away, too,” You had pleaded, but it sounded more like a threat. “We’re not done here, Satoru.”

You stood up quickly, ready to go after him, but your fear would soon be proven unfounded, because Gojo stopped abruptly at your words. For a moment, both you and him were still. You were scared of what might happen next, but you didn’t dare say another word.

You didn’t have to. Gojo swiveled around, eyes blazing with a fire you had never seen before and chest heaving as if he had just been battling. Long gone was his usual cocky smile and condescending, playful gaze.

He began to shout at you. “What do you want? For me to admit to you what you already know?! Well, fucking fine! They ordered me, me of all people, to murder him—or, as they put it, ‘dispose’ of him. Is that what you wanted to hear me say? Are you fucking satisfied now?”

Your eyes were wide, taking in this new and painful information. You recovered quickly, speaking back in the most gentle tone he had ever heard from you.

“I’m sorry, Satoru. I didn’t know. I can’t believe they would…No, I guess I can believe that, but they can’t…they shouldn’t be allowed to order you that just because you’re the strongest. I’m sorry I pressed you about this,” You murmured. “I just wanted you to let out whatever was hurting you. You keep pretending around everyone, but…You’re hurting more than any of us, but you won’t admit it. You can tell us your pain…you can let it out.”

Nobody had seen through him like that before.

Then words began to flow out, words he had never told anyone. Truths that had never seen the light of day. He hated that you had this effect on him, that you able to unravel him like nobody else could. He could never keep anything from you, and this alone would influence many decisions in the future.

He shouted the words out, thinking that maybe if he yelled it would force the ugly painful lump in his throat to go away. “I hate that I’m expected to kill my best friend. I hate that the higher-ups use me as a weapon. I hate that ever since I was born, that’s all I’ve been and ever will be. And I hate most of all that one day, one of us will have to kill each other, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Your eyes swam with tears, horror clear in them. You knew his words were true. You knew it was true, and you had to do something about it. Later you would seek out the other side behind Gojo’s back, not knowing why desperation burned through you until you had settled a deal.

You looked so scared that it startled Gojo out of his miserable state. He came closer to you, arms held out as if he was halfway thinking about embracing you.

“God, I’m sorry I yelled at you like that, angel.” He said, mistakenly believing that his yelling induced your horrified state, eyes crinkling apologetically behind his shades.

“Angel?” You questioned, taken so aback that you barely remember what other words he uttered.

His cheeks suddenly colored. You had never noticed him blush before, even though he had because of you many times, so you couldn’t help but be surprised at his redness.

“I-is that okay?” He asked, uncharacteristically sheepish.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, Mr. Flirt. I’m sure you call everyone that, anyway.”

He shook his head, “Nah, I’ll reserve this one for you. Of course, everyone else is baby, or sunshine, or pookie—”

“Okay, can I give you one then? How about harlot? Can I call you that?”

“What? NO!”

He smiles at the memory—the first time he called you angel, which was then cemented as his ‘ironic’ nickname for you. How you never realized his pet name was indicative of his feelings, he could never understand.

His smile falls—that pet name hasn’t crossed his tongue in ages, just as he hasn’t been open with you about his feelings and situation. He is sorry to say that you and him haven’t had the type of transparency you had in the past in a while, at the very least not since he was backed into a corner by the higher-ups and forced to ignore you. And maybe even not since the time you once came to him, bawling your eyes out and claiming you felt like you had done something awful that involved him but you couldn’t remember what, as if someone had put a spell on you to forget.

These memories all run through his head at a speed beyond what he can comprehend. He feels like he is missing something, and that it may be hidden somewhere deep in his memories. But Gojo does not have the luxury of time on his side; he has no more time to dig through his memories. Even if the answer may lie from within, he has a better chance of finding it out by pursuing you.

After he allows himself a final moment to remember and remember and remember, to regret and regret and regret some more, he starts making calls—he needs to gather information as quickly as possible. He knows that Geto is crafty and calculated—this must definitely be related to your Binding Vow with him. He can’t guess what it entails, and as much as he wants to believe that Geto must have some good in him still, he can’t rule out the possibility of your life very much being in danger. You being some sort of a twisted bargaining chip is a fear that does not go unnoticed in his mind. He knows this to be highly probable, but he doesn’t want to admit it.

Gojo knows that Geto and his association, disguised and funded as a “religious organization”, are constantly moving around. Their temple’s location has been known for a long time, but they are rarely there, intel has reported. Thus he makes calls to all of the top sorcerers involved in collecting intel to see if a new hideout has popped up. He was hoping that they could pinpoint exactly where Geto is, but they only have a few general ideas of his location.

Gojo hangs up on the last sorcerer right after they could only propose two vague locations. He wanted to berate all of them for being inadequate, for letting such a high level dangerous sorcerer like Geto to exist without detection, to let him run amuck in their society with virtually no consequences, even after targeting Gojo’s student for his sole personal benefit. But Satoru knows this anger would be misdirected—projecting the higher-ups problems onto these sorcerers who are just obeying orders.

“Fuck!” Gojo yells, the panic and frustration rising with every passing moment. “I’m going to kill those fucking higher-ups one day.”

At least they all had similar guesses, so Gojo has an idea of where you could be held. The only completely useful piece of information he acquired was your current address, as much as it pained him to ask a random person for it. And just like that, Gojo is on the case. He could have called in specialized trackers, but it would take too long to dispatch them and would definitely result in interference from the higher-ups.

Instead, Gojo pockets his phone—which he had thrown quite forcefully onto his bed in his frustration after failing to locate you—and teleports to your new address. He races up the steps to your floor and stops in front of your unit. He frowns. Your front door is ajar, which makes him bristle. It’s a clear statement from Geto—brazenly boasting that he got to you easily and with little care about being caught. Well, really no care—which is suspicious and smells of a trap. But there’s no way Gojo will choose not to pursue you—and, unfortunately, Geto seems to know this, too.

Gojo sets his Six-Eyes on your apartment and finds no active cursed energy. Finding the coast to be clear, he quickly pushes the door open further and walks in. He is first struck by the mess in the living room, eyes darkening at the sight of the broken glass and neglected blooms lying on the floor.

You struggled all the way to the door, is what Gojo assumes of the eerie mess. His jaw clenches as he recalls your shrieks as you were dragged against your will. He continues on, reaching your bedroom first. It is surprisingly in order there, so he moves to your bathroom—and that’s when his heart drops into his stomach.

Blood. Blood is everywhere. He feels sick. The scent clogs his nose and he swallows to keep himself from gagging. He sees the imprint of your hands in the edges of the pool of blood on the floor. He feels sick. He sees red handprints on the doorframe where you desperately tried to hold on while you were dragged out—there are gouges in the wood from your nails digging in. He feels traces of your cursed energy, fainter than they should be, overpowered by Geto’s strong residuals. He feels sick.

