#even if that is scary and the world is scary and society is scary and i’m just a little guy :|
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magiturge · 2 days ago
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MY GOD GIVEN RIGHT TO LOSE IT ALL.
moofy’s information / backstory under cut
i mentioned it earlier but moofy is my sona / gruntsona, he doubles as an oc i filter my feelings into.
moofy was originally a scientist under the nexus core, diligent and hardworking with ideas brewing under the brim. visually, he looks no different than other scientists, it was just his enthusiasm to present something of his own to the world that made him an outlier. being based on the asylum patient origin, it follows that moofy presented an idea that was deemed too dangerous or outlandish, having him locked up in the asylum.
that idea was uploading the mind into machines, binding what you were to an object or system that did not require organic needs. it was an immortality that ripped you from your body, from sensations in the real world but it should be worth it for the cause of having units that would never fall.
moofy carried that idea with him into insanity, spiraling in the asylum. there are various rashes and scratch marks burned into his skin from the excessive need to soothe himself of the pain he’d received throughout his agonizingly long stay. he avoided lobotomization through other means such as negotiation but other deep cutting scars and wounds are cut into his mind. they’ve forever changed his perception of the world and made an irreparable mark in how he will act towards other.
unlike the patient origin, moofy was never cleared and allowed back into society but freed when hank was in search of hofnarr. asylum patients being able to escape due to the breach, he could run away. it was not an immediate escape, he hung around in his room despite the door being open.
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watching and waiting.
the outside world is absolutely not going to be the same as it was since the last time he saw the sky and the prospect of a scary world unaccepting of him made the the bindings of his attire all the more comforting.
although it hit a point that he finally rose from his room, when the chatter and incessant giggling of fellow patients were far away that he surveyed the asylum. there were dead harmacists and orderlies strewn about alongside unfortunate patients who fell to unforgiving, indifferent hands.
it wouldnt be smart to run outside looking like a patient, there was a reason even if crazy and unjust that people were ‘patients’ and someone would find one way or another to keep you in there. you were already messed up, nobody would be averse to giving you another couple injections and tossing you around as a bonus.
he would pick up the labcoat of a harmacist, violently shaking the sleeves off the shoulders of the corpse before gently squeezing the arms of the body in apology. and he apologized again as he would rip the id from their neck, scrambling his hands for a sharp object to scratch into information on it. the face, the name, rubbing it into the blood everywhere, making it as illegible as he possibly could.
he was a harmacist. thats what he is now
he’s a harmacist, a hardworking harmacist caught in the crossfire of the breach. cowering under desks and hiding from unruly, freed patients. all these pricks and scars from needles, an accident from stress.
thats him now. thats what he will run with.
moofy would later encounter a nexus soldat in his exit from the asylum premises, finding himself in the throws of a nexus core in absolute disarray. he would be smitten with this soldat as he would now be the first friendly face that offered kindness and hospitality with no catch. his idea of a healthy relationship was shattered, this is something and someone he clings to with a knuckle aching grip.
from here its rather loose ends, but the absolute end would likely be moofy ‘dying’, achieving his now self centered goal of being within a machine or system, where nothing and no one can touch him again. his body will rot beneath his screen.
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amourcherie606 · 3 days ago
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Last Deck! Goro Akechi - The Lovers, Codename: Raven Vice President of Kosei Academy, greets Ann on her first day due to the student council President being in a "passionate art spree". One wouldn't think much about him beyond being him being the perfect student, yet exploring Kamoshida's palace leads Heart, Sumi, and Rudis to find a cognitive version of Kosei's Vice Prez in one of Shido's cells. Upon questioning in the real world, Goro reluctantly reveals their current job - A "cross dresser" at Crossroads. Kamoshida caught him in the red light district and even managed to take pictures of him, leading to Goro being blackmailed.
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Upon realizing Ann and Shiho clearly have a plan in regards to Kamoshida, Goro follows them secretly. You can gather what happens next, Kamoshidas Palace. Upon unlocking his persona, he's confronting more than just Kamoshida's shadow, but his own thoughts. Goro is breaking free from society's shackles and POV of who he is. He'll decide that. He's unsure of his gender but he sure as hell ain't a man. Goro's confidant follows him on a path of self-discovery and confidence. Goro's orderly life has fallen into chaos as he faces all sorts of challenges, but thankfully Ann Takamaki is here to be his rock! Along with Shiho and Sumire. During his confidant, Ann gets introduced to Irene Akechi and his two little sisters. Along with potentially even working at crossroads with him (under SWORN secrecy). Goro may try to put up thorny, scary walls but Ann, over time, makes those walls go down, along with the rest of the phantom thieves.
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Raven is a curse user who specials in insta-kill moves and increasing attack. She typically uses her gauntlet-talons to cause intense physical damage, often favoring lunging at her opponents. Her base persona is Odlie. She's a powerhouse alright, but you need to keep an eye on her health since she's prone to self-destructive tendencies. As a perk from a mysterious benefactor - unknown to the phantom thieves -, Raven has the ability of flight, being able to have wings on/off. Allows for better mobility, scouting, mapping, sneak attacks, and increased physical attacks via her literally diving at foes.
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birdcatt · 1 year ago
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doodles of these 2 lads
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realcowboysdrinkjuice · 7 months ago
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i’m literally going to art school in september i should stfu and actually post my art and walk the walk like sure i’m terrified to shit about ai for some reason but at least tumblr has a option to turn it off (even if it was dubiously placed and opts you in by default which is fucked)
me when i’m scared all of the time about everything for no reason
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something2believe · 1 year ago
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little things i miss that i can no longer do or tolerate:
singing my heart out, dancing around the house, going on walks, being outside at all, going to the movies, watching movies at all, reading books, listening to music as much as i want and enjoy it, daily showers, wearing perfumes, having actual conversations and socialising, not struggling to breathe every single day
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cigaretteparfum · 2 years ago
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welp. it's official: can't talk to either of me parents about issues pertaining to my identity. 🥲
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statisticalcats2 · 2 years ago
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"I wish I wasn't living in a verse of 'We Didn't Start the Fire' every week"
That's.... that's literally the song though?
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infinity0nhigh · 1 year ago
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yeah like… we as human beings absolutely are NOT meant to live like this lol. this society is way too fast-paced with way too much pressure on everyone, but let’s just ignore that and focus on “box breathing” and mindfulness I guess.
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society experiencing anxiety en masse Sunday nights because they have a work week ahead of them must be the signal of a robust and healthy system, right
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binders-and-beanies · 4 months ago
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Seasonal depression rly starts earlier every year huh
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dravidssideblog · 4 months ago
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Yet another idea for a setting that facilitates unwilling play: Role swaps. There's two groups, like angels and demons, or humans and plushies, whatever. And they very much enjoy ownership and dominance and all that fun, human-rights-violating stuff. So for example, the plushies are bigger and stronger than the humans and they love to own humans and play with them and the humans have no freedom or agency and it's super unethical and sucks for them, all the stuff that makes me sad, BUT!
Then New Year's Day rolls around. The plushies shrink in size, and now the humans are the big strong ones. So THEY get a turn owning and dominating and playing in whatever unfair way they want. Until next year, when it's plushie-time again.
This hits a lot of notes that I like, namely a long-term or even (kinda) permanent ownership situation, and can be almost fully unwilling. I've always kinda liked the idea of a setting where one species owns another, but it always feels so cruel and unfair to the owned species. This makes it all feel very fair by flipping the script; you WILL be nonconsensually owned, but not only will you have freedom, you'll get a turn being on top!
It's not even about the "getting to be the dom" part, it's just about the fairness; when everyone, including the owners, has to deal with being owned, it's not cruel or unfair, it's just part of life. And getting a turn on top is less about owning and more about freedom; the ownership situation is kinda permanent, yet you still get to live your life. It's the best of both worlds, permanent unwilling ownership yet without robbing the victim of their life.
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chuluoyi · 9 months ago
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✎ heaven's fury
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- gojo satoru x reader
sometimes you forget that your husband has burdens as the strongest sorcerer alive. when he goes back home from a bad day and you're the first person he comes contact to, you're made aware of it once again
genre: angry!gojo, a bit of hurt with looots of comfort and fluff !! it’s self-indulgent too🤭
note: i knooow i said i'll post gojo angst next, but i forgot i have this in backburner too so... this hurt/comfort goes first :') based on an anon's request. loosely takes place after baby!
a part of gojo's love entries
general masterlist
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“Sukuna's vessel is a threat— he must be executed as soon as possible!”
“The more we put this off, the greater the risk he poses to society!”
“Gojo, you can't delay his sentence any longer—!”
Weak. All of them. They always make excuses. Trying to pin blame on someone else.
The jujutsu world he lives in… is wretched. Gojo Satoru thought he knew that well already, or at least knew enough to not get riled up over it.
Apparently not.
“Gojo-sensei? You look scary...”
Typically, he would mask his clear disdain with sharp-witted jibes, but he reached his limit this time. Especially since they had been pressuring him relentlessly to execute Itadori Yuji for at least five times a week, each week.
. . .
“Satoru, oh, you're home already!”
At the end of it all, he went home with the worst of moods. It served as a reminder—of his deep-seated contempt for weakness and how burdensome he found the task of protecting the insufferable to be.
“Satoru...?”
And it's because of their weakness that Suguru—
“Satoru, are you—?”
“Just fucking shut it!”
And that was when he saw you, standing before him with wide eyes, cradling your—his—precious baby in your arms, who was sound asleep.
“Huh…?”
Satoru immediately tensed up, realizing his mistake. And what hit him even harder was— is that a flicker of hurt he saw flashing across your face?
If so, then you quickly blinked it away because in the next instant, your face lit up with a warm smile— kind of forced, to his dismay. “Welcome home, Satoru.”
Something inside him churned, his heart started to ache, and there was a bitter taste in his mouth then.
There you were, as accepting as ever, and he cherished you for it.
But not tonight. Not for this. You didn't deserve any of his misplaced resentment.
Damn it. Damn it all!
In response, he offered you a subtle nod and headed to the bathroom, thinking a shower might help clear his foul mood away.
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Contrary to what Satoru might think, you didn't really hold anything against him.
