#how to become impossible to manipulate

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

starting a former william fan support group bc what the entire fuck was that

[trannykong]

I feel like i’ve broken the cycle of abuse? I feel like I’ve found a way out of landing myself in abusive relationships.

[drdemonprince]

If you’ve never been all that disobedient before, you can and should start really, really small. For example, you can wear the slightly revealing or gloriously trashy-looking garment that makes your mom roll her eyes and sigh despondently every time she sees you put it on. You will feel judged and disapproved of when you put it on, but that is fine. Your goal is to sit with the uncomfortable feelings and continue with your desired behavior anyway.  Saunter down the steps in that highlighter-yellow Garfield crop top with your chest hair flowing over the neckline, and harness as much courage as you can muster. It’s okay if you feel like a beacon of sin. Just keep it moving. Your emotions are not the target here. Your behavior is. You can feel however you are feeling in the moment so long as you keep acting like you’re free.  Do you have a favorite TV show that a partner or roommate vocally hates? Try watching that show around them without apologizing or defensively joining them in mocking the program. At first, you probably won’t be able to enjoy the show while in their presence. You’ll feel self-conscious about everything they find annoying or cringe-inducing about the show, and so focused on their reactions that you can’t relax. That’s okay. Allow those feelings of embarrassment and guilt to exist and pass through you without giving up. In time, you will be able to ignore these reactions more, and enjoy the activity.  You want to see the needle of discomfort moving down just a little, like Link’s body temperature meter in Tears of the Kingdom when he puts on a breathable outfit in a hot climate. You’re not gonna go from roiling hot to frosty cold in an instant. But after a certain point, you won’t be actively in pain anymore. Things are just gonna slowly suck less, bit by bit, until they are finally okay. That’s true of most major life adjustments, I find.  Probably the best way to develop self-advocacy skills while growing in your distress tolerance is simply by telling other people no. Do this without explanation or hedging. Nitpicky aunt wants to hear all about your dating life? “No, I don’t want to talk about that.” Unreliable ex-friend wants you to do them the tiny favor of moving their entire home gymnasium into a new third story walk-up? “No, I’m not available.” Manipulative shift supervisor wants to cajole you into sticking around for another three hours to close? “No.”  As many advice columnists smarter than me have already intoned, “no” is a complete sentence. “No” requires no explanation. “No” is not subject to debate. “No” can be repeated over and over like a broken record if a disrespectful person acts like they can’t hear it. And you can walk away at any time to make your “no” physical and impossible to argue with, when someone has proven they don’t respect your boundaries. 

you can read or listen to the full piece for free here

[rafesangelita]

hiii i might’ve sent this in already (you can just ignore this if i have) but i was thinking dealer rafe + sex pollen (like maybe a new drug he’s selling or something) possibly with dubcon?

warnings: dealer!rafe, kinda mean!rafe, reader is a stripper (you could read her lore here), brother’s best friend trope, dubcon (rafe drugs reader without her knowing), implied enemies, slut shaming (?), bratty behavior lol, rafe calls reader a bitch, rafe walks in on reader humping her pillow, manipulation, blackmail, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, dumbification, hair pulling, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, finger sucking, pull out method

a/n: i made a fic not too long ago with rafe on viagra lol, so this one will have the tables turned <3

wc: 3.3k

“are you sure this stuff even works?” rafe looked down at the little pink pill barry placed in his hand. “trust me, it does.” he winked, pulling the neckline of his shirt down to reveal the assortment of hickeys littered across his skin. “my girl nearly ate me up, country club.” rafe sighed through his nostrils. at least one of them was getting laid. rafe had been so busy lately, he felt like he couldn’t catch any downtime. between selling with barry and dealing with his own shit at home, having sex was the last thing on his mind. surprisingly.

“so.. what? we’re supplying this now?” rafe placed the pill in a small bag, his business partner shaking his head. “i’ll tell you what; you could try it out yourself and decide if you want to make a little bit of pocket change off of it.” barry winked. “and who the hell would i give this to?” just then, you walked through the door, your heels clacking with each step. you looked up at rafe and rolled your eyes. “does he not have a home? why does he always have to be here?” you walked past him, your perfume intoxicating rafe more than any drug him and barry had laid out on the table.

“nice to see you too.” rafe watched you walk down the hallway, your hips swaying deliciously in that mini skirt of yours. “watch those eyes.” barry nudged him. clearing his throat awkwardly, rafe pocketed the pills, knowing exactly who he was going to have the pleasure of trying them out on later. “look, i got some money waiting for me on the mainland, i was wondering if you could break all this stuff up and bag everything while i’m gone? i’ll throw you a few hundred if you do.” rafe nodded, not having anything else planned for the rest of the day. “thanks, man. i’ll be back in a few hours.”

with that, barry left, leaving you and rafe alone in his trailer. you had changed out of your outfit and into a pair of sleeping shorts, fuzzy slippers adorning your feet as you pulled a pink crop top over your head. rafe could hear your music playing from your room, the mere presence of you making it impossible for him to focus. “where did barry go?” you walked out, opening the fridge even though you knew it was empty. rafe looked back, swallowing thickly as he eyed your bare legs. “uhm— he said he needed to get some money on the mainland, so it’ll be a while before he comes back..”

you noticed the way rafe’s voice lowered at the last part of his sentence, his suggestive tone making you raise a brow. “oh, really?” you took a seat across from him, leaning forward as he glanced at your chest. he hummed, his leg bouncing as he tried his best to distract himself from the curves of your breasts spilling out of your top. “yeah.” he weighed out some blow before putting it in a small baggie. the only reason why rafe felt on edge around you was because he knew he couldn’t have you. you were aware of this, and in turn you made it really hard for him to resist you.

“so, uhh— how was work last night?” rafe needed to make conversation or he was going to become stuck fantasizing about those pretty nails of yours digging into his skin. “since when do you ask me about my job?” you giggled, twisting open your water bottle before taking a sip. “well i have to form some sort of imagination of the place since barry said it’s off limits and all.” rafe met your eyes momentarily. “so? is barry is your daddy or something?” you watched as rafe’s jaw ticked. he didn’t think hearing the word ‘daddy’ would sound so enticing leaving your mouth til’ now.

“no, but i wonder where yours is.” he shot back in an attempt to put a wall back up. “that makes two of us.” you laughed. rafe shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. “seriously though, i think you would like to see me perform..” you scooted closer to him, making rafe draw a sharp breath. barry would kill him if he tried to make any kind of move on you, let alone go to the club where you danced at. “yeah, right. your brother would really have it out for me if i did that.” rafe scoffed. with the way you were looking at him right now, he was starting to think fighting barry would all be worth it.

“what if i invited you? what would he say then?” you were dangerously close to him now, your breath fanning the side of his neck. rafe’s fingertips itched to touch you. just as rafe was about to fall into your trap, you whispered in his ear; “too bad i would never do that, though.” you got up, nudging his shoulder with a laugh. rafe glared at you.“that’s real funny, is that how you trick those poor old men into giving you money down there?” rafe snarked. “no. unlike you, they might get a kiss on the cheek.” you winked, getting your phone from your room.

rafe made sure you were out of sight before he took the pink pills out of his pocket. throwing a couple in your water bottle, rafe shaked it until they fully dissolved. maybe he shouldn’t have done that, but you did have a point in what you said earlier. what if you came onto him, and not the other way around? “how long are you going to be here?” you came back, chugging the water bottle before plopping down on the couch. well, that was easy. “just until i’m done with all of this.” rafe muttered, the sight of your ass peeking out from under your shorts making him wet his bottom lip.

for the longest time, you had always been the forbidden fruit, the one thing he could never have. and he hated it. “well get on with it.” rafe swore you had enough sass for the entire island to have some. ignoring your comment, rafe got back to work, the sound of the tv providing background noise for the two of you. about fifteen minutes passed, and rafe could see you squirming from the corner of his eye. you looked bothered, your thighs rubbing together as rafe fixed his attention on you. “you alright over there?” you sighed, flashing him a look as you crossed one leg over the other.

“m’fine!” you were so sexually frustrated right now, it was like a wave of lust had just washed over you. rafe watched the way your eyes fluttered closed, your chest rising and falling with every breath. “are you sure?” rafe spoke again, and this time the sound of his voice made butterflies swarm your tummy. opening your eyes, you leaned the weight of your head on one hand, inspecting the man who sat not too far away from you. while there was always a tension there between you two, you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was. blue eyes, sharp features that made him look rough, his shoulders..

you shook the thoughts out of your head. leaving the living room with a sigh, you threw yourself on your bed. with each aching minute that passed, you only grew hotter for the man in your living room. you cursed under your breath, making sure the blanket you had hung up in your doorway was blocking all view from the outside before you grabbed your small pillow, tucking it between your legs as you grinded your hips into the soft material. with your shorts and your underwear in the way, it was hard to get any of the friction you needed. “fuck!” you whimpered in frustration.

‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’ you cried, feeling the most neediest and horniest you’ve ever felt in your life.. and that’s saying a lot. you continued rocking your hips on the playboy logo of a pillow, sitting up so you could rut against it shamelessly. your fingers dug into your sheets as your clit barely grazed where you needed it most. a moan slipped from your lips, the sound catching rafe’s attention. he paused all movements, his cock stirring in his pants when he heard another moan, this time followed by a whine. rafe listened to you until he couldn’t sit there any longer.

creeping up to the entryway of your room, rafe swung your makeshift curtain out of the way, revealing the sexiest sight he’s ever seen. there you were, shorts and underwear long forgotten on your bedroom floor as your teeth pulled on your bottom lip. “what the fuck are you doing?” you gasped, your eyes shooting open as you rushed to cover yourself. “what the hell, rafe!” you shrieked, scrambling underneath your bedsheets. “humping a pillow, y/n? how pathetic do you have to be to do that?” you glared at him, your lips parting slightly at the erection in his pants.

“i—” you couldn’t find your words, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. “what would barry think of this if i told him?” rafe stepped closer, “he already thinks you’re a slut for being a stripper, imagine if i told him you were humping your pillow like a dumb bunny while i was just in the next room? he’d hate you.” your heart dropped at his words, panic settling in the pit of your gut. “no, please, don’t tell him!” you sat up, tears pricking your eyes as rafe took a seat at the edge of your bed. “i don’t know what’s happening to me, okay? i’ve never felt like this before!” you cried out.

“what do you mean?” rafe acted coy, as if he didn’t just drug you with enough horny pills to keep you soaked and needy for days. “i’m just— ugh, you’re the last person i should be explaining this to!” you rested your head in your hands, the wetness between your thighs making you shift uncomfortably. “tell me,” rafe urged, “or you’ll be stuck explaining this to your brother..” he shook his head, resting a hand on your blanket-clad thigh. the weight of rafe’s hand made a shiver run down your spine. “okay, okay..” you sighed, finally meeting his eyes. “one minute i was fine, and then the next.. i’m like this.”

rafe watched the way you shrunk in on yourself, your eyebrows etched in embarrassment. the way you were acting right now was such a stark contrast to your usual bitchy attitude. “like what?” rafe pushed forward, wanting, begging you to confide in him to help you out with your little problem. your lips parted, your gaze shooting down to the adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. oh, how bad you wanted to kiss it. “like..” your voice was barely above a whisper as rafe slowly pulled the covers off of you, “like i need to be fucked.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together, your words making his cock twitch.

“sucks to be you.” rafe stood up, about to leave your room before you stopped him. “wait!” you cried out, “where are you going?” you crawled to the edge of your bed, fisting the back of his shirt. rafe smiled to himself, internally singing before he turned around to see you on your knees, your eyes wide and needy as you gazed up at him. “what? i’m leaving.” rafe pulled away, in which you shook your head. he was having way too much fun right now. “no!” you pulled him down, “please stay..” you looked down at his lips, running your nails across the back of his neck. “help me, help you.”

rafe leaned in first, taking your lips with his own as you moaned against his mouth. “you’re gonna help me, alright.” he pulled you on top of his lap, your thighs settling on either side of his waist as he fought to take off your baby tee. lifting your arms up, rafe groaned when your tits fell softly out of your top. tossing the garment aside, you let out a moan when rafe attached his desperate mouth to your sensitive bud, his tongue circling your nipple as you held him close to your chest. you moaned with every stroke of his hands against your skin, your hips grinding on his erection.

“holy, fuck!” rafe pulled away for a moment, looking down between the two of you where you grinded on his shorts. you were so wet, you left a wet patch where you rutted against him. leaning back on his hands, rafe watched as you used him to get yourself off, your glossy cunt sparkling underneath the light of the setting sun filtering through your blinds. you were so pretty like this, rafe felt like he could cum from looking at your pleasure filled face alone. “does that feel good?” rafe groaned when you picked up your pace, his length just throbbing to get out of the confines of his underwear.

“mm, fuck— yes, rafe!” you kept moving until your hips stuttered, your first orgasm hitting you pathetically as you whimpered and whined for something more. still shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm, you got down on shaky legs, not wasting any time in getting rafe’s shorts off. you were so desperate for his cock, rafe smirked when he saw the way your eyes widened when his length sprung up against his stomach. just as you reached for what you needed most, rafe stopped you by grabbing your hand. “nah, you don’t get it that easy,” he shook his head, “lay down.”

those were his last words before he had you laying flat on your bed, your head hanging off the edge as he fucked your throat mercilessly. “thought you were just gonna get what you wanted, huh? fuck no.” he said through gritted teeth. tears were streaming down your face, the noises bouncing off of the walls right now were nothing short of obscene. “always walking around here acting like a spoiled brat, fuck you.” rafe spat, the tip of your nose hitting his pubic bone. he held your hands in his, not allowing you to have any leverage as he fucked your face.

your tongue was dancing around his cock, the sensation bringing him closer to that glorious edge. “o-oh, fuck..” rafe sucked in a breath, stilling as you swallowed around his tip. pulling out to give you some air, you managed to gasp before he slid back in, a mixture of spit and precum connecting you two together. “m’gonna fuck this pretty little mouth of yours until you choke..” his hand snaked down to the apex of your thighs where he gave your soaked folds a harsh slap. you squealed at the stinging sensation, his cock continuously hitting the back of your throat.

sure enough, you gagged around him, his hot cum painting your tongue. rafe doubled over with a hiss, his mouth falling open as you took every last drop. “that’s perfect. yeah, fuckin’ take it.” rafe slapped your cunt once more, eliciting a whine from your lips as he pulled away. you were breathless, your wrists burning from the unforgiving grip rafe had on them. in one swift movement, rafe flipped you onto your back, using his large hands to pin your thighs to your mattress. “beg for it, you fucking slut.” rafe teased your entrance with his glistening tip, your eyebrows knitting together at his cruel ministrations.

“please! i need you so bad, ray!” fuck, you were a mess right now. with your lipgloss smeared all over your chin, those tear stained cheeks, and disheveled hair.. rafe couldn’t help but admire the sight. everything rafe wanted was so close, yet so far, he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. who knew when you would be so needy and pliant for him like this again? “really? i don’t think so.” he quipped. letting out a shaky breath, you reached down between the two of you and lined him up with your entrance before sliding him in with a pierced gasp.

rafe’s eyes screwed shut, his hips moving on their own accord as he finally gave in to you. the man on top of you was in a daze. you were so warm, and so wet, he didn’t know how he was going to pull through with the way you were sucking him in with every thrust. “fuck.” he leaned down, taking your lips with his own. he tasted so good on your tongue, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he fucked into you. his pace was brutal, his toned stomach smacking against your clit as you moaned in his ear. “oh, my god!” you couldn’t help your nails from raking down his back.

“look at you..” he pulled away, grabbing a fistful of your hair so you can meet his eyes. “you’re just a bimbo whore with tits for brains, you know that?” you whimpered at his words, the degrading statement only making you clench around him tighter. rafe groaned, he should’ve known you’d be into that shit. unpinning your thighs from your bed, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he caged you between his arms, his biceps on either side of your face. he was a lot closer like this, the intimacy of it making your heart flutter in your chest. “i always thought you were h-hot.” you managed to mewl.

“yeah?” he inserted a thumb between your lips, your tongue circling around his finger. “mhmm— yes!” rafe watched with dark eyes as you started sucking on the digit. “why the fuck didn’t you said anything then? we could’ve done this a lot sooner, baby.” he tsked. pulling his hand away from your mouth, he replaced his thumb with his lips, swallowing all of your pretty sounds. cupping his face, you pulled away with a bated breath, your orgasm beginning to simmer in your core. “rafe?” your face morphed into one of full blown pleasure, your eyebrows knitting together as rafe stared you down.

“you’re close?” he could tell by the way your thighs trembled at his sides that you were about to hit your peak. you nodded weakly, your eyes meeting his as he watched you come undone beneath him. you paused, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lips parted in a silent moan. rafe knew as soon as you were able to get a breath out you were going to be in hysterics. sure enough, you gasped, a sob ripping from your throat as your body shook. from your head to your toes, you were buzzing in pure bliss. rafe stroked your face, bringing you down from your high with whispers of praise.

“so fuckin’ pretty.”

“shhh, i’m right here.”

you embraced him once more, pressing a kiss to his neck before he pulled out, using a hand to fist his length until he spilled onto your folds. you pouted, your teary eyes gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “why didn’t you stay inside?” you whined, the man on top of you breathing heavily. “w-what?” he panted, his cock twitching with sensitivity. “i wanted you to cum inside me, why did you pull out?” rafe did a double take at your words, his mind reeling with ideas of filling you up. “you’d be okay with that?” a hint of a smile played on his lips when you hummed in agreement. “wanna go again?”

you two were so busy building up foreplay, that neither of you heard the front door open. “i forgot my stupid wallet!” barry shouted. you moaned, your hips chasing rafe’s hand as he buried his fingers in your cunt. “did you hear that?” rafe froze, looking at the doorway of your room. “it’s nothing, i left the tv on, remember!” you turned his attention back on you, both of you laughing against each other’s skin. “y/n, have you seen my—” you and rafe jumped when barry barged in, a scream escaping you as you scrambled to cover yourself.

“i’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, country club!”

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

The idea that Duke is the super well-behaved and rule-following kid is really funny to me cause like, have you read Robin War? His bit in that book opens with him being arrested for wearing red shoes (long story, just know he was also wearing a red hoodie that apparently wasn't a problem) and he explains step by step to the cop exactly how he plans on escaping before executing that escape perfectly by jumping off a bridge. He fought an armored Jim Gordon, the Court of Owls, and Damian who had been manipulated into joining the Court. Duke managed to talk Damian down while getting his ass kicked and then kinda befriended the kid after. He also has defied Batman several times and was proven to be right. All with a healthy dose of sass.

But also I do like lil rule-following sweetheart Duke so I have a proposal. Duke Thomas who follows the rules he agrees with. Most of the time, he's the sweet little angel in the manor. He's polite, he's well-mannered, he's kind, and he does what he's told. However that's only because everything aligns with what he believes to be the right path. The moment Bruce makes a bad call or order, Duke takes it to 11 and becomes more impossible to order around than Jason. Chaotic Good Duke.

[diamondcitydarlin]

Just fair warning- I said on my personal post about this that I wasn't going to talk about Neil Gaiman anymore, but as it's becoming clear that him and his publishers and anyone else who makes money off of him is circling the wagons and trying to bury these allegations, as well as some fans still defending and trying to 'rationalize' this information, I feel like, actually, we need to keep talking about him (as much as I cannot stand him and feel physically disgusted now when I so much as see his face somewhere). Specifically, the fact that he's a liar, master manipulator and should not, under any circumstances, be given access to his fans like he has in the past. At the very least. (And if you need to blacklist his name or even unfollow me so as to not be triggered, I completely understand, but I will always try to tag these posts accordingly and I think it's crucial right now that the truth be put where people can see)

This post specifically is in response to those 'rationalizations' I've seen, some that have gone as far as to blame the young fans/groupies that hooked up with him for being 'golddiggers' or just making a mountain out of a molehill for something they now regret. It's not that simple, yall. (And, again, this requires some amount of completely ignoring the story about him extorting his tenant for sex under threat of eviction of her and her three young children, I'm not sure how you 'rationalize' that under the best of circumstances)

So let's be clear here. What we know is that NG has routinely, for possibly an upwards of 30 years, pulled sexual 'partners' from his fan groups, most of whom are 18-22 year old young women (though possibly younger, accounts are coming forward of 16 year olds having allegedly been inappropriately touched/flirted/propositioned by him, which ig is the age of consent in the UK but still?? 16 year olds!!). This wasn't one or two times in the course of three decades, this was a constant pattern of behavior for him and for a very insidious reason.

This isn't to try to infantilize those fans or young women/young people in general or try to suggest that they couldn't have consented to sex with an older person or famous person. In fact, the onus isn't on them at all. This is about an older guy with a lot of fame, power and wealth choosing to sleep with people that he had already conditioned to idolize him and using that power imbalance to coerce them into doing things they didn't want to.

Regardless of one's age or gender identity, it can be difficult to impossible to say 'no' to someone like that. After all, you've been 'chosen' by the chosen one, you're special and not like everyone else, and if you don't do what the popular person everyone trusts is telling you to do you could end up ostracized. Alienated. Or worse. And you know what? Gaiman knew that! He knew it when he was crafting his 'approachable dad' persona on tumblr. He knew it when he was cultivating a fandom of personality. He knew it when he was having huge meetups to try to ensnare more victims. I hate to even think it, but I'm starting to believe he knew it when he was writing children's books too.

It's been talked about again and again in separate issues, but needless to say something not being strictly illegal does not make it inherently, morally okay. It does not erase the fact that this man has been essentially grooming his fandom to feel safe meeting/speaking with him so he can coerce those he can snare into sexual acts they're not comfortable with. That is predator behavior, whether strictly 'illegal' in the eyes of a court or not (but ofc I think he should be criminally punished even if I'm not naive enough to think he actually will be, because this IS rape and rape should be criminally punished)

I'm not personally advocating for anyone to give up being in his related fandoms, but what I am personally advocating for is that people don't forget who he is and what he's capable of, especially when he tries to crawl back to where he was (I'm almost certain he will eventually, as I've said).

Again, at the very least, we need to use what little influence we do have to keep him from infiltrating fan spaces again. He should not be on tumblr yukking it up with young people, he should not be at public appearances hitting on teenagers, he should not be given the unrestricted access to fans that he's 'enjoyed' for the past 30+ years because he is not a safe person. While I wish there was more in the way of restorative justice that could be done, I think at very, very least we should do what we can to limit his proximity to people he could hurt in the future. Make sure no one forgets, because sweeping this under the rug means Gaiman gets to hurt more people.

Lastly, no one is the wrong for having been manipulated by him. Let's make that very clear. What we're NOT gonna do is blame ourselves, each other, the victims, etc, for evil acts that Gaiman chose to do himself, time and time and time again. It doesn't help the situation and it certainly doesn't protect future potential victims. We were all duped because we're human and we attach and a lot of us want to believe there are good people out there, particularly those who make art that means so much to us.

And there are. But let's also use this a teaching/learning tool about how much faith we place in famous people in the future, regardless of how 'approachable' and 'safe' they might seem. Let's remember to have a healthy suspicion of creators/famous people that are oddly immersed in fandom spaces- yes, even the ones you still currently like that seem fine, as difficult as that may seem.

At the end of the day, we don't know them or what they're capable of doing or what they might be plotting to do to us. Support victims. Amplify their voices. Don't forget.

[agent-cupcake]

Ulterior Motives

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f! student Reader

Synopsis: Gojo becomes a little bit infatuated with his bratty new student.

Warnings: Explicit smut, noncon, teacher/student relationship (reader is 18+), possessive behavior, manipulation

Tags: Spanking, panty gag, dacryphilia, dirty talk, vibrators, bondage, orgasm torture, bratty reader, humiliation

Word Count: 24.4k

Notes: This one is for ABanonymous, I hope you didn't mind the wait and I especially hope you enjoy the story. The title IS a reference and if you know, you know.

Next requested fic I will have out next Saturday, and that's a pinky promise.

“Is this seat taken?” 

Bored, a little tired, you turned your gaze up to the interloper with a rejection at the ready. You stopped at the cafe to warm up, you weren’t in the most social of moods.

But you didn’t say anything when you saw the speaker. Your lips were parted and ready, but the words puffed out as nothing more than air. There was something wrong about him. If you hadn’t been so utterly—perhaps even willfully—detached from your surroundings, you might have noticed sooner. 

It was a trick of yours. Good for interviews, social gatherings, and first impressions. Bad for relationships, communication, and your general interest in other people. The girl with long, straight hair ordering a brown sugar bubble tea was annoyed. The man behind her was texting someone, likely his paramour, because his bad mood was being soothed with excitement and lust. The female half of the couple behind you was excited, her male partner was bored. Those were things you knew. Things you sensed as intuitively as you interpreted sounds from vibrations and visuals from light. 

The tall, white-haired man standing above you wearing a dark uniform and white bandage over his eyes was a solid, unreadable wall. The energy surrounding him wasn’t emotional, it was manifested, strong bordering on physical and, most likely, very bad news. You looked around the cafe, searching for some further clues about this utterly bizarre stranger, but nobody else seemed especially interested beyond his odd appearance. You cleared your throat. 

“Excuse me, what?” you asked, composing yourself. 

“May I sit here?” he asked again, smiling.

This could be interesting. Or bad. You shrugged as if disinterested. “If you want to.” 

He took the seat across from you, his smile fixed in place. “Thank you, I can’t stand drinking alone.” 

“Of course.”

“I’m Satoru Gojo,” he said, undeterred by your unfriendly demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  

You introduced yourself in turn, smoothing your hair and hoping you didn’t look too terrible. Could he even see you? Somehow, you got the feeling he could, but it didn’t look like the bandage was mesh. 

“Did you hear about what happened at the City Central Library?” he asked, bracing his elbow on the table to cradle his head. “Nasty business.”

The words themselves were casual, but they left you with the same feeling as when you got caught sneaking out. That little pang of surprise, a stark interruption of suspense with panic and then a mental scramble as you tried to come up with a believable story that would get you out of trouble. 

Did he know? That made the most sense, otherwise it was odd that he’d ask. But if he did know, you had no idea how he could, and had no way to guess how much he knew.  

No response was worse than a bad one, so you fell back on the easiest and usually the most effective approach. “What happened?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows with a vacuously concerned expression. The kind of look that made it seem as if any question was so hopelessly complex, like the slightest problem was simply impossible for a girl as empty-headed as you to grasp. 

