#it’s between howl and spirited away

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope

Based off a world where everyone gets a Destiny they must fulfill. Bakers and Demon Kings (x) and Villagers (X). You? You are a Hero.

----------------

You are a Hero.

Nobody at the orphanage knows. The mark sets during the worst winter in three decades, when the windows have to be barred to prevent snow spirits from ripping them to shreds and the Director takes half the reserves and runs in the middle of the night.

Sarah, the only caregiver left in the rickety building, holds as many of the kids as she can while the snow spirits scream outside. You’d love to be in the circle of her arms, but you’re holding the door shut with as much strength as your eight-year-old arms allow.

She doesn’t tell you to get away from the door.

“It’s alright,” she says, voice trembling. Her brown hair, matted from the months indoors, hides her eyes. She croons to the younger kids like a bird, so softly and gently that you have to strain to hear it over the howling demons and roaring winds. “We’ll be okay. Our land’s Lord will send a Hero, you’ll see. We’ll be okay then.”

Your arms burn as intensely as your eyes. A Hero. Your stomach aches from hunger and your fingers sting from the cold. You aren’t sure how much good you’re doing keeping the door closed, but there’s something deep inside of you that tells you you must do something. The blows from the snow spirits outside vibrate up your arms, nearly throwing you back.

Heroes, you think, only matter if they show up.

Hope is traumatic. Eight-years-old and you’ve been returned from potential families twice. Three days ago, you found the beginnings of greenery in the woods behind the orphanage. When you excitedly raced back to tell the others that winter was ending, it was only to find the Director and most of the caregivers gone with a significant portion of the rations.

Then the storm clouds rolled in.

So that long, dangerous night, you don’t hope. You shut your ears to Sarah’s gentle comforts and the snow spirits’ shrieks. You focus on the burning in your arms, the blisters forming on your heels, the cold nipping at your fingers.

Hope is traumatic but trying is something you can do. You put your small body between all of the horrors outside the door and the other kids. You try to stand firm.

You don’t notice when the burning in your arms hides the arrival of a telling mark on your left bicep.

---------------------.

You are fourteen years old, one year shy of coming into your power, when a couple visits the orphanage intending to adopt.

Sarah is now the Director of the orphanage, awarded the position by the land’s Lord after that terrible winter six years ago. She’s different than she was then. You lost three kids to hunger before spring finally came and she held each one in their last moments.

You and Sarah never develop the close relationship she has with the other kids. But she always makes sure you have more meat in your meals than most and, when you hunt in the woods, you always let her decide how the food will be divided between dinner and winter stores.

“We’re Knights,” the potential adopters tell the Director. They’re a couple, a man and a woman with dark hair and muscular bodies. “Retired. We’re settling just north of here for good and are looking for a suitable child who can follow in our footsteps.”

Director Sarah looks at them coldly, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands over her stomach. If she notices you and two of the younger kids peeking through the crack in the door, she doesn’t say anything. “I apologize, Mr. and Mrs. Bahr, but it seems there’s a misunderstanding. We do not pair children with families based on their Destiny.”

“We’re not saying you do,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her gaze is cutting though her shoulders are relaxed. “Our Lord explained before we came. However, there is no rule against asking the children their Destiny, is there?”

Loophole. You pull away from the crack in the door, letting Hera and Josiah take your spot. You lean against the wall with your eyes closed. Orphanages aren’t allowed to disclose Destinies, but that’s where the protection ends. If someone sees a child’s Destiny or learns of it through some other means, that’s alright.

These people aren’t here to adopt because they want a child. They’re here to adopt for a guarantee. A guarantee of what remains to be seen. An heir like they claim? A prodigy for status? Or a weapon for them to control?

You listen for any other clues behind their motives, but the Bahrs don’t push the issue of Destiny again. They accept Director Sarah’s schedule for meeting the kids, even offering to host a picnic day at their estate as a treat. The couple wants to gain trust, you can tell, and by the end of the meeting it’s working.

Director Sarah sees them off to the door herself.

“We’ll wait for the invitation,” she says. She’s older now, her thin brown hair showing the beginning signs of going grey. But her handshake looks strong when she shakes Mrs. Bahr’s in farewell. “I’m sure the children will be thrilled.”

“I hope so,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her husband nods to the Director gravely, but Mrs. Bahr lingers. “I’m sorry if we came off a little…forward when we mentioned Destinies. Please believe me when I say that my husband and I aren’t so shallow. We are looking for a child – one we can call our own.”

“I see,” Director Sarah says. There’s a hint of warmth in her voice. “As I said, we look forward to your invitation.”

Mrs. Bahr nods and joins her husband in their carriage. They set off down the road without once having asked to meet one of the children on the first day of their introduction.

You can tell Sarah likes them.

“What do you think?” Sarah asks. She doesn’t turn from the road, even though the Bahr’s carriage is out of sight. “Isla?”

You don’t ask how she knows it’s you lurking in the shadows of the orphanage. Director Sarah is a Guardian. Her senses are elevated when it comes to those under her charge.

“I don’t think anything,” you say. You step out from around the corner with a sigh. No use hiding now. “They’re influential people if they were recommended here by the Lord himself. We’re fortunate.”

“You’re the right age for a Knight’s apprenticeship,” Sarah says.

“Hera hasn’t shown me her Destiny, but it’s probably something suitable,” you say. Hera is ten, one of the older kids at the orphanage. Last summer she lifted Josiah, only a year younger than her and already a head taller, out of the well before he could drown. “You should talk to her about what being part of a Knight family could mean.”

Sarah looks at you over her shoulder. The setting sun catches in her eyes, turning the warm brown into an unearthly amber. “I hope you can accept the possibility they might choose you.”

They won’t. “Aren’t I needed here?” you ask.

Sarah’s expression softens. “You are, Isla,” she says. She weighs her next words carefully. “But I am the one who’s responsible for all of you. I can take care of everyone. If the Bahr family is a good fit…”

“Sure,” you say flippantly. You shove your hands in your pockets and slink back into the orphanage. You don’t dare hope. “I’m going to help Josiah.” He’s on dinner duty tonight. He always cuts the onions too roughly. “See you later.”

You feel Sarah’s eyes on your back like a physical warmth.

-----------.

Being a Hero doesn’t change anything about you. You expected it to when you first noticed the mark but, even six years later, nothing’s different.

You aren’t kinder. When Josiah asks for your dessert, you steal a bit of his as punishment for even asking. When Hera asks for a bedtime story, you tell her one so scary that she has to sleep with one of the other girls. When Sarah asks you to fix the fence around the chickens, you whine and complain that you’re the only one who does anything around the orphanage.

“The curse of being the oldest,” Sarah says dryly. She hands you a hammer and a bucketful of nails. “Some posts were dropped off at the end of the lane. Make sure you’re back by sunset.”

Maybe you’re a little stronger than others. You can drag three posts at once and could probably drag more if you wanted. But another curse of being a Hero is that you’re very aware.

It’s not until you’re nailing a third rail to the fence that Mr. Bahr makes his presence known. You don’t turn even when he makes his steps purposefully heavy to avoid scaring you.

“You’re very strong,” Mr. Bahr says.

His shadow is long and thin, just like him. You observe it from your peripherals, unable to speak with the two nails you’re holding between your lips. You take your time pounding them into the wood. He’s arms, a sword at his hip, but his hands are loose at his sides.

“Good thing I am,” you say at last. You stand and turn in the same motion. He waited for you to finish without chastising you for not speaking right away. You perch the hammer on your shoulder. “Otherwise, the chickens would take over.”

Mr. Bahr laughs. Unlike when he was meeting Director Sarah, his face is relaxed and open. His blue eyes sparkle. “We couldn’t have that now, could we? I suppose we all owe you our thanks for preventing the coop’s coup.”

You want to laugh. You don’t. “Director Sarah won’t like you being here uninvited.”

“I just came to drop off an invitation,” Mr. Bahr says. He studies you for a moment and then smiles. “I hope you’ll accept, Isla.”

A chill races down your spine. How does he know your name? You wipe the sweat from your brow with a scowl. “Maybe I don’t want to be adopted.”

To your surprise, Mr. Bahr nods. “I can understand that,” he says. He looks up at the sky. The light is sliding from the sky, catching on the clouds and turning them a brilliant orange. When he looks back at you, he almost looks…sad. “Think of our invitation as a party, hm? No strings attached.”

For some reason your tongue feels heavy. It takes two tries before you can say, “I need to fix this part of the fence before dark.”

“Want some help?” Mr. Bahr asks.

“I couldn’t ask—”

“You didn’t ask, I offered,” Mr. Bahr says. He rolls up his sleeves and nimbly plucks the hammer from your grip. “I may be a Knight, but I’ve done my fair share of carpentry. Let me show you a few tricks.”

You listen quietly as Mr. Bahr shows you how to twist the nails to avoid splitting the wood. What would have taken you an hour to finish, he accomplishes in a quarter of one, talking to you the entire time.

It’s…odd to have an adult’s attention on you for such a long time. He’s careful not to get too close, always offering you the hammer to practice by setting it on the grass between you rather than handing it to you directly. When you manage to replicate his technique on your second try, Mr. Bahr is more excited than you are.

“Wonderful,” he compliments. He glances up at the sky. The first stars are twinkling. “I’ll be going now and you should too. Have a good night, Isla.”

Unlike the first time he said your name, it feels pleasant now. You mutter a goodbye and leave before he does, scurrying towards the orphanage with your bucket of nails clutched to your chest.

He’s gone when you think to check the road for his carriage. Did he walk here? Ride a horse?

You close and lock the orphanage’s doors behind you.

----------------.

The picnic isn’t scheduled until the middle of summer and it’s spring now. Still, it’s all anyone can talk about.

“We have plenty of time to get ready,” Director Sarah tells them. “The Bahrs will be dropping in from time to time until then. I expect everyone to be on their best behavior when they’re here.”

Josiah raises his hand. “I hear they live in a castle!”

“A manor,” Sarah corrects. “Given to them by our Lord for their years of service.”

“The Guard in town says they worked for the King once!” Hera says, wiggling in her seat. “Is that true?”

“You can ask them yourself,” Sarah says. She claps her hands together and starts urging the kids up. “It’s time for chores. Your assignment is posted by the kitchen…”

You stay seated at the breakfast table. You haven’t eaten your third egg or your last slice of toast. Your stomach feels queasy. You keep thinking about Mr. Bahr saying wonderful when you worked on the fence together.

You aren’t supposed to want to be adopted. You’ve had your chance and you ruined it both times. It’s not fair of you to imagine what it would be like learning swordsmanship from Mr. Bahr and what it’d be like to hear him praise you when you got the next move right. One of the other kids deserve that chance.

You can only do what you can do.

---------------.

Mrs. Bahr is alone the next visit.

No one recognizes her at first. She’s wearing a gown like a noble and her hair is gently flowing down her back rather than tightly pinned behind her head.

“I’ve received the Director’s permission to hold a lesson on writing,” she tells the children. She gestures to the bag she’s set on the table. “Come get a slate and a piece of chalk. We will work all together.”

The kids have never had slate and chalk before, not the real ones anyway. Sometimes you find a nice, flat rock they can draw on with charcoal, but it’s not as entertaining as what Mrs. Bahr brings. She watches everyone in amusement as they immediately start drawing instead of starting the lesson, flower and trees and swords.

“Look, Isla,” Hera says, tugging at your sleeve. You’re seated on the spare chair by the wall, away from the table. She twists from her spot to show you she’s drawn a shaky stick figure. “It’s you!”

Your eyes flick up to Mrs. Bahr. She’s not irritated by the distractions yet. You point with your bit of chalk at the drawing. “Which part of it is me?”

Hera points at a blob in the stick figure’s hand. “That’s the horned rabbit you brought home yesterday!”

You snort. The horned rabbit you’d killed yesterday wasn’t half the size of your body. “Are you sure that’s a horned rabbit? Looks like a turtle to me.”

Hera points to the stick figure’s face. “You can also tell it’s you ‘cause you’re frowning.”

“Hey!”

Mrs. Bahr claps her hands together. Instantly, she has the room’s attention. “I’m glad you all like my present. However, it’s time to get started.”

“Present?” Josiah asks.

“If you work hard today, you will be allowed to keep the slate and chalk as a present,” Mrs. Bahr says. She takes care to make eye contact with every kid. “Only those who work hard.”

It’s generous. You watch Mrs. Bahr from under your lashes as she talks everyone through writing the alphabet. It’s too generous not to be genuine. Try as you might, you can’t figure out any ulterior motive to spending so much on the kids. To look good? For who? For Director Sarah?

Director Sarah won’t be swayed by gifts like this even if the kids could be.

Mrs. Bahr stops well away from you, observing your slate from afar. “Very good, Isla. Do you know how to write?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Read?”

“Only a little.”

Mrs. Bahr hums. She doesn’t look disgusted by your stupidity or put off by your clipped tone. Your first family returned you when you told them. Mrs. Bahr’s lips curve. “Your letters are wonderfully steady. I can tell you will be a very good student.”

She turns before she can see you flush.

---------.

Over the next few months, there isn’t a week that goes by without at least one of the Bahrs visiting. They become a regularity around the orphanage to the point that even Director Sarah stops worrying about the state of their rooms with every visit.

“Kids will be kids,” Mrs. Bahr says when you ask her to wait while you tidy the toys in the parlor. “It’s alright, Isla.”

Your head spins. Sometimes, when one of them says something particularly bizarre, you feel like you’re outside your body. There was a time when they didn’t have toys to leave out in the visiting area. Thanks to the Bahrs, every child has a doll, a slate, a new set of shoes, and an abacus. You are still waiting for the strings that come with these presents.

There haven’t been any yet.

The kids love the Bahrs. Hera insists on baking fresh strawberry tarts for them after a day of gathering. Josiah carefully sounds out passages from their new books to show them that he’s still practicing his letters. Annie and a group of the younger kids spend all day weaving a flower crown for Mrs. Bahr that you have to confiscate before they can put it on her head.

“Go wash your hands,” you scold. Despite your tone, your hands are gentle as you push Annie to the schoolhouse. “Don’t touch your eyes.”

Annie blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “I didn’t know it was poison, lady, I swear.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Bahr says, hand fluttering over her heart. She steps towards Annie. “Dear one—”

You give full body flinch when Mrs. Bahr stoops to hug Annie, but you don’t get between them. The Bahrs have won your trust in this. They won’t hurt the kids.

You sigh to hide your flinch when Mrs. Bahr stands. “Now Mrs. Bahr needs to wash. Poison ivy is no joke.”

“It is not,” Mrs. Bahr agrees. She ruffles Annie’s hair. “Go on, do as Isla says. Wash up.”

“We can go together,” Annie says with her big, blue eyes. She reaches for Mrs. Bahr’s hand and then thinks better of it. She tucks her hands behind her back and kicks at the ground. “If you want.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Mrs. Bahr says, smiling.

Annie nods and races to follow her friends.

“I’m sorry,” you say as soon as Annie is out of ear shot. You busy yourself picking up the fallen flower crown and the various trimmings of poison ivy they’d used for foliage throughout it. You feel flustered. “They really didn’t know any better—”

“I know,” Mrs. Bahr says so gently that you have to look up at her. She’s frowning at your hands. “I’m more concerned about you. Should you be holding onto it like that?’

“I’m immune,” you say. You’re not worried that she’ll guess your Destiny from that. Lots of Villagers are immune to poison ivy, particularly the ones in this region who rely on gathering and hunting. “Since I’m in the woods so much.”

“Knights are immune too,” Mrs. Bahr says. She follows you away from the orphanage and to the tree line. “You’re quite the hunter, aren’t you? I remember Hera saying you slayed a horned rabbit.”

Heat comes to your face. You stomp ahead of her to deposit the flower crown in some denser foliage where the kids won’t be able to get it. “I get lucky.”

“I’d consider it unlucky to run across a horned rabbit,” Mrs. Bahr says. She examines the forest with interest. “A demon is a demon. Even adults have difficulty with horned rabbits.”

It hadn’t been difficult. You’d been armed with a sharpened branch and, when the rabbit leapt for you, you knew right when to stab. You clear your throat. “It was difficult.” Then when Mrs. Bahr doesn’t say anything, you add, “It was frightening.”

She believes you. She lays a gentle hand on your shoulder to get you to look her in the face. “The orphanage budget is enough that you don’t need to hunt, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr says. “I know I don’t like the idea of a fourteen-year-old out here alone and unarmed.”

“Almost fifteen,” you say, “and I had a sharp stick.”

“A sharp sti—” Mrs. Bahr cuts herself off with a deep breath. “Regardless of your…aptitude, Isla, it’s dangerous. I’ve spoken to the Director and she agrees with me. You aren’t to go hunting anymore.”

The forest suddenly feels too hot. The leaves overhead rustle, but you can barely hear it over the roaring of your blood. “Excuse me?”

Mrs. Bahr steps closer. “You’re a very strong girl, Isla, but it’s dangerous. If you want to go out with me or Mr. Bahr—”

You shake off her hand. “The Director agreed with you? She said I’m not allowed to go hunting anymore?”

“Out of concern for your safety.” Mrs. Bahr looks like she regrets saying anything. “Once Mr. Bahr and I explained to her what a risk a horned rabbit poses—”

You run away. Mrs. Bahr calls out after you, but you don’t stop. Beyond the sting of Mr. and Mrs. Bahr not thinking you strong enough to hunt, there’s a deeper hurt. The Director agrees. Really? Really?

“Isla? What’s wrong? I thought you were with Mrs. Bahr,” Director Sarah says when you burst into her office. She sets the papers she’d been reading down and frowns. “You look—”

“I’m not supposed to go hunting anymore?” you ask.

Sarah’s face blooms in understanding. “After what Mr. and Mrs. Bahr said about the increase in demons in the area, I agreed—”

“It’s summer,” you interrupt. You stalk up to her desk, your fists balled at your side. “It’s time to hunt.”

“The Bahrs have agreed to accompany you—”

“They only come once a week,” you say. You’re being so incredibly rude to the Director, but you don’t care. “I need to hunt three times that at least. The game has been moving deeper into the forest—”

“Where you are not allowed to go,” Director Sarah says, this time interrupting you. She steeples her hands in front of her. “I should have curtailed this activity long before this point, but I thought you needed it.”

“We need it,” you say. You can’t believe what you are hearing. “We need to store up rations, you know that.”

“Our budget allows us to purchase rations in town.”

“But what if that’s not enough? It’s better to have our own supply—”

“It will be enough.”

“It still doesn’t hurt to have some extra jerky—”

“The store we have will be enough.”

“But what if it’s not?!” You’ve raised your voice without realizing it, fists shaking at your sides. “The other kids are too young to remember o-or too new, but you and I do. That winter, we didn’t have enough. Why are you trying to stop me?” To your horror, your voice cracks. “I thought you understood.”

There’s silence in the room except for your panting breath.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah finally says. The sudden apology is enough to close your mouth against what you might have said. She meets your eyes. “You’ve always been so strong that I…Isla, you were a child. I will always be grateful for what you did that winter and for every winter since. I relied on you, a child, because I didn’t have any other option. We didn’t have another option. But now we do. We’re okay now, Isla. You don’t have to work so hard to protect us.”

“Yes, I do, I’m—” the Hero “—I can do it.” There is something inside of you telling you that that is what you must do. You think that it’s part of being a Hero.

((You’re worried that it’s because you’re scared.))

“My decision is final,” Sarah says. She picks up her documents and straightens them. “You are only to go hunting with an adult from now on. If I find out you went to the woods without one, there will be consequences.”

She’s using the same tone she uses on the other kids when they’re misbehaving. I mean business. You stare at her for a long, breathless moment. You jerkily turn to go.

Mrs. Bahr is hovering in the doorway. She looks guiltily between you and Director Sarah. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…”

You shove past her and run to your room.

-------------.

Somewhat counterintuitively, as an orphan you’re never alone. You throw yourself face down on your bed.

A shocked silence swallows the occupants on the other bed.

“Is she okay?” Josiah asks Hera.

“It’s Isla,” Hera answers. There’s the rustling of bedsheets as Hera climbs out of bed and then the soft sound of socks on hardwood as she comes over. “You okay?”

You are not okay. There’s an intense war of emotions in your chest. Anger that none of the adults seem to think you’re capable. Betrayal that Sarah isn’t on your side. A sick fear at the thought of being unprepared for winter. And, now that you’ve run away so spectacularly, shame. They probably think you’re overreacting, but they’re wrong. They’re the ones who are being naïve. They’re the ones who—

A gentle hand on the back of your head freezes the thought. Hera pets your short, black hairs in an attempt at comfort. “It’s okay, Isla. You can just sleep. Sleep makes everything better.”

That’s what you tell the younger kids. The difference between you and Hera saying it? When Hera falls asleep, you work to fix the problem. If you fall asleep, no one is going to fix the problem for you.

You flip over, dislodging Hera’s hand. You look up at her as if seeing her for the first time. She’s ten, two years older than you were when the winter happened. She was four then. You want to ask her if she remembers, but instead you ask, “Do you think Sarah hates me?”

“What?” Hera’s eyes are wide. “No! What makes you think that?”

“Nothing,” you say. “It’s stupid. Forget I asked.” You turn on your side, your back to them.

“I know she’s worried about you,” Josiah says. He offers the information tentatively. “I overheard her and the Bahrs talking. Did they ban you from the woods?”

You don’t move. “What else did they say?” You’re afraid that he’s going to say they called you weak. Or, worse, a nuisance. “Did they say anything else about me?”

“Not really.”

Nobody hears anything useful around here. You close your eyes. “I just want to be alone for a little while. I—”

There’s a knock on the door. “Isla? It’s me, Marie. Can I come in?”

Marie? Too late you remember that that’s Mrs. Bahr’s name. She’s been trying to get the kids to call her be her first name. So far no one’s taken her up on it and she hasn’t pushed.

Hera opens the door. “Hi, Mrs. Bahr. Isla is being moody.”

You sit up with a squawk. “I am not!”

“If it’s alright, I’d like to talk to Isla for a moment,” Mrs. Bahr says to Josiah and Hera. “Alone.”

“Don’t let her yell at you,” Hera says as she passes Mrs. Bahr. “She never means it.”

You are going to strangle her. “I don’t yell!”

“That’s not an inside voice,” Josiah says. He dodges the pillow you throw at him, pulling the door closed behind him and Hera.

You are suddenly alone in the room with Mrs. Bahr.

You sit up further, pressing your back against the headboard. Mrs. Bahr doesn’t look mad. Her hands are clasped in front of her and she’s looking down at the floor. It almost looks like she’s the nervous one. You hug your pillow to your chest. “You can sit down if you’d like.”

Mrs. Bahr looks up at you. Her lips twitch. “Thank you, Isla.” She sits down on Hera’s bed gingerly as if afraid it wouldn’t be able to take her wait. When she’s settled, she says, “I wanted to apologize to you.”

Your arms tighten around your pillow. “Why?”

“Not for saying you shouldn’t hunt alone,” Mrs. Bahr says. She’s not a mind reader but sometimes it seems like she is. “For not understanding what hunting means to you. I would have approached things differently if I’d known.”

“Known what?”

“About what you’ve been through.”

The winter. That’s the only thing Mrs. Bahr could be talking about. She must have heard more of your conversation (argument) with the Director than you thought. “It was a long time ago,” you say. You really don’t want to talk about this with Mrs. Bahr. Not when you can still feel that winter’s desperation in your molars like a memory. “I’m fine.”

Mrs. Bahr is quiet for a moment. She studies you much like Mr. Bahr did all those weeks ago mending the fence. “I was a knight for 30 years, you know. I supposed it’s not weird that a Knight worked as a knight for so long. As soon as I came into my power at 15, I was compelled to hold a sword. To seek out evils and defeat them. To follow my Lord into battle no matter the cause.” She looks up at the ceiling. “I’ve had a lot of adventures and helped many, many people. But there was a time when I wanted to quit.”

You start. “You did?”

“I wanted to work in a flower shop,” Mrs. Bahr says. She leans back on her hands. “What a life it could have been! Waking up before the sun and hiking to the flower fields…I had my new house all picked out. It’d have a koi pond and a row of red rocks from the Harrow River. That’s where I met Ivan.”

Mr. Bahr. He’s been trying to get you to call him by his first name too. Unlike Mrs. Bahr, he’s much pushier about it. “What made you want to quit?”

“Exhaustion,” Mrs. Bahr says. She closes her eyes. “It seemed that there was a new threat to my Lord every day. An assassination attempt from a branch family. A territorial dispute. A new influx of demon beasts. It got to the point that I hardly left my Lord’s side for fear of returning to find him dead. He was the first Lord I swore my loyalty to. I always felt like I was failing those days. So I wanted to quit.”

You’ve felt like that before. Sometimes it seems like you never catch enough while hunting, that you’re never kind enough, that you’re never strong enough. You’ve never thought about working in a flower shop though. “Why didn’t you?”

“I did.” Mrs. Bahr laughs at your shocked expression. “I was in my twenties. They tell you things calm down after your teen years, but that’s not true. I handed in my resignation and fled for the nearest town.” Her smile softens. “Ivan followed me.”

“He was there?”

Mrs. Bahr nods. “We were sworn to the same Lord. He came galloping up with my resignation clutched in his hand. His face was so red!” She laughs. “’What does this mean, Marie? He was crying! You can’t quit! I haven’t beaten you yet!’”

“And that’s what convinced you to stay a knight?” you ask. That doesn’t help you. You don’t have a significant other to come racing after you.

“No,” Mrs. Bahr said. “Ivan didn’t know why I wanted to quit. I can’t do it, I said. I can’t keep the Lord safe. I’m not enough. You know what he said?”

You shake your head.

“He said, Of course, you’re not enough,” Mrs. Bahr says. She’s lowering her voice in imitation of Ivan’s. “You were never going to be enough.” You’re gaping at his harsh words, but Mrs. Bahr looks amused. “That’s why we have a squadron. The job is too big for one person. All you need to do is your part.”

You stare at her, not understanding.

“The world isn’t carried by one person,” Mrs. Bahr says. “I was so convinced that everything was up to me – the Lord’s safety, the next campaign’s success, or defense from monsters – that I buckled under the pressure. What I didn’t see that it wasn’t all my responsibility. I was part of a team. All I had to do was one part.”

You think of the winter night and holding the door shut. There hadn’t been anyone to help you then. Someone needed to comfort the younger kids. Someone needed to try and protect them. “What if there isn’t anyone else?”

“Then we do our best,” Mrs. Bahr says immediately. She meets your eyes. “But are you by yourself now, Isla?”

Yes. You open your mouth to tell her that, but the word won’t come out. Are you? Director Sarah looked so defeated when you accused her of not understanding. But didn’t she understand better than anyone else. You swallow. “No. There’s Director Sarah.”

“What does she do?”

“She takes care of us,” you say. “She makes sure the money we get goes to the right things.”

Mrs. Bahr smiles warmly. “That’s right. Who else?”

“…Hera,” you say. You remember she pulled Josiah from the well before Annie even had the chance to tell you what had happened. “She watches the younger kids.”

“She’s very good with them,” Mrs. Bahr says. “Who else?”

Your mind blanks. Who else? “Josiah. He helps us study.”

“And?”

And? “T-the Lord. He makes sure we have the funds for what we need.”

“Including winter provisions,” Mrs. Bahr agrees.

You frown. You suddenly see where this is going. “The amount of winter provisions he thinks we need.”

Mrs. Bahr hums. “What happens if he’s wrong?”

“That’s why I hunt,” you say. Maybe now she’ll understand. “So that we’ll be okay if he’s wrong.”

“What if you don’t hunt enough?” Mrs. Bahr asks.

Your chest is tight. You rub at your sternum and try to breathe deeply. “We starve,” you say. You wheeze and then clear your throat. “We’d starve, but that’s not going to happen. Because I always hunt enough.” I have to.

“This year,” Mrs. Bahr says, voice gentle and soothing, “say you don’t hunt anymore. The winter is harsher than expected and the orphanage’s stores are depleted. What do you think will happen?”

You laugh and gasp at the same time. “They’d all starve,” you say again. What doesn’t she get about that? “First the little ones then—”

Mrs. Bahr is shaking her head. “No, Isla, that’s not what would happen.”

Your temper flares. “That’s what always—”

“What would happen,” Mrs. Bahr says in her even tone, “is that Mr. Bahr and I would come deliver extra provisions to you.”

All the air is chased from your lungs. You feel eight again, small and vulnerable and cold. You’re shivering as you stare at her. “You would?”

“We would.” Gently, as if afraid she might scare you, Mrs. Bahr moves from Hera’s bed to yours. She puts a warm hand on your knee. “We’re a fortress. The Lord gives us part of the emergency fund in order to keep our stores and grounds ready for refugees. Mr. Bahr keeps fifteen percent more than the most generous estimate out of an abundance of caution. We would come and make sure nobody starved.”

For some reason, that makes you want to cry. You blink against the sudden heat behind your eyes. “Oh.”

“That’s why we don’t want you to go hunting,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her thumb rubs over your knee. “It was worth the risk before. You worked hard to keep everyone here alive. You are incredible, for that, Isla. I can’t tell you how much I admire your strength and your bravery. But things are different now. You don’t need to do as much as you did before. There are other people on your squad.”

But I’m the Hero, you want to say. Heroes are supposed to save the day, aren’t they?

Knights help save the day too.

You let Mrs. Bahr pat your knee for a long time. She seems content to let you think, her energy a pleasant hum next to you. A knot is untying in your chest. If you don’t hunt, it’s not the end of everyone. There will still be the funds from the Lord. Sarah’s always been excellent at stretching those as far as they need to go. And, if they aren’t enough, there’s something different this year. The Bahrs are here.

“You’d help us even if you’re only going to adopt one of us?” you ask.

Mrs. Bahr’s lips thin. She looks sad, but hides it quickly. “We’re Knights,” she says. “Even if we are retired. We’ll be here the moment you need us.”

You don’t hope. Hope is traumatic. But…

You believe her.

--------

Thanks for reading! There will be a new part of Hope and the Hero every Friday!

If you'd like to read the whole story now, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)!

There's also a new story up there, a sequel to my Dandelion villain story (X)

Summary: You are free of mind control for the first time in a year. The only things standing between you and your revenge are the heroes.

#my writing #second person #the hero and hope #long post #this part is 6k words and the entire story is almost 19k

[fakerobotrealblog]

Providing a deep analysis of all Studio Ghibli films would be an extensive undertaking, considering the studio's rich and diverse catalog. However, I can highlight key themes and elements that are often present in their films.

1. **Spirited Away (2001):** Explores identity, environmentalism, and the spirit world. The bathhouse setting is a metaphor for societal structures.

2. **My Neighbor Totoro (1988):** Focuses on the innocence of childhood, the connection to nature, and the acceptance of mystery.

3. **Princess Mononoke (1997):** Tackles environmentalism, the clash between industrialization and nature, and the complexity of human relationships with the environment.

4. **Howl's Moving Castle (2004):** Examines themes of war, love, and transformation, set against a backdrop of magical realism.

5. **Grave of the Fireflies (1988):** A powerful anti-war film exploring the impact of conflict on two siblings during World War II.

6. **Kiki's Delivery Service (1989):** Focuses on self-discovery, independence, and the challenges of growing up.

7. **The Wind Rises (2013):** Tells the story of an aeronautical engineer against the backdrop of historical events, reflecting on creativity, passion, and the moral implications of invention.

8. **Porco Rosso (1992):** Explores themes of identity, war, and redemption through the tale of a World War I flying ace transformed into a pig.

9. **Castle in the Sky (1986):** Features an adventurous tale with themes of environmentalism and the consequences of human greed.

10. **Whisper of the Heart (1995):** Focuses on adolescence, dreams, and self-discovery, emphasizing the importance of pursuing one's passions.

These brief insights into a selection of Studio Ghibli films highlight their exploration of diverse themes, including environmentalism, identity, and the human connection with nature. Each film is a unique artistic expression that often combines fantasy with deep, thought-provoking narratives.

#studio ghibli #hayao miyazaki #spirited away #my neighbor totoro #princess mononoke #howl’s moving castle #grave of the fireflies #kiki's delivery service #the wind rises #porco rosso #castle in the sky #whisper of the heart #chatgpt #film #film analysis #film theory

[awearywritersworld]

"i'll always come when you call"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you're gravely injured on a mission, your best friend finds you just in time w/c: 1.35k tags/warnings: friends to lovers, obviously reader is hurt but nothing is terribly graphic, though there are lots of mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, no use of y/n, lots of emotional distress for gojo, he punches a wall, ft. a very worried yuuji and gumi a/n: home boy is in pieces at the thought of losing us. i make myself emotional masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

it wasn't supposed to go like this. not hardly, not half.

a simple mission turned into an ambush. what was originally one mid-grade cursed spirit became several. you lost count somewhere around the fifth.

rain patters against your body, washing away the crimson that's seeping from numerous wounds. at first everything hurt, but now all you feel is a foreboding numbness spreading throughout your limbs.

you hardly remember slipping your phone from your pocket or dialing his number when you hear your best friend's voice ring out from the speaker. "hey, princess. how'd it go?"

you try to speak, but no sound comes out. eventually, you manage a choked cough and the faint sensation of liquid flowing from the corner of your mouth accompanies the effort.

you barely make out his worried tone calling your name before your phone clatters to the ground, screen going black as it lies in a puddle of pale red.

you fight to keep your eyes open, you really do, but you're incredibly drowsy and the coldness has begun to ebb away, replaced by a comforting warmness.

you always imagined the light that welcomes you into the afterlife would be a blinding white, but instead, it's a familiar shade of blue.

an unsettling feeling had made a home in the pit of gojo's stomach long before he received your call. he's pacing, his eyebrows furrowed with inexplicable worry when his ringtone fills the room.

relief floods through him once he sees your name on the screen, but it's short lived when your end of the line remains quiet. he hears you sputter and it isn't a second later that he teleports to the city where your assigned mission is.

his heart is hammering away, a dull thudding in his ears, as he follows the traces of cursed energy that grow stronger with each long stride. he covers ground impressively fast, though as soon as his eyes land on your body, it's as if everything shifts to slow motion.

it feels like he's fighting against an invisible force as he approaches the spot where you lay. he can hear someone howling your name and it's not until he feels the hoarseness in throat that he recognizes the voice as his own. his knees crash painfully into the pavement at your side.

the situation is worse than he could have imagined. it's looks like you, sure, but it can't be you. not when your eyes have just fluttered shut, no movement beneath your lids. not when your body is still, no steady rise and fall of your chest. and certainly not when it looks as if you're—

"wake up," he begs, shaking your shoulders. "please, wake up!"

not wasting another moment, he gathers your limp body in his arms, one arm behind curling around your shoulders, the other hooking behind your knees.

he teleports directly into the infirmary and shoko nearly scolds him before she takes in your dreadful state. the cigarette that was hanging between her lips falls to the floor. "get her on the bed."

she moves around the room in haste, pulling drawers and cabinets open wildly.

