#I’ve only know pain since getting into jjk. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yandere-daydreams · 5 months ago

Text

Title: Or Someone Finds The Lid.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader x Yandere!Geto (JJK).

Word Count: 8.0k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @elsecrytt.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Prolonged Captivity, Severe Infantilization, Forced Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Wildly Unhealthy Dynamics, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Geto Suguru has an Oral Fixation, Gojo Satou has a Mommy Kink, and Nonconsensual Drug Use. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part One]

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

It had to be close to the hundredth time you’d in the past week, in the days since you woke up in a distressingly pastel bedroom, hostage to your two always worryingly possessive, but only recently deranged boyfriends. You knew, more concretely, that it was around the eleventh time you’d spouted that exact line today and the fourth time in the past hour, and as always, you were answered with a sympathetic glance, a patronizingly sweet smile. You could only be thankful it was coming from Satoru, this time. Suguru would’ve been much more condescending.

“Because we love you.” Another common sentiment, purred with just as much enthusiasm as it had been the first time you’d heard it, or the twelfth, or the forty-seventh. “And because you look good in pink.”

You sighed audibly, and Satoru pretended not to notice – only pulling you that much closer and resting his head on your shoulder. You were quickly learning that personal space, like many prior luxuries you hadn’t known to enjoy, was a right that Satoru and Suguru could revoke at will. Currently, your body was folded against Satoru’s – your back slotted against his chest and his legs spread on either side of you, the chain still attached to your ankle spread out over the mattress and the handheld console he was only partially focused on balanced on your lap. You tried to treasure the opportunity to stare mindlessly at a screen (a special privilege, considering your usual means of entertainment consisted of crayons, elementary-grade chapter books, and a plastic tea set), but for whatever reason, watching Satoru play Animal Crossing for three consecutive hours was just as under stimulating as it had been pre-kidnapping.

“That’s not a real answer.” You nudged your elbow into his chest, and when that didn’t work, pushed at his arm, just trying to get his attention. Yet another perk of your newly assigned position in this relationship – Satoru and Suguru had never made an exceptional effort to listen to you before, but now, you might as well have been speaking another language. “This is just—It’s just been so much, and it’s all so frustrating, and I don’t—”

And, just like that, you were tearing up – your vision going foggy as you struggled to hold back tears, to swallow down the whine building at the base of your throat. It was less that you’d been crying more easily and more than you were always on the verge of tears; your anger and frustration and confusion constantly at their peaks, just waiting for an excuse to spill over and leak out. Immediately, Satoru dropped his console, cooing softly as he scooped you up and turned you around. You moved to hide your face, but he was faster, more determined – his hands cupping your cheeks before you could swat him away. You weren’t crying yet, not really, but he took pains to hum and kiss away the few tears that escaped despite your best efforts. It was alarming, that crying was the only thing that consistently got them to hear you out. You tried not to think about the implications of that when paired with the pastel-pink aesthetic and the overall toddler-adjacent treatment.

“I’m really frustrated, ‘toru,” you repeated, melting into his hands. There was another coo, another peck to your forehead, before you went on. “I just— I need to know why you’re doing this. You can tell me that much, can’t you?”

“I’ve already told you, baby. It’s because we—” You cut in with a miserable, heart-breakingly pathetic sniffle, and Satoru pouted, shaking his head. Still, he broke quickly enough. “Look, you know that Suguru and I had it kinda rough before we met you, right? When we were growing up, I mean.”

Vaguely. You knew that Suguru’s parents died while he was in high school, that it’d been some kind of freak accident, but he didn’t like to talk about it. You’d met Satoru’s family once, but ‘met’ might’ve been the wrong word for it. Really, you’d sat in the antechamber of an estate the side of a small shopping mall for a little over an hour, answering questions asked by a woman who hadn’t introduced herself before being informed that, while you were not deemed a suitable partner for Satoru, you also weren’t dangerous enough to be worth the effort it would take to actively keep you away from him. Most of the time, you just tried to pretend that neither of your former partners, current captors had any immediate family.

Reluctantly, you nodded, and Satoru rewarded you with another kiss – this one to the corner of your jaw. “I know you probably don’t get it, but me and Suguru – we care about you, we care about you a lot. And the world’s a really, really dangerous place. If something happened to you out there…” He trailed off, laughing airily. An arm looped around your waist, pulling you into his lap, his chest. Instead of trying to resist, you curled against him, burying your face in his shirt as he rubbed slow, small circles into the small of your back. “You’re better off here. Getting to keep you all to ourselves is just a bonus.”

You wanted to scream, to bash your fists against his chest, to point out that they were the only people who’d ever isolated, assaulted, or kidnapped you, but he was doing what you asked him to, and the worst thing you could’ve done was give him a reason not to be as generous in the future. “…I don’t understand why you had to do—” You nodded towards your clothes – a set of bright pink cotton pajamas dotted with strawberries – then the rest of the room. “—this, though, if you’re trying to keep me safe. Couldn’t you have just… not?”

Another laugh, this one more sincere. “That part’s just for us.” This time, when he squeezed you against his chest, he didn’t let go until you were squirming against him, struggling to breathe. “Suguru does tend to let the roleplay get a little out-of-hand, but it really does help. There’s just something about seeing you all sweet n’ dressed up, surrounded by cute, soft things...” He trailed off with an airy laugh. “Makes me feel… secure, y’know? Like we’re keeping you safe.”

Something thick and jagged caught in your throat. “…this was Suguru’s idea?”

If he heard you, then that was a question he wasn’t interested in answering. “I meant the other part, too.” And then, with a slightly longer, more lingering kiss to the apex of your throat. “You look really good in pink.”

You felt it a second later – a familiar shape pressing into your ass, already worryingly stiff. You pulled away from him, your disgust too reflexive to hide. “…it gets you hard to see adult women dressed like first-graders?”

“No, princess.” A pause, a sudden nip to the side of your neck. “It gets me hard when you dress like a first-grader.”

Thankfully, before you had time to start to unpack that, you heard the bedroom door open and glanced over your shoulder to find Suguru leaning against the frame. Concern was written clearly across his expression, but it dulled to affectionate exasperation when he saw Satoru wiping away your non-existent tears. “I thought I heard a struggle,” he explained, unprompted. You hadn’t put up much of a physical fight yet, but they were both clearly concerned you would – the literal chain around your ankle was evidence enough of that. “Is it time for the little princess to take her medicine?”

You seized up at the mention of your ‘medicine’ – sedatives administered in the form of tiny, heart-shaped pills that left you exhausted and disoriented for hours at a time, if they didn’t knock you out entirely. It was what they’d used the night they’d taken you, and Suguru seemed to like to pull them out whenever you cried, or screamed, or did anything they should’ve known to expect from an acclimating victim.

To his credit, Satoru didn’t jump at the opportunity to drug you into oblivion. Not this time, at least. “She got a little overwhelmed. I took care of it.” You slumped against him, letting yourself relax. That was your mistake, really. Maybe you should’ve had more realistic expectations, too. “But,” he went on, pushing another, sloppier kiss into your neck. “She’s still pretty fragile. A few hours off probably wouldn’t hurt.”

It was awful – how easily they could talk about you like some distant, abstract subject, how quickly they seemed to forget you were capable of listening when not addressed directly. With a smile, Suguru moved forward, resting one knee on the edge of your mattress while Satoru held you in place – keeping you from scrambling back as far as your chain would allow. You tried to grit your teeth, to keep your mouth shut, but Suguru only clicked his tongue, cupping your face with one hand while pressing something small and chalky against your pursed lips with the other. “Darling,” he drawled, infusing as much syrupy condescension into the pet name as was humanly possible. “You remember what happens to bad girls who don’t do what they’re told, don’t you?”

Instantly, your heart dropped. You remembered.

Driving your nails into your palms, you unlocked your jaw and hesitantly opened your mouth. Suguru barely waited for your lips to part before shoving the pill past your teeth and down your throat, keeping two lingers lodged in your airway even as you sputtered and gagged around him. It was less that you swallowed his pill and more that you would’ve had to choke down anything he all-but force-fed you, but whatever you called it, Suguru was satisfied – drawing back with a pleased hum only to tap his saliva-coated fingers against Satoru’s lips, instead. You shut your eyes, but it wasn’t enough.

The last thing you heard were the wet, stomach-turning noises of Satoru’s affection before everything went fuzzy.

You only really acted out once – about three weeks in, when the initial adrenaline was starting to fade and the slow, vicious dread of prolonged captivity had just begun to set in. You weren’t allowed to leave your windowless, ambiently lit bedroom, and by end of the first week, time had turned into something viscous and unforgiving, the endless hours only broken up by visits from Satoru and Suguru. It was hard not to be constantly on edge – unsure if you’d been alone for hours and minutes, simultaneously dying to see them again and hoping you never would. It was hard to tell what they were thinking, when you were so caught in in your own spiraling thoughts to try and guess at theirs.

Speaking of – their dynamic had become a little clearer, even if how things had spiraled out of control so quickly was still lost on you. You and Satoru had always been the dominant personalities in your relationship, with Suguru as the calming presence that leveled the two of you out, setting arguments and keeping you from tearing out each other’s throats. Now, though, the roles were reversed. Satoru was happy enough to spend most of his time treating you like an oversized, particularly uncooperative stuffed animal; something to cuddle and coo over, but not necessarily train or expect to reciprocate. Suguru, though…

Suguru had expectations.

“I need you to hold still, love.”

Suguru’s fingers brushed over your spine as he fiddled with the complex array of buttons lining the back of tonight’s nightgown. You’d seen your closest, knew they must’ve spent a small fortune on dresses and shoes and accessories, but Suguru still seemed to prefer you in sheer, cotton nightgowns and lacey lingerie and humiliatingly childish loungewear – nothing you would’ve been able to wear outside of home, even if you’d put it on willingly. It was a blessing that Suguru and Satoru were as busy as they were – Satoru with his classes and Suguru with his religious group. Most of the time, you’d find Suguru’s chosen outfit on the foot of your bed and be trusted to dress yourself. Most of the time.

Just not tonight.

“Someone’s a little antsy.” It was Satoru, this time, as unhelpful as ever. He was sprawled across your bed, toying idly with your chain while you sat in front of a vanity on the other side of the room, deliberately avoiding your reflection in the tri-fold mirror. “You should’ve let me play with her in the tub. Then, she wouldn’t have the energy to squirm.”

You felt your face burn. As if being forced to drink out of sippy cups and color with crayons wasn’t enough, bathtime was quickly becoming one of your most unbearable daily trails. Suguru always made sure things stayed above-board, but having to watch Satoru fuck his own fist while Suguru lovingly dictated where, when, and how roughly to clean yourself wasn’t much better than the alternative.

“Absolutely not. You’re too rough, and the last thing we want is for our princess to get bruised because you can’t wait another half an hour.” Fenagling the last button into place, Suguru straightened his back, sighing contentedly. “Can you turn around for me?”

Biting down on the side of your tongue, you shifted on the velvet-cushioned stool, your back pressing into the edge of the vanity’s counter as you faced Suguru. You’d made a point of not looking at yourself, but you could imagine what he saw – a thin nightgown clinging to your damp skin, your posture shrunken and your eyes downcast, every part of you made to seem small and helpless. If the feeling of his gaze burning into you wasn’t telling enough, the overwhelming delight audible in his voice would’ve given him away in a heartbeat. “Satoru, you have your phone, right? I want a picture. And—oh.” Your eyes darted in his direction just in time to see him pull a stuffed animal from one of the larger stacks; a large, white rabbit teddy, its button eyes an overly familiar shade of blue. He held it by its ears as he handed it to you. “Hold onto this for a second, love.”

You felt something tighten in your chest. You were in a bad position. You were in a bad place. You needed to be careful, and yet, when you finally managed to say something, you could only seem to spit out the one thing you knew he wouldn’t want to hear. “I… I really don’t want to take a picture right now, if that’s alright.”

To his credit, Suguru’s didn’t falter, his grin only wavering slightly. “Love,” He paused, sighed. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to.”

“I know, but—” Your breath hitched in your throat. Really, it was a miracle you weren’t already crying. “Please, Suguru. Not right now.”

His expression darkened, and yet, the gentle sigh that slipped past his lips was nothing short of tender. Still holding the rabbit, he reached out – catching the lace of your nightgown’s collar with two fingers. For a second, he just played with the delicate fabric, careful not to damage it.

Then, before you could think to react, his fist was around your neck and you were being slammed into the vanity.

There was enough force behind the collision to splinter the wood upon impact, to knock the air out of your lungs and seed an awful knot of blinding pain in the back of your head. You gasped, but it was too late – his fist tightened around your throat and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move save what it took for your hands to find his and dig your nails into his wrist, his forearm, his knuckles, whatever you could reach. You never would’ve been able to pry him off, but you didn’t need to. He released you as abruptly as he’d lunged, and without his support, your body dropped off of the vanity’s now-dented desk and onto the carpeted floor, your dress falling into a limp heap around you. You were too shocked to cry, to sob, to scream. Suguru and Satoru had kidnapped you, dehumanized you, isolated you, but neither of them had ever hurt you. They’d never—

Except, that wasn’t true, was it? They had hurt you. The first thing Suguru ever didwas hurt you, bending you over his knee the second you disobeyed him, and Satoru helped.

For your own sake, you decided to consider this an escalation, a new development. Something neither of them would’ve been capable of, back when you still considered them your Suguru and your Satoru.

You also decided, still for your own sake, that you couldn’t afford to think about this any longer. Suguru was already moving on, lowering himself to your height, pouting as he raked his fingers through your now-disheveled hair and evaluated your newly wrinkled dress. “I’m sorry, princess. I must’ve lost my temper. I know you must be upset – having your pretty outfit ruined and all.”

He waited a beat, then asked, “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

If you hadn’t been so scared, you might’ve slapped him. Instead, you just bit down on your bottom lip and mumbled an unsure “I… I’m sorry?”

“For what, exactly?”

“For—For talking back, and making you angry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, love, I know. You would never mean to do anything like that.” He was still holding onto that fucking rabbit. You felt its velvet-soft material brush against your leg as he placed it, almost carefully, on the floor next to you. “I’ll tell you what – there don’t have to be any pictures. Why don’t you take your medicine, and we can allgo to bed?”

“No!” It was a purely automatic response, as reflexive as lashing out and latching onto his arm. When you realized what you were doing, you pulled away with a jolt, forcing your hands back into your lap and staring wide-eyed at the floor. “I mean, I’m sorry, I just—” You swallowed harshly. “Isn’t there… uh, another option? Please?”

Suguru opened his mouth, but Satoru cut in before he had the chance to answer. “Think it’s time to break out her pacifier, Suguru?”

You perked up. No part of you wanted to suck on a piece of plastic for the entertainment of your captors, sure, but it was better than the alternative. Fuck, you were having trouble of thinking of something that wasn’t.

Suguru seemed to like the idea, too. He shot Satoru an appreciative smile before pushing himself to his feet, before turning his attention back to you, eagerly waiting for your next bout of psychological torture.

It was only when he reached for the waistband of his sweatpants that you realized your mistake.

You might’ve protested – or, whined, at least – but the back of your skull still ached, and you could still see Satoru smirking in your peripheral, and he was already forcing his boxers below his hips, already curling a hand around the shaft of his cock. Disgustingly, terrifyingly, he was half-hard; his bloated tip flushed a darker shade of red, beads of arousal leaking from his blunt head and dripping down his shaft. Your thoughts seemed to waver, then fry, then blot out altogether – like a video game glitching in the middle of a cut scene. Maybe you should’ve just sat still for the fucking picture after all.

“The poor thing looks so startled,” Suguru cooed, glancing to Satoru. “Why don’t you lend her a hand?”

You were vaguely aware of Satoru moving, shifting, pushing himself off of your bed and crouching behind you. His thumb pushed past your lips and hooked your lower jaw easing your mouth open with as little grace as you had remaining dignity. You tried to bite down, obviously, but Suguru took hold of your hair and pulled – the sharp spike of pain immediately dispelling any thoughts of disobedience. “He’s helping you,” Suguru chimed, his voice taking on a cloying overtone. “You’ll have to thank him properly later on. When your mouth isn’t full, I mean.”

It wasn’t, but that changed quickly. Suguru was kind enough (or cruel enough) to move slowly, easing the head of his cock past your lips first, letting it sit on your tongue as you fought not to cringe against the bitter, musky taste. Satoru pulled his hand away as Suguru eased another inch into your mouth, then another, then another – letting out a rough groan as his tip hit the back of your throat with more than half of his shaft to spare. You fought the urge to gag, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’d given him head before, but it’d always been on your own terms, with Satoru waiting on the sidelines to bail you out if you ever got tired of choking on your boyfriend’s stupidly big dick. Now, though, Satoru didn’t seem to want to do anything but breathe down your neck, and you doubted your consent was a factor either of them would stop to genuinely consider.

Ultimately, your enthusiastic cooperation proved unnecessary. Suguru kept his fingers tangled in your hair, his blunt nails biting into your scalp as he manually bobbed your head – slowly, at first, then faster, with enough force to leave your jaw sore after less than a minute of being split around his shaft. Saliva and pre-cum drooled from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chest and onto your nightgown, but if Suguru cared, the feeling of your throat convulsing around him was enough to warrant a momentary lapse in decency. “T-that’s it,” he muttered, mostly under his breath. “Good, good girl. See what happens when you’re well-behaved?”

You felt Satoru shift behind you, his hands skirting over your back as he skillfully undid the buttons Suguru had spent so much time fussing over. A pair of large, velvet-soft hands grazed over your waist, then your sides, before reaching your chest and cupping your tits – kneading the soft tissue like a pair twin stress balls fitted perfectly to his palms. “She looks better already,” Satoru laughed, thumbs swiping over your nipples. “You’re gonna thank mommy for being so nice with you, right?”

Suguru snorted. “I’m mommy?”

“Mhm. ‘cause you’re so pretty and you take such good care of our little princess.” He nudged you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “Go on, baby. Tell mommy how much you love him.”

You choked something out – more of a desperate whine than anything coherent – and Suguru threw his head back, cursing silently as his pace turned from sloppy to erratic. His cock battered into your throat with every thrust, your air supply constantly somewhere between minimal and nonexistent. It was only as the outskirts of your vision started to fade that Suguru hissed, gritting his teeth as he dragged your head into his hips, your nose pressing into his pubic bone and his cock so far down your throat, you could practically feel him in your lungs. A sudden twitch, a groaned exhale was all the warning you received before you felt something hot and thick fill your throat, your mouth, your diaphragm. He held you there for a moment, then another – savoring the sound of your fractured whimpering all-but drowned by his cum – before letting you go, watching through half-lidded eyes as you collapsed into Satoru’s waiting arms.

You lurched forward, moving to spit, to get him out of you, but Satoru’s hand was already covering your mouth – determined to keep Suguru’s taste on your tongue for that much longer. At the same time, you felt something small and soft being dropped onto your thighs, heard the shutter of a camera above you. Rather than trying to look at Suguru, you let your gaze fall to your lap.

Or, rather, the perfectly white, perfectly posed rabbit now resting peacefully on top of it.

It was two months before the chain came off – meaning, before Suguru and Satoru were happy enough with either your behavior or their security to let you roam freely (with heavy supervision, of course). It went without saying that you were ecstatic. You could barely sit still while Satoru undid the shackle, barely listen while Suguru told you their plans for the night – dinner and a movie marathon, not totally dissimilar to something you might’ve suggested when you still had the authority to be making suggestions. It didn’t matter. You were just happy to be doing anything, especially if it meant you got to leave that godawful room.

You only realized that you’d still been picturing your old apartment when you stepped out of the bedroom an abruptly realized you weren’t in an apartment at all, but a house – two stories with every window looking out onto a fence so tall, you would’ve had to be on the roof to see over it. It was decorated sparely, with what few shelves there were littered sporadically with Satoru’s gundams or parts of Suguru’s ongoing trinket collection, but minimalism was an appreciated change compared to the ongoing sensory nightmare that was your bedroom. You gawked at every empty surface, every plain white wall as Suguru herded you to the kitchen, where Satoru was busy plating what looked like udon. The seating arrangement was strange – there were only two chairs at the dining room table, but you were too caught up in your own euphoria to care. You grabbed a bowl and a pair of chopsticks, fell into a seat, and—

“Sweetheart,” Suguru started, his voice somewhat strained. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh,” You glanced at your bowl, abruptly confused. “Eating? I think?”

“Almost, but not quite. I guess I can’t blame you for not knowing.” He rounded the table, coming to stand at your side. You tried to get up, but it only took a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Even something as simple as using utensils can be dangerous for little ones like you. Me and Satoru will be feeding you by hand, from now on.”

It was strange, really – how many little deaths you could die before going numb to it. It was terrible, how many times you could hear one of the two men you loved most in the world say you were more incapable than a literal child before it all just turned to static.

You wondered, distantly, if Suguru was offended that you didn’t engage with this part of him more willingly. It was clearly sincere, if fucked-up, and if he’d ever bothered to ask, you probably would’ve agreed to try it – not that you would’ve had much of a choice, in the later stages of your relationship. It was different for Satoru – as long as you were trapped and at his mercy, he’d be happy. Suguru wanted something… different, more complex. Suguru wanted reliance.

Suguru wanted to break you down.

“If you say so.” You heard your voice, felt your mouth moving, but you weren’t talking. “Can I… um, would it be alright if I asked for something, first?”

Suguru’s satisfaction was almost palpable. “Of course. Anything for you.”

“I think I’d like to take my medicine, now.”

Suguru answered quickly, but not quickly enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Satoru reach for the cabinet above the stove before thinking better of it and glancing over his shoulder, as if to make sure you hadn’t seen. It took everything you had not to react as Suguru responded.

“Of course,” he said with an airy laugh, nearly purring. “Not right now, though – we’ll wait until it’s closer to your bedtime. Try to focus on dinner.”

You only nodded eagerly, smiling sincerely for the first time in weeks.

It took two weeks for you to get your hands on their pills (you stole two, just in case), and three more to convince Satoru that a field trip – his description, not yours – wouldn’t be that big of a deal, not if you kept it short, not if Suguru didn’t find out. He’d always been ecstatic when you visited him at his university (a historic private school, so unlike the local community college you’d gone to, the one you missed with all your heart), and besides, what was worst that could happen? He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight, and the students were still on winter break. You could even wear your old clothes, just to make sure you didn’t attract attention. It’d just be the two of you, all alone in his office, with hours and hours and hours to kill. Really, how could it possibly go wrong?

You waited until you reached his office to slip both stolen pills into his coffee. He’d barely gotten his belt off before the effects kicked-in, but still, you waited until he’d been reduced to a drooling, half-conscious shell of himself before making your escape.

You’d been right – his campus really was deserted. You hurried past dark lecture halls and empty offices as you rushed in a direction you hoped would lead to an exit, glanced out of windows that looked onto lifeless courtyards as you thought about what to do next. The police weren’t an option. They hadn’t hurt you, not in any way you’d be able to prove, and even if you had the evidence, Satoru was rich, and to the law, there was no greater proof of innocence. You tried to think of phone numbers, of addresses, but you hadn’t had many friends before meeting Satoru and Suguru, and they’d made sure to whittle that unimpressive number down to zero over the course of your relationship. You cursed under your breath, even though there was no one around to hear you. You should’ve taken Satoru’s wallet after he passed out. You wouldn’t have been able to use to his cards, but it would’ve been nice to—

You rounded the next corner, then froze.

At the end of the hall, like an omen of death granted human form, stood Suguru.

You took a faltering step backward before breaking into a full, heart-pounding sprint. Suguru wasn’t close, but he was close enough. He let you get all of three steps away before fist curled around the back of your shirt, his muscular arm wrapping around your midriff, trapping you with as much effort as it might’ve taken to lift a kitten by its scruff. Still, you thrashed, struggled, fought – throwing your elbow into his stomach and kicking at his legs as he lifted you off the ground entirely, pinning your body against his chest. He wasn’t supposed to be here. You were told he’d be at his shrine today, all day, with a thousand little things to do that’d keep him distracted until you got away. This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t supposed to be—

“Calm down,” he muttered, his voice distant, cold. “You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

Immediately, you went still. It was a vague threat, but it was a threat, and Suguru had never threatened you before.

Or, you didn’t think he had, at least. It was getting so hard to tell, after everything they’d done to you.

He didn’t sigh, or shake his head, or speak again. He only lowered you back to the ground and, after taking your hand in his, led you back down the vacant halls, past the abandoned classrooms, and to the door of Satoru’s office. He paused outside of it, his dark eyes falling to you in a way you could only describe as void-like. You had to wonder why you every thought you knew him.

“You were trying to…?”

He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Reluctantly, you nodded, and Suguru turned away from you, shouldering open the office door.

Satoru was on his feet, but only barely. He was supporting himself on the corner of his desk, his pale face flushed red and his clothes noticeably disheveled. At some point, he’d lost his sunglasses, and you watched his sky-blue eyes go wide as Suguru crossed the threshold with you following shortly after. “Suguru, princess.” His voice was weak, breathy. You could only imagine how you’d sounded strung out on their sedatives. “How far did she get? She caught me off-guard, but—”

Suguru let go of your hand and closed the distance between him and Satoru. You heard the sharp crack before you could process what he was doing – saw Suguru raise his hand and Satoru’s head snap to the side without ever linking either action with the other. Even Satoru, always so resilient, took a moment to recover, his expression going blank as Suguru spoke, unphased. “If you ever leave me, I’ll break your legs so badly, you’ll never be able to walk again.” You didn’t have to wonder if he meant it. It didn’t matter if he meant it. The words alone left shaking too violently to move, let alone run. “And if you do anything to help her, I’ll gut you alive.”

Your eyes darted to Satoru, to his visibly swollen cheek. Somehow, he seemed even more flushed than he had seconds before, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly parted. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he looked—

Oh, god.

You should’ve gotten away when you had the chance.

Of course, things only got worse when he opened his mouth. “Yes, mommy.”

“Get on the couch and lay down. It’s not like you’re good for anything else, right now.”

“I will, mommy.”

He obeyed mechanically, collapsing onto the well-worn sofa that sat against the far wall. You’d always thought it was too big, too bulky, especially in such a confined state. When you asked Satoru why he bothered to keep it, he’d just laughed and claimed he liked to keep his guests comfortable.

You doubted you counted as a guest. Then again, you doubted you were going to be very comfortable, either.

Suguru glanced over his shoulder, his lifeless stare boring into you. “Straddle his waist and help him undress. You did this, so you’ll be taking responsibility.”

Fear was a surprisingly strong motivation. You were scrambling onto the sofa before you had a chance to think, planting a knee on either side of Satoru’s hips as you fumbled clumsily with his shirt. For his part, Satoru was either incapable of or unwilling to help you – a distant, careless smile soon painting itself across his lips as he watched you struggle. When he did move, it was only to bring a hand to the back of your neck and drag you downward, his mouth crashing into yours. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy attempt to choke you to death with his tongue, but Satoru still groaned as you separated, his face immediately finding the crook of your neck. “So glad Suguru got you back,” he slurred, nuzzling into you. “He’s so hot when he gets all jealous like that.”

You were only half-listening to him, already distracted. Suguru had moved, too – kneeling behind you, his hands finding your hips and dragging them into the air. Your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties to the side, and just as abruptly, three of Suguru’s broad fingers were pushed into your cunt. You whimpered at the sudden, borderline painful intrusion, but Suguru only scoffed. “Be grateful you’re getting this much prep. It’s already more than you deserve.”

That didn’t do anything to stop the pain, though. Suguru was merciless – sheathing his digits to the knuckle, spreading his fingers apart, making it clear that he wasn’t doing this for your pleasure, even if he didn’t seem to be getting much out of it, either. You tried to shut your eyes, to grit your teeth and bare it, but any attempts to ignore reality were swiftly cut short by the feeling of his unoccupied hand coming down on your ass with enough force to bruise. “Did I say could stop?”

He hadn’t, but Satoru was making things difficult – keeping you slotted against him as closely as you could. As Suguru’s fingers fucked into you, you managed to get an arm between your body and his, for the waistband of his jeans down just far enough to earn a satisfied grunt from Suguru. Strangely, the worst part wasn’t the strain in your cunt, or the heat of Satoru’s cock pressing into your stomach, but the feeling of Satoru’s wide, toothy grin pressing into the side of your neck – tangible proof of his euphoria. It was awful – just how clearly he was enjoying this. At least Suguru had the decency to go blank.

It was too much too suddenly with too little build up, but Suguru knew your body and, more damningly, your body knew him. Barely a minute had passed before you felt arousal stain the inside of your thighs, before the sound of his digits plunging into you took on a distinctive wet quality. You let your head lull into Satoru’s chest and dig your teeth into your tongue, willing away any embarrassing noises that would’ve added to your ongoing degradation, but if Suguru cared, you couldn’t tell. He soldiered on with that brutal, unyielding pace, ignoring your clit entirely in favor of beating his frustration directly into your pussy. Really, it was a miracle you felt anything at all. Well, anything beyond pain, anyway.

