#yandere satoru x you
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death is the only end for us â chapter ii. imaginary
pairing: yandere!satoru gojo x fem!reader
sumary: Discussions about the past bring out an important revelation, [Y/N] will not surrender, she is willing to destroy everyone in her path to prove her innocence, even Satoru.
warnings: angst, threats, mentions of death, humiliation, yandere thoughts, spoilers from the main story.
word count: 2265.
more information about the history: here.
â â â â ââââââââââĄââââââââââ
AND BY PLANTING MISTRUST, LOVE WILL COOL DOWN, GIVE WAY TO HATRED AND RESENTMENT. There is no way to mend a broken glass, when you put the pieces together, the cracks and scars of the breakage will be there forever, the glass will break again if you fill it with water. There is no way to mend the heart of someone who has already been betrayed or abandoned.
After ten years forced to live in ostracism you have learned that curses are not as bad as the wizards say they are. Curses are predictable, they obey the primitive instinct to kill humans and devour each other for more power, they have no filters, they are direct in what they set out to do. But people are not, people are cunning, people deceive, people betray, people change, people are not what they appear or say they are, and above all, no person can be trusted. Father, mother, brother, friend or stranger, it is the nature of human beings not to be trusted.
You have learned the hard way that you cannot trust anyone. No matter how well you think you know someone, you really don't know how much someone can change in a day, maybe even in ten years. It was a long ten years living a miserable life, hunted like an animal for slaughter across three continents, you saw and experienced many things, but nothing surprised you more than the falseness of the human being.
However, there is a proverb that says that the prey will kill the predator. In the game GĆ the winner is the one who has the most pieces on the board, however it is not as simple as it seems, you need to knock down the opponent's houses if you want to ensure victory, because as in the animal kingdom there is no draw, only the strongest will prevail, the one who is able to continue living. It is a game of survival, but it is also a mental game, you beat the enemy destroying what he worked hard to build, you take his place and eliminate him. Satoru and you are adversaries in this battle. He vehemently believes that victory is his, but the foundation of the houses he plays with are as fragile as a house made on the sand of the beach, and like GĆ's board, you will knock down all the pieces that hold him up.
He approaches you with a smug smile, there is no escape, it is only you on this empty hill, there are no trees you can use to hide, yet there is no way and no reason to hide when the Six Eyes search for you. You stop walking away and accept that there is no other option but to stand still, he seems pleased with your decision, the smile on his face widens. However, you will never surrender.
"I don't..." Disappointment tries to swallow your words, but you swallow your tears and face Satoru with clenched fists. "I'm not willing to give up my freedom just yet."
He takes a wrong turn with your words, to his ears they are just childish statements, but you are a human being and it is your nature to insist even when things seem impossible. The man in front of you falls into laughter and wipes away a tear that has run down the corner of his eye, it is annoying to see him mocking you, but to Satoru Gojo all people were such idiots that they were worthy of pity, and you were no exception.
"You act like you're a heroine from a light novel, that's hilarious." Satoru teases you with a smug smile on his face, you struggle to keep your cool, but a vein pops out on your forehead. "Seriously! Look at that pose! A great actress." He measures you from top to bottom. "Of our old group, you're the only one who keeps acting like a pre-teen, always wanting to prove to others that you're a martyr, it's ridiculous, don't you see?" He shoves one of his hands into his pocket and takes out a black blindfold and puts it over his eyes. "You have become such a pathetic person that it is hard to believe that you were considered a threat. Man, you killed civilians for nothing, I never understood the motives behind it, but honestly? I don't understand how we came to have anything, for a moment I even thought of you as an equal, but even Suguru did better in the villain role than you."
You are startled by those hostile words, he had never been so mean to you before, you even thought he would have some mercy for your bestie dying, but as usual you are expecting too much from Satoru Gojo. You never wanted to be a martyr, but there is some truth behind such hostility, the way you have behaved all this time as if you were being wrongly accused. Your hands have been dripping blood since the moment you were accused and the lives you took will haunt you until the day you die, but the people who died that night were not innocent and they were not civilians either, and the person who killed them was not you. You have put up with it all quietly, but this time you are determined to make a mess of it, as in gĆ, you will surround your enemies and let them fall alone.
"You're not entirely wrong." You admit waving your index finger towards him, mimicking his smug smile, I straighten my posture and take a step forward. "But I'm not the same girl you knew."
"Really? You still look like an idiot to me."
"Eh." You mutter amidst his debauched laughter. "The difference between the 18-year-old [Y/N] and the 28-year-old [Y/N] is: she doesn't mind crushing every ant that crosses her path."
You raise your hand towards his face and abruptly close it, making him take a step back, you laugh dryly and dullly, it's comforting to know that you're still able to mess with his head.
"Get out of my way, Gojo, before I crush you too." You threaten him, your will like a sharp sword about to slash his throat, he frowns and you step forward. "Don't tell me you don't know why no one had the courage to come to me." You watch his hesitation to give you an answer, but before he can say anything, you hold up your index finger to get him to shut up and listen, "Looks like you're the idiot here."
You place your hands together behind your body and lean forward, he is very close at this point, so you stand face to face, you feel the hesitation in his posture, his right foot goes back a step and a half before he steadies himself. You make no point of hiding your evil intentions beneath an innocent smile, the intent to kill is obvious, but it only comes from one side. Satoru may be many things, but you doubt he would kill you before he could experience the torture of the court again, he likes to play with his fangs and that would be his downfall. The moment he realises something is wrong, his hand comes towards your neck like lightning, however she is unable to touch you. The sky blue eyes shine in fury and you can't contain your laughter, it's not a genuine laughter, you just couldn't miss the moment to debauch his innocence.
"What have you done?!"
The scenery around you begins to change. The once bright and colourful landscape of the hill turns into a hostile, cold and gloomy environment, the welcoming atmosphere has become inhospitable, the peace you provided was false, as you had said earlier it is just an imaginary space. Satoru knows it is too late, however you give him the chance to move, and he approaches to attack me, but to his despair the distance between you is still the same, as if he cannot reach you, he is stuck in your trap, and you are waiting for him to place the piece on the board that will make him fall into ruins.
"What kind of cheap trick is that?!" He shouts in exaltation, unable to touch you, his steady footsteps crunch the frozen grass making an annoying creaking noise, he seems in a hurry. "What have you done to me?"
"That's not the right question, darling, try again." You reply in a playful voice and make the distance between you disappear, you grab his cheeks and lower his head so you can pull the blindfold off. "That looks really ugly on you, it makes you look like you have no forehead." You throw the piece of cloth on the ground, it's hard to believe that someone as vain as him chose to wear an accessory that would devalue his beauty so much, is that kind of thing fashionable in Japan? You would like to know.
"DAMN. [Y/N]!"
"Hm?!"
"What the hell is that?" He insists.
"You must be wondering why the Six Eyes don't recognise what's happening now, right?" He nods for you to continue explaining. "It's because you're not seeing anything, really. You taught me that for the Six Eyes to work, you need to see things around you, and okay, I know you can perceive the world on an atomic level, but I'm inside your head and not in front of you, got it? Or do you want me to draw?"
You tap your index finger on his temple and watch his eyes grow larger, it is satisfying to see him like this, for years you have kept a vow to Master Tengen not to use his true cursed technique for your own benefit, but you no longer have any connection to him, let alone the school. You cannot allow yourself to be the person who is passed over. You feel sweat drip down your hand, but it's not yours, rambling made you forget that you were still holding Satoru pinned in your hands.
"My cursed technique is called ââââ, by the way." You whisper, it's the first time you hesitate to tell Satoru something, you slowly back away until your hands can no longer touch him. "You must know what it means."
Satoru's skin turns as pale as paper, nostrils dilated and hairs standing on end, like an animal on alert, you would like to laugh and mock him as unassumingly as he did you, but you would not be satisfied with scaring him even more, you are not like that. You gather up a snowflake and the landscape has started to change again, this time it has started to crack, as if you were inside an old television full of static, living through a film locked in a stormy day.
Melancholy suddenly takes over you, you let out the air trapped in your lungs and watch the smoke of hot air, he's right when he says you're still a dumb teenager with childish aspirations. You turn your back and walk towards the "exit door" of the illusion you created to trap him, but before you go, you look at him over your shoulder, Satoru is staring at you with a weird look, clenched fists are at the side of his body, one leg is in front of the other as if he wants to come to you, but there is something holding him, only this time it's not you who holds him.
"When I disappear you will regain consciousness, I recommend you look around and be careful." You give him a weak smile and nod. "We will see each other again."
Satoru watches you enter a doorway of light that disappeared as soon as you stepped through it. His hands are sweaty and burning, nails are digging into his palm, blood drips down the spans of his fingers, it wasn't the first time an opponent had played a trick on him, but it's been so many since it happened he's forgotten how bad it feels to be tricked. A vein popped on his forehead and he began to laugh nervously as the word 'tricked' came to his mind, not much can be expected of you, you are clever and slippery as jelly, if he is not careful you will slip like sand or blood between his fingers.
"Bitch!" He roars exhausted and slaps his own forehead.
The space in which Satoru was trapped crumbled in a magical pass as he surged, soon the sound of horns and car tyres singing on the tarmac pierced his ears, regaining consciousness he hurriedly climbed onto the pavement. You dumped him in the middle of a busy avenue, it's your nature to play tricks on people, no matter how serious, you're the kind of childish person who would put a bucket full of water on the door to wet the first inattentive person who walked by. Drivers drove past him cursing and grumbling, but he didn't give a shit, his thoughts focused elsewhere, someone else.
- "We will see each other again" Satoru repeated and looked up at the sky, it was daylight a few minutes ago, no? He wondered if you could mess with time too and laughed bitterly, then brought his hand up to his face and covered his eyes, maybe nothing was impossible for you and Satoru resented that. "I hope so, but..." He paused before admitting to himself. "You have to pay for leaving me."
â â â â ââââââââââĄââââââââââ
â to be continued; ïčą â ïč
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"creature of myth."
pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, itâs too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+Â ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as âsinfulâ, very minor religious themes, fated âmatesâ, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the âSAY IT, SAY ITâ. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)
You remember perfectly the way your motherâs jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. Youâd never seen the man, and you still hadnât. Heâd asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things heâd be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. Youâd thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. Youâd only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the manâs suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off.Â
Youâd asked for proof nonetheless, and youâd gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didnât surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes⊠âhauntingâ said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return⊠changedâ if they returned at all.Â
You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering⊠why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but youâd never get it.Â
Your wedding wasnât even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and⊠that was that. You were married.Â
Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them youâve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags.Â
You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you canât bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldnât even show his face for your wedding.Â
The carriage ride is somehow longer than youâd thought it would be- apparently, the castleâs size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think youâve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times.Â
The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. Itâs⊠terrifying.Â
When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance.Â
Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castleâs peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but itâs not from the cold.Â
You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your familyâs annual income.Â
The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you donât belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me?Â
Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than youâve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than youâve ever dreamed of.Â
âPull this if you need any sort of assistance, maâam.âÂ
You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume itâs one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servantsâ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- youâve never seen one in real life before.Â
You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. âThank you, um-â you pause, your brow furrowing. âIâm sorry, I donât think I asked your name.âÂ
Your footman appears stunned to silence, like heâd never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. âThomas, maâam.â
You smile and itâs genuine. âThank you, Thomas.âHe bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. âOh, um, Thomas-â He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you.Â
âYes, my lady?âÂ
You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and⊠wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?
You clear your throat again. âDo you know, um, well-â You shift, trying to word your question properly. âDo you know when I might see the Lord?âÂ
There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. âNo, my lady.â
Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps.Â
Youâre stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to⊠consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When heâs over you?Â
You sigh. Thereâs nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- itâs going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and donât fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. Youâre tired. You didnât sleep much last night, anxious for the morning⊠and itâs only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself itâs a bad idea and then youâre swept away into a world of warm darkness.Â
You wake with a start. Your first thought is that itâs dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like youâve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you donât remember it. Perhaps thatâs a blessing.Â
You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didnât walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. Theyâre worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, theyâre all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home.Â
You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect youâll be sore for many days to come.Â
You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. Youâve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family⊠then youâd pay it gladly.Â
You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually⊠black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when youâve finished it doesnât feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning.Â
You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that itâs still warm, you conclude that it canât be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags.Â
You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle.Â
You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly⊠amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort⊠Your hand brushes purple silk and-Â
âDo you like them?âÂ
You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin⊠you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. Heâs your husband⊠and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing youâve ever seen.Â
He laughs, then, and itâs a warmer sound than youâd thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul.Â
âSorry. Didnât mean to scare you,â he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps thatâs a lie.Â
Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. Itâs shut. You didnât hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didnât hear footsteps, didnât hear breaths, didnât hear him.Â
He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit⊠strained?Â
âI have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.âÂ
Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. âYou must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.âÂ
Thereâs a beat, and then footstepsâ ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.Â
âSatoru, please,â he winks and you think you might stop breathing. âI am your husband after all.âÂ
You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like⊠that? Thereâs something too unreal about him, too perfect. Itâs almost⊠unsettling.Â
âOf course⊠Satoru.âÂ
He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet.Â
âSo, do you like them?â Your brows furrow- âThe dresses,â he clarifies.Â
âO-oh.â Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You donât think youâve ever touched something so⊠finely made. âI like them very much. I donât know how to thank you.âÂ
Thereâs a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. Heâs mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes foreverâŠÂ
âNo need to thank me. If they donât fit, weâll call for the seamstress in the morning.âÂ
You nod softly, still lost to the situation. Thereâs a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but⊠look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?
âDid you⊠get dinner?â Itâs a stupid question, you know, but you donât think you can bear another second of that look heâs giving you. âI fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didnât prevent a proper mealâŠâ You trail off. Perhaps you shouldnât have pointed out your own shortcoming?Â
He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. âYou did no such thing. Iâm⊠perfectly satisfied.âÂ
You nod, glad that he doesnât seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. Youâve never had a husband before. Wasnât he supposed to just sort of⊠put you on the bed and⊠do it?
Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue.Â
âWell, Iâll see you in the morning then, hm?â His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. âWear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.â He chuckles like heâs just told some sort of amusing joke.
Your brows furrow. That was⊠not the topic youâd been expecting. âYouâre notâŠâ You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. âNot staying the night?âÂ
His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You donât think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesnât stop until youâre nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. Itâs cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks.Â
âNot tonight.âÂ
His head dips and for a moment you think heâs going to kiss you, but then heâs bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch.Â
His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then heâs gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence.Â
âGoodnight,â is all he says, and then heâs gone.Â
You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened.Â
~Â Â
You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, youâd only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and directâ you would have remembered sending your measurementsâ you didnât. So had he just⊠guessed?Â
That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense.Â
When you join Satoru for breakfast itâs in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more⊠liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever heâs drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps heâs just not a breakfast person.Â
âIt fits!â he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all.Â
You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. âYes, perfectly.â
A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals itâs Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking.Â
âI hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?âÂ
You glance up, but Satoruâs eyes arenât on you, theyâre on your footman. His smile is bright, but itâs anything but friendly. You fight a shiver.Â
You glance at Thomas. Heâs perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. âY-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.â When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, â-and very respectful.âÂ
That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. âPerfect.âÂ
Thereâs a beat and then heâs standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. âWell, I have some work to do. Iâll see you for dinner?â Heâs grinning again, like itâs so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. âSee you then, princess.â And then heâs gone.
~
If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. Itâs like he fears coming too close. Heâs never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan⊠and no Satoru. You donât see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You donât see so much as a ripple in the curtains.Â
Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When itâs finally time to get dressed a ladyâs maid whose name you donât even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough sheâs back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that youâve yet to step foot in.Â
The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the placeâ filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think youâve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoruâs already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you.Â
You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. âHow was your day?â you ask as he takes his seat again.Â
He chuckles. âPerfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?â Your nose crinkles. Thatâs the second time heâs called you that. Something about it feels wrong. Youâre still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse.Â
âIt was⊠good.â
You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. âOh? Just good?â You donât miss the way his eyes flicker to the cornerâ to Thomas.Â
You hurry to elaborate. âWell, I justâ I canât help but feel as if thereâs not much⊠use for me.â Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume.Â
That brow arches impossibly higher. âUse?â His lips crack into that smile again, but itâs tight this time. Too tight. âYou have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.âÂ
A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell canât quell the sudden dread in your gut. âOf course! Of course he did.â Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. âIâll just⊠Iâll try riding tomorrow.â You hate riding, but itâs the first thing that comes to mind.Â
Satoruâs smile thaws into something less menacing. âIâm sure youâll enjoy that.âÂ
You nod eagerly. âIâm sure I will.âÂ
You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though itâs the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.
Itâs not until several bites later that you realize youâre the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. Heâs only⊠watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.Â
âYouâre not⊠eating?â
That permanent smile grows a little wider and you canât help but feel as if thereâs something⊠menacing about it. âAte before I came.âÂ
Your brows furrow. âOh. Were you on the road?âÂ
You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. âNo.âÂ
The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesnât eat a bite, doesnât even look enticed. You wonder how thatâs possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room.Â
By the time youâve cleared your plate youâve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. Itâs comforting to know a little more about your new home, but itâs not enough.Â
âIs there a library?â you ask. Youâre on dessert now. Itâs the best chocolate cake youâve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue.Â
âOf course.â Your husbandâs eyes flicker to Thomas again and youâre honestly starting to fear for the poor footmanâs life. Everytime you ask a question itâs like Satoru is angry it hasnât already been answered. âItâs yours to use as you please.âÂ
You smile lightly. âPerfect. Thank you.âÂ
He softens a bit at that. âIs there anything specific you wanted to read about?âÂ
You shrug. âThe estate, I suppose. I should know my homeâs history, no?â
His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. âOh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. Iâll leave them aside for you?âÂ
You swallow and give him a shallow nod. âThat would be perfect. Thank you.âÂ
He chuckles. âMy pleasure.âÂ
When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoruâs not far behind you, saying heâll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight?Â
He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, youâre thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but⊠off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you?Â
You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. âWill you stay with me tonight?âÂ
His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse.Â
âNot tonight,â he whispersâ and then heâs gone.Â
~
You wake suddenly. Itâs the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon.Â
Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare.Â
As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, youâd rather not see it coming.
~
The library is huge. Itâs sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge.Â
The books Satoru left you are⊠perfect. Just what you were looking for. Theyâre all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. Youâre stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo familyâs influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of informationâ but thereâs one book that doesnât fit with the rest. Itâs relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads âCreatures of Myth and Where To Find Themâ. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the sideâ must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.
~
You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servantsâ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you canât figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he?Â
You decide itâs a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crownâs ego. The estimates of your husbandâs net worth made your head spin.
Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. Itâs⊠unsettling to say the least. Itâs always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you.Â
Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but youâve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. Youâve nothing better to do, right?Â
You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. âCreatures of Myth and Where to Find Themâ. You donât recognize the authorâs name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there.Â
Itâs fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying youâve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblinsâ all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. âVampires [Vampyr]â.Â
You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye.Â
âContrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.âÂ
You purse your lips. What a⊠terrifying thought. You skim a little further.Â
âA vampireâs key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampireâs body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teethâ.
A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages.Â
âVampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.âÂ
Your stomach drops. You donât want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph.Â
âVampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a humanâs predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampireâs strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.â
You skip ahead again.
âVampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mateâs safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.â
Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperateâ desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the âWhere to Find Themâ subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe?Â
âVampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.âÂ
No, no, no. This canât be happening to you. It canât be real. Youâre dreaming, youâre having one of those nightmares again. Youâre going to wake up any second.Â
âOne tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.âÂ
Youâre panting, hyperventilating. This isnât happening.Â
âSoldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his familyâs characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.âÂ
No, no, no.Â
â(See next page for only existing portrait)â
Your fingers tremble but you canât stop them. Thereâs no way. Itâs not possible.Â
You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.Â
Knock! Knock! Knock!
You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but youâre not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru.Â
You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. Youâre suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows.Â
âHello,â he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense.Â
You force a breath into your lungs. âHello,â you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting.Â
Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. âAre you alright? You seem a little⊠flushed.â The concern on his face feels anything but genuine.Â
âIâm fine,â you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. âIs it time for dinner? Whereâs Thomas?âÂ
His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. âThomas has⊠left us.âÂ
No. This wasnât happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you.Â
âHe⊠what?â Thereâs an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoruâs face to fall further.Â
âItâs no matter. Heâs gone. Now itâs just you and me, hm?â He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. âIn fact, I was thinking Iâd cut down on the number of servants we have entirelyâŠâÂ
You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didnât have. âVampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mateâs safety is usually disposed of quickly.â
You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?
âWhat have you been up to today, princess?â The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husbandâs eyes flicker behind you.Â
You wet your lips. âJust some reading.â You plead that he doesnât ask anything further. He does.Â
âAbout the estate?â he asks.Â
You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. âYes.â
His smile returns and this time itâs not forced. âYou got my books, then?âÂ
You try smiling back, but youâre fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. âYes.â
âAnything interesting?â he presses.
This isnât happening. This canât be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? âYes, of course. Lots.âÂ
He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think itâs the first time youâve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. âI think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.â
You donât even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until heâs shutting your door behind him. He doesnât stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and youâre falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.
âWho knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time⊠You must be simply spilling with information.âÂ
You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. Youâre trapped.
His hands find your hips and youâre all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.
âSatoru-â your voice is pitiful, breathless, and youâre ashamed to say itâs not just from the fear in your gut. Heâs never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. âThomas-âÂ
âDonât speak his name.â His face pulls into the first scowl youâve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. Itâs wrong. âHeâs gone. Heâll never bother you again.â Heâs closer now, his breath skating over your skin. Itâs cool and now you know the reason why.Â
You shake and tremble and you knowâ Thomas is dead. Your husband killed himâ killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him.Â
He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. âThought I could put up with it, just so youâd have someone to take care of youâŠâ He groans. âI was so wrong, princess. Couldnât stand it. Couldnât stand the way you smelled more like him than meâŠâÂ
You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. âBut heâs gone. And now itâs just you and me, hm? Just you and meâŠâ He hums, like remembering that fact is all heâs ever needed.
Heâs kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. Heâs a killer, of thousands no doubt. Youâve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. Youâre not even the same species. Heâs something else, something your hands were never meant to touch.Â
Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says⊠but you donât. You canât. Itâs too⊠good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what youâre sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse⊠itâs intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine?Â
âHave you figured it out yet, love?â Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. âI can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?âÂ
He knows you know. But heâs going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. âYouâreâŠâ Your breaths come faster. You canât. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too⊠real.Â
âYessss?â he prods. Heâs licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point.Â
âYouâre notâŠâ Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.Â
âGo on, princess.â You think heâs just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in.Â
You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. âNot human,â you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.
He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. âThatâs good,â he purrs. âBut I think you can be a little more specific, no?â His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw⊠âTell me.âÂ
Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You donât want to say it, donât want to speak it into existence, but you also donât dare to disobey him.Â
âYouâre aâŠâ You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.
âMhm?âÂ
You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. âVampire.âÂ
He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. âThatâs right, princess. So smart.âÂ
He smiles and you suddenly realize youâve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you itâs close-lipped and dimpled. But this⊠this is the smile of a predatorâ all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight.Â
âShhhhh,â he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. âI wonât hurt you, love.â You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. âNot unless you want me to.â He wiggles a brow like itâs just a little joke, like heâs not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago.Â
âSatoru,â you beg. Youâre not sure what youâre begging for. Release maybe? But, no, thatâs not right. You donât want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. âWhy did you pick me?âÂ
The question slips out. You hadnât even been thinking about it, hadnât even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.
His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in⊠thoughtfulness. âDo you think about that a lot, princess?âÂ
You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be.Â
He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. âWellâŠâ he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. âAt first I wanted you for this.â His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. âYou smellâŠâ he chuckles. âLike heaven. Which is a place Iâll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?â He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. âWent into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.â Heâs still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. âWent crazy, princess. Didnât think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.â He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. âBut then I saw youââ he groans and something clenches deep at your center. âAnd I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.â Heâs rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. âWent to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldnât stay away. Knew I had to have you.â You feel him smile against your skin. âAfter a week I couldnât take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.â He groans again. âThen I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearinâ you talk to me, look at me.â Teeth graze your pulse. âNeeded you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookinâ at those dresses.â You whine when his hips roll into you again. âOh, but I knew I couldnât. Youâre so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, âfraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.â He panting, like heâs so pent up he can hardly sit still. âDo you trust me, princess?âÂ
Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You canât. âYes,â you breathe.Â
You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. âGood girl.âÂ
Youâre on your back. It happens so fast your eyes donât even have time to gasp. You donât see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. âSo good, princess. Letâs get you out of this dress, yeah?âÂ
You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru canât seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone.Â
âI always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,â he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin.Â
âSatoru,â you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt.Â
He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. âYou wanna see me too?â You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. âAlright.âÂ
His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like heâs been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has.Â
You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. Youâve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. Heâs art, you think- nothing less.Â
âTouch me, princess,â he says. You canât. You shouldnât. Heâs too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. âNeed a little help?â he asks, and thereâs a lilt in his voice that makes you sure heâs grinning.Â
His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one⊠You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then heâs laughing again and heâs throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long.Â
âNot so fast,â he says, like he wasnât the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and youâll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell heâsÂ
thinking the same thing. âYou touch me, now I touch you, yeah?â Thereâs a tug and a tear and then so much⊠cold. Youâve never realized how cold this castle is, not until youâre exposed to its elements fully. Youâre naked.Â
Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. Itâs too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity-Â
âNo.â Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. âLet me see you,â he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.Â
Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. Thereâs silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that youâreâÂ
âBeautiful,â he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. âBeautiful,â he says again, and then heâs on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. Youâre not sure itâs entirely from his temperature.Â
His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if heâs sucking your soul out through your lips. âTell me youâve never done this before,â he begs. âTell me Iâm the first to touch you.âÂ
You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what heâs already giving you. âY-Youâre the first,â you whisper.Â
His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. âYes,â he breathes, and you shiver again. âLie back, princess.â Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear youâre not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. âDonât worry. Iâll be gentle.âÂ
You pray he means that. âJust relax, love. Here, hold my hand.â His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like heâs committing you to memory, itâs nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust.Â
His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb.Â
âTell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?â His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but itâs the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. Itâs shameful, itâs dirty, itâs- âDonât think Iâll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.âÂ
You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. âY-yes,â you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further.Â
He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. âOn the outside or the inside?âÂ
Your eyes widen. I-inside? Youâd never considered that⊠âJ-just the outside,â you answer.Â
Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. âWell, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?âÂ
Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he meansâ his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. âSomebodyâs sensitive,â he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. âTry to stay still. I promise itâll feel good.â
You nod hopelessly, but this time youâre prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasnât your own. But then itâs more. Itâs languid, slow circles around a spot that youâve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. Itâs heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. Itâs relaxation that youâve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch.Â
Thereâs a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. âGood girl. Feels nice, yeah?â You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. âItâs about to feel even nicer.âÂ
By the time you realize what heâs doing itâs far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but heâs got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. âStop that, princess.â Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. âRock into me like this.â His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. âGood girl,â he says and your heart rises right back up. âKeep doing that, now.â You donât dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. âThatâs it, love,â he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. âHere, put your hand in my hair.â He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. Theyâre even softer than youâd imagined. âGood girl,â he whispers and suddenly heâs taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. ââM gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.â Your chin wobbles. âIt might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?â You canât do anything but nod.Â
His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. âRelaaaaaax, love,â he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouthâÂ
You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusionâ but itâs already too late. Thereâs a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then heâsâ laughing?Â
Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoruâs hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated inâ blood, you realize. Your blood. And heâs a fucking vampire.Â
âOh princess,â he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. âYou really are perfect.âÂ
Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. Youâre sure youâve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like heâs ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is.Â
When he pulls his finger from his mouth itâs completely licked clean. You hold your breath. Heâs going to go for your neck now, right? Heâs had a taste and now heâll want more of it, all of it?