You were surprised, yes, because he was usually such a ball of energy even when he got back from intercity missions, but more than the hurt, you would understand if now, he was pissed some way or another.
Your husband is still a human. He is entitled to be upset on some days.
After ensuring your son was comfortably asleep in his cot, you returned to your bedroom to find Satoru already in bed, facing away from you. Hmph... now that you thought about it, this silence between you was unacceptable.
“Satoru.” You poked his side, but he didn't budge and still had his eyes shut. You arched an eyebrow. “Satoru? You can't be asleep.”
“…” No answer. Okay, let's try something else.
“Honey, talk to me? Hmm?” you decided to swallow the heat on your face as you addressed him more intimately. Mind you, you didn't usually call him that. He was the one in charge of pet names.
“…” This shithead. That's it.
“Satoru, my tummy hurts—”
“What?” In an instant, he flipped over, abruptly sitting up. “What hurts—”
Seizing the opportunity, you tugged him by the neck, and both of you tumbled onto the bed, with him landing on top of you. Satoru instinctively held himself up and cushioned the back of your head with his hand so you wouldn’t crash into the headboard—his blue eyes wildly flickering, searching for any sign of discomfort or harm.
“You good?” he made a face upon realizing your ruse.
“You won’t talk to me otherwise,” you noted with a hint of annoyance. But then your eyes softened into a concerned frown. “Satoru… what’s wrong?”
Once again, Satoru felt hollow. You were worried and it reached him. “It’s nothing,” he replied, looking away, trying to downplay his fury.
You pulled him close, his head against your chest, and though he was stiff and taken aback at first, he released a reluctant sigh and instinctively snuggled closer, finding comfort in your embrace.
“There, there…” you soothed with a smile, gently running your fingers through his hair. “Feel better now?”
He let out another sigh against you, returning the hug and nuzzling his face against your chest. His body heat enveloped you like a blanket.
And after a while...
“...’m sorry for yelling at you...” he muttered with such regret it made your eyes widen. “Didn’t mean it.”
The slight prickle in your heart dissipated at once, hearing his muffled voice.
“Mm-hmm, I know.”
“Really.”
“Mmm, really, really.”
He held you a little tighter, breathing in your scent, and you kept stroking his head. He looked so despondent it warmed your heart, and made you want to pet him. “Our baby loves being held like this too,” you giggled fondly. “You big baby… you’re just like him.”
Your husband let out a soft grunt against your chest, exhaling deeply.
“Whenever you’re ready, talk to me, yes?”
And so after several more pats on his head, Satoru finally told you everything, about how the higher-ups were relentlessly pressing him to put an end to Yuji, the new kid he recently enrolled to the jujutsu school.
“They're just some paranoid old fools—”
“Mm-hmm.”
“—stinky, cringey, looks depressed most of the time—”
“Heh— now that's just plain disrespect.”
“Yuji is just clueless and just has a lot to learn,” Satoru grumbled sullenly. “They didn't even teach him a thing and incapable to— how dare they? To keep him ignorant and then murder him?”
...oh.
And at that moment, you found clarity. Why he got so worked up, why he got irate this time whereas he was usually insensitive.
First, it was because of your tragic youth. No one protected Haibara from his unfortunate incident and was there for Geto when he needed it the most—which still haunted him to this day.
And secondly, because he himself is a father too. No one deserves their youth being taken away. That has been his moral compass, and the sense grows even stronger ever since the baby was born.
It made something inside you flutter.
“Satoru...” you breathed out, smiling, squeezing him affectionately. “You’re ... a kind person.”
“Huh?”
“You take it upon yourself to mentor those kids,” you mused. “Just look at Megumi and Yuta; they've turned out just fine.”
Truthfully, Satoru didn't consider himself as kind as you made him out to be. At times he felt like he was doing it because it was right, sometimes he thought it was for fun, and at other times, he simply didn't feel like seeing more deaths or wrong paths. And he was sure if you had asked Megumi whether he was a good teacher or not, the grumpy boy would only roll his eyes.
But then, just as he looked up at you, the prettiest smile blossomed on your face, and you said to him—
“And as your wife, I’m... proud of you.”
The way you sincerely told him that made his breath catch in his throat, and his heart pound a little faster.
The woman who has become his everything. This unabashed, pure love you show him.
“Sweets, I—” he suddenly rose, back to on top of you. But his voice faltered, remembering the way he coldly snapped at you earlier. “I...”
You looked up at him innocently. And he swallowed the shame because he had to tell you too.
Because you were so, so incredibly precious to him, and he wanted you to know that.
“…love you,” he mumbled, his beautiful eyes meeting yours with no hesitation. His cheeks were burning, tinted with a shade of pink—and you out of all people knew best that him being embarrassed meant as good as him not being horny—
But before you could point it out, he leaned down towards you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. There was no trace of the man who was hungry for your body— it was just a long, chaste kiss that contained his feelings for you.
And when he pulled back, both of you were panting slightly, trying to catch your breath. Then, he pursed his lips, his eyes glittery—somehow reminding you of your baby's face just before he cried out for his milk.
“I wanna pay for my sin. Wanna cuddle you too.”
And so you let him. He held you close, his arm under your head and you traced lazy lines on his chest, feeling contented and somewhat giddy.
“You feel that bad, huh?” you chuckled, noticing his continued gloominess.
“I am,” he puffed out his cheeks before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Because if anyone else dares to tell you off like that, I'll wreck them on the spot.”
“Hmm, how romantic. But come to think about it... you did look a little scary though...”
At that moment, he felt his heart drop, his eyes instantly rounded in alarm, looking at you with dismay.
“No, no, I'm not scary! Wifey, I'm your devoted and loving husband!”
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Epilogue
Your morning started with your baby's cries. When you glanced over, Satoru was gone from your bed already. Curious, you made your way to the baby's room, and what you saw there caused you to raise an eyebrow.
"Satoru... what are you...?"
He turned to you with an expression so heartbroken as he rocked his wailing baby. "He keeps crying, I don't know why..."
However, your attention was drawn more to his disheveled appearance. Messy hair, slitted eyes as if he hadn't brushed off sleep, and most of all, the dark eyebags under his eyes.
"Uh, Satoru... give him to me."
When he did, your baby calmed down almost instantly, his sobs turning into light sniffles, and your husband could only scratch his head in confusion.
"Why...? When I tried to look at him, he cried even harder—"
"...no offense, but if I were a baby and someone who looks like a panda holds me up, I'd get scared and cry too."
Satoru let out a theatrical gasp, clutching his chest as he hovered over your baby—
"Nooo! Papa didn't mean to scare you—!"
...but to his horror, your baby turned away from him, hiding his face in your chest instead.
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lastoneout · 2 months ago
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I keep thinking about all of the disabled activists and people before me who stranded themselves on the 4th floor of buildings for weeks and crawled up stairs and fought with airline staff and schools and doctors and refused to stop existing in the face of injustice and bigotry no matter how big and scary and hopeless it seemed. Every time I get angry and scared the protests that lead to the creation of the ADA pop up again and remind me that disabled people are so much fucking stronger than anyone has ever given us credit for, and I can't help but be proud of that. And I know not all disabled people feel like we should take pride in our disabilities and have flags or whatever, but I think not just living, but thriving, in spite of a world that wants us dead and gone, in the face of both illness and persecution, and how we've not only bought ourselves forward, but uplifted the disabled people around us, secured more equal futures for everyone who will come after, and truly changed the way so many abled people have seen us for the better is something to be damn fucking proud of.
We have always been here and we always will be, there will never be a world without disabled people because being disabled is not bad, it's a natural part of the human experience and yeah it sucks some times but even when it sucks we have fought to build beautiful, unique, happy lives with people, both like us and not, and that should be celebrated.
The first sign of human civilization is the healed femur. The body of the profoundly disabled person who would have needed help to even just eat being carefully laid to rest after decades of a full, happy life. The medicinal plants showing even before we were entirely human we were doing what we could to not just survive, but alleviate suffering while we're at it. Above everything, evolution selected not the baby who can walk and eat and be quiet, but the one that can ask for help.
Disabled people are not just angry cockroach motherfuckers who refuse to die, we are proof of humanity's HUMANITY. Proof that natural selection selected a species that takes care of each other. From healed femurs and medicinal plants to vaccines and IVs and insulin to now, we are driven to help one another, we are at our strongest when we don't leave our most vulnerable behind. And I am living proof of that. My mother is living proof of that. Every disabled and chronically and/or mentally ill person I know is living proof of that.
And I don't know about the rest of you, but will carry that shred of humanity's true nature inside me like it's my fucking soul. I am scared and angry and hurt, but I have a lifetime's experience being scared and angry, and I can shake off the kind of pain that would make Atlas crumble to dust like it's nothing but a stiff fucking breeze. Disabled people have always been here, turning fear and anger and pain into joy and beauty and connection, and I'm not going to let everyone who came before me down. I'm not going to give up. Not now, not ever.
It's okay if you're disabled and you've hit your limit, you're too scared and tired and hurt, I won't blame you. But I won't abandon you, either. I might not be able to right all of the wrongs in the world, but I'll be strong, I'll carry all of you with me, I will not give up.
As I've said before, society hates a cripple who won't die, so we must spite them and live anyway.
Please, live anyway. I know if anyone can, it's us.
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lasnevadaslaborunion · 2 years ago
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It frightens and discourages me how pervasive "tribal" stereotypes and imagery are in the fantasy and adventure genres.
It's all over the place in classic literature. Crack open a Jules Verne novel and you're likely to find caricatures of brown people and cultures, even when the characters are sympathetic to the plight of the colonized peoples - incidentally, this is the biggest reason I can't recommend 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea to everyone, despite Captain Nemo being one of my favorite fictional characters of all time.
You can't escape it in modern cinema, either. You'll see white heroes venturing bravely into jungles and tombs to steal from natives who don't know how to use their resources "properly." You'll see them strung up in traps, riddled with sleeping darts, forced to flee and fight their way out. Hell, Pirates of the Caribbean, a remarkably inclusive franchise in many other ways, had an extended sequence of the white heroes escaping from a cannibal civilization in the second film.