"she's going to be okay, right? tell me that she's going to be fine," he implores, panicking when the brunette fails to reassure him. "..shoko!"

"get out, satoru!" she barks. she can't concentrate, not while one of her oldest friends is hysterical with worry and the other is lying there half dead.

"please, i can't—"

"now!"

he stares at you for a moment before turning on his heel and retreating to the hall. his fist meets the wall with such force, the drywall crumbles to the floor. gojo himself follows suit soon thereafter.

the commotion catches the attention of yuuji and megumi, who round the corner just seconds later.

"sensei—" yuuji begins to question, but the words die in his throat.

gojo's crouched down, his face buried in his hands. they're still covered in your blood. he wants to scream and yell and curse the world, but instead, he clenches his jaw so fiercely it's a wonder his teeth don't crack under the pressure.

the boys share a look, both startled by the present state of their usually frivolous teacher. neither of them need to ask who's behind that door, they know there's only one person who could elicit such a reaction from gojo.

megumi approaches him cautiously, swallowing his own concern, and places a hand on his shoulder. "she'll be okay."

the white haired man doesn't look up, just nods weakly in acknowledgement. megumi joins yuuji who is already sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the wall, and the three of them wait together in silence.

gojo hardly moves until the infirmary door opens, which makes him rise so quickly it leaves him dizzy. shoko surveys the three of them before speaking.

"she's.. she's still unconscious, but you should be with her. she's been calling for you in her sleep—"

she scarcely finishes before gojo makes his way through the door. shoko stays in the hallway to update yuuji and megumi, giving the two of you a bit of privacy.

pulling up a chair beside you, he threads his fingers between yours, your skin still frightfully cool. though it's not until he hears you mumble his name that he truly falls apart.

his free hand flies to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his sobs, his shoulders shaking. this all could have gone very differently and the thought makes him sick to his stomach. he should have gone with you, or at the very least, he should have gotten to you faster.

"'toru?" your raspy voice fills his ears.

when he looks up to find you peering at him through tired eyes, the tension that'd been weighing heavily in his chest dissipates and he exhales deeply. still, his voice trembles. "hey, sweetheart."

every part of you aches, but it's nothing compared to the guilt you feel upon seeing gojo like this— his eyes red and swollen, your blood painted across his hands and face.

you have a vague memory of everything that happened. you remember just barely exorcising the last cursed spirit. you remember being sure you weren't going to survive and using your last bit of strength to call him. "you found me."

he nods, his hand squeezing yours. "i thought i was too late.. i.. i thought i'd lost you."

his voice cracks and it nearly shatters your heart, tears welling up in your eyes. "i'm so sorry, 'toru. i'm sorry i wasn't strong enough, t-that you had to come save me."

you attempt to sit up, but he puts a hand to your shoulder and shakes his head. "don't you dare apologize. i'll always come when you call and i'll always be there when you need me. you have to know that."

the intensity of his gaze forces you to look away and the conviction in his voice makes you feel woozy. thinking about it, there really never had been an instance in which gojo wasn't there for you. he's the person you've sought out time and time again and he's never once let you down.

his hand finds your face and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb wiping a tear from beneath your eye.

"i love you," you blurt out.

you stare at each other with wide eyes and the seconds tick by markedly until he finally whispers, "say it again."

"i love you."

he had no idea how much he needed to hear those three words fall from your lips until he nearly lost the chance forever. truthfully, it makes him feel a bit foolish, but now was hardly the time to dwell on that.

he smiles for the first time in hours, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "i love you, too."

and he always has— he knows that now.

"you should get some rest, angel," he suggests tenderly. "i'll be right here when you wake up."

#m!writes #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines

[fandom-puff]

Fulfilling Duty

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Reader

Warnings: smut, pinv sex, fingering, reference to pregnancy and childbirth, brief reference to death during childbirth, reference to prostitution, implied arranged marriage, breeding kink, body image issues, implied innocence kink, older man/younger woman.

Italics indicate flashback

Gif creds to owner

After nine long months of pregnancy and two gruelling days of labour, Tywin Lannister finally had the son he craved. Little Darrick was perfect in every way. At almost four months, he guzzled his milk the way King Robert his guzzled his wine; he roared like a lion when something was amiss, fat angry tears pouring down his reddened little face until his mother or father consoled him; his hair thickened and lightened every day, though he showed no trace of Lannister emerald eyes (much you your elation; he already looked so much like Tywin so it was nice to see a shred of yourself in your son’s face).

The birth of your son only strengthened Tywin’s… affection towards you. It was not love- not yet at least- but his respect and fondness certainly grew. During the home stretch of your labour he had barged into the birthing room after overhearing an outspoken courtier’s gossip.

Your labour had dragged on and almost two whole days had passed since you first started having pains. While you had started in relatively high spirits, as progress began to falter almost to a halt and ‘one more push’ became an empty promise, your resolve almost completely shattered.

What had started as determined groans and howls of pain turned into whimpers, and then sobs as you begged the maester to just, please, get it out of you.

It seemed Tywin hadn’t unclenched his jaw for days, and while he wanted to remain just a room away in his office should he be called into the room, the Seven Kingdoms would not stop for any infant, not even the son of the Hand.

He had been walking back from an audience with disgruntled artisans from the city when he overheard some courtiers.

“… glad she’s shut up with the screaming, could hardly sleep a wink last night…”

“… should just cut her open, drag the babe out and have done with it… wouldn’t be the first Lannister woman to die in childbed…”

“… he’ll want another off her, just in case… especially if she gives him a girl…”

Tywin’s nostrils flared with rage, and while he would have so dearly loved to confront the gossiping courtiers, he marched to the tower of the hand, entering your chamber to the shock of your midwives and maester.

“Milord! Women’s work is still happening! The baby ain’t here yet,” scolded Jeyne. She was the eldest of the flock midwives attending you and the most experienced too, and had been crucial in supporting you.

Tywin held up his hand, and jeyne pursed her lips, knowing she could not argue. “Fine. But you’re not to interfere down here, milord. We’re nearly there,”

“You said that- ah- last night,” you said weakly, your voice shaky. Tywin sighed softly and knelt at your side, pushing your hair away from your face. It was a surprisingly tender gesture, one that he had done when you consummated your marriage. “‘M sorry, m-my lord,” you whispered, unable to stop the tears from slipping down your already damp cheeks.

“You needn’t be,” he said lowly, speaking so only you could hear. “You are doing well, just a little longer,”

Although the midwives and maester had repeated the same words over and over again over the last day, Tywin’s firm, authoritative voice reassured you, renewing your determination.

Tywin’s eyes flicked sideways to you. It was the first public event you had attended since giving birth, and he had kept a close eye on you all day. He’d even insisted on your retiring to bed for several hours in between the joust and the feast (“fine, I’ll rest. But only because I didn’t want to watch the archery anyway,”).

If you were tired, it did not show. You looked radiant, smiling serenely as you clapped for the dancing. You had changed into a gown of soft pink brocade, and while he always preferred to have you on his arm in matching Lannister red, he had to admit that the muted pink suited you beautifully, and provided a fresh and youthful contrast to his daughter’s sour, almost vulgar even by his standards, display of power.

“If you continue to glance at me so, you will miss the dancing, husband,” you said out of the corner of your mouth, bemused at the almost uncharacteristic attentiveness of the Old Lion.

“Then I shall miss the dancing,” he said lowly, though he kept his eyes dutifully on the entertainments. “Are you sure you will not sit?”

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him fully. “No,” you said with exasperation. “I am well rested, I promise you, My Lord,” your lips quirked into a smirk. “I may even join in with the dancing,” you added.

Tywins jaw clenched as he looked down at his mischievous young wife. Your pregnancy and subsequent birthing of a viable heir for him had consolidated your power in court- and your worth in the marriage. “Then you shall dance only with me,” he said. “I will not have you jostled so,”

And so the Lord Paramount of the West took his wife by the hand and led her to the dance floor, lest she be manhandled by less careful members of court.

Grinning, you held onto his hand, beginning the steps that you had known since childhood. “I so love it when you give in to my whims, Lord Lannister,” you murmured, laughing lightly at his grumble of agreement. He supposed he owed you a fair bit, now that you had given him his heir.

“You are as stubborn as a mule when you want to be, wife,” he muttered, pulling you closer to his body by the waist as a drunken jester weaved through the crowd, his motley cap jingling. But despite his complaints, Tywin permitted you two more dances, before you retreated from the crowd- the bawdy songs had began, and he would not have his wife passed about like the maidens in the songs.

Instead of sitting back down, Tywin took you before the king, bowing and excusing the two of you. “We must retire for the night, your Grace. Lady Lannister is very tired,” he said shortly, bowing once more as the king waved you away.

You followed him, your face indignant, but you did not dare question him until you were out of earshot of any high lords. “I most certainly am not tired, My Lord,” you said, running a little to keep up with his long strides. “I do not need to be bundled off to bed like a child- again,”

Tywin ignored your complaints, only speaking once you arrived at the entrance to the Tower- and even then he only spoke to the guard at the door. “No one is to enter this tower until tomorrow,” he said lowly, before all but frog-marching you through the door and up the winding stairs.

“My lord?” You asked cautiously when you arrived at his chambers. “Have I displeased you?”

Tywin turned around to face you. “No, wife,” he murmured, stepping closer to you so that you had to look up at him. “You have not displeased me… exasperated, perhaps, but not displeased,” you smiled slightly, opening your mouth to speak, but Tywin cupped your head with both of his hands, his thumbs stroking your jaw. “I intend to bed you tonight, My Lady,” he said, voice gravelly. Your face heated, but you nodded slowly. “Your body should be ready to take me once more,” he continued. “That is if you are agreeable?” He added, raising a brow. He had laid out from the beginning that while he expected you to do your duty and provide him with a son, he would not have you in his bed unwilling.

Nodding slowly, eyes wide as you stared up at him, you let out a shaky breath. "I… yes. Please," you murmured your consent, following him out of the solar to his adjoining bedchamber, where the hearth was crackling and the luxurious bedsheets were already turned down. Tywin poured out a cup of wine, offering you it, nodding when you smiled at the vintage before finishing the cup for you.

“Do you think it will hurt?” You murmured out of the blue, taking your jewellery off and setting it on his dresser.

“It may be a little uncomfortable, perhaps. Not as painful as childbirth, I’m sure, nor breaking your maidenhead,” your eyes widened at his words and he smirked. He so loved to see you flustered. “Such an innocent, wife,” he said, stepping closer to you and undoing the pins in your hair. He nodded his approval when you unwound the braids, shaking out your hair.

“It has been a while…” you considered, looking up at him in the mirror as he stepped behind you, beginning to unlace your gown.

“It has,” he said in agreement.

“Will you be gentle with me?” You whispered, eyes widening as his hand slipped up your front, over your breasts, lightly squeezing your throat before he tilted your head to the side.

“Absolutely not,” he growled into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing there as your gown fell stiffly to the floor.

You made to turn to begin undressing him, but he lightly batted your hands away, continuing to strip you of your stays and chemise until you were bare before him.

Eyes downcast, you made to wrap your arms around yourself; your pregnancy had left it’s mark on your body, your belly soft and marked with stretch marks, your breasts hanging heavier than they had when you first married. Tywin held your hands by your sides briefly, before his large hands claimed your hips, his thumbs massaging the softness of your belly. “I want another babe in your belly before year’s end,” he said lowly, making you shiver. “I want to watch you swell again with another of my heirs,”

“Yes, my lord,” you breathed, your breath hitching as he gripped your hips tighter, drawing your naked body to his, your skin hot against the cool metalwork of his belt and buttons. Slowly, he began to walk you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed, and he helped you up onto the mattress, his eyes blazing with lust. His green-gold eyes pierced you as he removed his chain of linked golden hands, his doublet, his boots and trousers too. Your eyes flicked down briefly as you admired your husband’s build; despite his age, Tywin was fit and strong, and your glance did not go unnoticed by him.

Tywin got up onto the bed, looking down at you as he came up between your legs, which fell apart willingly to allocate his breadth, to which he hummed with approval, his hands dragging up your thighs. You sighed softly as your body refamiliarised itself with the weight atop it, offering him a soft, shy smile. He returned it with a rare quirk of his lips, before his fingers teased closer to your exposed core, shushing you gently when you gasped. Whimpering, you arched your back as he dipped his fingers into your waiting wetness, body tense. “Are you in pain, wife?” He said lowly, his movements stilling.

“No…” you whispered, pushing your hips up to his hand as if to reassure him.

He nodded, looking down at you as his fingers worked you open for the first time in months, though he did not seem out of practice in the slightest. He watched intently as your face contorted, brow furrowing and mouth falling open, and your body twisted while you clenched around his fingers. When he felt the erotic spasming of your inner walls, he nodded and hummed with satisfaction, before withdrawing his fingers. You watched in awe as he used your release coating his fingers and dripping onto his palm to slick up his cock.

“You look as though you belong in a pleasure house in Lys, spread out like that,” he said, his voice gravelly with desire. And he had a point; your breasts rose and fell with shaky, heavy breaths; your eyes were now dark with lust, brow furrowed and lips plump as you stared down at him, propped up on the pillows with your hair splayed out.

“Are you calling me a whore, My Lord?” You questioned, pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“No,” he said, guiding his cock to you. “But if you were a whore, you would be mine alone,”

He grunted, pushing into your tightness. With a cry, you tossed your head back, your nails clawing into the Lion of Lannister’s muscled back and arms as you adjusted to his invasion. You hissed out a curse between your teeth, gasping as he stilled, smirking down at you. “Such deplorable language,” he said, and you could only whimper in response, gritting your teeth and scratching at his back. Despite his promise to not be gentle with you, he held you tight to his body by your thigh, massaging the quivering limb with his hand as you adjusted to the suffocating tightness of your union. With a needy whine, you rolled your hips experimentally, grinding your clit against his pubis. The resulting tightening of your channel had him hissing in pleasure, and with a low groan he began to move with slow deep thrusts that had your head spinning.

One hand still gripping his bicep like a vice, you trailed your other hand over his shoulder anchoring yourself as you made feeble attempts to meet his movements. Grunting, Tywin grasped onto your hips, before moving his grip to your thighs, holding them apart as he began to fuck you harder, faster. You cried out at the shift in pace, arching your back as Lord Tywin took his pleasure (though he gave just as much as he took). He let out a groan of pleasure as his own thighs trembled and his hips stuttered, and he emptied his seed into you.

Moaning lowly, you fell back into the pillows, panting. You felt the bed dip then settle as he withdrew from you and stood, and your eyes slipped shut as you heard him rustling about the room, the door slamming shut. You frowned. He must have dressed quickly. With a sigh, you stood up, albeit shakily and slipped your chemise back on. His thick seed seeped down your thigh as you stood before the mirror, combing out the tangles in your hair with your fingers.

The door opened, and Tywin stepped into the room, but before he acknowledged you, he turned to what you assumed was his squire. “Have the servants bring up two plates from the feast, and a flagon of Arbor Gold,” he said to the lad, who responded with a quiet ‘yes, My Lord.’ “And see to it that Lady Lannister’s handmaidens know to come here on the morrow with her gown and jewels. She will be staying here tonight,”

He dismissed the squire with a nod and shut the door, turning to you with raised eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to return to my own chambers, my Lord,” you murmured, finally able to smooth your hair down over your shoulders.

“Indeed not,” he said simply. “I was merely arranging some supper and wine,”

You crossed your arms. “And for my handmaidens to come here on the morrow?” You teased.

Tywin only smirked, prowling over to you. “Indeed,” he said. “It would seem, wife, that we must return to bed…” you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him curiously. “An heir will not find its way into your belly if my seed is dripping down your thighs, now, will it?”

#tywin lannister fic #tywin lannister smut #Tywin Lannister x reader #Tywin Lannister x you #Tywin Lannister imagine #tywin lannister #tywin lannister fanfic #game of thrones #game of thrones one shot #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut

[risuola]

LOOKS LIKE WE'RE SNOWED IN FOR THE NIGHT — F. READER x KAMO CHOSO, with whom you got stuck in a cabin

A fireplace, a nice blanket, a bunch of snow and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree… for some it might sound like a perfect way to spend the night during the festive season, but not when you’re stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with your biggest enemy. And it’s cold.

cw: smut, enemies to lovers, oral (f. receiving), angst-ish vibe, death mentioned (I put it as a warning, but honestly, if you're into jjk you're probably used to it, just sayin'), reader discretion is advised — 2,9k words

kissmas masterlist

“Looks like we’re snowed in for the night,” Choso pointed, making few futile attempts to push the doors open. “I can force the way out but I doubt you’re gonna survive it.” He added, venomous tone evident in his otherwise calm and low voice.

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. This is horrible, you thought, it couldn’t possibly get worse than that. The cabin, secluded and nestled deep in the woods, once a welcoming refuge from the cold, was now a claustrophobic cage trapping you and Choso inside. The doors, blocked by the snow piled high behind them were impossible to open and the windows – old and grime-stained – covered with ice, offered no escape. The interiors, now cleared out of the cursed spirit that resided in here scaring the owners away, were as cozy as they could be with warm colors of the creaking wooden floors and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, that funny enough was the only thing that still was working inside. The furniture was faded and worn-down by the humid air, the cobwebs decorating every corner.

The task at hand was simple enough – get in, exorcise, get out – but the snow and the cold were making everything more difficult, not to mention the man you had to share the experience with. It was a part of introducing the Death Painting into the jujutsu society and a silent attempt to make the two of you fonder of each other, but the result proved itself to be starkly different, when you got stuck with him for the night, or god knows how long.

“Damn,” you groaned finally, realizing there’s nothing you can do to make the situation better. No escape, no signal, not even a goddamn kettle that would work.

“Looks like you’re really screwed, huh?” Choso mocked you, a smirk twisting his features because he knew – he just knew that you’re not gonna make it through the night and though he enjoyed the idea of watching you freeze to death, he involuntarily threw some more wood into the fire to keep it alive.

“I’m perfectly fine, fuck you,” you snapped, glaring at his stupid handsome face from your place across the room, hoping silently that maybe once in this world a glare could kill.

You and Choso had always been on opposite sides. Your fights always end up in blood, there was little to no respect between you two, and though in a fight you two were able to work together, outside of it, it was a much different story. You just couldn’t stand each other, you could never put a finger on the reason why, but you just never clicked. Always having different opinions, always too stubborn to let go and not even once agreeing on a plan of work. You trusted him just enough to know he will most likely not kill you in your sleep.

Now, as the sound of the howling wind outside was constantly reminding you on the dire situation, the storm outside showing no signs of letting up, the pressure between you and him seemed to reach a breaking point. At first, you moved through the cabin, walking back and forth, avoiding each other’s gaze and trying to ignore the fact you were trapped together. “Sit quiet and stop being annoying,” you growled at him, hating the way he was sprawled comfortably on the little sofa while you were feeling more and more cold as the hours were passing by. Kamo and his damn temperature regulation.

You had been fighting constantly since you arrived, each blaming the other for the predicament you were in. You argued and hurled insults at each other, both trying to assert dominance over the other. You were constantly on the edge, you bickered until both of you were that close to exploding. You fought about everything, from the mission to the tiny space you were forced to share. You could barely stand the sound of each other’s breathing, much less the sight of each other’s faces and the constant, near proximity. It was only a matter of time one of you snapped.

It felt claustrophobic, nearly – the way only four walls were surrounding you and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite navigate yourself through the treacherous environment. You had no idea what exactly was oh-so wrong with this place. A desolate cabin with nothing but cold air and the palpable tension between you and Choso was slowly taking a toll on you. Harsh winter wind howled outside and it was clear that your spirits matched its bitterness. The twinkling, colorful lights adorning the mismatched Christmas tree in the corner did nothing to warm up the bleakness of the place.

Hours passed and you got tired of the banter. Choso noticed how slowly you became, quiet, less talkative. It became easier and easier to outsmart you as the cold was taking a toll on your body. Your retorts were less sharp, a little delayed as the temperature went even lower along with the night progressing.

“You’re gonna die in here?” He asked, his tone as nonchalant as ever, but it was getting to him that you might actually die that night. It was fun while it lasted and you did an excellent job in making him believe that you’re gonna survive the night, that you’re fine. He allowed his eyes, that up until that point were closed as he was resting on the sofa, to look at your form. You were shivering, seated on the furry carpet near the fireplace and though you were as close to the heat as it was possible, it didn’t do much to help you. Your breath was visible and you were constantly rubbing your hands together in hopes to stop them from going numb.

“I’m fine,” you said again, your voice much punier than you intended it to be and Kamo found it amusing how you forced yourself to sound strong, when in reality, you were so small and weak and vulnerable.

“Oh, are you?” The question had mocking qualities that Choso couldn’t hold back. “You know, all it takes is for you to ask nicely and I might consider warming you up.”

“Fuck you.” Oh, you were so stubborn. He shrugged and kept observing you.

The cabin fell quiet. The air was thick with tension and the only sounds were the occasional drip of water from the ceiling, crackling of fire in the fireplace and the soft tickling of a clock. The rattling of the windows in the wind accompanied the cacophony.

“Isn’t the big, strong sorceress now uncharacteristically quiet?” He joked once again, and you could have sworn that even in the freezing cold, he had an ability to make your blood boil. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I miss the times when paintings were not talking,” you retorted, wrapping yourself tighter in the imitation of a blanket you found laying around. “You have no idea how much I’d love to exorcise your half-cursed ass.”

“As if you were ever gonna be strong enough to put a harm onto me,” he said, pushing himself up from the couch. “Besides, you might wanna pick your words carefully. You’re at my mercy right now.”

“I’d rather be eaten by a polar bear than be at your mercy.”

“Oh, that would be a cool death, right?” He laughed, a taunting tone piercing the air and your soul, it seemed. “Or a curse. It would sound much better in the report later if I told your friends that you lost your life in battle, with bravery and strength, yeah? For sure it’s more appealing than a lame reason like freezing to death.”

“Oh, shut up…” you sighed, leaning your cheek on one of your knees. You kept them tightly pressed to your chest, a desperate attempt of storing any leftover heat along your torso, but it did little to nothing. “Come on, get your ass over there.”

“I already told you, you have to ask me nicely.”

“That’s as nice as I’m gonna get.”

“So that’s as close as you’re gonna get me,” he smirked, teasing you beyond decency, well aware of how delicate was a situation you were now in. To him, cold was nothing more than an inconvenience. In all honesty, he could break the doors open and just go through the snow during night and he would be just fine, but you… it was a different story and truth is that he stayed in the cabin only because of you.

“Choso, please, don’t be a dick, I’m freezing to death, literally,” you whined, forgetting about your pride and prioritizing the survival. “Please?”

“Much better,” Choso chuckled and moved from the sofa to the floor, sitting behind you with his legs on both sides of your frame. “Loosen up a little,” he ordered, throwing away your blanket and as his arm sneaked around your waist, he pulled you into himself, your back now pressed against his chest.

“Oh god…” you whimpered, shifting your position and wrapping yourself around him. He was hot and it felt like the heat was emitting from him, seeping onto you the moment you made contact with his muscular frame. You pushed your face against his neck, nuzzling your cold nose into his warm skin.

“Aren’t you a greedy little thing?” He commented, putting on an indifferent, snarky mask but inside, he was feeling things. It was odd, it was new. He wasn’t exactly an expert in romantic situations, in fact besides few really brief adventures with women, it was the first time he was actually somewhat intimate. Choso’s mind was in a limbo, trying to fight the thoughts of his body which were going crazy. The way your frame fit so closely to his, the way you turned your face and melted into him… it was almost too much. Thoughts raced around his head a mile a minute.

“Aren’t you a scrooge for letting me freeze while you’re that hot?”

“Well, I’m your partner on the job, not your personal heater,” he shrugged, allowing his hand to run along the curves of your waist and hip. “Also, I’d assume that the low temperature is a natural habitat for a cold bitch like you.”

“Ouch,” you acted hurt but couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I have a great idea, why don’t you shut up?”

“Oh, did that sting you, princess?”

„I’m serious, you should shut the hell up,” it was a mumble, an unharmful one, but Choso must have gotten a different impression.

It was a flash. It took you few seconds to even register what just happened and once you did, you were already helpless beneath him. The soft, furry carpet now tickling you in the face as Choso kept you, chest down and pinned to the ground. It annoyed you how easily one of his hands kept both of your wrists pushed up above your head. You felt his weight on top of your thighs, his crotch pressed tightly to your ass and his other hand supporting his weight on the wooden floor.

“Now, if you’re gonna act like a brat, I’m gonna treat you as one,” he said, his voice low and close to your ear as he leaned down and gathered some of your hair to the side to uncover your face to his eyes. Your hopeless pulls and wriggles did nothing to loosen up his hold. If anything, his fingers only tightened their grip around your wrists.

“Get off me,” you groaned, trying to find your way out of the situation, but the movements of your body seemed to make it worse. The man hummed darkly, aiming a mean slap at your ass.

“Stop wiggling,” he warned, smirking at the way your body tensed for a moment. He couldn’t tell what’s gotten him into such a playful mood. Maybe it was all the thick air between you two finally exposing its true colors – something once filled with anger and hostility, now crackled with an undeniable sexual tension.

“Did you just slap me?” You couldn’t believe it, but you’d sooner be dead than you’ll admit out loud that it somehow felt good.

“I did,” he said nonchalantly. “You whined you’re cold, huh? Well, guess I’ll have to warm you up for real,” Choso added, now grinning mischievously. “Be a good girl, I know you can do it. Now I’ll let go of your hands and you’ll turn around, yeah?”

You hummed in response, not really sure what’s gotten into him but you were far from minding it so you flipped to your back as soon as he gave you a chance. Still on top of you, Choso kept a controlling grip over your hip, his touch burning your bare skin over there.

The fire crackled and flickered, casting warm, dancing shadows on the two of you but you couldn’t tell if the sparkle in his eyes was a reflection of it or just pure lust. The latter, you thought, catching his gaze as it scanned your form, paying a little more attention to your lips, chest and the little strip of skin that showed from underneath your blouse.

Kamo was enticed by you, fascinated even, by the way his body was suddenly yearning for you. The unusual desire overflown his senses and he found himself inching closer and closer, until he was just one, mere breath away from your mouth. He could feel you gasp, see the look of your eyes and if he wouldn’t know better he would be convinced there was lust in them too.

“Nervous?” He whispered, with a slight shadow of teasing painted all over his stupidly handsome features. His nose, now brushing against yours initiated the touch, a prelude of sorts to what was going to come and Choso chuckled at the lack of response from you. It was, in a way, an opening for you to push him away, to set a boundary, to lay down the consent but you made no effort to do any of that. Instead, you let your fingers to find his hair and once you pulled at them, there was no going back.

His lips pressed into yours. The kiss and the heat from your bodies warmed the cold air around you, melting the icy tension that lingered between you as you, too, melted below him. The time seemed to slow down and the melody of howling wind and fire was now a white noise to the soft sounds and whimpers you were making. Your mouth parted and Choso took the invitation eagerly, running his tongue along your lower lip and reaching yours. They twirled and twisted, danced and explored each other and you swore at the moment that the world around you had fallen away.

It didn’t take long since you were bare, completely exposed underneath his muscular body; the cold air around you a stark contrast to the extreme heat that was coming off of Choso. He was all around you, exploring your shapes with touches so tender, you couldn’t help but feel worshipped. The way he touched you, the way he kissed and drank every inch of your skin made your heart rumble against your ribcage. He went down, tracing the ups and downs of your figure with wet, sloppy stamps of his lips until he reached your thighs – both of which he kissed with as much attention.

It was intoxicating. Kamo felt as if everything around him twirled and he was drowning in the soft feeling of your plush skin. The curves of you filled every bit of his mind. Addicting, you were, so addicting he couldn’t find a strength to pull back and before he knew it, his tongue was already lapping at your clit. The beautiful melody of your moans filling his ears as he worked his mouth over the puffy bud, sucking and licking simultaneously. Waves and waves of pleasure you felt, spreading from your core and reaching every part of you. It was hot, it was like nothing else you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh god, Choso~” you were whining, a surprise to you cause up until this time you would swear you’re not the one to make such lewd noises during sex. All of that went out the window when it came to the man between your legs. He was flicking his tongue, twirling it and pressing it flat; every movement centered and focused, sharing one objective – to abuse the most sensitive, sweet spot on your body. He took his time, it was wet and sloppy, it was messy. The silky sensation of his tongue, warm and soft… oh, man has a talent.

Your breath was stuttering, hands grabbing the fluffy fibers of the carpet as your thighs were trembling and the urge to squeeze them over Choso’s head was slowly becoming irresistible. The way he was making out with your clit drove you insane, it brought you to the edge and pushed you over. You came undone and you came hard. He wasn’t stopping, just slowing down and leading you through the high as if it was his job and the very core of his existence.

“Feeling warmer?” He asked, once slowly coming back up above you. His face was now a real painting, covered with your essence and his lips, swollen and wet, stretched into a grin of satisfaction as he was taking in the sight of your breathless form. You nodded, barely registering the subtle teasing undertone he had in his voice. “Good. But I’m going to make you even hotter.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #choso #choso kamo #kamo choso #choso smut #choso kamo smut #kamo choso smut #choso x you #choso kamo x you #kamo choso x you #choso x reader #kamo choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x y/n #choso kamo x y/n #kamo choso x y/n #choso imagines #choso fanfiction #choso kamo imagines #kamo choso fanfiction #jjk choso

[lovelytsunoda]

god knows I’ve tried // yuki tsunoda

summary: stranded at her publishers office after the battery in her car dies, there’s only one person she wants to call for a jumpstart.

pairing: yuki tsunoda x lawson!reader

warnings: self-deprecating humor, y/n is very self critical, yuki is her night in shining armour, total lack of christmas spirit, anxiety.

author's note: this resonates so personally with me and i feel so fricking attached to this story and all the people in it. please treat it kindly :)

so go on judge me by my cover, and no I’ll never have another. baby I’ve been bad, but god knows I’ve tried to be good

it's too early for damn christmas lights, she huffed to herself as she left the office, juggling the volkswagen keys that dangled from her fingertips with the large cardboard box between her arms, staring at the lights and tinsel hung up on the light poles. cursing to herself and trying not to drop anything, she fumbled for the unlock button, ready to ditch the box in her trunk.

her volkswagen golf stood solitary and alone in the parking lot, no other cars for miles. if liam was here, he'd be asking where her pepper spray was, god forbid anything happen to his baby sister.

there was only a year between them, but sometimes she swore that liam acted as if there were five.

the cold dug into her skin as she hobbled through the parking lot, trying to keep her head on a swivel as she once again asked herself why she had parked so far away from any other car. she fumbled with the trunk button (which was unresponsive a lot more than it actually opened the trunk), unceremoniously dumping the box so hard that the small red car started to shake.

she slammed the trunk shut, frowning as she ran a fingertip over the small spot of rust that had begun to form where the silver letters proclaimed to the world what kind of car she drove met the painted trunk door.

she opened the car door, slipping into the driver's seat and staring at the overhead door lights, which had not illuminated as they were intended to when the door opens.

"motherfucker." she mumbled. "i'm gonna have to replace the latch, aren't i?" this was not new. she'd had multiple issues with the car, buying it from a dealership that advertised mostly on facebook.

never again, the next car she buys will be certified pre-owned from a volkswagen dealer, not a used car lot.

the latch would need replacing eventually: it had already locked up the door and prevented her from opening her car, even after smashing the unlock button on her keys five times. she rolled her eyes, closing the door and sliding the key into the ignition.

the key turned, but the car didn't start. growing increasingly panicked, she turned the key a few more times, the same ministrations that normally started up the ten year old car.

"fuck!" she howled, slamming her hands down on the steering wheel as the engine refused to turn over again. she reached for the headlight button, feeling her stomach drop to the floor when there was no response from the headlights.

the engine battery was dead.

she was stranded, alone, in a dark parking lot at night.

it didn't get more fucked than that.

she reached for her phone, the screen providing the only light source as she fumbled for the lock button, and making sure her finger hovered steadily over the panic alarm on her keys. just in case.

who was she going to call, she wondered, scrolling through her contacts. definitely not liam, she couldn't trouble him like that. remind him that she'd always need protecting. she could call her best friend, but the likelihood that margot would know what to do was slim. besides, she was probably out with her boyfriend if she wasn't at work.

her finger hovered over a name, and she debated long and hard if it was worth it, if she was really desperate enough to ask him for help. would he come? would he consider it strange that his best friend's baby sister was calling in the middle of the night because she was dumb enough to drain her car battery?

right now, it didn't look like she really had a choice. unless she wanted to call a tow truck and be out a couple hundred bucks.

"hello?"

"yuki, it's y/n. i need your help."

when the headlights of yuki's honda civic type r lit up the parking lot, she could have cried from relief. the dead battery also meant no heat, and she was chilled to the bone, teeth chattering together as she clutched her phone in one hand and her keys in the other.

"thank god you're here!" she blurted, scrambling out of the car as yuki pulled into the parking space on her passenger side. "i didn't know who else to call!"

ah, yes. yuki tusnoda. backlit by his headlights, he looked like a guardian angel. he'd been close with the lawsons since he came to england, being practically adopted when he moved in with liam at milton keynes, like some fucked up version of a college roommate scheme.

not to mention that he was funny, hot as hell, and she never knew if his cheerful, gentle ribbing meant he looked at her as more than a friend. every time he gifted her a casserole dish of something he had cooked, or invited her out when he and liam went somewhere, she couldn't help but think that maybe he liked her the way that she liked him.

in a way that was anything but just friendly.