âFuck,â is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you donât even see him move.Â
Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesnât bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. Heâs lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like youâre a fucking gold mine. Heâs lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop.Â
Youâre not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You donât notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesnât fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake.Â
âYes. Yes. Give it to me.âÂ
âS-Satoruââ you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any youâve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and thenâ you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you donât hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision.Â
Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before⊠well, there was no doubt any longer.Â
Thereâs a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and youâre suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, youâre not done.Â
Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if heâs holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isnât working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation.Â
âS-Satoruââ
âItâs alright, love.â His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. âJust stay still.âÂ
You whimper, but you donât think heâs paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp.Â
Youâve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldnât help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurtâŠ
He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. âGonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.â His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. âStay still, now.â
Itâs all the warning he gives you. You feel like youâre splittingâ straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts.Â
âSatoru, p-please! ItâsââÂ
Lips catch yoursâ hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. Itâs too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but itâs no use. By the time heâs fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that youâve only just begun.
âGood girl,â he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. âTook me so well.â You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because heâs quick to comfort. âJust hold my hand, princess.â His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. Youâre panting as he chuckles. âBreathe, love. Breathe. Soon youâll be begging for more,â he laughs. Itâs not long before heâs rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first itâs all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then itâs⊠more. Itâs heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. Itâs sensation and⊠pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin.Â
âFeel good, princess?â You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels goodâ it feels right. He chuckles, but thereâs nothing light about the sound. âWanna feel even better?â Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants.Â
He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. âJust a taste, love. I promise it wonâ hurt.â His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. âYouâll feel sâ good anâ Iâll only take a little.â He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. âPromise.â He sounds breathless, like heâs struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. âCome on, love. Say yes. Say yes fâ me.â Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. Heâs desperate now, seeking a release that you donât think is any kind youâre familiar with. âYes, yes, yes,â he chants in your ear. Youâre not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do.Â
âYes,â you whisper.Â
His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savageâ but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to⊠ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. Youâd thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesnât. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You donât want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath.Â
Heâs moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments.Â
âSatoruâŠâ You hadnât noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why⊠ââM gonnaâŠâÂ
He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come.Â
Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. Itâs an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull.Â
His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. Heâs moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens.Â
When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. Thereâs a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You canât help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like.Â
His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You donât think youâll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants.Â
He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. âNo, princess.â He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. âI took more than I should haveâŠâ His expression doesnât tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. âBut what can I say? You just taste so good.â Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. âYou taste like mine.â
You whine. More, more, more. Itâs all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago.Â
He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave.Â
âNot yet, princess.â he coos. âBut soon.â His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until youâre trembling again. âForever,â he whispers.
taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000
please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading âĄ
#gojo#gojo smut#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#satoru#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader smut#vampire gojo#vampire#tw: loss of virginity#tw: yandere#jujustu kaisen#gojo x you#bree's fics!
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ÊÉ Gojo Satoru Fic Recommendations ÊÉ
Jâadore (O)
Scars donât fade (C)
August (C)
Sincerely Not (C)
Sincerely Yours (O)
Everyoneâs Doll (C)
Missed Connection (C)
Confessions (O)
Confidential (O)
Violet Lights (C)
Starboy (C)
The Twist of a Knife (O)
A Dangerous Game (C)
Fateâs Gamble (O)
All I Need (C)
Baby Steps (C)
Finite (C)
Sensual Epiphany (C)
Two Lines (C)
Changes (O)
Infidelity (C)
The Fuck List (C)
In Other Words, I Love You (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat) (C)
Permanent Mark (C)
Sundered (C)
Infidelity (C)
Kick Off (O)
The Unfaithful (C)
I Still Want You (O)
Concern and Control (C)
Symptoms and Causes (O)
One Moment Was All It Took (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat) (O)
Fuck The List (O)
My Love Note (O)
As You Like It (C)
People Would Assume (C) (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat)
Break Free (O)
Limerence (O)
In Memory of You (TBD)
Motherhood and Matrimony (O)
A Fairytale Wedding (O)
Untameable Waves (please come back)
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x you#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen gojo#satoru gojo smut#gojou satoru x reader#gojo smut#satoru gojo#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x reader smut#satoru gojo x reader#yandere gojo#jujutsu gojo#gojo x you#gojo x y/n
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the strong scent of vanilla hit his nostrils as he gripped the sides of your waist. his face was nuzzled into your neck, while his hands focused on caging you down onto him. sleep was never easy for gojo, he always had something on his mind. and even when he didnât it still wasnât possible for him to get any rest. how could he sleep when he had such a beautiful wife to gaze at?
he was fascinated with every little thing about you. the way your bottom lip curled into a pout when you slept, or how your eyebrows would furrow up as if you were mad.
gojo could go on and on about the smallest of details when it came to you. you were his everything. and also the reason he could never get any sleep, he was too busy being allured by your beauty.
âmy beautiful..â he trailed off, leaving soft kisses on your neck, so soft because he didnât want to wake his gorgeous goddess. âbeautiful wife..â now his hands were in your hair, gently soothing your scalp.
the biting didnât start until he got bored of playing in your hair. gojoâs teeth grazed your neck ever so lightly before slowly sinking in, not enough to hurt you but enough for you to feel it, causing you to stir in your sleep.
his lips sucked at the bite mark offering the irritated skin a sense of relief. the hand that was on your waist, binding you to him was now inside of your shirt, soothing the skin of your back as if you were a baby. his baby.
âi love you sâmuch my princess, youâre never leaving me okay? our souls are tied for life,â he spoke so softly as he left one last bite, but this time it was to your cheek. and even though you were asleep.. your body seemed to somehow answer for you.
your hand lightly slapped against his cheek, fingers hitting the lids of his eyes. gojo couldnât stop the low chuckle bubbling from his throat as he gave your sleeping form one last smile before replying.
âim glad yaâ understand mama.â
©rissouu 2024 (im not crying u are).
#maloraâs works!#sigh sigh sigh im so lonely#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#satoru gojo#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fluff#jjk drabble#obsessed!gojo#obsessed gojo#satoru gojo fluff#gojo fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#gojo x you#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#jjk smut#jjk fanfic#satoru gojo x y/n#yandere satoru gojo#jujutsu kaisen smut
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đŹđđČ đČđđŹ đđš đĄđđđŻđđ§ â đ đšđŁđš đŹđđđšđ«đź
synopsis. period piece, forbidden love
contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips
notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)
series masterlist
emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.
emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to powerâ weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.
emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.
emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands.Â
emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?
emperor!gojo who canât help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor.Â
emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consortsâ pavilion.
There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your loverâ a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor.Â
You remembered it all too well.
His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.
You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.
Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. Youâve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution.Â
However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.
To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japanâ a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man.Â
You donât blame her for taking the Emperorâs attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.
You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.
That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperorâs advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru.Â
âWhat is this?â You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperorâs court, it was rare that you received letters directly.
Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.
âThe Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. âIn his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.â
What you remember most was the silence. The Emperorâs silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Getoâs feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.
Seasons change and by the next spring, youâre busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.
Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat.Â
âIt is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.â A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning.Â
âHave some pity on her.â Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. Youâve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesnât help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.
A comforting hand links itself with your arm, âIgnore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.â Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know sheâs just trying to make you feel better.
Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that youâre living. Youâre now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good workâ tending to Yagaâs cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive.Â
When you and Shoko return to Yagaâs estate, youâre surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.
âIs something the matter?â You gently place down your basket full of herbs.Â
Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. âIt appears the Emperorâs consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.âÂ
The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.
âI understand.â You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. âShall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?âÂ
Yaga shakes his head, âThat wonât be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.â He remarks with a quick glance in her direction âYou, on the other hand, will accompany me.âÂ
Your eyes widen.Â
âYou cannot be serious.â
âTypically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,â He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, âIt shall no longer be necessary.â As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.
"Iâ" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.
âVery well. Pack enough for one weekâs time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.â He says gruffly. âWe leave at dawn.â His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.
1 YEAR AGO
âYour Grace,â You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head.Â
The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. âYes, my love?â
âI thinkââ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. âI should g-go.â
His ministrations stop almost immediately.Â
âGo?â His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. âHave I commanded you to leave yet?â
âNo, butââ
âThen you have nowhere else to be.â He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfishâ or so you think. Though youâve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, youâve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on.Â
Your mouth waters at the thought.
âWhat are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,â A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him.Â
You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming.Â
âYour Grace,â You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.
âSatoru,â He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.
âYour Grace,â You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.
âYouâre breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, wonât you?â He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you donât relent.
âI would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.â You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.
âI am a simple man.â He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. âI want my love to call me by my name.âÂ
You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.
âI wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.â You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips.Â
Satoruâs face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.
âKento?â His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. âSince when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.â He reminds you of the manâs castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.
âI have not gotten comfortable,â Youâre careful to pick your words. Gojoâs possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. âHe simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while youâre away dealing with clan matters.âÂ
The only response you get is a quiet grumble. âYouâre lucky that youâre pretty.â His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement. His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.
Your hands softly hover his, âI fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?â
He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, âIâd let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.âÂ
You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you.Â
How wrong you were.
PRESENT DAY
The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.
In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.
âI am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.â Nanami bows.Â
The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.
Lord Nanami sighs, âHis Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.â His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted.Â
Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanamiâs lips curving upwards by a slight. âI highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.â He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.
âI suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.â Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.
âYouth,â Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. âI mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.â
You bow, âYes sir.â
While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldnât help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors.Â
âYou seem well,â Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperorâs door to the blonde man in front of you. âAllow me to guide you to our herbal stock.â Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs.Â
You take it, lightly holding his arm. âThank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,â You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn.Â
âI must ask you to call me Kento,â He leads you down the stone steps. âWe are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.âÂ
You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, âI fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.â
âYour imagination is amusing as always, [Name].â He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.
âI am only speaking the truth!â You insist. He chuckles.
âIt is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. Iâm not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.âÂ
You gape at his confession. âYou mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!â You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. âPerhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.â
Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him.Â
âI would rather not lose my head.â He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.
Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himikoâs herbal soup.Â
The memory of it still irks you.
âYouâre late,â One of Consort Himikoâs ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himikoâs signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himikoâs influence.
âYouâre a lot more plain than I anticipated,â The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though youâre not sure that the two coincide, you donât blame them.
The two are mixing a concoction that you donât recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it.Â
Then it hits youâ the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.
âHow pathetic,â You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.
Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time youâre in the kitchen.
âPlease excuse me,â You bow upon entering the Emperorâs chambers. Despite the Consortâs Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperorâs chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.
Out of curiosity, your eyes canât help but soak in the Emperorâs room. Not much has changed since youâve left. His Majestyâs preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?
Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko residesâ only to find nothing.
âHuh?âÂ
You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.
âDonât you know that entering the Emperorâs chambers can be punishable by death?â A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot.Â
Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover.Â
Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are. He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse. Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.
âYour Grace,â You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. âI apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quartersââ Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.
âHimiko stays in her Pavilion,â He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. âBut one might suspect that you already knew that.â
Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, âI assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.â
When he doesnât respond, you slowly lift your head.
The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.
âIs that so?â He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.
He continues, âYouâre awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.â His predatory gaze seems to darken.Â
âKento?â When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. âWith all due respect, Your Majesty, but I donât see how Kento and Iâs relationship is any of your concern,â He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.
âIt certainly is when the woman in question is you,â Gojoâs voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. Thereâs a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.
âThis is wrong. Iâ I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.â You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual.Â
He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.
âYou are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.â He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.
âHow could you stand to be so cruel?â Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time. âI am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,â You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest.Â
âWhat do you mean?â He sounds breathless.
âWhatever do I mean?â You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. âFor a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldnât even look me in the eye! Donât you know how humiliating that is?â With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.
Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.
You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. Heâs quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.
âWait, [Name], belovedââ He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.
You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consortâs medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.
â[Name]! Are you alright?â You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.
Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the roomâ creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.
Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yagaâs disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yagaâs wrath.
âNow youâve really done it,â Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yagaâs shop.Â
You hide your face in your hands, âI made an absolute fool of myself, didnât I?â
âA fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.â She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clanâs familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.
âOh, theyâll have my head.â You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.
âThough Iâm quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.â She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.
You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.
To [Last Name] [First Name],
Greetings and prosperity unto you.
By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.
In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.
By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.
The Imperial Court
A loud gasp escapes your mouth.
You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shokoâs eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.
extra!
gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.
previous chapter | next chapter [coming soon!]
#very ohshc esque with the way she is now indebted to him TT#ahh this entire series is so self indulgent im sorry#kt.writes.·:*šàŒș#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojou x reader#gojou satoru x reader#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x you#gojou satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk x reader#yandere!gojo satoru#royal!au#jjk angst#gojo angst#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x you
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Title: Cherry Red.
Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader x Yandere!Geto (JJK).
Written in conjunction with this ask from @eevwrites.
Word Count: 1.9k.
TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Nonconsensual Drug Use, Implied Stalking, Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Overstimulation, Biting/Marking, and Slight Dehumanization.
Really, your only mistake had been choosing the wrong savoir after Satoru had slipped something into your drink.
Satoru was obviously, visibly, undeniably a creep. That much was obvious from the second he approached you, neon pink cocktail in-hand and that degenerate grin plastered across his lips. He was sketchy, but he was also rich, and fun, and willing to dance with you hours after the rest of your friends had called it a night. Suguru wasnât a creep â or, he didnât look like one, at least. When your vision started to darken, when it became harder than it shouldâve been to put one foot in front of the other, it was his chest you stumbled into, using what was left of your consciousness to beg an imposing, aloof stranger to get the bartenderâs attention and help you. It was what anyone else wouldâve done. It was what you wouldâve done, if the roles had been reversed.
It wasnât until you felt his arm wrap around your waist, until you heard him call so lovingly to Satoru, that you realized how badly youâd fucked up.
Still, stumbling halfway across the club and throwing yourself at a total stranger must've attracted some attention. As Suguru gathered you in his arms, the bartender rounded towards you, eyeing your limp form and Suguru's slight smile warily. âSomeone had little too much to drink,â he explained, nonchalantly. âItâs fine. Her boyfriend and I are going to take her home and make sure she gets tuck her in.â
âYour boyfriendâ being Satoru, apparently, judging by the way he clung to Suguruâs side as you were carried out of the club entirely and piled into the backseat of an inconspicuous black car. Suguru drove and Satoru hovered over you â gnawing hickeys and bruises into your throat until you were too far gone to care.
Whatever theyâd dosed you with, it was strong. You were strung out for most of the ride, only vaguely aware of passing scenery, Satoruâs keening whines, and Suguruâs gentle reminders to âwait, âtoruâ. By the time you felt your body being lifted, you were beyond the point of deliberate movement â your mind hyperactive, eager to latch onto every little sensation and spiraling thought, but unable to do much more than remind you to breath as you were hauled through a shrine courtyard and into a small, dimly lit backroom; the priestâs personal barracks, if you had to guess. Satoru babbled while Suguru lowered you onto a large, plush bed, and despite your best efforts, you caught most of it. ââand thatâs when I knew it had to be you.â Suguru spared you an apologetic smile, his nimble hands moving over your body as he carefully removed your dress, then your shoes, then your panties, stripping you bare with all the care and all the tenderness of an avid collector undressing his favorite doll. âI mean, it took a few months, but I wanted it to be romantic, yâknow? Suguru doesnât get it. He thought Iâd be happy with just anyone.â
âIt took me a while to come around the idea. I mightâve gotten a little jealous.â You could only wish he wouldâve stayed that away. âCome here, I need to show you what youâre doing.â
Suguru dragged you into his lap, keeping your upper body propped against his chest while spreading your legs apart in front of him. Satoru took his position eagerly between then, his eyes fixed on your cunt. âThis,â he started, using two thick fingers to spread the folds of your labia apart, âis what youâre gonna fall in love with. Make sure youâre always paying attention to her clit â aw, look, itâs already poking out.â
It was humiliatingly clinical â how he touched you while explaining your anatomy in-detail, using the pad of his thumb to show Satoru how to play with your clit, dipping two fingers into your entrance while extrapolating on the importance of proper preparation, gathering your arousal up to make sure Satoru knew what it would look like when he was doing a good job. âRemember to be gentle. Sheâs going to be a lot more delicate than me,â he said, while curling two fingers inside of you, filling the bedroom with a rhythmic, humiliatingly wet sound. Your couldn't seem to open your mouth, and yet, little whimpers of discomfort and mewls of pleasure escaped your parted lips without resistance, each new noise drawing Satoru that much closer. âYouâll just be using your mouth, for now. We can talk about hands once youâve shown some restraint.â
And yet, Satoruâs hands still found their way to your thighs, kneading mindlessly while Suguru split you open on his fingers. You tried to shake your head, to squirm against him, to tell him to stop, but the closest you got to anything coherent was a pitchy, keening sound not totally dissimilar to the whines Satoru would let out every now and then as he ground half-consciously into the mattress. You tried not to feel anything, either, but Suguruâs hands were so big, and his chest was so warm against your back, and with Satoru all-but drooling over your pussy, it wouldâve been impossible not to come undone the second his palm ground against your clit and he spread his fingers apart inside of you, nursing you through your orgasm while making sure you were on fully-display. âSee how sheâs clenching down? That means sheâs trying to milk your cock â youâll get what I mean, once your inside of her.â
If only for a moment, your panic overshadowed your paralysis. Thrashing to either side, you did your best to fight against Suguruâs ironclad hold and finally spit something out, even if your voice was still barely stronger than a whimper. âN-No, donât, you canâtââ
It was Satoru who cut you off, this time, albeit without breaking his nonverbal streak. His mouth crashed into yours with enough force to bruise, teeth clashing against yours as he shoved his tongue down your throat in less of a kiss and more of a prolonged attempt to choke you to death. It hurt, and you tasted blood, and if you hadnât known better, than you wouldâve thought this was his firstâ
Oh, god.
As if this couldnât have gotten any worse.
He didnât stay focused on your mouth for long. His attention drifted downward â first to your throat, then your collarbone, then your chest, latching onto one of your nipples and sucking harshly. You hadnât realized how sensitive you were, not until his teeth dug into the plush of your breast and you let out a fractured sob, tears blurring your vision. Suguruâs response was instantaneous. In a fraction of a second, his slick-stained fingers were tangled in Satoruâs hair, prying him off of you entirely. âGentle,â he repeated, his tone strict, authoritative. âBefore I decide you need to be muzzled.â
For what it was worth, Satoru seemed apologetic. After Suguru loosened his hold, he nuzzled into your chest, lapping over his past love bites with the flat of his tongue. ââm sorry, just got excited.â And then, smiling up at you, âYou didnât mind, right? I mean, she definitely doesnât.â
You had no idea what he was talking about, not until his head dropped to your cunt and he buried his face between your thighs, his attention suddenly solely dedicated to your pussy.
There was no attempt made to use his hands. Despite Suguruâs instructions, he ate you out like a starving animal â his tongue fucking into your cunt as the bridge of his nose ground mindlessly against your clit. Suguru kept his hand in Satoruâs hair, petting gingerly over his scalp as he watched Satoru drool and lap at your cunt. âUse your entire tongue, and don't inhale. Sheâs not going to be impressed if you manage to drown yourself in pussy.â Suguru tugged lightly, and Satoru let out an unabashed moan, the reverberations going straight to your core. âDon't get distracted, either. Donât you want to know what she tastes like cumming on your tongue?â
Another moan, another rough buck of Satoruâs hips into the now disheveled sheets. He was terrible, and messy, and loud, and it was humiliating how quickly you lost control of yourself â going stiff against Suguru as Satoru all-but tore your second climax out of you. Suguru grinned against your throat, almost purring with satisfaction. âGood boy. So dedicated, so sweet.â He let go of Satoruâs hair â cupping your face, instead. It was only as his thumb traced over your cheek that you realized you were crying in-earnest, now. âSheâs tearing up, âtoru. That means she wants you to keep going.â
A mix of your arousal and his saliva stained the inside of your thighs, dampening the sheets underneath you, but he didnât pull away â too caught up in your taste or Suguruâs praise to stop. It mightâve been the overstimulation, or the drugs, or some impossible, nebulous factor you couldnât so much as begin to guess as, but time seemed to blur together, reality buckling under its own weight as Satoru wrung another orgasm out of you, then another, then another, as Suguru continued to shower him with praise and affection and promises that you liked him, that you wanted this, that you were only crying and thrashing and trying to snap your thighs shut because you felt so good. At some point, you lost the will to keep your eyes open, and minutes later, the harsher edges of your consciousness began to soften. For once, you couldn't be mad at your own body's instinctual submission.
You knew you were going to black out, but you weren't scared. By the time your vision flickered out and everything went black, the only thing you could think to be was grateful that youâd be fortunate enough to miss the main event.
~
You woke up what felt like days later, still lying on the bed youâd blacked out in. Their paralytics had worn off, but trying to make a run for it was out of the question. Every part of your body ached â from your hickey-painted chest to your aching hips to your poor, abused pussy â and even if youâd been able to move, it wouldnât have done you much good. Familiar bodies caged you in on either side, Suguruâs chest still pressing into your back while Satoru clung to your chest, his arms wrapped around your midriff and his nails embedded in your sides. As if you hadn't already been thoroughly marked.
Suguru stirred first, predictably. It wasnât hard to tell who was in charge between the two of them. âOur little sleeping beauty,â he muttered into your hair, kissing the top of your head as he sat up and shook Satoru away. âWe were starting to get worried â mustâve pushed you too hard last night. You almost missed the most important part.â
Something caught in your throat. ââŠalmost?â
âYes, princess, almost.â With a groan, Satoru sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Immediately, his gaze fell to you, and just as quickly, he was on top of you â pinning you to the mattress, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. âYou should be thankful that Satoru had the patience to wait. I wouldnât have been so nice.â
You felt Satoruâs hands paw at your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he aligned his stiff, leaking cock with your entrance. He moved enthusiastically, but mechanically, like a trained dog. Like he was following instructions. Weakly, you tried to push at his chest, to get him away from you, but you gave up quickly.
Youâd been wrong to be grateful. It wouldâve been better to get this over with last night.
At least, then, you mightâve been out of it enough to miss the twisted, blissful, lovesick grin painted across Satoruâs lips as he buried himself inside of you.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere x you#yandere jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jujutsu kaisen imagines#yandere gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#yandere geto suguru#geto suguru x reader
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warnings: 18+ thĂšmĂšs, YĂNDĂRĂ MĂN, öbsĂ«ssïön, ĂŒnhĂ«Ă€lthy dĂšvĂŽtĂŻĂŽn, mĂšntĂŻĂŽns ĂŽf örĂĄl, kĂŻssĂŻng, mĂšntĂŻĂŽns ĂŽf sĂšx, mĂšntĂŻĂŽns ĂŽf sĂčĂŻcĂdĂš.
Yandere men who are so in love with you, they are head over heels, who think that youâre a miracle, youâre the love of their life, they adore you, absolutely adore you, who adore your body with theirs. Who kiss you like youâre the air, who fuck you like they want you merge you with them. Who make love to you day and night, kissing you until their lips are swollen, fucking you until their legs give out, eating you out until their jaw breaks, who tell you how much they love you until their throat is bleeding. Who would absolutely kill themselves if you ever left them.
âOh my yn⊠you are a miracle- you canât be real- please please let me fuck you- just one taste⊠I just canât get enough of you- youâre like addictive- please I need you so much, donât ever leave me Iâll die without you.â
Izuku, gojo, yuuta, Luffy, tamaki, Xiao, Geto, Shouto, Nanami.
#bnha smut#jjk smut#yandere bnha#one piece smut#yandere one piece#gojo smut#geto smut#smut#yandere x reader#izuku smut#deku smut#tamaki smut#yuuta smut#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere my hero academia#yandere x you#jjk x reader#bnha x reader#one piece x reader#luffy smut#jujutsu kaisen#my hero academia#one piece#todoroki smut#shouto smut#jjk satoru#satoru smut#yandere genshin impact#xiao smut#genshin impact smut
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Gojo can't stop thinking about fucking Geto's girl
MDNI- Explicit Yandere Gojo jerks off thinking about you, Geto's girlfriend
Part One
Satoru Gojo is thinking of you, Suguru's pretty girlfriend, as he's taking a break in his office, locking his door, pulling out the pretty picture he stole from Suguru's phone of you. You're laying on the bed in nothing but a little garter belt and stockings, fuck it's his favorite, how many times has he stroked himself to it?
He's picturing being between those thighs, having your cum pour all down his lips, while he unzips his dress pants, his cock already straining against his boxers. By the time he releases his cock, precum is dripping out of his pretty pink tip. Fuck, imagine your tongue lapping it up, as you look at him with those eyes.
His head leans back against his office chair, that huge leather one you'd look so pretty in, or perhaps on his desk, bent over, your ass in the air. He scrolls to the next picture he has, one he took of your ass under your skirt. He probably shouldn't have, but he needed a good picture of it, to picture his hand print, as he fucks you so good you're drooling all over that polished cherry wood.
Satoru moans softly as he pumps his cock, up and down, swirling his hand and shutting his gorgeous blue eyes, his white lashes fluttering shut, pretty pink lips parted. Imagine pumping into you, no it would be wetter, wouldn't it? He spits on his cock once, twice, three times, using the white bubbly liquid with his precum, huge hands stroking his veiny cock, imagining that perfect pussy.
"F-fuck... you're so tight, aren't you? Oh, am I too big? You can take it, can't you, brat?" He whispers, as he keeps pumping, picturing railing you right here, picturing your moans, your cries.
He shouldn't think of his best friend's girl, he knows it, but you're all he can think of, now he's pinching that tip, and more precum is pouring out, little pearly white drops, he'd grab that hair of yours and pull it, arch your back, pressing that ass out for him. As he beats your pretty pussy up, he's getting closer and closer now, stroking faster, little whines from his throat as he whispers your name.
Fuck your name sounds good on his lips.
Satoru starts cumming then, picturing filling you up so full, so full your stomach is pumped, cum dripping down your pretty pussy, feeling you throb around his cock. He'd fill you over and over, until you're dripping for days, until he bred you, babies in your tummy, over and over. Keep you pregnant, keep you at his home, fuck you on every surface. His cum is spilling out as he moans, white streams all over his cock, his hand.
He winces, shaking at how intense it was, then he hears a knock on his door. Panicking, he quickly wipes himself up, putting his pants back on and clearing his throat. He opens the door, slicking back his white hair, and it's you. Fuck you look so pretty in your little sundress, perfect for him to raise up and fuck you, isn't it?
