#ⲧⲏⲉ ⳽ⲧⲅⲟⲛⳋⲉ⳽ⲧ ғⳕⲅⲉ⳽ ⲃⳙⲅⲛ ⲃⳑⳙⲉ | ic |

[brazenlystrong]

The Cursed Aristocrat's Gala // @koseigu

Gojo and Sukuna are assigned to investigate a luxurious and secretive gala hosted by a special grade cursed spirit that has taken the form of an influential aristocrat. A grand event where various cursed spirits and their human collaborators gather, hidden under the guise of a ‘ charity ball. ’ The event is held at a sprawling mansion filled with cursed energy, and it's rumored that a powerful cursed object is being auctioned off to the highest bidder. Things might get out of hand, considering the non-sorcerers are unaware of the gist of things. And it's likely that the 'prize' won't really be handed over fairly. Surely this is some type of trick the Cursed Aristocrat is pulling.

The twist? It seems some of the areas at the gala only allow entry to the service staff and their employers. To slip in unnoticed, Gojo has to infiltrate as one of the servants—a maid, specifically, due to the stringent staff protocol that only accepts ‘ classically trained ’ maids for the evening. He doesn’t tell Sukuna at first since the idea itself is ridiculous but too hilarious for him to miss the opportunity.

For the gala, Gojo is dressed in a tailored, midnight-blue tuxedo that catches the dim glow of the chandeliers above, creating a subtle sheen with every step. The tux fits him perfectly, hugging his broad shoulders and tapering down to a slim waist. His shoes, polished to a high gloss, reflect the marble floor beneath him.

He’s just declined an offer for a glass of wine from a random lady. It was likely an attempt to strike a conversation with him but just the whiff of alcohol had him scrunching his nose. Once the lady leaves, Satoru leans over to Sukuna with a cheeky little grin and whispers, “ I’m gonna step away to freshen up. Come meet me in the dressing room in the far wing of the mansion. ” He's already come up with an excuse to get in, revolving around a ‘ wardrobe malfunction ’.

[brazenlystrong]

Cont. [x] // @koseigu

Satoru stares into the hallway with his back turned to the chaos behind him. He doesn’t turn to face it. He can’t. The room is a reflection of his mind, but acknowledging it feels like giving in, like admitting that the turmoil inside him is winning.

The bitter taste in his mouth has never quite left since Suguru walked away. A gnawing anger simmers under the surface, burning at his insides, but he holds it together, just barely. Anger is easier to hold onto than anything else—it drowns out the grief, the guilt, the regret. Suguru's defection is a wound that hasn’t healed, one that festers no matter how much Satoru tries to shove it down. All he’s left with is the rage of a broken relationship and the emptiness it left behind.

And then there’s Haibara. The ache of his loss stings in the background of Satoru’s thoughts like a dull throb. Someone who didn’t deserve the fate he got. Nanami had walked away from the same world, the same responsibility, tired of it all. And Satoru let him go. What could he say? There’s no loyalty left in a world that keeps taking from you. Even Shoko is keeping her distance these days. The chasm between them widens with each passing day.

“ Ha? ” He voices, his eyebrows casting downward, scrunching his eyes into a frown.

“ Oh, my bad, ” Satoru’s voice drips with sarcasm, his tone sharp as a blade. “ Didn’t realize I had to roll out the red carpet for Your Majesty ” He emphasizes the exaggeration of his comment by raising his hands up in a dramatic manner.  “ I figured since you’re back, maybe you’d have the sense to notice that things aren’t exactly great around here. ” He pushes himself forward, away from the doorframe. One hand now rests on his hip.

“ Most of the people who should be standing with us are gone. ” And he isn’t sure if he should be trying to save a crumbling house. But it’s good to know Sukuna is still around.

“ Do what you will with that information. It’s pretty much just us left. ” Looks like Yaga and the higher ups are going to have to work hard if they want this school to still be open for new sorcerers. With the recent events, Satoru would be surprised if they even manage to recruit someone else. They lucked out with Sukuna's return.

