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vampyrsm · 5 months

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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER FOURTEEN | YUKI ONNA

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale continues down in the depths of a village that had burned to the ground, and within are enemies of the unknown and creatures that seem to be what they are not. A Queen surrounded by Rooks is quite a sorry state indeed.

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 6k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, fighting scenes, descriptions of wounds, gore, dark thoughts, cursed energy usage, cursed spirits, body horror.

Snow crunches beneath your feet, so loud in the dead of night with nothing but the moon as witness to your descent from the temple, from your home. It guides you along the snow-covered rocky path, lighting the way as you watch the fox dance between the shadows.

The fur of pure white blends in perfectly with the snow, only the blackened tips of its otherwise white ears aid you in keeping track of the creature. It no longer whimpers, nor does it screech like it had. Instead, it bounds in leaps, the lameness in its paw long forgotten. Perhaps that should’ve been a warning sign, perhaps that should’ve given you pause to turn back towards the temple and seek refuge in the safety of Sukuna’s arms.

But something within you urges you to follow the Shikigami, perhaps the child it belonged to had taught it how to tell others its owner was injured.

So down the mountainside you go, following until you reach the scorched Torii gate you had passed through so many moons ago. It stands just as ominously as it once had before, an entrance to the burned village that lay abandoned at the foot of Sukuna’s temple.

The snow has long stopped floating around you, the snowstorm seeming to evaporate into thin air to be replaced with an eerie stillness that settles onto the village. As if even the wind doesn’t wish to further bring this village to ruin.

A whimpering cry has your eyes drifting away from the scorched marks on the Torii gate, only to find the fox has leapt further into the village — calling for you to follow. Your hand itches at your side, wanting to wrap around the blade you had foolishly forgotten in the safety of your bedroom.

With apprehension settling into your gut, your foot passes over the threshold of the village and you take steady steps after the fox. It doesn’t move from where it sits in the centre of the courtyard, beside a ruined shrine that once would’ve been the main offering place of the village. Its tail swoops around to cover its small paws, and it stares up at you when you grow closer.

“Where’s your master?” You ask, almost dumbly, you don’t expect the creature to reply but to rather guide you. Instead, it tilts its head, pointy ears flopping slightly before its eyes glance off towards the side.

The air shifts almost immediately, a pressure that climbs along your spine and tingles at the back of your skull. You don’t move from your position in front of the fox, instead, you only slowly turn to glance over your shoulder.

Five figures stand at the entrance of the village, to the entrance of Sukuna’s temple.

Each of them is clad in black clothing, dark armour covering the important parts. They wear no sigils, with no honoured helmets to signify who they fight for. Instead, they wear only simple black masks to cover the lower half of their faces. Immediately, you can tell the one at the front is a woman and the rest are men.

A set-up. That darkness within you whispers, coils painfully tight in your chest until it threatens to burst. Your eyes flicker over each of them, their souls burdened with a darkness that can only be granted when you take the life of another. They were most definitely not Samurai, nor were they ninjas that belonged to the Emperor.

Assassins.

“Don’t act hastily.” The woman at the front speaks, and her hands remain displayed at her sides. She bears no weapons, but you doubt she uses weapons to subdue her victims. “The Shogun has requested your return.”

To return to your uncle would be the same as impaling yourself on your own sword. He did not want you to return in the hopes of you rejoining the family, he wanted you back to punish you for disgracing the Zen’in clan.

Your eyes drift away from the woman at the front, you observe the others with her. One has dual swords strapped to his back, curved and glinting in the moonlight – something about them told you they held their own power. Another is cloaked in what looks like moving darkness, a thick black fog that curls around his body to hide him almost completely from vision. The other two are armed with regular katanas, yet their stature shows they are anything but your regular samurai.

You had to get out of there. Now.

That darkness within you grapples for control, shoving down any rationality on what you were about to do. It happens before you can even blink, you fling your arm out in their direction with your fingers splayed out. You feel it cut at your palm before the energy bursts forth from your hand and slices through the air, there’s a sudden rise in cursed energy from the ones who have come to take you back. No doubt one of their cursed techniques had to do with defence; they had to protect their own.

In the midst of their shock at the sudden attack, you twist on your heel; unaware of the white fox that now sat atop the shrine with its eyes now a brilliant gold colour. The air around you quietens, and the shouts of those who had come under attack fall silent before you vanish from the spot you’re in.

The air around you shifts and snaps back into place when you can no longer feel the pressure of their cursed energy nipping at your heels. You find yourself further into the burnt-out village, dilapidated houses falling to ruin around you. You had no way of knowing where to go, or more importantly, which way would lead you back around towards the entrance to Sukuna’s temple.

“There’s no use hiding!” A man shouts from somewhere in the darkness, and the cruel amusement in his tone has your stomach churning.

You dart into the nearest house, stepping on the parts of the ground that had been protected from the snow. The moonlight guides you over broken beams and through ripped shoji doors. A quick glance around tells you that this was a family home, snow-covered teddies and destroyed blankets are atop of a futon that had once been a safe place for children. Something painful churns in your chest at the thought, the last slither of your humanity tugging at your heartstrings.

You’re careful with each step until you find yourself crouched into the darkest corner you could find, you press your back to the still sturdy wall of the house. It’s silent outside, with no wind or creatures of the night wishing to disturb what seems to be slowly unfolding in the village.

Moments pass by slowly, and you chance a risky glance through the window up above. Your fingers hook against the cold wood, and you slowly raise until just your eyes are visible. The snow outside is undisturbed, no footsteps to tell you that you have been tracked down.

Something shifts, however, and you take a glance upwards. You watch as a thick darkness seeps from the sky, the stars wink out one by one and the moon is hidden from your view by a wall of thick black. What was that?

“Come out, demon whore! We’ll be nice, we swear.” A man lilts from the newfound darkness, new shadows form in places they couldn’t before with the moon above. Yet you do not see the man who calls out for you, his cursed energy is off in the distance. Not too far from where you could make a run for it, but he wasn’t aware of where you were.

A crunch of snow has your head snapping in the other direction, it’s a single footstep. Then another. Slow and steady. It grows closer and closer, each step slower than the next. You immediately drop back into the shadows, a hand clamping over your mouth and nose to smother any breaths that would dare to give up your position.

Something grabs at the wooden frame of the shoji door that you had entered through, in the darkness you can only make out the heaviness of a solid form filling the doorway. It stands there for a moment, completely still, and you wait for the unknown figure to leap for you.

Instead, the shadowed figure hums. A womanly hum. It sends shivers shooting down your spine, freezing you into place when that figure starts to move closer once again. It climbs over the discarded blankets and ripped paper on the floor as if it had climbed over them a million times before.

As it grows closer, you can hear the rasp behind its hum and the stench that follows it. It’s a sickly sweet smell, like fruit that was too ripe. The figure stops before you, and with it being closer you can make out the white kimono it wears and the paleness of its spindly fingers as it reaches out for you slowly.

You want to scream, to fight the approach of the cursed spirit that reaches forward until those ice-cold fingers brush along your forehead, sweeping away the stray hairs that had fallen over your face.

With the spirit being so close, you’re given the chance to see its face. It’s a woman. She doesn’t have horrific injuries or any abnormalities you had seen with the curse in the shadows, her lips are a pale blue and her skin is almost transparent.

Then it strikes you, like a shock through your system. You had seen this spirit before. She had called for you on the wind, tried to lure you closer and Sukuna had shielded your eyes from her. She found you. Sukuna had informed you that she would feast on your fear, prey on it until she had you right where she needed you to kill you. It’s hard to reign in that fear, to stop yourself from shivering beneath the icy feel of her fingers on your flesh.

You wait for the moment to snap, for the ghost-like woman to grasp at your throat and choke you. But instead, she repeats the motion of stroking along your forehead, those crystalline eyes hold no life as she watches your expression.

“They know you’re here.” She whispers, her voice akin to that of ice. Cold and rigid. “You must run.”

“I can’t.” You whisper in return, dropping your hand from your mouth and almost immediately the spirit drops her hand to run over the apple of your cheek. “I’ve never—I don’t know how to fight so many.”

Yuki Onna regards you for a moment, her pale blue lips pursed in a way that seems far too intelligent for a cursed spirit. Slowly her fingers trace down along your jaw, past stray hairs until it settles against the scarred portion of your neck. Her eyebrows raise, a spark of something in those blue eyes.

“Marked.” She whispers, quickly withdrawing her hand from you as if your skin had burned her. “Run.”

Something snaps near the doorway, and you look up from the Yuki Onna in time to see the figure of a man fill the doorway. He bears only a katana on his waist — one of the ones that were most likely used for defence. His eyes meet your own, an odd glow to them that has your spine stiffening.

You watch in abject horror as Yuki Onna shifts before you, her entire body shifting into something more fitting to her title as a cursed spirit. Gone is the facade of a woman. Her teeth become sharper, her face morphs into something from a nightmare. Her skin is torn and eaten by frostbite, and that glimmer in her eye is gone; replaced by a glaze that only belongs to the dead. She roars, a yowl-like sound as she rips away from you and lunges at the man.

The sound that comes from the man is nothing like you had heard before. He screams a sound that comes from deep in his soul. A truly terrified scream that could only be soothed by the touch of a mother. You take it as your chance to do as the Yuki Onna had instructed; you run.

You feel the air shift almost immediately the second you step outside of the house, there’s no light anymore. The moon was almost completely blotted out by the darkness that had seeped from the sky, sealing you in. The snow crunches loudly beneath your feet, and you struggle to lift your feet high enough to not trip over yourself.

Another guttural scream has you looking over your shoulder hastily, and you’re gifted with the sight of the cursed spirit spreading her long claw-like fingers into the air. She’s perched over something, holding them down with her entire weight and a hand around their throat, it’s Yuki Onna who laughs in delight as the man beneath her writhes and screams for help.

A slice through the air has that scream silenced into a wet gurgle, her claws sank into the flesh of his chest. Uncaring for bones and muscles, it tears through as if the man was made of nothing but paper. To your horror, you watch as Yuki Onna leans her weight off of the man and stands to her full height with the man still attached to her claws.

Another spindly long arm rises up, taking hold of both of his ankles in one hand. You see his arms fruitlessly rise to try and bat away the cursed spirit, but she does nothing but raise him higher. And then she pulls. His bones and muscles all simultaneously crack and snap, skin tearing and stretching as if it were made of rubber.

Blood sprays in every direction, intestines and other organs falling to the snow with a wet dull thud. The once pure snow is doused in the crimson rain, as is Yuki Onna who cackles like a witch. Her body further contorts, her jaw lowering until the length of the man's leg is dangled above the rows of sharpened teeth.

You move when she clamps down on that leg, the snapping of bones in her mouth is like that of a twig. Her kindness to let you run may only be fleeting, it wasn’t unheard of for creatures of such violent nature to turn against anything and everything in its immediate vicinity.

Inwardly you try to reach for that connection you had formed with Sukuna, perhaps you could pluck on the binding vow that tied your souls together and he’d know you were in danger. Yet when your fingers glide along that barbed wire connecting the both of you, it’s cold, cut off, dead.

That alone makes you stumble into the snow until you’re on your hands and knees, the cold bites painfully at your bare palms and melts through the waning warmth of your clothing. Why couldn’t you feel him? Why couldn’t you feel anything anymore? The dull pulse of cursed energy around you was muted, as if it were under a dense body of water. The darkness within you coils and uncoils, pulsing with the uneasiness that grows within.

You were utterly alone. Sukuna wouldn’t come to your rescue as he had in the past, he wouldn’t even realise you were gone until it was too late. Would he hate you for it? Would he think you betrayed him after everything? Your heart seizes in your chest and shatters all at once, that type of pain could only come from loving someone so deeply—so devotedly. To have Sukuna hate you was the same as having to thrust a blade into your own stomach, you’d rather die.

And now you were stranded, in the snow, surrounded by dangerous people who wanted to return you to the Shogun. You had never fought properly in your life, not in a true battle. The fights with Sukuna were just that, a fight, an emotional thing that grew out of control. These people were trained killers, hired swords from the Emperor most likely who had one goal; to return you to the Shogun. Dead or alive was up for debate. They weren’t going to hold back, and you had no idea what their strength was.

“Given up already?” A man croons from in front of you, your fingers painfully curl further into the packed snow beneath you. His footsteps are slow as he approaches. “I didn’t think it was true. That you were connected to that abomination. But by the looks of things, the talisman is doing its job.”

His words swirl in your mind, abomination, talisman. They knew. They knew everything about you and yet you knew nothing about them. Your anger curdles in your stomach, it boils over the edge and burns at your very insides. Who betrayed you? Would it be Sukuna? No. He wouldn’t give up his own power, he wouldn’t hand you over to them.

Kenjaku was a possibility but even she feared Sukuna, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to do something like this.

“When that brunette came to us with word on the missing Shogun’s niece, I thought she was just looking for a way out of the hell she’s made for herself with the Generals.”

Yorozu. The name spoken in your mind silences the ringing in your ears, it drowns out the crunching of the still-approaching footsteps. She did this, she’s the one who reported back to them after Sukuna had turned her away—after he declared you his wife before her. This was her revenge.