But Suguru is right behind you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, making Satoru roll his eyes. "Hey Satoru! Missed you!" You hug him then, your perfect breasts pressing against him, fuck if he's not hard again, as Suguru walks in your office.
"Missed you I guess." Satoru grumbles, making you giggle, and he's just picturing cumming all over your gorgeous face and-
"The fuck, Satoru!?" Comes Suguru's voice then, and you both turn to look, as Suguru Geto is holding up the phone, with the naked picture he stole.
Well, shit.
Disclaimer I guess- Yandere behavior isn't cool IRL, just in fiction with Gojo and Geto lmaoo <3
Part 2 is out
Full Gojo fics of mine: Cruel Duke Gojo story here - Sweet Lawyer Gojo here -Psycho Yandere Gojo here - Cocky CEO Gojo here - Gojo Drabbles
#satoru x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jjk smut#gojo smut#suguru geto#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere gojo#jjk satoru#jjk oneshot#jjk drabbles#gojo drabbles#jjk gojo#gojou satoru x reader#jujustu kaisen#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#satosugu x you#satoru gojo x reader
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MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru
"as much as i would like to end your suffering, princess, i won't give you the satisfaction... you are going to suffer for a long, long time, just like i have."
⥠the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yoursâa cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?
⥠fem!reader, royal au!, arranged marriage, reader is a florist in our world, mentions of terminal illnesses, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mentions of death, unrequited love, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mean!gojo, yandere!gojo, reader is called 'princess cerena', princess cerena is described as having pink hair and feminine features, reader is reincarnated as princess cerena, body swapping, isekai, isekai-d reader, talks of classism, misogyny, ideations of suicide, talks about self-harm, attempts of suicide, mentions of violence, mentions of alcohol, suggestive mentions, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of conceiving, language, tension, more tba...
⥠crowned prince!gojo satoru x princess!reader
ACT 1, SCENE 1: MIRI'S REPRIEVE
ACT 1, SCENE 2 â THE TUNNELS
ACT 1, SCENE 3 â THE VILLAGE
ACT 1, SCENE 4 â THE THRONE ROOM
ACT 2, SCENE 1 â THE INFIRMARY
ACT 2, SCENE 2 â THE SICK BED
ACT 2, SCENE 3 â THE WINDOW LEDGE
ACT 2, SCENE 4 â THE GALA
ACT 3, SCENE 1 â THE HEDGES
ACT 3, SCENE 2 â THE BREAKFAST ROOM
ACT 3, SCENE 3 â THE GLASSHOUSE
ACT 4, SCENE 1 â THE LIBRARY
ACT 4, SCENE 2 â THE CHURCH
ACT 4, SCENE 4 â THE HIDDEN COTTAGE IN THE FOREST
ACT 5, SCENE 1 â THE WEDDING
ACT 5, SCENE 2 â THE MARKET SQUARE
ACT 5, SCENE 3 â HOME
ACT 5, SCENE 4 â SPRING RETURNS
Â©ïž all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost or claim as your own.
#𩱠writes#gojo satoru#yandere gojo#gojo angst#gojo smut#gojo fluff#gojo x reader#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen angst#satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru smut#arranged marriage#royalty au#series: marry the traitor
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tw dark content n0ncon/resistance, mentions of breeding
am hornie n iâm thinking about mean getou n gojo teaming up so getou can breed u while gojo coos n comforts u.. telling u that itâs gonna be okay and theyâll take care of you forever. <3
heâs making out with u but ur hiccuping n crying while your stomach churns at how getouâs thrusts are just getting sloppier n sloppier which jus means heâs getting closer to cumming in u and u canât do anything about it :(
âshh, i know. i know pretty,â
your moaning wails are getting louder and louder, which ironically pushes getou a bit closer to cumming,
âi know, s gonna be okay.â
gojo coos, swiping away the damp hair in your hair before peppering your cheeks and eyes with kisses.
âtoru please⊠do-donât.. hâhelp me please..?â
âi know youâre frustrated okay? but itâs for the best, trust us.â
#jjk#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#dead dove do not eat#yandere jujutsu kaisen#dark content#tw dark content#gojo smut#gojo jjk#gojo satoru smut#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jujutsu gojo#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#suguru x you#suguru smut#getou smut#getou suguru x reader#getou x reader#jjk getou
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Infinite Rewind
Gojo Satoru x reader
Synopsis: Instead of dying, you are sent 13 years in the past, but this isn't your face. "Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"
Part two: Rewound Infinitely
Word Count: 18.1k
(Warnings: slight yandere, death, murder, inaccurate Tokyo geography, blood, violence, mild gore, obsession, unhealthy relationships, child abuse/neglect, time looping(?), fem!reader) Ageless blogs that try to follow me will be blocked
First, you saw a monster.Â
It was big and horribleânasty teeth. You heard screaming. People. Running as fast as they could away from the creatures. Pain.Â
And then, you saw a bright, clear sky.Â
The sun was blaring down at you. It was so hot. Wasn't it December? How was the sun out at night?Â
"Hey, you good?"Â
A girl is looking at you. Short brown hair. A high schooler, judging by the uniform. How is she wearing all black when the weather is so hot?Â
When you don't respond, her eyes squint.Â
"Suguru, are you okay?"Â
That's not your name; your mouth moves faster than your brain.
"I-I'm fine." That wasn't your voice. It was deeper. More masculine. What the fuck happened to your voice?Â
The girl gives you another strange look but you're too busy freaking out over your new voice. Your hands are different too. A completely different skin tone, larger.Â
And then you're fumbling with your pockets, clothes you know you didn't buy. The girl is calling for you again but you're too busy pulling out a fucking flip-phone and looking into the black screen, the only thing you have for a mirror.Â
Purple eyes stare back. These aren't your eyes. This isn't your nose. This isn't your hair. This isn't your face. You blink. He does too. You open your mouth. So does he. You pinch your cheek. In the reflection, he winces.Â
Oh, you just fucking bodysnatched someone.Â
⎔
Ten minutes later, you conclude that your name is Geto Suguru, you are a 16-year-old boy, the year is 2006, and you attend a religious academy.Â
"You're finally acting normally again." The girl-newly discovered as Ieiri- says. "No more weirdness."Â
You don't blame her, considering you grabbed her by the shoulders, asking ridiculous questions like: what year is it, who am I, why am I here, who are you, am I dead, is this Hell, etc. For a teenage girl, she took your outburst well.Â
"Sorry," you say and by now you've gotten used to your voice, "it must have been the stress from studying."Â
She just hums, continuing to walk beside you. Though, Ieiri had a point. You were definitely calmer, and it was mostly because you figured it out.Â
You were dreaming.Â
You were lucid dreaming, to be more precise. Your brain was conjuring up a weird setting and you just happened to be placed in another person's body. You heard about this happening before. You were just so freaked out because this was the first time anything like this had happened to you.Â
An impulsive part of you wants to tell Ieiri that this is just a dream, but you've heard weird things happen after a lucid dreamer tries to break the illusion. It's best if you just let it just play out and see where this goes.Â
âExcited?âÂ
âHm?â You ask. And Shoko rolls her eyes.Â
âFor the mission you have this evening. Special grade. Sounds scary.â She says, her sarcasm evident.Â
Mission? Special grade? You donât know what those words mean but it sounds like a school field trip. Shoko takes your hesitance as something else.Â
âAh,â she says, âso you forgot.âÂ
âI didnât.â You reply on instinct.Â
âI expected this from Satoru, not you. You should stop hanging out with him, heâs starting to rub off on you.â
You give a sheepish laugh, and itâs enough to quell her questions.Â
She leads you into the school, all through the winding halls and through an office door. You couldnât be more grateful, itâs not like you would have known where to go. Itâs a teachers room. Two people are already inside.Â
âWait, for once, Iâm early?â The boy with sunglasses asks, voice dripping with amusement. Heâs leaning dangerously on a chair. You stare at him. Youâve never seen someone with white hair before. It canât be real.Â
âHe forgot.â Shoko pipes up and the boy cackles.Â
âThatâs hilarious. Iâm starting to rub off on you.â Ah, this must be Satoru.Â
You give a nervous smile. âHaha, yeah.âÂ
The boy stops rocking in the chair. Three pairs of eyes look at you. Your uniform feels itchy.
âGojo, stop making such a ruckus.â The man, presumably his teacher, gruffs. "You two got the briefing yesterday. Do your job and for the last time do not leave your assistant manager behind again."Â
Gojo groans, and you delve into more confusion. Before you can say anything, the kid is hopping out of his seat before lazily striding out the door. Shoko and the teacher look at you expectantly.Â
Oh, you were supposed to follow him.Â
Not wanting to make a scene, you catch up to Gojo. He's tall, his footsteps are long and wide. But you're tall now too, so it's easy to keep up with him. This new body of yours has a lot of pros.Â
"Yaga's so annoying," Gojo suddenly says, "constantly nagging us like that. It's not our fault the assistants can't keep up."Â
What should you say? You clear your throat.Â
"He just wants what's best for us."Â
Wrong answer.Â
"Where'd that come from?" He snorts. How charming. "I know you agree with me. You're just tryna' act like the nicer one, again. It's starting to get a little old."Â
Is that how 16 year-olds talk? Rude, but also strangely off-putting, like he can see straight through you. Or more accurately, he can see straight through Suguru. How close are these two, anyway?Â
Why did any of these questions even matter? This is a dream! You need to wake up already.Â
On the campus grounds, a sleek black car waits outside for you two. Along with a miffed man in a black suit. This must be a very rich school for a field trip to have a chauffeur. Where were you two going again?
Gojo hops in the back, taking one of the window seats. You take the other. In your own body, you would've fit nicely. But Suguru's legs are long, and the spacious car feels cramped. You should've taken the passenger seat. How do tall people live like this?Â
The ride is quiet. Out the corner of your eye, you catch Satoru type away on his flip phone. A moment later, yours beeps. You still have no idea how to use Suguru's phone or his password, so you ignore his message. Satoru groans.Â
Quickly, you learn that Satoru has a very low attention span. When looking out the window gets boring, he bugs the chauffeur. When the chauffeur ignores him, he starts bugging you.Â
"Hey heyyyy," Satoru says, "when this is all over, we should go to that new ice cream place. Like you said, we should."Â
You look at him. "Uh, sure." You say.Â
"And you should pay for it, 'cuz you said you owed me last time."Â
Fine, whatever. "Sure thing."Â
He grins. You can't see his glasses, and it makes his smile even more unnerving. This kid.Â
This doesn't feel like a normal field trip at all. Why did you stop in front of some rackety house that looked as though it were about to collapse? You turn back to the only adult in the vicinity, but he's out too. He takes out a lighter and a cigarette. In front of impressionable children, too. Wonderful.Â
"I'll wait out here." He says, though his tone is uncaring. "Since we're out in the country, there's no need for a veil. Do your best."Â
Veil? What? Gojo's already going off again and you've already decided to be his chaperone, so you follow. You reluctantly trail behind him. Feet crunch the leaves. The house grows bleaker and bleaker.Â
"Okay, I have a plan!" Gojo exclaims when he gets through the squeaky door. He's so loud, can't he be quieter? "I check upstairs and you check the ground floor and the basement. Got it?"Â
Check the house? Were he and Suguru electricians in training or something? That still wouldn't explain why a grown man decided to drop off two teenagers in front of a creepy mansion. And why in God's name did Gojo want to split up?
"I-I don't think that's a good idea," you say, "shouldn't we try to stick together?" Or, better yet, leave.Â
He clicks his tongue. "Ugh, you're so lame. Not like Suguru at all."Â
Wait, what did he say? You're about to call out to him when he climbs up the stairs, disappearing from view. Unbelievable.Â
This kid was starting to get on your nerves. Enough, you were leaving. You could have a nice dream where you met and fell in love with Zendaya, not babysitting some teenager, whilst possessing another person's body. You were going to wait outside with the man and hope your dream finally came to an end.Â
Except, you couldn't go outside. The door was gone.Â
It-it was right behind you, right? The entrance was right behind you. You couldn't have gotten turned around so quickly? What the hell happened? Or maybe you had gotten turned around? Considering how distracting that Gojo kid was, you might not have realized it.Â
You look around the house. Looks like it'd been abandoned for a while. There's dirt on the shelves. Chairs were toppled over and left to rot. The wooden floorboards dangerously creaked beneath you. Just what had happened here?Â
There's no patio door. No door leading to the outside. At the same time, you hadn't explored everything yet. Each door led to a room. The only door that didn't, led to a basement. And no, you weren't going down there.Â
When you got back to where you started, you noticed something had changed.Â
There was a person. Seated right at the base of the stairs?Â
Gojo? Was he done with urban exploring? Maybe he knew the way out. He stands up, reaching to his full height, then higher, then higher.Â
Gojo was tall, but this thing was taller. Gojo was human. This thing wasn't.Â
What the fuck you can only mouth because your voice is stuck in your throat when it takes a shaky step towards you. It's a black husk of a figure, too skinny but too tall and twitching fingers. You don't know how you could've mistaken this for the kid.Â
Another step. You're running, back into the house, leaping over the fallen shelves and creaky floorboards. It gives chase, and you can hear it groan behind you. It's deep and rumbly and terrifying. It just motivates you to go faster.Â
It's slower than you. That's good, but it seems to realize this. You can barely celebrate your advantage before something heavy is smashed into your back, sending you toppling to the floor. You and wooden chair crash on the ground.Â
It hurts.Â
Everything hurts.Â
Dreams aren't supposed to hurt. Because this wasn't a dream.Â
This was real. You were stuck in the year 2006, stuck in another person's body, about to get mauled by a monster.Â
You were going to die.Â
You aren't even fighting anymore. How pathetic is that? The shock numbs your body as the thing grows closer and closer, all you can do is reach your hands up, protecting your face.Â
And then the creature explodes.Â
An implosion. It's skin and bones twist in a way no one should. There's a shriek, something wrong and high and inhuman before it's gone. Like it never existed in the first place.Â
After all that, he's still smiling. Like the cat that just caught the mouse.Â
"I guess we're not pretending anymore, are we?" Gojo asks, stretching his arms. "That's good. That game was starting to get a little boring, anyways. Now, then."Â
He folds his glasses, tucking it on his uniform. Blue, his eyes are. As blue as a clear sky.Â
"Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you, and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"
⎔
Contrary to your belief, Gojo Satoru is a good listener.Â
There's never an interruption. Not even once. Every once in a while, he nods, a hand on his chin. It's probably because he can't interrupt. You just keep going on and on. Word vomit.Â
He only speaks when you pause to catch your breath. "So you are from the year 2017, and you went back in time to body-snatch someone. I had a feeling your technique had something to do with possession."Â
You look at him warily. "Wait, you knew this entire time?"Â
You two hadn't moved from your earlier spot. You were still sprawled on the floor, still feeling the adrenaline surge through you. Gojo had transitioned to squatting on the floor. He scratches his neck, still so casual.Â
"I have good eyes. Don't worry about it." He shrugs. "Anyway, you seem pretty harmless, and as annoying as it is not having Suguru around, I doubt killing you would do any good." Why is he being so nonchalant about murder? Is this kid really sixteen?
"I think we gotta' just wait around until your technique reactivates." Gojo whistles. "2017. That's like a decade away. I wonder what happened for your technique to show up."Â
You blink, trying to remember the date.Â
"It was Christmas Eve..." You glance at him. "And then I was here."Â
He thinks for a moment. "Yeah, I got nothing." Of course.Â
He sighs, before sprawling on the dirty floor, belly up. You grimace at his antics but choose to keep your mouth shut.Â
He doesn't seem very worried. At the most, he looks mildly inconvenienced. Why isn't he worried about his friend?Â
When you ask him, he just snorts.Â
"Sorry, but you're not that scary. Besides, I don't have to worry about Suguru. He's strong."Â
Well, that's nice to know, but one other thing still bothers you.Â
"You speak so casually to me," you mutter, "You know I'm older than you, right? I'm 22."Â
He laughs. "22? Damn. You're old, man."Â
"That isn't old!" You argue. "You have no concept of age since you're just a teenager."Â And why did he assume you were a man? Oh right, you were trapped in a teenage boyâs body. Of course.
"I mean, technically, I'm older than you, right?" Gojo ponders with a grin. "If you're 22 in 2017, that makes you whatâ11 in 2006?"Â
You say nothing because you have a feeling that if you continue to argue with him, he'll just drag you down to his insanity.Â
"Technique, you've said that a couple of times." You look at him. "That's what you call your 'powers', right? Does Geto have one too?"Â
"Yeah," Gojo says, "but you can't use it. You have zero cursed energy. Honestly, it's at the same level as a plant. A bit lower than regular humans. It's a little impressive, actually." For one second, could he stop being so condescending?Â
"What's his technique?" You ignore his comments. "Could it be related to how I got here?"Â
He gives you a look over. "I doubt that, but Suguru's technique is curse manipulation. Uh, you remember that thing you saw earlier." You nod. "Yeah, he can control and absorb them."Â
He sounds pretty awesome. You look at your hands. Not your hands. Geto's hands. They're paler than yours, and a lot longer. This isn't your body. Your soul can feel it. You can feel the guilt too.Â
'I'd give it back if I could,' you think, 'I just don't know how.'Â
Gojo's getting up. He stretches. He was lying on the ground but you can't see a speck of dirt on his uniform.Â
"Okay, then. No use mopping around." He grins down at you. "Maybe Yaga can do something about you. Let's get you back to jujutsu tech."Â
You blink up at him. His hand is outstretched, reaching out to you. He's still grinning that insufferable grin but his eyes have slightly melted.Â
"Okay." You say, barely touching his fingertips. "Let's-"Â
And then Gojo's gone. And then, you're standing. And then it's cold.Â
You're wearing a coat; weren't you wearing a uniform before? There's no clear sky. It's nearly dusk.Â
You were standing on the sidewalk, where people bustled all around you. You fumble through your jackets, putting out a phone. An actual iphone. You flick on the screen.Â
December 24th, 2017, 7:06.
Holy shit, you were back.Â
Was it because you touched Gojo? That makes no sense, but how could you explain anything else that happened so far? God. You rake a hand through your hair. Your hand. Your hair. You can't believe how much you missed yourself. It felt so good to be back.Â
Your mind is spinning, you had no idea what the fuck just happened.
For now, you just wanted to turn your mind off and grab a drink.Â
You know there was a bar not too far from your location. Along the way, you pass by the bustling town. There's a couple walking side by side, giggling over something you couldn't hear. Right, it's the 24th. You remember your empty bed with no one to share it with, and you cement your desire to drown yourself in alcohol today.Â
Your self-pitying session is almost how you nearly miss him. His shoulder brushes past you. You're about to apologize when you hear his voice. It's familiar.Â
It used to be your voice.Â
It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool. His broad back is the only thing you see, you're almost afraid to reach out to him.Â
"Suguru...?"Â
He halts in his tracks. When he turns around, it's like looking into a fractured past. He looks older, no longer a youthful teenager. You should have paid more attention to his eyes, how scrutinizing they were, how condescending his fake smile was. All that you could think of was that it was actually him.Â
"Do I know you?" He tilts his head. "Apologies, but my girls and I are quite busy."Â
You don't notice the two young ladies beside him until Geto points them out. Teenagers, maybe just around the age when you first met him. He was a father now.Â
You're so swept up by the emotions that you barely notice they've continued walking. You stumble behind, ducking behind the alleyway they went into.Â
"Wait! Geto!" You call. "Please! We need to talk!" You still needed your answers. You didn't know care how desperate you came off as.Â
In hindsight, you should have noticed that they looked more annoyed than worried about a stranger chasing them across the street.Â
The one with the ponytail scoffs. "This one talks an awful lot. How annoying."Â
Geto sighs. He leaves his daughters, finally standing in front of you. This is what you wanted, right? A chance to talk to him.Â
Still, you can't help but feel wrongness within you. His smile is off.Â
"Most monkeys are just that, unfortunately." You don't move. You can't. Not when he places a hand on your skull. "I suppose it'd be humane to put this one out of its misery."Â
Geto Suguru crushes your skull. And then you die.Â
⎔
Again. You died again.Â
This is the second time Geto has killed you. Fuck, you should've realized.Â
"Back again, Greeny?" Gojo asks.Â
He and Suguru were sitting outside in the grass. Satoru's holding up a few playing cards. You look at Suguru's hands and find yourself doing the same.Â
Not again.Â
"What year is it?" You ask warily. "And what did you just call me?"Â
Gojo grins with teeth. You remember he compared you to a plant before, didn't he? He's so clever with nicknames; someone should give him an award.Â
"Welcome back to 2006!" Gojo beams. "It's only been a couple of days since you left. And why are you so grumpy? I'm the one who just lost a player."Â
You weren't grumpy, you were pissed. You figured out what's been going on with you, and it's all because of the asshole you're possessing right now.
The look on his face when he killed you. Like you were nothing more than an animal. A monkey. Now, you feel a lot less guilty about possessing his body.Â
At least you figured out two things. You know how your technique works. Whenever someone kills you, you are sent back in time to take over their body. But you can go back whenever you touch Gojo, or perhaps just another sorcerer.Â
Secondly, you have access to Geto's memories.Â
It didn't happen the first time you died. It must have been because the kill wasn't direct (from Getos curse, rather than himself), but milliseconds after Geto split your skull in two, your brain was overwhelmed by his past, his present, as well as his future.Â
Geto was set to die on December 24th, 2017. At the hands of his best friend, Gojo Satoru.Â
Fuck him. Let the bastard die. You didn't give a shit.Â
You reach over to touch Gojo's arm, ready to leave. He pulls back with a snicker. Ugh, the brat must've figured out your technique, too.Â
"Stop messing around." You tell him. "I need to go back to my timeline."Â
"Sure, sure," he says as though speaking to a time traveler is just another Tuesday. "But first, finish the game with me."Â
"No." You tell him before leaning out even further. He isn't moving away anymore, but you still can't reach him. Fuck, he must've activated his technique.Â
Despite your annoyance, you decide to keep the future away from Gojo's ears. He doesn't need to know that he'll be the one to kill Suguru. He shouldn't. Not at his age. He's just a kid.Â
"Just one game! I promise!" He pleads. "Then I'll let you go. Suguru never lets me beat him, I want an easy opponent to boost my ego."Â
You roll your eyes, but you settle down, picking up the cards. You already know the rules; you have Geto's memories, after all.Â
It's silent, save for Gojo's humming. When you place down your King of hearts, you ask:
"Hey, is my cursed energy different at all?" You ask.
"Not really." He squints. "Wait, it has grown a little. Aw, Greeny sprouted!"Â
So, every time you die, your cursed energy increases. That, or your cursed energy, increases every time you time travel. It doesn't matter either way. Does this mean you can use Geto's technique now? It couldn't hurt to try, right?Â
There's a demon-no, they're called curses you know that now- floating beside you, just a little ways away. Small. Barely fourth grade. You stick your hand out, calling out Geto's power. There's a pull, a rush of energy.Â
A blue ball drops into your hand.Â
"Holy shit." Gojo leans forward. "So you can use his techniques." Surprisingly, there's no wariness in his voice. Just awe.Â
"Yeah." You breathe before glancing up at him. "Shouldn't you be focused on your cards?"Â
He shrugs, tossing the cards away. "What cards?"Â
You sigh before staring at the ball. Well, you captured the curse. All that's left to do is swallow it, right? You can do that. You open your mouth. Gojo is still staring. You scowl.Â
"Look away."Â
He rolls his eyes. "It's not like I haven't seen you do this before. Well, not you, the guy that you bodysnatched."Â
Ass, you keep that in your head as you hold your breath. You swallow the ball down.Â
Instantly, you choke.Â
It's horrible. Like a rotten carcass on the highway, oozing blood and oil and pus. You start dry-heaving, suffocating, spit dribbles down your chin. Nothing comes out. You've already absorbed it. The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. Like swallowing a rag that was used to wipe up vomit and shit. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested.Â
"Is it really that bad?" Gojo observes you. "That guy swallows them down, no problem."Â
Because Suguru was used to this taste. He was used to the responsibility. The hoarding mass of distraught absorbing a curse comes with. It was a disgusting art. Something he'd perfected to mask for years. Until he couldn't take it anymore.Â
Fuck, you might have lost your mind, too, if you kept having to eat this. To protect people who were happy you failed.Â
You snapped out of it. Suguru's memories were affecting your own. That's probably a sign that you need to get out of here. No way would you be sympathizing with someone so monstrous.Â
"Hopefully, I never do that again." You slowly recover, wiping your spit away with your hand. You lean back on your hands, exhausted.Â
"Something I've always wondered." You call out to Gojo. "What did Suguru ever think about someone possessing his body."Â
Gojo laughed. "Funny thing. He never knew."Â
"What?" You look at him. "No gaps in his memory? Nothing?"Â
"Nope," Gojo said, "he remembered what happened in the house, but he thinks he did everything. And then he said something weird."Â
You perk up at that. "What did he say?"Â
Gojo tilts his head. Then, he shrugs.Â
"I forgot." Typical.Â
You pinch your nose bridge. "So, did you tell anyone else about...this?"Â You gesture to yourself.Â
"Wait, you're supposed to be a secret?" You look at him in alarm. "In my defense, I didn't know, but I haven't gotten the chance to tell anyone. After the mission, Suguru and I went to the arcade, and then I kinda' forgot about it."Â
Well, at least Gojo's arrogance works in your favor sometimes. You can't let anyone know, especially anyone connected to the higher-ups. From Geto's memories, you know they don't like anything new. It's best to stay under their radar.Â
"Good, well, from now on, we're keeping it a secret. Got it?"Â
"What are you two keeping a secret?" A new voice pops up. You jump.Â
You know himâat least from Geto's memories. Haibara beams at you. He looks so alive in the sunlight, smiling and with bright eyes.
He'll be dead within a year or so.Â
Gojo takes advantage of your shock. "The bodysnatcher wants me to promise that I won't tell anyone that a curse-user is possessing Suguru's body."Â
"What the hell? You just promised that you wouldn't tell anyone!"Â
"Uh, technically, I didn't promise anything yet." Gojo retaliates. "But okay, fiiiiine. I won't tell anyone....except for Haibara." You groan.Â
"What's going on?" Haibara's smile fades. "Wait, Gojo, is this not Geto? Is this person actually a curse-user!?"Â
"I'm not a curse-user." You correct. "I'm not a sorcerer either, for the record."Â
"You just used a curse technique to travel back in time to take over someone's body." Gojo enunciates. "Sounds like a sorcerer to me."Â
"Wait, you're a time-traveler, Mr. Not-Geto?" Haibara asks and you are genuinely impressed he's able to keep up.Â
"The nameâs Greeny, Haibara." Gojo supplements. Haibara nods, still a bit unsure.Â
"So...do we fight Greeny?"Â
"It's not my name." You get ignored.Â
"Nah, it's all good. Greeny's harmless. Just a weakling, donât worry about it."Â Rude, but you donât think youâd want Gojo to take you as much of a threat, not after knowing what he can do.
"Oh, okay!" Haibara instantly relaxes. The kid's really trusting, huh?Â
"Okay, fine, but no one else can know, got it, Gojo?" This promise doesn't matter. It's not like you're planning on returning to the past anytime soon. As soon as you return to the present, you are leaving Tokyo and escaping the night parade of 100 demons. Fuck that. You don't want to die again.Â
He waves you off. "Yeah, yeah."
