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obsesssedblerd · 4 months ago

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PLS PLS PLS DO A FIC WHERE GOJO AND Y/N ADOPT THE FIRST YEARS BASED ON THAT SMAU PLSSSSSSS

I GOT YOU ANON!!!! oh, i've been dying to write this one!

Filling the Empty Spaces

Synopsis: You always thought that the house that you and your new husband, Satoru, lived in was way too big. One night after a rough mission, the both of you decide to keep an eye on Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara as they recover. You grow to love their company, and realize that they fit so perfectly not just in your house, but also your life.

Wc: 5.1k

Contains: teeth-rotting fluff, soft husband! gojo, yuuji no longer being sukuna’s vessel, gojo and reader are married, reader has a technique but it’s not explained, reader used to be a teacher but quit, gojo and reader adopting the first years, only a dash of angst, pregnancy (but only at the end), some suggestiveness but no smut, everyone is happy bc i said so. (gege don’t ever let me catch you)

a/n: this has to be the sweetest thing i’ve ever written in my life lol. also this is barely proof-read, so sorry for any mistakes!

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Even with all of yours and Satoru’s belongings, the house that was left for him was still insanely huge. Your footsteps echo in the hallway as you mentally count the empty spaces. Three empty bedrooms, three empty bathrooms, another large room that could be considered a second living room. You knew it was big; Satoru said it was prior to you two getting married and moving in, but you wondered if you’d ever get used to having that much extra space.

“Oh, wifeyyyy,” Satoru calls out to you in his usual, sing-songy tone, his voice echoing throughout the hallway. “Where are you?”

“Near the kitchen!” You call back to him.

Your tall and handsome husband appears not even a minute later. The corner of his mouth pulls upwards into a smirk as he sees you sitting on the counter of the kitchen island. “Well, hello there, Mrs. Gojo.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you cast your eyes downward. “It’s gonna take a while before I get used to that.” You smile and lift up your left hand, allowing the gorgeous diamond on your fourth finger to glimmer in the sunlight that filled the space. “I still can’t believe it.”

Satoru steps in front of you and grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth and placing a small kiss on your palm. “Believe it, pretty girl,” he says, his cerulean eyes meeting yours. He takes your other hand, then tugs upward so your arms are around his neck, his own hands settling on your hips. Your fingers brush against his undercut, then play with his soft white hair. “After all.” His voice dips to a sensual purr as his face inches closer. “I did tell you that I was going to make you my wife, didn’t I?”

He kisses you, and you sigh blissfully into his mouth as your eyes shut. Despite being practically glued to him during your two-week honeymoon on a beautiful island, you still craved him. His hand barely slides underneath your shirt before his phone starts ringing. He groans, and you giggle as he pulls away and grabs his phone out of his pocket. “Work?” You ask.

“Work. However, it’s Yuuji, not Yaga.” Satoru answers and begins talking while you hop off of the counter and decide to make both of you some tea. It wouldn’t be long before the sun begins to set, so you start thinking about what to make for dinner.

You look over to see Satoru’s brows furrowed. “Ah, I see,” he said to Yuuji on the other line. “Well, good to hear that you made it back to the school safely. Are you three alright? Megumi went to see Shoko for that injury?”

That worries you. From the sound of it, the first years went on another dangerous mission this afternoon. You knew that Kento Nanami was watching them, but with three students and dangerous curses, anything could happen. “I think I’ve come across a curse like that before,” Satoru says. “You get sick only after it hits you with that goo. Since you and Nobara only got a bit of it on you, you won’t die. However, it still concerns me. One second, okay?”

He tilts the phone away from him and turns to look at you. “Megumi got injured. Shoko healed him but needs to rest for at least a few days. Yuuji and Nobara might also become sick.”

Your heart sinks. Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara were just kids. You remember battling curses as a teen alongside Satoru and Suguru Geto before he became a curse-user, but becoming an adult and watching the next generation of students throw themselves into battle gave you an entirely different feeling. Around two months ago, Yuuji officially separated from Ryomen Sukuna and was freed from the burden of being his vessel; but you were getting a feeling that he still wanted to prove himself as a sorcerer by going on tough missions, all so he could stay around.

“They’re gonna need someone to keep an eye on them for a while. Everyone else at the school is busy,” you say, and Satoru nods. You pause on making the tea, then make a decision. “Alright, have Ichiji bring them here. We have plenty of space, as you can see, and I can help them out while you’re at work over the next few days.”

After all, the first years didn’t have anyone else.

Satoru kisses your forehead, then tells Yuuji the plan. Meanwhile, you double-check the three empty rooms and bathrooms. Each of them had freshly made beds, clean bathrooms and some decorative furniture—thanks to the housekeeping that maintained this house before you and Satoru moved in.

While you were thinking hard about some extra items that you didn’t have, Satoru comes up behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, which immediately slump under his touch. You sigh as he rubs the tension from them. “Baby, whatever we don’t have, and they need it, we can just buy it. Yuuji’s telling them to pack enough clothes for a while. Just relax. It’ll be okay.”

Right. It’ll be fine.

— — — — —

When Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara arrive, your face splits into a wide smile. You haven’t seen them since you and Satoru got married. A rush of movement, and the pink-haired teenager is hugging you tight, excitedly rambling about how much he missed you. The brown-haired girl is next, and Nobara literally squeals as she hugs you. Finally, the dark-haired teen, who is much calmer than his fellow first years. However, he doesn’t shy away when you hug him gently—being careful not to touch his side that was injured in battle—and he mumbles that it’s good to see you.

“Wow, this house is huge!” Nobara exclaims as she wanders around the kitchen, then the living room.

As always, Yuuji matches her high energy. “No kidding. There’s like a million rooms in this place!”

Satoru chuckles. He was dressed in his usual uniform and blindfold, leaning against the wall of the living room with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m glad you like it. This place was left for me. I knew that I wanted to move in here only if I got married. For a while, I thought I’d never touch it. Then I met that lovely sorcerer over there.”

Your cheeks heat, and the students ‘aw’ over his words. The oven dings, and you spring up. “Great, dinner’s done. Give me some time to set up.”

Satoru and Nobara sit with Megumi on the couch in the living room to watch TV, and Yuuji follows you to help set the table in the dining room. “You don’t want to go sit down?” You ask, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair. “You’ve had a long day.”

“It’s okay, I wanna help. Besides, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I missed talking with you.”

Your heart swells. You pass him some plates and some silverware, and he stacks it so he can take it to the table. “How are you holding up?” You ask as you pull the food you prepared out of the oven.

“Doing good. It definitely feels nice not having his voice in my head anymore,” he says from the dining room, neatly arranging the dishes. Five plates, five glasses, five sets of silverware. “Or worrying about him taking my body at any second. Just knowing that no one has to deal with him ever again brings me so much peace.”

“I’m so proud of you.” You take off of your oven mitts and walk towards him. “So is Satoru and the rest of your teachers, and so is your grandfather. He’d be happy knowing that you’re still helping people by fighting curses.”

That makes Yuuji pause. His smile is still there, but it wobbles at the corners. He turns away from you to hide his face, but the tremble in his shoulders is impossible for him to conceal. “Yuuji,” you call softly, and he sniffles, still turned around. Your heart aches, and you pull him to you. He immediately wraps his arms around you as his head settles onto your chest, his body shaking as he sobs quietly. You were thankful that the TV was on in the living room so he could have this moment privately.

“It’s okay to cry,” you whisper as you stroke his hair. “Everything’s alright. You’re brave, but it’s okay to break down, too.”

“Only reason I‘m alive is because you and Gojo-sensei fought against my execution.” He uses a sleeve of his jacket to wipe his tears. “I’ll be honest. There were so many times where I thought I wasn’t going to make it, or if it would be impossible to be separated from Sukuna without hurting anyone else. But you two had so much hope for me, and it pushed me to keep fighting.”

Tears fill your eyes, and you blink them back. “I’ll always fight for you, you hear me?” Yuuji nods, and you let him hug you for as long as you like.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru watches you both from the living room with a gentle smile.

— — — — —

Dinner is filled with fun stories, jokes, and plenty of laughter. Once everyone has finished eating, Satoru and Yuuji do the dishes while you and Nobara help Megumi into one of the spare rooms after his shower.

“The bed’s super comfortable,” Megumi says, not fighting a single bit when you cover him with the blanket. “Thank you.”

“You better get some rest, Fushiguro,” Nobara says seriously as she crosses her arms. “Shoko said four days.”

“She’s right,” Yuuji comments as he walks into the room, sitting next to her on the edge of Megumi’s bed. “Not a single hour before.”

Megumi frowns. “You both are being dramatic.”

“Look, if Kugisaki and I have to lock you in here so you can rest, then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

“Yup!” Nobara agrees with her usual grin, popping the p for extra dramatics. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll just call the Gojos. Do you really want to get lectured by them?”

That makes you laugh. “Alright, you two, I think he gets it.” You gently fix Megumi’s hair—noting that his eyes were beginning to droop with exhaustion—then stand up. “Besides, you both might also be on bedrest. You did get hit by that curse earlier, and Satoru said that the effects won’t kick in until tomorrow. So it’s important that you two get plenty of sleep as well.”

Yuuji and Nobara say goodnight to Megumi, then the three of you leave his room. You decide to take your shower, making a mental list of groceries to buy for tomorrow now that the first years were staying with you for a few days. When you exit the bathroom in some sleepwear, you hear quiet giggling and snickering coming from the kitchen. You scoff, put on your house slippers and go investigate.

First, you see your husband’s white hair in the dimly-lit kitchen. You flip on the light switch, and burst out laughing at the sight. Satoru, Yuuji, and Nobara were stuffing their faces with cupcakes, all dressed in their pajamas. They were Satoru’s favorite, and he requested them from you every chance he got. “Now, what is going on here?” You ask.

“His idea,” Nobara attempts to mumble with her mouth full as she points at Satoru. Yuuji immediately nods in agreement and also points at his teacher. Satoru only shrugs with his usual smile, using a thumb to wipe away the blue icing on his lips before licking it clean. Then he offers you one. “Here, have one. They’re delicious.”

“No, silly, it’s late.” You put the cupcake back in its container, then hand the two teens a napkin. “And you two should be getting some rest. Megumi’s already fast asleep.”

Surprisingly, they don’t put up a fight. You happily do skincare with Nobara in the bathroom of the bedroom that she was using, and you both make plans to go shopping for some face masks once they’re all feeling better. When she finishes moisturizing her face, she gives you another hug. “Missed you,” she mumbles into your shoulder.

“Aw, sweetheart,” you sigh as you return the hug. “I’ve missed you as well. Was it a long few weeks for you?”

“Well, kinda,” she says as she pulls away, then goes to sit on her bed. “I know you and Gojo-sensei were on your honeymoon, and we expected that, but we’re all just getting used to the fact that you’ve officially quit working at the school. We support it, but it sucks knowing that we’re not going to see you as much.”

The thinly-veiled sadness in her eyes makes your gut twist. Of course they were going to miss you. You saw them and worked with them every single day. “Nobara, I’m always going to be here for you. Just because I no longer work there, that doesn’t mean I still can’t visit or even help out with you three.”

Nobara rests her head on your shoulder, and you rub a comforting hand up and down her back. “Promise?” she asks quietly.

“I promise.”

When she goes to bed, you leave her room and shut the door behind you. Finally, you walk to Yuuji’s room, which is still lit up. You get to the doorway, and you hide a laugh when you see that he fell asleep almost immediately after laying down. More than likely got more comfortable than he thought when he tested the bed. You adjust the pillow so it’s under his head, pull the blanket over his body, mess with his hair once more, then switch the lamp off so he can rest. You leave, then shut the door.

“They all fell asleep so quickly,” you say to Satoru once you walk into your spacious, shared bedroom. You climb into bed next to him, sighing when you feel the soft, silk sheets against your skin. Like every night, he tugs you into his large, muscular arms, and you rest your head against his chest.

This was your favorite spot to be; in the arms of the strongest, most powerful man in the whole world. Satoru was protective in every sense of the word. Nothing would ever happen to you as long as you were with him.

“I’m certain that those rooms are much more comfortable than the dorms at the school,” he says. You feel his hand rubbing soothing patterns against your arm. “So, what’s your plan for tomorrow?”

“Keeping an eye on them. I’m almost one hundred percent positive that they’re all going to be sleeping most of the day.” You then press a kiss against Satoru’s jaw. “And when you get home from work tomorrow, I expect you to rest, too. I know you’re dealing with the higher-ups.”

“Eh, who cares about them?” Satoru scoffs. “I tune them out.”

“Yeah, you really gotta stop doing that.”

— — — — — — — —

Your morning starts early. You’re barely awake when you feel Satoru kiss your cheek, whispering in your ear that he loves you and that he’ll see you after work. You sleep for about another half-hour, then decide to get up. After brushing your teeth, you walk down the hallway leading to the kitchen. The sun is already shining through the large windows of the sunroom, and you pause in your tracks when you see Megumi, silently reading one of the many books you kept in there.

He’s sitting on a bean bag chair towards the corner of the room, and you notice two more books on the ground next to him. When he sees you staring, he sits up and shuts the book. “Sorry.” The apology comes out in a faint, yet frantic rush. “I-I was just curious, and I’ve never seen a huge collection like this, and—”

“Megumi.” Your soft voice stops him, and his shoulders slump in relief when he sees you smile and sit in the bean bag chair adjacent to his. “It’s alright. Books are meant to be read. I’m just happy you found this room. I thought you might like it.”

“It’s so peaceful here,” he comments as he looks around slowly, taking in the beauty of your favorite room in the house. One wall is lined with books, neatly organized on floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall shelves. There is also a tall ladder that slides smoothly across the shelves, which aids you whenever a book is placed far too high. The rest of the room is filled with bean bag chairs, plants, and a few small, decorative statues.

You tilt your head to get a closer look at the book in his hand. “What are you reading?”

“A sci-fi,” he says, “I’ve kind of been interested in them since watching Human Earthworm with Itadori.”

“Ah.” You stand up, drag the ladder towards the middle of the shelves, then climb up to retrieve a duology. “I think you’ll like this series, then. In addition to the books you also have with you.”

Megumi rubs the back of his head bashfully. “I hope I’ll have enough time to get through these,” he says, then yawns. “And energy. Still tired even though I slept for a while.”

“Your body needs rest, and it’s okay. You can keep the books until you’re finished. Take your time.”

Megumi smiles at that. It’s small, but it’s there, and you love it. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

— — — — — —

Like you expected, Yuuji and Nobara weren’t feeling good that morning. They had some body aches, chills and a light cough. Luckily, they had you to look after them. You prepared soup for the three of them, and you made sure they were comfortable and hydrated. When Satoru returned from work, he gave all three of them medicine to help with any pain. The both of you kept an eye on them as they slept.

Over the next few days, they were all feeling better, however, both you and Satoru kept making excuses to keep them for another day. What if their cold comes back? Or, Maybe Shoko miscalculated and Megumi needed a few more days to fully recover?

Even when the first years were well enough to start going on missions again, Satoru had made it a habit to bring them back with him at the end of the day. You’ve also made new habits since the first years entered your home. Every morning, you would make breakfast for everyone to enjoy at the table. You loved seeing Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara’s smiles, or hearing them groan whenever Satoru made a joke that was just a little too cheesy. And their hugs. Oh, you loved their hugs. You hugged them before they went off to jujutsu high with Satoru each morning, and you hugged them each night before bed.

After about six weeks, you were so used to them being over every night; so much to the point that you and Satoru stared at Yuuji in confusion when he asked if you were tired of them. Both of you had never said, “No,” so fast in your lives.

Not only were you used to it, you loved it. You loved sitting quietly in the sunroom with Megumi, enjoying each other’s company while reading your respective books. You loved listening to Yuuji’s wild stories about his epic adventures as a sorcerer, even better when Satoru joined in and helped him with the dramatics. You loved doing face masks and painting your nails with Nobara. You were pretty sure you spent up to a few hours each week in the bathroom with her, laughing joyfully and listening to music as you played around with cosmetics.

You loved movie nights with the five of you sitting together on the couch, passing popcorn and other treats amongst each other. You loved it when each of the teens came to you about what was bothering them. By the second month, all of them had trusted you enough to cry around you. You loved comforting them—being a sorcerer is hard and gruesome, and anyone would need support. You loved holding them, wiping their tears, and feeling them settle when you reassure them that you and Satoru would keep them safe. You loved seeing them play silly games in the spacious backyard. Sometimes, you and Satoru joined them so you could have fun with them.

Before any one of you knew it, five months of this had passed.

At that point, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara’s dorms back at the school were practically deserted, and the once-empty guest bedrooms of yours and Satoru’s home were filled with their belongings. Clothes, shoes, books, posters, souvenirs, trinkets, and photographs. You and your husband never did hold back when it came to spoiling them, whether with materials or experiences. You had noticed that the three of them were glowing. Louder laughs, smiles that reach their eyes, sleeping better, feeling more comfortable, and overall, looking much happier.

“They feel loved,” Nanami had told you once you explained it to him on a day you went to visit the school. “Everyone glows when they feel loved.”

— — — — —

“We should adopt them.”

At Satoru’s words, you look up from your book to face him. He’s laying down in your shared bed, facing the ceiling with an arm tucked behind his head. It is nearly midnight, and you are the only ones awake in the house. “Really?” You ask, unable to hide your smile. You shut your book and put it on the bedside table. This was a conversation that you’ve been hoping to have for a while. Finally, you’re talking about adopting those three and officially having them as your kids.