That slumbering darkness slithers along your spine and coils itself around your heart, until you feel nothing but the all-encompassing power of what Sukuna had given you. It whispers in your ear over and over that you had to kill. Kill Yorozu. Kill the ones who had come to take you away. Kill the Shogun. Kill the Emperor.

Feet come into view from your kneeling position, your hands still pressed into the cold snow and yet you no longer feel the chill in your bones. Darkness curls at his feet, a thick black fog that spreads out along the snow and creeps closer and closer. That same whisper in your mind tells you that if it touches you, you’re dead.

The air moves above you, and you snap your head up in time to see a hand coming down to grab at your hair. Energy pulses from you, slicing through the air and consequently colliding with the man before you. He recoils immediately, a torn scream pulling from his throat when he grasps at the arm you had poorly severed.

Instead of a clean cut, it’s a spiralled cut from his wrist upwards. His skin opens like a blossoming flower, the blood rushing from the wounds and pooling in the footholds he had formed in the snow. His working fingers attempt to grab at the loosening skin, to hold it in place but it’s all for naught. The bone breathes against the cold winter night, and the pooling darkness at his feet has scattered with the wind.

Unwilling to be caught in his retaliation. You strike again. You rear up onto your knees, flinging a hand in his direction and watch as his body flies backwards from the impact. His body slams into the undisturbed snow with a crack, the powered snow flinging up into the air before it resettles.

You’re on him before he has the chance to blink, the air around you is malleable with the density of your own cursed energy. It visibly dawns on the man beneath your body that you were more than just ‘connected’ to Sukuna, you harboured his energy—it lived within you.

“Filthy whore!” The man spits, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Your fingers tighten further around his throat, his words cut off into a gargled choke. “He’ll kill you. It doesn’t—doesn’t matter what you do. You’re dead.”

You lean closer to his face, pressing against his throat until you can feel the give of the muscles there. It cracks beneath the weight and his eyes widen in pain, yet no scream comes. “I have faced Death. Your threats are nothing to me.”

That same dark energy deep within you slithers along your fingers, coiling around the man's neck instead and you can only watch as his eyes bulge from his head. The whites of his eyes pop with blood vessels, and the blueness of his lips worsens with each passing second. Blood drips from his nose, from the corner of his eyes and leaks in rivers at his ears.

The tension in the air grows until suddenly… it snaps.

It comes in a bang, a pop, and you watch as brain matter and flesh are scattered across the snow beneath you. His blood is warm on your skin, almost scorching hot before it rapidly cools against your chilled skin. It melts into your kimono, staining you in the aftermath of what you had done to him.

Beneath you, his body still twitches, aftershocks of what had so suddenly occurred to his body jolting you from your place. You stand above him, watching his fingers twitch rigidly, grasping at what, you’re unsure. Then as quickly as it started, his body grows still. “I quite liked Hoshi. It’s a shame he died to the likes of you.”

A figure stands in the distance, their hands hidden behind their back but you spy no weapons. Their steps are slow, uncaring for the blood they step through to grow closer. As they come closer, finally do you see their face. The sclera of her eyes are as dark as the sky above and in the midst of them is an iris of pink. She looks otherworldly.

“I should kill you.” She speaks as if she were commenting on the weather, her head tilted to look down at the body that had already begun to discolour in the cold. “But He asked for you to be returned alive.”

“I won’t go with you.” The woman before you raises an eyebrow at the words you spit in her direction, eyes roving over the blood that freezes against your cheeks.

“He didn’t say anything about rendering you a cripple.”

You don’t get to make a move, not even a second has passed when you can only watch the world around her distort as if you were looking through an obscure piece of glass. Her fingers flex and raise up, and then she grabs something.

A sickening crunch comes from your nose, impacted on the hardened snow from the invisible force that had hit you from behind. Blood tinged your teeth and sinks into the back of your throat, a coppery taste that no longer disgusts you as it had only months ago.

Something moves in the air above you and you can only think of throwing your arm out towards her, angling all of your fingers tightly together as if your hand was a blade itself. Unlike the aching pain that comes with using Sukuna’s technique, you find it’s replaced with a tingling sensation.

You watch your arm bend unnaturally, distorted as if it were plunged underwater and you were observing it from above. Was this her cursed technique? You couldn’t put a pin on what exactly she was doing—something with the sky, or the space around her.

But you don’t get a second further to attempt and understand her technique, because the space surrounding your distorted arm further twists around until the palm of your hand is pressed against your bicep.

The pain is sharp and quick, it slices without remorse. The space that held your distorted arm falls away, as does your arm into the snow. She rebounded your technique. A quick glance at your arm is enough to confirm that it had been cleanly severed midway through your upper arm, and the blood that pours from it warms the side of your kimono.

How did Sukuna withstand this type of pain? You’d severed his arms more times than one should be allowed to, he even laughed in your face—... but you can only feel the chill in the air stroking along the edge of your exposed nerves and the bone that aches something fierce.

You stumble to your feet, and your uninjured hand swipes through the blood that pours from your now-sliced arm. It burns warmly against your fingers, thickening in the cold air until it forms a sticky substance on your hand. Your head feels light, the aching rooting itself deep into your bones. It was something else to see yourself mortally wounded, you’ve come to realise. It was a wake-up call that you weren’t anything more than flesh and bone.

The pink-eyed woman before you draws back an arm in your peripheral vision, and that swirling darkness in you roars to life. It bares its teeth and claws, if it were to have a corporal form then perhaps it would roar in fury at being struck with its own blade.

Like being plunged into icy waters, you watch the woman before you freeze in place. The muscles in her arms tensed under the pressure of unleashing your cursed energy, and her fist was just mere inches away from colliding with your already broken nose. Her eyes don’t move beneath your technique, and that gives you just a moment before she realises just how your technique works.

Bubbling hot energy pulses up your spine and spreads along the span of your shoulders, it thrums at the exposed nerves and the edge of the bone until that too starts to bubble and reform skin, bone and muscle in one fluid flick of your arm.

Takako’s eyes widen marginally when her fist connects with nothing but thin air. Her panic is palpable, you can taste it on your tongue, at the back of your throat, it tastes like triumph. Something flexes just beside Takako’s arm, you can see the space around her moving and bending—so you grab it.

With your remade hand, you grasp a hold of the intangible material. It feels cold beneath your fingers, like ice. It’s invisible to the naked eye, but you can see the shimmer of cursed energy that threads itself in the cracks between space and the sky.

Takako opens her mouth to speak, to scream, to question just what Sukuna had made you into. However, you tighten your grip on the invisible space gripped in the palm of your hand—and you throw with all your strength. The cursed energy within is immediately overpowered by your own, and it cracks like a fissure in ice.

Her body is thrown back from your own, tumbling over the body of the deceased assassin in a flurry of white snow. You can feel the grip on Takako’s cursed technique slipping. And so with a burst of cursed energy in your arm, you crack down the should-be intangible thread you had been holding hostage and you watch it crack and splinter further, bursting into a million pieces after it slams Takako down further into the ground.

Something swirls in your stomach, white-hot and roaring to life far too quickly for you to reign it in. Takako remains still in the snow, her body rising onto one elbow to meet your eye. Her body is torn and twisted awkwardly, yet she still lives. And for as long as she lived, she was a threat.

To you. To Ryomen.

That heat within grows hotter and hotter by the second, the snow at your feet melting away into slush, before that too starts to bubble from the heat the billows from you in pulsing waves. It feels like your very blood is on fire, your skin a mere thin barrier between a firestorm and the outside world.

You’d seen Sukuna only once wield his flames. He used it without any strain, you could do it. You knew you could—and truly, you had no choice but to wield them or succumb to the flames and burn.

So you shift on your feet, a side-ways angle, and you raise both of your hands. The fire roars to life suddenly at the tips of your fingers, it bites at the frostbitten skin there and before you can stop it, it expands suddenly.

You grasp it between two fingers, pulling back until you are poised like an archer. The flame lights up Takako’s face, and you can see genuine human terror on her face. Gone is the mask that had protected her from the elements, blood drips from her nose and stains the side of her face.

“Monster.” The pink-haired woman rasps, the blood wetting her tongue.

“Worse.” It’s merely a whisper over the hissing of the fire that continues to burn away at your flesh, wilting away the kimono that had been stained in the unknown assassin’s blood.

In one smooth exhale, you release the arrow made of flame. It roars through the cold air, lighting up the path between both you and Takako. Her body coils up quickly, arms held over her head as if that would stop what is to come—

You can’t stop the arrow on its trajectory, and a shot of surprise ricochets up your spine when something, someone steps out in front of the arrow. An explosion of light blinds you temporarily, and you lift a slowly-healing burnt arm to shield yourself from it. You can hear the snow around you hiss and steam from the impact of the fire arrow being splintered into hundreds of pieces.

Buildings around you splinter further and collapse under the intense heat of the splintered parts of the flame arrow. And when you look out from the safety from behind your forearm, you can’t see a thing, it’s as if you’re looking at a blank canvas of bright white light.

The snow is cold against your back, it nestles itself into cuts you were unaware you had and acts like a stinging salve to the burns along your arms. The night sky above you winks back to life, the inky blackness that had overtaken the sky melts away until the moon greets you once again.

What happened? Your mind screams at you over and over, you want to grasp at the snow beneath your fingers but you can’t move. Nothing feels right, everything feels—off. Something is wrong.

“I’m sorry.” A voice speaks to your side, and you can’t even find it within you to move your head in their direction. Instead, only your eyes move and above you is a man crouched down, looking down at you. His silhouette is outlined by a blinding light, his features darkened from the sheer brightness. “I should’ve intervened sooner.”

“W-Wha—” Your tongue feels thick in your mouth, and your teeth ache as if you had been punched directly. Nothing is making sense.

“Sleep, Lady Zen’in. Your uncle is waiting.” His hand raises slowly, and as he grows closer you can scent copper—blood, a smell so ripe that it sticks your tongue to the roof of your tongue and you can only watch with widened eyes as he leans closer into your space, close enough that you can see brilliant golden eyes looking down at you.

“No—wait..” You try to move your arms, to raise a weak hand to stop him from touching you. But your body protests at the sudden jolting movement, a sharp pain that blossoms in your chest.

Fingers press against your forehead, and that darkness inside of you screeches at the contact. Something warm washes down your body from the fingers pressed to your forehead, it coils around your head and drags your eyelids down slowly.

The man above you remains with his hand against your forehead, but you swear something like colossal white wings unfurl from his back before it all goes black.

...

Sukuna lurches up in bed. His heart beating a rhythm akin to that of a war drum against his chest, his fingers curled against the flesh there, as if he were to reach inside and calm it by tearing it out. His fingers press harder against the side of his chest, it aches like he had been hit by something solid enough to knock the wind out of him.

His mind clears quickly, and he grows silent. Frozen in place with a sense of stillness only a predator could achieve, the chill of the wind from outside cools the sweat building at the back of his neck. But the warmth he had held so close to his chest last night is no longer there.

Sukuna sharply turns to glance down at your side of the bed, a large hand pressing into the mess of blankets and there’s no warmth there. Immediately he takes note that your weapon was still atop the dresser, mounted and displayed so proudly—something he had insisted on doing, to show you that you can be proud of your weapons.

The previous night had held an intimacy Sukuna didn’t think was possible, he had never spoken to someone so softly and so quietly. Sharing stories of the past, mostly your past, and he would share his life experiences in battles—he even found himself telling you his favourite season and the festivals that surrounded them.

But those memories have quickly turned to ash, melting away to be replaced with a fury that only he could wrangle. It bares its teeth, and long claws sink into the futon beside him where your body should be. He can’t smell you, can’t even taste the intensity of your cursed energy on his tongue—you weren’t here.

You weren’t in his home, your home. You were gone.

That thought alone pains him like no other, no wound he had ever received felt like this. It’s a type of pain that has his throat tightening, and his teeth bared to the world. He doesn’t even quite realise he’s out of bed until he’s staring at the sword in front of him. You weren’t stupid, he knew you weren’t stupid. You would’ve never left your weapon behind if you truly planned on leaving him.

And you most certainly wouldn’t disobey the binding vow, he knew you had researched further on the vows themselves. They were unbreakable. A vow between body and soul even more so. You couldn’t leave him, not willingly.

The dresser creaks beneath his hand, the wood splintering under the pressure. And like a raging inferno, he explodes. The surrounding walls and furniture are nothing to stop the slicing of claws and cursed energy, the room shatters around him as does the heart that beats in his chest tirelessly.

Someone took you. He knows that much. He can’t even sense you beyond the boundaries of his temple, the barriers there had been put up an age ago. He didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to enter his domain, to enter within the wolf's den and pluck his—...his other half from her very bed.

No one surviving, besides Uraume, knew you were important to the King of Curses, he was certain of it—

A face with thick eyebrows and long brown hair framing it fills his mind. A growl unlike any living beast erupts from his throat. Yorozu. He knew she was a fucking idiot, but this? She dared to spill her guts to the Five Empty Generals and no doubt they involved the group of assassins; Sun, Moon and Stars.

“Master Sukuna,” Uraume calls from the entrance of the room, careful to not step further into the room. Sukuna’s body heaves with each heavy breath, the sweat on his body burns away from just how hot his anger is.