He's so insufferable. You don't know who's worse: the genocidal maniac or this brat.Â
"Give me your hand. I want to go home."Â
Haibara looks confused. "Wait, why does Greeny need your hand?"Â
"It's how the curse technique works," Gojo explains. "Greeny gets sent back in time, and then my true-love's touch sends him careening forward into the future." You frown at his comment, but he turns to you before you can say anything.Â
"Which reminds me, Greeny: ever figure out how your technique works?"Â
No way are you telling a kid that their best friend killed you....twice. Instead, you just shrug.Â
"Haven't figured it out yet."Â
Gojo stares at you. "Huh." He responds. "Well, if you ever figure it out, lemme' know."Â
Sure you will. You hold up your hand. Gojo, finally holds his own up. Out of the corner of your eye, Haibara waves. And then you're back in your own body, on December 24th, 2017, 7:06 pm.
You waste no time. You push at the crowd, squeezing through the hoards of people. You need to get out. You need to leave before the death parade starts, before you're trapped in that terrifying cycle of death again.Â
You need to leave.Â
Exorcised. Ingested.Â
No no no. Shut up. This wasn't you. This was Geto's memories.Â
Exorcised. Ingested. Â
You need to leave.Â
Exorcised. Ingested.Â
You need to survive.Â
The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows.Â
You stop, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. People glare, cursing as they move around you. They don't know this place will be a bloodbath in a matter of minutes. They'd all die. But you could stop it.Â
If only if you hadn't accessed Geto's memories. If only if you hadn't eaten that damn curse. If only if you hadn't sympathized with a murderer. Maybe you'd have the courage to escape your future.Â
But you'd felt that taste. Horrible. If you eat enough, you could go insane. If you were lonely enough, that would do it too.Â
The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. No one except for you.Â
At 8:06 the screams start. The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more.Â
⎔
For once, when you open your eyes, Gojo isnât there with you.Â
Youâre still on the campus of Jujutsu tech. Suguru was just about to grab his soda from the vending machine. You finish his job. The can feels cold. It feels refreshing on your tongue. Itâs a momentary distraction to the fact that you have no clue what youâre doing.Â
You understand your cursed technique, but you still struggle with the application. Fuck, what did you do? You were utterly fucked. Youâre playing a dangerous game. If you died- if Geto died- here, what would even happen?Â
 The worst part is that you canât even think of the hypothetical because thereâs no other choice. You needed to do this. To not only save the people in Tokyo from the Night Parade, but to also save Geto Suguru. The man who has killed you three times now.Â
Getoâs dissent starts to worsen at Riko Amanaiâs death. If you could prevent that from happening, you could probably change history. But Getoâs true fracture begins with the curses themselves. They were rotting him from the inside.
You grimace, but you have to do it. You have to eat every single curse that Geto couldnât swallow down himself.Â
One was coming up. In less than an hour, Yaga will call you and Gojo for a mission. Itâll be a special-grade grave-type curse. Dispatching it will be simple, but Geto would be the one to exorcise it, ingesting the screams of all that the curse devoured. You needed to prepare yourself for that.Â
Maybe you should save some of this soda to wash the taste off later.Â
âGeto!â Someone cheers, you jump, but Haibaraâs already poking his head around the wall. He grins.Â
âHey! Oh, youâre not Geto, arenât you?â He tilts his head. âGreeny?âÂ
âKeep your voice down,â you whisper, âwait, you can recognize me?âÂ
He nods, after checking to make sure no oneâs around, he says, âyeah, your eyes are different? Itâs hard to explain.â He tells you.Â
Huh. Interesting.Â
âYouâve been gone a while.â Haibara beams. âItâs been a few weeks. Iâm glad youâre back, Gojo was starting to get cranky.âÂ
Itâs probably because he had no one to mess with. Poor him. He has all your sympathies. Ass.Â
âIâm glad to return as his punching back.â You mutter.Â
Haibara shyly shuffles his feet.Â
âSo, are you really from the future?â He asks. âWas Gojo telling the truth?âÂ
You nod. âHaibara, you havenât told anyone, right?âÂ
âOf course not!â He instantly says. âNot a soul. Not even Nanami, and I tell him everything! Your secretâs safe with me.âÂ
âAnd Gojo, too! I know he doesnât look very trustworthy, but me and him have kept it under wraps.âÂ
Reluctantly, you canât help but agree with the kid. Gojo is annoying, but so far, he hasnât done anything super harmful.Â
âSo anyway, Greeny.â He clears his throat. âConsidering youâre from the future and all. Would you mind telling me what my future will be like?âÂ
You blink at him. He takes it as a sign to continue. âNothing much! I just wanna know what Iâll be doing in 2017. Will I finally be a grade 1 sorcerer?âÂ
You think of Getoâs final memories of Haibara. A child burying another child.Â
âSorry,â you lie through your teeth, âbut I didnât know you in my future. Again, Iâm not really a sorcerer.âÂ
Haibara nods, disappointed but still very excitable. He asks you about other things about the future, and you try to answer to the best of your ability, but you canât shake off his dead glass eyes, staring at you from the morgue.Â
âAnother thing, we should have a code word.â Haibara exclaims.Â
You blink. âA code word?âÂ
âIf we ever meet in the future,â he explains, âyâknow, in 'Groundhogâs day', he has to keep explaining whatâs happening repeatedly? In order to prevent that, we should have a secret word between eachother so I instantly know who you are.âÂ
Not the same exact situation, but it sounds like exactly something a child would come up with. You indulge him anyway.Â
âOkay, what did you have in mind?âÂ
âWell, it canât be anything too crazy, or we might attract unwanted attention.â Haibara puts a hand on his chin in serious thought. You smile.Â
âGot it! If you ever see me, just yell âbrocolli headâ really really loudly. Then Iâll know.â Haibara chirps.Â
âWait, why broccoli head?â
âBecause broccoli heads are green!â Haibara chirps happily.
Youâre starting to learn itâs best not to question his logic.
You nod, very amused. âSure thing, Haibara.â Â
Someone calls out his name. He jumps before he waves to you. You watch as he joins with Nanami. They talk about something you canât hear. Haibara laughs and you decide it would be a shame if his laugh was lost to death.Â
Gojo finds you eventually. You canât hide from him forever. You were walking into the school when he caught up with you. Heâd ran there. His breath was slightly ragged.Â
âGreeny, couldnât get enough last time, huh?â You shoot him a look.Â
âWhat are you talking about? Doesnât matter, we need to go, the missions coming up.âÂ
Gojoâs smile dips ever so slightly. âHowâd you know about that?âÂ
Itâs probably not a good idea to tell the guy's best friend that youâre possessing that youâve unlocked his memories.Â
âHaibara told me.âÂ
âAh,â He replies, âletâs go then.âÂ
The car ride is different this time around. Less tension. You arenât as confused. Gojo is seated quietly beside you, watching the scenery go by. The assistant is too preoccupied with belting the radio to notice Gojo's words.Â
âFigured it out yet?â He asks. âYour technique.âÂ
He's persistent about that answer, isn't he? You're sure the only reason Gojo cooperates with you is because he thinks you're inhabiting Suguru's on accident. How would he react if he knew you were doing it intentionally? It's best not to get on the strongestsâ bad side.Â
âOh, not really, but I think itâs random. I canât seem to find a set pattern. Maybe Suguru calls out to me, somehow?âÂ
âMaybe.â Gojo replies. His time is flat. Anxiety flips through your stomach.Â
âYouâre different this time around,â Gojo says.Â
âAm I?â You ask. âI guess Iâm just more determined today.âÂ
He gives you a look over. "Oh yeah? What for?"Â
"The curse. I'll exorcise it, today."Â
You don't know how you wanted Gojo to react to that, but you're still disappointed when he turns back to the window.Â
"Do whatever, Greeny."Â
In the end, you do swallow the curse. You manage to hold your gags in this time.Â
It's worse than before. It makes sense. This curse was first-grade. Stronger. In terms of taste, it was like curdled blood and mold. You were so grateful for that soda.Â
Gojo only watches with a tilted head.Â
"You're getting better at that."
You give a weak grin.Â
"Practice makes perfect," you reply, "do you think I'll get strong enough to absorb a special grade soon?"Â
He doesn't like your question. You can see it in his stiff expression.Â
"Maybe. Why do you want to swallow up curses, anyway? Last time you were here, you were practically begging to go back."Â
His response wasn't exactly hostile but far from his usual playful attitude. You knew you'd have to confront this eventually. Despite how nonchalant he acted, it's clear Satrou doesn't enjoy watching someone prance around in his friend's body like this. If he starts to dislike you, it could rupture your entire plan. You need his cooperation, more than anything, to save Suguru.Â
A little bit of the truth. Just a bit. It can't hurt, can it?
"Curses taste horrible," you say, looking at the ground. You can still taste the remnants of it, "it's the worst thing in the world. I can't even explain how wrong it feels to eat one. I thought...while I'm in his body...I could maybe help Suguru a little. I could ingest the curses in his stead, so that way, he still gets to absorb it." But it'll lessen the trauma it has on his mental state.Â
You can't see how Gojo feels about that. Those glasses of his cover everything. But you know he's staring at you. The six eyes are taking you apart, observing you whole.Â
"Did you know Suguru in the future?" He asks.Â
"I didn't." The man that killed you. The man that will keep killing you. And you'd forgive him each time.Â
Another beat of silence.
Finally, he just sighs. "You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?"Â
You give a sheepish laugh.
"That isn't a compliment, by the way. You're just really reckless. And maybe stupid, Greeny."Â His tone isn't mean.Â
"My name still isn't Greeny." You tell him.Â
"Oh yeah, what's your name, then?" He's reverted back to that teasing lilt, and it almost makes you relax if you don't note the curiosity underneath.Â
So far, you've been lax giving away information regarding the future, but you don't think you should continue that. What if you're too careless and the future changes in a way you didn't intend? A name, personal information, that could be way too dangerous.Â
"Actually, just call me Greeny. I like that name a lot better."Â
"You complained about it all the time, though?" Gojo argues.Â
"It's starting to grow on me." You grin. "Grow? Get it, because you compared me to a plant and-"
"Stop stop, you really are an old man." Gojo groans. You just grin wider. Then, you grimace.
âI can still taste it.â You complain. âIâd kill for a cigarette right now.â
âI caught our assistant manager smoking a while back,â Satoru suggests. âMaybe you could go and beg him for one.â
You toss him a look. âSuguru doesnât smoke, and Iâm not giving a teenager a nicotine addiction.â You have found lighters inside Suguruâs pockets, but you have a feeling it isnât for his own cravings.
"Hey, could you do me a favor?"Â
He gives a wordless hum.
"Maybe after this, could you take Suguru out to a cafe'? I can taste the aftertaste of the curse." You shudder. "Just get him something to wash it down."Â
Also, Suguru couldn't go back to his dorm after this. Suguru dissented because of his fractured relationship with everyone, not just with Satoru. You'd try to bridge the gap between him and his peers as much as you can. You go through Suguru's flip phone, asking Shoko if she wants to join the two.Â
When you're done with that, you snap the phone closed.Â
"Okay, I'm done here. You two have fun, okay?" You raise your hand.Â
Gojo just huffs, amused. "Sure sure. By the way, someone wanted to thank you."Â
You blink at that. "What?"Â
He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it."
He gives you a high-five, and then you're back in 2017 in your own body.Â
Temporarily. So far you figured out that you get sent back an hour before the night parade happens. 8:06. Considering you have a couple more minutes to kill before youâre killed, you reach into your pocket for that cigarette youâve been craving. You pick the first out of the box, cherry burns just out of corner of your eye.
You notice things now. The children giggled to their parents. Old couples gingerly held hands with sweet smiles. You'd save them, but first, you need to save Suguru.Â
And do really do that, you'd have to save Riko.Â
Easier said than done. You could go back in time, but you can't really control when to go back in time. It's been random, but your trips are typically two days away from each other. You can work with that.Â
But in order to get to Riko's death, you'd have to die...a lot. Absorbing curses made Suguru lose his mind, but how well would you fare with dying over and over again?Â
"Hungry?"Â
Someone looms over you. A woman. She's pretty, with short hair and bangs. In her hand, she holds a bag of chips.Â
"The vending machine gave me an extra." She gives a laugh. She kind of sounds like you. "Would you like one?"Â
"Oh." You take it. "Thanks."Â
"Don't mention it." She trots off into the crowd. You watch her.
A stranger's act of kindness. She didn't even know what would happen to her soon. You grip the bag, it crinkles in your grasp.Â
It didn't matter how well you'd fare with dying over and over again. You'd get over it. So many innocent people depended on you. You can't just abandon them like this.Â
You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right? It's aggravating how accurate he is, honestly.Â
The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru.Â
⎔
It takes a few cycles to finally reach the day Amanai Riko is assassinated. Whenever you deem yourself too early, you often accompany Gojo on a mission and exorcise a special-grade curse. Your overall plan is working, bit by bit. Each time you return, Suguru's memories swarm you. Each curse he remembers as less painful.Â
It's why you get worried when you get there a little too late.Â
"Something wrong?" Riko asks.Â
You've stopped in the middle of the hallway, and of course, they're looking at you strangely. You know this place. Tengen's barrier is just an elevator ride away. Suguru, Riko, and Miss Kuroi were all almost there.
Fushiguro Toji has already arrived.Â
In the first timeline, Geto leads the girls all the way down to Tengen's barrier. He puts his trust in Gojo. Of course, he would. They're the strongest. And in the end, Gojo does kill Toji.Â
But the kill comes too late. Riko still dies, and the fracturing happens.Â
You thought you'd have more time. If you had arrived a bit earlier, you could have fought with Gojo, and the chances of defeating Toji would have significantly increased.Â
What do you do?
"What's the matter?" Miss Kuroi asks. She's supposed to die today, too.Â
"Sorry, ladies." You smile. "But I need to go back for him."Â
You don't answer their calls, running back up the hallway. The sun's bright, shimmering beautifully in the sky.
It contradicts the blood dripping all over the stone floor.Â
Gojo's lifeless body is draped across the rubble. It's a horrifying sight. Eyes that were once like the sky are just this empty blue. A dead sea. He isn't breathing. You know, if you touched his wrist, you wouldn't feel a heartbeat.Â
"Hate to break it to ya', but the Gojo kid's dead." Toji's right behind you. You can feel him grinning.Â
You know Gojo isn't dead. At least, he won't be dead for a while, but seeing the boy who used to tease you, annoy the shit out of you, laugh at you, be so....it made you freeze. Falter.Â
You were wasting time.Â
"Sorceror killer." You say after a minute. You almost can't bring yourself to turn, to look at him. The man who kills Gojo. The man who could've killed Suguru, but chose not to. "You certainly live up to your name."Â
Toji's grin widens. The only man in the world with zero cursed energy. It'd be awe-inspiring if it weren't so terrifying.Â
It's funny. You weren't afraid of dying, not anymore. You were afraid of failing. Failing when you were so close, when victory was just a blink away.Â
"The flyheads." You mention to the swarms of curses all around you. "That's really smart." It gives you an idea or two.Â
You have Suguru's memories, but they aren't always concrete. You just have snippets. A general idea of what happened within a certain event. It makes sense. Humans can't remember everything.Â
But regarding the memories of Suguru and Fushiguro, everything is crystal clear. It's almost like you were there when it happened.Â
It also means that you know Suguru, at this current level, won't be able to defeat Fushiguro.Â
But Suguru doesn't need to beat the sorcerer killer; he just needs to hold him off.Â
Currently, Suguru's body contains 368 curses: 3 special grades, 24 grade ones, 33 grade twos, 103 grade threes, and 205 fourth grades.Â
You release all 368 of them.Â
In another timeline, these curses would look to you as something to devour. Today, these curses have a new target.Â
It won't stop Fushiguro. You're not dumb enough to think that. But it should give you time. Hopefully, it'll be enough time.Â
Your knees hurt when you collapse next to the corpse. Gojo's so beautiful, even when he's dead.Â
"Gojo." You shake him. Nothing happens. "You need to wake up. Gojo."Â
Nothing happens. You don't know what caused Gojo to become the strongest, Suguru wasn't there. For once, you are blind to the past.Â
"Riko needs you. Wake up. You-you need to go and save her and Miss Kuroi."Â
His body's so cold, and you know he's dead because when you touch his skin, you don't wake up in the present. You push against his body, and he falls limply right back to place. You're sure this sight will haunt you for the rest of your life.Â
"Satoru." You beg. "It's Greeny. Please, please, please wake up."
 Nothing happens.Â
Everything happens.Â
The brightest blue you've ever seen. It's heavenly. A glow that warms and chills your skin. It takes a while for you to see again. When you do, Satoru is standing.Â
Somehow, his eyes are even brighter. You don't think you're looking at a teenage boy anymore.Â
You're sitting in front of God.Â
"Greeny." he states, voice flat. "You're late."Â
You manage to smile.
"Sorry."Â
Youâve seen Satoru fight before. Heâs always calm, body relaxed as he practically floats in the air. Those fights differed from Suguruâs memoriesâpost Satoruâs awakening. Thereâs always this twinge of desperation. An aftertaste of bloodlust.
But seeing it for yourself is something else entirely. Even with Suguruâs heightened senses, you still canât follow him. Heâs barely a mirage. One milisecond you can see a blue flash, the next you see nothing.
It's barely a fight. Not this time around. Fushiguro is completely unmatched. There's a flash of purple. And then, it's over.Â
Fushiguro is in shambles. You didn't realize he was human until he started to bleed and shatter. Parentage over labor. It's sobering, in a way.Â
Satoru's mouth moves. You're too far away to hear anything. They stand there for a few more seconds until Fushiguro slumps. Then, he falls.
You wonder when you got so desensitized to death.Â
Gojo stands there. You should let him compress, but the clock is ticking. You need to do one more thing before you can let Suguru go.Â
"You need to go." You say when you're close to him. He doesn't acknowledge you. "Riko's about to enter Tengen's barrier."Â
He looks at you right then. His eyes. They're so bright, but they're strangely lifeless. Like he can't process you, your words.Â
"I can see you now," he says, "it was so foggy before, but now, you're crystal clear."Â
Six eyes look at you. You don't think you're hiding behind Suguru's face anymore.Â
You clear your throat.Â
"Gojo." You remind him. "Riko. You need to stop her."Â
He blinks back into focus, rising from his high.Â
"Oh," he says after a moment, "right."Â
You stop him before he can walk any further. You hold out your hand.Â
"You and Suguru."Â
For the first time in a while, Gojo hesitates to send you back. You wait a couple seconds longer.Â
"Yeah," he finally says.
His skin still feels cold.Â
⎔
This death is a lot more painful than the others.Â
The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die.Â
You forgive Suguru.Â
⎔
Time skips a lot faster now.Â
You stand in 2006, four months after the death of Fushiguro Toji. It takes a second for Geto's memories to kick in. What you see makes you nearly cry in relief.Â
Gojo and Geto made it in time. You can still remember the tears spilling down Riko's cheeks, the smile on her face when Geto asked her if she wanted to go back. They were safe. They were home, with each other.Â
You did it. You actually managed to pull it off.Â
But you can't celebrate, not yet. From what you can gather from Suguru's memories, Geto defects after four years. You've just held off the eventual.Â
It's nearly the middle of December. The air feels a bit chillier. You stay on that bench where Suguru once occupied. He was finishing his lunch. Usually, he'd eat with Satoru, but Satoru wasn't on campus these days.Â
Right, you weren't finished with your work, yet. There was still one other issue. Suguru went on missions alone these days. Swallowing curses, letting them fester and rot in his body. It's isolating and grueling work. You might have been able to help him with the absorption, but your aide won't be enough to prevent his eventual downfall.Â
You'll have to deal with his natural isolation. To do that, Suguru will have to make friends with people who aren't Satoru.Â
Suguru does have friends, but he's the closest to Satoru. Considering Satoru is getting busier each passing day, Suguru needs to broaden his horizons a bit.Â
It's a good thing this school is filled with such colorful characters.Â
Haibara and Nanami were sitting in the back of the school. From Geto's memories, their dynamic was interesting. Haibara was definitely more outgoing than the two, but Nanami seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. They looked out for each other, in that way.Â
Ah, Shoko was there, too. You haven't seen her since your first day. Her hair's grown longer. It lightly brushes her shoulders now. The cigarette in her hand burns a cherry red.Â
Your reaction is rooted in Suguru's instinct than anything on your part. You reach out, taking the cigarette and stomping on the embers.Â
"You shouldn't smoke in front of kids." You tell her, hoping she didn't read too much into your action.
Shoko scoffs, but to your satisfaction, she doesn't take out another one.Â
"We're just one year below you." Nanami retaliates, but he looks more at ease now that the cigarette's out.Â
"Did you finish lunch already, Geto?" Haibara asks kindly, then he takes a closer look. "Greeny?"Â
You suck air through your teeth, giving Haibara a scathing look. Instead of looking exasperated, Nanami looks confused.Â
"What's Greeny?" Nanami asks, and Haibara weakly laughs.Â
"It's-uh-my new nickname for the tree that's growing over there!" He wildly points to something just behind you. "'Cuz it's so...green!"
"Of course." You note the hint of affection laced within his tone.Â
"When'd you get back?" Haibara recovers with eagerness.Â
"Recently." You grin. "Nice to see you again."Â
"You saw him this morning," Nanami interjects, and you shrug. When he frowns, you know you pulled off a perfect Suguru impression.Â
Suguru melds into the conversation perfectly. Haibara says something funny, Shoko and Suguru agree, Nanami disagrees. It's a lovely little cycle that ends when Nanami grumbles and picks himself up to go. Shoko starts to follow suit when you stop her.Â
"Your hair's nice." You tell her.Â
She hums, grabbing a strand to study it. You can see hints of dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. She looked livelier when you first met her. Curses have been popping up left and right since Fushiguro's death. Everyone is overworked, but Shoko looks like she's getting the brunt of it. She's one of the only people who can use RCT on others, and there aren't many healers on her level. All of the strongests share one thing in common it seems.Â
"Pretty soon, it'll be longer than yours," Shoko replies. You smile in response.Â
"Where are you going?" You ask.Â
"Dorm," she replies, "I'm behind on paperwork."Â
You had a feeling she always was. You gave a look of sympathy, but misery loves company.Â
"I have some work too," You 'remember' the piles of papers lodged on Suguru's desk, "Maybe we can do it together later. The cafe right next to campus? It'll be my treat."Â
She looks at Suguru. Her eyes are a pretty color.Â
"Sure." She shrugs. "see you then."Â
You feel your heart thump twice in your chest and decide that your work here is done.Â
Haibara stares at Shoko's disappearing back. The forehead flick comes from both you and Suguru.Â
"That hurt." Haibara whines.Â
Good, you inwardly think.Â
"Sorry." You tell him. He rubs his head, and you wonder if this is how kicking a puppy feels like.Â
Luckily for you, Haibara recovers quickly.Â
"You've been gone for a while." Haibara tilts his head. "What happened?"Â
You can't exactly control your technique, it's more like it has a mind of its own, placing you exactly where you need to be placed. Instead of answering, you sigh, leaning against the wall.Â
"Timeline gimmicks." You tell him tiredly. "It's hard to explain."Â He frowns, but he takes it as an answer.
"Do you know when Gojo's coming back?" You ask. "I think it's time for me to go back again."Â
In previous time travels, you and Haibara tried to see if any physical contact would be enough to send you back. No matter how many times you two high-fived, shook hands, or even held hands. Nothing worked. Only Gojo Satoru could activate your technique. It must have something to do with the amount of cursed energy another person has.Â
âHe should be getting back later this evening.â Haibara muses. âBut Iâll be happy to keep you company!â
It's nice to hear him chatter. If you'd let him, he'd go one and one. But you like hearing him talk about his sister. Apparently, sheâs also a sorcerer, and his affection for her makes you smile.
"You remind me a lot of her, actually." He tells you. "Even though, y'know, you're a man." It's enough to get a laugh out of you.Â
âDo you have anyone in your family who can see curses?â Haibaracasks.
âNo,â you answer honestly, âat least, not that I can tell. My dad never spoke of curses or strange powers when I was growing up.â
You think he would have said something; after all, you two were too close to have secrets from each other. Your father was a single man, who took to raising you himself after your mother passed away. He often said you had her laugh.
âMaybe youâre one of a kind,â Haibara suggests.
You agree with him.
Gojo finds you before you can find him. He comes up to you with a grin and a wave.
âHey, long time.â
His sunglasses are tilted down. You can see his eyes. Theyâve lost the mania he had in his fight with Fushiguro. Youâre relieved at that. You still canât shake off that strange thing he said to you.
Wordlessly, you raise your hand. Satoru frowned.
âYou wanna leave so soon? You just got here.â
âIâve been here for hours,â you tell him, âalso, you arenât very concerned that someone is using your best friendâs body as a puppet.â
âHeâs been through worse,â Satoru tells you off with a wave. Some friend.
âLetâs go to the arcade,â he suggests.
âDo that with Suguru.â You tell him. âIâm not hanging out with a high schooler.â
âRight right, my bad. I keep forgetting youâre an old man, Greeny.â
â22 is not old,â you say with exasperation, âdidnât your birthday just pass? Youâre just five years away. Iâll see your attitude change, then.â
He grows quiet. You feel like you messed up somewhere.
âHow did you know about my birthday?â
Fuck, you keep forgetting about keeping Suguruâs memories a secret. It takes everything within you to just relax.
âHaibara told me,â you say, âblabbermouth. You know him.â
âOh.â Gojo replies. âHuh.â
You shuffle your feet. Distantly, you wonder what shoe size Suguru wears.
âHow did your mission go?â
âHorrible,â heâs instantly back to his usual self, whiny and complaint, âand the curse was so ugly too. It was oozing goo everywhere.â
You frown. âSounds gross. But you won, right?â
He doesnât even answer. You secretly admire his sheer confidence. You certainly werenât that when you were at his age.
âHowâs Amanai and Miss Kuroi?â You ask.
âSafe.â He tells you. âThe higher-ups werenât really happy with us after that; pretty sure all these sudden missions are punishments.â He frowns. âBut theyâre fine. Miss Kuroi officially adopted her, so sheâs a Kuroi now, too.â
You smiled. You already knew all that, but itâs nice to hear it.
âYou saved them,â he says.
You laugh, âI didnât do a thing.â You tell him. âYou and Suguru did all the heavy lifting. I just caused some property damage.â
âYou did.â He replies. âI donât know how, but things always manage to work out whenever youâre around.â
You donât like how he phrases that, but you donât react.
âYou think so? Maybe Iâm lucky.â Itâs supposed to be a joke of some kind. Neither of you laugh.
âYou really donât know us in the future?â He asks.
Maybe you shouldâve asked Shoko if you could have a cigarette.
âI really didn't,â you say, âHonest, IâI have no idea whatâs happening. Iâm just as lost as you. Hopefully, I can figure out how to control my technique, and you wonât have to see me again.â
You never stopped feeling guilty for doing this to Suguru. Controlling him. Forcing him to laugh with his friends, make decisions based on your feelings rather than his. But youâre so close. You promise yourself that once you fix everything, youâll never cause someone this much pain again. No matter how many times they kill you.
Satoruâs fists tighten. He looks even more upset at your response.
âThatâs not what Iââ He cuts himself off. You wait. Satoru says nothing more.