It was only when you tensed against Satoru, when you finally let a single, fractured moan slip past your haphazardly sealed lips, that Suguru abruptly stopped; pulling out of you before you could fully process what was happening. You glanced over your shoulder, misplaced disappointment softening the harsher edges of your fear, but Satoru was quick to catch your chin – redirecting your attention back to him. “Where do you think you’re going, princess?” he asked, rocking his hips into yours. “You’ve gotta stay on my good side too, remembered?”

As if you could forget.

Behind you, Suguru glowered. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.” To Satoru, and then, to you, “Do it. Make sure he doesn’t cum.”

Your instructions were clear, albeit unappreciated. Satoru let you straighten your back, his hands kneading at your thighs as you picked yourself up and, as mindlessly as you could, aligned the head of his cock with your entrance. You wanted to move slowly, to give your abused cunt time to adjust, but Suguru proved uncharacteristically impatient; taking you by the shoulders and spearing you on Satoru’s cock before you could so much as consider protesting. You went stiff, your brain too busy trying to make sense of your sudden fullness to order your body to move, but Satoru didn’t seem to mind – only tightening his vice-like hold and bucking into you from below, his cock battering into the deepest, most vulnerable part of you without the slightest trace of concern.

You were too startled to make noise, but Satoru had always been so much louder than you, so much more eager to pour out his every little thought. “She’s so fucking tight,” he breathed, grinding into you. “Been ages since I had her on top of me, too. Almost forgot how—” A slight gasp, a pitchy whine, “Almost forgot how pretty she could get, sitting on her daddy’s lap.”

Your sight blurred, and a few seconds later, you realized you were crying. Suguru didn’t respond, but you heard fabric shifting, felt one of his hands disappear for a moment before returning, now on the center of your back. With more force than he really had to use, he shoved you back down, pressing you flat against Satoru as he maneuvered himself behind you. Space was limited, availability even more so, but still, it wasn’t until you felt the head of his cock press against your stuffed slit that you realized what he was doing.

“N—no,” It was almost impressive, just how quickly you abandoned what was left of your pride. You tried to pick yourself back up, but Satoru was a snare – an arm looking around your waist while the other found your hip, holding you still for Suguru. “Please, you can’t, it’s not—It won’t fit, and—”

And, just like that, Suguru was pushing into you, bottoming out in a single thrust. As his hips pressed into your ass and he let out a quiet, almost inaudible groan, you could only wonder if either of them had ever really loved you.

There was a lapse – more for their sakes than yours – before Satoru started moving, already acclimated. “Such a good girl,” he drawled, grinding into you, seemingly unhappy unless he and Suguru were both fully planted inside of you. “See? It’s not that bad, right? I knew you’d be able to handle it.”

But you couldn’t. Tears streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably, hitched sobbed and agonized moans trickling past your lips every time either of them moved. Suguru sucked in a shuddering breath, then planted a hand on the small of your back, thrusting into you sharp and deep – his movements a stark contrast to Satoru’s. The stretch along was unbearable. Even on your best days, you’d struggle to take either of them to the hilt. Taking both seemed fantastical, implausible, fatal. It was genuinely surprising that you weren’t already dead.

It was doubly as surprising, then, that it felt so good.

Most of it had to be your own fried nerves trying to make the best of it, to get you through this as quickly and as painlessly as was possible. You weren’t in control of anything; not your hands as they clawed blindly at Satoru’s chest, not your hips as you bucked pitifully into Suguru, and certainly not your cunt as it clenched even tighter around the cocks splitting it open. Satoru let out an airy laugh, two fingers dropping to your neglected clit. “It’s okay, baby, you deserve to feel good too,” he gushed, pushing lazy circles into the small bundle of nerves, drawing out yet another miserable sob. “Told you she’d like it.”

“She’s not supposed to,” Suguru grunted, digging his nails into your waist. Still, that didn’t stop him from burying himself inside of you, his cock twitching against the walls of your cunt. You couldn’t be sure what it was – the fullness, maybe, or the overstimulation, or your own desperation to just get this over with – but your vision burnt white, your body convulsing against Satoru’s as you came undone around them. Satoru followed shortly after, digging his teeth into the curve of your neck as he pumped something searing and vileinto you. Suguru let out a rough, throaty growl – throwing his head forward and hilting himself entirely inside of you. You shook your head, pleading silently, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to notice, and even if he had, you doubted it would’ve been enough to stop him from cumming inside of you, from ensuring that no part of you was left uncorrupted.

There was a short period of numb, thoughtless stillness – filled only by Suguru’s panting, Satoru’s mindless cooing, and the absence of your voice. Suguru shifted, and for a second, you panicked, convincing yourself that there was more, that he wasn’t done – but he only pulled out of you, fixing his clothes with his eyes focused pointedly on the point where your cunt was still stretched around Satoru’s cock, where it leaked and drooled onto Satoru’s lap. You weren’t so resilient, letting your eyes fall shut and slumping against Satoru.

For the very first time, as you lost consciousness, you felt the smallest, tiniest, most microscopic spec of relief that, at the very least, you wouldn’t be responsible for cleaning yourself up.

“Stay in the car. I’ll call when it’s time for you to bring her in.”

The ride had been near-silent, only occasionally interrupted by an odd comment from Satoru or a hissed warning from Suguru. Suguru drove while Satoru held onto you in the back seat, keeping you gathered in his arms, his jacket draped loosely over your shoulders. Satoru only nodded as Suguru let himself out, making no move to follow. Whatever this was, they must’ve already talked about it while you were blacked out.

You waited until Suguru had disappeared into the house before speaking, your voice hoarse and unsteady. “He hit you.”

“Mhm. You did a number on my chest, too.”

“But—” You cut yourself off and started over. “He hit you.”

He flashed you a smile, as careless as it was dismissive. “What do you want me to say, baby?”

“That this insane. That he’s insane.” You crossed your arms over your chest, curling into yourself. “You can leave, Satoru – we can leave together. All we’d have to do is—” The air hitched in your throat, but you managed to snarl something out. “—fucking go.”

“And why would we want to do that, exactly?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

Satoru laughed, the sound breathy and light. “Because,” he said, nuzzling into your hair, “Suguru loves me. He loves us. You should know that – after today, especially.”

You opened your mouth, but shut it just as quickly.

This time, you had a feeling that he’d given you the only answer he was going to.

The next few minutes passed slowly. Satoru kept himself occupied, pushing slow, lingering kisses into your cheek and neck, while you stared mindlessly out of the window, trying to savor the last minutes of sunlight that you’d have for a long, long time. Eventually, Satoru’s phone buzzed. He didn’t even bother to check it before gathering you up in his arms and carrying you inside. You expected him to take you back to your bedroom, with its stuffed-animal lined shelves and bright pink walls and polished silver chain, but instead, he turned down a hallway you’d never seen before, into a bedroom that was distinctly not yours. Suguru was waiting for him, standing in the doorway to a dark closet. The edges of his lips quirked upward when he saw you. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was the closest thing you’d gotten to one from him all day.

Satoru placed you next to him, and your attention turned back to the closet. Any clothes or shoes had been cleared out to make room for a single, silver dog crate, nearly big enough to stretch from one wall to the other. The bottom was padded with a light pink blanket that you recognized from your bed, and a white rabbit plush had been left in the far right corner. A deadbolt hung, undone, from the open kennel door.

You might’ve broken down entirely, if you hadn’t been so devastated.

Suguru’s voice was deafening and serene, as beautifully composed as it was unspeakably terrible. “Get in, love.”

“I’m not—”

“You should probably listen to him,” Satoru cut in, placing a hand on your shoulder. “This is just about the nicest thing he suggested.”

You swallowed, your heart failing to beat. Out of some ancient, primal, preservatory instinct, your body moved towards the crate, falling to its knees and bowing its head to fit inside. The kennel was big for a dog, not for a person. You had just enough room to huddle against the farthest wall as Suguru slid the door into place, the deadbolt locking with a sadistic click.

“It really is a shame,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I was hoping you could be our darling princess for a little longer, but I’m sure you’ll make a much better bitch.”

Satoru helped him back to his feet, and together, they retreated back to the closet door, Satoru casting one more lovesick smile over his shoulder as he shut the door behind them, leaving you in total, endless, solitary darkness.

Your wretched sobs echoed off the barren walls as you finally started to cry.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jujutsu kaisen iimagines #yandere gojo satou #gojo satoru x reader #yandere geto suguru #geto suguru x reader

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koishiro · 10 months ago

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# - 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Toji Fushiguro, Toge Inumaki, Kento Nanami

masterlist | jjk masterlist | anon masterlist

Satoru Gojo

Gojo has no shame, you should know this. It’s no surprise to anyone when they see the jujutsu teacher just waltz over in his usual long strides and (quite aggressively) places his head on your lap. And if you ignore him? Ohohoho he’d be a menace. From nudging his head on your stomach, to biting the soft plush of your thighs, all for you to run your fingers through his hair.

He enjoys laying on your thighs a little too much since he literally won't get up even if you have to go do something important.

“Satu, I have to get up”

“‘M? Later”

“Don’t you have a class to teach?”

“They can wait”

Suguru Geto

Suguru would be slightly more subtle than Gojo, but still pretty affectionate. You’d often find him reading a book or two later followed by a complaint of how stiff and achy his back and neck were which led you to now, sitting down on your shared couch and contentedly scrolling through your phone until you felt an unfamiliar weight weigh down on your lap.

Temporarily turning your attention to the man now taking place on your lap, a book in one hand while the other absentmindedly toyed with the fabric of your shirt, you stared at him for a moment until your burning gaze tore his attention away from his book, as if you were the one to invade his personal bubble.

“Hm? Yes darling? Are you not considering the pain and backache I’ve been going through for this book? Have some sympathy, I thought this would be better for my posture.”

Yuji Itadori

This boy would be so oblivious, not even realising the effect he had on you. He would be in the middle of talking about Human Earthworm 4 and would first start to lean his body weight on your shoulder before gradually moving down to your lap, even going as far as to readjust you and your position just like a pillow.

It would only occur to him what position he’s actually in when his one sided conversation starts to die off, now realising how his head and hands are tucked between your plush thighs - skin on skin contact.

“O-Oh uhm - I’m so sorry!

Megumi Fushiguro

Don’t expect this to ever happen in public but in the privacy of your own home? Megumi would be severely more touchy when he’s tired so when he’s exhausted? He’ll have no shame. Dragging his feet through the threshold of his dorm, his bag being dragged not too far behind he makes a beeline towards his bed where the outline of non other than his lover was hidden beneath the covers.

Leaving his bag behind, Megumi navigates his way towards the warmth of your body before toeing off his shoes and slipping his way between your legs, arms tucked beneath the plush of your thighs. Asking about his day you had to strain your ears to hear his response

“‘missed you. Wanted to come home earlier but Gojo was an ass. R’lly missed your warmth.”

Toji Fushiguro

This man has no shame. If you’d be sitting a centimetre too far for his liking you best know he’s gonna clamp his large hands down on you and drag you to where he likes. He’d even go as far as to lift your legs over his own thighs and (like a cat) paw at the skin of your thighs.

So when you happen to pass by his chair while he’s in the middle of a slightly less than exciting conversation he was having with a name he couldn’t even remember of course his first instinct is to reach out and pull you down, caging you between his two arms - his hands nicely warmed between your two thighs before they ventured and groped at any available skin.

“Stay nice ‘n pretty f’me kay? Don’t wanna make this guy uncomfortable do ya? ‘N keep your pretty mewls to yaself until we get home hm?”

Toge Inumaki

Bby boy just wants to be comforted okay? Is that too much to ask for? He’d already be so comfortable around you that he wouldn’t think twice about what he was doing.

You both could be lying down outside, one or both reading a book and after a while of resting in the same spot for hours on end he’d struggle to find a comfortable spot and the next best thing to a patch of grass? His lover of course. Toge would slowly shift his way towards you so you’d end up as a mesh of bodies resembling a ‘T’. A few squeezes to your thighs every now and then followed by a series of onigri ingredients,

“I should do this more often, you’re much more comfy than any pillow I’ve owned. My own portable neck pillow.”

Kento Nanami

This wouldn’t happen often at the start of your relationship with Kento considering he’s never had to (quite literally) lean on anyone before but it never bothered you, you knew before you threw yourself into the relationship that he’d take some time to warm up and you were right because slowly after months of quick pecks and fleeting touches - the unfamiliar weight of your boyfriends head leaned on your shoulder. The tired eyes and dark bags beneath his eyes said all you needed to know.

“Tired?” With a grunt of agreement, clearly too tired to even lift his head, you lead him down to rest on your lap where he stayed without complaint until hours later when the sun shone through the living room curtains and the blanket you managed to reach and place over top you both before swiftly joining him lay on the floor long forgotten. Nanami would all but bury his face deeper between your thighs - chasing the warmth they emanated while his hands found closure beneath them.

“Please, don’t move. At least not yet.”

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dokidokidraft · 11 days ago

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Sub JJK Men Hcs

A/n: Im sry about kinktober guys, hcs are just easier to write rn. Plus, I’ve had this in my drafts for a while.(since August…)

⇨Masterlist⇦

Warnings: smut, nsfw, the title says it all. Dom!afab!reader, no pronouns used tho, sub jjk men (separate), overstimulation, edging, dracryphilia, brat taming, bondage/gagging, pegging, and gun play in Toji’s

Includes: Satoru Gojo, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro

More in part two, I promise. Request specific characters if you’d like!

꧁Satoru Gojo꧂

This man has 2 moods

#1 is whiny, obedient sub who’s kinda desperate. This only happens when he’s had a tough day at work and need to cool down a little.

#2 is his most common, the brat. Disobedient, cocky, and his ego goes through the roof. Tries to take charge most of the time.

He's super into overstimulation, whether he’s a crying, begging mess, or you need to brat tame him a bit.

The punishment that best works for him is the chastity cage. The pain turns pleasurable for him, but your always so cruel and hide the key. The longest he’s gone is 4 days, before he was begging (full on his knees, tears in his eyes, hands together as if he was praying) for you to take it off.

One of the loudest men on this list. I’m talking moans, whimpers, grunts, whines, the whole damn package.

Even when he’s being bratty, and TRYING to block out the noise, he’s crying out your name like it’s the only word he knows.

Hates edging, so that’s also an optimal punishment for him. Being on the brink of orgasm, teetering off the edge, before you pull him back down to earth is probably the worst feeling ever. (maybe second to the chastity)

Doesn’t like getting spanked or anything like that, but do use his blindfold to tie his wrists to the bed frame, etc.

Super big praise kink, but degradation also makes him moan, even when he tried to convince himself he doesn’t like it.

But oh god, when you ride him. That’s what really gets him going, seeing you bounce on top of him, tits swaying enticingly in front of his face. that's his absolute favourite thing.

Heavy aftercare is needed with this guy. I’m talking bubble bath, chocolates, and at least half an hour of snuggling afterwards.

“I’m NOT begging for you to blow me. I’m the strongest, I don’t beg”

“God, woman! J-just let me cum already! I’ll even let you peg me again just don’t edge me anymore….ple-e-ease…”

꧁Geto Suguru꧂

Not on the bratty side, but not completely submissive either

As long as you’re happy, he’s happy.

One of his biggest kinks is hair pulling, especially if he’s eating you out. Making eye contact and feeling the tug on his scalp while you force your cunt against his face is just heaven for him.

Also loves being edged. Unlike Satoru, he loves to feel the buzz when he gets denied, loves the feeling of you in control.

He doesn’t usually need to be punished, but on the odd occasion when he does, the best option is simply putting him on a sex ban. The chastity doesn’t really sit right with him, but not getting any pussy is definitely torture.

Like it when you tie him up, but make it overdramatic. Give him full-on jewelled handcuffs, and a bright red, shiny ball gag, with a side of fairy lights hung around the bed frame.

Whenever you gag him, he makes sure to be extra loud to entertain you. His muffled moans will be replaying in your head for days.

Speaking of which, you definitely get some noise complaints from the neighbours.

Would much rather be giving you oral, but once your tongue touches the too of his cock I can promise you he whimpers from the tiniest touch 🥺

He will buy a new bed, and make it fucking massive. He wants to try every single position possible, that’s a given.

Has a habit of biting the pillow to muffle his moans <3

“Tying me up again, huh? Don’t you ever get bored of it? Oh, did that earn me the gag yet?”

“Sex ban? You’re joking. You’re fucking joking. Please tell me you’re fucking joking.”

꧁Toji Fushiguro꧂

Submissive? Not at all…until you ride him

He would sell his soul to have you go cowgirl on him for the first time again

Toji likes the chastity cage bc it’s like a challenge for him, seeing how long he can last

If you try to peg him I’d suggest like…writing your loved ones a note :)

Overstimulation is his JAM (for both of you) but it takes fucking forever for him to get a bit overstimulated, this man has a shot ton of stamina.

When you convince him to sub, he can go all night. He’ll just be lazy and take it, whatever you give him, with lots of suggestive comments along the way

Giving him a blow job is the best way to relax him, especially if you have your nails done and use your hand at the base <3

He may or may not secretly love when you step on him, it gets him going like crazy

Hold him at gunpoint and he will be hard as a rock. He taught his girl well, and loves the thought of her overpowering him like that

Car sex. That’s it.

When you guys get really into it his hair will fall in front of his face, and if you gently brush it out of the way he falls in love all over again.

“Wanna suck on it, doll? I promise I won’t force it down your throat like last time, take your time.”

“I heard pineapple makes your cum taste sweet. Think we should try it? I’ll be the lovely taste tester if ya ride me afterwards.”

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jjkamochoso · 2 months ago

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JJK Men Reacting to You Self Harming

Angst, fluff

Request from Wattpad

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: cussing, sensitive topic at hand under the break!!! Please do not read if this will trigger you in any way, shape, or form. My only intent is to comfort those who might need it❤️ there won't be any super graphic depictions, but I will mention scars, bruises, blood, etc. so please be mindful of your ability to read this without causing discomfort! Remember that you are worthy and loved, and there are so many other things you can occupy your mind with than hurting yourself... please take care of yourselves❤️

Yuji:

You and Yuji were sparring like you usually did, opting to practice together since you made a great team. Your training shorts were just long enough to cover your self harm scars and since they were older, you weren’t too worried about them showing; you assumed no one would see them and if they did, wouldn’t guess how you got them. Yuji grabbed ahold of your legs and flipped you over his shoulder, your body landing in the grass with a heavy thud.

“Good move, Itadori,” you huffed out, taking his outstretched hand as he shot you his trademark smile.

“Thanks, y/n! By the way, those sure are some scars you have on your legs! Whatever you were fighting must’ve been a really strong opponent.”

“Something like that,” you said under your breath. You felt Yuji’s eyes observe your scars that were now visible and hoped he wouldn’t ask anymore questions.

“They’re awfully straight and neat,” he mused before turning serious. “Wait. These look like…” He didn’t finish his sentence but the way you avoided his gaze gave him his answer. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you.

“That’s horrible, y/n, I’m sorry you ever felt like you needed to do that to yourself. I know my support probably isn’t enough to immediately make you quit doing it, but just know I’m here for you if you need someone to talk to. Self harm is never the right answer.”

You melted into his loving embrace. “I already feel better, Yuji. Thank you. Seriously.”

Megumi:

You ran right to your dorm room after having an extremely bad day, eager to shut out the world and release your frustrations on your legs. You grabbed the familiar tool from your nightstand, creating the all too familiar marks on your body. All of a sudden, you heard a knock at your dorm door.

“Y/n? You in there?” Megumi called out. You quickly covered your mouth with your hands, accidentally cutting your finger with the razor blade and letting out a small whimper from the unexpected pain.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, opening the door.

“Please don’t!” you yelled out, but it was too late; he was standing in your room, his eyes trailing over the blood beading out of various parts of your body. He was completely emotionless as he walked out, leaving you to try and comprehend what just happened. You figured he’d never want to talk to you again; your weakness probably disgusted him. You gently dabbed at your wounds with a tissue but they wouldn’t stop bleeding. To your utter surprise, Megumi came back, a bottle of water, clean rag, and bandages in his grip.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“Cleaning you up,” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You sat in silence as he softly wiped your leg, bandaging your cuts. He then grasped your hand, cleaning and bandaging that wound as well.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” he eventually asked tentatively.

“Not really,” you replied, “but I should. I’ve been hiding this for so long that it strangely feels… okay that someone knows.”

“Good. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this to yourself ever again.”

Yuta:

"Y/n! What happened? When did you get hurt?"

You turned around in the hallway that was completely abandoned, save for you and the wide eyed boy that had just passed you by.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" you responded, thoroughly confused.

Yuta tilted his head. "Your leg is bleeding through the bandage. I saw it when I walked by you."

Your head whipped down to look at your thigh and saw the bandage you had applied earlier that day was now dangerously close to falling off.

"It's nothing!" you exclaimed much too quickly for Yuta's comfort.

"Are you sure? Let me help you change it," he suggested, walking closer to you at an alarmingly fast rate.

"No! I'm okay, I promise." You spun around, ready to hightail it to your room, but Yuta was too quick. He had gotten ahold of your arm to keep you from running and peeked under the bandage, observing the long marks riddling your skin.

"Y/n," he breathed out, "these aren't marks from a mission, are they?"

You didn't know how to answer him without making a fool of yourself.

"Please don't tell anyone!" you pleaded, knowing he had caught on to your horrible habit.

"I would never," he replied, his eyes glistening with sadness at the thought of you hurting yourself, "but you should. Or at least try to stop. You don't deserve this punishment you're inflicting on yourself."

You stayed silent, unsure what to say. Yuta brought you into a bone crushing hug, his tears falling onto your shoulder.

"I will help you get through this. Just, please, don't burden yourself with this any longer. I'm right by your side, always."

Inumaki:

As you opened your dorm door to go get breakfast, you saw a note resting on the ground outside. It was lying underneath a freshly picked flower and you hummed in excitement, wondering what all of this was about.

You read the first line of the now-unfolded note: Please don’t be mad at me~

You recognized the handwriting to be Toge’s and you sighed, reading on to see what he did this time.

I’m not sure how to approach this correctly so I hope you understand that I only want the best for you. I saw your fresh scars when we were playing video games last night and I wanted to ask you about them but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I hope you know that you are worthy and loved, and that you should never feel anything less than. I can’t imagine how much you must be struggling to be able to hurt yourself in such a way. I want you to know I’m here for you and want to help in any way I can. Seeing you hurt so bad SUCKS. Please come to me when you’re feeling down. I’m always here for you.

—Toge

Reading his letter made you feel like you were going through all the stages of grief, but by the last sentence, you didn’t feel anything but relief. When you glanced up from the paper, you saw Toge strolling about, trying to look as casual as possible.

“I’m not mad, you know,” you called out. Toge’s eyes brightened immediately and he practically ran over to you.

“Thank you for this,” you said, gesturing to the flower. He nodded in acknowledgment.

“Also, thank you for saying something. I know that must’ve been hard, but I’m glad you did. It’s something I’ve dealt with for such a long time but knowing I have someone to turn to is… I’m grateful for you.”

“Tuna,” he replied, giving you a comforting hug.

Noritoshi:

Noritoshi was helping you clean out your bedroom when you stumbled upon your collection of razor blades. You hadn’t used them in a while but you saved them just in case your habit reared its ugly head. You urgently yet discreetly tried to move them out of view but he was too fast.

“What are those for?” he wondered, taking a step closer to you.

“Nothing,” you replied suspiciously, holding the box behind your back. “It’s just trash, that’s all.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not stupid. What’s in there?”

You bolted from his unyielding stare, hoping to throw the box away in a dumpster outside, but the Kamo clan heir was too fast and blocked your path away from utter embarrassment.

“Show me. Now. Because I think I saw razor blades in there and I want to make sure.”

“What does it matter?” you seethed as Noritoshi took the collection from your hands. With his fear confirmed, he set the box out of your reach.

“Next time, cut me.”

“What?” you asked incredulously.

“Cut me,” he repeated, his voice steady. “If you hurt so bad that you want to punish yourself, punish me instead.”

“I could never hurt you like that, Noritoshi,” you said, your voice small. “It would kill me to see you in pain.”

He walked over and gently took your hand in his. “That’s exactly how I feel knowing you hurt yourself in the same manner. Do you understand what I mean?”

You did—that’s what bothered you the most.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I care about you and because of that, I worry for you. If you hurt, I hurt. If you bleed, I do too. You don’t have to struggle on your own. I’m here for you, day and night. When you need something, anything, please, get ahold of me. I don’t want you opening this good for nothing box ever again.”

You looked deep into his anxious eyes before burying yourself in a hug with him. “I promise to come to you when I need help. Thank you for being here for me.”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do.”

Todo:

You didn’t know how it happened—one minute you were eating lunch with Todo, the next you had blood dripping from your now opened wounds on your legs. You knew you should’ve bandaged yourself before leaving your dorm this morning but you thought your wounds weren’t serious enough for that. As you tried to dab at your scars with your napkin, Todo stood up in distress.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, slamming his fists together in anger.

“I did,” you replied sheepishly. Todo stopped, confusion sweeping over him.

“I don’t get it,” he replied, “did you mean you accidentally hurt yourself?”

“No,” you said nervously. You debated on telling him the truth or not, but he had already seen your scars. It was only a matter of time before he asked the other students what had happened to you, describing the appearance of your wounds, and then the whole Kyoto school would know your secret.

“I self harm,” you admitted, “and I’m ashamed. I’m weak. I let my emotions control me and the only way I gain back control is by hurting myself. It’s pathetic, I know.”

“No it’s not,” he said immediately. “I may not understand it, but I know it’s not pathetic. To fight your own mind like that… that is a battle not easily won.”

“You got that right,” you remarked.

“If you allow me, I will help you fight. We’re not meant to take on enemies alone. I will do everything in my power to make sure you never feel so low as to hurt yourself again. This is my most sincere promise.”

Todo put a hand over his heart as he gazed at you with utmost certainty. You didn’t know what to say; his immediate response overwhelmed you in the best way possible.

“Aoi, I… just, thank you,” you said, wrapping your arms around the huge man. He returned the gesture tenfold, holding you close to him.

“Anything for you.”

Ino:

“Hey y/n, it’s Ino. Listen, can you meet me at my apartment in like, half hour? I need to talk to you. It’s nothing serious-wait, I guess it is, but, like, no one’s dying or anything. But yeah it is serious but not worryingly so. Just moderate serious. Okay, let me know. Bye!”

You stared at your phone screen for a good minute trying to process the chaotic voicemail you received. You sent Ino a text saying you’d be there and he opened his door on your first knock.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you with my voicemail but I really need to tell you something. Well, more like ask you something, too, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, I’ll get right to it. I saw the scars on your thighs the other day and they looked like self harm ones to me. I hope I’m not making a huge mistake asking you this but… do you? Hurt yourself, I mean?” he asked, ending his rant. You were quiet for a second too long in Ino’s eyes so he raced to fill the silence with explanation.

“Not that you need to tell me or anything! I’m chill with you doing what you need to do to cope with things but that’s not exactly the best way to do it. Not that I’m a professional! I’m also not trying to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, I just want what’s best for you and-”

“Ino, take a breath, please,” you said, releasing a short laugh as you rested a hand on his. “I’m fine with you bringing this up, weirdly enough. I thought the first time someone found out I’d be freaking out but… I don’t know. It feels good to not be the only one who knows, you know?”

“Oh? Oh! Wow, yes, that is good,” he replied, pulling his beanie off and swiping his free hand through his hair before turning more serious once more. “Again, I’m sorry for springing this on you but I’m worried for you. I hate seeing you in pain and not feeling like you can share your troubles with me. You shouldn’t have to take your frustrations out on yourself. I’m always gonna be here for you to talk things out, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, wiping the stray tear from your cheek. “Thank you. I appreciate you more than you know.”

“And I care about you more than you think.”

Gojo:

"Geez, you have a bad run in with a cat or somethin'?" Gojo asked, peering down at you with his one eye uncovered by his blindfold.

"What are you yammering about, Gojo? Some of us are trying to work here," you said, rolling your eyes. You were currently at a cafe with Satoru, sending a quick email from your phone before digging into your pastries.

"Your leg" was all he said, a long pale finger pointing at your shorts-clad thigh, but it was enough to make you feel like you were about to drop dead from cardiac arrest. He had seen your self harm scars.

"Oh, those. Yeah, a cat," you grumbled, tucking your leg away where he could no longer see it. You pretended to be enveloped in your phone but Satoru knew something was wrong.

"You're acting weird and the more I think about it, those markings were weird too. Unless that cat really hated your guts."

You ignored him which only made him pester you worse about it.

"What'd you do to it? Step on its tail? Pull its whiskers? C'mon, tell m-"

"It wasn't a fucking cat, Satoru, I did it to myself, okay? Just drop it," you exploded. For once in his life, Satoru was speechless. You were so ashamed of your confession that you stood abruptly from your chair.

"I'm going home," you told him, leaving your food behind as you slammed the cafe doors open. You didn't want the strongest sorcerer to hear about your struggles, your weaknesses.

You certainly weren't expecting him to follow you.

"Wait! Y/n, hold on," he called out, his long legs easily catching up with you.

"Leave me alone. I don't want your pity," you snarled.

"Pity? No way, I just..." He was trying to think of the best way to approach this newfound information without scaring you off. "I just want to talk to you about it. A genuine, serious discussion."