The only key detail that Gojo fails to notice is the singular baby blue petal, darkened from a layer of dried blood, lying on the floor. You had disposed of the flowers earlier in the night because their presence only allowed you to think of him—but this petal had evidently escaped your notice. Is it ironic or fitting that the object of your affection and disease does not notice the petal in the color of his eyes?

Geto has been waiting patiently by your bedside. You haven’t woken yet, which spares him the ordeal of conversing with you. He fears that you would be troublesome if you realized that Gojo would be coming for you—if you truly realized what was going on, you’d in hysterics, surely. Good thing that he prevented that the day he made the vow with you.

On the other hand, however, Geto is curious about what you would possibly say to him. Would you be glad to see him after all of these years? He doubts you truly despise him, deep down. After all, you always aspired to be more like Geto—from his composure, to his gentle character, to his morals. You definitely don’t adhere to the same moral code now, and Geto is positive you think of him lowly for his misdeeds. But perhaps you may still envy him for his composure and even his apathy to an extent—his ability to keep calm in life or death situations, and for his ability to kill without batting an eye. Maybe you wish you more like that so that you could take him out and spare Satoru the pain of doing so.

Or maybe he is completely wrong. Maybe you have changed—if you had not been in such a sickly state, would you have fought back to the point of killing him? Have you gained enough mental fortitude and tenacity to kill him in Satoru’s stead?

After spending a few more minutes mulling over his thoughts, Geto leaves the room. Satoru should be here soon—but not too soon. After all, nobody knows his new location—only him and his girls know. So Gojo shouldn’t arrive at least until sun-up, or at least he hopes. He’s depending on that—if not, then he might have to interfere more directly.

Geto exits the house, hoping the chill of the night air will clear his mind. It is very cold tonight—a few small flakes are falling, but melt as soon as they touch the ground. He’s itching for a smoke, a warm stick of cancer to fill his lungs with. He detachedly wonders if Shoko is still keeping her old habit.

“Master Geto?” Comes a small voice.

He turns his head to acknowledge her presence.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks with genuine concern. “It’s late, Nanako.”

She shakes her head. “Not really…this place doesn’t hold the best memories for us.”

He nods. “I know. That’s why we chose it though, right? It sets the scene well.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of eerie that nobody lives around here anymore…I mean, this countryside was full of monkeys.”

“I remember very well,” Geto says with some disgust. “You and Mimiko were too good for this place. They were cruel to you.”

She sighs. “I know, we really hated it here. To think what would have happened if you didn’t rescue us…thank you, Master.”

Geto smiles gently. “There’s no need to thank me. I only did what was right.”

Nanako smiles back, looking a little sheepish. Then her smile falls and she nervously twiddles her fingers together. “By the way, Master, they’re still asleep…and still breathing. I thought they would…I thought you said they’d be deceased by now?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Hm. I thought so, but perhaps I was mistaken. I’ll go check on them. You should go back to bed and try to get some rest.”

He seems troubled and his mood noticeably soured. Nanako nods and quietly excuses herself, not wanting to bother her master any further. But before she is out of sight, Geto loudly lets out a string of expletives from. When Nanako turns to look at him, she sees that his head is in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Nanako asks, rushing back to him.

“He’s here,” Geto says through gritted teeth. “Nanako, go. I don’t think he’d harm you, but I won’t take any chances. Wake Mimiko and go to the place we discussed earlier.”

Nanako doesn’t hesitate. She really doesn’t want to be anywhere near Gojo Satoru, who her master has admitted surpasses him in strength. She’s seen Geto in battle before—she can’t imagine how monstrous Gojo must be in comparison. She rushes back into the house, set on going directly to Mimiko, but instead pauses by the room where you rest. She studies your sleeping form, lingering on the unfairness of your situation. But what can she do? She is powerless to help you.

And so, Nanako and Mimiko flee just as they were told to. One wonders if she’s doing the right thing, the other yawns and asks about breakfast.

While they’re escaping, Geto ponders what to do. It’s not dawn yet—the sky is starless, covered by black clouds full of snow—but the barrier Geto placed has been penetrated. Gojo Satoru has arrived. Early. Which is, well, rather inconvenient: you aren’t dead yet. But he can’t just go and finish you off—it would defeat the entire purpose of this set-up. He doesn’t have to lay a finger on you for you to die. That’s the beauty of it.

Geto suddenly stands up straight, alert from the feeling of cursed energy so near. His eyes trace the perimeters of his vision, but he sees nothing even in his peripherals.

“Where are they?”

The words come from nothing, from nowhere. It’s as if the words enter only his mind and not his ears.

His instincts are going off like crazy—ringing through his head as a massive wave of cursed energy washes over him from behind. Geto slowly turns around, regaining calm as his thoughts catch up to his instincts.

There stands Gojo Satoru, the man who can change everything. Just like the time Geto ‘revisited’ Tokyo Tech, white bandages obscure his famous eyes. While Geto blends into the night’s shadows, Gojo almost glows. His white hair and pale countenance instantly draw attention to him.

As Geto quickly looks over his figure, his eyes begin to narrow. Considering what he’s seeing, he’s not sure how to approach this or what his reaction will be—because right now, Gojo looks different. He doesn’t stand with his usual casual air, and even lacks the cocky smirk he normally wears. His hands aren’t in his pockets, he isn’t leaning on anything, and his weight isn’t shifted to one side. In contrast to his normal posture, he stands tall, finally doing his height and strength justice.

If Geto were wiser, he might be scared. After all, he’s never seen Gojo look this serious, even when he was messing with his students in front of him. But knowing what he knows, Geto can’t help but feel smug. Almost everything has gone according to plan so far—a plan that he had enough foresight to create years ago. His prediction of you falling for Gojo and feeling the keen sting of unrequited love came to fruition—surely, everything else will also fall into place.

Geto chooses not to be wise.

Geto looks at Gojo calmly, a small smile appearing on his face. “Always so direct nowadays, eh, Satoru? Well, nevertheless, I’m glad you’re here. Without the strongest, this would all be pointless.”

Gojo’s lip curls. He can hardly believe that the man in front of him used to be his closest friend that he thought understood him the most. To Gojo, it’s sickening how gentle and familiar Geto’s easy smile is, knowing he has killed more innocent people than he ever saved.

“Oh, really? Care to enlighten me on your worthless plan this time? I’m really starting to think you actually went crazy just like everyone said.”

Geto walks away from Gojo, back turned to him. With no eyes on Gojo, he leaves himself completely exposed and at the mercy of Gojo. Geto’s display of trust makes him bristle, eyes darkening under the swath of white that lays over his eyes.

“That would be easier to accept, wouldn’t it?” Geto says, but quickly pulls away from the topic. “You know, Satoru, I didn’t even give you the address. I would give a warmer welcome for an invited guest…say, like (Y/N)! They have been received well by myself and my twins.”