“Yeah.” He sighs as he sits up. “I like having them here, and I can tell that you do, too. I can also tell that they like being here. They’re much more relaxed. Yuuji and Nobara are sleeping so much better, and plus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Megumi smile so much.”

“I love having them here,” you say. You reach for his hand, and he clasps it with yours, intertwining your fingers together. “I don’t want them to ever go back to that school. They’re so happy here. I want to keep them happy. Besides, if we adopt them, I’m pretty sure that would keep the higher-ups from deciding to toss them into reckless missions simply because they have no legal guardian. They’d have to go through us first, right?”

“They’d have to go through us first regardless.” Satoru then chuckles. “Have you been wanting to talk about adopting them, pretty girl? You seem like you’ve put so much thought into this.”

“You have no idea.”

“I wish you said something sooner. Honestly, we could’ve done this a few months ago.”

You kiss his cheek, then rest your chin on his shoulder. “Well,” you start, “I remember you saying that you were hesitant about starting a family towards the beginning of our relationship a few years back. I didn’t know if your mind had changed or not. Adopting three teenagers falls into that category.”

“Ah, so that’s why you never talked about it recently,” he says with a thoughtful hum. “Before we got together, I didn’t know how I felt about having a family, simply because I got to a point where I could never see myself having such a thing. But, then I fell in love with you, and in love with life with you. I’d love to start a family with you.” He kisses your hand, then continues, “And I’m not just talking about adopting Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara.”

You gasp lightly, and your heart begins to race in excitement. You lift your head, then turn your body so you’re directly in front of him. “Satoru.” Your voice comes out in a barely-audible whisper. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Gentleness glimmers in his blue eyes, and he uses a hand to stroke your cheek. You instinctively lean into the touch, and his thumb wipes away the tear that barely slides from the corner of your eye. “If you want to,” he starts, “and if you’re ready, I’d love to have a baby with you.”

You think you’re dreaming. You feel like your body’s about to explode. It takes everything not to squeal loudly and wake up the teens. You smile and nod, wiping away the tears of joy before they blur your vision any further. “I’d love that, too.”

Satoru leans in and kisses you. It’s slow, loving and so very gentle. He slightly trembles, and you open your eyes to see that he was also tearing up from the happiness. “I love you.” His voice is low, yet shaky. “I love you so fucking much.” He kisses you again, then moves from your mouth, slowly down your neck. “I’ll take care of you. All of you.” He gently pushes you back against the sheets, and you sigh as his hands trail down your body. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“All five of you.”

— — — — —

“So, you wanted to talk with us?” Yuuji asks.

You, Satoru, and the teens all sit on the luxurious couch in the living room the next morning. Since there’s no missions for them, they get to relax at home. All three of them were still cozy in their pajamas, and they finished eating their breakfast not too long ago.

“Yes,” you say as you sit up. “So, it’s been five months of you all staying here.”

At once, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara stiffen, then share grim looks with each other. It confuses you, and before you can ask about it, Nobara sits up. She gulps hard, and you know from her staying with you for so long that it’s because she’s trying to choke back tears so they wouldn’t form in her eyes. “It’s okay,” she says, “we understand. We knew that this would be a temporary thing.”

“Huh?” Satoru asks, also confused. You can tell that his brows are furrowed underneath his blindfold. “What’re you—”

“I mean, five months is a lot. We get it. You didn’t have to keep us for this long, but you did. Thank you,” Megumi says.

Yuuji nods with a smile, but you know it’s a fake one. It makes your heart ache. “Just know that we’re extremely grateful for everything.”

“Every last bit of it. Thank you so much,” Nobara chimes in.

“Okay, all of you, stop.” Your voice is firm, and it silences them all at once. Megumi is facing the ground to hide his face, Yuuji’s fake smile fades as he casts his eyes downward, and Nobara looks over at the wall, nervously chewing at her lip. “This isn’t what you think it is. Satoru and I don’t want you three to leave.”

Now it’s their turn to look confused. However, they’re all finally looking directly at you, and that makes you feel a little bit better. “We were going to ask if you’d like to make it permanent, because we’d love to adopt you three.”

They gasp, and their eyes widen in shock. It’s silent for a few beats, then Nobara faintly asks, “...What?”

Satoru chuckles, then claps his hands together once. “Aw, c’mon, Nobara! Surely, you know what ‘permanent’ means!” You roll your eyes. Adding humor to make a situation less tense was such a Satoru Gojo thing to do.

The teens still look in shock. “So…” Megumi starts, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’d be our parents?”

“Yes,” you reply with a smile.

Nobara sniffles, and you look over at her to see that she’s no longer holding back her tears. “And- And we’d be your kids?” Her voice is also quiet. Yuuji, on the other hand, is much louder with his question. “And these two would be my siblings?!”

You giggle, then nod again. “Yes, one hundred percent yes. I know it’s sudden, and if you all need time to think about it—”

“Yes!!” Nobara practically screams, then runs over to hug you and Satoru as she begins sobbing. A split second later, Yuuji is there too, also hugging you tight. Megumi joins last, and the five of you remain there, embracing each other. Embracing your husband, your two new sons and your new daughter. Your eyes shut as you laugh with joy, unaware of your own tears.

— — — — — —

Six months later

“So yeah, that’s the story of how Mom and Dad adopted us,” Yuuji concludes, then places his hand against your swollen tummy. “Pretty cool, right?”

As if responding, ‘Yes,’ the baby within you gently kicks. “Ha!” Yuuji exclaims excitedly, then grins over at Megumi and Nobara. “I told you that they like my voice!”

Nobara rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, Yuuji, they like all of our voices, but they like mine the most.” Now she puts her hand against your stomach, leaning close so the baby could hear her better. “Right, sweets? Isn’t your big sister your favorite sibling?”

Two light kicks. Yuuji gasps in surprise while Nobara cackles victoriously. Megumi scoffs at their foolishness, and you laugh.

“I won’t lie though,” Megumi says. “I’m curious about what technique they’re going to have.”

“Yeah, will it be Mom’s or Dad’s?” Yuuji asks.

You shrug. “We don’t know yet.”

The front door opens, and you hear Satoru call out, “I’m home!” as he walks towards the living room where all of you were sitting. Like every day, he gives Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara hugs as he asks about their days, then comes to you. He kisses your forehead, then your tummy. “Hey, little one,” he quietly coos. “Hope you didn’t give mama too much trouble today.”

“No vomiting today, so, yeah, they did pretty good.” You gently stroke his cheek. “Missed you today. How was work?”

“Yeah, how was work?” Nobara asks excitedly. “Any special grade curses?”

“Eh, nothing like that today,” Satoru says as he sits in between you and Megumi, ruffling the boy’s hair. “However, the second years are starting to plan a surprise party for Okkotsu’s birthday. I passed the word to the rest of the staff, and now I’m letting you all know about it.”

Megumi nods as he settles back into the comfortable couch cushion. “Inumaki did text me about that earlier.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Yuuji exclaims.

“Yeah, as long as we don’t leave you in charge of handling the cake like we did for Nanamin’s birthday last year, since you like to drop them,” Nobara scoffs.

“Oh, come on! That was one time!”

Megumi tsks, and shakes his head. “One time is too many.”

As they playfully squabble, you and Satoru watch them with soft smiles. His blindfold was lowered, so you got to see the pure love and happiness in his eyes. He finally has the family that he once dreamed of as a child. You lean on his shoulder, and he kisses your cheek.

Finally, your house was full, and so was your heart.

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lalunanymph · 21 days ago

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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. STOLE MY HEART (AND MY PANTIES) ♡

✧₊⁺ SUMMARY when your panties go missing like clockwork every wednesday, there's only one possible explanation...

✧₊⁺ WARNINGS fem!reader, panty stealing, jerking off, perv!caleb nation rise up, male masturbation, oral sex, pseudo-stepcest (for like, the first scenes), use of gege, use of mei mei, almost getting caught, semi-public sex, against the wall sex, closet sex, unprotected sex, nipple play, petnames (princess, pipsqueak, beautiful girl), caleb huge cock agenda, repressed emotions, angst if you squint, mdni, 18+, do let me know if i missed any warnings !!

✧₊⁺ DAWN SAYS oh my god here it is.... caleb debut we up!! this was the product of horny from the caleb gc and i have to thank everyone for fuelling this piece with sm thots (no prayers) ily all caleb fawkers <3 writing this took like 5 years from me (dying from the horny) so please enjoy and do let me know what you think <3

✧₊⁺ x/twt

Caleb knew this was wrong.

He knew with every fiber of his being that what he was doing was completely, irrevocably and utterly wrong.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself. It was like an addiction.

You were like an addiction.

It started with one missing pair.

In your defense, work had been pushing you too hard, and whatever spare time you could muster was dedicated to rotting on the couch. You would wave him off whenever he offered to do the laundry with a distracted,

"Sure. Thanks, Caleb."

He didn't mind. Of course, he didn't. If only he could use this chance to get what he wanted—your favorite pair of lacy panties.

It was a gorgeous pair. Black lace, with a little bow in the front, slightly crumpled from being wrapped around your hips all day, and if he really locked in, he swore he could feel the remnants of your body heat still pressed between the lacy crevices.

But, that wasn't the best part.

The best part was the little wet spot right on the innocuous fabric. A spot which he would press his nose into and inhale; flick out his tongue and run it along the seam, swearing he could taste your musk in his mouth.

That's funny, you commented one day, shooting him a look of confusion. Did you see where my underwear went?

And he would shrug, giving you a teasing look. "Maybe the washing machine ate it, Pipsqueak."

You frowned, wondering if he was pulling your leg. A day later, you found it crumpled and still damp in the back of the washing machine, and shrugged. Maybe Caleb forgot about it.

You had no idea how he had wrapped that delicate scrap of last around the base of his cock last night and was jerking off thinking about the face you’d make once he sank balls deep inside of you. How he had his sleep shirt stuck between his teeth, sweat bulleting down his toned chest and forehead, furiously jacking off his raw cock with the little lacy number stuffed in his fist. Imagining it was you—your cries, your moans, your sighs echoing right in his ear as you rode him.

The guilt hit him immediately after that and he tried his best to scrub his seed from your panties, crumpling it up and tossing it into the back of the washing machine like he had forgotten to take it out.

And so, the cycle continued.

Every laundry day, you'd find one pair missing, only to show up inconspicuously in the back of the washing machine. You were starting to see a pattern: this only happened when Caleb was on laundry duty.

You weren't as stupid as he thought you were. And you had to admit, the thought of Caleb taking your panties, doing God knows what he did with them, stirred a curious flicker of heat in your belly.

It was on a random Wednesday night when grandma was out for a dinner that you decided to make your move. You hid behind the pillar as you watched your childhood friend doing laundry, keeping your eyes peeled on his every movement.

Caleb looked good tonight. He had just come back from a gym session, face flushed, muscles swollen and pumped. He was shirtless, bare chest glistening, the military tag with the apple charm you gave him dangling from his neck. A pair of headphones muted him from your silent observations, letting you stalk him in peace.

Like the proverbial forbidden fruit, you couldn't keep your eyes off him. You had no idea what to make of these new... feelings... you've developed for him, but you sure as hell didn't want to waste an opportunity to catch him in the middle of your suspicions.

And, there it was. A flick of his wrist that was quicker than the speed of light thanks to his Evol—but, you caught it all the same.

Your panties flew from the laundry basket and into his sweatpants pocket, where he stuffed his fist inside to jam it down further.

You wanted to call him out, corner him and ask what he was doing with your intimate undergarments.

But, you kept quiet, letting him go about his work.

It was only at night when you gathered the courage to confront him, standing right at the front of his bedroom door. You raised your fist to knock, but to your surprise, the door was cracked ajar, a sliver of light spilling out into the darkened hallway.

Cautiously, you stepped inside his room, immediately hit with the sounds of his low grunts and moans.

With his back to you, Caleb was sitting on the edge of the bed, pumping his cock with something held tightly in his fist. Light as a cat, you slunk into the room, taking him off guard by your sudden appearance by his side.

"Ah!" He squeaked and whipped his head around, looking wildly from the wide open door to your curious expression. "How did you—what did you—why're you here?!"

You pointed at the door with a lazy flick of your wrist. "You left it open, dummy."

His huffs and groans fell on deaf ears as your gaze landed on a familiar scrap of lace in his hand. "I knew it..."

Before he could defend himself, you snatched his fist, dragging it closer to your face as you forced him to reveal the truth to you. To your surprise, he didn't resist, letting you open his clenched fist as his free hand tugged his cock back under the band of his sweatpants. The highpoints of his cheeks were dusted with pink, and honestly looked like he was about to break into tears at your next words.

"I had my suspicions all along... but, this is all I needed to know."

Caleb was breathing hard, his bare chest flushed with shame and embarrassment. He couldn’t look you in the eye, the welling guilt overflowing through his stammers and stuttering words.

"Look, I can explain—I-I... that is to say—it wasn't my intention... I didn't mean to..."

The words tangled in his mouth, losing steam once he realized there was no going back from this. A huge boundary and line had been crossed, and it was going to take more than an apology to get back into your good graces.

He ran a hand through his mused hair, licking his swollen lips. Caleb couldn't fathom what was in your gaze—whether it was disgust, anger or something else entirely.

But, what he couldn’t deny was how your eyes flickered right to the bulge straining in his pants, the dot of pre staining the front from hastily hiding his arousal from your glare.

What is this feeling inside of me? You thought as you slowly approached him, your panties fisted tightly in your hand. Why am I not yelling at him? Or, scolding him?

In fact, why were you looking at him like you wanted him to… continue?

Caleb’s expression morphed from mortification to curiosity, and he gazed at you as you approached him, arms crossed in front of your body. He opened his mouth, intending to say something, when you tossed your lace panties right on the seat of his lap.

“Go on.”

Two words. Caleb’s brain felt like it was malfunctioning.

“What… wh-what do you mean—?” He trailed off, falling mute at the fire dancing behind your eyes. He tried hard not to gape when you sat down next to him, observing him like he was a bug under a microscope, scrutiny heavy in your silence.

Whatever shred of logic he had left disappeared the second you gave him your consent. Caleb slowly tugged down his sweatpants, letting his half-hard cock spring free. He grasped the base of his girth, keeping his gaze locked on yours, gauging your reaction. Your blank face gave nothing away, and he took a deep breath, suddenly wondering if he would be able to perform under pressure… so to speak.

“Touch yourself for me… gege.”

Your sweet tone, coupled with his honorific, made his cock twitch, coming back to life. Caleb gritted his teeth, wanting to stop himself from jacking off, but unable to deny how your command was making him feel.

He was hot all over, goosebumps rising on his skin. Biting back a low moan, he picked up where he left off, his movements a bit stiffer and shy.

Surprising him, you leaned forward, wrapping your palm around his fingers, helping him move his slick fist up and down, increasing the pressure.

“Holy—slow down,” he cursed under his breath, glancing at you with burning, violet eyes. “It’s not some j-joystick, Pipsqueak—mhmph.”

Caleb thought he was hallucinating your lips on his, but when his eyes fluttered shut and your taste permeated your mouth, he was acutely aware of how close you were. You tasted like strawberries, your soft lips drawing him in deeper till he was close to drowning. Ragged gasps and breaths echoed between the space where your mouths were connected by a single strand of spit.

His cheeks were hotter than two suns, stomach doing a flip when he felt you gripping his wrist, quickening his movements.

“So, this is where all my panties went,” you murmured, gaze half-lidded and eyes dark with desire.

Caleb felt like someone had punched him right in the gut when you planted your lips on his throat, sucking your claim onto his skin. He tipped his head back to give you more access to his neck, groaning out your name.

I’m dreaming, he thought. There is no way in hell this is happening.

But, it was. You were here, right in the flesh. Close was never close enough for you when you clambered onto his lap, taking over from his flustered movements to jack him off.

“You’re disgusting, Caleb,” you purred, lips swollen from his kisses.

He gasped when you twisted your wrist, the rough material of your lace panties chafing his cock in the best way.

“Absolutely… repulsive.” You marked each word with heated puffs in the crook of his neck, running your tongue over the ridge of his jaw. “Using your mei mei’s panties like this to get yourself off…”

Caleb gasped at the rough sensation of your tongue on his neck, never expecting you to tease him this boldly.

“That’s not—” he broke off in a whine when you started to slide your thumb over his leaking head. “... shit…” he hissed, eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

“What’d you say?”

“... nothing…” Caleb exhaled shakily, knowing he could do nothing but let you have your way with him.

Circling his sensitive tip with your thumb, you teased him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you would say.”

But, for all your bravado, the slick pooling in the pair of panties you had on now was hard to ignore. The feeling of Caleb’s hulking, muscular figure trembling underneath your smaller one injected you with a dose of cockiness.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He hissed when you tugged on his girth, using your other hand to fondle his balls.

Shit. It was one thing to jerk himself off, but another to have the woman he loved doing it.

Caleb wasn’t even phased with the realization, his mind feeling like it was floating a million miles away. Lightheaded and overcome by awe, he thought this moment might’ve been a hallucination conjured up by his desperate wishes.

You, sitting on his lap, looking absolutely delicious and depraved, licking your lips as you milked him towards the biggest orgasm of his life.

His hips moved against his volition, snapping into yours. To his surprise, he felt you grinding down on him, reciprocating his actions. The fighter pilot was holding onto his dear life to not spill all over your hands, batting your insistent digits away, breathing heavily.

“N-no, Pipsqueak, hold on—”

He thought he had finally lost it when you got onto your knees, glancing up at him with wide, doe eyes. You unwrapped your lace panties from his cock like it was a depraved gift bow, tossing the delicate scrap to the ground. Caleb’s lashes brushed his cheekbones as he took in the sight of you on your knees, lips mere inches away from his throbbing cock. In a position he had envisioned you would be in since the first time he understood the meaning of lust.