“There was a gas leak of some kind,” Gojo said, his mouth set into a contemplative line. A second later, that solemn expression melted into a mischievous half-smile. “Rather, that’s what the news will report. We know better, don’t we?”

You frowned, your head tilting to the side and eyes curiously wide. “We do?” 

“A curse manifested itself there. Nobody died, but it was close.”

“A curse?” you repeated slowly. “Are you talking about ghosts or something?” 

“Something like that.” 

You laughed, the light and ditzy airheaded kind of laugh. “Oh, come on. You’re teasing me, aren’t you.” 

“When we interviewed the receptionist at the library,” Gojo said, his casual demeanor unaffected by your act, “she mentioned a young woman who stopped by and warned her that something bad was going to happen.” 

“Oh?” 

“Actually, I have three accounts of people saying that they were contacted before an incident involving a curse occurred. One of the tips was anonymous, but the third was at a construction site. The manager said that a pretty young woman approached him and warned that the conditions would be hazardous and he needed to be very careful. He’s in the hospital now.” 

“That’s terrible,” you said, frowning. It was more of a pout, really.

Gojo pulled his phone out of his pocket. He clicked a few things on the screen—so he could see from behind the bandage, how odd—before holding it out for you to look at. It was security footage, presumably from the library. Although the quality was terrible, it didn’t take a genius to recognize that it was you in the video.  

“This is from yesterday,” he said. “A curse was exorcized at this library earlier today.” He turned the screen to look at his phone, looking between you and the footage with theatrical scrutiny. “This does look a lot like you.” 

“I don’t know who that is, but it can’t be me,” you said, pouting more. “I don’t even have a library card.”

“To be clear, I’m not accusing you of causing these incidents. If I thought you were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Gojo told you. He put his phone in his pocket, picking up his drink to mess with the straw. “How long have you been able to see them?” 

“See what?”

“Curses. Evil spirits, whatever you like to call them.” 

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide if you wanted to continue playing dumb. He obviously didn’t believe it. Besides, you were starting to get very curious about this strange not-blind man and the disconcerting amount of information he had about things he shouldn’t.

“As long as I can remember,” you finally answered, dropping the act. 

“Do they scare you?” he asked, as unconcerned with your shift in demeanor as he had been with everything else.  

“They’re definitely ugly,” you said. Gojo snorted in amusement at that. You looked down to consider a real answer, pushing the chunks of ice at the bottom of your cup around with the straw. “I’m not scared of them. They’re dangerous, but more like how a wild animal is dangerous.”

“Is that why you warn people?” 

You shrugged.

“Hmm,” he hummed, stroking his chin thoughtfully, staring at you through the bandage. It really was a creepy feeling. “Something still isn’t adding up. Sorcerers are more likely to come into contact with curses, but you’re not reacting to cursed activity; you’re predicting it. Moreover, the places who reported your warnings have no other connection. It’s unlikely that you were coincidentally nearby to feel the cursed energy.”

“Sorcerers?” you asked, continuing to push your straw around your cup idly, the ice crackling. 

“People who can see curses and manipulate cursed energy. You could also call them curse users. Of course, I don’t think you’re either. At least, not yet.” He gestured to you with his drink. “You’re avoiding the question.” 

“You didn’t ask me a question.”

“Didn’t I?” he asked with a frown. “Ah, whatever,” he waved it off dismissively. “How are you finding and predicting curses?” 

“I use a map,” you told him, like it was obvious. It was obvious to you, at least. 

“A map,” he repeated bluntly. Without any aura to read, you wished you could see his eyes at least.

“That’s usually how you find things, isn’t it?” 

“You’re saying that you have a map that tells you where curses will manifest?” 

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” you said. “I don’t think I should be talking so openly to a strange and mysterious man.”

“Mysterious? I told you, I’m Satoru Gojo,” he said, placing a hand on his chest. “I’m a jujutsu sorcerer and a teacher at Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. If anything, you’re the strange one for going around cryptically warning people about evil spirits. ”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pursing your lips. The logical part of your mind rejected everything he was saying outright, it sounded made up. Then again, you knew there was some truth to what he was saying, even if the words he used were different than your own. The fact was, it seemed like he had more information than you. You didn’t like that. 

“You warn people about these curses in an attempt to protect them,” Gojo said, his tone softening a little as he tried to level with you, “but they never believe you, and so they get hurt anyway. Doesn’t that bother you?” 

You shrugged. “It does sound pretty ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Gojo said. “Nobody believes you see the things you see, or that you have a very special gift, but I do. If you tell me how you predict these curses, I’ll teach you how to take care of the problem yourself. More than that, I can teach you how to use your cursed energy to do things nobody else can.”

He had you on the line with that one, and he knew it. You didn’t have to be able to read his aura or look in his eyes to understand that smug grin. 

“I read once that mediums could perform a sort of dowsing technique with maps,” you said, giving in. “I’ve always had a knack for divination, so I tried it out. Even with my eyes closed and using different maps, I could reliably find and mark the same spot. It didn’t really turn out how I wanted it to though.” 

“How so?” 

“You’ve seen TV shows and videos about hauntings where ghost hunters dig up all kinds of scary and interesting stories, right? I was hoping it’d be like that. You know, exciting. Instead I marked a lot of schools and hospitals and that sort of thing.” 

“That makes sense,” Gojo said. “Curses tend to congregate in places like that.” 

“Well, I was disappointed. But then I started hearing news stories about people getting hurt in places that I marked on my map. I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want it on my conscience.” 

Gojo nodded thoughtfully. “This… dowsing ability, can you do it on purpose, or does it happen randomly?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If I got you a map right now, could you mark places where a curse will manifest?”

“It depends on if there’s a place on the map where a curse will manifest,” you said.

Rather than get offended by your cheeky response, Gojo carried on. “Are there any locations you’re watching out for at the moment? Other than the library, I mean.” 

You considered that question. “I’ll tell you, but if this is for a TV show, I don’t consent to being on camera,” you said. “Not wearing this, at least.” 

He laughed. “This is not for a TV show,” Gojo said. “Although, if it was, I don’t know why you would need to change your clothes. You’re cute, the messy look is endearing.” 

“Ah, I guess you are blind after all,” you said imperiously, pulling out your phone to find the website of the other place you had marked. “There’s an antique shop. I don’t think anything has happened there yet. I tried calling, but the guy got angry. I guess lots of people try to claim things there are haunted to get a discount or something.” 

“Do you have the address?” 

“Yep, right… here-” You flipped the screen towards him. He peered at it for a second before smiling again.

“Oh, lucky! I know somebody who should be just nearby.” He pulled out his own phone, dialing a number.

“You said you exorcized the curse at the library,” you said, “will you do it there too?”

“If there’s a curse there, yes.” Gojo pressed call and put his phone to his ear. After a few rings, you heard a voice on the other end. The exchange was short, he gave the address and some words of encouragement. You couldn’t hear specifics, but it didn’t sound like the person was too pleased. 

“I don’t know for sure that something is there,” you said after he lowered his phone. 

“Have you ever been wrong?” 

“I haven’t followed through on every lead,” you said. “There are potentially dozens of times that I’ve been wrong.” 

“But all of the ones you’ve tracked have been correct, yes?” 

You smiled. “Yes.”

“What an interesting ability,” he cooed. “And you possess a respectable amount of cursed energy. I knew it. You should come to study to be a jujutsu sorcerer.”

“What?” 

“I told you that I could teach you how to use your abilities, didn’t I? You’re a bit old to be scouted, but everybody starts somewhere. I think you have the potential to be a great sorcerer.”

“You’re joking.” 

“Not at all.” 

“You said you teach high school, didn’t you?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. “I’m almost through my third year. It would be strange to transfer so late, I wouldn’t want to do anything to risk my graduation.”

“Do you have plans for after you graduate? Work? University?” 

“I’m going to study business.” 

“Really? You don’t strike me as the business type.”

You gave him a very flat look. “You don’t strike me as the teacher type.” 

Gojo laughed. “You got me there. I’m only saying that you go to university so you can get a job, right? If you study at Jujutsu Tech, you will have a guaranteed job upon graduation.”

“What kind of job?” 

“Exorcizing curses, saving the world, that kind of thing,” he said, waving his hand casually. “It’s not something many people can do, you know. You have to be a special mixture of brave and crazy to face curses knowing you could get hurt—knowing that others could get hurt if you fail. It’s tiresome, scary, and you very rarely see much of a reward.”

“You’re not exactly selling this.” 

“Really?” Gojo asked. “You look plenty interested to me. You don’t want to live the rest of your life being normal and bored, do you? You’re too special for that.”

You blew out a big breath, trying to think independently of this whole bizarre situation and the fact that his flattery was more effective than it should have been. 

“I’m still not sure I believe you,” you said. “Isn’t there some sort of saying that you should never trust somebody who hides their face? An innocent young girl like me could get hurt trusting scary men like you.” 

“Scary?” Gojo repeated. 

“You are, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

“You mean that you can sense my cursed energy?”

“Is that like an aura?” you asked. “Because I can’t read yours. That hardly ever happens.” 

“Aura?” 

You narrowed your eyes. “You know, spiritual energy and emotion and that sort of thing.”

“Ah, this might be a difference in terminology. This is cursed energy,” Gojo said, raising his hand and curling his fingers as if holding something. The intimidating energy that surrounded him pooled there, a dark shroud around his hand. All of the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, the discomfort prickling like thousands of little needles poking against your skin. “Is this what you mean?” 

“No, that’s… Bleh,” you said, exaggerating your shudder. “I’m talking about aura. People’s emotions, their mental state. I think your cursed energy is stifling yours, I don’t know. Or maybe you’re not human.” 

“Maybe,” he agreed, lowering his hand, the dark energy flowing back into him. “I think you have the potential to be a wonderful sorcerer.” 

“Really?” 

“I’ll teach you. I’m the best, you know. Aren’t you tired of knowing that there’s a problem you can’t fix? Do you think you can live a life of ignorance now that you know there are answers?” 

Before you could respond, his phone rang. 

“Yes?” Gojo asked, taking the call. Whatever the person on the other end said made him smile. “Sure, sure. You can’t leave it there, I’ll transfer you the money… Yes, of course.” 

He hung up and leaned forward, dropping the phone and cradling his cheek in his hand. 

“There was a cursed object there,” he told you. “It would have been a while before the seal unraveled enough to be noticeable, but it was only a matter of time before it began attracting curses.”

“If you take it away, that means the place will be safe?” 

“We’ll keep an eye on it to be sure, but, generally, yes. You saved innocent people from being harmed by an unseen evil. They will be allowed to continue on living their boring, mundane lives. That’s what a jujutsu sorcerer does.”

You nodded thoughtfully. It was the smartest choice to simply reject him and leave and move on with your life. 

Most likely. 

Absolutely. 

But when you mentally followed that course of action to its completion, you knew that a part of you would always exist in this little cafe sitting across from the strangest man you had ever met considering an offer that scared and excited you. You would always wonder about the answers he promised, every day you would wonder if there was something more. 

“If everything you’re saying is true-” you began.

“It is.”   

“-then I’ll consider it.” 

Gojo smiled. “I’ll have Ijichi get your transfer paperwork pushed through. We’ll have to move fast, you have a lot of missed time to make up for. You don’t mind, do you?” 

“I said that I’ll consider it,” you told him, taken aback by his presumptuousness. 

“Sure, sure,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be in contact soon, okay? Be ready.” 

Despite your attempt to retain a certain amount of resistance and control over the situation, things moved exactly as fast as Gojo said they would. He was telling the truth about all of it. There was such a place as Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School, and he was a teacher, and although being such a late transfer was weird, it was all legitimate.  

The explanations were easier than you thought too. Mom was utterly charmed by Satoru Gojo. He came to your house wearing expensive clothes and a pair of sunglasses with his white hair flipped boyishly over his brow and explained the situation with a big, charming smile and the most disarmingly blue eyes you had ever seen and she was putty in his hands. She didn’t always believe you about spirits—curses, as Gojo called them—but she believed it from him, enthusing about how she’d always known you were special, and that you could do things nobody else could. It was moments like sitting in the room seeing Mom’s aura flash and sparkle with attraction and desire that made you wish you didn’t have the ability to see them. 

Not even two weeks after the cafe conversation with Satoru Gojo, you were packing up and moving to live on the Tokyo Jujutsu High campus grounds. As you packed, you thought a lot about the first time you saw an evil spirit. You screamed and screamed. It wasn’t until your grandmother came and comforted you that you calmed down. She had that effect on people. Making them comfortable, making them feel safe. 

Throughout your life, you flirted with divination and spirits and dark energy mostly for your own gain and amusement, but she was a real deal spiritual woman. If she were alive, she wouldn’t have liked who you were. That had been true for a while. You wondered what she would think of you going to study to exorcize curses, if that would have met with her approval. You wondered what dad would think. It had always been his plan that you should go to university. He wanted you to be educated before you got married. Funny, because he abandoned his university educated career-driven wife for some ditzy young thing he met at a bar.

It was kind of funny to think that, in the end, you wouldn’t go to university and you wouldn’t get married. Spite wasn’t a good primary reason to do something, but you couldn’t deny the frantic heat of its inspiration.

“I don’t know,” Haruka said, her voice distorted through your phone’s speaker as you unpacked your things. The room you were given on the Jujutsu Tech campus was larger than you thought it would be, although it didn’t look nearly so big with your stuff strewn everywhere. Mom laughed at your materialism, but you didn’t want to be underprepared. “I like him, but I don’t think he likes me back.”

You slipped a shirt onto its hanger, rolling your eyes at her dramatics. “The only way you’ll know is if you ask him.” 

“It’s weird for him, I think. ‘Cause I’m still in school. I mean, there’s barely a year difference between us, but… I don’t know. Maybe it is weird. If my mom knew I was dating Ikki, she’d flip out.” 

“Then don’t ask him out.”  

Haruka sighed. “I wish she was like your mom. She lets you do basically whatever you want.”

That stung, although you weren’t entirely sure she meant it to. “The way I see it,” you said, sidestepping that comment, “it won’t be weird after you’re out of school. Wait a few months, it’s not like you’re going to have time with exams going on.” 

“I wish you were here. Now when I make bad decisions I don’t have anyone to blame them on.” 

You laughed. “I was thinking the same thing. I can’t copy your homework anymore, why even bother being friends?” 

“Because,” Haruka said, clearly taking offense, “I am-”

“Knock knock,” somebody called through the open door, startling you. You turned to watch Gojo come in, looking around your room while Haruka rattled off all of the many reasons she was an invaluable friend to you. Well, you assumed he was looking around your room. He had returned to the bandages covering half his face, hiding his impossibly beautiful eyes. 

“One second, Haruka… Can I help you?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow to hide the flicker of excitement you felt seeing him. 

“Oh, are you talking to someone?” Gojo asked. “I can come back later.”

“Ah, no, that’s fine,” you told him, very easily deciding that you would rather talk to him than listen to Haruka’s boy troubles. “Haru, I’ve gotta go,” you said, picking up your phone. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Is that a man’s voice?” she asked. “Why is he in your room, what kind of school is that? Is-” 

You ended the call, cutting her off. “Do you need something?” you asked. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” 

“You didn’t,” you said, returning to hanging up your clothes. “Although she’s probably going to tell everyone this whole transfer thing was an elaborate lie to cover for the fact that I got knocked up and ran away with some guy. I’m not sure why, but nobody believes I’ve dedicated myself to a strict religious lifestyle.” 

“How much do they know about your abilities?” Gojo asked, walking over to your bed and sitting down, grabbing one of the stray magazines off the floor. He flicked through the glossy pages of fashion advice and gossip with a distinct lack of interest. 

You snorted, hanging up one of your last few dresses. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“Not at all,” Gojo said, dropping the magazine to flip through another. “It can be very isolating to keep such a big secret from the people closest to you.” 

“It would be such a drag to explain,” you said. “Besides, nobody wants to know that things like curses exist. They just want to live their normal lives where things make sense.” 

Gojo hummed in amusement. “Is that really the only reason?” 

The tone of his voice set you on edge. It sounded like he was implying something. “What do you mean?” 

“It would make things more difficult for you if anybody knew you could read their mind, wouldn’t it?” 

You frowned at him, although he didn’t seem to be paying attention. “First of all,” you said, putting a hand on your hip, “I can’t read minds. Second of all, it’s not like I’m actively trying to spy on people. I can’t help it.”

“Calm down,” he said with a smile, tossing the magazine aside. “I wasn’t making any comment on your character. It was an observation.” 

“Right,” you said, forcing yourself to let it go. “By the way, where is everyone else? The rooms around me all look empty.” 

Gojo waved his hand nonchalantly, standing up. “There aren’t any other third year girls.” 

“Did something happen?” 

“No, it’s not abnormal. Jujutsu sorcerers are extremely rare.” Gojo walked towards the wall you had half covered with various posters and decorations. “I heard your admission interview went well.” 

“Of course it did,” you said, smiling.  He didn’t see it, too focused on the map. You had it set up on your wall like you had at home, ready in case the mood struck.

“That’s the library,” Gojo said, tapping a finger against the marked spot. His fingers were long. Considering his abnormal height, it was hardly surprising. It was attractive though. You shut that thought down fast. You could acknowledge it as a fact, but he was your teacher now. Besides, he probably had women throwing themselves at him from all angles, you’d rather be celebate than be reduced to one of the many.

“And right there,” you said, coming up behind him to point at another mark, “is the-”

“Antique shop,” he shot you a smile over his shoulder. “What an interesting ability.” 

“Isn’t this sort of thing normal for, um, jujutsu sorcerers?” you asked, the term coming out a little awkwardly. 

“Not at all. Sorcerers are highly individualistic. There are inherited techniques, but many of them are unique to the sorcerer. They’re innate, carved into your frontal lobe.” He tapped his forehead, turning towards you.

“But you can do the same thing,” you said. “Reading people’s auras and all of that.” You grinned, raising your eyebrows playfully. “You’ve got a third eye.” 

“Six Eyes, actually,” Gojo said. “Although it does seem like you have a related form of extrasensory perception.” He threw an arm around your shoulders, swaying you back and forth. “You’re a little mini me! Isn’t that exciting?” 

The sudden touch made you stiffen up, too surprised to react immediately. The only coherent thought you had was that he smelled really good. You shook that out of your head, pushing at his arm in a half-hearted attempt to get some space.

“What can you do then?” you asked. “Can you teach me?” 

Gojo stopped swaying you around. “Weren’t you listening to anything I said? Jujutsu techniques are-” 

“-innate and unique,” you finished for him. “But you can teach me how to get better at my own techniques if they’re like yours, right?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Gojo said, stepping away. “If you try to run before you learn to walk, you’ll fall on your face. You’re getting a late start, so you’re going to have to work hard.” He raised his pointer finger to lecture you. “You’ll start by getting control over your cursed energy.” 

“Okay,” you said, nodding. “How do I do that?” 

“First! You clean your room,” he said. “It’s a mess in here. Then come to the classroom. I’ll have to find Oyama.” 

“Who’s Oyama?” 

“The other third year. He’ll be able to help you when I’m not here.” 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Are you disappointed?” Gojo cooed, leaning forward to put himself on your level, pursing his lips in a mocking display of pity. “As much as I would love to teach my cute little student personally, I have obligations to fulfill as a sorcerer. I hope you don’t miss me too much in the meantime.”

You gave him a flat look, hiding your genuine disappointment behind your irritation at the mockery. “I’m sure I’ll live.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Gojo said, patting your head. “Okay!” He stood up straight, turning away. “Don’t take too long,” he called as he left, “I hate having to wait.” 

“I’m sure this will only take me four or five hours,” you said. “Maybe six. I hope you don’t miss me too much in the meantime.” 

Gojo didn’t respond to your taunt, shooting you a final smile over his shoulder, one that was all blinding white teeth. The covered eyes made it more menacing than playful. 

“I hate it when you ignore my calls,” Mom said. “It’s been over a week since you gave me any sort of update. There’s only so much time I have to talk to you, so when you don’t answer, I have no idea what to think.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you said in as apologetic a voice as you could fake, holding your phone between your ear and shoulder as you did your nails. It was a futile effort, there was no way you could keep your hands manicured. All you could do was fight back your cuticles and paint your nails knowing they would be chipped the next day. “I spend all my time training, studying, or exhausted from training and studying. Do you remember Gojo talking about how being a late transfer meant a lot of extra work? I want to succeed here, so I have to put in the work.”

As you hoped, the apology and mention of Gojo quelled some of her fire. “Oh, well, I still expect you to keep me informed.” 

“I know,” you said. “Really, there’s not much to say.” Other than going out on a mission with Oyama for the first time and helping him exorcize a nasty curse that you helped to find with your unique ability, but you weren’t going to tell her that. You were saving that for when Gojo came back from whatever mission he was off doing. Instead, you painted a lick of red onto your pinky nail, carefully working the color into the edges. “How are you?” you asked her. “You mentioned you were seeing that guy from the lab?” 

“Didn’t I tell you? I had to end things with him,” Mom said. “He was a real piece of work.” 

“Oh, no you didn’t. I’m sorry,” you apologized, capping the nail polish bottle and appraising your hands. Serviceable, under the circumstances. 

“You know how men are. You think they’re fine, but they turn out to be completely crazy.” She huffed, you could imagine the way she would shake her head. “Actually, I’ve been spending some time with a man from the second floor. It’s going really well.”

“Oh, that’s exciting!” you exclaimed with enthusiasm, rolling your eyes. She was almost as bad as Haruka with the boy drama. You wanted her to be happy, of course you did, but having to hear about her messy romantic life got tiresome. 

“When you get back, maybe the four of us can go out for dinner.”

“Four?” 

“He has a daughter. She’s a little younger than you, I’m sure the two of you would get along really well.” 

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” you said, really scooping deep to manage an enthusiastic tone. “I’m just not sure when I’ll be able to get some time away. Like I said, I’m very busy.” 

“It’s been two months, surely you can ask Gojo for one weekend home.” 

“I’ll ask him,” you told her, making sure she could hear your doubt. Hopefully this fling wouldn’t last long, you really couldn’t stomach the thought of feigning interest in some stranger’s daughter. 

Content that your nails were dry, you peeled your phone away from your ear. 

“But I’ve gotta go for now,” you told her. “I promised Oyama I’d study with him. You know, final exams.” 

Another lie, although one you didn’t feel as bad about. In reality, final exams at Jujutsu Tech weren’t at all like at a normal school. You would still be graduating, but not through lengthy tests. It felt a little cheap to have all of your studying go to waste, but you weren’t about to complain.

“Yes, of course,” Mom replied. “Don’t forget to keep me informed, alright?” 

“Got it,” you said. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you, bye.” 

“Love you.” 

You hung up, tossed your phone to the side, and uncapped the bottle to paint your toenails. 

Gojo returned a few days later with kitschy souvenirs from some small village you had never heard of and a big smile, eager to hear how you were progressing. For that matter, you were eager to share it with him. He hadn’t been gone too long, but you were working harder than you ever had before, and getting better accordingly. 

“Okay!” Gojo said, leaning against the edge of his desk. “Tell me everything I’ve missed. How is your training?” 

“I’m getting a lot better at controlling my cursed energy,” you said. “You can tell, can’t you?”

“I can,” Gojo said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a little smile. “What about your hand-to-hand training?” 

You frowned at how quickly he brushed over your impressive accomplishment. Even Oyama was a little impressed by how quickly you adapted to the natural movement of cursed energy. Once again, you tried to get a read on Gojo’s state of mind to know what he was thinking, but it was as impossible as before.

“I got punched in the face for the first time,” you said. 

The comment didn’t have the intended effect of eliciting amusement or confusion. Instead: “Did you deserve it?” 

“What?” you asked, indignant. “No, not like that. I was sparring with Oyama and I realized that I’d never been punched in the face, so I asked him to. It seems like the sort of thing I needed to experience.”

“And what did you learn?” 

“That Oyama enjoyed it way too much, and I needed to buy waterproof mascara. It made my eyes water like crazy.” 

Gojo laughed, but didn’t give you anything else to work with. 

“I’ve also learned that I’m really not into fistfighting,” you said, finally being serious. “I’ll definitely want to use weapons.”

“Your cursed technique is more effective the closer you are to the opponent, isn’t it?” Gojo asked. “So you’ll want something that can work at very close range.”

“But first I’ll have to learn how to reliably close the distance. I’m not fast enough. Yet.”

Gojo nodded thoughtfully. “Speed is important, but reading your opponent is more valuable in that situation,” he said. “If you ask nicely, I may be able to help.” 

“I have to ask?” 

He sighed dramatically. “My time is in high demand.”

“Some teacher you are,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes in as exaggerated of a way as possible. 

“Watch your tone,” Gojo told you, wagging a finger. “You don’t want detention, do you?” 

“I’m so sorry, sensei,” you said, batting your eyelashes. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you.” 

He didn’t immediately respond to the taunt which, when you couldn’t get a read on his mood anyway, was oddly unsettling. 

“You’re lucky I’m such a kind, patient man,” he finally said, his voice softer than before. “That cheeky tone could get you in trouble.” 

“I’ve heard that you’re way worse,” you said. “I’ve heard that all of the higher-ups think you’re a nuisance. I’m only trying to be more like you, sensei.”

“You might find you don’t enjoy where that gets you,” he said. The tenor of his voice was playful, but the tension beneath wasn’t.

“You wouldn’t do anything,” you said, hoping to laugh it off.

He smiled, but didn’t laugh. 

“I heard what happened in Shinjuku,” Gojo said before things got too awkward. “You were able to identify the type and motivation of the curses and warn Oyama. That’s impressive.” 

“Oh… Yeah, thank you,” you said. “It wasn’t that difficult once I understood what type of place it was. Officially, it was a club, but that was only a front for their prostitution scheme. Of course the curses would hate men.” 

“You know, I’ve been thinking, with proper honing, you might reach a point where you can perceive the nature of a technique before it can be used against you.” 

“Really?” you asked, excited by the idea. It sounded like an impressive trick.

“It’s possible, certainly. But,” he pointed at you, “you’re a long way off from developing a skill that complex. Don’t get distracted from working on the basics.”

“I know, I know,” you said, trying not to seem too petulant. “I know I have to practice with my cursed energy, but sensing things about people and curses, that’s intuitive.” 