"didn't you just get something fixed on your car?" yuki frowned popping his car hood open and digging around in his glove box for the jumper cables.

"i changed a headlight last week. the last major thing was the driveshaft, i couldn't fix that myself, had to take it in." she frowned, lifting up the hood of her own car, using her phone light to find the battery cover. "the car is a piece of shit, but at least it's reliable. and the driveshaft was covered by the dealership since it should have been on the safety certification and wasn't."

yuki frowned, untangling the cables before he dropped them to the pavement, peeling off his puffer jacket. "your lips are blue. take my jacket. i doubt liam would like it if let his little sister get hypothermia"

"pneumonia."

"same difference."

"not really." she laughed, pulling yuki's jacket over her own thin flannel trench coat. she hated wearing a thick winter coat when she drove, relying almost entirely on her car's heated seats to keep warm without suffocating.

"if i get sick because i sacrificed my jacket for you, i should hope that you'd be the one to take care of me. you know, since it was your own fault." yuki chuckled, hooking up the cables as y/n tried to keep warm

"fuck you. i could have stayed in the car."

"the car doesn't have heat either."

oh. yeah. she forgot about that one.

"well, i could have stayed in your fancy ass sports car." it didn't matter how she phrased it, she was just trying to butter him up. on a normal day, she made fun of him for driving a honda civic, calling it a 'mom-mobile'.

with the jumper cables fully connected, they both settled into the honda to wait it out. usually, the rule of thumb was fifteen minutes, but she wasn;t sure that she could stand to be in a car with yuki for that long without doing something reckless.

she slipped out of his jacket, moving to pass it to him before he gestured vaguely to the backseat. the heated seats were on, but she could still see the puffs of air leaving her body as she breathed heavily.

"thanks for coming. i didn't know who to call."

yuki turned to look at her, turning down the volume on the radio. it was a shame, too. she was quite enjoying 'teenage dirtbag'. "why didn't you call liam?"

"pride, i think. he's always been the favourite, the one that stuck with it, the one that made something of himself. i don't need to admit to him that i need help, that i don't know things. because i do, it just sometimes takes me a little longer to get it, or i give up too quickly."

yuki frowned. "liam worries about you, you know. he doesn't like seeing you upset. and he's always been proud of you, so have your parents."

she shivered, pulling her sleeves over her hands. "it's just always been more upfront with liam. they keep telling me that i give up on things too quickly. you know, i realized the other day that i don't really have any hobbies any more. outside of paint nights with the girls, i don't paint anymore. i don't do any sports. reading is really all i do any more."

"that doesn't define your worth, you know. you've got other things going on right now that are taking up your time." yuki encouraged, fiddling with the heating dial. "hey, speaking of which, what are you doing here so late at night?"

she groaned, tilting her head back. "god, this is embarrassing." she hid her head in her hands before turning back to yuki. "promise not to laugh too hard?"

"why would i laugh at you?"

"i was picking up advance copies of my first book." she turned and looked out the window, at the empty parking lot illuminated solely by yuki's headlights. "i've spent the better part of the last two years working on it, and i'm scared i'm going to fail at it like i failed at everything else."

she felt a warm hand overtop of hers. "that's incredible. that's such a major accomplishment, y/n. why are you doubting yourself? you've made it this far."

she smiled, turning to face him. "yeah, but how many people want to read about a detective in small-town new zealand who lives in a haunted house?"

yuki raised an eyebrow. "you already have my interest."

and what great author could resist going on and on about their latest endeavor?

"okay, so it's about this detective in new zealand, she's just moved to this small town as part of a so-called promotion, but really she was desperate and only took the job because she wanted out of the city, a nice change of scenery and whatever. but after she moves in, she finds out the house is haunted and the ghosts actually end up helping her solve her first big case."

she left out the part about how there were three ghosts: one was a dead rockstar, one was a nineteen-thirties midwife and the other was a dead nun. the witty banter between the group of them was a joy to write.

"she also has a crush on this guy who lives across the street. he's an autobody mechanic, with a collection of classic cars."

who totally wasn't inspired by yuki and his gorgeous brown eyes or luscious black hair. well, her one argument was that book guy was about a foot taller than yuki was.

"hell yeah, i'd read that." yuki laughed. "or i'd watch the movie, depending on how long the book was."

y/n laughed, and it felt good. it felt like it had bene forever since she laughed. "it's a cozy mystery series, so it's supposed to make you laugh, be predictable. i took notes from agatha christie, the best of the best. i just hope that the general consumer market also sees it that way."

"i'm sure you'll do fine. as long as it's not like, five hundred pages long, i can't see why anybody wouldn't want to read it."

catching y/n's eye, yuki snickered. "it's not that long, is it?"

"no, it's just under three hundred. they made me cut the sex scenes out."

she watched yuki's eyes go wide, before she burst out laughing as well.

"i'm kidding!" she giggled. "i'm kidding, there aren't any sex scenes in cozy mysteries."

despite how warm the car was, a shiver went down yukis spine at the thought that the innocent, angelic young woman sitting next him, separated only only by the center console, had written numerous sex scenes.

“would you read it? now that you know how many pages it has?”

“yes.” yuki insisted. “of course I would. Liam’s shown me some of your novellas. you are such a good writer. a real talent.”

she yawned, leaning back against the leather seat with a yawn and a shake of her head. “if this book crashes and burns, I’ll remind you you said that. hey, would you be willing to give me a starred review to print on the back cover?”

yuki hummed for a minute, looking up at the sunroof and then back at the girl sitting next to him. “hmm, great mystery, lovely author, not enough sex and could use more descriptions of food.” he joked, playfully gripping her shoulder.

“yeah, yeah. you think you’re so funny.” she laughed, pushing his arm off her shoulder. “but I’m glad that you’re here. you make much better company than my brother does.”

yukis hand dropped to her thigh, thumb gently rubbing along her jeans. “always. any time you need me, you know I’m a phone call away.”

yeah, bust she wished he was closer than even that. and if she kept staring into his dark ocean eyes, she feared she’d do something she’d regret. something impulsive and reckless and foolish but god damn would it have felt fucking good.

“y/n, you good? you’re kind of staring into space there.” yuki frowned, waving a nimble hand in front of her face, trying to capture her attention.

she chuckled. “not space, just the dashboard lights.”

“isn’t that a meat loaf song?”

she laughed, the sound coming from so deep in her chest as she turned to look at yuki. really, it shouldn’t have been that funny. all she knew was that she really, really wanted to kiss him.

she didn’t wait, lunging across the center console, hands shaking nervously as she rested them on either side of his face, pressing her chapped lips to his.

she had to hold herself back from moaning as yuki kissed her back, his warm hand caressing her sides under her open trench coat.

his touch was soft, safe, and comforting. but it was also electric, and left her wanting more when he finally pulled away for air.

“your car is probably charged”. he said nervously, blushing pink as he wiped away the saliva from his mouth. “I’d hate to kiss and run, but you probably want to get home.”

she rested her forehead against his, laughing softly as he rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “at least take me out to dinner before you kiss me and leave me hanging.”

“it’s a little late for dinner, but how does a late night caramel sundae sound?” he suggested weakly, shrugging his shoulders. mcdonalds was hardly first date material, but he knew he didn’t want this night to end, didn’t want to risk losing this magical moment.

“you drive and I’ll follow?”

“sounds good.” yuki grinned, kissing her again. “but just let me kiss you for a few more minutes to make sure that battery is well and truly charged.”

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @cartierre @sidcrosbyspuck @userlando @httpiastri @love4lando @oconso @thatsdemko @monzabee

#yuki tsunoda #yuki tsunoda x reader #the christmas collection 2023 #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #yuki tsunoda imagine #yuki tsunoda x you #Spotify #lovelytsunodas eclectic music taste

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter twenty six. howls moving castle wc. 625 + 4SS

The apartment was not as bad as Jisung had made it out to seem. It definitely looked lived in, especially by four boys but it wasn’t quite the fire hazard you thought it was going to be. The apartment next door to the right contained the other four, he told you that they got pretty lucky with two places opening up at the same time.

The two of you had decided on Chinese, eating directly from the little takeout boxes. When Jisung said it would be a casual date he had really meant it.

You were sat next to him, food already been inhaled and promptly discarded to the little side table he had next to his bed. Both of you were too engrossed in Howl’s Moving Castle at the moment, having already watched Spirited Away while you ate. The movie was set up on a projector that displayed directly against the wall. Jisung had explained that movie nights were taken very seriously in their relationship, the boys taking turns picking each week. He would not disclose how many times he had already made his soulmates watch this particular movie.

The silence between the two of you is comfortable and you feel a sense of contentment just sitting next to him. You’re unsure if it’s the soulmate link that makes you feel this way, or if Jisung is simply a calming presence. He’s close enough that you can practically feel his body heat but he leaves enough space for you to close the distance yourself if you choose to. Still, it’s nerve wracking, heart hammering against your ribcage and it’s making it hard to focus on anything but the boy next to you. Not even the glorious Howl Pendragon could captured your attention as effortlessly as Han Jisung is right now.

He’s dressed in a black and white stripped sweater and jeans, a signature beanie covering his hair. Yet he looks so effortlessly handsome and it makes your mouth a little dry. You have to take a sip of water.

When you put your hand back, you’re placing it in between the spaces of your bodies, itching for a little bit of contact. You don’t think he’ll notice but of course Jisung does. Despite his eyes never leaving the movie, he’s so acutely aware of everything you’re doing. Are you ok? Are you having fun? You’re not too overwhelmed are you? These questions practically bounce around in his head. He doesn’t want to read too much into the small movement of your hand but fuck, does he really want to intertwine his fingers with yours.

So he puts his hand almost dangerously close to yours, giving you once again the option to take the plunge if you wish. You’re chewing on the inside of your cheek, fingers twitching to get just a little closer. You let out a quiet shaky exhale before sliding your hand to brush against his own. The touch sends a shiver down your spine and you suddenly feel like a school girl with a crush, butterflies swarming annoyingly in your stomach.

Jisung can’t hide the smile on his face as he connects your pinkies together. You’re not surprised when your hands end up wrapped together later, him holding your hand in his lap.

You already knew that you were well and truly fucked. These boys would 100% be the death of you (in the best way possible). Yet, you can’t find it in yourself to really care. You were tired of being scared, letting people decide how you should feel - the results of the shitty family fate had dealt you.

But you were more than ready to jump into the deep end for these boys. If you drowned, so be it.

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#stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz #skz x reader #stray kids smau #stray kids social media au #skz smau #skz social media au #stray kids texts #stray kids fake texts #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz imagines

[greenwitchcrafts]

January 2024 Witch guide

Full Moon: January 25th

New moon: January 11th

Sabbats: None

January Wolf Moon

Known as: Bear Moon, Chaste Moon, Cold Moon, Disting Moon, Goose Moon, Moon of Little Winter,  Moon of Strong Cold, Quiet Moon, Snow Moon, Stay at Home Moon, Sun Has Not Strength to Thaw Moon & When Snow Blows Like Spirits In The Wind Moon

Element: Air

Zodiac: Capricorn & Aquarius

Nature spirits: Brownies & Gnomes

Deities: Freya, Hera, Innana & Saraswati

Animals: Coyote & fox

Birds: Blue Jay & pheasant

Trees: Birch & Hazel

Herbs: Cones, holy thistle &marjoram

Flowers: Crocus & Snowdrop

Scents: Mimosa & musk

Stones: Chrysoprase, garnet, hematite, moonstone, onyx & jet

Colors: Black, blue-violet, grey, silver & white

Energy: Adventurous, ambitious, awareness, beauty, beginning & conceiving; business, career, conserving energy, energy below the surface, organization, political matters, potential, protection, recognition, reputation, reversing spells & spirituality

The name for the January full Moon is believed to have originated from Celtic and Old English roots, which European settlers then brought to the New World.

At one point, gray wolves were among the most widespread land mammals on our planet. According to the Wolf Conversation Center, gray wolves “inhabited most of the available land in the Northern Hemisphere.” Habitat destruction and persecution by humans have reduced their range by about a third worldwide and 90 percent in the lower 48 states.

The wolf’s adaptable nature to survive in a wide range of habitats and ability to prey on the largest mammals living in those regions made it widespread. Basically, if there are enough deer, moose, elk, caribou, bison, and musk ox, wolves can survive. Predation of domestic animals caused friction with European settlers and early Americans who aggressively hunted the wolves.

Werewolf myths can be found in ancient Greek and Roman societies, throughout European history and among some Native American tribes. In modern storytelling the transformation from man to wolf has been closely tied to the full Moon in films like “The Wolf Man” and “American Werewolf In London.”

Howl at the Moon means to waste energy pursuing something unattainable. It’s shorthand for doing something crazy. However, howling is hardly a waste of energy among wolf packs. And they aren’t howling at the Moon. The Moon just happens to be shining during times when wolves most often howl.

A wolf’s howl can be heard miles away. The vocalization helps wolves locate separated members and even communicate between packs marking their territories. One study recorded spontaneous howls and responses happen most often between 11 p.m. and 6 a.m.

The cry of wolves doesn’t play into the Sioux name for the January full Moon, which is known as “The Time When Wolves Run Together.” Wolves do plenty of running to defend territory that can stretch hundreds of square miles to find enough prey to support the pack.

Other Celebrations

• Hogmanay | January 1st: is the Scots word for the last day of the old year and is synonymous with the celebration of the New Year in the Scottish manner. It is normally followed by further celebration on the morning of New Year's Day (1 January) and, in some cases, 2 January—a Scottish bank holiday. In a few contexts, the word Hogmanay is used more loosely to describe the entire period consisting of the last few days of the old year and the first few days of the new year. For instance, not all events held under the banner of Edinburgh's Hogmanay take place on 31 December.

The origins of Hogmanay are unclear, but it may be derived from Norse and Gaelic observances of the winter solstice. Customs vary throughout Scotland and usually include gift-giving and visiting the homes of friends and neighbours, with particular attention given to the first-foot, the first guest of the new year.

• Compitalia/ Feast of Lades | January 3-5: was an annual festival in honor of the Lares Compitales, household deities of the crossroads, to whom sacrifices were offered at the places where two or more ways met.

Dionysius said that Servius Tullius founded the festival, which he describes as it was celebrated in his time. Dionysius relates that the sacrifices consisted of honey-cakes (Ancient Greek: πέλανοι) presented by the inhabitants of each house; and that the people who assisted as ministering servants at the festival were not free men, but slaves, because the Lares took pleasure in the service of slaves. He further adds that the Compitalia were celebrated a few days after the Saturnalia with great splendor, and that the slaves on this occasion had full liberty to do as they pleased.

During the celebration of the festival, each family placed the statue of the underworld goddess Mania at the door of their house. They also hung up at their doors figures of wool representing men and women, accompanying them with humble requests that the Lares and Mania would be contented with those figures, and spare the people of the house

Sources:

Farmersalmanac.com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Llewellyn's 2023 magical almanac: practical magic for everyday living

Wikipedia

Encyclopedia Britannica

#correspondence #witch guide #January 2024 #wolf moon #wiccablr #witchblr #paganblr #witch community #witchcraft #witches of tumblr #tumblr witch community #witch tumblr #witch tips #beginner witch #traditional witchcraft #baby witch #witch friends #moon magic #wolves #grimoire #book of shadows #spellbook #spellwork #witchcore #witch #new year #witchy things #witches #baby witch tips #GreenWitchcrafts

[yuan4i]

05. salty lips

"lynetteee! scara and i brought some microwave popcorn for the movie!" you said, handing her the box of orville redenbacher microwave popcorn. thanks; my brother’s currently out with his friends, so there won’t be any disturbances." she said, taking the box and gesturing for you and scaramouche to sit on the couch. "what movie should we start with?" "spirited away!! it’s scara’s favorite!" you beamed. "we watched it several times still; we always end up crying haha-" before you could finish, your boyfriend interrupted you by shoving popcorn in your mouth. "just… shut up and watch the movie, he said, looking away, flustered. 

[11:30 "it’s almost night. leave before it gets dark."] "ngh, haku’s so hot." "yn, i’m literally right here."

[49:24 "but it’s strange. i remembered yours… go ahead, eat, you must be hungry."] "THE WAY THAT HAKU SPOKE TO CHIRIO AAAH!! i want a man like that, you gushed. "i talk to you that way…" your boyfriend pouted. every time you two watch this movie, you always fan about haku. "not gonna lie, scara, you kind of do sound like haku." lynette said. "omg yeah!! he totally does!" 

[1:22:04 haku! stop, go away! scrat scrat! haku! it’s you, right?"]  "uwahhh chihiro’s so cute... her running to haku makes my heart melt." you sighed. "yeah, HAKU and CHIHIRO are basically canon. they like EACH OTHER." scaramouche reminded you. "sheesh, you didn’t need to break my heart like that…" "wait, i thought haku and chihiro were siblings…" "WAIT THEY ARE?? LYNETTE EXPLAIN?" 

[1:58:38 "can we meet again?" "i’m sure." "promise?" "promise."]  "this part always gets me…" you started tearing up. "haku promised her…" your boyfriend started to get emotional too. "i’ll get the tissues…" 

after you and scaramouche finished crying, you three made a new batch of popcorn. "howl’s moving castel next? i think you two will feel better by the end of it…" lynette suggested picking up the remote. truthfully, neither you nor scaramouche have watched howl’s moving castle yet. you two were planning on watching it last week, but you two got busy, and then when you both were free, an argument between you two struck. "yeah, let’s watch it." your boyfriend agreed. 

[7:02 "that’s my girl."] "he’s like... really hot… but yn, don’t even. i know what you’re going to say." the indigo-haired male said before you could say anything. how could you not though? this hot, flirty blonde appeared on the screen, and he even had a soothing voice! "he’s everything, scara, you don’t under-" "lynette! i’m home! and why does it smell like popcorn?" the front door opened, revealing lynette’s brother, lyney. 

"oh! i didn’t expect there to be guests over at our dorm.” lyney introduced himself to you and scaramouche. "welcome home, lyney... how come you’re home so early? i thought you had plans with your friends…?" lynette asked, pausing the movie. "aether had to go early because he was getting tutored or something, so we all decided to go home... anyways, what are you guys watching?" 

now, you four were sitting on the couch. four of you squished together with you, and lynette jammed in the middle. scara beside you, and lyney on the other side of the couch, beside lynette. "howl’s so charming, you said. "haha, yn, you must really like him?" lyney asked you. "yeah! he’s so kind. not to mention, he looks great with both blonde and black hair." lyney smiled at your response; he loved seeing you happy and hearing you talk. in fact, the sound of your voice soothed him. scaramouche eyed you and lyney’s interactions, then suddenly clung onto you. "ynnnn, i’m getting sleepy... wake me up when the movie’s done, okay?" he asked, yawning, then placed a gentle kiss on your lips. his lips were soft but salty from the popcorn, and you couldn’t remember the last time you two kissed. "yeah! sure, night night, scara, see you soon." you cooed as he leaned onto you.

ANGEL EYES ✿ prev ❀ masterlist ❀ next

lyney x reader SYNOPSIS you’re at a bar, drinking your heart out after another having a feud with your boyfriend of 2 years. you later stop at your friend’s house to stay the night but… the one who opens the door isn’t her but instead, her brother…?

notes : not sure if you guys remember, but in the last chapter for notes i mentioned that i met a cute guy!! well now i got his number and i've been talking to him daily 💕💕 the only problem is... i'm scared his best friend likes him and i don't wanna interfere LOL anyways, sorry for updating soso late! i've been busy with school </3

#⁺◟✿ angel eyes : lyney x reader #lyney x reader #lyney smau #lyney genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #genshin smau #genshin impact smau

[nichirinpen]

A Through Z with Gojo Satoru

Gojo Satoru x Reader

can also be read here on AO3

Word Count: 32,359

Synopsis: Snippets of your life as it is turned upside down by Gojo Satoru

Warnings: AFAB reader descriptions, Smut, penis in vagina sex, vaginal penetration, cunnilingus

Annoyance

If anyone were to ask Gojo how he felt about you, his personal assistant, he would answer, “An annoyance.”

It wasn’t your anxiety talking, it was something he said out right and frequently. The man’s tone cared an edge, his disdain dripping from every word when he was forced to acknowledge your existence. He held nothing back, often spitting out his annoyance when you were just a few paces away from him. Gojo Satoru hated you and he made sure to let you know at every moment. It was a wall between the two of you, a silent fire that he stoked to keep you at an arm's length. 

You couldn’t blame him, you weren’t exactly the best assistant. Asthmatic, out of shape from your previous office job, and no ability whatsoever to fight cursed spirits. The man frequently snapped at you as you trailed behind him, wheezing and clutching whatever new cramp had developed. Even with his eyes hidden you could see the irritation that bled from them. 

“Fucking annoying.” was a phrase you were used to, the words merely making your shoulders slump.

An annoyance was the perfect way to describe you if you were being totally honest with yourself. By all rights, a person like you shouldn’t exist.

Up until your late 20’s, you had lived a normal life. The highschool to college to office job pipeline was one you fell into with ease. It had been a decision made for you and you hadn’t fought it. After all, the society you lived in was simple: go to school, get a job, get married, have kids and then die. There were no cursed spirits, no gorgeous men with nasty tempers. Just a 9 to 5 and a small apartment. It wasn’t an exciting life, but it was simple enough and you were happy.

Until one morning, on a walk to work that should have been just 17 minutes in the winter chill everything changed. It was a walk you took every day with no issue. Despite being late you had been in a good mood, fully excpecting the lecture from your boss, then a smile and an offer of coffee to start the day. But the fates had other ideas and a car slipped on a patch of ice. Later you would find out it was a curse’s doing. A true, wrong place, wrong time moment. Had you been on time, you would have read about the incident, shaken from the possibility of being injured but forgetting it within days. 

Waiting at a red light, you had been too close to the street, not really paying attention to your surroundings. Habit, being too comfortable, is what pulled you from your normal life.

You had heard the car before you saw it, the screeching whine at first confusing you. And then it hit you, literally. The side of the car swiped you with enough force to send you into the light pole you had been waiting beside. Your head had slammed into the cold metal, the odd metallic sound of bone and metal clashing ringing in your ears. 

For a moment your vision went black and in the few seconds that it took for you to regain your senses, the barrier between being a human and being a jujutsu sorcerer fell. 

You had been thrown onto your back and when you sat up, fingers shakily swiping at the blood dripping into your eyes, hell had erupted. At least that's what it looked like. 

You had blinked, head throbbing as you faintly tried to decide if you had died or if you were still unconscious. Twisted, demonic shapes filled the streets of Tokyo. Some small, others absolutely massive. A majority of the writhing forms you could see congregated on the car that had hit you. The vehicle had been stopped by another light pole, dark smoke spilling from the crumpled hood.

You couldn’t tell if the driver was alright, too many shapes writhed around the car for you to see. They whined and howled, a cacophony that drilled into your aching head. Hand pressed to the cut on your forehead, you had blinked once, then twice, hoping that clearing the blood from your eyes would perhaps make the accident look normal. 

No such luck. 

If anything it seemed to bring more of the creatures into existence. They swelled and twisted, bloated and broken bodies clamoring about like living disease. To your horror many peeled away from the crashed car, latching onto the horrified and frantic bystanders. No one reacted to them, not when twisted hands and rotten mouths touched flesh. You had watched horrified as several of the creatures latched onto passersby, invisible parasites being whisked away as their new hosts ran for help.

One of the demons had turned, perhaps it was your unwavering gaze or perhaps it was the low huffed moans you had been letting out. Broken ribs tended to do that to a person. Either way it had darted past the many other people on the street, eyes locked on your pale and sweaty face.

You had scrambled backwards, hands scraping on the cold pavement as the twisted and dark form suddenly scrambled towards you with an enraged howl.

It was like a person made of oil slicked bramble. There was no face to speak of, the creature’s body ended in a strange hook shape where the neck was. But somehow it knew where you were. Twisted and thorny, it moved with a speed that was difficult to comprehend.

You had tensed, prepared to die as one tangled mess of a hand reached out. 

And the world froze, all of the demonic creatures flickering out of existence for a few seconds before time seemed to move again. The pause confused the demon, keeping it still, warily glaring a few feet away from you. And then it darted forward again, its howl somehow more enraged.

The hand it had been reaching for you with never made it, the demon’s body obliterated as Gojo Satoru appeared before you, wild eyed and angry.

Null. 

That’s the name the higher ups had chosen for your ability. You had been dragged, still bleeding to a dank room in an archaic building in Tokyo. Dizzy and barely standing, you let the white haired man do as he please. After all, he had cleared the street of those demons. Who were you to argue with this powerful stranger?

Gojo had been practically thrumming, your existence bothering him so deeply that he didn’t bother with teasing the old heads of the council that oversaw matters within jujutsu society. He had tossed you with little regard on to the floor in front of the confused and annoyed council.

The man, with all the venom in the world, had demanded your immediate execution. Your ability hadn’t just affected the cursed spirits. It had an effect on EVERYONE. From Sendai to Kyoto, all sorcerers within that radius had suddenly lost all use of their curse energy and abilities. Even the powerful Gojo Satoru, his limitless was made useless, his six eyes gone. For just a moment the world was normal. 

Your version of normal.

It had been terrifying for all involved, only Gojo having the wherewithal to pinpoint exactly where you were the second your ability had stopped.

Thankfully, more so for you than him, you had been spared. The man had scoffed harshly at the council's denial, teeth grinding together as they barked their rational at him.

The council, as scared of your ability as they were, appointed you as Gojo’s assistant. Your ability could stop him, they had murmured. If he ever went off the rails, defied them, started a war, you alone could stop him.

The unspoken part was that if you had to, if it came to that, they expected you to kill him.

Sadly, you would also became an annoyance to the council. 

You could see all levels of spirits, feel them before they appeared to an extent, but you couldn’t fight. Placing a curtain over a fight was beyond you. And you hadn’t been able to activate the ability since that first day. So you trailed the most powerful sorcerer in Japan as the most useless sorcerer in existence.

Bathroom 

The day had been a bust. You had woken up hoping beyond hope that it would be a good day. Sure everyday meant trailing after an irritated Gojo, but that didn’t mean it had to be bad. Two months in and you had been doing better, he wasn’t as nasty as he had been in the beginning. Still not a peach, but it was an improvement.

But of course you were wrong. It was like Gojo and the universe were in horrible synch, tormenting you for existing. 

He had dragged you from mission to mission, the glare hidden behind his blindfold practically burning a hole in your skull. The man had been in a particularly bad mood today, teeth grinding as he eradicated spirit after spirit with extreme malice. 

You had done the usual, sitting a ways away from the fight, watching it nervously and dodging the odd cursed spirit part that was flung your way.

The nicest part of the day, if you could consider it as such, was the two bites you had taken of lunch. Ramen from a nice mom and pop shop that had been near the cursed site. It had tasted a bit like home, the warm noodles practically melting on your tongue. Of course, you enjoying anything was illegal.

Gojo had stormed into the shop, slapping cash down before tugging you outside. You hadn’t even had time to protest, the man teleporting the two of you to the next mission site immediately.

You stood, aching under a hot stream of water, wanting it to wash away the deep well of sadness that tugged at your chest. The best part of your days anymore was the shower after a mission. It was depressing to acknowledge, but if you were being honest with yourself, it wasn’t much different when you had worked in the office. The main difference was no one hated you in the office and now you had a 6’3” man who wanted to make sure you knew he hated you.

The after work shower was always necessary, less a treat and more so because you had to. Gojo made a point to ensure cursed spirit guts and blood hit you as he fought. You had seen him fight clean and knew he could do it with every fight if he wanted to. But the man persisted with his childish antics, allowing blood to spray your way. Honestly, you had stopped caring. For you the baths and showers were more than just getting clean. It was also using the burning water to wash away the depressing feelings Gojo left in your skin.

Jujutsu High was more than just the school it professed to be. It was a veritable labyrinth, filled with classrooms, dorms, various places to eat and your favorite part, the showers. 

You never went to the one closest to your room. There was always a student either going in or leaving and they all had bad habits of not knocking despite the very clear sign outside the private bathing stall.

So you had asked Nanami Kento where he showered. The man had shown you a shower room meant just for the teachers. Large with 3 wide shower stalls and one massive communal bath, it was incredibly different from the cramped student bathrooms. If you hadn’t been in the school, you would have assumed it was part of an onsen.

It was rarely used, Nanami had explained, most of the staff preferring to go home. But it was well stocked and more importantly, private. The tall blonde had shot you a pitying look as the realization hit you that Gojo had intentionally not told you about it.

You were already stuck living in a dorm room, certain curse users having put a bounty on your head a month into being Gojo’s assistant. And you were stuck being tormented at ‘home’ as well.

Shaking your head you chased the thoughts from your head, staring up at the shiny shower head and the steam collecting in the air above you. Grabbing your shampoo bottle, you generously began to scrub, massaging your scalp, wincing as the soap hit the few scrapes you had managed to get. Despite your best effort, you occasionally were dragged into fights, much to Gojo’s annoyance. 

‘Damsel in Distress’ was a troupe you rarely enjoyed in media and yet here you were, being carried about by your ‘hero’ half the time.

Steam filled your lungs and you sighed, letting yourself relax beneath the warm stream of water. It was peaceful after the missions. No Gojo, just you and silence. 

Of course, the moment you thought that, the peace was shattered.

“There you are.” 

You let out a high scream, heart leaping into your throat. Whirling around you let out a noise of intense frustration. Gojo stood, one hand pushing the shower curtain aside as he gave you a very irritated look. His blindfold was gone, but he still had his gross blood slicked clothing on. It dripped onto the pale tile, rivulets sliding across the floor towards your feet. You shifted to avoid it, shivering at the cool air that was pushing past the warm steam you had been enveloped in. Bright blue eyes flicked over your form, narrowing slightly as his scowl deepened.

You clasped your hands over your chest as best you could, thighs pressed as tightly together as you were able. Anger filled your chest, burning hot as you struggled with what to do. Face red and heart thundering in your head you sputtered out a small indignant noise, too shocked to form words. 

“Relax. You have the last pair of tits I ever wanted to see.” 

You tried not to be hurt by his tone and his nasty words, instead opting to snap back and ask what he needed. 

“Yaga wants us to go to a stupid dinner tonight. Some idiot bigwig is gathering some of the clans for a chat.”

“Ooookayyy.” You dragged out the world, narrowing your eyes at him as you waited for whatever catch or cruel trick he would throw at you. Gojo said nothing, silently watching you with his stupid intense blue eyes. The long forgotten shampoo in your hair ran in sudsy rivulets down your chest and you blinked as a bit dripped into your eyes.

“Is that all?” The water beat down on your back, the warm steam tickling your nose slightly. You swiped one hand across your brow, flicking the soap from your face.

“You’re in my shower.” He had the gall to look upset. Gojo Satoru who you knew for a FACT had a penthouse apartment. The man had assigned you the smallest dorm room, purposefully didn’t tell you about the staff shower room and was now scowling at you like a 10 year old. 

“It’s the school’s.” You answered tightly, brow furrowing as you let your arms fall from your chest. If he was going to act childish then so were you. He scowled at that, mouth parting to snap at you. One hand on your hip, you gestured at the pale brown tile about you.

“This. This is your shower?” You let out an irritated huff, silently satisfied as his eyes narrowed, mouth snapping shut with a click as he bit back whatever comment he had. 

“You choose the school’s communal bath over your penthouse?”

“Not your fucking business.” The man snapped back, taking a step forward. Gojo was mad, you could see it in the lines of his body. He didn’t seem to notice the water seeping into his uniform, nor how his hair flopped about his eyes. His irritation was too strong.

“Noted.” You snapped back, turning and standing under the warm water again. Ignoring him seemed the best course of action. Your own blood was boiling and you would rather not find out what happens when one smacks Gojo Satoru in the face.

He remained for a moment, cursed energy practically choking you, before he teleported away. Your knees hit the tile, hands shaking as you swept wet hair from your face. 

Gojo Satoru would be the death of you. 

Cake

Gojo liked sweets. You had found out accidentally five months into the job. On a mission with you, Megumi had made an off-handed comment about his upcoming birthday. The boy was turning 14 and had shrugged at your surprise. The age of Jujutsu sorcerers always surprised you, they seemed too young to be fighting such nasty battles.

Regardless, you had latched onto it, making a mental note for yourself. Unlike Gojo, the boy was kind to you. He had sighed when you asked him why, stating that you were just doing your job and Gojo was having a tantrum. 

So you made a cake. You wouldn’t be able to see him for his actual birthday, the kids had winter break and the boy had mentioned going home for that break. So you made it a few weeks beforehand, feeling only a little weird about it.

Fighting cursed spirits was worse in winter. Sure you were just watching, but the cold seemed to invigorate the creatures. They seemed to thrive more in the snow, bigger ones becoming more active.

Holidays Megumi had told you. He hadn’t bothered elaborating, offering you a shrug in answer when you probed. You knew he had a difficult home life. No parents, a sick sister and apparently an irresponsible guardian. What little he confided in you, the guy sounded like a massive child.

“I’m surprised you bought a cake.” Nanami stepped in front of you, pushing the door open. You thanked him as you stepped through, balancing the cake case as carefully as you could. The small dessert had come out perfectly. A small two layer vanilla cake with coconut icing and fresh strawberries. You had gone the extra step, using chocolate icing to shakily write out ‘happy birthday’ and cover the strawberries with a light drizzle. Not as pretty as what one might get from a bakery, but you were proud of it.

“I made it actually.” You smiled at the raised eyebrow, the tall blonde looking at the cake as the two of you walked the hall to the teacher’s lounge. It was unusually quiet, a distinct lack of students made the hallways seem bigger. Not that there were many students, they just always had a habit of being around. 

“And why is it a surprise? Megumi is such a mopey kid. I thought he might need a little cheering up.”  You continued, stopping before the lounge room door. Nanami stopped in his tracks, a low ‘ah’ leaving his lips.

“What?” You frowned as he pushed the door open, ushering you inside. The look he gave you was pure pity, the man gesturing to a pile of files scattered across all desks.

“The students were sent on a mission.” He paused, adjusting his glasses as he stared down at you.

“And today is December 7th.”

Nanami gave you the date as if it should mean something. You shuffled over to Gojo’s desk, setting the cake down before looking over the curse Megumi had been sent after. It was a low level that looked to be more of an annoyance than anything. 