“Come on,” he murmured, brows knitted. “Stop playing—”

His protests died the second you wrapped your lips around his swollen cockhead, lapping at his precum.

“Shhhiiit,” Caleb exhaled like a deflated tire, resisting the urge to sink his fingers in your hair and fuck your mouth.

While he was taking in the glorious moment of you sucking his dick, his keen ears picked up the sounds of footsteps outside the hallway. In a flash, he twitched his fingers, and his room door went slamming shut.

“... Caleb?”

Josephine’s voice echoed from behind the door. Instead of freezing and getting off his cock like a normal person, you continued to suck him off, bobbing your head up and down his shiny, spit-soaked length. The soft gurgling of your throat taking his cock reached his heated ears and he cursed under his breath, hoping his grandmother of all people couldn’t hear your stupid stunt.

“Uh, yeah, grandma?”

He bit back a moan when he felt your tongue slide across the thick, bulging vein down the side of his cock, leaving whispery kisses over his length. He just about nearly spurted some pre right into your eye when grandma asked him, “Where’s Y/N?” and you unexpectedly deep throated him.

“A-ah, I have no idea!” His voice was higher-pitched than usual, those violet eyes boring right into yours, warning you to quit it without words.

“Caleb?” Josephine’s concern shone past the thick barrier.

His heart dropped into his stomach when he heard the door knock jangling. With a level of concentration he usually reserved for the field, not the bedroom, Caleb increased the pressure of his Evol to create a dense weight behind his door, barring her from entering.

“I don’t know where she is, Gran,” he called out, hoping he didn’t sound too strained. You breathed a laugh, mouth still full of his cock, and he shot you a glare.

“Are you alright?”

She refused to leave him alone, and Caleb cursed under his breath.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, trying his best to sound level-headed and not like he was getting the best head of his life.

His eyes rolled back into his head, and he had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from expelling an embarrassing moan.

Clearly still unconvinced, Josephine cleared her throat. “Okay, Caleb. Goodnight.”

You giggled softly when a drop of pre hit the back of your throat, lapping up the bitter-salty taste which was clearly a sign of his growing excitement from something so taboo and wrong.

“Okay… night, Gran,” he mumbled in a strained tone.

Her footsteps shuffled away from the door, and Caleb was left with his full attention on you.

“You feisty little vixen,” he groaned, leaning back on his arms to enjoy the sight of you down the line of his body.

As you continued to suck him off, Caleb’s breathing grew more unsteady, his bravado and confidence stripped away to be lapped up by your surprisingly talented mouth.

He wanted to ask you how’d you know to suck cock so well, but he thinks the answer would upset him.

In this moment, you were his and his alone. Screw the previous guys you were with—Caleb wants to be the only one you ever think about whenever you take dick.

Your cheeky tongue expertly swirls over his weeping tip, and he stifles down a loud groan.

“You’ll be the death of me, I swear.” He threaded his fingers through your hair, tugging on it as you took him deeper down your throat.

Mouth stuffed with him, you flicked your tongue over his heavy, leaking shaft and shot him a smirk.

Caleb’s breathing grew heavier, close to his finish line.

He gritted his teeth, giving you one last chance to back off before he made a mess in your pretty mouth.

“I’m close,” he whispered, knowing Gran would be in the other room, sound asleep.

You hummed, and to his delight and mortification, massaged his taint with your knuckles.

Holy… He bit out. “S-shit. You gotta show me the guy who’s been teaching you how to do t-this,” he stammered. “I need to beat him up.”

You giggled, letting him go with a soft ‘pop’, licking your swollen lips. It didn’t take much for him to spurt all over your hands, hot and thick, as you continued to fist his length and massage his weak point at the same time.

Caleb was breathing hard like he had just finished running a marathon, his entire body limp like jelly noodles. He sagged onto the bed, grunting softly when you shifted onto his body, straddling his lap.

Looking smug like the cat who got the cream, you traced a nail down his broad chest. Caleb caught your hand before it could move down to tease his spent dick, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckles instead.

“I think that’s enough exploration for now, Pipsqueak,” he muttered, chest still rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You hummed and much to his fascination and consternation, lifted your cum-coated fingers to your mouth to suck them clean absent-mindedly.

Caleb’s dick twitched at the sight, coming back to life.

His blood pumped hard with the undeniable yearning and lust he’s had to deny himself for the longest time since he’d known what love meant.

He chuckled tiredly, and without much effort, straightened up, bringing you with him. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Pipsqueak.”

Despite the fast track to this new development in your relationship, you were both still friends first. Banter, inside jokes and giggles filled the bathroom where he cleaned you up, intent to take care of you after you treated him so well.

As much as you thought things would be different, it felt like… nothing had changed at all.

Caleb didn’t speak of the night since it happened, going back to teasing smiles, hair ruffles and his brotherly brand of affection. If it weren’t for your missing panties from the laundry basket which happened every Wednesday like clockwork, you would’ve thought you hallucinated the entire ordeal with him.

You had no idea if you should confront him again. A part of you even wondered if he was embarrassed of the whole thing—if he wanted to pretend like the entire night hadn’t happened because he couldn’t stomach the thought of you. Shame and guilt paralyzed you from speaking about the whole ordeal, and you kept your head down, trying to avoid him if you could whenever he came back home after his training.

Since he was home for his summer holidays before returning back to the field, Caleb’s days back were limited. There was no rhyme or reason for you to pursue something so fragile, but a part of you couldn’t help but hope he would speak to you first.

“Y/N? Aren’t you going to finish your food?” Gran’s concerned tone broke you from your reverie and you shook your head, forcing a smile.

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, picking up your plate of untouched food and cutlery before stepping into the kitchen, almost bumping into Caleb.

“Whoa, Pipsqueak. You’re done already?”

You were never good at maintaining a poker face, so when he glanced at you, Caleb could tell something was wrong.

“Hey—”

You stepped away from him, plastering on a bright grin to hide the lapse of your emotions. “I already ate at work. I’m fine.”

Somehow, he wasn’t convinced. But, you didn’t give him a chance to ask how you were before you booked it back to your bedroom, shutting the door and locking it for extra measure. You were a grown woman now, and yet, this rejection from Caleb stung like you were a jilted teenager all over again.

Huffing, you almost forgot that tonight would be the night of his DAA Fundraiser Gala—a night where you agreed to accompany him as his plus one since Gran couldn’t make it.

It was one thing to see him again after practically finding out your childhood friend used your lacy undergarments as jerk off material, and it was another ballpark altogether to attend an event by his side, pretending to be his loving, younger sister while fighting off these strange emotions of love and heartbreak threatening to spill over.

Caleb could tell your heart wasn’t in it tonight when he pulled his bike in front of the Administration building where the Gala was in full swing.

The entire ride here, you hadn’t said a single word, your arms wrapped around him, but your mind felt like it was a million miles away.

Before you could step away from the bike and walk ahead to the front doors, Caleb caught up to you, grabbing your wrist.

“Hey. Can we… talk?”

He was stuttering, ears turning a bright red when you turned around with a little, “Hmm?”

The taller, older man hummed and hawed, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze bounced from your eyes to the floor, an exhausting yo-yo of unspoken words and desires.

“You… look beautiful.”

You glanced down at the simple black dress you chose for tonight, noting its lack of frills or embellishments. “You’ve seen me wear this dress a thousand times. It’s nothing special.”

Your callous disregard of his praise made him wince, and Caleb shook his head. “Pipsqueak, no. That’s not what I meant. I… I think you look beautiful tonight. As in you and not the dress.”

He trailed off and you held your breath, vain hope blooming in your chest at the sudden fondness glimmering in his eyes.

“You… mean that?”

He was about to open his mouth and reply when one of his subordinates clapped him on the back, effectively shooting this tenacious moment between you and Caleb down with a shattering bark of laughter.

“Captain Xia! You finally made it in time for the raffle.”

Caleb winced at the interruption, but mustered a grin, clasping his comrade on the shoulder. “I’ll see you inside, Ethan.”

The man named Ethan tipped his head towards you, a wiry shock of ginger curls falling right into his hazel eyes. “Evening, Miss Y/N. You look beautiful.” Not one to stick around after flirting his way through half of Skyhaven, Caleb’s colleague hightailed it towards another group of girls, leaving a blank, ringing silence behind which engulfed you two.

You could tell Caleb wasn’t exactly fond of Ethan’s praise, his amethyst eyes darkening a shade deeper, glittering like an uncut gem in the heart of a dark cavern.

But, he shook off the jealousy and turned to you, extending his arm politely.

Despite the awkwardness lingering between you, you took his arm, unsure what this gesture meant.

Caleb glanced at you, a subtle furrow in his brow which belied his true emotions. He wanted to ask you how you were after the entire reveal—if you had it in your heart to forgive him. But, the words clogged in the back of his throat, lost in the oasis of his slowly fading hopes and dreams that the two of you could ever be more than just friends.

How can he entertain such a thought when you had someone like Zayne in your life? Caleb shuddered. If there was anyone who was perfect for you, it would be the dark-haired man who was your primary physician. He glanced at you throughout the whole night, watching as you danced, ate and bantered with his teammates. How effortlessly you fit into his life without so much as a hitch.

Halfway through the second song, Ethan asked you to dance with him, and you agreed, taking his hand. Caleb struggled to keep his jealousy under wraps when he noticed how you tossed your head back, laughing at something his handsome colleague said. Before he could stop himself, the fighter pilot captain stood up and squeezed his way to the dance floor, taking your hand and tugging you into his arms while you were in the middle of a twirl.

“Caleb!” You gasped, and he glanced over at Ethan, giving him a dumbfounded colleague a cheeky wink.

Ignoring your protest, Caleb smoothly guided you through a slow waltz, taking this time to hold you close. You struggled to put some distance between your bodies, worried that his colleagues would get the wrong idea.

“Caleb, we’re in public—”

“So?” He interjected teasingly. The chandelier overhead threw specks of light onto the dancefloor, fragments of rays speckling his grin. “People can say what they want, Pipsqueak. I’m here with you—that’s all that matters.”

He spun you in his arms effortlessly, reminding you again of how easily he could maneuver your body. Giddy from the champagne and restless from the feelings you were trying so hard to forget from that forbidden night you shared with each other, you spoke the first thing that came to your mind.

“Caleb, do I mean anything to you?”

His grin faltered, though his movements were smooth and sure as he gently wrapped his arm around your waist, playfully dipping you low before putting you back to your feet.

“Of course, you do. You’re my Pipsqueak,” he murmured, soft enough that you needed to move closer to hear him better.

But, Caleb could see the doubt flickering across your expression, and he quickly rectified his insensible confession.

“No. Crap—that’s not what I meant,” he stumbled over his words, the two of you coming to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. Despite the couples twirling and giggling around you, it felt like you were in a bubble, lost in each other’s presence and gazes.

“I like you,” he admitted softly, cringing when he came to the realization that the reason you were being so distant these past few days was because of him. “And I have always… I’ve loved you. Since as long as I can remember.” He had no idea where the confidence to spew these lifelong words he’s kept fast to his chest came from, but it burst forth from the dam the moment he gave his true emotions permission to overflow.

You gaped at him. Under the strobing lights, Caleb couldn’t take his eyes off you, the flickering beams highlighting just how goddamn beautiful you were.

“You… like me?”

If his feelings weren’t obvious enough, Caleb leaned forward and without a single shred of fear, he kissed you, softly and sure. Right on the lips where everyone could see.

He didn’t care if someone had spotted him basically professing his love to the woman he had grown up with. The same one who Josephine gave the impression of being his younger sister. All that was on Caleb’s mind now was tearing down your doubts of him not loving you.

Your pretty eyes fluttered wide open when he pulled away, common sense snapping you back to the reality of standing on the dance floor as he waited for you to say something.

But, you had a better idea to truly show him your love.

Grabbing his hand, you pulled him from the dance floor and towards the exit, turning back to find him grinning knowingly. The flicker of desire you ignited that night when you caught him with your panties matured into something deeper. Something more carnal.

He took the lead, knowing this building like the back of his hand. There was a hidden room on the second floor where lecturers kept their projectors, and he dragged you right into the dark spot, pushing the door open, and then pushing you against it.

Caleb’s violet eyes shone brighter than jewels as he leaned in closer, lips millimeters from yours.

“I want you…”

Intoxicated by his scent, his presence, his everything, you leaned in, too, eyes drooping close, your voice soft and hypnotizing as you whispered:

“Then, take me.”

Caleb couldn’t waste another moment anymore. His lips slammed into yours with a bruising force and he kissed you like a starved man denied the taste of honey for thousands of years. The sweetness of you coated his palette, saturating his tongue till he felt like he could drown in your flavor. You kissed him back just as ardently, desperate to feel him closer.

The inexplicable heat of your bodies pressed against each other began to fog up the windows of this tiny room, your mouths meeting in between stirring gasps and ragged moans.

His lips charted a path from your jaw to your throat, down to the dip of your collarbone. The feel of him tonguing the rise of your breasts past the edge of your dress made a spark of electricity run up your spine. They said that the most sensitive parts of a human’s body were the fingertips and tongue with 100 pressure receptors in one cubic centimeter.

You were starting to realize how correct the fact was. The smoothness of his skin under your fingertips, the texture of his tongue curling around yours, seemed to be magnified by tenfold, your entire body aroused beyond reason.

“You taste divine…”

His whisper in your ear made the hairs on the back of your neck tingle. You moaned when he backed you up against the wall, hooking your thighs around his waist.

You chuckled at his impatience, your hip bumping into an old projector.

“S-slow down,” you teased in a shaky voice, digging your heels into his lower back. “I’m not leaving.”

He grunted, using one hand to unbutton the front of his pants. “Can’t take the risk.”

The sight of him, bulging behind his gray boxers, solidified to you how real this felt. How you were about to get fucked by your oldest childhood friend in what was the DAA’s broom closet.

Despite the less than romantic setting, the sparks flying between your bodies was hard to deny. The mounting heat left you susceptible to exhaling soft moans whenever his lips smeared hasty kisses on your throat and jaw. His teeth preyed on the sensitive strip of your neck, leaving behind careless love bites, his devouring mouth bringing the blood to your skin and gifting you marks in the shape of his mouth.

It was too dark to make out much of the sight of his cock, but in the sparse scattering of light shining through the grimy windows, you could make out at least 6 inches of flaccidity which was growing into a monster waiting to impale you.

Heart in your throat and a pulse in your pussy, you eagerly lifted your hips, waiting for him to give you what you want.

“Impatient, aren’t we, Pipsqueak?” He teased, though the ragged quality of his voice belied his true need. It felt hot and stuffy inside this little room, but you didn’t mind the mugginess.

Rivulets of sweat dripped down your back and neck, beads of sweat collecting on his brow. Caleb was fighting his inner demons to just grab and ravish you without a care for anything else in this goddamn world. It wasn’t exactly the ‘roses-on-bed-scented-candles-all-night-loving’ he envisioned for his first time, but he still had to be gentle.

He was determined to not hurt you.

Using his raw strength to lift you with one arm, Caleb discreetly snuck a stroke, making sure he was ready to claim you.

Your eyes shone demurely with mushy desire, glowing softly in the lack of light. Caleb was mesmerized when he slowly unzipped your dress. Your tits were right in his face, held captive by the loving lacy grip of your bra, and he didn’t spare another second to drag them down, letting your pillowy softness overspill right into his waiting mouth.

Caleb took one hard nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive peak with his tongue. Your soft gasps and hitched whines were making him leak all over the dusty floors, and he growled, grazing his teeth on the stiff bud.

He loved how your hips clipped against his and groaned under his breath when you buried your fingers in his hair, tugging on the roots.

“You’re gonna pluck some strands out if you keep this up,” he grumbled when you pulled harder. The ghost of your laughter brushed the delicate shell of his ear, and Caleb felt your warm tongue trace the ridges.

Closer to you now, he could plainly hear your quiet whines. Taking his time to prep you, Caleb ignored the strain of lifting you up, enjoying the weight of your body in his grasp as he quickly stuffed his index and middle finger down his mouth.

Lubricating it well with his spit, he used the two soaked digits to pry the seat of your panties aside, before gently easing them right into your fluttering hole.

Your gasp reverberated across the room and he shushed you, planting his mouth on yours to quell your whimpers and moans.

“C-Caleb—”

Shit. You’re so tight. He murmured right into the crook of your throat, flicking his tongue out to taste your skin.

Beautiful girl, he whispered. You love this, don’t you?

The stretch of his fingers felt immaculate, pushing past the tight ring of muscle, slowly feeding you inch after inch. Caleb knew he didn’t exactly have the smallest hands, and that was partly what made this so fun.

If you struggled to take his fingers, imagine how tight you would be wrapped around his cock.

The blood rushed straight to his head, leaving him dizzy. He licked his lips, settling knuckle-deep into the depths of your cunt.

The violet-haired man groaned the same moment you mewled out his name.

Caleb… shit… you’re so deep…

He chuckled throatily. I can go deeper, baby.

Scissoring his fingers, Caleb established a rhythm which had your entire body shaking.

His mouth stays latched around your nipple, plumping it up with arousal from tender suction and licks.

Your breathy whimpers and heady sighs went straight to his neglected cock. But, Caleb didn’t care. He wanted to fully focus on you.

You like that, baby?

Devotion flooded his instincts, loving how you held onto him tighter as if he was both your anchor and the storm wrecking you apart.

