#chaoslulled \ satoru gojo

[gravesung-moving]

@chaoslulled ( satoru ) — binding vows.

SUGURU GETO KNOWS HE SHOULD BE more nervous than he is. perhaps he should even be angry, shunted off by his family as a bargaining chip to unite their clans politically without any say in the matter. and he is bitter about it, but only in the same way he has been bitter for his entire life: this is not new. it only proves what he has already known about his family since he was very young.

that bitterness, he knows, is his own. he cradles it carefully within his heart, guards it like a starving dog against the curses that shove stolen emotions into his soul like a hand down the throat. surges of anger, fear, envy, melancholy, rejection linger on the back of his tongue, but the bitterness is his. so is the shame at the root of it all, deeper still.

the gojo clan estate is massive. easily several times the size of his family home and exponentially more opulent, he finds himself feeling lost as he stares up at the entryway. no one told him what to do when he actually got here. was he supposed to wait at the gates? should he knock? the place is so damn big, how is anyone even supposed to hear it if he does—

suguru's hand is already poised at the wood of the door when it swings open, and suddenly he is face to face with the bluest pair of eyes he has ever seen. even behind the shades, they are arresting, wide and gleaming, framed by snowy lashes and a face that can only be described as objectively beautiful. when they met before, it was brief and gojo was shrouded in a hood to hide away from the rest of the suitors. suguru remembers the flash of those eyes when they stood together on the balcony and he handed the frustrated heir a lighter. the hint of a cheekbone and tousled white hair. but that was just it: a flash, like a passing car.

here, right in front of him, gojo's ethereal beauty is almost overwhelming.

❝ gojo-san—! apologies, i... ❞ he stammers, steps back out of gojo's personal space. ❝ wasn't sure where to go. are you... ❞

a glance up and down at the bedhead, the slippers, the tousled clothing. ❝ did you just wake up? ❞

[huntershowl-moving]

some threads ive been enjoying pt. 1 — chats w/ @chaoslulled gojo under a cherry tree

yes infinity is keeping the petals from falling on him lmfao

[gravesung]

i heard a rumor that suguru sold his soul to a certain fallen angel

send a rumour about my muse and they will both react and respond to the rumours' validity. | ACCEPTING

❝ AH... IT WAS WORTHLESS TO ME anyway. why not put it to better use, hm? ❞ in his smile, all the malice of a man with nothing to lose. he can still feel the sear of satoru's hands and lips upon him, the six-eye brand cauterized into his chest. it was the most pain he'd ever felt. a blinding. a blackout. and yet, in all of his years walking the earth, he had never felt so alive.

[howlrs]

this verse in reference to satoru..... the way the nicer you are, the less likely it is for persephone to trust you, and the way he defied this

[barrenstars]

@chaoslulled : his knees dig into the plush rug, his nose nudging up underneath her wrist before he drags his tongue along her fingers. " c'mon, shoks. i can be a good boy. i'm the best boy. please? " his voice is breathy, lilts softly as he slowly takes her fingers into his mouth, moving back and forth.

tired chocolate hues lock with bright cerulean ones, downcast from her sitting position on her desk chair, fixating on the tongue that innocently runs across her fingers. there's a slight tilt of her head as he speaks, pleading, begging; trying to convince her. shoko doesn't react, her lips don't pull from their small frown, not until he takes her fingers into his mouth all so boldly, bobbing his head back and forth around her index and middle finger. only now does her lips twitch, one half curling into an amused smirk. opposite elbow meets the desk, her hand cushioning her head as she holds it up, angled perfectly to continue watching the sight before her. she'd be lying if she didn't admit watching him, gojo satoru, the strongest of them all, submissively beg on his knees for her didn't turn her on. it did.

suddenly, shoko inches forward, uncrossing her legs and bending down closer to his height, brunette locks cascading down her shoulders. " please? " she repeats, the fingers his kissable lips are wrapped around moving around his tongue, hooking themself at the corners of his mouth and tugging him up onto his knees so he could meet her at a perfect height - despite the fact he was so much taller than her. " you are such a good boy, satoru, " free hand moves, fingers brushing strands of pure white hair from his face, " and such a pretty boy. "

tilting her head, glossed lips connect with his cheek, leaving a small trail of sweet kisses down to his jaw, stopping when the neck of his uniform jacket prevents her from going any lower. staying where she is, shoko allows her breath to fan over his jaw, brown eyes flickering up to watch his expression as her fingers still remain hooked around his cheek. " but i don't know what it is you want, sweetheart. " planting one final kiss to his jaw, she rises back up to sit, her back meeting her desk chair once again. crossing one leg over the other, once again, glossy lips part as she slowly, agonizingly slowly, retracts her fingers from his mouth, allowing the strings of saliva to drip. meeting his gaze once again, she maintains eye contact as she pushes her saliva-drenched fingers by her own lips, proceeding to suck the taste of him off and savour it for a brief moment. once finished, she pulls her fingers out, casting the male her signature, gentle smile. " what is it you want, darling? "