“Ok well he can have some when he’s back.” You placed a hand on your hip, flipping through the other files. Apparently Gojo had some missions as well and had decided not to have you join. You had a feeling it would get you in trouble with the council and sighed.

Nanami stood before you, one hand on his desk. For once the stoic man had an emotion other than pity plastered across his face. He looked amused.

“Today is Gojo’s birthday.” 

You stared at him, the file in your hand slipping back onto the desk as your hands went limp.

“Really?”

Nanami offered a nod, snatching a file from his desk before turning to leave. He paused at the door, looking back at your stunned face.

“And all the students won’t be back today. Some sort of holiday get-together is planned before the break.”

You stared down at the cake, a mixture of dread and exasperation churning in your stomach. The universe really did hate you. Perhaps your real cursed technique was shit luck for you and you alone.

With a sigh, you snagged the files off of Gojo’s desk, stomping over to the small couch in the room. Some reading would do you good. If Gojo wasn’t going to teach you about cursed spirits then you would figure it out yourself.

Part of you wanted to just go home, but you knew that meant risking Gojo teleporting into your room without warning. Last time he had done so while you were on the toilet and you did NOT need a repeat of that.

Curling up with the files, you sighed as you opened the first one. You had to hand it to Ijichi, he really made an effort to make the files as neat as possible. The details were just enough, keeping the sorcerers informed without needless clutter. And he always managed to order items from most important to least, it made it easier to filter out the low grade curses Gojo typically ignored and sent the students after. Even if he didn’t find them important you still liked reading about them. 

The curses Gojo fought were sometimes too much in both power and appearance. 

Since starting this job you had been plagued by nightmares. The horrid twisting forms each appearing in your sleep, taunting and chasing you with howls that stilled the blood. While still dangerous, some of the curses the students went after were at least goofy looking. It made for an amusing read. 

You let out a small sigh, trying to shake the cold fear that was always lurking in your veins. Flipping open the top most file you scanned it with a frown.

Today Gojo had apparently gone after a special grade. That was his usual assignment. You personally hated them. Your ability allowed you to see them in full as well as feel their energy to an extent. Special grades didn’t like you just as much as Gojo as they couldn’t hide from you. 

If you had to describe it, being around a special grade was like being dunked in ice cold syrup that weighed several tons. It was hard to move around them, breathing sometimes became painful. Paralyzing. Gojo usually dispatched them quickly so the discomfort never lasted long. But even a second of the feeling was enough to make you want to run for the hills and never step foot in Tokyo again.

If only. 

You jumped slightly as the man you were thinking of suddenly blinked into existence. His blindfold in one hand, Gojo shot you a glance before turning to his desk and sitting with a huff. He tossed the blindfold aside, pausing as he noticed the cake. You focused on the files in front of you, trying not to look as he inspected the small pastry. 

As much as you wanted to find the students and give them the cake, you knew by the time you did it would be ruined. So luckily for Gojo, he was getting the treat despite your quiet dislike of him. 

You slid your gaze slowly back to the man, eyes narrowing as he leaned in and tapped the cake case with one finger nail.

Gojo’s hair was down for once, his white locks messy in a way that looked good. He was a handsome man, you weren’t blind to his good looks. The light seemed to dance in his hair no matter where he was, as if the world were extenuating his beauty. It was almost irritating how perfect he always looked, even sweat covered and bloodied. 

You watched as Gojo opened the cake case, the man giving it a suspicious sniff before letting out a noise of surprise. He opened one of the desk drawers, pulling a fork from the confines. You blinked at that, files forgotten on your lap as you watched him eat.

Up until today, Gojo had always been rough. Nasty and blunt with you to the point that you didn’t think he knew how to smile.

But as he took the first bite, you watched a stranger step into his skin. Gojo smiled to himself, blue eyes inspecting the cake as he chewed on the first bite. His eyes practically danced, the smile on his face so wide you thought it might break. The man let out a small moan, stuffing another bite in his mouth as he dragged a finger through the icing. 

Your face went red as he licked the digit, the act surprisingly sexual. He paid you no mind, the man licking a strawberry before popping it into his mouth.

You were in shock, frozen on the couch as he smiled and devoured the entire thing in one sitting. Within 5 minutes flat, the man had cleaned the plate, not a scrap of icing or chocolate left behind.

You sat, mouth partially agape as he sat back, patting his stomach with a satisfied smile. Gojo caught your eye and the smile faltered.

“Megumi brought that in?” He asked. For some reason you couldn’t speak, shock still lingering in your chest. Finally you shook your head slowly, sitting up straighter as you addressed him.

“Uh no. I made that.”

Gojo ran his tongue over his teeth, blue eyes unreadable as he looked at you and then the empty cake plate.

“Oh.”

You hummed at that, gaze shifting to your hands. The air that hung between you two was awkward. Gojo seemed to be fighting between giving into his natural hatred for you and admitting he liked the cake. You waited quietly, squirming under his gaze.

“That was good.” 

Your gaze snapped up at that, a small smile making its way onto your lips. Gojo let out a small huff, annoyance flashing across his face again before it settled into a more familiar expression. 

“I like sweets on other days as well.” He scratched his cheek, gaze shifting to one of the files you had left on his desk. You snorted that, standing and carrying the other files over to him.

“Is that your way of asking for me to bake more for you?”

Gojo narrowed his eyes as he looked up at you. Snatching the files from your hand, he tossed them to the side. You leaned against the desk, refusing to back down.

The air between you two had shifted. Somehow the small cake had changed things. It wasn’t as tense, Gojo looked more relaxed.

“Maybe.” He snatched his blindfold off the desk, slipping in over his eyes before tilting his head in your direction.

“Will you be nicer to me?” It was pushing it but you had an opportunity you couldn’t let get away.

The man considered it for a moment, swiping a hand through his hair before nodding.

“I will.”

You beamed at that, feeling as though you had finally won somehow. Gojo smiled, before waving you away.

“Take the rest of today. I’ll finish up here.”

You were happy to oblige, practically bouncing your way to the door. Pausing in the doorway you flashed another smile at Gojo.

“Happy birthday.”

For some reason he flushed, turning his head away. 

“Whatever.” 

DDR

Gojo Satoru liked the arcade. Had you been told that when you first started, you would have assumed it was a lie. But having worked with him for over nine months, you knew different. Gojo was a complex man. He held an odd grudge against you. But once it began fading, you notice that for the most part, he was a rather obnoxious individual when he was around his students. 

Being dragged to an arcade after a mission was the last thing you wanted and you knew Inumaki and Yuta were exhausted.

“Just shut up.” Gojo had laughed, swiping a credit card as the arcade employee slid three game cards across the counter. You noted that the boys each got one and you were the odd duck out. 

The teenagers trudged off, both of them looking equally defeated. No doubt much like yourself, they had been expecting to be able to go home and sleep.

“You’re with me.” Gojo crooked his finger at you, marching across the arcade with a smile on his face. The smile was suspicious, but you shoved that feeling away. Gojo seemed to be making an effort to be nicer so you would accept it with as a little suspicion as possible.

You followed him, dodging the odd child here and there. Even in the dim and over stimulating arcade, he stood out. The bright neon lights flashed, colors reflecting in his snowy hair as he passed machine after machine. You were surprised when Gojo passed all the fighting games, sports games and instead went to the brightly flashing game near the back.

“DDR?” You asked incredulously as he stepped on the metallic dance pad. The man shot you an excited smile, swiping the game card. You watched as he tugged a second card from his pocket, swiping that as well.

“Gojo we just fought a special grade.”

The man tugged you onto the metal pad, jabbing the buttons on the machine. You watched as he scrolled through songs, his free hand tugging his blindfold off and shoving it in his pocket.

“Correction, Yuta fought. You sat on your ass.”

You decided not to point out that Gojo also did nothing. The man was having a rough time. Megumi’s sister had fallen into a coma. No one could explain it and no amount of money could fix the issue. You knew Gojo felt responsible, he was the one taking care of them after all.

So you complied, waiting as he picked a song. Gojo was kind, encouraging you to start as a beginner as he selected the highest level for himself.

DDR was difficult. But it was also fun.

You found yourself, sweating and breathless after just one song. But laughing. Gojo cleared each song perfectly, the man starting another round before you could register you two had finished the final song.

Wheezing, you placed your hands on your knees, watching as he scrolled through the selection. He seemed happy, truly happy. You could tell that he wasn’t thinking about the council, Tsumiki or curses. 

Was this what he was like before? You wondered, straightening as he selected the next song. No one had bothered to fill you in on the past. It wasn’t important for your job function. But you had heard snippets. Gojo had almost died, he had somehow lost his best friend and someone had died. There was a complex web spun between all of the sorcerers you worked with that occasionally spilled over into the student’s lives. You saw it affecting how the professors each acted, all of them trying to keep their students from repeating the mistakes from the past.

As the next song began, your train of thought dissolved. Gojo was insane, out of the corner of your eye you saw how fast he was moving, the man barely winded. You on the other hand, were very winded. Despite being on the easier level, Gojo seemed to be picking songs that were difficult regardless. But it was still fun.

2 plays became 3 then 4 and then another, time blending together as you kept playing.

“I DID IT!” You clapped excitedly, the screen finally reflecting back a ‘Full Combo’. An excited laugh left your mouth as Gojo suddenly lifted you, twirling for a moment. You clung to his shoulders, breathless and beaming.

He placed you back down, bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he flashed you a massive grin.

“Again?”

You nodded eagerly, telling yourself the pounding of your heart was due to the dancing and not because how close he had been.

Exhaustion 

You paced the room, teeth scraping at the skin of your thumb. Anxiety churned violently in your stomach, making you nauseous. Faintly you could feel the presence of cursed energy, they were all fighting. Gojo, Yuta, that Todo kid, Nanami, all of their energy flickered in your range of awareness. There were others. Cursed spirits and curse users. A more sickly energy that felt like snot against your soul.

“Stay inside”’ Gojo looked serious, long fingers digging into your shoulders as he shook you. His eyes were locked on your face and you winced as his grip tightened. There was an intensity in his gaze that had unsettled you. His grip was painful and your own hands had come up, grasping his wrists.

“Do you understand me?”

You had nodded, shaking slightly as you promised you would stay. Gojo had turned to leave, then turned back, one hand already slipping the blindfold over his eyes.

“No matter what you feel, stay put.” 

You had known what he meant. This command was going against the council. They had demanded you stay at Gojo’s side, no matter how risky the mission might be. And for the most part you had been, save when Gojo was at home. But not now, not when he looked so serious.

At least you were stuck somewhere nice. Gojo had silently handed you the keys to this small apartment just a month ago. The man had looked annoyed when you thanked him, half heartedly snapping he’d take them back. You knew it was his way of apologizing for his earlier behavior. He had furnished it himself according to Megumi, the boy nodding when you had given him an incredulous look.

You let out a sigh, flopping onto the plush couch. Light gray and made of a soft material, it was nicer than anything you previously owned. You ran your nail along the seams, trying to ignore the cursed energy that twisted in the edges of your mind. It was like listening to music two apartments over. Loud enough to keep your attention but never loud enough to actually make out the sound. You were worried, still new to the jujutsu world and with no way to help. Practically a baby compared to even the students. All you could do was watch and hope.

There was a sudden swell and your head snapped up, eyes searching the night sky outside the large living room window. Yuta’s cursed energy was loud, drowning out the others you felt. You shivered at the intensity, frozen on the couch, barely daring to breathe.

And then the world was quiet. It was worse. So much worse than the cacophony of fighting. 

Did they all die? You wondered faintly, sliding off the couch to start pacing again. Did they win?

Time stretched on, the world silent as the minute ticked by. Minutes become hours and still you paced, fingers nervously twisting together. You were so exhausted, wanting sleep, but unable to do so until you knew that everyone was ok. A glance into the kitchen told you it was past 2am, the dull light of the microwaves digital clock blinking sleepy at you.

The familiar soft movement of air signifying that Gojo had arrived had you spinning around, wide eyes searching his face. 

He looked tired and beyond that, Gojo looked defeated.

“Are they ok?” You fought the panic welling in your throat, stepping closer to the man and grabbing one of his sleeves. Megumi and Yuta’s energy had been strong, but that final burst by Yuta had you worried. Gojo nodded once, blue eyes locked on the floor. Your chest felt tight and you stared up at his face, trying to read the sadness that lined his mouth.

“Nanami? Shoko?” Another nod, but the pit of anxiety didn’t dissolve. You swallowed thickly, trying to figure out why he looked so upset. Someone had died, but who?

Your question was answered almost as soon as you thought it, the man peeling his lips apart.

“My best friend is dead.”

You blinked, barely catching the words as they slid past his lips. Gojo had spoken so softly that at first you were sure you had heard wrong. But then a single tear welled in his eye, dangling from one long snowy lash before trickling down his cheek.

“Oh.” It was all you could get out, your arms coming up and wrapping the man in a hug. Shoko was fine, Nanami tolerated Gojo, so who had died?

A chill ran down your spine as a small almost forgotten thought swam to the forefront of your mind.

“Who is this?” You angled the photo album towards Shoko, finger tapping the dark haired man’s face. She glanced over her shoulder, clearly distracted. But then she paused, brow furrowing as she looked at the photo.

Your eyes went from her suddenly reserved expression back to the photo. It was clearly Shoko and Gojo as teens. They looked almost exactly the same if a tad younger. Gojo had an air of spoiled rich kid about him, something it seemed he had yet to grow out of. The man standing between them had a soft smile that didn’t reach his almost elegantly shaped eyes. His dark hair was loose. Thick locks spilling about his shoulders in a way you recognized not as carefree but as the lack of care that comes with depression.

“Suguru.” Shoko fished around in her coat, pulling a cigarette free and lighting it. You sat quietly, afraid to press her for further information. The album lay limp in your lap and you shifted slightly as the other woman drew close, flipping a page.

A different photo of the trio, all of them laughing. Genuine smiles that radiated from ear to ear. It was before the first photo you realized. Something had happened to them, changed the teens into the shells of the adults they would be one day.

Shoko stared at the photo for a moment, lost in thought as she looked at a snippet of the past. There was a hint of sadness in the lines around her eyes and mouth. Almost mournful as if she were looking at someone long dead.

“Don’t mention him to Gojo.” She finally stated, exhaled a long trail of smoke, leaning away and looking out the window. You nodded, glancing back at the photos, questions dancing in your mind. 

He was motionless and rigid in your embrace. A moment passed, then another. You held him, letting silence fill the apartment. Fingers digging into your sides, Gojo began to shake, silent sobs wracking his body. 

Gojo’s knees gave out and under his weight you crumpled to the carpeted floor with a small yelp. His arms slid around your waist, face pressing in the crook of your neck as he began sobbing. You lay beneath him, one hand petting his hair. It was uncomfortable, the hard floor pressing against your back and Gojo slotted between your thighs. The man was too tall you mused, gently patting his head as warm tears slid down the side of your neck.

His pain was ugly, choked sobs and half howls leaving his throat. He shook violently in your arms, chest heaving as he struggled with each breath.

You don’t know how long you lay there. All you knew was that the sun was starting to come up when his sobs eventually stopped. 

He sat up, eyes red rimmed and cheeks stained with tears. Gojo’s hair had blood in it you realized, the normally silky white a rusty brown in places.

“Can I use your shower?” The man didn’t acknowledge the crying session, the grief. You nodded quietly, showing him to the bathroom and handing him a new towel. There were no clothes you had that would fit him but you were sure he would be fine. 

And he was, the man emerging from the bathroom 20 minutes later, dressed in sweats and a fluffy sweater you could only assume he had teleported home for.

“Tired?” You asked, holding out your hand. He took it wordlessly, letting you lead him into the bedroom. Your bed was queen size and you hoped it would be enough space. It felt weird to worry about that as you tucked a man who was essentially your asshole boss into your bed. 

Gojo let you, burrowing under the covers much like a kid might.

Turning off the bedroom light, you muttered a curse and closed the blinds as well. It was past dawn now, you had been up for over 24 hours. 

Sliding under the covers, you squirmed for a moment until you were comfortably facing away from him, doing your best to give him space.

You didn’t know why he had come to you of all people. Out of everyone, you half expected Nanami or Ijichi to be above you on Gojo’s list of people he would go to for help. You supposed this was different. It was a moment of weakness to some. 

An arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer. You stiffened for a moment before allowing Gojo to spoon you. He was warm and smelled like your shampoo. 

“Is this alright?” 

You murmured that it was, trying not to squirm at the odd feeling of limitless buzzing against your skin. He let out a small sigh, warm breath tickling your neck.

Exhaustion set in quickly after. Between the stress of the day and the warmth of Gojo behind you, sleep took you in a matter of moments.

Fighting

You didn’t know why you had been tasked with watching the trio. Gojo had been dragged off on a business trip, the man telling you to accompany the kids on the next mission. You had pushed for anyone else to do so, ignoring Gojo’s teasing that you wanted to spend time with him. He was so casual about such a serious issue. 

A cursed womb was growing at the Eishu detention center. You could feel it from outside. It was a different energy than you were used to, one that slid beneath your skin and licked at your soul with a poison tongue. If Gojo was here, you would have been fine, this was a level of energy he could handle. But the trio?

Even with Sukuna woven into Yuji’s very being, you knew better than to trust the demon. He was powerful, sure. But you had a feeling he would rather watch all of you die than do anything as human as helping.

Ijichi looked as stressed as you felt. The man turned to you as the kids stumbled out of the car, fiddling with his glasses.

“Something’s off about this mission.” The small man looked pale, sweat standing out along the side of his face. You nodded, your gaze sliding over to Yuji. It wasn’t something you needed to voice out loud. Both you and Ijichi knew this mission was given to them in the hopes that the spirit would kill Yuji. A smaller and even less pleasant realization was this was a good way to also get rid of you. 

The council was never subtle. Each mission, each action taken by them so heavy handed that you wondered how any of them slept at night. What you didn’t like was the addition of Nobara and Megumi. You assumed that was the council just trying to add to Gojo’s mental anguish when this all went sideways.

“I’ll lower a curtain whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded, motioning to the trio. There was a small crowd outside the walls and as you passed, Yuji stopped suddenly, a woman grabbing his sleeve.

“Please, my son.” Tears streamed down her face, “Please his name is Tadashi.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach as Yuji reassured the woman. He was so optimistic, the boy had somehow maintained a kind soul despite Sukuna polluting his existence.

With a sigh, you nodded to Ijichi, heading inside with the trio.

Everything went wrong. Inside the jail had been twisted and changed. Despite you having made the decision to take the lead and be the adult in the situation, you had found yourself silent. There was an air inside the detention center that seemed to spread a poison to your very soul.  The prisoners were just as twisted as the building. Something had changed them, made them look no longer human. It smelled foul as well and you weren’t sure if it was the bodies or the spirit itself.

The kids had been arguing, distracted and everything had exploded into a flurry of movement. You had felt the spirit a second before it appeared. The small warning did nothing for you, the words had barely formed in your mind before one of Megumi’s demon dogs was killed.

Blood spattered the broken concrete and your warning slipped out, half formed.

“WATCH O-” 

You didn’t know what the FUCK that thing was but you wanted nothing to do with it. Nobara had gotten whisked away, you only managed to keep the boys together by grabbing their sleeves.

Almost immediately you regretted it, a part of you wished they had both been sent away and it was just you staring this creature down.

It smacked you, sending you flying across the room. Your back and ribs erupted in pain and you lay stunned, unable to breathe like a fish out of water.

The boys jumped into action, as futile as it was. They were yelling at each other, Yuji being adamant and loud over Megumi’s quieter retorts. You lay stock still, unsure what to do. Your ability had worked once, never manifesting in training despite Gojo’s many attempts to kill you. He never did of course, always stopping right before his punch or kick would land. And sure you had been shown basic combat. But while you were getting decent at it, without putting cursed energy into it, at most you could take down an average sized man. 

Not curses.

You blinked once and Yuji’s hand was lying next to you. Megumi was missing and you hoped it meant he had run.

“SENSEI RUN.” Yuji screamed, pummeling the creature with his one good hand. It pulled you back into the moment and you shuddered. Inaction clung to you, the cursed energy pressing into your skin, suffocating you. There was nothing you could do and utter despair filled you.

The curse sent Yuji flying, the boy breaking through the concrete wall behind you.

Then there was one. You dragged yourself upright, wheezing as your ribs protested. Strangely enough, the curse didn’t even spare you a glance, walking past you as if you didn’t exist.

You turned, staring after it as it headed straight for Yuji. There was a wave of curse energy, exploding out from the special grade. You were knocked back, air stolen from your lungs once again. Beneath the dull hum of energy and the ringing in your ears,  faintly you could hear Yuji screaming.

“Don’t wanna die! I DON’T WANT TO DIE.” 

The words stilled your heart and suddenly, the world was quieter. Like a hand was pressed over your ears, dulling the world. It was your ability, you weren’t sure how or why it activated and you didn’t care. 

Null was weaker this time, you could still see the curse and its energy was faintly pushing back against your own. Pushing yourself upright, you ran towards Yuji, praying Null would hold.

The boy had collapsed against one wall, his remaining hand shredded, fingers turned to broken nubs. He was shaking, panting as he threw you a bewildered look. There was a howl that resounded down the hallway, Megumi giving some sort of signal. You ignored it, hauling Yuji to his feet and tugging him past the curse.

Null was weakening and at your guess you had less than a minute.

“JUST RUN.” You snapped, pushing the boy again. Yuji opened his mouth to protest but you shoved him again.

The cursed energy was slowly growing back to its normal level. Fear and anxiety tangled in your stomach, the urge to flee overwhelming. But you were the adult in this situation. You had to buy Yuji time to flee.

“I’ve got it.” You shot him a smile that you knew didn’t reach your eyes, turning to face the curse. Yuji’s footsteps began to fade and you braced yourself as the special grade turned to face you.

It was confused. You were insignificant, barely giving any curse energy off. That’s why it had ignored you. At its glance you were nothing but a regular human, not worth a fight, not when that boy carrying the ultimate curse was around to absorb.  But there you were, suddenly sucking in all the cursed energy around you. Like a black hole.

The curse spirit was hesitant to approach you and that gave you time. You willed Null to come back, trying to recreate the panic that Yuji’s scream had created. Nothing happened.

In the moment when you did nothing, the spirit’s hesitation dissolved.

It was before you in a second, one large hand whipping out and smacking into your chest. 

There was a second where you realized you were flying into a wall and then darkness took you.

When you awoke the first thing you registered was pain. It sat heavy in your chest, burning up into your throat. You opened your eyes slowly, each lid sticking slightly as if glued together. 

The room around you was so white it was painful to look at. Sunlight streamed in, bright and cheerful in a way that made your headache.

It took a moment for you to register why you had passed out. Panic flooded you as the memories hit, the curse spirit and Yuji’s broken body. 

You bolted upright, ignoring a sudden wave of dizziness as you launched yourself out of bed. 

“Hey now.” An arm wrapped around your waist, catching you as you fell. Satoru had apparently been sitting at your bedside, the man tossing the manga he had been reading aside.

You clung to his arm, still trying to make your way to the door.

“The kids.” You rasped, throat burning with each word. Satoru sat you back in the bed, pulling the blankets from where they had fallen.

“They're fine.” He paused, the black sunglasses perched on his nose sliding down a fraction, showing you one shiny blue eye. “Well. Yuji is fine. Megumi thinks he’s dead.” 

You gave him an incredulous look, mind reeling from his admission. Gojo nudged you, sliding onto the bed with a sigh.

“Took some money to pull it off.” Satoru shrugged, “But only you, me, Yaga, Shoko, Nanami and Ijichi know.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, deciding that now was not the time to question him. A migraine was forming, mixing with the ache in your chest.

“You used your ability.” Satoru hooked his finger under your chin, tilting your head back to look up at him. You nodded, letting him lean in and kiss you. His lips were soft against yours, Satoru kissing you as if you might break. It felt like a real possibility.

He thread his fingers through your hair, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. When he pulled away your head felt like it was swimming.

“It didn’t work like last time.” You mumbled, pressing a hand against your left eye in a futile attempt to stop the throbbing pressure that sat behind it.

“What set it off?.” Satoru shifted, slipping his arm around your waist and holding you closer. You rested your head on his chest trying to recall the moment. The hand in your hair was lulling you to sleep, the comforting action helping with the pain in your head for some reason. You thought of Yuji’s screams again, a shiver running down your spine.

“Yuji.”

Satoru was silent, one hand toying with your hair as he thought. You watched his face, noting the distant look in his eyes. Satoru glanced down at you, blue eyes barely visible behind his glasses.

“Extreme panic brings it on?” He let out a small laugh, “Incredibly unreliable.”

You weren’t sure it was panic that triggered it. But you didn’t have the energy to argue, instead lifting yourself slightly and planting a kiss on his lips. Satoru smiled, deepening the kiss with a small grunt. The room was quiet, and you sighed as you pulled away.

“Oh yeah.” Satoru had a smile on his face that spelled trouble, “I sorta freaked out when they found you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pulling away further and sitting up. He remained relaxed against the pillows. With one finger he slid his glasses down his nose, blue eyes glittering as he stared at you.

“Shoko was barely able to get you back together.” Satoru shrugged, “And I might’ve let it slip that we mess around. In front of Megumi.”

You shot him a glare, one hand coming up to prod at the tender flesh of your chest. It did feel as if you had been stapled back together. The simple slap from the special grade was enough to almost kill you.

“They did this on purpose didn’t they.” 

He knew you meant the council, giving you a nod. Satoru’s face was grim.

“I’m going to make them regret it.” 

Grin

“I have a feeling you are about to ruin my day.” You barely looked up from your desk (his desk). Satoru stood next to you, rocking on his heel, a massive grin plastered on his face. That grin meant only one thing, trouble.

The files spread before you were all half finished. If there was one thing the perfect Gojo was bad at, it was paperwork. At least you were used to taking care of files. Being able to actually complete something made you feel a little less useless.

“I need to prevent another execution.” Satoru looked so smug, the grin so wide you thought it might split his face in half. You looked up from the paperwork, brow furrowing. He didn’t need you for that and he certainly didn’t need to look so manic.

“Wha-” Your question was cut short as he teleported the two of you. Staggering, you internally groaned as you realized he had pulled you into a council meeting. The elders were equally surprised, a quiet murmur of outrage rippling through their ranks.

“I am requesting a halt on the execution of Yuji Itadori.” Gojo looked around the room, his hand still wrapped around your bicep. 

They all objected, speaking over each other. Thinly veiled threats and insults were thrown out. They were afraid you realized. So much more than when Yuta had been up for execution.

“He’s a vessel of Sukuna, we MUST eradicate him.”

“You ask for madness, Yuji Itadori is a threat to all of society.” 

“This is too far even for you.”

Satoru stood, one hand in his pocket, still grinning. You stared at him from the corner of your eye, wondering what he was planning.

“Give him the option to eat all of fingers. Then we kill him.” Satoru waited as another round of protests started up.

“If you don’t. I’ll just kill everyone here.” He shrugged and the elders erupted in an out pour of rage. You knew he could do it, you just didn’t know why you were here. Gojo could threaten a bunch of old idiots just fine by himself.

“You. You must use Null. End Gojo’s madness.” A Counsilman to your left snapped, hidden by the stupid screens they all sat behind. You stared for a moment, the pieces falling in place. Gojo had brought you here to show them that the one thing they had secretly been banking on, was useless.

“Um.” You paused, noting that the room grew quiet as you spoke up. “I’m with Gojo on this one.”

You cringed internally, half expecting to be struck down where you stood. The Counsilman who had given you the command sputtered, half formed word spilling from his lips as he struggled with your answer.

“Stop him!” Another person snapped. You felt your irritation rise. Being bossed around by Gojo was one thing. You witnessed him risking life and limb nearly every day to keep order in Japan. To some extent he had the right to be an asshole. But these old idiots sat around all day, resting on the names of their ancestors as if they shared in the accomplishments of old.

“No.” You huffed, shooting a glare at the screen. They didn’t know you actually couldn’t stop the man. Gojo had been very careful in not letting it slip that you were in fact useless. But you weren’t about to reveal that hand to them. Better for you to ride it out. A happy Gojo meant a happy you. 

In less than 5 minutes, the council relented. They were angry, telling Gojo it would be his head if anything went wrong. He had laughed it off, teleporting you away again.

“You are going to be killed if you keep it up.” You grumbled, rubbing your bicep. His grip mixed with the odd buzz of limitless made your skin feel itchy. You noted that he had taken you to his apartment rather than the teachers lounge. It would take 20 minutes to get back by train and you sighed at the prospect of not getting the files done till late. Turning to chide him, you stopped, frozen by the manic look in his eyes.

Satoru’s lips were suddenly on yours. You squeaked in surprise, hands coming up to his chest, fingers digging into his jacket. Pressed against the hallway, his thigh slipped between yours, the man caging you in with his arms. Limitless tickled your lips, his soft warmth making you lean into the sensation rather than away as you tended to.

Satoru’s kisses were fast, teeth clicking against yours as your mouth opened. He tasted sweet, tongue sliding along yours, teasingly lapping at your teeth. Your mind was reeling, small gasps making their way through the air as Satoru roughly kissed you.

The ends of his snowy hair tickled your face, the man cupping your cheek with one hand. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, swaying as you leaned into the kiss.

Satoru pulled away, licking his lips as he tugged the blindfold from his face. Your legs were like jelly, your core soaking wet from something as simple as kisses. He smirked at you, taking in the red tint to your lips and shaking breaths.

Satoru was like a god, a cocky and ambivalent god and now his attention was on you. It felt odd and in the back of your mind you knew you shouldn’t sleep with him. 

But what was the harm in one time?

Satoru tugged you down the hallway, large hands peeling layers from himself. You followed suit, leaving a trail of your clothing down the hallway until you were in his room, shivering and bare. Like the rest of his penthouse apartment, large windows showed the city below. The sun was already setting, gold light throwing shadows over your skin and the minimalist bed behind you.

Satoru paused, brilliant blue eyes raking over your form. It felt as though he were looking at your very soul. You shivered under his gaze, allowing yourself to stare at him. He was sculpted perfectly, each muscle textbook, his limbs as long as they were reminding you more of a willow tree than a spider. You flushed slightly as you took in the pale trail of hair that led from his belly button to his stiff cock.

Of course Satoru was big. The man had the ego to match and the arrogance that fit someone as well endowed as he was. You would have laughed at the realization if you didn’t feel like you were being stared down by a panther.

And then he was on you. With a gasp you fell back on the large bed, Satoru kissing you harshly, large hands tugging your thighs open. You shuddered, squirming beneath him as limitless touched you. It was too much, the buzzing along your skin overstimulating as he pressed against you. 

Satoru had been surprised when you mentioned you could feel it. Even more surprised when you explained the odd buzzing itchiness it caused.

As if he could read your thoughts he pulled back and you let out a noise of surprise as Gojo turned limitless off.

“That’s not safe!” You tried to sit up, only for the man to push you back onto the bed. Satoru had a wild look in his eyes that told you he did not care. 

“You said you don’t like how it feels.” Satoru leaned in, licking the side of your neck. His breath was warm against your ear, the man nibbling at the soft flesh, “I want you to enjoy this.”

It was a surprising statement. In the small moments that you had allowed yourself to see him as beautiful, you had mused that Satoru would be a selfish lover. It just seemed his speed, the man being so incredibly distant with everyone, putting on that childish facade.

The man above you seemed alien. Pale hair tickled your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck, biting your breast as he passed in on his way lower. You shivered as warm breath brushed against the wet juncture of your thighs. 

Satoru looked at you from beneath snowy lashes, large hands coming up and pining your thighs open.  He was teasing you, that big grin back on his face as he watched you squirm. 

His head dipped down, tongue flicking out to lick a stripe along your folds. Satoru let out a small huff, pressing his tongue flat against your clit.

You whined at his actions and then gasped as he slid two fingers within you.

“A little warning next time!” You panted you, back arching as he curled the fingers with you. Satoru’s fingers were long and the man was easily able to reach your G-spot, relentlessly pushing into you as he lapped at your folds. The man merely laughed, the sound humming against your clit as he sucked the tiny bundle of nerves. You moaned, head falling back into the pillows, hips rocking against his fingers as he pumped them into your warm heat.

Satoru nipped and sucked at your clit, relentless in his actions. Lips wrapping around the small budd, he curled his fingers just so, gently fucking into you at a steady rhythm. Your hips canted against his face, moans filling the room as you moved against his face. 

You were close, so close. The tight ribbon of pleasure drawn taught in your stomach. You hastened your hips thrusting, chasing your release.

He paused, looking at your panting and shivering form. You gave him a disappointed moan, shooting a confused look at the man. Satoru grinned. You realized what he was about to do a second before he did. Your half gasped ‘don’t’ barely left your lips as he turned Limitless back on. The odd buzz hit you from both his fingers and his tongue and you came undone.

Arching off the bed you let out a long moan, hips rutting against his hand and mouth as you came. Your walls fluttered and squeezed his fingers, thighs shaking about his head as you rode out your orgasm on his fingers.

“Yo-you ass.” You gasped, lying limp against the bed sheets. It wasn’t true irritation, more shock than anything. You didn’t think the man would ever do something like that. Hell you had never thought the technique could be used for anything but keeping him safe. 

“You like it.” Satoru laughed, shuffling up the bed and pressing a kiss to your lips. You accepted it, twining your arms around his shoulders, allowing your legs to fall open wider to accommodate his hips. His cock was stiff against your thigh, a thin trail of precum dripping onto your hip.

Limitless was off thankfully and you sighed as he lined himself up.

The grin was back and you found yourself smiling up at him. 

“Fuck.” He hissed as he pushed himself in, gritting his teeth as he bottomed out inside you. Air left you in a small whoosh and you gasped, hands moving to his biceps in an attempt to still the man. Your walls fluttered about him, struggling to accommodate the man. Satoru was large, almost painfully so. You shuddered, beneath him, inhaling quietly as you willed yourself to relax. He was surprisingly patient, blue eyes searching your face with mild concern until you gave him a small nod.