You stopped walking. "Who are you and what have you done with Satoru?"

He pouted. "I'm not joking. I don't want you to feel like you have to resort to hurting yourself ever again, and I think it might be helpful if you know you can come to me about anything. But I can't help if I don't know the whole truth."

You contemplated it for a moment, but you knew Satoru wouldn't offer to do something he didn't actually want to do.

"Okay, yeah. That would be nice. Thanks."

Satoru wore a small smile and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Now, c'mon. No good therapy session starts on an empty stomach."

Geto:

You and Suguru were enjoying a fun day at the beach, playing in the water and frolicking in the sand. As you laid on the blanket to indulge in the picnic he laid out for you, your shorts rode up your leg a bit, showcasing your newest self harm scars. You were completely oblivious, indulging in yummy fruit while Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes from your marked skin.

“Y/n, darling? Have you been feeling alright… emotionally?”

Your arms bristled with goosebumps but it wasn’t from the cold fruit you just swallowed.

“What brought that question on?” you asked nervously, trying to casually pull down the leg of your shorts to cover the scars. Little did you know it was too late.

“I won’t mince my words. I just saw your scars and I know you did that to yourself.” He reached out to grab your hands but you backed away from him in horror.

“Suguru! It’s not what it looks like, I-”

“It’s alright, I’m not upset. I’m just extremely worried,” he explained, his eyes muddled with guilt. “I wish I had seen it earlier. I know what it’s like to struggle. I want to be there for you so you don’t drown in pain like I did.”

You listened to his words, carefully soaking in everything he said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you replied quietly. Suguru reached for you again but this time you didn’t back away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner,” he responded. “Will you allow me to help you?”

After a few moments of decision, you nodded your head. “Of course. I trust you and I’m ready to release this heavy weight I’ve been feeling for so long.”

“I’m glad,” Suguru said, giving your hand a squeeze as he looked out at the sparkling sea.

Nanami:

"Darling? Everything alright in there?"

You mentally cursed yourself out. You had been upset all day over something minor and, yet again, took your frustrations out on yourself, but you must have been too loud this time, your hisses of pain overheard by your boyfriend Kento in the other room.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" you called out, not wanting him to walk in on you as you tried to bandage yourself up as quickly as possible. You heard footsteps come closer to the bathroom door.

"Are you sure? You sound like you're in distress."

"I said I'm fine," you snapped back, holding a towel to your injuries to staunch the bleeding. You saw the door handle move and your breath caught in your throat--in your haste, you hadn't locked it.

"Don't come in!" you yelled, but it was too late. Kento's eyes trailed over your bleeding thigh, confusion written all over his face. He stepped closer and you grimaced, knowing nothing got past his watchful eye.

"Those markings... you..." He trailed off, a look of knowing crossing over his features. "You sit. I'll clean you up."

Your face burned with embarrassment but you did as he said, not wanting to make things harder on yourself. It was quiet as he kneeled before you and patched you up, the silence making your heart skip a beat.

"You don't have to do this to yourself," he said simply after a long bout of silence. When you didn't reply, he looked up.

"The world is already cruel. You don't have to punish yourself further," he stated, his eyes softening at your exhausted body language.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," he interrupted. "Don't be. If anything, I should apologize for not noticing sooner." His fingers traced over your previous scars as he placed the last bandage on and took hold of your hands. "Do you want to talk about it? Whatever's been bothering you? You shouldn't have to suffer alone."

You nodded, grateful for his lack of judgement.

"I'll make us some tea first," he told you, placing a kiss on the top of your forehead. "I love you and I'm always here for you. No matter what."

Choso:

You were busy hanging out with Choso at your apartment, watching tv and enjoying your time together.

“Could you get me a hair tie please?” you asked Choso. “I have one on my bathroom counter.”

“Of course,” he replied with a gentle smile, eager to help you in any way he could. You thought nothing of sending him in there until he hadn’t come back after a good 5 minutes. You followed after him, wondering if you had inadvertently put the hair tie away and confused the poor man.

“Did you find it?” you called out from your bathroom doorway. Choso turned around and you gasped immediately. In his hands were the bloody tissues you used that morning which he must’ve pulled from the trash; you forgot to empty the can before he came over.

“Y/n… what is all of this? Did you get hurt and I didn’t notice? I could’ve bandaged you up. Are you alright now?”

You felt like your world was crumbling down. How could you lie to the man standing in front of you who looked like he was about to start sobbing? You floundered for an excuse but found none—your mind was totally blank.

“I, um, this morning… it’s not your fault you didn’t notice. I’d actually prefer it if you never noticed. I don’t know how to tell you but… I hurt myself.”

His face contorted into confusion. “How? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You paused. “Actually, no, I’m not fine. I cut myself many, many times. It’s a horrible, nasty habit that I can’t seem to kick and I’m sorry that I kept it from you and I’m sorry that you found out this way and I’m also sorry that-”

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly, dropping the tissues back into the trash and scooping you into a hug. “I don’t understand why you would do something like that, but I want to. I swore to protect you from anything and I intend to uphold that promise. Please, let me help you.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “Okay. I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to… to heal.”

Toji:

“I hope you don’t mind but I let myself in.”

You jumped up with a start at the sound of Toji’s voice. You forgot you had given him a key to your place! Normally you’d be ecstatic to see him but you didn’t want him to see you in your current outfit. Since you weren’t expecting company, you were lounging around in shorts, leaving your self harm scars on display.

“I need to change!” you spurt out, clamoring to get away from the large man, but he was too quick (and eagle eyed).

“Those are some brutal scars you got there,” he remarked, pointing to your legs. “I can’t imagine what the other guy looked like after your fight.”

Toji expected you to laugh, or at the very least let out a tiny sigh from your nose, but you were deadly silent.

He frowned. “What’d I say?”

“N-no, nothing, I…” you trailed off. You didn’t know how to tell him. You wished you could’ve played it off, went along with his joke, anything but be in the situation you’re in now. You drew in a deep breath. You couldn’t hide this from him forever, anyway.

“They aren’t from fights. I did it to myself,” you explained, not meeting his eyes. Now it was Toji’s turn to be quiet. You were afraid to see his reaction. Would he laugh at you? Leave, slamming the door and never coming back?

No, Toji was…comforting you?

You felt a large hand grasp your shoulder, prompting you to finally face him. You were greeted with his serious expression, features set in a rare show of resoluteness from the man.

“Never, ever, do that shit again, okay? No matter what you’re feeling or thinking. You come to me the second you feel any type of feeling that might lead to that again. There’s no way I’m letting let you add another mark to that pretty skin of yours.”

You nodded, fighting back tears at his unexpected understanding of your situation.

“Now c’mere,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug.

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wttcsms · 1 year ago

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i can walk you home and practice method acting ; satoru gojo.

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader word count 1.3k synopsis saying goodbye. content contains hurt/probably no comfort, bittersweet ending, allusion to character death, jjk 236 leak inspired author’s notes gege needs to sleep with both eyes open, no sweet dreams 4 him >:(

“You know, some people consider coffee dates as not real dates,” you point out. “Very cheap—”

“—your coffee was eight dollars, don’t start with me—”

“—low-effort—”

“—you don’t even wanna know what I just went through before meeting you here—”

“—shows no interest—”

“—I’ve been interested in you since before I even knew you.”

You pause your half-hearted attempt at teasing him. The truth is, there is nothing cheap, low-effort, or uninteresting about Satoru Gojo. No one has ever held your attention and your affections for as long or as strongly as he does. The world is reduced to nothing more than the cafe the two of you spent a lot of time frequenting beforehand. It’s why everything is in such startling, vivid detail. Some of your best memories are here, and it shows from the warm scent of coffee wafting in the air, and how you got his complicated frozen coffee order just right.

“Smooth. You use that line on all the girls you buy coffee for?”

“Oh, other girls exist?” Satoru’s bright, cerulean eyes widen in mock surprise. If there’s one thing that your fiance is good at, it’s committing to the bit. No one gets into character as well as he does.

No one ever will.

Trying to keep your darker thoughts at bay, you try to think of a retort but fall short, settling for, “How can you even be interested in someone before you even know they exist?”

“Because everyone was boring to me ‘til I met you. All my interest was reserved specifically for you.” He hums. He doesn’t tell you the really sappy stuff he holds inside his heart, like how he thinks his soul knew that it belonged to you and that’s why he could never connect with anyone else. He figures, foolishly, that he still has time to bring it up later.

Later, when he’s not choking on his own blood and lost in the illusion you have shrouded the both of you in.

My beautiful, delusional girl.

He says it to tease you, but the fondness with which he laces the words in only further proves how completely, utterly whipped he is for you. Somewhere deep inside of him, he’s well aware that he’s in your domain. That he is not sitting inside the cafe he nervously took you to the first time he got the nerve to ask you to hang out. He knows that this is nothing more than a cleverly crafted illusion used to make saying goodbye a lot easier for the two of you.

Everything is just so vivid. The colors, the scent, you. He knows it’s selfish to want to drag out this process even longer. It must be tiring for you, to have to mentally strain to maintain this realistic illusion while also tricking his mind into ignoring the pain he’s actually in. He can see it in your eyes; the ones that never seem to want to leave his face, almost like you’re scared you’re going to forget him the moment you blink.

He stretches, fakes a yawn. “It’s getting kinda late, don’t ya think? I should probably head home.”

“I’ll walk you there.” You say, getting up from your chair.

“You think a man like me can’t defend himself?” You want to remember Satoru like this: messy hair, eyes brimming with mischief and life, cocky grin. Maybe it’s your heart acting on its own accord, altering reality for your own benefit, but Satoru looks younger in this lighting. Happier. At peace.

“I think you’re the type of man people need to be defended from. It’s my civic duty to make sure you’re not wreaking havoc.”

You know that time is limited. You know that neither of you really want to acknowledge what’s truly happening. Satoru has to go, and all that he’ll be leaving you behind with is the aftermath. If you try hard enough, you can manipulate your minds into thinking that these seconds are much longer than they actually are, but—

—he deserves to rest.

That’s why walking him to his front door is an ordeal that lasts a total of two seconds. One blink, and the cafe has vanished. Now, he’s standing in front of his apartment door, still smiling, still bright, still alive.

“So, you going to invite me in?” You tease him, keeping your tone lighthearted, as if he doesn’t know you well enough to know how you’re truly feeling.

“After just the first date?” He pretends to look offended. “I don’t know what kind of man you take me for, but I don’t let just anyone spend the night, especially only after a coffee non-date.”

“Fine.” You pretend to contemplate, the smile on your face perhaps the only real thing here. “Will you let me hit on the second date, at least?”

“I’ll think about it.” And then, Satoru cocks his head to the side. “I’ll see you the same time next week?”

You don’t want to think about the real world. In this world, it’s just the two of you, and that’s all that matters.

You swallow back any sadness; Satoru swallows back any blood.

“Text me where, and I’ll be there.” You say this, knowing that you would gladly follow Satoru right through the door that beckons for him. He’s smiling, like he knows what you’re thinking about.

“I’ll pick you up when it’s time. But, uh, if I don’t text you back soon, sorry in advance.” He gives you that boyish look of his, the face he always makes when he’s about to make an incredibly stupid joke. “I have a bad habit of ghosting people.”

A kind of guttural sound leaves your throat; a choked up laugh and a barely concealed sob. Ghosting, really, Satoru?

“It’s okay. I have a bad habit of liking guys that are bad for my health.”

“If you don’t hear from me, just know that it’s me and not you.”

“I love being fed cliche lines like this. Tell me some more.” Tell me everything, you want to beg him. Let’s just stand here forever, and you’ll drag out the time, and he can talk for as long as he wants to about anything and everything.

“Feeling a bit sleepy. The cliche lines will have to wait until next time.” He clears his throat. “Hey, I know we just had our first date—”

“—coffee doesn’t count, you still owe me a real first date.”

He sticks out his tongue, childishly, at your interruption. “Is it too soon for me to tell you that I love you? I don’t normally move this fast, but I really do love you. Hope this doesn’t scare you away.”

He could never scare you away.

You should tell him that, but something in his eyes and in his smile let’s you know that he’s already aware.

“Is it too soon for me to tell you that I love you, too?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda crazy. Lucky for you, I like crazy girls.”

“Please don’t go to sleep yet, Satoru. You haven’t even walked through the door yet, and I already miss you.” In the illusion you’ve created, you can take away that door from him. It won’t change the truth, but it can certainly prolong the pain that comes with it. You don’t, though. Even if his hand wasn’t already reaching for the doorknob, you would never take the choice away from him.

“Yeah, I have a lasting effect on women, what can I say?” He laughs, but there’s none of his trademark humor woven in it. The world goes quiet. “I’m feeling really tired, [Name]. I’m gonna head to bed now.”

“Goodnight, then. Sweet dreams, Satoru.”

He looks at you. Really looks at you, like he’s trying to embed the memory of your visage on his pupils, to have it so permanently etched in his mind that he’ll still be able to remember you every time he closes his eyes.

“As long as you’re in every single one of them, they will be.”

He opens the door.

a/n: reader's cursed technique is the ability to use cursed energy to "manipulate" reality; in all actuality, you create illusions, able to trick others into seeing whatever you're crafting. it helps in trapping curses, and letting gojo say goodbye to you without making you look at him choke on his blood

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk 236 #jjk x reader #angst #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo x reader #one shot #drabble #imagine

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xoxomoonlightxoxo · 7 months ago

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The Girl That Disappeared | Suspect #2 JJK

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

✧ Synopsis: It was a gloomy Friday evening when you felt the mists of melancholy pulse through your veins, aching body floating above the deep water. Squeezing your eyes shut, your lips trembled with fear. You didn’t want to die, but you sure as hell didn’t want to live. Not in this town. Not with the people in it. So, why don’t you just disappear? Leave them to search for the remnants of who you had been before you realised that life is more painful than death. Park Jimin. Kim Taehyung. Jeon Jungkook. Best-friend, step-brother, and an ex-lover. Although their paths had never crossed before that gloomy Friday evening, their names, printed in bold, now remained on the top of the suspect list. Stories entangled in your mystery.

✧ w/c: 6.1k ✧ a/n: a lot is going on here but please let me know what you think, mwuah 💓 ✧ taglist: @kookieandjoonberries @whoa-jo @taevestr @smoljimjim @kookxin

@11thenightwemet11 @xumyboo @kingofbodyrolls @jksusawife

“Y/n-ah! I’m leaving, please turn on the security,” your mother’s voice echoed from the entrance as you heard the front door close. She was working on-call today, and while it seemed like you finally had an opportunity to spend some quality time together, the hospital rang her in for an emergency operation at the last minute.

“Okay, love you,” you yelled from your room, picking up the laundry off the floor before heading downstairs. No one was home. Mr. Kim had a night shift and wouldn’t be back until later and only God knew where Taehyung was.

Scrolling through your phone, you smiled at the photos Jimin sent you from his parent’s ranch house. It’s been a week since he left, and you couldn’t help but miss him. The two of you haven’t gone this long without seeing each other, so it felt weird not being able to call him over.

“Y/n, it’s so nice here, you would’ve loved it,” he smiled through the phone, resting his head on the soft pillow.

“I bet,” you whined.

“Next time, you’re coming with me, okay? There’s this waterfall I’ve been dying to show you,”

“Okay … I missed you Jimin-ah,” your voice broke, glossy eyes looking down at the teddy bear he got for your birthday.

“Y/n-ie, you know I missed you more,” Jimin moved in closer, placing a kiss on his front camera as you glanced up.

“Now, get some sleep, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, mmhm,”

“Goodnight,” you whispered with a little wave.

“Sleep tight, angel,”

He never called after that. All your attempts went straight to voicemail. It was strange, Jimin always valued communication, and never was the type to let you wonder about his whereabouts. Kept you posted even with a little “k”, just to signify that he got the message. But, now, it felt like he was gone. Vanished into thin air, like nothing happened. And, it killed you knowing that you couldn’t do anything about it.

The clock read 7 am on the dot, which meant that you still had about two hours till the first bell. It was the first day of your period and your cramps were horrendous, to say the least. They’re usually a pain in the ass but never this bad. Looking through the medicine cabinet you rummaged past the bandaids and the gummy vitamins before remembering that Taehyung took the last Ibuprofen for his headache last night. It was ironic how little painkillers you had in the house, knowing that your mom was a doctor. But, it’s because she always preached the importance of letting your body heal naturally. Science could only get you so far, I guess?

Zipping up your windbreaker, you grabbed your wallet and keys before heading outside to the local grocery store until the sound of a slammed door left you frozen in your tracks. It came from upstairs. Looking up at the dark corridor you turned on the lights, following the breeze seeping through the cracks of your room.

“Taehyung?” you called, hands hovering over the doorknob. No one answered. Why would they? You were the only one in the house, right?

“Taehyung, if this is one your stupid jok-” you whispered again before facing the empty room.

No sight of Taehyung, but your window was open, which explained the door. The only problem was that you didn’t remember opening it in the first place. Nonetheless, you would gladly accept this version of the incident over the possibility of some paranormal activity. One problem at a time, please.

So, you shut your blinds and went back downstairs to turn off the security system before grabbing your bike from the garage. You didn't have a licence, and only got your learners about a month ago, so if no one was home you had to resort to another form of transportation.

You didn’t mind biking though. Found it rather therapeutic. Loved the alone time it allowed for without the bombardment of life and its constant obstacles. Just you and your thoughts. And, although there was a bit of a fog, it was clear enough to see where you were going. So, you buckled your helmet and went off on your journey to secure some Ibuprofen.

Exiting the gated community, you biked through the local primary school, passing by a parking lot of sleep-deprived parents rushing to work after dropping off their little ones. It was getting a bit chilly as the wind picked up, so you stopped to put on some mittens and a hat before glancing back at the rustling sound behind the corner.

“Hello?”

Again, no one answered. But, that didn’t stop the chills running down your spine, remembering the incident earlier at home. Looking down at your watch, you gasped at the 20 minutes that had already passed, yet, you were nowhere near the grocery store. So, it was time to focus.

Biking down the empty road, your eyes were scattered across the painted scenery. The old brick houses and the tall trees. The rusted mailboxes and the garden gnomes. It all felt so nostalgic. So close to your heart, as if tethered by the strings of your past. But, the feeling was short-lived. Consumed by the eerie melancholy inching up your skin as you felt someone's presence behind you.

This time, you weren’t wrong. Covered from head to toe, it looked like a man. Keeping a civil distance, he followed your turns. Left. Right. Straight. Right. Left. Straight. Coincidence or not, this wasn’t a common path that people took. Not many knew of the shortcut. So, you began to speed up, feeling the adrenaline kick in once he did the same. Now, it was a chase.

Pushing through the burning pain in your calves you picked up the pace, feet firm on the pedals. He didn't pity your fatigue, only fueled it more by inching closer before the two of you were riding side-by-side. Keeping an eye on his uncanny demeanour, you flinched at the sound of a car horn blast through your trembling state as a white Honda glared past you, pointing at the stop sign.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered under your breath.

“You're fast,” the man scoffed, tilting his head with a sly grin. That's all you could see.

“Who are you?” you yelled, voice trembling in panic.

“I’ll give you a head start, mmhm?” he sneered, changing the gears on his bike.

Feeling the tightness in your throat, you were gasping for air, dilated pupils scanning the surroundings for help. Unfortunately, as if praying on your downfall, the street was empty. Not a soul in sight. So, you pressed on the pedals, leaving the man in the dust as you prayed that the next turn led to people.

Gas station. Bingo.

Hoping off your bike you bolted towards the door.

“Hey, hey, hey,” the cashier yelled out, furrowed gaze searching the panic on your face. You could feel the flush rise up your cheeks, but the absence of Mr. X occupied your mind.

“I’m so sorry,” you mouthed, clearly out of breath before dialling Jimin’s phone number. It was like second nature. You didn’t even realise it until your call went straight to voicemail.

“Oh, right,” a sigh escaped your lips, remembering that he was still MIA.

Looking through your contacts, there was only one more person you could call. But, the possibility of them actually agreeing to help you was as slim as your waist after all that exercise. Nonetheless, you took a deep breath and pressed the call button.

“Taehyung?”

“What do you want, y/n?” he scoffed.

“Right. So, potentially … if you could … would you mind picking me up from the gas station near River Banks?” you whispered, careful with every word as you anticipated his response.

“Potentially, screw you. What the fuck did you lose there?”

“It’s kind of a long story but I do need to be at school in about half an hour,”

“Can I even say no?”

“Last time I checked it was a free country but a dangerous one at that. So, if I'm kidnapped, my blood is on your hands,”

“You and that victim mentally of yours go way back, huh?”

“Please, Taehyung. I’ve never asked you for a favour before,”

“Fine, give me 10 minutes,” he sighed, ending the call before you could even thank the guy.

The car ride home was quiet. No radio. Windows rolled up. Silence.

“So, you’re really not gonna tell me?” Taehyung asked with an arched brow, glancing at your stiff form as the light turned red.

You’ve never been good at lying. Even if your mouth stayed shut, your face would’ve revealed it all. Essentially, there was no running away from the truth in your case.

“Well … no one was home and I needed medicine so I decided to bike to the grocery store,” you began explaining, avoiding his eyes.

“Mmhm,”

“And then …” you paused, hesitating the next part. What if Mr. Kim finds out? What if you were blowing this out of proportion?

“Y/n. You’re making me angry. Just say it,” he scolded, pressing on the pedal.

“Sorry. Um, so yeah … I was biking and then out of nowhere this man started following me. So, I tried losing him by taking different turns but … ended up getting lost,”

“You were followed?” there was a slight change in Taehyung’s voice. Less sarcastic, more intrigued.

“I guess?”

“Well, did you see what he looked like?”

“Not, really. He was covered from head to toe. Except …” you gasped, eyes shut as your brain scavenged through its short-term memory, recalling the moment at the stop sign.

“Yes?”

“The side of his mouth was … bruised like he got punched or something?” you leaned back into the seat, fidgeting with your rings while Taehyung merged onto the right lane. He was too focused on the road to hear what you said, but as you glanced at his face your eyes widened, spotting the same purple marks.

“What?” he growled, furrowed gaze glaring back at your parted lips.

“Nothing.” you chuckled awkwardly, reaching for the radio before his cold hand touched yours.

“Look me dead in the eyes and tell me.” he sneered, interlocking his fingers with yours. You’ve known each other for almost a year, yet, your shoulders have never even grazed past each other. So, this was strange, to say the least.

“Tell you what?” you said hushly, gulping down the nerves as he levelled his face to meet your scattering eyes.

“That you’re scared,”

“I’m not,” you scoffed, feeling the flush in your cheeks.

“Good. Because why the fuck would it be me, you dumbass.” his voice got louder with each word, throwing your hand back before rolling down the windows. Finally. Some fresh air.

Why would it be him, y/n? You weren’t his favourite but, this was too much. Taehyung was a straightforward person, if he hated you he would say it to your face. So, these mind games were really not his thing. But, then again, what’s up with the bruised lip?

Fixing your uniform you walked into the brightly lit classroom. First period. Physics. No one was in their seats, let alone bothered by the fact that the teacher was almost 10 minutes late. Placing your books on the desk you looked over at the empty seat beside you. Jimin was still gone. No one has heard from him in weeks.

Bing Bing

Rampaging through your backpack you searched for your phone. You didn’t have time to properly pack because Taehyung was counting down the minutes before he threatened to drive off, so you just threw everything in hoping to fix it during your free period. Scrolling through the notifications your eyes focused on the text message from an unknown number.

“I missed you.” you mouthed under your breath.

“Sorry everyone, the meeting took a bit longer,” Mr. Choi chuckled softly, speed-walking into the room before ushering everyone to their seats.

“I missed you?” you whispered again, eyebrows knitted with confusion. Was it Jimin? Did he change his number?

“Nonetheless, I am pleased to introduce our new transfer student …”

You couldn’t recognize the area code, so you tried looking it up on the internet but found nothing useful. Was this some kind of a scam? An innocent prank, maybe?

“Jeon Jungkook” Mr. Choi’s voice suddenly echoed in your ears making you glance up at the dark-haired boy standing in front of the class. Interestingly, he was already looking at you. Hooded gaze focused on the way your demeanour changed completely.

“Jungkook, feel free to take any empty seat,”

Bowing to the man, he did exactly that. Slowly passing by the first three rows before stopping by the seat next to you. Nodding his head, he seemed pleased with the pick.

“Oh, no sorry, Jungkook-ah, that seat belongs to another student,” Mr. Choi called out with a smile that quickly faded as he watched him sit regardless.

“There’s plenty of options. I’m sure they’ll find another one,” Jungkook muttered with a sly grin, taking out his books before turning his attention to your widened eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n,” he rasped against your hair, gently tucking it behind your ear to fix the back of your collar. His dark orbs flickered down to your parted lips, sending shivers down your spine.

The first kiss you shared with Jungkook was between your eyes. The way his furrowed gaze softened upon seeing you walk down the wooden stairs of your childhood home, in the lavender dress he bought for your birthday. The way he nervously nibbled on his lip ring before caressing the back of your hand, fingers intertwined with yours. Everything about him was gentle when it came to you. The way his warm embrace moulded into yours, as you grew to share the same breath, the same heartbeat. One singularity in the form of two lovers.

He filled the void your father left as you failed to please his expectations. The ones only a son could bear. The nights you spent crying in your room, wishing that your mother didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of raising a daughter, Jungkook was there. Like a knight in shining armour, he always saved you. Hoped to give you the future you deserve if you promised to share it with him. The two of you were inseparable. Attached by the hip.

Until, one day, you weren’t.

It’s been a week since Jungkook transferred schools. His seat still next to you. Inches away from the past that tethered your souls. You didn’t talk much. Mentally exhausted from the consequences. But, his eyes. They never lied. Sneaking glimpses across the room, watching your every move. He wanted you to give in, to tell him why you left. Help him understand how someone so close could betray his trust, his loyalty, his love. Jungkook didn’t hate you, wouldn’t let anyone get too close, but he was hurt. You could see it in his eyes. The same eyes that onces sparkled under the shimmering lights of the night sky when you shared your first kiss.

Dipping your feet into the pool you wanted to test the water before running through the new drill your coach crafted for the upcoming swim meet. To put it lightly, it was freezing. Goosebumps all over your skin, nipples cut through glass type of freezing. You would think a school with such a budget could afford a heated pool but beggars can’t be choosers. So, you tucked your hair under the swim camp and started on some stretches.

“One … two … three …” you breathed out, counting the reps before glancing up at the flickering lights. School ended about an hour ago, so the place was pretty empty except for the janitors and a few teachers who stayed back to work on some grading. There was no practice today, but you had a spare key to the pool, so it was just you and the water.

“Hello?” you called out, covering yourself with the towel. No response.

“Sorry, this is a closed practice,” you shouted out again, hearing footsteps coming from the changing rooms.

“Hel-”

The lights went out. Goosebumps covered your skin, heart beat through the roof. Now what?

“This isn't funny. Turn the lights back on!”

No one answered, but the footsteps inched closer. You could sense that they were near but it was too dark to make out a figure. Then, he chuckled. Subtle but devious chuckle. Like it was all premeditated.

“Where is it?” a voice echoed, bouncing off the four walls. It was familiar.

“Jungkook? Is that you?” you gasped, looking over your shoulder, hands trembling in fear.

“Where is it, y/n?” his tone was firm.

“Where's what?”

“Don't act dumb, love,” he sneered, hands hovering over your waist making you flinch at the sudden feeling. The smell of his vanilla musk lingered in the air as you matched each other’s breathing, skin to skin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered, chest heaving up from the tension.

“Where’s my baby?” he rasped against your ear pushing your frail body into the water as his hold around your waist tightened. Eyes squeezed shut, you began to kick him off of you. But he was stronger, assertive, more needy. Gasping for air you felt the water seep into your lungs, nails digging into his skin as a warning to bring you back to the surface.

However, once you were up, he would have more questions. Questions you didn’t have the heart to answer. But, Jungkook deserved to know the truth, even if it hurt. Because, deep down, your father’s abuse wasn’t the only reason you left.

You didn’t remember much of that night thanks to the five whiskey shots that pulsed through your veins. Intoxicated your system till you became numb. Unaware of the dangers around you and vulnerable to those with bad intentions. Until it was too late.

“Stop … please …” you whimpered, flinching at the feeling of his tongue on your breast. Parted lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your stomach, wrists red from his tight hold as your arms stayed pinned over your head. But your cries for help were as worthless as the consent he never got.

Until the door slammed open and Jungkook’s irate gaze saw your lifeless body buried under the weight of another man. No amount of restraint could hold him back. He was flammed with rage.

“Y/n!” Jungkook growled, pushing the guy onto the floor as blood covered his fist. And, as the four walls caved in, your world fell apart.

But, you could barely open your eyes, let alone get up. Too ashamed to move anyways and the migraine only made it worse. Searching for your top your heart ached with pain once you saw Jungkook’s hollow orbs swelled with tears as he wiped the blood off his face. He looked defeated, almost as unconscious as the man on the floor. Stepping over the body with one hand on his side he whimpered, biting down the pain in his ribs before covering you with his jacket.