[saiakv]

Cont. from x ft. @chaoslulled ♥

From disembarking the train to Tokyo with a sightseeing guide tucked under his arm to scrunching his nose over the city stench at some penthouse in Roppongi, it felt like several lifetimes had passed. Suguru had grown so used to the quietude of reclusion, that the constant buzz embracing their duality was overstimulating. In search of solace, his mind would naturally gravitate towards the faint white noise of Limitless running beside him.

They stand side by side against the railing and his own aura ebbs and flows between them; taking a chance, withdrawing back into his mind. He's long stopped noticing the way cold has seeped in through his socks, snuggling into his haori — even with the ceremonial kasaya exchanged for a humble hakama, he still looked whimsically out of place in the urban scenery. The traffic ambience is dulled under the clarity of his own thoughts and the aftertaste of smoke at the roof of his mouth. His fingers twitch towards the pale hand coming to pry at the Mevius Light, handing it over and receiving it back with intimate synchronization.

The second time they had met in secret, he had found a head of white dusted with maple leaves at that clearance he introduced Satoru to — his heart had clenched with the realization that it was so pointless to find him slumped there and not be his pillow and the mattress all at once. A familiar saying about sorcerers and regret had been swimming around his mind, when Satoru had casually let it slip that he would be leaving overseas in the coming weeks. After that, his friend's voice had melted into word-soup whilst Suguru sat there frigid, as if struck by lightning. If he never came back again, how could he blame him? Selfishly, he had bit down on his pout. You want any souvenirs?

I want you to stay.

He hadn't mulled it over or memorized some elaborate speech; gone were the days when he played by the rules, anyway. And if nothing good came out of this, well — there was not much left to lose when they were already just another ghost in each other's past, was there? At most, Satoru would stop dropping by. Suguru's life return to what it was before this wary reunion; he would go back to caring for his family and tolerating cult hearings; accumulate curses until he could become one himself. Then Satoru might come back to stop him from realizing that vision; or might not; when at open war, it would cease to matter.

Though, these self-affirmations would sound so ridiculous if he could see his own expression in that moment. Eyes gleaming like amethysts reflect the pallid glow of a bashful moon as he holds that smile — the one laden with his bittersweet revelation.

The same smile that would once bloom when he caught his sunglasses just as they slipped off an angelic expression, Satoru dozing off against his shoulder on the car ride home. The same smile that lingered in the aftermath of roaring laughter when Satoru got furikake stuck up his nostril like a stupid idiot.

The same one that meets his six eyes now; and contorts upon the sight. Studying his features, there's so little to deduct beyond an initial shock that could mean anything, really.

❝ Eh? ❞ Suguru's expression draws a blank, just as heat licks at his middle finger — shit, it's burning out. He sneaks in one last drag, puts it out against the railing while Satoru turns to gawk at him like an owl. Momentarily they linger in comical juxtaposition; his calmly slanted face and Satoru's bulging glare, trying to read each other in tandem. Of all the things he had been expecting, an inquisition was hardly on the table. His gaze fell from penetrating blues to the crumpled filter he has been fiddling between his fingers; evidently mulling his words over.

❝ Relax. I was just thinking about it, is all. I'm not asking you to say anything back. ❞ A finalizing breath before he flicks it off the balcony, into the street below. Where once he would be the first to make a fuss about littering.

There's a pause. Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose and a pained smirk begins to grow on his lips. His eyes slip shut with the shadow of his palm hovering over them like a safeguard. It's not regretful, but he can't help confronting himself on his own hypocrisy. He had made that pact with himself to come into this without expectations, so what was that bitter taste in his mouth now that his affection wasn't reciprocated? Worse, that it had beckoned such a brazenly negative reaction too. Even though it was fair; and expected. And even though he was aware that he had no right to ask for anything more.

❝ Bah, Satoru — you could have at least tried to be more sympathetic when you're turning someone down. ❞ It's palpable that whatever it is he's processing has brought about a pang of shame; it can almost be heard under the awkward laugh he huffs.