His fingers, which had moments ago torn apart wood and stone as if it was nothing, pick up the sword from the display stand. The energy within thrums at the touch, calling for a part of him that had been mixed with your own energy. He would ensure this sword would return to you, and you to him.

“Make the preparations. They’ve taken what is mine.”

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#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader

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gippynippyhadaskippy · 5 months

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Secrets; Mizu x mixed!fem!Reader

A/n: Hiiii welcome to my first post! I'm pretty new to Tumblr and saw the Mizu posts then I grew inspired, I'm so obsessed with my wife that it's not funny ya'll. Anyway, Let me know if you want a part 2!

Warnings: Violence

More Notes: Mizu's pronouns are he/him until the reader knows otherwise.

Incense filled his senses as the publicly proclaimed samurai said his prayers, his lips cracked and voice gravelly.

A man watched from outside the shrine, the cold making only his breath visible. Nothing else about him was, his all-black attire head-to-toe. The katana at his side was slightly unsheathed from the tsuka.

Ready, waiting.

Then the target started moving, extinguishing the incense before getting up with ease. The samurai walked out of the shrine, and he met eyes with the man. Short, but that was all he picked up since he was covered with black fabrics, gloves, a mask, and a kasa. The only thing that should’ve been visible were his eyes, but he looked down, avoiding eye contact.

Until he wasn’t.

Was it the shadow of his kasa or was that his skin? The samurai didn’t have time to think before a dagger was thrown at his head. He swiftly dodged it not bothering to move much, through his yellowed glasses he furrowed his brow at the stranger, coming to the assumption that money was placed on him.

The samurai unsheathed his blade, the hunter mirroring him. A couple breaths were exchanged in the winter air before they clashed blades. The samurai stepped closer and tried to cut the man diagonally, but the hired sword blocked and grabbed his wrist side-stepping before using the momentum to throw him to the snowy ground, but the samurai had different plans, he used his height advantage to hook his arm around the back of the man’s neck causing them both to tumble.

The swords were discarded, punches were thrown, and strangely the air felt electrified. A lip was split and it stained the powder snow, yellowed glasses were knocked off and there it was. Blue, like the sky or a still lake. The man had no time to be surprised only slightly widening his eyes. The samurai spat in his face, taking advantage of his blindness, he rolled on top of him.

Then a punch, two punches, three before the man's mask fell, his kasa long forgotten. Curly hair spilled around him, his brown skin showing clearly in the daylight, his…long eyelashes outlining the shape of her eyes, and her full lips clenched shut and split, bleeding.

Her.

Her?

The samurai couldn’t believe his blue eyes, a woman? Pretending to be a man?

She was dazed from the force of the punches, likely to pass out any second.

“Who are you?”

But it was no use, she was out cold.

The samurai put her mask and kasa back on and carried her to the shrine, then continued on his way, conflicted.

She awoke with a start the next morning and looked around her confused then an annoyed huff.

“Great.”

If only she knew the blue-eyed samurais' secret, and how similar it was to hers.

#mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #mizu x you #mizu bes #first post #:3

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xxnghtclls · 4 months

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Permission

Chapter 48

(Chapter 47)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

Epilogue

Leaves and twigs crack under your feet, leaving trails and patterns on the snowy forest floor.

It’s night. Darkness interrupted by red, little sparks flying through the air. The stinging smell of smoke creeps into your nose. Remnants of the moonlight, far away, quietly shine through the branches of the trees, painting creepy shadows on the white canvas you’re walking on. The further you walk, the more those shadows dance on an orange tint, that starts to coat the snow, coming from a source, that you’ve set up not far away. Carefully, listening to the sounds of the forest, you walk back to that source.

A flame, a campfire. Right here, in the middle of the woods.

Step by step, you’re approaching that fire, holding wood in your arms to keep it burning. The sound of munching echoes in your ear, the sound of feasting, devouring.

It’s been years, since he liberated you. Unintentionally freed you from a miserable life in a miserable village.

Not knowing, what you were destined to become.

A destiny that no one foresaw.

Not even the King of Curses.

Coming closer, you can see the silhouette of your King, sitting on the very same tree he did a year ago.

When he waited night for night, waited for you to go back with him.

You start humming his melody, as your feet carry you back to the fireplace. The fireplace that made you fall in love with this monster, before you put the new wood down onto the ground.

And then, quietly, you turn to him, watching how he’s gnawing some meat off a bone, occasionally humming in satisfaction.

It’s been months, since you completed the ritual.

Since you’ve been killed and reborn and marked with a sign on the skin that covers your heart.

Months of being his and him being yours.

In the shrine you can now call home.

You look at him and smile softly to yourself, finding it cute how invested he is not to waste any meat that’s on that bone, although you have plenty left.

Sitting down on the log to the left of your King, you feel the warmth of his body on your skin and hear his gentle munching in your ear.

And you feel your love for him, still, despite putting you through all this. You lost your heart to him and, no matter what he did, you don’t want it back.

Ever again.

Asshole.

It’s been days since the both of you came back to this place.

A place you cherish in your heart.

And maybe, you hope, Sukuna cherishes it, too.

The crackling of the fire becomes louder and his noises quiet, making you both just sit there in silence, next to each other. He flicks the bare bone into the flames, before you gently lean against his shoulder, let your head quietly bump against him to be closer, feeling his calm breath beneath your soul.

And both of you just watch the fire in front of you, like you did so many times a year ago, when neither of you could express what’s going on.

Heartache.

It’s been seconds, since he let you know how he feels about you.

Although he never says them out loud, those three words that you’ve told him over and over again and still do.

But he doesn’t has to. Because, you know.

This curse.

So overwhelming, so consuming. Tying your souls together so tightly.

And some words don’t need to be spoken to be true.

Sukuna grabs another piece of meat and holds it under your nose. You cooked it yourself, with fresh herbs that you found earlier in the nearby bushes. It smells delicious. You lean back and sit straight again, before you grab the meat and take a bite.

It’s hot, warming you from the inside. You keep blowing and carefully gnawing and nibbling, until you finally can rip off a bigger piece. Feeling his bottom pair of eyes watching you constantly, you peek over to him quickly.

“What?” you ask with your mouth full, making him smirk, as he musters your stuffed cheeks and big eyes.

“Nothing.”

You pause your chewing, pondering.

“Is it how I eat?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

And he doesn’t respond, just keeps focusing on the fire, a hint of his smirk still decorating the corners of his mouth. The flames flicker in his red eyes, the orange light dances on his face and wrinkles. You can’t help to take them in, over and over again, although you already know his features so well, as if they’ve been imprinted on your eyelids.

So beautiful.

You smile to yourself, before you focus back on your meal, until you throw the remaining bone into the fire. Satisfied, you sigh, until you swallow the last bite you took.

Suddenly, something cold gently falls upon on your forehead and you look up. Delicate flakes of fresh snow are illuminated against the dark canvas of the night, falling down right upon you and Sukuna.

You smile softly, before you turn your head to look at him. He’s looking up into the sky, too and you witness, just in time, how a small flake lands on the tip of his nose, melting in an instant. You huff lovingly, before you gently touch that very spot with your finger. More flakes follow, landing on his mask, his eyebrows and lashes, before he opens his mouth, trying to bite your finger that’s resting on his nose.

Clack.

His teeth close around nothing and you quickly retrieve your hand to poke him into his shoulder instead.

Hard.

It makes his lip twitch, before he leans down to you, close to your face, cocking his eyebrow.

“Harder.” he whispers with a smirk, with this… undertone.

And you blush, remembering it’s what you moaned into his ear last night.

When you felt cold and the fire was not enough to warm your moving bodies.

When your skins and limbs and lips were intertwined, like those of lovers are.

When you kissed each other and hold each other dearly, when your hearts started to miss each other and their embrace.

“Are you sure?” you mumble, trying to keep composure. His gentle eyes roam over your face, scan how your delicate skin rushes full of extra heat.

And then he nods, almost unnoticeable, almost hypnotised, as his gaze falls down to your lips.

The string on your heart pulls you in, let your breaths collide and mingle, until they merge, as you start kissing him on his soft lips while feeling small, freezing flakes fall upon your faces. He quietly sighs against your face and keeps squeezing on your beating heart, before you gently lick and suck on his tongue and bottom lip.

“Okay.” you breathe against his pretty mouth, your breath and heartbeat quickened. “Wait here.”

His pupils are blown, already drowning in your being, before you stand up and walk into the snow.

You feel his needy eyes bore into your back, the string on your heart pulling harshly.

To make you walk back to him, to devour your flesh once again. Like last night, like lovers do.

But first, you crouch down, shove some snow between your hands and form a ball. Then, with all your strength, you turn around and throw it at him. Sukuna leans back to dodge but-

Bam!

The snowball hits his shoulder with a wet impact, shattering in a million pieces.

And you gasp in victory, as you throw your arms up in the air.

“Ahhh hahahah!” you exclaim, before a wide grin spreads onto his lips and he flashes his teeth. A sadistic, aroused chuckle escapes his throat, as his eyes flicker right at you, as he slowly rises to his feet, cracking his neck and knuckles, before he growls in excitement.

“So, you wanna play?”

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sirfrancisvarney · 3 months

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So as the show is halfway through, and before episode four drops, I've tried to put together and organize all the information I've gathered so far.

In 2005 (18 years ago), Anders Lund found Tsalal station. Raymond Clark joins. The shots of the website don't show when everyone else joins, but some of them join within the next few years. The source of Tsalal's funding is hidden by several shell companies that link back to Tuttle United.

Seven years ago (or possibly earlier), in 2016, Annie Kowtok insists on joining her friend on her visit to Tsalal station, and immediately starts a relationship with Clark. This behavior is apparently unusual for her. Did she go to Tsalal specifically to meet Clark? Why keep it a secret? Also in 2016, Clark bought a trailer. It's assumed this was used to meet Annie K in secret.

Next year, sometime in spring 2017, Oliver Tagaq left Tsalal for reasons unknown. In April, Annie is killed. She records herself, clearly frightened and afraid of getting caught, on her smartphone in what appears to be an ice cave, saying, "I found it. It's here. I found it, I found it. My name is Annie Kowtok. If anything happens to me please--" she's pulled away from the camera and she is heard screaming. The camera view at the end is on the skeleton of some marine animal encased in ice.

On April 18, Annie's body is found. She was stabbed 32 times with a star-shaped instrument, ribs and teeth broken. She was kicked after her death and her tongue was cut out. Four days later, on April 22, Clark gets a spiral tattoo that match's Annie's. I don't know how long it takes to arrange getting a tattoo, so I don't know if he already had plans to get it, or if he got it because of Annie's murder.

Time passes. At some point, Clark turns the trailer into a shrine of some sort for Annie. The mannequin in the bed is wearing her cardigan, and there are baby dolls and children's toys placed around it, possibly a reference to her role as a midwife.

Clark covers his research notes with writing, including repeated phrases and words such as "her eyes her face," "I can hear her coming/moving outside," "cold," "dark," and "her fingers." It's unknown when this behavior started.

Fast forward to the end of 2023. A few weeks before the show starts, Clark's behavior becomes noticeably stranger. At some point before December 17, he obtains Annie's smartphone, which appears to have video of her last moments, and he is assumed to have acquired her tongue. He could have gotten these at the time of Annie's death, or at any point since. If he didn't take Annie's tongue himself, maybe getting them caused his mental instability to get worse?

On December 17, the last sunset of the year, a hunter watches as a herd of caribou get spooked from an unknown stimulus, and flee. It's unknown if this is connected to the events of the series, or merely meant to be symbolic. On the same day, the water in the villages goes bad, for reasons unknown. The mine is blamed. Also on December 17, the scientists at Tsalal are living their lives, relaxing in the evening, doing chores. Anders Lund is going over old data on a whiteboard (no spiral is visible on his forehead). Molina is filming himself making a sandwich, when he sees Clark, shaking or shivering. Part of Clark's hair is dyed blue, and where his hair touched the parka, the dye has transferred. He has clearly been outside in the snow. When Molina asks if he's ok, Clark turns and says "she's awake," which is immediately followed by a power outage that also affects Molina's smartphone.

On December 22, the delivery guy arrives and finds the place empty. A figure moves inhumanly fast through one corridor, but no other sign of life is present. The TV is playing "Twist and Shout" in repeat. He finds Annie's tongue on the floor underneath a table (several feet away from where Clark had been standing) and calls the police.

The next day, Rose finds the bodies of the scientists. They are frozen together, almost completely buried in the ice, bodies twisted in agony. They are naked, with burnt corneas and blood from their ears. Some have scratched their eyes out or bit themselves. Lund has Annie's spiral drawn on his forehead. Somehow, he is also still alive. (I don't know if this is important, but Danvers had to brush snow away to see the spiral, but Rose knew about it and told Navarro. Maybe it was more visible when she found the bodies and snow covered it before the police arrived, maybe Travis told her.) The scientists's clothes were found folded neatly near the corpsicle. The shoes look like indoor slippers, and it's likely that the clothes match what they were all wearing the night of December 17. A single handprint was taken from one shoe. It appears to be missing part of the ring and pinky fingers on the right hand (or they just couldn't get the print of those fingers).