“We have to go.” he muttered, picking you up bridal style.

“Koo, we can’t just leave him,” you yelled out, worried gaze searching his pale face.

“It’s nothing fatal, he’ll be fine,” Jungkook scoffed, feeling the tightness in his throat as he glanced down at your saddened eyes.

Tension consumed the air. It was suffocating.

“Jungkook, please slow down.” you exclaimed, tightening your hold on the seatbelt. And, although his glare was focused on the road, he couldn’t hear you. Too occupied by the burning pit in his stomach. It didn’t take long until the dashboard flashed warning signals as his speed reached 200 km/h. You were virtually flying. Yet, there was no end to his high.

Reaching for his cold hand you tried to snap him out of it before the car suddenly stopped.

“Oh, shit!” Jungkook yelled out, protecting you from the impact, as your body swung forward.

Eyes squeezed shut, your hands trembled in fear. He hit someone. You hit someone. Fidgeting with your seatbelt you desperately tried to get out and help the crouched man on the ground. He wasn’t bleeding but his skin looked burnt.

“Y/n!” Jungkook jerked you back, tightening his hold on your arm as he pressed on the pedal.

“What are you doing? We have to go back!” you yelled with a furrowed gaze.

“Jungkook!” you threw a few hits at his chest, reaching for the steering wheel as the car swerved along the bumpy road.

“Enough!”

You couldn’t recognize him. He never raised his voice at you. Barely ever argued. But, now, Jungkook felt so distant. So cold.

“Fine.” you whispered, digging your nails into your palms. It felt like a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from. Stuck in a maze of despair, robbed of peace and the possibility that it was all in your head. That none of it was real.

But it was. And, it would only get worse.

Unlocking his front door, Jungkook stepped aside, letting you go first, hesitant with his touch. Furrowed gaze fixated on the ground, his head hung low, heavy with thoughts. Tucking onto the ankle straps of your heels you hissed out of frustration, vision blurring in and out of focus.

“I can do it myself.” you scoffed, as he bent down to help. You didn’t mean to sound rude but there’s only so much one can endure before the sun sets. It was exhausting.

“I know you can but let me,” he muttered softly.

And, for a moment there was silence. No words were exchanged. No one knew what to say. Feared that something else would go wrong. But your eyes, they were screaming.

“Koo?” you whispered, caressing his cheek as he inched closer, burying his face into the warmth of your palm.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Jungkook blurted, gripping your dress.

You weren’t his first love but you were his first love. And, he promised to always keep you safe, fight for the beating of your heart until the air was stripped away from his lungs. But, he failed.

“I’m sorry for letting you get hurt” his voice was quiet, shaky. Glossy eyes looking up at your trembling lips.

“Baby, you saved me.” you exclaimed softly, pulling him into your embrace, feeling the tension in his body slowly dissipate.

“Nothing happened, right?” he whispered into your skin.

“Nothing,” you said hushly.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

To be honest, you didn’t remember what happened. Only the scars remained witness, your body painted like a canvas with purple hues of abuse. But, nothing happened, right?

“How do you know about the baby?” you questioned with an arched brow, trying your best to stay afloat as Jungkook inched closer.

“Oh, y/n, you always underestimated the power of a small town. News here spreads faster than wildfire.” he grinned, resting his hands on your waist before your back hit the concrete.

That night, when you layed on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, the puzzle pieces began to come together. Something did happen. Something that didn’t belong to Jungkook. You were raped and on very thin ice with your father who was ready to kick you out of the house if you didn’t oblige his threats. The ones that entailed getting rid of the baby, and clearing up the family name. But, you couldn’t bear to lose someone so close, so innocent.

So, you didn’t. You hid the pregnancy from everyone. Of course, your mom knew but you didn’t want to risk getting her into trouble with your father, whose behaviour worsened with each fight. Completely unhinged, he couldn’t be stopped.

But, when he slammed you against the kitchen cabinet while you stood in front of your mother’s trembling body you finally felt it. The striking pain in your abdomen that travelled up your pelvis and into your back. The pooling of blood that rolled down your leg, marking your clothes with the loss of your baby. And every day since then, you wondered. Wondered what life would feel like without the constant longing to be whole again.

“And, hey, thanks for this,” Jungkook teased with a sly wink, parading the dove necklace Mr. Kim gifted you for your graduation.

“Give it back Jungkook, this isn’t funny.” you snapped, reaching for his hand before his hold on your waist tightened, pulling you in.

“You stole something from me, now it’s my turn,” he rasped against your ear, nibbling on the soft skin. Inches apart, his heavy gaze flickered down to your lips.

“Hmm, I haven’t swam in a while but I think I can make the team, right captain?” Jungkook glanced up, searching your furrowed expression.

Unfortunately, he did make the team. If you couldn’t tell already, he was a crowd favourite. Always managed to get what he wanted, even with minimal effort. Simply put, life just seemed to work out for Jungkook.

So, when the team went on to win the Nationals your coach decided to splurge and take everyone out for the weekend. Nothing special. Just a trip to the next town over. He rented a bus, but if you had a ride you could just meet everyone there. Sadly, both your mom and Mr. Kim were busy with work and Taehyung closed the door on you when you asked, so that seemed like a hard pass.

“Damn, Mr. Lim couldn't wait till sunrise?” your friend teased as the two of you waited by the school entrance. It was just shy of 7 am, but the sky was grey and foggy.

“That's what I'm saying. I couldn't even sleep yesterday,” you scoffed, feeling the puffiness around your eyes. Something about the little getaway fueled your nervous system to stay alert the whole night. Was it excitement? Fear?Anxiousness? Only time will tell.

“It's fine, in about 5 minutes we should already be hitting the road. And, hey, I brought the book you asked for,” she exclaimed, digging through her bag.

“Nice! Fair warning though, I will be taking my beauty slumber as soon as we get on or else I might just die,” the two of you chuckled before collecting your stuff noticing the bus turn into the school parking lot.

Heading up the stairs you were welcomed by an older gentleman.

“Hel-” his words were cut off by the shouting outside.

“Y/n!”

“Sorry, could you excuse me for a second?” you giggled awkwardly, turning back to see who was making all that noise.

“Y/n, get in. I'll drive.” Jungkook urged with no hesitation, patting the passenger seat.

“That's not necessary,” you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest.

“That wasn't a question.” a sly grin covered his face.

Parking his Mercedes in front of the bus, you looked back at the old man who was busy checking in the other students to notice Jungkook’s stubborn act. Well, shit.

“Fine.” you muttered, ushering him to open the trunk.

As promised, you fell asleep almost immediately, suppressing the daunting feeling inside your chest. Jungkook didn’t mind, and kept as quiet as possible, reclining your seat before covering you with his jacket. It was better that the two of you didn’t speak. This gave him the perfect opportunity to look at you without being threatened.

The drive was supposedly only 4 hours, but the rain lengthened the process.

“Hhmm?” you flinched from the sound of hail hitting the glass window.

“Sleep well?” Jungkook whispered, glancing at your drowsy eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, stretching your back.

“Are you hungry? We will have to stop at a motel, it’s too dangerous to drive.”

“Alright. Let me just text Yuri then,” you said, unzipping your bag.

“No need, I already let Mr. Lim know,” he winked, pulling into the parking lot.

Mother Nature was pissed and decided to take it out on all of us. So, it wasn’t long until the two of you were drenched from head to toe.

“Quickly, let’s go!” Jungkook exclaimed, grabbing your hand before locking the car.

The place wasn’t brand new, per se, but it served its purpose. As soon as you walked in, you were welcomed by what could only be described as a parade of taxidermy deer heads mounted onto the wall with a complimentary coffee station by the corner.

“I'll be right with you!” a female voice echoed from the back room.

Glancing at the water dripping down your face Jungkook chuckled, pulling you in to wipe the excess with his sleeve.

“You okay?” he hummed, levelling his head until your eyes met.

“Cold,” you muttered, nibbling on your lip before turning him back towards the front desk.

“Right, so sorry for the wait. What can I do for you, dear?” an older woman exclaimed with a soft smile.

“Oh, no worries at all! We’re just looking for a room for the night,” Jungkook explained, pulling out his wallet.

“Of course! Are you two a couple by any chance?” she giggled, dimples popping out on both cheeks as your mouth dropped.

“Oh, n-” you scoffed before his glare pierced through you.

“Shhh, let her finish, love,”

“Well, it’s just that Saturdays are usually our couple specials. You get a 30% discount!” she clapped, admiring what you assumed she thought to be the epitome of young love standing in front of her.

“Lucky us, then,” Jungkook clapped as well, inching your stiff body closer to make it more believable.

“Go us!” you smiled awkwardly, patting his chest before whispering something in his ear. Don’t get too excited.

Placing a gentle peck on your forehead he grabbed the bags, following the sweet lady towards your room.

“Alrighty, here it is! If you need anything I’m just a call away.”

“Thank you!” the two of you said in unison, unlocking the door.

One bed.

“So, how is it?” Jungkook asked, laying out his jacket on the cabinet to dry.

“You’re sleeping on the floor.” a teasing chuckle escaped your parted lips.

“The rain will stop soon. I doubt we’ll even need the bed,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“What? We wasted all that money for nothing?”

“Well, first of all, I paid. And, we got a discount, remember?”

“I'm sorry. I'll pay you back,” your gaze lowered from the sudden guilt, fingers fidgeting with your rings.

“Are you kidding? I would pay triple to spend more time with you,” his tone was genuine, pupils dilated at your timid state.

“Jungkook,” you whispered.

“If only you knew how much I missed it,” he tilted his head back on the wall, nibbling on his lip ring.

“What?”

“Hearing you say my name,”

“I thought we hated each other,” you muttered, folding your hands over your chest.

“You did. I just loved the thrill of it,”

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t miss it too. In hindsight, your feelings were always suppressed but obvious to the naked eye. To his eyes. However, just because you miss something, doesn’t mean you have to go back. Sometimes, the door is better off closed. Hidden deep in your subconscious mind, buried under a pile of broken promises.

“I’m going to shower.” you blurted in a hurry, walking past him to avoid the thoughts running through your head.

The water was cold no matter which way the faucet turned, so you had to be quick unless catching hypothermia was on the list of things Mr. Lim wanted you to experience over this trip. If so, then you were ahead of the game.

Wrapping yourself with a towel you washed off your makeup, combing your hair with a detangling brush before getting startled by the swinging of the door, hitting your side.

“Hey! I wasn’t done.”

“Sorry, it’s cold,” Jungkook whined, welcoming himself in.

“Did you try putting on a shirt?” you scoffed, eyeing his naked chest before his furrowed gaze caught you red-handed.

“It’s wet, smartass. And, I didn’t want to put new clothes on before showering.”

“Well, go stand over there and face the wall,”

“Are you shy?” he teased, leaning on the counter.

“Well, I’m not comfortable.” you hissed, tightening the fabric around your body.

“I’ve seen you naked plenty of times, y/n,” Jungkook grinned, eyes squeezed shut as if reminiscing the good old days.

“You don’t have to remind me. I'll be taking that sin to the grave,”

But it was too late. Lips inches apart, your chest heaved up from the intensity of his heavy gaze, eyeing your form from top to bottom. Tilting your chin with his fingers, he leaned closer.

“We can’t,” you blurted, hands hovering over his chest.

“No?” he glanced at your scattering eyes, pressing your palm against his burning skin.

“What about Soojin?”

“What about her?”

“Seems like you guys were hitting it off pretty well,” you hissed, looking past his glare.

“Meh … not my type,” Jungkook scoffed, eyes flickering down your lips.

“Oh, really?”

“Why? Was y/n jealous?” he said with a sly grin, tracing his fingers up your thigh.

“Soojin, is not your type? Ha! Hard to believe when she was all over you a few days ago.” your tone was low, annoyed at the whole thing. You were jealous. Fine. Whatever. Moving right along.

“Hmm, is that so? Then what does that say about us? If I leave a trail of kisses down your neck, does that mean you're my type?” he whispered in your ear, pulling your body onto the counter before finding himself between your legs.

“I'm not your type,” you chuckled, ignoring the obvious tension.

“I could've been a dad by now and you're questioning if you're my type? Really?” Jungkook teased, resting his forehead on yours.

“Jungkook, the baby wasn’t yours.” you said firmly, palms holding his face to make sure he was paying attention.

“But, it was yours. And, what’s yours is mine. Isn’t that right?” he winked, fingers intertwined with yours. Then it happened. The long-awaited kiss. And, although you knew this wasn’t the best of your decisions, you didn’t mind revisiting this door, at least for the time being.

Until that night. The night in the forest. When a locked door was the only thing separating you and Jungkook.

“Call him. Let's see if he actually cares,” you could see the grin smear across the man’s masked face, as your blood-shot eyes swelled with tears.

Hands tied behind your back, you watched him press the call button, turning the phone towards you before resting his knife right under your chin.

“Jungkook!” you cried out with a shaky voice.

Ring Ring

“Oh, shit, where’s my phone,” Jungkook exclaimed, patting his pockets before reaching for the glove compartment.

“What the fuck?”

His eyes widened. It was you. Rather, snapshots of you. One’s that he had no recollection of taking. But, they looked strange. As if you also weren’t aware of them being captured.

Call from 647-568-0349. Call from y/n-ie❤️

An automated voice broadcasted through the speaker system set up in his garage.

“Y/n?” Jungkook yelled out, bolting towards the locked door.

“Jungkook … please …” you whimpered, feeling the tip of the knife poke into your skin as your chest heaved up.

“What the fuck? Why won’t it open?” Jungkook growled, fidgeting with the knob before banging on the wooden door. But, no one was home.

“Please … please … pick up.”

Running back into his car, he turned on the engine, scattering eyes looking back at the empty driveway until the garage door began closing on its own.

And within seconds, he was trapped. No way in or out. But, the engine was still on, running inside the confined space. Gaseous fumes slowly intoxicating the air he was forced to breathe.

“Fucking hell.” Jungkook coughed, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Please …” you kept trying, hoping to hear his sweet voice on the other line. Completely naive to the carbon monoxide that was now spreading through his lungs.

“Help!” he cried out, feeling the tightness in his throat.

“Jungk-” you gasped, widened eyes glaring back at the masked man.

“Tsk … what a shame.” he sneered, ending the call abruptly before piercing through the phone.

“Oh, angel, it’s okay. We can wait if you wish. Hopefully, his lungs don’t collapse,” he rasped against your hair, cold touch sending shivers down your back as you felt your heart sink.

125 notes · View notes

imsofthelp · 1 year ago

Text

Category: smut, angst

Warnings: smoking, sort of jjk spoilers but not really stated clearly, angsty, cursing, gojo being smitten is a warning of it’s own

Summary: Your ability allows you to see visions of the future. Once you see your lover dead, you can’t help but want to pull away and keep him safe

***

Satoru awakes when the sun is about to rise and colour the world in molten gold. It’s not a peaceful awakening, not the usual smell of coffee you brewed after slipping out of his grasp in the early hours of the morning and not the sound of you humming a melody only known to you.

Your screams tug at the strings of his heart in a way he didn’t even think was possible and before he’s even fully awake, his muscular arms reach out to wrap themselves around you, their goal to comfort and to ground you. He was still here and you were still safe.

Your eyes flutter open and closed like the wings of a butterfly, breathing erratic and uneven.

Gojo was always a selfish man and how could he not be if almost everyone worshipped not only him but the ground he walked on. A god amongst mortals, an angel meant to erase the sins of the humanity. Right now, he would do anything to take your pain away, to ease the trembling of your cold hands and calm down the way your heart is beating too fast.

A worse side of your technique, being able to summon anything you dreamed of last night, were the obscure visions of the future.

He’s learned not to ask right after, to allow you time to calm down and get your voice back. He’s more worried about you than curious about the future. A fleeting thought that this would never be the case for anyone else but you comes and goes.

When you do finally speak, your voice is croaky and barely audible, muttered into his dark shirt.

“You were dead.”

Three short words and his hands that have been stroking your back softly, freeze. Satoru thinks he misheard you. The idea of him dying is simply ridiculous. Who would be able to kill the strongest sorcerer alive? Sure, he’s had his doubts about Sukuna, but he’s certain he’d win if it came down to it.

“Darling, are you sure that it was me? Your visions are often unclear.”

Is all he thinks to say and his hands come back to your back, motions slow and comforting. Satoru doesn’t want you to know that his heart skipped a beat, that he’s a tad bit worried, ever since your visions about Nanami came true. Ever since all your interferences with the future proved to be fruitless. Ever since they had no body to bury.

Your face finally lifts up, chin resting on his chest, eyes red-rimmed and tearful. His hand touches your cheek and it’s hot to the touch.

“It was the clearest one I’ve ever had, Satoru.” you take a moment to gather your thoughts, to take a deep breath. The vision is engrained into your mind, playing over and over like a broken record. “I tr- fuck, tried to save you and it didn’t work. Nothing worked, I couldn’t- I was too weak to save you.”

And you burst into tears again, soft, heaving sobs slipping past your soft lips. If Satoru thought that it had hurt before, he doesn’t know what to compare this to. He briefly thinks of Suguru, but ultimately brushes it off.

He mumbles your name and kisses your forehead as softly as he can manage. All he knows is violence and fighting and surviving, but with you, he manages to hide all the ragged edges just enough.

“Ah.” Is all Satoru says for a moment, a hum of acknowledgement. He’s speechless for a moment as his worst suspicions are suddenly confirmed. Satoru doesn’t have to dwell on the thought that he cares more about what happens to you than to him. “What happens to you… In this vision?”

You slowly blink up at him, eyes glazed for a moment. He recognises that expression as you trying to recall every single detail of the vision. It’s so bittersweet, Satoru thinks, that you don’t even remember seeing yourself in that vision, only caring about him.

Soon, you come back to him, brows furrowed and expression drowned in worry.

“I try to heal you and… And I don’t even notice Sukuna coming back behind me. It hurts, for a bit, and then it’s dark. The vision ends.”

Gojo swallows and closes his eyes for a moment. What is he supposed to say? His jaw is tense, and when his eyes open again, he finds you even more worried than before.

“Love… Listen, that’s not going to happen, alright? I’ll make sure of it.”

He rewards you with one more kiss on your forehead as if that would help. He’d like to think that, but he finds himself horribly mistaken when you slip out of his grasp. You’re still only in your shirt and underwear, the only accessories being the bruises left on your hips that are now covered.

You rummage through the drawers and he sits up to observe. Your still trembling hands reach for a pack of cigarettes and a baby pink lighter. Gojo never liked you doing that. He never cared for alcohol and nicotine, choosing to see his body as a temple.

He worshipped you a lot, whispering prayers of your name a lot more than prayers he would in a temple, but clearly not enough.

“You really think death isn’t coming to us? Even after Shibuya?”

You shook your head and slipped out to the large balcony attached to the bedroom. Everything in his apartment was expensive and you often complained about feeling out of place. Of course, Satoru thought that you were right where you’re supposed to be.

When he climbs out of bed, he doesn’t need to shake away the sleep. It’s like a second nature to follow you out, the cold air of the early morning biting at his skin. He always has his infinity off when with you. Satoru doesn’t want you to feel like you could ever be denied the comfort of his touch.

He finds you smoking. The white trails leave your lips and disappear into the air as if they were never there. He finds himself at a loss of words once again. A strange and foreign feeling.

Satoru’s arms wrap around your waist and he slumps his large body over you like an oversized heated blanket. For you, he can ignore the smell of the cigarettes.

“Darling, please, listen. There’s nothing that could stop me from protecting you. I won’t let anyone harm you, ever.”

Satoru is careful not to say ‘as long as I’m alive’, bites his tongue to not let it slip. If this vision proves to be as truthful as your prior ones, he might have to reconsider the promises before making them.

You take another long drag before sighing softly. He doesn’t know that you’re also reconsidering your words.

“I don’t care about what happens to me, Satoru. You die.”

And your words hurt, he can feel the physical pain in his chest, his heart clenching. How could you ever say that? How could you put his life above yours? So many would, so many would disregard another sorcerer’s life for his, but never you. At the start of the relationship, he had made it clear that you were equals. Everything was back to base one.

“Please.” he’s used to people begging him, worshipping him, not the other way around. Once again, he is reminded, that for you he can be mortal, ordinary and nothing special. A normal person without the weight of the whole sorcerer society depending on him. “I’m begging you to not say such things. How can you disregard your life just like that?”

You stay quiet for a while and then put out your cigarette, turning to him. He notices the tears in your eyes and his immediate instinct is to wipe them off. He wants to give you space, though so he stays glued to the floor.

“I think my visions are not a warning. A warning would mean that the future could be changed, for better or for worse, anyway. We have tried so many times.” the words are quiet and your tone utterly defeated. You’re similar to a kicked dog right now. Yet, your eyes rise up and you come back to the hand that feeds. “We’ve tried so many times and It has never suceeded. Nanamin is still dead, Sukuna is still alive. It’s a curse more than a gift.”

Gojo wants to wish it all away. Your pain and your sorrows, your worries and your decreasing self-worth. He knows that there is nothing he can do to stop your mind from spiralling.

He whispers your name but you don’t allow him to speak, your hands raised.

“I think it’s just like… Someone saying to me ‘here is your future, take it and deal with it’ and…”

This time, Satoru is the one not allowing you to finish your words. He can’t listen to this anymore, can’t listen to this unchangable future shit. The future is always shifting, things are always happening and transforming the events, preventing them from happening and creating new ones.

“So that’s it? You’re accepting your fate and not trying to change it? And you’re fine with that?”

He can’t keep his voice from rising in volume, pretty, perfect face scrunched up. Satoru doesn’t know how to shake sense into you, how to make you see that you both can still change the future, prevent your deaths.

“I am fine.”

Is all you say, before putting the cigarette out and slipping back inside. Your skin is covered in goosebumps. His feet follow you before his mind can catch up.

“You clearly are not.” Satoru says as you pace around the room, not knowing what to do with yourself. He’s right behind you. It’s an instinct to try to calm you down. “Will you just listen to me? Nothing’s happening to me, or you. Fuck the future, fuck everything.”

You finally fall into his arms, but Satoru doesn’t dare sigh in relief. You’re about to say something again, and he’s about to give you more logical arguments. A cursed circle that never stops running. What can he even do to stop it?

“I think… I think that you’re a god, and I’m your dog.” you say and Satoru’s voice hitches in his throat. What was going on in your head right now, to make you say something like that, to even think something like that. “You tell me to stop worrying and I do, you demand me to calm down and I listen. Ultimately, you tell me to jump and I ask you ‘how high?’.”

Satoru freezes, the hands that held you limp by his sides as he pulls away. It was so completely unlike you, so unnatural. The visions have completely broken you and he doesn’t know how to bring you back, he really doesn’t, god he doesn’t know what to do.

“You are my dog?” he repeats, his tone harsher than before as he fails to wrap his head around the idea that you could say such a thing. “Are you still dizzy from your visions or are you taking a shot at making me upset?”

He shakes his head and pulls away from you, his large hands on your shoulders.

“It’s the truth.” you respond, avoiding his harsh gaze, pretending not to notice the weight of his hands on your shoulders.

“Well, I think your truth is stupid.” he retorts, hands shaking as he pulls them away from you, as if your skin burned him.

“And I think you should leave me.”

The words leave you and it’s like the time stops for Satoru. It’s a punch to his ego. Does he not love you enough? Not cherish you enough? Do you see him as the kind of man that would leave as soon as things got hard? How foolish, how utterly stupid.

“What are you saying now?” he all but yells, his temper no longer controlled as you look up at him with those teary eyes. What can he even do? What is he supposed to do?

Your whole body is shaking as you turn away from him. “In my vision, you died saving me. Leaving me can change the future.”

And suddenly, it all clicks for him. Why you were so insistant to push him away, why you seemed so hopeless. Protecting him by hurting yourself. How completely selfless, how utterly stupid.

“Oh, honey that’s…” he pulls you to him, wrapping his body around you until there’s nothing but him. His pretty girl is in tears. his pretty, perfect girl hurting. “I would never leave you, my love. Never once in a million lifetimes. I’m yours, darling, and you’re mine. We talked about the red string theory once and I’m afraid that I’m tied to you, hm?”

It’s not a question and he’s trailing kisses down your exposed neck. Your arms raise up on instinct and Satoru slips your, well, his shirt off of you. He knows you need him right now, to bring you back, to assure you, once again, that he’s yours, that he’ll stay despite everything.

Satoru lays you down on the bed as if you’re the most precious treasure and you look up at him, with those wide eyes, handing him your trust along with your heart.

“My pretty girl, my perfect girl.” he drawls, pressing kisses along your exposed chest and down your belly, until he reaches your underwear, playfully biting the little bow on them. “Can I take these off?”

You nod, but that’s not enough for him and he nips at the skin of your thigh, causing you to yelp. “Words, pretty girl.”

“Yes.” you answer, after a beat of silence.

And he’s granted heaven. Satoru slides off your underwear and tosses them somewhere into the room. More soft kisses follow and your breath hitches when his lips kiss where you need him most.

His skilled tongue flicks over your clit and your back immediately arches off of the bed. Coming down from so many emotions and reaching so many new ones left you more sensitive than ever.

Gojo chuckles and repeats the motion, before obliging your quiet whine with a practiced clockwise motion. He repeats the motion a few more times, revelling at the taste of you and the sound of your whines and soft moans. His pretty pretty girl.

He carefully enters one finger into you and immediately finds the spot that has you gasping. With each motion, he brings you back to himself, back to being completely his, none of that silly nonsense you were spewing before. He adds another, when he deems you wet enough.

Two of his fingers are already so much more than yours could ever be and the way his tongue keeps flicking over your clit in all the right ways has you moaning his name like a prayer. Truly, he’s the one praying to you.

“Ngh- Sa-Satoru, I-“

You don’t need to finish your sentence in order for him to know what you’ll say next. The flutter of your eyelashes and the way you squeeze his fingers so hard that he’s barely able to move them in and out is a telltale sign.

“You can cum, pretty girl. Mm, my pretty girl.”

He mumbles and then his tongue gets back to it’s former movements. You come with a high-pitched whine and he’s glad to finally taste you. Ambrosia couldn’t compare.

You come back down from your high and he’s already hovering over you, mouth wiped clean as he presses a bunch of butterfly kisses over your skin, anything he can touch.

He’s content with just pleasing you, with having you even a step closer to him. Back to where you are supposed to be. What a silly thought, that he’d ever consider leaving you when he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, the way he has never looked at anyone else.

Your eyes open and focus on him as you kiss him back, as soft as you can manage. Your hands bury into his hair and you have the adoring look back in your gaze. Even if it’s for a little while, before your worries start up again, he’s content.

“Want more, Toru, want you.”

Satoru swears that his eyes light up once he hears your words. You’re taking another step towards him, you’re almost back to him. “Are you sure, my love?”

You nod eagerly and it’s enough for him to take his clothes off. Your eyes are focused on his strong body, the sculpted muscles, the light hair that trails from his bellybutton right to his length.

He lays over you, careful not to let his weight fall onto you, always so careful with you. He rubs his cock over your pussy, covering it with your slick, attentive to make the intrusion as easy and pleasurable as possible.

He’s careful when he slides the tip in yet you still let out a soft whine. Satoru is a big man, towering over everyone no matter what room he’s in, it only makes sense that his cock is big, too. Doesn’t really help that he’s quite gifted on top of that.

“I know, I know, yeah. Hold onto me, darling. Mm, my love is doing so well.”

He feeds inch after inch of his large cock into you, watching your reactions deliberately, making sure not to hurt you.

Both you and Satoru moan when his pelvis meets yours, the sensation euphoric. His thrusts start out slow. He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Your head falls back onto the pillow as your moans get louder. He’s the only man who’s able to fuck you like this, to reach all the spots inside of you that make your eyes water.

“Do you feel good, darling? Am I making my perfect girl feel good.”

Your hands go over to cover your face and he tuts, pulling them away and gathering your wrists in one of his hands. It never fails to surprise you on how big they are. He, however, wants to see every reaction and hear every sound leaving you.

“Y-Yes, so good, feels so good.” You manage between loud moans. Screw the neighbours, Satoru thinks, screw everyone who isn’t you and him.

“Yeah? I feel good, too. So good, baby, so good. You’re perfect for me, the gods created you for me, yeah? So no more nonsense about me leaving.”

Your face heats up and back arches. His words reach you and then float around your otherwise empty mind.

His thrusts get quicker and less calculated as his head is thrown back. A quiet sigh of contentment leaves his pretty, glossy lips.

“Yeah, that’s right. No one. But us. Exists. Right now.” Satoru punctuates each little word with a deep thrust, breaths uneven, eyes closed in pleasure. “And we’ll overwrite the future if need be. If it means I get to stay. Then so be it.”

Another long, languid thrust and you come, nails dragging over his back as he spills into you, filling you with warmth.

You both take a moment to catch your breaths and soon, Satoru rolls off of you, his softened dick slipping out. He pulls you close to himself and presses a kiss to your forehead as you’re dozing off.

“Meant what I said. I’m staying and you won’t get rid off me, yeah? I love you more than I love anyone else, would die for you, kill for you… Perfect girl, my perfect girl.”

Satoru is not sure if you hear him before falling asleep, but he’ll be sure to remind you, should you ever forget again.