And when fantasy RPGs want a humanoid enemy, the "bloodthirsty natives" are the first stock trope they jump to. World of Warcraft is one of the most egregious examples, with the trolls - blatant racist caricatures with faux-voodoo beliefs, cannibalistic diets, Jamaican accents, and a history of being killed in droves by (white) elves and humans - being raided and slaughtered in nearly every expansion.
It doesn't matter how vibrant and distinctive the real-world indigenous, Polynesian, Caribbean, and African cultures are. It doesn't matter how much potential these real civilizations offer for complex and sympathetic characterization. Anything that doesn't make sense to the white western mind is shoved under the same "savage" umbrella. They're different. They're strange. They're scary. They have to be escaped, subjugated, eliminated, ogled at from the safety of a museum.
Modern writers, directors, and developers don't even seem to realize how horrifying it is to present the indigenous inhabitants of a place as "obstacles" for non-native protagonists to overcome. "It's not racist," they say, "because these people aren't really people, you see." And if you dare to point out anything that hurts or offends you as a descendant of the bastardized culture, you're accused of being the real racist: "These aren't humans! They're monsters! Are you saying that these real societies are just like those disgusting monsters?"
No, they're not monsters. But you chose to design them as monsters, just as invaders have done for hundreds of years. Why would you do that? Why can you recognize any other caricature as evil and cruel, but not this?
This is how deep colonialism runs.
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iphigeniacomplex · 3 months ago
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despite being what we as observers can understand as an extreme example of traditional family + relationship structure, the cullens are notably outcasts in forks. in contrast, bella's father has ties to the werewolves, and states several times that he would prefer bella date jacob. in the events of the story, jacob, an indigenous teenage boy in a jarringly white story, seems to represent imposed normalcy. he becomes more of a sexual threat + subsequent racial caricature as meyer becomes less confident in the reader's understanding that edward and bella are endgame, and is eventually completely destroyed as a character in order to further the idea that choosing edward represents free will for bella (consider imprinting). what we recognize as traditionalism in our world is treated in the world of twilight as something that will forever other you from the rest of the world. the vampires are written as if they are countercultural, even though they aren't. edward even has a whole thing where he says romance was simpler in his time — this is not subtle. all of the cullens are white, pseudoincestuous, and withdrawn from society. does this make sense like do you see what i'm saying here. related: does anyone else think mormonism is scary.
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bbyseok · 8 months ago
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at first sight? — GOJO SATORU
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pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader
word count: 10k (idek i was possessed)
banner by @/bbyseok , dividers by @/bunnysrph !!
a/n: um hi. its finally here ! thanks to all who liked the teaser, this is my first jjk/gojo fic ever but i really think everyone needs some comfort after jjk chap 261.. and fuck u gege !!
content: soulmate au, gender neutral reader, minimal use of they/them pronouns for reader but gender is not specified, sorcerer reader, nicknames ‘sweetheart’, ‘pretty’, ‘baby’, fluff, mild angst with a happy ending, slowburn??, several pov switches, suggestive/implied nsfw at the end but nothing explicit, brief swearing/explicit language, brief violence/injuries, alcohol consumption, reader gets mildly drunk but nothing else, implied satosugu as past soulmates: can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, fic takes place after jjk 0 but before the show starts
analysis: this is a world filled not only with curses, but soulmates—in which you know someone is your soulmate when you first make eye contact with them. but for your case, things can get a bit complicated when someone is wearing a blindfold.
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here, in this universe, you can tell that someone is your soulmate by simply looking at them. so with that, the saying of “love at first sight” is actually pretty accurate here. you see them for the very first time and barely know the person and yet, somehow, they’re the one you’re destined to be with.
with that, you’d think it’d be pretty common for two random people to run into each other while crossing the street or something and bam! suddenly you’ve found the supposed love of your life!
and you? well, for you, that hasn’t happened yet.
to be fair, it’s not like you’re actively trying to look for your soulmate. handling curses as a jujutsu sorcerer is difficult enough. (maybe you’ll run into them one day after saving them from a curse or something. how romantic!)
it’s better to leave it up to fate. it’s fate who decided your pairing anyway, right?
your transfer to jujutsu tech had been fairly smooth. after being stationed in kyoto for a while, tokyo was a nice change of pace.
coincidentally, you had been out of the country during the incident known as the night parade of a hundred demons. a scary event that proved the threat of curse users to be formidable.
because of that, your decision to transfer to tokyo seemed like the right thing to do. and so far, it’s been decent.
it’s a nice change of scenery. the students are aspiring; while maki and megumi aren’t the friendliest, they’re warming up to you. toge and panda are gradually improving.
nanami’s pessimistic outlook on jujutsu society and shoko’s overall unenthusiastic demeanor are certainly interesting for the most part, but your coworkers are pleasant to be around.
well. except for one.
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gojo satoru knows that you are his soulmate. he has indeed known this fact right from the very start, ever since your first meeting.
even with his blindfold on, he could see your own eyes before him. his six eyes can see everything. the thing is.. he didn’t know he could have another soulmate.
his situation with geto suguru is something he doesn’t talk about with anyone. maybe shoko at times, but even then, it’s rare. it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but it’s pretty hard to talk about.
after suguru defected, gojo could still obviously feel their bond. even though they were no longer together as the strongest duo, did it really matter when their souls were still connected to one another? it was a factor that played in avoiding (and perhaps meeting up with) each other as the years went by.
satoru felt their bond die that day after the events with okkotsu and rika. and it had frightened him. that lingering presence of the bond was no longer there.
so imagine his surprise when he sees you.
a new sorcerer in kyoto, now transferred to tokyo. normally, gojo doesn’t seek out the new recruits, but yaga had dragged him over regardless. besides, he might as well get to know his possible assistant teacher that would be helping him out with the new first years.
“i guess i can check out some new faces,” he relented with a sigh, adjusting his blindfold and looking to the side as yaga’s steps slowed as they approached you.
gojo rolled his eyes–not that you’d see it anyway–as yaga introduced you with your name and your sorcerer grade. he stopped to stand next to the principal.
you extended your hand to offer a handshake, and gojo finally turned his head.
that feeling as his gaze fell upon yours beneath the blindfold was familiar—frighteningly so—and unfamiliar at the same time. as if he could breathe for the first time in ages. your eyes are unaware, but they’re so revealing to him.
satoru stuttered in his movements, reluctantly taking your hand. the skin that touched yours felt like it was on fire. he briefly held on to see if you felt it too.
but you simply smiled up at him.
“it’s nice to meet you, gojo,” you said, blissfully unaware of the revelation currently dawning on the man before you and the turmoil it brought as he abruptly retracted his arm back.
gojo stiffened. he merely offered a curt nod before turning on heel and walking away briskly. he could faintly hear yaga protest about his sudden departure before apologizing to you hastily. satoru shook his head.
how was this be possible? how could the universe give him two soulmates? he didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. he wondered if there had been a similar occurrence before.
gojo couldn’t help but feel nauseous. was this the world playing some sort of sick, cruel joke on him? or was it perhaps giving him a second chance?
and truthfully, it wasn’t like gojo even wanted another soulmate. not after what he had been through with suguru. he hadn’t given it much thought.
was it really worth it?
what if he couldn’t protect you too?
so satoru had decided on one thing that day: the blindfold stays on. concealing his eyes from the world not only for him, but for your sake too. he was certain in his choice; he would never tell you the truth.
as far as you were concerned, you haven’t met your soulmate yet.
and never will.
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your first meeting with gojo wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t something you could describe as good either. you’ve been left with the impression that he’s cocky and indifferent.
and that he doesn’t like you.
it’s been around.. two? three weeks? it’s been a while since your encounter with the white-haired sorcerer, and you’ve only seen a few glimpses of him here and there on campus.
okay, he doesn’t display any outright mean or ill intention towards you. on the very rare times the two of you do interact, he is obviously curt and clipped. seems like he’s deemed you worthy of the only either nods or one word responses.
you’ve yet to actually participate in a lesson or mission with gojo, but you prefer it that way. providing individual training and advice for the upcoming second years has been going great. at this point, you’re sure it’d only be awkward.
besides, the strongest sorcerer alive doesn’t necessarily need assistance in dealing with curses after all. that much is understandable.
you’re currently in the teachers’ lounge room with nanami. even though he isn’t actually a teacher, he pays visits sometimes. he’s good company anyway.
“it’s nice to hear that you’re settling in well,” the blonde says with a nod. he loosens his necktie absentmindedly as he adjusts the newspaper in his lap. “especially with that gojo around. he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”
you frown at the mention of the sorcerer, crossing your arms. you’re seated across from nanami, watching him idly look through the newspaper.
“oh, well, actually, he isn’t too much trouble. for me, at least,” you reply, brows furrowing, “he barely talks to me.” (in fact, he seems to avoid you like you’re carrying the plague or something.)
nanami looks up, raising a brow. “huh. you should be grateful then.” he then hums, “but maybe that’ll change once there’s actually new first year students to teach. you both are assigned to them after all.”
you lean back in your seat, your shoulders committing to a halfhearted shrug. “maybe. it’s not like i never did anything bad to him though..”
nanami sighs gruffly. “don’t think about it too much.” before he can continue, there’s the sound of footsteps. nanami brings his newspaper back up, muttering, “speak of the devil.”
“nanamiiii!” gojo’s voice sounds from around the corner. it almost startles you how lively he sounds. you realize you’ve never actually heard or seen how he acts without you around.
nanami doesn’t respond, rolling his eyes.
gojo strolls in enthusiastically, blindfold on. “heyy, nanami, we should-” he cuts off when he presumably sees you, falling quiet and stopping short.
you blink, a bit hurt. does he dislike you that much? but you don’t let it show, resorting to greeting him politely like you usually do when you occasionally pass each other.
“good afternoon, gojo,” you muse, offering a little wave.
nanami notices his reaction too, but doesn’t comment on it. he continues to ignore the sorcerer’s presence in fact, eyes still roaming over the newspaper.
gojo clears his throat and resumes his pace. “afternoon,” he responds, focusing his attention back on nanami. he reaches the two of you, giving you no further acknowledgment.
you don’t care if he can see you looking at him, you opt to stare at the black blindfold covering his face. you have a hunch that he can see, or at least feel, you staring at him.
