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voxofthevoid · 8 months ago

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This is less WIP Wednesday and more Teaser Wednesday. I've gathered tiny snippets (150-200 words) from the 15 stories written for the April anniversary projects for this post.

Shibuya swap remains on hold until I finish #15, which may take longer than anticipated—still in time for the project, given that it's going to stretch across April and May owing to the total length.

Of the fifteen fics, eleven are solely Gojou/Yuuji; one is Higuruma/Yuuji; one is Sukuna/Yuuji; one is Kenjaku/Yuuji; and one is Gojou/Megumi/Yuuji (the excerpt is just Gojou/Megumi).

The list of the fics and premises can be found here, though I've given one-line summaries above the excerpts:

01. Gojou/Yuuji: An offhand comment leads to Yuuji discovering the dubious joys of pet ownership.

Yuuji’s sure by now that Gojou’s managing to breathe somehow, though he really can’t figure out how when he’s in the exact same position he settled into when he collapsed on Yuuji and burrowed into his chest like—

“Oh,” Yuuji says, realization dawning, “you’re like a puppy.”

Gojou stills. Slowly, with a strangely severe air, he raises his head. Heavy-lidded blue eyes blink up at Yuuji. “Does that mean I get treats?”

Yuuji blinks right back. “Treats?”

“Puppies need to be trained,” Gojou says sagely, lifting himself up on both arms to hover over Yuuji. “Positive reinforcement. Don’t you know that?”

“No?” Yuuji’s thought of raising puppies, who hasn’t, but it wasn’t ever really a serious thought. It was never an achievable dream anyway. Plus, Gojou’s not actually a puppy. He’s not even any good at making puppy dog eyes. They glow too much.

They’re glowing right now, twin pools of starfire made severe by the way he’s frowning. “You’re not a very responsible dog owner then. Puppies are a lot of work, you know.”

02. Gojou/Yuuji (fem!goyuu): Yuuji finds religion in her teacher’s tits, violently.

“There’s no need to be jealous, Yuuji. Some girls are just late bloomers.”

Gojou’s voice startles Yuuji, making her jump, but the doll in her hand remains peacefully asleep. She sighs, relieved, though not as surprised as she’d have been a week back. It’s not like she was actively focusing on her cursed energy anyway, the pulse and flow of it through her arms an afterthought while she focused on—

What Gojou actually said sinks in then, and Yuuji hurriedly drags her eyes away from Gojou’s chest area.

Her tits, says an unimpressed voice from some rotten corner of her soul. You were staring at her tits, you degenerate worm.

Shut, she tells Sukuna, the fuck up.

Yuuji shoves her down before she can retort, and Sukuna never goes quietly or calmly, but she does go, and Yuuji’s left staring into the too-amused eyes of her very adult, very well-developed teacher.

“Um,” Yuuji says intelligently.

03. Gojou/Yuuji: Yuuji acquires a doll that’s sympathetically connected to Satoru. It’s innocent until it isn’t.

“I’ll leave you to your quality time with this guy,” Satoru says, stepping away from Shouko and the examination table. “Don’t have too much—”

Satoru collapses with a strangled sound, his knees hitting the tile hard enough to send a bolt of pain all the way to his pelvis, except it’s nothing compared to the storm of sensation there, eating through him like someone’s shoved a fist into his asshole, without lube or ceremony.

“—toru! Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Satoru raises his head and finds Shouko kneeling in front of him, her palms pressed to a wall of solid air—Limitless, expanded on blind instinct.

“Nothing,” he gasps, not needing her incredulous expression to know every inch of him is showing that it’s something. “I…”

…have a cock in my ass that I didn’t put there, Satoru completes inside his head, half a revelation even to himself. He knows this sensation, the stretch and burn of his body around another body, but he also knows why and how this is happening, and that’s where his brain sparks and stutters to a stop.

04. Gojou/Yuuji: Megumi finds out that Gojou’s been giving Yuuji some hands-on sex education.

“An hour? Both of you? Huh.” Itadori shakes his head. “What did he…do?”

“What do you think? It’s Gojou-sensei. He projected a bunch of way-too-explicit pictures, talked about STDs in gruesome detail, and asked if we were into BDSM.”

Itadori blinks slowly. “That’s it?”

“He also called us boring virgins,” Megumi says drily. “Then he ran off with Kugisaki chasing him.”

“Did she catch him?”

“Obviously not.”

“Huh,” Itadori says again. “He skipped all that for me. Got right into it.”

Megumi takes a moment to process that. At least he tries. It doesn’t make sense. Itadori said Gojou’s taking that class for him on Friday, so why’s he talking like it’s already happened? And what does he mean by—

“Right into what?” Megumi asks warily, straightening up from his huddle on the chair. There’s a weird feeling in his spine that’s got nothing to do with the position.