“It’s hard on you, isn’t it?” Gojo asked, although it wasn’t much of a question. “Your ability is empathetic, not sympathetic. To understand what you’re facing, you have to let it in. That can be very dangerous. You have to carefully control it.”

“It’s not comfortable,” you allowed. “But I can do it.” 

“To know the nature of the curse is to be confronted with the absolute worst of humanity, and it very well could end with you cursing them in turn.”

“I won’t let it get to me.” 

“Not to mention how dangerous it is, I’ve known sorcerers who are rendered entirely catatonic just through proximity to especially strong curses, and that’s with their defenses up.” 

“I can handle it,” you insisted, frowning. 

Gojo paused, considering you with his head tilted curiously to the side. 

“You said you asked Oyama to punch you in the face,” he said. “You might be a bit of a masochist, but I assume you were looking for that experience in a controlled environment.” 

“Yeah, something like that,” you said, too caught off guard by the change of topic to properly react to the masochist comment.

“That’s smart, actually,” Gojo said. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

“Show me what?” you asked, frowning. 

“The danger of special grade cursed energy. Come here, I don’t want to cast too wide a net and catch anyone else. This is for educational purposes only, alright?” 

“Okay,” you said, hopping off your desk and approaching him.

“What do you feel?” Gojo asked, pushing away from the big desk to stand up straight. His height continuously took you by surprise. Maybe you’d find loafers with more of a heel, it was annoying to have to look up at him like this. 

“Not much. You’re as mysterious as ever,” you said, an unmistakable note of bitterness in your tone.

“Okay then. Are you ready?” Gojo asked. 

“Go ahead,” you said, bracing yourself. You knew cursed energy, you had felt it both from sorcerers and actual curses. You thought you were prepared.

You were not prepared. 

Cursed energy flared out around him in an oppressive wave, capturing you in its field. The only thing you could think was that you were going to die. There was nothing you could think to compare it to. Fear flooded your system, it was all that existed. Not the fear of pain or death or any human threat, but complete and total destruction. Cellular annihilation, the ruination of the thing that was ‘you’ until not one part remained. You couldn’t move. His cursed energy snuffed that out, squishing down everything that wasn’t animalistic terror. When your legs gave out, you barely felt it, only the weakness of your body caving in. Gojo caught you before you fell, holding you up against him. 

“The way you feel right now,” Gojo muttered, his voice soft and low, “this is what it is to be truly helpless. This is what you’re ultimately up against. Unless you’re prepared to endure the depths of hell, your arrogant curiosity will destroy you.” 

Just like that, it was over. 

You sobbed, hiding your face against his chest. It was pathetic, but you couldn’t control the entirely bodily reaction now that you were arrested with blind fear. Your body was practically vibrating from how violently you were shaking. Never in your life had you experienced such horrific, visceral fear. It was worse than you would have thought, even though you were never actually in any danger. 

“Ah, maybe that was too much,” Gojo said regretfully, patting your back. 

“Wha-aa-as that-t yo—uor te-eh-chnique?” you asked, your stammered words muffled against his chest. How embarrassing. 

“That? No. If I had used my technique, your brain would be mush right now.” Gojo ran his hand over your hair, almost affectionately stroking it. “Do you need me to carry you to your room? I wouldn’t mind.”

Your hands tightened in the front of his uniform, although you couldn’t recall when you began holding onto him. Gojo hummed, petting your hair again, his hand idly lowering to your back, and then your waist, and your hip. 

It was only a flicker, a fraction of a second, but you felt the barest whisper of glee. Lust. For blood or otherwise, you didn’t have the capacity to tell, but the impression was in such stark opposition to your own tumultuous feelings that it startled you.

You gasped, stumbling away from Gojo like he’d shocked you. Luckily, you managed to catch yourself on the edge of one of the desks rather than fall. He was, as ever, completely inscrutable. Whatever you thought you felt, it was gone as fast as it struck. 

Unable to read anything else from the man, you decided that it was your imagination, a subsequent reaction born from a panicked brain. It was difficult to hold onto the feeling of primal terror now that it wasn’t actively battering down your defenses. Without any actual danger, your brain couldn’t generate the same intensity. With shaking hands, you wiped beneath your eyes, keeping them averted. 

“That was embarrassing, I’m sorry,” you said.

“This isn’t too bad of a reaction. It’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” you agreed with breathless sarcasm, trying very hard to compose yourself. “For the record, I preferred being punched in the face.” 

“I’m sure,” Gojo said with a little laugh. “Well,” he clapped his hands together, effectively ending the report, “you look like you could use a break, let’s go see what’s for lunch.” 

“It’s so stupid,” Haruka said, her sniffling voice crinkling through your phone's speaker. 

You laid on your back while listening to her cry, staring at your dorm’s plain ceiling. Things with Ikki hadn’t gone well. Normally you could at least pretend to care about her love life, but your thoughts were elsewhere. 

“I knew he didn’t like me, I just thought since he was so nice and-” 

It pissed you off to be so consumed by thoughts of one man, but it felt like there was a whirlpool in your head. You could fight it for a while, but all too soon your thoughts would return to your enigmatic teacher. Back and forth, back and forth, you bounced between trying to convince yourself to be realistic about yourself and the creeping paranoia that there was something going on.

Gojo was a very physical sort of person. It was conceited to think he’d be interested in you when he was attractive enough to get any woman he reasonably wanted. He was only helping you. It wasn’t intimate. Even if it felt a little strange, that was normal for combat training, wasn’t it?  

He was interested in you. He was taking advantage of his role as your teacher, teasing you for his own amusement. That flash of lust was real, and it warned you of danger. The awkward nerves you felt around him were rational. 

Back and forth and back and forth and-

“Hello?” Haruka snapped.

“Ah, um, yeah, I’m really sorry, Haru,” you said, realizing after a beat of silence that you had missed your cue. 

“Whatever. I know you don’t get it.” She sniffed and then cleared her throat, composing herself. “I don’t suppose you know any hot guys, do you?”

“No dice,” you told her, although your thoughts went in a different direction. Gojo was hot, but he was also older than you and your teacher and there was no way. You rubbed your temple as if you could physically drive out the intrusive thoughts. It was pure ego. 

In any other situation, you would be able to check for sure, but not with him. That was it. You didn’t know, and so you were making assumptions. Everything was normal, you were the one acting like a fool, self-obsessed enough to think you were getting the attention of an attractive older man.  

“When you visit, we’ll have to go out looking for guys,” Haruka said. “I want to do something crazy before classes start.” 

“I’m sure I can find a way to sneak out,” you joked. Mostly joking. You weren’t confined on campus, it was a little hard to find time. 

That weekend, Gojo was gone, Oyama was busy, and you had the day to yourself. Rather than wasting it on campus, you hopped on a bus to the Tokyo station and took the train to Yokohama. You thought you would feel different returning to familiar stomping grounds after being away so long, but you didn’t. Nothing ever really changed.

That thought struck you especially when you spotted a pretty girl in a red sundress lackadaisically scrolling on her phone on a bench at the station. Haruka Inaba consistently scored top marks in every class, volunteered at hospitals in her free time, and reigned over the school’s tennis club throughout her second and third year of high school. She was the type of girl other girls wished they were.

A cursory look over your social media timeline would present picture after picture of the two of you having fun together, and she was the only person you had ever told about your dad leaving your mom for a younger woman. In short, she was your best friend.

Although, it might have been more accurate to say you had entered into an alliance. Everybody had a face they preferred other people didn’t see, when you were honest with someone that made you close, but didn’t necessarily foster a lot of affection. 

“I hope you didn’t wait too long,” you said, greeting her with a smile. 

“It was no big deal,” she told you. “The station’s on the way to the mall anyway.” 

“Well then, shall we?” you asked. 

“Of course,” Haruka said, getting to her feet and tossing her hair back to expose her perfectly smooth neck and shoulder, a very practiced gesture. “I’m surprised your mom didn’t come. You haven’t seen her since you left, have you?”

Internally, you rolled your eyes at how obvious the question was. Testing pressure points, or just looking for gossip. 

“She’s a busy woman, I wouldn’t ask her to spend her day off with me,” you lied as you shuffled into the crowd of foot traffic flowing out of the station and onto the street. Mom didn’t even know you were in town. “Besides, I hate shopping with her.”

“That’s fair. What are you looking for today?”

“Athletic wear that isn’t hideous.”

“Do you do a lot of exercise at that new school of yours?” she asked, saying ‘school’ like it was a joke. 

You shrugged. So far, you had been vague about Jujutsu Tech. It was impossible to be specific without sounding insane. Besides, Haruka only wanted to know more so she could dismiss the idea that you were special enough to be scouted for an incredibly upscale and mysterious school and she wasn’t.  

“A bit,” you said. “What time are we meeting Fumiko and Kaoru?”

“The movie starts at four-fifteen,” Haruka told you.

“Oh, Ikki’s coming too,” you said. “I hope you don’t mind, Kaoru invited him before I could ask him not to.” 

Haruka smiled tightly, her aura flashing aggressively. “Why would I mind?” 

You let that one go, knowing better than to rub it in.

After that, you and Haruka relaxed into a far more superficial, casual dynamic. Clothes were a great unifier, and she had great taste. 

The world was set right. No curses, no fighting, no second guessing people’s feelings. The other three showed up around lunch. There was still some strain with Haruka and the ever-oblivious Ikki, but you pretended you didn’t notice. The movie was boring, the dinner conversation even more-so, but you were rewarded with a milkshake out in the open air plaza.

Haruka and Fumiko were arguing with Kaoru about action versus drama movies. You wondered what type of movie Gojo preferred, if either. He was capable of stunts cooler than any action hero, but you weren’t sure he’d buy into drama either.

Was that some sort of mystical divination, your errant thoughts predicting the future? Probably not, although it was concerning that your thoughts would stray to him so easily. 

You realized someone was behind you a fraction of a second before their big hands were covering your eyes. “Guess who,” he said. He, as in, one of the few people who could easily sneak up on you, who could make you nearly jump out of your skin, your cursed energy flaring and heart racing.  

You grabbed Gojo’s wrists, pulling his hands away from your eyes and turning to face him. He wore a casual button-up, a pair of retro round lensed sunglasses, and a huge grin. 

“Who are you?” Ikki asked, his body tensed and halfway out of his seat. 

“It’s alright,” you said, putting a hand on his arm. “This is…” you said, looking at Gojo as you tried to think of an answer.

“I’m her teacher, Satoru Gojo,” he finished for you with a megawatt smile, waving to your friends. Haruka looked impressed, her eyes dragging over him without even an attempt at subtlety. The other three looked at him with a range from mild interest to outright hostility. 

“I thought you were on a mi—a business trip,” you said. 

“I finished early,” Gojo said, wedging himself between you and Ikki to wrap an arm around your shoulder. The stool was high enough that he didn’t have to lean down very much, but he still almost pulled you out of the seat. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” His face was right next to yours. You couldn’t look at him, not when he was peering over the top of his sunglasses, giving you the full weight of his beautiful eyes.

You cleared your throat, irritated that he would go out of his way to embarrass you. “This is Ikki, Haruka, Fumiko, and Kaoru,” you told him, gesturing to them in turn.  

“You’re more than welcome to join us, Gojo,” Haruka said, leaning forward with her eyes fixed directly on Gojo. “She’s spoken very highly of you.” 

“She didn’t say you were so young,” Ikki said, clearly disgruntled by the way Gojo had pushed him aside. “Are you really a teacher?”

“Ah, you flatter me!” Gojo said, laughing a little louder than appropriate. “Well, as much as I would love to stick around to hear embarrassing stories about my cute little student, it’s time for us to get going.” He released you, standing up straight. “It was nice meeting you all.”   

He couldn’t be serious. 

“Us?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes. There’s something we need to do before going back to campus. It’s time sensitive, we have to hurry.” 

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” you said. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” 

“No, it can’t. Come on.”

You played out the scenario where you continued to argue, but all of them ended with the same eventuality. He was, no matter what else, your teacher. Sighing dramatically, you slung your bags over your arm and stood up. 

“I guess I have to go,” you said. “It was fun, I’ll see you later.” Fumiko and Kaoru smiled back, but Haruka was fixated on Gojo. You could practically see the hearts swirling in her aura. Ikki was unamused on the edge of hostile, glaring at Gojo who had put his hands in his pockets, unconcerned.

“Okay,” you said, turning away from your friends. “Lead the way.”

Gojo smiled. “Don’t worry,” he told you, taking off with his long-legged strides, “it’s not far.” 

“Is there a job?” you asked, trotting behind him to catch up. The plaza was congested with the late afternoon crowd, it was a bit of a battle to make your way out until you reached the equally crowded sidewalk. 

“It’s something very important,” Gojo told you. “Time is of the essence. Can’t you walk any faster?” 

“In these shoes?” you asked incredulously, coming to a stop beside him as you waited for the crosswalk light to turn. 

“I’ve never understood that,” Gojo said, looking at your feet. “Why wear something that you can’t move around in? I’d hate that.” 

“Because these shoes are adorable and they make my legs look great,” you said, once again rushing to keep up with him as he crossed the road. 

“Oho?” Gojo asked, slowing his stride to look at you with a smile. “Are you trying to impress somebody?” 

“I want to impress everyone,” you said.   

“It was that guy you were sitting next to, wasn’t it?” he asked knowingly. “Are you dating?”

“Ikki?” you asked. Your nose scrunched up at the idea, you could only imagine Haruka’s reaction. “No, we’re not.” 

“Really? He was very protective of you.”

You shrugged, not really interested in that particular topic. 

“How was your trip?” you asked, prompting him to tell you about England. When you thought about the city of London, you imagined big stone castles crawling with translucent ghosts in huge gowns, but he said it was just a regular city with regular boring curses.  

You weren’t as disappointed by that as you might have been otherwise, too busy trying to keep up. Apparently, not far meant something completely different to Gojo than to you, although part of that was that he refused to slow down for your sake. It was almost like he was amused by forcing you to scramble behind him, but you didn’t want to think he would be that rude just for his own entertainment.

It was a huge relief when he stopped in front of a collection of businesses. “Wait here,” Gojo said, grabbing your shoulders and pressing down as if to plant you in place. 

“Yes, sir.” 

He went into the store and you waited dutifully, looking around at the people passing by. You felt out the area curiously, but there wasn’t much. People’s auras that projected regular, boring emotions and some vague, stale residuals, the tumultuous swirl of rotten energy that swarmed the city like a foul stench. Nothing out of the ordinary.

It was difficult not to replay his questions in your head, it really only added to the confusing mess of nerves and doubt you felt when you thought about Gojo. Why would it matter if you were dating Ikki or not? It wasn’t his business whatsoever. But really, not that you would ever openly acknowledge it, the idea that Satoru Gojo would give you attention in that way was thrilling. Not good, not bad, just thrilling. It was because of who he was, you knew that rationally, and you knew that was a weird and childish way to think. There was no way he had any inappropriate sentiments towards you, no more than you did him. 

When you thought about it like that, you just got irritated. With him and with yourself. 

“Okay!” Gojo called, easily catching your attention as he left the store and came to stand by you. He held a little box from the bakery, although you couldn’t see what was in it. “Close your eyes and say ‘ahh’.”

“What?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“Come on, do it,” he insisted. 

You did as he said, making no attempts to hide your exasperation. Gojo pushed a pastry puff into your mouth, leaving a smear of cream over your bottom lip. 

Chewing the pastry, you opened your eyes to Gojo’s eager smile. “Well? Delicious, right?” he asked, licking off the extra cream from the fingers that had just been in your mouth. 

You nodded as you swallowed, more distracted by the way his tongue ran along his long fingers than the flavor. Which was ridiculous. “Are we waiting for someone?” you asked, forcing yourself to focus on that instead.

“No, we’re going back to campus. These are the best profiteroles I’ve ever tasted. We had to hurry—they make a fresh batch for the evening crowd.”

“So… there’s no job?” you asked. 

“I never said it was,” he told you, popping another pastry in his mouth. 

“This was the thing that was so important that I couldn’t spend time with my friends that I never see?” you pushed. “You’re not serious.”

“Are you mad?” Gojo asked. “I got some just for you.”

“I haven’t seen them in a long time,” you said. “And you were acting weird.” 

“You are mad,” Gojo said, frowning. “I only wanted to share something nice with you. After all, you’ve been working so hard. I’m proud of you.” 

“Is that it?” you asked. “Really?” 

“What else?” he asked. 

“Hello?” you asked after picking up the call. You were waiting for your laundry, half-heartedly leafing through a book about historical cursed objects. 

“Did you make it back alright?” Haruka asked from the other end. 

“I did,” you said. “I’m sorry about earlier. Gojo is a little… eccentric.” 

“He’s gorgeous,” Haruka said. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me your teacher was so hot.” 

“He’s my teacher,” you said, surprised by the flare of irritation you felt at having her point it out. Of course he was hot, but you couldn’t acknowledge that. You wouldn’t want to anyway, not when you were still feeling so conflicted. 

“Yeah but he’s young. What do you think, twenty-five? Twenty-six?” 

“He’s my teacher,” you repeated.

“He’s not my teacher. Do you think he’s single? I didn’t see a ring.” 

“No,” you said bluntly, closing the book with a snap. 

“No, he’s not single?” 

“I mean no, I’m not having this conversation with you,” you said. “It’s weird and disrespectful.” 

“You’re kidding,” Haruka asked. “Since when do you care about that?”

That caught you off guard; you didn’t have an answer. Any response you could think of led to increasingly disquieting explanations. “I don’t think Gojo’s the dating type,” you told her, deciding to side-step that question completely. “He’s out of the city about as often as he’s here, so I doubt he’s got much time for that sort of thing.” 

She hummed. “Maybe I can come visit you on campus. It’s just outside of Tokyo, right?” 

“It’s a religious school,” you told her. “No visitors on campus.” 

“That’s so lame. You should give me his number then.”  

“Why would I do that?” 

“For me,” Haruka said. “To mend my broken heart.” 

“You can’t date my teacher.” 

“I’m not looking to date him,”  Haruka said. “Come on, you owe me. Please?” 

“Look, Haru-” you began, ready to try to explain to her why it was a bad idea that wouldn’t go anywhere, but she cut you off. 

“Unless you really are saving him for yourself,” Haruka said. “I guess I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

You closed your mouth, swallowing your warning. For that, she could deal with another rejection. “Okay, I’ll ask.”

“Thank you!” Haruka said. “Okay, I gotta hurry to take a shower, text me. Don’t forget, okay?”

“I won’t,” you said, truly meaning it. “Goodnight.”  

The next day, the sun was high and hot as you dropped down to sit next to Gojo on the field-side benches. 

“Your form is looking much better,” Gojo said. “I like that outfit too. Is it new?” 

You smiled, preening a little bit at the compliment. “Thank you, it is,” you said, smoothing your hair back. “You know, men don’t usually notice clothes.” 

“I notice everything you do,” he said. “It’s the best way to keep track of your progress.” 

“Right,” you said, smiling and accepting that with a nod, aggressively rejecting the fluttery nerves the comment inspired. “Sensei, may I ask you something personal?”

“Oh? What is it?

“Are you seeing anyone? Romantically, I mean.” 

“That’s hardly an appropriate question to ask your teacher.” 

“You asked me if I was dating someone,” you pointed out. “I’m only asking for a—a friend.” 

“A friend?” Gojo repeated dubiously. “Well, you can tell your friend that I’m not seeing anyone. Not exclusively, at least.”

That confirmed that, at least. “And you’re okay with younger women?” you asked, acting more flustered than you felt. “My age, I mean. Or, you know, around my age. Not me, obviously.”

“It depends on the woman,” he said slowly, leaning forward with a little smile curling his lips. “What’s she like?”

“I guess you could say she’s kind of like me,” you said. “Some people think she’s difficult, but maybe you don’t mind that?”  

“Is she secretly very shy?” he asked. “Perhaps because she’s afraid of her true feelings?” 

“She is a little shy,” you allowed. “You’re intimidating sometimes, sensei. And it’s scandalous because you’re my teacher.” 

“I won’t be your teacher forever.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“But I would hate for anyone to think I’m playing favorites.” 

“It’s not like I’m asking for special treatment.”

“Aren’t you?”  

“Not at all. I’d rather you keep the entire thing between you two,” you said, your tone reverting to its normal timbre.

“What?” Gojo asked, his voice flat with confusion. 

“My friend Haruka. You met her yesterday. She asked me to give her your number and see if you were interested,” you said. “It’s the only way to make up for having to bail out on the plans we had last night. That’s okay, right? It was your fault.”  

“Are you still mad at me for that?” Gojo asked.

“I’m not mad,” you pretended to consider his nonplussed expression for a moment. “You seemed interested before.”

“You were misleading me on purpose, weren’t you? How cruel. I thought you were a nice girl.” 

“Misleading you? I don’t know what you mean, sensei. I told you I was asking for a friend.” 

If you could see his eyes, you had a feeling they would be narrowed. “In that case, I’m  afraid I’ll have to pass.”

You shrugged. “Your loss.” Taking a drink, you pumped yourself up and got to your feet. “Okay! I’m gonna win this next match for sure.” 

You jumped off the benches. You did not win the next match. You did, however, feel as if you had scored some sort of petty victory with Gojo’s obvious confusion. You wondered if he truly thought you were making a pass at him and was willing to play along, or if it was just as much a game to him as you. If you could read him, you’d know. And it wouldn’t be a source of many late nights spent looking up at your ceiling wondering if you were reading too far into innocuous interactions. 

But you couldn’t.

You shouldn’t have played into it. That was the conclusion you quickly drew as March rolled out into April and your training reached a feverish intensity. The more you trained, the stronger your Divination became, the more you realized how utterly outmatched you were, how unprepared. Not only with Jujutsu sorcery, but with your enigmatic teacher.

The interactions seemed so banal at face value, but they became the only thing you could think about. It was always something. 

“Oh, look at you!” Gojo said, startling you as you were leaving campus one Saturday morning. “That’s very cute. Did you get all dressed up just for me? I’m flattered.” 

“No, I was going to go out.”

“It’s for a boy, then. I see.” 

You rolled your eyes impatiently. “If I was dressing up for you, I’d be dressing up for a guy. But I'm not.”

“Oh, but I just remembered,” Gojo said, snapping his fingers. “I’m taking you along on a job. You need more experience, don’t you?”   

And he was always so close. Maddeningly close, finding any excuse to touch you.

“Oop, there’s an eyelash on your cheek,” Gojo said, leaning in close with his lips pursed as he pinched it off. “Okay! Make a wish!” 

You resisted the urge to shrink back, looking at the bandage covering his eyes as impassively as you could. “I wish-”

“No, don’t tell me!” he said, waving his hands. “Otherwise it won’t come true.”

The two of you would be walking somewhere and he’d grabbed your hand. “No, no, we’re going this way,” he'd say, acting like it was the most casual thing in the world to entwine his fingers with your own to guide you. 

And the other things, a friendly arm thrown over your shoulder, his hands physically adjusting your stance when practicing fighting, his relentless proximity, it added up. Added up to what? You didn’t know. Whenever you expressed discomfort, Gojo seemed so confused. 

You thought that at least when he was away on missions, you would have space to breathe, but even then you felt his domineering influence. 

“Where are you going?” Oyama asked.

“It’s not your business.” 

“Is it an emergency?” 

“No. I’m-”

“Then you need to be training, your hand to hand is still way too sloppy.” 

And then it was:

“You marked a spot on your map, we should go check it out.” 

“And it can only be done today,” you said flatly. “On the day I had off. When I specifically mentioned I wanted to go out.” 

Oyama shrugged as if helpless. And, honestly, he probably was. You had a feeling you knew exactly where the orders were coming from.

When Gojo came back and you asked him about it, demanding some explanation, he looked utterly baffled by your confrontational tone. 

“You need to focus,” Gojo said, frowning with concern, his aura as impenetrable as ever. “You’re still so far behind your fellow sorcerers.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to comfort you, his voice lowering intimately. “I know it’s difficult right now, but when you’re strong, you can do whatever you want.”

The string of cancellations as well as the thing with Gojo not working out was the breaking point for Haruka. She stopped inviting you places. More than once, you considered telling her the truth, coming clean about everything regarding Gojo’s strange behavior, but you didn’t. 

Even if you told her the truth, that you weren’t necessarily trying to invite Gojo’s attention, it would validate the thing she first assumed when asking you to get his number for her. That was an old wound, an uncomfortable situation in high school with the tennis instructor. Besides, when you presented the case to yourself, it sounded insane. A handful of interactions with a man who was a bit eccentric, being restricted because you were so far behind other sorcerers.

Sometimes you felt insane, like you were missing something vital, drawing the wrong conclusions from inferred motivations because you couldn’t read Gojo like you could everyone else. You asked for a transfer to the Kyoto campus, and you clung to that. They said they would consider it, but you weren’t sure if they took it seriously. You couldn’t provide any details as to why you wanted to move, not even to yourself. 

All you could do was lay in bed listening to white noise TV overthinking every comment he made and interactions you had, your thoughts caught in the endless back and forth of confusion.  

“You weren’t there to greet me,” Gojo said, calling into the empty gym where you were stretching. He had been gone for three days and, unlike when you first began at Jujutsu Tech, you weren’t excitedly looking forward to his arrival. Or maybe you were? At least it was something other than the oppressive isolation and relentless training, but it only really upset you. “I got you a souvenir.”

“I’m good, thanks. Did you have a fun trip?” you asked in an icy tone, refusing to turn around to address him with respect.

“I wouldn’t call it fun, it’s work.” 

“Still,” you insisted, rolling your shoulders, “it must be nice to have a little freedom.” 

An awkward silence followed your comment.

“You’re not mad or something, are you?” Gojo finally asked. 

“I’m not mad.”

“I haven’t done anything to deserve this attitude,” Gojo clearly wasn’t convinced, you could hear the theatrical dismay in his tone. “What’s got you so grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy.” 

“So why are you pouting then?” 

Finally fed up with the badgering, you whirled around to face him, resolved to be upfront, to not give him a way to get out of the question. But then you looked him up and down and felt an odd jab of disgust and guilt twist in your stomach. It was so much easier to think the worst of somebody when they weren’t there to provide any sort of counternarrative. Seeing Gojo, it was hard to believe that he was the person you sometimes feared him to be. He was too attractive, powerful, and intelligent. It didn’t make sense that he would resort to underhanded means to manipulate you.