[brazenlystrong]

@embodiiment

Literally, lifts an ankle in the air and beckons to him.

I dare you.

[brazenlystrong]

Cont. [x] // @getsusekaii

The Weight of Power.

Ever since the higher-ups decided to separate him from Suguru, Satoru has felt a growing emptiness, a void that missions and victories can’t fill. The two of them have always been a team—a force of nature that balances each other out. But now, it feels like everything is spiraling out of control.

Gojo has noticed it—the way Suguru’s shoulders carry an invisible weight, the way his eyes have lost their usual spark. He’s thinner, quieter, a shadow of the person he once was. Gojo knows something is wrong but the constant stream of solo missions has kept him from finding out.

When he told him that they have to get used to it, that their skills in battle are different now, that they won’t be at each other’s side as they used to— Satoru is having none of it.

--

“ It’s not my decision, ” said Yaga. “ The higher-ups think you’re more efficient this way. ”

“ Efficient?? This isn’t about efficiency. It’s about control. ”  Bet they’re afraid of what they can do together. There’s no other explanation.

I don’t care about their orders. I’m done playing by their rules.

They have been treating him like a tool—a weapon they can wield as they please. Gojo is no fool, he’s always known he’s different, born with power that others could only dream of.

And then one day, the chains of expectation and tradition shatter around him, leaving him truly unbound for the first time. A sense of freedom he hasn’t felt in a long time.

--

Today he managed to finish his mission earlier. The new burst of motivation has him completing tasks like a machine. That’s what they want, right? Well, unfortunately for them, this machine has free will.

He doesn’t return to the school immediately. They don’t tell him where Suguru’s missions are but that’s not an issue. He can locate him anywhere and everywhere if he wants.

He stares at the dissipating curse, his expression blank. They’re nothing, he thinks, weak, disgusting. A mere nuisance that barely registers against his overwhelming power. He didn’t always think like this, there was a time when he saw curses as a challenge, when every exorcism felt like a test of his skills. It’s all changed now.

“ Yo, Suguru. ” Satoru casually greets, his hands motioning into his jacket’s pockets.

“ I finished my mission. I've come to pick you up. You done? ” He doesn’t elaborate why. Make it seem like he was dispatched to do so as he mentioned.

[brazenlystrong]

“ Shoko, I need you to clear the path for us, ” he begins, eyes shifting toward Suguru, his voice calm yet tinged with urgency. “ He's... still in there. Suguru. ”

There is silence on the other end of the line, long and heavy. Gojo can feel it — the weight of Shoko processing what he just told her, the gravity of it all sinking in. Gojo gives her a moment, letting the quiet settle between them. He understands.

After a few beats, he hears her exhale softly. “ Alright. I’ll be ready. Bring him here. ” Her tone is composed, but there is an undeniable tension beneath it.

Gojo turns slightly toward Suguru, noting he has taken a few steps backward, his gaze softening for the briefest moments. There is no hesitation when he replies, “ Got it. ” Shoko overhears their conversation and Gojo confirms with her that they might take some time but he will text her when they’ll be on their way to the school. He hangs up after.

“ We’ll do that first. Let's get going. ”

Geto listens, not able to hear much of Shoko's end of the conversation, feeling a bit in his stomach and a crawling under his skin. He has to find some way of making this right before he dies again. Before he gets Satoru to kill him a second time and this time make sure the body is cremated.

The fact that Kenjaku doesn't seem worried about Shoko's involvement... Geto is certain she can't fix this. This is all so unnecessary when he knows what needs to be done.

He feels himself take a couple small steps away from Satoru, but stops. It benefits that thing the most if they separate. That much is clear.

"Tell her we don't know how much time I have," he says, speaking up so Shoko might be able to hear him even if Gojo doesn't relay the message. "I need to see to my family's safety."

[brazenlystrong]

Cont. [x] // @koseigu

The rare opportunity for the snow leopard to catch the tiger with his back turned his way. And maybe just now Satoru discovered he has a thing for back muscles and a fine waist.

