#╰ ･ﾟ 𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣. ✶ ◞ THREADS.

[cadavors]

      𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄, 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. mouths are becoming insatiable, gnawing hunger and grazing teeth as bodies grind. it wasn’t good enough, they craved more. clothes are forming an obsidian heap, assisting where needed to 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 each and every article sealing away carnal flesh. everything is impatiently abandoned, rolling eyes at their height difference and not once feeling disheartened in his actions towards him. manicured hand seized hold of his jaw, capturing it not a second sooner than when he uttered that last syllable. there is a fleeting moment where he considers raising his fist. no, be stern … not punishing. so the mattress takes their brunt, shoving him down at the center. curve of his palm is pressed into sukuna's throat, feeling that fluttering pulse like a hummingbird.

      bare skin generates heat, knees straddling his thigh as his own 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄 towered. spine swiftly bends, leaning over with glowering features and the flushness of breath against another's face. ❛ listen to me, asshole. ❞ voice lowered as if the walls might be listening, there's a bite to his words. ❛ i’m not some nagging bitch you’re married to, you want a mindless whore to fuck then save us both the trouble and buy one. ❞ these routines were being observed by third parties. sight is deceiving at the best of times, but there isn't a doubt in his mind about the silhouettes casting behind him night's prior. it’s the reason for postponing until now and his nonchalance was vexing on an already ailed mind. they needed this, but it was killing the mood knowing he could be 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 on his way to screw the enemy's brains out. ❛ but don’t act oblivious to the bullshit we're dealing with. ❞

cont. ( 𖥔 ) @koseigu

[cadavors]

      𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃, 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄. embarrassed as the cup is situated within his grasp. the consideration still warms ashen features, ears beginning to flush and emitting a subtle breath from his nose. this train wreck was still salvageable, ❛ no, you're fine. i should've asked. sorry about that. ❞ mind whirls around to process those precious words, allowing them to sink into crevices and plucking another cherry to consume. fingers are twirling the stem, discarding it once teeth press down into gushing scarlet. this one seemed less sweet. that tartness is preferred, leaning toward 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 than the latter notes upon his tongue. ❛ i have common sense, not exactly learned, but instilled in my head. ❞ gentle tap, finger motioning at his own temple. ❛ it's nothing complex, just enough to function. ❞ that sounds odd, but it's the truth.

      reaching over, placing everything aside for the moment, he seeks another distraction. capturing packaged candies from where they rested, and tearing open the corner with what seemed like 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 gleam : unveiled through curved lips. that smile is very fleeting, shaking an aluminum bag to pour them unto his palm. one is extended to the other man, held outward between thumb and index. they would have marveled this experience, his brothers. eso nearly wept from tasting strawberry mochi, what a fiend for sugar, ❛ so is that someone you love ? ❞ an honest assumption, not pressing but merely curious and eager to hear about the finer details. being confined for a century, they weren't aware romance existed. it seemed drastically different in comparison to the adoration they shared.

       ❛ shoko. ❞ he elaborated, elbow situating upon his knee, canting head ever slightly as knuckles propped under his chin eyes were watching, always observing. perhaps it assists him in understanding the minor nuances that humans convey, usually 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 such as this was done from afar. conversations are anything but rare, however it wasn't often that they delved into a more intimate setting. being served his favorite treats, and not spoken to like an idiot was a sure way to calm his nerves / enough for innocent inquiries and a slouched posture. deep down … choso couldn’t shake the fear of judgement, abhorring the way others would look at him and raise their brows when he asked simple questions. it’s why he remained silent, and spoke from the sidelines rather than basking under a spotlight.

His legs are crossed, one foot propped up, gently swaying back and forth in a slow, idle rhythm. The motion is almost hypnotic, a subtle contrast to the stillness of the rest of his body. He leans slightly back into the cushions, one arm draped loosely along the back of the sofa, while the other rests on his knee. The sleek black fabric of the sofa only accentuates the effortless elegance and laid-back ease he embodies, adorned in black clothes himself. His blindfold conceals his eyes, but the way his lips curl into a subtle smile gives away his quiet indulgence.