“can i borrow you for a sec, nanami?”
nanami emits an exasperated sigh, but stands nonetheless to follow gojo out of the room for some discussion not meant for your ears apparently, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
do you make gojo uncomfortable? you don’t know what you could’ve possibly done so though. from what you’ve heard from the others, he can be rather eccentric and overbearing.
does he just not like you? perhaps he views you as inferior, too below his level and power to actually converse with you. while it seems a bit of a stretch, you’re sure it’s not out of the possibility also based on what you’ve heard about him from others.
your frown returns. before you can dwell on it any longer, nanami comes back into the room. “well, i certainly see what you mean from what you said about gojo earlier,” he announces.
his words do nothing to falter your frown. “right.” you then shrug once more, “it’s okay. it’s just a bit.. strange.” you then shake your head, trying to be a bit optimistic. “but also like you said earlier, that might change! who knows?”
who knows, indeed.
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megumi tucks the cursed tools inside their designated box and closes the lid. he moves on to the next one right as gojo enters the shed, beaming a smile.
“hey, megumi. you almost done wrapping up things here?” satoru asks, undoing his blindfold naturally. there’s a pair of glasses in his hand ready for use.
the teen nods. they had used a few cursed tools during training session today, and the storage did need a bit of tidying up. “almost done.”
satoru makes a noise of approval as he places his glasses on. “great! do you need help setting up your dorm room?” he looks excited at the idea, still grinning.
meanwhile, megumi looks disinterested at his offer. “no thanks. i think it’ll be easy enough. it’s not like i’m decorating it anyway.”
“oh, boo.” but gojo doesn’t insist on it any further. he actually falls strangely quiet, which causes megumi to glance at him curiously.
his teacher looks.. distraught. it’s hard to actually tell, but he seems to be looking at the floor, maybe lost in thought. before megumi can say anything, gojo’s expression changes and he starts talking again.
“you’re, uh, with the new teacher for tomorrow,” gojo then informs. he shoves his hands into his pockets and kicks at the floor absentmindedly. (he’s fidgeting. subtly.) “it’ll just be you two, i think, on a small mission. so they can get used to actually working with students on field. it’ll be good for the both of you.”
megumi nods. he tilts his head afterward. “you can say their name, you know. it won’t kill you,” he says a bit pointedly, “and they’re not technically new anymore. it has been a few weeks now since they’ve joined the school.”
“right, right.” megumi’s face scrunches up as gojo’s hand comes down to ruffle his hair gently. (a habit that has not died since his younger days.) “whatever you say, megumi.”
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despite your minimal interactions and his rather closed off demeanor, megumi is actually one of your favorite students. (and yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have favorites, but oh well.)
your mission with megumi, or rather, the mission you’ve been assigned to supervise the student on, is rather simple.
there’s been reports of a low grade curse roaming the premises of a supermarket neighboring a nearby cemetery, so megumi is to obviously exorcise it under your watch. the area has been closed off with a small veil. megumi had decided to check the parking lot first for any lingering traces, so here you are.
“i think we’re good here,” the teenager confirms as his demon dogs return to his feet, seemingly in the clear. you nod and let him lead the way towards the inside of the store.
as the two of you begin to walk down each aisle with one of the demon dogs trailing behind, megumi says your name in an inquisitive tone. “what do you think of gojo-sensei?”
the sudden question has you blinking in surprise. your eyes scan megumi as you both continue to trek down the aisle. “what makes you ask?”
“no reason.” he doesn’t meet your gaze.
you bite down on your lip in contemplation. you’re not sure what brings this question to mind for him, but you’re willing to indulge him for now. “well.. i think he’s.. alright.” you pause. “as a sorcerer, i admire his strength. though, i think a lot of people think that obviously.”
“and as a person?” megumi presses, turning to investigate the next aisle. he still doesn’t glance over to you, still preoccupied with searching for the curse.
(hell, for a teenager, he sure is perceptive.)
you choose your words carefully, thinking it over with a brief pause.
“i’ll admit, i don’t think i know him well enough to be sure. as a person, i think he’s.. self-centered and rude. sometimes, i see him act very carefree in a way. he’s.. obscure, i guess.” you clear your throat and reiterate, “but again, i don’t really... know him.”
you can see megumi go over your words silently. the quiet continues. the conversation seems to be dying, but it doesn’t matter when monstrous gurgling sounds up ahead.
a curse appears in front of you, the shelving of the aisles toppling over as it gargles some unintelligible roar. megumi doesn’t hesitate, using his technique to summon his demon dogs once more to swiftly engage in combat.
the fight is easily handled in three minutes top. (they weren’t kidding when they said it’d be easy.)
after the commotion has settled, you allow megumi to do one more check up around the store just in case. just as you are prepared to exit and bring down the veil, you decide it’s your turn to ask him now.
“and what about you, megumi?” you inquire lightly, giving one of the demon dogs a few head pats for their good work. “what exactly do you think of gojo?”
megumi hums.
“i agree with most of what you said actually,” he answers honestly, causing you to chuckle in amusement. the teenager tilts his head and finally looks at you. “but i also think he’s kind when he wants to be.”
his frontward honesty surprises you once more. this kid sure is something. you believe his words; he has no reason to lie to you, especially about gojo of all things. still, you poke at him teasingly, “really now?”
you don’t really expect him to answer, but then megumi says in a mumble so quiet that you nearly miss it.
“well, he did sort of raise me after all.”
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“i just don’t think he likes me, shoko,” you puff out a sigh, watching as she puffs out smoke. “i’ve seen the way he is around other people, and he’s not like that with me.”
she’s on break right now, so you thought you could talk to her about a certain blindfolded sorcerer who’s been plaguing your thoughts.
it’s interesting to hear about the different sides of gojo satoru from your peers. from nanami, you’ve learned that he’s pretentious and troublesome. from megumi, that he can be caring in his own way. and shoko?
“he’s crazy.” the doctor waves her cigarette at you with a shrug of her shoulders. “but it beats me on why he doesn’t particularly like you.”
you groan, slouching in one of the chairs set up in the infirmary. “maybe i should’ve stayed in kyoto,” you mumble. it’s more of a joke than anything; your.. weird terms with gojo isn’t enough to actually deter you.
but shoko puts the cigarette back to her lips and tilts her head. “want me to ask him about it?”
you straighten your posture abruptly and look at her. “what? you don’t have to. he might think i asked you to or something.”
she shrugs again. “your call.”
your brows furrow. “maybe we just got off on the wrong foot somehow. even though all i did was shake his hand.” you snort. “maybe i can get him something to break the ice. what does he like?”
shoko doesn’t even hesitate. “sweets. he likes his sweets.”
oh. oh, okay! you blink and nod. who would’ve thought? the strongest sorcerer in the world likes sweets. “i can handle sweets.”
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you, in fact, cannot handle sweets.
why are there so many? you’re at a local bakery staring at the rows and rows of pastries they have on display, looking as if you’re trying the decipher the world’s hardest math problem.
shoko never specified what kind of sweets he liked during your conversation with her a couple days ago. cake? ice cream? cookies? you might as well buy the whole damn store at this point with your luck. the last thing you want is to buy him something he won’t actually eat.
“oh, fuck it,” you mutter and finally decide on a small piece of cake. it happens to be your favorite kind of cake, but oh well. if he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it! it’s the thought that matters anyway, right?
as you exit the shop with your newly acquired dessert, you try to devise a way to give it to him. do you just.. hand it to him? or maybe it’ll be better to leave it in his office. or have shoko give it to him!
ughh, who knew how hard it’d be to give a man a cake? okay, okay. you’ll simply give it to him in person since he’ll know it’s directly from you. problem solved.
well, actually, problem is not solved. how are you supposed to give the cake to gojo in person when you have absolutely no clue where he is right now? after returning to the school, he’s no where to be found, so you eventually turn to yaga for help.
“he’s on a mission where??”
you stare at yaga with wide eyes as he names some city so far away you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to find an affordable ride to get you there in a reasonable amount of time.
“oh, alright,” you say, feeling a little disappointed. the cake suddenly feels a little too big and heavy in your hands.
the principal’s gaze flickers down to your little intended treat for his former student. “these kinds of missions are no trouble for satoru. i’m sure he’ll be back soon, so you can leave that in his office.”
you brighten up at that and nod. “thank you, yaga.” you then dismiss yourself with a polite bow after he informs you where gojo’s office is exactly, and you start to make your way there.
it’s only a few minutes until you get there. you open the door and catch sight of a desk. it looks rather plain, which is understandable since it doesn’t seem like he uses this space often. (though, there is a chair that looks more expensive than your entire rent.)
either way, you walk inside and set the container down on the desk with a small sigh. hopefully the gesture is appreciated! if he really does have a sweet tooth like shoko says, you’re not sure why he’d turn it down. again, you can only hope.
you sigh again and turn to leave when the sound of the door creaking open sounds again. you freeze in place when it swings out fully, revealing the very man you were thinking about.
(yaga was not kidding when he said that gojo finishes his missions pretty fast.)
gojo perks up at the sight of you in his office, and even with his blindfold on, you can tell he’s got a surprised look on his face. “can i help you.. or do you have a reason on why you’re snooping around in my office?” he inquires, walking in.
while not evidently hostile, his appearance and words suddenly have you anxious. “oh, well, i-’’ you want to mentally smack yourself for fumbling over your words. “i’m sorry for intruding. i, uh, just wanted to leave you a little something.”
it’s only then does gojo look past you and makes a small noise. you can’t really decipher it, but you watch as he walks by you to open the small packaging to see the slice of cake meant for him.
and when he makes a small noise again, you can tell it’s one of delight. “you got me.. cake?” he asks, looking to you again questioningly.
“i did,” you clarify with a small nod, summoning a small smile and rubbing the back of your neck a bit sheepishly, “i didn’t know what kind of sweet you would like, so i just ended up choosing my favorite cake. um, i really hope you don’t mind the flavor, but if you don’t you really don’t have to eat it so-”
“kikufuku.”
you stare at him, confused. “what?”