“Is there a reason I’m not allowed to leave?” you asked, staring at his covered eyes. 

“What do you mean?” Gojo asked, the picture of innocent confusion. “Nobody’s stopping you.” 

“Really? Because when you’re here, you stop me and, when you’re not, Oyama finds a reason that I can’t. It’s almost uncanny that so many jobs coincide with the days that I make plans.”

“Have you tried asking Oyama?” Gojo asked. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“He detests me,” you told him flatly. “I don’t blame him.”

“Oh? Do you want me to talk to him about that? I hate to think that my students aren’t getting along.” 

“I want to know what’s going on,” you said, trying to keep calm.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Gojo said, his act of innocence perfectly maintained. Unless it wasn’t a mask. You couldn’t tell. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe you’ve been working too hard.” He frowned, thinking about it for a second. “I know! Let’s go out together. I’ve been dying to try this new sushi restaurant in town. I’ll invite Oyama and we can all get to the bottom of whatever it is you think you’re feeling.” 

The moon hung high in the sky as you did training exercises in the field near your dorm, trying to shut your brain off. Nothing was solved over dinner. Of course not. Both men acted like there was nothing strange going on.

No, of course you were allowed to do whatever you wanted. Of course they weren’t stopping you. But if they were, they had good reason to. If they were, the problem was that you were just so weak. Sure you were making progress, but you weren’t even close to catching up with other sorcerers your age.

When you got back to your room, you broke down and called your mom, intending to tell her everything. The isolation, the suffocation, the worries you had about your teacher’s behavior. But all she could talk about was how well things were going with her new boyfriend. They were considering moving in together. And it was fine if she gave his daughter your old bedroom, wasn’t it? You didn’t need it anymore. You texted Haruka, but she didn’t reply, posting on her social media story to ensure you knew she was ignoring you on purpose.

So you decided you needed to hit something. It helped you calm down, at least. It was easier to believe the world had a semblance of peace in the dark of the night. 

“Looking good!” a familiar voice called from behind you. You were trained enough to not be startled, taking a defensive stance as you considered how you were going to handle this. “I am curious as to why you’re out here though. I thought you were tired.” 

That was the reason you gave after you got back to campus, the reason you immediately excused yourself from his company. Gojo knew it was a lie then, and said it like a joke now. 

“I can’t sleep,” you said, shrugging as you turned around. 

“I see. You’re not still angry with me, are you? Even though I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No.”

“Then I can’t help but wonder what face you’re imagining on that training dummy.” 

“Are you that hopeful that I’m thinking about you, sensei?” 

He laughed. “If anything, I’m worried,” he said. “You know what they say about a woman scorned.” 

“You told me I needed to train more,” you pointed out. “Do you have any tips? I prefer fighting with knives, but I can’t trust that I’ll always have weapons, and I still need to get in close if I’m going to use my Divination.” 

“I’m not sure there’s much to read from your current opponent,” Gojo said.  

“I’m being serious,” you said. “If you don’t want to help, that’s fine too.” 

“No, I do. Okay, get into a defensive position,” he instructed, which you did. 

Gojo walked around to stand close behind you, you could feel the warm thrum of his body, the energy coursing through it, the power. 

“Your posture is fine, the problem is your mindset,” he said, his voice lower. He reached around to brush his fingers over your flushed neck and over, across your shoulder and down your arm. “You can’t think of it in terms of only using your cursed energy or only your body. Jujutsu sorcery is more than the sum of its parts. You fight with your whole self.” His hands settled on your hips, repositioning them slightly to the side. Then his palm laid flat over your pelvis, dragging up your stomach. Your skin crackled with little sparks of electricity, crawling and thrumming and alive and nervous.  

“Sensei, I’m, uh…” Tongue-tied. A shiver snaked down your spine and you resisted the urge to move and put distance between you. You cleared your throat. “I understand that part, it’s just…”

“You don’t feel it yet. The harmony,” Gojo said. “Most people aren’t actively aware of their bodies, but a sorcerer has to be.” 

“I am,” you said softly.

“Are you really?” Gojo asked, his lips brushing your temple. “Do you feel how your cursed energy flows through your body? It has its own circulatory system, you just have to find its pulse, synchronize it with your own.” He raised his hand up to press against your neck, lightly pressing against the place where your blood erratically thrummed beneath the skin. 

“I get it,” you told him, you turned around, grabbing his hand from your neck, pressing your palms flat together. 

Gojo looked taken aback, but didn’t withdraw. You saw nothing from within him. Felt no flicker of emotion. 

“You know, I… I realized,” you said, looking up at his half-covered face, imagining a pair of sparkling blue eyes, knowing he was staring at you. “When we’re close like this, I can feel your… Infinity. The endless expanse that separates you and me.” 

“Really?” he asked, sliding his hand to the side. It dwarfed your own. “I heard that you’re getting even better at reading people. It’s very impressive how fast you’re progressing, I’m so proud.”

“I thought that would help me figure you out, but it’s not your cursed energy keeping me out. It’s your infinity.” You looked at where your hands met. You felt his skin, his warmth, and yet you knew the connection wasn’t quite there. It was impossible to truly connect with him. “Trying to read you is like trying to find a flame in an endless abyss. Even the few times I thought I’ve seen something, I can’t be sure that it wasn’t just an illusion in the dark.” 

Gojo’s head tilted curiously. “What was it that you thought you felt?” 

“I’m getting stronger,” you told him rather than answer, pressing your hand ever more firmly against his. “If you give me a chance, I’ll show you. That’s why you’re keeping me from going out, right? Because you think I’m weak.” 

“I’m not keeping you from doing anything,” Gojo told you. “I don’t know where you got this idea that I am.” 

You dropped your hand, stepping away from him. The words were a knife twisted in your chest. He made you sound crazy. Made you feel crazy. 

“Right. I’m going to bed,” you told him flatly. “Goodnight.” 

“Hello?” Haruka answered, her voice groggy from just waking up. She probably wouldn’t have taken your call if she was fully awake. 

“I’m too sick to train or study today,” you told her, holding up a potential outfit for the day. Gojo was gone, and you were done asking for permission to leave. “I’m going to be laid out in bed all day today and tomorrow.”

“What?” 

“Do you think Ikki and Kaoru would be interested in hanging out? I could use a drink.” While you were still a little over a year out from buying liquor, both Ikki and Kaoru were of age and they didn’t mind hosting little parties at their shared apartment. 

“It’s eight in the morning,” Haruka said. 

“Not now, I mean later. I’m gonna catch the twelve-twenty train. Let’s get lunch, or go shopping. Honestly, I don’t care, I just need to get out of here.” 

“Um. Yeah, I think we could do that.” 

“Great. See you then.” You hung up before she could change her mind. 

They waited until you were more than a little drunk to ask. You should have expected that, although you also didn’t expect to get so drunk. Ikki kept handing you drinks, urging you to relax and enjoy yourself. The world was warm and sweaty and spinning and comfortable and lovely and frightening. 

“Okay,” Ikki said, catching your attention. A cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth like he was some kind of cowboy. He only smoked when he got drunk, it was kind of cute, not that you would ever tell him that. He already knew it anyway. “What’s up with you lately?” 

“What?” you asked, blinking fast.

“Kaoru thinks you got knocked up,” Fumiko said, speaking up from her position leaning against Kaoru’s chest.  

Kaoru frowned down at her.

“What?” you asked, trying to force your drunk brain to think sober thoughts. “It’s not anything like that… It’s a… It’s nothing.” 

“You’ve been blowing us off every time we asked you to come out without any explanation,” Haruka said. “It has to be a boy.” 

“No, it’s not.”

“Come ooooooon,” Fumiko pushed. “It’s a guy. He’s keeping you all to yourself.” 

“That’s not it,” you insisted.

“Is it something illegal?” Ikki asked with a puff of smoke. 

“No, nothing like that,” you said. Then you broke out laughing, looking at your nearly empty beer. “It’s not like I have a boyfriend or anything. It-it, okay it is a guy. We’re not dating. It used to just be a weird vibe but now it’s like, weirder. He stops me from leaving and if he’s not there then he gets Oyama to keep me from going and there’s always a reason, but it’s still… That’s weird, right? I had to sneak out to come tonight, and even then that’s only because he’s out of the country.” 

“There’s no way,” Haruka said, her voice flat with genuine disbelief. You could tell she was already prepared to call you a liar. “You’re saying you’re some kind of hostage?” 

“Wait so, what, there’s somebody at your school who’s obsessed with you?” Kaoru asked. “What even is that place?”

“It’s that teacher, isn’t it,” Ikki said, pointing his half burned cigarette at you “The creepy guy with the glasses.” 

“He’s not, like… creepy,” you said. “I don’t know, it’s just weird.”

Haruka scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Why would a guy that looks like Gojo go through all the trouble for you?”

“Tell him you’re dating me and I’ll beat him up if he keeps you all to himself,” Ikki said with a lopsided grin, butting his cigarette and throwing an arm around your shoulders. 

“How would that help?” Haruka snapped, glaring at the two of you, her aura sparking with anger. That was very not good. 

You shrugged off Ikki’s arm, scowling and trying to snap back to sobriety. “I knew you would do this if I told you,” you said. “That’s why I didn’t say anything before.”

“Why would I believe you? I know how you are. This is just like that one time in our second year with the tennis coach.” 

You frowned. Of course she would bring that up. “That wasn’t-”

“You thought he was cute, but he didn’t reciprocate so you told everyone he was a perv.” 

“Wasn’t that guy fired for trying to get with his students?” Kaoru asked. 

“Yeah, but he wasn’t into her,” Haruka argued. 

“It’s weird that you’re jealous about sexual harassment,” you told her bluntly.  

“Okay! I think we should take a breather,” Ikki said, trying to smooth things over. “You girls might’ve overdone it a little.” You pushed him off, your own temper flaring to meet Haruka’s fiery aura. 

“I bet Gojo turned you down and that’s why you’re making this up,” she said, her voice raising. “Or, no, you just want to outdo me. Brag about how you’re so much better just like always.”

“The only reason you’re saying this is because you’re mad he didn’t wanna sleep with you and you think it’s my fault,” you told her, working hard to keep the drunken slur out of your voice. “It’s not like I enjoy having somebody breathing down my neck all the time, although I’m sure you’d love the attention. You beg for it often enough.” 

“You do too!” she said, getting shrill. “You just act like you don’t. Being a prude doesn’t make you superior.” 

“That’s true, I don’t need self-respect to be better than you,” you snapped. In the ensuing silence, everybody in the room was just staring at you. Like you were the one out of line. Like they hadn’t ganged up on you to force you to tell them what was going on. 

Angry at them and angry at yourself for losing it so spectacularly, you stumbled drunkenly to your feet. Ikki got up too, although you pushed off his help as you went to the bathroom. Haruka shouted insults after you, which you ignored. 

Instead you went into their bathroom, marveled at the disgusting state of a place shared by two guys, and threw up. 

The knocking woke you up. It took a minute of looking at the sunshine peering in through the blinds to realize you were on Ikki’s and Kaoru’s couch, your back cramping from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. A glass of water and two painkillers sat ready for you on the messy coffee table alongside empty beer bottles and snack wrappers. You groaned, sitting up and taking the medication with a wince. 

Whoever was at the door continued to knock. You grunted, standing up. Bad idea. You nearly fell right back down, but you managed to stay on your feet. You were about to answer the door before you realized that could be a bad idea, turning around to find Ikki.

The door to Kaoru’s room was closed, but the other door yawned open. You peeked in. Haruka was passed out on the bed. You could hear the shower running from the bathroom.

“Ikki?” you called through the door. “Someone’s knocking.”

“What?”

“Someone’s at the door,” you said. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“No,” he said. “Will you get it? I’ll be out in a second.”

Perhaps hearing voices inside, the person at the door only got louder. You sighed, annoyed by their insistence. 

You returned to the living room to open the door, squinting at how bright the morning was in comparison to the dark apartment.

“Good morning!” Gojo enthused. 

You blinked hard three or four times, willing reality to bend to make what you were seeing stop being true.

“Woah, you look like shit. Did you have a fun night?”  

“What?” you asked, baffled beyond comprehension.

“Who is it?” Ikki asked, coming out of the bathroom with billows of steam and only a towel around his waist, drying his hair absently. 

“I’ve come to retrieve my wayward student,” Gojo said. 

You stared at him, hungover and confused and wanting nothing more than to lay back down on that horribly uncomfortable couch and never get up. 

“Are you ready to go?” Gojo asked you when he got no answer. 

You let out an unsteady breath, closing your eyes for a second to try and gain some clarity or zen. Nope. That was a lost cause. 

“Give me a second, I have to use the bathroom,” you said, turning away from him towards the bedroom to get your bag. 

Haruka was still passed out, a fact you were very grateful for. You weren’t completely clear on the details of last night, but the broad strokes were all there. You slung your bag over your shoulder and went into the steamy bathroom. Clearing the mirror in squeaky finger-streaks proved Gojo right. You looked like shit.

After dry heaving a little as you brushed your teeth, you put on clean clothes and sorted out the mess that was your hair. It wasn’t perfect, but you didn’t look as awful as you felt. When you returned to the main room, Ikki was dressed. The room was heavy with awkward tension, although Gojo didn’t look at all uncomfortable. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what words were exchanged. 

“Ready to go?” Gojo asked. You sighed, throwing your bag over your shoulder. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” you told Ikki, smiling apologetically. 

And Ikki, in his endless wisdom, did the last thing you expected and grabbed you around the waist, pulling you in for a kiss. He stared at Gojo the whole time, aggression swirling around him thicker than any desire or affection. Using you to prove a point. That was unlike him. Gojo might’ve just had a way of pulling out the worst in people. 

“Call me later,” he said when he released you, winking.

“Bye,” you said, forcing a smile. 

“It was nice to see you again,” Gojo said, smiling and waving in a too-cheerful way. You walked out into the sunlight, wincing at how bright it was, going for the stairs without waiting for him to follow. 

“Did you have fun last night?” Gojo asked as you took the stairs down to ground level. 

“Yeah,” you said, too tired and irritable to play along. 

“You know, as your teacher, it’s my responsibility to look after your wellbeing,” Gojo said, hopping the last few steps to stay next to you. “Underage drinking can have very dire consequences. Especially when you’re spending the night at a man’s home. I would hate to think that you’d be taken advantage of.” 

“Why are you here?” you asked, turning to face him. “How did you know where to find me?” 

“I got back last night. I was worried when you weren’t on campus,” you could feel his gaze as he looked you up and down. “I’m glad to see you’re just fine.”

“Right,” you said. That didn’t answer your question, but you doubted you would get anything better. “Can we stop to get breakfast?” 

“Can you wait until we get to the station? We have to hurry to catch the train.” 

“Hurry for what?” 

“Didn’t you read my messages? You have a job,” he told you. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“You begged me for a chance to prove yourself, well here it is. If you do well on this mission, I’ll consider you for a promotion of sorts. Isn’t that exciting?” 

Through a series of increasingly unfortunate circumstances, the thread you were following led to a realization that the curse was based on the time of day. That is, exactly before sunrise. By the time you figured that out, you had about nine hours to kill.  

Gojo said he’d rent a room for you to rest, but it had to be close enough that you could be at the lot exactly on time. On short notice and in such a small area to select from, the choices of accommodations were slim. 

One room, one bed. If the embarrassment didn’t kill you, the cliche would. 

Gojo showering gave you some time alone to prepare yourself, at least. It wasn’t like you were afraid he would do anything, but you couldn’t say you were exactly comfortable with the arrangement. The whole day, you had been standoffish, but now you were just tired and nervous. Of course you wanted to prove yourself to him, but you also got angry every time you thought about him springing this on you when he knew you weren’t operating at your best. It felt calculated, but you knew that he would easily deny that if you accused him of anything.

The worst of everything was how meticulously he avoided any conversation about your behavior, or Ikki, or his own motivations for doing this. The more stormy your mood got, the bigger he smiled, and the more he acted the role of the caring teacher.  

Just like always, you felt like you were a little crazy. Drowning in delusions of self importance. 

You sat crossed legged on the foot of the bed and put on a ghost hunting show. If only being a sorcerer was like on TV. Dramatics, theatrics, silly devices, and easy answers. That had been your original hope when you started playing with Divination. You wanted something exciting, the cheap thrills weren't doing it anymore.

Well, you got what you wanted. You certainly weren't bored.

“What are we watching?” Gojo asked as he came out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam, drying his wet hair. You cleared your throat and averted your eyes from his partial nudity.

“Ghost Adventures,” you said, staring straight ahead at the screen.

“What’s that?” he asked as he got onto the bed, laying on top of the comforter. The robe mostly covered his bare torso.

“A ghost hunting show,” you answered. “It’s American.”

“Is it any good?” 

You snorted out a short laugh. “No. We don’t have to keep it on.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

You stared at the TV for a minute before checking your phone again. Haruka hadn’t texted you all day. At first, you were resolute that you would only accept an apology, but the longer you thought about it, the more you reasoned yourself to accept anything. 

“Isn’t it uncomfortable to sit like that?” Gojo asked, startling you. You turned off your phone screen, setting it on the bedside table. 

“I’m fine.” 

“I heard that if you sit with your back hunched like that you’ll get stuck that way.”

You rolled your eyes, although you did swing your legs around to lay against the headboard. As much as you wanted to pretend it wasn’t true, you were still tired from the previous night. Since he made no move to do it, you got under the stiff sheets, trying to fluff the lumpy pillow into comfortable submission. 

“Are you dissatisfied?” Gojo asked suddenly.  

“What?”

“Are you dissatisfied with your life as a sorcerer? When you first started at Jujutsu Tech I thought you were over your rebellious delinquent phase, but now you’re falling back into the same habits. I can only assume it’s because you’re dissatisfied.” 

“It was one night,” you argued. Chewing on the words and your lip for a second, you cast a sideways glare towards him. “If there weren’t such strict restrictions about when and how I can leave campus, I wouldn't have had to lie.”

“You’re still technically a student, of course there are restrictions. Do you think that’s unfair?” 

“Oyama doesn’t have the same restrictions.” 

“Oyama is nearly a Grade Two sorcerer, and he’s never had any behavioral issues.”

“Right,” you said, your voice flat. At least that was a different answer than you had gotten previously, some acknowledgement that you were getting unfair treatment. 

“If you’re this unhappy, why haven’t you said anything?” Gojo asked. 

You wondered how much he already knew or assumed. He wasn’t stupid, he was painfully perceptive. Unless it was all in your head, and he truly did not understand why you were reacting like this because he had no reason to think you would second guess his behavior and motivations.

“You already have a lot to worry about,” you told him. 

“I always have time for my cute little student. It’s my responsibility to see that you’re satisfied. I have noticed that you seem a little more tense. Is the stress starting to get to you? It’s important to talk about these things, you know. Otherwise they can spiral into a much larger problem. We have to rely on each other as sorcerers.”

“I’m fine.”

Gojo hummed. You pretended to be very interested in a case about some old haunted asylum where they tortured patients or whatever.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Gojo said when the show cut to commercial. “Your abilities can be considered dangerous to yourself and those around you.”  

“What do you mean?” 

“Sorcerers and curse users go to great lengths to keep their techniques secret. The mere idea of your Divination puts them at risk. While it’s not fully refined yet, there is a non-zero chance that you will be able to read techniques in their entirety. I’m sure there are already conversations being had about taking you out. Nobody’s stupid enough to try anything when you’re under my protection, but if they saw a chance, they would jump at it.” 

“So I can’t leave,” you said, staring hard at the TV as a commercial for foot cream played out.

“You can!” Gojo said quickly, his voice energetically trying to placate you. “Neither myself or any other sorcerer will hold you against your will. You’re an adult, you can do what you please. I’m only telling you of the risks you face now.”

“How would they know about my technique?” you asked.

Gojo shrugged glibly, his expression just as unreadable without sunglasses or that bandage. “These things have a way of getting around.” 

In the very deepest part of your brain, you wondered if he didn’t have a hand in that. If he wouldn’t be willing to put you at risk if it meant you needed his protection. That was ridiculous. Truly. No matter what else Gojo had done, he hadn’t done anything you could call evil. The jujutsu world was just dangerous, and you already knew that. 

“I understand,” you said, trying to sound unaffected.

Neither of you spoke for a while, although you didn’t think he was watching the TV any more than you were. It was a ridiculous story and they were so deadly serious about their silly spirit boxes. 

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Gojo asked. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I should. Do you want to turn it off?” 

“I don’t mind. You usually sleep with the TV or something on anyway, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, but…” You frowned, your assurance trailing off. How did he know that? 

“I’ve always wondered why,” Gojo said. “Are you afraid of the dark? That seems inconvenient for a sorcerer.”

“I have bad dreams,” you said.

“Will I have to worry about you waking up kicking and screaming?” 

“Bad, not scary,” you corrected him, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible. “Isn’t it wonderful that no matter how hard you repress things when you’re awake, your brain can just shove it in your face when you’re defenseless?” 

“I understand that,” he told you with a wry smile.  

“So even the strongest has to deal with that?” you asked, stifling a yawn into your palm. “I guess there really is no hope for the rest of us.” 

“I’ve read that nightmares offer insights into our psyches,” Gojo said as you stared at the ceiling. “Things that we fear the most… and things we want the most.”

“I dream about my dad coming back,” you said softly, without thinking. You scrubbed your palms into your eyes, laughing humorlessly. “It’s pathetic. Sometimes I wish I’d dream about curses or whatever. The happy dreams are so much worse.”

“I truly believe that love is the worst curse of them all,” Gojo said softly.  

“You’re probably right.” After a moment, you added, ”I’m sorry. For whoever you dream about, I’m sorry.”

“Who said I dream of anything?’

You huffed. “Fine. I take back my sorry.” 

“You can’t, I’ve already accepted it. It warms my heart to think of my cute little student worrying about her sensei. What would you do to help me, I wonder?”

Your face scrunched up in disgust. “Nothing. Forget it.” 

“I’d be more than happy to return the favor, you know. If you’re lonely,” Gojo said, turning onto his side with his head propped up on his arm, “I can help you.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Liar,” Gojo said. “I’ve noticed how sad you are, how you refuse to reach out to anybody for support. I know what that's like."

“I don’t need anyone's support,” you said, avoiding his eyes. “I can either get over this, or I can’t. That’s on me.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Gojo said, even softer. “Even the strongest need help sometimes, and you’re hardly the strongest. I’m worried about you.” 

You sighed, even more annoyed. “Don’t be.”

Gojo groaned dramatically. “You make it so difficult to be a good teacher and mentor. I want to help you, but then you act like this. It’s like you’re trying to rile me up.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, a cold flush running through your stomach.

“I’m telling you that you should be more careful,” Gojo said. “I’m not entirely sure you realize that you could very well face consequences for your behavior.”

“Is that a threat or something?” you asked. 

“No, of course not,” he told you with a smile. “Now go to sleep, you’ll need it if you’re going to perform well tomorrow. Remember what’s at stake.” 

The next afternoon, after getting your wounds treated and taking a long nap to make up for two nights of barely any sleep, you stood in the classroom facing Gojo. You had been expecting bad news, but not quite to the gleefully dismissive extent that he saw fit to deliver it. 

“Suffice it to say, you did not meet my expectations. I guess you’re stuck with me for a while yet,” Gojo said, smiling like it was great news despite the attempted apologetic tone.

You grit your teeth. “Is this what you meant about consequences for my misbehavior?” 

“What do you mean?” Gojo asked, tilting his head curiously.

“I don’t know what you want, if you expect something from me or if you’re mad I’m dating or whatever, but I did a good job,” you said. “You know I did, so-” 

“You didn’t,” Gojo said, cutting you off. “I carefully evaluated every part of your performance, and I don’t think you’re ready to take on more complicated jobs. This isn’t a game. There are lives at stake. Your life, the lives of your fellow sorcerers, and the lives of the civilians we’re trying to protect. If you want to accuse me of trading favors or having an unfavorable bias, you’re more than welcome to take your case to the higher ups. I’m sure they would be delighted to hear of any perceived misconduct. Otherwise, I recommend you focus on your training.” 

You nodded stiffly, biting your tongue. “Yes, sir.”

“I know you’re upset, but it’s important that you don’t rush something you’re not ready for. You could get hurt.”  

“I understand. If you’ll excuse me then.” You turned to leave his office, your shoulders high and tense. 

“Oh, right! I was told this morning that you asked for a transfer,” Gojo said, snapping loud enough to make you wince. “It was denied.” 

You looked over your shoulder, a cold bit of dread sinking into your gut. 

“Kyoto doesn’t need any more sorcerers at the moment, especially when you're still such a low level sorcerer,” he told you, returning to that innocent tone. “Why was it that you wanted to transfer anyway?” 

“No reason,” you said, hiding your expression and leaving quickly.

The disappointment was bad, but what you hated more than anything with the humiliation. If Gojo were honest, then you could understand your failure, but not in the way he presented it to you. He was going out of his way to embarrass you. Hot bouts of sticky red fury filled your stomach and your head whenever you thought about it, a feeling so mean and aggressive that it hurt.

You couldn’t call your mom, you wouldn’t know what to tell her. Haruka still hadn’t texted you. Ikki had asked if you were alright, but there wasn’t anything you could think of to say to him. You knew what he wanted, what he expected from you by offering what he saw as help, but you couldn’t do that. Even if it pissed Gojo off, it wasn’t satisfying. He would view that sort of behavior as petty. It was petty.

If you were going to do something, it had to be big. Something that you weren’t supposed to do, something that would make a point, something that would soothe your embarrassment. When you felt yourself drawn to the map on your wall, pencil in hand, it was like a golden opportunity had fallen into your lap, gifted directly to you by fate.

“Oyama! We have a job,” you told him, acting like you were unhappy with the arrangement. 

“What are you talking about?” Oyama asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s a spot on my map.” You could see his hesitation so you feigned annoyance. “If you want to go alone, that’s fine, but Gojo told me I had to as a part of my evaluation.”

He believed it, not even checking to make sure you were telling the truth. 

As soon as you were conscious, a ragged gasp ripped up the inside of your dry throat, panic shooting through your veins like ice water. You groped your chest and stomach, searching for wounds that weren’t there. A little yelp of fear left your mouth and you wrenched your body upright. The sheet fell from your chest, making you realize that you were not dressed, and you were not alone. 