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk angst #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #tw cursing #tw smoking #tw angst

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randomyuu · 2 years ago

Text

A JJK GoYuu fancomic... of a fanfic (read right to left)

You know… despite me getting into JJK fandom this year, I’ve never drawn any JJK characters. (cue me drawing 9 whole-ass comic pages-)

This wonderful fic is titled (you'll whisper, serpent tongue) what you fear you have become by @voxofthevoid. This comic covers chapter 1 scenes.

Beware of the tags, as the fanfic is NSFW. Oh, and also, manga spoilers! Major character and arc spoilers! I’ve read until chapter 4 and no NSFW so far, but still, beware!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43446157/chapters/109219954

I hope you enjoy reading this comic and the fanfic if you decide to!

Update: Chapter 6 scene fanart

More of my random thoughts and an early drawing of GoYuu below:

Have I told you I’m not used to drawing manga as well? Manga panels are pain. PAIN, I tell you. I shouldn’t have done this, but I did. I did, because every time I read the synopsis of this fic I keep picturing manga-like scenes. You should blame me for reading those AllYuu doujinshis.

It was… interesting experience. I was struggling a bit with the balloon consistency, like, do I use white boxes or just italic words for thoughts? Or maybe a balloon with a cloud-like border?

And there’s GoYuu (YuuGo? Idk honestly, don’t care lol) themselves. As I said, I literally have never drawn JJK-related content before. So when I started thinking about the panelling, I realised that I don’t really know how to draw Gojo, even more a thousand-year-old Yuuji. A whole day is spent researching Gojo, Yuuji and Sukuna’s appearances lol. Sukuna’s markings are a problem since I can’t find a full view of his markings. I know I can just finally watch the anime (yes I haven’t watched the anime, only some short clips; yes I know the animation is good, and I really want to watch it but my brain doesn’t want to) or re-read the manga, but I don’t want to ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

After going through Google images, Twitter and Reddit, I whipped up a front drawing of GoYuu as my reference:

Gojo’s is easier because he hasn’t changed from the official (I blatantly eyeballing the character sheet I found haha), but Yuuji is different. Yuuji’s hair is longer; if I recall, there’s no exact description of his clothes. I assume he’s topless due to this description: Messy pink hair, long enough to cover the creature’s nape but not to hide the segmented dark markings running down his back, shifts in the wind.

And halfway through storyboarding, I realised that I have no experience using screen tones. Whatsoever. So off I go searching for a screentone bundle I can freely download and slowly figure my way out after fully lining the page.

And we haven’t even touched perspective, background, achromatic colouring, non-human characters—man, I really bite more than I can chew lmaooo

Ah, the things you would do to satiate that drawing mood ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Also, I hope I’ll have time to draw more fanarts of JJK GoYuu fanfics because they live rent-free in my brain and I need them to get out. Maybe other pairings as well? I like quite a lot of pairings that involve Yuuji. He’s precious, and I love having it shown to me over and over through fanfics.

#Yuu's art #jjk-fic-fanart #jjk-ship #goyuu #fan comic #omg idk what to put here #attempting at manga-ing #is that even a word #jjk ship #fanart #unrelated to this but I was so tired that I didn't notice two mistakes in the title lol #fixed them though #jjk fic #五悠 #5u #gojo x yuji #gojou x yuuji #gojo x itadori #goyu

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rcamshateclub · 2 years ago

Text

he’s back…

SPOILERS FOR JJK MANGA (221 especially!)

☆ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

☆ content warning(s): JJK SPOILERS CH 221, gojo is unsealed, angst to fluff, reader is so whipped for gojo, gojo is whipped too, lovesick! gojo, i don’t know if it was still 19 days that gojo was sealed…, gojo goes crazy!!, a little altering of the new chapter…! UNEDITED and a little rushed sorry!

☆ summary: 19 days of sleeping alone, 19 days without her one and only lover, 19 days of not being able to kiss him goodnight, 19 days of pain, 19 days of not being able to say “i love you toru.” one more time, 19 days of not seeing that white hair and those adorable puppy eyes.

☆ A/N: i’m honestly like so happy that gojo is unsealed because i’ve been WAITING for this moment. like i’m just so happy bru. missed my pookie :[. lowk should write gojo w an adhd girlfriend fr. this is probs super self indulgent too.

☆ please check my pinned post for request info on the link saying rules! requests are open! characters i write for are also there :) check it out!

it’s been 19 days since gojo satoru has been sealed. his girlfriend, who was going to be his fiancée, is stuck at their shared home. she was hidden from the jujutsu world. gojo didn’t want anyone trying to attack his future wife. the woman of his dreams, the woman who knows how to understand him. shoko, the other best friend of gojo satoru, took it upon herself to see you, as nanami passed away…

“y/n?” she yells out when knocking on your door. you just woke up twenty minutes ago when you get to the door, shoko saw how you looked.

your hair was a mess, though still was being washed yet no effort put into it. your eyes were puffy and you had terrible eye bags. shoko just hugged you and you broke down in her arms.

“shoko, it’s only been 19 days and yet i still am like this, i thought i’d be better than this. i knew it would happen one day yet why am i a mess?” you knew that it was a little stupid of you to be such a mess when it’s been only 19 days he was gone but you and satoru have been together for 5 years. yet, him being away and not knowing when he was coming back was scary. sure, he went on overseas missions for three months before, but you had contact with him, you can call and text him and still say “i love you toru” yet now you can’t.

“y/n, it’s okay. he will be unsealed. we have a plan in check. we are starting the process now, i just needed to see you and let you know what’s happening. i’ll have yuuji come to protect you right now, you’re not going to be safe alone forever.” shoko says, she gives you one last hug before yuuji appears behind her.

“y/n.” he says and just hugs you. you hugged him back while tears fell down. he didn’t smile at all, gojo being sealed took away this precious boy’s smile. you cupped yuuji’s cheeks. “i’m sorry yuuji. i’m so sorry. you deserve much better my love.” yuuji just hugged you tighter. you waved bye to shoko and closed the door. yuuji was still clinging onto you as you tried to walk to the couch.

“i’m sorry y/n. i wasn’t strong enough.” you looked at the boy, he was getting anxious and couldn’t read your expression. “yuuji, you’re strong. you’re just a kid hon, i can’t blame you. i blame the cursed world we live in, especially because now you’re a jujutsu sorcerer. yuuji, you deserved better than this world. i promise you.” yuuji and you both hugged and you told him to watch a show on the TV, while you made food.

as you were finishing up, yuuji and you both felt a little earthquake though yuuji knew it wasn’t an earthquake but gojo being unsealed.

yuuji just stayed with you and when you served him, he was happy. though, he thought about how you were feeling since your fiancé was sealed in a box without any communication for almost three weeks straight.

you just smiled at him while you waited for the pans to cool down. you served yourself as well and ate right next to your fiancé’s student. you messed with yuuji’s hair and said, “you know, you need to smile more yuuji. i love being around. you’re such a kind boy. i hope you grow old and have a family, live life as well as you can.” yuuji looked at you and then finally smiled, “yeah. i’ll try to promise you that.”

you smiled at him when all of a sudden, your front door was opening… yuuji got in front of you but when the door was fully open, you ran towards the man full speed.

“s-satoru? you’re back? y-you’re here?” you had tears coming out of your eyes. he smirked, “i didn’t know i was walking in on my girlfriend cheating on me with my student!” he grabbed his chest acting like it hurt. you hit his arm and immediately hugged him.

“yuuji, were you protecting my pretty girl for me?” he asked teasingly. yuuji nods and then you let go of your boyfriend. gojo hugs yuuji and whispers something in his ear. yuuji just looked back at you and smiled.

“you know, we’ve missed you satoru. the strongest man alive is back and yet i didn’t get my kiss. 19 days without you satoru gojo. 19 days with your kiss, your voice, your stupid little kid of a personality, your touch. do you know how insane i’m going right now? you’re so lucky i know how to control myself.” you say to him and yuuji waves goodbye while leaving and closing the door. gojo just stares back at you and looks at you, “oh baby, i know. i was stuck in that box and my mind went insane. felt like years i was waiting. couldn’t even sleep it off.”

you went to kiss him and he pulled you in. this kiss wasn’t lust, it was just pure love, saying all kinds of things, “be safe”, “i love you so much”, “i missed you”, “stay with me”, “don’t leave”, and it was just gojo knowing he had to make you his more officially. he slyly puts the ring that was still in his pocket onto your left hand. “mine.” he says after pulling away from you and you looked down to see the ring.

“i don’t care. we’re getting married even if it’s a quiet one. we are marrying each other.” he says that so seriously and quietly. you wonder how he feels.

“let’s go to bed.” you say and he follows behind you. you stopped caring for the dishes in the sink as soon as you saw your beloved boyfriend. when you both laid down on the bed, you couldn’t help but move closer to him until his arms were wrapped around you and you just nuzzled into his chest.

“i love you ‘toru.”

“i love you more pretty.”

#jjk spoilers #jjk #gojo satoru #angst #fluff #gojo unsealed #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo boyfriend #gojo jjk #gojo satoru jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yuuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #romance #anime

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linkspooky · 2 years ago

Note

Gojo’s students, and in general Utahime’s students too, despite being Gen Z, they don’t have the mind set of one.

Then again, I am biased since I am an United States American who’s also within Generation Z, so I have a very westernized opinion on this. Gen Z in Japan can may well act very differently from the Gen Z in the USA. I don’t doubt that.

However, one thing I do want to point out is that the jjk younger generation didn’t seem to learn that the system they are in is terrible despite seeing or experiencing how horrible it is.

It could be a cultural thing, since my whole life the system that I lived in have failed me in every stage of my life. So I grew jaded and is critical of the system I’m in. I could see how they never have a change to learn nor see the flaws in the system due to how individualistic Gojo’s students are.

I suppose that’s a benefit with Utahime’s students, most of them are aware how terrible the system is, but all are too weak to do anything about it individuality.

Just some food for thought that I’ve been chewing on.

Okay, no comment on that Gen Z bit, but you're right there is an entire arc in the story dedicated to showing the Kyoto Kids and how they suffer from the injustices in their society. As they have suffered more directly from it, each of the Kyoto Kids is more than well-aware of the flaws in their society.

Each of the Kyoto kids is paired off with a Tokyo Kid and compared to them.

Panda and Mechmaru face off, and Mechamaru's point of jealousy is that he's not allowed to even walk around outside because he's debilitatingly ill due to his heavenly restriction and meanwhile Panda and every other sorcerer can walk in the sunlight free.

If you think about it Mechamaru is one of the children getting exploited, he's literally constantly in bodily pain, and he's still expected to perform as a sorcerer. Whereas, Panda's response is basicaly this: cool motivation bro.

In general, the Tokyo Kids all reply with very self-righteous statements that are technically right, but not too empathic to the person suffering right in front of them.

"Just because someone's been through a lot, doesn't mean they're right" is in fact a true statement, because the Kyoto Kids are lashing out with their emotions, and while their pain is valid emotions aren't objective fact they're just emotions.

However, the caveat of that statement is that suffering can also get you perspective though. People who aren't discrimminated against often don't understand the lives of people who are discrimminated against, because it's not a daily reality for them. It's just logical to not know about something that is not happening to you and you don't have to live with. So, suffering doesn't mean you're right, but it does give you perspective which the Tokyo Kids are sorely lacking.

So yes, Panda's not really obligated to care about Mechamaru's issue or life, but at the same time Gojo is trying to raise students with the purpose of having them correct the injustices of Jujutsu Society... but he's failed in that regard because when confronted with any of that injustice none of them really care.

When Momo tries to inform Nobara about the horrific abuse in the Zen'in Clan that Mai endures, something she's still not free of because unlike Maki she didn't get to leave Nobara's response is once again "I don't care." You have this same stock response that's technically right.

You don't have to pity the unfortunate, you don't owe them anything yes, but Gojo's trying to raise sorcerers that are going to correct Jujutsu Society so that less victims are made, but none of them listen to the victims around them and none of them even seem to grasp there's a problem... unless their name is Maki. Even then her solution to the problem isn't reform it's just destruction.

Kamo brings up clan politics and the pressures he faces as heir to the Kamo, and Megumi straight up says that not only does he not care about the Zen'in, or the Kamo or clan politics at all because it doesn't affect him personally, but he also doesn't care about whether or not he's right or wrong.

Megumi's not obligated to sympathize with Kamo, or even talk to him as they're practically strangers but at the same time how else are they supposed to fix the Jujutsu World if they don't listen to victims and aren't aware of the problems in it?

Which is a big problem in the Jujutsu World itself, because being a sorcerer is such a tough job, most sorcerers just work with their heads down not noticing what's going on around them. The kinds of sorcerers that rise to the top are exactly these people, ones that are either selfish enough to use others to further their advancements, ones who fit the molds of sorcerers a little too well and therefore aren't disadvantaged like a lot of the Kyoto kids, etc. etc.

This is pretty well demonstrated in Shibuya, someone like Nanami who is protective of children and tries to be a responsible adult around them dies because he stayed and fought, while someome like Mei Mei who actively abuses her brother and gets away with it still lives because she ran away.

Because Sorcerer society is such an individualistic society that rewards having your head down and being a cog, and punishes people who go against it by hammering down the nail that sticks out.

In order to overcome that you'd have to learn to think about other people than yourself, and look around you to see what's happening, but that requires thinking for themselves.

Which is Gojo's biggest flaw as a mentor, he's a cog that fits the machine of society so well, he still thinks with the values of sorcerer society. The solution to every problem is just get stronger. Which is why he's raised a bunch of strong sorcerers who fit perfectly into the machine just like he did, but he's failed to raise his children into free thinking adults.

#metasks #jjk meta

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year ago

Text

dionysus xii, m | jjk x ♂wiyllt x myg

pairing(s): jungkook x male wiyllt x yoongi — important: contains m/m pairing— male OC is male whatifyoulivelikethat aka me, the author ;)

summary: The following events are extremely gay. Jeon Jungkook puts himself in a dick 69 (and likes it). Min Yoongi puts himself in a maid outfit (kinda). Also, they share a boyfriend. Not that any of them are gonna admit that straight up. That would just be embarrassing. (They will in their head though, heh.)

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; important! male OC and Yoongi are pansexual and Jungkook is bisexual; I'm warning you: everyone's dick is out; in love and none of them will admit it out loud, classic; JK is a lil insecure and gets his reassurance ofc; Yoongi is just a slut kidding but also not; domestic, tbh; D/s smut (hyung kink, praise kink, spit kink, mild restraints, 69, choking, m-masturbation, cumming on each other, cum eating, crossdressing - maid Yoongi + leather body harness + butt plug, pain kink, m-receiving oral, edging, handjob, hair pulling, unprotected anal sex, cowgirl (cowboy? eh, you get it), missionary anal, creampie); non-idol!BTS - sub!Jungkook x dom!male OC x sub!Yoongi; switches between Yoongi’s POV and JK's POV; for the few people who read this series, um, why? my male self has dirty, filthy sex, smh

“Fuck me. I’m so damn tired of humanity. Does no one have a backbone or ears these days? I don’t get paid enough. Ugh. Patience is a virtue and all that shit. Fuck virtue. I’ve used my last fuck and I just want a damn nap. What about you? You’ve been sitting here all day. I know, aren’t you much comfier since I put you back in the couch?”

Min Yoongi cocked his head.

Commotion? Checked the time. Oh, shit. Did that many hours fly by? He removed the headset from his ears and stood up. Fluttering RBG lighting tried to call him back to the white desktop, but instead he headed to cracked-open bedroom door, past dark gray sheets and a folded black blanket that weren’t his. Yoongi had, however, made the bed. Simply because he had seen the mess.

“I know, bro. You’ve been with me too long to be dumped on the floor like that.”

Yoongi pressed two fingers to the door and pushed it open a little more, craning his head and giving himself a clear view of the living room.

He saw a head of black hair, naked broad shoulders, and a deep scarlet dress shirt halfway off.

what if you

“I’d talk to Jungkook but that guy doesn’t listen to me.”

He could only see half of the back tattoo.

He called out.

“Why are you stripping for the giant plush bear?”

The black hair whipped in a sharp arc, exposing white gold earrings and angular jaw, followed by dark, dark eyes and plush mauve lips in a soft ‘o’ shape. The dress shirt slid down, caught by a flighty hand, but Yoongi didn’t need to see the rest of the tattoo. He knew exactly what it said. He had, after all, run his fingers over it and kissed each letter for many nights.

And that chest.

Fuck, he wanted to make out with it.

The man known to many as Dionysus, but to Yoongi by given name, gawked at him.

“How long you have you been here?” the other male sputtered.

Yoongi caught himself smiling. He usually hated that but, in this case, it added to the teasing. He wasn’t given many chances to tease when it came to his favorite person so Yoongi made sure to take every chance he got. “Couple hours. I wasn’t getting anywhere in the studio today so I figured I would take a break and play Diablo. You said I could use your setup.” He made sure to keep his voice very calm and even despite wanting to burst into laughter.

Those impossibly dark eyes shifted from side to side very rapidly. “How long have you been standing there?”

��Since you started talking to the bear.” It wasn’t true but Yoongi wasn’t above lying when it was for his own amusement. One more sin to add to his already hefty list.

The other man made a pained expression and threw his dress shirt onto the black leather couch. It wasn’t aimed to be sexual but Yoongi appreciated what he was seeing all the same. “Great.” Ah, he really did it enjoy the way irritation made that familiar husky voice even deeper. “Now you think I’m even crazier than I already am because I talk to my plushies. I’ll have you know Mr. Bear has seen some shit.”

“Is that his name?”

“Not really. He doesn’t have a name. I just use him as a backrest when I’m alone and watching television.”

Somehow Yoongi found himself a bit jealous of the two-meter-tall café-au-lait-colored plush bear sitting floppily on the couch. It looked back at him with a partway-open stitched smile. Don’t look at me like that. I won’t say anything when Jungkook inevitably dumps you on the ground again, Yoongi thought to the bear.

The bear, understandably, continued smiling.

Ominous.

The currently shirtless man was going through his black leather briefcase with an annoyed click of his tongue, muttering something along the lines of, “Don’t you fucking tell me that I lost my hair tie too, for fuck’s sake,” with dark waves of black falling past his cheeks. It was longer than how he usually had it, huh? The sides had been shaved as usual, but it seemed that he had left it longer this time, similarly to how Yoongi had his hair now.

Speaking of.

Yoongi carefully tugged the black hair tie out of his hair and put it in the pocket of the sweatpants.

For no reason at all.

The rest of his black hair fell around his neck, the curtain bangs wisping against his cheeks. A step closer to the coffee table, and the other male looked up, defeated, and was about to say something, mauve lips parting and all, giving Yoongi about two seconds to fully appreciate those decadent prominent collarbones and dark nipples and crisp black slacks clinging to delicious hips.

Then the front door burst open.

“Yo, hyung!”

Yoongi twitched in annoyance.

“Yoongi-hyung?”

Really? As if surprise was needed. Actually, that tone was probably more akin to seeing an unexpected visitor. Jeon Jungkook had a one-track mind. He also hardly used honorifics – except when he wanted to make it very clear that he was the youngest and seeking attention right now. Now Jungkook closed the door.

“Whoa! You’re naked! Wait. Why are you naked? And in front of Yoongi-hyung? That’s not fair!”

Yoongi stuck his tongue in his cheek and turned to see the doe-eyed, playfully pleading expression of Jeon Jungkook. His black hair was a little shorter now, but neatly parted for once. Surprisingly, he had yet another piercing on the right side of his lip. Half of his arm tattoos were exposed and there was the shadow of the full sleeve under the baggy black t-shirt. Those slate-blue jeans were so shredded that Yoongi was surprised that the denim was still holding on. There was so much leg showing that Jungkook might as well have worn shorts. Or nothing.

“I literally just got home. I was going to change.”

Instant complaint from the younger man. “Why? You look better like that.”

Yoongi felt the directness of those dark, dark eyes asking to provide some confirmational logic. He avoided them and said nothing, staring at the wall next to Jungkook’s head instead. Was that framed print of Jhin from League of Legends always there? Huh.

“I can’t stay naked.”

“You always say that, but you’re wrong,” Jungkook protested, kicking off his sneakers and pushing them against Yoongi’s as he crossed over.

“Don’t tell me you came here to get me to make you dinner again.”

“But, hyung–”

“I was going to make dinner,” Yoongi cut in. “I found black sea bass on sale.”

“I can’t make you cook in my own home,” that deep sigh replied, gazing at him under soft black tresses while one arm was outstretched and holding Jungkook’s chest back. True to his nature, Jungkook flailed about and played along. “I’ll change and help you.”

Oh, really now.

“Your home?”

Yoongi glanced at Jungkook and back to those dark, dark eyes, openly smirking.

“It’s our home now.”

“Is there any fantasy you’ve always wanted but never got to do?”

“Me?” The folding of laundry paused as those dark eyebrows knitted in confusion. “My horny ass? Yoongi, come on. You think I wouldn’t attempt the literal second I had a plausible impulse?”

Hmm. That wasn’t really the answer Min Yoongi wanted. He reached over to try and help but had the back of his hand promptly smacked away once again. He didn’t like feeling useless, but the man who called himself Dionysus at times might have a control problem. Or, rather, with one glance to those dark, dark eyes, he may be feeling a bit guilty still about Yoongi doing random housework as he saw fit.

But that was how Yoongi showed…

Anyway.

With how much time he was spending over here, Yoongi figured he might as well. He didn’t like a messy environment either. Three guys spending too much time in one small apartment were bound to get out of control if they didn’t all work together to keep the place clean.

Still, his host was not letting him get into his business (just his mouth and occasionally his asshole, heh). At least when he was home. Therefore, Yoongi had attempted to distract. And failed, but he knew he would. He still wanted to know though. Mostly because he wanted to be special.

He didn’t just think that.

Ahem.

“Do you mean you only attempt to do things that you know the other person will say yes to, or have you actually tried everything you want to do?”

The other male made a neat stack of folded boxer briefs and frowned. His dark hair curled over his forehead in the most delicious, rolled-out-of-bed way. Mmmm. “Well, no one can try everything. I can’t grow tits to try tit-fucking or switch to a vagina to try triple penetration. Sigh.”

Yoongi jerked his head back. “What?”

“I would have to try and find three guys who can stand to see each other naked and that’s a stretch considering you’re still weird around Jungkook,” he continued, opening dresser drawers to put articles of clothing in their respective places. “Which you never have to get used to, by the way. I am only giving an example.”

“I’m fine with seeing him naked.”

Side eye.

Yoongi shrugged, acknowledging he said that a bit too quickly. “He’s usually without a shirt in your apartment.”

“He’s not the most subtle,” the other man agreed.

A short silence. Yoongi found he enjoyed watching him doing such home tasks. When the taller male got dressed for work, he usually wore tailored pieces such as dress shirts and pants. But at home he wore a loose black t-shirt with a graphic of a grim reaper watching television and fitted track pants from the professional League of Legends team T1. Simple, but showed off his slightly eccentric personality. It was a step down from when he dressed to go out where he tended to be much sexier. This type of comfort meant that they were close.

Well, they were also fucking, but Yoongi knew this was different than the physicality of it all.

“What about crossdressing?”

“What?”

Yoongi looked up and found dark, dark eyes staring at him, hands frozen in mid-action.

“Me? I don’t own highly feminine clothing currently, but I guess I could find something…”

“No,” Yoongi corrected. “Me. Cross-dress for you. I know you don’t only like men.”

A sudden thrill coursed through him upon seeing the intrigued expression. He maintained his casual, calm demeanor. His boyfriend still hadn’t moved, not a centimeter, but was instead surveying him curiously, as if he was trying to figure out the seriousness of the suggestion.

“You don’t only like men,” the deep voice countered.

“That doesn’t answer the question of whether or not you would be turned on if I wore more feminine clothing.” Yoongi paused for effect. He, too, could be enticing when he wanted to. “If you want to fuck me in a skirt or dress.”

This was supposed to be a shocking kinky proposal but it was backfiring slightly. Yoongi lifted his thighs slightly and thanked his past self for wearing these baggier sweatpants. He shrugged as leisurely as he could.

“You know, bend me over and violate me.”

Those plush mauve lips parted.

“Could be fun.”

Ever quick and always witty response. “Is that why you grew your hair out?”

Yoongi almost snorted. At least his dick stopped perking up. “No. Come to think of it, helps though.”

An open-mouthed smirk.

“And here I thought you were only a musical genius, but you continue to amaze me.”

Past Jeon Jungkook would have never predicted that he would also be deep throating dick when partaking in a sixty-nine, but life had a strange way of making the impossible possible. He probably would have predicted being in handcuffs at the same time though. His porn history was quite telling even if he hadn’t yet had the guts to explore it back then.

If he had thought he couldn’t breathe that well with pussy in his face, well, now Jungkook was beginning to appreciate what other women had done for him in the past when he was the one on top.

This was a lot more difficult than he thought.

Not that he had much time to think about it. Currently, Jungkook was struggling to focus on sucking dick because there was too much going on between his legs. Large hands gripping his tense thighs and pinning them down. Wet. Tongue roughly sliding down the topside of his cock while the underside rubbed against the roof of that talented mouth, the back of that throat squeezing the head with every descent. Tight. He could even feel the measured, warm breath against his balls every time he was swallowed, adding winding sparks to the constant rollercoaster of pleasure. Hot. Jungkook was embarrassed to feel that he was only able to get three-fourths of that hard length into his own mouth but he blamed it on the angle.

His wrists were handcuffed together, but Jungkook could still reach up and run his fingertips over the other male’s lower torso, aching to touch skin on skin.

Well, he had a whole dick down his throat, but you know what he means.

The one above him shifted and the hips rose, giving him some breathing room. Then slowly descended, pressing deep into his throat and mildly suffocating him with his balls. Not that Jungkook minded at this point because the mouth was tightening, changing the expanse of sensation to all over his length, the tongue spreading out and curling around his girth. Little flicks of wet muscle building the ecstasy, heightening the impending apex, making his core tense and his eyes roll up into his head as his hyung thrust slowly into his mouth, using him like the hole he always wanted to be. He did feel bad, just laying there as the other man fucked his throat and sucked him off.

Strong fingers dug into his thighs, hopefully leaving bruises.

He did feel a little guilty.

Mostly, though, Jungkook was so far gone that he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Dionysus.

It really was a fitting alias for someone so excessive.

A deep chuckle resonated around his jerking, shivering cock, bleeding into the blinding haze of orgasm, sending another wave soaring through him. Slight shame, sure, but mostly pride at hearing the clear satisfaction. He could feel it too, the swallowing and the hands that gripped his shaking inner thighs, kneading his flesh. Those full lips floated around the base of the still-engorged head of his cock, rubbing back and forth. Fuck. Fuck, it was hard to explain. A suspension of sensation, not the fleeting high of release but a constant bliss that made him want to cry.

Fuuuuuuuck.

The hips rose. Hard, wet cock fell out of his mouth, slapping him in the face and smearing his own spit on his lips and cheek. He gasped, choking on his own saliva, moaning deeper when that mouth went down on him again, keeping him hard, coaxing his want. Jungkook didn’t care. He didn’t care what was right or wrong. Didn’t care what was happening, even as fingers laced around his slippery balls and locked them in a cage. Didn’t care, reaching up and grazing his fingertips over that dripping length, pressing it to his cheek and rubbing it against his jaw. His saliva stuck to his face. His neck. Whimpers bubbling in his chest as nails scratched down his inner thigh, forcing him to spread his legs open more.

The mouth retreated.

And then tongue cupped around his balls, teeth nicking, leaving him a gasping mess of whines as it travelled all over accompanied by a palm closing in around the throbbing head of his cock, gliding saliva over the sensitive skin.

His entire body tensed, succumbing to the wicked rush of sparks and arousal spreading all over.

“Heh, let me get off you,” the husky voice above him mused.

Jungkook had a fleeting thought of, no, crush me, but then it was flood of air and light invading his senses. Ack! He recoiled into the pillows even though it wasn’t even that bright. Just RGB lighting from the computer and the ghost-shaped lamp on the nightstand still aglow. Didn’t matter though, because now he had to face…

Dark, dark eyes looked down at him.

Paired with an amused smirk.

Jungkook wanted to hide behind his hands but they were handcuffed together. He couldn’t exactly be super subtle brushing back his sweaty hair or anything. The other male continued watching him, his black hair curling around his left cheek and ear. Jungkook found himself staring at those shoulder lines and collarbones, finding himself a bit jealous of the natural beauty of them.

The other male leaned down.

Expression dangerous.

“H… Hyung…?”

“Hm?”

Then Jungkook yelped as he felt his right leg was raised, pressed against the other man’s chest. He briefly hated himself for not working on flexibility more, but then Jungkook has no more room to think as his boyfriend’s left hand wrapped around his throat, that smirk turning wicked.

Wait.

His what?

Jungkook choked and it wasn’t because of the hand around his neck.

“Look at you,” that hazy, low voice continued. “How cute.”

He suddenly became vaguely aware that the deep breathing and sound of hand on flesh was not him, but the older male jacking himself off right above Jungkook’s aching, untouched length. Hey! But he couldn’t say it, whimpering, inhale shorting when the hold around his throat tightened, cutting off more blood. His brain felt fuzzy, his tongue thick and unmovable.