Lund wakes briefly. He tells Danvers and Navarro, and I quote, "we woke her. She's awake. And now she's out. She's out there in the ice. She came for us in the dark."

Those are all the relevant facts concerning the main murder case (to my knowledge) as of episode three. I suppose I could have included a picture of Annie's stab wounds, but I couldn't make any kind of pattern out of them, or take a guess at what the weapon was. There's also the snow Navarro hit in the first episode, but I couldn't tell what it is, or if it's anything more than dirt and snow piled on the road. Personally, they do not suggest a microbial origin or cause. Diseases take time to infect, and they don't progress in everyone at exactly the same rate. The scientists were found together, practically climbing over each other. They died at almost exactly the same time, apparently in abject panic. I don't think a disease can kill that precisely. How did Clark avoid getting infected, since he lived with them all? Plus, whatever happened to them happened shortly after the power outage, since Molina' left his sandwich behind. One would assume he meant to eat it, since he went through the trouble to make it. The death of the scientists, the power outage, and the water going bad are all too closely linked in time to be unrelated. I wish I had a map of Ennis. I'd like to see how close these are in physical distance.

I also don't think there are any real clues to be found in the website. Their bios look about like what you'd get if you asked someone to come up with backgrounds for people studying ancient microorganisms in glacial ice. Plus, I think most of the scientists are ultimately going to be unimportant as individuals. Out of all eight men, Lund and Clark are the only ones focused on by the narrative. When interviewed, the cleaning ladies only mentioned Lund (yelled at them for touching his stuff) and Clark (his crying, probably over the brutal unsolved murder of his girlfriend kept them from being able to clean his room) by name. Lund survived (for a while, at least). Clark is missing and is closely connected with Annie's case. Oliver Tagaq mentioned Lund by name when he learned the scientists were dead. (On a side note, I really wish Danvers and Navarro (mostly Danvers) hadn't been so hostile when questioning him. They might have gotten more information from him if they hadn't gone at it like assholes. Granted, that's practically an impossible task for Danvers.) The rest, sadly, don't seem to be important. They are effectively ignored and dismissed, much like how they ignored the cleaning ladies.

So what could have happened on December 17, and how is it tied to Annie's murder? Honestly, I don't know yet. I'm not sure there's enough information given to answer those questions. Lund's speech and the way the scientists died suggest a supernatural explanation, but other details surrounding their murder seem to suggest more prosaic, human causes. There's no sign of a struggle at the station, but maybe someone cleaned up after themselves. The way part of the note at the bottom of the whiteboard is erased looks unusual, like it could have happened accidentally. Maybe someone got knocked against it, or their coat brushed against the board when they were writing the message. It's also possible the murderer was able to make them all leave without a fight. The power had just gone out, so maybe they all gathered together to put it back on? Where's the circuit breaker or generator for the station? Maybe that's where the actual crime scene is. The folded clothes feel like something you'd make a person do right before you execute them, sort of like making your victim dig their own grave. It could also have the opposite motivation: I could see a person not in full possession of their faculties (like Clark, or maybe one of the cleaning ladies in a fugue state) instinctively trying to straighten things up. Both feel like very human actions.

Finally, who is "she"? Is that even the right question? When did "she" wake up? The scientists didn't seem to be doing anything that would trigger her awakening on the 17th, so it must have happened before. I wish I knew more about what made Clark's mental illness ramp up in the weeks before sunset. It feels like there could be an important clue there. Too bad Clark is missing and anyone else who could answer the question is dead.

#true detective #true detective night country #spoilers #long post #hope all of that makes some kind of sense #i still don't know how the polar bear fits in #i need to stop obsessing over this show #i have other stuff i need to do

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ilythecolorpink · 6 months

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I Wanna Be Saved (Satoru Gojo x female reader)

It was the year 2006, You go to an abandoned building to have a smoke only to discover that you can see a cursed spirit. During your discovery, you end up meeting two strangers.

It was a chilly evening, with the clouds gloom dominating the sky. The autumn breeze caresses your skin. You were strolling through the forest since you frequently smoked there or sat there and thought while it was deserted. You removed your lighter and box of Seven Stars Cigarettes from your denim pocket. You mutter an irritating "Shit" as you put the cigarette to your lips, you glance up, you can feel raindrops starting to start falling on you.

As it gets heavier, you start moving more quickly. Thank goodness you located an abandoned structure. Previously clean walls were now coated in grime, had graffiti, and had leaves creeping on them. You inhale after lighting your cigarette, taking your index finger's second and third knuckles, and exhaling the smoke. You hear a noise coming from the room's far corner at the end. When you approach the strange��sound and notice an odd shadow-like figure, you raise an eyebrow and exclaim, "What the fuck?" as it approaches you. You get a severe sense of annoyance and fear. You sigh impatiently as you move away from the cursed spirit, "Fuck, I can't even have one last cigarette before I leave?"

Its eyes are far apart, and its smile is overly big, so as it gets closer to you, more of it becomes visible. As you rush away, you experience a wave of panic washing over you. You go past the trees, the rain just gets heavier, your breathing becomes more strained, and your heart rate increases. The cursed spirit behind you simply becomes stronger. As the rain didn't really assist, you slipped out from under your feet. You turn around so that your back is on the ground, you feel a grab at your leg. With your free leg, you attempted to kick the curse away, but it was ineffective. You are utterly helpless. "Please don't make me die here out of all places," you plead as it continues to hold onto both of your legs. You continue trying to comfort yourself on your appending end “Come on man I haven’t even had my first drink yet.”

You hear footsteps approaching your way just as you think all hope is lost. One person can be heard saying, "Satoru, you go take care of the girl and I will take care of the curse." When you look up, you see two tall men with school uniforms, one of whom has violet-purple eyes and black hair that is tied up with a strand of hair covering his left eye. The other is wearing sunglasses and snow-white hair, and both are staring down at you. Gojo kicks the cursed spirit away as Geto approaches it, freeing your leg from its hold. He then crouches down, placing one arm under your knees and the other supporting my back, saying, "Looks like you got pretty roughed up, don't worry I'm here to save you." You grab onto his chest to keep him close.

After some time, Gojo takes��you to the school building, which is located in the mountains at a great distance. There were more trees than you could count. Passing several temples and shrines. He eventually sits you down in one of the classrooms. Your fear has subsided as you settle down, and a stream of questions has emerged as a result of intensified curiosity.. "What the hell was that thing back there?" You ask. Gojo says, "You can actually see that?" with a look of curiosity. "Yeah, what was I not supposed to?" you then respond. When he sees to make sure you weren’t hurt at all, he kneels down and explains, "You see, sweetheart, those things you saw back there are called curses." When you feel him lightly grab your leg, you exclaim, "Curse, huh? Although I've heard of them, I've honestly never imagined seeing one."

"So do you do this kind of thing for a living or what?" you ask after that. He then stands up and removes his sunglasses. "Sure, you could say that, by the way, my name is Satoru Gojo, trust me the less you know about these things the better." Then, as you take in and admire at how stunning he looks, you gaze up into his heavenly radiant blue eyes. As you put your hand on your cheek, you notice a slight flush starting to appear there. You utter the words "Wow you're so beautiful" while being completely captivated. After realizing what you just said, you feel embarrassed and exclaim, "Oh god, I'm so sorry."

He then smiles and says, "You don't have to apologize at all darling, you know I would be lying if I didn't say that you look beautiful; as well especially under this moonlight." You only get redder as you “Oh thank you” You start to play with your hair. You stand up a little while later, self-assured, and thank him for saving you. You return the favor by kissing him on the cheek. Now Gojo is the one blushing who asks, "Did you just kiss me on the cheek? Anytime you need me, I'll make sure to come to your rescue." "How about I give you my phone number?" you chuckle as you phrase this in a more sensual manner.

After that, he adds, "Hell yeah, I'll make sure to call you anytime, love." When the other man from earlier enters, you hear footsteps. "I apologize for interrupting, but we must take you home, ma'am." Then you say, "Please call me Y/N," while giving a small smile. "I'm Suguru Geto, and it's lovely to meet you", he continues, nodding. As you exit the building, you hear Geto ask, "What's got you all smiling?" as you pass by them. Putting his arm around Geto, Gojo declares, "I just got a hot girl's number." Geto then chuckles and shakes his head.

A/N: I hope you all are doing good. Thank you so much for all the love and support I have gotten, It really does mean the world. Also, my next fanfic will be with Priest Nanami featuring Itadori so stay tuned for that. Anyways, I hope you all have a good night/day and I love you so much.

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extralively · 11 days

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Bringing You Home

Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character NSFW 9,268 words (jfc) Also posted on AO3 Summary: After leaving a boring clan event, Satoru brings Yura with him to his private quarters on the Gojo Estate. Yura gets to snoop a bit in what is essentially Satoru's childhood bedroom, before the two of them actually get started with the, ahem, after-party...

Here's the new oneshot in the Under the Cover of Shadows series! It takes place immediately after chapter 1 of my fic Deeper in the Dark, but it could also be read as standalone. This was also supposed to be just smut, but then I got carried away playing with my headcanons as to what Satoru's childhood was like lmao and it ended up turning into a bit of a character study for him. Also there's smut.

Anyway, enjoy another accidentally long-ass oneshot! I know you guys were asking for this one, so hopefully I can deliver hehe

“Satoru, where are we going?” Yura asked as he tugged her along by the hand. The sounds of the clan event kept getting further away, which—good. Satoru already had enough dealing with annoying clan people for the night, so he was more than looking forward to just being him and Yura alone, and no one else.

“We’re going for a walk,” Satoru told her, shooting her a grin.

Yura had commented a couple of times about finding the Gojo Estate beautiful to look at, and Satoru supposed he couldn’t deny that fact—although, spending most of his childhood confined to this place did little to endear him to it, since for the longest time he simply couldn’t wait until he was free of all this.

He could, however, see the appeal in taking Yura out for a walk around the Estate, especially when there was no one else around. As the head of the clan, the Estate was something that could be considered unequivocally his territory, and there was an odd giddy feeling inside of him at being able to share it with Yura.

“Just for a walk?” Yura asked, an amused glint in her eyes as she looked up at him. She still kept her hand in his as they walked side by side.

“...For now,” Satoru replied, a sly grin of his own spreading across his face. “Let’s just take the scenic route for a little while.”

Yura only hummed in response, looking back to the front. Satoru was guiding them through a covered outdoor pathway, mostly due to the snow piled up on the ground. Small snowflakes still floated down from the sky every now and then, coating everything in a layer of white, and Satoru briefly lamented that the scenery around these parts was usually prettier during the spring.

Well, he would just have to bring Yura here again some other time, he thought to himself.

A chilly gust of wind passed by, and he felt Yura shiver next to him even if she was wearing the new coat he’d given her. She ended up stepping closer to him then, probably seeking more warmth—even though he was a little disappointed when her hand left his, he couldn’t complain much when she grasped his arm instead, first with one hand and then with her other one. And for the second time that night, Yura was clutching at his arm as she stayed glued to his side, and Satoru couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face.

They continued walking almost mindlessly through the outdoor paths, passing by several of the buildings that made up the Gojo Estate. Yura seemed to be curious about everything, asking him what each building was for—mostly different residences, he’d answered, although there were a couple of shrines scattered throughout. Most of the non-residential buildings were in a different area... and he supposed that he would just have to show her to those some other time.

“How many people live on the Estate?” Yura asked, still leaning against his side.

“Uh...” He stopped to think. “I’m not sure, actually. Mostly everyone with the Gojo name—you know, my uncles and aunts, their kids, their kids’ kids, some further apart cousins, the live-in employees and servants...”

“...Everyone except the clan head himself,” she replied with an amused smile, and she wasn’t wrong there.

Satoru nodded. “Yup.”

He’d had his family breathing down his neck for the entirety of his childhood and then some; this time, he wanted some actual freedomto live his life without their annoying meddling, thank you very much.

Yura let out a sigh, nodding slightly as she leaned against his side again. They continued walking some more, chatting sometimes, and sometimes just staying in comfortable silence. Satoru was too busy enjoying Yura’s presence there to worry about anything else.

But then her voice interrupted yet another stretch of quiet. “Satoru,” she called, and he turned his head to her. “This walk is going great and all... but are we getting somewhere soon? These heels are really starting to bother me...”

As Yura slowed down to a stop, pulling him with her, Satoru ended up getting a bit of déjà vu. That’s right—one and a half years ago, when Satoru had last brought Yura to the Estate with him, he’d also taken her on a walk like this after they’d left the event. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had decided to do that; he had simply grabbed her hand to pull her away from the stuffy ceremony they’d been forced to attend, and then... she just hadn’t pulled her hand away. So he’d just kept walking, until Yura had complained that her kimono had been a little too tight after all the food they’d eaten.

Satoru snorted. “Why is it always something when we go on walks like these?” He shot her a crooked grin. “Why must you interrupt this lovely atmosphere we have going on?”

Yura stuck her feet out, jiggling her shoe. “You were the one who got me these way too high heels to wear. It’s your fault that my feet can’t handle all this walking.”

Well, that was true. But she did look fantasticwith the heels on, along with the dress he’d gotten her for this event.

Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, fully turning to face her. “Fine. We’ll go,” he said, but then he got déjà vu again as he stared at Yura in front of him.

...Ah. That’s right. That night, he’d also come this close to kissing her—this close. If Yura hadn’t looked away, he would have definitely done it. Back then, he had tried rationalizing it away as a momentary fluke—the way she had sat by his side in front of his entire clan as his wife had certainly done a number on him, and something inside of him had gotten a little too comfortable with the idea as they’d played along.

But to be honest, he now knew that calling it a fluke had only been him lying to himself, because he had also come this close to kissing her multiple times before and after. As it turned out, he had just really wanted to kiss Yura.

His lips twitched up.

And he could do that now, couldn’t he?

Without a word, Satoru simply leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her lips. When he pulled away, Yura was blinking up at him in surprise, slightly taken aback.

“...What was that for?” she asked, a little amused.

Satoru shot her a small grin. “Just ‘cause I can,” he told her.

Yura gave his chest a light slap, even as she was trying to bite back a smile.

“Alright, come on,” he eventually said, stepping closer to her. And just like last time, he wrapped his arms around her, tugging her body unnecessarily close to him. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, feeling her own arms wrap around his torso, before he teleported them both away.

---

Yura was a little confused when they reappeared somewhere still in the Gojo Estate and not in front of his car, like she had expected. They were in a hallway, in front of a closed sliding door, and it did look a little familiar... though Yura wasn’t exactly sure where they were.

“...Where are we?” she asked, stepping away from Satoru as his arms dropped from around her.

Satoru grinned as he moved toward the door. “Why, the party isn’t over yet,” he told her, sliding one side of the door open. “Or better yet, you can call this the after-party.”

As Yura peered inside the room, she suddenly remembered what this place was. These were Satoru’s private quarters inside the Gojo Estate, the ones he rarely used because, well, he didn’t really spend much time around these parts. He had brought her here once, some seven years ago on her first visit, saying that it was the one place where he could be free of his family when inside the Estate.

...Yura suddenly had an inkling as to what Satoru had in mind for this after-partyof his.

“I wasn’t aware there would be an after-party,” Yura said, even as she took off her heels before she stepped inside the room. “That wasn’t on the invitation.” ...There hadn’t really been an invitation.

Satoru was still grinning. “A surprise after-party then,” he said, starting to take off his own shoes. “But, really, you should have seen this coming.”

She really should have.

They both moved inside, Satoru turning on the lights before he helped her take off her coat, hanging it with his. Yura ended up getting a little distracted admiring the place again—this was essentially Satoru’s childhood bedroom, wasn’t it? Well, it was a little more than a bedroom—Yura was only familiar with the main sitting area where she and Satoru had had tea that one time, but there was still one doorway leading to what she knew to be the bedroom, and also another one that she wasn’t sure where it led to. It was almost like he had a whole apartment of his own inside his house, and Yura wondered how much time he would spend in here alone, given everything that he’d told her over the years...

“Young master?” a voice came from outside, following a knock on the door. The voice was familiar—that was Hanae, wasn’t it? Satoru’s old caretaker (read: babysitter), and probably the one person inside the Estate that he actually liked.

“Yeah?” Satoru replied, turning to the door and sliding it open again. Sure enough, Hanae was standing outside, and she gave him one deep bow in greeting before she spotted Yura, shooting the younger woman a warm smile and bowing to her as well.

“It’s good to see you again, Yura-san,” Hanae called, and Yura gave her a similar bow in greeting.

“You too,” Yura replied. She had first met Hanae on her first visit to the Estate, but they had definitely run into each other a few times in the years since. Mostly in Satoru’s apartment, since Hanae was the one coming in to tidy up his place every week; and since Yura had started spending more and more time over at Satoru’s... she had definitely begun to run into the older woman more often in the past year or so...

“I’m sorry to interrupt, young master,” Hanae said, bowing her head down to Satoru again. “But I’m afraid the head of the Kamo clan has requested your presence.”

Satoru’s mood suddenly did a one-eighty, and he let out an aggravated sigh. “Seriously? I’m busy—We can talk some other time.”

Hanae pressed her lips together for a moment. “...I’m afraid that this might be some official business,” she eventually said. “They stressed it was important—I believe it is regarding a possible marriage match between the two clans.” She shot him an apologetic smile.

Satoru was silent for a moment before his shoulders sagged. “Fine,” he caved, and Yura had to wonder if they’d sent Hanae here to fetch him because she seemed to have a way of talking him into things. Yura supposed that the other woman just had plenty of practice dealing with his difficult kid self. “But this’ll have to be quick—I don’t need to be involved in this...” he finished by grumbling out the words. He grabbed his coat with an exaggerated sigh, before he suddenly turned back to Yura and pointed a finger right at her face. “You. Don’t go anywhere,” he said in mock-seriousness. Then his face shifted into a grin. “The after-party is still on.”

Yura was trying to bite back a grin as she pretended to be bothered. “Just don’t take too long,” she said, setting a hand on her hip. “...Also, I can’t promise I won’t snoop.”

Satoru continued grinning as he slipped his coat back on. “Snoop away,” he said.

Satoru eventually left with Hanae, leaving Yura alone there in his private quarters. And as she turned away from the door, looking over the place, her urge to snoop was strong.

To start off, she shot the living area a long cursory glance as she gave the place a once-over. Not much seemed to have changed since her first visit—much like the rest of the house, this room was also elegantly decorated in mostly traditional Japanese décor, with a low table (a kotatsu, actually) in the center where she and Satoru had drank tea last time, a couch against a wall, and a few bookshelves scattered throughout. There was, however, a very modern TV on top of a console against the wall, but otherwise, this place could have passed as something from another time entirely.

And there also wasn’t much Satoru from what she could see, nothing that would really indicate this place as being his. She wondered if that was because he’d long since moved out and had probably taken most of ‘his’stuff with him—but Yura also remembered Satoru mentioning that he hadn’t actually been allowed to redecorate as a child, hence why he ended up going nuts decorating his dorm room after he’d moved into the school.

Yura strolled across the room, glancing at the books on the shelves as she moved past them to peek through the doorway that led to the bedroom. She flicked the light switch on as she walked through the door, taking in the sight; again, there wasn’t much there. A low bed against a wall, a couple of dressers on the other side (even though she was pretty sure one of the western-style doors in the room also led to a closet), a smaller low table with some seats on the far end of the room, and another TV on the wall—nothing very distinct. Was this really how his bedroom had always looked, or had this been redecorated after Satoru had grown up? The bed was way too big for one single kid, although the thought of a kid Satoru sleeping sprawled out on the king-sized bed was pretty amusing—and very on-brand. He did like to spread out; when she would sleep next to him, he would often use her as a mattress instead.

...Or maybe he just liked spreading himself on top of her.

For a little while, Yura busied herself examining the room, peeking in through the western-style doors (one a bathroom and the other, yep, a closet), and then deciding to indeed snoop by opening the drawers on Satoru’s bedside tables. Now this finally felt more like Satoru—mostly normal stuff like phone chargers, a tablet, some candy (she snorted—yep, that’s him); just regular stuff she knew he also kept by his bed in his own apartment. Opening the bottom drawer, however, finally revealed something that seemed more childhood-like: it was an old handheld game console, with a few game cases carefully stored next to it. Yura knew that Satoru must have had multiple different game consoles throughout the years (a few of which she’d seen him using back in school), and that he hadn’t actually kept most of them—so she had to wonder why this one. Maybe it had some kind of special significance, she theorized. She would just have to ask him later.

(She also found a box of tissues and, ahem, lotion, in one drawer, and Yura’s lips tugged up; now, was that a recent Satoru thing or was that a remnant from his teenage days, she wondered...)

Tired of snooping in the bedroom, Yura made her way back to the main sitting area and walked to the unknown closed room, her curiosity not yet sated. This unknown room turned out to be nothing more than some kind of study, or so she guessed—it also had a low table in the middle, but this one felt more like a desk, with the handful of papers and writing implements scattered on top of it. The number of bookcases spread around the room also helped give it that study feeling.

Yura moved further inside as she examined things with a careful eye, briefly noting that a lot of the books on the shelves actually looked more like textbooks. That’s right, Satoru had been largely homeschooled, hadn’t he? At least before going to Jujutsu Tech. Yura looked over at the desk, suddenly trying to picture child Satoru sitting there and studying diligently—and she snorted. Somehow, she had doubts—but he was infuriatingly smart regardless of how much time he had actually spent studying at school, so who knows. Maybe he’d just had a verythorough education beforehand.

As the picture of a young Satoru studying in this room stuck in her mind, though, Yura looked over the room again. Had this been where he’d studied—where he would take his lessons? Satoru had complained several times during school about the amount of time his family had forced him to spend studying (‘And so I can afford to take it easy now,’ he would tell her, much to her indignation as he simply skipped regular classes), but she would have expected his private quarters to have some kind of toy room attached to them, instead of this somber study room. And she somehow didn’t think it was because this room had been cleaned out since he’d moved away...

Yura sighed, looking around.

To be honest, the more she thought about Satoru’s childhood, the more it seemed oddly lonely. Sure, he was the strongest; sure, he had enough money to buy anything he could have possibly wanted... but what good did it do when he could only enjoy it all alone?

Satoru had told her all about his family keeping the fabled Gojo heir confined to the Estate for the entirety of his childhood—‘for his protection,’ they would say. Yeah, that was a reason, but that just meant that Satoru had grown up isolated—if not deliberately being kept away from most people, then just by virtue of being who he was. No wonder he had been such an asshole when they’d first met—that had been his first actual foray into the ‘real word’, hadn’t it? Aside from all those times he had snuck out as a kid (see, that’s what you get for being so overly controlling: you end up with a strongest sorcerer with a rebellious streak instead). It was honestly no surprise that he had been such a spoiled brat with poor social skills when he’d first come to Jujutsu Tech.

And it also shouldn’t have been so surprising to see his quarters so bare, so devoid of personality, considering the controlling nature of his family. Even his current apartment usually seemed a little too clean for someone like Gojo Satoru, so that was definitely a habit that seemed to have been forcefully developed during his childhood regardless of the rebellious nature he had grown to have since then.

...But then as her eyes stumbled upon a figure propped up between a few books, Yura had to smile. Finally, she thought. There he is. That was Digimon, wasn’t it? At last, a little splash of personality inside the otherwise nondescript room, and Yura looked fondly at the worn-out toy that suddenly reminded her of a time when Satoru would sit her down to watch this anime whether she liked it or not.

‘It’s so much better than Pokémon!’ he would insist. ‘I must bestow you with good taste.’

Yura eventually continued looking over the many shelves, her eyes roaming over the titles of all these textbooks. She was kinda impressed at all the advanced reading that pre-high school Satoru had been doing, even though she knew that Satoru was smart-smart... despite acting like an idiot most of the time. But then she stopped in her tracks again.

There was a picture frame on one of the middle shelves, the only photo frame in this whole place. Yura knew that Satoru didn’t have the habit of hanging up pictures in his place, despite them taking many photos together on their phones—so this photo frame in particular immediately piqued her curiosity. She bent down, picking it up—and it surprised her a little, even if it was exactly what she should have expected.

There were two people in the photograph, one that Yura clearly recognized as being Satoru’s father—looking much younger than now—and the other one a boy... who Yura took a couple of seconds to recognize as Satoru himself. The white hair and blue eyes should have been a dead giveaway, but it still took her a moment; maybe it was the fact that Yura had never seen any pictures of Satoru as a kid, or maybe it was the unusually serious expression on his face. And not just serious—scowling, like he didn’t want to be there... which she guessed was probably the case. Both father and son were standing next to each other, facing the camera, his father’s hand on his shoulder in what clearly looked to be an ‘official’ photograph of some kind.

Yura studied the photo closely; this was actually her first glimpse into what Satoru had looked like as a kid. He looked young—very young—but she couldn’t be sure how old he was in the picture, so she couldn’t tell if he’d always been that tall or if he ever used to be of a normal height. His hair was shorter than when she’d first met him, almost choppily messy despite the fact that he was wearing what looked like a formal kimono along with his father, and he also wasn’t wearing any sunglasses at this time. His cheeks were round with baby fat, far different from the Satoru she knew today but not that different from the fifteen-year-old Satoru she had met over a decade ago, and, well... he kinda looked adorable.

She could just squeeze his chubby, grumpy cheeks.

And speaking of which, Yura started to feel the man in question approaching long before she ever heard him open the main door.

“Yuraaa,” she heard him call, moving towards where she was standing. “Where are you snooping...”

Satoru popped up in the doorway, shooting her a grin, and Yura bit back a smile. “You done with... whatever they wanted you for?” she asked.

Satoru let out a sigh as he approached her, stopping right behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “It was dumb,” he replied, pressing his face to her hair. “Some far-removed Gojo clan member and some even more far-removed Kamo clan member were trying to arrange a marriage between themselves, and apparently they needed the clan heads’ approval for that.” He suddenly dropped his chin to her shoulder, grumbling, “Just get married, don’t drag me into it...”

Yura huffed out a laugh, leaning back against him. “Do you need to approve every marriage in the clan or something?”