Ieiri shot you a concerned look, blowing a final puff of smoke out of the window into the dark night before butting the cigarette. “Careful,” she warned, “your wounds are healed, but you’re going to be weak.” 

Tugging the sheet up to cover your chest, you realized you were in the clinic, and then your memories crashed through the gauze of groggy ignorance. The curse, the fight, the terror, and then the stupidest plan you had ever concocted. Although you weren’t wounded anymore, you coughed weakly, your body reacting to the mere memory of suffocating on your own blood.

“How do you feel?” she asked. 

You groaned, falling flat onto your back. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.” 

“How much do you remember?” Ieriri asked, closing the window.  

“Everything.” Unfortunately. Your face scrunched up as you tried to put the horrific memories of your mutilated body out of your mind. “Is Oyama okay?” 

“He has a few bruises, nothing major.”

You nodded, relieved for that. If he got hurt after you forced him to take you along, you’d never live it down. After a second, you threw an arm over your face, something like a raspy laugh crackling its way out of your sore chest. “I think I did something extraordinarily stupid.” 

“Like using yourself as bait so your fellow sorcerer could exorcize a curse?” Ieiri asked dryly.  

You opened one eye to look at her. “Did it work?” 

“It did, although you very nearly died for it. The broken ribs were the worst. You’re lucky they didn’t puncture anything vital.” 

Hiking up the sheet over your healed chest, you sat up again. Your head spun, but the only pain you felt was phantom, like your brain was unable to reconcile the severe physical trauma with your perfectly healed body. 

“It was the strangest thing,” you said. “The curse was smart enough to know to attack the stronger sorcerer, but I… I forced it to focus on me.” You winced, a shiver of soul-deep revulsion slithering down your throat all the way to the pit of your stomach as you remembered what happened after that. Remembering pain after the fact was difficult enough, let alone thinking of the right words to describe the experience. 

“You need water,” Ieiri said, pressing a bottle of water into your hand. You eagerly accepted it, uncapping the bottle and chugging the whole thing. She was calm as ever, if tired. 

Capping the bottle, you cleared your throat again. “I don’t suppose I can borrow some clothes?” 

She patted a pile of folded clothes on the bedside table with a tired smile. “They won’t fit, but it’s better than streaking across campus.” 

“Thank you,” you said, wrapping yourself in the sheet to fully sit up. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Ieiri said, turning to leave the room. She paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at you. “Oh, before I forget, Satoru wants to see you as soon as possible. I doubt he expected you to wake up so quickly, I’m sure it can wait until morning.” 

You frowned, your stomach twisting up at the thought. “Where do you think he’ll be?” 

“He’s probably in his apartment. I doubt he’s asleep, if you wanted to talk to him now.” She snorted, shaking her head. “That man sleeps less than I do.”

“Got it,” you said. “Thanks.” 

She hesitated in the doorway, thinking about what she was going to say. “Satoru was very upset when he heard what happened. I know he worries about his students, but this is different.”

“How so?” you asked, tensing up at the faint insinuation.  

Ieiri sighed. “I’m not trying to involve myself, you’re free to do what you want. But, speaking as someone who has known Satoru for a while, be careful. I care for him, but his nature doesn’t always lend itself to respectable behavior.” 

“Okay,” you said flatly, narrowing your eyes at her. You didn’t get the sense of any malice or disgust, but the words were obviously pointed. 

“That’s all,” Ieiri said with a light shrug, leaving the room and closing the door. You squeezed your eyes shut, wondering what to think about that. You didn’t know if you wanted to believe her or not. It was the first time anybody confirmed some of the strange things you felt about the man, but you didn’t know if that made it any better. 

Besides, you hadn’t so purposefully baited a reaction just to shy away now. 

At twelve-twenty-five, you left the clinic. Considering you almost died earlier that day, you didn't feel too terrible. Every muscle in your body was sore and shaky, like you had been training too hard, but you had just slept for nine hours. Even if you laid down, you wouldn’t sleep. If Gojo wanted to talk, you would talk. The reasoning behind it was, on the surface, because you wanted to get it over with. 

There might have been more to your compulsion, but you were too irritable to interrogate your motivation.  

Before going over, you stopped by your room to exchange Ieiri’s borrowed clothes for a clean shirt, oversized hoodie, fresh panties, and a pair of shorts. While you were there, you took the time to wipe the mascara rings out from under your eyes, swipe on some lip balm, and pull your hair back to mitigate the mess. What you really needed was a full coat of foundation and some dry shampoo, but the idea that you were so desperate to impress him pissed you off even more.

On your way to the faculty apartments on the edge of campus, you thought about the best way to handle this. Gojo would know why you lied and disobeyed him, he wasn’t stupid. There wasn’t any way you could think of to reframe the narrative either. You did it because you wanted to, and because you were angry about his ruling, and because you thought you could get away with it, and because you felt the need to act out against his authority. 

You still weren’t sure what you were going to say when you stopped in front of his door, knocking before you lost your nerve. Footsteps sounded almost immediately from the other side, and then the door slid open. Gojo stood on the other side. He was dressed down for the night, wearing a casual t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was messy and eyes uncovered, sparkling in the faint light from the lamps along the path. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.” 

“Yep, I’m all fixed up,” you said, throwing your arms out as if to present yourself. “Ieiri said you wanted to see me.”

“I can wait until you’re better rested,” Gojo said, putting on a dramatic frown.

You sighed, feeling awkward of all things. The whole time, you had been geared up for some sort of confrontation, but he was so calm, behaving just like he always did. Maybe Ieiri had misunderstood his mood. 

“I don’t think I could sleep with this hanging over my head,” you told him. “Unless this is a bad time.” 

“No, it’s fine. Come in,” Gojo said, opening the door wider to usher you through. 

Despite the traditional exterior, his apartment was decorated in a plain yet clearly expensive style, a marble coffee table and velvet upholstery and understated lighting. What struck you the most was how good it smelled inside. The TV was on, but muted, splashing color and light into the dim room. 

“Do you want tea?” Gojo offered, shutting the door. “Water? Strawberry milk?” 

“I’m okay, thanks,” you said. “I’d rather get this over with.”  

“Get what over with?” Gojo asked as he walked around you. He wasn’t wearing shoes, so you toed yours off, setting them next to his.

“You’re going to yell at me, aren’t you?” you said, maintaining a casual demeanor despite your anxiety.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said, dropping onto the couch. Those were unmistakably Fendi Pequin stripes on the armrests, the thing must have cost a small fortune and yet he was lounging on it. “Do you want me to?” 

“Not especially.”  

“How about you sit down,” Gojo offered, patting the spot on the couch beside him. You shuffled from foot to foot, rethinking your decision to come to his place so late at night. It was so far down from all of the other buildings. Even if you screamed, nobody would hear you. But that was stupid. He could have done anything he wanted to do to you in the hotel, and he didn’t. You were making things up to justify your discomfort.

You sat down stiffly, more than aware that you were sitting on a piece of furniture that cost as much as your mom’s car. 

Gojo shut off the TV, leaving the two of you in the intimate near dark. It had been muted, but somehow the room felt even more quiet. His attitude was horribly off-putting. Ieiri said he seemed upset, but you weren’t getting that at all. If anything, he seemed more relaxed than the last time you saw him. 

The silence dragged on and on, you had no idea what to do or say. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, not when they were uncovered and you were alone. 

Finally, he sighed theatrically. “This is my own fault,” Gojo said. “I’ve always known you had behavioral problems. I thought—I hoped that it wouldn’t come to this. You could have died.”

“But I didn’t,” you pointed out, keeping your voice steady. “Nobody died, the curse got exorcized, and everything’s fine.” 

“Is that your defense for disregarding my authority, lying, and putting yourself and Oyama at risk?” 

“It’s not a defense,” you said. “It’s a statement of fact.” 

Gojo laughed, a sound that made you flinch away. It wasn’t forced, he sounded genuinely amused. “You are such a pain in the ass,” he said, smiling as if he was endeared by it. “I can’t tell if you’re unafraid of the consequences or if you really don’t believe you’ll face any.” 

“I did face consequences,” you argued. “Didn’t Ieiri tell you how badly I was injured?”  

“That’s not enough, is it? If you have the chance, you'll definitely do something like this again. The danger is a part of the thrill for a girl like you.” He hummed thoughtfully. “No, I need to take care of the underlying issue.”

“The underlying issue?” you repeated.

“You have no respect for authority—mine or otherwise.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sensei. I have the deepest respect for you,” you said, looking up at him with innocently wide eyes. It didn’t get the rise you wanted, his expression didn’t change. The unrelenting calm and friendly demeanor he maintained was beginning to creep you out.   

“Normally, I don’t mind. I understand; I can’t stand people ordering me around. With you, though, it really irritates me. Maybe I should try a little more discipline.”

“What are you going to do, spank me?” you asked, raising a brow. You could hear how desperate your sarcasm sounded, an attempt to regain control over the situation.

Gojo’s head titled as he considered your taunt. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.” 

You rolled your eyes, your hands curling into fists to hide your increasing anxiety. If you could read his feelings, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but you couldn’t tell how serious he was. “You’re funny.” 

“Oh? But that wasn’t a joke. I think that might help fix your attitude.” 

“So breaking my ribs wasn’t good enough, but that is?” you asked, disguising your fear and dread with more desperate scorn. “Come on, don’t be gross.”

“It was your suggestion.” 

“I was joking! I didn’t actually… I mean, you can’t just…” You shook your head rather than try to finish that statement, kicking yourself for getting so flustered. 

“You were never punished as a child,” Gojo said. “You said your dad left? I bet that, after that, your mom grew distant. She yelled at you, but you never faced any serious consequences for your misbehavior. You only got better at hiding your indiscretions. Is that it?” 

“That’s not your business,” you said, every muscle in your body drawing up tight in response to that accusation. 

“Children who aren’t taught boundaries and respect grow up to be rotten adults,” Gojo said. “Spoiled, rude, self-important adults.” With every word he moved closer.

“You would know, right?” you said, clinging onto the strength of attempted wit.

Gojo smiled. “Oh yes, I know very well. I’m rotten too. Shoko told you, didn’t she? That’s why you look so scared right now.”

“I’m not scared,” you said, clenching your jaw.

“There's been something I've been meaning to tell you for a while,” Gojo said. He put a finger beneath your chin to lift it, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re not as complicated of a woman as you think you are. I know you think you’re better, but in reality you’re playing the same games, just with different rules. All of the posturing to get my attention, the misbehaving, the petty tricks to make me jealous–you're so obvious.” He let out a relieved breath, smiling. “Whew, I’m glad I finally got that out.”

“What are you even saying?” You asked, pulling away from him, shaking your head fast. “This is a joke, right?”

“I almost pity you. It isn’t entirely your fault. You’re young, ignorant, and weak, you couldn’t possibly have known where this would go. It’s not in your nature to leave well enough alone.”

“Stop it,” you said, your voice harsh. 

“I’m the same,” Gojo continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “It’s not in my nature to spare the weak or ignorant just because I feel bad for them. I’m not nearly that nice.” 

“I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked. “You showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night begging me to punish you. I am a man. Even I have my limits. You've been testing them from the beginning.”

“You have to stop,” you said, your demand taking on the edge of a whine. “This is insane.”

“I’ll give you one last chance, okay? Prove me wrong. Leave,” Gojo said, backing off and gesturing to the door. “This is it, this is the last time you’ll get away without facing any consequences.” 

“Gojo, why are you-” 

“Three.”

“Nnn-no, wait, I-”

“Two.”

You stood up, swaying on your feet, but you didn’t run. You took one step back from him, afraid, but you didn’t run.

“One,” Gojo said, grunting the word as he got to his feet and picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“No!” you shouted, struggling to escape his grasp as he carried you further into the apartment. “Stop it, put me-put me down! Stop, I want to go! I’ll leave! Put me down!”

“I warned you what would happen, it’s not my fault you never listen,” Gojo said, dumping you onto his bed. You bounced once, scrambling to get up and away. “No, don’t move,” he ordered, his voice low and authoritative, freezing you in place. His eyes sparkled inhumanly in the dim light. 

“I want to go,” you said, softly, your heart racing, pounding harder because you couldn’t move. “I’m leaving, I’m going and-” 

“No, you’re not,” he said, rolling his eyes as he opened a drawer on the nightstand, looking inside with a thoughtful expression. “By all means, keep up the act. The whole brat thing is pretty hot. There’s no point in punishing a girl who’s well-behaved.”

“What are you going to do?” you asked.

“I’m going to spank you for being such a naughty student,” Gojo said. “I don’t want to be too cruel, I know you’re sensitive. That’s fine. I can be nice too.” He looked up at you. “Do you think you can stay still on your own, or…?” He smirked. “Of course you can't.”

“You’re scaring me,” you said, hoping the words would break his act. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Gojo told you, rolling his eyes like you were being unreasonable. “I won’t hurt you that much.” 

You were going to be sick. “You can’t-”

“Of course I can,” Gojo said, pulling what you recognized as a vibrating wand and a pair of handcuffs from the drawer. “What you mean to say is that I shouldn't. You’re right about that. I'm well aware that this is a bad idea, and I might regret it, but it's too late to let that stop me. You know the feeling, don't you?” 

“No, no. You,” you shook your head, unable to form the words in your shock and disbelief at this situation, “you can’t.” 

“You already said that,” Gojo said, putting the toys on the bed to kneel on the very edge. You flinched away, but you didn’t dare run. He would definitely catch you, you could feel the thrill in his cursed energy. It was all a game. 

“I know,” you said, trying to think of the words to reason with him and coming up short, “but… You can’t.”

“The way you’re looking at me is too good,” he said with a boyish grin. “You genuinely can’t believe that somebody finally called your bluff.”

You shook your head. 

“I think this will be good for you,” he said. “You need to learn this lesson. It’s better to learn it here, in a controlled environment.” 

Gojo grabbed your legs before you could scramble away. You yelped, slapping his hands when he grabbed your hips. That did nothing to deter him from flipping you onto your belly and wrestling your hoodie and shirt off before collecting your arms and pulling them behind your back. Even though you were fighting him so hard that it hurt, he was barely trying, as if the process of overpowering you was as inconsequential as putting the leash on a small dog. You cried out as he secured your wrists in the handcuffs, giving them a solid tug to test their hold. They were lined with soft material, but they obviously weren’t the fuzzy bachelorette party kind that could be easily escaped. There was no way you could get out of them on your own. You tried to use your cursed energy to break free, but it did nothing. Had he reinforced them somehow? Was that possible? 

“Gojo, stop,” you demanded. “You can’t do this, you can’t!”

“It’s humiliating, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling your panties and shorts off in one go, getting them over your legs no matter how hard you tried to kick him off. “Being at the mercy of another person. Next time you think about misbehaving, think about this feeling.”

“Stop it!” you yelled, truly thrashing now. He grunted, sitting with his legs aside your torso, threatening to crush you. “Stop, get off. You’re hurting me!” 

“It’s okay if you fight,” Gojo said. “But you know it doesn’t matter, don’t you? You’re so weak.”

“Stop it! Just—ngh-” He shoved your panties into your mouth before you could finish that thought, muffling the words. You just yelled in disgust, in despair, in anger. And it didn’t matter.

Gojo leaned over you, brushing your hair away from your ear to speak directly into it.

“I’m sure you’re having a difficult time thinking clearly, but it’s important you remember what I’m about to tell you,” he said. “The next time I allow you to speak, I expect you to address me properly. I really don’t think that’s too unfair. I am your teacher, I deserve some respect, don't you agree?”

You shouted through the gag, shaking your head back and forth. 

Gojo hummed, dropping his shirt on the bed next to you. He lifted his weight from your back and turned around to sit on the edge of the bed. You used the opportunity to roll onto your side, trying to get away from him, but Gojo had no problem collecting you, letting you flop on the bed across his lap while you writhed helplessly. The first touch of his hand against the back of your bare thighs made you jump, tears of humiliation already pressing against the corners of your eyes.

“How many, do you think?” he asked.

No.

There was no way. You shouted in panic, kicking your legs. There was still a part of you that simply rejected this all, that couldn’t believe this would happen. Things like this didn’t happen to you. Not you.  

Gojo’s palm landed loudly against your ass, the smack striking your skin with a burst of stinging pain and the sickening flush of humiliation.  

“I knew you were going to be a problem from the first time we met,” he told you, rubbing his palm over the sore spot. “You think you’re better than everyone else. I can’t stand undeserved self-importance.”

He spanked you five times in quick succession, spreading them out across your ass and upper thighs. You struggled and yelled and kicked, but his other hand easily kept you in place. 

“You’re not fighting very hard. I really thought it would be harder. Are you sure you weren’t secretly hoping I’d do this? You can admit it, I won’t tell anyone.”

You shouted, pooling up all over your cursed energy to fight him off. Gojo rewarded you by spanking you more, focusing on your upper thighs, slapping the same spots over and over until your shouting became sobbing and the skin buzzed, burning red hot. 

“I know, that wasn’t very nice,” he said, rubbing the sore flesh, coaxing it out of becoming too numb to his touch. “You’re not very nice either, are you? Wearing all those cute little outfits to tempt me, flaunting that guy to make me jealous.” You yelled in fear when he raised his hand, but he only playfully tapped your ass, digging his long fingers in to knead it, just playing with you. “And then using your friend to taunt me… I think you deserve to be punished for that, don’t you?” 

You shook your head frantically, squirming and writhing and kicking to escape. But he spanked you again, and again, and all you could do was endure the pain. Gojo mixed in the playful swats with genuine strikes, keeping you crying, always on the edge, unsure if he was going to hurt you or not, not when he was going to stop or where this would go. 

You weren’t counting, and you weren’t sure if he was either, but eventually he let up.

“Mmm, that looks like it hurts,” he said, tracing the tender flesh with his fingertips. You cried, glad he couldn’t see your face. “Poor little thing. Okay, let’s-” Gojo flipped you around, pulling you up onto his lap. 

Putting any amount of pressure on your stinging ass made you yelp, your back arching. He didn’t care. He grabbed the vibrator and flicked it on, pushing the head past your pussy’s outer lips to buzz against your entrance before dragging up, drawing slick circles around your clit. You thrashed against him, but your kicking legs couldn’t do anything and there was nowhere to go. Gojo moved with your struggling in an indulgent way, like he was wrangling a disobedient animal, letting you tire yourself out as he tilted the wand this way and that to really grind it against your clit.

“It’s a little intense, I know,” he said. “If you just relax and let yourself enjoy it, you’ll feel so much better.”

You pressed your face against his shoulder, telling him to stop. The words were all mush, muffled by your own panties. Every part of your body was alive and awake and agonizingly sensitive, covered in a thin film of sweat and goose-flesh and anticipation. When he casually toyed with one of your nipples, you felt it like a jolt of electric heat straight down between your legs. The vibrator’s steady hum bypassed any reasonable objection your body would have to pleasure, a reaction as invasive and involuntary as pain. 

When you realized you were going to come—going to come like this—you shouted, straining your shoulders in an attempt to escape the cuffs. Gojo laughed, holding you tight as you spasmed and jerked around in his lap. Your hips bucked and the vibrator pressed against your clit just right and you almost blacked out.

“Aha, that’s it, isn’t it?” Gojo asked happily, grinding the vibrator there. 

Toomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch—it hurt. You tried to tell him that, you tried to fight your way out of his grasp, you tried to do anything you could to escape but it didn’t matter as your body shuddered with the orgasmic flash of pleasure, a feeling so intense it felt like nausea. 

You came with a helpless cry, hiding your face against his shoulder as you jerked with each wave of stifling, intoxicating, sickening heat.

Gojo didn’t stop. You reared back to meet his eye and he just grinned, looking down between your legs to make sure he was keeping the vibrator in exactly the right place to make you spasm and kick and choke, panicked and overwhelmed. 

You didn’t know if you were coming again or if it was just one long string of overstimulation tricking your mind into pleasure, but you felt it draw out like soda fizz all the way to your fingertips and toes.

“Okay, what have you learned so far?” Gojo asked, shutting the vibrator off and setting it aside. You mumbled something into the gag, tossing your head back and forth. “Oh, right.” He laughed, pulling your panties out of your mouth. “What have you learned?”  

“Stop!” you told him in a wrecked voice, glaring at him with watery eyes. “It doesn’t matter how many times you spank me, or-or… I’m not playing along with your-your sick games, I’m not…” You closed your eyes, struggling to get out of his lap, sobbing and panting and angry and humiliated and- 

“Wrong.” Gojo shoved your panties back into your mouth. “You know what? I’m glad you’re a difficult student. Really,” he said. “It’ll be so much more rewarding when you finally learn your lesson.”

You ignored him, squeezing your eyes shut and turning your face away. 

“It doesn’t matter what I do to you,” he mused. “That’s what you said, right?” 

Without warning, Gojo’s hand landed directly between your legs with a sharp smack. You screamed, really screamed, squeezing your thighs together until the muscles trembled. 

“Oi, open your legs,” Gojo told you, his voice low and serious, more than you had ever heard.

You kept your eyes shut, shaking your head fast. 

“You’re saying you won’t?” he asked, his fingers tracing along the seam between your legs. 

You shook your head again, trying to squirm out of his lap. 

“Oh my, what a brave girl,” Gojo cooed mockingly, grabbing one of your legs to pry them apart, catching it with his own leg and pinning it against the bed. He spanked your pussy two, three, four more times, each one making your body jolt violently, another cry gurgling out of your throat. 

When his hand landed with a sickening smack for the fifth time, it stayed there, his fingers curling to find your entrance. You bucked against him, shouting for him to stop. Asking him to stop. The words were muffled, there was nothing you could do other than cry and toss your head to the side as he pushed his fingers into you, you couldn’t even close your legs.

“What’s this?” Gojo asked, pulling his fingers out of you. They glistened with evidence of your arousal, of your shame. “It really makes me question which one of us is sick.”

“You!” you shouted, trying to make yourself heard over the gag. 

“Me?” Gojo asked, his eyes wide with innocence. “You’re the one who’s getting wet for your teacher. That’s pretty twisted.” 

He pushed his fingers back into your pussy, driving them deep and curling them on the way out. For the first time, his breathing was getting unsteady. He kept rolling his hips up to grind against your ass, letting you feel his erection. 

“Aaah, you’re really wet. And tight.” He thrust his fingers back into you with a wet squish, scissoring and curling them to make you spasm and shake. “Hey, hey, I’m gonna give you an out right now, okay?” Gojo said, his voice quick with excitement. “If you ask me nicely, we can suspend your punishment and get on to the fun stuff instead.”

He pulled his fingers out to take your panties out of your mouth, dropping them onto the bed. 

“Come on,” Gojo said. “Ask me. I know you want it.” 

You set your jaw, glaring at him through teary eyes. It was weak, pathetic, and petty, but silence was the only thing you could think to do that wasn’t giving him what he wanted. 

He frowned, put out with your response. 

“Jeez, you’re such an insufferable brat!” Gojo complained, flipping you onto your stomach. The sudden slap of skin meeting skin followed by the pain when he spanked you again made you scream, your legs pathetically kicking, your shoulders straining to free your hands.

“Stop!” you yelled, your voice shrill.

“Oh? But I thought you were being brave?” He said mockingly, spanking you again, and again. 

You sobbed, pressing your face into the bed to muffle yourself as his hand came down again. Even though you fought him, there was nothing you could do to make him stop. True helplessness. It hurt, and there was no escape from it. Not when he took the time to brush his fingers across the tortured skin in between bursts, soothing you with a gentle touch. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being such a baby about this,” Gojo said. He grabbed one of your stinging ass cheeks, pulling it to get a good look at your pussy. You knew you were wet. It wasn’t your fault, but you felt the same shame. “It can’t hurt that bad. If I used a cane or a belt or something I’d get it, but I think you’re just making a big deal to try and make me feel bad. It’s not working. You deserve this and, between you and me, it’s kind of sexy to see you so pathetic.”

Without warning, Gojo tossed you onto the bed face up, your arms pinned uncomfortably beneath your back. Your back arched and you dug your heels into the mattress, pushing yourself up the bed until you were curled against the headboard, your legs up to try and hide as much of your body as possible. 

“By the way, are you a virgin?” Gojo asked, shoving his pants and underwear off in one go before looking for something on the floor. He found it quickly, returning to the bed. He didn’t care about his nudity. Why should he? He was beautiful and he knew it. Of course Satoru Gojo wouldn’t stop at being the strongest, or the most handsome, or whatever, of course he would have the perfect cock too. “I don’t care either way, I’m just curious.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, averting your eyes from his body to meet his as you pushed yourself into the headboard. They glittered in the dim light, wide and excited.  

“No, you’re not a virgin?” Gojo asked. You realized what he had grabbed from the floor when he caught your ankle, forcing your foot through a loop he’d made with his belt. 

“No! No, no, stop!” You shouted, trying to keep him from getting your other foot. He frowned when you kicked at him, desperate to keep him away. The resistance of his cursed energy kept you from actually kicking him, and you were rewarded with a hard, mean slap against your inner thigh. You squealed, giving him the chance to get your other foot in the belt cuffs before securing them.

“I was gonna be nice about this, but I guess not,” he said. You whined, sobbing. “You probably like it rough anyway, right? Girls like you always do.” 

He pushed your knees up to make space between your legs, letting your bound ankles fall onto his back. You watched him stroking his cock. This was going to happen. He truly intended to fuck you. It didn’t set in until right in that moment how utterly powerless you were to this violation. His fingers had been one thing, but his cock was big enough to hurt if he wasn’t gentle.

“Don’t do this,” you whispered, your voice weak and pathetic. “Satoru, I’m begging you not to. I’m sorry, okay? That’s what you want me to say, right? I’m sorry, so don’t-”

“It’s too late for that,” Gojo said, separating your pussy’s outer lips, his tongue peeking out as he lined up his cock. You made a helpless sound of upset, trying to buck him off, but there was nowhere for you to go. “If you were really sorry, you should have apologized when I gave you the chance.” He pushed his hips forward, just a little, testing the resistance. 

“Sensei!” you said, your panicked thoughts finding something to cling onto to make him stop. “Sensei, please stop. Please.” 

Gojo smiled, his lips parting when he forced the head of his cock past the initial resistance of your pussy with a jarring pop. He groaned, both of his hands holding onto your waist while he shallowly rocked his hips. 