He doesn’t pay much attention to what is said to him, his thigh brushing against Sukuna’s hip as he moves to tower perfectly above him. But that doesn’t last long enough for Satoru to indulge.

And the next thing, he is— still on top of Sukuna but facing him now instead. He blinks in confusion at the sudden shift in position.

“ That’ll do too. ” He’ll find another spot to mark. Satoru leans down, parting his lips so his pointy teeth can nibble down on the curve of a pectoral muscle.

[brazenlystrong]

Cont. [x] // @koseigu

“ If we get the treat box it’s gonna be all for me then. ”

He shrugs with a cheeky little grin. “ Since you don’t like sweets. ”

Huh.

He watches her go forward without any more convincing needed and rushes forward to walk beside her.

“ Geez, if you act like that our chances of winning will be zero. ”

[brazenlystrong]

Cont. [x] // @rivalsunraveled

“ I’ll make ya eat those words. ” His tone comes off as abrasive, weighing each word. His upper lip is curved to display his annoyance yet his posture is slouched and as laid-back as someone who really doesn't seem to be worrying about the consequences. A mistake on his part, although he appears to be confident in his abilities. The possibility of getting detention ( or worst case scenario expelled ) doesn’t faze him. Neither does the outcome of the fight and any future damages.

“ Pretty eager to get your ass handed to ya , huh ? Let’s go then. ” He wastes no second and bolts off to leave the premises. Frankly, he is curious. What cursed technique does this guy have ? Whatever it is, it’s grabbed Yaga-Sensei’s attention. And since their teacher didn’t disclose anything either, then his excuse would be — exactly that.

[brazenlystrong]

The morning light casts a soft glow across the school, where Gojo and Chiaki stand alone, the only two present as dawn breaks. The air is quiet, broken only by the faint rustling of trees and the occasional distant bird call. She stands before him, holding out a box brimming with various colorful, meticulously chosen sweets. Gojo tugs his blindfold up in surprise, revealing brilliant blue eyes, almost as though to double-check what he’s seeing.

He chuckles, the smile that follows carrying genuine appreciation, realizing she had taken his teasing request to heart. One by one, he inspects the treats, clearly delighted by the assortment.

“ You've outdone yourself, ” he says with a playful grin, glancing at her. “ Look at all that… ”

But there’s more than just humor in his tone; he’s touched by her thoughtfulness. As he slowly begins to pick, then pauses, seemingly torn between every single choice. He can’t help but feel the weight of her kindness, the effort she put into this. Each treat feels like a small, sweet reminder of her careful consideration.

“ I can’t pick, they all look so good. But, hm, I think I’ll taste them after we’re done. It’s only fair, right? ” He motions a hand where it subtly lingers over her back as he guides her to the training grounds.

“ You can leave the box here, ” he adds, tilting his head in the direction of an open bench close to them. Her words from yesterday linger in his mind. She'd commented on how both their techniques worked best with distance and that she brought up that he is skilled from up close also. “ I remember you wanted to focus on close combat. We could start with the basics or… if you’re feeling brave, I could throw in some more advanced stuff. ”

THEY LOOK LIKE GHOSTS IN the gray-blue fog of morning, two pale and willowy forms against the sky. chiaki gives him a serious nod, almost soldier-esque. ❝ yessir. i even went on a run to make sure the jitters didn't get me too badly. ❞ it gets easier, over time, to read her wide-eyed and somber expressions for the subtle things they are. the excited glimmer in her mismatched eyes is easy to miss if you aren't looking for it, especially behind the nearly perpetual lack of a smile. but her friends get it, and that's all that matters, really.

onto business. chiaki peels the bag away from the white box it houses, popping the lid open to reveal a meticulous, almost overdone assortment of sweets. she's made of them a swirling zen garden-esque thing, a packed charcuterie board for a sugar fiend, or perhaps a crowd of them: clusters of hard candies, specialty chocolates (of nearly every variety, bittersweet to white), little tea cakes surrounded by frilly cups, larger pieces like taiyaki and dorayaki nestled near the edges, and wagashi of as many different types as she could find. everything is individually wrapped or separated by pastry-paper barriers.

it's not a scheme, exactly... but it's not not a scheme, either. noting what gojo chooses first gives her valuable intel for gifts in the future — as outgoing as he is, he's one of the most mysterious people she's ever met.