Gojo sighs, adopting more of his casual charm as he chuckles dryly.

“Just what is this, Geto?” Gojo holds up his hands. “Don’t tell me you’re the jokester now, because this isn’t fucking funny.”

“Whatever you say, Gojo. I’m thoroughly amused.”

His dark eyes, glinting in the light of the moon, crinkle in said amusement. Gojo holds back a shiver—there’s something sinister in those eyes.

“Just because you have forsaken yourself doesn’t mean others will accept that,” Gojo says firmly. “I thought that would be obvious by now.”

“And when has that stopped me?” Geto says with a tut. “Besides, you’d think someone would try to interfere if they didn’t accept this. But alas, you have left me alone for years. Is this not a product of your own doing?”

Gojo almost falters. After all, he’s not wrong.

“I leave you alone for years and you go and—” He audibly exhales. “You harass my students and then kidnap (Y/N)? Let’s cut the bullshit. What are you plotting? Why would you take (Y/N)? What could you possibly want with them? You left all of us and never looked back.”

“With them? Don’t you mean from them?” Geto says, turning to give him a small smile. “As to what I’m planning…you’ll find out soon enough.”

Gojo’s brow furrows, but he says nothing.

“It’s so cold tonight,” Geto sighs lazily, as if he hasn’t a genuine care in the world. “You know, I would welcome you inside, but you’re here earlier than expected. I don’t know if they’re ready for you, yet.”

Gojo is rendered silent for a few moments as he considers what Geto could possibly mean. Geto speaks lightly, as if he’s hinting at something amusing to himself. Obviously Geto has done something to you—but what could be possibly mean by ‘ready for him’?

Gojo doesn’t want to entertain Geto by falling for his bait, so he speaks only what he truly wants to know. “I already told you, Suguru. Cut the bullshit. Tell me what you want from them. Now.”

Geto turns to him with a sharp glare. “What am I, a dog for you to order around? Don’t you know that’s what monkeys are for?”

“Do you try to control, or should I say enslave, humans now, too?” Gojo sneers. “Sounds like you have less dignity than one of your so-called ‘monkeys’.”

“What a low blow. Enslave? No, nothing like that! I just put them out of their own miserable existence after they do some of my bidding. You know Satoru, you’re more feisty than you used to be.”

“I wonder why,” Gojo says bitterly, but tries to hold his tongue. The more he gives in to his banter, the further he is from what he came here for.

Geto doesn’t respond this time. Gojo doesn’t like the feeling he starts getting—the feeling that Geto is stalling for time. He needs more information if he can get it, but Gojo knows he doesn’t have any more time to waste—you could be in any sort of condition. He’s beginning to panic, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

“What do you want from them? Why would you take them?” Gojo speaks lowly. “They don’t have anything to do with you anymore.”

When Geto remains silent, Gojo barks out, “Tell me now, Suguru! I won’t play these fucking games with you. You already crossed the line before by messing with my students. Now this? You should be careful. It’s like you want me to kill you.”

Geto laughs heartily, as if this is just a tense moment in an otherwise pleasant reunion. “Sure, Satoru. We played poker together, don’t you remember? You could never hold your pokerface. You’re still horrible at bluffing, I see.”

“Call my fucking bluff then,” Gojo spits.

“I have been, all these years. We both know why I’m still alive.” Geto says calmly.

“But you know that I won’t overlook this. I don’t know what you’re thinking, Suguru, but there’s only so much I can sweep under the rug. Especially with…with them, and you know that.”

“Oh, yes, I certainly do.” He smiles easily, eyes crinkling as if he is particularly pleased.

This unnerves Gojo even more.

Geto startles when Gojo suddenly appears mere inches from him. He’s never before witnessed his former friend with an aura this agitated and full of aggression, with cursed energy so inflamed and oppressive. Gojo seems so tall in this moment, towering over Geto even though they’re practically the same height.

Geto finally feels a sliver of doubt. Gojo has never been able to harm him, or rather, could never bring himself to. Geto has known this and has exploited this, in fact—but right now, for the first time, he can’t help but wonder if today is the day.

“What the fuck are you doing, Suguru?” Gojo asks lowly, anger bleeding in to his tone despite his efforts to stifle it.

Geto laughs. If only he knew. If only he knew that he would soon be on his knees, reality falling apart, finally succumbing to Geto’s worldview.

“I don’t think that’s the right question,” Geto shakes his head, his voice teasing—mocking. “Wouldn’t it be ‘What have I done?’”

He watches the color drain from Gojo’s face as his meaning sinks in. Something has been done to you, and it might be irreversible. You might be…you might be de—

Gojo sharply inhales as his mind goes blank with fury. His entire mind is consumed with the thought of strangling Geto. He can’t get the image of his hands around his throat, hurting him like he must have hurt you, life draining from his twisted eyes, to fade away. The fiery rage in him is triggering the euphoria he gets with a taste of violence—when he almost goes mad, addicted to his own strength and invincibility.

But…but you. What about you? What if you’re still alive?

The violence falls away, cast away by thoughts of you. All it takes is a single second of your smile, an echo of your sweet laugh, for him to singularly focus on you. If you’re alive, he needs to find you right now.

And the next time Geto blinks, he is greeted on with an icy breeze, as the figure in front of him has vanished. Geto doubles over in laughter, thinking that he has won. He will be the one to break THE Gojo Satoru, or at least shatter the weapon the jujutsu higher-ups love to use. This weapon will be at his disposal; with Gojo Satoru by his side again, the extermination of the human race will be finally be within his grasp.

That’s assuming that your heart has stopped beating. Geto, who chooses to be a fool, does not even check. Even though Nanako relayed that you were breathing a few minutes ago, his arrogance and hope to break Satoru exceed any doubt.

Gojo is also a fool, or so he thinks. He wasted so much time on Geto, who had him so easily transfixed by his vague mentions of you. He should have just searched for you from the start.

Thundering footsteps and calls of your name now echo through the house in which you reside. Finally able to focus solely on you after separating from Geto, Gojo frantically searches the house, going from room to room as fast as he can.

He hadn’t acknowledged it to Geto, but he’s been here before, that time when he had to confirm with his own eyes the extent of Geto’s crimes. It doesn’t bode well with him that Geto chose this place to house you—the place where he slaughtered dozens of people, his first step to breaking away from jujutsu society.

Gojo finds himself profusely sweating—whether it’s from fear or from sprinting through this maze of a house, he can’t tell. But after learning practically nothing from Geto except that he has done something to you, Gojo can’t keep the bubbling anxiety at bay for much longer.

The panic rises acutely in Gojo once he realizes something—he feels so blind, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, because there is no cursed energy to detect. Your distinctive energy that led him from your home until here, is nowhere to be found, as if it has been extinguished.