You gurgled a cross between a whimper and a sigh, nodding. “It feels good, Caleb.”

You weren’t lying. The way you were squeezing down on him made Caleb feel like he was in a dream.

Yeah? He huffed, licking a strip from your jaw to your lower lip. Loving your mewled and arched your back.

Once your sweet pussy began to flutter uncontrollably, Caleb knew it was time to really claim you once and for all.

The thrill of fucking you with your clothes still on was part of the entire charm of why Caleb had fallen in love with you. Daring, bold, kind—you were the physical embodiment of all his dreams coming true.

And he never stopped reminding you of how lucky he was to have you.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling,” he cooed. The feeling of his cock sinking deep inside of you couldn't compare to his fingers.

For one, he was girthier than you expected; stretching you further than what you could handle. Caleb had to clamp a hand over your mouth to staunch your sweet moans.

Ssh. You don’t want them to find us out, don’t you?

Sweet and obedient, you hummed, shaking your head. The honeyed tenderness in his violet eyes never disappeared, the affection in them shining through with unconcealed devotion.

Your dulcet mewl of, “Caleb, please,” went straight to his dick like a lightning strike, and the last strands of his patience snapped.

Caleb wanted to take it nice and slow, but the building heat between the both of you that has been stoking for years and years on his end, displaced his common sense.

He needed to have you; he needed to claim you.

In one swift motion, Caleb lifted you by the hips, hissing in pleasure when you hastily tugged your panties down, allowing him to nudge the tip of his cock past the snug fit of your drooling pussy.

He grunted the second your sweet heat and vulnerable walls closed on him, encapsulating him in your intoxicating warmth.

Caleb felt your forehead press to his, the closeness of you spiking his heart rate. Despite the position and location he had you in, the air was clouded with intimacy.

Your soft sighs, your yielding kisses, the subdued moans you bit back so as not to give any nosy eavesdroppers an idea of how good he was indulging you, made his head spin with love and his cock twitch with lust.

You’re so big, you whispered and he almost came into your tight heat.

Caleb grunted, sweat stinging his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. “You’ll be the death of me, darling,” he murmured, losing himself in your gooey, wide doe eyes. “You feel amazing.”

Grunts, moans and puffs of heat touching each other’s lips filled the space. Your body was making him so high; no amount of stimulants or adrenaline could make his heart pound this fast.

When you pressed your lips to his, Caleb just about had a stroke of Nirvana, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, voice low and deep as he murmured, ��I’m close.”

He’d been with girls before, but none of them were you. Experience couldn’t trump the novelty of tasting the first girl he had ever been in love with.

Tears pricked in your eyes, the pleasure overwhelming.

Caleb… oh… oh… shit.

He felt you tighten on him, the soft plop plop plop of your bodies meeting each other in a sloppy, heavenly embrace loud through the rush of blood flowing in his ears.

Caleb pushed his tongue right into your mouth, at the same moment you cried out his name, muffling your cries.

You were being so unbelievably good for him, not a hint of restraint, and he kept on going. Caleb dug his heels into the ground, propelling his hips in powerful surges, the fucking grip of your pussy on him so warm, wet and tight.

He has no desire of stopping, intent on pushing you over the edge. To get your body to recognize his undeniable claim on it.

You’re being so good for me, princess, he breathed hotly into your ear. I can feel you clamping down—fuck. Don’t stop.

Your nails stabbed into his shoulders, dragging down his back.

His precum mixed with your juices, dripping to the floor, your body shaking like an earthquake was ripping through it.

Please—you panted. Don’t stop.

Caleb didn’t want to. He wanted nothing more than to stuff you full of his seed, and to finally see his claim dripping white hot and thick down your thighs.

He has been dreaming of this day since he figured out how to jack himself off—the star of his filthiest fantasies finally in his arms.

Caleb dug his fingers into the plush fat of your thighs, using it as leverage to jerk you up and down his slick cock. He can tell you’re approaching your high from the scrunch in your brow, the way your lips are slack and parted.

“Caleb…”

He encouraged your release with a hearty squeeze, the feeling of his cock rutting deeper into you making your toes curl behind his back.

You tossed your head back, letting a shameless moan escape. Fingers tangling his hair, his mouth pressed to yours, you squeaked, your climax hanging on a tenacious thread.

He broke it with his lips pressed to your ear, growling at you—cum for me, princess. Give me all of your sweet cum.

Your heels stabbed into his lower back almost painfully, the sting enough to push him over the edge together with you. Caleb pumped you full of his cum, relentless in his need to conquer you.

His seed painted your walls, your breaths plucking into a whiny, high-pitched moan. If he hadn’t just blown the biggest load in his life, Caleb was sure he would’ve combust into flames when you sucked on his bottom lip needily, murmuring about how much you loved his cum inside of you.

Caleb brushed a soft kiss to your forehead, setting you back down to your feet. You wobbled and stumbled, needing to hold onto the thick trunk of his bicep to steady yourself.

The flush on your cheeks and the glassy look in your eyes was a complete telltale to what you both had done in this closet, and yet, he wanted to see you squirm even more.

Deftly, without you noticing, Caleb used his Evol to flick your skirt up, smoothly removing your panties and stuffing it into his pocket. He grinned at your aghast expression, words saccharine sweet and dubiously innocent.

“What? That’s my souvenir for the night.”

You had no energy to fight him off, not when he was helping you adjust your dress and hair. Once you were decently dressed and he made sure his pants had no wrinkles, Caleb steps out of the closet, glancing left to right before tightening his grip on your hand and leading you out.

Your earth shattering release still humming in your bones, you almost felt shy to meet his eyes under the flickering, warm lights.

But, Caleb didn’t let you marinate in your shyness for too long, squeezing your hand and shooting you a bright, reassuring grin.

“Come on, princess. Let’s get you home.”

Not Pipsqueak. Not Y/N.

But, princess.

Caleb’s princess.

You squirmed under his gaze, but not for the reasons he thought. Caleb glanced at you, curiosity shining in his eyes when you whispered softly: “Can I have my panties back?”

He grinned, cocking a brow. “And why should I do that, princess?”

You plastered on a scowl, narrowing your eyes. “Because,” you huffed, “Your stupid cum is leaking down my thighs.”

Against your wishes, you felt the faint stirrings of his Evol brushing your legs, though to someone not accustomed to it, the pressure probably felt like the slightest hint of a breeze. Using his Evol, Caleb slid it between your folds, finding your puffy pussy and to your mortification, the pressure solidified.

Safely stuffing you full of his cum.

You opened your mouth, about to comment on his audacity when you were accosted by Ethan, who’s self-assured smirk faltered the moment he saw Caleb’s hand in yours.

“Yo… isn’t she your sister?”

Caleb’s eyes darkened, and he straightened at the intrusive question, his usual jovial, light tone now deeper and authoritative.

“Do you always make it a habit to make such intrusive comments on your captain’s relationships, Lieutenant Cole?”

The second Caleb uttered his rank, Ethan sobered up and clicked his heels together, arms folded behind his back as he looked past his superior’s shoulder.

“No, sir,” Ethan said clearly, shaking his head. “Of course, not, sir.”

Caleb nodded, apparently satisfied, and tightened his grip on your hand. “Come on, princess. Let’s go home before Gran gets worried.”

The older man knew the second his back was turned, Ethan would run off and gossip with the rest of his cohort, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Let the rumor mill churn. As long as Caleb has you by his side, he wouldn’t pay a single shred of attention to the whispers.

You were noticeably shaken by the encounter with Ethan and Caleb squeezed your hand, bringing you back from your thoughts.

“Hey. You okay, Pipsqueak?”

A deep breath. “Are you sure you… want this?” Are you sure you want me?

The silent question was unspoken, yet he heard it all the same.

“Of course, I do,” he said and proving without a shadow of doubt at how serious he was for you, Caleb drew you closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I want this. I want you. And nothing is ever going to change my mind on this.”

Relieved and a little touched by his insistence, Caleb saw the trust spreading across your face; your belief in him strengthening.

“Come on, princess,” he murmured, voice warm as he tugged you towards his motorcycle. “Let’s head home—I’m not done with you yet.”

Clutching his hand tighter, you flashed him a carefree grin and nodded.

Home with Caleb. Home and Caleb.

Both felt incredibly right.

a/n: i need a cold shower and caleb to come home stat .... reblogs and feedback are so beloved <3

#🦢 writes #caleb love and deepspace #caleb smut #xia yizhou #xia yizhou x reader #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #caleb x you #lnds caleb #l&ds caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace fic #l&ds x reader #lads x reader #lads x you #lads x y/n #lnds smut #l&ds smut

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lxmelle · 7 months ago

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Geto was loved even in death.

Wouldn’t it be nice if he were judged by his intentions in the afterlife - wherever that was? He had suffered living with the love he had. We see through the eyes of those left behind, that the ill deeds didn’t define him, as strange as that may be to us as readers in the real human world we live in. Geto’s influence and loving nature were far reaching; Gege certainly made him so treasured by many even after his death. If Gojo was touched by his caring influence, this was also Geto’s will he passed onto his students.

NOT spoiler-free as I’ll be referring to the recent chapter, 255.

I wrote this the other day:

And honestly it’s long enough; here’s part 2.

Is it obvious I’m suffering from brainrot? All my drafts from jjk brainrot are rivalling my thesis/dissertation from way back (lol)

Here is more under the cut:

I’m really moved by the reasons for why Miguel and Larue have decided to join in the risky fight against Sukuna.

It’s very obvious that Miguel is reluctant at first. He says he he’d rather terrible curses arrive at his shores than to fight with Sukuna, adding that he doesn’t see himself having any ties with Japan any longer.

We can deduce that this was part of Gojo’s plan for the possibility that he dies/loses, and I had a post about this saved in my drafts - but I guess I never got around to finishing it. Basically, in sum, he will achieve giving Geto a cremation (avenging him) and gets to show off to his students (which he does enjoy) by going all out (soo satisfying), and in the worst case scenario, he loses but gets to go all out, weakens Sukuna (for the rest to handle), and idk if he really is that romantic (so it’s really stsg headcanon fantasising) he will die on the same day as Geto.

The Opening theme is rather beautiful in that it interprets Gojo having the words, “we’ll meet again” stuck in his throat, which he doesn’t say. But I’m a bit weird and tend to separate anime from manga. But it’s worth noting that here.

I digress. Back to Miguel and Larue who have moved to speak privately without Yuta.

In a previous post I wondered aloud about what Yuta knew about Geto from others aside from being villainous and I guess this implies he doesn’t know much, since he wasn’t close to Miguel enough to sit around to chat with them. It makes sense.

Miguel and Larue both agree they followed Geto in jjk 0 because they wanted to see him become King. What does this even mean, really? Gege, you’re missing stuff out again!

Nevertheless, we understand how reluctant Miguel was. He enquires that Larue intends to do, clarifying: is it for revenge or to take Geto’s body back?

And it seems like their main motivation for putting their lives on the line... is to honour Geto’s memory. Like a traditional ritual one makes for the dead (customary in Japan on death anniversaries - not limited to the year, but also number of days).

It’s incredibly moving how much they love him. This is actually what led Miguel to reconsider. We see him go silent as he thinks “...” before he reaches a moment of clarity/a decision.

Tbh I have issues with interpreting his statement in between the two panels (re: hell) in Japanese - it doesn’t directly indicate if he is referring to the former part of the conversation (whether he thinks Geto is in hell), or the latter (he thinks the battle will be hell). The phrasing goes like this: “no matter how I think about it: it’s hell.” - I’m not a native speaker so it’s difficult for me to be certain which is right. But the consensus is as translated above. Larue thinks Geto is in heaven, Miguel thinks it’s hell, and we see the airport scene where presumably Haibara and Riko with Kuroi have been there for over a decade. lol. Who knows!

So the bottom line is… regardless of where they think Geto ends up in the afterlife, Miguel is willing to give Geto a send off that’ll even reach hell. Or, despite it going to be hellish, he will do it. It also seems so heartwarming how they still emphasise family and friendship in wanting to fight together - perhaps things we can surmise had meant something to Geto.

They will fight Sukuna because it is for Geto. Geto was so loved that they would risk themselves - not for a title, not for revenge, but out of … love. Again. That’s pretty damn loving. Can we imagine what Geto did and was to them, for them to experience such loyalty and reverence?

Sadly, it goes without saying that Geto’s body being used as a vessel and puppet by Kenjaku has possibly evoked an emotional response by those who cared for him - namely Mimiko and Nanako, and also Gojo. Arguably, even if it were a death without his body being hijacked, Gojo did refuse to cremate his body or have it processed “by the book” of jjk high through Shoko. If that’s not out of a form of love (or “consideration” as Kenjaku put it), I don’t know what is.

The twins went against what Geto wanted for them (to carry out his will) to fight against immensely power beings in hopes they could bring him home. Those were their reasons to fight. Gojo scheduled 24th December - this was after he teleported to Kenjaku immediately upon unsealing so he could bury Geto. We saw Larue and Miguel’s. Toshihisa is alleged to be quite weak, and despite potentially being considered a son to Geto (if his life situation did mimic that of the twins’ - source: jjk character book), he opts to follow the inherited will as prescribed by Geto.

It’s all love. Geto was loved, I’m telling you. I want to shout if off the rooftops because that man just looked so darned sad and deranged after he lost it.

So. Continuing where I left off: Everyone thus far has had a reason to go into battle with Sukuna. I wonder what / who will actually reach him? I hope it’s Yuji ... and that Megumi will react again at some point. They have their own themes relating to love and purpose. I’ll leave them to someone else more familiar with their characters to write about!

And now I’m going offside quite a bit, but it’s still of relevance to Geto and the theme of love that seems to surround him. Way back to jjk 0 and Hidden inventory.

I wanted to just bring this into the picture as well now that I’m already writing a post on that topic, but please feel free to stop if you’re bored now.

So. Jjk 0!

There were direct parallels with Yuta & Rika and Gojo & Geto. This was also confirmed by the director when discussing their vision for the movie. The light novel also drew a link between Geto and Yuta where they were described as being too sincere for this world.

There is a direct theme of love - the type, is open to interpretation.

Kenjaku also makes reference to this in the Shibuya arc. So to me, it remains relevant. Love in its many forms is somewhere in what Gege wishes to convey thematically.

Within jjk 0, Geto seemed to pursue power but this was also a symbolism where power = love. It is twisted. In light of recent events, we know that the pursuit of power leads to the dilution and even absence of love. Love that gives birth to power becomes cursed. So it seems.

As we know, Yuta bound his lover to himself to gain power.

If only he had Rika (metaphor for love: Gojo) he probably wouldn’t have had to skulk around the shadows consuming curses which he hated doing. Geto was lamenting on the past in the above panels. He probably was determined to carry on, as he vouched to give it all he got (Haibara’s last words to him echoing here).

A flashback to the past:

Geto doesn’t do things in half-measures. To avoid hypocrisy, and I headcanon that it was a merciful killing to protect them from him, he kills his parents. To die by his hands than to be used as a pawn to get to him. For them to see the horrors their son could be capable of. It is so very wrong, and we can see the twisted nature of his love in this interpretation.

And Gojo delivers the ultimate blow that leads to Geto reflecting - depicted by the mysterious ellipses “…..” (gege really likes the reader to work hard huh) - insinuating it is impossible for Geto, so don’t even bother trying. The blossoming possibility of discourse was nipped, as the strength differential was implied - you’re the strongest now, whereas it used to be “we”. There was no more place for Geto; it was probably a misunderstanding. Gojo was protecting everyone in his own way, and the only way he knew how.

For power, Gojo was a source - but Geto couldn’t do that in Shinjuku, nor earlier in the arc, when Gojo himself was on the brink of insanity and deferred to Geto about annihilating humans as he held Riko’s dead body. Geto in the scene above acknowledges their different paths they needed to take - Gojo had a place as part of the elite at the school - Geto was already facing an execution order.

And after hearing Gojo’s condescending tone in an emotionally-fuelled attempt to reach out to him. He turns away to protect his friend from himself, and himself from his friend. Anyway, I touched on this in my previous post. Geto feels they had fought and didn’t deserve a place next to Gojo. But deep inside, even his body remembers the sound of Gojo’s voice, reacting to it when called despite his soul no longer being there.

sigh. Moving on... back to jjk 0:

After witnessing the bonds through willingness to sacrifice and the love between these students, Geto was really moved. Gojo trusted Geto retained his sense of humanity / love / idealism - even if it would lead to him sacrificing himself.

He was finding it difficult anyway:

He could always empathise with love. I suspect he tried his best, but the binding vow for Yuta’s life was also just the cherry on top to make Rika super saiyan.

Kenjaku knew Geto probably could’ve won though, had he been more selfish.

Geto conceded without a fight with Gojo. Maybe it was a matter of trust in that they both knew his living on borrowed time. As the light novel insinuated, this was the only way it could ever end. And Gojo would have to carry the curse that was Geto. This seems... so cruel.

He did his best. He perhaps always wanted the love but set it free.

He did so many things for others in spite of himself, in sacrificing himself, in staining himself with blood drenched hands.

Avenging Riko by killing Sonoda. Note how manipulative “humans” are by using Jujutsu rules against them.

He embraces a life of smoke and daggers. Living in lies and half truths in order to live, survive, and find justice in a wicked world.

Watch me closely, I’ll protect you, I’ll avenge you, this is how you protect yourself.

This is the path I’ve chosen.

I’m not saying he was right or justifiable. His character is just tragic. The system had set him and others to fail.