Your mouth fell open, a sensation like shock striking against the viscerally real weight of his dick inside of you. That fell away to panic when he began to move, pushing a little deeper with a pinching ache. 

“Ah—fff-take it out!” you squealed.

“Ah, and you were being so good for me,” he said, jolting your body with a hard, mean thrust. You whimpered, and writhed, and your pussy clamped down around him to try and force him out, but it didn’t matter. He was bigger and stronger and you were drenched from the vibrator. “Look at me.” 

As soon as you met his eye, he pushed a little deeper, clearly reveling in the way it made your expression twist in pain and betrayal, more tears forming in your eyes and streaking down your temples. He licked his lips, rolling his hips shallowly to let you adjust to the size and weight of his cock. Like he was being nice. 

“How can I feel bad when you look at me like that?” he asked, his voice lower and breathy. He pushed deeper again, your body jolting and a helpless sound punched out of your chest. 

“It hurts,” you ground out through your teeth, more tears falling into your hair. The desire to be brave faded in direct relation to how much of his cock was inside of you. Being spanked was one thing, but the internal pain of violation wasn’t something you could handle. It was too intimate, too profound, too cruel.  

“Yeah, you’re way too tight. That guy clearly hasn’t been fucking you properly. Do you want your sensei to make it better? I’ll help you, all you have to do is ask.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, weighing your options. Option. “Please, sensei,” you said, hating yourself a little more.

“Look at me when you’re begging,” Gojo said. 

You winced, but the sudden snap of his hips made you relent. You met his dangerous, beautiful eyes. “Please, Gojo-sensei. It hurts, please make it better.” 

“Aw, you’re such a good girl,” he cooed, grabbing your cheeks. “Of course I’ll help you.” His hand lowered to pin you down by the neck while he fumbled in the sheets beside you with the other. You heard the vibrator turn on a second before it was against your clit. There wasn’t anywhere for your body to go when you seized up, your back snapping into a nearly painful arch. 

“No!” you yelped, but it was hard to get anything out from the obstruction of his hand on your neck. 

It didn’t matter that his cock was big enough to hurt as he continued to push it into you. It didn’t matter that your shoulders burned or that your hands were numb. 

“Go ahead and come,” Gojo told you sweetly. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? It’ll make this easier.”

You grit your teeth, breathing out hard through your nose, trembling as that little bubble burst, your pussy spasming around his cock as he began to set a steady pace. When his hips met your ass, slapping against the raw skin, you cried and yelled, but it all got lost in the confused haze of pleasure and pain and confusion and disgust and so much, too much.  

Gojo was laughing. Fucking you too fast and too hard, focusing the vibrator right against your clit to keep you moving with him, your body writhing beneath his like you wanted it, soaking his cock until the room was filled with the profane sound of skin slapping and wet squelching.

“Mmm, it feels good, right?” Gojo asked. “I know you think I’m mean, but I really only want to take care of you.”

You came again, babbling the words ‘no’ and ‘can’t’ and ‘stop’ as if they had any meaning anymore, as if you weren’t well on your way to coming again despite how torturous the excess of stimulation had become. 

“Sometimes, that means I have to be a little hard on you.” He fucked you hard enough to knock your head into the headboard, the entire thing pounding against the wall with each solid thrust. It hurt, it felt like he was splitting you apart, slamming against your cervix without even an attempt at kindness. But, at the same time, he turned the vibrator up a setting, rubbing little circles onto your clit. 

Gojo put a hand on your mouth to stifle your scream, it was that loud and shrill, borderline feral with the terrifying intensity of your orgasm. You didn’t want to come anymore. You really didn’t, you felt like you were going to die if you did. And he laughed, giving up on the hard pace to fuck you fast, his breathing becoming increasingly unsteady and his laugh shivering out into moans.

Sobbing into his hand, you came again, unable to understand anything beyond the cock pounding into you and the vibrator torturing your clit. 

Gojo dropped the vibrator suddenly, pulling out of you with a helpless sound. For a second, you heard the lewd schlick schlick schlick of his hand desperately fisting his cock and then you felt hot spurts of cum on your chest and your stomach. He finally took his hand off of your mouth, turning the vibrator off. All you could hear was your breathing and his breathing and the frantic pounding of blood in your ears. 

“Whew, okay,” Gojo said, lifting your legs to get out from under them. “Where were we with the lesson? I think… I was spanking you and you were being a brat about it. Have you had a change of heart?” 

You sobbed brokenly, squeezing your eyes shut. Trying to adjust to the shift of tone while you were still reeling from getting fucked, your torso covered in sweat and cum, felt like one of the most cruel things he had done so far. 

“Please, sensei, please no more,” you begged, your voice breathy and cracking at the end. “Gojo-sensei please, I-I do, I respect you. I’ll—anything, please just…” 

“Ahh, there’s a good girl. Finally,” Gojo said gently. “Okay, three more, and then I’ll forgive you.”

“No!” you cried hoarsely. “Please, no more.” You strained against the cuffs, thrashing as much as you were able. “Please, I’ll do… Please.”

“I need to make sure the lesson sticks,” Gojo said sweetly. “You’ve been so unreceptive. Three more, and then I’ll let you come again.”

“No!” you squealed, even more upset by that. The idea of feeling the vibrator again physically hurt, it was almost worse than the idea of him spanking you again. 

“I want you to count them, okay?” Gojo asked pitilessly.  

You sobbed, shaking your head, but you couldn’t do anything when he rolled you onto your belly. 

“Don’t be so dramatic about it,” he scolded, getting behind you and pulling your hips up so you were on your knees, your back arching. He spanked you and you yelped, burying your face in the pillows. Gojo waited before sighing. “Count them, otherwise I’ll lose track. You wouldn’t want that, would you? We’d be here all night.” 

You sniffled, peeling your face out of the pillows to turn your head.  “One,” you whispered.

His hand landed again, right over the first. You cried out a word that mostly sounded like, “Two!” 

And again, one of the hardest so far. “Thre-EE-”

“There, wasn’t that easy?” Gojo cooed, flipping you around and grabbing your ankles by the belt cuffs, pushing your knees up to your chest. When you heard the vibrator turn on, you tried to get away, squealing out your objections, sobbing and desperate and flinching away from the mere idea of more. It was like being presented with a bottle of liquor after a bout of alcohol poisoning. 

“No, please no more, I can’t, please.”

“I told you, one more,” Gojo said. “You can do one more, can’t you? I think you can.” 

You wailed when he pushed the vibrator against your swollen, oversensitive pussy, grinding it in little circles right over your clit while you spasmed and shook and tried desperately to escape the inevitable.

Coming when you were so overstimulated wasn’t pleasant, it was just more and more and too much, all of it piled onto your overloaded nervous system and making you shake as the pitiless heat flared up to bursting, pulling your body taut, and then it snapped, leaving you even more helplessly, hopelessly overstimulated than before. 

Gojo didn’t pull it away, continuing to grind the vibrator against your clit, cruelly drawing out your feverish torment. 

You wailed, your head tossing back into the pillows, your hips wildly trying to twist out of his reach. “Yo—ou said-”

“One more,” Gojo finished for you. “Come on, don’t be such a baby about it.” 

Your nostrils flared and you sobbed pathetically and your pussy felt like it was burning just as desperately as your sore ass, but Gojo was going to wring one more orgasm out of you. It wasn’t hard, even if it hurt. Even if you cried and shook and felt the world darken around the edges when you felt the surge of pleasure fizzle out through you before it left you pained and panting and miserable. 

But he finally shut the toy off, letting it fall to the side.  

“What do we say?” Gojo asked, dropping your legs and falling onto his side next to you, propping his head up with one hand. 

You groaned, your chest hitching with every breath. “I don’t…” 

“Thank you, sensei,” he prompted sweetly, “for teaching me manners.” 

“Thank you, sensei,” you repeated dumbly, keeping your eyes closed rather than acknowledge his heavy stare. “Thank you for teaching me manners.” 

He laughed. “Wow, that’s really embarrassing. Earlier you were bragging about how it didn’t matter what I did to you, weren’t you? I was almost impressed with your resolve, it’s a shame to see it cave in so easily. What happened?”

You sobbed, shaking your head. “Shut up, you’re… It wasn’t my fault, it was you who… who…”

Gojo hissed, pulling a breath in through his teeth. It was a bad sound. A dangerous sound. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you said, your eyes snapping open with fear. “I’m sorry, I’m…”

He frowned. “Maybe you haven’t learned your lesson after all,” he heaved out a big breath, sitting up. “That’s fine, I’m ready to go again. Anything for my favorite student, hm?” 

[thatsherastro]

RANDOM ASTRO NOTES: PART 6

$35 Birth chart Readings Available

Never underestimate a mutable Mars ability to beat someone up. Once these people are angered it’s nearly IMPOSSIBLE to stop them. ( Sagittarius, Virgo, Gemini, & Pisces) . That mutable energy can make these natives VERY unpredictable and hard to control .  

Capricorn moon , moon-saturn , moon- pluto  & even scorpio moon  Be very mindful not to become emotionally detached , apathetic or obsessive. These people have to remember to turn their pain into purpose.  

Virgos tend to project a lot. They are hard on themselves so they project that energy outwards.  I think sometimes it bothers Virgos when they see people living without the pressure to be a perfect human being.  

Capricorn men aren’t really the type of men to be sugar daddies, they prefer to find someone who already has a foundation and then work their way up. 

Will a taurus man spoil you ? yes. Will that taurus man try to take everything that he’s ever given you once you guys break up ? also YES! 

12H moons , listen to your dreams. This will be a guiding force for you through life 

Geminis actually love chaos. No matter how much it takes a toll on them mentally. The obvious decision will be right in front of a gemini and they will take the hard route just for the plot . 

Scorpio Mars needs to have a healthy outlet to release negative emotions. try boxing , strength training, and HITT workouts to take the edge off.  

The stereotype is true, Taurus mars are lazy. They take their sweet time to do simple tasks. It’ll get done,but in 2 years.  

The reason why cancer is the BEST emotional manipulator out of the water signs is because Pisces take their manipulation too far AND they always paint themselves out to be the victim to the point that people start to not believe them.  

Having a Capricorn Mars at the 29th degree can make a person cruel , controlling, & calculated . Their need for power will make them do some crazy things

$35 Birth chart Readings Available

[nemesyaaa]

favorite crime // psycho!stalker!rafe x innocent!reader

summary ; sometimes being the obsession of someone can turn really bad. sometimes being friend to someone doesn't mean that you really know this person, and mostly, that your kindness will be returned.

warnings : dark content. stalking. manipulation. crimes : murder/kidnapping. smut. sick, poker face, and insane behavior. toxic attitude. innocence kink. violence. dubcon. fear/vulnerability enthousiast. jealousy. dark!mean!rafe. corruption. abuse of power. creepy behavior. minors dni. as always, be careful with the warnings please. don't joke with it.

author's note : i really love how all my concepts with rafe are so fucked up. it's around 2,6k words.

as a shy and innocent girl, too kind for your own good and too sweet to attract nice boys, you had always attracted rafe's attention. especially when you were the pretty employee at his favorite video game store. it was only for you that he spent hours in front of the cash register, trying to get to know you when in reality, he knew you by heart, every detail of your life. he was obsessed with you. he was already terribly sick, diving into your perfect kindness and purity.

you didn't understand why people were afraid of him or said bad things about him because you found him charming and lovely. that was the impression he forced himself to give you. he always had nicknames for you like pumpkin, doll, cupcake, sweet, pretty thing.

the first time he walked into the store, your store manager was yelling at you. and you felt so ashamed and small. there were customers and that made you nervous. you were already crying, impossible to contain your tears in the face of the excess anger you received from this man. it wasn't the first time he did this but maybe the last.

you quickly returned to work, still in tears facing the products on the shelves and the new customer came to you. with a box of donuts. strangely, you didn't know how he could know that you liked it and that it was your favorite. but the attention was touching, more important for you.

“i bought them especially for you. it would hurt my heart if you refused them.”

“you didn’t have to do that.” you replied politely and smiled.

“i know but i wanted to do it. someone has to pay attention to you, and check on your messy health, pumpkin.”

"oh my manager is usually nice. i don't know what's going on."

"you're lying. you're lying because you're too kind to say bad things about people when they're fucking assholes. but don't worry, it won't happen again."

“how can you be sure?”

“enjoy your donuts, don’t think about anything else. let me ease you, pretty thing. ”

the next day, your manager had never been so nice to you. and the other days too. and he always disappeared in rafe's presence. it brought you a lot closer together, because now he came every day. you didn't know if rafe HAD time, or he FOUND it just for you. all you knew was that he made your days in the store so much better.

by coming here, he had become a loyal customer but also someone you could talk to, and he pretended not to know every moment of your private life while he spied on you as soon as he left the store.

he could stay in his car for hours until you finished work. he wasn't just watching you, no, he had also hacked into the cameras at your workplace to be able to record, listen and follow everything you did. nothing escaped him.

he was a jealous person and above all someone who didn't like having his ego attacked. that meant he definitely wasn't going to put up with you having this cute and perfect attitude with the other customers. well, especially men.

you were only doing your job for which you were poorly paid. to avoid getting bored and because you were trying to work on your shyness, you tried to come out of your shell by talking with customers.

but you made a mistake today. you didn't know it yet but you were going to regret it deeply and learn it hard.

"i think you're really pretty and you're so interesting..." the boy began, stammering a little, his elbows resting on the checkout counter. "i mean, it's rare to find girls like you... would you go out with me... i mean tonight haha! we could play a game ? "

it wasn't the first time you'd been flirted with, but certainly the first time you'd accepted. you had never dated anyone, you had never been in a relationship, you didn't even know what it felt like to truly be in love, to feel something for someone. and even if you were, you were too shy to admit it. but it was different, you wanted to try. you didn't have a plan tonight.

"you don't have to accept but here's my number..." he wrote on a post-it and you smiled back. you put it in the back pocket of your jeans.

you were so deep in thought that you couldn't have seen that the minute your new friend left the store, rafe got out of his car. he doesn't entered yet, he had something to sort out first.

but when he went to the store, you felt him different. there were bruises on his face, as if he had been in a fight. “what happened? do you want me to call an ambulance? "

“it's alright, pumpkin. it's just a little blood.”

“do you want me to take care of that?”

"it would be bad of me to abuse your time and your kindness. i have better things to offer, how about I walk you home tonight? i know your work is not close to where you live and i have my car right here...'

you had been surprised that he knew information like this. “no, don’t worry. besides, i’m busy this evening. ”

rafe's jaw tensed and contracted. he gave a tense and forced smile.

“ let me do this for you. you must be tired. ”

“you don’t need to do this for me, although I truly appreciate it.”

“you're wrong, i need to do this for you, sweetheart. just like everything you do for me. ”

“if you insist, it can’t kill me!”

if only you knew…

“ you're really so nice, pumpkin..."

“is that a bad thing?”

he scratched his chin with a light but somewhat dramatic smile before looking into your eyes. you were in ambiguous proximity since you were both leaning over the counter. he was taller than you, so you looked up.

"to be kind? no, not at all, sweetheart. it's just dangerous for you not to know who you're nice to. not all people are that sweet. sometimes they're really mean.”

“ what do…”

“ anyways, don't make me wait later. and you know you look really pretty today, you should dress up for me more often.”

you smiled. you couldn't ignore how nice it felt to receive a compliment, and especially from a pretty handsome boy. in one day, everything had gone by so quickly. you had a date, and rafe was taking you home. your evening promised to be perfect and unforgettable. you couldn’t wait.

at the end of the day. you had cleaned, tidied up all the shelves, turned off all the consoles, counted your cash register then closed shop in a breath of glory. you could finally relax.

as promised, rafe was waiting for you. he was leaning against his car, hands in his pockets.

he had opened your car door in a relatively clever way and then stood inside. he had closed the doors. and he had started. except he wasn't going the way to your house, he was going in the opposite direction.

“rafe, it’s not towards my house…”

“ i know, sweetheart, since we’re not going to your house.”

“but you said you were taking me home?”

“pumpkin, i lie a lot too.”

"rafe, i want to go home... seriously, this isn't fun. i have to meet someone tonight and he's going to wait for me ! "

“trust me, he’s not waiting for you.”

you were starting to panic because this really wasn't the person you knew. this time he didn't seem to be playing a character to please you. he was natural. you looked at him with big eyes. fear gripped your stomach, because you didn't know where you were going and he could go anywhere. you were on the verge of exploding, you needed to get out of that car but he was driving too fast.

“slow down, rafe. please, slow down.”

"oh no sweet thing, i make the rules here. you can't beg because i absolutely don't want to hear anything from you, you understand? i want you to stay nice and quiet like you've always been."

“rafe, fucking stop that car. "

he stopped suddenly, your head had hit the dashboard badly. he had gently lifted your face, putting your hair back in place while you cried into his hands from the emotion and shock.

“see? what happens when you swear like that? do you understand why you have to be polite now? it's a waste for a pretty girl like you to have such vocabulary. ”

you felt the tips of his lips on your nose, they were cold but comforting. there was something so bitter and disturbing in his tenderness as if there was nothing good even in his kindness. that all this affection was manipulation.

“i really want to go home.”

“i have a surprise for you. can you be patient?”

“ rafe, what is wrong…?”

“i’m taking care of you right now.”

"it's a kidnapping! i'm going to call the police."

he smiled wickedly as he resumed driving. “in your place, i wouldn’t make a single move. ”

“why? are you going to kill me?”

" oh i could, pumpkin. for now, i like you alive but if you still want to play silly with me, i might really want to. no, i will. so stay still and don’t make me be mean to you, i’d hate to have to hurt you.”

“if you don’t like hurting me, why are you doing this to me?” your tears were hot, rivers shining down your eyes. he was cruel and insensitive there. it didn't matter to him.

“ i really hate you..."

" oh such a pleasure actually pumpkin. tell me how much you hate me with those pretty annoying crybaby tears on your face. and don't forget to tell me when you're dry, i will gladly make you cry again. “

your throat felt tight and you were desperate. you had a knot in your stomach, fear that made you even more stupid and lost than you already were. because certainly, there was hatred but a lot of fear. he drove quietly, but he was mean to you. he no longer had the kind words he had for you when he came to see you at work. it was as if he was mad at you for something.

“what can i do to get you to take me home? "

“i could make you do a lot of things, but under no circumstances will i take you home.”

“you want sex? "

"oh i'm not sure that the virgin that you are would be able to make me cum but you can always prove me wrong."

“are you really going to kill me?”

“the more you ask me, the more i have the impression that this is what you would like.”

“i want to stay alive and go home.”

"you had to think about that before flirting with that idiot."

he had parked in an abandoned place, on a completely deserted road. when he opened the doors, you took your chance.

what a stupid mistake.

he was much bigger and faster than you. he had caught up with you without even running out of breath. he pulled you by the waist, pinning his arm against your bare stomach. he was clearly abusing all of his power. you had bitten him and he had released you. you fell heavily to the ground, and he positioned himself on top of you, crushing you against the grass with his fully beefy weight.

“it’s not time to play yet. try to escape from me again sweet thing, and i promise you that i will make sure that you have no more energy to run, but especially to escape. ” he had grabbed your jaw with one hand, gripping his fingers tightly against your skin. “and even if you are innocent, pumpkin. you and i know very well that you are aware of what i mean by that.”

your heart rate had increased so quickly. you were trapped and vulnerable. you wanted to spit in his face but you weren’t that suicidal.

he took your hand and placed it on his bulge which literally distorted his pants. “that's all that your heartbeat and your accelerated breathing make me feel right now. is it big? yes, and believe me i can make this bigger and very painful for you. so, no more playing, pumpkin.”

you nodded and he kissed your forehead. “you got it well, sweetheart. don’t let me be mean to you again because you’re really going to hate it.”

he stood up and extended his hand towards you. his tenderness was so unhealthy. he had taken you to the car and pulled a tied up boy out of the trunk.

the one you were supposed to see this evening. you let out a huge cry, taking several steps back but rafe took your hand, wrapping it too tightly against your little wrist.

“why did you do that? please leave me alone. i don’t want to see that!”

"oh oh, you're not the one who makes the rules here. i’m the only one who makes the fucking rules, i'm the only one who decides and not only do i decide what happens but also what role you're going to play. you wanted to flirt with this guy, go on a date with him? you had to be smarter and not do it in front of my eyes now look what you did this poor man is going to die because of you.”

"are you serious? you can't kill an innocent person! he didn't do anything."

"pumpkin, my sweet pumpkin, for every word you say, for every tear you shed, he will take a bullet. so please continue to defend him. i think we are already more than twenty"

you wanted to stop crying but you couldn't because the situation was surreal, horrible and so crazy. you refused to believe that rafe cameron could be a man like that.

“almost fifty. you're really going to kill him, sweetheart. you could be nicer. "

he was so sick and bad. he was taking advantage of the situation. it was completely sadistic. “i beg you to spare him.”

"now you beg for him? pumpkin, i’m the only one you can and should beg for."

he had fired more than fifty bullets into this poor guy's body. without the slightest shame, the slightest remorse and the slightest guilt. he didn't really feel anything. as you collapsed, completely devastated and ruined by what he had just done to you.

he had just killed a man in front of your eyes.

people always said that a guy who killed for you was romantic. but you didn't find it romantic. on the contrary, it had downright tortured you. you were afraid of him. you didn't even know how you managed not to piss on yourself because clearly, he was so creepy.

" i think he's dead." it was ironic, but coming from rafe, it wasn't funny or reassuring.

"what's wrong with you? and what are you doing with a gun? all those video games that made you sick or those horror movies?"

“watch your tone. you see how i killed him? it could be your turn too. ”

“no, don’t kill me!”

he moved closer to you, a laugh passing his lips. he knelt down to caress your tears with his thumb.

“you see what happens when you want to please others? how are you going to fix this now? ”

“i beg you to not kill me. ” you couldn't even see the ground, you were crying so much. it was a traumatic scene.

“now it's time to play. maybe i should have waited before killing him. i mean i wish he could watch you get destroyed by my cock. get in the car, and don't try to escape from me. i can be even more cruel to you. ”

he was hot and cold. all the time. you went to the car while you guessed that he must bury or hide the body somewhere. it had seemed like an eternity before he came back but on the one hand, there was something comforting about the fact that you weren't alone in the forest and that there was someone. even if it was cool.

he had gotten into the car. and patted his thighs to signal you to come on top. you didn't argue and came on his legs. you immediately felt his erection against the fabric of your underwear. it could hardly be ignored because the bulge had literally made you a few centimeters taller.

“are you still crying? he was a poor guy. he had a fucking girlfriend. do you want to date a guy who cheats on you? it's not worth it. you are better than that, you deserve better than that. ”

“by better, does that mean you? ”

“it’s different...but sure i would treat you better.”

“you killed someone in front of my eyes!”

“see? anything i can do for you.”

"you're sick and you ruined my life!"

"i’m tired of all this hysteria. i was going to kindly offer to prepare you with lube, but since you're offering me these pretty tears, we'll make do with it..."

“rafe…”

“oh no pumpkin. it’s not time to say my name yet.”

when he pushed himself inside you, the leaking tip slipped in your folds slick with a hard and brutal thrust. he made his way, watching his own cock stretching your cunt. you cried out from the pain, but you can't help but felt a little slight pleasure. “ if you're still crying for him, i swear i'm gonna fuck you until you're dry. ”

you started to bounce on him with your trembling legs, your ass slapping his thick thighs, your hair shaking on your shoulders, and your face ruined by your multiples and messy whining. you were tense as his girth splitted your sweet virgin cunt. he forced you to sped up the pace, smacking your butt every time you were too slow. his hands was big and strong, enough to feel the pain. especially, when the rings on his fingers left a mark on your poor skin. your tits were now on his hands, pressed firmly and your nipples on his mouth. he spat on them a couple of times. they were filled with spittles and marks, the succions noises in synchro with your rocking bodies. he was stuffed you with his hard dick. making you arched your back, and he placed his heavy hands on your waist, reaching your hips to help you go deeper, to fully take him, every inches.

“ it's like your pussy begging me to breed you…”

“ what…w-what is it ? ” you were too innocent to know those kinds of things.

you had the face and the attitude of an angel, too perfect, too pure, too delicate. “ maybe, it's better to show you, pumpkin. with that, you will be more able to learn the lesson and don't make me mad again. ”

“ what ? ” you gasped. you felt giddy but at the same time, curious.

“ m’ gonna make you so dirty, angel. tonight, you will lose your wings and purity for me. ”

“ please, don't hurt me ! ”

“ oh sweetheart, you're the only one to hurt me, the only one to make me do those kind of things..."

tysm @ahhnini for the idea of psycho!stalker!rafe <33

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

With Me Forever

Dark!Mommy!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Stockholm syndrome, Dubcon, kidnapping/confinement, psychological conditioning/manipulation, Mommy kink, emotional manipulation, pet play, loss of autonomy, magical manipulation, breeding kink, objectification, power play

Authors notes: Man Idk who took over while writing this one, but they were amazing.

The room is dim, heavy velvet curtains drawn over the windows, allowing only slivers of muted sunlight to filter through. You’ve been here for days—weeks, maybe even months. Time feels warped in this house, your new prison. Every surface is lavish, grand even, but that doesn’t dull the sharp edge of fear that grips your heart.

Agatha is watching you again. Her presence is unmistakable—she's never too far from you, whether you see her or not. You’d taken notice of a cicada in the room she kept you in. It never got too close to you, but always somewhere you could see it.

 Her deep, sultry voice curls around your senses like smoke as she enters the room, heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She’s dressed impeccably, as usual, in a pair of dark purple suit pants, a white button up and a navy blue overcoat, her sharp eyes glittering with amusement as she watches you on the bed.

"Good morning, my little bunny," she purrs, her voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Have you decided to behave today?"

You turn your head away, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to her. Every fiber of your being wants to resist her, to fight back against the constant manipulation, but it’s hard—too hard—especially when your body betrays you. You hate how she’s gotten under your skin, how her touch has become something you crave, even as your mind rebels.

Her hands are the only touch you’ve felt in a long time let alone a nice touch, something tender that doesn’t leave a mark on you. Your body wanted more of it even though you knew this was all wrong. She kidnapped you. She’s keeping you here for her own amusement and pleasure. 

Agatha chuckles darkly, sensing your internal struggle. She moves closer, her fingers trailing lightly along the curve of your neck. You flinch, but you don’t pull away. You can't.