❝ first things first! i tried to fit every kind of sweet into one box... it turns out that's impossible. still, anything catch your eye? ❞

[brazenlystrong]

Cont. [x] // @getsusekaii

He didn't just—

It’s only fun when he’s doing it.

His fingers tangle in Suguru’s hair, getting a good grip from the roots up, just fairly tight. And then he tugs lightly.

[brazenlystrong]

Cont. [x] // @koseigu

He’s latched onto her like a large golden retriever, hunched over due to their height difference, his arms cradling her as though she’s a teddy bear.

“ Never too early! ”

[brazenlystrong]

Cont. [x] // @vzmky

Boredom hits at quiet hours and Satoru is on the search for something to transmit the electricity between his neurons at least at a moderate speed. His cheek is squished against his fist while his other hand is fiddling with a pen, making it spin betwixt lithe digits in fluid arcs. He would even go as far as to make it levitate with his technique but he’s done it ninety-nine times over so it’s not as entertaining.

From the corner of his eye, Satoru spots Suguru, which distracts him, making him lose his focus and he drops the pen. He pushes it next to the notebook.

He moves over to stand closer to his friend, putting on an act with his arms casually stretched over his head and pretending not to be looking his way. Believing he’s slick enough, Satoru scoots and peeks over Suguru’s shoulder. Cerulean irises shift to capture his side profile, noting his prominent jawline. Nearly sidetracked, Satoru holds his breath for a brief moment. Back to what he’s aiming for, his shell-pink lips part open to reveal white prongs as they nibble onto the smooth surface of skin on Suguru’s cheek. Neither hard, nor gentle, he adds mild pressure to leave a harmless mark before Suguru pulls away.

He’s withholding his enthusiasm but his face looks like a deer caught in the headlights, luminescent blue eyes widened and blinking once. Oops—

The genuine laughter from Suguru is as baffling as it is enchanting. He waited to get in trouble, maybe even comically sprint off when Suguru begins to tell him off— but he didn’t. So now Satoru's just standing there, dumbfounded, thinking about his laugh. The comment followed almost throws him off-guard seriously this time.

His infinity, already adjusted and adapted to Suguru’s touch, allows him to flick Satoru’s nose. The Six-Eyes user squints, wrinkling his nose. He peers one eye open beneath feathery lashes.

“ Think I’m too big to fit over your knee. ” He puts it out there as a matter of fact.

[brazenlystrong]

There’s a certain satisfaction in the way she leans back into him, her movements fluid and responsive, as if he is the puppeteer pulling the strings of her desires. Every command he utters is met with a silent eagerness, as if his words are a melody she has learned to gracefully dance to.

His grip on her is firm yet gentle, the warmth of his broad frame enveloping her as he holds her tightly, claiming her in a way that is both tender and assertive. Beneath the surface of his smile lies something more primal—an animalistic gleam in his eyes that hits at deeper instinct. A unique expression of trust. It is a thrilling paradox: in acknowledging his lead, Shoko discovers her own strength, her wants, her limits, and the intoxicating pleasure derived from that realization. And Satoru loves exploiting all of that.

The thrill of dominance laced with implicit understanding solidifies his sense of ownership while igniting a fervent desire. It is a beautiful game of submission and control, and in that second, he knows when she is reaching her climax. Satoru bites on his lower lip, feeling the pulsating tightness around his girth as she calls out his name.

His hips slow down just enough but don’t come to a full stop, rather he buries himself deep inside of her, grinding into her while teasing that same spot over and over even through her orgasm. His one hand travels down to brush his fingers low to where she is the most sensitive, the pad of his fingers pressing against her slit, drawing over the edge where she connects with him. The moment simultaneously brings him to finish, filling every inch of her with deliberate intent. The essence of their love drips, tracing a path down thighs, leaving behind a faint trail that glistens.