He shook his head, even as he kept it pressed against her shoulder. “No, just between the three major clans,” he replied. “Something something not wanting a clan’s inherited technique to fall into another clan’s hands. Blah.”

That definitely sounded like something that would be taken seriously by the three clans, but trust Satoru to treat it with the same seriousness as stepping on gum.

“So,” Satoru started again. “Whatchu got there?”

Yura smiled. “You,” she answered, turning the photo toward him. She tapped his face on the photograph with a finger. “You look so grumpy here.”

Satoru let out a sigh. “Official photo time was always boring,” he said, and she wasn’t surprised. He buried his face in her neck again, almost whining against her skin as his glasses poked at her cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a photo of you as a kid,” she told him. She grinned. “Look at your chubby cheeks.”

Satoru huffed out a laugh against her neck. “I know, I know, I was adorable.”

She half-heartedly rolled her eyes. “An adorable menace, I’m sure.”

“I mean...” Satoru heaved out another breath against her skin, shifting slightly behind her. “Are we gonna keep talking about kid me or are we gonna... get to the good stuff?”

And as if to make a point, she felt his lips press against the crook of her neck, and Yura tried biting back a grin. Of course.

---

Satoru felt a little... odd.

It wasn’t like Yura had never visited his private quarters in the Gojo Estate before, but something about having her there now was throwing him for a loop.

These days, there was a very clear distinction between what he considered to be clan life and his regular day-to-day life. It’d started many years ago when he’d left for Jujutsu Tech, finally able to break away from the suffocating grip his family had on him—and over the years, he’d been able to keep both parts of his life fairly well-separated. It wasn’t entirely intentional on his part; it had simply happened that way. His family didn’t bother him when it came to his job, and he usually only had to deal with clan-related business when he visited the Estate.

And this division extended to the people in his life as well—his family tended to stay away once he wasn’t around the Estate, and the friends he’d made after leaving for school didn’t usually get involved in clan matters nor frequent the same places his family did.

Which was probably why having Yura there, in the room he grew up in, felt so odd—like two worlds colliding entirely.The only person that had straddled the line between the clan and non-clan parts of his life had been a certain someone that would not be named—the only other person from outside that had ever visited his quarters here.

...But that couldn’t be the reason for this weird feeling in him, could it? At least not entirely. He had brought Yura here once, many years ago, and they’d had tea in his living area—and yeah, sure, it had felt a little strange back then too, but not thisstrange. This was a similar kind of feeling to what he’d felt when he took Yura with him to that clan ceremony a year and a half ago—seeing her there next to him, surrounded by his family and his clan...

It was... odd. Like he had just slotted her in an entirely new place in his life, where she fit... a little too well. Odd, but not a bad kind of odd.

So he decided to just ignore that weird feeling and busy himself by pressing his lips to her neck instead.

“Is this the only reason you brought me here?” Yura asked, amused. He vaguely noticed her placing the photo frame back on the shelf before she tilted her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck.

He’d truly made a wonderful choice picking this dress for her. With her entire neckline bared to him, he was able to trail his lips up and down an unbroken expanse of skin, going up her neck then down to her shoulder and back again. There was only the delicate chain of her necklace in the way, but he hardly minded it considering how she always wore it anyway. “Couldn’t exactly do this in front of everyone...” he replied, letting his teeth gently scrape the side of her neck, and he felt Yura shiver against him. “Even though I kind of wanted to.”

He heard Yura huff out a laugh. “Well, at least you behaved.”

He grinned against her neck—time to finally misbehave, then.

Satoru’s hands had been resting on her waist, and he let them drift further forward. His palms slid over Yura’s stomach on top of her dress, enjoying the way the softness and firmness of her body felt against his hands. As his thumb brushed over the underside of a breast, he was a little disappointed to find that she was, in fact, wearing a bra... but oh well. That would come off soon enough. So he pressed his nose to the side of her throat as he let his hands slide up to squeeze both of her soft mounds, and Yura laughed again.

“Someone’s getting handsy,” she said, letting her head fall back against him. His other hand drifted down again, splaying his fingers open over her stomach to press her body back into his... maybe only proving her point further. His lips pressed a kiss underneath her ear, feeling her sigh against him, and he kissed her there again—if he was getting handsy, then did this mean he was getting lipsy as well?

He grinned some more, but his grin ended up falling when Yura pulled away from him. He straightened himself up as he looked at her in confusion.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get handsy in your... study room,” she said, but she had a smile on her face as she stepped closer to him, her hands resting on his chest as she pressed her front to his.

His grin came back. “Why not?” he asked. His head dipped closer to her, his lips approaching hers.

But Yura pulled away before he could reach her once again, a mischievous look on her face. So she was in a teasing mood huh? Well, at least her hands took a hold of his as she stepped back, pulling him with her, and he let her lead him along.

Yura guided them back into the living area and then tugged him into the bedroom with her, and Satoru’s grin widened. Yura was still holding on to both of his hands, so once they were both sufficiently inside, she simply tugged his body to hers, pressing their fronts together again.

“This feels like a better place to start the after-party,” she said, her head tilting up towards his.

He was still grinning as he nodded. “That’s fair,” he said, and finally lowered his mouth to hers.

A sigh escaped him as they locked their lips together, his hands coming up to cup her face and bring her closer—he’d been wanting to do this all night. Maybe even in front of everyone—his family, the Kamo clan, the Zen’ins, all the elders and higher ups in attendance—he had been wanting to pull her to him and kiss her so everyone would see. He had refrained from doing that, of course, as Yura probably wouldn’t have appreciated it, so he’d had to hold himself back all night instead.

But not now. Now he could let his tongue taste her lips as he wished, enjoying the way her own tongue reached out to brush against his own. He could tilt her head slightly so he could kiss her deeper, feeling her hands tightening on his shirt against his sides as she pressed herself closer. He could just... get lost in her, just like this.

Satoru’s fingers slipped into her hair, enjoying the softness of the strands as he kept her face as close as possible. Yura herself was pressing her body tightly against his, and he could feel her pushing herself up on her toes to get even closer. See? This was why he’d gotten her those heels—Yura was pretty tall herself, but those heels would have helped them get on more even ground.

...Although, to be fair, she wasn’t likely to wear heels in the bedroom. Ah, well.

Yura’s nose bumped against his sunglasses as their mouths moved together, and it prompted her to pull away from him. She herself raised her hands to pluck the glasses off his face with a grin, but instead of tossing them somewhere else, she only folded them back up and slipped them between her breasts, leaving it hanging off the front of her dress.

His eyes, of course, followed along, and his gaze was immediately stuck to her cleavage.

Yura really needed to wear strapless tops more often...

“So,” Yura started, and Satoru had been so entranced by the way her breasts looked in that dress that he hadn’t noticed she was actually stepping away from him. “This is your childhood bedroom.”

Satoru’s eyes finally left her chest, and when they did, the sight suddenly struck him.

The four walls of this room were ones he was intimately familiar with; this was where he’d spent most of his childhood before he was able to break away from all of it and build his own life for himself. To be honest, most of his happy memories had taken place outside of here—even now, after all this time, this place still felt as stifling as it used to be when he was a kid, so he usually avoided it as much as possible.

But having Yura there with him now—why was it making him feel... something?

“What?” she asked, a confused smile on her face at his prolonged silence.

Satoru stared at her for another long moment, taking in the sight of Yura standing right there in his childhood bedroom, before he mentally shook himself out of it. “Nothing,” he replied, stepping closer to her. “Just thinking that you should really let me buy you dresses more often.”

Yura rolled her eyes even if she still had a smile on her face, and before he could get his hands on her again, she turned her back to him. “Well, now you’re gonna have to help get me out of this dress instead,” she said, handing his sunglasses back to him over her shoulder.

Satoru grinned, taking the glasses and slipping them into his pocket. “Happy to oblige.”

The first thing Satoru did was brush her long hair over her shoulder, exposing her back to him. He let his hands linger on her bare skin above the line of her dress, tracing the faint scars there; as much as the sight of her bare legs drove him crazy, he had also developed a fondness for the line of her shoulders, the contours of her collarbone, the movements of her shoulder blades...

Satoru lowered his lips to the crook of her neck again, pressing a soft kiss to her bare skin. He let his hand trace down the dip of her back until he reached the edge of her dress, fingers finding the zipper there and slowly tugging it down. His mind briefly wondered how she had put it on without any help, realizing with an amused laugh that she must have used her own technique to do so. But any other thoughts on the matter were quickly wiped away once he had fully undone the zipper, letting the dress slide down her body to pool at her feet.

Yura was wearing a similarly pale pink matching underwear set, and Satoru had to pull away slightly to admire how the strapless bra and panties hugged her curves just right. He let a hand slide down her back, briefly brushing over her ass as she turned around, facing him; she had an almost knowing smile on her face, but then she once again pulled away from him as she let her smile turn into a sly one.

“You’re overdressed, by the way,” she said as she stepped towards the bed. She sat down on it and then shuffled back towards the middle, and Satoru could only stare once more.

Yura, in her underwear, sitting on his bed at the Gojo Estate—

How many times had he laid on his back on this very same bed, staring up at the sky through the ceiling as he wondered if there was more to life than just lessons, lessons, lessons. If there was anything actually interesting out there for him, away from the Gojo Estate somewhere. Something fun and exciting, something he could look forward to—

Oh, there was definitely something alright, he thought. And it was currently sitting on top of that very same bed, looking up at him curiously.

“You’re really spaced out today,” Yura commented, and he was suddenly brought back to the present. No more getting distracted, he thought to himself.

“Well, you know,” he started, letting his eyes focus on Yura’s bare skin, the fabric of her underwear hiding the most interesting bits from him... for now. “I’ve just never had sex with anyone in here before.”

Yura looked at him with amusement in her eyes, tilting her head at him for a moment. “I mean, you’re not gonna be having any sex if you just stand there like a doofus,” she said. Satoru had to admit that she had a point. “So, strip.”

And to emphasize her point, Yura reached behind her and unclasped her bra, promptly tugging it off to throw it at him.

Ah, fucking hell... what a sight.

The garment smacked him on the face as Satoru kept staring, his eyes completely focused on her bare chest. Then he immediately startled himself into action, quickly pulling off his sweater and undershirt in one go before reaching down to undo his belt. His pants felt tight as he pushed them down his legs, tossing them off to the side as he rushed towards the bed, his eyes set on one singular goal—and he didn’t waste a second as he moved towards Yura, finally landing face-first on one of her wonderfully soft breasts.

Yura gasped as his mouth closed over one of her nipples, sucking on it and letting his tongue swirl around the hardened bud. One of her hands slipped into his hair as she leaned back but still pushed her chest forward, and Satoru hummed in approval—definitely a better angle for him to delight himself there. He could never get enough of the way she felt in his mouth, how it felt when he sucked the bud and some of the softness inside before releasing it and tasting her skin with his tongue. And he couldn’t just focus on one, that just wouldn’t be fair—so he removed his mouth from her before quickly capturing her other breast instead.

This was a much better end to a boring clan event, that’s for sure. This might just be the most fun he’d ever had in the Gojo Estate—ever.

And Satoru could have stayed there on Yura’s chest for hours—if Yura herself hadn’t gotten impatient, grabbing his head and pulling him up to hers. Their mouths met again and Satoru couldn’t complain, and as Yura’s hand found his own chest, sliding over his skin and making him shiver—he could complain even less.

Yura ran her hands over his muscles, squeezing at his skin, briefly pinching his own nipples and making his breath hitch. But Yura wasn’t satisfied with just that, no; as their tongues brushed against each other, her hand moved lower. Satoru’s mind was definitely paying close attention to her scorching touch, but still—as her hand finally squeezed him over his underwear, he almost jumped in surprise, grunting against her mouth at the feeling.

Yura pulled away from him then, and he didn’t have to open his eyes to see the cheeky grin she was sporting. But his mind was otherwise preoccupied, as her mouth had left his but not her hand—she was still massaging him over the fabric of his underwear, and if Satoru hadn’t been painfully hard before, he definitely was now.

“Satoru,” she called, and he eventually opened his eyes to meet hers. Her hand continued her ministrations down below, and his hips were almost rolling into her touch. “You said you had never had sex in here before, didn’t you?”

Satoru only vaguely hummed an agreement, letting the hand that had slipped into her hair slide down her front, absentmindedly squeezing one of her breasts.

Her grin widened. “What about a blowjob?”

Satoru suddenly froze. His eyes opened wider as he stared at her.

Yura, Yura, Yura...

Why was she always so good to him?

Yura’s cheeky grin never wavered as she pushed him back, sadly removing her hand from him, but he still throbbed nonetheless at the thought of what was to come.

What was to come—heh.

Hopefully him. And her. And her again. And them both—

Yura guided him to sit back down at the edge of the bed, rotating his body along with her as she stepped back onto the floor. She shot him a look as she stood in front of him, although Satoru got a little distracted by her bare chest right in front of his eyes. But when she bent down, tugging his underwear down his hips, Satoru eagerly assisted with its removal—almost dazedly watching as she finally knelt down between his legs, her hands on his thighs.

And when she finally grasped his member in her hand, he went a little crazy. Then she took him into her mouth and he almost went full insane.