"My sweet girl," she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear, "it’s only a matter of time before you stop fighting. You’ll see that everything I do is for you, for us. I could give you so much more than anyone else ever could including that other little witch you were so fond of. All you have to do is surrender."

Her words are a poison, dripping into your thoughts, planting seeds of doubt. She’s always been careful, never harsh and certainly never violent. Instead, she plays with your mind, with your desires, making you question everything. 

Is it really so bad to want her? 

To give in?

"You and I could be so much together," Agatha continues, her hand sliding down your arm, her nails grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver. "I know what you can do and I could teach you things that would make the world bow at your feet."

You close your eyes, trying to block her out, but it’s impossible. She’s everywhere, inside your head, inside your heart. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you feel yourself breaking, crumbling under the weight of her words, her presence.

"You’ll never leave," she says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Not because I won’t let you, but because you won’t want to."

And the terrifying part is that you know she’s right.

You feel her hand move over the curves of your body, goosebumps running over your whole body. Her fingers were always freezing as she somehow made your skin feel like it was on fire. The only movement you were allowed was to arch into her touch. Your body once again betraying you as it did just that, asking for more from her as you don’t dare look her in the eyes. She chuckles, dark and low, at the action. 

“Your body doesn’t lie to me bunny. Look at me. Look at Mommy.” She’d started to call herself that. Mommy, you thought it was just a jab at all the Mommy issues you have and it very well might be the case, but fuck you just wanted to make Mommy happy. Yet you still want to fight against her. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction. Not yet at least. 

Her hand starts rubbing your thigh, each stroke drawing closer to your heated core. You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. You feel her movement and the bed dips down between your legs. You’re moved slightly with where her weight is and you feel a hand on each thigh. 

Her strokes are gentle as she leans down, her heated mouth meaning your skin. A rush of heat to your core hits and a needy whine comes out of you.

“All you have to do is ask, bunny.” She mumbles against your skin. This was the game that was played every time. Like some even more twisted form of conditioning. She’d wait until you were all needy, begging for her cock, begging to be bred by her. It wasn’t fair. You bite your lip debating if you want to hold out this time, you’ve done it a few times, but you’d always regret it because she’d work you up and ruin your orgasm each time. 

“Please Mommy…need you…need you inside of me…” You manage out and Agatha looks down at you, slowly rubbing around your overly sensitive nub, but not actually touching it. You swallow hard before continuing. You know what she’s waiting for and you want to say it. You want her to know, need her to know. 

“I’m yours Mommy please I’ll be your good bunny! Need Mommy’s cock inside of me. Only yours makes me feel good. No one else could make me feel good like you Mommy. No one could make me cum like you do Mommy!” You feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

A smirk appears on Agatha’s face, a snap of her fingers and your clothes are gone. She has her purple enchanted strap out and ready. It was already pushing at your soaked entrance. Making it easy for Agatha to slip inside of you. 

“F-fuck…” You arch into her, not realizing how much you needed her. 

“You’re so tight, bunny. You feel amazing. Mommy’s going to make sure you feel amazing.” She manages out, you can tell she’s breathless just from entering you. Feeling how tight and wet you were. 

“Please Mommy I’ll be your best bunny ever!” 

She simply smirks as she grips your hips and before you can say anything else she’s pounding into you relentlessly. You can’t help but moan as she hits your spot over and over again. You don’t feel one of her hands move up to your head, it isn’t until you hear the Latin come out her mouth that you know she’s using her magic she’s making you more fuzzy, more needy for her. Another form of conditioning, her magic. 

You watch her fingers, watching her hand flex and fingers move. It isn’t her magic making you fuzzy and needy. You grab her wrists and don’t think about it as you take her fingers into your mouth, sucking on them eagerly. 

You look up at her with half lidded eyes, dark and lustful. You were ready to be completely hers. She could see it in your eyes. 

“That’s my good bunny. Just like that. You’re Mommy’s bunny aren’t you?” She asks, her voice full of lust, her heated breath you could swear you saw. You nod and mumble an ‘mhmm’ around her fingers. 

You don’t think it’s possible but she speeds up. You’re moaning around her fingers and she can tell you’re close. She keeps her pace, letting you fall over the edge as you let her fingers go, choosing to lunge forward to hold onto her as you rocked your hips into her. Her hands find their way to your back, her natural nails clawing down your back. 

“My bunny.” You feel her fill you, her hot cum hitting against your walls. You were hers completely and you had been for a while, you knew that. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be, you don’t even remember that other witch’s name.

“Your bunny Mommy forever.”

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 2 — POWER IMBALANCE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — blade, jing yuan, aventurine

— warnings. — fem! reader, power imbalance, oral (fem! receiving), toxic & manipulation, hard syx, dom/sub

⚝ — BLADE

blade feels to you like a storm, his grip on you endlessly overwhelming yet not because he's forcing it on you, no, but because his dependence on you was suffocating.

the stellaron hunter was dangerous, you were very much aware of it, although never pondering on the fact that you were playing with fire here.

his cock slides in between your folds before slipping to your hole, right then, you can feel the hot push of his tip, slow at first, but persistent, burning and stretching you. blade opens you up as you clutch at his shoulders each time, you're certain you can take him, you can't— it won't fit—such always crosses your mind but, you see, your skin was burning and hungry, submitting to him, to his cock sliding in fully— so smooth on your walls, thick inside, searing.

blade clings to you like you’re the only thing tethering him to sanity, and well— maybe you were, he certainly looks at you with an intensity that borders on desperation, a string he needed to hold on to if he wanted to keep at least a little bit of humanity inside himself or else, he’d fall apart.

"you ground me," he murmurs, voice low, his hand searching for your own as he grips it a little too tightly— his neediness haunting as he slumps forward, still thrusting hungry shoves of his cock into you as the rhythm changes just a little, but the pressure was increasing, becoming more meaningful.

in this rare moments, the way his hands tremble slightly when he brushes your hair behind your ear, there’s a tenderness, yes, but you cannot shake off the feeling of being scared of him— were his words the truth? did he mean what he said? would he hurt you in the end or are you really the one to put a light in his dark, twisted world?

⚝ — JING YUAN

jing yuan was always in control, his charm making each and every friend or foe bend to his will effortlessly— and well, you’re no exception. 

frankly, he's used to people following his lead without question, without turning on their own brains, his words were so fittingly persuasive that you barely even notice when you started agreeing with everything he said.

you whine out a breathy, "fuck, more—" as he laps at your clit, the vibrations of his hums and groans making you arch your back into him— you're so sensitive, jing yuan makes you feel all of it with his tongue, all the nerves down there and how muscle slurped and licked a stripe along your slit to tease you, shamelessly moaning against your pussy right after.

"i’m only looking out for you," he lazily mumbles into your cunt, "I know what's ugh—, what's best for you," his fucked out grin disarms you completely as you look down, admiring the view of his hands, big hands, clutching at your trembling thighs before he gives your stomach an anticipatory twist.

he's not forceful though, don't misunderstand, yeah? because simply, jing yuan doesn’t need to be, his self assured confidence made it feel like any resistance would be literally ridiculous. 

after all, his charisma pulls you in, his beauty and face being chocolate box pretty, ethereal and powerful, leaving you wanting to please him too, so badly yeah, to stay on his good side.

⚝ — AVENTURINE

from the outside, aventurine was unable to be read— and even once you got close to him, you found yourself having more difficulties reading him.

his standards were impossibly high, that's for sure, and he never hesitates to point out when you fall short. for some reason he critiques everything you do, from the way you handle the tasks he's given you to your smallest habits, never failing in exhaustedly rolling his eyes with an edge of frustration.

however, wasn't it just amazing how he was always there to clean up the "mess" you made in getting all the tasks wrong, or anything really.

something unmistakable random could happen in your life, even just a favorite item you suddenly lost and aventurine would always be there to help you— like a white knight.

of course, you cannot question him on anything, he was your superior and losing your job would be the last thing you wanted, next to losing the little relationship you've built over the last couple of months with him.

you feels it in your legs, your stomach, your hands, your soul when he touches you— pleasures you.

it's the desire overtaking you first, making you give yourself up entirely to the harsh rhythm of his hips displaying no mercy. aventurine hisses as you squeeze him, the faintness in his head almost making him swoon as your leg tremble and his cock throbs hard in you, the tremulous thrill inside your belly building to a merciless dance.

"i’ll be here, buried right here—" he hums and grinds his hips, his fingers drawing a line on your stomach, up and down, "feel that? you feel me there?"

"not that you, fuck— deserve it," he grunts, cupping your cheeks and brushing a thumb over your lips, "you made so many mistakes today," he breathes while staring down at his cock splitting your puffy cunt.

he adds, "you should be thankful i was there,"

an embarrassed, little sorry was all you managed to get out in return and ugh— the friction of him rubbing against your walls felt absolutely sickening, like you're about to cum and scream any second now.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[exorcxqsm]

Only a fool would bargain with the leader of Onychinus

Word Count: 5,8k

tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, first time sex (not virginity loss) alterations to the main story, dr/y humping, thigh riding, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, dirty talking, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, baby), violence, mentions of injuries. 

Notes:Some of you may have already read my fic, The Price of Desire, in which the reader’s evol is mentioned. If you have, you’ll notice that the evol is the same in this story; however, there is no connection between the two. The concept of a reader with this ability was too appealing for me to resist, and since it was briefly mentioned in the previous fic, I decided to explore it further in this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! All likes and reblogs are appreciated. :3

Going on missions for Sylus was nothing new to you by now. You had spent years by his side since he first found you, a wild creature desperate for survival. Sometimes, you could still recall how close you had come to killing each other back then. You had been hunted by nearly every illegal underground group, all seeking your evol, and while on the run, you stumbled upon him like a scared and feral animal.

You had instinctively tried to attack him on sight; it was all you knew how to do, having fought for your freedom for as long as you could remember. You were no stranger to the danger he represented—the bloodthirsty leader of Onychinus. If other groups sought you as a mere experiment for your power, you could only imagine what Onychinus would do if they got their hands on you.

The moment you realized the person you had fallen headfirst into was the white-haired menace himself, you had attempted to fight him with everything you had. Sylus, of course, dodged every single one of your attacks effortlessly, but he was merely toying with you, for he possessed something you were unaware of; he could not be killed.

You had always been feared for your lethal evol—one touch from your bare fingers could send someone halfway to the other world. You were an extraordinary weapon, yet Sylus was not deterred; he was intrigued, even enamored by you.

With his energy manipulation, it was impossible for you to harm him, particularly when he thrived on high levels of adrenaline and excitement.

So, even as you forced yourself to keep trying to touch him, desperate to end the chaos, he reveled in your fierce determination. He loved witnessing the fire in your eyes as you believed you could take him down. When he finally grew tired of your little game and decided to put an end to it, he was blindsided by a fact he had overlooked.

While he had learned nearly everything there was to know about your evol and your abilities, he did not realize one important thing; you were immune to his mist.

No matter how fiercely the red and black tendrils curled around you, the moment your flesh made contact with them, they vanished into thin air.

Sylus had nearly salivated when he realized the challenge you presented. It had been far too long since he had encountered someone so intriguing, and he was determined that you wouldn’t walk out of that valley without becoming his.

That’s how you found yourself in his group now. Unlike everyone else, Sylus had made a promise that night: if you went home with him willingly, he would never force you to use your abilities for his research or personal gain. He needed you to choose to be there if you were going to help him.

His condition was simple: think of aiding him, and in return, you would gain his protection, a life free from fear and the constant need to run for your freedom.

You had taken a significant risk when you decided to go with him, but the white-haired man kept his word. It took you months to contemplate helping him instead of merely enjoying the luxury of his lifestyle, but he was patient. In time, you became not only his most valuable asset but also his right hand. Whenever he was out of town for deals or missions, you handled matters back home on his behalf.

Deep down, back then you knew he wasn’t just a kind-hearted man simply looking to help a struggling girl off the street. What he truly sought to protect was your evol because he believed you would eventually come around to assist him when he needed it most. So when you finally did, it was no surprise to him. He had merely given you a subtle nod and handed you the first files.

Now, two years later, you stood beside him at one of the many auctions taking place in the N109 Zone. He was after a particularly important and valuable protocore—one he had pursued for years—and today presented his chance to possess it.

Being next to him not only amplified his chances of leaving unscathed without extensive negotiation—after all, who was crazy enough to challenge the leader of Onychinus and his lethal right-hand woman?—but it also made it easier for him to operate, as you inevitably drew attention and distraction from other bidders.

His hand curled possessively around your waist as he proudly showcased you to the crowd. The dress you wore was as red as his eyes, hugging your every curve and accentuating your figure. Your hair was styled in a simple updo, revealing your back to the admiring gazes around you.

The less fabric you wore, the more difficult it was for his mist to approach you, and that was one thing you clung to. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you—he had come to not only depend on you but to trust you as well. Still, you maintained a small resistance, a defiance that you weren’t ready to surrender, no matter how much it irritated him.

Your gloves were snugly in place, allowing you to interact with him without draining his energy, thus enabling you to warn others of the imminent danger your touch posed. One slip of fabric, and whoever you touched would be lost forever.

“Mr. Sylus, I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” a distant voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing both of your attention. A young man addressed your boss, his tone a mix of surprise and formality.

“Not happy to see me?” Sylus replied, his voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey, the smugness evident in his expression as he arched a white brow at the man.

“Of course, sir! I’m sorry, sir. I just thought you’d be out of town—”

“Change of plans." Sylus muttered, cutting him off with a tight smile before guiding you forward, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back.

As you walked toward the room where his meeting would take place, you tilted your face up to catch a glimpse of his profile. “He’s right, you know,” you began, curiosity lacing your words. “Weren’t you supposed to return next Tuesday?”

Sylus’s smirk deepened at your question. “If I had known you’d be so disappointed by my early arrival, sweetie, I would have made sure to come back yesterday.”

You scoffed at his remark, subtly flexing your back to shake his arm off, but his grip only tightened, keeping you glued to his side. “Be good now. You know how important tonight is,” He leaned in closer, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it tickled your ear. “Don’t screw this up.”

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that crawled up your spine from the subtle threat lacing his tone. Sylus had been under immense pressure lately, but you refused to let him take it out on you.

“Sylus.”

He let out an impatient huff as you halted him just outside the door of your final destination, but he turned his body to face you fully, his expression a mix of frustration and intensity.

“I’m not your enemy,” you asserted, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Many people work for you, but aside from Luke and Kieran, no one stands by your side with the same loyalty I do. I know you’ve been struggling, but I’m the last person you want against you right now.”

“Oh, is that right, kitten?” His brows furrowed, drawing closer until your chests nearly touched. To an outsider, you might have appeared to be lovers, but the tension between you was palpable and lethal. “And why is that? Because you’re oh-so-dangerous?”

His provoking smirk ignited your anger, and while you couldn’t fathom what was going through his mind, you chose to avoid making a scene. Stepping away from him, you tried to regain your composure. “They’re waiting for us.”

Before you could take another step toward the door, you were abruptly lifted off the ground, hanging upside down over Sylus’s shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered-yelled, frantically scanning for prying eyes. Your surprise deepened when, from the shadows, Luke and Kieran rushed toward you, effortlessly pulling you from Sylus’s grip. “What—”

“Take her to the car and wait for me,” Sylus commanded sharply, his tone clipped and leaving no room for negotiation. As you were carried away from him and the room, you felt a pang of frustration.

“Let me down!” you practically shouted as the twins put distance between you and the auction building.

“Sorry, ma’am, no can do.”

“Yeah, ma’am, we’re sorry, but no one bypasses the boss's orders!”

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as the events unfolded, anger and frustration boiling within you at how Sylus had treated you. It was the first time since you started working for him that he had dismissed you so callously, and you couldn’t ignore the pang of hurt that coiled deep in your stomach.

You sat in the backseat of the car while the twins chatted and bantered in the front, oblivious to your turmoil. It felt surreal, as if they were living in a different world. Maybe you were overthinking it—after all, you hadn’t expected him to disregard you like that, especially during an auction so crucial to him. You were valuable to him, weren’t you? He needed you by his side, didn’t he?

Your thoughts spiraled until they were abruptly shattered by a loud bang. Before you could process the sound, part of the building in front of you exploded in a fiery eruption. Wait—was that the floor where the auction was being held? The very floor Sylus was on?

Without a second thought, you threw open the car door, sprinting toward the burning building despite the twins’ frantic shouts urging you to stop. Your mind was consumed by one thought: Sylus. He couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t die. Foolish girl, not even his evol could save him from an explosion of that magnitude.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat clung to your skin as you pushed your limits, charging up the stairs to the floor where you had been just forty minutes earlier. You stumbled multiple times, falling to your knees, but the thought of Sylus pushed you onward.

When you finally reached the floor, it was a scene of devastation. The area lay in ruins, engulfed in smoke and chaos, with scattered survivors struggling to breathe amidst the wreckage. You focused your eyes and ears, straining to find Sylus amidst the agonizing cries of others. Time blurred as you searched, exhaustion creeping in and threatening to overwhelm you.

Just when you thought you might pass out, you spotted it—silver locks, now dirty and disheveled, just a few feet away. Panic surged through you as you fell to your knees and crawled with the last remnants of strength you had left. When you finally reached him, your heart stopped. You had never seen Sylus so vulnerable, so exposed.

You reached out to touch his face, your irritation intensifying at the realization that you still had to keep your gloves on, unable to feel his soft, dirt-streaked skin. With the last remnants of your strength, you shook him gently, your voice coming out hoarse as you tried to call his name.

Slowly, his eyes peeled open, and you let out the breath you had been holding. Unfortunately, you had inhaled too much smoke, resulting in a violent cough that wracked your body.

Clutching your chest, you hunched over, trying to cough out the smoke while moving away from him. Just then, you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you down to him. You attempted to focus on his face, searching for any injuries, but your eyes were tearing up, and your vision was blurred from the smoke-filled atmosphere.

Just as you thought you might lose consciousness, his voice broke through, shaky and hoarse but still as sharp as a knife. “What are you doing in here, kitten?” His eyes were half-lidded, and he groaned as he struggled to sit up. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me outside?”

You tried to help him rise, but his heavy body only dragged you down, sending you sprawling onto the floor. As he noticed your condition, his eyes sharpened with concern, and his features turned serious. He began removing his coat, which was now dirty and full of holes.

“Sylus—you need to get out of here,” you urged, trying to push him away as he attempted to cover you completely with his coat.

“Don’t talk right now, sweetie.” His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as he made sure no part of your upper body was exposed. Your hands were now firmly pinned to your torso beneath his coat. “And don’t fight me.”

His fingers came to your face, squeezing gently until your lips formed a pout and your attention was solely on him. “Stubborn little kitten,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and affection.

Just before you slipped into unconsciousness, you felt the tendrils of his red-black mist enveloping you, pushing through your evol’s resistance and carrying you away from the chaos.

When you finally opened your eyes, it took a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The unmistakable scent of Sylus’s mattress enveloped you, grounding you in reality. You were back at the mansion.

Your limbs felt heavy, and a dull ache throbbed in your head. Every part of your body screamed for you to stay in bed, to drift back into sleep and forget everything that had happened before you lost consciousness. But your mind was fixated on one thing: Sylus.

With a groan, you attempted to sit up, quickly glancing over your body. To your relief, you realized you were freshly cleaned and dressed in one of your nightgowns, with no significant injuries aside from a few scratches on your skin.

You took a moment to steady yourself, ensuring your vision wouldn’t fade to black before you attempted to walk across the room toward the door. Sylus’s office was just down the hallway, and as you stepped outside, you could faintly hear Luke and Kieran’s voices drifting from inside. You paused, heart pounding, and when you heard Sylus’s gruff tone, a wave of relief washed over you. He was okay.

After a brief moment, you knocked once before turning the doorknob and peeking through the small opening. Sylus’s gaze met yours immediately, and the twins turned to regard you with their rare smiles. It wasn’t often they dropped their masks, even in the mansion, but now their boyish features shone through. Their red hair was pulled back into matching messy ponytails, and a hint of blush colored their cheeks as they took in your appearance in the gown.

Sylus coughed discreetly, and the twins exchanged glances before standing up to give you two some privacy.

As they made their way to the door, Kieran paused to ruffle your hair playfully, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You gave us a scare there, little crow.”

You regarded both twins with a small, apologetic smile before turning your full attention to the white-haired man seated behind his desk. He still wore his torn shirt, which left his muscular frame fully exposed. With a languid movement, he rolled his chair away from the desk and beckoned you with a finger.

Taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, you felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you as his intense gaze roamed over your form. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you approached and stood before him, his legs slightly apart, causing your knees to brush against the inside of his thighs as he looked up at you.

Your eyes fell to his toned chest, now marred with scratches and bruises—evidence the damage inflicted, perhaps a sign that he was running low on evol energy and unable to heal completely.

“Are you okay?” Your voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, still tinged with hoarseness. You clasped your hands behind your back, fidgeting awkwardly.

You weren’t quite sure what had come over you; you had never before found yourself in a situation where you needed to actively express your concern for Sylus until tonight, and you hoped he wouldn’t recall too much of what had transpired in that building.

“Worried, kitten?” he asked, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips as his gaze swept over your body. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch you, yet he seemed equally torn, grappling with the worry that had gripped him when you had passed out in his arms.

You sniffled softly, your eyes darting anywhere but to him, your body tense and rigid as if your bones were locking into place. Instead of answering his question, you opted to redirect the conversation. “Do we know what caused the explosion?”

His expression was unreadable, and you noticed his jaw tick slightly as he processed your words. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, raising his hand to brush his knuckles gently across your arm. A shiver coursed through you at the contact, and you could see the corners of his lips curl slightly at your reaction. This time, he didn’t bother to hide himself from you.

“I did.”

“What?” Your voice came out louder than intended, earning a deep, rumbling chuckle from Sylus. He relaxed further into his chair, locking his carmine eyes onto yours with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

 “What are you talking about, Sylus? When I came in there…” It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask the emotion in your voice. “When I came in, you had fainted. What would have happened to you if I hadn’t found you in time?”

Amusement danced freely in his eyes at your small outburst. You truly were exquisite in your concern. “You underestimate me too much, sweetie.”

“You’re the one underestimating your enemies, Sylus!” You raised your voice, your hands gesturing in disbelief. “Just because you’re the leader of Onychinus doesn’t mean they can’t get to you if you’re unconscious.”

“Burnt men can’t walk, kitten.”

A small gasp escaped your lips at the speed and bluntness of his response. His smugness only fueled your anger at his reckless behavior. Leaning down, you gripped the arms of his chair, effectively caging him in. You were about to respond when you suddenly realized the position you had put yourself in. It gave him a full view of your breasts, the fabric of your nightgown flowing away from your skin and leaving little to the imagination.

Your ears and cheeks burned a deep crimson as you tried to pull away just as quickly as you'd leaned down. However, Sylus’s arm had already wrapped around your waist, anchoring you in place and pulling you impossibly closer. Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his pupils had dilated, his lips parting slightly as he fixated on your slowly hardening nipples.

“Sylus…” Your voice was barely a whisper now, heat pooling in your core under his intense gaze.

Finally, Sylus’s eyes met yours, and he began to stroke your back slowly, his tone low as if he feared shattering the delicate bubble that enveloped you both. “The explosion; It was my plan all along. Why else would I want you out and away from the building, sweetie?”

A frown crossed your face at his admission. Despite your initial shock, your body grew more compliant under his gentle strokes as he pulled you in, guiding you to straddle his thigh. His red irises darkened just a bit when your pulsing core made contact with his jeans and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the realization that he could probably feel just how wet you were.

Yet, he continued speaking, his voice smooth and steady. “Tonight had no other way of going. It was necessary and inevitable.”

“But why?” Your eyes had softened since you’d first entered his room, and you found yourself relaxing more beneath his touch as he explained the events of the night.

“Because, kitten, tonight’s transaction was off the table the moment it was proposed by the other side, a few days back when I was still away."

By now, confusion began to cloud your understanding of Sylus’s motives. “But…” Your gaze drifted to his desk, where numerous files lay scattered. “Is this why you came back earlier? Tonight’s transaction was for that protocore you needed, Sylus. I thought nothing could screw this up for you. Weren’t you after it for years?”

Sylus let out a small scoff, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied your face intently. “You never asked me what the price of that protocore was, kitten.”

Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him again, instinctively leaning closer. Your breasts brushed against his chest, heightening the tension between you as if his answer were a secret he needed to share. “And what was the price?”

“You.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and a dark cloud crossed his features as he spoke. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, causing you to squirm on his thigh, which elicited a low grunt from him.

Your emotions were a chaotic mess, thoughts swirling together and leaving you breathless as you tried to process what he was implying. “So what you’re saying is…”

“The deal was off the table the moment they thought you were for sale.” Sylus’s leg bounced suddenly, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your hands instinctively flew out to clutch the fabric of his open shirt for stability. “I came back because I had to send a message.”

His voice dripped with malice as he continued to move his leg, sending shockwaves of sensation through your core as it ground against his thigh.

The pleasure mixed with confusion made you feel light-headed; even if you wanted to resist, your body had already betrayed you. There was no stopping your hips from chasing the friction, no way to quell the whimpers that escaped your lips. Sylus’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of your nightgown at the sound.

As you continued to grind against him, he spoke with a dark intensity. “They had to know, kitten; Nobody lives to say they tried to bargain with what belongs to me.”

“I—I don’t belong to you,” you breathed out, unsure whether you were trying to lie to him or to yourself.

“Is this why you’re drenching my thigh, sweetie?” As if to emphasize his point, he bounced his knee again, causing it to press against your sensitive nerves with a force that made you moan involuntarily, your head falling to rest on his shoulder.

“You poor thing,” he cooed in your ear, his hand sliding to your lower back, urging you to grind down against him.

“Tonight—you put yourself in danger, Sylus.” You struggled to form coherent thoughts as you chased your orgasm on his thigh, your mind slowly turning to mush. “That was so stupid, even for you.” You finished your sentence with a moan, and Sylus groaned, instinctively moving his hips upward, his own hard-on seeking friction.

“Were you worried about me, kitten?” He dipped his head to your neck, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses as he awaited your response, which never came. Sensing your hesitation to voice your concern, his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingertip pressing onto your throbbing clit, making you cry out. “Answer me.”