“ That’s it—… good. ” His voice conveys a rich and soothing quality, creating an almost hypnotic effect.  He carefully brings her upward before letting her rest against him. He would hoist her in his embrace for as long as needed, her body is as light as a feather to him. His other arm is positioned around her chest, his hand once again has its fingers sinking into her breasts, the plushness conforming to the contours of his digits. His expression has dulled into a peaceful smile— a sign of fulfillment. His thumb strokes her skin in delicate arcs as he takes the time to plant a tender kiss to her temple.

theirs is a story that can be traced like phases of the moon, the transformative power of circumstances both controlled and uncontrolled has led them to this very moment.

shoko had to learn how to love him. it wasn't exactly easy. satoru's teaching abilities were oft-debated, but in this particular area, he was uniquely difficult to crack. payback, perhaps, for being unable to teach him rct before he was forced to figure it out for himself.

less of a jaunt and more of an odyssey, the trek she embarked on was marked with certain inescapable landmarks: here is where we had our first fight, and here is where we had the first fight that actually made us question the value of fighting at all. here is our first kiss, bumped noses and teeth colliding. here is your favorite food, and mind, and all of the moments we've shared them with each other. here is the time i almost slipped in the shower while you kept me upright with a focused passion that made me cry. here is where i watched you die, here is where you fought your way back.

here, this bed, our bed, is where i...i...

fully relinquishing control to him is her greatest expression of that love she's learned. him, satoru, not the strongest or the six eyes but the man that lives and breathes and exists separate from the ideal weapon he has always been seen as. the only threat he offers her is damaged vocal cords, bite-bruised skin, sore legs that wobble when she tries to limp off to the restroom once he's satisfied enough with the fact that what he's spilled won't be wasted.

shoko has always known cages, has always made them as much of a home as she could. she seeks the comfort of cages that she opens for herself, like the cage of gojo's arms. she seeks the inside of his infinity, seeks his heart and to be as close to it as possible. so when he gives her these little commands, let me hear you and don't hide your face and cum for me, they're hardly commands. permission, maybe, to let him take her as she is. the way that she takes him.

she throws her head backwards, feels the impact of her skull against his shoulder and the way he takes advantage of the more dramatic stretch in her neck to continue to lay his claim to pale skin with deep purple watercolor flowers. it's the kind of orgasm you don't even know is possible to have until you have it, and then keep having it over and over and over again because gojo is relentless as a friend and a lover and a fighter and whatever else he chooses to be.

"—toru, fuck, satoru—"

boneless, keening, shoko tightens around him like a vice—warm and wet and his his his. never could deny him anything, not when he demands so sweetly.

[brazenlystrong]

Cont. [x] // @rivalsunraveled

The sensory overload from the crowd could drive him nuts. It’s not disrupting Six Eyes’ performance but the noise is annoying as it is. For that, Satoru forces his way through the river of people as they would bounce off Infinity if they get too close.

He knows Suguru is just taking a jab at him, yet he’s got a good response to that statement.

“ Well, yeah. But I've had it off around you. ” That could mean multiple things, so he lets Suguru perceive it how he wants.

By the time he reaches him, his whole back is repelling the folks from behind while the only safe place where it’s automatically turned off is in front of Suguru.

“ You’re really bad at picking places for occasions like this. ” He criticizes him back.

His arm hooks around Suguru’s, since his hand is in his pocket.

“ Let’s move this somewhere else first. ”

[brazenlystrong]

@koseigu replied to this post: drunk shoko vc: i can break their noses too :) i'm powerful as fuck. i am the strongest. let me at em

picks her up and over his shoulder with one arm while his free hand is holding his drink; he occasionally sips through the straw.

[brazenlystrong]

@ntzenin

“ You’re lousy, broke, deadbeat, a sore loser— and no one wants to be with me?? I can beat you in looks, in battle, and in total bank account balance. ”