[soulsballad]

@chaoslulled: " come on, open up wide! " he holds the sushi out between the chopsticks, wide ass grin settled onto his features. he's being absolutely obnoxious, but he was out of town for megumi's birthday and he's got to do something for the kid. " i'll start making plane noises, don't you doubt me. " white eyebrow raises at the other, but there's something absolutely serious in his tone. as if on cue, he starts to make plane noises while flying the sushi through the air –– at the very not toddler megumi fushiguro across from him. * satoru!

he's absolutely mortified. gojo, of course, has to embarrass him once again. it's been the same since he was a child, but it was more tolerable back then, because he was just a kid, and gojo acting like this was understood by other people. but now, as they sit together at some sushi joint that the older male had picked out, megumi thinks he'd much rather be taking on sukuna with no shadows, just his hands and feet. perhaps even sukuna, the curse king, would be understanding given this situation.

green hues watch with dread as gojo grins at him, and he has no doubt in his mind that the idiot would stand up and fly himself around the fricking restaurant just to embarrass megumi further, but like hell he was going to eat from his chopsticks. that wasn't even something he did as a child, and it's definitely not going to be something he does as a teenager. so, naturally, all the ravenet does is glare at the elder, internally pleading that he doesn't betray him like this. he'd like to think there was a heart somewhere in the ice-cold chest of his, not one he just pretended to have. ( he knows gojo has a heart, but right now, it's clearly missing. )

but, of course, gojo satoru does as he says he would. dark brows shoot up when the noises tumble from his mouth, he watches as his lips smack together to create the sounds, and he sinks low in his seat when laughter from around the shop echoes in his ears. it was mostly elderly people, but there were some couples, maybe a few people his own age. this sucked.

❝ stop, ❞ he pleads, but gojo does not. ❝ gojo, stop, damnit! okay, fine! ❞ feeling his entire face burn hotly, the young boy takes a deep breath and pushes his ego aside. sitting up, he leans a little into the table, gaze fixated upon the white-haired male as he glares daggers at him, and he parts his lips for him to feed him the sushi. ❝ you're unbelievable. ❞

[gravesung]

@koseigu @quillheel @fatereaps @chaoslulled @harerazor

Sorry I called you a 'good boy' in public. I just wanted to watch your brain short circuit.

[gravesung-moving]

@chaoslulled ( satoru ) — small things!

❝ i didn't enjoy the way he was looking at you. ❞ and with suguru's arm around his waist in full view? either he's an idiot — a non-sorcerer, maybe, unequipped with the ability to read basic context clues — or he enjoys playing with fire. suguru etches the face into his memory, just in case it turns out to be the latter.

[huntershowl-moving]

‘I played god once and it did not end well.’ *SATORU

EVERYTHING IS DIFFERENT THROUGH the eyes of a curse.

if, in fact, that is what the collector has turned her into. she certainly feels like a curse. corporeal and incorporeal, human and inhuman like the one they call mahito, but at the same time still a host for the soul of persephone aisa. she still feels like ... herself. though, looking in the mirror reveals something closer to what she saw herself as in her mind's eye. deep gray eyes now glow a bright purplish red, black markings score across her face, and she feels at all times the sharp-toothed and many-limbed creature that threatens to tear loose from their skin.

playing god is the most accurate description, she supposes, for what the collector can do. their body ( the body they've stolen, rather ) is weak and feeble, but their power stretches so far across cosmic possibility that it matters very little. when they first approached seph years ago, trapped in a house with a monster, they explained that they could create binding vows on a world-altering scale — other than the vow affecting only the contract holder, there was no limit to what wish they could grant. it was simply the collector's choice, piece of shit they are, that their targets had to agree to the contracts without knowing what toll they were going to extract. or when they were going to extract it.

persephone, as lethe, told them to go shove a contract up their ass. sure, she was miserable — but no amount of misery alleviated is worth putting their entire life in the hands of a cruel deal-making god. what if they took orion from them? what if they caused some horrible consequence to befall her later that made it all worthless anyway? from what she was able to dig up, that is an extremely common outcome with the collector. the victory is always pyrrhic. the price they pay makes life worse for them, in the end.

some part of the collector must have been a masochist, however, because they never left her the fuck alone. time and time again, with each misery that fell upon her came the whispered offer of a deal from the shadows; a dark-suited form haunting the corner of her vision. but seph never paid them any mind. she treated them like another one of her many hallucinations: there one second and gone the next, unreal and unimportant.

that is, until the world fell to pieces around her.

as it turns out, persephone would stake everything on a deal if she was desperate enough. that desperation came in the form of a very real, very imminent threat to the one person she thought could never be threatened.