The worm foreshadows Geto’s maternal nature. Calling him “okaasan”. I mean, this very worm had a binding vow with Toji. And now it calls for a new owner? I’m not sure if Gege had anything else in mind with this... is the womb protrusion domain Geto’s? But that’s tied to a sorcerer’s soul…. Anyway, I digress again. (Sorry). Geto did have a martyr complex and was written captivatingly well by Gege. The extra touches where how he has been perceived by others and the effect he has (and continues to have) on those we see.

And I just want to leave this heartbreaking thing here:

Source from twitter/now X:

Wouldn’t it be so sweet for Geto to get one (love declaration) at the end of his life, regardless of the way you perceive Gojo and Geto’s relationship?

Wouldn’t it be nice for him if he could know that his family who he instructed to flee had all loved him, adored him, and would honour his sacrifice in differing ways...

Instead, a form of love meant his body was desecrated and used by Kenjaku. His girls were killed, and his full potential was not quite realised at all.

If only things were different.

Gojo should have kept him in his basement!

But at least, I think, Gege is giving Geto some love even after his death.

For that I’m thankful.

And thanks for reading if you made it this far with my rambling!

If you want something more light hearted I have a fluffy fic up on AO3 (it isn’t great but i enjoyed writing it to fantasise about what happens at the airport) and if you want more angst and pain, please browse my tags (lol).

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impatiencegyu · 8 months ago

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Note: Feng Xin is older than Xie Lian here (15 and 9 years old respectively).

"Mama, where are you taking us?" Xie Lian wrapped his arms around his mother's waist, looking up at her with a big smile. "Did you bring me a new gift? Or is it for Xin-gege?"

"Patience, A-Lian," The Queen laughed, ruffling his hair as she turned to look at Feng Xin. "You're quiet today. Is there something wrong?"

"N-no, your highness," Feng Xin stuttered. There really wasn't anything wrong, but for some reason, he had been feeling weird since morning. And he couldn't tell if it was good or bad.

"Where are we going, your highness?" He asked. They were entering a part of the palace he and Xie Lian had been forbidden from entering before, and he was a bit nervous. What did she even do in here?

"I have a surprise for the both of you," She smiled, opening a door and standing to the side. "Go on in, children."

Xie Lian jumped inside, and Feng Xin followed, looking around. The room was...nothing special. Most of the walls were bare, and there was a small table a few feet from the door with stuff that artists use? Paints, brushes, knives, and all that. And in the very centre stood what looked like a statue, veiled in a rich red fabric.

"Mama!" Xie Lian exclaimed, "Did you make this?"

"Yes, A-Lian," The Queen walked towards the statue with an amused laugh, and waved them over. "Come on, don't you want to see it?"

The weird feeling built inside Feng Xin. He felt like he couldn't breathe. It was as if the fabric concealed something that could influence him for the rest of his life.

What is wrong with me?

The statue was almost the same size as him, and as he watched the Queen of Xianle lean down to reveal the veil, his heart started beating really fast. Involuntarily, his hand went to his chest, and he took a deep breath just as the statue was revealed.

What. The. Hell.

Feng Xin's breath stuttered, and he had to double over, coughing. Not because it was ugly, or disgusting. No, no, never.

The statue was of a boy of his age, all long hair and sharp eyes, with a beautiful smile as he held his saber out in a graceful position, as if it was challenging him to come fight. It was unlike anything Feng Xin had ever seen — no wonder the Queen looked so proud of her work.

It was the most beautiful thing Feng Xin had ever seen in his entire life.

"It's so pretty, Mama! Who is he?" Xie Lian asked, eyes wide.

"We don't have a name yet, dear," The Queen responded, smiling softly. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"I'll think, Mama," Xie Lian put his hand to chin, clearly brainstorming names.

Suddenly, a name rose up out of nowhere in Feng Xin's mind. Nothing else had place there except for that name, and he was so surprised at this realization (that was now flowing through his entire being like pure, fluid gold), that he accidentally said it out loud.

"Mu Qing."

The Queen and Xie Lian turned to look at him, surprised, before the former asked, "What did you say, A-Xin?"

"Mu Qing," He repeated, not taking his eyes off the statue even for a moment. "Mu Qing."

"That's a beautiful name!" The Queen clasped her hands together, and turned to Xie Lian, "What do you say, darling?"

"Yes, yes, it's pretty!" Xie Lian giggled, "Mama, Mama, A-Lian wants to draw Mu Qing!"

"You do? Ah, there's no paper left here. Come on, let's go get some?"

"Yes, Mama!" Xie Lian laughed as his mother ushered him out of the room. Just as they reached the door, she turned.

Feng Xin was still standing there.

"We'll be right back, alright A-Xin?"

He nodded, and they left to the Queen's room to get paper.

The weird feeling was dissipating now. All he felt was a powerful awe, a magnetic pull towards the statue. Towards Mu Qing. He reached out a hand to touch, then snapped it away.

What's wrong with me? It's just a statue! He thought, an irrational frustration building up in him.

Then why hesitate, something in his heart murmured. It's just a statue.

Feng Xin reached out, and pressed his palm to the statue's cheek. Mu Qing's smile was in his palm now, his sharp eyes looking into his, and it felt so real. It was almost as if he were a real person.

Feng Xin took a deep breath, and whispered, "If only you were real." He pulled his hand away, and turned around to leave.

Then, he froze.

A warm hand had wrapped around his wrist.

#tgcf #fengqing #feng xin #mu qing #xie lian #statue #tgcf fanfic #fengqing fic #fengqing fic rec #xie lian is a baby #mxtx tgcf

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fushiglow · 10 months ago

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Gojō Satoru and Ryōmen Sukuna: symbols of celebrity?

What does it say about Jujutsu Kaisen's influence and popularity that it could convince the two leading national newspapers in Japan — rivals and competitors — to run a joint marketing campaign where readers must buy both papers to complete the set?

The attention to detail is incredible, too! Asahi — Sukuna's paper — is one of the oldest in Japan. Meanwhile Yomiuri — Gojō's paper — has the largest newspaper circulation in the world. Such a brilliant way to illustrate "the strongest sorcerer in history vs the strongest sorcerer of today" in promotion of the new volume. Extra points for the fact that the two newspapers have opposing political leanings, too.

I'm really fascinated by this — so, some thoughts on celebrity and the fourth wall in Jujutsu Kaisen below the cut!

One of the things I love most about this series is how self-aware it is at times. I feel like Gege Akutami is quite purposeful is how he uses his characters to speak directly to the audience, especially in recent chapters. Along with the 'tickets' for Mei Mei's livestream and the promotional video that's reminiscent of a wrestling announcer bigging up the event, the entire campaign for the release of volume 25 feels like it's breaking the fourth wall in a way that's perfect for Jujutsu Kaisen.

youtube

It also makes me even more hopeful that 'The Battle of the Strongest' is going to be a film, if only for the meta effect of the audience 'purchasing tickets for the livestream'. Imagine if they market it so you feel like you're actually paying to watch this fight between two gods unfolding in real-time on the other side of the world? Considering how successful the first one was, I have no doubt the film would perform incredibly in the box office too, further adding to the meta effect.

The potential for hype is enormous and I actually feel like they won't disappoint, simply because Gojō is too much of a money-maker — look at the DVD sales drop off from the Hidden Inventory arc. I know I bang on about the chapter all the time, but this is spawning all kinds of additional thoughts to my analysis of Gojō in 236, especially regarding how he's written as this almost unknowable character.

I feel like Akutami's interest in the dark side of the entertainment industry actually shines through in Gojō the most out of all his characters, because he's practically a celebrity both in-universe and out — people made an actual shrine for this character when he died, as though he's the People's Princess or something!

Everyone knows who he is, but no one knows who he *really* is. He's beautiful and isolated and powerful and lonely, and it makes absolute sense that he sought understanding from Sukuna, because he's kind of like the blueprint for Gojō — a legend about whom everyone has a story, but no one really knows anything at all.

I promise I didn't make this post just to plug my fic, but it's a neat little coincidence that the precarious power dynamic between celebrities and the general public is a big theme in the most recent chapter of my idol fic, Over the Threshold. The reason I started writing a music AU in the first place is because this topic is something I have a personal and academic interest in, and the parallels between the 'strongest' and a music industry legend are simply too good to ignore.

Perhaps it's because it's on my mind as I'm writing the fic, but the marketing for the new volume got me thinking about the symbiotic relationship between artists and their fans, and I'm wondering if Gege is going to bring this into play somehow. Could it have something to do with the source of Sukuna's strength and therefore the key to beating him? Conversely, could it have something to do with the loss of Gojō's strength if he returns without it, making his death a symbolic death of celebrity instead?

I love the idea of the death of the 'strongest sorcerer' (the celebrity) bringing down the veil that separates him from the people around him (the public), allowing them to see Gojō Satoru for the very first time. No longer 'the strongest' or the Six Eyes or the one-man Gojō clan — not a symbol or a power ceiling or a weapon or anything like that — but simply a person, which is all he really is at the end of the day.

Am I coping by twisting myself into knots hoping that Jujutsu Kaisen is about the deconstruction of celebrity? Maybe, but at least I'm coping in a very smart and sexy way!

Just kidding, I'm still undecided about whether I think a Gojō comeback is likely. However, I completely disagree with people who say his character arc is finished or there's no space in the narrative for his return. I also disagree with those who say there's no evidence for it, because I think if it happened it would seem incredibly obvious in hindsight. It's a bit like Sukuna taking over Megumi — very few people saw it coming at the time, but when you look back, the clues were sprinkled all over the place.

Time will tell, but this story is really special to me whatever happens in the end. We all love to shit on Gege Akutami — and sure, he's not a perfect writer and I don't like a lot of his decisions — but when he gets it right, it's genius level stuff. Considering how overworked and commodified and exploited mangakas are, I think he deserves a lot more credit for the stories and characters he's weaving, and his art has never looked better if you ask me.

Anyway, I rambled a bit at the end, but here's my idol fic if you want to deconstruct Gojō as a celebrity some more. It's *so much* fun, I promise!! Did I make this post just to plug my fic after all? You can decide.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #呪術廻戦 #gojo satoru #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen meta #jjk analysis #jujutsu kaisen analysis #jjk spoilers #jjk manga spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jujutsu kaisen manga spoilers #glo's writing #glo's analysis #fushiglow #Youtube

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yuujispinkhair · 3 months ago

Note

Yuuji and Sukuna walked all over town; they went flower watching, fishing, visited a farm, and practiced archery, (and Yuuji talked about several very personal and significant moments in his life to Sukuna), they practically went on a date, Yuuji took Sukuna on a date! ❤️ 265 has to be one of the best chapters in all JJK and is devoted entirely to SukuIta. Gege spoils us too much 😭

YOU ARE SO RIGHT AND IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY 💗💗😭😭

I tear up anytime I re-read the chapter because it is just so AAAHH 😭😭 They spent so much time together, just the two of them, and they were actually nice to each other. They met as equals. It wasn't the King of Curses and the jujutsu sorcerer Yuuji. It was just Sukuna and Yuuji, just two guys 😭😭 The way they bickered and teased each other wasn't mean at all. It seemed so friendly, like two people who are very close and therefore act that way around each other, playful banter, etc. I love how Yuuji was impressed and a bit competitive when Sukuna won the archery contest, and I love even more how Sukuna didn't rub his victory in but was so graceful about it and even humble by saying it's no wonder he was better because he used to do that in his former life all the time.

All their time spent together was so pleasant!! I am so happy that Gege gave us this and to see that he values their connection, too. I feel like those last chapters made even more people see the potential this ship has.

Even the end, when they both got angry, was beautiful in its own way because it once again showed that our stone-cold Sukuna, who wears his mask of indifference all the time and always seems so calm and controlled and above anyone else, has one person who always manages to get under his skin and makes him lose his cool ;)

Also, the "Come back to me" thing AAAHHH I am going insane!!

There are so many other details, too, and so many emotions I feel, but I can't even put all of it into words. I think this chapter was really such a huge gift to us.

#jjk spoilers #sukuita

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mononijikayu · 11 months ago

Text

malmö i mitt hjärta ━ nanami kento.

But amid the sterile bleakness, a beacon awaited. Someone was there for him, a comforting presence that contradicted the harsh realities of the hospital room. The warmth of her memory, a stark contrast to the clinical surroundings, lingered in his mind like a gentle embrace. As his senses gradually acclimated to the reality surrounding him, he became aware of the cool caress of pristine white sheets against his skin. The distant symphony of medical equipment, each beep and hum, served as a poignant testament to his unexpected survival. Yes, he was alive.

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Gen, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband;

WORDS: 5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: kinda perfect to put this out, considering i was fuming last night that mei mei was in malaysia and not nanami. GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE??? im not sure if i'll write more about nanami and his wife, but im thinking on it. if you have any thing you wanna see from their life, just come on and tell me as suggestions!!!

main masterlist

what a wonderful world masterlist

hesitate | malmö i mitt hjärta

next: what are you doing new year's eve

HE DID NOT REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THE BURST OF WHITE LIGHT ECHOED ALL AROUND HIM. Nanami Kento found himself in a disorienting haze, the aftermath of the blinding white light that had enveloped him. The memories of what had transpired were elusive, slipping away like grains of sand in the wind. Bleeding and broken, he stood amidst the chaos, wearied not only by the physical toll but also by the relentless violence that surrounded him.

Shibuya had proven to be a formidable battleground, surpassing even the expectations set by reports. Nanami, however, hadn't anticipated the extent of the exhaustion he would feel. The weariness ran deep, etched in the scarlet lines that adorned his wounded flesh, almost resembling weary tears.

As he stood at the precipice of what seemed like the end, he could envision the face of Yu Haibara, a nostalgic smile etched across the features of his youth. There he stood, eyeing Nanami with all the kindness he doesn't deserve. It was as if Death itself was extending an invitation to the solace Nanami had long sought, a respite from the unending cycle of struggle that seemed inescapable.

Yet before he knew it, it was as though he was never there.

Haibara smiled, standing before Mikoto Nobuhiko.

Nanami realized that they switched positions. From where he stood before, he could catch the glimpse of Nobuhiko's orbs glisten in crystal tears. He tried to scream, he remembers he could. But Itadori Yuuji did it for the both of them, crying out Nobuhiko's name.

He didn't know if he cried or not.

He doesn't remember that much.

But he knew that the blue summer ended forever.

Nanami Kento had lost himself in fleeting delusions.

In those fleeting moments, Nanami's mind drifted to the simple joys that made life worth living. The vivid beauty of a Malaysian morning, the tropical sun's warmth on his skin, the gentle winds accompanying moments of quiet reading against a backdrop of serene resignation, and the comforting aroma of green tea in the familiarity of his home.

The mental images continued to unfold, walking hand in hand with a cherished person, the resonance of their rings echoing like a soft bell, proclaiming a love that belonged exclusively to them. Her gaze, filled with the profound echoes of a love uniquely theirs, lingered in his mind as he faced Death head-on.

Her face, where her warm smile was tender for him.

The scarlet sunset etched all over her cheeks.

The bright beam of love in those eyes for him.

He held on to life, wanting to see her again.

As the intense beam of light faded, Nanami Kento found himself grappling with the harsh reality of his surroundings. The once vibrant scenes of his memories were replaced by sterile white ceilings, devoid of the vitality he had just envisioned. His lips, now forming a flat line, mirrored his uncertainty about this unexpected twist of fate. The struggle to open his eyes wide was matched by the greater challenge of drawing breath into his lungs. Amidst the confusion, he became aware of the narrow hitches of breath escaping his lips.

As he took in the scene around him, the echoes of a flatline transitioned into the sound of morning air filling his lungs. The pain was a harsh reminder of his corporeal existence, yet the sensation of life coursing through him was undeniable. Nanami Kento found himself grappling with the juxtaposition of life and near death, a survivor in a world that seemed to have momentarily abandoned its tumultuous chaos.

The sterile hospital room resonated with the cold hum of fluorescent lights, casting a clinical glow upon the barren walls. For Nanami, it was a realm he despised, a place where discomfort and unease mingled. Despite the years spent in the ebb and flow of blood and flesh, the hospital environment remained foreign, an unwelcome terrain that clawed at the edges of his resolve.

It wasn't just the sights; it was the acrid scent that permeated the air, triggering memories of a bygone youth marked by echoes of profound loss. The antiseptic aroma, a nauseating reminder of vulnerability, threatened to unravel him. Yet, confined to his bed, there was no escape. Nanami Kento found himself ensnared in a place he had vowed never to return.

As his senses gradually acclimated to the reality surrounding him, he became aware of the cool caress of pristine white sheets against his skin. The distant symphony of medical equipment, each beep and hum, served as a poignant testament to his unexpected survival. Yes, he was alive.

And in that pulsating moment between life and the sterile ambiance, he found solace in the idea of returning to her. The prospect of reuniting with the vivid tapestry of their lives painted itself in his mind. Another day, another chance to age gracefully in the cocoon of her love, a promise that whispered of a tomorrow adorned with shared laughter, quiet moments, and the unspoken embrace of a love that had weathered the storm.

Nanami Kento, in that fragile instance of survival, embraced the prospect of living another day—a chance to return to the arms of the one who made life's battles worthwhile.

“Oh, you’re awake.” The words cut through the clinical ambiance, a lifeline tethering him to the present. The voice, though familiar, held a depth of mystery, and he turned his head to find those unmistakable purple orbs. There she stood, a reassuring figure, her presence a balm to his disoriented senses. “It’s quite a miracle that you’re alive, Mr. Seven — Three.”