“I—yes. Yes, I was s'worried.” Your head fell back in bliss, granting him access to suck and nibble on your throat as your hips moved faster and harder. The tight coil in your belly was only a few movements away from bursting. “I thought I’d—”

“Go on.” Sylus urged, his fingers dancing over your clit as he bounced his knee in sync with your movements, relishing the way you were making a mess on him, your whole body heating under his touch.

“I thought I’d lost you.” The words escaped your lips just as your orgasm washed over you, making your vision go black and your entire body shake with its intensity. Sylus’s arms wrapped around you, caging you against his chest as he let you ride it out, offering the small comfort you sought after your confession.

When you finally came down from your high, you were breathless, panting, and a few tears had escaped your eyes. But he was there, holding you gently and running his fingers through your hair. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, sweetie.”

You pushed your head off his chest, your eyes meeting his soft red ones. Without thinking clearly, you reached out to cradle his face. The moment your fingertips made contact with his skin, his whole body visibly flinched, and just like his heartbeat, it felt like time had stopped.

Horrified and regretful, you realized you had let your emotions get the best of you and forgotten about your evol. You stood up from his lap, pressing your hands tightly against your chest, the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Just a few seconds. Just a few seconds, and he’ll wake up, like he always does, right? Doubts gnawed at you; he was so weak after tonight, but his evol would heal him. It had to.

Just when you were about to scream for help, Sylus’s chest began to rise and fall again. His eyes fluttered open, and relief flooded your entire being. Your shoulders slumped, and your body shook, even though he was alright. How could you have been so careless?

“Sweetie.” His voice was soft as he stood from his chair, towering over you. “Look at me.”

You tilted your head up hesitantly, your regrets gnawing at you for what you had just done. You tried to open your mouth to apologize, but no words came out; instead, his lips found yours, silencing any sound you might have made. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling gently to angle your head to the side and deepen the kiss until you thought you might faint from lack of breath.

This time, you made sure to keep your hands glued to your sides, not daring to touch him again. When he finally pulled away, you were both panting. He rested his forehead against yours and moved his hand to the back pocket of his pants, retrieving something.

You tilted your head to watch him unfold two pieces of leather gloves. He carefully took your wrist, drawing it toward him before placing the glove on your hand, then moved to the other to do the same. It was a temporary solution, one that frustrated you to no end, but you wouldn’t jeopardize his life just for a touch of his soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your thoughts crashing over you like a tsunami of negativity at the prospect of harming him. Your frustration only fueled your desperation, and you found yourself clawing at the remnants of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “I need you, please, Sylus, ’m so sorry.”

Sylus groaned as he felt you tugging him nearer, his own hands finding refuge on your body, touching and caressing anywhere he could reach. “Are you sure, kitten? Once we start, I don’t know if I can hold back.” His voice was low and controlled, while your legs trembled with desire and need.

“Then don’t hold back. Give me everything you have. I can take it, Sylus.” You pressed kisses all over his exposed chest, making him gasp and thin his patience. In one swift motion, you found yourself lifted off the floor, your body cradled in one of his arms as he carried you toward his desk.

“You really know how to bring a man to his knees, sweetie.” He placed you gently on top of the desk, taking his position between your legs. Your lips connected again as his hands deftly worked to rid you of your clothes.

Once you were bare before him, he stepped back, his gaze roaming over your body like a starving man taking in a feast. “Breathtaking.”

He fell to his knees in front of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders with a force that sent you backward, your elbows bracing against the desk for balance. He was too impatient to tease; he dived right in, his tongue lapping at your folds with urgent fervor.

Your back arched immediately, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he worked his mouth on your cunt, devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your legs tightened around his head, the pleasure overwhelming, which only made him groan and feast on you harder.

His tongue plunged into your tight hole, sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body. You thought you could hold on a little longer, but when his large hand spread across your tummy, pressing down, you exploded in his mouth. Your vision went white as you drenched him, your thighs shaking violently around his head.

The realization of what you had done hit you when he pulled away, his chin and exposed chest glistening with droplets of your release. You shot your gloved hand to cover your mouth, your legs instinctively closing in embarrassment.

Yet, he looked even more exhilarated, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them, his lips finding yours once more. “You’re going to do this again. And this time, you’re going to do it on my cock.”

He pushed you back, a firm hand on your chest as you lay spread out on top of his desk. Your eyes focused on his hands as they deftly undid his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs. The moment you saw his girthy cock—veiny and the tip angry and red for you—your mouth went dry.

You craved to satisfy him as he had satisfied you, but when you tried to sit up, his hand pressed you back down against the desk.

“Not tonight, sweetie. Right now, I just need to be inside you.”

Even though he spoke, he made no move to get on you, waiting for your consent first. You nodded, your eyes clouded with lust.

“Use your words, kitten. I need to hear you.” He was pumping his cock with his hand, his fingers barely wrapping around it. Standing before you in all his naked glory, he resembled a Greek statue, and your chest tightened at how wickedly beautiful he looked.

“Yes. Please, Sy, need you inside me.” Your voice came out breathless, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He wrapped an arm around your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the desk and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to spread you open exactly as he desired.

He pushed the tip in at first, making you clench around him instinctively, as if trying to suck him deeper. An unsteady breath escaped him, and his body stuttered momentarily. You were killing him in the sweetest way. “So goddamn tight.”

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he pushed further inside you, his grip on your thigh tightening the moment he was fully buried in you, his pelvis pressing against yours. You could feel him all the way up into your stomach, and your legs began to shake, even though he remained still.

His breathing had turned erratic, and the moment your hips squirmed forward, his other hand came down to keep you in place. “Shit, baby, don’t move. Give me a moment.”

You were a whimpering mess, sweat beading on your forehead from the anticipation. But the instant he started moving, your whole body unlocked, turning to pudding under his thrusts. He began with a slow, deliberate pace, his lips parting as small grunts escaped him, each thrust igniting the fire building within you.

The more you clenched down on his cock, the faster he moved, until the desk scraped against the marble floor. “Fuck, kitten. You’re squeezing me so tightly.” His voice was thick with lust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin only intensified the fire burning deep in your core. “Do you love my cock that much?”

Your mind had turned to mush, thoughts consumed by how he stretched you and filled you to the brim. You nodded uncontrollably, crying out every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Yes! I love it so much, Sy.”

“Good girl.” Sylus’s thrusts quickened as he heard your pretty sounds, the way your walls sucked him in making his thighs tremble slightly as he felt his release drawing near. “Such a good girl, so cock-hungry for me.”

“Ah— fuck.” Stars began to form behind your eyelids, your whole body rocking on the desk. If it weren’t for Sylus’s hands gripping your thighs, you would have slid right off and ended up on the floor from his relentless force. The desk shook violently from his pounding, and you were certain the whole house could hear you.

Sylus’s hand reached for your face, his thumb brushing against your lower lip before slipping past it to press down on your tongue, making you clench around his cock instinctively. “That’s it, sweetie,” he breathed, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in pleasure as your cunt hugged him tightly. “Give it to me; I can feel how close you are.”

You were indeed on the brink, your whole body burning and trembling under Sylus’s powerful thrusts. But what sent you over the edge was a sudden knock on the door, followed by Luke’s voice calling out to see if everything was alright.

The moment you realized you had been caught, and Luke could turn the doorknob at any second to find you spread for Sylus, his cock pressing against your cervix, you exploded. Your loud moans were partly muffled by the white-haired man's finger in your mouth. The pressure you applied around his cock as you climaxed made Sylus falter, his own orgasm crashing over him with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

His hot seed coated your walls, filling you to the brim and spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he continued to thrust, ensuring every last drop found its way inside. You were a crying, spent mess on his desk, while he tried to catch his breath, slowly lowering your leg back down from his shoulder.

Luke was long gone from outside the door, having heard enough to realize what was happening between you and Sylus.

You could only look up at him with a small shared chuckle before he leaned down to kiss your lips, his newfound gentleness contrasting sharply with the intensity of the moment. “I believe they received a lesson about eavesdropping now,” he murmured, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

[agathasstrap]

call it puppy love ~ a.h

taglist: @ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet @harknessshi @natashasdetka @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

pairing: agatha harkness x reader, reader x agatha harkness

word count: 3.7k

summary: agatha harkness is one of the most infamous witches to ever exist, and she also just so happens to be your ex. it's been three years since you broke up and she left to chase the scarlet witch and her chaos magic. your friend invites you to a bar to celebrate her birthday, and you accept, eager to get out of the house and enjoy yourself. what you didn't plan for, was seeing agatha there, much less with a woman. you leave the bar in a rage, annoyed and angry with how she had the audacity to show up after all this time, much less with someone else. when you get home, you unfortunately find that she's waiting there for you. you try your best to resist, but it proves impossible when she decides she's going to remind you that you belong to her, and that she would never fuck anyone the way she fucks you.. if at all.

content warnings: dom!agatha harkness, fem!reader, ex!agatha harkness, degrading, praising, mommy k!nk, slapping, fingering, pet names, a little violence, marking/hickeys, biting, fluff, magic use, smut.

you never knew what to expect when it came to your ex girlfriend. then again, maybe you should've thought about that before you fell in love with one of the most infamous witches to ever exist.

agatha harkness was a killer, a monster, some would even go as far as to say the devil.. but you loved her. you saw beyond her facade, you were one of the only people who really knew her.

you being a non-witch however, caused most of the issues that led to the breakup. your ex girlfriend loved using her power to manipulate you, as if it was a game to see how far she could make you go for her. on one side, it turned you on to know she was using her power to control you, and on the other, you wanted her to be her true self with you. manipulation and control were her main persona, but you knew that deep down, she was soft, and gentle. she had showed you this side of her before, but when she went back to being cold, and ruthless, it felt like she had become a different person.

the last time you saw her was three years ago. you missed her, but you knew it was better this way. the last you'd heard, she was meddling with the life of the scarlet witch. oh how you knew she must've enjoyed that. it made you a little jealous, knowing someone else would receive the same treatment you did, but again.. you knew it was better this way.

it was your friend's birthday, and you were invited to celebrate with her at a bar. you were excited, but a little anxious. superstition was never really your thing, but there was just a feeling you couldn't shake.

you decided to pretend like you didn't have this feeling. you wanted to have a good night, and you wanted to be present.

as you stepped out from the taxi you took, you felt a shiver go down your spine. again, you chose to ignore it.. but in the back of your mind, for just a second, you thought that this feeling was familiar.. that you'd felt it before.

when you opened the glass door to the bar, you sighed, smiling at the sight of your friend camille. she waved you over to the empty barstool next to her, and you eagerly followed her direction.

the last time you had seen her was last year when you two ran into each other at a cafe. it was refreshing to be out and about with other people you held dear.

you put your purse down on the stool beside you and order a drink.

when the bartender returns with your order, you and camille begin to catch up on the events of your life and the events of hers. she was one of the few friends you had who already knew about agatha harkness. you thought of course, since she already knew your long history, agatha wouldn't come up, but you were wrong.

"so.. how long's it been?"

you were mid sip when camille asked this, and you almost spit it out with a laugh when her eyebrows raised. you swallowed the liquor, letting the burning sensation warm your throat.

"what do you mean?" you ask, tilting your head in confusion.

"how long has it been since you've seen her?" when the question sank in, you felt a lump form in your throat. you bit your lip and downed the rest of your drink before raising a finger so that the bartender would refill it.

if there was one thing you hated, it was talking about agatha.

you smiled, not wanting to show your uncomfortable feelings upon that question.

"it's been three years." you were avoiding her gaze.

camille put a hand on your leg, and her lips turned to a pout.

"oh, you poor thing.. have you been with anyone else after.. you know..?" now she was sipping from her glass, her eyes locked in on your face.

you shook your head, a little embarrassed. you had been close, even gotten as far as having someone new in your bed.. but you could never actually go there with anyone else. it was like a curse, a burden.

camille's hand raced to cover her mouth, and she looked at you with so much pity. it enraged you a little.

"look, i mean, i've kissed other people, i just.. she just.. i don't know! i don't know." you sighed, turning your body to face her.

"i don't even know where she is, for gods sake!"

at this last comment, camille's eyes seemed to be completely entranced by something behind you. that same chill from before ran through your body, and your heart started racing. camille bit her lip and looked at you, "i think i just found her."

your head jerked to the side. your eyes instantly found what had caught her attention.. agatha harkness.

all you could see was the half of her face, and of course her body. you knew well enough it was her, though.

her hands were entangled in someone's hair, and the other woman was on her lap, straddling her. the part of her face that was hidden was buried in the stranger's neck, where you imagined she was leaving marks and warm kisses.

your heart sank, and you barely even noticed when the man behind the bar returned your refilled glass.

camille put her hand on your shoulder, trying to snap you out of your unbreakable gaze.

it worked, and you turned away, planting your palms against your forehead. it was stupid to come here, you should've just listened to your intuition. you knew there was something wrong tonight.

camille tried her best to console you, offering to pay for the drinks you consumed, and even to drive you home.

you refused. you just wanted to crawl into your bed and forget what you'd seen. i mean, what were the chances you'd see her in a bar after three years and she'd be with her new little plaything?

you picked up your purse and stood up, not even bothering to finish your drink. camille looked at you with that pitiful expression again, and you felt even more angered at this.

you didn't even tell her goodbye as you started to walk towards the bar door.

against your better judgement, you sighed, and looked back at where you'd seen your ex girlfriend. you could've been wrong, and you thought for a second you might've been, because when you did look she was looking back.

the eye contact was prevalent between the two of you for at least a minute, and you started breathing heavily.

agatha wore a smirk, and bit her lip. her hands were wrapped around the woman's waist, and you watched, almost hypnotized, as she kissed the stranger's neck again. anger, and even a little bit of jealousy pooled in your chest.

even more confusing was the fact that while she left warm kisses on this woman's neck, her eyes were locked on yours.

she pulled away from her throat and she tightened her grip around the stranger's waist. you bit your lip and took a deep breath. agatha winked.. and then the realization hit you like a brick. agatha being here tonight was no mistake. she came to this bar because of you. she wanted to torture you. she was evil, and she was haunting you.

you decided then that you hated her. you decided that you hated agatha harkness with every bone in your body.

your hands pushed the door open roughly, and you rushed through the opening.

thankfully, a cab was close to the establishment, and you raised your hand to signal for the driver to stop.

he did, and you got in without hesitation. you spent the ride home replaying the scene at the bar over and over again. you couldn't figure out what she wanted, or why she would show up after three years, just to make you jealous. it infuriated you, it made you want to bang your head against a wall. you hated her. or at least, that's what you decided this feeling was.

when you got home, you threw your bag onto your couch. your head was spinning. you wanted to stop thinking about her, but it felt impossible.

you ran your fingers through your hair and closed your eyes, when you heard a thud. it sounded like it came from your room.

your mind immediately went to an intruder, a burglar, or even a murderer. upon instinct, you hurried to the kitchen, pulling a long and sharp knife from one of the drawers.

you look around as you approach your room, trying to make out anything that might be lurking in the dark of your house.

when you reach the door to your bedroom, you peek through the crack between the frame. you see a dark figure. it's a person, and they're rummaging around in your closet. you take a deep breath, gaining the courage to go in there. you'd never hurt someone before, and you had no idea if this person was armed.

however, you knew, if you wanted to get rid of them, you should go in there. you roll your eyes, cursing the universe for this hectic night, and burst through the door, lunging after the person hidden in the dark.

your free hand wraps around their neck, and your knife is held against their throat.

the mysterious intruder chuckled, and you froze. your knife pressed into the skin on their neck, and you tightened your grip on the blade.

you knew who it was the moment you heard that sly and cocky chuckle.. it was your ex girlfriend.

agatha fiddled her fingers around, and there was now light in the room. she expected you to release her, but you stood still, your blade still threatening her throat.

she was hesitant to speak, but did so anyway. "huh, after all these years you'd think i'd remember how much you like knife play.."

her tease at you made your blood boil. you pulled the knife from her neck and unwrapped your arm from her throat. she stumbled, but it was clear that she enjoyed how much her comment angered you.

you threw the knife onto the bed and walked towards the door. you wouldn't stay in the same room as her for another moment. she was so enraging.

just as your hand met the handle, you were pulled back by an unseen force. you groaned as you were slammed against the wall of your bedroom.

agatha was watching you, amused.

you wince at the pain of the contact your back makes with the wall, but your eyes stay closed, you were still determined not to look at her.

she hums and sits down on your bed. her eyes dart around the room for a while, and you still avoid looking at her. she noticed by now of course, that you weren't looking at her.

this put a smile on her face.

agatha released you from the force of her magic, and you fell to your knees.

"don't try to leave again." her voice is cold, and you know that the best thing to do is listen to her.

you managed to get up, brushing off any dust from your body.

agatha bit her lip, "come here, pet." your body shivered, like it had throughout the night.

finally, you met her gaze. she smirked when you did, and her finger lifted. she was signaling for you to come closer, and you looked her up and down. it had been so long since you've had her.. you wanted her.. but you hated her.

even with that being acknowledged, you knew she would get her way somehow, so you took the liberty of taking the easy route and following her orders.

when you'd made yourself even with her, you noticed how she looked at your body. she looked hungry, looked eager. you'd seen her this way before.. you knew what she wanted from you.

part of you wanted to go, because you knew that you'd let her have her way with you, and the other part wanted to fight back, to make her angry and pathetic for a change.

she didn't give you time to do either option.

her hands clawed into your hips, and she pulled you down onto your knees, so that you'd be almost level with, but a little lower than her; being she was sitting on your bed.

you pursed your lips as her hand shot up to your chin. she held you firm, examining your face.

"god.. how i've missed my pretty little plaything." her eyes darkened with lust, and you bit your lip, looking up at her.

agatha retracted her hand from your jaw and pouted at you, tilting her head. her hand pulled back, and in a flash it connected to your cheek in a harsh slap.

your hands rushed to the side of your face, and you moaned at the pain. she hummed.

"you're so weak and pathetic, baby.." she whispered, cupping your hands with her own, the very hand that had caused the pain to begin with.

"i'm not weak, and i'm not pathetic, and i'm not your 'baby'." you spat, pushing away her hand.

she raised her eyebrows in curiosity and cackled. you watched intently as she spread her legs out, patting her lap.

you blushed, not sure if it was because she had flustered you or if it was embarrassing that she knew you'd still do as she said.

agatha rolled her eyes, and you took that as a sign that she was tired of waiting. you decided she would just have to suck it up.

"i'm not sitting on your lap. i'm not yours anymore, agatha. if you want some slut to manipulate.. why don't you go and find whoever you were with at the bar." you were shaking with anger, agatha could see the jealousy behind your words. you stood, and you held a straight face to her. you wanted her to think you were in control, to know that even though she had power, she couldn't use you anymore.. even with as much as you may have liked it.

she pressed her lips together, closing her eyes. she rose from the bed, opening her eyes when she was still. you thought about backing up a little, but you decided not to.

agatha wasn't looking at your face anymore. her eyes were on your body, specifically on your chest.

"take it off." she didn't even look back at you, her eyes were pointed, and her arms were crossed.

you sighed in shame, lifting your shirt from your body. she always got what she wanted.

when the top half of your body was uncovered besides your bra, she smirked, pulling you close to her body. her fingers trailed up your back, straight to the clasp of your garment. within a second, it was on the ground.

agatha's lips found your neck. you knew she'd leave marks on you, ones you'd never be able to explain. she loved to mark you, however. she loved to make sure everyone knew you were hers.

with each kiss and bite and suckle, you moaned, your hands eventually ending up entangled in her hair.

she dragged her tongue from your pulse point to your earlobe, biting it gently.

she whispered to you in a seductive manner, "you know mommy loves it when you get jealous.."

your body reacted, a wet heat began to pool between your legs. she knew how to get to you, she knew what made you crazy.

"i put on that whole show for you.. the kissing, the biting.. even fucking her, it was all for you."

you pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, and pushed her away from you.

"you fucked her?" your tone sounded accusatory. you were angry, you wished you had power; you'd have killed her by now.

"no, but your reaction was golden. really, you should see your face right now!"

her smile was intoxicating, and you felt a little relief that she hadn't touched another woman the way she's touched you. but then it hit you that she's been gone, for three years. with the scarlet witch of all people.. you didn't want to think of the things agatha might've done to her. but you wanted to know, you needed to know if she had been with anyone else. it meant something to you.

"did you.. have sex with.. you know, other people?" the sentence came out shaky, but you hoped she wouldn't notice.

she shook her head slightly, "why would you ask that, cariño? you know i.." for the first time since she'd been there, you saw sincerity behind her eyes; she was hurt by the question. maybe that was why she didn't finish her answer off.

you bit your lip and your fingers grabbed the material of your skirt. you slowly slid it down your body, avoiding her eyes. you were left only in your underwear, which were soaked and ruined already. you removed them too, leaving your body fully available and vulnerable to agatha's every will.

she watched intensely, her eyes dragging up your body.

"come here, y/n."

you went up to her, your nipples touching her button up shirt.

she pulled you as close as possible by your waist, and your lips were clashing with hers.

it had been three years since you'd kissed her. it felt like heaven. she felt like heaven.

she turned you so that your back would face the bed, and drew her lips back. using a finger, she pushed you down onto the soft surface. you watched as she stood at the end of the bed, unbuttoning her shirt. she threw it to the floor, same with her bra, pants, and panties.

agatha was the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen. her body was like a work of art.

"you're so perfect" you said a little quietly, part of you hoping she hadn't heard you.

she smiled, and climbed on top of you. her lips were on yours again, and the kisses felt so freeing, so sweet. it wasn't aggressive.

her hands cupped your breasts, and her thumbs circled your nipples.

your head tilted back, and you moaned into the kiss.

she pulled away, leaving you speechless. her lips started to run down your body, from your neck to your nipples. she took her time there, suckling them into her mouth, brushing her tongue against them. you felt the heat between your thighs start to grow, and your neediness for her began to get unbearable. her hand started to retreat down your stomach, and your hips bucked up as it fell between your thighs.

her mouth moved up again, and she kissed up to your ear.

agatha sucked onto your pulse point, something you were sure would leave a hickey.

her fingers lingered in the slick wetness of your pussy. you desperately needed her.

she released the part she had been sucking on, and whispered a question to you. "do you want mommy to put her fingers inside of you?"

you opened your mouth to reply, and as you did, her fingers began to rub against your clit.

you moaned at the touch, and your body jerked. she chuckled. god, she knew exactly how to make you a mess.

her fingers sped up, and she asked again, "i said.. do you want mommy to put her fingers inside of you..?"

you whimpered, nodding your head.

she bit your earlobe and you knew she wanted to hear you say it.

"i want your fingers inside of me mommy! please!" your face was red and hot at the confession, the plead. she smirked and then two fingers entered inside your soaked folds.

your eyes rolled back, and you arched your body. her fingers started thrusting into your pussy with increasing speed.

you'd missed her so much. you missed her fingers, and her voice, and the way she made you feel. you never wanted to go this long without her again.

she bit into your neck as her fingers curled into you. you moaned for her, "fuck, fuck, aggie! oh, please don't stop, please.."

her teeth released, "you're such a good girl for me, y/n."

your body was writhing in the pleasure you felt as her fingers curled and thrusted inside of you. you could feel yourself close to a climax.

agatha sped her fingers up just enough to get you there, and when you reached your orgasm, she slowed down, helping you ride it out.

you felt so free, so nostalgic as you rode your ex girlfriends fingers, covering them in cum.

she kissed you, taking away any oxygen you might've had before. the kisses were sloppy, but you savored every moment of them.

as your body finally relaxed, she pulled her fingers from your core, which left you to whimper.

she pulled her lips away, smiling at you. she brought her cum-covered fingers to your lips. "come on pretty girl, clean mommy's fingers."

you opened your mouth and sucked your juices off of them, and agatha bit her lip watching you clean up the mess she had turned you into.

she laughed, pulling them back.

you were blushing, still a little embarrassed about the way your body longed for her; even after all this time.

agatha could tell you were a little nervous, anxious even. she stroked your hair, cupping your jaw simultaneously.

"i could never.." she was being genuine now, you could tell by the way her expression softened. "i love you.. i couldn't—"

you chuckled and pulled her face close to yours. both of your eyes were focused on each other's. you nodded, letting her know that you understood.

she pulled you into another kiss and you happily kissed back.

when she finally broke the embrace, you smiled.

"you may be the most infuriating woman i've ever met, but i love you, agatha."

[kultofkorii]

− Tired

✎ your fav x reader

♦︎summary: your boyfriend is tired after a long day, and tries to convince you to come to bed

♦︎word count: 300+

♦︎warnings: none, short

Men who like to hug you from behind while you're busy. Their scent overwhelming you and simultaneously calming you. You can feel their chest against you back, rising and falling with each breath they take. Their warm arms wrapped around your waist, snugly, as if they were make to be placed there. Your face shifts to an expression of amusement, mind being taken off of your current task.

,,and just what do you think you're doing, Sir?,,

,,mmm... just seeing what you're up to, was getting lonely without you,, His husky voice sending vibrations through your upper back and chest. From the low pitch of his voice alone, you could tell he was about five minutes from collapsing in exhaustion.

,,you sound tired baby, why haven't you gone to bed yet?,, You questioned him, but continued with your task at hand. You felt him squeeze lightly at your waist, rubbing small circles where one of his hands rest on your stomach. You release a content hum, relaxing every more into his hold.

,,come t' bed with me, please?,, He rasps out, anyone who didn't know him well, wouldn't be able to notice the whine in his voice. You take pride in how much you know your man, quirks, ambitions and all, there was nothing he could do that would get past you.

Not even his light manipulation; he knew the affect his voice laced with sleep had on you. Knew you couldn't resist him, especially when he was in the mood for cuddles which was few and far between.

,,okay, just let me finish this and I'll be right with you-,, he cut you off, pulling you impossibly closer to his body, as if trying to fuse you into becoming one.

,,you can finish t'morrow, you always over work 'ya self,, His words began to slur together, his tiredness getting the better of him. You supposed it would be better to abide by his wishes, before he falls asleep where you both stand and traps you here; a common occurrence.

,,alright big guy, come on, you win,, Your hand intertwines with his as you pull him with you to your shared bedroom. Your eyes growing heavy as you make your way to that sweet mattress where you could bundle up with your love under warm comforters.

♦︎note: This is really me just testing out the waters before I really start writing. I haven't written in a long time, so I'd really love if you all would send me any requests you have! 😊