“ I don’t mind providing you with the answers you need. ”

He watches carefully, noting the sweet tang in Choso’s expression when he gets to taste the first cherry. The main reason why Gojo enjoys cherries is the satisfying pop whenever his own teeth sink into the outer layer. And that's before the juices spill over his tongue, rewarding his taste buds with blissful sweetness. His tongue almost instinctively sweeps across sharp prongs at the thought of that. But his whimsical reverie is interrupted when he realizes that Choso just swallowed the seed, clearly in the way he covers his mouth and wields a somewhat comical look.

Oh no—

It dawns on him that whenever he eats cherries, it's mostly at school, where he shares them with others. They usually discard the stems and seeds into the ashtray Shoko always has out. But here, at his own place, he doesn’t smoke, so there’s no such convenience.

Without missing a beat, Gojo reaches out and his hand falls onto a small cup, something innocuous but practical. He lifts it up and offers it, a tad bit too late which makes him display a touch of sheepishness when he sets it down beside the bowl of cherries. “ Here. Sorry! Didn’t think of bringing something for you to discard the stems and seeds in. My bad. I’m used to doing that in Shoko’s ashtray but I don’t smoke, so I don’t have one that would stay on the table all the time. ”

[cadavors]

cont. from ( 𖥔 ) @vzmky

      𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒, 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑. they were intricate motions, poetically entuned to his body. many would attempt this song and dance, when dragged into raves among friends how their eyes bore into him, forms brushing as though by mere accident. suguru managed without retort, nor the fist that came along with it. lashes were tamed with 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 mascara, half-lidded while the breath he had been holding finally exhaled. there is a sense of calm around him, never quite smiling but possessing gentle qualities that indicated his enthusiasm. ❛ i wouldn't mind it. ❞ he always spoke in small intervals, unable to keep up with his own mind and at times prattling before words had a chance to process. ❛ being alone with you, i mean. it seems peaceful. ❞ but that would negate his brother's existences, and would in turn shatter their solitary fantasy.

      opposite hands are nestled on his shoulders, slackening tension, and garnering the softest noise when fingers graze his throat. it's 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 there, even more so when caressed by another. skin blushed, faintly heightened and contrasting beauty marks. heat smolders at the pit of his stomach, spreading through blood streams. you look cute like this. the man crooned, ensnaring attention unlike before where it averted every moment he was caught staring for too long. rain droplets are still filtering from concentrated areas, shivering subconsciously and shuddering against the knee pushing onward between his thighs. that promise on 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 lips, wanting him / requited affections.

      he must seem desperate. but the offer to replenish warmth eased his worry. and it was so very 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 that fabric surrounding him began to tighten . shameful, being aroused by the implication. that might be a sign, one he couldn't simply ignore. obviously this man couldn't either, not while the evidence pressed back against him. ❛ given the timeframe, we should take it slow. i've never been with a guy, and i didn't think i'd get this far. ❞ playing coy, as if he hadn't been fantasizing the entirety of their appointment. undressing him with rapt observation, and fucking him with his eyes. ❛ even so ... i'll do 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 you want, for as long as you want it. ❞ there it was, devotion offered up and nearly begging for him to reciprocate. he craves it, too. whatever this is to either one of them.

[cadavors]

      𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐌. limbs swerving, teeth clenching down with eyes promptly shut. blood trickles from the obsidian strip across his bridge, vying for another attempt to harness its strength and strike like a viper would when mishandled. spine straightened against an unforgiving surface, shifting hips and planting leather soles flat upon the ground he now occupied. mouth is pursed, once 𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐂 features now possessing a warm afterglow. choso is flustered, not exactly knowing where to focus when wrists wouldn't budge. soft breath leaves parted lips whilst he remarks on being caught . he won't be a sore loser, but it's evident in the way his head turns away. ❝  this is the part where i die, right ? ❞

      merely teasing, obvious with the gentle chime upon a usually stagnant voice. eyes are narrowing, fixating on where the other's peer back behind his blindfold. ❝  so how would you do it ? gonna implode me. ❞ that would be unexpected, suddenly splattering into a 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐄 upon pavement. for a very fleeting moment, his gaze lowered where it shouldn't down from gojo's lips, to his chest, and then shying away from where bodies connected. pay attention. but this feels intimate, and he wants to press against him.