Truly, he could never get tired of this. Actually, Yura only seemed to be getting better and better at this kind of thing every time she knelt down between his legs—she ran her tongue over him just right, she sucked him in just the right amount, her mouth and hands working in tandem to make him fully lose it.

Satoru threw his head back, one of his hands slipping into her hair but still letting her do whatever she needed to do—she sure didn’t seem to need his help. But then his eyes opened, lowering his head back down to take in the sight between his legs—and he instead ended up catching sight of everything instead, his brain once again struck by just where they were, and who he was with. He had so many memories of this place, of this room, most of them not particularly happy or fun; and now, Yura was there. In the middle of all of it. Her presence warming up this cold room... in more ways than one. (His body sure was getting very hot.)

Yura was bobbing her head up and down on him, and the feeling of him sliding in and out of her hot mouth was definitely getting him close. Too close, but also not close enough—something inside of him wanted to bury himself in her completely, so this wouldn’t do.

Yura shot him a questioning look as he pushed her back, still keeping him in her hands. But he didn’t say anything as he surged forward, wrapping an arm around her torso to tug her to him as he hitched one of her legs over his hip. Her arms came up to hold on to his shoulders as he maneuvered them both around, swiftly depositing her on the bed and positioning himself between her legs.

Satoru had to stop for a moment to admire the sight again, of Yura in this bed, his bed—in this room. It brought a weird, warm feeling to his stomach that Satoru couldn’t quite name, so he decided to push it all aside as he lowered himself on top of her to capture her lips with his own again.

It felt both strange and familiar, being with Yura like this here. Comfortingly familiar was when he let his hand slide down her body, squeezing a soft breast in the process, and found the waistband of her underwear; strange was when he pulled back briefly to tug the undergarment down her legs and caught sight of Yura sprawled out bare in the same bed he’d spent the first half of his life in.

His once home—his clan home. The place he’d thought he would only ever bring his eventual wife to, for... well, this.

Yura’s hands started groping his chest in the best way possible as he lowered himself back down to her, locking their lips together again. Their mouths were sloppy against each other, hands all over the other’s body, and Satoru couldn’t take it anymore—he wanted to be back in her, now. Not her mouth, this time; instead, his hand slid down to grab at his own member, Yura letting out a small gasp as he immediately pressed his length against her, slipping between her folds. He rubbed himself up and down there, coating himself in her wetness, letting the head of him slip down to briefly press against her entrance before sliding back up, rubbing himself against her clit before sliding down again. It was only a tease, really; even as Satoru was feeling a little impatient, his body craving more of her heat, he wanted to make sure it would be a... smooth ride inside, one might say.

But it seemed that Yura herself was also growing restless; every time that he slid down on her folds, pressing against her entrance, her hips would roll up against him as she almost urged him in. And who was he to continue denying her?

So the next time he slid down and found her entrance, he finally notched himself inside and pushed into her.

His forehead dropped to the bed next to her head, the feeling of being continuously squeezed by her walls incomparable to anything else. She felt so hot and so tight as he slowly sheathed himself inside, feeling her fingers pressing down on his back and urging him in further. Which was what he did—he kept pressing in, feeling her walls stretching open to accommodate him. His free hand eventually slid down to grasp at her hip and angle it up, allowing him to finally slot himself all the way inside; and as his hips met hers, feeling himself fully encased in her, he let out a shuddering breath against her ear.

There truly was no other feeling like this in the world. It was like sliding home; not just the way her tight heat wrapped around his member, but the way she was wrapped all over him—her legs bracketing his hips, her chest brushing against his with every breath she took, her hand digging into his back as her other hand slid down to grasp at his buttocks—it was almost like all of her was trying to urge him in even deeper.

So he obliged. He shifted his hips even closer, feeling himself push in just a tad bit deeper.

He really could stay here like this forever, couldn’t he?

Satoru breathed in and out against the side of her head, just basking in the feeling.

...Okay, so he could stay here forever, but maybe not stay still—his body started craving more, so he eventually started to move his hips slowly. He pulled himself out, then slid back all the way in, his nose pressed against the side of her head, nuzzling in as he breathed in her scent. Satoru was enjoying himself a little too much feeling the ridges of her walls drag over his length almost painfully slowly, but somehow just right.

He wasn’t going to continue with this pace all night, of course. There was more fun to be had.

His hips started moving faster, thrusting down into her. Her touch began drifting all over his body as he moved himself in and out of her with increasing speed, and her hands managed to leave both shivers and a scorching trail in their wake. It only drove him further, his hips thrusting into her faster, the continued squeeze and release of her walls around him making his muscles tense as he craved more. More heat, more speed, more space to move—the hand that had been grasping her hip moved up to her leg instead, urging her thighs to spread wider for him, and she wordlessly obliged. Something in his stomach coiled in pleasure as she gave him full unrestricted access to her heat, and he took full advantage of that to thrust into her unimpeded.

Satoru’s mind had long disconnected from the situation, letting his body’s natural impulses drive him along. As his hips kept moving, his nose and lips continued trying to press themselves closer to her, nuzzling the side of her head, his lips finding a combination of skin and hair and more skin as his face brushed against her. As Yura’s thighs fell open completely and he no longer had the need to hold them that way, he was able to free up his hand to happily start exploring her body with his touch... immediately finding her breast again and squeezing her softness in his hand once more.

There was nothing else at that moment but him and her, together. And Satoru would have liked it to stay that way—so when he sensed a familiar energy approaching, his Six Eyes glancing through the walls to the outside on instinct alone, he suddenly snapped his hips into her with an annoyed grunt and stayed there.

Yura, in turn, let out a gasp at the sudden roughness, her walls squeezing him briefly and making him realize just what he’d done. Oops would have been his thought if it hadn’t actually felt good.

“What?” Yura breathed out, half confused and half dazed at the feeling. “What... is it?”

Satoru’s eyes briefly glanced at the figure of his father standing outside of his quarters before sliding his gaze away (this was not what he wanted to be looking at in the middle of sex). But when he raised himself up slightly on his elbow to meet Yura’s eyes—the sight of her flushed face as he stayed buried inside of her had him pause for a moment.

“Just...” he eventually said. “An annoying visitor. He’ll go away soon enough.” Satoru had long made sure that his family were not to go inside his quarters without permission, so his father would eventually just leave once he got no answer.

Yura glanced up in the direction of the bedroom door before looking up at him. “...You don’t think they can hear us, can they?”

“Probably not,” Satoru answered, and immediately snapped his hips into hers again, making her bite back a gasp. He grinned.

Yura shot him a mock-annoyed look, but when he thrust into her again, she definitely looked like she was enjoying it.

He wasn’t worried about anyone overhearing them—his quarters were at the far end of this building, and there was still the whole living area between the bedroom and the outside... even if the walls weren’t really all that thick.

“Besides,” Satoru said, his voice coming out a little breathless as his hips continued the harsher thrusting into her. “I told you... my family would probably throw a party... if they knew what we’ve been doing.”

Yura’s face was scrunching up in pleasure as she tried keeping her eyes open to look up at him. “I don’t think... I don’t think it’s the sex part... they’re interested in.”

“No...” Satoru agreed. His mouth was slightly parted as he stared down at her flushed face, and he was pretty sure his was the same way. “They just want the resulting bit.” And he thrust himself into her again.

Yura’s eyes met his, a strange look passing between the two of them. “...That does have to come... from somewhere,” she said, her voice amused.

And when he thought of where that somewhere might be, it made his hips immediately snap into her without his permission, his head suddenly spinning.

Following this new pace, Satoru’s hips continued moving in rough, deep thrusts, while he still kept himself raised slightly above her in one arm. This meant that his eyes never left hers, despite their occasional fluttering, that same strange look still lingering in the air.

“So...” Yura let out, her eyes fluttering more and more as he increased his pace. “Is that what they would think... that we’re doing?”

“Yep,” he replied, his eyes never wavering from her face as his mouth worked on its own, seemingly disconnected from his brain... “That this is me putting a baby in you.”

When the words finally registered in his own ears, his hips suddenly snapped into her harder. Well, shit.

And it took him a second to register the fact that Yura’s own hand had drifted down her body, reaching the nub there and rubbing. Her eyes had fluttered closed, but she managed to force them open as she stared up at him. “...Well, you can try,” she breathed out, her voice a mix of amusement, defiance, and a simple statement of a fact.

It drove Satoru insane, and his hips only matched the state of his brain.

Yeah, he could try.

Satoru’s gaze locked on the golden flecks of her eyes as he pushed himself into her, the only thing going through his head was her name on repeat like a mantra going Yura, Yura, Yura—

He only vaguely noticed her hand increasing speed between her legs, as her face started to shift and scrunch up more often. He matched her pace with his hips, driving himself into her again and again and again—

Until when Yura suddenly cried out, throwing her head back and arching into him. The sight, the sound, the feeling—it was all too much, immediately pushing him over the edge, and he drove himself in as far as he could go with a cry of his own. His hips were pressed flush against hers as his climax hit him, and he finally released himself fully inside of her.

As waves of pleasure crashed over him, Satoru buried his head against the side of her neck again as he curled himself into her. He could feel himself spilling deep inside of her, her walls spasming around him and milking him for all that he’s worth. The head of his length was definitely pressed against something inside as he tried to push himself in even further, and if he knew enough biology, considering what they had just been saying—

Well, the thought of his release slipping into her womb was already getting him ready for round two.

(...If it weren’t for birth control, his family would have definitely already gotten that heir they want so much.)

But for the moment, Satoru allowed his muscles to relax.

The way their chests moved against one another as they both caught their breaths was almost hypnotic as he came down from his high. His senses were overwhelmed with Yura—all Yura.

...He wasn’t complaining. He only pressed a kiss against her jawline when he had finally recovered enough.

“That’s... one hell of an after-party,” she eventually breathed out, and Satoru had to huff out a laugh as he raised himself on one arm again.

“Much better than the party itself,” he added, peering down at her. Her cheeks were still flushed, her hair wild around her head, and he raised his free hand to brush some stray strands away from her face.

“I mean...” Yura looked up at him, her lips tugging up into a cheeky grin. “That’s not saying much...”

Satoru’s mouth widened into a grin of his own. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure the after-party lasts as long as the actual party did,” he said, and to punctuate his words, he rolled his hips against hers, feeling him move inside of her still.

Yura huffed, amused. “Of course,” she said. Her legs came up to wrap themselves around his waist, locking him in.

This was, one hundred percent, the most fun he’d ever had inside his family home.

End notes: So, what we've gathered from this oneshot and the previous one (Movie Night) is that yes, both Satoru and Yura have developed breeding kinks. Yes, that is his family's fault for bringing up heirs so much. No, they're still in denial over their own feelings even though it was staring at them right in the face.

Anyway, I really like exploring Satoru's character, and I really like writing smut lmao. Best of both worlds! Throw in a lot of Satoru completely glossing over his own feelings and we've got a wining combo here!

I did have to rush to get this out before I could post the next chapter of the main fic, because the vibes...... might shift a bit in the near future in the main story. So the main fic will still take me a little more time, but have this as a treat until then!

#gojo satoru #jjk fic #gojo x oc #gojo smut #satoru gojo #satoyura #my fics

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theanimeview · 7 months

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[Trope Interest] Twin Bodyguards and Their Hunter Sister in Supernatural Works

Source: Promotional/Cover Art for Kyousougiga, Jiu Jiu, and Trese

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @pswediting

For some time, I’ve been fascinated by the trope of twin bodyguards who can shapeshift from humans to dog forms and their accompanying female “hunter” character. I find it interesting that this trope appears with enough frequency to be noticeable, yet it lacks a specific name, unlike “Single-Mind Twins” or “Tag Team Twins.” There are several examples of this trope. To name a few examples, Kyousougiga (Japanese) features the character Koto being followed around by her “brothers,” A and Un; Jiu Jiu (Japanese) has Takamichi followed by her shape-shifting, half-demon wolf-dog familiars, Snow and Night; and Trese (Filipino) has Alexandra with her adopted brothers, Crispin and Basilio.

Upon further review, I think that the trope of twin sidekicks/bodyguards and female hunters in supernatural comics and animation likely draws from various sources of inspiration and cultural mythology. One possible influence is the traditional Japanese folklore of “Inugami,” or “dog spirit.” Inugami were said to be the spirits of dogs that were killed by humans and were often summoned and used for various purposes, including protection, curses, and revenge. In some stories, Inugami could take on human form and even possess humans and other animals. Interestingly, these spirits could become attached to bloodlines, following a family through their descendants.

Another possible influence is the Japanese mythology of Komainu, lion-dogs that guard the entrances of Shinto temples/shrines, or the Shisa, which serve a similar purpose. Both of these seem to have derived from the Chinese (or Imperial) guardian lions, which symbolize protection (one physical and one metaphysical). Either way, around the world and over time, dog spirits have often been portrayed as both guardians and harbingers.