âYouâre annoying.â He tells you in the end. Itâs clean and cut, but it sounds like him. More confident, less wavery. âAnd stupid too.â
You canât help but smile.
âThank you. Am I done entertaining you now? Can I go?â He grumbles, holding up his hand.
âYeah, sure, Greeny.â
⎔
You forgive Suguru.
⎔
Somethingâs wrong.
You can feel it. Somethingâs wrong.
You look through Getoâs memories. Thereâs nothing. Everythingâs going as it should be. Everything looks perfect. Then, why do you feel so wrong?
Currently, Suguru was finishing excorcising a curse. You absorb it, swallowing down the remnant like itâs a pile of rusted nails but even the disgusting taste isnât enough to wash away the feeling of dread.
The walls of the hospital was empty. The auxillary managers had already cleared everyone out by the time Suguru had walked in. Maybe it was the silence that added to your stress?
You walk out. Nothing changes. One of the managers comes up to you with a clipboard.
âThe curse was exorcised.â Suguru tells them. âIt wasnât first grade, it was special grade. It was still disposed of.â
He curses, scribbling something down on his clipboard.
âThe wrong information again.â He hisses to himself. âIf we keep doing this, someone will die. We need more people, weâre way too stretched out.â
Those words are familiar. Hold on.
âWait, what day is it?â You ask the frazzled-looking manager.
Offhandedly, he responds. He says the date so casually, and yet his mere words feel like a bear trap, tightening on your leg.
No. You should have had more time. Why werenât you given more time?
Nanami and Haibara have probably already been dispatched. You go through Suguruâs phone, finding Haibaraâs contact. It doesnât go through. Nanami doesnât pick up either.
You wonât make it in time. Even using Suguruâs curses, you wonât be able to reach them until itâs too late. Suguruâs memory of that day is muddled and dark, but Haibaraâs dead corpse laying on the examination table. The pieces of him that Nanami could bring back.
You wouldnât be fast enough.
He picks up on the second ring.
â...Whatâs up?â
âItâs Haibara.â You spit the words out as fast as you can. âSatoru, you need to go and get him right now, he isnât going to make itââ
ââGreeny?â The exhaustion in Gojoâs voice is gone. You can hear something rustle behind him.
âSatoru, listen to me.â You beg. âHaibara and Nanami were just dispatched on a mission, but Yu isnât going to survive it. It wasnât a second-grade curse; it was a first grade. Please, you have to go and save him before it kills him.â
Itâs silent. It feels like hours have passed when you know itâs just three seconds.
âWeâll talk later, Greeny.â The line clicks.
Youâve lost the trust of the strongest.
⎔
The future has changed when you get to campus. Haibaraâs status is still alive. Barely. But heâs still there. Shokoâs currently taking care of him.
Nanami remains quiet the entire time since he returned with Haibaraâs battered body. The only thing you can think of to offer comfort is to pat his shoulder. He barely even registers it. Itâs more for you than for him. Youâre self-soothing, taking care of something else, so you donât have to recognize your own panic.
If Haibara dies, right here, on this day, everything can change. Everything can go back to the way it was in your original timeline. Haibara, with his sunshine, smiles, and bright eyes. His death is so important, and you canât even think of him right now.
Gojo Satoru knows youâve been deceiving him.
This is bad. So very bad. If he starts to suspect that you know more than you let on, he might deem you enough of a threat to kill, regardless of whether or not youâre in Suguruâs body. Itâs not like that hasnât stopped him before.
Gojo Satoru is selfless. Heâs selfless enough to kill his best friend, if he thinks it will save everyone.
But if Gojo kills Geto here and now, would that really be bad?
Youâd lose your path to the past, but the threat to your life would be over. Even if you did die in Suguruâs body, at least the people of Tokyo will be spared the Death Parade. Youâll still get what you want. And it will be much easier than your current plan.
Nanami shuffles behind you and you instantly snap out of it. That wasnât you. It couldnât have been you. That same lack of apathy when Fushiguro died in front of you.
It seems like dying over and over again caused you to lose bits of your humanity.
Shoko comes out. Nanami stands up, a tall ball of nervous energy. Shoko removes her mask. Her dark circles have grown even more prominent. Sheâs only 17.
âHeâs still alive.â Nanami sags. âBut he isnât responsive. Iâve done all that I can.â
She looks at Nanami, and then she canât anymore.
âIâm sorry.â
âDonât,â Nanami rasps, the most emotion youâve ever seen from him, âdonât apologize. It was my fault. I shouldâve taken better care of him.â
You swallow. It wasnât his fault, you wish you could tell him that it was yours.
You wonder what Haibaraâs younger sister looked like. A spitting image of him, perhaps. Shorter. Darker hair, bigger eyes. Their smiles would look identical. What would she look like when sheâs told her brother died doing the profession he forbade her from doing?
You canât do that to her. You canât be the reason she loses her brother the second time.
Youâre not sure if a God is even out there. How could there be? What kind of entity would do something like this to you? Still, you sit on that bench, right outside the room where Haibaraâs body lay, and you pray for a God.
Gojoâs footsteps stop right in front of you.
Itâs hard to get the words out. For a minute, he just stands there.
âDid you exorcise it?â You finally ask.
âYeah.â
You lift your head up to look at him. Even in his school uniform, heâs regal to look at. Like a warrior of the sun, blessed by the moon, sent to vanquish beasts and monsters.
Now, his blood-soaked sword is pointed at you.
Make it quick. You can only think. Just make it quick.
âNot here.â You say.
Nanami was still shaking. Shoko was right beside him. So you stand, you drag yourself away from Haibaraâs fading presence, and Gojo follows behind.
It shouldnât be this pretty outside. The sun is bright, and the sky is clear. There should be rain. Enough rain to drown the Earth.
âI figured out your technique a while ago, yâknow.â You donât look at him. You canât. âDying. Death activates your technique. Each time you die, youâre sent back 12 years in the past.â
You grip the fabric of your uniform until your knuckles turn white. Satoruâs cruel enough to continue.
âBut I never got why your soul kept possessing Suguruâs body. It always felt kindaâ random. Unless he was the one who was killing you. Over and over again.â
âGojo. Stop.â You beg.
âThatâs how your CT works. Every time youâre murdered, you go back in time so you can kill them when theyâre at their most emotionally vulnerable moment. Itâs a pretty powerful technique, all things considered. I might not even stand a chance against it. Assisted suicide, never expected that from you of all people.
But you never do. Each time Suguru kills you, you just come back and try to save him and everyone else your hands can reach. I canât get why you did that.â
He steps in front of you so you can see him. The God that he is.
âLetâs cut the shit, Greeny. Tell me what future is so bad youâre willing to die over and over again to prevent it.â
The worst outcome you could have ever thought of was standing right in front of you.
Satoru was demanding to know his future.
And...you couldnât.
Youâre taking in a shaky breath. Itâs not enough oxygen. The sky was close to crumbling, and you still couldnât breathe.
âThereâs nothing to know.â You try. âThereâs nothing, Iâm fixing itââ
ââby Suguru killing you, or is this considering killing yourself, now?â
âYou donât understand.â Your voice is cracking, so high-pitched that even Suguruâs vocal cords canât keep up. âYou donât get it. You canât.â
âThen help me understand.â His voice is as ragged as yours, he steps closer, you step back. âTell me why my friend would do something like this to someone.â
It clicks right then. Satoruâs anger isnât directed at you.
No, itâs directed at Suguru.
Itâs even worse than you thought.
âHeâhe was better than me. He was supposed to be the best out of all of us. I wanna deny it all that I can butâbut I can see the proof right here in front of me. AndâAnd I donâtââ His voice breaks too much to continue.Â
Youâre breaking, too. How many times have you been doing this, over and over again? All alone, with no one to support you. To comfort you.
The words are right there, threatening to bubble out. Itâd be so easy to tell Satoru everything.
And maybe you wouldâve, but then you looked at him.
Despite how disingenuous Satoru acted, you knew he was kind. The kindest person youâve ever met. Heâd sit there and listen, and heâd break every bone in his body to help. Thatâs just how he was.
Satoru was selfless, he was selfless enough to kill his best friend here and now if it meant heâd save the millions in Tokyo.
You canât put another burden on the strongest.
You canât do that to a kid.
âItâit isnât him.â You manage to spit out. âHe isnât doing it on purpose. Itâs not his fault.
Itâs the curses. They were too much for him; they overtook his body. Suguru couldnât control them anymore.â
He says nothing. Itâs like youâve put a spell on Gojo somehow, freezing him in place. Satoru canât do anything but stare at the talking puppet thatâs his best friend.
âHe lost so many people.â You continue. âRiko, Miss Kuroi, Haibara. He couldnât take it. It was too much. His body succumbed to the curses, and they took over Shinjuku. Thatâs how I keep...â
Itâs okay to lie like this, you justify to yourself. Because the Suguru, you knowâthe one with fake smiles, beady eyes, and a broken expressionâisnât the one that Satoru knows. Theyâre two completely different people. Yearsâtimelinesâapart from each other. They arenât the same.
Even then, you forgave both Sugurus a lifetime ago.
Youâd get on your knees if you know that would make a difference. Youâd plead and beg and cry if it would get Satoru to drop it. In the end, you can only stare at him.
âAll Iâm asking is that you trust me.â You whisper. âBelieve that Iâm making this right. Please, Satoru?â
His eyes. You canât tell what heâs thinking. Heâs gone quiet and dull. The same look he had when he fully awakened his technique. The day he became God.
But heâs not a God. Godâs donât cry.
He leans ever so closely until his head rests on your shoulder. His body shakes.
âYouâll save him, right?â He asks. Gone, is his aura of confidence and resilience. Heâs nothing more than a shell. If you feel something stain Suguruâs uniform, you say nothing about it.
You smile anyway.
âI will.â You tell the truth. âI will save him.â
You think of something morbidly funny.
âIâll die trying.â
His shoulders shake with quiet, genuine laughter, the kind thatâs wet and sticks to the top of your mouth.
âThatâs fucked up, Greeny.â He whispers.
You hum, reaching up to pat him on the back. It takes another minute before he gathers himself up. His eyes are shiny. Satoru blinks it away.
âHaibara will be okay.â He says with such conviction. âIâll take care of him. Iâll take care of Suguru, too.â
He doesnât get it, not yet. He doesnât understand that Shoko and Satoru and Haibara and Nanami need him. Heâll get it soon, though. You managed to put Suguru on the right path.
For now, itâs all you can do.Â
âI know you will.âÂ
He scoffs, right then.Â
âYouâre really annoying, you know that? Next time, donât piss me off like that. Just tell it to me straight.âÂ
Rely on me. Lean on me.
âIâm sorry,â you say and you truly are, âI wonât leave you in the dark from now on. I guess I just forgot that I had a friend in 2006.âÂ
His eyes get a little brighter. âItâs actually 2007ââÂ
âShut up.â He laughs and it sounds like him again.Â
You reach out your hand and his grin fades, the tiniest bit. He mirrors you, regardless.Â
This time, you hesitate.
âYou should learn how to be selfish every once in a while.â You tell him. âI wonât fault you if youâre selfish. I donât think anyone will.
He doesnât answer that, but his touch is finally warm.
⎔
It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.
You forgive Suguru.Â
⎔
Itâs today.Â
You can feel it. You donât even have to look at the date to know.
The catalyst for December 24th, 2017.
Suguruâs already dressed. Youâre currently standing in front of a shotty mirror, watching your reflection.
He looks tired. His smileâs a bit muted. You notice a scar you hadnât seen before. An unregistered special grade curse, Suguruâs memory gives.
Heâs different from when you saw him a year ago, but thereâs still a spark in his eye. You cling to that hope, as hard as you can.
You step out of the room. It isnât Suguruâs. Heâd rented accommodations with an older woman and her son for the mission. Their place smelled like home. It made your stomach turn.
She smiles when she sees you coming down stairs. She looks kind; she has the eyes of a mother. Youâll never understand how a person who raised children could do something like this to another.
âMr. Geto.â She chirps. âIâm so glad youâre awake! Would you like anything to eat?â
âNo, Iâm fine.â Better get this done sooner than later. âI should be heading back now, anyways.â
Suguru had already absorbed the curse tormenting the village last night. You can feel the sticky aftertaste in your mouth. He should have left the village yesterday, but the people were insistent he stayed one last day as thanks, feeding him all they could.
Now, itâs obvious that it was a way to butter him up for today.
Her smile grows a bit nervous. She shuffles her feet a bit.
âIf it isn't too much.â She starts. âThe head of our village asked if you could look at something.â Her eyes darken into disgust.
You fight to keep your smile.
âOf course. Please, lead the way.â
Itâs worse than you ever could have imagined.
Youâve seen this play out so many times in Suguruâs memories. He reminisces about this moment a lot. Because of that, you knew this scene too, like the back of your hand.
And yet, seeing two children huddled together on the floor. Nothing could prepare you for that.
The village head is saying something. The woman who Suguru roomed with is yelling at the scared kids, but you canât hear any of that.
Their clothes were dirty and ripped. Their cheeks were hollow, and they looked like they hadnât eaten for days. Himikoâs eye looks swollen.
The twins.
The first time you saw them, they stepped aside and let Geto kill you. Thereâs something oddly poetic about you being on the other side.
They tremble as they continue to look at you, flinch whenever that woman raises her voice. They must think Suguruâs here to kill them.
Theyâre too young to think like that. Theyâre too young to see the horrors of this world so soon.
Itâs a mistake to look towards the end of their cell. Dirty water and dog food.
How could a human do this to them? How could a mother do this to them?
You feel red. It coarses through your blood, your veins, your soul. It feels like thereâs lava right underneath your skin. Shuddering, tittering anger.
Thereâs more than enough fire to burn down an entire village.
âSuguru,â you think to your companion, your tormentor, âI think Iâm starting to get it now.â
You reach for the bars of the cell. The twins shrink away.
âAh! Mr. Geto, you musnât get too close to themââ
âIâll take them.â
âWhat?â The head of the village asks.
âThe children.â You straighten yourself up. âIâll take them off your hands.â
Itâs pointless to do anything to these people. Theyâre delusional enough to think that theyâre in the right. By torturing these children, theyâre protecting their own. Itâs fear. Thatâs all it ever was. Even without a curse, itâll fester on and on until this village is nothing but abandoned homes. Thereâs no point to punish these people any further.
If you look at the adults a bit too long, youâre afraid of what youâd do, even without Suguruâs interference. Instead, you focus on Himiko and Nanako, looking into their wary gazes. Their hands are so tiny. You could protect them with your own.
When you got out of this backward village, youâd find them something to eat.
⎔
You go to Shoko first.
She looks surprised to see the twins. You canât imagine why. Still, her voice is calm when she speaks to them, setting both of them up in the clinic room. Since you got them into the car, Nanako and Himiko seemed to calm down. Himiko even told you the name of her doll.
A little while later, Yaga comes for a visit. Heâs the principal now. Usually, his voice is filled with gruff, but heâs oddly gentle when he speaks to them. Nanako cracks a shy smile.
You canât escape the âweâll talk laterâ look he gives you. Inwardly, you sympathize with Suguru. But a harsh lecture is better than being branded a murderer.
He hasnât come by, yet. With the twins aided for, you decide to go find him yourself.
Walking through campus feels a little nostalgic. The grounds of the infamous jujutsu technical college are a bright green. Itâs summer again. Youâve met so many colorful characters since your time here. Youâve only seen snippets, mere seconds of their lives, and yet it feels like an entire lifetime.
Heâs sitting on a bench when you finally see him, nursing a drink. He doesnât acknowledge you. You have to roll your eyes at his childish behavior, plopping down beside him.
âHey.â You say first.
âHeard you adopted two kids,â Satoru says, âNever thought Suguru would be a teen mom, but here we are.â
You laugh, light and breathless. The sky is so pretty today.
âI donât think heâd have it any other way, personally.â You respond.
He reminisces on your words.
âThis happened before too?â He asked.
It did. It was a lot less of a happy ending, however.
âYeah,â you say regardless, âhe took good care of them last time. Heâll do the same in this timeline too. Iâm sure of it.â
And this time, heâd have help. Shoko, Satoru, his teachers. Theyâd all be there for him. Suguruâs memories havenât changed yet, but you know the future you step into will be a different one.
âIn any case, Iâm glad I got to see jujutsu tech one last time. Itâs a beautiful campus.â
âYou act like youâre leaving,â Satoru says, uncaring. âYouâll just come back again next month. Or next year.â
You play with your fingers.
âI...wonât be doing that from now on.â
He pauses. Then, he looks at you.
âWhat?â
You canât gauge his reaction, but he doesnât look happy. You find this a bit hard to swallow.
âI fixed the future.â You smile at him. âI finally did it. Suguru wonât break. Himiko and Nanako wonât lose their father. You wonât lose a friend, anymore. Thereâs no reason for me to keep coming back. Youâre all free.â
You phrased the last part as a joke, but Satoru isnât laughing.
âWait, youâre leaving? Youâre...leaving leaving.â
You nod. âI canât believe it either.â You still canât believe you accomplished everything you set out to do. A task that seemed so impossible, now youâre standing on the other side of it.
It wasnât truly over. Not really, but you were able to get Suguru through the worst of it. Now, you were sure Satoru and Shoko would take up your mantel, pushing Suguru through the finish line. Just like heâll do to them.
Satoruâs quiet.
âYou seem happy.â He notes.
âWell, I did just save everyone, I think I deserve to feel a little good about myself.â
For a moment, you want to ask if itâll be okay to visit everyone in the future. To see how Shoko and Suguru and Satoru are doing as adults. You stop yourself. Of course, they wouldnât want to see you. You needed to stop being so greedy.
This, was more than enough.
âWill you at least tell me your name?â Satoru asks.
âYou know I canât do that.â You tell him with a smile.
âRight right.â He laughs, it sounds hollow. âTime travel, bullshit. Makes sense.â
âIâll miss you.â You tell him.
He straightens himself up.
âIâll miss you too, old man.â He responds. âYou were a lottaâ fun to mess with.â
For once, you arenât offended by the old manâ, comment. If anything, it feels somber.
âCan I ask for some advice?â He suddenly asks. âYâknow what they say, ask the old and wise or whatever.â Okay, now he was starting to push it.
âWhat is it?â
Itâs his turn to shuffle with his fingers.
âWhat would you do if...thereâs something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just canât catch up to it?â
You glance at him. He looks earnest. Did something like that even exist for Satoru?
âSomething I canât catch up to?â You ponder out loud. âI guess Iâd have to make a big enough ruckus to where it has no choice but to look back.â
He frowns. âThat makes no sense. Youâre growing senile.â
You laugh. Youâll miss this brat.
You wish you could stay more. You wish you could ask about Haibara, and Shoko, and Nanami, but the clock is ticking.
Suguruâs getting impatient.
âBye, Satoru.â You reach out your hand.
He scrutinizes it, before clasping it within his own.
âYeah, Greeny.â
Within a blink, youâre back again in the middle of Shinjuku. December 24th, 7:06 pm.
Itâs the same as always. People bustle around you. Childrenâs laughter. Everything always repeats itself, but you donât think you can ever get sick of it. Youâll savor this peace for as long as you can.
You reach into your pocket, flicking out a lighter and the first cigarette of the box. You donât know why you always chose this one. Despite outmaneuvering time itself, perhaps itâs within human nature to follow whatâs written stone.
Youâve relived this hour so many times that you can list everything that happens. Down to the exact minute. 7:08- a little girl wearing a red dress walks by. 7:09- a lady with short hair catches your eyes and smiles. 7:14-an old man and woman bicker with each other as they pass you by. 7:21- A little dog sniffs the bench you sit on. 7:34- Two schoolchildren run past you, babbling. 7:45- five construction workers grumble out their grievances. 7:58- a businessman talks loudly on the phone.
You wait. You sit on a bench and wait until 8:06.
Five seconds after 8:06. Twenty seconds after 8:06.
The clock clicks to 8:07.
You were expecting to feel something else. Celebration. Elation. You half-expected to cause a scene and jump for joy right there in the streets of Shinjuku.
None of that comes. Thereâs just a feeling of relief. A weight presses you down, and you slump in your seat.
It was over.
It was finally over.
How long do you stay like that? Hours? Days? When you feel like you can finally breathe again, itâs only 8:12. Time travel warped your sense of time.
You stand up, stretch, feel your bones crack and pop. In the second timeline, you wanted to get a drink to drown your misery of nearly getting killed by a curse and being alone on December 24th. It felt like a lifetime ago when being single was the worst of your problems.
Honestly, youâd stay celibate for the rest of your life if it meant you wouldnât have to go through that ever again.
Tomorrow, youâll decompress and devolve into hysteria over what happened.
Next week, youâll check yourself into therapy.
Today, you decide to go home and sleep for a couple hundred years.
You must look like a zombie with the way you wobble down the street. Physically, your body is perfectly fine. Youâve suffered no bruises or cuts. Even the numerous times youâve been killed leaves nothing on your skin.
Mentally, youâre in shambles. The indomitable human spirit within you is snuffed out.
The stairs to your flat is your last enemy that you must vanquish before you can reunite with your adoring bed. You cling onto the railing with dazed eyes. You donât see the curse until youâre right before it.
Distantly, you wonder how often youâve passed a curse and didnât even realize it. Itâs almost instinct to reach out with your hand, intent on absorbing it.
Nothing happens. You remember you arenât Suguru anymore.
Itâs a grotesque-looking thing. No eyes, too many hands, a gaping mouth. It turns and looks at you.
Strange. Itsâ smile mirrors the one in the abandoned house.
Adrenaline. You feel it coarse through your veins, meld into your bones, explode in your skin. Youâre stumbling back, nearly tripping down the steps in your haste to get away.
It screeches. Loud and clear and angry and you can almost feel its teeth chomp on your leg, ripping your muscles and skin to mere tatters.
Youâve died before. Youâve been skinned alive before. Youâve been eaten before. Yet, it all amounts to nothing compared to the fear you feel at the thought of the curse catching you.
It canât have been nothing more than a third grade. If you were taller, larger, special-grade, you could have killed it immediately. But you werenât, not anymore, you were at the same level as a plant. Useless. Helpless.
A dead man stumbling, tripping, running.
The streets were quiet. You supposed that meant thereâd be fewer casualties. But it didnât make you feel any better. And even if there were people around, no one would have been able to help you.
Your brain isnât working as clearly. Fear is the only thing that guides you. Youâre reduced to a rat scampering through a maze. Sooner or later, that rodent reaches a dead end.
The alleyway was blocked off. You felt the rough brick wall scrape your hands and even the feeling of your raw skin couldnât assuage your heart pumping in your throat. When you whirled your head back, it was right there, and you knew you were dead.
Again.
It might kill you, if itâs feeling generous. It might cut your legs off and watch you bleed, if its feeling kind. It might eat you, if itâs a decent curse.
It shouldnât be happening. You fixed it. You were supposed to have fixed everything. But clearly you didn't. There must have been some piece of the puzzle that you forgot. You need to go back. You need to fix things, but why do you need to why can't he just leave you aloneâ
You donât see what happens. One moment, the curse is there. The next it isnât.
âThose things are so annoying.â The newcomer complains.
No, not new. You know him.
You blink. He grins. Itâs kind. A toothy smile that warms.
âYou alright?â He asks in sympathy. âCurses are pretty scary, arenât they? Are you hurt?â
Itâs him. You werenât in 2006. You were in the present, here and now, and he was here with you.
He actually made it.
âMaâam?â He asks.
It wasnât intentional. You just blurted it out, the promise you made to him. It was a decade for him. Mere hours for you.
âUm, broccoli head...?â And then you instantly regret it.
Haibara Yu takes a minute, eyes squinting like you just grew a new head.
Then, he gasps.
âGreeny?â
⎔
A few minutes later, youâre seated at a restaurant. Haibara has not shut up.
ââIâI canât believe it? Itâs actually you! I thought Iâd never see you again âcuz Gojo said you werenât gonna be around anymore, andâand then suddenly you pop up outtaâ nowhereânot that Iâm complainingâ butââ
ââHaibara.â You interrupt. âPlease, slow down.â
He stops himself, right when the server comes with drinks. He shoots the waiter a smile, and then heâs back on you.
âSorry.â He scratches the back of his neck. âIâI got a little excited. And nervous. Itâs just...well, I didnât expect you to be a girl.â
That might have been your fault. Both Haibara and Gojo kept referring to you as a man, so you decided to roll with it. Earlier, you would have justified it by insisting the less they know about you, the better. Now, you just think you were being petty.
âSo, how youâve been? A whole decade...â You murmur to yourself.
âFine! But what about you?â Haibara asks, concern etched into his eyes. âWhereâd you go?â
Wow, he was actually worried for you. Despite being in Suguruâs body, you didnât really feel like part of the group Shoko, Gojo, Nanami, and Haibara were part of. You felt like an outsider, being somewhere you didnât belong. It's because you were an outsider. Nevertheless, itâs nice to know one person missed you.
âThis might be a little hard to believe, but I just came back to 2017 two hours ago.â
Haibara gapes.
âWait, so to you, that whole thing happened, today?â You nod. He leans back in his chair.
âHoly fuck.â You laugh at his awe.
âThanks for saving me, by the way.â You change the topic. âFrom the curse.â
He waves it off. âI was just paying my debt. From what you did for me all those years ago.â
Ah, Gojo must have told him. Oddly enough, Haibara doesn't seem all that perturbed that he shouldnât exist currently. At the same time, it feels just like Haibara.
Heâs different from when he was younger. Taller. The baby fat is gone. His face is more built, just like the rest of his body. His eyes are less round, but they havenât lost the spark. A few scars here and there, but heâs all in one piece.
You werenât able to see what he looked like as an adult from Suguruâs memories, heâd never grown up. But now, you can see it for yourself. You can see the active change you made in his life, to his life.
âHaibaraââ
âYuââ He says seriously. âMy friends call me Yu.â
A smile twitches on your lips.
âTell me about everyone.â You scoot your chair closer. âYou, Suguru. How is everyone doing?â
He perks up at that, clearly delighted to be talking.
âGreat! Everyoneâs doing great! You should totally come visit the school, sometime. Theyâd love to see you. Uh, even if they donât technically know you, but Iâm sure theyâll love to meet you!â He rambles, and itâs nice to know he hasnât changed from his younger self.
âLetâs see, Kentoâs teaching the first years. I teach the second yearsââ
ââYouâre a teacher?â
He nods. âWe all are! Except for Shoko, but she has her own thing going on. Anyway, Mimiko and Nanako have become second-grade semi-sorcerors. Isnât that incredible? Iâm just a first grade semi-sorceror, and at their young ages too! But Suguru wasnât surprised, he kept saying his girls were prodigies. Oh! You probably want to know about Suguru too, right?â
You nod. Even if you hadnât done anything, you donât think that would have stopped his enthusiasm.
âHeâs a teacher too! At least, for right now. Yagaâs been wanting to retire, and there have been talks of Suguru becoming the next principal. Principal Geto has a ring to it, right? Oh, and Shoko is currently planning the wedding. Youâll definitely be invited, of course! She said I could bring a plus-one. Oh, andââ
It goes on like that for hours, you think. Not that you mind. You listen to Yu babble on and on about his friends, his students. He talks about Nanamiâs recent baking addiction, Shokoâs new office cat, Suguruâs favorite tea pot. Itâs a never-ending surge of information.
Eventually, you catch on to the fact that heâs deliberately leaving someone out.