Itadori cocks his head, like he’s confused by Megumi’s confusion. “The sex part.”

05. Gojou/Yuuji: Satoru has a late-night philosophical discussion with the King of Curses.

“I am a pretty interesting guy. And it’s not that I’m complaining about my exalted company, but you know, don’t you, that you shouldn’t be here?”

“Shouldn’t I?” Yuuji asks mildly, now at the foot of Satoru’s bed.

“Sukuna’s been allowed to live because he’s the ideal vessel, capable of fully suppressing you.” Satoru eyes the hand now braced on his mattress, barely an inch away from his left foot. “You don’t look very suppressed to me.”

“Blood,” says Yuuji.

Satoru blinks at the non-sequitur. “Are you a vampire now?”

“What’s that?”

“Mythical creature that drinks the blood of humans.” Satoru bats his eyelashes at Yuuji. “I hear they prefer virgins.”

“Then you’re safe.”

“That’s a hell of an assumption to make about a guy you don’t even know.”

“I know your type.”

“Calling me a slut while climbing into my bed isn’t a good look, Yuuji.”

“I called you nothing,” Yuuji says, now looming over Satoru like a lover. “Only made an observation. And I do not want to drink your blood.”

06. Gojou/Yuuji: Satoru’s ward is in that peculiar purgatory between puberty and presentation. He tries to help.

Satoru rubs his palm in a slow circle against Yuuji’s stomach, trying for soothing but landing on something that makes Yuuji still and shudder against him. The reaction’s further incentive to slide his hands down, over the hairless skin under his navel and the sparse thatch at his groin, till his fingers find exactly what they expect to find.

Yuuji arches against him with a strangled shout as Satoru’s hand curls around his hard cock.

“Is this,” Satoru asks softly, “what Megumi’s been making you feel?”

“Satoru-san,” Yuuji whines. “That feels—”

“Weird?”

“Yes!”

“Good or bad weird?”

Yuuji’s quiet for a long few seconds. Then— “Not bad.”

“Was it ‘not bad’ with Megumi too?”

“…Kind of. It didn’t feel like this.”

“I’d hope not,” Satoru says, with a laugh that feels like something else in his throat. “If you make cute little Megumi touch you like this, his very scary dad will come for your head. Well, my head. And then I’d have to put him in his place, again, and the Zen'in will get involved, and it’ll be a whole mess. You wouldn’t want that, would you, Yuuji?”

07. Gojou/Yuuji: Satoru learns why most alphas don’t fuck other alphas.

Satoru exhales, shoving his forehead into the pillow to get himself some breathing room. He inhales, slow and deep, and unclenches his muscles in a rippling, gut-swooping wave, right in time for Yuuji to tear into him with the mindless fury of a beast.

His rim burns, a howling hot hurt—

Satoru gasps into the pillow, everything except the corner of his mind devoted to smothering every instinctive attempt at Limitless turning to white static for a brief, burning eternity.

—and gives, screaming the whole time.

Yuuji cleaves him in two, carving a red-hot path through clenching walls and steaming viscera to lodge himself in Satoru’s throat.

He hasn’t. Satoru knows this. It feels like it.

He can’t breathe with it.

Distantly, he’s aware of Yuuji coming inside him, the cock and knot not softening an iota in the process. It’s the size that’s eating him. Yuuji’s cock was big to start with, but his knot is monstrous—an obscene stretch that has set fire to Satoru’s muscles. They clench around it, helpless attempts at pushing it out of him, but his hole has closed up tight behind it, and if Yuuji tries to pull it out again, Satoru will kill him.

08. Higuruma/Yuuji: A wardrobe malfunction drastically alters the aftermath of Yuuji’s fight with Higuruma.

“Itadori,” Higuruma rasps, “put the shirt on.”

“I could.” Yuuji shrugs with a nonchalance he doesn’t feel, dropping the messy hood. “Do you really want me to though?”

Higuruma looks briefly pained. But he’s still looking. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Direct approach then. Not that Yuuji knows anything else, but he usually doesn’t have to use his words, just his body. “Do you want to have sex, Higuruma-san?”

Higuruma gets a little bug-eyed, almost as expressive as he was when yelling at Yuuji about darkness and light and people. “Itadori.”

“I don’t mind,” Yuuji assures him.

“That’s not the—” Higuruma briefly closes his eyes, raising a hand to grind two knuckles into the space between his eyes. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

There’s a low, strangled noise. “Do you usually go around propositioning men over twice your age?”