Satoru snapped his hips into yours, the man letting out a low grunt as he set a fast pace. You clung to him, feeling over-stimulated. The head of his cock dragged against your walls, mercilessly pumpling into your wet heat as Satoru chased his own end. He wasn’t concerned with your pleasure, the man let out low moans of pleasure in your ear. You hooked your legs around his back in an attempt to steady yourself, canting your hips upwards and matching his pace. 

The man was relentless, pressing into you roughly, each thrust bruising in its force. He shifted, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he gripped your hips with both hands. Satoru let out small moans, his thrusting becoming more and more erratic as he neared his release. You whined beneath him, the over stimulation becoming almost too much to bear.

“FUCK.” He snapped, hips snapping into yours a final time, his warm release flooding you.

For a moment you lay, panting, staring at the high ceiling of his apartment. 

Satoru rolled off you, trotting to the bathroom. You sat up, looking at the mess spilling from between your thighs.

“Did…Did you cum in me?” You gasped. Satoru poked his head out from around the doorway, blue eyes going from your face to your thighs.

“I’ll get you plan B.” He shrugged, “It was a one time thing, my bad.”

You sputtered at that, sitting up and gingerly rolling off the bed. Your hips ached and you winced as you took a step towards the trail of clothing you had left in his hallway.

My bad. The man was a child. You huffed angrily, pulling your clothes on and stomping from the apartment. The door slammed behind you with a satisfying noise.

It was only when you were a block away did you realize your purse was still in the office and you had no way to get home without the infuriating man.

Hungry

“I’m hungry” You sighed, pressing a hand against your stomach, leaning forward slightly. The pressure did little to help the deep ache. It had been at least 8 hours since you last ate. Looking back you regretted not having more than a bit of toast.

At your side Satoru shushed you, his gaze intently set on the phone in his hand. He was playing a stupid game, thumbs flying across the screen as he matched sets of little cute characters. You rolled your eyes, squinting up at the sliver of sky that peeked out from between the trees that surrounded you.

The pair of you were stuck on a mission. The kids were training, Shoko was busy and Gojo had gotten restless. So Yaga sent the two of you off, with the not at all subtle warning that the mission was business and not for pleasure. An embarrassing statement given to you in front of Megumi and Nobara. Both of which thankfully had the decency to pretend they didn’t hear.

“I think you being here has it hiding.” You muttered, shifting again in an attempt to ignore the pain in your stomach. 

“Curses don’t hide.” Satoru finally looked up from his phone, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. You resisted the urge to tell him that if you were a curse you would hide. Satoru was already being an ass, you didn’t want to stroke his ego.

“I know you can fight on nothing but a can of soda and bubble gum, but I need food.” You stood, wincing as your knees creaked. The two of you had been sitting for so long your joints felt ancient.

“You won’t be fighting.” Satoru pointed out, standing and shoving his phone back in his pocket. He turned without a word, marching back the way you two had come so many hours ago. You made a face at his back, stomping after him. The woods were starting to grow dark, the sun setting quietly. It was pretty, the deep shadows making the trees go soft around the edges.

The walk was silent but quick, the two of you back in civilization within 15 minutes.

“You head to our room, I’ll get takeout.” Satoru flicked his keycard at you and you caught it, gratefully hurrying towards the small hotel Yaga had booked. You paused, turning to glance as he walked towards the main street.

“Nothing too sweet!!” You yelled after him, sighing as he flipped you off over his shoulder. 

Making your way to the room, you let yourself in. Satoru should be gone for a bit and despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach, you wanted a shower. Sitting beneath the trees made you feel dusty and stiff.

Quickly stripping, you stepped into the rather large bathroom. It was plain, simple white tile and toilet with a large clear glass shower. 

“This is too much.” You muttered, turning the shower on and sighing at the THREE shower heads. You had a feeling Satoru had either booked the room or demanded Yaga find something so ridiculous. Stepping under the warm multi stream, you hummed to yourself.

“Maybe not.” The shower felt heavenly. Warm water from all sides, it made lathering soap a challenge but you didn’t get cold.

You let yourself relax

“I knew you’d like it.” Satoru was smirking as he leaned against the glass door. His figure was blurry, the steam thankful providing some cover. You glared at him, turning your back as you went for the shampoo.

“I had Yaga book the most romantic room.” 

You could hear his clothing hit the floor, the glass shower door sliding open. A brief draft of chilly air hit you and you sighed.

“You said it was a one time thing, Gojo.” You kept your voice clipped, pushing ice and sharpness into your words.

His hands slid onto your waist, chilled fingers sending a shiver down your spine.

“I know I did. But.” He paused, resting his chin on your shoulder. You could see him watching you out of the corner of your eye. Water flattened his hair, rivulets running down his face and catching on his long eyelashes. His long fingers were splayed against your hips, unmoving as he waited for you to respond.

You stared at the shampoo bottle in your hands, letting the man press against you. Satoru was warm, his much taller frame practically swallowing yours from behind.

“You hate me.” You finally allowed yourself to speak. It wasn’t true and you knew it. Gojo’s nastiness when you had initially met had been because of the council. You were just unfortunately the easiest target for his ire.

The man shifted, pressing his lips to your shoulder. It hid his bright eyes from your gaze. You waited, not wanting to press him.

“I’m sorry.” Satoru’s voice was soft as he pulled away. You turned, looking up at him in mild surprise.

“I didn’t think you knew how to apologize.” You teased, offering him the shampoo bottle. Satoru took it with a smirk. 

“You know I can be sweet.” He wiggled his eyebrows with the statement, making you laugh and smack his shoulder. Satoru lathered his hair, shooting you a quizzical look as you stared up at him.

“What happened to it just being a one time thing? To being fuck buddies.” You gestured at the large shower. “This is a bit romantic for that.” 

Satoru paused, the sudsy water running down his chest. He seemed for once, unsure what to say. You picked up the shampoo for where he had left it, scrunching your nose at the incredibly sweet smell that left the bottle. Vanilla, brown sugar and syrup all mixed together in a potent sludge. You shuddered slightly as you worked it through your hair, waiting for Satoru’s response.

“Shoko is one of the only women I am close to. She’s a good friend. Only a friend.” Satoru paused, one hand slowly massaging his scalp as he stared down at you.

“I don’t have time for dating. No interest in heirs or a wife like my family wants.”

He shrugged, tilting his head back and letting the water run over his face. You quietly continued washing yourself, not wanting to interrupt him finally opening up. Satoru sighed, shifting to look back down at you.

“I am hesitant to officially start anything because it may end with your death.”

You flinched at that, brow furrowing as you opened your mouth to question him. Satoru stopped you before you could, one hand pressing gently against your lips.

“I am the current head of the Gojo clan. Since I was born there have been countless bounties on my head.”

Satoru offered you a small shrug at your look of horror. He seemed unbothered, as if he were discussing the weather with you. 

“If I officially date or enter an arranged marriage, some of those bounties shift.”

The hand on your mouth slid down, Satoru lightly wrapping his fingers around your throat.

“You would be used to hurt me, to get me to use my powers for whoever held you.” 

You shivered at his words, one hand coming up to caress his wrist. It was sad. A man who stood on the top of the world and had no one. Even his closest friends were held at an extreme distance.

“We can keep it a secret.” You offered quietly. Satoru hummed at that, his hand dropping from your throat.

“We can try.” Was all he had to offer, a small smile on his face. You nodded once, heart fluttering in your chest slightly. 

“Food is getting cold.” He pinched your waist, tugging you from the shower and offering you a big fluffy towel. You wrapped it about yourself gratefully, sneezing once as the chill of the hotel settled against your skin.

“Please tell me you found something good.” Now out of the shower, your hunger was reinvigorated, your stomach growling loudly as you followed him back to the beds. Satoru shrugged, tightening the towel about his waist and gesturing at the spread he had laid across one bed. Udon, tacos, pasta, pizza, sushi and various pastries. All laid out in neat little containers. You almost moaned when you saw the food, mouth watering as you hurried to the bed.

“Couldn’t decide so I got a bit of everything.” Satoru tossed you a pair of chopsticks, the man immediately going for an eclair. You ignored the sweets, picking up one of the tacos and cramming it into your mouth. Flavor erupted across your tongue and you chewed quickly before snagging another. It was rude but you didn’t care, tugging one of the armchairs from the little seating area over to the bed. Your hair dripped onto your shoulders and back sending a chill down your spine. 

“Maybe the curse was hiding.” Satoru mumbled around a mouthful of pancake. You shot him a questioning look, a slice of pizza halfway to your mouth.

“It was probably afraid you’d eat it.” He chortled, gasping as you hurled a cupcake at him. Satoru caught it with ease, shooting you a wink before cramming it in his mouth. You rolled your eyes, biting into the pizza slice.

It tasted like heaven. Relaxing in the armchair you ate quietly, mulling over what Satoru had told you. 

What kind of life was it, to know you and your family would be forever hunted? 

Idiot

“He’s an idiot.” Utahime huffed. You offered the other woman a short nod, unsure of how to respond. Gojo was of course the cause of her irritation. Utahime was always upset with him and part of you wondered if she went out of her way to find a reason to be pissed. In the past year you had only seen the woman twice and each time she seemed more and more irritated not only with him but you as well. You knew it was all because you had the gall to defend Gojo, the ultimate crime, on your first meeting.

“Fucking asshole.” 

You jumped as the strange sorcerer kicked the subway wall, the woman hopping on one foot as she massaged the other. Anger radiated off her, practically filling the empty subway with her cursed energy. 

Utahime did not act at all how she presented herself. The soft garments of a shrine maiden were merely a shell over the rough edges of the sorcerer. You flinched as her cold gaze met yours, shivering as she took a step towards you. She was completely ignoring the cause of her ire, the tall man pouting next to her.

“Don’t you agree?” Her steely gaze was locked on your face, arms crossed as she waited for your answer.

Utahime was mad because per usual, Gojo ignored protocol. The simple joint school mission the pair of you had been sent on was almost immediately sidetracked by the appearance of a special grade. Of course the man couldn’t resist, making a bee-line to the curse and eradicating it. That meant he ignored all regulations, failed to inform the Kyoto school headmaster and created a mess he didn’t have to clean.

You had come here to learn about Utahime’s ability. It was as close to yours as anyone figured you would get. But now with Gojo’s actions, she was refusing to open up. It was slightly irritating and paired with her attitude towards the man, you were a bit frustrated.

Everything went back to Gojo. All the thorns in your side and headaches were usually caused by him.

But what little you had learned, he sort of had the right to act as he did. You loathed to admit it, but the man was powerful and deadly accurate. The council even begrudgingly admitted the fact.

“I mean.” You cleared your throat, looking at your shoes. Utahime’s glare burned a hole through your skull and you tensed as you continued.

“He is but, he’s earned it?” A question, not a statement and you cringed as Gojo let out a triumphant laugh. A glance upwards told you that your response had landed you squarely on Utahime’s shit list.

She was staring at you out of the corner of her eye. Suspicion was stamped across her face. You tried to ignore it, leading her to the mainroom the teachers would view the Goodwill Event from. Before you could slide the door open, a hand was on your wrist.

Utahime stepped close, eyes narrowing as she sized you up. Her eyebrows shot up and a look of pure shock and disgust crossed her face.

“He’s fucking you isn’t he?”

Your mouth dropped at that, cheeks flushing as you began sputtering. She was so blunt about it and smug. Utahime stepped back with a scoff, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“I suppose if you want a man child as a hook up thats fine.”

Judgment dripped from every word and you could practically feel it exuding from her pores.

“Careful there.” You jumped as an arm slid around your waist, relaxing as you realized it was the idiot in question. Satoru looked incredibly happy and you sighed.

“You scarred them for life didn’t you.”

“I brought their friend back from the dead.” He protested, pinching your waist as he stepped away, flinging the door to the room open. The man let out a loud laugh, spinning into the room with a flourish. You sighed, making a face behind his back.

“See. Idiot.” Utahime hissed, stomping into the room.

She wasn’t wrong. There were times when his arrogance bordered on stupidity. But he was your idiot.

Not that you would admit that to him. Satoru was smug enough as it was, you didn’t need to add to his ego more than you already had.

Jab

You ignored the sharp jab to your side, shifting slightly to avoid the next one. Behind you, Satoru shifted closer, his knee pressing into the back of your thigh as he leaned in.

“Move it.” The words tickled your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Shut up.” You hissed back, trying to move your lips as little as possible.

The man was bored and acting out, totally ignoring the elder who spoke before the small gathering. Yes the woman was speaking in the flattest monotone you had ever heard. And yes it was all just formality, a fancy speech that did nothing to rid the curse you could feel slithering about the old forest miles away.

But it was their village, their rituals and their village elder. Yaga had already briefed the two of you on this and despite being forewarned, Satoru was still acting like a child. Part of you wished you had been kept from the mission. That Gojo still hated you so you could avoid his child-like mask.

Another jab. You let out a small huff, sneaking your hand behind you and grabbing the offending finger. The familiar buzz of limitless hit you, running along the skin of your hand and up your elbow. Satoru shifted slightly, a noise of annoyance leaving his lips.

“We ask that you rest before going after the demon.” The village elder was now staring straight at your tormenter, her lips trembling slightly as she spoke. While she had been speaking, the sun had set, the chill of night settling over the small village.

“It is strong and has killed many.” With a trembling hand she gestured to a small cabin at the edge of the village. It stood outcast, squarely between the start of the forest and the end of the village.

“That house has been prepared for you and your wife.”

Your eyebrow twitched at that and you squeezed Satoru’s finger as hard as you could to stop him from laughing. It never ceased to amaze you just how stuck in their ways the elders of villages were. 6 missions in and you had yet to not be labeled as the white haired sorcerer’s wife. 

“Thank you for your kindness.” You quipped, quickly bowing and tugging Satoru to follow you. He did so without complaint, snickering quietly as you trudged to the small house. You were painfully aware of half the village watching as you did so. 

“Such a diligent wife.” Satoru teased, moving ahead of you to slide the door open.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, pushing past him and into the cool home. Winter’s chill bit at your skin, the small home had no fireplace to speak of. It was just an eating room and a bedroom.

“I think sacrifices used to live here.” 

You turned, throwing Satoru a questioning look. He pointed to the ceiling and you paled at the strange talismans that were carved into the moldering wood. It was old writing, barely legible, but you could still make out some of the prayers.

Good Harvest.

Boy Child.

Rain.

Full Stomach.

Anxiety twisted in your stomach and you bit your lip as you tried to recall the elder’s boring speech. Something about being sent a gift, about a brighter year to come. Words you had assumed were their hopes of having the curse eradicated.

“It's a trap.” Satoru shuffled over to the futon, flopping onto it without a care. He was too tall for it, his feet hanging off the edge. The man hadn’t bothered taking his shoes off, pointedly ignoring polite behavior. You followed suit, sitting beside him. Tucking your knees to your chest, you rested your chin, letting out a sigh.

“You can take it down right?” 

Satoru snorted, shifting his glasses to stare at you with one bright blue eye.

“All this time and you still doubt me?”  He pouted at you, reaching over and jabbing you in the side. You huffed at that, then froze as a ripple of curse energy hit you. The beastly curse was moving closer.

“It knows we’re here.” You whispered, shifting closer to the man. Satoru hummed, shifting to his elbows. His glasses had slid to the end of his nose and you shivered as his intense gaze swept around the room.

“This house might be part of it.”

“WHAT?” You clamped a hand over your mouth as the shriek left you. Horror churned in your stomach, your heart thundering in your ears as you felt the curse move even faster.

“Relax.” Satoru tugged you down next to him, one arm sliding about your waist. You opened your mouth to tell him you would NOT relax, when you felt the familiar tug of teleportation.

“FUCK!” You yelped, clinging to the arm about your waist. Satoru had pulled the two of you above the small hut. You gasped as a massive, slithering black shape slammed into the side of the house, squirming through one of the windows. A thin trail was left behind, the ooze twitching like maggots on the dry dirt.

“Weird.” Satoru sighed, tugging his glasses off and flinging them aside. You watched them disappear into the night, sighing as you knew after this, the man would have you looking for them.

A howl resounded below you and you watched in horror as the oozing mass wriggled from the house, barreling towards the village. Satoru hummed, watching it go with a look of mild disinterest.

“It’s going to kill them.” Your nails sunk deeper into the fabric of his sleeve. The curse was almost at the first house, the trail of sludge left behind slowly squirming after it.

“They were going to let us die.” Satoru had a look on his face, one you hadn’t seen before. It scared you, a look so apathetic it bordered on cruel.

“Satoru, it's going to kill them.” You snapped, squirming in his grasp. He was several feet above the ground and you knew a fall from this height could kill you. But you needed him to move, needed the look to leave his face.

There was a scream, high and faint as it was whisked away by the wind. 

“SATORU.” You yelled, pounding your fists against his arm, willing him to move. Willing null to activate for just a second. The sound of his name seemed to spur him into action and you gasped as suddenly you were on the ground.

The world spun around you and you fell backwards as you lost your fight against his teleportation. Faintly, you could hear the sounds of fighting, screaming. There were prayers as well. All of them muffled as you retched.

You didn’t know why it was affecting you so badly this time. Normally you could swallow the odd sensation. You swiped a shaking hand against your mouth, sighing as you turned to see a village in shambles.

Satoru stood in the middle of it, steely gaze sweeping over the trembling villagers who watched him in a mix of awe and terror. He had killed their strange god and destroyed half the buildings around him in the process. You noted that the little cursed hut remained intact, although it looked more aged, as if the years had finally caught up to it.

“Entertain another curse like that and it won’t be just the houses I destroy.” Satoru snapped. You shivered as he appeared before you, the man roughly pulling you to his side. As you were tugged through to the next location, you swore you saw a tear fall from his snowy lashes. 

When you returned to the school campus, Shoko had pulled you aside, asking how Satoru had seemed. You told her what happened, giving her a questioning look when she seemed to deflate. 

“It's nothing. Just the anniversary of a bad time for the both of us.” Was all she would say.

Knife

“When you activate null, use this.” Naoya Zen’in held out his hand, the large knife balanced perfectly on his palm. The blade was odd, curved in multiple places like a snake. It shone a soft silvery white, looking more like it was made from a shiny fabric than any metal. The blade stood in stark contrast with the deep burgundy hilt. The burgundy seemed to be an odd lacquer, bits of the same silver peeking out here and there. It looked a bit like a dragon’s head, sharp details sticking out here and there.

Made sense,  You thought dully. The council had told you to retrieve the ‘Dragon’s Fang’.

It had been 3 months since you entered the world of Jujutsu sorcerer. 3 months since your normal life ended and the drudgery of being Gojo’s assistant began. 

“He can still fight without his powers.” You murmured, staring at the shimmering blade. It was special, held in the large armory the Zen’in family watched over. Super secret unless of course you were a Zen’in or listened to gossip in the sorcerer world. Despite the family’s reclusive and in your opinion, incestous lifestyle, information still slithered from their estate. You had a feeling some of it was intentional, the family throwing their weight around while trying to come across as more elite than other clans. It honestly annoyed you, it was bad enough that you were looked down upon for messing with other sorcerers powers a few months back, but now with the Zen’ins? It was a whole other level of snubbing.

The council had sent you to the Zen’in estate with no notice. You weren’t sure what Gojo had done, but they were pissed, practically shaking as they demanded you follow their orders.

It wasn’t the quietly spoken “if he goes rouge, take him down”. No this time it felt like an assassination order. 

Entering the estate had only added to that feeling. The servants only had sharp looks and silent pointing as they guided you from the entrance to Naoya. He was even worse, the man flashing you a smile you knew he thought was charming and you thought was akin to a serial killer.

“Yeah but even if you die you’ve still done us a service.” He followed the chilling words with another horrible smile. You shuddered, slowly reaching up to grab the knife.

Your plan had been to avoid touching the man, but Naoya was quick. His free hand came up, quickly trapping your own hand in his grasp.

You suppressed the urge to yank your hand from his grasp, trying to offer him a polite smile.

“You know.” The man moved closed, the sleeves of his haori brushing against your arms. There was barely any space between the two of you and you winced as the position angled your wrists painfully.

“If you do survive, I’m in need of a wife.”

There was a moment of silence, the man leering down at you. 

“I uh. What?” Was all you could manage. A mixture of amusement and rage twisted in your  chest. Jujitsu sorcerers seemed to all have issues with ego, the surety with which they carried themselves borderline narcissistic. 

“Well, your ability might be useless after Gojo is gone. But having a wife who was strong enough to take down that sorry excuse for a sorcerer. Well.” 

He laughed sharply, fingers digging into your hand. The embossed hilt of the blade was sharp in places and it bit into the palm of your hand painfully.

“Let’s just say that's a good look for me.”

Silence fell after his words as you struggled to think of a response. Insulting him would only land you in hot water, but staying quiet might be taken as acceptance.

“Mr. Zen’in.” You began, flinching slightly when the man let out a huff.

“Call me Naoya.” His hands were like steel vices, pressing into your flesh with the subtle nastiness that ran through his family.

“Mr. Zen’in.” You persisted, slowly wiggling your hand out of his. The hilt of the blade hurt, scraping your palm as you worked your hand free.

“As flattering as your suggestion is. I must politely decline.” Your palm was bleeding. The cursed blade had torn two lines through your flesh, like gnarled claw marks. You curled your fingers, letting the hand drop to your side. Blood spattered from between the digits, dripping to the expensive tatami beneath. It was rude, but it was the only insult to the Zen’ins you could actually get away with.

“Think you’re too good for me, don't you?” Naoya hissed, his eyes narrowed to slits. He looked like a large snake, his fangs bared at the little mouse that had bit him.

You shook your head slowly, licking your lips as you thought how best to answer. On one hand you could lie and tell him something to stroke his ego. On the other hand.

“You wouldn’t want Satoru’s sloppy seconds would you?” It was a lie of course, the man couldn’t stand you. But Naoya didn’t know that.

You regretted the words however, almost instantly. Your head snapped to the side as Naoya slapped you. A gasp left your throat as you staggered, ears ringing from the force of the slap.

“Fucking whore.” He hissed, one hand wrapping around your bicep as he began dragging you through the halls of the estate. You stumbled after him, dazed and in pain. 

Before you knew it you were being shoved harshly, falling to the pavement in front of the Estate. Naoya stood over you for a moment, the knife clutched tightly in his hand. 

“The Zen’in don’t lend weapons to whores.” And with that, the estate doors slammed shut. 

You sat on the pavement for a moment, one hand prodding the cheek he had slapped. Had the asshole really used cursed energy to hit you? Overkill, everything about the Zen’in family was plain overkill.

There was no taxi to take you back into the city. Of course not. You were the council's dog, the thorn in Gojo’s side.

Tears welled in your eyes as you walked and you swiped a hand roughly against your cheek. It came away stained by blood, he had split your lips.

“Just what I need.” You sighed, trudging along the quiet street. The sun was nearing the end of its arch, sunset not too far away. How long would it take you to get back? A glance at your phone showed you a low battery and several missed calls. You sighed, quickly searching to see how long it would take a taxi to get to you.

Too long was the answer. It looked to you as if Naoya had done something. The closest car was a 40 minute drive from your location. You shoved your phone back in your pocket, stifling the urge to scream.

“So you ignore my calls in favor of Naoya Zen’in? Why am I not surprised?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Gojo’s familiar tone behind you. He had found you somehow and you hoped he wasn’t irritated enough to deny you the use of his teleportation skills.

“The council sent me there.” You turned, offering a small scowl. It was met with a furrowed brow, Gojo pressing his lips into a thin line. Even though his eyes were covered you could tell he was leveling a glare at your face.

“It didn’t go well.” You mumbled, pressing your hand against the tender spot on your cheek. There was probably a hand print nicely formed on your face by now.

You flinched as Gojo took a step forward, grabbing your wrist as you withdrew it from your face.

“Ah.” Was all you could think to say as he inspected the already scabbing cuts on your palm.

“They sent you for the Dragon’s Fang?” Gojo’s tone was even as he inspected the cuts. You nodded slowly, watching his face warily. If he knew the blade’s name then no doubt he knew the reason you were told to retrieve it. 

“Naoya is an idiot.” The man scoffed as he let your hand drop, turning his attention to your cheek. You winced as his finger prodded it, limitless buzzing uncomfortably against the bruise.

“What did you say to piss him off?” Gojo’s lips were twisted in a scowl, his irritation for once not directed at you.

“Well.” You cleared your throat inhaling sharply, “He told me I'd make a good wife.”

Gojo scoffed at that, pulling away as he stared down at you. The bruise on your cheek burned as you flushed, squirming slightly under his hidden but still intense gaze.

“So I ah.” You paused again, not able to get the words from your throat. Silence stretched between the two of you for a long moment. The man was still, hands in his pockets as he waited for you to finish.

“So I told him he wouldn’t want your sloppy seconds.” It was barely a whisper that left your lips, but Gojo heard you clearly. The man let out a loud laugh, one hand patting you on the shoulder as he did so. You were surprised at how unbothered he was by it. You had expected anger or annoyance per usual. This was different.

“Oh that’s perfect.” He mimed wiping a tear from his blindfold, still chortling. “I can’t wait for the next meeting we’re in.”

You shuddered as he teleported you without warning, the dizzying lurch in your stomach almost too much to bear. The familiar halls of Jujutsu high surrounded you and you shuddered, trying to rid yourself of the after effects of being pulled through space so roughly. You realized he had set you down in front of Shoko’s office, the familiar door a welcome sight for your aching face.

“Why?” You asked, panting slightly as you straightened. The urge to vomit never got easier to swallow, his stupid ability’s side effect lingered like a bad omen.

Gojo grinned, leaning in to gently pat your stinging cheek. His breath smelled sweet, the scent of spun sugar and chocolate filling your nose.

“So I can slap the shit out of him.” The man laughed as he pulled away, the grin turning devious as he turned to knock on Shoko’s office door. 

“And to ask why he wants my sloppy seconds so bad.” 

Lie

He was lying.

“Just friend with benefits” A grunted moan, his hands tight against your hips, grip painful against your soft flesh. Satoru’s hips thrust against yours, driving his cock deeper into your warmth. His pale face and hair were drenched with sweat, the man somehow not tired 3 rounds in. You writhed beneath him, breathless and aching. He was merciless with each thrust, the head of his cock hitting your cervix with deadly precision. Between your thighs he looked like a pale god, chiseled muscles flexing with each thrust into your core.

“Won’t happen again.” His tongue was on your throat, lips sucking at you as if you were the sweetest nectar. You moaned beneath him, fingers gripping the mattress in an attempt to ground yourself. Satoru’s cock pulsed within your walls, his sloppy thrusting becoming more erratic as you let out a small cry. Each thrust dragged the fat head of his cock almost completely out of you before he slammed back in with dizzying force. You came around him, fingernails biting into his back as he spilled his own release within you. 

“Last time.” Satoru’s moan was muffled by the pillow your head was shoved into. He pounded into you from behind, fingernails biting into your hips as he chased his end. You felt as if you were made from jelly, soft moans barely escaping your throat as he slid roughly in and out. The slap of his balls against your clit and thighs echoed in the empty room. Mixed with your low moans, it made for a lewd cacophony. You clenched around him as he bit the back of your neck, a low cry leaving your throat.

“No more.” He huffed, white hair slicked to his forehead as he thrust slowly into your cunt. His lips were on yours, soft kisses swallowing your moans as he caressed your breasts. This was more gentle than usual, almost loving. Satoru was savoring you.

Satoru was addicted to you. And he was lying to you both.

Moan

You hadn’t meant to moan. The sound had slipped out as you stretched, the warm sun and sand eliciting the noise from you. Not that you cared, this was a well earned vacation, one you had practically begged for. Sure you had to go alone, everyone else having missions and no free time. Your eyes slid shut and you let out a content sigh. It was worth it just to relax under the bright sun. You had earned this, the past year had been shit and more recently had gotten confusing. Satoru hadn’t said anything about the two of you sleeping together. He hadn’t acknowledged it. And while you were fine with it being a one time thing, it did feel a bit odd to not even talk about it. A simple ‘That was great but never again’ would have been preferable to the silence.

“Geez, didn’t realize the beach was a porno set.” 

Your eyes snapped open at the familiar voice. To your right sat Gojo, wearing nothing but blue swim trunks. You pretended to not notice the trail of hair that snaked beneath the rather low waist band of his shorts. He shot you a teasing grin, pretending that he was blind to your annoyance. You propped yourself up, leveling a glare at him.

He was drawing stares with his physic. Even out here on a rather remote beach, the man stood out as a model. Long limbs and the shock of white hair made it so he was the center of attention always.

“Are you skipping out on a mission right now?” Despite it being your vacation time, your mind immediately leapt to the pile of files you knew was sitting forgotten on his desk. Satoru snorted, lying back on your beach blanket and crossing his arms behind his head.

“I finished early. Just didn’t tell Yaga yet.” 

He was responsibly slacking off. A different route than he normally took. Still, with him here, that put you in the hot seat if Yaga and the council figured it out. 

“Go away.” You huffed, lying back down and closing your eyes again. Focusing on the sound of the ocean and seagulls, you tried to ignore the feeling of the back of his hand against your thigh.

“I’m not allowed to visit my favorite assistant?” You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that he was smirking.

“I’m your only assistant.” You quipped back, nestling further into the blanket and the sand beneath. If only the sand would open up and swallow the man whole. Satoru was silent but remained beside you, his warmth somehow competing with that of the sun. 

“So what's the plan for tonight?” He asked it so casually, as if you were a couple deciding on the next step of their vacation. You propped yourself on your side with a huff, scowling down at the man.

“I am going to get wasted at the hotel bar and you are going to be at the highschool filing reports for Yaga.” 

You jabbed your finger in his chest to punctuate your point. Satoru grabbed the offending hand gently, holding it to his chest. 

“Or we could get drunk at the hotel bar.”

You scoffed at that, tugging your hand free and standing. The white haired man followed suit, stretching as he did so. You pretend to not notice the tight planes of his chest and stomach tensing as he did so. He looked good in the sun. Too good.

“You can’t hold your alcohol.” It was a fun fact that Satoru seemed to pass around like it was the most important fact about him. Any adult sorcerer working in the Tokyo area probably knew that Gojo Satoru couldn’t drink. 

“Wanna bet?”

You paused, one foot extended to start your trek back to the beachside hotel. Satoru did keep his bets. You had heard as much from both Shoko and Nanami. Usually his bets were stupid and the prize for winning involved him spending money in some way. But you wouldn’t complain about the Gojo family account being used to buy you a treat.

“What are the stakes?” You tucked your beach blanket under your arm, squinting as you stared up at the man. The sun threaded through his white hair like slivers of gold. His hair reflected the light so well it was difficult to look at him without sunglasses.

“First person to tap out loses.” Satoru looked so confident that for a moment, you wondered if he could seriously out drink you. But no, you smiled, giving him a small nod.

“And if you lose?” 

The man hummed, tapping his chin mockingly as he thought. He looked beyond amused at the thought of you winning.

“I’ll have Yaga extend your vacation and you can use my debit card for one whole day, no questions.” 

That had you pause. Extended vacation was an easy thing for him to do, but that paired with unlimited access to his money felt odd. You narrowed your eyes at him, waiting for the catch.

“And if you lose.” He paused, licking his lips as he stared down at you. Silence stretched between the two of you before he let out a laugh. 

“You’ll see.”

You didn’t like the sound of that but you didn’t think that you could lose to Mr. Lightweight. It was well worth the risk.

Or so you thought. Your mind changed when you were 10 shots in, Satoru keeping pace with you easily. This was not the man who couldn’t keep his alcohol. He sober where as you were struggling to not gag as you forced your 11th shot down. You had agreed to some expensive monstrosity. The bartender having pointed out how high the alcohol volume was per shot. Satoru had bought the bottle, setting it on the table between you. A black label and shockingly pink liquid inside, it didn’t look appetizing. You were pleasantly surprised with your first shot. It had initially been delicious. But now all you tasted was sickeningly sweet liquor that slid slowly down your throat like a nauseating honey.

The room swayed around you, low lights and loud music creating a confusing haze in your mind.

“D-did you just want me drunk?” You slurred, one shaking hand reaching for the bottle to pour your 12th shot. Satoru grabbed your hand, holding it in his. The large hand around yours was warm and you swayed slightly as you traced the veins that threaded over the back of his hand.

“I didn’t think you would go this far.” He sounded perfectly sober. If it weren’t for the light blush across his cheeks you would have assumed he hadn’t been drinking at all.

Maybe he hadn’t. You thought dully, leaning across the table to scrutinize his mouth. Maybe he’s been teleporting the alcohol out of his mouth.

It was not a logical thought, but you were well past that point. There was no way you were losing to Mr. Pretty boy. Grabbing his face with one hand, you glared at his lips.

“You’re cheatin’.” You mushed his cheeks, squinting at his plush lips. Satoru let out a small chuckle, sticking his tongue out.

“Am not.” His response was childish as were his actions, the man teleporting the two of you and the bottle from the bar to a room. For a moment it felt as if your stomach was left in the hotel bar. It took all of your willpower not to vomit, the lingering effects of his ability causing the room to sway even more.

You gawked at the large room, faintly realizing it was the penthouse suite. The very one you had joked to Yaga about booking only for the man to go pale and ask that you please don’t. It cost over 2500 dollars a night.

And you could see why. It was essentially one large and very open apartment with an immaculate view of the ocean. The large floor to ceiling windows showed off the ocean glittering beneath a full moon. You let go of Satoru’s face, swaying slightly as you walked over to the windows.

“Th-this is your room?” You glanced over your shoulder, hands pressed against the cool glass in an attempt to keep yourself steady. He nodded, joining you with a small smile.

“The school doesn’t pay for me.” 

It made sense. The man never wore generic clothing brands, he always chose the most expensive restaurants for lunch and he seemed to have a taste for wasting money on tourist trap sweets.

You watched the waves crash against the glittering shore, entranced by the dancing moonlight. It was better than anything you could have seen from your small room. You had somehow booked one of the few rooms that faced the parking lot. 

The dark waves swelled and abated, a mesmerizing repeated action that had you in a slight trance.

“Did I win?” His voice had become huskier and you turned in time to see Satoru downing another shot. That put him at 13. You let out a scoff, marching unsteadily over to him and reaching up to snatch the bottle away. He held it above your head, blue eyes glittering in amusement as you let out a noise of frustration.