“kikufuku,” satoru reiterates, and it’s his turn to smile. (it nearly catches you off guard because although very small, it’s pretty.) “s’my favorite. or.. one of my favorite sweets. crepes are good too.”
his newfound friendliness has you smiling a bit more evidently, pleased that this interaction is your most pleasant one with him so far in the weeks you’ve been here. “oh, okay,” you chuckle, “noted.”
gojo opens the container and unwraps the plastic fork that had came with it. he takes a bite of the cake and hums in approval. “can see why it’s your favorite. it’s not bad.”
your face lightens up at that. “oh, i’m glad.”
he hums, popping another slice of cake into his mouth. “any particular reason on why you’ve decided to give me cake, if i may ask?”
you falter once more, now nervous in telling that you’re hoping to.. resolve this one-sided tension with you. ultimately, you decide to be straightforward, inhaling deeply and looking at him. (well, his blindfold.)
“well, i’m not an idiot, gojo. you haven’t exactly been.. friendly to me. i’m not trying to win you over or anything, but if we’re going to work together with the first year students, consider this a gift for a truce. or um, a peace offering so we can act somewhat decent with each other.”
the white-haired sorcerer falls silent at your confrontation. you’re half expecting him to brush you off and walk out of the room entirely. especially since he seems to have stiffen up (similarly to the way when you first met, you had noticed).
he seems to contemplate for a bit. you don’t know where he’s looking at; the floor, the cake in his hands, you? it’s suddenly nerve-wracking.
“you’re right,” he finally speaks up, “i.. i’m sorry for my previous behavior towards you. can we start over?” he places the cake aside and walks back over to you to hold out his hand.
“gojo satoru.”
your eyes flicker to his blindfold to his hand, then back to where his eyes are hidden underneath. the rumored powerful and breaktaking six eyes concealed from your ever so curious sight.
against your better judgment, you repeat your name and take his hand.
“it’s nice to meet you, gojo.”
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your new relationship with gojo is steadily becoming better. he’s no longer curt with you, and actually engages in conversations even with no other people around.
though, you can’t help but feel like he’d avoiding looking at you for some reason. which is pretty far off since you can’t technically see where he’s looking, but it’s a hunch you have nonetheless.
but hey, it’s progress, progress that you’re somewhat happy about.
like now, as satoru leans over your shoulder to peer at the clipboard in your hands. you’ve just finished wrapping up a lesson with the soon-to-be second years out on the field.
“ooh, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow, teach?” he pries.
“assistant teach,” you remind him teasingly, going over the contents of the clipboard. “more sparring. oh, and the registration for that new first year.”
“the one from the countryside?” gojo hums.
you nod. “yep. a.. kugasaki nobara. we won’t actually get to meet her, but arrangements for her arrival are getting finalized.”
“oh, boo. s’just more paperwork,” the sorcerer beside you whines, kicking at the grass.
“at least megumi isn’t the only one now,” you point out and finally turn to him.
just as you expected, satoru glances away to look at panda and toge finishing up. you squint at him narrowly but don’t comment on it.
“that’s true. not like that kid cares anyway, but it’ll be good for him,” gojo agrees airily, shoving his hands into his pockets.
you eye him. “hey, gojo?”
“yeah?” his head remains turned to the students. (further proving your point! you feel like you’re collecting evidence here; the gojo satoru cannot look at you in the eye!)
you hesitate. “wanna grab some kikufuku?”
he perks up at that. (like a puppy, really. it almost makes you laugh.) “mm, whatever happened to not trying to win me over with sweets?” he teases.
you laugh at that then, shaking your head in soft denial. “no- that’s not what i-”
“well, you did said kikufuku.." satoru interrupts you with a dramatic sigh and heave of his shoulders, “so how could i ever possibly resist?”
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satoru doesn’t dare to look down at you.
“care to join me?”
but you smile up at him cheekily, and he hates the way the sunlight is hitting your features just right. it looks like the color of your eyes is glistening.
you’re just.. lying down on the grass of one of the training fields, admiring the drifting formations of white clouds on the blue canvas that is the sky.
satoru keeps telling himself that shouldn’t be doing this. his first mistake was accepting your cake. allowing himself to get closer to you. but when you look at him like that, he feels like he can do anything. which is odd, becaues really, he can do anything. it goes without saying as his status as the strongest.
but with you, it’s starting to feel a bit different.
when he doesn’t give you an immediate answer, you tilt your head and continue to blink up at him. “you can see the sky even with your blindfold on, right?”
he snorts. “yeah, i can.”
you pat the space on the grass next to you welcomingly, a beckoning that he just can’t resist again. “well, come on and join me,” you persist.
he hesitates, shifting his weight on his legs for a moment. against his better judgement, he joins you. it’s surprisingly comfortable, he finds, as he kicks out his legs and sighs.
it’s a comfortable silence that it’s almost startling. how easy it is just to be around you. (which is the exact reason why he had been avoiding you in the start, in fear of slipping up around you. he still might.)
“you get headaches, right? if you don’t cover your eyes.”
he chuckles at your question. “yeah.” it’s a half truth, half lie. he does get headaches, but for another reason now. you can’t get out of his head. (he’s got a suspicious feeling it’s because the soulmate bond is incomplete. but again, that’s just a theory of his.)
“‘m’sorry. that sucks.” you pout subconscously, still looking up at the sky to admire it.
he scoffs fondly, clapsing his hands over his stomach. “it’s no biggie. you think headaches can take down gojo satoru?”
“hey now, tough guy. they can take down me sometimes.”
(he’d fight off headaches from you if he could.) his heart is thudding against his ribcage, warning him. but he doesn’t heed the warning, and continues to lay down with you on the grass.
it’s a nice feeling. he doesn’t feel like the greatest sorcerer in the world with his colleague. it feels like he’s just satoru, pointing out the different shapes and animals you can spot in the sky with his soulmate.
“hey, that one looks like you!”
“hah?!”
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“i’m guessing you and gojo-sensei are getting along now,” megumi bluntly comments.
it catches you off guard slightly, and you can’t help but laugh. (of course he had noticed how the both of you interacted from the beginning.) “oh, uh, yeah.”
and as you watch satoru go down the steps of the stairs to head over to you both whilst waving an arm with much more enthusiam than needed, you can’t help but smile.
“yeah, we are.”
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this is a mistake. he shouldn’t be doing this.
but satoru can’t help but be so selfish, selfish in indulging in your looks, in your scarce touches. when you had confronted him with your peace offering as you had so called it, he had given in.
and now he’s spending more time with you. be it after lessons with the students, on random days where you have nothing to do, during weekends when there’s no authorities to bother him—he can’t help it.
was it the bond wanting to be complete? you were still unaware of his true identity, of what he could possibly mean to you, so why does he feel like he needs to be so close? he gets antsy at times when you’re not in his sight. it’s starting to affect him.
the soulmate bond, or lack of it—that has to be the only explanation for it. because he knows that you’re his soulmate, he’s subconsciously drawn to you and your presence. (it’s definitely not because he likes the way you smile, or laugh, or-)
fuck.
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after a relatively tough mission, you’re obviously sent to see shoko. you’re not fatally harmed, maybe a scratch here and there. and okay, maybe a gash on your shoulder..
it had been enough to sort of knock you off your feet, but you’re fine. totally. exorcising a semi grade two curse at 1 a.m. in the morning was no biggie at this point.
once she’s finished tending to your wound, she dusts off her hands and places them on her hips. “you’re all set.”
you smile gratefully. “thanks, sho. can always count you to patch me up.”
she snorts. “well, it is my job.”
gojo suddenly appears right next to the table and you yelp, startled by his teleportation. shoko, on the other hand, looks unfazed, as if she’s used to this.
“gojo!” you blink, your voice taking a scolding tone soon after, “geez, you scared me! what’re you still doing awake??”
the blindfolded man falters, looking apologetic. “sorry. heard you got back from your mission.” he sounds worried, but before he can voice his concern, shoko rolls her eyes.
“they’ll be fine,” she says.
gojo’s shoulders finally drop down and he plays off his previous display of concern with a laugh. “ahaha, yeahhh, i knew that,” he scoffs with a wave of his hand, “i can’t bless you two with my presence?”
shoko gives him a displeased look before she turns around to tidy up her tools. you chuckle at her annoyance. “thanks for checking up on me, satoru,” you say sincerely. your eyes go over his appearance; he’s dressed more casually: a pair of dark slacks and shirt that expose his collarbones. not that you’re.. particularly looking.
but his shoulders seem tense again at your words and he hums quietly. (huh, strange. at least he’s not refusing to look at you anymore, you think.)
“well, i say this calls for a little celebration,” satoru suddenly purrs in delight, waving his hands in the air.
“celebration? for me getting kinda beat up?” you blow a raspberry at him, only for him to blow one at you right back. even though you had done it first, you can’t help but giggle at his childish antics.
he grins at that, then shakes his head. “heyy, i heard you beat up a semi grade two curse!” he says, “i think that does call for a celebration, does it not?”
you stare at him, unsure on whether he’s joking or not. wait, how did he even know that? well, maybe he had gone through the mission reports and assignments. still, you’re surprised that he knows. “you can wipe those out in less than a minute, gojo,” you point out with a raised brow, “don’t try and humor me.”
his grin lessens. “well, yeah, s’kinda easy for me, but i think that goes without saying. you’re telling me don’t wanna celebrate an accomplishment of yours?”
you look to shoko who is almost finished with cleaning up. she just shrugs. you look back to satoru and shrug yourself whilst rolling your eyes. “alright, we can celebrate.”
gojo fist bumps the air. and here you are again, giggling at him.
eventually, when he leads you out of the infirmary and to the teachers’ lounge. he digs through one of the fridges and hands you a bottle of what seems to be alcohol.
“i didn’t even know this was allowed here,” you mumble, settling down on what of the high chairs near the counter. you wiggle in your seat to get comfortable as gojo takes the one next to you.
you offer it to him but he shakes his head, nose scrunching up a little. “i don’t drink.”
“wasn’t this your idea?” you blink. “suit yourself, more for me.” you shrug and open the bottle to pour yourself a glass. and another. and another. and then another.