cont. from ( 𖥔 ) @brazenlystrong

[cadavors]

      𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍, 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆. chest rises only to become still, holding breath and releasing it when his body registered tracing hands. they were broad, firm with a desire to 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊 along each crevice. beneath towering limbs, hips would shift to accommodate the offset weight pressing against him. so warm, every syllable and simple graze jolting nerve endings / burrowing at his core like a parasite. ashen lips are agape, teeth clamping down around the whimper crawling up from his throat. he was sensitive there, at the curve of his neck where a malicious tongue lavished skin. regrettably, it makes hips raise and back arch just an inch further. vision loses 𝐅𝐎𝐂𝐔𝐒 for a moment, wanting to shut down and curl away. black tresses are becoming knotted, portrayed like an unkempt nest : he didn’t appreciate rough handling. and yet his own thighs garnered heat from it, ached when pulled around at the root.

      use your words. but they defy a deep, internalized truth. where he wants to spit 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐃 venom in his eyes. his meek guise is beginning to falter, ire brewing and swelling through cursed energy pouring from their bodies. ❛ you'd have me beg, for what ? ❞ lament coats his voice, shaking plethora of emotions unraveling as their gazes interlocked. how quaint, the rodent lying motionless and awaiting an inevitable demise now that he's been caught. one can only appear unappetizing. ❛ for amusement ? we both know you've already made up your mind. ❞ lashes are wet, glistening droplets rolling from the corner of dim-lit hues. they were involuntary tears, releasing pent up frustration. 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 is slackening, uneasy breaths and heartbeat remaining in restless suspension. ❛ you want me to plead for it, and the reward will make me wish i hadn't. ❞ a reward he craved, the affirmation that followed obedience. choso loathed wanting it.

            HE PLAYS WITH HIS FOOD BECAUSE IT IS FUN.    he steps on the mouse's tail and watches it come back because it is foolish, because the gigantic jungle cat can easily scoop it up but instead he gives him the illusion of life.  choso is foolish just like that, constantly coming back  ––  he wants to be scooped up, he wants to be hung over the drooling maw of the jungle cat before him.  there is no fun in simply appeasing the tiger if you do not have your own fight.  you are of no use to him if you cannot handle the flames that extend, the claws that aim to make you bleed.  he's made choso bleed before, and there is something fascinating in the way that he watches him control it, watches the manipulation.  such a fantastic technique.   such a useful technique that uses one's own body.  choso himself is fascinating.  that is why sukuna keeps him hoisted above his open maw, jaw and teeth clicking and barely touching him as he desperately begs.  he looks pretty when he's scared.  he looks pretty when he's distraught.   when he begs like the good boy that sukuna knows that he can be. 

           sukuna pulls his hand back.  LEAVES ONLY A SMALL DRAG OF A SCRATCH AGAINST HIS JAW.  claws settle away and instead he pats choso's cheek, grin that stretches too wide settled on his face.  there is beauty in begging and choso knows this  ––  his little pet has been trained well.  so he settles himself up so that he's towering once more, lower sets of hands occupying themselves with running up his hips, the tightness of his waist, the power underneath his normal attire.  there's bemusement in his crimson eyes, all four turned to attention as he reaches forward, paws fingers into his hair and tugs his head back, jugular bore.  ❝  come then.  tell me why i should forgive you.   tell me, choso.  use your words.  ❞    it's a quiet taunt.   it's a fascinating game.   and he has the audacity to lean down and drag his tongue up along the side of his neck, feel the rabbit pulse underneath his skin.