He can’t breathe. His chest feels tight, and he is practically wheezing as he continues to rush around the rooms, scanning them with his bare eyes since he doesn’t trust his Six-Eyes right now. It’s illogical, he knows, but maybe his eyes are broken and that’s why he can’t see your energy. He refuses to give any serious thought to the alternative—if you didn’t have any cursed energy anymore, then that would mean…

He enters the last room—this room is larger than the rest, implying its greater importance, but is practically empty. It’s one of the the most minimalist looking bedrooms Gojo has even stepped foot in. The only thing that immediately captures his attention is a neat stack of papers that sit on the desk. He instantly recognizes the scrawl on the top paper as Geto’s. It pains him that he still remembers a detail as minute as that about Suguru.

His gaze migrates to the rest of the room, namely to the bed that is nestled into the furthest corner. His heart lurches. The fact that he didn’t notice this immediately, not used to relying solely on his normal vision, isn’t good. Him not noticing someone usually means they’re not with the living.

Only steps away, there is a figure strewn out over the sheets, unmoving and looking rather ragged. Hair unkempt, lips cracked, clothes bloodied, chest still.

Chest still.

He immediately moves to you, not wasting a second as takes a place by your bedside.

“No, no, no,” Satoru whispers, as if speaking too loudly will mean that this is reality, that maybe if you don’t wake up it’ll be because he didn’t speak loudly enough. Though soft, his voice is urgent and pleading. “Please no. Please don’t be true.”

He instantly scoops you up, handling your weight easily. He cradles you close to him as if you could disappear from his arms at any moment—and maybe, if you could see yourself, you’d understand that his fears aren’t unfounded, as you truly look as if your life force could fade at any moment. He then notices a rivulet of blood running from your mouth—he tries to gently brush it away, but ends up smearing it onto both your chin and his hand. Anger fills him when he thinks what Geto must have done to reduce you to this state.

Your eyelids begin to flutter open at his touch and warmth, but Satoru still sees more of your long eyelashes than your unusually dull eyes. They will not open past halfway, no matter how hard you try. In your disoriented state, you don’t notice Gojo’s sigh of relief, or how his grip on you tightens as if to remind himself that you’re here, you’re alive and breathing, you’re safe in his arms.

Through the spots in your eyes, you see a halo of white and two luminescent blue eyes. As your vision clears, you admire the light filtering through his translucent hair, which makes him appear angelic. Of course, he is as beautiful as the last time you saw him.

“Satoru? ‘S that you?” You manage to ask, and you sound raspier than a chronic smoker, much to your displeasure. You cringe internally, knowing how awful you must look and sound right now. You know it doesn’t matter how disheveled you look when you’re on the brink of death—and yet you can’t help but worry about it while you’re in his presence.

“You’re so cold,” Is his softly spoken answer. “God, I really thought– I thought that—”

If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounds despaired. But that can’t be right—there’s no way he still cares about you. Not after his cold and harsh behavior towards you, not after he got together with Utahime—he can’t care. Or at least, not how you want to be cared by him.

After a few moments of silence, it’s evident that Gojo doesn’t intend to finish his sentence. Even in your hazy state of mind, you can guess what he was going to say. You do look awful, probably even worse than the last time you had a chance to look in the mirror.

“I think you’re just warm,” You tease weakly, with a smile full of too much amusement when considering the situation, when considering your condition. Now you’re playing Gojo’s role: joking when you should be serious.

It hurts Gojo to see the gentleness in your smile, gentleness and goodness that reveal how truly soft-hearted you are. Your natural softness after what you’ve been through—it angers him.

“No, I can’t be. It’s snowing outside,” He says, growing more upset with each sentence. “But you’re– you’re even colder than that. Your skin is—it’s like ice. You’re making me fucking worried!”

You blink rapidly, startled by his show of strong emotion but even more surprised by the glimmer of near tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You say quietly, although neither you nor him know what exactly you’re apologizing for.

“That’s not what I meant,” He says, sighing, pulling you tighter to him. “I’m just…I was worried before I came, but now I’m really scared for you.”

“You are? You have been?” You blurt out automatically and mindlessly, eyes wide open now. You look so surprised that Satoru can’t help but chuckle a little, though it pains him that you don’t seem to believe him.

Heat rises to your face and you squirm a bit in his arms, now suddenly aware of your closeness, of all his skin touching yours. He quells your movement with a brush of his hand on your arm, encouraging you to stay still.

“You shouldn’t move too much. You really don’t look too good, angel,” He says, voice tight and threatening to break. “What did he do to you?”

Hah. You must look so disgusting and beat up that he assumes Geto hurt you. You smile weakly to yourself, wondering what he would think if you said you had looked like this for days.

“He didn’t,” You simply say, not seeming to have any intention to clarify. “This is how he found me. How could something like this happen overnight?”

You’re astounded by your own honesty. It’s always been difficult to be completely transparent for you, especially to Satoru—always trying to brush things off, make excuses for people, diminish your own pain in order not to bother or worry others.

Your words cut deep through Gojo and instantly take his breath away.

How could something like this happen overnight?

He hasn’t seen you since the day he rudely brushed you off, and it has been weeks since then. In the months before that dreadful interaction, he had only seen you one-on-one a handful of times. He knows you didn’t mean anything by your words, but he can’t help but feel guilt and karma very sharply. He deserves this after ignoring you for so long, even if he thought it was for the best.

You begin to cough, and it’s a horrible grating noise. It’s a miracle this didn’t happen sooner, although you wish that Gojo wouldn’t see this at all.

“You should go,” You croak out between coughs. “Leave me here, get away from Geto. It’s…it’s too late for me. Leave me.”

Gojo lightly rolls his eyes, partly in frustration by your melodramatic reaction and partly at himself because he has made you believe that he would just leave you there.

“As if,” He says almost playfully, gaining back some of his personality now that he has processed that you’re alive. “What are you saying? If I leave, I’m leaving with you. Just gimme a second to call Shoko, she’ll get everything prepared as always, she’ll be annoyed but she always has a soft spot for you—”

“No,” You interrupt Gojo, your voice firmer than he’s heard from you in a long time. “I told you, there’s no saving me.”

The dread sets in. Why are you so insistent on that?

He opens his mouth, about to say something, but doesn’t manage get the words out before the room is filled with rough coughing. You cough until all the air escapes from your lungs—and then you’re wheezing and choking on nothing.

“You okay? Tell me what’s going on,” He asks in an even tone, but he is anything but calm, especially when you are thrown into another coughing fit. “Angel? It’s okay, just breathe.”

Gojo places you back onto the bed, elevates your back so you’re in a sitting position, and begins to pat on your back in the hopes that it’ll help regulate your breathing. What he doesn’t realize, though, is that you’re not just having a panic attack. Something is actually lodged in your airways.