(you don’t know what particularly drives you to keep drinking as you talk with him, but perhaps it’s the way you know that satoru’s eyes are lingering just underneath the blindfold. you can practically feel his stare.)
and gojo watches you gradually drink yourself to being mildly drunk.
“okay, no more for you,” he laughs as he takes the bottle away from you and holding it above your head when you try to reach for it.
“awh, man.” you pout and rest your head on your arms on the table, looking at him the best you can. “you meanie. you got me drunk on purpose. give it back.”
he snickers, amused and endeared by your drunk antics as he pushes the bottle aside. “sorry. you’ll thank me later, pretty.”
pretty. he’s never called you that before. you wanna hear him say it again. (amongst some other things.)
“pretty.. you’re pretty. i bet your eyes are pretty too,” you say into your sleeve, your other hand reaching out to his blindfold, “everyone else says they’re v’ry pretty.”
he leans back to avoid your hand, heart pounding in his chest a little too loud for his liking. he wonders if you can hear it. “sure. i guess they are,” he says softly with a small chuckle.
“i wonder who my soulmate is,” you then mumble out. maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s your incoherent slurring, but you sound.. sad.
before he can dwell on it, you’re slurring out another question that has come to your head.
“d’you have a soulmate?”
satoru’s eyes widen under the blindfold. he knows that you’re drunk. that you’re just saying things. but your hazy eyes stare up at him with a glint that makes his heart lurch.
and you won’t remember a thing in the morning, right?
before he can answer, you’re out like a light.
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you wake up in the morning with a splitting headache.
with a groan, you sit up in what seems to be a bed that seems way to be to be your own, legs kicking the sheets that had been draped over you in alarm.
you have no idea where you are, but there’s a glass of water along with some painkillers on the nightstand beside you, which you down gratefully. there’s also the smell of food coming from outside the room.
you can piece two and two together that you’re probably in the home of someone you know.. your brain racks for information of what had happened last night but it’s only causing it to ache even more.
gojo.
you shake your head and make your way to what seems to be the bathroom to tidy yourself up. you notice that your’re still clad in your clothes of last night, so gojo had done the courtesy of tucking you in.
after you’re done, you take a deep breath and head outside.
you navigate your way down the hallway and follow the smell of food. as you turn the corner, you catch the sight of satoru in the kitchen. not that you doubted that the greatest sorcerer could cook, but for some reason, he looks so domestic.
he’s simply wearing sweats and a loose fitting shirt, your back turned to you as he tends to the stove, but the mere sight of it has your heart leaping into your throat. you have a feeling that it’s a sight meant for you, for you to see.
you don’t no how long you stand there, but suddenly a laugh rings through the kitchen from satoru teasingly. “take a picture, sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”
you yelp, embarrassed. (sweetheart? you try not to think about it, but you hate the way it makes your heart leap again. he’s just.. messing with you.) “erm.. sorry. good morning, gojo.” you approach the kitchen and take a seat at the counter.
when he finally turns to you, he’s not wearing his usual black blindfold, but instead what seems to be white bandages. you haven’t seen it on him before, but you don’t comment on it though.
he says good morning back before serving you some food, which you thank him for gratefully. “thank you for the painkillers too. i didn’t do anything embarrassing last night, did i?” you inquire, half jokingly.
you try to remember what had happened last night, but your memories are still a bit hazy. all you can recall is talking with him about things and staring at him. (you’re not going to tell him that though.)
“nah,” he waves off, “just told me your darkest secrets, s'all.”
you straighten up. “what?”
“kidding, kidding!” he snickers.
you groan and drag your plate to you. “i didn’t know you could cook.”
satoru looks mildly offended, emitting a dramatic gasp as he waves the spatula at you in a petulant manner. “hey now, i’m no expert. but i can at least make some sort of breakfast.”
(he totally did not look up a tutorial on how to cook for you. definitely not. but he’s a natural at everything, so at least his naturally gifted skill is in his favor this time.)
“thank you, gojo.” a smile tugs at the edges of your mouth.
“satoru.”
“what?”
“c’mon, you’re literally eating breakfast in my kitchen,” he laughs, sliding a mug of coffee (probably with extra cream and sugar because it’s gojo) towards you across the counter. “satoru’s fine.”
you test the name on your tongue, paying little attention to the way it makes the man before you stiffen up as you grab the coffee. “satoru.. thanks, satoru.” you think you can get used to saying that.
(he does too.)
satoru turns away back to the stove. “you’re welcome.”
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“hey satoru, what did you say what you wanted again? i’m thinking bubble tea but i dunno..”
he likes the way his name sounds from you.
“uh, satoru? satoru? helloo, earth to gojo satoru? satoru!”
oh.
fuck, he hadn’t realized he had spaced out. gojo lifts his head in a sudden motion, making a surprised noise. he smiles sheepishly. “what’s up?”
“you feeling alright, satoru?” you tilt your head.
keep saying his name.
“awhh, i’m feeling more than alright, sweetheart.” he shoots you a grin, liking the way your eyes reflect the café lights, giving it a warm hue. “i’ll have whatever you’re having.”
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“you seem to be in a good mood lately,” megumi points out. ijichi, in the front see, looks at the two of them through the rear view in silent agreement.
(a lot of people have noticed actually.)
gojo pauses, halfway through unwrapping the plastic of a popsicle. it’s the same one he used to consume during his youth, but his taste really hasn’t changed after all this time. “oh?”
the teenager eyes him narrowly. “yeah.”
gojo merely hums and pops the icy treat into his mouth.
“heh, i guess i am.”
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you can hear gojo and shoko’s voices coming from the infirmary, causing you to smile absentmindedly. you didn’t think you’d be enjoying their company this much in the recent months—especially satoru’s.
(strangely, it feels so natural to be around him, you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same. you try to write it off as spending so much time together for a while now, but you can’t lie when you say he doesn’t make the stomach churn with butterflies.)
you turn the corner and announce your presence to the two with a smile and wave. you catch sight of them when they glance over to you, noticing something different.
shoko is wearing her usual white coat with a cigarette in hand, but she’s got her hair tied up in a rare bun to keep any strands from her face.
but that’s not what’s different as your gaze strays to the man next to her, the familiar frame of gojo catching you a bit off guard.
he’s wearing his glasses.
you’ve never seen him wear anything but his blindfold.
how does he look even more breathtaking than without it? you can’t see his eyes still, no—it’s a deep, deep shade of blue that still blocks his gaze from anyone else. but it’s a more casual look, seeing as his hair isn’t being help up and a few strands fall down and you can see his sharp facial features a bit more and-
and then he’s gone.
you audibly make a sound of confusion and hurt, because one moment he’s there and the next he’s no where to be seen. he had vanished without a single world.
he’s fucking avoiding you again; the realization of it makes your throat close up. after all you had been through with satoru.
“what the fuck was that?”
shoko stares at the space gojo had just been standing, just as lost as you.
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there’s a distance between the two of you again. it’s painstakingly familiar to when you had first met gojo and he had kept himself strictly professional with you.
and you don’t know why.
it’s back to the cold shoulder from him; you’re seeing him less and less around campus, and those times where you did hang out off duty are practically a thing of the past now.
satoru is going to be the death of you one day, you’re sure of it.
and you and satoru aren’t even.. a thing.
then again, you’re not even sure what you are. you’re friends, yes, that’s much more than clear, but why does it feel so much more intimate than that despite the fact that the two of you have never even done anything?
however.. a part of you knows that you want more. more of those days lying in the grass with him, more of those mornings eating breakfast with him in his home, more of those afternoon café runs, more of everything with satoru.
is that why does it hurts so much now that he’s pushed you away again?
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satoru is praying that you’re not in there with shoko as he approaches the infirmary a week later. she had called him over, and though he could’ve easily refused, he found himself obliging anyway.
“hey, what was that the other day?”
shoko is blunt and straight to the point once he arrived, striking him with a petulant and expectant gaze with her tired eyes.
gojo blinks innocently, tilting his head at shoko. “what was what?”
shoko then rolls her eyes. “you know what i’m talking about. what was that. you just- walked out like they we’re going to kill you or something.”
that’s the thing. you just might.
the white-haired man frowns and continues to feign innocence. he’s starting to wonder why he bothered coming here. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”
his avoidance causes shoko to frown as well and she crosses her arms. “you’re doing the same thing that you did with them when they first joined here.”
when he doesn’t say anything, she continues, “avoiding them, pushing them away. i thought you didn’t have any problems with them. at this point, make up your mind because you’re just toying with their feelings and it’s not going to-”
“we’re soulmates,” satoru blurts out.
shoko is cut off, staring at him all wide-eyed for once. “you’re kidding.”
satoru falters. “i’m not. s’why i always wear the blindfold. and that’s why i.. i ran that night. just my glasses was too risky.”
what if he had angled his head the wrong way, what if you saw his eyes, what if you finally realized that you were fated to be together at the whims of the universe? he couldn’t do that to you.
“how long have you-”
“since we first met. i.. i could see it because of six eyes,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know why. i didn’t think i could have another one after-”
the two fall quiet at the mention of suguru, a heavy feeling hanging in the air between them.
“what are you going to do?” shoko asks quietly.
satoru sounds wrecked. “..i don’t know.”
“well.” shoko smushes her cigarette against the surface of the metal table. “you better do something before it’s too late.”
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unfortunately, the higher ups have also noticed.
(the push and pull that has been going on between the pride of the gojo clan and a random transferred sorcerer from kyoto. nothing goes unseen by their tight hold on jujutsu society.)
and you are none the wiser when you’re an assigned a mission late so at night, at a secluded edge of tokyo. you would’ve questioned it, but after looking over the details, it seems easy enough since it was a low level curse.
ijichi drops you off near the location and bids you luck. the night is dark, with the shape of the moon only peaking out every now and then due to the clouds to offer minimum light, and then the veil is coming up.
it’s fine though, as you start walking to get this over with. the faster, the better.
what the fuck? the cursed energy here is much stronger than you had anticipated, almost as if it’s suffocating. now uneasy, you continue your search with more caution.
a low growl sounds from somewhere behind you, and you turn on heel to brace yourself in case the curse decides to catch you off guard with an unexpected attack.
your heart drops.
it’s a grade one curse.