[cadavors]

      𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓. shining through with such pristine depth, one could never decipher each and every prism hue that occupied those eyes. they were unyielding, bright as sunlight, and bearing into his which heavily contrasted them. void irises, dark as sable now peering back with flecks of auburn. arms fall between bodies, tepid palms cupping his jawline as thumbs drag slow 𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 lines along his cheeks. adoration glosses over features, awe struck gaze searching aimlessly and only faltering when met with an unintended compliment. ❛ you think so ? ❞ forehead pressed to his, brunette lashes closing over lids whilst breath expelled like a chuckle, ❛ i never noticed. ❞ it was in that moment sight found his again, ❛ i’ve only ever had my attention on you . ❞

      the need to press lips causes warmth to rise in his chest, that condemning lust fluttering within ribcage drowning lungs and struggling to breathe through it. ❛ i want to see them more often. ❞ to have that stare etched into his mind would set mind at ease. even if their efforts were in vain against greater threats, 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 held heads above ground. above soft undisturbed soils, graves which were dug for each and every one of them. ❛ we never know when our last moments will be. ❞ it was like a revelation, and lately choso had been mourning the living. seeing him inspired hope.

Cont. [x] // @cadavors

Gojo’s every gesture is deliberate and conveys an unspoken promise of attention and care. His posture remains relaxed yet poised. An undeniable allure, combined with confidence and magnetic charm.

As Choso settles onto his lap, Satoru’s hand moves, resting with a tender touch on the other’s thigh.

He leans in slightly, his voice a smooth velvety whisper as he says, “ Hey~ ” The edges of his shell-pink lips grow into a smile, displaying a blend of affection and contentment. The warmth of Choso—a comforting weight that adds an intimate, cherished layer to the evening’s ambiance. Gojo feels deep satisfaction and pleasure in the connection, the closeness, and the mutual ease that defines their private interaction.

Oh? What an interesting request.

His free hand is motioned upwards to hook its fingers in the elastic blindfold. He pulls it over his unruly white hair, his eyes unveiled—two deep cerulean orbs, capturing and reflecting every hint of light in the room with an almost ethereal quality.

The heightened level of detail and clarity is much more appealing without his blindfold or glasses, compared to his infrared vision. He typically perceives heat signatures, able to interpret and differentiate the temperature gradients of individuals or objects.

And what a sight.

He is fixated on the captivating and sharply defined contour of Choso's gaze. Definitely one of his most compelling features, complementing his equally striking jet-black hair with spiky strands that stand out. Gojo’s eyes soften with appreciation for the other’s physical beauty and the essence of his sweetness.

“ Gorgeous— ” Gojo delivers a flirtatious remark.

[cadavors]

      𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐌, 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌. muscles in his face began to wince, not quite aware if the simple act will maim him beyond recognition, and bracing himself for every unwarranted touch. those precautions were almost humorous, as though cowering away could soften a blow meant to debilitate and potentially kill its recipient. that immense hand tightened, however veering head back to bare his throat. the 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 could slit palpable flesh, tear wound open and watch blood descend from sputtering arteries. whereas cursed energy couldn't replenish veins fast enough. ❛ wait. ❞ panicking hands couldn’t account for those which outnumbered his own, settling for the wrist behind his skull and attempting rather poorly to alleviate a vice snare. ❛ please, it was an accident. i can’t control it, i can’t. ❞ pitiful, merely a creature of habit and instinctive tendencies. no one enjoyed an unruly mutt, skulking around and growling when pressed by the very hand that fed it.

      he always lacked discipline, but striking fear to 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐘 was efficient. voice shook, apprehension clinging against his tongue and feeling almost too stiff. ❛ sukuna ❞ shoulders gathered inward, appearing compact as sleep deprived eyes 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐄 into the other / he couldn't predict the unexpected. and that set nerves on edge, strung like a bow on the verge of splitting. one moment, he could be forgiven ... the next breath taken may even be his last. there were rare instances in their arrangement, where choso found himself leaning too close for comfort. when those arms circled him like a cage, and that 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 held him through the night : the bastard slept soundly, while he contemplated numerous ways to kill him. at times, only staring and immediately shutting eyes when his warden stirred. my body betrays me, and the cycle continues. he wants so desperately to despise him, but can't help but plead for any means to appease him.

𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊.   that is the simple, ineloquent story that is pressed into his veins, his very atoms.  choso is fun because choso chooses to simper at the sight of power  ––  no longer as brave as he was with kenjaku.   it's cute to see him quake at the sight of real power, at the way that he can feel it in every inch of him that is being touched, in the way that that stripe along his nose glows and threatens despite the way that his hands come to his arms.  he postures but he will not strike;  he postures, but he is nothing.  he is merely blood and bone and he has begun to realize that he is no match for someone ancient like him.  he may be cursed womb, but he is ancient terror.   

truthfully though, he likes playing with his food, likes to see the simpering plea across his face.   likes how pretty he looks when his brows are furrowed and when he's on his knees.   he likes the way that his eyes water and how he splays himself more usually, trying to get friction even when he's not told he can.  this is no different  ––  but sukuna isn't playing with his food for that purpose tonight.   no, they need this settled, because he cannot have his favorite toy running amok and getting the bright idea in his head that he can be allowed to fill yuji's head with false claims.   with soft reassurances that he can beat him.   no, he doesn't like that version of choso one bit.

𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍.  warmth presses against the cold within him despite his better judgment.   a quiet frown settles onto his face and he keeps himself steady for one more long moment before he pulls back.   hand roughly pats his cheek again before the fingers fist in his hair, pulls his head back to expose his neck, to watch the dribble of blood slip down against porcelain skin from where one of his claws has nicked his cheek.    ❝  you can't make up for this one, i'm afraid.  this time you've been horrendous.  ❞

[cadavors]

      𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓. insolence is punished without the reluctance one might feel through a semblance of humanity … whether this 𝐆𝐎𝐃 among earth possessed such sentiments was wholly unknown to him. they were at constant odds it seemed, domineering from above while his own limbs groveled amongst dirt and prideful remnants snuffed beneath that overbearing heel. you should strike back with dignity, it’s what they all would have wanted. no, there would be nothing left / you’ll wish for death. why discard playthings when they can be remolded. animals could be domesticated, any of your choosing if confidence serves well enough.

     winching brows, lashes fluttering as that palm gives the slightest pat be complacent. exhale falters with a soft shudder, finding solace in pressed lips seeking his forehead. that 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 symbolized forgiveness. however as hand cradled jawline, squeezing to where his mouth notched open from the pressure, his entire body shifted to accommodate something far more submissive . allowing mistreatment by 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐓 and clenching teeth to prepare himself for it. but nothing happened, nothing save for the crooning malice in his tone. that rumbling vibration it resounded, powerful yet carrying a tenderness for him. either hand secures around his arm, not applying force but resting there for his own false assurance that it wouldn’t simply break his bones. to shatter them with one fatal motion.

     stomach churned, his brother's mentioning nearly averting focus from 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 crimsons eyes. ❛ yes … very clear. ❞  urgency to respond is impulsive, etched into his mind from their time spent together. choso wondered, aimlessly so, as to why this tyrant spared him such wrath. the masses weren't as tolerated, even looking at him wrong could warrant a death sentence. ❛ i never meant to upset you. ❞ voice feathered, hand overlaying the one which held him steady. wishing to ease it, loosen that tension in his grip. ❛ how can i make it right again ? ❞ i'll do anything for you, because you've made it so.

               𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 𝘿𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀 𝘼𝘾𝙍𝙊𝙎𝙎 𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝙎𝙆𝙄𝙉.       it is a bold move that the little death womb allows himself to look so pretty, so daunting underneath the form of his own body moving over his.      how adorable that he claims that he can fight, that he thinks that he stands a chance.       do they not all understand that they are mere ants to him?       that any given moment he can flick his wrist and they will be destroyed within seconds?         no, ryomen only keeps them around because they are fun to bat between his hands, a tiger that keeps himself from tearing in with claws for the sake of his own fun.        he watches the way that choso quivers underneath him, a slow grin blooming across his face, lighting up crimson eyes that scream of the death and destruction that he can cause within moments.       𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄.      it is only because he is fun to look at, fun to play with, that sukuna has allowed him to live this long.        he is useful    –––––     he tames the brat outside of these encounters, smiles warm and pretends to be big brother because it's more imaginary lives that have been instilled by kenjaku.       he wonders how fun it would be to break that nose where the arrow dares show itself, across a dainty bridge that would be easy to tear apart.         though, it would be too much of a pity if he did    –––     he has grown fond of this toy, he does not wish to destroy.      not yet.