You begin to choke and gag. Satoru’s eyes are wide when he realizes that something is wrong, something is horribly wrong. He pats your back harder, the force beginning to push your body forward.

“Well, it’s finally started, has it? A little late, but no matter.”

Gojo’s head whips to the door so fast it almost gives him whiplash. He has been so focused on you that he didn’t even sense Geto’s sudden presence. He rests on the doorframe, watching with interest sparkling in his eyes.

“What’s going on here?” Gojo asks, accusatory, but is so scared to hear the answer that he almost wishes neither respond.

“Just watch and you’ll understand,” Geto says knowingly, easily. Everything is unfolding as it should, he’s glad to see.

Geto looks to Gojo smugly, wanting to see the fear swimming in his uncovered eyes, but is completely caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. Adrenaline quickly courses through Geto’s veins, the type that spiderwebs through your tingling palms and traces icy fingers down your spine, for the first time in years. The true fight-or-flight feeling, reminiscent of when he first fought a high-level curse. But now it’s from Gojo’s hardened blue eyes boring into his own, penetrating down to his very soul, like a god passing divine judgment.

Your hacking interrupts the tense face off. Gojo is the one who looks away, but Geto does not feel as if he is backing down. He is ashamed to admit that he feels waves of relief once Gojo tends to you again. Unsettled, Geto takes a few steps away from the doorframe, retreating into the hallway away from Gojo’s scrutinizing gaze.

You don’t notice it, but of course you can’t in your state. At least, not when you feel it coming.

The thorns and stiff branches begin to scratch your throat. The numerous petals suffocate you and are slow to rise as they are heavy with blood. You grip Satoru’s wrist tightly to get his attention.

“Go,” You manage wheeze out. “Leave. Don’t want you to…see.”

He looks at you with so much horror in his eyes, looking even more scared than you feel. You can visually see the gears turning in his head, connecting the dots. Your weakness, your coughing, the blood from your mouth, the fact that this ‘couldn’t happen overnight’—

A blue petal escapes from your lips. It spins through the air, right before Gojo’s eyes, confirming his worst fears.

This must be a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare. Maybe he hallucinated the petal. Maybe you can still be saved, even though your coughing keeps getting worse and worse.

But then there’s something he can’t deny out of existence. As he rubs your back, helping you through your coughing and gagging, you cough up what he feared most. His heart rate skyrockets as he lays eyes on what you coughed up. A flower.

A flower the color of his eyes, the beauty of it corrupted by your blood that drenches it. A flower that’s meant for him. A flower that means you love him and that you don’t believe he loves you back.

Pain shoots through him, spikes working under his chest. He brought this on you. He thought he was protecting you, but instead he has been slowly killing you from the inside.

“No…” He whispers, unbelieving.

For some reason, you smile. Just a tiny quirk of your lips and the crinkling of your eyes as you look up at him. It’s a real smile, one he hasn’t seen in so long. And it hits him: one he might never see again, if he doesn’t fix this.

“No!” Gojo gasps out, not wanting to believe his eyes. “No, angel, no. Not this. This– this can’t be real. Why? Why did this happen to you?”

It’s cruel, but he knows very well why. He vied for your affection for years and years and has loved you for just about as long. And yet you are the one cursed to this fate, due to his denial erroneously leading him to Utahime and the suppression of his feelings leaving him to heartlessly ignore you.

You stare up at him with wide eyes, shame flickering through them. You didn’t want him to find out.

“‘Can’t help it,” You say weakly. “Not when it comes to you. Always sort of knew, but I figured it out recently. By then, though, you were…gone.”

He shakes his head frantically, words coming out in a jumble as he desperately tries to explain. “I just wanted to protect you. The higher-ups were after you—I thought I had to let go of you. I-I never thought this would happen. I never knew that you…”

“It’s okay, Satoru. I understand,” You say, holding back tears. “I’ve accepted it. It’s okay that you don’t feel the same. You have…you have her and that’s enough for me.”

You smile again. So bright, so genuine, and yet so painful.

“No! I…”

He wants to vehemently deny it, but the words get stuck in his throat. For years he has swallowed his feelings and never truly allowed himself to feel or speak them. The deepest feelings in his heart have never risen to the surface to be shared; they have always pooled deep in his soul, away from prying eyes and hearts.

But now they are so close to be verbally admitted that they are in his throat, choking him. He looks into your eyes and is overwhelmed by the waves of emotion that crash over him; it’s uncomfortable and even painful.

He has always shoved down his emotion for you. Any time he has ever shown his true feelings, about you aside, is when you eased it out of him. He has never divulged any real emotion on his own.

Despite his natural instincts screaming at him to keep it inside, despite the knot in his throat choking him, this time, he lets himself be overwhelmed.

“I love you. I always have,” He speaks, voice trembling with emotion. “Even when I didn’t know it yet. (Y/N), I’ve always liked you. I used to try so hard for you during school, always trying to get your attention. Remember how I never left you alone? You’d get so annoyed at me. Shoko and Geto said I was so obvious…”

Now that he’s started, he can’t seem to stop.

“I know I’ve fucked up recently, but it’s not…it’s not because I don’t have feelings for you. They’ve never once faded, even when I tried to ignore them. I tried with Utahime because I couldn’t get you out of my head, even though I needed to. The higher-ups have been targeting you, and I thought it was because of me, so I had to prove to them that you weren’t close to me. I even went out with Utahime, who hated my guts, but that…didn’t work out. It wasn’t fair to her—she herself realized how in love with you I am.”

He looks at you with an emotion you can’t place—it fills you with warmth and brings tears to your eyes. You sniffle a little, wondering if this is a cruel trick because this just cannot be real. There is no way in the world that Gojo Satoru went to look for you after months of radio silence. There is no way that he is here, right now, admitting feelings you never once suspected.

A sob wracks your body, even though you try your hardest to keep it in. You cover your face with your hands when you can’t stop yourself from the absolute meltdown that ensues, trying to preserve your dignity. He can’t love you, he just can’t.

“Don’t do that,” He says softly, gently easing your hands away from your face. “You don’t have to hide from me. God, I’m so sorry, angel. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

He leans in close, wanting to embrace you but not knowing if he even deserves to hold you. You sense his hesitance when he comes near you, and you think that this is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. His hand slowly comes to your face to caress your cheek, to wipe away your pathetic tears, and you are shocked at the drops that fall on your skin from above.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” He chuckles weakly, tears freely falling, his words an echo of your own mind. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but please…please try. I don’t want anything more to happen to you.”

And you do try. You do, but you feel so tired and weak. Your vision is starting to go out of focus and your ears are ringing. Your body is telling you that it will soon give up. Your body is ready to give up, but you aren’t.

You lock eyes with him as best as you can, your heart skipping from the prolonged eye contact. If only you could have always been able to look into his eyes like this.