"Yu?" You interrupt him while he's talking about the prank the fourth year pulled on Nanami. "What about Satoru? What's he up to?"Â
Maybe you were overthinking things. Haibara likes to talk; perhaps he forgot to exclude someone else's story in his rants. But then, he grimaces. For the first time in this entire conversation, Haibara is reluctant to talk.Â
"Satoru is..." He winces, and your hands turn into fists.Â
No. No. You were supposed to save everyone. Why hadn't you saved everyone?Â
A warm hand grips your own. You'd been shaking.Â
Yu gives a soft smile, and you remember he's no longer younger than you.Â
"He's not dead." He assures you, but his smile fades. He straightens himself up, and his hand pulls away.Â
"Satoru defected from Jujutsu tech. We don't know where he is."Â
What? You must have misheard him wrong. Satoru wouldn't do that. That's not like him. This is some sick joke.
But there's no teasing grin on Haibara. His face is grave. You hate it more than anything.Â
"It happened when he was a fourth year. No one really knows what happened. Suguru refuses to say anything about it, but I think he's just as confused as the rest of us. It came outta nowhere."Â
Yeah, it definitely came out of nowhere. It's so random. Why would Satoru do that? The last time you saw him, he was so happy. He was smiling; he teased you. What happened? It made no sense.Â
"So, you haven't seen him for nine years?" You ask. "Not even a glimpse?"Â
Yu shakes his head. "Nothing but his residuals. That's how we know he's still alive."Â
Nothing computes in your brain. None of it made any sense. You saved Suguru. That was supposed to make everyone happy, including Satoru. Why would he turn around and do this? Defecting made no sense.
"We've actually been tasked to execute him. Since heâs been branded a curse user, all four of us. " Yu laughs with no humor. "Isn't that insane? I don't think any one of us could even fathom doing that, even if it were possible."Â
It wasn't possible. Gojo was the strongest. Nothing could go toe to toe with him. Once he put his mind to something, no one could stop him.
But maybe you could.Â
You're shutting that idea down immediately. You were done. You were done with dying and time-travel and strange powers. You wanted it all to be over. It'd be so easy to thank Haibara for the nice meal, to go home and sleep this entire day off. Satoru dug his own grave, he can go lay in it. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions. You wouldnât. You canât do that another time.
You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?
You hate that brat so much.Â
You close your eyes. Take in a breath. Then, you open them.Â
"Haibara?" You ask. "Did Gojo tell you how my technique worked?"Â
He shakes his head. You grimace because convincing him might take a while.
"Okay, well, I'll need you to do a tiny favor for me."
⎔
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Oh, you're back already?" Satoru says casually, turning back to gaze at you. "I just left today. How did you convince Haibara to snap your neck? That guy cries after killing a mosquito.â
Youâd caught him just as he was leaving campus. Yuâs body was less athletic than Suguruâs. Your breath was slightly ragged, pulled down by minor exhaustion.
It doesnât weigh down your frustration for Gojo Satoru. The biggest pain in your ass youâve ever met.
âShut up.â You snap. âJust answer the question.â
âWe havenât seen each other for a year and thatâs how you react?â Satoru ignores you. âThatâs mean, Greeny. How âbout we discuss my treason over steak. Haibara can pay.â
âSatoru.â You beg, âWhy are you doing this? Whatâs the point? Why is everyone happy with their life except for you?â
That seems to get him. His posture stiffens ever so slightly. You can see him work his jaw. He finally drops his act.
âYou didnât have to come back, yâknow.â He murmurs quietly. âYou couldâve just stayed in the future. Like you said, Greeny, everyoneâs happy with their life. 4 outtaâ five. Thatâs a passing grade.â
For once, you wish you could possess him. You wished you could open his brain and peer into his memories until he finally made sense.
âI could never leave you behind like that.â You say the truth just as quietly. âIâll die a thousand more deaths than do that.â
He smiles. It looks genuine as it looks painful.
âYeah, I know. I know you, Greeny. Always gottaâ play hero.â He gives a bitter laugh. âThatâs why I defected.â
You stare at him. Heâs a fourth-year now, even taller than before. You arenât equal to him anymore in this body, now youâre starting to think you never were.
âSatoru.â You start because what heâs saying canât be the truth. Your heart broke and broke. âDidâdid you leaveâdid you leave everyone for a decade just so Iâd come back? Why would you do that to yourself?â
He doesnât say anything. Then, he steps forward, just a bit.
âItâs your fault,â Satoru says like itâs instinct to blame you for his actions, âthis was your idea.â
Whatâs he talking about? And then memories of the two of you sitting on that bench just outside of campus.
What would you do if...thereâs something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just canât catch up to it? So thatâs what he meant. You were an idiot.
âThatâs not fair, Satoru,â you say regardless, âIâI neverâI couldnât expect youâd do this.â
âWhat choice did I fucking have, Greeny?â Thereâs rapid steps and heâs in front of you, desperate and wild. âYouâyou just left me here. You left me alone and I couldnât even look for you because I know nothing about you. Your face, your eyes, your hair, not even your fucking name! Howâs that fair?â
Itâs true. Itâs all true. As much as you tried to claim you tried to make everyone happy, you only focused on Suguru. And Suguruâs happiness enlisted space from the strongest. In a different timeline, things would be different between them. A button he never left behind. Words Satoru never said. That timeline held too much pain and suffering, so you scrubbed it from history. In this rendition, everything was changed. Suguru had Shoko. Yu had Kento. Who did Satoru have?
You saved Suguru in this timeline. But to save him, you neglected Satoru.
Satoru must have known. He must have known you intentionally distanced Suguru from him, but he allowed it anyway. Satoruâs selfless like that. Too giving. Too Godlike.
But heâs selfish too. Purposefully demeaning himself so he could get one more glimpse of you, uncaring if you went through hell for his sake. Too taking. Too human.
Once, you told him that if he was selfish, just once, you wouldnât fault him. What a liar you are.
You forgive Satoru.
âIâm sorry.â Haibaraâs voice is like your own. You step closer. His infinity lets you in. âIâm sorry Satoru. I didnât mean to leave you alone.â
Itâs hard to wrap him in a hug. The bratâs too big. He sinks into your touch like a tiger, filled with dangerous claws, retracted just for your sake. He shakes the tiniest bit; even now, heâs keeping himself as a pinnacle. If you hear a sniffle or two, you donât comment on it.
Itâs why your heart breaks to tell him the truth.
âI canât give you my name.â You whisper in his ear. He pulls back. He doesnât look at you.
âYeah, I know. I know. time-travel bullshitââ
âFor now.â You add. âI canât do that for now.â
Three pairs of eyes look at you. Youâre not hiding behind Haibara anymore. Youâre not trying to.
âDecember 24th, 2017. 8:06. Tokyo Skytree.â You look at him. âCan you wait until then?â
For you, itâd only be an hour. For Satoru, itâd be a decade.
You expect him to reject it, to yell at you. You decide if he wants to be selfish; youâd let him.
âIf you donât show up, Iâll turn evil.â You laugh. His grin widens and heâs back again. âIâm serious. Iâll take over the world. Iâll throw the biggest temper tantrum ever.â
âYouâre such a brat.â Thereâs no hostility in your tone. âI will. I promise.â
âIâll save you,â You promise in your head because heâs too prideful to hear it.
âIs it still possible for you to go back?â You ask, the wariness present again. âThe higher ups havenât taken any action against you, right?â
He shakes his head.
âI think Yaga might yell at me, but other than that.â He shrugs. âTheyâll decide itâs teen rebellion and sweep it under the rug.â
You laugh again. Satoru shoots you a toothy grin.
When you reach out a hand, Satoru mirrors you. He clasps your hand in his. For once, you wonder how theyâll feel on your own.
âSee yaâ later, Greeny.â
A blink. Satoruâs gone. Your hand is empty, and youâre standing in the streets of Shinjuku once again.
⎔
December 24th, 2017. 8:06, at the top of the Tokyo Skytree.
Why did you decide on that date and time for all the places? You were so fucking stupid. You needed to stop being so poetic.
Itâs already 7:12 when youâre desperately waving down a taxi. The driver looks disinterested when you blubber out the location. When he tells you itâll cost extra because Sumida City isnât part of his route, youâre more than happy to fork over the money.
Itâs already 7:35 when you stumble through the interiors of Tokyo Skytree town. Itâs crowded. Fuck, itâs December 24th, of course people would be out and about.
At 7:44, you finally reach the observational building. And then you hit upon a snag.
Itâs closed.
Renovations, the sign reads, accompanied by an irritatingly cute drawing of a cat, please come visit us next week.
Would this excuse be enough to satisfy Satoru? Youâre only human. Surely heâd understand if you couldnât make it because the entire building was shut down.
Or wait. Was this Satoruâs doing?
You look up at the tower. Lights were still on and flickering. No crowds. No people. No prying eyes.
Let it be known that youâve never trespassed before, until you met Gojo Satoru.
With a guilty conscious, you step over the line. You justify it by convincing yourself you were saving the world because you know Satoru wasnât joking a decade ago.
The elevators still worked. Thank God. Yet another hint heâs paving the way for you. You made the location, but it feels like youâre a mouse stuck in a human-designed maze. Even though you set up the game, heâs still managed to rig it.
You land on the first deck at 7:52. At 7:56, you reach the second observational deck.
Itâs empty. Youâve never seen the skytree so empty before. Not a single soul is here except for you. Your footsteps echo across the floor. Were you early?
Out the corner of your eye, thereâs a post-it note stuck on the window. A hand-drawn arrow. Up ahead, thereâs another one.
You follow the next, and then the next. All the time you donât know how to feel about him doing all of this just for an encounter. Something bubbles in your stomach. Youâre pushing it down.
You follow the post-its until thereâs one placed right on top of a door.
Authorized personnel only. Why does this brat continue to test you?
But itâs already 8:03; youâre far too deep to complain.
A service elevator greets you. If you press the button, itâll take you all the way up to the broadcast equipment, the top of the Tokyo Skytree.
Itâs different from the past two elevator rides. The service elevator isnât all that polished. The wheels squeak a little too dangerously at times. Itâs slower, too.
Thatâs bad, because now youâre starting to think.
That familiar feeling boils within your stomach, again. Youâre anxious. Itâs strange to say, but meeting Satoru through Suguru, meeting Satoru through Yu, it felt like you had a protective shell around yourself. You were free from his judgement, only invoking curiosity.
If you show yourself to him, how would he react? What would he say? Would he get angry that you made him wait a decade for such a blunder? Even worse, what if he doesnât get angry?
What ifâwhat if heâs disappointed by you?
Cold feet. It freezes your toes. You want to go back. You want the elevator to go back down, you want to go home and hide away.
But you promised Satoru. He deserves answers.
Pathetic answers are better than no answers at all.
Instead of your soul being protected by a sorcerer's body, itâs protected by your own. Youâd steel yourself for whatever comes next. You could melt after.
Itâs windy up here. Thatâs the first thing you notice. Icy wind cuts at your face and your eyes squint so they donât dry out so quickly. Itâs colder, too; your jacket is nice protection, but nothing helps your vulnerable hands.
But the view. Oh, what a view.
The sea of twinkling lights shines from the city. The sun has set, leaving Tokyo to do nothing but shine. Sheâs gorgeous like sheâs picked the stars from the sky, burying them within her own soul. You could stay there forever, if she let you.
Itâs 8:09. Satoru was late.
Or maybe he just wasnât planning to show up.
You lean away from the railing. Itâs just like him to make huge gestures and at the last moment, ditch everything. The balloon in your lungs deflates ever so slightly.
And then, you can feel hands.
Around your shoulders, caging you in. Large and warm despite the icy air. You know these hands. Theyâre familiar, even a decade later. His chest presses up against your back. His face settles in the crook of your neck.
His laugh tickles your ear, and you arenât so cold anymore.
âCaught ya, Greeny.â
(âDid something happen to you, back there in the house?â
"Hm?" Suguru asked.
They were wading through long grass and overgrown weeds. Satoru glances at his friend. Suguru looks fine. His cursed energy has gone back to normal. That's probably good.
"You were just acting weird," Satoru said, "I mean you fell on your ass in front of a curse. Embarrassing."
Suguru huffed, a red hue across his cheeks. "Shut up, don't remind me."
'So he remembered,' Satoru thinks, 'didn't expect that.'
They're almost to the car when Suguru speaks again.
"Actually, I did feel a little strange," he says, "I felt like I wasn't really all there. There was this voice, guiding me along."
"Really?" Satoru shivers. "That sounds creepy."
So the entity within Suguru was a bad thing after all. He should try to get rid of it if it ever comes back. It might take a complex spell or something-
"Not really." Suguru said. "It's hard to explain, but it felt....nice."
"Nice?" Satoru echoes.
"Yeah."
And then it's quiet again.)
Part two: Rewound Infinitely
#yandere#yandere jjk#yandere gojo satoru#x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#time travel fix it#a crumbling storyline#platonic haibara x reader#dark content#f!reader#implied romance#tw:blood/violence#tw: child abuse#unrequited feelings#ambiguous ending#BUT its a positive one
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gojo x fem reader
geto x fem reader
Both men agreed to a game about who fucks you first, but they didn't play their cards right. Gojo and Geto changed the course of the game when they decided to keep you around for way longer than intended, making you fall for their sweet way to deprave you, and now you have to face the consequences in a gamble that they call their life.
đ fateâs gamble by @/anaoyuo (on going)
gojo x fem reader
geto x fem reader
sequel to a dangerous game
çŒćâ a story about predestined affinity, set in a world where the intoxicating thrills of wealth intertwine with amorality.
đ him & i by @pharixden (on going)
gojo x fem reader
toji x fem reader
sukuna x fem reader
A cheating husband, a widowed bodyguard and a malevolent fling of the past who owes a favour isnât a combination for the faint of heart, but not every girl is a damsel in distress.
đ changes by @lemonlover1110 (on going also on tumblr!)
gojo x fem reader
From childhood friends to lovers to mere strangers. Your love story with Satoru Gojo was one from a fairy tail, until it wasn't. When you were twenty-one, Satoru left you without an explanation. Five years later, you meet again but nothing is quite the same. Too many things need to be explained, especially the fact that there's another Gojo that Satoru has yet to meet.
đ the man in apartment 381 by @lemonlover1110 (completed also on tumblr!)
toji x fem reader
Looking for a new beginning after the death of your husband, you move away from town. That's when you meet him, Toji Fushiguro, a widower with a three-year-old son. You two understand each other, which draws you close. Except you two don't realize that feelings would eventually develop, and neither of you want that. Feelings are the last thing you two want after finding out the great damage that they can cause. When you two discover this, it's too late.
đ 4th avenue viewing by @/softstellars (completed)
nanami x fem reader
Nanami Kento is intelligent, serious, reserved and can easily catch someone in a lie. It's his job to do just that, he's renowned for it. So when he comes to your university to offer up an internship, it's quite the opportunity. Anyone would jump at the chance, except for you. But no, you just had to be the one caught in a lie.
đ forgotten souls by @/killerpoultry & @/bebobopobo (completed)
sukuna x fem reader
You and Sukuna have been married for years. Even though he is brash, mean, and sadistic, you love him more than anything. While he may not show it much, he truly loves you too. One day you get into a terrible car accident and lose all your memories. You learn to live once more while Sukuna must now get you to fall in love with him all over again.
đ love kills by @/sourome (on going)
i actually donât know đ i think toji x fem reader
The wealthy and successful Zenin family, well respected and seemingly perfect. But all that glitters is not gold. Toji Zenin, CEO and face of the Zenin Group acts like a gentleman but is a vile creature that has ruined many lives, such as yours. That married man dared to play with your motherâs heart many years ago, destroying her sanity and her life and ultimately killing her. Now years later and being all grown up you decide to seek revenge, he deserves to suffer that same destiny and die of love. With the help of a few friends you plan to become a part of his life and his every thought but you didn't take into account his son, that man had the potential to turn your plans upside down.
đ the black swan by @uselesslydamaged (completed)
sukuna x fem reader
Loving someone is easy, but experiencing it is harder.
đ bodyguard by @/succybuss (on going)
toji x fem reader
Your Grandfather, a man involved in unsavory businesses that has taken you under his wing, has informed you that you will be under the care of a full-time Bodyguard. Unhappy with your grandfather's decision, you decide to go out for a night of drinking for your last night of freedom. There, you encounter a man you planned on taking home, but life had other plans in store for you...
đ violet lights by @septembersummer (completed)
gojo x fem reader
In which you're at a party that you should've skipped when you capture the attention of a boy who looks like an angel and grins like the devil. He looks beautiful in the neon lights, and maybe you just want to make your ex-boyfriend jealous, but trouble with a tongue ring does sound like fun, just for tonight. What's the worst that could happen, you know?
đ starboy by @septembersummer (completed)
gojo x fem reader
sequel to violet lights
After your ex-boyfriend gets arrested on national television, you find yourself realizing that you really didnât know much at all about Gojo Satoru. Well, heâs better known in the Yakuza as The Six Eyes, not that he ever told you that.
đ sweet little lies by @/mooglepaws (on going)
toji x fem reader
Megumi Fushiguro is the perfect Fiancé. Caring, loyal, successful, devastatingly handsome and crazy in love with you. So how and why do you end up fucking his Dad? As your wedding looms and the consequences of your affair unfold, you have to make a choice between the Fushiguro men.
This is a Toji x Reader x Megumi but the smut is almost exclusively Toji x Reader focusing on their affair.
đ the twist of a knife by @darkcat23 (on going)
gojo x fem reader
This world is dull, colourless in your eyes. You are just trying to keep going with your life, not bothering anyone, trying to support your mother and yourself. So what happens when you agree to help your ex one night? And what if you catch the attention of a certain white haired assassin? And he shows you just how colourful this world truly is. or, a story of a girl with a violent mind and a boy with violent tendencies, finding each other, intertwining, and feeding off one another. perhaps it is fate that has brought them together. or perhaps it's something more sinister, something more cold.
đ untameable waves by @/circedemedici
(unknown i guess hopefully i can let you know)
has been taken down i dont know if itâll come back but if it does iâll link it! but iâm leaving it here because it was most definitely my favourite :(
please let me know any other fics youâve read because i love reading fics with a LOT of plot and also let me know if you end up reading any and you enjoy them as much as i did! :3
i think i used every tag known to man LOL đ
#modern sukuna#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#dilf toji#toji zenin#satoru gojo smut#satoru smut#jjk x reader smut#jjk x reader#jjk angst#jjk smut#jjk gojo#jjk sukuna#jjk fanfic#jjk fic#jjk x black reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu geto#kento nanami smut#kento nanami x reader#nanami fluff#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x reader#nanami smut#nanami x you
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MY BOY SUCH A PRETTY CRIER : GOJO SATORU
my boyfriend has the prettiest eyes,â . . . you love your boyfriendâ gojo satoru's eyes, you always have, until you see him crying for the first time, and you can't help but need to see those eyes, glisten with tears, every chance you get.
warning. obsessive! gojo satoru, established relationship, mentioned of suicide, blood mention, obsessive reader, slight dark, toxic! reader.
wc. 6,6k ( art belong to the artist, devider belong to cafekitsune )
it's glisten...
gojo satoru's blue, azure irises glisten under the moonlight like little twinkling stars, silking with his tears. you were mesmerized and for a moment your erotic movement stammered, slower, slower, slower . . . and stopped. it hurt your chest, your lung, like the air just got reap by fingers with pointed nails, or razor-sharped teeth, you named it.
you gasp for air, holding them down inside your reaped lungs. it's suffocating, how his eyes make you feel. and suddenly, you can feel everything, your senses sharpenâ the way his heart is beating like thunder underneath your palms, cocoon by his ribcage, the way his girth, his throbbing girth twitching inside you.
âbaby...â he breathlessly calls you.
gojo's nail digging is dullest to your chubby rear, silently begging you to move and get back to work, but no.. you stay silent for a moment, drowning in his blue eyes you never realize as blue as the ocean, as deep as one before. you always knew it was pretty, but never as this pretty, it's breathtaking, it's soul-sucking, it's. . . gut wrenching, pain, because you will never have eyes like his, you will never, ever, find eyes like his with other men, other person.
âbeautiful..â you whisper.
your trembling hand gently makes its way to kiss his cheek, thumb dancing across the skin to push away the tears selfishly. only you, it's only you who can get this close to his eyes, it is you.
âyou are so beautiful,â soft, breathless whisper kissing your lips before you lean closer, skin to skin with his forehead. it was crystal clear, his eyes. . . so celar you can read his mind through it, see his soul laid bare, feel his blood and his heart beating faster each second- looking straight at you like its ready to burst his ribcage open nad run to you with all the blood, the flesh, even the bone.
one blink, two blink, and three blink it takes gojo to clear the glisten effect on his eyes, letting the last tears fall freely down to his cheeks. a small frown makes its way to your forehead, so you found your hips moving slowly, your glisten clit grinding against gojo's skin, his cock twitching and soft moan leaving his pink, swollen lips.
soft mean tear from your throat, past your lips the moment tears flooded in gojo's eyes. âdon't close your eyes, baby,â you whisper, like a witch chanted a mantra. gojo nod eagerly, bewitched by you. it was sinister, your smile, drowning in love and something more. the look on your beautiful face, the one where gojo never saw. he was mesmerize with the way you look at him. how your eyes practically sparkling, your cheeks blushing madly, your eyes glue to him like he is the center of your world, and gojo was doomed.
after that unforgettable night, you find yourself completely immersed in the depth of gojoâs eyes, as if drawn into a boundless ocean of their beauty. every nuance of their color becomes an intricate tapestry that you cannot help but unravel. imagine, if you will, the way his eyes might transform under the tender embrace of a sunset, their natural brilliance kissed by hues of molten gold and soft amber, weaving a breathtaking symphony of warmth and light.
âhey, baby,â his voice drifts softly, like a breeze stirring you from the quiet of your thoughts, his words threading through the haze that clouds your mind.
you blink once, then twice, and a third time, as if awakening from a dream spun of shadows and whispers, until your gaze finds hisâthose eyes, blue as a restless sea, now roiling with a tempest of fury. itâs a sight that steals the breath from your lungs, a depthless anger that crashes like waves against the shores of his calm, threatening to sweep you away. his stare is fierce, wild. . . cannibalism lookalike even, and you feel something shift within you, a fullness that blooms in your chest, heavy and warm. his palm, cold against your flushed skin, cradles your cheek, and you lean into his touch, drawn like a moth to flame, craving the chill that soothes the heat of your racing heart.
his knuckles, adorned in the brutal artistry of bruises, are stained with the blood of those who dared to lay hands upon you, each mark a testament to the violence heâs wrought in your name. once again, his knuckles, oh, they are a map of violenceâa testament to the ruin he hath wrought upon those foolish enough to lay a hand upon what he cherishes most: you, oh you. . . the love of his life.. bruises bloom like dark violets upon his skin, and the crimson of blood lingers, a stark reminder of his ferocity, his unrelenting need to protect, to possess, to guard you as fiercely as the lion doth its pride.
they bear the story of his wrath, of a love so vehement it spills over into rage, uncontained and ferocious. he stands as a fortress, unyielding and unbreakable, a sentinel who guards not with words but with fists and fury, and in his eyes, you see a promiseâa vow that none shall harm you and live to see the sun again. his touch, a chilled caress upon your cheek, pulls you closer still, and you lean into it, seeking solace in the coolness of his palm, a balm against the heat of his wrath.
âbaby, are you alright?â he asks, his voice a deep, soft rumble that vibrates through your very bones, soothing and stirring all at once. it washes over you, a tide that pulls you under, and suddenly your legs betray you, trembling beneath the weight of it all, the sheer intensity of his presence. you feel yourself melt, your knees weak, the world spinning as if gravity has turned traitor, and you begin to sink. but he is there, always there, swift and sure, catching you in the safety of his embrace, his strong arms wrapping around your trembling form, pulling you flush against the solid heat of his chest.
âplease, hold me,â you whisper, voice barely a breath, still lost in the storm that rages within his gaze. thereâs a desperation in your plea, a need to be held, to be anchored amidst the chaos that threatens to drown you both. his hold tightens, as if he could fuse you to him, make you one with his own flesh and bone, and you feel the world steady under the weight of his arms. his scent, warm and familiar, envelops you, a heady mix of comfort and danger that sends a shiver racing down your spine.
there is an obsession in the way he looks at you now, an all-consuming need that borders on madness, a love that knows no bounds, no reason, no restraint. for in that gaze, you are not merely seenâyou are worshipped, adored, the very center of his universe, hell, you are a god to gojo satoru. his eyes, burning with the light of a thousand suns, speak not of mere affection but of a devotion so profound that it eclipses all else. every breath you take, every beat of your heart, is caught up in the maelstrom of his love, swirling endlessly in the vortex of his gaze.
he holds you so close, close enough that you can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, a fierce, steady drum that matches the frantic cadence of your own. your hands find their way around his neck, fingers threading through the silken strands of his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until there is no space left between you. your lips meet his in a fervent kiss, a clash of need and hunger, tongues dancing in a tangled, breathless frenzy. it is a kiss that speaks of survival, of gratitude, of a love that is both a sanctuary and a storm.
he tastes like fury and devotion, a bitter-sweetness that lingers on your tongue, and you drink him in, greedy for more. his grip on you is unrelenting, as if letting go would mean losing you to the abyss of his own making, and you cling to him with equal fervor, your bodies a tangled mess of limbs and longing. in that moment, there is no past, no futureâonly the now, the heady rush of his breath mingling with yours, the feel of his hands on your skin, the unspoken promises that pass between you with every stolen breath.
he holds you as if you are the very air he breathes- well, indeed you are, as if he could will you into his soul and keep you there, keeping warm and alive unthe the flesh of his ribcage, close to his heart, safe and cherished, forevermore. his eyes, still brimming with that furious fire, soften at the edges as he kisses you back with a reverence that makes your heart ache. itâs a kiss that binds, that claims, that seals you to him in a way that words never could, and as you pull away, breathless and dazed, you know that this is where you belongâwrapped in his arms, lost in the depths of his gaze, loved with a passion that burns brighter than the stars.
when he pulls away, a thin, glistening thread of desire still lingers, stretching between your parted lips over the tongueâa tether that binds you in this shared breath, this dangerous dance. his gaze meets yours, those blue eyes still ablaze with a furious tempest, but within their storm, there flickers a flame of love, fierce and unyielding. he looks down at you, a twisted smile curling at his lips, a grin that speaks of chaos and carnage, of a madness that holds the world at bay. âi'm sorry those fools dared to lay hands upon you, but they will trouble you no more, my love,â he murmurs, voice low and threaded with menace, a vow spoken with a loverâs gentleness yet edged in steel. his hands, calloused and sure, cup your cheeks, cradling you as though you are the most precious, fragile thing in all the realms.
together, you both cast your gaze down upon the bodies sprawled upon the cold, unforgiving ground, their forms marred by bruises and the remnants of his wrath. they lie there, wet and lifeless as fallen leaves, scattered by the tempest of his fury, no longer a threat but mere echoes of their own folly. and yet, even amidst the wreckage of his rage, there is a strange beauty in the chaos he has wroughtâa dark symphony of love and violence, a tribute to his devotion, twisted and true.