“H-Hyung, please…”

“Please what, my darling?”

He couldn’t feel the pre-cum wasn’t leaking all over his inner thigh right now but Jungkook was pretty damn sure it was happening, and his cheeks were heating up, burning, my darling, sputtering, unable to say anything to the rhythmic slapping sound and calm sighs of physical pleasure. He could feel the cool metal on his skin as he crawled his hands down, down.

Fingertips brushing against dried spit and cum.

“Can I… Can I touch myself, p... please, hyung?”

Jungkook could see that self-satisfied smile through his blurred vision and it made his heart race faster, made his core coil tighter, made his mind slip deeper, deeper into service.

“Of course. Such a good boy for asking.”

Maybe he should have been afraid on how easy it was, afraid of how willing he was to fall into this depravity and be this vulnerable, afraid of how that little praise made him lose his mind, but Jungkook couldn’t think about anything. He could only feel. Feel his thoughts bleed out with the lack of blood. Feel his arousal spiking when he touched himself, stroking his length below that moving hand. Feel the whine escaping him as he teased the swollen head of his cock, rubbing his thumb over the thin skin. Blood rushing, muscles twitching, his legs pinned open by another man’s body, and the man who called himself Dionysus when he wanted to be in the shadows grinned at him, like the devil, bringing him unbreakable heaven amidst all this sin.

“You want me to cum on you?” the other man teased, running his index finger over Jungkook’s jaw as he choked him. “Want me all over your pretty cock so you can get off using my cum as lube?”

Jungkook could only moan in affirmation, both because he was being choked and because he couldn’t think straight – as expected with this dick-on-dick action – at such an obscene, arousing suggestion, excitement and exhilaration burning his veins as he saw the tension ripple across his hyung’s chest, jaw tightening, dark eyes darker, biting his lower lip hard.

Messy black hair was hanging down.

The only foreshadowing was one of his eyebrows cocking deviously.

Then Jungkook gasped as the other male leaned forward and shot hot strings all over his hands, his cock, his burning skin, his eyes rolling back as he felt the thick head press down on his shaft and dribble cum down in a painted streak. The grip on his throat loosened, shooting him into a different rise, oxygen swarming into his lungs. His vision reeled, blurry. Controlled, calm exhales washing onto his shaking chest. No remorse. His gaze snapped back, feeling the twitching head burying into his balls, staining them with orgasm.

Those dark, dark eyes dared him.

“Go on. Your turn.”

Couldn’t look away.

Locked gazes, mouth open, gasping for air, gripping himself tightly. No, tighter. The whimpers growing in his throat, jacking himself off hard and fast, pushing for the climax, couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop himself, slippery, wet, drenched in the heavy scent of sex and the cologne of green tea and marshmallow, herbal and warm, drowning, so good, s-spit on me, hyung, and that little smirk before he did. The splat so visceral, all over his punishing grip and sliding over the pulsing head of his cock, glistening purple-red, and Jungkook threw his head back, unable to look anymore, the hot flush of his cheeks spreading all over, guilty, guilty of being in love.

He came all over his hands and stomach, gasping out that forbidden name.

“Mmmm…”

The hand on his neck left him cold.

His right leg fell, no longer suspended in the air.

Darkness.

Each breath rattling his lungs. His nerves still singing. Movement, but Jungkook didn’t dare open his eyes to know. Then he sucked in a breath, feeling a soft, warm tongue lick around his fingers. His palms. His cock. His crotch. Sucking up the mixture of their cum and spit, feathering kisses and hot breath over his tingling skin.

Oh…

The sweetness was killing him.

My darling.

Jungkook was pretty sure he was insane and making up everything in his head. He didn’t want to do anything but feel this moment. Hands slipped under his. Sticky, wet, and yet those fingertips traced his palms, laying them down against his abs as that mouth kissed up and down his cock, small licks curling around to flick his balls gently. He wasn’t even hard.

It felt so good.

So good.

He didn’t try to fight it. Couldn’t even if he wanted to. Jungkook let himself get lifted, the forearm against his lower back, kisses up his trembling chest, and then those dark, dark eyes observing him under shadowy lashes, amused. Those plush lips grazed Jungkook’s two lip piercings.

“You gonna get up, lazy bones?”

Jungkook made a noise of disagreement.

He had to be forced to clean up, but secretly (or not-so-secretly) Jungkook enjoyed that.

Hehe.

Apparently, he had tugged on the handcuffs a little too much because there was an indent left on the back of his wrists when they were removed. Oops. He hadn’t meant to do that. He didn’t want to get scolded, so he kept his wrists out of sight the best he could so his hyung wouldn’t notice. He received a silent side-eye, but no comment. Warning him to be careful but not wanting to make it a nagging. His hyung always warned him not to overdo it. Jungkook just… got lost in the moment.

Often.

Ahem.

Anyway.

“You okay?”

“Uh?”

It was hard to describe the feeling he got when Jungkook looked up to the other man. Maybe embarrassed, feeling disheveled compared to the confident spark in those dark, dark eyes surveying him with amusement. Maybe confused at the butterflies dancing in his chest, envious that the older male seemed so calm shirtless, messy hair, black boxer briefs, drying his hands on a towel before tossing it onto his shoulder like a goddamn movie main character. Maybe…

Those mauve lips curved into a smile.

Jungkook couldn’t define in words what love was, but love was definitely the feeling he felt in this moment, witnessing that smile.

“Did you enjoy that? Anything you didn’t?”

“O… Oh?” It finally clicked in his brain what was being asked. His cheeks seared with warmth. “Um…?!”

Instead of sitting beside him, the man who called himself Dionysus at times smiled wider, giving him the appearance of an endearing trickster. He remained standing in front of Jungkook sitting on the side of the bed. Too close to be mistaken as friends. “I thought I did a pretty good job. You came harder than usual, or what it because I was watching you this time? Guess I can’t tell if I’m too busy swallowing, hm?” Why was he talking about this so calmly? But there was nowhere to run either, caught between a piercing gaze and devious smirk, graceful fingers fanned over one hip like an underwear model.

“I… w-wha… hyung was amazing, I–”

And then Jungkook froze.

Words dead in his throat.

That was right.

Me.

The other man bent down and brushed hair out of his vision, but Jungkook was freezing up. Right. Now that the adrenaline was gone, the scent of green tea and marshmallow was as comforting as it was a remainder. Hyung is amazing. Every time, without fail, thinking about every touch and every kiss and Jungkook was only along for the ride.

“Was… Was I okay, hyung?”

“Hm?” Movement, and Jungkook shifted his gaze to see that familiar head tilt teasing him. “What do you mean, were you okay? Did I not show my appreciation well?” A fingertip traced across his cheek.

Chills shimmering all over his shoulders and yet.

“But you only came once.”

A light chuckle. “Uh huh.”

Jungkook felt his vision blur. Shit. Why was he getting teary? He blinked hard, biting his lower lip tensely, the swift pain fighting back the tears. The other man noticed immediately. Of course, he did. He knew everything about everyone. He could read body language like a children’s book, and Jungkook was simply not on that level.

“You didn’t cum in my mouth…” he mumbled, looking away, ashamed. “I’m not good enough.”

“Hah?”

Jungkook had been trying not to think about it too much. Everything was already complicated, from how they met to the not-so-straight sexual relationship to the pit-a-pat feeling in his chest at wanting to be called my darling over and over again, but certain rain-cloud thoughts had been persistent, overshadowing everything else. The feeling of not good enough. When it had only been their isolated interactions, Jungkook didn’t think about how the other male slept with other people. Honestly, Jungkook didn’t even care since it was so obvious his hyung made him a priority.

But then there was Min Yoongi.

Watching them together was just…

“Hey.”

He felt hands on his shoulders, but Jungkook shut his eyes, shaking his head quickly, the whirlwind thoughts pouring through him. He had no right to be upset. No place to make demands, no idea what were the right words to say, no, he needed to shut up and appreciate that he could even be in this position. “I’m sorry, I’ll try harder next time, I’m sor–”

“Stop saying silly things.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice choked up, cracking in his chest. “I can do better.”

Thwack.

“Ow!”

A sharp pain shot over his forehead. It took Jungkook a moment to realize he had been flicked. His eyes snapped open, snapping his head up to gawk, slack-jawed. The older man looked annoyed, looking down at him with a hand still on Jungkook’s right shoulder. He lowered his right hand, shaking his head with a sigh, wave of black hair drifting over his left eye.

“Jungkook, please, can you listen to me for once in your life?”

Rubbing his forehead with his left hand. Less ow but still ow. “What?” Didn’t he listen pretty well? Er, sometimes. But hyung liked the bratty thing!

“You really think I give a shit about quantity over quality?” Even being scolded in that husky voice wasn’t that bad. Those dark, dark eyes narrowed and Jungkook instinctively felt his spine stiffen. Ahem. Right. Listening. “Bro, I’m not keeping count. Every once in a while, I like to discuss about how the sex was and what you liked about it. Me, I don’t stop unless I’m satisfied. It isn’t the number of orgasms or what exactly happens that is the satisfying part for me. The satisfying part is you.”

“But if I was better… wait, what?”

You.

Jungkook pointed to himself, eyes widening. “Me?”

Eye roll. “Yeah, you, idiot.”

And then that face was close, suddenly dropping down. Green tea. Marshmallow. Herbal and warm. Soft black hair, even darker eyes, plush mauve lips in a small smirk. The shine in that gaze, the solidness of that hand on his shoulder, and that expression absolutely not having any of Jungkook’s bullshit.

“I chose you.”

Pause.

Half-smile.

“Is this about Yoongi?”

Jungkook found he couldn’t say anything but he didn’t have to.

Silence was telling.

His hyung nodded. “Whether it is or not. Whether you believe me or not… I’m not comparing. I don’t compare you to him or anyone else. I don’t like people near me. I don’t like doing things I don’t like doing. But I like being near you. I like learning the things you like and I like doing them for you. Are there things you do that aggravate me? Yeah, like this stubbornness you have about not telling me what’s bothering you sooner so I can set you straight. But I chose you. I’m stubborn too, and you’re not going to change my mind.”

Closing the distance.

His left hand slipped away and now they were forehead to forehead, staring into each other’s eyes.

“I… I can do better for you…” Jungkook whispered to the darkness.

“You’re already loads better than the first time. Couple more loads and we’ll reevaluate.”

“Hey!”

The darkness sparkled.

The pause that followed, not uncomfortable but substantial.

A fleeting kiss and lingering words.

“You’re mine. And don’t you forget it.”

“Do you need help in there?”

“No. Shut up.”

Did he have to pull up the listing on his phone to figure out the strap situation? Yeah, maybe. Perhaps he shouldn’t wear the harness? Well, he had already gotten it halfway on. Sigh. Okay, zip this up, straighten this out, lace up these hook-and-eyes, turn it around, put the damn frilly ass apron on, and…

Min Yoongi looked at himself in the mirror.

What the fuck am I doing?

He couldn’t walk out like this.

It had been a stupid idea and now the stupid had gone too far. Was all this really worth the bit? Fuck, he couldn’t even look himself in the eye. Yoongi spied the white ruffled headband by the sink and crammed it on. Ack. Pulled it off and readjusted the front of his black hair to frame his face and then rest the headband behind. Should he tie his hair back? He reached up and collected some of his hair back. It didn’t give a “pretty” look. He left it down, pulling more of it forward. Smoothed out the mid-thigh length black skirt. It was made of a thicker material that had more body and swish to it. He hadn’t liked any of the cheap costume options when he searched around, so instead Yoongi had selected clothing pieces that matched and made his own outfit.

Flowy white blouse with a high collar and large black velvet bow.

Fitted black corset over it.

Black skirt with the added touch of a white ruffled apron and sheer black thigh-highs.

And, under it all, a surprise.

He had thought about buying an easy costume. Trashy and slutty and fuckable. He had even looked into the latex options but reading up on the meticulous preparation and the sweaty aftermath (and the smell, ew), uh, nah. Besides, if he other male had done as he asked, with the silver rings and all, Yoongi would have felt silly in a costume. No, he wanted it to be obvious that some thought had been put into this. He had wanted it to be a conscious effort.

Okay, and also Yoongi wanted to look somewhat hot.

He wanted to be able to pick styles that looked good on him, not throw on some poorly-made get-up. Not that he knew if this was a sexy outfit or not. He didn’t mind seeing himself in a more feminine silhouette. Dare he say his slender frame worked in his favor here? Well, anyway, it was more the implications of why he was wearing it. And what he was going to do in it.

Um.

Should he have brought makeup? Shit.

You’re stalling.

“Shut up,” Yoongi mumbled under his breath, snatching his cologne from the counter and dousing his neck. Who cared about makeup? He was still a man. He was only wearing different clothes that he usually did. Yoongi was just trying a different look. His boyfriend didn’t want a different person.

His.

What?

Yoongi abruptly spun around and yanked open the bathroom door. His face felt like it was on fire.

“Oh, good, I was beginning to think you fell in the toilet–”

Dead silence.

Damn, the man who sometimes called himself Dionysus looked good. Sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread open. Dressier than usual, just as Yoongi had asked. Black slacks. Black brocade dress shirt with embroidered white flowers. Pressed, fitted black vest. Long fingers spread out on the bed, each one adorned with sterling silver rings. Black hair swept to the left, longer than usual, brushing against his jaw, exposing his right ear and the thin silver chain connecting one of the helix piercings to the lobe.

Yoongi managed to push his hand away from the doorframe, breathing out slowly.

“Hello… Master.”

The other man was malfunctioning.

“H… Hah?”

Staring at him with a stunned look. Wide eyes and slack jaw included. It actually helped Yoongi stand a little straighter and relax a little bit. At least he wasn’t being laughed at. He frowned and held onto his left elbow with this right hand, unsure what to do now. The pressure of his right forearm over his corseted waist helped ease the nervousness a bit.

He didn’t plan a whole maid roleplay or anything.

The other male sat up attentively. “You didn’t say it was a maid outfit.”

“Well.” Yoongi looked away, feeling his cheeks flush hotter. “It is the most classic S-and-M costume, right?”

“Hmmmm, I’ve never seen this set before. Did you pick the pieces individually and plan the outfit?”

Weird that he noticed so fast. But nice. “Y… Yeah…”

“Oh? How thoughtful.”

Ack, what was this? Yoongi was suddenly hyperaware of the air between his legs and the effect of words. And tone. And… shit. He was doing that thing. He let go of his arm and stuck his hands by his thighs, hiding his balled-up fists in the swish of the skirt. He didn’t notice that the other man was standing right in front of him until it was too late, freezing up as the shadow appeared. Snapping his head up to a familiar smirk on mauve lips, sparkling dark orbs watching his every move with amusement.

“How do you feel?”

Like my ribcage is gonna explode! Just fuck me so I don’t have to say anything!

“F-Fine.”

Racing sparks shot up his spine as an exploring fingertip traced his chin. Yoongi realized he had gotten used to the stripped-down version of his lover. He had gotten used to the t-shirts, the comfy pants, the lack of rings, the messy hair, and the natural sexiness of every move. The other man was mindful of how he held himself, but at home there wasn’t an air of showmanship nor a sharp outfit to hide behind. He didn’t believe in giving it all away at once. After all, this was a man who chose an alias for most of the general public to address him.

But.

Yoongi could tell right away when people were perfectly comfortable in their appearance reflecting who they were inside. He was witnessing it right now. Those fingertips slid down his neck, caressing the velvet bow. Their eyes locked. Darkness to anticipation. Their colognes mixed together at their close proximity. His, citrus, sharp, dark. Melding with green tea, marshmallow, and intoxication.

They called him Dionysus.

But Yoongi called him…

“What did you call me again?”

Love.

“Master.”

A half-smile. “You’re taking this pretty seriously, hm?”

Instead of his usual witty response, Yoongi remained calm, aiming to shift the mood into their respective headspaces.

“I always take serving you seriously, Master.”

The playful expression remained, but the air was different now. Hotter. The taller male raised his hands, backing off slightly, looking up and down unashamedly. It was less objectifying than it was a detailed overview.

“You look good in a skirt.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Raised eyebrow.

Yoongi shrugged. “My legs are as nice as any girl group member. Nicer, even.”

A mirthful laugh. Movement. He was unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt and rolling them back, exposing his wrists and forearms. A heavy silver chain bracelet on his left wrist. “I do like your legs wrapped around me, so maybe you’re onto something.” There was a peek of silver chain around his neck too. That’s right. He had shown Yoongi a necklace he had purchased recently, a heavy sterling silver pendant that could hold a guitar pick, so, naturally.

He had asked for one of Yoongi’s.

“W-What are you doing?”

Small smirk. “Preparing.”

“For what?” he snapped back. Yoongi hadn’t meant his voice to bristle but what how the hell was he supposed to react? He was in a skirt, for fuck’s sake! And an apron! And a damn frilly headband and they were going to–

He froze as a heavily ringed hand gripped his chin.

Insatiable dark, dark eyes.

“For you.”

He couldn’t move as that head tilted, smirk turning into the grin of a devil, and then those lips were on his. Dangerously soft and to the pattern of a pulse, keeping an infuriating distance between them. Yoongi felt himself reach up, but another hand stopped him, tight grip around his wrist, silver rings cutting into his skin and making him gasp. The hand on his chin slipped away, stalking around his shoulder and around his neck, pressing his trapped hand against his chest.

His body tensed.

The leather harness cut into his torso. A breath too tight.

He whimpered into the kiss.

A pause.

Yoongi could feel the taller male staring at him but he didn’t dare open his eyes.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” he muttered immediately.

“No as in yes or no as in I’m not supposed to know yet?” the gentle, stern voice pressed.

Yoongi opened his eyes slowly, not making eye contact but appreciating the shape of those perfect lips instead.

“No as in shut the fuck up and let me do my job.”

He glanced up with a glare.

Playful amusement and deliciously intrigued.

“You know, you’re a really bossy maid.”

Yeah, well, Yoongi couldn’t bring himself do the whole helpless schtick they did in porn movies because that shit would be way too embarrassing, not to mention not his personality at all. Besides, Yoongi knew him well enough. There was no fun in dominating a helpless creature. No satisfaction unless there was resistance.

Also, his boyfriend was obsessed with Jungkook, so he must love fucking a freaking annoying brat.

“And you’re not going anywhere dressed like that,” Yoongi snapped, lifting his hands towards the vest.

Only to get slapped away.

“Oh? Why not?”

Bro, do you wanna fuck or what? He tried not to let his frustration show. “Then where would you be going?” Okay, fine, he would play along. For now.

Casual shrug. “A date.”

Are you serious? His annoyance must have shown, because that relaxed expression became subtly arrogant. “Why would you need to go on a date–” When I’m literally right here! The fuck I put all this on for?!

“Are you implying that I don’t need someone else to touch me?”

Hook, line, sinker.

Yoongi gawked at him, dumbstruck.

The other male raised a finger and toyed with the edge of the velvet bow along his neck. “I can’t say I like the idea either, but masters and maids are supposed to be professional. Lines can’t be crossed. It is better if I leave right now.”

Wait, what the fuck was going on? Where they actually being themselves or roleplaying? How deep were they getting into this? This was a joke, right? There was no way he was just going to up and leave Yoongi in his cute maid outfit with blue balls and go off sucking somebody else’s face. The fuck was that? The anger flared up hot. I’m not your actual maid, you fuckin’ idi–

But before jealousy cloud his vision, a ringed hand covered his mouth.

Swift and with one yank, the velvet ribbon was undone.

“Lines can’t be crossed.”

Why did it feel as if the other man towered over him? He wasn’t so much taller, but there was such an obvious difference between the calm and the fury. A curtain of black hair trapped Yoongi in shadow.

“But there are no rules in this unbreakable heaven, right?” that husky voice whispered, low and dark.

Yoongi couldn’t say anything.

He just nodded, his blood racing in his veins.

Those dark, dark eyes seemed satisfied.

“Hold out your hands, my darling.”

His legs turned to jelly. What? The world was an electric haze. The fuck he just say? His hands raised automatically, gasp tittering in his throat as he felt the velvet wind around his wrists, then pivot perpendicular to tie around itself in the center, knowing exactly that it was the other male doing it with a smile, acting as if he didn’t just create a whole rollercoaster of emotions in less than five minutes.

But Yoongi could do nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing but listen.

“Kneel down for me.”

Obediently, tucking his calves under him, being careful and proper about it. The skirt flared out, covering his legs and feet entirely. Yoongi straightened his back, not wanting to look sloppy. It was impossible to slouch in the corset anyway. He didn’t feel like a different person but there was a strange exhilaration at the wrongness of it all. He settled his bound hands in his lap and looked up.

The other man stood above him, smiling, thumbs in the edge of his slacks.

“I like it.”

His cheeks warmed but Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to say anything because, fuck, he found himself enjoying it too. His fingers curled in the thick fabric of the skirt. Tightness in his core. Desire swirling, radiating. He didn’t break eye contact.

“You don’t like the idea of someone else touching me?” the other male asked again.

Yoongi frowned. “Why would you want that anyway?” he countered sharply. “They wouldn’t be able to satisfy you.”

That piercing gaze narrowed. A heavy hand on his head, tilting it back.

It made his entire body shiver with delight.

“They could learn.”

“He doesn’t count.”

Pause.

Raised eyebrow.

Now who the fuck are you referring to, Min Yoongi? But he told his brain to shut up, shut up.

“Jungkook wouldn’t do this for you,” he breathed out, shuddering with need.

A penetrating gaze. “It’s not a competition, Yoongi.”

Yeah, it wasn’t.

“Different people are capable of different things.”

Oh, he knew. He could see it. He did see it. And he definitely didn’t mean for it to come out that way, because he didn’t hate watching their entangled bodies. The roughness. His breathing grew rapid and shallow. There was something wrong with him, surely. It wasn’t a competition but Yoongi did love the intense competitive surge he felt whenever he witnessed them together. It made him want to do more.

Be more.

Be his.

“Look at me.”

He didn’t want to look anywhere else.

“L... Let me serve you, Master.”

So calm it was beautiful. The hand on his head left, sending a tingle trickling down his spine as he adjusted the headband to complete the image. Appreciating it. He nodded. Reached down, silver rings flashing in the light, unbuttoning his slacks. It was only then that Yoongi noticed the subtle tent.

Two fingers beckoning him forward.

“Unzip me.”

Under the skirt, Yoongi squeezed his thighs together. Bit his lip and raised his tied hands. He had done this action enough times but this time felt different. Like he had to be better. More subservient. Maybe it was all in his head. He gripped the thin zipper pull, tugging it away from the body to avoid catching onto anything. The prickling of his skin intensified as he realized the other man wasn’t wearing underwear.

He darted his gaze up.

The devil’s smirk shrugged nonchalantly. “Why bother when we were clearly going to get naked anyway?”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. Besides, there was an important task in front of him. He ran his fingers over the swelling length, the familiar velvety skin under his fingertips. Fuck, he had such a pretty cock. Due to his hands being bound together, he ended up bracing his palms along the underside and wrapping his fingers around the girth, inhaling sharply as he felt it twitch in his hands.

His own cock was mirroring, but Yoongi couldn’t touch it.

Yoongi looked up again.

His Master was disturbingly collected at being caressed like this. He kept his hands behind his back, not interfering. A regal stance. Must have also collected the hem of his dress shirt as well to hold it up and out of the way.

“Ah uh, no hands. That’s cheating. Back on your knees they go.”

He lingered a moment before obeying. Dancing along the fine line of punishment. Breathe in. Breathe out. The base of his palms touched his knees. It wasn’t that different from their normal sex, but the tension… It was impossible to explain. As if the possibilities that had suddenly expanded became a feeling, a thrill unmatched due to the lack of fear.

Yoongi opened his mouth.

Tongue sliding out.

Heat.

The strong taste made him moan, closing his lips around the hard length.

This? This he was good at. This was familiar hardness against his tongue, pushing it up to the roof of his mouth, sliding down deep to take it all. Slow, especially against the head, curling lips around it and rubbing slickness to velvet before choking himself again on the thick tip. Fuck, he could die like this. It was wrong on so many levels, the whole scene, and yet it was so right, opening his eyes to see himself being admired from above, the top few buttons of the brocade shirt undone to reveal those prominent collarbones and sterling silver guitar pick necklace. Heavy, weighted.

Always keeping a piece of me with him.

Those mauve lips curved upwards.

“Your mouth is the fucking best, Yoongi.”

One of those ringed hands lowered and skimmed across, following the top of those thighs that the slacks were still trapped around. There was something additionally arousing about still being in their clothes. Their roles still maintained. Yoongi felt something press against his lower lip.

Ah.

He tipped his head back and flicked his tongue over the other man’s balls, stimulating them each time he went down, heart beating fast as he saw the tension ripple out. It was a real effort to loosen enough to sweep his tongue out and then back to tightness around the head, but a challenge was a turn-on and Yoongi was no quitter, rising a bit on his knees to take in that cock deeper. Paid close attention to his throat muscles and his lip movement, keeping the pressure consistent and forceful, not giving up.

How could he?

Ugh, he was addicted to those low, soft moans. Addicted to the subtle twitch against his tongue, addicted to the hardness and the way that girth stretched out his throat, shivering, feeling pre-cum drip down his own thighs, but he couldn’t touch himself, no, not unless instructed. No hands. He slowed down a bit, wanting to make it last longer, tucking his tongue around each of those balls pressed against his lower lip and chin, strings of saliva dripping down his chin. Didn’t care. Yoongi knew the other man liked it. The cock in his mouth was so damn hard that his jaw ached. He kind of wanted it in his ass right now, but Yoongi was confident that he could get his Master hard again.

After all, his mouth was the best.

The man of excess would know.

He looked up again, intensifying the pace.

He watched those broad shoulders shudder, open-mouthed smirk watching him.

“Fuck, I love your eyes.”

Yoongi could say the same thing, but his mouth was currently full of dick.

He stopped teasing the balls and completely focused on the shaft. Molding it against tongue and lips, wet friction, slick and firm. No hands, so of course he had to be extra careful to use the force of his torso rather than his neck that needed to stay relaxed so he could swallow it all as deep as possible. Closing his eyes, basking in the attention, becoming the pleasure he wanted to give – tight, wet, deep – fast enough to not be ignored but steady enough to build up that inevitable orgasm, close, desperate for the taste, his fingers twisting into the hem of his skirt, whimpering in the back of his throat, craving it, the leather body harness under his clothes digging in to his rapidly rising and falling chest.

So close.

“Don’t choke, my darling,” that husky voice murmured above him.

Then he felt the sudden grasp of his head and the force of hips pushing down his throat. He sure as hell wasn’t going to choke at the rapidly expanding pocket of cum jammed down his throat but, um, hello, did Yoongi just hear that correctly? He was so startled that he griped the bottom of the pants, shivering as he swallowed, gripping tightly. Fire raced over his skin. His nerves singed, alight. Again with the ‘my darling’?! He was delusional. He was hearing shit he wanted to hear. Yeah, that was the only explanation. He kept his mouth closed, swallowing again, shuddering as he felt those hips roll, pushing in and out, remaining hard against his tongue.

Using him.

Yes, this was the safe space, being used.

“Stand up for me.”

Oh, shit.

He stumbled a little, wincing at the pins and needles, but strong hands helped him up. Pulled him closer. Yoongi looked away, busying himself with wiping his chin and straightening his outfit. His headband was somewhere on the floor. Welp. It was the cheapest part of the outfit. He let himself be dragged towards the bed, not saying anything. What was he supposed to say, anyway? Ah he was overthinking this, but how could he not? Was he supposed to act like a girl? A maid? Himself as a maid? Uh.

“H-Hey, what are you doing–?”

“Stand still.”

Yoongi suddenly found his legs sandwiched between two very strong thighs as his Master untied the velvet knot. Oh. He kept his silence as the knot was carefully deconstructed and undone, not making a sound at it was tossed aside. He liked watching those hands work. They were meticulous, treating him with care.

Then, those hands disappeared.

Yoongi raised his head.

Then froze as dark, dark eyes captured him along with ringed fingers closing in around his thighs.

“Uh.”

The sharp tone interrupted him.

“My title?”

Up his skirt. Fingertips traced the tops of the sheer, thigh-high stockings. Flicking the elastic, almost making him flinch as it snapped back into place. His hands had involuntarily found their way to those shoulders, gripping them for balance. He didn’t really want to say it so close. The other male waited patiently, squeezing the backs of his thighs but not going higher or more towards the center.

Yoongi swallowed.

The butterflies in his ribcage threatened to explode.

“Yes… Master?”

A devil’s smile.

“You know why I like skirts, Yoongi?”

“… No?”

They were sitting on the edge of the bed, until they weren’t. The other man scooted back a little and then Yoongi nearly yelped when he was grabbed by his bare ass and lifted. Thankfully, he was able to compose himself and not yell, even when the other male forced his knees in between Yoongi’s and made him straddle his lap. Yoongi’s knees now on the bed and he was fully clutching onto the taller male’s shoulders to avoid toppling over.