Nanami, ever the stoic one, couldn't help but release a sound that resembled a snort. His senpai, Gojo Genmei, had picked up some of his husband's bravado over the years. In that moment, he found solace in the warmth of her company, even in the face of his physical discomfort.

“How can it be a miracle when it was obvious you manipulated my survival, Genmei–san?”

A hearty laugh escaped Gojo Genmei as she moved away from the wall, pulling a chair with her as she settled down. “You didn’t have to say it like that, Kento–kun!”

Kento, now adjusting himself on the medical bed with a laborious effort, retorted, “You’re too much like Gojo–san. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Hm, you’re still you, alright.”

He raised a questioning brow. “What do you mean by that?”

Genmei's laughter echoed in the sterile room, a melody that cut through the clinical atmosphere. As she leaned forward, a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. “I mean, even on the brink of death, you're still as grumpy as ever, Kento–kun. That's how I know you're okay.”

The younger sorcerer let out a wistful sigh, his breath carrying the weight of fleeting moments and unspoken echoes. "Facing death doesn’t change me much, I suppose. I’m just... alive. I'm well enough, I can say."

“A fact I’m sure your wife will be happy about,” Genmei remarked, crossing her legs as she leaned back, the air thick with unspoken understanding. "I think any wife would be, I think."

“Hm,” he nodded in agreement, a subtle smile playing on his lips. The prospect of returning home, of going to Malaysia with his wife, lingered in his thoughts like a delicate melody. It was enough, he believed. Enough to live for, to savor in the quiet richness of shared moments. “I suppose I owe you my life.”

“You owe me nothing,” she dismissed his gratitude with a wave, a tender smile softening the contours of her face. In her warm eyes, there was a somber tenderness, an acknowledgment of the unspoken complexities that lingered between them. “Someone has to have their happy ending first. Nobu thought so too, don't you think?"

In the pause that followed, a heavy silence hung in the air, pregnant with the weight of unspoken truths. Nanami's memories of his dearest friend passed through him in the silence. It was as though those three years of youth never happened. As though they were his day dreams in his one summer day. He was the only one left, he's still breathing. Yu would forever be seventeen, as will Nobuhiko stay twenty - seven.

Genmei - senpai meant every word she uttered, a sentiment that resonated even as she wished it didn't. Perhaps if Nobuhiko would be here too, he'd say the same thing. Both of them were the same like that, almost like mother and son.

His senpai was happy for him, she always has been. She had always supported his decisions and his actions. Just as Nobuhiko did. Nanami was certain he's only alive because she knew what Nobuhiko would do for him. It was because of her that he's still alive. And yet he knew deep down, she was jealous. His senpai after all was not the god people saw her to be. She too felt humanity make her a hypocrite.

Beneath the veneer of Gojo Genmei's righteousness and kindness lay a selfish desire, a longing to cling to life just as fiercely as Nanami clung to his reasons for existence.

As much as she had risked everything for the peace of the Jujutsu and Human world, a poignant selfishness whispered in her heart. She clung to Gojo Satoru, she clung to the memory left by Nobuhiko over and over again. He could see it in her lilac eyes. She was yearning for the day when she could live without the constraints of this absence, this hole inside of her. This emptiness. She looked forward to the day when she would be free of torment.

That Nanami knew too well. And in the same breath, Nanami knew, as did she, that such freedom to her desires was not imminent. The person she held dearest, the god she worshiped, remained sealed away, and no one yet held the key to his release. This truth, unbeknownst to Nanami, lingered in the shadows of their shared existence.

"I hate how self-righteous you are," he finally uttered, a playful accusation laced with a deeper understanding of the intricacies of their intertwined fates.

In that moment, amid the fragility of survival and the weight of unsaid words, Gojo Genmei embraced the role of the patient observer, waiting for her turn to taste the sweetness of a life unburdened by the shackles of uncertainty. Genmei laughed. Nanami, in his silent acknowledgment, found solace in her kindred happiness.

“It sickens me, Genmei–san. At least be mad at me for what happened."

“Let me indulge in this mood.” She bit her cheek, her purple eyes narrowing at him. “It’s all that keeps me afloat.”

"Really...."

She smiles at him. "Why should we blame you, though? Love is a curse, but its worth dying for. So don't curse Nobuhiko like that. Besides, I doubt you wouldn't say the same thing, Mr. Seven – Three."

His lips pursed in a flat line.

He hated that she was right.

She's become more like Gojo Satoru.

“How many days have passed?” Nanami questioned her, changing the topic.

“Just a few days,” She informed him diligently, crossing her legs in the other direction. “You’ve healed quicker than Todo, I have to say. I’m impressed. With your wounds, it was expected that it would take even longer."

His mind moved towards the young ones, once she mentioned the third-year protege of Kyoto High. He moved to open his mouth, wanting to express the many worries that plagued his head at the thought of the young ones. Genmei stopped him, smiling. “You shouldn’t worry about the young ones, Kento–kun. They’re healthy, for the most part. Megumi and Yuuji are doing what they can do find the answers we need. Just trust them for now. Rest your restless heart, Kento-kun.”

Kento did not think her answer sufficed; there was too much hidden in the words said. But he knew he would not argue with her about the matter. At least not today. There would be more days to catch up, to ask his many questions.

His mind was still a blur; he still needed rest. This is enough, for now. He didn't want to carry the heavy load of all of it just yet. Nobuhiko was enough. Knowing the kids were safe. All he wanted right now, he supposed, was to see his wife. He did not want to be here. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be in his beloved's arms once again.

“You’re quite the fighter, though,” Genmei's light sandy hair shone against the beaming sun. “You responded well to the treatments, Kento–kun. It’s incredibly determined.”

He looked at his damaged arm. “Well, I can see that, seeing I’m somewhat still whole.”

“Hm, Your wife insisted,” Genmei responded to him, causing him to perk up at the mention of his wife. “She protested, how you can live with burns and scars, but not without your arm and hand. You need it, she told them. Cause you would never leave your job here. She knows that much.”

“She knows me too well, then.”

“And I know you just as well,” Genmei said, standing up as hands moved towards the inner confines of her kimono and revealing papers. She lays it before him, he looks at her suspiciously. He takes it, mustering all his strength to read it. “You need a break, Kento-kun.”

He frowns deeply, dropping the paper. His eye arrows at her with all the emotions that drowned him in turmoil. "You forced them to put me on a break? Now, when am I most needed?”

“You aren’t well just yet,” She says, her lips tightly pressed in a line. “And not for a long time, Kento-kun. You need to rest.”

“I can’t just leave now. Genmei–senpai, you just can’t—”

She shakes her head at him. He could see her eyes become fonder. He has not called her 'senpai' in a long time. “Kento–kun, you are of use to us when you’re well. You can only be well when you rest. I cannot have you risking your life like that again, Kento–kun. You are more valuable to all of us, to your wife, alive. So please, don’t fight us on this.”

For a moment, he couldn’t stare at her in the eyes. He felt like that child again, that child hiding his face, hiding the way every inch of it contorted in grief and sorrow. Hiding the way his one good eye echoed the tears that neared his face. He felt so defenseless, so raw, so open to the world that wouldn’t understand the bareness of him. She looks at him, almost guilty. But Kento knew that in her heart, she knew this was the right thing to do.

She didn’t want to see him dead. She told him then that she was glad he was not dead. How blunt she was then, telling him how glad she was that he was not Haibara. The glee she found in her heart when he told her that he would be leaving the Jujutsu world behind and starting anew. Inside her heart, Kento was a younger brother. And perhaps, it was much better for her to be hated by him, than to see him robbed from her by the cruelty of their lives.

Genmei watched him, an unspoken understanding passing between them. She walked over to the window, gazing at the city beyond as the fading sunlight painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. "Your wife," she began, her voice softer now, carrying the weight of shared burdens, "She loves you deeply, Kento–kun. She fought for you to have this break because she wants you to be whole, to be with her."

Nanami's gaze remained fixed on the papers before him, the weight of his wife's love and Genmei's concern settling in his chest. He knew the truth in those words, the depth of the sacrifice she had made for him.

"You need to rest, not just for yourself but for her too. You've been fighting for others for so long; it's time to let others fight for you," Genmei continued her eyes still on the echo of the city's skyline, now bathed in the soft glow of twilight. "Please, Kento-kun. Leave it to us. Enjoy your life for a bit."

He sighed, a mixture of resignation and gratitude. "I'll take the break," he finally conceded, realizing the truth in her words. "Just this once."

Genmei turned to face him, a small smile playing on her lips. "Good. You deserve it, Kento–kun. And when you're ready, we'll be here, waiting for you."

As she left the room, the door clicking softly behind her, Nanami's thoughts turned to the papers on the bed. They were a ticket to rest, a journey into the unfamiliar territory of self-care and healing. The room, once a battleground of conflicting emotions, now held the promise of renewal.

With a weary yet determined sigh, Nanami Kento allowed himself to succumb to the quiet solitude of rest, knowing that beyond the confines of the hospital walls, a world awaited where the echoes of Shibuya would gradually fade, and the whispers of a new beginning would take root.

AND SO, HE SAT THERE FOR A WHILE STARING AT THE CLOUDS PASS BY. The sterile hospital room, a cold oasis of white, seemed to echo with the whispered words of Gojo Genmei as she left. Nanami Kento left alone in the quiet aftermath of their conversation, found himself wrestling with an unsatisfied restlessness. The very notion of being told to rest felt like a cage, confining him in a realm of inactivity that clashed with the echoes of Shibuya still reverberating in his mind.

He shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed, the crisp white sheets clinging to the contours of his tired form. The room, bathed in the sterile glow of fluorescent lights, felt oppressive. Nanami's gaze wandered to the window, where the outside world beckoned, tantalizingly close yet out of reach.

The very air seemed to carry the weight of unspoken promises, of a life beyond hospital walls. Kento had called for food to be brought to his room, now that he was awake. He’s quite weary, much to the conversation in itself. The medicines he was forced to take into his body made it even worse. But he needed to sustain himself, he needed to make a moderate effort at least.

‘How am I supposed to return to normal if I don’t push myself to?’ He scolds himself in the quiet of his somber room. ‘I have to do it, I have to do it.’

Just as the specter of discontent began to settle, a soft voice invaded the sterile silence in his head. The words of parting dwelled in his mind like a broken record.

‘Enjoy Malaysia, Kento–kun. The trip will make you strong, I’m sure, hm? Just take all the time you need! Bring a souvenir, Satoru would adore it by the time he sees it!'

The voice of Gojo Genmei had always made a mark whenever she spoke, her presence a fleeting memory that lingered in the room. She had left, but her words hovered in the air like a gentle melody, a reminder of the promises yet to unfold. She had reassured him that all would be well. He had to put his faith in her, in all his comrades. In Gojo Satoru. He had to think that they’d do well.

That they can carry on while he is gone. He did his best, to collect himself but he could not help it, feel the things he did. Nanami, still restless, couldn't help but dwell on the words. He couldn’t deny that she made a good point. He agrees with her. His life as a sorcerer was always bound to be short, bound to danger. He had to make the best of it. He needs to make it all worth it. Now more than ever.

Time passed in measured increments, the rhythm of the hospital machinery punctuating the silence. It was in this liminal space that the door creaked open, allowing a sliver of anticipation to seep in. The food was finally brought by the nurse. The nurse was an elderly woman, and she seemed to fawn over him as though he was a child. She told him to press the button by his bed if he needed anything or if he wanted more food. Nanami Kento was certainly overwhelmed by her energy, he had used all his energy talking to Genmei before.

But he merely nodded his head and thanked her for her help and the meal. Nanami didn’t find the taste to his liking, and in all honesty, he’s never liked the food at hospital canteens either. But he was not one to turn down food when he needed it. He’s not ungrateful. And so he ate and he ate, listening to the music on the radio, the disco jockey announcing the next song. It was his favorite by far, Saboten Record, by his favorite band Fujifabric.

It had been quite a while since Kento had heard the song. The last time he did was when he and his wife danced to it in the narrow space of their kitchen, laughing as they spun playfully against the beckoning edges of mahogany counters and marble tops. The night had been a spectacle, a happier time which gave him strength. For a moment he started to hum, the fondness of his heart following along to the echo of the rhythm.

Then, just as she had entered into his life, his dearly beloved wife, a vision of quiet strength and warmth, entered the room with all the vibrant color and exquisite wonder that she had brought with her.

Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Nanami, awake and grappling with the confines of the hospital bed. Her eyes were red, one could expect that from the tears she must have cried from worry. The room seemed to brighten like it was spring all over again as her gaze locked onto him, and in that instant, the stark walls became a canvas for the emotions playing out before her. Life made sense again, purpose existed again. The meaning of life blossomed in front of him, still from shock.

"Kento!" Her voice, a symphony of relief and joy, carried across the room. Tears glistened in her eyes, mirroring the overwhelming surge of emotions. She rushed to his side, the clatter of her footsteps echoing in the otherwise hushed room.

Nanami Kento, in turn, watched her approach, a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes. Her presence was a balm, a reminder that he had weathered the storm and emerged on the other side. As she reached his bedside, the floodgates of her emotions opened, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She was still in the cycle of disbelief, the realm of joyous hope stuck in the motion of where her happiness began.

She kisses his scars, his burnt fingers, and hands. She could touch him, she could hold him. He was here. He was breathing, living. He was with her. She embraced him as though he would disappear if she didn’t hold onto him as tightly as she could. Not even the bundle of tears flowing from her face could stop her.

She was grateful, to any god out there, to anyone who listened to her prayers, that she had him in her arms. She had her love, the love that was made out of the wonder of this man, return to her. Alive and well, warm with everything that encompasses the beauty of life.

"I'm so happy you're alive," she whispered, her voice choked with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. All the love in her words, in her tone, brought him back to life. “You came back, you returned to me.”

He reached out to touch her cheek, his fingers gentle against the warmth of her skin. "I'm alright," he assured her, his voice a soothing murmur. "I'll never leave. I promised that to you, didn’t I, min skat?”

She leaned into his touch, her tears mingling with the warmth of his palm. "We're going to Malaysia, Kento. Together. I’m never letting you go, mit hjerte. You promised me. We’re going to live happily, Kento."

A soft smile played on his lips, a promise reflected in the depths of his gaze. "Yes, we will. I promised you, min skat. We’ll be together until we’re old and grey.”

The hospital room, once a sterile chamber of uncertainty, seemed to undergo a miraculous metamorphosis as Nanami Kento's beloved wife entered. The harsh, clinical glow of fluorescent lights softened, casting a warm, golden hue that embraced the room's confines. The air, once stagnant with the scent of antiseptic, now carried the subtle fragrance of hope and revival.

Nanami, despite his weariness, felt a surge of vitality as his wife crossed the threshold. The room itself seemed to respond, shedding its clinical demeanor in favor of a gentler, more welcoming ambiance. The crisp white sheets on the hospital bed, though still meticulously arranged, appeared softer, and inviting. They cradled him with a newfound tenderness as if conspiring with the universe to provide solace to a weary soul.

As she approached, the echo of her footsteps against the linoleum floor resonated like a reassuring heartbeat, harmonizing with the subdued hum of medical equipment. The door creaked open and closed, a gentle symphony, orchestrating the entrance of love into a space that had witnessed pain and healing in equal measure.

Her eyes, shimmering with tears yet ablaze with an unmistakable joy, met his with an intensity that breathed life into the room. The stark walls, once indifferent observers, became witnesses to the sacred dance of their reunion. The very essence of their connection infused the air, transforming the room into a haven where the boundaries of time and space seemed to blur.

In that quiet moment, their words became more than utterances; they were a melody, a soft cadence that reverberated with the depth of shared vows. The room, once void of emotion, now pulsed with the palpable warmth of love rediscovered. Dialogues danced between them like ethereal waltzes, each word a step in a choreography of reassurances and promises that only they could understand.

The hospital bed, a utilitarian piece of furniture, became a sanctuary where the contours of their bodies aligned with a perfect, unspoken understanding. The sheets, once merely functional, cradled them in an embrace that transcended the physical, a cocoon of shared experiences and the promise of a future yet to unfold.

As she leaned in, her lips pressed against the scars and burns on his fingers and hands, the room held its breath, as if granting this tender moment the reverence it deserved. She enveloped him in an embrace that felt like a gentle breeze, carrying away the residual echoes of pain and fear. The atmosphere crackled with the electricity of their shared relief, the acknowledgment that they had weathered the storm together.

Her whispered words, "I'm so happy you're alive," painted the room in hues of gratitude and disbelief. Each syllable, a brushstroke, adorned the walls with the colors of love's rekindled flame. The hospital room, once a backdrop to uncertainty, now stood as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring power of connection.

Nanami, in response, extended his hand to gently cup her tear-streaked cheek. His touch, a caress against the canvas of her skin, carried a promise.

"I'm alright," he assured her, his voice a soothing murmur that resonated with the strength of shared trials. "I'll never leave. I promised that to you, didn’t I, min skat?”

In this delicate exchange, the room bore witness to a pledge that transcended the physical confines of its walls. The hospital, once a realm of sterile uncertainties, had now become a sanctuary where the beauty of life's fragile yet enduring moments unfolded, leaving an indelible imprint on the very fabric of their shared existence.

"I was so scared, Kento. When they told me what happened..." Her voice trembled, a delicate timbre of vulnerability, the remnants of fear still haunting her.

It made his heart ache, a heavy throb echoing through his chest, as he watched the flickering emotions dance in the depths of her eyes. She suffered because of him, and the weight of that realization settled in his soul like a stone. But she understood, as she always did. She understood the essence of him, the intricate dance between duty and the echo of his existence.