               a hand dips to his own, tugs it upward where he can reach that damn arrow that has erupted.      cursed energy fuels from the body below and makes him shiver    ––––     it is power, it is weighty;      he wonders just how much damage he could truly unleash if he wasn't so…. damaged.      still,  he allows his thumb to run across the edge of an arrow that is underneath a pleading eye, one that looks far too scared to be comfortable with.         his own eyes narrow for a moment, four crimson searching for a long moment, debating.        no, he does not want to break this one yet.        so instead he lightly slaps his hand against his cheek, presses a mocking kiss against his trembling forehead.        ❝  good boy, choso.      i know it won't happen again.      because if it does….  ❞       ryomen lets his voice trail for a moment before he grabs his jaw, forces those eyes to meet his own.         ❝  i will make you watch as i tear the brat apart, limb from sorry limb, until there is nothing left.      do i make myself clear?  ❞

[cadavors]

      𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓. more often than not would the others stare when something didn’t register in his mind. be it simple banter or even innuendos which caused a flustered mess when explained : and with elaborate detail at that. exhausting, being surrounded by those whom carried themselves fluently during conversation. his eventual return is met through widened eyes. bountiful 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 , their scarlet glimmer, and pleasant aroma caressing his senses. gojo adored them, too. it made his chest tight, revising those words over and over again.

      the pillow is placed back from whence it came, but not without fumbling to make the decoration seem untouched. quite redundant considering that blindfold didn’t elude to him not seeing an obvious attempt to regain 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 . he felt nervous, as one would being an outcast. what could be said that wouldn’t embarrass him ? ❛ i'm trying to understand it, but certain topics are strange and raise more questions. ❞ deep voice, muttered as fingertips pluck the proffered fruit from a bowl.

      teeth sunk, avoiding the seed and speaking with a 𝐑𝐄𝐃 filled mouth. ❛ thank you. ❞ his manners were not exactly refined, but attempts were always made. he doesn’t know where to put the pit, so swallows it without asking or awaiting directions. eye winced, back of hand covering lips whilst stifling a cough. that hurt, but pretend it didn’t.

“ Cherry? ” he repeats with a smile immediately growing on his pristine facial features. “ Of course! It’s one of my favorite fruits and flavors. ” He remembers he used to snack on candy with cherry filling often as a teen. Without hesitation, he exits the room to enter the kitchen in the opposite corner of the living room. A cabinet is opened as he retrieves a bowl to fill it with a delicious amount of fresh, gleaming cherries, stored in the fruit baskets. He then pours a rich, dark cherry juice into a crystal glass. The deep red liquid glints under the subtle recessed lighting.

Moments later, Gojo returns, carefully placing the bowl and the drink on the table in front of Choso. He looks over at the other, how he is curled at the edge of the seat with a decorative pillow on his lap.

“ There ya go, ” he says, taking a seat beside Choso. “ Real cherries, and cherry juice. Only the best. And yeah, Yuji is right. Fruits and vegetables have a specific season they grow in. ”

Satoru can’t help but smile. There is something irresistibly cute about Choso clutching on the pillow, mayhaps seeking some quiet comfort. It is a small, endearing gesture that softens his whole presence. Gojo enjoys reading body language without giving away that fact. He’s a lot more laid-back in his position, however. Satoru is lounging, one leg now positioned across the other, his arm is hanging over the backrest. it isn't just because he's at home. He generally exudes an effortless sense of calm and relaxation.