“Not really,” Yuuji says. It’s mostly true. Half true. “I don’t get it though.”

For a moment, Higuruma almost looks him in the eye. “You don’t get why I wouldn’t want to fuck a child?”

“When you put it like that…” Yuuji takes a testing step forward, and Higuruma tenses but doesn’t move. “You were ready to kill me earlier, right? This can’t be worse.”

09. Gojou/Yuuji: When Yuuji’s fifteen, Gojou Satoru dies; when Yuuji’s seventeen, Gojou Satoru is born.

“Satoru-kun, wake up.”

The tiny lump on the bed doesn’t stir. Yuuji huffs, more amused than anything. Satoru’s antics haven’t really changed over the last four years. He’s gotten less subtle, really. Yuuji knows what he’s like when he’s really asleep—a messy splay of limbs, the thick covers somehow dominated by a body that should be drowning under them instead. Satoru only vanishes under them when he’s trying to lure Yuuji in.

And Yuuji keeps getting lured, so it’s technically his own fault.

“It’s ten in the morning,” he tells the approximate shape of a head. “Last time you messed up your sleep cycle, you were grouchy for a week. C’mon, Satoru-kun.”

Still nothing.

Yuuji sighs and grabs the top of the covers, yanking them down.

Radiant blue glowers at him. “You’re late.”

“Good morning to you too,” Yuuji greets. “And I’m not late. I’m early. I wasn’t due back for another week, remember?”

Satoru’s scowl deepens. On the sharp-faced, painfully pretty adult he’ll undoubtedly grow into, it’ll be a terrifying expression. On this tiny nine-year-old whose face is half white fluff and half curse blue, it’s just adorable. Yuuji wants to pinch his cheeks and coo at him.

10. Sukuna/Yuuji: A bad breakup isn’t a good excuse to fuck the monster rotting your soul, but Yuuji’s made worse decisions—probably.

There’s no change in Sukuna’s expression or posture while Yuuji climbs to him, but his gaze is unwavering, four eyes redder than the blood soaking this realm zeroed in on Yuuji with animal intensity. There’s an answering animal urge inside him—two of them.

Look down, show your belly.

Look back, bare your teeth.

Yuuji chooses the only one he ever could.

A foot stops him, slamming into his midsection before he can touch Sukuna.

“You’re an impertinent fool,” Sukuna drawls. “I should pluck out your eyes.”

“Try me, asshole.”

“And your tongue.” Sukuna’s still smiling, wide and lazy. There’s a terrible tenderness in his tone—hunger made sacred in the worse way Yuuji’s ever witnessed. “Might as well make it a whole feast—split you open from throat to gullet and slurp up your innards, break your bones with my teeth to suck out the marrow of your ribs. You’d make a half-decent meal now. And you’d thank me for it, wouldn’t you?”

“Like hell,” Yuuji snarls, grabbing Sukuna’s ankle.

It responds by sliding down, from his stomach to his groin.

Yuuji freezes.

“The infection just wouldn’t be worth it,” Sukuna says, the lower set of eyes resting on what his foot is touching. “After all, you’re so disgustingly human.”

11. Gojou/Yuuji: When a blip in time lands sixteen-year-old Satoru in the future, he finds himself in possession of a cursed object sporting his own eyes and a grieving boy who can’t look away from those eyes.

“I meant it by the way—you should just eat that box.”

Realization widens Itadori’s eyes, bleeding gracelessly across his scarred face. “What the hell, senpai!”

“What? It’s logical.” Satoru approaches the bed. Itadori’s eyes are fixed on him now, nothing hollow about them anymore. “That Angel person is dead, Tengen-sama’s gone, and none of you have found a way to bust this prison open. You might as well eat it.”

“It’s not a snack box!” Itadori says hotly. “It’s Gojou-sensei! It’s you.”

“Don’t compare me to that fossil. Besides, that’s more reason to do it. You already have one Gojou Satoru, here in the flesh. We might as well get some use out of the box, and it’d be interesting, don’t you think, to see what would become of you if you ate me?”

For a moment, Itadori just stares at him, nearly vibrating with…something. Not anger, not any kind of straightforward upset. But he’s pure emotion from the fire in his eyes to the strength in his fingers.

Then he sucks in a deep breath, slumping in place. “That was a terrible joke, Satoru-senpai.”

“Was it?” Satoru asks mildly. “You could’ve at least laughed. Spare my feelings.”

12. Kenjaku/Yuuji: Yuuji makes reasonable assumptions about the handsome man stalking him. Kenjaku gets to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

Getou’s changed into a thin, loose t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s still toweling his hair, the ends of it dripping wet. That looks like a lot of work.