satoru gojo has been their safe haven, their shelter, a home to come back to. persephone never expected to become so close with him — it was an accident, a bond borne of mutual isolation and a fondness for smoking that brought them back together again and again and again. both of them had loved and lost. they'd put up fortresses around themselves and promised never to let someone close enough to hurt them again.

regrettably, beautifully, it didn't pan out that way. still she refused to feel the pain of loss again, but this time, she was going to fucking do something about it. MAKE ME POWERFUL ENOUGH TO SAVE HIM. one sentence, a single domino crashing to the ground, and a handshake threaded with power, and the course of their fates was altered forever. as far as prices from the collector go, it wasn't so cruel to be turned into whatever the hell she is now — curse, half-curse, some fucked-up third thing. orion is safe; thanks to the deal, satoru is safe; persephone grapples with a very real monster now, but they are still themself. at their core, underneath it all, something heart-like still beats.

but it's his heart she listens to now, ear pressed up against his chest, its steady rhythm proof that he isn't a hallucination — that he is alive, here, true and existent. she feels their world-altering auras meld together, their cursed energy swirling into each other like two different colors of smoke. now that her body is — this, this otherworldly shapeshifting vessel, her cursed energy no longer screams to be set free from a cage. it simply is, written into their re-formed bones, their new and untested power finally expansive enough to fit. after a few more moments of silence other than the rush of blood and the beating of his heart, seph tilts her head up and rests their chin on his chest to look at him. ❝ what happened? ❞

[howlrs]

❛ is this what you think love is? ❜ (satoru about dickface)

dark and angsty meme | PAUSED TO CATCH UP.

❝... I DON'T KNOW. ❞ IT COMES OUT quietly, softly, a surprisingly honest answer from someone who more often responds in quips and cagey jabs than the solemn truth. he wasn't supposed to know. if he were anyone else, he wouldn't. it's only because persephone knows adeo can't touch him, and because satoru isn't biased enough not to believe her, that she finally let the truth leave the cage of her lungs.

he deserves to know why her body goes rigid with panic anytime he touches her without telegraphing it first. why she wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, why the world is a viper's nest in her eyes, why she would let it burn if she had the chance. how the rebellious young thing he once knew, trained, shared stories with, died quietly.

they're unable to bite back tears by the end of it, the silicone-carbon bases of their palms pressed to their eyes as if that could keep everything inside. all it does is smear the saltwater across her face as she explains her plan to kill him and let herself die, explains exactly how badly it failed, how he found them again — the way he whispered his poison, explaining how love and hate are only two sides of the same coin. how persephone's world-shattering fury towards him is a love letter in itself, the bodies she painted the streets with offerings to the altar of him rather than the warning signs they were meant to be.

and then he asks his question, and her answer is i don't know.

❝ maybe it's not love to anyone else, but — sometimes i wonder if it's the only way someone could love me. ❞

[gravesung-moving]

@chaoslulled

matching together

[saiakv]

[ wrap ]  –  for the sender’s muse to casually wrap their arms around the receiver’s neck and lean on their shoulder from behind. * for the boys!

hand prompt: accepting

Surrounding a desolate mountainside, the woods are dense as a barrier, shielding the cabin from the faintest roar of a car passing by the nearest highway. If a breath is held, the ambience of wind brushing past the trees and birds chirping fades into hollow silence. The sort of quietude that's only found in ascetic pursuits. Suguru often gets lost in the loudness of his own thoughts when he's the one waiting.

And usually, he is. The hounds have been on their trail as of late and they reverted to being extra careful. In between each lovesick retreat Suguru keeps telling himself 'he'll come around, he'll think it over'; but Satoru insists he's doing things in his own way and if he doesn't want to be a hypocrite, he'll have to respect that. Especially since he is the one who made a fuss about not having his own choices respected. He has debated making his presence in the sorcerer's life provocative if only to push him to that inevitable revelation ( changing the system from within? what a farcical idea; as long as monkeys existed to bleed curses into the world, the problem was only being recycled ) — but every time they meet, he somehow always ends up dropping that thought between lean thighs. He takes one look at that towering mess of white and knows he could never bring himself to upset the tender heart within it. For all his resilience — he has this six foot two weakness.

In this deafening silence of the mountains, waiting for him to come home becomes agonizing. He has come up with a few little routines to give his itching hands something to do; from dipping fruit in sugar to burning incense, airing out the rooms, grooming himself, getting everything chopped up for when they'll cook dinner. There's something calming about it — taking care of their haven. It was a bubble of safety; and it was a lie. But Suguru, for once, was doing everything in his power to keep those grounding thoughts at bay; chasing after his reward for it.