“Satoru, I think it’s pretty obvious by now, but…no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop loving you. Not even if it kills me…” You smile sadly. “And I think it might.”

“But I love you!” He cries, and it comes out as a plea. Tears stream down his face. “I don’t understand, I love you, (Y/N)! Is it– is it someone else? It’s okay if it is, I’ll take you to them and—”

You laugh, causing blood to dribble down your chin. “Even after all that studying, you can’t think. I already said it, but should I say it again? I love you, Satoru.”

“Then why? It was just one flower. You should- you should be fine. Please be fine.”

“The flower,” You explain hoarsely. “That wasn’t the first one. I’ve already coughed up a lot of them. Too many. I think my fate has been sealed for a while. I’m sorry, Satoru. I’m a fool. I finally learn that you love me, and I’m like this.”

He’s frozen for a moment, everything sinking in. Your life is no longer suspended in his hands, but rather in death’s treacherous grasp. There is no telling how long you have left.

In the next moment, he quickly gathers you in his arms, scooping you up effortlessly from the bed.

“You’re not dying on me,” He says, trying to assume his regular calm. “I won’t let you. We’ll figure this out, o-okay? Please angel, just fight it a bit more for me. We’ll leave right now, I’m sure Shoko can handle this.”

You nod, seeing through his false calm. “Satoru…I want you to know that even if I d—”

He shakes his head resolutely. “Tell me when you’re all better, okay? Promise me.”

Time feels suspended when you look into his eyes again, all of your emotions showing through them as if this is the last time you’ll ever see each again in this world.

You never get to promise him. Instead, Geto’s loud and commanding voice startles the two of you. “You’re not leaving with them.”

“Like hell I’m not,” Gojo snarls. “Like you can stop me.”

He closes his eyes, mentally easing into his large store of cursed energy, and prepares himself to make the familiar teleportation route to Tokyo Tech. But something’s different this time—his eyes fly open, pupils blowing wide, when he hits a block he never has before.

“You can’t teleport once you’re inside this barrier,” Geto explains calmly, voice as smooth and slow as molasses. “Thought you might pull something like this.”

You’re glad you didn’t promise him. Your ears ring again, and you feel so dizzy that you can’t keep your eyes from closing, even though you hear him begging you to keep them open.

The conversation between Geto and Gojo is lost on you with your fading hearing. You only hear their vague intonations and cadences, shouting and cursing. And then you’re being jostled wildly. Gojo is running with you in his arms, making a break for the edge of the barrier—that much you can surmise by the loud thumps and his erratic breathing.

You’re fading fast. You mumble out his name, giving everything you have just to open your eyes.

He’s so beautiful. The moonlight catches in his silver hair and reflects through his blue eyes you’ve always loved so much. You gaze into them as if they were pools you could dive into, endless depths of his soul. You wish you could spend more time looking at his eyes, just like this.

You hear his voice you could listen to for hours. He usually has a sly, silver tongue, but not today. It is weak and wavers. It bares the true feelings of the strongest today. “Don’t you dare die on me, angel!”

You wish you could promise him that, but your eyes close without your permission.

part iv

TAGLIST: @certainduckanchor @kawaiivillainess98 @arehzhera @starrylibras @mandysfanfics @rain-and-a-nice-nap @csillana @sup-hoes-its-me @llliissuu @hawkdaddy1111 @dcvilxswish @angel-kyo @eliz-lovesgojo @5268r @wooasecret @timetobegone @ceronnica @torusblindfold @mo0nforme @crookedlyaddictedtodark-blog @soapysofi @sadmonke @shartnart1 @dummyf @adoraspace @allie-jay @notgoodforlife @spin-garden @astrokatsuki @reiluvr @kinny-away @turtl3-warr1or

a/n: not Geto listening to the confession like 🧍‍♂️

ahhh I’m so sorry it took this long!!! Thank you for your patience! basically I had a pretty long draft written out and it yeeted itself out of this world (😭😭😭 legit have no idea what happened to it) and was really frustrated by that, so I didn’t return to this for a long while…Anyway, I’m glad to be back!!

There will be another part! Sorry not sorry about the cliffhanger/ambiguous ending. 😳

Btw I’m really sorry to all Geto lovers out there, I feel like I always do Geto dirty and write him as some evil unfeeling man 💀💀 but I swear I don’t actually hate his character and I think he’s a lot more complex than I write him…🥴

Thank you for reading! 💙🩵

[away-ward]

i cannot for the life of me make a decision about this, so do you have any headcanons on opinions on what banks would've been like if she had gone to high school ?? what tropes or clichés she would've been closest to embodying ?? because we know em was a nerd, that winter struggled for the obvious reasons but ultimately was fine in hs and fairly normal, rika was decently popular but far from the cheerleader level... but banks, i can't place what she would've been like if she'd gone to high school. we know she's very smart, but i can't see her as someone holed up in a library. then, we can also probably deduce that if she had gone to high school, damon would've been crazy protective but i still can't really make a set decision on much else regarding how banks' storyline/personality would've gone if she did indeed attend Thunder Bay prep or some other high school, minus these small details.

i do think she & emory would've got on like a house on fire if she attended TBP as they would've been in the same grade and probably had similar opinions on high school hierarchy and the horsemen and general thunder bay weirdness and extravagancy. they would've dissed people so thoroughly and easily with their quips and banter, for sure.

Ohh I have thought about this.

It can go so many ways, because as same with Emory, the debate is "was she naturally someone different and the circumstances made her this way? Or is it that she survived the circumstances because this is who she is naturally?"

Did Banks do so well in Gabriel's house because that's who she is, or did being in that house make her that way. In Hideaway, she mentions that she never cut her long hair because it was the last part of "Nikova." Additionally, her struggle with Damon is wanting to be her own person and to experience things other teenagers - normal teenagers - experience. But if she were a normal teenager, would she still value those experiences, or would they be mundane and expected?

I chose to think High School AU Banks would fall somewhere in the middle. She'd still be a bit of a tom-boy, and a bit of a rebel. In my AUs, she still lives with Lucinda, but Damon wants her close, so Gabriel pays for her to attend TBP. She's smart, but not without effort. She's not afraid to get involved throw down if she sees something she doesn't like. She's careful, though, and never throws the first punch, so she can always claim self-defense. It's helpful that she's a bit of a sarcastic smart ass and naturally skilled at goading people.

In school, she'd appear to be generally nonchalant about stuff, but she actually has a lot of opinions. It comes as a surprise to the teachers, who were not expecting Damon Torrance's younger sister to be so... outspoken. And argumentative.

Having a bit more freedom, and hopefully a healthy relationship with her brother, she’d probably be known for fighting with Damon in the halls over how protective he is. Like, he can’t even let her project partner talk to her without going all big brother on her.