âcome, let me take you home, my love,â he murmurs once more, the words a soft caress against your skin, as his lips find yours in a kiss that seals the promise of his protection. you are stunned, breathless, and your eyes glisten with a fervor that matches his ownâa wild, consuming adoration for the man before you, this maniacal figure who stands between you and the world. to love him is to dance on the edge of a blade, a perilous waltz that thrills and terrifies in equal measure.
you look up at him, smiling so, so, so sweetly, mirror the same menace, at satoru gojo, your beautiful, dangerous obsession, and your heart swells with a love so potent it feels as if it might burst from your chest. it is sick, this mutual madness that binds you, a passion laced with peril and an affection born of fury. he is a storm wrapped in human form, a threat to all that dares to stand in his path, yet to you, he is a haven, a divine madness that sets your soul alight.
his eyesâah, those orbs of azure fire! they are the boundless seas wherein your soul doth drown a thousand times. in calmer tides you have known themâplayful, serene, a gentle mirth that sparkles like sunlight upon the mornâs dew. yet now, behold, they blaze with tempestâs fury, aflame with wrath as the heavens in their ire. 'tis as though the very stars have kindled rage within those depths, a storm that seethes and seizes all that dare to meet its gaze. and in that wild and furious tempest, you, undone, do find your heart ensnared anew, aflutter as a wanton moth to flame.
for every glance he grants, each furious flicker of those eyes, doth pull you deeper still, till all the world is but a distant whisper, and you are lostâutterly, whollyâin the unfathomable blue of his gaze. to see him thus, to feel his ire burn not at you but for you, sets your blood to riotous fervor, and lo, your cheeks do bloom with that sweet crimson of youthâs first fond blush. oh, what madness is this! to love so fiercely, to find in rage a tender, quiet adoration that makes you very breath catch, your heart sing out its foolish tune of love renewed.
his eyes are not mere mirrors of his soul; they are the very tempest that doth rage within his breast, a tumult of love and wrath entwined. 'tis a sight both fearsome and fair, for in his fury lies the pledge of his protection, a devotion that doth border upon the divine. how can i resist? his gaze is your sun, your moon, your guiding star, and you, poor wretch, are but a humble worshipper at the altar of his gaze. to see him thus, to know his anger burns for you, not against you, is to be wrapped in the warm embrace of his fiercest love.
aye, 'tis trueâeach time those eyes, so fierce, so wild, do meet your own, your heart doth flutter as a captive bird newly freed. in those depths, you see not just the fury of the storm, but the quiet promise of a love that will not fade, that will not falter. it is obsession, a fire that consumes and yet does not destroy, but rather, sanctifies. and so you fall, endlessly, hopelessly, into that blue abyss, where anger and love are but two sides of the same coin, where you are his, and he is yours, and the world may be damned, so long as his eyes remain your haven, your undoing, your everlasting delight.
in his arms, you are both prisoner and queen, worshipped in the sanctuary of his embrace, held aloft by the sheer force of his adoration. it is a love that defies reason, a devotion that flirts with destruction, and yet, it is the most beautiful thing you have ever known. for in his fury, you find a devotion unbroken, and in his danger, a divinity that shines brighter than the stars. it is wild, it is reckless, it is divineâand you would have it no other way.
you open the door, and there he stands, drenched from head to toe, rain pouring down like a curtain of sorrow, clinging to him as if the heavens themselves weep for his misfortune. gojo satoru, usually so untouchable, now a figure cut from despair, shivers in the chill of the storm, his white hair plastered to his forehead, rivulets of water tracing the sharp lines of his face. his eyes, usually alight with mischief and boundless confidence, are now dimmed, clouded with a sadness so deep it seems to swallow the very light that once defined him.
âgo home, satoru,â you say, your voice firm, though your heart clenches at the sight of him.
he doesnât move, just stands there on your doorstep, trembling from the cold, every shiver of his body a silent plea for your warmth, your forgiveness, oh, your love. his gaze locks onto yours, and in those azure depths, you see a man unraveled, a soul laid bare. he looks so lost, as if every ounce of the bravado that once shielded him has been stripped away, leaving only raw, aching need. he is like a stray pup, kicked and abandoned in the dead of night, caught in a relentless downpour with nowhere to turn but to you.
âplease,â his eyes seem to say, though his lips do not move, as if the very act of speaking would shatter what little remains of his pride. the sadness in his gaze is a weight, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on your chest until it hurts to breathe. he stands there, drenched and desperate, the rain mingling with what you canât tell are tears or the relentless downpour, and you canât help but feel your resolve waver.
heâs begging you without words, a silent supplication for the love he once held so carelessly, now desperate to grasp it again as if it were the last tether to his fading light. and in that moment, you see him not as the invincible person, not as the man who commands respect and fear, but as someone who is utterly, devastatingly humanâbroken and yearning, with eyes that plead for a mercy only you can grant.
his body trembles, not just from the cold, but from the unbearable burden of your absence, his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he stands before you, stripped of all bravado. his eyes, usually so filled with boundless confidence, are now heavy with the weight of his own despair, looking up at you with a sadness so profound it seems to echo through the storm. he caught in the relentless fury of the night, shivering and soaked, eyes pleading for the warmth and solace of your embraceâa creature lost in the dark, cast adrift without the guiding light of your love.
âjust go home, i don't want to be with you,â you say, voice cutting through the rain like a cruel, deliberate blade.
and just like that, the dam breaks. the tears well up in his eyes, those brilliant blue pools now shimmering with unshed sorrow, glistening in the dim light like shards of broken glass. itâs a sight youâve longed to see, a vulnerability that he so rarely shows, and for a fleeting moment, you feel a sick satisfaction bloom within you. his pain, raw and unfiltered, stirs something deep, something dark, as you watch the strongest sorcerer reduced to nothing more than a man undone by the weight of his own emotions.
his eyes, usually so full of power and certainty, now shimmer with a desperate plea, tears spilling over as he chokes back a sob. you've never seen anything more beautiful, and in this twisted, fevered moment, youâve never felt more alive, never fallen harder for him than right now, with his pride in ruins at your feet.
âplease, baby,â he whispers, voice cracking under the strain, âiâll be less annoying, i'll lest of anything that driving you away from me, iâll do whatever you wantâjust, please.â the words tumble out, desperate and frantic, as he promises to change, to bend, to be whatever version of himself you demand. he stands before you, a king stripped of his crown, reduced to nothing but a man begging at your mercy, and the sight of it sends a shiver of dark delight down your spine.
itâs sick, the way you revel in this power over him, the way his tears make your heart race and your lips curl into the faintest of smiles. you are obsessed with this dance, this twisted game where his suffering is your satisfaction, where his pleading eyes are the sweetest of victories. he is yours, wholly and completely, and you know that he would break a thousand times over just to keep you from walking away. you will be the death of him, and once, you whisper and spitting on his grave, everyone will watch him crawling back from the death, and once again, he will be lying on your feet for your mercy, for you to love him, all bones and flesh.
and yet, you find yourself pushing further, testing the limits of his devotion, just to see how far he will go. it is a cruel, intoxicating power, to have someone like satoru gojo reduced to tears, and you drink it in like a forbidden elixir, sweet and heady. he is beautiful in his despair, and as he stands there, drenched and pleading, you canât help but fall for him all over again, tangled in the twisted love that binds you both in this endless, obsessive dance.
gojo falls to his knees, the mighty sorcerer brought low, his arms winding around your legs with a grip that trembles like a leaf caught in a tempest. his body shakes with the cold and the weight of his despair, his once towering presence now reduced to a man clinging to the last threads of hope. he presses his forehead against your knees, rain-soaked and broken, as if your touch alone could redeem him, could stitch together the fragments of his shattered pride.
he looks up at you, eyes glistening with unshed tears, a kaleidoscope of heartbreak and desperation painted across his faceâa portrait of a man undone. there is something so exquisitely pathetic in his gaze, a rawness that strips away the veneer of invincibility, leaving only the bare, trembling truth of his need for you. his eyes, those brilliant blue oceans, are now brimming with tears that spill over, tracing a path down his cheeks like the first rains of spring breaking the drought, each drop glistening like a jewel in the pale light.
and you, standing above him, feel a dark, intoxicating thrill twist within you. it is the beauty of his suffering that ensnares your heart, the way his tears catch the light like shattered stars, casting shadows of sorrow and longing. you are captivated by the sight of him, the strongest man you know brought to his knees, eyes pleading, voice breaking as he begs for the one thing he cannot commandâyour love.
âplease,â he murmurs, the word a fragile whisper, his breath warm against your skin, âlove me again.â his voice cracks, a jagged sound that splinters the air, and his tears fall faster, the dam of his restraint collapsing in the face of his need. he is beautiful in his anguish, a vision of tragic grace, and you cannot help but fall in love all over again, lost in the raw, unguarded emotion that spills from him like a river bursting its banks.
to see him like this, vulnerable and pleading, is to witness the unraveling of a mythâa god brought to earth, stripped of all but his humanity. and in this moment, he is more magnificent than ever, his sorrow a canvas on which your love paints itself anew. his tears are a symphony of the heart, each drop a note that sings to your darkest desires, pulling you deeper into the depths of this obsessive, all-consuming devotion.
his eyes, those eyes that have seen worlds beyond, now reflect only you, and in their tear-streaked depths, you find a love so fierce, so fervent, that it threatens to consume you whole. it is a love that does not ask, but demands; a love that kneels at your feet and begs for mercy, not for itself, but for the man who weeps before you. and as you look down at him, his tear-stained face so achingly beautiful, you know that you are lost to himâlost to this love that is as twisted and fragile as the threads of his tears, a love that binds you both in a dance of pain and passion that neither of you can bear to end.
as he stumbles forward, falling to his knees with a shudder that ripples through his entire body, the rain pouring down on him like the heavens themselves are weeping for his plight. his hands grasp at your legs, fingers clinging to you with a desperate strength, as though you are the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. his head bows low, forehead pressing against your knees, and his breath comes in ragged, frantic gasps, each one a struggle against the sobs that threaten to tear him apart.
âplease,â he begs, voice fractured and raw, as if the words themselves are tearing through him, leaving him gasping for air. âplease donât turn me away. i canâtâi canât do this without you. iâm dying, i swear, iâm dying without you,â his voice breaks on the last word, shattering into a desperate wail that pierces through the rain, his body convulsing with the force of his sobs.
âiâll be anything, anyone you need me to be,â he continues, his eyes wild with a terror thatâs almost primal, like a man staring into the abyss. âiâll change, iâll never be too much again, just⊠just donât leave me here, not like this. i canât breathe, i canât even think without you. please, iâm begging youâdonât let go of me.â his words come out in a rush, frantic and broken, his voice thick with tears that he no longer bothers to hide.
the world seeming to tilt on its axis, his pride scattered like the raindrops that pool around him. his fingers find your hand, clutching with a desperation that makes your heart stutter, his grip fierce as though you are the last tether to a life he can no longer navigate without you. his head bows low, forehead pressing against your knees, and the sound of his breath is a ragged, broken thing, a symphony of despair that rises with the rhythm of the rain.
âi'm sorry,â he rasps, his voice a mere whisper against the howl of the storm, but there is a rawness in it that slices through the night, a vulnerability that lays him bare. âplease, donât do this. i am undone without you. every breath is agony, every beat of my heart a hollow echo. i am nothingânothing without your love to guide me.â his words are a litany of longing, each syllable soaked in the salt of unshed tears, his gaze lifting to meet yours with the fragile hope of a man on the brink of ruin.
he looks up at you, eyes wide and shining with tears, the blue of them dull and hollow without the spark of your love. they are the eyes of a man on the brink, staring down the barrel of a life without the only thing that has ever truly mattered. his breath stutters, each exhale a choked, desperate plea, and his fingers dig into the fabric of your clothes, clinging to you as if the very act of holding on is the only thing keeping his heart beating.
his eyes, those brilliant blue depths that once held the light of a thousand stars, now brim with the bleakness of a sky stripped bare, his tears mingling with the rain that slides down his cheeks. he is a man unmade, all bravado stripped away, leaving only the raw ache of his need, the sheer, unrelenting force of his devotion that coils around your heart like ivy.
âplease,â he whispers again, his voice so faint itâs almost lost to the sound of the rain. âi need you. more than air, more than anything. without you, thereâs nothing. thereâs no me, no us, no world i want to live in. iâm dying here, right in front of you, and the only thing that can save me is you. i fucking swear to god, baby, i will kill you and then kill myself if you don't love me again.â
his head drops, forehead pressing into the cold, wet ground as his body shakes with the force of his sobs, each one wrenching through him like a violent storm. he clutches at you with a desperation that borders on madness, his entire being consumed by the need to feel your arms around him, to hear you say that everything will be okay. he is a man unraveling, a soul laid bare in the rain, and all he has left is thisâthis pitiful, desperate plea for the one thing that could mend his shattered heart.
âi love you,â he chokes out, his voice breaking, his hands trembling against your legs. âi love you so much it hurts. please⊠i canâtâi canât do this without you. iâd rather die right here, right now, than spend another second without you in my arms.â and as he kneels there, drenched and broken, begging for a mercy only you can grant, you see the truth etched in every tear-streaked line of his face: without you, he is nothing but a man lost to the storm, drowning in a sea of his own despair.
he bows his head lower, his sobs blending with the symphony of the rain, each drop a soft requiem for the love he fears he has lost. he clings to you as if you are his salvation, his lifeline, the only thing standing between him and the abyss. and in the depth of his gaze, you see itâthe unspoken truth that without you, satoru gojo is not the invincible, untouchable force the world sees, but a man who is willing to lay down everything, even his pride, for just one more chance to be held in the light of your love.
your fingers weave through the silver strands of his hair, gripping tightly as if tethering yourself to the very essence of him. the tension draws a soft, desperate whine from his lips, a sound so sweet it echoes through your veins, setting your blood aflame. your bodies, bared to the night's whisper, tangle together in a dance of unspoken need, your breath hitching in rhythm with his as you find solace in the storm of each other's presence.
perched upon his lap, you feel the solid strength of him beneath you, his muscles taut and trembling, his arms wrapped around your waist with a fervor that speaks of a desperate, consuming devotion. you lean closer, your breaths mingling in the scant space between, and capture his lips in a fervent kiss, tongues entwining like vines that have waited lifetimes to grow together. itâs a collision of hunger and longing, a silent plea wrapped in the taste of him that floods your senses and drowns you in the depths of his presence.
âoh, babyâ fuck, âmiss you,â he grunt, his cock twitching inside youâ losing his mind how divine your gummy walls hugging him.
his grip tightens as though the very essence of his existence hinges on holding you close, as if the mere thought of losing you again would shatter him beyond repair. his eyes, half-lidded and hazy with longing, mirror the fervor that burns in your own, each glance a shared promise that defies the world's attempts to pull you apart. your breaths mingle in the space between, warm and uneven, and the quiet sounds of pleasure that escape your lips mingle with his, a symphony of yearning that drowns out the rain still drumming against the windowpanes.
his hair, still wet from the downpour, clings to his forehead in unruly strands, a testament to the chaos of moments past and your fingers trace the delicate line of his jaw, committing every inch of him to memory as if to carve him into the very fabric of your soul. yet even in the wild disarray, there is a beauty to him that makes your heart stutterâa raw, vulnerable magnificence that only you are privy to in these stolen moments.
his lips part, tremble against yours, a soft gasp escaping as your bodies move in tandem, meet, a slow and deliberate rhythm that leaves no room for anything but the two of you, a slow and deliberate mingling of desire and desperation, each motion a silent plea that neither of you will ever let go. you feel his pulse beneath your fingertips, wild and unsteady, beating in time with the pounding of your own heartâa symphony of obsession that neither of you could ever hope to silence.
âsâ âtoru,â you whimper in his lips, leaving his breath hitches, and you feel the tremor of it against your skin, a shiver that ripples through the both of you, binding you even tighter together. his eyes, glistening and fervent, drink you in as if you are the only thing that can quench his unending thirst. and your own gaze, locked onto his, speaks volumes of the quiet, relentless obsession that ties your souls in knots too intricate to ever untangle.
every sigh, every gasp is a testament to the fervent reunion of souls that cannot be torn asunder, no matter how the world may try. your cheeks are flushed, mirroring the heat in his own, and thereâs a delirious pleasure in knowing that he is yours again, has always been yours, will always be yours. in this moment, tangled and breathless, you both become a living prayer, a hymn to the unbreakable, unyielding force of a love that borders on madness.
his hands, desperate and sure, press into the small of your back, fingers splayed as though marking you, branding you as his own. and in the low, heady hum of your shared breaths, the world outside ceases to exist. here, there is only the two of youâobsessed, entwined, and utterly consumed by the fire that refuses to burn out. you are his sanctuary, his obsession, and as he holds you close, he knows with a fierce, undeniable certainty that he is yours in every possible way, now and always.
your fingers thread through his silver locks, tugging them with a possessive fervor that draws a breathless whine from his lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. you lean closer, your breath mingling with his, and capture his mouth in a searing kiss once again, tongues tangling in a desperate dance of need and familiarity. the taste of him is intoxicating, like the first sip of a forbidden wine, and you drink him in as though he were the very air you need to survive.
your other hand traces down, fingers curling into the tender flesh of his thigh, nails digging crescents into his skin with a fervor that borders on reverence and possession. each mark you leave is a silent declarationâhe is yours to hold, yours to break, yours to ruin, yours to love in this raw, unfettered way. his breath stuttersâ his body responding to the sting of your touch, every nerve alight with the electric thrill of your shared desire, a sharp intake that lingers in the air, mingling with the rhythm of your heartbeats that drum like a battle cry in the quiet room. his eyes, a storm of love and desperation, gaze up at you as if you are the moon and the sun, his salvation and his undoing. his arms tighten around your waist, holding you as if you are the center of his universe, the axis upon which his world spins.
you rock your hips slowly, a deliberate and torturous rhythm that pulls soft gasps from his parted lips, each sound a sweet symphony that fills the space between your bodiesâ a slow, deliberate rocking that pulls soft moans from the both of you, the sound mingling like a hymn of devotion sung only for the night to hear. his eyes, half-lidded and burning with a mix of love and lust, meet yours, and in that gaze, you see the depths of his devotion laid bare. he is yoursâutterly, entirely, irrevocablyâand there is a heady power in knowing that he would lay the world at your feet if you only asked.
his hands grip your waist, fingers pressing into your skin with the intensity of a man holding on to his last breath, as if releasing you would be akin to the world losing its light. the way his body arches into yours, meeting each movement with a silent vow, speaks of a love that teeters on the edge of madnessâa need so profound it eclipses reason.
âi love you,â you whisper against his lips, the words a soft, fervent prayer, slipping free like a sacred vow, a quiet affirmation of the bond that binds you both, unbreakable and infinite. his breath shudders as he pulls you even closer, his response a muffled moan as your movements grow more insistent, the heat between you building like a slow-burning flame that refuses to be quenched.
his eyes flutter shut at your confession, as if savoring the weight of it, letting it sink into his bones. he trembles beneath your touch, his body singing with the quiet, desperate need for moreâmore of your touch, your love, your presence that he clings to like a drowning man reaching for the surface. every breath you share feels like a stolen promise, each kiss a sacred bond that reaffirms the feverish connection that neither of you can ever escape.
your hands, one still tangled in his hair, the other gripping his thigh, hold him to you as if to anchor him in place, to remind him that this, here and now, is all that matters. his lips curve into a breathless smile against yours, his body arching into every touch, every caress, his own whispered confessions of love mingling with the soft, reverent sounds of your shared longing.
in this moment, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word is a testament to the fierce, unrelenting need that pulls you back to him time and time again. you are tangled in each otherâs orbit, bound by an obsession that runs deeper than blood, stronger than any force that might try to tear you apart. and as you lose yourselves in the slow, deliberate rhythm of your of your bodies.
and as his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, you realize that thisâthis wild, chaotic, all-consuming loveâis the very marrow of your existence. in his embrace, you find the echoes of every past longing, every unspoken promise, and the undeniable truth that he is yours, irrevocably and eternally. and as you move together, lost in the poetry of each otherâs touch, you know that no force in this world or the next could be sever the bond that holds youâ two souls bound by the beautiful relentless obsession of love.
as you move slowly on his lap, the friction and intensity make gojoâs breath hitch. a guttural, involuntary grunt escapes him, the sound a raw, visceral expression of the pleasure and need surging through him. his grip tightens around your waist, each movement of yours driving him further into a state of blissful surrender.
his eyes, clouded with a potent mix of passion and adoration, lock onto yours. âfuck,â he groans, the word slipping from his lips in a low, reverent murmur. the sound is both a plea and a confession, his body trembling with the weight of his overwhelming emotions.
he stutters, his voice faltering as he tries to articulate the depth of his feelings amidst the relentless pleasure. âi⊠i love you too,â he finally breathes out, the words trembling on his lips, laden with both desperation and devotion. his gaze is unwavering, filled with an intense, unspoken promise. âyou are everything to me⊠every touch, every whisper⊠itâs all Iâve ever wanted, all Iâll ever need.â
his breath comes in ragged bursts, each one a testament to the consuming nature of his love and desire. he pulls you closer, his entire being attuned to the rhythm of your movements, the declaration of his love etched into every shudder, every gasp, as he loses himself in the exquisite intensity of the moment.
#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#gojo fic#satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujustu kaisen#gojo angst#gojo drabbles#gojo fluff#gojo satoru angst#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#yandere gojo#gojo satoru fluff#gojo
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Yandere Gojo Hc's
Gojo x Gn! Sorcerer Reader
Yandere Gojo who couldn't handle your rejection since he has never been rejected or told no before
Yandere Gojo who went home that day and cried himself thinking of ways to win you over
Yandere Gojo that comes into your house uninvited while singing daddys home
Yandere Gojo that gets jealous you were on a mission with yuta and just spawns in as you're about to get your arm blown off holding. He has a bouquet of flowers that are held together by a rose gold rolex. He's wearing the most crips tux you've ever seen looking freshly groomed and destroys the curse within milliseconds
Yandere Gojo forces you to go to a cafe with him, then tries to woo you "hm what's that right there?" He frowns, pointing behind you. "Where?" you fall for it turning your head. He light grabs your chin to look back and be met with his blue eyes just for you to speed walk out
Yandere Gojo that sneaks into your house and replaces your alarm with one that wakes you up to his voice instead
Yandere Gojo who can't focus on a thing but you when he notices that your arms are wrapped around another
Yandere Gojo got them suspended cause your only supposed to have eyes for him
Yandere Gojo yells "Dont let the door hit you on the way out" giggling and cheering like a highschool girl now that he can finally have what was rightfully his
Yandere Gojo who decided to take matters into his own hands when you were almost killed by a special grade curse.
Yandere Gojo who threatens to kill your whole family if you don't give up your place as a sorcerer and become his pretty little doll
Yandere Gojo that goes beserks and storms out when you call him delusional and tell him he doesn't have a chance
Yandere Gojo that remembers he's stronger than you and just kidnaps you
HIIII my requests are open btw byeeđ«¶âŒïž
#yandere gojo satoru#yandere gojo#yandere x you#gojo satoru#yandere jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader#yandere x reader#catslolmao
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ooooh what kinda mythic creatures are the jjk boys?
Gojo, Sukuna, Toji
TW: implied noncon, yandere, the supernatural?
gn reader
Gojo Satoru Hybrid between angel and human
His hair is pearlescent and so are his wingsâsoft feathers, sharper than blades when he wants them to be. His halo can only be spotted when the sun shines extra brightâlike a ring of stardust slowly orbiting his crown.
He doesnât know his parents, nor which one of them was the angel. But itâs not something he cares much about. People call him Icarus, and he tries to live up to it the way he drowns himself in anotherâs embrace every new nightânever the same one.
Never the same one until you. Another hybrid. No part of Angel, thoughâŠ
He falls in love with itâall of itâthe points of your teeth, the tiny horns that protrude from your hairline, the slim tail adorned with that pretty arrowhead, and the equally sharp look in your eyes as you glare at him with disgust.
He wants to know more. Do have markings in unseen places? How far does your tongue stretch, and is it split down the middle like with a snake? Is it venomous? Is it sweet? Does your skin burn to the touch like the sun does when he flies too close? Or will it be warm and soft and pliable?
He and his angel eyes freak you out. You advise him to leave you alone, the point of your tail threatening to slice his throat open. Youâve been shunned enough by humansâyou donât need to add a snooty angel boy to the fray.Â
But then he calls you beautiful. And no oneâs called you beautiful before.
Ryomen Sukuna Hellhound
The few times humans have dared try to tame him have all been devasting days of fire and death. Silly humans, thinking they can make him do his bidding like another mutt on a leashâheâll make them all burn.
But then thereâs you. Youâre not like the other humans. You donât come to him with any intention of collaring him. Instead, you have your hands folded together in prayerâsweet scripture leaves your lips, soothing his singed skin until it stops burning.
You wear holy robes and a kind smile on your face, you donât avert your eyes even as he glares at you with the embers in his own, even as he growls and bares teeth. You donât ignore him when he speaks, either, even when his tongue comes out split through the middle and all his words reek of smoke. You bathe him in holy water and rinse the soot out of his furâtelling him heâs a good boy.
He feels no desire to bite your hand as you pet his head and stroke his earsâhe just ends up wagging his tail. But then againâŠÂ he is still a hellhound. And you should know better than to feed monsters in the darkâŠ
He leaves his room in the chapel and sniffs yours outânothing, not even so much as a seal on your door to keep him out. You have too much faith. Your door creaks open, but you remain peacefully asleepâall soft snores as he mounts you with drool dripping down his caninesâŠ
Fushiguro Toji Hunter
Rumor has it that something far worse than ogres and trolls travel the forest. Beware of the hunterâall you little nymphs, fauns, and fairies. Some say heâll stuff you in a bag and sell you, while others argue itâs his appetite that makes him huntâsome even mean itâs just for sport, that heâll kill and stuff you and mount your head on the wall.
You, a poor forest nymph, are unfortunate enough to get yourself caught in one of his nets. Youâre a crying little mess by the time he comes aroundâbegging him not to sell or eat or skin or harvest your wings, barely breathing between the words.
He chuckles and promises you he wonât do any of that stuff, but the smile on his face is enough to convince you heâs possessed by some sort of demon. And as he hauls you up on his shoulder and starts carrying you further into those places youâve never dared venture, into the thicker parts of the forest where the trees all seem riddled with some type of diseaseâyou canât help but believe all those rumors youâd heard.
He tells you that his snares and nets are meant for rodents and that he didnât think fae-folk were dumb enough to get themselves caught by them as he starts cutting into the net to free youâonly, he doesnât stop at the netâbut goes for your slik garb next. Whistling as he bares your pretty skin while pinning your small wrists above you in one meaty hand.
His grin is sharper than his knife when he advises you not to struggle, saying he would feel awful if he were to accidentally cut you.
⥠Nanami, Fushiguro, Naoya ⥠JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist
#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#gojo smut#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo saturo#jjk gojo#yandere gojo x reader#yandere gojo satoru#yandere gojo#yandere satoru gojo#jjk smut#gojo headcanons#yandere toji fushiguro#yandere toji#yandere fushiguro#toji smut#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji x you#toji zenin#fushiguro toji#jjk toji
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Title: Till The Water Boils Over Or The Frog Drowns.
Pairing: Yan!Gojo x Reader x Yan!Geto (JJK).
Word Count: 5.8k.