“You’re cheating!” You snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest. Satoru scoffed at that, turning to place the bottle on a nearby side table.

“How so?” He crossed his arm, looking down as you jabbed at him again. With a huff you made a wild gesture at his face then around you.

“Teleporting the shots.” 

Satoru blinked at that, blue eyes widening slightly before he burst out laughing. His shoulder shook dramatically as he doubled over, cackling like a mad man.

“Y-you think I’d waste energy on teleporting shots??” The look he gave you was pure incredulity. As if he couldn’t believe how stupid you were. You felt your face flush, embarrassment swelling in your throat as you tried to think of a response. 

The alcohol made it hard to think, it dampened your mind's ability to snap a little retort at him. So instead, you doubled down.

“Yes.” You said it with as much mustered courage as you could. Internally you were beginning to doubt yourself. But you didn’t want to admit defeat. You were too proud.

Satoru let out another barking laugh, leaning in close. You could smell the sweet liquor on his breath. It radiated from him as heavily as it must’ve been radiating from you. 

Didn’t mean he drank it. You thought, leaning back as he closed in further. Satoru proved you wrong with a kiss.

He tasted as if his mouth had been drowned in the liquor. And in a way it had. You moaned as he lapped at your lips, the man slipping his tongue into your mouth. Unlike earlier, the taste didn’t make you want to gag.

No, on Satoru's tongue it was somehow sweeter. His hand gripped your waist, pulling you in closer as he deepened the kiss. You followed his tongue with your own, leaning into him. Letting Satoru guide you to the large bed.

You were inebriated, more so than him, but you didn’t care. The buzz in your head fueled your actions. You were ravenous, wanting to taste him. Wanting him to devour you.

You blinked and your clothes were off, his large hands parting your thighs as he lapped eagerly at your folds. The warmth of his mouth sent shudders through your core. You moaned, rutting your pussy against his face. Satoru held your hips in place, laughing as you let out a small whine. He kissed and lapped at your clit, eating you out as if it were his last meal.

You shuddered with each moan he released against your warm flesh, the vibrations adding to your mounting pleasure.

The heat in your stomach was tight, a taut rope ready to snap as Satoru sucked at your folds, his tongue laving against the soft flesh.

Satoru flicked his tongue against your clit, teeth scraping against the sensitive bud as he pushed deeper into your heat. You came as he thrust two fingers into your cunt, the simple intrusion enough to send you over the edge. Walls clenching around his long fingers, you moaned into your palm, shuddering as Satoru continued thrusting his fingers into you.

You blinked again and he was climbing on top of you, his lips sliding against yours. You drank him in hungrily, the taste of alcohol and yourself strange against your tongue. Threading your arms around his neck, you pulled him close, allowing the tall man to slot himself between your legs.

Satoru’s hands slipped beneath your lower back, tilting your hips up and letting his cock slid into your core with ease. You moaned as he bottomed out, thick cock filling you completely. He set a soft pace, each thrust almost loving as Satoru chased his own release.

You moaned against his neck, hips chasing his as you felt a second orgasm building. The rough patch of pubic hair at the base of his cock kept catching on your clit, sending small waves of pleasure through your stomach. You shuddered beneath him, walls pulsing as he dragged the head of his cock all the way out before plunging back in. 

“Satoru.” You slurred breathlessly, your tone begging. The man groaned in response, his grip tightening on your back, his pace picking up. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, your walls fluttering widely around him as he slammed back in to the hilt. 

“Cum.” Satoru rasped, his lips tickling your neck as he hastened his pace. You shuddered at his words, a small orgasm washing through you. Walls clamping down on his cock you let out a cry as he pulled back, hands grabbing your hips. Satoru slammed into you, his chest and face flushed as he chased his end. Your walls clenched around him, almost too sensitive as he slammed into you again and again.

Satoru came with a growl, his hips slamming into you a final time, hips flush against yours as his cock spilled within you. The heat made you shudder, your walls flutter lightly as his cock jerked within you.

You blinked and the blankets were tucked around you. Satoru had cleaned you up, slipping into bed beside you with a smile.

“There’s water in the bedside table if you need it.” His voice was low and tired, the man burying his head beneath the pillows. You hummed in response, moving closer to his warmth. Your pussy ached. One one had he had been rough and on the other you wanted more.

“I’m never drinkin’ again.” You giggled into the pillow, your eyes sliding shut as you tried to block out the spinning room. Satoru snorted at that, mess of white hair peeking from beneath his pillow, “Yeah right.”

You halfheartedly shoved your foot into the back of his knee, snickering as the man let out an indignant huff. 

“Next time I’ll win.” You murmured, snuggling closer to him. Satoru let out an amused noise.

“See? Already talking about more alcohol. Deviant.”

Nasty

He had stopped being nasty. Between the cake and Naoya insulting the two of you it wasn’t really a surprise. The natural progression of relationships dictated that this was the next logical step for the two of you.

It just felt wrong. You walked on eggshells around the man, afraid to do anything that would bring back his ire. In your eyes he was the unknown factor. While you were fine with moving into a less volatile work environment, Satoru was as ever, unreadable. 

So you were cautious, the mouse that followed the lion on its rounds, waiting to be eaten.Satoru noticed, of course. Nothing went unseen by the six eyes.

“Can you act normal?” It was snapped at you mid battle. Satoru had his fist lodged in a curse’s abdomen, shooting you a blindfold covered glare as he yanked his arm free. You offered the man a look of confusion, jumping out of the way as the second curse smashed its fist into the concrete beside you. A howl of frustration made you wince and you were quick to dart behind Satoru as the curse swung again.

The sorcerer was quick to dispatch it, barely looking at the howling mass and instead turning to you with a glare.

“You keep acting like you’re waiting for me to jump you.” The words were snapped, closer to what you had grown used to the past few months. And he wasn’t too far off the mark. In a way you were waiting for a version of that. Waiting for him to snap at you with the annoyance he had always reserved for you.

“You’ve gotten a lot nicer.” You murmured, side stepping the dissolving curses to follow him to the next location. Satoru huffed at that, seeming to struggle for a moment before answering.

“I’m stuck with you.” He pulled his blindfold down slightly, allowing one glittering blue eye to peek at you. In the bright sun it looked as if his eye were glowing, the glittering iris eerily bright.

“No point in putting energy into being nasty.” 

You hummed at that response, clasping your arms behind you as you trailed the sorcerer. His words were woven with something else. An emotion he was trying to keep from you. 

Silence stretched on between the two of you as you walked back to Jujutsu High. For once he didn’t teleport you away, leaving you to walk alone. It was nice, the cool breeze threading through your hair as you walked beside him.

“Is there any sweet I can make for next week's mission?” You decided to break the silence, not wanting to let it linger too long. This was an olive branch of sorts. Testing to see if things had truly changed. 

Gojo glanced over his shoulder at you, gaze hidden as always. You noted the breeze that didn’t touch him despite whipping up your hair around your face. The man walked, a sort of affront to nature. Existing as a contradiction to your old life and the rules of the world as you knew it. And he looked so human as he did so.

“Anything at all?” He asked. You nodded, pausing as he stopped walking. The tall man thought for a moment, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

“Do you know how to make Kikufuku?”

You blinked at that, not expecting it. The dessert was a little difficult but you figured you had a week to try and perfect it. And you had a feeling he might eat any failed attempt you gave him anyways if it was sweet enough. 

“I can do that.” You offered him a small smile. Satoru smiled back, turning to continue back towards the highschool. You followed, not minding the silence that settled between the two of you.

Orgasm

“One more.” He groaned, white hair covering his brilliant eyes. You whimpered at that, shaking your head as you attempted to weakly push him away. Satoru was like a statue, his lips latched on the soft flesh of your neck. 

The two of you had been at it for what felt like hours. Your abdomen ached from cumming multiple times. His fingers that had been like silk earlier were now tormentors, dancing over your sensitive flesh. You had no idea how he was able to keep hard, the man having emptied himself within you at least 4 times now. And yet he persisted.

“He was hit with a stupid curse.” Shoko looked more exhausted than usual. The bags under her eyes were darker, intensifying the dirty look she was giving Satoru. You nodded slowly, wondering why of all people, you had been woken up in the middle of the night for this. It wasn’t like you could reverse a curse. Shoko was the best healer in Tokyo and if she couldn’t fix it, no one could.

“I can’t undo it so he’ll need to ride this one out.”

You glanced back at Gojo, taking in his blown pupils, glassy eyes and pink dusted cheeks. It was a look you had seen only during sex. He looked ravenous and slightly in pain. 

“Shoko please do not tell me what I think you’re going to tell me.” Dread swirled in your stomach. In the research you had done alone, you had come across curses of a nastier variety. Nasty in that they tended to infect humans in ways that broke down self control, caused them to attack or worse. You had read of a curse in Kyoto that had existed several years ago. It had been used by a curse user Geisha to influence her male patrons. To have them literally die without sex.

The small brunette gave you a nod as the answer.

“Please.” Satoru was begging. It was so unlike him and you knew that the curses effect was still holding strong. You let out a garbled moan as he slid two fingers into your cunt, thrusting sloppily into you.

“Just keep him busy while Nanami finishes the thing off.” Shoko shifted to the side as you pulled Satoru from his seat and towards the door. Almost immediately his hands were on you, sliding beneath your shirt as if his best friend wasn’t 4 feet away.

“And if Nanami fails?” You weren’t aware of anyone being able to keep the blonde busy and shared a look with Shoko. It was the, we don’t get paid enough for this shit look. The answer was they kept throwing sorcerers at the thing until it was taken down. That's why Gojo had gone first, it was a special grade and he should have dispatched it with ease. It was concerning that instead he was a mumbling mess groping you without shame.

“One more.” His voice was raspy in your ear. Satoru’s lips latched on your ear, his thumb roughly pressing against your clit. The two fingers within you thrust sharply against your aching heat. Your walls quivered around the long digits, too sensitive to do what he asked. You shook your head, wordlessly moaning as you threaded your fingers through his hair. Tugging at his head did nothing to deter him, the man merely moving his lips to your breast, ignoring the small whine you let out.

It wasn’t easy getting him to your apartment. The man was determined to fuck you, location be damned. A small blessing was how close your apartment was. You dropped your keys twice, each time due to Satoru’s hands being somewhere they shouldn’t. In truth you were slightly nervous as well. This felt like taking advantage of the man. Yes he was practically begging for it, but you still felt odd about it. 

“Damn you Shoko.” You muttered, tugging him inside your apartment and locking the door. This went way beyond your job duties. Way beyond the relationship you currently had with the man. 

Satoru’s blue eyes were like beacons in the dimly lit room, taking in your swollen lips and half lidded eyes. He still looked ravenous, pupils dilated as he took in your flush form.

“One more.” 

Satoru moved, almost too quickly to follow. You shuddered as his hot breath met your wet cunt, the man staring at you for a moment from between your thighs. With his snowy hair and brilliant eyes making him look almost vampiric. Demonic.

You let out a shrill moan as Satoru began lapping at your clit. His warm tongue moving in tandem with his lazily thrusting fingers. It was too much, overwhelming. It was as if electricity crackled beneath your skin, stemming from his mouth and fingers. Satoru moaned against your folds, his tongue lapping languidly at your heat. 

He seemed drunk on your taste, the man making obscene noises as he drank in your juices. It was too much and you found yourself somehow cumming again, the small orgasm ripping painfully through you. 

Every cell in your body seemed to shake, your breath catching in your throat as Satoru lifted his head. His lips parted and you whined as you waited for him to mutter ‘one more’ yet again.

And then something shifted.

Satoru blinked once, then twice. He sat up, one large hand rubbing over his face and into his sweaty hair. You waited, holding your breath as he shuddered, shaking his head as if to clear it.

To your immense relief, Satoro looked back at you with clear eyes. The odd glazed look having vanished. Nanami was successful.

“Oh thank god.” You rasped, allowing yourself to shift away from the man. On top of being immensely sore, you were becoming uncomfortably aware of how much of a mess you were. A mix of saliva, sweat and cum was drying on your thighs and the sheets beneath.

“Fuck.” Satoru was equally raspy, wincing as he stood. You noted that his raging boner had settled down, the appendage looking just as sore as you felt. 

“Shower?” You nodded at that, taking the hand he had extended you. It took immense effort, neither of you able to fully stand. Between the two of you it took nearly 10 minutes to hobble the short distance to your bathroom. Your legs felt like jelly and you knew Satoru’s hips were killing him. 

The hot water was a balm against your aching flesh, the two of you helping the other wash the dried aftermath of your coupling. Satoru looked apologetic as he did so, the man uncharacteristically quiet as he helped. You paid it no mind, grateful as he teleported you to his apartment. Neither of you had the energy to clean your bed and you refused to sleep in the mess. 

Instead the two of you collapsed in his massive bed, Satoru pulling you into his arms as you began to drift to sleep.

“ ‘M sorry.” He mumbled against your hair. His hands were warm against your skin, holding you close. You let out a small hum in response, feeling exhaustion settle into your bones.

“If I ever find out you got hit with that curse on purpose I will kill you.” It was barely a whisper, your lips pressed against his chest as you allowed sleep to take you. As you fell asleep, you almost swore he laughed.

Pain

“Hold still.” You sighed. The teen grumbled at you, wincing as you tightened the bandage. Yuji had gotten badly injured. Not his fault, you in part blamed Nanami, the adult who was supposed to be watching him. But truly the fault lay with Mahito, or whatever his name was and Gojo for allowing Yuji on this mission.

The fight had pummeled the kid so badly that you were surprised he was conscious. You held another bandage over a weeping hole in his hand, trying your best to not hurt him further. Blood and dirty tissue were strewn across the classroom around you, the makeshift attempts at stemming the bleeding creating a gorey mess.

“Don’t start.” Nanami sighed as you leveled a look at him as he entered the makeshift base. You bit your tongue, merely nodding when he offered to take over. Nanami was upset, no that wasn’t right. He was furious. 

“I'm going to find Gojo.” You stood, brushing your skirt off and grimacing at the drying stains on the gray fabric. Nanami nodded, focused on the trembling kid before him.

“Don’t kill Gojo, if you can help it.”

You laughed at that, only slightly amused. The blonde knew you and Satoru well. As you left the building, you passed a panicked Ichiji, the man stammering into his cell phone as he rushed up the stairs past you.

The train ride was uncomfortable, the dried blood on your skirt getting you many stares. But you ignored it, focusing on your anger. As an adult it was your job to keep the students safe. That line of thinking extended to all of the Jujutsu Staff. Taking risks was part of the job, yes, but recently it had felt as though they were placing the kids directly into harm's way. The council was behind it, the old idiots determined to bend the world to their whims. But the teachers could still twist the rules to keep the students safe.

It was easy enough to find Gojo. For once he wasn’t on a mission. The man was actually doing paperwork, sunglasses perched on his nose and a popsicle in his mouth. You entered the staff room with a clatter, the door slamming shut behind you noisily. 

“You are a pain in this world’s ass.” You huffed as the man looked up from a file. Satoru raised an eyebrow, pulling the popsicle from his mouth with a wet smack.

“Hello to you too princess.” The white haired man looked at you warily, his tone carrying an unspoken question.

“Yuji almost died.” You sat on the desk, purposefully covering the file he was working on. It was a move he frequently pulled on you and you figured it was about time for a taste of his own medicine. Satoru sat back, popping the popsicle back in his mouth as you continued.

“This is the second time, in only a few months.” You gestured widely, trying to keep your anger in check. In the back of your mind you kept seeing the teen’s hands, full of holes as if someone had taken a drill to his flesh. It was horrific and you knew despite his smiles and reassurances, Yuji was in pain. Not just physical either. There was a mental toll to this job and it had been made a thousand times worse with that mission.

“If you aren’t careful he might make that curse bond or whatever with Sukuna.” 

“He already did.” Sstoru tossed the bar popsicle stick into the trash can, shrugging at your incredulous look.

“WHAT?” You sat bolt upright, eyes wide as you took in his calm demeanor. Satoru ran a hand through his snow hair, shrugging again as you sputtered at him. There were rules to follow when something like this happened. Reports to file, a council to inform. None of that had happened as far as you were aware. 

“How do you know?” You tried to calm yourself, fingernails digging into your palm as you stared at him.

“Call it intuition.” Satoru stood, gently lifting you from the desk and setting you aside. You huffed at this, lips pulling down in a scowl as he went back to the file you had sat on. One hand threaded through his snowy hair, the man letting out a sigh as you stood closer to him.

“Should we talk to him about it?” Your tone was more defeated now, shoulders feeling heavy as you stared at the impassive man.

“No. It's not like he would be able to talk about it.” Satoru sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a questioning look, your anger leaving you as he answered.

“Sukuna would make sure of that.” 

It made sense. You sighed, looking down at your blood stained skirt.. The sorcerer was infuriatingly always right. A realization made you laugh out loud and you shook your head as Satoru shot you a questioning glance.

“I was just thinking. I used to annoy you and now here you are annoying me.” 

He laughed at that, offering you one of his brilliant smiles.

“You’re still a pain in my ass.” There was no venom in his words, just a light teasing that made your heart flutter slightly.

“You love it.” You muttered, bumping your hip into his chair with a small grin. Satoru nodded, gazing back down at his paperwork as he answered.

“I do.”

Queasy

He was being an idiot. You knew it, Gojo knew it and worst of all, the council had enabled it. Another child saved from an execution. Postponed was the actual verdict but you knew if Satouru had his way, Yuji Itadori would live. 

But now? This was too much. All of the school was under the impression Yuji was dead. Satoru had laughed as he told you the plan, the manic grin on his face only a little unsettling. He had Nanami and Yuji parading all around Tokyo, investigating things that at last glance, were missions assigned to Gojo.

“Fuck.” You sighed, tossing your fork back on the plate. Food had been weird lately. The stress of the job and the added Yuji secret had been making your stomach go sour. Queasiness struck you at random points of the day and you resisted the urge to vomit. 

You had thought rice and curry would be safe. When you ordered from your favorite restaurant, you had intentionally left a note asking that they make it as mild as possible and they had. But four bites in and you couldn’t finish. You stared at the nearly full plate, willing yourself to just eat a little more. 

In the past week you had barely eaten, the odd feeling making it impossible to stomach much past liquids. It was affecting what little work you did, Gojo noting that you were slower than usual. He was joking, he assured you, the man more willing to be handsy with you now that the secret of your relationship was known among the students.

Lifting another bite to your mouth, you paused, then bolted. Nausea swelled in your throat and you barely made it to the toilet in time, the little bit of food coming right back up. Heaving into the toilet, you faintly wondered if you should get a check up from Shoko. The woman was busy but you knew if you asked she would put everything down to assist.

“Ew.” 

You flinched at the familiar male voice, lifting your eyes from the white ceramic. Gojo was leaning against the doorway, a box of mochi in one hand. He popped one of the small treats in his mouth, watching you glare up at him.

“Need time off?” He asked around his mouthful. You shook your head, shakily standing and flushing the toilet. Swiping a hand across your mouth, you let out a sigh.

“It's just stress.”

Gojo hummed at that, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively, “You know what's good for that?” 

Rolling your eyes, you stepped around him, shuffling back to the kitchen. The food smelled too much. It wasn’t bad, it was just off putting. You put it away, dry heaving once and shuddering.

“Are you sure it's just stress?” Gojo had followed you, still eating the mochi. You knew that within the next 10 minutes they would be gone. The man ate enough sugar to put a normal person in a coma.

You opened your mouth to answer and then gagged again as the sickly sweet smell of the mochi finally made its way to you. Of all the flavors, strawberry had to be the strongest. You hurtled to the bathroom again, this time vomiting bile. Your stomach was empty and you let out a whimper at the tight cramping in your belly.

Satoru had followed you back, sans the mochi. He looked concerned, blue eyes roving over your form before moving off you and locking on the small wicker basket you kept next to the toilet.

“I know you consider us fuck buddies.” He started. You grimaced at that, heaving into the toilet again. He considered what you did as friends with benefit. You loved him. Not that you would admit that, it would take an eternity before you did. Gojo Satoru was a man who couldn’t love you back, not the way you wanted him to.

“So this question might be crossing the line. I don’t know.” He shrugged, gesturing to the basket beside you, “When’s the last time you had your period?”

You froze at that, eyes sliding to the unopened package of pads that sat neatly beside you. A package you had bought well over two months ago.

Stress. It's just stress. You thought faintly. There was a buzzing in your head and you swayed where you kneeled. 

It couldn’t be. You felt sweat sliding down the back of your neck, your stomach cramping and writhing in your abdomen like a feral animal. Satoru was silent, eyes widening slightly as he took in your panicked expression.

“Oh fuck.” And he teleported. 

The nausea vanished as a sudden wave of anger and sadness hit you. Tears welled in your eyes and you let out a strangled cry.

That was his reaction to finding out he potentially got someone pregnant? What else could you expect from a man who reminded you, with his cock firmly buried inside you, that this was just a ‘thing between friends.’

“Here.”

You flinched at his reappearance, mouth parting in shock as he handed you a boxed pregnancy test.

“Did you steal this?” You asked incredulously, standing and quickly pulling down your pants. Sitting on the toilet, you blushed slightly, realizing Gojo was not going to budge from his spot at the door.

“Not really.” He shrugged at your irritated huff, “I put money on the counter.”

You sighed, trying to ignore the fact that he was staring as you peed on the stick. This was the most humiliating thing he’d ever done, you decided. An invasion of privacy that you weren’t prepared for. You supposed regular couples would have no issue with this. But with Gojo, you still weren’t sure he saw you past the pleasure you provided.

“Now we wait. You gingerly balanced the stick on the edge of the sink, grimacing at the sight. Saturo hummed in response, turning and marching back to the kitchen. You moved yourself to the living room, not wanting to watch the stick. Sitting on the couch, you let out a sigh, pulling a blanket over yourself.

You were cold and tired. Just stress things right? You prayed that was the case. In three minutes time you would find the true answer and it was all you could do to keep from crying.

You had barely gotten used to this strange sorcerer world. The idea of a mini Gojo Satoru running around was terrifying. 

Shoko had once mentioned that as a child, the man had bounties on his head. The world as is was fucked up as it was, addding sorcerers to the mix had only shown you it was fucked up with supernatural powers.  

“Here.” You blinked in surprise as Satoru brought you a cup of tea. Taking it gratefully you took a tiny sip. The warm liquid slid down your throat comfortingly, settling in your stomach. Thankfully, the tea didn’t seem to trigger your nausea.

For a moment the two of you just sat, the air between you tense. And then your phone went off. You flinched, turning off the alarm and staring wide eyed at Satoru. 

“You want me to look first?” 

You nodded at that, feeling a mix of fear and relief as he got up and marched into the bathroom. Silence, then he was coming back out, the test and the box in his hands. Satoru looked from one to the other, stopping before you. 

Turning them both towards you, he stood, his expression neutral. You looked at the stick and felt your heart sink. 

Double lines, you were pregnant.

“These things aren’t always accurate.” Gojo slipped the stick back in the box, tossing them in the small waste basket you kept in the living room.

“We should schedule a blood test.”

He was surprisingly calm, sitting beside you and sliding his hand down your back in a comforting motion.

“What if it's accurate?” You stared at the wastebasket and the small corner of blue that peeked over the edge. In your chest, your heart was thundering away. A mixture of fear and an odd sense of wonder churned in your stomach. The tea you had drunk felt like too much now, sloshing in your stomach in a sickening motion. 

“Then we’ll figure it out.” Satoru pulled you closer, and you rested your head on his shoulder, allowing him to slip his arm around your waist.

“What if I want to keep it?” You weren’t sure what to do. Your powers were unreliable, Gojo was the most powerful sorcerer in all of Japan. Had you ever wanted kids? You didn’t think so. But there was this odd feeling in your chest, a heaviness that was twined together with your secret love for Satoru.

“Then we keep it.” His answer was soft, murmured into your hair. You nodded, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. It had taken a moment but you realized in all of his answers he kept saying ‘we’. 

“You won’t leave me?” Your voice cracked slightly and you shut your eyes, body tensing as you waited for his answer.

Satoru pressed his lips against your forehead.

“Never.” He laughed slightly, “As much as you might annoy me. I’ll always take care of you.” 

You shifted, looking into his eyes, searching for the catch. Satoru offered a soft smile, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“We’re in this together.”

Relax

“How am I supposed to relax with your damn eyes glowing in the dark?” 

You were beyond exhausted. Almost two days of no sleep, subsisting off of energy drinks and snacks from vending machines. The mission had been a bust, the curse user you had been sent after being given the heads up beforehand. Smug bastard that they were, they had dragged you and Satoru across two cities till finally you had cornered the curse user in a small village alley. 127 whole miles from the original spot you were supposed to have finished the mission. 

Despite the lack of sleep, Gojo had dispatched the curse user with ease. Hell maybe because of the lack of sleep. The man was a monster, something you were realizing more and more with each passing month. A good monster but still, you were glad you weren’t on the curse’s side of this battle.

“I’m not sleepy yet.” Satoru mumbled, eyes locked on the book in his hands. You scowled at that. It was pitch black in the hotel room, EXCEPT for the eerie glow that his eyes gave off. It let him see in the dark, see practically everything. And right now, it was making it impossible for you to sleep. Even across the room they glowed like annoying beacons. Everytime you managed to drift off, if you shifted ever so slightly, the blue glow would appear, burning through your eyelids.

You knew it was because he kept glancing at you. 

“Damn it.” You huffed. Throwing the blankets off, you slid out of bed, stomping the few feet over to him. Anger and exhaustion made you bold, turning off the normal filters that kept you polite. Now was not the time for niceties. You were tired and he needed sleep as well. Normal behavior be damned.

Satoru made a noise of surprise as you pulled the blankets from him. The book was tossed to one side as you straddled his thighs, gently pulling his member from his boxers. You ignored the grin he gave you as you bent down, gently licking the soft skin of his cock. It twitched in your hand, quickly hardening as you lapped at his skin. 

Satoru finally closed his eyes, the room truly dark as you gently sucked the tip of his cock. The room silent except for the soft lewd noises your mouth made against his skin.

You swirled your tongue over the head of his cock as you slowly slid his member further into your mouth. He wouldn’t fit in your mouth fully, the man was too large for that. But what didn’t fit in your mouth, you gently pumped with one hand. He was stiff and warm in your mouth, strangely sweet against your tongue. Not that you would ever complain. Saliva pooled from your lips, coating the rest of his length as you flattened your tongue against the head of his cock. He thrust his hips against your mouth, murmuring something you couldn’t quite hear.

Bobbing your head up and down, you hollowed your cheeks, slowly pulling against the tip of his cock. Satoru let out a muffled moan, one hand threading in your hair as he urged you further down his cock. You resisted the urge to gag, letting your throat relax as you humored the man.

“Good girl.” Satoru breathed out, the hand in your hair tightening as you took him down your throat. You scrunched your face as his pubic hair tickled your nose. It took all of your effort not to react, instead taking a deep inhale through your nose to try and fill your aching lungs. 

Satoru was too big, your throat ached as he began to gently thrust up into your mouth. You gripped his thighs to steady yourself, letting him take control. 

His thrusts were gentle, rutting against your throat with a rhythm you could take. Drool pooled from your lips, coating the base of his cock as you stifled a moan of your own. The grip on your hair tightened as you pulled all the way back, lips stopping to suck at his tip. You teased him for a moment, tongue laving at the underside of his cock. It let you breath while also teasing him a bit.

Satoru’s grip in your hair was iron, the man shaking beneath you as you slowly lowered your head again. Inch by inch you took him back, allowing him to push all the way back into your mouth.

“Fuck.” It was a small breathy moan, Satoru’s grip loosening as you took control. You took it slow, teasingly bobbing your head along his length. Just fast enough to build to his release, but not enough to send him over the edge.

This was your little revenge for him being such an ass during the mission. 

You let out a muffled yelp as his hand tightened in your hair again, pushing your face back down his length. Drool smeared across your nose and cheeks as he thrust up into your mouth, chasing his release with no regard for you anymore. 

A silent two can play this game from him.

Satoru’s low grunts and moans filled your ears as he pounded his length into your throat. It was bruising and you nearly gagged as he dragged his cock back then thrust it deep within your throat. Satoru ejaculated into the back of your throat and you swallowed instinctively. The warm liquid slid easily down your throat and you groaned as he kept cumming. His large hand massaged the back of your head as you swallowed his full load, a quiet praise falling from his lips.

With a sputter, you pulled yourself from him, coughing as you massaged your throat. On one hand you were a little pissed but on the other, you hoped he was finally tired.

“Go to bed.” You rasped, trying and failing to clear your throat. Satoru laughed at that, tugging you beside him and nuzzling your neck.

“Relax. You’re going to give yourself a stroke with how much you stress out.” His words carried a hint of sleepiness, the man’s eyes blessedly closed as you tugged the blankets over the two of you. He was being an ass again but you were too tired to fight him. Instead you allowed sleep to swiftly take you.

Sealed

“Suguru?” His voice sounded broken. Your heart ached from your hiding spot, fingers digging into the subway tile as you listened to the man you love break. Anger, incredulity and pain. They radiated from him in violent waves that painted the subway with his cursed energy. 

“You CAN’T be Suguru.” Rage had won, Satoru struggling against his bonds as he faced the imposter. You couldn’t hear the other man, his thin lips barely moving as he spoke to Satoru.

Not that it mattered. The situation was far beyond your abilities. Even if null worked now, you doubted it could do anything against the odd black prison Satoru was currently within. 

You had heard snippets on the way in. The curses who were intelligent enough to speak, Yuji who had figured it out somehow. All painted the picture that horrified you.

They meant to seal Gojo Satoru away. 

It meant destruction of the world as you knew it. And there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

So, as the reanimated Suguru moved to finalize the seal, you leapt forward. 

Your presence had been unnoticed, Your stupid ability kept you hidden from them until you stepped from behind the pillar.

And by the time they realized it, your hand was in his, and the seal was complete. 

You let out a terrified scream, fingers tightly gripping Satoru’s hand as pitch black surrounded you. It felt odd, as if all the air were being sucked from your lungs. You were being crushed and pulled apart at the same time. 

Then the black peeled away, a sea of chattering skeletons unveiling themselves to you. Beside you, Satoru sat slumped, eyes locked on the twisting black plane beneath you. He was in shock you realized. Whether from seeing his dead friend or the impossible task of sealing him, he was frozen. 

The skeleton’s hissed, swelling forward, arms posed to attack. You flinched, arms coming up in a futile attempt to push them away, to keep Satoru safe. He was the only way out, you had to keep him alive.

There might not be a way out. It was a harrowing thought and one you were quick to swallow. You would not give in, not while you could still claw and scream. 

The skeleton’s stumbled back, flattening against the dark walls of the cube. They were mushed into the sickly black, weakly fighting against null. The walls absorbed them greedily, the collection of bones clawing to be free from the darkness.

“Why now.” You laughed bitterly, the sound of your voice being absorbed quickly by the walls around you. Null was listening fully. It was like breathing, happening as you willed it with no thought involved. 

Your powers crumbled the skeleton mob, clearing the space around you with ease. But it did nothing against the cube. The walls absorbing Null like it was nothing.

A Prison just for him, You couldn’t remember where you had heard that. But it might explain why your ability did nothing to the prison itself.

“FUCK!” You kicked at a loose bone, watching as the skeleton’s slowly began putting themselves back together. They were moving at a snail's pace, bones inching across the rippling black walls, before snapping in place.

Beside you Satoru remained still, staring at the ground. His hands were limp in his lap, hair hiding his eyes from your view. You had a feeling however, that they would be dull. The brilliant blue smothered to something darker. More human.

It didn’t matter either way. You could do what you had been doing best for the past year. Buying time. However long it took, however many Eons you were trapped. You would keep going until Satoru was ready to be himself again.

Tummy

Training break is what he called it. Work interruption is what you called it. Either way you had relented, allowing Satoru to bend you over the desk with little protest.

His warm hand was on your stomach, gripping the soft flesh as he drilled into you from behind with slow precision.

“Not yet.” Satoru whispered, rocking into you slowly. You moaned in response, fingers gripping the edges of the desk. Your bare breasts were pressed against the many scattered files , the paper rustling slightly with each thrust. Satoru’s cock was like velvet, slowly pushing in then dragging out at an infuriating slow pace. Each thrust built the pleasure twisting in your abdomen, but not enough to cum. You whined, trying to push back into him. The man merely laughed, stilling within you.

“If you’re going to be a brat then I’m having my fun without you.” He pulled free, flipping you in a fluid motion. A frustrated protest left your lips as he moved you, brow furrowing as a wave of irritation threaded through your veins. Your back hit the desk with a thud and you let out a gasp. Slightly dizzy, it took you a moment to realize he had only partially meant what he said.

Satoru had been saying, ‘Just this once’ a lot since you had first fucked in his apartment. The man was adamant on not giving what you did a label but also hungrier than a starved dog. You spent half your days sore from being drilled into. He was relentless.

“Be good and maybe I’ll let you cum.” Satoru panted, holding your thighs closed as he gently nudged the head of his cock between them. You gave him a small scowl and a nod of affirmation. 

Satoru set the slow pace again, using the slick of your folds to lubricate your cock as he languidly thrust between your thighs. Each thrust had the underside of his member catching on your clit and you whined, canting your hips against his.

“Be good.” He snapped, pace picking up as he shifted, freeing one hand to smack your ass. You yelped at that, quickly slapping a hand over your mouth. As much as he liked to break the rules, you were mortified to be in the office, pants discarded on the floor and Gojo between your thighs. The absolute last thing you needed was Nanami or Yaga walking in on the two of you. As unbothered Satoru would be by that.

The lewd sound of his cock dragging through your wetness filled the room and you prayed that everyone would stay out on their missions for as long as possible.

Satoru rutted against you, teeth grit as his cock pressed against your warmth. Beneath him, you remained as still as you could, hips canting slowly against his. The warm underside of his cock nudged your clit with a lovely precision, gently coaxing you closer to orgasm. You fought the urge to spread your thighs, to beg him to fuck you. Satoru was fixated on your thighs and you knew any movement from you would have him chiding you and starting the process all over again.

“Wanna cum?” He panted out and you nodded eagerly, squirming against him. Satoru picked up his pace, pulling your thighs as flush against your abdomen as he could. He rutted against you, freeing one hand to rub against your clit. His thumb was rough, actions hurried as he swirled the pad of his finger against your clit. 