Seriously, get a life, dude. Maybe if you had as much confidence talking to your little dancer friend as you do telling me what to do, you’d actually have a girlfriend. Newsflash, bro, there are certain things I can’t and won’t do for you.

I don’t see her wanting to participate in any extracurricular activities, but with a school like Thunder Bay Prep, it would probably be expected. I can’t see her wanting to be on a team, so Girl’s Basketball probably isn’t a good match…

Oh. You know, with her being a bit of a sleuth in Hideaway and tailing Kai to get his routine, she’d probably make a good Yearbook photographer. Or maybe working on their school paper. Maybe something along those lines that keeps her out of the spotlight. Though, I don't know what Banks would want to do growing up. Maybe she does go into student government, wanting to make changes that actually make sense and benefit the students, instead of planting a tree as the senior gift for the fifth year in a row (do these people even know what they could do with this much money, or do they only know how to add when it's involving cases of beer and tits?). Maybe she does it because she's tired of seeing Chloe get everything and wanted to challenge her, and then sort of accidentally ended up class president.

Actually, I like that...Emory makes fun of her for it all the time.

Speaking of Emory, they are best friends. Both come from more humble backgrounds, which would naturally make them targets for bullies, but not this time. Because the whole school knows wherever Emory goes, Banks is close by. And wherever Banks is, Damon is close by. And wherever Damon is, the Horsemen are close by. Not to mention, Will is a horseman, and he’s always close to wherever Emory is…

Not that Banks and Em need them. They're pretty good with the tongue lashings, themselves.

Without a doubt, Banks goes to every single one of Emmy’s activities to show support. She hangs out when Emmy’s working on her projects, and helps when she needs a hand. They both have a crush on a Horseman, but they only talk (read: tease each other) about that when they can guarantee no one can hear them.

I headcanon Banks, Emmy, and Elle are a pretty solid trio. Emmy's smart and artsy, Elle's a soft-hearted romantic, always talking about dating but never taking her own advice, and Banks plays the rebel without a cause who loves her two friends.

Anyway, have some pics that would definitely be in Banks' friend's (so Emmy and Elle) camera roll.

that last one's from Banks of will and emmy. (i've never seen love, rosie, so I don't know context. but I know in a willemmy high school au that has yet to be written, this scene will happen)

Let me know what you think! Or if my headcanons helped inspire some of yours. This was really fun, thanks for the ask.

[cindol]

͘ ࣭⸰ ♡ " HOW THEY WOULD DO AS CO-PARENTS WITH YOU ! ” ͘ ࣭⸰ ♡

x fem reader

characters included : manjiro sano, sanzu haruchiyo, ken ryuji, rindou haitani, mitsuya takashi,

tw — everyone is a baby father, drug usage/drug bender mentioned

﹒.ᐟ 𐚁 cw— angst, bonten!sanzu, bonten!mikey, bonten!rindou, sanzu and mikey aren’t very good fathers, fluff

MANJIRO SANO ( MIKEY ! )

He’s in his son’s life but very distant. He makes sure you and his son are always taken care of but he doesn’t have a active relationship with his son, the most he’s ever done is show up to one elementary school graduation and pat his head a few times when rarely visiting your house.

His right hand man sanzu is there though as an uncle, kinda.

SANZU HARUCHIYO

Active in his daughter’s life but the relationship isn’t so strong due to him always going on benders and disappearing. When you get into arguments with him about his disappearing act his response is always the same as he goes through your fridge.

“You disappeared for three months sanzu, with not even a call or a text of where you were.” trying to nail these words deep into his head while he rummaged through your fridge.

“three months sanzu, no call, not even a ‘hey I’ll be out for this amount of days! But I’ll see you till then” you just left me and yuna wondering when daddy was gonna be back.” You weren’t even angry for yourself, sanzu wasn’t your boyfriend so that hole was already digged and burried. What really made you pissed is how he up and left leaving your daughter wondering why he hadn’t visited in such a long time, again.

Sanzu grumbled closing the fridge.“relax relax, enough with your grouching and shit. I was on a trip with mikey, just forgot my phone.”

“You were posting on your instagram story pictures of airplane food.”

there’s silence then a cough from him till he chuckles.“ah well, got the girl a cute little bunny stuffed animal. She still likes em at that age right?”

at least his heart is in the right place, sorta.

KEN RYUJI ( DRAKEN ! )

Might take the crown as one of the best baby fathers. He loves his baby girl, never misses any dance recital or holidays or birthdays to spend with his daughter.

his sweetness with his daughter almost makes you wanna get back together with him, it doesn’t help how even after the divorce he still was the gentleman he showed you from the beginning.

Always so helpful too when you look too drowsy and tired with eyebags.“I can always take sana an extra day you know? Don’t got shit on my weekend plans anyways” he joked at the end but still rubbing your shoulders, just because of how sweet he is.

You were sure that if you told him you have a date he’d tell you to enjoy yourself, much to his dismay.

RINDOU HAITANI

gangster in business but a loving father for his princess. He’s prone to missing a school play or small holiday but makes it up with gifts and bringing over his daughter’s favorite uncle ran.

as a ex husband he doesn’t step over the line, he knows your boundary. He doesn’t have an issue with you dating other men, even when you tell him you’ve met someone new he congratulates you.

“good for you, just make sure he ain’t no problem and I don’t got a problem.” you brushed it off as a half joke but he was very serious.

He uses the excuse of taking precautions for his daughters since he didn’t just want any type of man around her but he was also just curious what type of man you were dating so he hired a private investigator for this man.

when talking about it with sanzu and ran it’s laughable to the both of them.

“Stalking? Didn’t think this old flame you had for your ex wife was this bad.” sanzu says teasingly with a laugh at the end smacking rindou on the shoulder.

rindou scoffed.“this is just for precautions, I don’t want just some jackass around rika.”

“just sounds like you’re studying him, trying to see what you need to apply huh to get her back huh?” that gets sanzu a slap to the back of the head and a chuckle from ran.

MITSUYA TAKASHI

a amazing father to his baby girl, never misses a birthday, holiday. He’s always creating things for her instead of you spending money like a cozy sweater for winter and a purple stuffed bunny with button eyes for her to snuggle when he’s not there.

He knows his place as a ex husband well, he keeps his love for you at distant but still it shows with his actions. He knows how independent you are but still he likes to help you out.

“mitsuya I’m good I promise. I’m a big girl, a cold ain’t ever stop me from getting anywhere.” you say it with a runny red nose making him do a small smile at how cute you looked with it.

That explanation didn’t stop him from walking you back into your house with him following. Originally he came to check on you since the weather forecast predicted it would be a cold windy week, he thanked his conscience for checking up so now he could stop a sick you from going to work.

“nonsense, what kinda man would I be to just let you out in the cold with a runny nose huh?” he was already looking around on your living room couch for a cover to warm you up in.