Yuuji can’t help staring. Getou has such an interesting face. He tries not to focus on the scar stretching across his forehead because he doesn’t want to be rude, but the rest of his features are fair game, right? Especially the hair. It looks different all loose like this, framing Getou’s face in new and striking ways. There are more loose strands, probably the bits usually pulled into the top knot. And it’s still damp, plus mussed from the towel, leaving bits of it clinging to the sides of Getou’s face.

“Do you like the view?” Getou asks.

Yuuji jumps a little, looking back at the city and then at Getou again. “Y-yeah. It’s great.”

A faint smile, very sharp for something that looks so soft. “Come inside and close the door. You’re letting the AC out.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“I was thinking about what to do with you,” Getou says while Yuuji closes the balcony doors, and when he turns around, Getou’s seated on the bed, one leg folded under him so that he’s half turned toward Yuuji. “And then I realized I should just ask you. What do you want, Yuuji?”

13. Gojou/Yuuji: In a faraway forest enclosed in Brahmic barriers, there’s a boy who loves and hates the world in equal measure.

“You’ve grown so demanding,” Satoru says, keeping his hands firmly tucked in his pockets despite the siren call of Yuuji’s wet skin. The eyes are a better deterrent than his own self-restraint. Mismatched from all angles—the primary pair red on the left and brown on the right, the secondary pair brown on the left and red on the right. It’s as if they decided during their unholy apotheosis that no one would have the luxury of pretense.

“Satoru,” says the mouth that once called him Gojou-sensei, called him Six Eyes, “I missed you.”

Something inside Satoru shudders, a prickling disruption like ice melting. His hands twitch free of the pockets, and his body sways forward, melting into an embrace that’s returned with possessive fervor, four palms sliding over him with enough fervid force to brand him through the thick layers of his uniform before settling on his back, clasping him close to a body that seems to burn with its own inner fire.

“Yuuji,” Satoru murmurs, a question and an invitation.

Yuuji leans in with heavy-lidded eyes and sinks his teeth into Satoru’s throat.

14. Gojou/Yuuji: Yuuji’s hormones battle his morals while his half-naked teacher sleeps on his lap.

All Gojou’s got on is a pair of boxers, and they’re loose enough that they’ve slid down to bunch up at the crease of his thighs.

You’d think it’s getting hotter, not colder, but Yuuji can’t exactly complain. He’s the one trespassing on Gojou’s time and home, and it’s none of his business how Gojou dresses in his downtime. It’s not like he isn’t enjoying the view either. It’s just very hard not to touch sometimes. Yuuji keeps catching himself staring at pink nipples and shapely pecs and chiseled abs and even at places further down, like the telltale bulge between his legs and the obscene thickness of his thighs.

He won’t do anything though. He wouldn’t betray Gojou’s trust like that. It’s flattering, really, that Gojou’s so comfortable with him. Yuuji wouldn’t ever—

Gojou makes a soft, huffing noise and rolls over, curling his very long body into a fetal position—

“Shit,” Yuuji rasps.

—and pushing his face into Yuuji’s dick.

It throbs, ten times more vicious than the dull ache till now.

This can’t be happening.

Gojou breathes out, hot air skewering Yuuji’s cock through his sweats.

It’s absolutely happening.

15. Gojou/Megumi/Yuuji: Satoru crashes his student’s private time, and then the number of students in the equation doubles.

“Are you going to fight?”

“Stop it.” This can’t be happening. “You can’t do this, stop it—”

“Or scream,” Gojou suggests, brightening perversely. “Yuuji would run to your rescue. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Megumi opens his mouth, and then those words slam into him.

Itadori would come running. He’d break through that door like it’s made of straw and see this grotesque tableau. And Itadori’s a noble fool; he wouldn’t run from Gojou, only to him, and nothing about Gojou’s serrated smile says that will end well for Itadori.

Gojou likes Itadori. Megumi knows that. Everyone in the school, even the higher-ups, knows that. But that doesn’t mean Itadori’s safe. Gojou caring hasn’t made anyone safe, ever. Megumi would know.

“Don’t,” he says; it comes out soft, barely a breath. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

“That’s a hefty demand,” Gojou says, cocking his head to the side. “What should I touch instead? You?”

Megumi screws his eyes shut. “Don’t.”

The hand on his wrist loosens, a thumb stroking over his pulse. “Don’t be so scared. It’s not like I’ll do anything you don’t want. I did interrupt, didn’t I? I’ll make it up to you.”

#goyuu #sukuita #kenita #hiita #gofushi #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #wip wednesday #jjk snippets #my fic #vox unhinged #divider credit: saradika-graphics

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