A reward that enters inconspicuously when sliding doors part; out to the balcony overlooking the expanse of green. At once foxy smile presses to Suguru's shoulder as he turns to look his better half over, kiseru still smoking in his grip. Within a step or two they have rejoiced with an unspoken 'welcome home' lingering under the younger's smile. The weight falls over his shoulders like a blanket, energies happily swirling around each other's like sparrows in the throes of love; courting until they settle for the lull of a peaceful waltz. The characteristic notes of his perfume tickle his nostrils and Suguru lets out the softest hum of contentment, not quite registering the tease about how clean the place smells. ( cue the shit-eating grin; 'where is your apron?' ) His gaze falls to the lanky arms looped around him like a collar, trapping him in this all encompassing embrace. The contours of their bodies are so different from back then; Suguru's growth stunted with the death of his old self. But old habits die hard.

When Satoru leans on him, it earns a (feigned) snappy grunt, before he maneuvers his way around that embrace to face him. He's always pretended like his added weight would serve to further the curl in his own spine — 'you're too heavy, Satoru! you're going to give me a hunchback!', a whisper from the past carried onto the breeze that sweeps through their hair. The kiseru ends up smoking next to his ear when Suguru rests his wrist over his shoulder as if to lather him in the tobacco's scent and cover the monkey stench that lingers.

❝ Mm, you think you're so big, don't you. ❞ A smirk. He lets his own palm wonder up the creased lapel to his shirt and loop around his nape, fingers stroking up the fresh undercut in a leisurely fashion. Sultry gaze wonders over the sweet-stained lips awaiting him, his own pucker slightly as though to tease a kiss; just enough to blow some smoke in his face as a cover for prying the blindfold loose. It slips around pale flesh and rests over his neck like a makeshift collar, when Suguru grabs and twists it from the front. A light tug, a slow drag from the pipe, his eyelids droop with a beguiling smirk when pulling him down — pulling their faces closer. ❝ You know, Satoru, height won't do much for you when you're on your back. ❞

[soulsballad]

Valentine’s Day Application ( for shoko! )

Name: satoru ~

Age: none of your business

Do you like to cuddle?: i am a literal octopus and you should be so honored to be wrapped up in me.

Can we make-out?: duh, of course babe. don’t complain when you start moaning in my mouth though.

A night in or dinner out?: dinner out — showing off your gorgeous body and how envious everyone should be of us.

Whip cream or chocolate syrup?: as much as i love sweets, neither. you can be sticky with other things instead.

Chocolates and roses?: chocolates — we can share them and ignore the world.

What makes you a good Valentine?: i have a black credit card and a fortune to spend.

Would you cook for me?: of course. i’m my chefs would do a damn good job too.

Would you let me cook for you?: sure why not?

Where would you take me on a date?: the swankiest five star place we could find with red bottoms on your feet and a little black dress that’s dying to be in my bedroom floor.

Who’s paying?: me of course.

What did you get me for Valentine’s Day?: an all access pass to this dick, baby.

❝ your application was really crude, you know, ❞ she acknowledges with a hum, lips upturned ever so slightly in amusement. she knows he's serious too, that's the thing. ❝ do you want me that badly? ❞ closing the space between them, something she gets to do thanks to gojo never using infinity around her, shoko's hands soon find his own, fingers tangling together. ❝ but, i won't deny that your application sparked my interest. it sounds like fun. ❞ eating out... when was the last time she ate out? and she's not talking about a woman. seesawing her head, the brunette then smiles freely, lifting one of his hands up so his fingertips brush the buttons of her blouse. ❝ application accepted. do you want a taste of your sweets now? ❞

[gravesung]

@chaoslulled

Day 1, First Kiss

doing GeGoTober on PTRN :)) we're currently at day 7!

[barrenstars]

she's sitting playing with one of the cursed corpses yaga has animated to entertain her when she feels the icy chill approach, prompting her to drop the teddies hands and stare off at the doors of the school. @chaoslulled was back! there was simply no mistaking his cursed energy, it was cold like the night sky, with little flecks of warmth, kind of like the sun! and it was super intense! like the stars! without thinking twice, she begins racing towards the double doors, ignoring yaga's warning to be careful. the doors are pushed open and she immediately sees the lanky figure strolling up the path, and anya's face lights up at the mere sight of the man. " gogo! you're back! " careful not to trip, she's slow at jumping down the steps, racing over to him and stopping just before she reaches him, bouncing between each foot excitedly. she doesn't want to hit infinity! so, she reaches her arms up for him, hands making the grabbing motion as she waits for him to let his technique down and pick her up.

starter call!