You moaned quietly begging him for more. Juices dripped down your ass and you knew some of the files beneath you were ruined. But you didn’t care, too focused on the tight heat in your stomach and how Satoru’s cock slipped, nudging against your entrance.

He pinched your clit, tugging it roughly and you came undone. Walls fluttering around nothing you whined.

“Good girl.” Satoru huffed out, still sliding his cock through your folds. He was close, his eyes half lidded, cheeks dusted pink as he rutted lazily against you. Satoru came with a small groan, his seed spilling across your stomach, warm and sticky.

He stood still, cock growing limp between your thighs. You lay on the desk bracing yourself for his stupid habitual sentence that ruined every intimate moment you had together. 

But instead of the usual ‘Just this once’ he asked.

“Wanna be fuck buddies?”

Umbra

Satoru was like a celestial being. It was something no one could deny, no matter how irritated they were with him. He was like the sun, shining down upon the common folk of earth. Bright and cocky he alone kept the world in balance.

In contrast, you were the moon, hidden in shadow. A quiet and simple celestial body with little to add.

And together you created an eclipse, your union the Umbra hiding his light from earth. 

You hadn’t meant to use your ability. Null turning on was never intentional. But in your intense anxiety and fear for the students, it was like a switch was flipped.

The curtain that had been placed around the goodwill event flickered and shattered. To your right Utahime gasped as if she had been punched, eyes going wide as she stared at you.

“Turn it OFF.” Satoru snapped, one hand grabbing you by the bicep, the man shaking you roughly. He and the rest of the world sounded like they were underwater. Null seeming to slow time down for you by a fraction of a second. You let out a squeak of pain, concentrating.

Utahime was yelling something, her face pale and sweaty. Both of them were nervous and panicked, no doubt feeling exposed.

No one liked when you used null. It stripped them of their abilities, of a core part of what made them who they were. Like a piece of me died. That’s how Gojo had described it.

You shuddered in his grasp, willing the ability to just fucking stop. And it did, a dull rush of sound started up again and the world was as it had been. Gojo was off, rushing into the woods with Utahime on his heels.

You stood alone on the pathway, useless again. The sound of distant fighting met your ears, woven beneath the rustling of tree leaves. 

Why attack the students? Why keep just Gojo out? You stared at where the curtain had been, the path untouched as if nothing had happened.

To keep him distracted from their true goal. Your head snapped around, gaze locking on the school building. It was empty save the few sorcerers who guarded the various vaults of the school. 

You turned fully, darting back towards the school. There was no reason you should have. In truth you should have called out, found someone else to alert. Hell found one of MeiMei’s crows to alert. But there was no time.

You ran, senses on high alert as you searched for cursed energy. Everything was muddled, Yuji and Todo were fighting something strong. It overpowered the area, mixing with the natural energy Gojo exuded. But there were other energies, quieter but you could still feel them.

There was one you didn’t know. Slimy and cold, itching beneath everything else. You turned a corner, concentrating on holding onto the feeling.

And you froze. An odd man stood mid step, looking equally as surprised as you. He was sickly looking, pale with many stitches woven into his skin. His arms were full, items that exuded strong energy, no doubt stolen.

Definitely stolen. You shuddered as your body recognized the dull throb that was Sukuna. It was a painful energy to be around. A finger, they had one of his fingers.

“Did you make me go wiggly?” The being asked, tilting his head to one side. You frowned at his question, body tensed to flee. There was something about him, something off beyond the fact that he was a cursed spirit.

“Wiggly?” You were hesitant to talk to it, but maybe you could stall it long enough for someone else to notice. The spirit nodded, shifting its stolen goods slightly.

“Like all the cursed energy was being sucked into one point.” He laughed, the sound high and manic. “It was hard not to give in and just disappear.” 

A patched spirit, human like with stitches. If it touches you, it changes your soul. It will kill you in the most painful way possible. 

You remembered then, Nanami’s grim report. Of the boy Junpei and the spirit that killed him. Mahito. His name was Mahito.

He took a step forward, dull gray hair falling in his face. You took a step back, legs shaking slightly. Mahito squinted at you, a grin spreading across his face.

“It WAS you wasn’t it?”

The laugh again, unpleasant against your ears. Mahito took another step, the wolfish grin plastered across his face.

“He’s not going to be happy to learn about you.”

You wanted to ask who the cursed spirit meant. But Mahito lunged forward and you kited to the right, dodging his half hearted attempt to touch you. He merely laughed, quickly disappearing over the campus wall, his limbs having twisted to awful horse like hooves.

You stood for a moment, watching where he had disappeared before turning and rushing back to the forest. 

Satoru saw you before you saw him. He was on you in second, arms wrapping around your waist. Normally you might’ve pulled away, not wanting the other teachers to see the affection. But you were terrified. Somehow, having your existence acknowledged by Mahito was the worst feeling.

“Mahito.” You panted out, wincing as Satoru’s fingers dug into your sides. 

“He took a finger.” You gasped, trying to catch your breath as you twisted in his hold, jabbing a finger over your shoulder. “Other things too.”

Satoru was silent, his hands clenched at his sides. You realized what he was waiting for and waved your hand in front of your face.

“He didn’t touch me. I promise.” 

Your words relaxed the man, but only by a fraction. Beneath his blindfold, you could see the furrow of his brow and the clench of his jaw. He was pissed, mind working double time as he thought out his next move. 

Mojito’s days are numbered, You thought faintly, turning as Utahime and Nanami caught up with the white haired sorcerer.

Void 

Volcano head was screaming something. You couldn’t hear from your spot next to Yuji, squinting as you tried and failed to follow the fight. Gojo was too fast and the curse was trying pretty well to keep pace. Beside you, Yuji was tense, leaning forward as he took in the fight. It was a learning opportunity, though you hoped he was getting more from it than you.

Satoru was showing off and you had a feeling the Curse was as well. It was angry, insulted and blood thirsty. You shifted in your spot next to Yuji, nibbling at your thumb as you thought about using null. It wasn’t like you could conjure it up at will, but if something went wrong it would be up to you to protect Yuji.

What a joke. The critical part of you was quick to quip. And it was. At most you could buy the kid a few seconds. Hell you had a feeling Sukuna would do more for the kid and not even out of the kindness of his heart. I am pathetic. You thought tiredly.

Something changed and all of a sudden Satoru was before the two of you. His demeanor was more serious and you shivered as he extended limitless to the two of you. Around you the earth changed. Suddenly fire and lava sprang up on all sides. Heat pressed against your skin, hungrily lapping at limitless as it tried to singe your flesh. You were trapped in a ball of molten earth, the Curse spirit looking triumphant at whatever he had caused.

“You know.” Satoru started, hooking one finger into his blindfold and tugging it down. “The best way to get rid of a Domain expansion, is to lay down your own.” 

Domain Expansion. It had been explained to you once in an attempt to see if it was something you could achieve. Null functioned similarly, or so they thought. But alas you had never gotten past basic combat. Still you remembered enough and you shuddered as you watched lava bubble around you. He was explaining it for Yuji’s sake, not yours. Still showing off as the teacher he was.

No one sees Infinite Void and lives. Nanami had stated once. Satoru never let them. And you could see why.

As the words left his lips, the volcanic field around you was sucked into an abyss of black. It was the night sky. Space and all its stars. It was the gap between cells, the void between atoms. The void stretched on for Eons, spirling farther than your human mind could comprehend. It was beautiful and it was terrible.

You and Yuji clung to Satoru’s waist. He hadn’t said anything to either of you, but you knew without asking. If you got separated, you would vanish, become part of the void that stretched on without end. 

He shifted and suddenly your trio was behind the Curse. Yuji was in your arms and you were tucked in the crook of Satoru’s left arm. You shared a bewildered look with the teen. In the void, there was too much. You were frozen, unable to act. And yet Satoru cut through the space as if it were nothing. 

The curse sputtered before you, gasping as if it were failing to draw air. Did curses breathe? Did the rules of the world matter in this void? 

Satoru was saying something, his free hand gripping the top of the curse’s head. You barely heard it though, mind churning as you stared at the void beneath Satoru’s feet.

Did the council truly think you could ever defeat someone like this? A mortal God. The thought almost had you laughing at the sheer absurdity. Were you watching Gojo? Or was he watching you, the one with the power to crumble the world he stood at the top of as its God?

You felt Yuji tense in your arms and you looked up in time to watch Gojo rip the curse’s head from his shoulders. The man looked terrifying, the void crumbling around him like shards of moonlight. Even murderous, he was still beautiful. 

You and Yuji sat, still clinging to each other as Gojo questioned the curse. IT didn’t work, a different curse springing into action, a field of flowers springing up around your group. The scent of the flowers made it hard to think and you and Yuji watched as Satoru chased after the two. 

“Too much or not enough?” It was hours later and you glanced up from the paperwork you were working on. Satoru had his head tilted as he looked down at you, one eyebrow raised.

“What was?” You looked back down at the report, wondering how best to put into words how the night went. Yaga wanted detailed reports when it came to Yuji, understandably so. But you were having trouble putting the night into words.

“My teaching.” Satoru rested against the desk, crumpling a few of the finished files you had set to the side. You shrugged at that, inhaling quietly as you penned a half hearted description for Yaga. Satoru watched quietly, eyes narrowed as he read each word. He hadn’t put his blindfold back on yet, the brilliant blue of his eyes unsettling as ever.

“It’s called Infinite Void.” Satoru jabbed a finger at the report. You shot him a look, nudging his finger out of the way as you finished the report. 

“I know. Yaga wants descriptions.” You gestured at what you had written. It was a lackluster description in your opinion. There was no way to put Infinite Void in writing. Anything but the domain was just a pale imitation.

“I can’t exactly accurately describe infinity with mere words.” You shoved the report in its file folder, tossing it in the complete pile. Satoru hummed, holding his hand out. You squinted at him, then took it with a sigh.

He teleported you to his apartment, walking over to the kitchen counter where bags of take out sat waiting.

“I'm not sure we’ve eaten yet today.” Satoru was right of course. Things had been too hectic the past month and not eating was starting to become a habit with the two of you. It wasn’t healthy and you grimaced as your stomach suddenly awoke, grumbling unhappily. 

Per usual, Gojo had ordered from several different restaurants. While he tackled the many sweets that had come with the order, you picked at a pasta bowl that had been in one bag. 

“Did it scare you?” You pushed the noodles around the bowl, watching Satoru’s face as he licked icing from his fingertips. “Using Infinite Void for the first time?” 

The man thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Why would I be?”

You looked back at your meal, taking a small bite as you thought. Of course he wouldn’t be. Between his other techniques and the 6 eyes, his domain expansion was just the natural next step. Still, it made you wonder. 

“What does it look like to you?” 

You blinked at his question, swallowing your bite as you carefully considered. Satoru’s eyes were locked on your face, two unblinking blue skies.

“It's like you.” Your answer was as truthful as you could get. It was the only way to even come close to accurately describing the domain. 

“Terrible, overwhelming and yet beautiful.” 

Satoru laughed at that, popping a strawberry in his mouth. “You think I’m beautiful?”

You shot him a glare. “I could be blind and still recognize your beauty.” 

He let out a small laugh at that and you rolled your eyes. Gesturing at him, you let out a small sigh. “You are a God among us are you not?” 

Satoru shrugged at that, something in his eyes changing as you spoke. There was something guarded in his expression, as if he had heard this before.

“Your looks, your powers. Everything is stacked in your favor.” 

You didn’t need much knowledge of the world of curses to know that he was at the top. Gojo Satoru was the envy of all, even those blind to the curses around them. He waded through humanity an Adonis among the masses.

“Is that why you sleep with me?” He smirked as you sputtered, “A gold digger for the Gojo clan money and power?”

Satoru dodged as you chucked your fork at him. You were part angry and part amused. Of course he would get out of an actually serious conversation using sex.

“I sleep with you because unfortunately I like you.”  The heat in your cheeks was an inferno. You could feel the blush extending down your neck. It wasn’t something you had ever admitted out loud. Not when beneath him in bed, nor bent over a desk. No matter how much you had felt during sex with the man, you had always kept it to yourself. To you, it was a girlish crush that he would brush to the side. Satoru wasn’t one for serious emotions. Not when he could hide behind his normal facade.

“The real you that you show me shards of.” You clarified, cutting him off as he opened his mouth to respond. A silence fell in the kitchen as the two of you began eating again. You felt mortified, embarrassed at the partial confession. If only null worked on me, you mused, wondering what it would take to disappear from the apartment without Gojo’s help. But alas, that wasn’t in the cards. Even if you could suddenly teleport it wasn’t like you could flee from this world and your responsibilities in it. 

“I like you too.” He murmured, so low that you almost didn’t hear it. The words shocked you to your core. He seemed incapable of such emotion and yet here he was, eyes locked on his plate. Satoru was unable to look at you as he admitted it. 

You merely hummed in response, knowing better than to push it. This was as close as you would get to love from him.

Weightless

There was nothing but air around you. The sky was to your back, the ground oh so far below. 

It had launched you. The curse had moved around Gojo and instead had wrapped one vine-like limb around your legs and flung you into the sky. 

For a moment you had spun, end over end. A dizzying ascent that had you nearly pass out. You weighed nothing, your organs were all rearranged, trying to crawl out your throat. Far far below you could see the dark speck that was the massive curse and an even smaller white speck that was Gojo. 

With a sickening lurch you reached the peak of the arch. Your body seemed to freeze, movement stopped for just a second before gravity grasped you and you plummeted to the ground. Tears streamed from your eyes as a silent scream bubbled in your throat. The ground hurtled upwards the small specs of trees becoming larger with each passing second. You could see the leaves now and your eyes slammed shut as you let out a high wail. Body tensing you waited to feel yourself crumple.

“Gotcha.” Satoru’s arms wrapped around you and your sudden descent halted. All of the air felt sucked from your lungs and you gasped as you struggled to breathe. Just feet below you was the forest floor, the green cheerfully rustling in the low breeze. Your fingers dug into his jacket and you trembled as your mind tried to come to terms with the fact that a few seconds later you would have died.

There was the odd tugging pull as Gojo teleported and you were back in the hotel room you had rented out for this mission.

“T-the curse.” You managed to sputter out, knees shaking as you sat on the bed.

“Blam.” Satoru punched one fist into the palm of his other hand, a large grin on his face. He looked beyond smug, adjusting his blindfold with one finger. You let out a small sigh of relief, feeling some sense of safety seeping back into your veins. This mission had taken too long for your liking and you knew Yaga was going to have a fit when you got back.

“You need to get used to that.” The man flopped onto the single armchair in the room, adjusting his blindfold.

“Being flung?” Your heart was still pounding, the words barely making it out of your throat. The look you threw at him was a mix of annoyance and incredulity. In the several months you had “worked” for the man, never had he brought up “Being Flung” as one of your job duties.

“Uh, yeah.” Even with the blind fold, you could read clearly the ‘are you stupid?’ look plastered on his face. You opened your mouth to tell him off and shrieked as suddenly his hand was on your wrist.

And you were weightless again. 

“SATORU!!!” You howled, eyes tearing up as you plummeted from who knows how high. There were only clouds and cold biting air. A plane of bright white that dizzyingly spun past you as gravity latched onto your flesh. Tears filled your eyes as stinging, icy air bit at your face and exposed skin. You couldn’t see the ground as you fell, the fluffy clouds hiding your horrible fate from you as you plummeted.

“IT’S NOT SO BAD.” Satoru was next to you suddenly, letting himself fall as he grabbed your hand. You let out a wordless shriek, rage and fear mixing in your stomach as you fought the urge to pass out. Fear filled your head like a thick syrup, the urge to survive grappling the inevitable death that awaited miles below you.

The ground was visible now. A horrible patchwork that became clearer with each passing second. Farm land and cities painted themselves before you with a dizzying speed. Your heart was in your throat, pulse a thunderous roar in your head as you let out another howl.

“Relax.” Satoru huffed. You were back in the white expanse of sky again, no longer falling. High above the clouds where the air was thin and cold. Dew was quick to collect, a chilling cover that did little to calm your frantic pulse. Satoru held you in his arms, scowling down at you. His chest pressed against your back, arms locked tightly at your waist as he let out another sigh.

“You need to be able to react well to attacks like this.”

Slipping his blindfold off, Satoru stared at you with his brilliant eyes. They rivaled the sky you realized, still able to find him attractive despite the fear still threading through your veins.

“Curses will always try to separate and concur.” 

He shifted you in his arm, face close to yours as he held you close. Satoru’s breath was sweet and warm, surprisingly welcome against your chilled face. It nearly made you loosen your hold on your anger. And then he opened his mouth again.

“It's easier to pick off the weaklings and then focus on me.”

Words formed and failed to pass your lips. You were beyond pissed at the man. Despite his angelic looks and charming grin, he was a devil.

“F-fuck you.” You managed to sputter out, fingers digging into his sleeve as you tried to avoid looking down.

“Ah, you wish.” He cackled. You silently cursed him as the man teleported you back to the hotel room. Gojo was your personal devil, you decided.

Xeric

“Five letter word meaning a very dry habitat.” Satoru was hunched over a wordscross, the man so bored he had resorted to reading the newspaper. You sat beside him, watching as the airport flight board went through its cycle, wincing each time your flight number was displayed.

Delayed by 2 hours. You weren’t sure you could last another 2 hours with the whiny man baby. He had gotten nicer since the night he had come crying. The past 3 months it had been easier to be his assistance. But now that he wasn’t hating your guts, you were being given the same aloof rich toddler routine he gave everyone else.

You knew it was a facade. That Satoru was unable to let anyone in. The event in his teen years that he refused to talk about had changed who he was. Made the man a wolf in sheep's clothing.

“Hey.” He nudged you with one knee, sliding his dark shades down his nose. Satoru regarded you, his other hand shaking the newspaper in your direction again.

“I asked a question.”

You shot him an exacerbated look. The past 2 weeks you had been on a mission with him. Being dragged to the middle of nowhere to find a special grade spirit terrorizing a small village. While Gojo had been stomping around the forest, you had spent the days surrounded by the old women of the village pestering you about your ‘husband’. It had been horrible, the old women unabashed in their curiosity about the handsome man and how well he made love. 

Gross.

With a small sigh, you looked at the question again, trying to think of a suitable answer. Surprisingly you had it. 

“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you can’t just teleport us back.”

Satoru whined at that, leaning back in his chair, head tilting back as he let out a dramatic sigh.

“I dunno ask Yaga. He’s the one bitching about keeping a low profile.” 

Fair enough, you grimaced as you thought back to the talking to you had started getting weekly. Yaga was determined to reign Satoru in and was fully intent on using you as the vessel to do so. Not that you could do anything to stop the snowy haired man even if you wanted to.

“Xeric is the answer.”

Satoru gave you a look, “That’s not a word.”

You shot him a glare, “Don’t ask for my help if you aren’t going to take it.” 

The man hummed, stretching his long legs out. He had worn an all black ensemble today. Black slacks, loafers and a turtleneck. It made his hair look even more shocking. Satoru was handsome in an unearthly way today. It upset you to acknowledge it, cheeks heating up at the thought.

“Use it in a sentence.” He sat back, sliding his shades back up to hide his eyes.

“Google it.” You huffed, crossing your arms and looking away. Without looking you knew he was making a face at you. The man was a child. A small part of you almost liked it better when he hated you.

His hand finger walked from the armrest of the airport bench onto your thigh. Satoru tapped and nudged your thigh until you turned with narrowed eyes.

“Fine.” You paused, then grinned at him, “You make my pussy xeric.”

You weren’t sure if you were using the word right. But it was worth it to see the look of utter shock on his face. He let out a small bark of laughter, turning to his phone to no doubt search up the word.

You let out a small groan, watching as your flight details painfully adjusted.

Delayed by 3 hours.

Yelling

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” 

Satoru was screaming and you could barely hear him. There was a loud buzzing in your head, as if a million bees had settled in your skull. You felt heavy, your limbs were somehow miles apart. Moving felt impossible, you were too tired, too heavy, too scattered. 

‘Sleep. Sleeping would be good.’ You thought tiredly. The feeling was intense, too difficult to resist. Your eyes slid shut, darkness filling your mind and making the buzzing worse.

“FUUUUCK!” 

Your eyes slid open, each eyelid somehow heavier than the earth itself. Through your blurry vision you could see Megumi and Satoru. Both looked panicked. Satoru’s blue eyes were uncovered, pupils dilated as he shakily picked you up. He winced as you let out a protest, more a screech than any word that had tried to form. Everything hurt, waves of fire swelling beneath your skin. Your veins were filled with lava, burning your very soul as he pulled you from the field to a sterile room.

Why is he yelling. You wondered faintly, brow furrowing as you tried to find your mouth, It was too far to use. But it was right where it should be. You licked your lips, struggling to find words that piled uselessly in your throat and silenced you. Your lips tasted of iron, the metallic taste filling your mouth unpleasantly.

Shoko was yelling now, furiously pointing at you and then jabbing her finger into Gojo’s chest. Beside them, Megumi looked pale.

‘Poor kid.’ You thought sluggishly. ‘Where were Yuji and Nobara?’

“FIX IT!”

He was yelling again, hands in his hair this time. You winced, the lights too bright. They reflected from his hair in a strangely blinding way. You tried to wave your hand, to tell him you were fine. It was impossible to tell if it worked, you felt too tired. Sleep, you just needed sleep. Your eyes slid shut again and you gave in to the urge to sleep.

You dreamt of a void. Endless and darker than black. It didn’t scare you, something about it was comforting. The deep black was familiar. A part of you that was sleeping just beneath the surface. The part of you that was Null.

When you awoke, he was yelling again. It was distant, as if he was a few rooms away.

“Sensei. Are you ok?” Yuji sat at your bed, the manga he had been reading forgotten in his hands.

You blinked, licked your lips and nodded. Part of you felt ashamed. This wasn’t your first time ending up in a hospital due to your own incompetence. It was a tired routine that your body was beginning to resent. But the rest of you was too tired to care. Pain seemed to have made its home in your bones, twined beneath muscles and fat to bite at your very core.

“How long have I been out?” You rasped. From the hallway you could hear Gojo’s voice becoming louder.

“5 days.” Megumi stepped into the room and you caught a glimpse of Satoru and Yaga in the hallway. Both looked beyond pissed. The boys shared a glance, some unspoken agreement passing between them.

“What happened?” Your throat stung, each word so faint that you barely heard yourself. The boys shared another glance, a heavy darkness hanging between them for a moment.

“That simple mission wasn’t simple.” Megumi sat on the end of your bed, mouth twisting in a frown. His hair looked more disheveled than usual, dark bags under his eyes adding to his beaten down look.

“It was a special grade and two cursed wombs.”

You blinked, mind sluggish putting it together. The council had been upset about something, again. Your mind couldn’t be bothered to piece it together. But there was a bridge, a curse that had been horribly wrong.

You and Megumi were stuck, the curse swelling larger than life. It wasn’t going to be a simple fight. As it shed its previous skin, you found yourself staring at a massive man-like creature with too many arms and eyes. It had eaten more than one of Sukuna’s fingers. 

You shared a glance with Megumi, the look the boy giving you showing you that he was thinking the same thing. Had it been fed the fingers? Was this a trap?

“Ah” You let out a tired rasp, settling deeper into the plush pillows you were propped up on. For some reason you thought of Mahito, of the school event. Was this the result of that?

You were too tired to ponder on that, choosing instead to glance about the room you were in. Now that you were more awake you could tell the clinic you were in was a lot fancier than it needed to be. The sheets you were on were definitely silk and that walls had medical equipment that looked more expensive than your apartment. That was typical of Satoru, always the best that money could buy.

“Why is he yelling?” You rasped out, eyes half lidded as you stared at the closed door of your room. Satoru was beyond pissed, something that was rare for him to show in front of others. Any emotion was rare for him to share. The man put up a facade of cheerful, carefree idiocy so much that it was hard to believe he was anything but that. 

“Uh.” Yuji made a face, again sharing a glance with Megumi, “He might’ve tried to go kill the council.” 

“Yaga stopped him.” Megumi sighed, rubbing the palm of his hand into his left eye.

“Idiot.” Yuji snickered. No, not Yuji. Sukuna.

“HEY!” Yuji yelped, slapping his hand over the mouth forming on his cheek. It didn’t deter the old curse, a new mouth forming on the back of the offending hand.

“Hello dipshit.” The mouth cackled. You hummed in response, lips pressing in a thin line. You were the dipshit in question. Sukuna had made it known his opinion of you when Gojo had first introduced you to the boy. You liked to think that you unsettled the curse. After all, unreliable powers made you unpredictable.

“I’m so sorry Sensei.” Yuji stuffed his hand in his pocket, sighing as the mouth popped back up on his cheek. The curse was persistent today. 

You watched as the curse cackled, seeming to enjoy how uncomfortable he was making the boy. 

Sukuna is an idiot. You decided. It didn’t matter that he could probably rend the earth in half with his bare hands. He was still an idiot. All brute strength and no brains. Ok maybe some brains, no one got the legendary status he did without some effort.

Your head was aching, hell everything was and the Curse’s laugh was getting on your last nerve. Thinking back to the dream you had well passed out, you focused on that deep null feeling that you had swam in.

“AH!” Both boys flinched as a weak wave of null rippled out around you. It had the desired effect, the mouth on Yuji’s cheek closing with a snap. You smiled, inhaling deeply and focusing again to release the feeling. 

“You figured it out!” Satoru flung the door open, striding in with a rather manic look on his face. You nodded stiffly, offering an apologetic smile to the room.

“One good thing about this I suppose.” 

Gojo merely hummed at that. He was upset, you could see it in how he stood, fists jammed deep in his pockets. The boys could tell as well, both giving him a concerned look.

“Glad to see you’re up.” You smiled as Nanami entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He had a small pastry box in his hands. 

“Are you done yelling?” The blonde leveled a sharp look at Gojo. Satoru huffed, running a finger over his blindfold.

“Depends, is there a donut in there for me?” 

For a moment Nanami just glared, allowing Yuji and Megumi to each snag a treat from the box. Then he relented, passing the box to the white haired man. Gojo took it with a noise of excitement, flopping next to you on the bed. You gently took one of the chocolate donuts, biting into it carefully. Next to you, Satoru crammed a jelly donut into his mouth, not caring about the mess he made. He leaned close to you, licking his lips with an odd gusto.

“I am in fact not done with yelling.” He murmured in your ear. It was not a whisper, Nanami shooting him a glare and the boys both sharing another cryptic look. You let out a sigh, wondering faintly if there was a way you could turn null on permanently. 

Zealot

“Don’t say his name.” Satoru snapped at you with a ferocity bordering on rage. It stunned you for a second and you physically recoiled, one foot sliding back as you tensed. The man’s uncovered gaze was usually unnerving as is. But now, it was positively poison.

“A-alright. Sorry.” You stammered out, shifting a step away from him. Shoko had been right of course. Stupidly you had thought the two of you had grown close enough that you could start to peel back the layers that Satoru shrouded himself in.

In the months you had been working with him you had learned that his cheerful and arrogant behavior was to cover how he truly felt. The man exposed nothing about himself, not who he cared for and definitely not how he felt. Satoru presented the world with the facade of a confident jujutsu god.

It slipped from time to time. Usually when he was startled, like with you using null from the first time. Or when one of his students was put in danger without him around to help. It was rare but it happened.

You shifted to the kitchen of your apartment, fiddling with a hand towel. The air was tense, Satoru standing with his back to you. 

“I didn’t mean to snap.” The man sighed, walking over to you. Satoru leaned against the counter, sliding his hand across the smooth granite.

“He’s a dead Zealot. That’s all he is.”

It was a lie. You didn’t need Satoru’s six eyes to see that. 

“He left the jujutsu world, became a cult leader.”

You stood, one hand limp against the counter top. He was being incredibly open. It scared you a little to see such raw edges exposed.

Beneath the shiny and perfect exterior sat tangled and ripped edges of hurt that he had swallowed. Never acknowledged, it had years to grow, years to fester within the hidden most part of his soul.

“Suguru killed humans, his own parents.” Satoru spat, he was angry, but not entirely with his best friend. You could tell some of the anger was directed inwards, chewing at the open wound. He blamed himself. Blamed decisions he did not make and could not have stopped.

“He died as he lived, cruel and heartless.”

You slid your hand across the counter, gently touching his finger tips. Satoru pulled his hand away, the look in his eyes steely as he regarded you.

You swallowed the hurt, trying to assume a comforting expression.

“You don’t mean that.” Your voice was soft and unsure. Satoru laughed harshly, smile too sharp, eyes too bright.

“Nothing good comes of a zealot.” He turned, yanking the apartment door open. You flinched as the door slammed behind him, stomach twisting in knots. Satoru had cried so hard when his friend died. He had poured his heart wordlessy into the air, into your arms. 

You knew he hadn’t allowed Shoko to deal with the funeral rights. That there really hadn’t been a funeral, just a quiet burial.

He hadn’t been able to cremate his friend's body. Hadn’t wanted Shoko to see Suguru as a shell.

Emotions from the past bubbled within him, a churning mess of molten guilt and rage. Satoru could spit and snarl as much as he wanted, but you knew beneath it all he would always love Suguru.

#reader insert #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader

[ilovemensthings]

Nurtured Hearts [Daryl Dixon]

pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

warnings: none; fluff, comfort

As the winds howled outside the safe haven of their camp, Daryl Dixon sat by the flickering fire, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames. The apocalyptic world had hardened him, but deep inside, he longed for a connection that went beyond survival. Little did he know, that connection was about to find him.

Y/N, a survivor with a spirit unbroken by the challenges they faced, caught Daryl's attention as she went about her daily tasks. Her determination and kindness touched him in ways he couldn't explain. One night, as the group settled in for a restless sleep, Daryl noticed Y/N shivering under her thin blanket.

Without a word, he retrieved an extra blanket and draped it over her, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with gratitude, and in that instant, a spark ignited between them.

Days turned into weeks, and their bond deepened. Daryl found himself drawn to Y/N's strength and resilience, yet he also recognized the vulnerability that she tried to hide. One evening, as the group shared stories around the campfire, Daryl caught Y/N stifling a yawn. Without thinking, he gently urged her to lie down, arranging the blankets around her like a protective cocoon.

"Rest, Y/N," he murmured, his voice surprisingly soft.

Y/N couldn't help but smile at his unexpected tenderness. In a world where affection was a rare commodity, Daryl's actions spoke volumes. As she drifted off to sleep, Daryl remained by her side, watching over her like a guardian.

As their relationship evolved, so did Daryl's gestures of care. He would return from his hunts with small gifts—a flower he had found, a hand-carved trinket—tokens of his growing affection. And on particularly tough nights, when the weight of the world seemed unbearable, Daryl would hold Y/N close, his arms a steadfast refuge from the darkness outside.

Their camp became a sanctuary for their budding love, a place where they could momentarily forget the dangers that lurked beyond its boundaries. One rainy afternoon, as Y/N sat reading a tattered book, Daryl approached with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Without warning, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to a sheltered spot, away from the rain.

"Figured you could use a break," he grumbled, though his eyes revealed his true intentions.

Y/N laughed, playfully swatting his arm. "You're a tough one to read, Daryl Dixon."

He shrugged, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Just tryin' to help."

But it was more than just help. It was an unspoken promise to keep her safe and cherished, a promise that Y/N held close to her heart.

As the seasons changed, so did their roles. Daryl's protective instincts never wavered, but Y/N's resilience also became a pillar of strength for him. She listened to his stories, shared her dreams, and showed him that vulnerability didn't equate to weakness.

One evening, as they sat by the fire, Y/N rested her head on Daryl's shoulder. He tensed for a moment before relaxing into the contact, his arm instinctively wrapping around her. The gesture was simple, yet it spoke volumes about their journey together.

"We make a good team," Y/N whispered, her words carrying a deeper meaning.

Daryl nodded, his gruff exterior masking a heart full of emotion. "Yeah, we do."

Their love story was unconventional, born from the ashes of a broken world. Yet, it was undeniably real. Daryl had found solace in being Y/N's protector, and Y/N had found strength in Daryl's unwavering support. Together, they forged a bond that not only defied the odds but also healed their wounded hearts.

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #daryl x you #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead x reader

[phyrestartr]

Easy Prey (An Underestimation) | Miguel x M!Reader

Brother's BFF Miguel! x Male!Reader W/C: 3.2k

#NSFW, college party, cringe dirty talk, butt plugs, bussy loading, alcohol usage, pot usage, vaping, reader is a little shit, miguel gets got, fluff, it's kinda cute tho, consensual sex, car sex

--

"Who is that?" Miguel asked over the howl of party-goers and blasted music. He held his shitty beer in one hand, and a weird concoction of juice, something and…something suspicious in his other hand. Lyla really knew how to embody college in her get-togethers. 

Sebastian glanced at who Miguel gestured to with the tilt of a chin, and he burst into drunken laughter. 

"Dude. No. Nooo no no, nope. That's–nope," he answered, very helpfully. "Just very no." 

Miguel rolled his eyes as his best friend's girl kissed her man, and stole away Miguel's chance of learning just who the alt weirdo lounging on the couch was. Christ, people in love were so fucking annoying. 

"Why, what's his baggage? Drug dealer? Academic dishonesty?" Miguel took a deep drink from the red solo cup and grimaced. "Fuck, what the hell is in this?" 

Sebastian let his girlfriend kiss his neck as he finally gave Miguel an answer. "That's my little brother, dipshit. You remember (Name)? I've only mentioned him like a thousand billion times." 

"Huh." Miguel sipped his beer this time. 

(Name). 

Yeah. Through the haze of booze and the boom of the bass, Miguel did recognize that name. He didn't know you had such a pretty face, though. 

Seb smacked his friend's shoulder. "He's sooo off-limits, dude, so off-limits." 

Miguel scoffed, brandishing an arrogant smirk on his handsome face. "Says who?" 

"Says me, you fucking whore–you're not going to stick your horse dick in my baby brother, you got that?" And he sounded serious, but Miguel didn't really care much. "Hey, hey, if you fuck him, I'm gonna rip your cock off and shove it up your ass and then light you on fire, Miguel. I'm so fucking serious."