“just stay there, can’t just let the mother of my kid just be sick.” a half joke from him while he went to look for tea in your cabinet.

[kel-lance]

The New Kid? 🙄😒 (Yandere!?Yuta x Reader)

Warnings: Wrote this months ago and don’t want to reread or fix it up but I feel there should be some warnings though I wouldn’t really know what they’d be other than lying?

- you want to hurt him, ever since you met him, ever since rika hurt your friends to defend this pos who just happens to be gojo sensei’s family. You realize you’re obsessed with him after the 2nd month of not being able to drop it.

- with panda and toge teasing you in front of yuta bc we all know on your crush on maki but she think’s you’re all joking and to stop making fun of her.

- When the truth drops you try to leave immediately to not get everyone else involved with rika but she grabbed your hair and pulled you up, she’s thinking of what she’ll do to you

- Yuta tells her to stop which surprises you all

- He takes off his ring and tells them to watch Rika while you two talk

- You try to leave again but this time he actually has a grip on you

- You’re scared, does that mean all this time he was holding back and just teasing you? you felt humiliated, you hated him so much you start crying into his chest

- He holds you nicely and you realize he does actually care, no one would hold someone like that and say those things but you tell him outright you don’t like him near maki and you hated the fact you keep toying with Rika because a girls love is precious and how could he have toyed with you this whole time?

- he said it was the only time you’d give him more attention so he was okay with it. he’s around maki bc he’s never around girls in general because of rika but bc maki’s also your bsf he wanted to know about you. He kept saying things that made the pieces fit together but you just couldn’t trust him still. You don’t want to go on with him as your classmate, you start to think of how you’ll be moving which freaks yuta out. where which who? why?

- You shove him off of you, for ruining what you tried so hard to make for yourself, and he just comes in. Maki felt the same but they bonded, met while i was on a lengthy mission. I was so pissed Gojo didn’t tell me until after, that ass.

- You try to move for the door but he takes a step out blocking your path. You look at the window and he grabbed your hand again, telling you to stop yelling at you to stop until you finally did, and you broke down again just yelling i hate you at him until you just start to wail into him.

- You cry and cry and cry until youre so tired you apologize. You don’t know what time it is but he’s still holding you. “Why do you want to speak to me about that so bad isn’t this enough u sick fuck?”

- He holds you tither and smiles his usually bright smile and says “Because you see me for who I really am. Rika, Maki, Toge, Panda, even Sensei all see me as weak, nice, a regular person. But you were on guard the moment you saw me, not like the rest of them because of Rika’s CE, but because of my own mind. You know exactly what i’m doing, what i;m thinking. Its like we’re one.”

- What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck you wish for once you weren’t right. He’s a guy, he’s a guy and he’s the same as all of them you had to go. Your crush for him was confused, your excitement, arousal, mixed with how scared you were paralyzed you as you could only stare into his eyes that darkened. He kisses you.

- “Do You want to keep up this act? Being mean to me in public. Then I’ll be as equally mean back when we’re alone?” He locked eyes with you, both showing each other faces you’ve never seen before. Your strong, rude personality was shaken by his secretly abusive side. One hand on the small of your back, pulling you in closer to him as he didn’t wait for an answer, he kept leading the kiss, drawing out each one, creating an itch.

- There was something itching on the inside, this kiss made you feel everything but still empty, you were a mess by the end and could barely think straight as you let his hands lightly grip and explore your body. This was so confusing you were wishing it were over so you could talk to him, the him you’ve all seen, not the one you made up in your head, that turned out to be real.

[quinnyundertow]

Your writing has made me absolutely fall head over heels in love with Yuta! You write him so well that I look at him in a completely different light now in the manga/anime. Also, I'm very excited for the Toji sequences upcoming in WICYG! xoxo

This made me so damn happy you have no idea! I adore him to know it made you love him more just- BE STILL MY HEART!

I’ve always wanted to write out my Yuta!head-canons and this made me go all in hahaha (Sorry bestie but I hope you enjoy them)

If you forced me to pick a fav from JJK it would 100000% be Yuta. He’s so complex and yet simple as a character. He experienced so much abuse/neglect (from parents, classmates, teachers, even Rika) as a young child due to seeing/having Rika in a non sorcerer environment. Gege said Yuta doesn’t have a close relationship with his parents but is close with a little sister. That’s so easy for me to imagine.

Yuta! Head-canon: His parents are both working full time when the tragedy with Rika happens. They feel so guilty but relieved that their son survived. As time goes on however Yuta won’t stop crying at night about this monster version of his dead best friend haunting him. At first they would pour everything into trying to get him medical help but as the years go by and psychiatrists say he’s seeking attention the care turns to frustration. Probably culminating in a, “Get over it! I don’t want to hear about her ever again!” Type of argument.

Yuta!Head-canon: His little sister would have been a safe person to him. Maybe five years younger than him so they really never talked about that girl Rika who “moved away” when they were little. Rika wouldn’t feel as threatened as she’s his sister and a younger child so I could see her allowing him to form a relationship with him. At least at first. Deep down Rika is kind but she’s still a curse jealousy would crop up or a normal sibling fight could have ended with Rika hurting his little sister only for Yuta to further isolate.

Yuta!head-canon: He is hyper aware of others emotions and if there are changes to someone’s regular personality. He remembers tiny details of everything because that’s how he had to survive growing up. He had to monitor Rika constantly for little changes that could indicate she may explode or cause issues. This aspect also causes him to empathize deeply even with those who may not deserve it. He doesn’t want Rika to kill his bullies because he’s seen the kid menacing him is getting bullied by upperclassmen and understands what that means. That said if they fuck with someone he cares about all that empathy goes out the window and he’s going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

Yuta!Head-canon: Yuta has a circle of people very close to him and once you’re in that circle he is a true ride or die. Ask him for anything and trust that shit is getting done no matter how sketchy it sounds. He is the true definition of unconditional love (We all saw how Rika got and he still deeply loved her. ) and would support and trust you totally once you have proved worthy of it by actions.

Yuta!Headcanon: He is quick to fall in love and quick to let them go. If you give him even the littlest bit of praise or extra attention he’s going to get a crush on you. He can’t help it. He’s always held everyone so far away from him so any sort of domestic or doting affection would make him melt. That said he has always had to create firm boundaries around himself and others to protect people so if you told him you’re not interested or not to text you he would abide by that completely.

Yuta!headcanon his personality is that of self sacrifice. He could never be a yandere. He understands and thinks that your life would be better without him in it. How could he try and force someone to be with him? He accidentally did that to Rika and it plagued his mind constantly and was willing to die to let her rest in peace.

I had so much fun writing these out and sorry I hijacked your post!!! I’m so happy you enjoy the story and Toji’s entry should be fun!!!! Thank you for the ask love!!!