The Jujutsu world was as much him as it was the reflection of him, a reality he couldn't fully escape. Yet, despite the peril that clung to his every step, she embraced him. She embraced his flaws, his scars, and the unspoken challenges that defined his very being.

“I’m glad that you’re here with me, Kento.”

He squeezed her hand, fingers intertwining in a silent communion of shared strength. The touch was a testament to the unspoken bond, a lifeline tethering them to the realm of the living. "I'm here now. We're here."

Her laughter, a delicate melody, bubbled forth like a spring of relief. Each note carried the weight of a thousand worries released, a cascade of sound that filled the room with an ethereal lightness. "This is enough, being with you. I could ask for nothing more. But this moment. You and me. Here."

He chuckled, the resonance vibrating through the air, a deep and comforting sound that echoed in the corners of the room. "It's more than enough for me too."

She enveloped him in her arms, a tender sanctuary where love and survival intertwined in an intricate dance. The hospital bed, once a sterile canvas of clinical white, transformed into a haven where the essence of their shared existence blossomed. Their whispered promises exchanged in the quiet sanctuary of their moments painted the room in hues of contentment.

Each word was a stroke of color, a brush dipped in the palette of their love, transforming the backdrop of sterile walls and clinical lights into a canvas adorned with the vibrant tapestry of life rekindled.

As she nestled into the curve of his embrace, Nanami whispered, his voice a soft breeze in the tranquil space, "You are in my heart, only you."

A joyous smile glistened to him. “You are too, Kento. You are my heart. My everything.”

Her eyes, still glistening with tears, met his, and in that shared gaze, they found the promise of a tomorrow unfurling before them. The hospital room, now adorned with the intricate details of their intertwined love, became a sanctuary where time seemed to stand still, embracing the beauty of life's fragile yet enduring moments.

The soft glow of the hospital lights filtered through sheer curtains, casting a warm hue that painted the room in a gentle embrace. The air, once laden with the sterile scent of antiseptic, now carried the fragrance of their shared history—the familiar scent of her perfume, the subtle notes of his cologne lingering in the air. The crisp white sheets, once clinical and unwelcoming, cradled them in a cocoon of comfort, a haven woven from threads of shared laughter and whispered confessions.

The shadows of fear and uncertainty, cast by the specter of Shibuya, faded into the background, eclipsed by the radiance of their shared love. Each heartbeat, a testament to survival and resilience, echoed in the room like a melody composed by the hands of fate. The hospital machinery, once an intrusive symphony of beeps and hums, now harmonized with the rhythm of their shared breaths, orchestrating a quiet lullaby of solace.

Nanami's scars, etched like battle-worn poetry on his skin, told a tale of survival and strength. His fingers, once battered and bruised, now intertwined with hers, creating a tapestry of connection that spoke of enduring love. The room held the echoes of their laughter, the whispered promises exchanged in the silent moments when the world outside seemed to disappear.

Their intertwined fingers traced patterns on the crisp sheets, creating a visual symphony of connection. His touch, a gentle caress against her tear-stained cheek, carried the weight of unspoken assurances. Her tears, now mingling with the warmth of his palm, became droplets of gratitude that painted the canvas of their shared existence.

As they leaned into each other's embrace, the hospital bed transformed into a sacred space where love and survival intertwined. The room, once a sterile chamber of uncertainty, now blossomed into a sanctuary of renewal and hope. The delicate dance of their shared gazes painted the walls with the colors of understanding, where unspoken words wove a narrative of connection stronger than any adversity.

The cadence of their breaths, synchronized in the quiet sanctuary, became a hymn of gratitude for the fragile yet enduring moments life had bestowed upon them. The outside world, with its chaos and uncertainties, seemed distant, held at bay by the sanctuary they had created within the hospital room. It was a haven where time, for that moment, ceased to be a relentless force and instead became a gentle companion, allowing them to savor the exquisite beauty of being together.

In that room, the resilience of the human spirit was not merely an abstract concept but a tangible force, pulsating through the air with each shared heartbeat. Their whispered promises, delicate yet profound, lingered in the spaces between them, creating an ethereal connection that surpassed the confines of the hospital walls.

And so, in the quiet embrace of their intertwined love, the hospital room became a canvas where the intricacies of life's tapestry unfolded. The fragility of existence, highlighted by the shadow left behind by the horrors of Shibuya, found solace in the enduring strength of their shared promise—a promise to weather the storms, celebrate the joys, and traverse the unpredictable terrain of life hand in hand.

facts about nanami's relationships: genmei is the person nanami trusts the most, to the point that she knew everything about his life after he left jujutsu high. they met up often to talk about how life was shit while drinking. nobuhiko and nanami were polar opposites when they met. nobuhiko was like suguru and nanami was more like satoru in terms of beliefs. but even more opposite in personality as nobuhiko is more like satoru there and nanami is more like suguru. the person that mediated between each fight was haibara. the first person nanami introduced to his wife was genmei, and they got along pretty fast. the second was nobuhiko, just after nanami and his wife got together when he got back to jujutsu. genmei and nanami have a food blog together, where they document their favorite foods across missions. since they share a similar food palate, that's how they know what to eat when they're near by. genmei, nobuhiko and nanami visit haibara often, together and separately. they often gather to drink beside haibara's grave on his birthday and death day. genmei and satoru were the two witnesses at nanami and his wife's wedding. because satoru was the one who made the process speedy, he's been irritating nanami about naming his first born after gojo satoru. nanami's wife said she'd consider it. nanami refuses.

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ryomku · 5 months ago

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thank you satoru - gojo satoru

synopsis: Thanks for looking at the cherry blossoms with me Satoru.

character: Gojo Satoru

tags: gojo satoru x reader, gn! reader, one sided crush, angst, no happy ending, use of y/n, no curses au!

a/n: apologies in advance for any mistakes, english is not my first language, curse you gege this is all your fault, not proofread it's like 1 am y'all I'm just sad and stressed lmao

a/n 2: took some inspo from the song: 8 Letters by Why Don't We.

You are the one who knows me best and the one who hurts me most, yet here we are seeing each other.

“Why do I pull you close but then ask you for space?”

“Am I just hurting myself?”

“Why is it so difficult to tell you that I love you?”

Isn't it amazing?

Like every day we meet without missing a beat, days where we love and hate each other.

“Are we going to change it?”

We don't know yet.

“Can I touch your heart?”

“How can I get closer to you?”

Surely I won't be able to, knowing how you are like with a heart that's as hard as stone and cold as ice. Yet, you made mine fragile like glass I am at my limit and anything can easily break it.

“Will the day that I deserve you come by?”

Let me be your love.

It's always you, you're always the one who hurts me, you make an impact in my life.

“Why can't I make an impact in your life?”

I know that if I curse at you it won't hurt, I know that if I yell at you it won't matter and I know that if I leave you won't miss me.

I know you don't love me and I still want to keep trying to win you over even if it's in vain.

“Could you do me a favor, Satoru?” Although I wanted to look into your eyes at that moment, mine only focused on the cherry blossoms and the soft pink petals that fall softly and delicately touch the ground.

I know he doesn't care about me but I still want him to do one last thing for me, I know I've bothered him too much but this is the last thing I ask of you my friend.

“What do you want me to do idiot?”

“Could you take me outside to see the cherry blossoms?”

I know I'm asking a lot of you, but please just do this for me. I fell for you many years ago and I want to be in your arms this time once and for all.

“Sure, I'll take you right now if that's okay.”

“Perfect.”

Every look, every touch makes me want to give you all of me, but I can't and I never will be able to, I know, I know that I don't deserve you and that I'm not enough for you, but at least my dream will come true.

You took me by the hand to the backyard of my house, helped me go down the stairs and stopped every time I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I'm sorry to give you so much work for this last favor.

We walked to the other side of the garden and sat under the cherry tree, as always sitting next to each other. I didn't like it but since this is the last favor I ask of you, I might as well change things. With some effort I got up from my place and let myself fall gently between your legs sensing that you were startled by how sudden everything was, I took your arms and put them around my shoulders so that you could give me a hug.

“Sometimes I wonder, what would happen if I found a soul like mine?”

“What do you mean dumbass?” Those ways you call me don't hurt me anymore Gojo, nothing hurts me anymore.

“I would like to find someone who loves me like I love that person, I want someone who loves me for who I am and not for what I do or what I can give them, I want someone who understands me and is there for me when needed, I would have loved to meet someone like that.”

“You and your love things.”

I know you don't understand them because you don't feel it the way I feel it for you Satoru, I know you don't feel it and you won't.

The sky was painted in dark colors and the clouds looked even more beautiful than before. I adore sunsets and even more so if it's with someone I love, even if that someone doesn't love me like I love them.

I wanted to tell you what I felt at that moment but I know that if I do you will live with that guilt that you did nothing to love me more and I don't like when you feel guilty, I wanted us to have a future in which we continued playing and being side by side like we've done since we were children but Satoru I can't do it anymore.

If I could be half of what you think of me, I could learn to do anything and maybe then you could love me for who I am.

I always thought I was bad but look at you, you are the best, how much I adore you and how much I love you.

Thank you for all these years my faithful friend, my confidant and my love, I will never be able to thank you for everything you have done for me, but at least I enjoyed all these years by your side my beloved, but it is time to go, maybe it hurts you that I'm leaving or maybe not, but I want to think that I am special to you and that at least in some way you love me, even if it's just as a friend.

Thank you for letting yourself be loved without knowing it.

“Thank you for seeing the cherry blossoms with me Satoru, thank you.”

“No problem, I don't mind doing this with you Y/N.”

You very rarely called me by my name, thank you for doing it in the end Satoru

“Satoru, I adore you.”

For the last time I felt my face get wet from the hot tears that I shed for the last time and for the last time I was able to see the cherry blossoms.

Closing my eyes along with the last beats of this sick heart.

Thank you Gojo Satoru, I love you.

The white haired boy felt his friend's body go limp in his arms, tightening the hug on the other body to feel its warmth.

“Did you fall asleep Y/N?”

His friend was finally in eternal slumber, it's a shame that the blue eyed boy didn't notice and slept next to his already dead friend.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #gojo x you

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gumiluver · 11 months ago

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AN ODE TO YOU ~ NANAMI KENTO

synopsis: a visit to malaysia <3

lovers <3: afab!reader, nanami kento

byr: the content in this fic is most suitable for mature audiences, individuals under the age of 17 please do not interact, contains mature themes

cw: angst, bittersweet, self-indulgent (gege why…), this is a rlly sad one guys :(

✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧

Perhaps, in another lifetime, you both would have made it to your destination honeymoon.

The warm salty air, the fresh breeze that makes the palm trees sway in the wind. A beautiful expansive ocean holding the unknown wonders and mysteries of this god-foresaken land.

This same land that now holds him, indefinitely.

It was he, who first brought it up to you, confessing his deepest desires to you at the dead of night. Afterglow of pure bliss radiating upon his tanned skin, accentuating his finely sculpted body that was delicately intertwined with yours. Blonde hair messily scattered about as his eyes bore upon yours, filled with a love unforeseen by the likes of many.

A love so deep and pure that it transcends time itself.

“Malaysia…” he whispers to you, shifting his hand around to caress the side of your face. His thumb giving gentle swipes along your cheek, causing a blush to spread across your already warm face. He smiles and pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, wanting to see the goddess before him basque in the silent bliss of his love. A gentle hum omits from your mouth, beckoning for him to further elaborate on his thoughts.

“Malaysia is where I’ll make you my wife, [y/n],”

Your heart skips a beat. The hefty rock on your left finger suddenly feeling warm over the mention of your wedding and honeymoon. A place that would allow the both of you to unwind with each other and enjoy the peaceful harmony that is your union, together.

You smile brightly and envelop him with a passionate kiss that takes him by surprise. He chuckles in the kiss, which makes you giggle with him. Giving each other gentle kisses, you move your hands upwards to cup his face.

His beautiful face.

So stoic, yet calming. Fine little lines gather at the corners of his eyes as he smiles. His sharp jawline and cheekbones accentuating his handsome features. His warm, tanned complexion contrasting his blonde, thick hair that you loved to play with when falling asleep in each others arms. Deep brown eyes piercing into your own, filled with so much adoration that you can’t help but tear up a bit.

“I can’t wait to marry you, Nanami Kento,”

“And I, you, my love,”

And here you are, standing in the sand as the sun beats down on you. Breathing in the fresh salty air and hearing the waves crash upon each other, just how he would have loved it.

You slowly walk up to the unsteady waves, wading your feet in the water. You hold the urn tightly in your hand, sighing a painful sigh that was laced with longing and grief.

Today, you were suppose to marry him, in your matching attire that the two of you specialized together. To hold his comforting hands and gaze into his loving eyes. To confess your unconditional love for each other as he guides you into a breathtaking kiss.

To take him as yours, forever and always, until death shall you part.

“We’re finally here, love,” you whisper, opening the urn gently, taking a moment to collect yourself as you hold the urn a bit tighter and closer.

“In another lifetime, you would have been mine forever,” you say, carefully spreading his ashes along the rustling waves. You can’t help the tears that cascade down your cheeks, the desperation in your heart wishing that it were all a nightmare.

Hoping that he was still here, with you, forever.

A solemn sigh escapes your lips as you finish spreading his ashes. You watch as the waves slowly take him away from you and you hope that maybe, just maybe, the waves will take him to the heaven that he deserved.

A heaven where he may find peace.

“Kento,” you whisper, now clenching the empty urn desperately to your chest. You let a painful sob escape, a sob with such grief that it shakes the heavens and earth. Tears flow freely from your eyes, now. You crane your neck upwards and close your eyes, wanting to curse the world for taking your love—your life—away from you.

And that’s when you felt it.

The familiar warmth of his hands just barely cupping your face. His rough thumbs swipe across your cheeks, wiping away your grief-filled tears. A gasp escapes you, and you open your eyes to see the water in front of you, no longer restless and loud, but calm. A warmth envelopes your aching heart as a bittersweet smile adorned your gentle features.

“I’ll love you forever, Kento. Until we meet again,”

✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻✧

a/n: could u tell I was coping with the trauma of losing him while writing this lolol

want something lighter in mood? check these ones out!

| <3 | <3 | <3 | (all are nsfw!)

Likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

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hellameyers · 2 months ago

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Sunday WIP

I was tagged by the lovely @gege-wondering-around once again💕. And I do so try to deliver when I can. This time, I do have a little tidbit I'm still sitting on that will perhaps some day see the light of day. I don't think I've shared this one before.