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something’s not right.
satoru can feel it. he can sense it in the air. something is lingering, a presence that makes even him feel uneasy, and he doesn’t know why. nothing makes him feel uneasy. but it’s a gut feeling, it’s the bond tugging and tugging and-
you.
something’s not right.
and then gojo is teleporting and finding ijichi in record time, giving the poor man a scare. gojo’s voice is on edge and leaves no room for argument as he demands the assistant director where he had driven you minutes prior. the veil still stands, undisturbed.
fuck, fuck, fuck- shoko was right. he should’ve done something before it was too late, because now it might actually be too late as he steps through the veil.
it’s too quiet for his liking, but the lingering silence only lasts for a few heartbeats before he hears you scream.
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you’re going to die.
you don’t want to think that, but you’re definitely not going to make it out of this unscathed as you dodge the curse’s scarily accurate attacks, as if it knows where you’re going to move and land.
the curse screeches out something ugly, and you’re too stunned to react in time as one of its malformed limbs swings down with a speed that you can’t comprehend.
your throat cries for help even as the air out of your lungs, but then there’s the sudden brilliant flash of red that blinds your vision.
satoru?
you can’t see and your body aches everywhere while the sounds of the curse fade out. it’s replaced by the sound of someone speaking frantically. it is satoru as he crouches down at you, hands coming to lift you up gently. his infinity is off. “hey, hey it’s me,” he voices, “it’s me, sweetheart.”
satoru, it’s satoru. satoru is here.
you emit a sigh of relief, cloudy vision gradually focusing. you try and focus it on satoru, tracing over his features repeatedly, trying to engrave it into your memory.
“shit. those damn higher ups,” gojo grits his teeth into an angered scowl. the higher ups? were they behind this? you don’t know, but you know that you’ve ever seen him this furious before. “i am going to rip those old geezers apart limb from li-”
“satoru, we need to head back.”
he looks dazed, tufts of snowy hair now hanging a bit loosely over his blindfold compared to when it’s normally pushed upright. he even sounds dazed, the great gojo satoru, when he says, “yeah. yeah, okay.”
he’s holding on to you tight and suddenly everything seems to get blurry for less than a second before you blink. you realize he’s teleported you both not to the school, not to shoko’s infirmary, but to his penthouse.
the interior is at least familiar: white walls, a little messy, a couple of decorations, and—
“my place,” he clarifies, as if he had read your thoughts. he sets you down on his couch, uncaring if you’re staining the color of the cushions. but he doesn’t let go, hands still cradling your form so tight that you don’t know if you’re still shaking or that he is.
“are you okay?” you utter out weakly and scan him for any injuries while clutching at his arms, which is ridiculous because he’s untouchable. but you’re not in the right mind right now, and you have a feeling he isn’t either.
“i should be the one asking you that,” he retorts, and you also have the feeling he’s doing the same thing with you with the help of his six eyes.
“i’m alright,” you try to reassure him with a small shake of your head. it only aids you in wincing, but the pain is the last thing on your mind. especially with him here. “it’s fine.”
“it’s not fine,” he argues, his hold tightening even more on you, if that was even possible. is that a slight tremor in his voice? “you almost died.”
“and why do you care?” it’s not a malicious question from you. it’s more of confusion, of genuine. after all you’ve been through with satoru, you’re not sure where he stands. what he feels.
he seems startled by your question, like he can’t believe you could ask such a thing. “of course i care! why-”
you clench your fists in your lap, eyes tracing over his face repeatedly. “i don’t know what you want anymore from me, satoru! you’re not- you’re not telling me the truth.”
“i didn’t want to hurt you,” he tells you hoarsely. god, you wish you could see what he’s thinking. what’s going on in that head of his.
“you did hurt me.”
gojo trembles. “i know.”
“you seem to know a lot of things.” your voice sounds tired. your hand goes to rest on his chest, where you can faintly feel his heartbeat underneath. (oh, to be the only one who can touch gojo satoru like this.) “what are you hiding from me?”
“i can’t hide anything from you.” he draws a slow intake of breath. he then whispers,
“but how am i supposed to tell you that we’re soulmates?”
your heart skips a beat.
gojo satoru is your soulmate?
astonished, you now stare at him with wide eyes. “why- why didn’t you tell me??” you ask, voice cracking. to think, all this time, your soulmate had been right there, right beside you, right in front of you.
then it all clicks. his off-standish behavior, his reluctant interactions, his avoidance. his blindfold. he didn’t want you to see his eyes.
he’s known all this time somehow—and oh, oh. his six eyes. your lips part in realization as you stare hard, as if you could see his damned eyes beneath the cloth that hides you from the truth.
“i thought that if you knew that we were soulmates, you’d-” satoru shakes his head. “something always happens to the people i love.” he hesitates, “you still have a chance. you can find someone else.”
“what if i don’t want someone else??” you say out softly in protest, gripping the lapels of his uniform.
gojo shakes his head again. despite this, he doesn’t let you go. like he can’t, like he doesn’t want to. “we’re not bonded yet,” he says your name shakily, “please.”
still gripping the collar of his uniform, you tug him closer to you desperately. it’s so clear, so obvious that he wanted this.
“satoru, have you thought about what i wanted?” you breathe out, feeling tears well up in your eyes, “that maybe, there’s a chance that i want to take the risk? that i want to be bonded to you?”
your eyes flicker down to his lips momentarily. “that i want you too?”
satoru’s breath stutters.
“you haven’t seen my eyes.”
you cup satoru’s face in your hands, swiping your thumb under the space where his eye is hidden with a fierce tenderness that makes him listen.
“satoru, i didn’t need to see your eyes to fall in love with you.”
your confession has him stilling.
(all the times he had stiffened up in your presence, he had been falling for you, bit by bit. you know that now.)
his hand comes to cover yours, the one that’s still resting on his cheek, fingers smoothing over your knuckles. and then his hand continues to go up, up, up, and-
he tugs the blindfold up and over his head, revealing his eyes to you at last.
his eyes are gorgeous, a blue that seems to spill into your vision and take over your senses. a blue that you can get lost in, a blue that reminds you of the summer sky, a blue that tethers your soul to his, and you both can feel it.
the bond between you is so electrifying that you nearly forget how to breathe.
and then satoru is surging forward, closer, even closer, until your breath is his and you forget how to breathe for a whole different reason entirely.
he’s kissing you.
he kisses you like you might disappear right before him, his head angling into yours to capture your lips with a force that makes your world spin.
and you return it tenfold, one hand still cradling his face while the other sneaks to dig its fingers into his undercut, and he’s making a noise into your mouth with fervor.
you’re all too aware of his heat against you, the frantic touches he’s now giving into as he draws you closer. the surface of the sofa dissipates into nothingness and then-
suddenly he’s teleporting you both again—or maybe he’s kissing you dizzy. but you realize you’re now in space that’s not overly familiar with you, but you can tell it’s most likely his bedroom based off of the feel of the lush satin sheets underneath you.
less than an hour ago you were fighting for your life, and now you’re fighting for your life on gojo satoru’s bed.
“satoru, s’toru, wait-” you’re gasping for air, for something as he engulfs you with his presence. he’s everywhere all at once, and it feels as if the bond is intensifying everything he’s doing to you.
“nuh uh. think we’ve both waited long enough for this, baby,” he gasps against your lips, like it’s impossible to be separated from you again, “don’t know how much i wanted this, wanted you. drove me crazy.”
his words makes your head all fuzzy. you don’t even know if it’s the bond anymore, or just the way he makes you feel. maybe even both. your lungs feeling like they’re burning, but even then, you manage to get out,
“you have me, ‘toru, you have me.”
“yeah?” when he pulls back, it’s not even a few inches, his nose brushing against yours. his alluring eyes glimmer in the darkness of the room, and you’re almost so mad that you feel like kissing him again because he’s kept them from you for so long.
your hands hook over his neck again. when your fingers run over his undercut again, you can actually feel him shiver, causing you to giggle in delight. “yeah, ‘toru.”
“yeah, pretty,” he sighs out and he’s losing himself in everything that is you once more so willingly. your eyes, your very being, compels him to give you everything, so he does. “y’have me too. all of me.”
his confession rings through your ears before he’s kissing you again, kissing you breathless. it’s a blur on what happens next; feverish touches and passionate symphonies, but one thing’s for sure,
the magnetic glow of his eyes in the dark of that night is something that you’ll never forget.
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as your stir amongst the tousled bedsheets, you can feel the warmth of a certain someone creeping over you, like a cozy cat searching for cuddles.
your eyes peer open to meet the blurry sight of the ceiling, along with the sight of messy white hair tickling your chin.
“good morning to you, sweetheart,” a voice says cheekily, followed by cascading kisses down your jawline, prompting you to giggle softly.
you watch sunlight spill over into the bedroom, engulfing the man above you in an angelic glow as he finally pulls back to look down at you.
so maybe you didn’t fall in love at first sight with gojo satoru.
that’s okay.
cause as you stare up into your soulmate’s pretty ceruleans in the morning light, you think you can fall in love with him like this a little more.
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BONUS!
“you owe me.”
nanami drags a hand over his face as he digs into his pocket for his wallet. “this is the first and last time i make a bet with you,” he grumbles.
shoko merely smirks. “you have such little faith in gojo.”
“bet or not, can we go back to before they were together?” nanami looks like he’s close to investing in a pair of one of gojo’s glasses that can block any normal person’s vision.
satoru is clinging onto you like a sloth.
“babyyyyy,” your boyfriend whines, resting his chin on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around your torso. you can’t help but giggle, endeared by his clinginess. (he had claimed it was to make up for the way he had acted in the past and for lost time.)
he’s like another part of you now. not that you mind. being his soulmate is everything and more—from the tender touches to the passionate ones, to the talks of everything: to the mundane to the serious. after all, your soul is his, and his soul is yours.
(and then his hands are sneaking off to places they shouldn’t be.)
“‘toru, not here!”
nanami heaves out another sigh as his hand comes to pinch the bridge of his nose. “is it too late to quit being a sorcerer again?”