TW: No Curses AU, Dub/Con -> Non/Con (Revoked Consent), Fem!Reader, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Kidnapping, Financial Abuse, Psychological Abuse, Infantilization, Spanking, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Forced Codependency. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
[Part Two]
It started the day Satoru first introduced the concept of âtime outâ to your relationship.
He was immature and you were stubborn. You loved him, but without Suguruâs even temper and calming presence, sparks tended to fly in a way that left you at each otherâs throats. With your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes narrowed, youâd watched him sigh, roll his eyes, and storm out of your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind him. You gave yourself a second, then another â sucking in a shallow breath and shutting your eyes, talking yourself through all your usual cool-down methods. You were supposed to go out, tonight, to a restaurant you and Satoru had both been talking about for weeks. You still had about an hour before Suguru was supposed to get home, before you were all supposed to leave together. It wasnât a good day to fight, even if you knew Suguru would smooth everything over as soon as he got home.
When you were done, you moved to the bedroom door. One hour was plenty of time to talk things out. One hour was plenty of time to kiss and make up, even if you would hold a grudge for aâ
You pushed gently on the door. It didnât budge.
You tried the knob. It turned, but the door still didnât open.
You pressed your shoulder into the wood, shoving with more force than you ever shouldâve had to use. Something shifted â a chair slotted underneath the handle, Satoruâs back leaning against the other side of the thin wood â but didnât give.
The frustration youâd only just managed to suppress resurfaced immediately. Still pressed against your side of the door, you called out, attempting to keep your tone soft, light. âSatoru? Baby?â
 The sweetness in his voice was equally artificial. âIâm right here, angel.â
âIâI think the door might be jammed.â You tried the knob again, rattling the metal for emphasis. Satoru only hummed in response, and you grimaced. âAre you gonna let me out, âtoru? I really donât have time to beââ
âNinety minutes.â
ââŠninety minutes?â
âNinety minutes,â he repeated. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. âAfter that, we can check and see if youâre still feelinâ so bratty.â
You were almost thankful there was a door between you. If it hadnât been there, you might not have been able to stop yourself from throttling him. âSatoru, I really donât have time toââ
There was an obnoxiously loud hum, the sound of footsteps moving down the hall. You groaned, resting your forehead against the cool wood. Whatever. He was being petty, again. You could do ninety minutes. And, even if you couldnât, heâd probably be back in ten, tail between his legs and pouting for your attention.
You quickly resigned yourself to passing the time as quickly as possible. You laid face-down on your bed, bemoaning your taste in men and picturing all the ways you could break up with Satoru, once he let you out. You scrolled through your phone, spamming Suguru with half-coherent messages and memes from the very depths of your camera roll. You re-organized your closet, sorting your clothes by color and alphabetizing your shoes. You managed to read a full page of one of the bulky historical fiction novels Suguru kept on the bedside table before deciding youâd be better off breaking up with both your current boyfriends.
You checked the time when you were done, and discovered that youâd managed to kill a whopping fifteen minutes.
God, you were so fucked.
Only half-consciously, you gravitated back to the door, slumping against it. You opened your mouth, ready to call out to Satoru and say whatever you had to say to get out, but another voice cut in before you got the chance. âBaby?â
Suguru. He mustâve gotten back early. You let out a shallow sigh, letting your head fall forward in relief. âRight here,â you said, making no effort to hide your exasperation. âCan you open the door? I think âtoru blocked me in.â
His deep chuckle was muffled, but still clearly audible. âIâm afraid I canât. Heâs still pretty mad, couldnât stop talking about how you copped an attitude with him.â There was a pause, a shoulder being rested against the other side of the door. âI think he mentioned something about a dress?â
You were glad he couldnât see you â he wouldâve hated the way you grimaced at the reminder. âItâs a nice restaurant. I wanted to dress up a little, but heâs just so immature, and when he saw the dress I wanted to wearââ
Suguru cut in. âThe red one, right?â
âYeah, with the window on the chest.â You sighed. âPlease, Suguru? I really donât want to spend the next hour of my life locked in my own bedroom.â
Another laugh, this one more stifled than the first. âHe just knows how pretty youâd look, babe. Probably doesnât want anyone else to find out how beautiful our partner is.â When you didnât respond, he added, âDidnât he just buy you somethinâ brand new? He canât complain if heâs the one who picked it out, right?â
You pursed your lips. He had â a pure ivory dress, a little shorter than mid-thigh and sleeveless, not exactly conservative, but not meant to show as much skin as you usually preferred to. Itâd come with matching gold jewelry, and youâd politely accepted the gift, kissed him on the cheek, and stashed it under your bed to rot. It wasnât ugly, nothing so expensive could be, but it suited Satoruâs tastes, not yours.
âI donât know,â you muttered, trying to soften the harsher edges of your distaste. âYou know how Satoru is. Everything he picks out is just soâso him.â
âIâm starting to think you both might be causing problems.â You kicked the base of the door, but Suguru didnât indulge your outburst with acknowledgement. âJust try it on, alright? If itâs that bad, we can always go without him.â
It took another minute or so of condoling, but soon enough, you were slipping into Satoruâs gifted dress, cursing as you struggled with the tiny, finicky zipper and smoothed wrinkles out of abused silk. You pulled your fingers through your hair once before returning to the bedroom door and knocking defeatedly. As if to add insult to injury, the door swung open in an instant, a smiling Suguru waiting on the threshold.
âSee? Absolutely gorgeous, as always.â He leaned forward, cupping your cheek. You let his lips brush over your forehead before pulling away. Thankfully, he wasnât cruel enough to draw it out any longer â his hand falling to yours and taking it up, tugging you gently towards the living room. âSatoruâs going to forget he was ever mad at all as soon as he sees you.â
You didnât bother responding, only slumping against his side and letting him guide you forward. Distantly, you heard Suguru calling out to Satoru, but you were already busy â too occupied promising yourself that this would never, ever happen again to care what either of them was saying.
You would, of course, be wrong.
~
Barricaded doors quickly became a weekly inconvenience. You and Satoru fought often (never intensely and never for very long, but often), and he owned the apartment â meaning, despite all your whining, you couldnât exactly tell him that his doors couldnât all lock from the outside. Your âcool-down sessionsâ (Suguruâs words, not yours) lasted anywhere from twenty minutes to a couple of hours, and Suguru was always the one to let you out. When you couldnât be locked up and left to stew, Satoru would take it upon himself to leave the apartment â if only for as long as he thought it would take for you to forget youâd argued at all. You got used to it quickly. It wasnât fair, you didnât enjoy it, but you got used to it. Youâd always had more patience than you really shouldâve, when it came to Satoruâs antics.
And then, Suguru started showering with you.
Finding time to spend together was an ever-present obstacle in your relationship. Satoru alternated sporadically between planning lectures and grading papers late into the night to rolling his eyes at the concept of due dates and dulling out extra credit on a whim, and trying to guess if Suguru would be free was a pursuit in futility â his sermons were scheduled, but he was almost always being called out on some mysterious errand on behalf of one of his countless, faceless apostles. You didnât work at all, but you went to school, and you kept yourself busy. Youâd never be as busy as Satoru and Suguru, but you did your best to keep up with them.
Currently, you were basking in the afterglow with Suguru, your head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped loosely around his waist. Satoru was already gone, rushed off to some early-morning lecture, but Suguru didnât have anything to do, and youâwell, you could miss a lecture or two if it meant spending time with him. And, even if you couldnât, it was hard to imagine tearing yourself away from the feeling of his calloused fingers tracing aimless patterns into the small of your back, of his lips pushing warm, open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your collarbone, your throat. His hands drifted to your hips, grip tightening ever-so-slightly, and you felt a raspy groan reverberate against the side of your neck, Suguru pulling you close as heâ
âSave it,â you said, drawing back. He pouted and you grinned, pecking the corner of his jaw and sitting up, letting his sheets pool around your waist. âJust for a few minutes â I feel gross.â A full groan, this time. You laughed, combing his disheveled hair back and pressing another kiss into his forehead, this one lingering just a beat longer than the first. âYouâll survive a shower, Suguru.â
You felt him shift underneath you. Before you had a chance to pull away, he was sitting up, his arms still around your waist â keeping you messily laid across his lap. âIâll come with you.â
âYouâll wait your turn.â And then, when he only hummed in response, âIâm being serious. Somebody in this relationship has to wash their hair every now and then.â
His face was already buried in the crook of your neck, and he was moving toward the edge of the mattress with your body still tucked against his chest. He was planning on carrying you, presumably. Sometimes, it felt like if it were up to Suguru, youâd never walk anywhere on your own again. âI know.â His voice was still raspy with sleep, his usual articulation weighed down by the fatigue that came with a morning spent in bed. âIâll help.â
âThatâs really sweet, butââ You strung your arms around his neck as he stood up, taking you with him. ââI think Iâll be alright on my own, Suguru.â
For the first time all morning, his eyes flickered open, wandering idly in your direction. He held your gaze for a beat, then another.
Finally, the edge of his lips quirked upward â the sly, knowing grin youâd fallen in love with soon painted across his lips. When he spoke, it was in a tone to match, all confidence and cloying, calculated sweetness. âNo.â
You faltered, at that. ââŠno?â
âDonât wanna be away from you for that long,â he mumbled, by way of explanation. âWhatever you need to do, Iâll take care of. Donât want you to have to worry your pretty little head over anything.â
You tried your best to laugh, but it was a weak effort, better left unacknowledged. âI donât know how I feel about my boyfriend offering to, I donât know, shave my legs or something.â
He only soldiered on, as if you hadnât said anything at all.
~
You felt Satoruâs hands on your waist first, then his chest against your back. His mouth found the curve of your throat as if by instinct, teeth grazing against a bruise Suguru had left in the same spot the day before. You felt him lean against you and dropped the knife you were holding onto a nearby cutting board, bracing yourself on the edge of the counter to compensate.
You glanced over your shoulder as his head bowed, face soon buried in the dip of your shoulder. He mustâve just gotten home â he was still wearing his sunglasses, only the first three buttons on his shirt undone. You grinned, twisting around just far enough to kiss the top of his head before turning back to your ingredients. âRough lecture?â
âGrad students,â he muttered, the dread in his voice plainly audible. âOne more fucking extension request, and I swear, Iâll fail the entire class.â
You hummed, letting him sink further into you. You mightâve let him stay there, too, if one of his hands hadnât fallen to your ass while the other slipped underneath your loose shirt. Before he could creep upward, you jabbed an elbow into his chest. âKeep it in your pants. You still smell like a college campus.â
Of course, he didnât budge. âBut I missed you,â he whined, as shameless as he was clingy. âI had to leave so early, and I was stuck in my office for so long, and Iâm gonna die if I have to wait any longer. Is that what you want? For me to die?â
âYou could always go to Suguru, if youâre that insatiable.â
âBut I want you.â You felt a thumb slip below the waistband of your sweatpants (or, Suguruâs sweatpants, technically â heâd been unbearable unless you were wearing his clothes, recently) and batted his hand away. Your efforts were, predictably, unsuccessful. âPlease, baby?â And then, after a beat. âYou donât care about dinner more than you care about me, do you?â
You felt something delicate inside of you falter, crack, then fall apart entirely. It was strange â how long you could nurse a wound without acknowledging it existed at all. âItâs not that, I justââ You stuttered, then stopped entirely. You deflated underneath Satoruâs weight, and as if in response, he held you that much tighter, keeping you as close as you could be, lest he carve open his chest and force you into the open cavity. âI⊠I guess I feel like I havenât really been doing a lot for you two, lately. You pay all the bills, and Suguru goes out of his way to take care of me, and there just⊠It makes me feel kind of useless.â You tried to punctuate the confession with a smile, a laugh, but both were hollow beyond the point of recognizability. It wouldâve been better if you hadnât tried at all. âYou get it, right? I justâI donât want to be the only one not doing anything.â
There was a beat of silence. You felt Satoru settle against you, his chest pressing into your back before he pulled away, detaching from you entirely. You sighed, letting yourself relax.
And then, just as suddenly, you were off of your feet and in Satoruâs arm, one tucked under the bend of your knees while the other supported your back. You managed a stammered, half-coherent protest, but if Satoru was listening, he wasnât bothered.
He carried you out of the kitchen and into the living room, your half-finished recipe forgotten in favor of dropping you onto the nearest couch and kneeling over you, already pulling on the collar of his shirt. âSounds like our babyâs been thinkinâ too much.â He was grinning, his glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose. âLet me put a stop to that.â
You opened your mouth, but you didnât have time to respond. His mouth was already crashing into yours; swallowing down anything you mightâve said and replacing it with a breathy moan, a haze over your conscious thoughts.
You didnât bother trying to talk your way out from underneath Satoru, again.
~
You couldnât breathe.
It took you a moment to realize what was wrong, another to put together why. You felt the blunt tip of Suguruâs cock hit the back of your throat as Satoruâs chest pressed into yours, the latter pressing the air out of your lungs while the former forced you to choke what little was left up. Satoru had set a relentless pace; his thrusts brutal, his tempo erratic, his hips crashing into yours with enough force to bruise. Two of Suguruâs thick, calloused fingers were lodged between your body and Satoruâs drawing quick, precise patterns into your clit, while both of Satoruâs hands were wrapped around the underside of your thighs, keeping your knees pinned to your chest, your body folded in half and pressed into the mattress. Theyâd always been taller than you, with Suguru kneeling by your head and Satoru looming over you, they both seemed so much bigger. They both seemed so, so much stronger than they ever had before.
You couldnât breathe. The lack of oxygen was already rushing to your head, already replacing your sense of logic with a shrill, panicked buzz. Your body hurt everywhere they touched it, the warmth pooling in your core and arousal left behind by previous climaxes not enough to dull the sharp sting of Satoruâs nails against your skin, not enough to soften the harsh edge of the grin you could only barely see spread across Suguruâs lips out of the corner of your eye. It was a struggle just to move your jaw, and even then, any sounds you were able to make were borderline incoherent â your little chants of âred, red, redâ so stifled and so garbled by Suguruâs cock that you couldnât have blamed him for not hearing you at all. It was only when you tried to pull your head back that his eyes fell away from where Satoruâs cock was fucking into your dripping cunt and to your face, tears of distress already beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. You let out one more panicked cry, hoping beyond hope that heâd be able to see the fear in your expression and know something was wrong, but that grin you had loved so much only widened, sharpened. âLike that, princess?â You felt his free hand on the top of your head, fingers carding through your hair while the patterns being pushed into your sensitive clit sped up, intensified. âFaster,â he cooed to Satoru, his voice laced with something vicious and mocking. âIf she can still cry, she can still fuck.â
He didnât mean it. He couldnât mean it. Suguru just liked to be mean in bed, and Satoru liked to indulge him. That was the only reason they were doing this to you, that was the only reason Satoru listened; leaning that much more of his weight onto as his cock beat against the walls of your cunt. âFuck,â Satoru muttered, as Suguruâs cock twitched against the roof of your mouth. âGot tighter when you said that. Is that what you want? For me and him to fuck you unconscious?â
This time, you didnât try to pull back, you jerked â lurching out of Suguruâs hold, drawing back until you could gasp and pant and fill your aching lungs. âRed,â you half-choked, half-cried. âRed, red, stop, too much, I canâtââ
Satoru cut you off with a throat groan. You felt his form tense against yours, heard a shameless moan spill past his lips, and suddenly, it was like youâd forgotten how to breathe entirely. âToo close for that,â he muttered, his lips close enough to ghost over the shell of your ear. âYou can take it for me, angel.â
You couldnât, but you didnât have time to tell him that. You opened your mouth, but all you could seem to spit out was a keening, pitiful whine as you felt something deep in your core pull taut and snap, as your cunt clenched around him and you came undone on Satoruâs cock for the nth time. At the same time, he went stiffed above you, forcing his hips flush with yours and filling your abused pussy with something thick and searing. The feeling was alien, strange. You couldâve sworn he said he would wear a condom, tonight.
It felt like you laid there for a small eternity â trapped under Satoruâs limp body, Suguru still petting idly through your hair. You stared unblinkingly at the ceiling until, days later, Satoru pulled himself upright with a raspy grunt, turning to Suguru. You were vaguely aware of his head being lowered into Suguruâs lap, moving to finish the job you hadnât wanted to, but that seemed distant, unimportant. The room was too small, too closed-off. You werenât getting enough air. You were too warm. You were too small. Youâ
You needed to leave.
Your body was on the edge of the mattress before your mind could make the conscious decision to move. You were shaking, despite the damp humidity clinging to your skin, but you tried to ignore that and focus on getting your feet underneath you, on fishing Satoruâs shirt off the floor and pulling it over your head. Youâd need pants, too, and your wallet â maybe youâd still have a little cash stowed away, something from before Satoru insisted you start carrying one of his platinum cards. Youâd spend the night in a hotel, or better yet, rent a car â get out of Tokyo altogether. You had a friend who lived outside of the city â or, you used to, at least. You couldnât remember the last time you talked to someone other than Satoru and Suguru.
You made it to the doorway before Suguru called out. âGoing somewhere, princess?â
You froze, but didnât look over your shoulder. You could barely stand. You needed to go. âI justâI think I need a little air.â
âGive us a minute. Me or âtoru should go with you.â There was a lull to his voice, an airiness just barely audible over the slick, sloppy sound of Satoruâs mouth moving over his shaft. You could remember admiring that about him, once, constantly thinking about how lucky you were to have such a cool, confident boyfriend. Right now, though, it was hard to think of his unfaltering composure as anything but inhuman. âIt just wouldnât be safe to let youââ
âI need air,â you repeated, because it was true, because you did. Little, black spots were already starting to dot your vision, and it felt like someone was trying to wrap their hands around your throat and squeeze. âI⊠I think I might be gone for a while, too.â
For all his tenderness, Suguru didnât sound very concerned. âHow long?â
âA couple hours,â you tried, and then, much more quietly, when he let out a disbelieving hum. ââŠa few days?â
This time, Suguru didnât have to say anything at all. Leaning against the doorway, Satoruâs cum still dripping down the inside of your thigh, it took less than a minute for you to crack on your own. âI think we⊠I think I might need a little space.â
There was another beat of silence, occupied only by a soft groan from Suguru, the sound of noisy swallowing from Satoru. Finally, he sighed. You didnât dare to look, but you could picture him shaking his head, smiling as he rolled his eyes. Acting as if youâd just said the stupidest thing in the world. âWhat do you think, Satoru? Have we waited long enough.â
ââtoo long.â Satoruâs voice was hoarse, breathy. In your peripheral, you could see him dragging the back of his hand across his lips as he raised his head. âWeâve had everything ready for months, now.â
That was all Suguru needed to hear. He turned back to you, letting his head lull to the side. âCome back to bed, wonât you, princess?â
You didnât respond. What little air you still had hitched in your collapsing throat as you attempted to move forward, only for a hand to catch your shoulder and hold you in-place. It was Satoru â now standing less than a full step behind you. He didnât bother with a warning before wrapping his free arm around your waist and dragging you into his chest and off of your feet. You made a weak effort to thrash, to squirm, to dig your nails into the forearm laid over your midriff, but Satoru didnât make a sound, didnât let you go, only hauling you back to where Suguru sat on the edge of the mattress. You shouldnât have felt as betrayed as you did. Theyâd both always been able to pick you up and throw you around like a kitten, being carried from place to place by its scruff. It was always only going to be a matter of time before they stopped listening to your half-hearted protests entirely.
âOver the knee,â Suguru said with a sort of flippant, beckoning gesture. âI want to make sure we get off on the right foot.â
Wordlessly, unceremoniously, you were dropped face-down into Suguruâs lap â his thighs pressing into your exposed stomach. Satoru lowered himself to the floor in front of you, sitting cross-legged and reaching out, cupping your face delicately. More out of reflex than anything intelligent, you tried to push yourself up, but a hand on the small of your back was enough to keep you paralyzed. Sometime between the doorway and the bed, the shaking had gotten worse. You doubted youâd be able to keep your legs underneath you, anymore. âTwenty-five,â he announced â an executioner reading out his victimâs sentence. âFifteen for trying to leave us, and ten more for not listening to me. Does that sound fair, Satoru.â
âSo mean, Suguâ,â Satoru whined, but you could already see a crooked smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. âThe poor thing doesnât even know whatâs going on.â
âWhich is why we have to make a strong impression. I want her to know thereâll be consequences for misbehavior.â You felt his hand drifting up the length of your spine, lingering on the sensitive junction between your shoulder blades. âTwenty-five, okay, princess? Iâm going to need you to count for me â if you lose track, weâll have to start over.â
âSuguru, âtoru, I donâtâI donât understand whatââ You were cut off by a sudden, bruising blow to the plush of your ass â all force, no friction. It took you a second to realize that it was Suguruâs hand, another to consciously acknowledge that heâd spanked you. Like you were some bratty toddler. Like he wanted to hurt you.
It took another lash to know you out of your spell-bound state and send a keening, pitchy cry spilling past your lips. The tears youâd managed to hold back minutes ago were back in full-force, dripping down your cheeks and pooling on your chin, accompanied by the occasional sniffle or ragged sob. Suguru hummed, but any sympathy he mightâve had remained unexpressed, hidden behind a thick veil of strict impassivity. âI need you to count. I know itâs hard, but itâll only get more difficult if you donât cooperate.â He paused, clicked his tongue. âWeâre still on one. Are you going to be good, or do I have to get the belt?â
âHurts, Suguru, youâre hurtingââ
Another blow, this one to the back of your thighs and twice as harsh as the first two. Meekly, you mumbled a weak ââŠone.â
You couldnât see past your own tears by the fifth strike, and by the tenth, you were sobbing openly. Each blow leaves your skin burning and your ass pulsing, but despite everything, he was far from brutal. His pace was measured, precise, and he was strategic â careful to never abuse the same spot to the point of numbness. After the fifteenth, you sniffled and forced yourself to raise your head, meeting Satoruâs eyes and silently pleading for his pity, for his help. Rather than empathy, you found a glassy stare and his hand in his lap, pumping idly over his cock. A few hours ago, you could picture yourself teasing him for not being able to go a full minute without someone touching him, even himself. Right now, the sight alone was enough to make bile rise into the back of your throat.
His thumb ran over your cheek, his palm settling under your chin and tilting your head back. âDonât give me that look. This is twice as gentle as heâs ever been with me.â
By the time it was over, you were near-inconsolable, every number followed immediately by a string of distorted gibberish, a disjointed plea for him to stop, or be gentle, or let you go. You laid limp across Suguruâs lap as he drew slow, tender patterns into your abused flesh, every little touch sparking a new kind of pain, dragging another ragged sob up from somewhere deep and visceral in your chest. He was talking to you, cooing sweet nothings, but you couldnât hear him. You didnât want to hear him. You wanted to leave.
But, you couldnât, and even if youâd had the strength to try, you wouldnât have gotten very far. You hadnât seen him move, but at some point, Satoru mustâve left the room. When your crying began to wane and you could bare the thought of opening your eyes, you found him standing in front of you, holding a glass of water in one hand and three white pills in the other. âOpen up,â he said, drawing out each syllable for a beat longer than he really had to. âItâll help with the pain, promise.â
You pursed your lips, grit your teeth, but Suguruâs thumb pressed into a fresh bruise and fear immediately overwhelmed your sense of caution. Suguru took precious seconds to reposition you â drawing you up by your shoulders to straddle his thigh â and Satoruâs hand found its way back to your cheek, his thumb tapping your bottom lip and slipping onto your tongue as you, reluctantly, opened your mouth. The pills were first, allowed to sit on your tongue until their bitterness reached the back of your throat, then the water, poured sloppily enough for the excess to spill out of the corners of your mouth. The reaction was instantaneous â a wave of nausea, then fatigue, your eyes immediately too heavy to keep open, your body too distant to justify attempting to control. You went slack, falling against Suguru, and he chuckled, bowing his head.
The last thing you felt was his mouth against your throat before everything went numb.
~
You woke up hours later, tucked into a bed that wasnât yours and in more pain than youâd ever felt before.
Shock and terror startled you into consciousness before you could so much as attempt to fade back into blissful oblivion. You tried to curl up, to make yourself as small and as safe as possible, but your leg caught on something â a leather cuff, discovered after throwing the sheets thatâd been laid over you to the side. A shackle, lined in velvet and sitting loosely at the base of your ankle, a silver chain connecting it to an unseen point underneath the bed. You gave it another tug, just to check, and unsurprisingly, it refused to budge. You choose to look away before the pit quickly opening up inside of your chest could deepen any further.
Instead, you turned your attention outward â to the rest of the bedroom. It wasnât the one you shared with Satoru and Suguru, or the undecorated guestroom Satoru had semi-converted into a home office. The walls were a pale pink, the shelves already stocked with stuffed animals, fairy lights, jewelry boxes that (knowing Satoru) were no doubt filled to the brim. You werenât wearing Suguruâs shirt anymore, either. Your blood ran cold as you glanced down and found yourself in a pastel blue nightgown â all lace and silk and frills no one could ever hope to actually sleep in. You didnât know whether to be disgusted that theyâd re-dressed you while you were unconscious, without your permission, or thankful they hadnât waited until you were awake enough to try and stop them.
Seconds seemed to move in thick, dripping clumps. You couldnât be sure how long passed until your disoriented stillness was interrupted, but by the time the plain, white door (a neat row of undone deadbolts visible above to the knob) swung open, Satoru stepping through with Suguru following shortly behind him. Automatically, you started to move towards them, but caught yourself, pressing you back into the headboard and crossing your arms over your chest, as if that gave you any kind of authority. As if there was any authority you could have, chained to the floor in the bedroom of a pre-schooler.
âYou were beginning to worry us,â Suguru started, sitting on the foot of the bed. âBut, then again, our little princess was always a delicate one, wasnât she?â
You stiffened, bristled. You opened your mouth, but closed it as Satoru draped an arm over your shoulders, collapsing next to you. âHere,â he said, holding something out. âSuguru wanted to make you ask, but Iâm not that stingy.â
 You attempted to shift away from him, but Satoru had never made things that easy. He clung to you that much tighter as your eyes fell to his hand, findingâ
A cup.
A sippy cup, pink and plastic and decorated with little, glittering clouds.
The nausea was immediate, nearly overwhelming. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to throw it across the room. You wanted to do anything but accept it, but your throat was bone-dry, a steady throbbing already begging to root in the back of your skull. Wordlessly, you snatched it out of his hand and (with more than a little strain) pulled off the lid, drinking as quickly as you could. Satoruâs nails scraped against your bicep, but neither of them commented.
Suguru waited until you were finished to go on. âYouâll get used to it, after a few weeks. Itâs really not that different from our prior relationship, just a few aesthetic changes âtoru and I thought aââ He paused, grinned. ââsofter environment might suit you.â
âWe can be more honest now, too.â Satoru sounded too giddy, too happy. âThose last couple of days practically killed me â having to watch you leave the apartment, acting all independent nâ shit. This way, there wonât be anything stopping us from keeping you all to ourselves.â
A beat passed in silence. It took you a moment to realize you were supposed to say something, and another to actually open your mouth, to find your voice when all you wanted to do was shrivel up and shut your eyes. âI donât really understand whatâs going on,â you muttered, like that would make it true. Like enough stuttering, simpering obliviousness would be what made them change their minds. âWhen are you going to let me go?â
Beside you, you heard Satoru try and fail to suppress a breath of a laugh, and Suguruâs grin only seemed to widen.
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