Just a little taste.

~~~~~~~~~~

Their homelands no longer welcoming. The clans were divided in their hospitality for the Varulver. Despite being descended from the gods, there were some who sought the end of the wolf people. And they very nearly had their prayers answered. The Hale clan fire was devastating. Very few of the clan were left alive. And the family that had remained nearly turned feral as they felt their bonds break one by one. The head of the clan Talia had perished along with her mate, Ivar. The eldest Lara had attempted to save their kinsmen but had perished alongside her mother, father, baby brother, Aunts, uncles, and cousins. When his mother's Spark had passed to Derek, he was overcome and transformed in a rage, terrorizing the nearby village that housed the arsonists. He left not a soul to live and removed all their weaponry. Nobody who would kill his kinsmen in their home was fit to enter the halls of Valhalla. He left them all to Hel.

Cora had found him there, chest heaving with his tortured breath, covered in the blood of his enemies, when she was able to pull him back from the brink. Her beautiful young face covered in soot, eyes still shone a brilliant gold. It brought Derek to his knees again to find her alive. It was then he had learned that his uncle Peter had been badly injured. Their cousins had been able to pull their father from the flames but could not find their mother or little brother. When they had laid their father on the cold ground, they both howled at the feeling of their mother’s bond snapping. Derek held his sister as she wept. Her tears cut rivers through her dirt streaked face. The thing had been done. Revenge was had. But it didn’t fully quench Derek’s bloodlust. He was certain nothing would ever sate him.

~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed that little morsel. Hopefully, I'll get back to it soon. It's nearly complete anyway. A quick and dirty little one off.

No pressure tags: @dear-massacre @renmackree @endwersed @jadezdominion

#tag game #wip #my wips #sterek

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sopfiista · 7 months ago

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Perfect Ending

WARNINGS!! -- Angst (not like Gege), mentions of death, death, mentions of depression, kinda just sad all over

Life seemed to flash before your eyes. Cold winter months with Geto, mugs full of hot chocolate, bundled up in thick blankets as you two chatted away, remembering the old times when you first started Jujutsu High.

Beautiful spring mornings with Shoko, online shopping for pretty floral dresses for Instagram photos you two could post with one another, finding the cutest sandals and big bows for your hair.

Summer months spent with Gojo as the two of you played with water guns and threw water balloons at each other. As Geto and Shoko watched, laughing loudly as you screamed, Gojo’s water balloon splattering all over your favorite shirt.

Those were the days. You missed them so dearly. You wished you could go back. A small smile tugged on your face. How could you forget?

Last fall- the fall you met the wonderful trio. Megumi, Nobara… and Yuji. Yuji was like a little light in this horrible world, yet he doesn’t know how destructive he is. Like a ticking time bomb. Yet, he was confident that he would be okay.

And that same fall, your life seemed to break apart. That fall, you went on a mission, being wished good luck from friends and off you went, with Nanami, to go and figure out the disruption a few cities away.

That was the day you lost your last string to stay in this world. The things you’ve seen that day- it still made a shiver go down your spin, sprouting goosebumps over your skin. The day you lost mobility.

Blood, crying, and searing hot pain in your legs was all you really remembered… and a small part of you breaking. You couldn’t go on from there.

You had already spiraled into some sort of depression, ever since around this time last year, but you kept a high head for your friends, family, and for your own sake. You couldn’t carry the burden of this anymore.

How sad. It was horrible to know that he was going to be the ending of this earth. You sighed, pulling a hand through your messy hair, pulling through the small tangles that had accumulated.

Your pen made neat writing onto the small slip of paper on your desk. Not too far stood a gun. It was soon to be your demise.

Why were you doing this? Why did you have to come to an end?

You felt a tear slip down your face and drop onto the paper. Why were you crying? There wasn’t a reason to cry… you were finally getting your release. You’ve already had a bounty over your head for millions of yen… Why should you be crying?

You read through your note, each paragraph specifically for each person. You sobbed softly, reading over Gojo’s little letter, separate from him…

You glanced at the gun a few feet away from you, your hands shaking as you wheeled yourself to the dresser, a large mirror covering the doors of your closet. You wanted your last vision to be yourself.

As you glanced over your face, a small sprout of joy seemed to bloom in your chest. You were pretty. Who knew you were pretty? Why did you care for your looks so much? You were gorgeous- almost too stunning for anyone to say otherwise. Your skin was perfect, your eyes were pretty, your cheeks seemed to mold perfectly with the shape of your face…

You were stunning.

Sighing softly, you glanced at your letters.

Gojo’s sat open on your desk. You knew he would be arriving soon.

I’ve never been more proud to consider you my only family in this cruel, fucked up world. I hope you live your best years after this. I love you, brother.

Pulling the gun to your head, you felt the cold steel of the barrel touch your temple.

You took a deep breath in, feeling your heartbeat rapidly.

You could hear soft footsteps come your way, the normal coo of your name making your head fog. He was here already?

3… you sighed softly

2… the steps came closer, the normal sing-song voice of Gojo making you smile

1… maybe he was the perfect thing to look at last. Maybe he was your last look on earth before you left it

“Hey, are you gonna answer me, stupid?” The normal tuft of white hair came into view, looking at you with those pretty diamond eyes. He had made that promise- to never wear that stupid headband over his eyes… just for you.

BANG!

Hopefully, he wouldn't hate you for this.

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #angst #jjk angst #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #tw death

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gentil-minou · 10 months ago

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wangixan modern au ft. a-yuan and big lwj wearing tiny dragonji costume

happy new year!

Wei Wuxian takes A-Yuan along with the Wens to check out the fireworks and light display. It's well past his bed time but everyone is having a blast!

That is until A-Yuan goes missing...

Wwx didn't even let go of his hand for more than a second, just to adjust the pile of sweets they'd bought from the market stalls. But when he reaches down to grab A-Yuan's hand, only chilling empty space greets him.

"A-Yuan?" Wwx whispers, not quite believing he'd lost a child in this crowd of what must thousands gathered by the waterfront.

"A-Yuan!!!"

"Wei-ge, what's wrong?" Sweet innocent Wen Ning asks, not realizing it's officially the worst day of their lives. What a horrific end to the year.

At least Wen Qing wasn't the one to find him, otherwise wwx might not make it to the new year at all.

Wwx frantically explains the situation and then, once he's dumped his haul with WN along with solemn orders to stay out in case A-Yuan returns, wwx runs off to search for him in the crowd.

He barrels through the crowd, heedless of the shoving but keeping a careful eye on the ground since A-Yuan would be too short to see over their heads.

He's not back at the market stalls nor is he dangling off the railing to get a better look at the colorful lanterns dotting the river, thankfully. He's not hiding in the crowd of kids listening to a storyteller weave a tale of dragons heralding in the new year.

As wwx whirls around again, the crowd blurring into nothing but streaks of color, his ears turn their cheers into taunts and jeering.

He can't—he can't lose A-Yuan. Not A-Yuan…not after everything. A-Yuan!!!

But no matter where he looks, there's no trace of his little radish.

He hastily rubs away the tears from his eyes and grits his teeth before more can fall. Theres no way he can give up now.

The crowd begins to thin the further away they get from the light display. A-Yuan had been most excited about seeing "the dragon in the sky!!!" so there's little chance he'd be here...but wwx is willing to scour the earth for as long as it takes.

Frankly, he's debating diving into the river to search that too, just in case, when he hears a beautiful, wonderful, familiar joyous shout.

"Gege!"

Relieved tears flood his vision as he spins around and drops to his knees to welcome his little radish and never let go…

Except, although that is A-Yuan's excited shout, wwx isn't the one A-Yuan is talking to.

"Dragon-gege, this way!"

No…the one A-Yuan is clinging to, tiny little hands wrapped around oversized synthetic claws, is a person dressed as a life-sized cartoon dragon mascot.

(Please imagine, for your viewing pleasure, a life-size version of tiny dragonji. Thank you)

His costume looks less like a dragon and more like…

When Wei Wuxian was young, he'd seen a tv show about a big purple dinosaur that was really more terrifying than kid friendly.

That's what this guy looks like, except his suit is light blue with a hole cut out for his face that's just out of view with how he's turned away. And written on his big white belly are the characters for "Gusu Electronics."

Wait.

Gusu Electronics?

Finally, the man turns, giving WWX a full view of his face that holy shit happens to be, of all people, his old dormmate Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji. Lan Zhan, who Wei Wuxian hasn't seen in years since he'd dropped out of school for reasons, who he'd never said goodbye to…

Who is currently being dragged around by a toddler while wearing a giant dragon costume, with all the solemnity of a king.

WWX bursts into laughter, lighting him up from the inside.

A-Yuan is safe. That's what matters most. Lan Wangji would keep him safe.

A-Yuan is also clearly trying to guide his bewildered Dragon-gege away. Though Lan Wangji's expression is still so difficult to read, it's clear from his hesitancy that he's not sure how to handle A-Yuan's stubborn determination to get his way.

WWX decides to put the poor dragon-guy out of his misery.

"Lan Zhan!"

At sound of his name, LWJ whirls around, the plastic horns on his costume bobbing dangerously with the movement.

Unfortunately, the tail attached to the back of his costume whips around too, knocking A-Yuan over.

WWX howls with laughter at the sight of A-Yuan on his bottom, staring up at LWJ with a look of utter betrayal only a 5-year-old can muster.

LWJ's puffy dragon arms reach out towards him as he glances back and forth between WWX and A-Yuan, eyes wide and stricken.

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan wait! Let me help!" WWX sputters between lingering stray giggles.

Something about wearing a glorified dragon onesie makes LWJ look especially vulnerable. Even his horns seem to droop and the feathery scales that circle his head look sheepish.

WWX helps A-Yuan back to his feet, though that doesn't stop the boy from looking balefully up at LWJ.

If it were possible for a grown man to deflate, that would be it. LWJ attempts to kneel in forgiveness, only it looks like the padding in his knees is too thick to do so.

Instead, he inclines his head—also difficult given that this his costume doesn't have any actual neck to twist—and apologizes seriously.

A-Yuan narrows his eyes and gives his Dragon-gege a cold, hard stare.

Finally, he deems his apology satisfactory and nods, then promptly sticks his thumb in his mouth.

WWX has to bite his cheek to keep from dissolving into a giggling puddle.

"So! Lan Zhan! What are you doing, uh, dressed like that."

A-Yuan tugs on his hand, drawing his attention, "That's Dragon-gege, Xian-gege."

"Ah yes of course, my mistake, Dragon-gege. May I ask what your esteemed self is doing?"

LWJ glowers at him, which means WWX /has/ to send him a cheeky, teasing grin in response.

"…Xiongzhang volunteered me." LWJ replies, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

"Ah, that makes more sense! Why else would the Gusu heir be wearing a costume like this?"

WWX would know; one of his part-time jobs involved dressing up as a meatbun during a humid stretch of summer. Definitely not something Lan Zhan would do for fun.

A-Yuan gasps. "Whoa~ Dragon-gege is an heir? Like a prince? Dragon-gege is Prince Dragon-gege!"

"That's right A-Yuan. Remember, how to greet princes? Just like in Popo's dramas?"

A-Yuan proceeds to execute a pretty accurate, if somewhat messy, curtsy, his two hands pressed together and his face adorably serious.

LWJ looks like he's about to combust, maybe actually breathe fire. The thought sends WWX into another round of uncontrollable giggles

A-Yuan directs his patented big, pleading brown eyes up at LWJ, and oh no. WWX knows that look.

"Will Prince Dragon-gege leave now that A-Yuan found his Xian-gege?" A-Yuan's lower lip wobbles. Oh, the little fiend. "He won't play with A-Yuan anymore?"

LWJ's mouth flops open like a fish trapped on land. A-Yuan adds more of a pout and twist back and forth.

WWX knows the next step if he doesn't get his way is to bring out the crocodile tears, and he's sure that will actually make LWJ combust. As much as he's enjoying seeing his old friend, if he's technically working they can't monopolize all his time.

"Come on little radish, time for dragon princes to run off for their palace. We can't keep him too long, he's got a new year to bring in!"

Unfortunately, this has the opposite effect and now A-Yuan's act has dropped into wide-eyed wonder as he looks at LWJ like a treasured deity.

"Wow! Dragon-gege brings in the new year? We have to play, Xian-gege! For luck!"

This is definitely something Uncle Four taught him, but now A-Yuan is sending the full force of those doe eyes at /WWX/, and WWX is a weak man.

"No! Not the A-Yuan eyes! Anything but that!" He tries to shy away, only for A-Yuan to tug on his arm until they're eye level.

He sets those beams to kill and WWX staggers under the weight of their cuteness.

At least A-Yuan is giggling and completely focused on making his Xian-gege fall over. WWX uses his genius distrction to wave LWJ away, gesturing for him to escape.

Except apparently Lan Wangji sucks at charades because instead of tucking his dragon tail and running off, he says, "I can stay. And celebrate. With A-Yuan and Wei Ying."

WWX jaw drops as A-Yuan cheers and dances happy circles around his Dragon-gege.

WWX tries to pull him aside. Luckily, A-Yuan's excited shouts drown out his whispers. "Lan Zhan, you, you know you don't have to right?"

LWJ gives him a look he can't read, but if he had to he'd assume it meant "Duh" in Lan Wangji-speak.

"I know, I want to."

WWX blinks, trying and failing to understand why anyone would want to spend their New Years dressed in a dragon costume while hanging out with a college drop-out and a toddler who's too good at manipulation.

But before he can protest, LWJ reaches out his hand for A-Yuan to grab and they're off. It's all WWX can do to catch up and run after them, shouting, "Hey! Wait for me!"

LWJ must know this festival better than them, because he instantly finds the best stalls and booths, with games that catch A-Yuan's eye and food that makes WWX drool.

His aim should be terrible and he should be at least a little uncoordinated considering what he's wearing, but no, not at all. Apparently LWJ is somehow stronger wearing a dragon costume, as if he's actually got some new abilities that lead him to win every game and every prize.

Somehow, he even manages to pay for everything too. Before WWX can so much as shuffle the pile of stuffed animals in arm aside to grab his wallet, LWJ has dug up some cash from whatever hidden pocket is in his suit.

He can't find it in himself to really complain though.

Back when they shared that small dormroom, LWJ was always doing things like this. Buying whatever they needed and paying for WWX even when he didn't ask, especially when he didn't ask.

He hasn't had anyone to do this for him in years. He and the Wens are always struggling to make end's meet, so any splurging they do is communal.

WWX had forgotten what if felt like to be taken care of like this. He'd forgotten the warmth that lit up his belly whenever LWJ wordlessly handed something to him. Like sitting next to a comforting campfire.

As midnight approaches, A-Yuan starts dozing off, his tanghulu gradually slipping out of his hand before WWX manages to save it

In one fluid movement, LWJ bends and lifts A-Yuan into his arms, resting his head against his shoulder where the puffy fabric of his costume is softest

A little part of WWX is jealous; he wouldn't mind cuddling with Dragon-gege too.

The other part is too busy trying to get a picture of them as LWJ walks off. WWX immediately sets the photo as his background, refusing to think too much about how his heart races.

Lan Wangji guides them over to a space cordoned off from the rest of the crowd. It must be where festival workers can hang back and relax, and it's blessedly peaceful here. Perfect for A-Yuan to relax.

"You know that costume of yours has its perks, Lan Zhan!" WWX says, whistling at the view. From here they can see the drones dancing overhead along with a pretty decent angle at the barge where fireworks sit at the ready. "Though all those kids wanting to take a picture, only for you to frown at them and scare them away! Haha! Maybe it isn't your thing after all."

LWJ lets out a breath that sounds a bit like a huff as he adjusts A-Yuan, cradling him closer to protect him from the slight breeze.

"This is usually Xiongzhang's idea of celebration. I am simply filling in."

WWX hums his acknowledgement, silently thanking Lan Xichen for giving him this good fortune today. He hangs over the railing, watching the current flow by and the shifting festival lights moving like stars in its waves.

He rests his head in his arms and glances over his shoulder

Lan Wangji stands with his eyes closed, enjoying what must be a refreshing breeze as he rocks slowly side to side. Just beneath the festival reverly, Wei Wuxian can hear him humming under his breath. Something soothing and melancholic as he rocks A-Yuan back and forth.

Even with all the pretty festival lights, and the fireworks that will launch any minute now, WWX finds he has no desire to look away. Something about the peaceful serenity on Lan Wangji, the way lanterns cast pretty patterns over his smooth skin. How his eyelashes cast long, fluttering shadows. The hint of a smile, the slightest tease lingering at the corner of his lips.

Why would Wei Wuxian ever look away?

A gust of wind tosses his hair and disturbs LWJ's costume enough for it to slip, revealing the side of his face covered in sweat and tiny strands of hair glued to his skin. LWJ's nose twitches, one of the feathery stands jutting out of his costume tickling him.

But with the limited range of movement his costume provides and the way what little is available is focused on holding a sleeping child, there's little LWJ can do other than contort his face to try and move the strand away.

When he starts blowing air out fruitlessly, his puffed up cheeks sticking out against his costume's hoodie, WWX chuckles softly and reaches over.

"Here, let me."

He carefully moves the strand aside and adjusts the costume so it's back in place. His fingers, cold from the late night winter chill, blaze with the heat of LWJ's skin.

His fingers brush against LWJ's cheekbones. How can skin be so soft?

LWJ stares back at him, eyes wide as the full moon overhead. In its reflection, his eyes seem almost gold with the light of a thousand lanterns living in them.

A hush falls over as WWX's fingers linger over his skin. He doesn't want to pull his hand away. He finds there's nothing he'd want to do less.

LWJ breaths in, and his exhale tickles WWX's nose. When did they get so close?

Distantly, the countdown begins.

Their eyes are still locked when the first fireworks are sent into the sky, a cascade of starfall lighting up the night. Colorful drones dance around them, transforming into a giant dragon chasing after the moon.

"Look, Dragon-gege. Is that you?" comes A-Yuan's sleepy voice from where it's tucked in his shoulder.

Finally, LWJ drags his gaze away from WWX, though tingles still race up his spine. He glances at the sky and says, "No, it's another dragon."

"Does that mean you'll stay here, with us?"

WWX heart clenches as he waits for his answers. LWJ looks at him as he replies, "Mn. If you will have me, yes I will."

The fireworks exploding overhead cannot be as loud as the drumming in WWX's ears.

But A-Yuan isn't finished tearing WWX apart. "Then make sure you kiss. That's the only way it will come true."

"A-Yuan!" WWX sputters. "Really, who taught you these things? That's not—Lan Zhan doesn't need to kiss m—anyone if he—"

"I meant /me/, Xian-gege," A-Yuan explains like hes the one explaining things to a toddler. He rolls his eyes and promptly kisses Lan Wangji on the cheek, happy giggles ringing as fireworks burst overhead.

A smirk twists across Lan Wangji's lips as Wei Wuxian gapes at them.

"Hey! That's not fair! Where's my kiss?"

LWJ lifts an eyebrow. "Would Wei Ying like a New Years' kiss as well?"

WWX's cheeks flame brighter than the fireworks. "I meant from—from—I didn't mean—Lan Zhan!"

A-Yuan giggles as LWJ huffs a laugh that works its way right into WWX's heart. Twin conspiratorial half-smiles creep across their faces, lit up by flashing colors.

LWJ leans over, and together he and A-Yuan kiss WWX's cheeks. A-Yuan's kiss is wet and messy, but the softness of LWJ's lips leave WWX cradling his cheek long after he pulls away, wishing he could trap the feeling there.

"I—I…That—"

"Hehe, Happy New Year, Xian-gege! Dragon-gege!" A-Yuan slips from LWJ's arms and leans against the railing, content to ignore them as he watches the rest of the show.

"Happy New Year, Wei Ying." LWJ says, still wearing that half-smile that twists WWX's insides.

WWX ignores how he must be a blushing mess and leans against LWJ, whose puffy costumed arm slides around his back, lending him warmth as the sky erupts above.

"Why did you have to wear this stupid costume anyway. We could be holding hands," he pouts.

LWJ huffs another silent laugh and presses a soft kiss against the crown of WWX's head.

WWX closes his eyes to savor the moment, then leans back and rests against LWJ, puffy glorified dragon onesie and all.

As he watches the show overhead reach its exciting concluding, listening to A-Yuan's quiet gasps and LWJ's soothing breathing, WWX makes a resolution.

Next year, he'll get a proper New Years kiss.

#Pretty pleased with this considering my only thought when coming up with this was “What if tiny dragonji but w/ life-sized LWJ dressed up as #My wish for the year is a Free Palestine and a collapse of the colonial powers 🍉🕊️#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #a-yuan #mdzs fanfiction #bushy writing #mdzs musings

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