"Baby," Seb's girl cooed, "why don't we go wind down a little, huh? I think you need to lay down and cool off." 

"Yeah, go lay down, Sebby," Miguel chided.

"I–but I–okay, I'm gonna go do a 'lil nappy nap," he started, letting his girl drag him away from his arch nemesis, "but when I come back, you better've not cum in my brother, you hear me, O'hara?" 

"Bye bye, sweet dreams," Miguel called instead of answering. He downed the cursed solo drink as soon as Sebastian was spirited away and made his way over to you. 

Miguel more or less brute forced his spot on the couch next to you, pushing between you and some other guy that was getting too handsy with his prey. The other guy threw half-assed complaints and curses at Miguel, but one simple condescending glance had him backing off. Hah. So weak. 

"Woah, you really just–just made a spot for yourself, hey?" You said, earning his attention back. "Kinda hot. Really hot. You're hot." 

Miguel smirked as he looked you over. He liked the sound of your voice, and the lazy, relaxed gaze you met him with. Normally, he didn't go for the softcore scene type, but the black nails suited you, as did the ring showcasing your septum. 

"Couldn't ignore a damsel in distress," Miguel leaned in to say before he slipped his arm along the back of the couch. "I'm Miguel. Miguel O'hara." 

"Cool. You fuck guys?" You licked your lips and, oh god, was that the gleam of a tongue stud he saw?

Excitement bubbled in Miguel's gut. "Straight to the point, huh? I like that." He finished off his beer and set the can down to focus on you. "I fuck anyone with a pretty face."

"Oh. Wow. Damn." He watched your leisurely fingers touch all up and down his body. The firm pushes and soft pinches were left in the right places, like you'd done this before to other men. Miguel figured he was probably the best specimen you'd ever laid eyes on.

And then you kissed him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Somehow, it did feel natural, like you'd been dating for years and had done this a million times before, but still drowned in the excitement of one another. 

Miguel anchored one hand to your waist while the other freely travelled from your shoulder to your neck to the side of your face. He jolted when your fidgety hand slid down to his clothed cock and gave a hearty squeeze. Damn, you really were straight to the point. 

But the way you kissed was another story--you took your time, licking deep into his mouth and prodding behind every tooth to commit Miguel's mouth to memory. You made the sweetest noises, too, reacting to however Miguel decided to taste along the top of your mouth, how he bit your tongue lightly to stop it from leaving him. It'd been so long since Miguel had a partner like you. 

"Let's take this somewhere else," Miguel whispered into your skin while his hands started to wander to your hips, your waist, your legs. "Unless you're an exhibitionist freak." 

"Woooah, you'd fuck me right here if I wanted? And they say chivalry is dead." Miguel laughed something genuine, only cutting off when you kissed him. "But no, no, I like gettin' messy in privacy." 

"Then let's get messy."

Miguel picked you up and hoisted you over his shoulder. The choked half-laugh, half-squawk you let out earned you a sharp slap on the ass as he stole you away to eat you whole, like a jaguar dragging its kill up into a tree for a little privacy. 

He could navigate Lyla's house easily, expertly dodging the flailing limbs and spilling drinks of party-goers as he searched for somewhere quiet to take his prize. But every room he checked had its own lust-crazed college students busy fucking or about to get things started. 

You piped up from your spot on Miguel's shoulder, though, suggesting the perfect place to fuck: your truck. 

"Pretty big," Miguel commented as you both rushed to fold down the back seats to make more room for playtime. 

"Mmmn, I like big." You slammed the boot closed before shuffling back to him. "Bigger is better." 

Miguel grinned wolfishly before pinning you down. "Glad you understand." 

You helped him pull everything off of you from the waist down before you yanked him back in for another sloppy, drunken kiss. His hands, broad and calloused from years of lifting weights, felt up every inch of exposed skin, from your waist, to your thighs, to the powerful curve of your calves, and back up again. Admittedly, he didn't expect you to be in-shape. You weren't built like your brother, a buff, tall meathead; you were built more like a runner: slim, toned, agile.

"Wait, wait, wait," you gasped when Miguel's kisses started migrating lower and lower. The man looked up at you, brow quirked, impatience tugging down the corner of his mouth. "I wanna–" 

"Nope," Miguel cut in.

"Whaaat? I just–'M not allowed to feel you up–? I wanna see your muscles," you whined.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Don't care."

Miguel ignored your drunken complaints while he focused on getting you prepped and ready for his own satisfaction. Sure, he liked letting his prizes fawn over him, obsess over his muscles and leave feverish touches on his tawny skin, but time was of the essence; who knew when your brother would roll up and ruin things? 

He leaned back up and stuck his fingers into your mouth for a few, rude thrusts before yanking them out and easing your legs open so–oh. 

A twinkling, pink, heart-cut gem winked at him in greeting, and a jolt of excitement went straight to Miguel's straining cock. He swallowed as he watched it flicker and gleam with every little shift of your impatient hips. Part of him wanted to leave it in. But the worse side of him wanted to yank it out, and give it something to hold in. 

"What's this?" He asked, patronizingly as he gave the plug a bit of a tug. "Guess you are a freak, huh?" Miguel asked in a rich, smokey tone. 

But instead of getting embarrassed and shrinking away like he expected, you just wiggled your ass tauntingly. 

"'S a buttplug," you said matter-of-factly. "Wanted to get laid t'night." You reached your mischievous hand down between your legs and drummed two fingers against the crystalline base. "Stuffed lube in first. Makes hookin' up fast 'n easy," you explained as you gripped the heart and started to tease the plug free. Miguel's hand caught your wrist before you could get very far. 

"And people call me a degenerate," he laughed. Miguel pulled your hand away and took over, watching with rapt attention as the silvered metal plug started to emerge. "But you're just…somethin' else." 

You mewled softly and your thighs tensed the slightest bit when the plug slipped out before a generous amount of lube oozed from your emptied hole. Miguel eagerly scooped it up with his fingers and pushed it back inside. Knowing him and his size, he'd need every last drop. 

"People call you a degenerate?" You said through a snorted laugh. "Why? You're like–you're so–" you gasped in the same way a 90's horror final girl would when you caught sight of The Thing being pulled from Miguel's pants, "--b-big. Wow. Big. Can I take a pic?" 

"What? What do you–can you–no, Christ." He sighed as he stroked himself with your slick and didn't waste much time with foreplay or warming up before mounting you again. "Think you might be worse than me after all, you know that?" 

"Probably am." You squirmed a little under his body as he caged you in, his thick arms bracing on either side of your head, and his hard, heavy chest looming above you as he got his massive frame comfortable in the trunk of your truck. It was insane to think that, even with the seats down and nothing in the way, Miguel still almost didn't fit. Part of you kind of thought he might weigh more than the car, too. Hm. 

But finally, finally, Miguel dragged the hot tip of his cock against your soft, pliant entrance before jamming himself inside with a blissed-out sigh. 

"Fuck," he breathed before pulling out the slightest bit and pressing in deeper again, and again, and again, until he bottomed out. His nerves flared when your hand slipped down to your own weeping length and stroked yourself, selfishly chasing your high with no regard for Miguel. 

He scoffed, and bitterly refused to hold back. The pace started off brutal and fast, Miguel using you the same way you were using him. Annoyance fuelled his tempo. He didn't know why your lack of giving a shit aggravated him, but it did. And he didn't like it. 

But when he finally got a breathy, thin gasp out of you, he smirked. 

"Oh? Finally something out of you. Tch." He folded you in half and hiked your legs over his solid shoulders to drill into you harder. Another small sigh fuelled his ego. "You like that, huh? You like being bent up, outta sorts, fucked by a stranger at a party, huh? That get you off?" 

The ladies always crumpled under his heinous words and dirty talking; their expressions warped into something pathetic and embarrassed, they'd make the worst discount pornstar noises, or they'd cum right on the spot. It was a great thing, a beautiful thing, something that Miguel prided himself with quite a bit. 

So why were you shaking with bottled laughter? 

Miguel's eye twitched. "What's so funny?" 

"Y-you just–you talk like you watch too much porn–! I'm just s-saying, man, this is kinda wild." A confusing mix of laughs and gasps punched out of your lungs as your back started to arch. "I-It's making it hard to cum–" 

"Shut up, just shut up–you're making me regret this," Miguel bit out, trying to hasten his pace to finish up and leave you in the dust. "I didn't know you were so fucking annoying." 

You moaned sweetly as he nailed that sweet spot of yours perfectly, before never hitting it again. "Awe, boo hoo, gonna cry 'cause I think your dirty talk's cringe? Life is sooo hard–" you squeaked as he pulled back and out abruptly. Your legs clattered to the ground and you barked out another hyena laugh as Miguel moved to tuck himself away with the most unreal sour expression you'd ever seen. 

"Hey, hey, hey, don't give up," you cooed. "Come on, you know you wanna finish the job. I'm so submissive." 

"I fucking can't with that fucking annoying fucking mouth of yours," Miguel grumbled before spitting bars of Spanish at you. 

Feeling a rush of energy, you tackled him as well as you could in your truck, and managed to wrestle that hulk onto his back. He was glaring at you when you finally managed to straddle him, but in a sort of embarrassed-mad way, not a real pissed off look. Still, you had to test the waters. 

"Off," Miguel said. 

"Woah, woah, woah, I can do the whole dirty talk thing if you want," you bartered. 

"No. Off." 

"Come on," you whined before leaning down to his ear and dropping your voice down into a dripping dark chocolate, "you're such a good boy, Miguel, let me treat you right." 

And with a greedy little wriggle of your hips against his stiffy, Miguel was doomed. 

"Fucking–fine, you little–" but he couldn't finish that thought, not when he suddenly found himself plunged back into your tight heat. 

"Bah, come on," you prodded as you rocked your hips at a selfish, primal pace. "Say it if it gets you off." 

With a mind of their own, Miguel's hips jolted up to meet your downwards momentum, and a near animalistic cry hoarsely tore through your throat. And once again, Miguel couldn't help the jerk of his pelvis grinding up against you–you were proving to be too much. 

"Fuck," you gasped. You stroked yourself again, now faster and with the broken tempo of your chaotic coupling. "You like being dominated? That it? Told what to do 'n then get some praise for being so, so good?" The laugh you let out could only be labelled evil. "Mmmn, that's hot." 

But Miguel couldn't speak, not through his mind blanking bright white every time your bodies crashed together. Even when he tried to speak, only gasps and pathetic moans and pleas slipped out of him, suddenly begging you to fuck him harder, to make him finish, to let him cum inside of you and mark you as taken for the night. Reality felt so far away and numb, even when he knocked his head against the ground as he came.

You felt his nails bite your sides as liquid heat filled in the space where Miguel couldn't reach. Miguel's teeth clenched together with an audible clack as you laughed at him, riding him for all he was worth, using him past the point of over stimulation without a care in the world. 

"Shit," you moaned quietly, then chanted it over and over, breathing faster and harder as you pushed yourself towards the edge. But you were a little shit, so of course you scrambled to push up Miguel's shirt just before you finished, just in time to streak sticky white webs of cum onto those well-defined abs of his. 

Miguel finally caught a break. He held you in a vice grip, not trusting you to behave while you both calmed down and fought to steady your breathing. Your fingers trailed across his stomach and abdomen, tracing the dips and curves of hardwork and dedication, and also smearing trails of your spend on him. 

"I've decided. I hate you. So, so much," Miguel said. He let his eyes fall closed again as he accepted his fate. 

You laughed, more amused and playful than mean and mocking this time, and drummed your fingers against his sticky skin. "Yeah. Fair. Kudos to you for being a good sport, though." You paused for a moment. "Wanna get high?" 

"Yes." 

Shockingly, you were quite good with the aftercare; you took it upon yourself to clean the both of you up with a plethora of wet wipes, paying special attention to the mess you'd made on Miguel's stomach and leaving no trace behind on him. As for yourself, you stuffed the silver plug back into your ass and called it a day, only really needing to clean up any sin that'd escaped your insides. 

You both more or less got dressed, and then you hit the vape. Miguel wasn't a stranger to Mary J, but he didn't often vape. He was used to messy blunts rolled by idiots like your brother, but admittedly, he kind of liked this more. 

"It's not bad," Miguel remarked as he examined the silvery pen. "Lot less…y’know." 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get what you mean." You stretched languidly across Miguel's lap, and plucked the pen from his fingers. You took a deep, lazy drag while your newfound friend exhaled a cloud of vapor. "Smoke works better for hot boxing, though. Blunts do, I mean." 

Miguel hummed, lost in the haze of his thoughts, warmed by the buzzing in the back of his skull and your weight across his lap. His fingertips dipped beneath your clothes, absent-mindedly seeking comfort in the heat of your body in his lap. His broad palm pressed flat against your stomach, and you rested your smaller hand over his. 

"You think the, uh, the chick who owns this place is gonna freak if I crash here?" You asked before crafting a few smoke rings. "'M toootally fucked up. Driving's a no-no." 

"Lyla won't care," Miguel said with a yawn. "She's a witch, but not a psycho bitch." 

"Hah. You know her?" 

"She's basically my sister. Unfortunately." Miguel huffed and shook his head.

"Oh, cool, cool. She's fire. Like her. Really chill, but in, like, a smart way," you rambled. 

"Pretty good way to put it." Miguel smiled. 

"Yeah? Yeah. I'm kinda smart sometimes, too. Not super smart, but, y'know, selectively smart." You nodded and stretched again with a yawn. "That's how I bag hot guys. Like you, I guess. But this was more fun. You're more fun 'n a better sport than most guys I mess with." 

Miguel stared at the foggy windows. Fun. That's what he was thinking, too. He never had the chance to smoke a joint or indulge in aftercare with most of his one night stands, but it's not like he'd gone out of his way to make that happen, either. He'd never really had a partner mock him either, though. You were kinda weird. But in a good, fun way. 

"Yeah. I had fun," Miguel admitted. When his eyes slid back to you, you were grinning, and a sweet dusting of strawberry powder lit up your soft cheeks. Miguel couldn't help his own smile. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"Oh. Cool, cool." 

"Wanna go out with me?" The question caught Miguel by surprise, too. He didn't really commit to people. He didn't really become exclusive with people. But hey, people changed. 

You fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "Mmn, what's in it for me?" 

"Bragging rights." Miguel smirked. "You know how many people want me?" 

"Hmm." 

He huffed, now, your skepticism doing a number on his ego. "I–well what do–you'd get dick, big dick, get chauffeured around, I'd pay for dates–" 

"Would you go see a musical with me if I asked?" 

Ah. The ultimate test. 

"...Yes." 

"'Kay. We're gonna go see Grease tomorrow night–uh, tonight. Technically." 

A grin split Miguel's face and ached his cheeks. "Alright." 

You smiled back. "Alright." 

"Just don't tell your brother." 

"Lame."

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr #smut

[sprout-fics]

❝  you don’t have to pretend to be fine,  if you need me to stay i will.  ❞ (fix saying this to ghost?)

I fucking love Fix and Ghost and how they deal with hurt/comfort with the other. Fuck it's so good.

“He’s smoking.” Soap says as you walk past him after your shower. The Scot is still inventorying his kit under the faulty light of the safe house, steady hands appraising the contents beside his vest. He pauses to throw you the barest glance over his shoulder, brow scrunched with something akin to worry before he goes back to his task. 

“On the fire escape.” He adds, and there’s meaning in the scarce words he offers you, meaning that has you quietly slip away in the direction he’s offered you. 

Soap doesn’t question the thing between you and his lieutenant, if it can be called that. You’re not sure if he knows the full scope of your relationship with Simon and is strangely quiet on it, or if you both have managed to keep him as carefully in the dark as you intended. Either way, Soap knows Ghost well enough to recognize his mannerisms just as you do, and you both know that Simon slinking off for a cig means something is weighing heavy on his mind. 

You knock on the pane of the window that leads to the fire escape, making out Ghost’s looming figure just beside it, concealed carefully in the shadows. The only indication he’s there at all is the slant from the light inside catching across his boot, the glow of the cigarette in his hand as he lifts it to his lips.

When you knock you see him make room for you to climb out, and even though he doesn’t welcome you, it’s a clear indication that he at least tolerates your presence. You lean on the wall beside him, catching the light where he sidles further into darkness, boots scraping the metal mesh of the platform under you. The wisp of nicotine curls around you both, an acrid smell to fill the silence. 

You don’t press him. You know better than that. You learned long ago that saccharine sweet words to Simon will only throw his guard up just as it does yours, make him bristle and bare his fangs in a paradoxical effort to protect himself. 

❝ You don’t have to pretend to be fine, if you need me to stay I will.❞ You told him once, remembering how Simon’s head had snapped in your direction hard enough to make his neck crack. 

“I don’t need anything.” He told you flatly, scarcely hiding his hostility. It had startled you then, this whiplash of emotion from him. Yet when you looked at him, saw the look in his eyes, you understood.

You’re both feral, untamed creatures. There’s beauty in the wildness of you, an understanding of the untouchable spirit that resides in the other. You wander the wilderness in search of someone just the same as you, something more fit for savagery than gentleness. Like a beast howling at the sacrosanct moon, you hear the other's lonely call and dare to challenge it with your own. 

Yet wounded, injured, the proximity of others summons flashing fangs and snarling gazes even as you desperately want to be anything but alone.

So you only stand beside him, cross your arms and brace on the wall until you gesture at him for a cigarette, smiling to yourself when he simply offers his. His lighter flicks as he lights a new one for him, and the orange of the flame reveals the grim set of his jaw in the shadows. 

You try and think back on the day, try and discern the things that could have gone wrong to warrant this sudden heaviness and withdrawal of him. Ghost had been set up in a sniper nest all day, navigating you and Soap through the city in your plain clothes, tailing a contact. You’d been waiting for him to make an exchange, information hidden in his briefcase. Yet the person he had handed it off to was not another gangster.

Instead, it was a boy. 

Blonde. Brown eyes, looking up at his father and smiling as the man had cupped the child’s face when he spoke.

Ghost didn’t take the shot.

You take a long drag of your cigarette, wincing at the taste. You never had a penchant for smoking, picked it up only to find excuses to linger beside the man next to you. Simon is silent, ruminating, and you tumble the image of the boy in your mind, trying to find the tether that connected him to Simon’s heart. 

It hits you all at once. A kid, roughly the same age, blonde, brown eyed, rosy cheeked, looking up at his father with stars in his eyes. 

Joseph.

You close your eyes, pained realization rippling through your chest. Joseph, the smallest one lost to that deadly night that took Simon’s family. The one he had spoken of only once and then never again. A secret locked in the deepest parts of his heart, something he trusted scarcely few people with. 

Including you.

The gift and responsibility of Simon’s trust of you isn’t wasted in its meaning. You know how difficult it is for him to allow even the smallest sliver of someone that deep inside, and you tread carefully, knowing that there’s things that you haven’t told Simon either about your own family. 

You fight him tooth and nail for every meager scrap he gives you, and it’s enough. It’s always enough- because every single truth you unspool from him ties its threads into your own stitches atop your fractured heart.

You both stand in the long silence of the night air, letting the curl of smoke wind between your two forms before you deign to speak. 

“He looked nothing like him.” You lie.

Simon goes still beside you, coiling a telltale inch as you finally speak the truth of it into existence. You think maybe he’ll go back inside without another word, and will leave you out here in the aftermath of your feigned declaration.

“No.” He replies flatly, not moving from where he stands, voice firm in a way that tells of what he is trying to hide underneath- something you know you’ll see eventually when he comes to you with desperate touches and hushed words, trying to escape the weight of the world in the feral familiarity of you. 

“He didn’t.”

#simon ghost riley x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #simon riley x reader #oc: fix #stay the night writing prompts #drabbles #They're both so!!!! #They're the same person they're the mirror of each other they hate the things in each other that remind them of themselves #they're the only one who know what it's like to be them they're the only ones that can trust the other with their secrets #crying yelling screaming

[literallyjusttoa]

NO BC I JUST SAW UR 'even the animals he created (wolves) sing to his sister' N IT BROKE ME.

do you think he made them like that, so he could show his love to his sister in his own way? do you think every time she hears a howl she smiles thinking of her brother?

—artemis stan

Yes absolutely. Actually real quick let me type up a little fake myth about this bc I have an idea.

The gods Apollo and Artemis were born on Delos, but their time together was short. The young lord Apollo went to Delphi, eager to avenge his mother, but the murder of the immortal snake Python angered the primordial goddess Gaea. As punishment for his crime of murder, Apollo was sentenced by lord Zeus to live in servitude for 9 years in the mortal realm.

Because of this trial, Artemis ascended to Olympus alone. Lonely and concerned for her brother, Artemis asked her father to allow her to roam the earth as well. He readily agreed, and Artemis began her hunt. She called fellow maidens to her aid, and bent the ear of every spirit of the forest to help her locate her brother. However, her efforts seemed to be in vain. Zeus had hidden her brother from view, tucked away in the Vale of Tempe.

Apollo knew his sister would come for him, but as the years passed he worried she was out of reach. In the sparse moments he had to himself, Apollo convened with the forest, asking if anyone had seen his twin. He received no answers from the satyrs, dryads, and prey animals. The only creatures that had traveled far enough to see his sister and return to the valley were the wolves, as they were the most powerful predators in the forest, and faced no danger in the woods. They told the young lord that his sister could not find him, no matter how much she hunted. In response, Apollo asked to make them a deal.

The god Apollo humbly asked the wolves to call to his sister, to make music in the wild so she would know he was safe. The wolves protested, as they were silent hunters, and any noise they made would call mortal hunters and other dangers to them. But Apollo insisted, saying that after his servitude was over, he and his sister would take wolves under their protection. Apollo would protect the wolves relationship with mortals, while Artemis would protect their link to the wild. The wolves agreed, and began to howl.

Artemis was comforted by the wild melody her brother had made for her, and she worked alongside the wolves to hunt through Greece. After his punishment ended, Apollo kept his promise, and he and his sister became the protectors of wolves and hunting dogs. To this day, the wolves continue to be a link between the twin gods, howling otherworldly songs to the light of the moon.

(idk how I feel about this but yeah. Apollo, Artemis and wolves. They're the best.)

#trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #pjo artemis #long post #sunny speaks #ask #I typed this up really quickly so if the writing seems a bit off sry!

[dpfantasyzine]

Welcome to the second annual Phantasy Phest! I started this event to bring the spotlight to fantasy theme Danny Phantom content. And we are back for another year.

Phantasy Phest is partnering with @ectoberhaunt this year, since their theme is magic vs science!! Get your fantasy mojo started with Phantasy Phest the week before Ectober Haunt starts, leaving off the weekends so you can have a tiny break between events.

Please tag @phantasycentral and use the tag #Phantasy Phest 2023

Monday 9/25: Fantasy Eldritch Au — this is a leftover prompt from last year. We all love Eldritch Danny, but can you make our eldritch bot extra magical?

Tuesday 9/26: Dungeons and Dragons — is the gang playing DND? Or are they in a fantasy world having a dnd style campaign? Were they isekai’d into a dnd game? Crossover with the new movie? You decide!

Wednesday 9/27: Wings | Scales — you may use one or both!

Thursday 9/28: Studio Ghibli — think Howl’s Moving Castle, Spirited Away, Princess Mononoke, Nausica, etc. There are so many to chose from! Make an au or a crossover that is Ghibli themed, or a fantasy story with Ghibli vibes.

Friday 9/29: The Doctors Fenton should have planned for all eventualities. 😈

Again, please tag this blog and use the hashtag #Phantasy Phest 2023. I look forward to all you do!!

#danny phantom #phantasy phest 2023 #phandom #fantasy au #magic au #fanfiction #fanart #fantasy #eldritch #studio ghilibi #dungeons and dragons

[multifandom-art-stuff]

Comfort after a hunt

Dean Winchester x reader

Hurt/comfort

2260 words

—----------------------------

It was supposed to be a quick and easy hunt. Just one simple ghost to send to rest, supposedly a quick job to put that restless spirit to rest. You were supposed to just dig his bones out, salt and burn them. It was supposed to be even easier because the grave was marked, for once, so it was easy to find it. Yet, nothing in the supernatural world ever played out as expected. And that made your lives more difficult.

The ghost was not very fond of you trying to get rid of him and was doing everything in his power to disturb you. You were digging the grave with Sam and Dean stood guard with a shotgun loaded with rock salt. He was supposed to keep the ghost busy enough so that Sam and you could salt and burn the bones. As Sam and I focused on digging the grave, Dean kept watch with his shotgun, eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. The moon cast an eerie glow, and the wind carried a distant howl that heightened your tension.

Suddenly, a rustling in the nearby bushes grabbed Dean's attention. He turned, shotgun ready, expecting another supernatural threat. Perhaps the ghost had a friend or a ghost dog.. To your surprise, a curious raccoon emerged, its shiny eyes reflecting the moonlight. Dean couldn't help but crack a half-smile at the unexpected interruption.

"Seriously, little guy?" he muttered to the raccoon, momentarily forgetting the ghostly menace we were there to deal with. Mesmerized by the raccoon's antics, Dean's focus wavered just long enough for the ghost to seize the opportunity and launch its vengeful attack.

In a swift, forceful move, he yanked you from the grave, throwing you forcefully to the ground. His pale and bloodied face twisted into an evil grin as he traced a rusty knife across my skin. The pain heightened when he cut a long gash on my chest, and a deadly gleam in his eyes hinted at his readiness to deliver a final, devastating blow. In that terrifying moment you couldn't help but wonder if this was the end. Fear gripped you. The ghost’s harmful intention was easily noticable. Luckily that’s when Dean shot him with salt and Sam lit his bones on fire. 

The ghost burst into flames and vanished leaving you breathless on the cold ground. As the shock began to fade, the searing pain in your chest brought you back to the harsh reality of what had happened to you. You realized that you were bleeding. Sam and Dean rushed to you, worry etched on their faces as they saw that you were hurt. Dean kneeled to your side and tried his best at stopping the bleeding. After doing his best in the conditions that you were in he picked you up and carried you to the car. 

In the car, the throbbing pain in your chest was a constant reminder of the dangers of the job you had chosen. Dean's gaze, flickering between the road and you, betrayed a silent concern that touched your heart. As you arrived at the familiar cabin Dean carried you from the car to the bed, giving a glimpse to his caring and nurturing self through his rugged and macho exterior. You winced with pain when Dean set you down on the bed. Sam rushed to the medicine cabinet to get disinfectant and bandages. The boys cleaned all your cuts and bandaged them up. You winced as the rubbing alcohol touched your wounds as they cleaned them. Once they had finished cleaning and bandaging you up Sam went to put the stuff away.

“Do you want me to help you clean up?” Dean asked, his voice comforting presence after all that had happened that night. 

“I can manage just fine on my own”, you replied, attempting to maintain a facade of self-sufficiency that crumbled the moment you tried to sit up, gasping in pain.

“Yeah, I don’t believe that”, Dean chuckled, a mixture of exasperation and affection in his expression. "I'll go get the washcloth."

A moment later Dean returned with a damp washcloth and a bowl full of water. He helped you sit up and started washing the blood away with the washcloth. The intimate act of cleaning your wounds served as a powerful testament to the bond that you had. Showing that you were more than just co-workers.

“Thank you Dean”, you murmured, your gratitude extending beyond just the physical care to the emotional comfort he provided.

“No problem sweetheart”, he replied, the endearment carrying an unspoken reassurance that resonated with a warmth.

“I just didn’t want to be a nuisance”, you whispered, your insecurity laid bare in front of him. 

“Sweetheart, you could never be a nuisance. Not even if you tried”, Dean assured you as he finished cleaning the blood off of you. He gazed into your eyes and tried to get you to understand that he was telling the truth.

A timid smile played on your lips: ”You can’t be certain of that.”

“Yes, I can”, he insisted, as he delicately finished the task of cleaning away the blood. As he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the tenderness in his touch and the sincerity in his eyes bespoke a connection that transcended the immediate danger that loomed over us. 

“I’ll be right back. I’ll just put these away”, Dean said to you and kissed the top of your head.

He returned to your side with one of his hoodies and he helped it on you. A simple act that carried a weight of comfort and familiarity. You changed your jeans into shorts and you curled under the blanket. Dean changed into sweatpants and lied down next to you. He pulled you against his chest and you lied face to face under the blanket. 

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked.

“It hurts a bit, but I’ll live”, you answered. 

“Good, and we cleaned the cuts well so they shouldn’t get infected. Though I do wish I could take your pain away”, Dean whispered to you, pain in his voice.

“You can help me feel better by cuddling me”, you whispered. 

“That I can do”, Dean murmured and kissed your forehead. 

Cuddled under the blanket, Dean's presence offered comfort, not only physical but also comfort in knowing that someone had your back and would take care of you if you needed help. His humming of an old rock song became a lullaby that, despite the echoes of recent terror, lulled you into a sense of security. As you began to fall asleep, you couldn't help but utter words that held both a confession and a reassurance.

“I love you, Dean”, you mumbled and gave him a kiss.

After you had fallen asleep Dean stopped humming, his gaze lingering on your slumbering form. In the quiet of the room, he whispered words of vulnerability that echoed the unspoken fears of a hunter whose heart was set to insure the well-being of another.

“You know I couldn’t live if something happened to you, right. I could never forgive myself if I let you get hurt”, he confided, his words a whispered promise that hung in the air, transcending the perils of our shared existence.

—----------------------------

You awoke abruptly, gasping for breath, as if the air itself had turned to a suffocating weight. The remnants of a nightmare clung to you like a vice, and your chest tightened in a grip of irrational fear. The room felt like it was closing in, and the moonlight casting eerie shadows only added to the overwhelming sense of dread.

Dean stirred beside you, sensing the distress before you even had a chance to put it into words. "Hey, hey, what happened?" he asked, concern etched across his face as he reached out to touch my trembling shoulder.

In the nightmare, the ghost's malevolence had escalated beyond anything you'd ever encountered. It wasn't just a fleeting encounter: it was an unrelenting onslaught of terror. The ghost's chilling touch seemed to sear into your very soul, and the whispers of despair echoed in your ears, threatening to drown you in an abyss of hopelessness.

But now, in the waking world, the nightmare's grip refused to loosen. Panic surged through you, an irrational fear that clung relentlessly. Your breaths came in short, erratic bursts, and your hands trembled uncontrollably. 

Dean's voice, steady and grounding, cut through the chaos. "Look at me," he urged gently, guiding you to meet his concerned gaze. "You're safe. It was just a dream. You're here with me."

His words, a lifeline in the sea of panic, slowly anchored you to reality. Dean's strong, reassuring presence became your focal point as he guided you through the breathing excercises you had so often used, using his own inhales and exhales as an example. The rhythm began to steady, the tightness in your chest gradually releasing its grip.

Dean continued to speak in a low, soothing manner, creating a bridge between the nightmare and the safety of the present. His touch, firm yet gentle, grounded you in the reality of the shared space you occupied. Slowly, the panic subsided, replaced by a profound gratitude for the steadfast presence of the man who stood by you through the good and easy times but also through the more difficult times.

As the remnants of the nightmare faded, Dean's comforting embrace remained, a testament to the unwavering support that transcended the boundary between dreams and reality. His presence, solid and comforting, helped dispel the residual fear. As I nestled into the warmth of Dean's embrace, the echoes of the nightmare began to fade. In the quiet of the night, his whispered reassurances became a lullaby, gently guiding me back into the realm of peaceful slumber.

—----------------------------

The next morning, soft rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room. You stirred from your sleep, the memory of the previous night's encounter with the vengeful ghost still lingering in your mind. Glancing to your side, you found Dean already awake, watching over you with a quiet concern that spoke volumes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice a gentle murmur.

The pain lingered, a persistent reminder of the ghost's malevolence, but the warmth of Dean's presence offered comfort. 

"Better, thanks to you," you replied, a genuine smile on your lips.

Dean leaned in, planting a tender kiss on my forehead: "Glad to hear that. You scared the hell out of Sam and I last night."

"I scared myself too," you admitted, the gravity of the danger sinking in.

As you attempted to sit up, Dean offered a supportive hand. The pain was a dull ache now, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. You exchanged a silent understanding, the unspoken acknowledgment of the risks inherent in your chosen path.

Sam knocked your door and peeked his head through: "Thought you might be hungry," he said with a warm smile, “ There is food ready in the kitchen.”

"Thanks, Sam," you said, realizing that these men really cared for you. 

As you shared a quiet breakfast, the camaraderie that bound you felt more strongly than ever. The events of the night before had heightened our awareness of the fragility of life, emphasizing the need to cherish even the small moments in life.

Dean's gaze never wavered from you, a protective instinct evident in his eyes. 

"We should take it easy today", he suggested, his concern extending beyond the immediate aftermath of the hunt.

Sam nodded in agreement: "Yeah, a day of rest won't hurt. We've earned it. How about a movie night today?"

“Yeah, that sounds good”, Dean and I agreed. 

The notion of a day free from the supernatural chaos that defined our lives sounded lovely. You spent the morning in shared silence, each lost in your own thoughts. Everyone figuring out what to do better next time so no-one would get hurt. The cabin became a safe heaven for a while, away from all evil in the world. You in it, with two of your favorite humans. 

Later, as the day went on, you found yourselves gathered outside the cabin. The air was crisp, the echoes of the previous night's terror replaced by the serene sounds of nature. Dean's arm found its way around your shoulders, a silent reassurance that you’ve faced the uncertainties of the future together.

"We've been through worse," Dean remarked, his tone a mix of reassurance and determination.

"And we'll get through whatever comes next," Sam added, a conviction in his voice that mirrored the resilience ingrained in all of you.

As the day unfolded, the cabin became a refuge—a place to heal, reflect, and fortify ourselves for the challenges that lay ahead. The bond you shared, forged because of all the supernatural battles, emerged stronger, a testament to the enduring strength of those who faced the darkness head-on.

And so, in the quietude of the morning and the serenity of the day, you found solace. In each other's company, you felt safe. Watching old comedies next to two of your favorite people, laughing until your stomachs hurt. You had decided to order pizza for dinner so there were pizza boxes thrown on the table in front of you. Sam’s head started to nod and he fell asleep. This was your safe haven, your way of recharging after a hunt.

You could get through anything that came across your path if you went through it together. 

#supernatural #x reader #reader insert #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #sam winchester #hurt/comfort