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TAGLIST : @spn-obession , @deepestartisanhumanoidshark , @scarasw1f3 , @kalopsia-flaneur , @90s-belladonna , @peachipeachy , @chrystinaamanda , @kalulakunundrum , @hunnyheavenn , @dekusdante , @dontmindmelove , @cherries-lostgirls , @rv19 , @etherealstarlightqueen
+ a/n: this fic ended up being way no longer than i expected omg.. but thanks to all who asked to be on the taglist !! some didnt work so im sorry about that </3
like this fic? feel free to go ahead and check out my other works here! -> masterlist
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gatorbites-imagines · 3 months ago
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Kinktober day 10
Mark Grayson + Alien Biology
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I wanted to write viltrumite reader stuff, and I figured out this was a great way to explore my viltrumite biology headcanons.
Warning about blood and the likes in this, as viltrumites are a very… violent people. Readers got a moustache, cuz hes a viltrumite.
Kinktober 2024 masterlist
Space was vast and borderline endless, and with less than 50 viltrumites left, Mark hadn’t expected to run into any of them. Least of all you, who happened to be one of Thraggs favoured sparring partners, making you one of the few, if not the only viltrumite left that had the powerful leader on his toes. You were more than just strong, you were smart. Scary smart. Which was also how you had so easily tracked down invincible.
Mark knew it would have most likely been a fight to the death, that’s what it had started out as anyways. All the blood and violence, the two of you crashing through asteroids and planets, carving tunnels through the very makeup of worlds and societies homes.
He had kept his head on straight in the beginning, even if Mark felt his blood bubbling and rushing through his body like a shaken soda bottle, the bubbles only seeming to grow worse as more blood was spilled. The pain was almost unbearable, but part of it had him feeling more alive than any other thing ever had made him feel.
At some point during the fight Mark must have bitten you, as your upper torso was naked, the fabric of your uniform having been shredded. There was a slowly bleeding wound on your shoulder in the shape of his teeth, Mark feeling a hot syrupy feeling pour down his spine and pooling in his abdomen.
He felt… hot. Mark audibly panting as his mouth hung open, the googles of his suit having been shattered when the fight started. He was much younger than you, you were in your thousands, but there was still something interesting about him. Maybe it was just the fact that he was nothing more than a half breed, and had survived your punches, even if you hadn’t even used half your strength.
Or maybe it was the thick scent of arousal rolling off him. It was a viltrumite scent through and through. You had only met very few humans, and had smelled even less when aroused, but the scent was different. For viltrumites it was closer to the scent of bloodlust, of conquest and absolute dominance. For humans it just felt hungry, like a weak creature wanting to copulate.
You had a feeling that Mark didn’t fully know what he was feeling. Any smart viltrumite would have turned the battle from deadly to more carnal, if only to save what few remained of your species, but Mark kept taking pot shots at you and letting out guttural noises that had to be the human in him. His suit did little to hide the hard shape of his arousal either. You almost wanted to curl your nose at the sight, had his father not even taught him to control himself?
It was pitifully easy to finally pin Mark down. You only needed one hand to do so, straddling his torso and simply holding his hands above his head as he almost snarled, barring his bloody teeth at you like a cornered animal. His nose was bleeding, there were multiple bleeding cuts on his body, and from the looks of it there were at least three broken bones, and yet he still wriggled and spat at you.
Mark only seemed to register what he had been feeling when you tore his suit off him like butter, staring from his neck and down. Part of you wanted to scold him for being so indecent about his arousal, any true viltrumite would know how to control their slit and breeding appendage.
But even you were perplexed when you tore what ugly suit of his all the way down to his thighs, and were met with a sight you weren’t used too. He didn’t have the usual tools of a viltrumite. His breeding appendage was outside his body, as well as hard and oozing against his stomach. Out of curiosity you released his wrists to reach down and fondle that little pouch under it, not reacting to the fact that his now free hands had started clawing at you again.
“You truly are just a half breed” you mumble, more to yourself than anything, but it was enough for Mark to pull himself out of that unfamiliar steamy thirst for blood and dominance. Seeing him so easily pull himself from the instinctual need to always be in control and have your way was yet another interesting sight, you could only assume it was his human half again.
“What’s that… what’s that supposed to mean�� Mark croaks out, eyes settled on your bloody hands inquisitively exploring his twitching hardness like it was something you hadn’t seen before. Normally the sight of blood on his body would have made Mark heave, but for some reason knowing it was his and your blood? It only fuelled that new unfamiliar feeling inside him.
“True viltrumites do not leave themselves vulnerable like this” you rumble out, giving his sensitive appendage a squeeze, raising a slow brow as the half breed arches off the ground with a howl, spilling white all over himself. It was cute, in a way. The young half breeds scent only grew thicker, and leaning down with a sniff confirmed that what he had spilled all over himself was what had caused it.
You knew you should just kill him, but that would be such a shame. Sure, he wasn’t a full viltrumite, and didn’t even pose a threat to you, but it could at least be interesting to keep him around. “W-what are you doing” he whimpered, his hands much softer now as they grabbed onto your hair, his noises too enchanting to be those of a viltrumite. Viltrumites didn’t moan, they growled, snarled, yelled and roared, they never let anybody make them weak enough to moan like this. And yet, Mark allowed it.
The taste of his spend, his seed, was foreign on your tongue, but it wasn’t a bad taste. His little chest was cute too, Mark jolting and twitching as your moustache tickled his skin. So, his skin was more sensitive too, he truly was endearing. Your tongue was hot against his skin, it seemed his body temperature was slightly lower than yours as well.
Licking up his neck let you feel the pulse thrumming under his skin, you almost wanted to sink your teeth in and wrench your head back, just because his vulnerable veins were so close to the surface. It was a miracle he had lived so long, when he was so weakly built. Marks lips were soft against yours, his noises still huffing out between your lips as his arms curled around your neck, pulling you closer instead of trying to break it like most other viltrumites would have done.
How odd, his tongue wasn’t smooth, it had little bumps across the surface. Not enough to be annoying, but enough to be felt against your own. It wasn’t as flexible or as long as your own either, the tip of your tongue easily tickling the back of his throat as Mark gagged, yet moaned at the feeling.
He was rubbing against you again, dragging his dripping length across your muscular stomach as Marks legs hooked around your hips. You had little experience in kissing, there was no need for it in your culture. You didn’t have intercourse for fun, it was only a process to breed and to dominate, but having Mark huff and pant into your mouth as he wiggled about let you see why humans were so obsessed with it.
“Let me show you what I meant” you mumble against his lips, giving the roof of his mouth a lick before pulling back, your lips almost twitching upwards at the way he tried to chase you. There were some flickers in his eyes, like Mark wasn’t sure what to do, his human and viltrumite nature battling between submitting to you, or fighting you again.
Pulling down what remained of your suit seemed to settle for him, as Mark laid back on his elbows to watch, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he saw… nothing. There was nothing there, but length of flesh, and no balls, it almost looked like the body of a ken doll.
“Confused, half breed?” you grumble, amusement clear in your voice, what looked like the starts of a very small smile on your lips. It took some focusing on your part, to manually let your slit split open, having to reach down and assist in pulling it open. You hadn’t had any use for it for a very long time, so it took a little for the prehensile length to slide out.
“W-what the hell is that” Mark choked out, eyes wide as he watched what had to be your dick slide out. It was a deep red, like your blood, except for the small bumps and blunt spikes clearly meant for hanging on to assist in breeding, but not to harm too much, they had a purple tinge to them.
Mark didn’t know if he should do, or how he should react, even if that warm hot honey-like feeling was telling him to simply lay back and let you take your price. You had won, after all. So, unless he wished to die, he better let you have your way with him.
“This is what the body of a true viltrumite looks like. And here I thought you were simply a pervert who cared not for politeness. But it turns out you simply can’t control it” you hum, letting your prehensile length curl around his, the soft bumps rubbing against his skin and making Mark gasp and pant again.
Mark was mostly limp as you sat back and pulled him into your lap, letting him wrap his arms and legs around you, since he wouldn’t be able to hurt you anyways. “Go on, Mark. Show me how your humans like it” you rumble into his head as Mark rubs his face against your shoulder, panting against the wound still present there. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, but Mark still lapped at it with his strange tongue, as if trying to draw out any more of your powerful blood to wash against his tastebuds.
He moved like a man possessed, chasing his pleasure as he thrust into the writhing tube your own breeding appendage made, the half breed keening whenever those blunted soft spikes dug into the veins correctly. You got some pleasure out of it, sure, but it was nowhere near the amount Mark seemed to get as he moaned and whined. You didn’t find yourself annoyed by him though, simply letting him cling to you as you held him, letting him fuck himself as he craved.
Seeing his strange human-like appendage spill again was fascinating, your own length squeezing around his tighter to try and milk out more of it, making Mark whimper wetly against your neck. It seemed he needed time to rest between loads, how interesting.
It was a different experience for you, to sit there and simply hold another person, but the half blood clearly needed it, his scent all over the place and yearning for touch. It was only when you were sure he had returned to himself, at least somewhat, that you started drawing your own length back into your body.
Mark let out a noise, something high pitched and needy as he almost scrambled out your lap. The muscles in your torso tensed, ready for him to return to his blood thirsty haze, only for his mouth to descend onto your ribbed length. “W-what in the, what are you doing” you grunt, grabbing the back of his head, staring down at him with a hard expression.
“Do you guys… not have mouth stuff?” Mark questioned, his expression lax but confused, it reminded you a bit of those images you had seen of human dogs. “Mouth stuff?” you grunt, still not knowing what he meant. Was he trying to put your breeding shaft into his mouth? But why, there was no need for that, it didn’t assist in what it was there for. You were not shocked that humans had created something like this, with how obsessed they were with copulating.
“Let me show you, this time” Mark panted, a new determination flickering to life in his eyes as he wrapped his soft lips around one of your more vulnerable body parts. It sent a flash of heat up your spine, all the way up to your brain, sparks of pleasure coiling around inside your body. Maybe human ideas weren’t… too bad. You would have to study this, and you had an inkling that Mark wouldn’t be against helping you in your endeavours.
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