“Wait, I’m nak–”

“I can touch everything and you still look pretty,” his Master laughed, tickling warm breath against Yoongi’s neck. “Oh, looks like you had the same idea I did. Great minds think alike.”

This ass! “You can’t just violate–”

Yoongi stopped dead mid-sentence.

Those dark, dark eyes sparkled.

“I can’t what?”

But Yoongi couldn’t say anything because he already did.

He simply froze as those hands kneaded him, ring bands indenting his skin, gasping softly as he felt fingertips brush up against the straps along his legs. The bottom of the chest harness connected to straps around the tops of his thighs so it didn’t ride up. Well, it did, but only in the most delicious of ways. There was another strap around his waist and ones decorating around his chest and back, but for right now the leather below was all that was revealed. The issue was that Yoongi hadn’t really figured out if he was meant to wear underwear or not, because he didn’t want to have to take off the harness during sex and he didn’t want to wear boxer briefs over it. That would be fucking weird.

So, he just figured to go commando.

Of course, that also meant his cock had leaked pre-cum all over his inner thighs and the butt plug in his ass was now being played with since it was easily discovered.

“Ah… d-don’t…”

“Don’t?”

His Master clicked his tongue, disapproving and sensual all at once. He was tugging and pushing the flared base of the metal but plug in and out, creating a slow, maddening pace. Yoongi had picked a medium-sized one. Didn’t know how long he was going to have it in, but wanted to be prepared and all that.

“I do what I want with you, Yoongi. I am your Master, and you are my plaything.”

Fuck, he was so damn cocky but the pleasure was immense, breaking him down. Yoongi hadn’t even realized how the need to be touched had heightened and now the sudden devoted attention was making his jaw clench and his eyelids flutter, a gasping moan escaping him as warm fingers closed around his neglected cock, immediately becoming stiffer at the coaxing strokes.

“I… o-oh, fuck…”

Somehow his arms had slid around to the other man’s back and his head dipped down, forehead against shoulder, his hands splaying over the vest. The corset prevented him from bending over any further, but he couldn’t really see anything due to the skirt anyway. Probably for the best, because if Yoongi saw that hand covered in those rings, he would want to cover them with his cum immediately.

“Our clothes… f-fuck… You’re going to ruin our clothes,” he mumbled, biting back a moan as his cock was choked and the butt plug was fully shoved into his ass with deliberate force.

“You mean you’re going to ruin our clothes.”

Yoongi bit his lower lip and hissed behind his teeth, locking his arms around the other man and trying very hard not to orgasm as the persistent strokes started up again. There was no logic in holding himself back other than his own stubbornness and, of course, prompting his Master to edge him, which he did so happily. Too happily, first driving him so close that Yoongi buried his lips into the other man’s neck and almost screamed, only to be cut off with a firm squeeze to the head, causing his whole body to spasm with need, and then building the second orgasm by dropping his cock completely to toy with the butt plug instead. Holding his ass open with one hand, rings leaving indecent indents, and using his right hand to pull out the plug completely, circling the exposed, shivering hole with the tip, and then shoving it back in, creating a mortifying wet sucking sound that was a combination of lube and his tight ass.

Yoongi was determined not to embarrass himself with begging.

He deserved a reward for merely mewling for release, feeling his cock bob and smack his inner thighs, so close but not close enough.

“What’s that?”

Fuck, don’t make me say it.

Yoongi whimpered under his breath.

“P… Please…”

The response was sweet venom.

“Please what?”

He should have known. This sadist. Yoongi had half a mind to use his real name but he resisted and remained a good little maid.

“Please fuck me, Master.”

It was worth it.

He still had to be patient, of course. Honestly, Yoongi was beginning to enjoy being dragged along a little, held close by the waist as he was placed firmly on top of the other man on the bed. The apron was tossed aside. He held onto the other male’s shoulders as the hook-and-eyes were undone, not quite looking him in the face. Probably had something to do with how hot his cheeks felt right now. The corset was tugged out of the skirt. His blouse fell out with it, covering them in a curtain of white chiffon.

They undressed each other.

Usually, it was faster and with voracious greed. But this time, it was button by button. Dismantling his vest, chancing a moment to raise his gaze and see himself being observed. Not in a discerning way. No, more in a…

Dare he believe it?

Adored way.

I am so fucked.

“I enjoyed the packaging, but you look better naked, Yoongi.”

“… Shut up.”

He leaned down as the zipper of his skirt was undone, pressing his lips to exposed skin. He felt a racing heartbeat under his kiss, heard the soft sigh of contentment above him. There was only a single stray button holding the blouse together, but Yoongi didn’t let the other man access it, instead skimming his lips down that torso, inhaling the scent of cologne and warm skin. He took the skirt with him, untangling it from his legs and pushing it down the bottom edge of the bed. The stockings were loose too, so he got rid of them as well, tugging down the slacks in his descent. The other man got the hint and helped him out, shedding the rest of their lower clothes.

He closed his mouth around his Master’s cock.

“Yoongi… ah…”

He was soft but only for a moment. It was the perfect opportunity to loop his tongue around those balls as he worked that length to its hardest, running his tongue along the underside of the head, popping his lips softly at the ridge, kneading those thighs under his hands. Blowjobs on the bed were a different story. He had the most control here and the help of gravity, pushing all the way down into his throat until he couldn’t breathe and then, again, moaning as fingers tangled into his hair and locked his head in place, those hips rising into his mouth instead, fucking his throat slow and hard.

“That’s enough. Come up here and show me what’s hiding under your shirt.”

Heat rushed into his face. Shit. He tried to resist. Kept his lips locked around that hard cock, but a sharp pull of his hair sent a flare of pain that could not be ignored and he winced, gasping and clawing up the bed as he was decisively dragged up by his head. Saliva dripped down his chin, his mouth open, panting hard as he rose by force, his palms struggling to find footing in the sheets, meeting a cocked eyebrow and impassive expression.

Yoongi was above, but he felt below this dominant energy.

Fingertips touched his stomach.

The inhale caught in his throat.

Those dark, dark eyes did not look away.

No words exchanged. The touch traveled up. Up. Stopping at the leather straps, snapping each one against Yoongi’s skin. He whimpered, still held by his hair, shuddering. He could feel the onyx stones of some of those sterling silver rings. His blouse still held a single button, but it was rising with the forearm sliding up under it. And then.

The buttonhole was a little too big for the small mother-of-pearl button.

The shirt popped open.

For a moment, the darkness remained locked in gaze.

And then the man who called himself Dionysus at times looked down.

Yoongi shut his eyes, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep down his neck. It wasn’t so much the leather harness itself but rather the obviousness of how fucking down bad he was. Fuck, I need to get a grip– but any more thoughts were gone in a snap, his eyes shooting open at the sharp pain, his shoulders flexing to tighten the tension of the leather. Looking down, watching and feeling a thumb rub into his hard nipple, and then, snap! Gasping as the strap smacked back against his skin, excitement pooling down his stomach as another long finger pulled back on another strap, taking it as far as it would go, and moaning as it hit him in the recoil of being let go.

Holy.

Fuck.

His back was arched so the straps along the front were all taut. His damn ass in the air and all. Fuck. The white blouse had slipped down his shoulders, his torso jerking at the inflicted pain, his hair falling into his face, sweat breaking out along his forehead, his inner muscles clenching around the butt plug.

Fuck it.

Yoongi couldn’t wait any longer.

He reached past the other male and grabbed the towel on the nightstand. Didn’t bother to ask. Threw aside his shirt and reached back, jaw tightening as he gripped the base of the anal plug. It was a little slippery from the lube but, as he always prepared beforehand, it was clean. He was almost lightheaded with hunger as he pulled it out, whimpering at the loss, rolling it into the towel and placing the bundle back onto the nightstand.

Leaving the black leather body harness on.

Naturally, Yoongi wanted to be fucked in it.

“Aw, I wanted to bend you over and make you lift your skirt to show me.”

“Next time,” Yoongi growled back, twitching at the thought. “What position?”

The devil’s smile returned.

“How else? Ride me.”

Yoongi felt the color drain from his face. This sadist really wants to hammer it home, huh. “F… Fine.”

He was already in position. There wasn’t far to move. He just had to position his hips and lift his hard cock to look down and see the other man gripping his girth with his right hand, slowly stroking himself, white pre-cum beading against the dark purple head.

The silver rings gleamed under him.

“Want a condom?”

He shook his head. “I prepped. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not. Asking for your comfort.”

Yoongi glanced up.

Fuck, he was so damn hot. The guitar pick necklace was bunched up, the pendant stuck in between his collarbones. Shirt and vest still clinging around his upper arms. Didn’t seem bothered by it. Yoongi swallowed, lowering himself.

“Not too slow,” that throaty voice hummed. “You’re ready for me, aren’t you?”

Normally Yoongi would tell him to go fuck himself but presently he was too horny and too subservient to care, which was precisely why he held open his own ass, relaxed, and sank down. The other male held himself steady, exhaling deeply as he slid in. Still bigger than a plug, fuck, and Yoongi snapped his head back, gasping at the fullness, letting go of his own cock and gripping his thighs, trying to get used to the size. He figured he had enough experience with anal by now but, fuck, he was so damn hard and thick.

Fuck.

He was given a moment to adjust.

Then Yoongi felt a hand close around his leaking cock.

“W-What…?”

This sadist had the audacity to raise his free left hand and press his index finger to his full lips.

“Less talking. More moving.”

You…

Yoongi felt the stiff length twitch inside him and he groaned, rocking his hips into it. Their clothes on the floor. The skirt. The stockings. The apron. The blouse. The pleasure mounting with him, filling himself again and again, using gravity and lust to his advantage, tightening his core to make the pleasure radiate. Gripping the sheets next to his calves, feeling the leather straps cut into his chest, his nipples getting hard at the pain, watching himself get jacked off with that hand covered in silver rings, inescapable ecstasy radiating up his spine.

“I… I’m going to… cum all over your stomach…” Yoongi gasped, whining as he hit his favorite spot, fuck, so deep and so full, relishing in being used like a plaything for pleasure while being pushed to his own limit.

His boyfriend grinned like the devil.

“Mhm, that’s the goal.”

It was an obscene scene.

In retrospect, Yoongi couldn’t outline all the details of it. He was too far gone, too turned on and too many sensations deep to remember how long it lasted. Tipping his head back, thrusting that cock deep into his ass, moaning as he felt the strap at his waist being caught, pulled, digging the straps into his back instead of his chest, feeling the tightness around his upper thighs, violent pleasure building between his spread-open legs, his cock throbbing in a punishing grip, closer, gasping.

Closer.

“F-Fuck!”

He tucked his chin down in dismay, groaning while he watched his hips flinch and felt his cock pulse, dripping out a stream of white across the other man’s lower belly. The hand stopped but his climax didn’t, searing him with blinding pleasure as more cum shot out and smeared everywhere, staining the air with the scent of semen. Yoongi gasped, reeling, and then whined. Two hands clasped around his hips and the other male thrust up into him, hard, again, again, sending Yoongi’s eyes rolling back at the roughness, pitching forward and catching himself with his palms, losing himself to the fucking from below, trying to assist, but the orgasm was too fresh and his body was still limp, forcing him to merely hold on and take it, again, again, deep, hard, used like a plaything.

My darling.

Yoongi moaned as he felt the jerking cock spill into him, pumping him full of cum.

The forbidden name escaped his lips, pleading.

Yoongi could never explain how the other male had the strength. Maybe it was some kind of freakish adrenaline. One moment he was on top, still disoriented from the brutality, the next, he was on his back, his own cum sticking to his lower stomach and crotch, arms and hands around his back and ass to hold him in place when he was lifted. The fuck? And the cock was still inside his ass by some miracle.

Wait.

He…

His Master was still hard.

Yoongi gasped, feeling the cum inside him squish as the other male clenched his jaw and slid back in, slow and deliberate. Pleasuring himself. Instinctively, Yoongi pressed his thighs to the other male’s sides, surprised to feel the brocade shirt was somehow still on. In fact, there was sweat sliding down that chest, which almost never happened. He was usually never hot.

Well, also, Yoongi couldn’t remember the last time he had been creampied and continuously fucked.

He wasn’t complaining though.

He couldn’t say anything at all, desperately panting, the pleasure too much to worry about silly things like breathing, grabbing onto the shirt collar and thrusting up to meet those hips. Both of them moaned in unison, cum sticking between them, lost in lust, forgetting responsibilities and fucking instead, so close, so full, the squishing, slapping sound getting louder and louder.

A low growl.

“I’m gonna cum, Yoongi.”

His words jumbled together and barely made any sense.

“Fuck, yes, in me, fuck, cum in me.”

The hips smacked together.

The rising lust burst, pumping him full of cum again, his eyes cracking open to witness. Lashes lowered, mauve lips parted, the tip of pink tongue over white teeth, carnal satisfaction melting over his features. Weighted exhale drifting out. Warmth spreading over Yoongi’s arms.

Yoongi gripped onto the shirt collar, staring up at him.

There’s no one else for me.

Those dark, dark orbs shifted and looked down at him.

“Happy?” the husky voice panted, smirking slightly.

He had a witty response prepared but he promptly forgot it. “Yeah. That was some of the best sex I’ve ever had.”

The smirk widened, pleased. “You’ve said that before.”

“It’s true every time. You get better.”

A wink. “Helps when you’ve got a tight virgin ass.”

Yoongi felt his eyebrow twitch. He regretted being honest. “Shut up. Get off me.”

“Um, you seem to forget I pumped your ass full of cum.”

“Sounds like your problem.”

“This is our home, remember, which makes it our problem.”

Yes, it was, but Min Yoongi took a leaf out of Jeon Jungkook’s book and remained a brat. His boyfriend liked that shit, as evidenced by the bickering, and the later not-so-punishing punishment of being bent over in the shower to get his ass fucked again because he was being freaking annoying. Ah, love.

What?

Yoongi didn’t just think that. Nope.

masterpost

#bts smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jungkook x male wiyllt #yoongi x male wiyllt #jungkook x male oc #yoongi x male oc

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maxiemumdamage · 1 year ago

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I’ve been thinking this since Yuki’s death, but…I feel like Jujutsu Kaisen is starting to just punish the viewers for caring.

Don’t get me wrong, I do think there’s a place for darker narratives. I think there is a place for characters who are wonderful, complicated, and beloved dying as the end of their narrative arc even as it’s painful for fans. (If I didn’t, I would’ve quit RWBY.)

I had the same thought when reading the Webtoon Never-ending Darling — namely, that it’s just exhausting to read a story where things keep getting worse and worse for the main characters while the bad guys gain ground, pick off fan favorites, and get off scot-free every time.

It felt doubly ridiculous when Yuki’s death came just after Choso was FULLY ready to try and do a redemption by death/sacrifice only for Yuki to basically tell him “that’s just leaving your one surviving brother to mourn you and struggle alone, if you feel bad for hurting him then keep living to help him now.” Clearly Gege understands that we get attached to the characters and want to see them keep living and learning to deal with their messy, ugly lives. So why just keep killing them off?

Like, death is a tragedy. But what about the characters who live and keep getting destroyed by loss? What about the readers, who know the story is fictional and bad things may happen but keep investing?

I stopped reading when Yuki died, and…Gojo getting shanked only makes me feel that was the right call. I don’t want to keep reading a story where all the most compelling characters die with their goals unfulfilled, and especially not a story where female characters are disposable. (Where the hell is Nobara. Seriously.)

The narrative doesn’t have to protect the characters, but it does have to respect them.

I don’t think it’s bad that JJK refuses to be a standard shonen, that it takes darker tones and that main characters can experience staggering losses. It’s just not fun to read a story where the main characters never win in any meaningful way. If the one’s the narrative makes you root for are only gonna suffer, then it gets too hard to read.

I think I might be done with JJK now.

#jjk #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #yuki tsukumo #yuki tsukumo death #gojo satoru #gojo death #max.txt

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honney-pies · 1 year ago

Text

Ma Cherie ❤︎₊ ⊹

Chapter vi: Absence

Pairing: Inuokku/ F! Reader

Summary: the loss of someone in your life can be hard to navigate around, even more so when a relationship had only recently blossomed.

Length: 3.09k

A/N: hey y’all, i know it’s been a long time since i posted and that partially because things kept on popping up and i kinda forgot this fic even existed lol. I’m really sorry guys, I know it’s a short chapter, but i’ve had a lot of stuff going on this week and was unable to really sit down and write. Luckily my finals are now officially over, so i’ll have more time to write. I’m currently writing the next chapter, so that’ll be out sooner rather than later—if I remember to post lol. also the start is kinda weird and repetitive, i didn’t really know how to start it and i felt bad for making y’all wait this long

Ma Cherie Masterlist

While it’s only been three months out of the eight scheduled months of Yuta’s time abroad, Toge is going insane. He misses Yuta’s warmth, his reassurance, love, and his ability to understand (Y/n) in ways that he is unable to — even after all these years. The two still text and FaceTime regularly, but it’s not the same. (Y/n) helps to ease the pain, but their relationship had been so new when he left, it pains them both. In the days before Yuta left, (Y/n) scheduled them full of random date ideas, but this did nothing to slow the flow of tears at the airport as Yuta left for Africa with Miguel.

(Y/n), like her beloved, is losing her sanity. Don’t get her wrong, she loves Toge — she would’ve figured a way around the marriage if this wasn’t the case — but Yuta’s a breath of fresh air. A breath the young couple both desired and consumed to the fullest.

The dynamic between the two hadn’t necessarily been awkward once Yuta left, but after spending nearly every waking moment with someone, the relationship molds itself to have the other in it all the time. Yuta leaving made them reform their relationship for the fifth time. At first it had been (Y/n)andtoge and yuta, then it became (Y/n)andtogeandyuta. It was still the three of them, but with newfound distance they had been unprepared for.

One of the ways the trio compromised with the thousands of miles of useless space was many calls, texts, photos, and videos. This led to (Y/n) ‘asking’ her adoptive dad to upgrade her phone plan to accommodate the plethora of content growing in her phone.

“Toru-nii, I changed my storage plan. I got 2TB.”

“What?”

“It’s an extra forty dollars, so just a warning.”

“… Okay?”

“You’re paying for it.”

“When am I not paying for something?”

“ ‘Kay, thanks!”

With the accompanying spare time of one less person to be with, (Y/n) has been filling her days evolving her cursed technique, working on her friendship with her older brother, preparing Megumi for the dorms-

“I’m an empty nester!”

“You’re literally my teacher.”

“(Y/n)-Chan and Megumi-Chan are abandoning me!”

“We’re still seeing you everyday, Toru-nii.”

“Oh, I can still hear their voices haunting me. Dear Fates, what have I done to have been handed such a cruel deal in life?” (This can be applied to many situations in JJK, and frankly, it hurts).

Megumi grumbled before shuffling towards his warden, who’s on his knees in fake hysterics, and placed a gentle hand on Gojo’s head. No infinity stopping him. (Y/n) smiled softly and walked over to her small family. She wrapped her arms around her boys tightly.

-which has been fun. He got a room the hall over from his adoring, darling, dearest sister. However, this does little to thwart (Y/n) appearing at random. She felt it was her sisterly duty to materialize from thin air and either claim a spot in his room and play with his shikigami or would request his assistance.

Toge and (Y/n) had more time together than they’ve had in a while, but that did little to squash the ache in their chest for the absence of Yuta. Their beds were bigger and colder. Their rooms were more barren, and their days more boring. There wasn’t anyone else besides the two of them for a long time then they found another, only for them to leave and it hurt far more than they anticipated.

Toge and (Y/n) had been togeand(Y/n) for as long as they could remember; promised to each other at the ripe ages of three and four. Even though they never considered an addition to their love, Yuta wormed his way into their hearts and lives before leaving soon after. They didn’t know what to do, they didn’t know how to function.

Yuta wasn’t there to hang out with Megumi and make (Y/n)’s heart soar beyond belief. Yuta wasn’t there to get the things that the two of them couldn’t reach because they were both fairly short. Yuta wasn’t there to help ease the pain of Toge’s sore throat. Yuta wasn’t there to help on the days where (Y/n) could hardly get out of bed, so wracked with guilt and despair that the very thought of leaving the world hidden away beneath her covers was impossible.

Some times (Y/n)’s glad that he isn’t there, to be honest. She already feels bad enough that everyone has to see her on the days where everything is too much and she just wants to fade from this life and wait for the next one. After Yuta left, it got too much to handle. One less person to distract herself by giving every possible ounce of affection and adoration she could. (Y/n) tried to keep it to herself and deal with it in the early hours of the morning and the late hours of the night, but this did little to stop her melt down.

She became erratic during training, sloppy running drills, and has less self preservation. (Y/n) didn’t mean for any of this to happen, at least she doesn’t think so. She doesn’t want to die. She wants to grow all gross and wrinkly with her friends, family and lovers. She really does. However, in the hours where everything is still, in the hours where she has time to feel and remember, she can’t help but hurt.

—————

One day on a job with Noritoshi, everything came to a head. She lost control for the first time in a very long time. Her older brother, who had never seen this happen, did the only thing he could and called his teacher. Utahime arrived to see the siblings covered in blood, all the curses had been slaughtered and laid dismembered around them. Noritoshi held his little sister as tightly as he could as she sat quietly. Utahime, who also had never seen the girl like this, did the only thing she could and called Gojo.

“Ah Utahime, to what do I owe the pleasure-“

“Kamo-san, she’s… she’s…” The rustling of fabric and small voices in protests could be heard on the other end.

“What about my daughter? Did she get hurt under your watch? Where are you?” Gojo’s voice becoming that of a stern one laced with desperation gave Utahime whiplash.

“She’s not hurt, in fact I don’t think anything even touched her-”

“Spit it out.”

“She’s dripping in blood and there’s carcasses scattered everywhere, Gojo. Is there something I need to know?”

“I will be there soon. Call me again if there are any spikes in cursed energy.” Before Utahime could respond, the line clicked and an annoying jingle could be heard. The teacher and student watched as (Y/n) slowly blinked and reached into her skirt pocket, pulling out her phone.

Obviously it’s the one that came out just a few days ago, only the best for Gojo’s little girl.

“Dad.” The two strained their ears to hear the other end of the conversation, the girl rarely refers to Gojo as her dad around others.

“No, I’m not hurt.”

“No, it’s not my blood.”

“Yes, I’m with Nori-nii now.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Utahime wondered just how often this child has seen tragedy befall others for her to still be able to converse while being so clearly not okay. It’s a thought that made her uncomfortable, so she removed it from her mind to contemplate at a later date.

Like so many others.

Gojo arrived soon after and strode straight towards (Y/n). Noritoshi hesitantly handed her to him. Gojo pulls her taught to his chest and cradles her as he used to when they were younger. A time that felt so long ago. (Y/n) curled her hand into his clothes and cried. This made even more weight fall heavily on Satoru’s heart.

((Y/n) is a girl who cries often, this is true. She cries when: she watches a sad movie or show, when she reads a sad book, when she sees something adorable, when she’s angry, when she laughs hard enough, when she’s on her period, and occasionally when she shits. Despite this, she doesn’t typically cry when others think she should. (Y/n) has days where most can predict her tears, and most of the time they’re correct, but those are only a handful of days. Her family and friends have familiarized themselves with these dates and plan everything they can around it. She cries on her birthday, Christmas Eve, mid November, and her fallen loved one’s death days. Unfortunately, (Y/n) will soon not know life without tear stained cheeks and red eyes. She will survive, for better or for worse we do not know, but not without a trail of immense pain that will try to drown her at every turn).

“My sweet, baby girl. You’re safe. I’m here,” he murmurs softly for (Y/n)’s ears only. However, the silence that surrounds them allows the others to hear. Noritoshi feels slightly envious that (Y/n)’s father is so warm. He quickly banishes the thought, remembering some of the things she has had to endure to get the loving family she so rightfully deserves.

Satoru slowly turned and began to walk, not before turning back into his ‘strongest’ facade and looking at the other two.

“I don’t need to worry about a report on this.” This is not a question, nor is it a request. He stated it as an absolute, an indisputable fact such as the sky being blue or him being able to kill them without so much as lifting an arm. Utahime nodded quickly, so Noritoshi followed suit.

The father and daughter make their exit, letting Utahime finally ask questions.

“(Y/n) is in so much pain and I don’t think I will ever know just how deeply she has been hurting.”

This was the only information Noritoshi was willing to divulge to his elder. Utahime pats her student on the back, sighing, before getting back up.

“We will not breathe a word of this to anyone, not even your classmates or your father. Do you understand?” Noritoshi nodded his head.

“Yes, sensei.”

(Y/n) had spent the remainder of the day at home, in the luxurious penthouse Gojo had bought for their growing family. Her room, like the one at school, is covered with many different things. The only difference is that these things are far more personal and bittersweet than the ones at her dorm. Mementos of special occasions and intimate reminders of those she lost. It even smells of the past, of a time where all she knew was her mothers death, Suguru’s downfall, and the warmth of those close to her.

Rumor has it that Miguel spent hours either restraining or pleading Yuta to stay with him in Africa rather than be at his girlfriend's side. Toge is the person who ultimately convinced him to not come home. As much as he wanted him to, it would have only led to an extension of his time abroad.

———————

It’s not a very apparent thing, her pain. Only to those who know her well enough. So when she, and the rest of her classmates, gets summoned away for a mission and leaves her brother on his own, she’s fine. However, when she gets a call where all she can hear is her little brother wracked with sobs, she is far from okay. Her first thought is that Satoru is dead, which is quickly proven wrong when Ijichi pulls up with a message from him. She rushes to pile her necessities from the hotel which they were staying at and hurriedly gives her friends a goodbye and Toge a kiss on the cheek. Maki wouldn’t let her leave until she promised to give her a text when she got back to school and another text later that night.

Megumi, to put it gently, is a complete and utter wreck. He has snot dripping down his nose onto, and most likely into, his mouth. His eyes are puffy and his soft, porcelain skin has become red. (Y/n) desperately wants to whip out her phone and take a picture in order to blackmail him at a later date, but her first priority is to make sure her brother is okay, which he clearly isn’t.

“ ‘Gumi-” He practically launches himself through the air and into his big sister’s arms, seeking any comfort he can.

“He-he’s gone, nee-san! He’s gone!” (Y/n)’s brows furrow. “Who’s gone, ‘gumi?”

“Itadori!” (Y/n)’s eyes widen slightly, she has heard of the boy and how remarkable he is from her dad and brother. She didn’t think that Sukuna would have let his vessel die so soon, but she pushes the logic away from her mind for the moment. Megumi comes first, all else comes second.

“Oh, ‘gumi.” Megumi’s voice cracks repeatedly as his cries become louder. They might have only known each other for a small period of time, but Itadori clearly made a long lasting impression on her brother.

“He left me, (Y/n)!” (Y/n)'s heart aches with the remnants of her brother’s. She cradles him in her arms through the tears, even when he tires himself out from crying. Satoru arrives later in the night, noticeably distraught. He watches silently from the entrance of the room as (Y/n) and Megumi curl tightly around each other in his room. Satoru gently closes the door behind him and slips off his shoes, moving quietly towards the bed, wiggling his way behind his kids. He moves them closer to him and holds them tightly to his body.

The next day, after a little bit more crying, (Y/n) is introduced to Kugisaki Nobara, a sweet, headstrong girl. The two get along splendidly and the older of the two listens dutifully as Nobara speaks of Itadori. Even though she calls him an idiot, moron, and dumbass, (Y/n) knows that his death has rocked her deeply.

Later she questions Satoru about the incident, and his answers are vague at best.

“You’ll be very upset with me when you find out the truth.” (Y/n) sighs before placing a hand on his arm.

“You’re our dad, so I trust you blindly, but please think of Megumi in your choices.” Satoru has a solemn look on his face when she says this.

“I’m doing the smartest thing I can, I’m trying to keep everyone safe.” (Y/n) hums softly.

“So he is alive?” Satoru looks at his daughter, a slight twitch in his expression is all it takes for (Y/n) to know she’s correct. Sometimes Satoru can forget just how brilliant his daughter is.

“If you think it’s best to keep it quiet, I’ll follow your lead, but if I find out otherwise I’m telling them.” He nods. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Two days later, The other second years make the journey home while (Y/n) is in a meeting with the higher ups. An awful, boring, useless meeting. They desire to make her feel small and worthless, and above all else try to make her feel weak and (Y/n) hates feeling weak. She knows full well she can kill them. She knows her place above them, Satoru and Suguru had made sure of it, but that does little to help her when all they do is berate her and piss her off.

“For the last time, I don’t know anything about the circumstances of Itadori Yuji’s death, I can only assume it was during a mission. No, I have never met him. All second years have been on a mission for the past couple of weeks. Yes, I arrived home earlier than my peers to comfort Fushiguro after receiving news of his state. Should I find out that you had a hand in the death of an innocent child and our only way of stopping Sukuna, I will gladly let you know of my stance on the matter. However, I can save you the time and remind you who raised me. Now, I excuse myself from this unnecessary meeting.” Gojo is, of course, right outside the door when she steps out.

“That’s my girl.” (Y/n) smiles at him and walks with him to the car. The two play hand games in the back seat and make their way towards the school. When (Y/n) steps out of the car, she looks at Gojo to follow, but he doesn’t exit.

“I have a job, but I’ll come see you when I’m done. Keep an eye on Megumi?” (Y/n) frowns, but nods nonetheless. “Of course.”

She closes the car door with a slightly harder than necessary shove and walks up the stairs towards the entrance of the school.

“Wait… someone did die?” (Y/n) immediately recognizes her best friend's voice and hurriedly walks over.

“I told you in my text, or did you not read it?” Maki looks over her shoulder and rests her arm on (Y/n). “I skimmed it.” (Y/n) scoffs, “Rude.” Maki shoves her playfully.

“Kam-“

“(Y/n)”

“(Y/n)-san, are you friends with this girl?” (Y/n) looks at Nobara and nods.

“They’re my classmates. Don’t mind Maki, she didn’t mean to appear insensitive. Well at least, I don’t think she meant to.” Maki swats at the girl. She feels her fiancé’s hand intertwining itself with her own and she can’t help but smile. Nobara clearly sees this exchange due to the now grossed out expression on her face. (Y/n) just smiles sweetly at her and can hear Megumi gag faintly. She subtly sticks her tongue at the demon spawn.

In the future, (Y/n) will look back on this memory with fondness. In the future she will weep at the thought of how her brother once was and the fading remnants of Megumi in her mind. She will mourn her short lived friends, the impact they had on her with the small amount of time she had with them. She will think of the plethora of ‘what ifs’ that continuously plague her mind. (Y/n) will remember the final moments of her childhood and innocence with that lingering bitterness that follows nostalgia.

In the future (Y/n) will have one single wish of having that Time Turner from Harry Potter her Suguru would read to her as a small child.

______

Tysm for reading and i hoped you liked it! The next chapter, phosphenes, will be posted eventually. As always, this is crossposted on ao3 and nothing else. Please let me know if y’all find this somewhere else!

#honney-pies #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #inumaki toge #ma cherie #inumaki x okkotsu #inumaki x reader #inuokko #okkotsu yuuta #inuokko x reader #yuta x reader

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m1ckeyb3rry · 1 year ago

Text

Pomegranate Ink: XI

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: In wake of your recent recommendation and newfound ability to heal, you have to make a choice that does not necessarily please everyone around you.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.8k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: consider this an epilogue to jjk vol 0

“So you’re giving up fighting, right?”

You stared at your phone in confusion, brow furrowed. What your father was saying made no sense; you had expected his first words when you told him of your feat to be congratulatory, to be awed of your prowess. But he was dull and clinical, speaking with a detached tone, as if you were less a daughter and more a fascinating test subject.

“Uh, what?” you said. “No way! I just got recommended for Grade 1 sorcerer status! Why would I give all of that up?”

“I’ve been doing research into our family’s line, ever since you proved to be so utterly unable to heal even a scratch. It’s your dependence on Dissection that’s bringing you down.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said

“Dissection is a crutch of sorts. You shouldn’t need to see your patient’s weak spots in order to heal them — the overwhelming strength of Composition will heal any weaknesses, both those you are aware of and those you are not. Dissection is used at first, by lesser members of the clan, in order to acquaint oneself with the anatomy of a human. But when was the last time you saw me using it? I don’t. I haven’t used it in years.”

“I’m not really sure what you mean,” you said. “I thought you’d be happy for me. I brought somebody back to life!”

“And I’m not quite certain how you did that. You’re not listening to what I’m saying, Y/N — your cursed energy is being wasted on your technique. You can’t heal while you fight, and you can’t fight while you heal. The only way that you reviving Okkotsu makes sense is if you tapped into some greater reserve of cursed energy that was not yours to begin with.”

So your victory was not exactly your own. You resolved to speak to Gojo about this as soon as you could, so that you could figure out what you had drawn upon. You had a sense that he knew, or at least had his suspicions.

“I have to make a choice, then? But Kaito said I was the first sorcerer to have an equal aptitude for fighting and healing,” you said with a frown.

“Firstly, Kaito’s always been full of shit, so why would you believe him? Secondly, he’s right, but that’s a dramatic way of saying it. It’s true that you have an equal aptitude for fighting and healing, which is exceedingly rare — do you see Shoko Ieri on the battlefield? Me? Conversely, do you see Kento Nanami or Utahime Iori healing anyone? No. But that doesn’t mean you get to have both.”

“I really have to pick?” you said in horror as you began to understand what your father was trying to stress to you.

“It shouldn’t be a choice, but theoretically, yes. If you continue to use Dissection, your ability to use Composition will be weakened, and if you learn to use Composition to its fullest extent, you will no longer be able to use Dissection in a way that will be helpful for fights.”

You remembered the pain of healing, the blood dripping from your nose, the choking sensation. And then you remembered the rush of fighting, the adrenaline. Healing was a funeral march, dragging you to a slow, inevitable death. Fighting made you alive; it was the essence of your being, at the very core of who you were.

“It’s not permanent, right? Composition won’t go away or anything if I don’t use it for a while,” you said.

“No, it’ll always be a part of you, but —”

“Then I fight,” you said decisively. “I will fight and become a true Grade 1 sorcerer. I will continue to train with Gojo. If ever a day comes where I can no longer fight, then I will become a healer, but until that day, I will fight with everything I have.”

“You are making a selfish choice, Y/N. You have great potential with Composition, and there are so few healers in this world, while there is no dearth of fighters.”

“Let me be selfish for once, then,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose to ward off the coming headache.

“How can you willingly turn away from the power to save your friends?”

“I will save them by creating a world where there is nothing that will hurt them. This conversation is over; I am to be a sorcerer proper, and you cannot stop me, not now, not ever. I will fight,” you said.

“What will Noritoshi say?”

“Nothing, I expect. He has been in support of me fighting from the start. Besides, now that it’s been proven I can use the Reverse Cursed Technique, isn’t my value to the Kamo clan far greater? It doesn’t matter if I am ugly or scarred or broken, any heirs I bear will likely possess the same aptitude as I do. They won’t care if I fight or heal,” you said. Your father sighed in frustration but allowed you the argument, knowing you were right.

“There is nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“As I threatened once before, I will run away to live with Gojo if you try,” you said.

“Very well. I will see you once the school year ends.”

“Very well. Farewell, father,” you said.

“Wait.”

“What?” you said impatiently. “I have to go talk to Gojo.”

“Congratulations on your recommendations. I…am proud of you. You will truly be a shining example of what it means to be a sorcerer, if that is the path you must take.”

“Thank you,” you said, taken aback at the praise. You weren’t sure if you had ever heard your father praise you before. You didn’t know how genuine it was, but it was praise all the same, and some childish part of you wished for more.

“Farewell, Y/N.”

The line went silent, and you slipped your cellphone into your pocket, frowning pensively at the latest development.

The way your father told it, nothing had changed at all. You had healed Yuta, but that was a one-time thing, and if you wanted to continue to be the perfect L/N girl, then you’d have to give up fighting.

Fighting. You remembered what Tullia had asked you once, en route to Gojo’s favorite bakery, which you two had needed to save from a Grade 2 curse.

“Is anything in your life your own?”

You had needed to pause and think about it back then. It seemed so long ago, when only two things belonged to you for sure, when your choices were made by others and your destiny depended upon the whims of a group of ‘stuffy old men’ — the ever-so-kind name that Maki and Tullia used to refer to the higher ups.

“My needles. My friendship with Maki. Those are mine.”

Giving up fighting meant giving up both of those. What use did a healer have for cursed needles, meant to puncture and kill? What use did the perfect heir of the L/Ns have for the failure of the Zenins? For better or worse, if you became a healer the way your father wanted you to, you would fit seamlessly into the role allotted to you by your superiors. Yet all that meant was a loss of everything you had tried to do and become, a loss of your newfound individuality, your sense of self, your friendships, and your strength.

“It stands to reason, actually,” Gojo said, motioning for you to sit, which you did so without hesitating, “What your father is saying has merit to it. There’s a reason you’re the first L/N to fight, and there’s a reason most normal sorcerers never obtain the skill to heal.”

“Do you think I’m making the right choice?” you said. He shrugged.

“Nah. Any sane person would want to learn how to heal. Who’d want to keep risking their life, day after day, when they could be safe and helping on the sidelines?” he said.

“I could never let my friends fight my battles for me! I’ve spent too long locked away on the sidelines,” you snapped at him.

“Well, nobody ever said jujutsu sorcerers are sane,” he said.

“Huh?” you said.

“Look, Y/N, it’s a choice that nobody can make for you. If you want to fight, then fight to the bitter end. If you want to heal, then there will be no shortage of patients for you to work on, not in times such as these,” he said.

“So you think it’s okay for me to choose to fight?” you pressed.

“I think it’s okay for you to choose to fight,” he affirmed. “I think it’s more than okay. You told me once, and I think you were right in saying it, that healing is akin to a war. You’re not going to escape pain, no matter the path you take. It’s just what you’re capable of bearing that matters.”

“Alright, then. As long as I have your support,” you said.

“You do,” he said. “Always. You’re clever, and what kind of teacher wants to give up a talented student? You don’t have to be able to heal just to make an impact in this world, and anyways, as your father said, you’re not giving it up for good. If there ever comes a time that you put down your needles forever and take up the role of healer, then I’m certain Shoko will be grateful for the help.”

“Speaking of healing, what about the rest of it? Why was I able to bring back Yuta while using Dissection? To hear my father tell it, it should’ve been impossible,” you said. Gojo hummed in thought.

“Nobody can know for sure, but I have some theories. Would you like to hear?” he said.

“Obviously, or I wouldn’t have asked,” you said. He laughed.

“Okay, okay, that’s fair enough. My first idea is that Rika lent you her cursed energy somehow, boosting your Reverse Cursed Technique enough to fully heal Yuta with Composition despite the fact that it should’ve been severely weakened. My second is that you only shocked Yuta’s system, in the sense that you didn’t heal him so much as annoy him into waking up, whereupon he was able to heal himself due to his prowess with the Reverse Cursed Technique,” he said.

“How would Rika lend me her cursed energy?” you said.

“I don’t know. That’s why it’s just a theory. There’s too many gaps in our understanding that, in all honesty, probably won’t ever be filled. My final hypothesis is the most outlandish, but it’s based on what I heard you and Yuta talking about, right after he woke up again,” he said.

“I wish you would’ve forgotten about that,” you said, subconsciously fidgeting with the ring that rested on your finger — not your engagement ring from Noritoshi but the one that Yuta had put on you. “It’s embarrassing that you had to hear. And also really, really, really weird.”

“Still, it was informative to say the least. I’m sure you’ve heard the story of the Y/N from the Heian period and how she was brought back to life after helping seal Sukuna,” he said.

“Yes, of course, that’s the story that convinced me to try healing Yuta,” you said.

“That makes it simpler. Did you think that you loved him enough to bring him back?” he said. You averted your eyes.

“Dunno. I mean, I don’t have any beliefs in love being some magical tool or anything. All I knew was that Yuta loved me and the others enough to die saving us and the school, and I loved him too much to let him go without at least attempting to do something about it,” you said.

“Love’s a powerful curse,” Gojo said. “Powerful enough that the cursed energy from it might’ve been enough to temporarily boost your reserves.”

“Powerful enough that I could’ve been powerful enough, for a little bit, to bring Yuta back to life,” you said dully. “That’s the corniest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“It is pretty cheesy,” Gojo admitted. “The truth’s probably somewhere in the middle, as it often is. Maybe some combination of your heightened emotions and Rika’s energy were enough to force Yuta’s heart into beating just enough that he could heal himself. Maybe it was something else entirely. Like I said, we’ll never know.”

“No point in dwelling on it, I suppose. He’s alive, and that’s all that matters,” you said with a sigh. “It’s not like I’ll be healing very many people moving forwards.”

“Right on,” Gojo said. “Just focus on completing your missions so that you can become a Grade 1 sorcerer in full!”

“That’s the plan,” you said with a firm nod, “Though a bit of a break first would be nice. We were all thinking of having a party, actually, I believe Toge and Panda will take care of the cake. Maybe Maki, Tullia, and I can buy some decorations, and Yuta can…uh, I don’t know, Yuta can clean or something? That doesn’t really make much sense, though, I’ll have to coordinate with the others so we can split up into more balanced teams.”

Gojo sniffed, and so quickly you almost didn’t see it, pulled down his sunglasses to wipe away a tear from his eyes. You frowned, but he shook his head before you could inquire why he was crying.

“Here,” he said, voice choking as he held out his hand. “Take this.”

“Your credit card?” you said, eyes wide as you stared at the glimmering, sapphire-colored metal. He nodded.

“Yeah. I’m…I’m really glad that the six of you are friends, you know that? I hope you always stay that way,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “Can I buy whatever I want with this?”

“Go ahead,” he said.

“No way,” you breathed.

“Just save me some cake,” he said.

“Sure thing!” you said, completely reevaluating the party. With Gojo as your sponsor, you could go seriously all-out now!

To your further surprise, he leaned over and squeezed you in a hug. “You’re a good kid.”

“What do you want from me?” you wheezed out, unused to the copious amounts of affection.

“Nothing, nothing. Megumi hates hugs, so I have to make do with you, since you’re the only one who won’t deck me when I try,” he said.

“I see,” you said warily. “You’re not going to follow this up with what I think you are, are you?”

He ignored you and beamed. “But who knows? Maybe Megumi will let you hug him! Only one way to find out!”

“There it is,” you said, pocketing Gojo’s card and rolling your eyes. “Later, Gojo. Thanks for the credit card!”

“Anytime!” he said.

“Really?” you said. He paused and thought about this.

“Maybe not,” he said.

“Fair enough,” you said.

You dashed down the hallways in search of your fellow classmates. Luckily, they were all together, Panda hiding behind Yuta while Maki glared at him, Toge sleeping on the couch, and Tullia making popcorn.

“Y/N!” Maki said when she noticed your arrival. “Help me!”

“With what?” you said.

“She’s trying to force me into the bath!” Panda wailed. You turned to Yuta, who gave you a lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I think he smells fine,” he said.

“You’re just another gross guy defending your kind! Don’t take his word for it, Y/N!” Maki said furiously.

“I’ll be the judge of things,” you said, crossing the room to where Panda was cowering and leaning in to sniff his fur delicately.

“What’s the verdict?” Tullia said, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth and then scowling when it went everywhere but into her mouth.

“He’s clean, really, his coat just needs to be brushed out, and maybe a little bit of perfume would do him good, too. A fully-fledged bath would be unnecessary, though,” you said.

“Ha!” Panda said. “Wait, what?”

“Ha! Go brush yourself!” Maki said victoriously.

“No!” he said.

“Panda, I’m not letting you make cake for our super fancy party with unbrushed fur,” you said.

“Nobody wants that mangy, ratty coat near their desserts,” Maki said.

“I don’t know if I’d call it mangy or ratty, but I agree that this party deserves the best,” you said.

“And how exactly are we going to afford that? We’re a bunch of broke students,” Tullia said. You whipped out Gojo’s credit card, holding it up to the light.

“Gojo gave me full permission to use this!” you said.

“You’re joking,” Maki said.

“We probably shouldn’t take advantage of his kindness, though, right?” Yuta said worriedly. All of you, bar the still-unconscious Toge, began to laugh.

“Gojo’s loaded, and also he’s so annoying that I have no qualms about spending his money,” Maki said.

“He did say we could buy whatever we wanted with it,” you said.

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Yuta,” Tullia said.

“It’s party time!” Panda cheered.

“Only if you brush yourself,” Maki said. He exhaled so heavily that his entire body seemed to deflate.

“Okay,” he said, evidently deciding that making the sacrifice for the party was worth it.

“We need to split up into highly specialized teams,” you said, mentally drawing up a diagram for yourself, “Toge and Panda are doing cake, of course.”

“Naturally,” Tullia said.

“That leaves the four of us. Two will have to clean, and someone will have to come shopping with me,” you said.

“I’ll go shopping!” Yuta said immediately. Tullia and Maki exchanged looks, snickering very obviously, which made Yuta turn a bright red. You discreetly pinched Tullia’s upper arm, which did not do much to shut her up.

“That’s perfect, then. And if this place isn’t spotless by the time we’re back, there will be consequences,” you said.

“Like what?” Tullia said.

“I’ll tell Gojo you want to get with Megumi,” you said, jabbing a finger at her. She gasped in horror.

“You wouldn’t!” she said.

“I would,” you said. “And Maki, I’ll tell Principal Yaga you volunteered to be his secretary for the rest of the year.”

“You’re an awful person,” Maki said.

“Better get cleaning!” you sang, blowing her a kiss. “Come on, Yuta. Let’s get going; Panda, brush yourself off, wake Toge up, and get baking.”

“On it, boss!” Panda said with a salute.

“Sheesh, a girl gets recommended for grade 1 sorcerer status one time and suddenly thinks she’s better than everyone!” Tullia said.

“I know! You’d think she’d beaten Sukuna himself, the way she’s swaggering around here like she owns the place!” Maki said.

“Oh, shove a sock in it, you two,” you said.

“Whatever you say, wise and powerful Y/N,” Tullia said with a bow.

“We are but your weak underlings,” Maki said as the two of them dissolved in a fit of giggles. You grabbed a broom and threw it at them. Maki dodged, but Tullia did not, and the handle whacked into her skull. This time, it was you who burst into laughter, grabbing Yuta’s hand and dragging him out after you before either of them could retaliate.

“How are we going to get into the city?” Yuta said.

“We could ask Ijichi to take us?” you said.

“That’s a good idea,” he nodded.

But the managers were all too busy to deal with frivolous errands such as taking you to go shopping for a party, leaving you standing in the parking lot, stumped. Rows upon rows of shiny cars stared you in the face, and a wicked plan formed in your mind.

“Let’s steal one,” you said.

“We’ll get in so much trouble if we’re caught! Also, neither of us knows how to drive!” Yuta said.

“How hard can it be? Come on, it’s either that or we walk,” you said.

“Fine, but you’ll be the one behind the wheel,” he said nervously. “I’ll crash the car for sure.”

“Got it. I’ll look up the basics on my phone,” you said, skimming over an article on how to drive a car while Yuta did his seatbelt and then reached over to buckle yours for you while you were distracted.

“I can’t believe we’re hijacking a car,” he said.

“It’s so cool, right?” you said.

“No! What if Gojo finds out?” he said.

“He’d probably be proud of us,” you said. Yuta considered this.

“I guess you’re not wrong about that,” he said. Putting away your phone, you took a deep breath and started the car. The engine purred to life without a hitch, and you allowed a tentative smile to break out on your face before you put the car into reverse and stepped on the gas.

The car shot backwards, and Yuta screamed shrilly as you slammed on the brake pedal, jerking to a stop and then switching the car into drive. Spinning the wheel, you careened out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding the curb and the welcome sign.

“Oh my god,” Yuta said as you accelerated around the curves of the country roads near the school, “We’re going to die!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” you shouted gleefully, pushing the car faster. Yuta shrieked as you shot onto the highway, weaving around other cars and barely dodging trucks.

“Slow down!” he said.

“No way!” you said. “This is fun!”

You felt like you could do anything now. You had defied your father. You had stolen a car. You had Gojo’s credit card in your pocket. You were going to have a party, and you were going to continue to fight. You were a sorcerer, a future grade 1 sorcerer, and you didn’t care that the only knowledge you had on driving came from a Wikipedia article. You had Yuta at your side, and the both of you were so alive that nothing else mattered.

The tires screeched as you pulled into the grocery store parking lot and somehow fit the car into the furthest spot you could find. Putting it back into park and shutting off the engine, you took a moment to catch your breath.

“That was awful,” Yuta said, clutching his chest. “I’m more scared of your driving than I was of Geto.”

“Are you kidding? That was awesome!” you said. “And you’re rude to say that.”

“Look, I think you almost killed me on the highway at least thirty times! That’s more times than Geto managed to!” he said, breathing heavily

“But we didn’t die,” you pointed out.

“Divine intervention,” he muttered. You poked him in the cheek.

“Just admit I’m not an awful driver,” you said.

“You are!” he said.

“Like you could do better!” you said.

“Just because I’m probably worse doesn’t make you good!” he argued, getting out of the car and opening the door for you, extending a hand to help you out. You took it and did not let go, even once you had slammed your door shut and locked the car behind you.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just jealous. Don’t be jealous, Yuta, I can teach you,” you said, swinging your linked hands between the two of you, letting yourself have this precious one moment of being with him openly before you let go.

“No thanks,” he scoffed. “What do we need to buy?”

“Appetizers, probably. Decorations. Plates and napkins and plastic cutlery and all of that. A colorful tablecloth? It’s just going to be the six of us, so we don’t need to go all out,” you said.

“That store looks promising,” he said. You squinted at the building he was pointing at and then nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go! We should try to get done before Maki and Tullia have the chance to finish cleaning,” you said.

“You’re horrible,” he said affectionately.

“I’m a monster of their making,” you said. “If they don’t like it, well, they can’t complain. It’s their fault I’m like this.”

“I think you were always like this, they’re just the ones that made you come out of your shell,” he said.

“And isn’t that what I just said?” you teased.

“Not exactly,” he said. “But I’ll give it to you.”

“Thank you, Yuta, you’re very generous,” you said dryly.

“Anything for you, Y/N,” he said. You bit your lip in thought, suddenly remembering something.

“Say, I know this is kind of random, but since we’re alone and there’s no chance of anyone overhearing…what are we to each other, Yuta?” you said. He was silent for a second, mulling the question over.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, not looking at you but straight ahead when he did. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. You’re engaged to somebody else.”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Yeah. But you love me,” he continued.

“Yeah,” you said again.

“And I — I —” he broke off. “You know how I feel. But I can’t say it, because whenever I say it to people, something bad happens to them. Maybe I’m just being superstitious, but I won’t curse you with my feelings.”

“Okay,” you said, even though it would’ve been so nice to hear him say it out loud. But they were just words; like he said, you knew how he felt.

“So where does that leave us? We can’t be boyfriend and girlfriend. We can’t go on dates when there’s a chance we could get caught. We can’t be with one another in public; maybe we can’t be with one another at all. But I don’t want to be with anyone else, Y/N, nobody but you,” he said.

“I’ll become an outcast before I leave you,” you promised, “I’ll leave jujutsu society forever if that’s what it takes, but I won’t leave you. If you’ll have me.”

His eyes softened, and he turned to look at you. In the light, the poison-blue looked far more grey, but it was a pretty shade of the color. You would drown in his irises happily.

“If I’ll have you? That’s a stupid question. I’m still confused about the fact that you want me, really. If it comes down to it, we’ll be outcasts together,” he said.

The rings on both of your fingers glinted in the sun as you interlocked your pinky finger with his in an oath. Your ring from Noritoshi and his from Rika were reminders of your pasts, and the ones your mother had given you, the ones you had exchanged with one another, were promises of the future.

Whether triumphant sorcerers or pariahs from society, you could be assured that Yuta would remain by your side no matter what. And you had faith that Maki, Tullia, Toge, and Panda would not abandon you, either, but they faded into an afterthought at the moment. It was you and Yuta against the world, you and him and nobody else. So you gave into temptation and kissed him in the parking lot, nothing more than a brush of your lips against his own before you could be seen, but it sealed the deal more than any kind of wedding vows ever could.

“You guys took forever,” Tullia said with a yawn when you and Yuta walked in, the muscles in his arms flexing under the weight of the boxes and bags you were making him carry.

“We’ve been done for ages,” Maki said.

“Toge and Panda?” you said.

“Putting on the finishing touches with the icing. Seriously, though, why were you gone for so long?” Maki said.

“Y/N’s an awful driver,” Yuta said by way of explanation, setting down the stuff you had bought with a thud. “Enough said.”

“No, not enough said. What happened?” Maki said.

“She almost killed six pedestrians, enormous trucks almost flattened us twice, and that’s not even the worst of it!” he said.

“Then what’s the worst of it?” Tullia said. You and Yuta shuddered before deciding not to bring up the Incident.

“Never mind,” you said. “We made it back in one piece, and with the stuff we needed for this party! So let’s focus on the bright side, okay?”

“Okay,” Maki said dubiously. “As long as you’re both alright.”

“We will be,” Yuta said.

“Just get all of this set up,” you said, not wanting to dwell on it any longer. The four of you were efficient to the max, moving with the speed that was to be expected from those in your profession. You chatted, mostly about smaller things, though one big conversation came about, and this was when you brought up the choice you had made.

“Tullia, be careful, you’re going to break your finger,” Maki said in exasperation when Tullia almost slammed a chair leg into her pinky. Tullia waved her off.

“Don’t worry about it! Y/N can heal now, she’s got me covered,” she said. You snorted.

“I wouldn’t count on that. In terms of healing…I have no healing,” you said.

“What do you mean?” she said indignantly, freezing in place and giving you a betrayed look.

“Exactly what I said. I can’t heal, not while I continue to use my inherited technique. I don’t have enough cursed energy to continually use both Dissection and Composition, so I had to make a choice between which one I want to focus on, and I’m…I’m a jujutsu sorcerer, not a healer. I know it makes me a terrible person, especially when people with the capabilities to heal are so rare, but I just can’t do it. I can’t give up the one thing I have for myself,” you said. They all considered this.

“I don’t care whether you fight or heal,” Yuta said, “As long as you’re safe. That’s the only thing I’m concerned about.”

“I’d be pretty upset, losing my favorite training partner,” Maki said. This was her small, secret way of saying she was happy with what you chose, her way of saying she’d have missed you otherwise.

“I’m glad that you’re finally making your own decisions. If anyone’s got the right to be selfish after everything, it’s you. And besides, Yuta has a Reverse Cursed Technique too, doesn’t he? I guess I’ll just make sure to be around him if I get hurt instead,” Tullia said.

Yuta nodded. “It’ll be good practice for sure. Although, if you get hurt doing something stupid, I’ll laugh at you first.”

“When is Tullia not doing something stupid?” you said rhetorically.

“She’s got a point,” Maki said.

“I guess I’ll be laughing a lot,” Yuta said.

“As long as you still heal me eventually,” Tullia said, not even arguing with the assessment she knew to be true.

You all moved on quickly, and you were thankful. It felt like there was a great weight lifted off of your shoulders now, as if there had previously been a heavy fog on your mind that had suddenly vanished.

It was okay that you were choosing your own happiness. It was okay that you could not heal. It was okay that you were in love with Yuta. All of these things could be true, all of these things were true, and you would still always have your classmates and your teacher. Gojo, Tullia, Maki, Panda, Yuta, and Toge — even in a nightmarish world like the one you lived in, you could count on them.

“Hey,” Tullia muttered to you, later that night, once the party was over and the others were passed out from an overconsumption of cake, “I was being serious earlier, you know that?”

“About what?” you said, nearly about to fall asleep yourself.

“About everything. The whole choosing to fight thing and all of that. Ever since I’ve met you, it’s like you’ve just been doing what you’re told and bearing it as best as you can. I don’t care if it means one less healer in the world; if you can escape your last name and assigned role through it, then who are we to begrudge you for it?” she said.

“Do you really mean it?” you said.

“’Course I do. Maybe it makes you a shitty person, but look at it this way — you’re never going to top bringing someone back to life, so why try? You’ve already hit your peak as a healer. Focus on becoming a better sorcerer; there’s still room for improvement there,” she said. You blinked at her in amazement.

“You’re right about that,” you said.

“I’m so smart,” she giggled, not waiting for you to respond before lying on the carpet, hugging a pillow and curling up next to Panda, who functioned as a heat source that was quite comfortable to fall asleep next to. She was out within minutes, and you smiled affectionately before deciding to follow her example.

Yuta was on the couch and, because you knew that everyone at the school was already pretty much aware of your relationship with him, you had no misgivings about dropping down next to him and resting your cheek against his chest.

He was warm, though perhaps not as warm as Panda, and he did not wake up when you settled beside him. But you did not want him to wake up, so this was fine. You allowed his heartbeat to lull you to sleep, and whether the steady rhythm was Rika’s doing or yours or his own, you found it did not matter. As long as it kept going. As long as he was alive. The rest you could deal with, as long as you had him.

Maybe you would never heal again, but in bringing Yuta back, you had already done all of the healing you would ever need to. By chance or fate, the circumstances had aligned perfectly, so that you were able to bring him back, so that you were able to draw upon the healing power of your family for that exact one event. But in the end, you were also descended from Y/N, the woman who had fought so hard that she had helped seal Sukuna even as she was dying from the knife he had twisted in her. You were never meant to live a life away from the blood of the battlefield; your mother had ensured that when she chose your name.

Nothing had changed since you had come here, a scared girl unable to heal but willing to fight. Yet everything had changed, because now you were unwilling to heal, able to fight, and braver than you could have imagined. And you had friends now, people who loved you, and there was a true future for you as a Grade 1 sorcerer, as long as you could prove yourself worthy of it.

That was what you dreamt of — not love or happiness or peace but rather of strength and power. You dreamt of the day that you were confirmed as a Grade 1 sorcerer, of the day that you could look your father in the eye and tell him that you were worth more than he thought you were, worth more than him.

And it — it was a foolish dream, but as the moon inched across the sky, you dreamt of a future where you were the head of your clan, a future where all of jujutsu society listened to you.

In your sleep, you smiled.

#yuuta x reader #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #canon au #reader insert #pomegranate ink #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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