While I’ve come to understand, at least in part, the dog-twins potential origins, I still struggle to understand or find a related myth to a singular female hunter-type character. There is Artemis, the famous greek/roman myth character who is goddess of the hunt, but her image and story rarely overlap with the hunter characters seen in works that have this two+one combination. Moreover, the close emotional bond that the three tend to share in the stories–often portrayed with familial-nature (adopted siblings with no romantic interests)–seems to be a significant factor in the continued use of this trope. Continuing in our prior examples, Koto is searching for the black rabbit/her mother; Takamichi is hunting demons, and Alexandra is after monsters.

The twin sidekicks are always depicted as “protectors” or “guardians” to a female lead, often with her occupying an adopted sister role rather than existing as a love interest. They are portrayed as loyal, fierce, and powerful, with the ability to transform into large, intimidating dog-like creatures to defend their master. Overall, the dog servants are depicted as essential members of the hunting team and play a significant role in the story.

Of course, the influences behind Kyousougiga, Jiu Jiu, and Trese may have come from other supernatural comics and anime that have used similar tropes in the past. They may also have combined these cultural sources with their own stories to create a unique take. Regardless, it is an interesting trope to examine, and I continue to wonder about its specific origins.

If you have any ideas about the specific source(s) for this trope, I hope you will share them with me in a comment or message as I really do not know and am very interested to learn about this idea. Thank you for reading!

#anaylsis #hunter #jiu jiu #jiujiu #kyousougiga #mythology #theory #trese #twin #twins

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holespoles · 2 months

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Kiyochika Kobayashi from Illustrations of famous places in Tokyo "Ueno Toshogu Shrine, snow covered." 1879

小林清親東京名所図「上野東照宮積雪之図」

#Kiyochika Kobayashi #小林清親 #illustrations #ukiyo-e

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faceless-creature · 5 months

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Hey... Sorry for not posting proper stories in a while... But I'm here now! Enjoy!

Tw: blood, kidnapping, character death, gore, yandere reader, canabalism, possessive behaviour

The reader gets very dark..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Judge Claude Frollo X Fem!Demon reader. (Based on an OC)

A woman walked within the shadows of Paris, silent as a mouse. Her skin as white as the snow on the cobbled floor. Her messy long (h/c), streaked with bright green, hair pulled into large pigtails. Pointed ears poke from the mess of hair.

Her dress a smokey black with mint green trim, decorated with a skull clip in the centre. Black and gray striped stockings covering her legs. Black platformed boots giving her a few more inches. Not that she needs it as she already stands at six feet tall.

Her eyes and mouth completely blacked out and in a permanent closed mouth smile. A wide chilling smile with upturned eyes.

The demon stalked through the shadows as she watched the annual Feast of Fools. Keeping an extra close eye on the corrupt Judge.

The demon woman had been keeping a very close eye on the judge. Feeling as her obsession with the human man grows with every passing day.

She had created a small shrine to the mortal in her pocket realm.

She stole pieces of jewelry, clothes, his favourite books, pillows and blankets.

She cut a small lock of his hair off of him while he slept once. Even keeps a small vial of his blood after she cut him on the arm, once again in his sleep.

The demon known as Y/N was engrossed with the corrupt Judge. Obsession is a strange but fascinating concept to her.

She admired the man in black and purple from the shadows of the houses. No one else mattered to her.

That was until... Esmeralda...

Y/N saw the lust within Frollos eyes as she danced. She despised it.

A thick, bubbling rage ignited within her stomach as she glared at the poor unsuspecting woman.

Y/N retreated into the darkness in order to create a plan. And within a few days....

She had one..

Her plan was very quickly set into motion. She tracked down the court of miracles before the judge had gotten there.

The demonic woman went on a rampage within those catacombs...

By the time Claude had made it to the court of miracles...

There was nothing but gore...

Bodies had been strewn up by fabrics, or their own entrails. Corpses ripped open, blood and organs and unprocessed food splattered up the walls and across the entire floor.

Burnt and charred bodies, ripped open, bloodied, gored beyond belief.... Half eaten bodies...

Upon the hanging stage was Quasimodo and captain Phoebus swayed from the ropes. Clopin lay impaled on the rafters... And a hunched over figure..

Y/N was crouched over Esmeralda's bleeding body... Chewing... The sounds of ripping flesh, crunching bones and squelching chewing noises bounced off the cobbled walls.

The judge and guards stood in terrified silence as they watched as this unknown woman, unhinged her jaw and chomps down onto the corpse in her arms.

A guard fainted at the disgusting sights and sounds bouncing from the walls. The woman's head snapped around to look at the noise, a piece of flesh hanging from her mouth.

The demon stood up at an alarmingly fast pace, causing panic to wash over the men. The guards make a dash for the exit.. but Y/N appears from the shadows in front of them.

The gory sounds of ripping flesh and screams of agony rattled within the minds of the living before they died.

Soon enough... Only she and Frollo remained.

Y/N was now coated in blood; head to toe. She slowly advanced towards the Judge.

Frollo, wearing a now blood stained robe, trembled in terror. Was this how he's destined to die?

"I've waited for this moment... For so long.." Y/N cooed.

"Please... I'll do anything.. just don't.. don't hurt me.. please.." Frollo whimpered pathetically.

"Hurt you? My love.. why would I ever hurt you?!" Y/N snapped confused.

"I'd never hurt you darling..."

Y/N reached her hands out to cup his face in her hands causing him to flinch.

"I'd never hurt my mate.." Y/N cooed darkly.

Y/N quickly pulled his head forward and forced him into a kiss. She licked across his bottom lip, demanding entrance.

When he denied she slipped her hand into his trousers causing him to gasp in shock and fear.

Y/N forced her long, thick, grey tongue into his mouth, making sure to explore the entirety of it.

Slurping and struggling noises echoed in the catacombs as Y/N took great pleasure in getting the chance to kiss her beloved, and how he tried to escape her grasp.

She broke the kiss, tongue continuing to play with his as saliva dripped from their mouths.

"I've waited so long for this moment... To take you home.."

And just like that- she pulled Claude into the shadows and disappeared with him.

Judge Claude Frollo was never seen again.. however..

A strange looking woman was often seen buying food from the people in Paris. And soon enough she fell pregnant multiple times and was seen with many demonic children.. that looked suspiciously like Claude Frollo: the missing Judge.

#disney #character x y/n #character x you #disney villains #claude frollo #reader insert #oc reader #demon oc #demon reader #the hunchback of notre dame #yandere reader #yandere #dark reader

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herbeloved82 · 7 months

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Home under the falling snow

Daniel looked outside the window and an uncontrollable shiver shook his whole body. Winter had been his favorite season for a very long time, since he could remember he had enjoyed the falling snow that would cover the ugliness of the city, at least until the dirt turned it as gray and impure as everything else.

In his mind as a child, Daniel had thought that under the immaculate blanket, everything that was wrong could be hidden and forgotten. Then he grew up and saw how cars and the dirt of the streets beneath the white would soon pollute the snow, turning something beautiful and pure, into a mess of waste and decay.

That had been when he began to realize that nothing beautiful could last in a world that was made to destroy everything that was weak and fragile.

“Come back to me, my love,” awarm voice said from behind him as a powerful chest pressed against his back.

Oh how easy it would be to lose himself in Marius’ arms. To allow the older vampire to take away his pain and substitute it with lighter thoughts. Marius always had a healing power about him, his mind the safest and calmest place where Daniel was allowed to recover and rediscover himself again.

“I’m right here.” Daniel said, hoping against all odds that Marius wouldn’t realize how that wasn’t the real truth. His body was there, obviously, but his mind was far, far away, in streets he hadn’t visited for decades now, in cities he couldn’t even remember.

“Your mind is not, and I’m afraid I can’t follow where it is wandering now.”

That was always an obstacle between them. Daniel’s terror of having his mind violated and Marius’ refusal to go sneaking there even when it appeared to be the only way to calm him down.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” Daniel continued. He knew Marius constantly worried for the people he loved. For Lestat and his fledgling, for Armand, his own beloved cherub, broken and twisted into something he was never meant to be, for the Sacred Parents who were no more, for Pandora and Bianca, even when too much happened between them and their love couldn’t be anymore. Daniel knew that and he was still shocked, every day, that he could be counted among the people Marius held close to his heart.

“It’s just - winter reminds me of home, but I don’t know where home is anymore.”

Daniel knew if there was someone who could understand what he meant, it was Marius. Who else had lost so much, time and time again, and still kept standing, a beacon for their kind and everyone who was lost?

Not for the first time, Daniel wondered who had been there for him when he had needed a moment to rest to lay down the burden he always carried and rest? Sadly he knew the answer even if he didn’t want to think about it.

“Home is such a strange concept, dear one. When I was young, still human, home was where the Penati laid. When I grew up and became a Senator, home was Rome and where she could reach. When I was taken and became the guardian of the Sacred Parents, home was their shrine. Then home became a person and I think only then I realized home is almost never a physical place.”

Daniel slightly turned in the embrace, to look at Marius, and he realized his lover had now the saddest expression in his eyes and hated himself for forcing him into misery. He didn’t have to ask to know who Marius’ home was.

Without thinking, Daniel opened his mouth once again, as his eyes closed, too scared to keep looking at Marius in case the man rejected what he wanted the most.

“Would you be my home?”

He felt Marius tensing behind him and for a moment the slow and rhythmic beat of his heart rushed, like Marius was still human, or at least maintained the human’s nature of being surprised.

“It would be an honor.” Marius answered after a moment of silence. The time he needed to really understand what Daniel just asked and to realize that yes, he wanted to be Daniel’s home, he wanted to provide him with what had been taken from him by life and the choices he made. Perhaps, like that, they could both really begin to heal.

As the snow kept falling outside and the world was once again hidden under the white quilt, Danuel turned in Marius’ arms and kissed his lover, hard.

Sharp fangs cut into the perfectly shaped lips, drawing blood they shared. The fire burning in the hearth was the only witness of this moment of tenderness between immortals.

END

#De Romanus Coven events #Marius/Daniel Appreciation week 2023 #Marius/Daniel

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sonder-paradise · 2 years

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𝐀𝐧 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢

◊ genre. kitsune au

◊ characters. kitsune!osamu dazai, gn!reader

◊ wc. 1.2k

Gentle winds flowed through the mountain tops and cascaded down below the temple. Dazai blinked sleepily from atop his spot on the trees. Lately, he had been monitoring you just to make sure you had been taking care of yourself properly. Falling in love with a human, of all people, had certainly been an experience he never thought he would have achieved.

Yet, here you were, taking care of his shrine and offering him wrapped crab legs with that delicious sauce he had completely fallen victim for. He watched as you smiled, thanking him for another wonderful day of friendship. What he would have given to hear you say those words to his face.

Chuuya’s warning had done little to sway him from pursuing you. His agenda had never wavered. He needed to hold you and call you his eternally. Listening to the wild birds chittering into the morning air, his ear twitched anxiously. But how to go about introducing himself?

He stared down at your departing figure then back at his own self. White fluffy ears and a swaying tail were not exactly items of interest that kept people around. Especially those that were not used to his peculiar appearance.

Shifting into a suitable human form was not unlike Dazai either. He had been keen on going into human villages before to cause mischief about the humans but rarely did he interact with them. With no more animalistic characteristics left on him, he wandered the marketplace of the village.

Croons of special deals and delectable fruits and vegetables beckoned towards him. People around him, young and old, laughed and argued over small little things in their lives. Dazai never understand how leisurely they lived. In the blink of an eye, they were old and on death’s door.

“You must be a visitor here. Do you need some help?”

If he still had his tail, Dazai swore he would have been wagging it. Your voice sounded like a beautiful babbling brook in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the town. That possessive love for you overflowed from its riverbank as he looked at you.

“I am actually. I was hoping to find the archives in this town,” he explained.

You widened your eyes slightly. “Oh, I was just on my way there! I happen to be apprenticed under the caretaker.”

Dazai knew that, of course. How could he not? He had followed you there dozens of times before. But to truly speak with you like this? His heart pounded, love-struck, in his chest. He wished you knew even an ounce of his dedication for you. All of it attributed to a simple wish you had made at his shrine.

"You seem familiar though. Are you sure we haven't meant before?" you asked, glancing behind your shoulder at the stranger.

A feeling of elation and sorrow filtered through Dazai's body. "No, this is my first time in the village. I would have remembered if someone as lovely as you greeted me before."

And, although it was subtle, he could see the tips of your ears grow red at the compliment. How desperately he had fallen for you and you knew so little about him. As the archive building grew near, you asked a rather odd question.

"Well, perhaps we met at the shrine nearby then?"

Dazai could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand and he had to keep from vigorously nodding his head. But he simply smiled, swallowing the truth down. "Perhaps we met in passing."

"Maybe," you murmured, though clearly not fully convinced.

By the winter—when the snow covered the little town and the birds' singing went silent—Dazai's visits had become all but natural to you. You had grown accustomed to the strange young man that visited the archives of your town. What he did there, you did not know. But he found a great interest in reading the history of the lands there.

He was kind to you, bringing you flowers and assisting you with any matters around the archives. Yet, the story of his origins remained but a mystery to you.

"Dazai, you know you don't have to cling to me while I work, right?" you sighed, staring down at the man who had wrapped his arms around your body like a needy child.

"Ah, but it's gotten so cold recently, how could I resist such a natural heat source?" he whined, burying his face in your stomach.

Perhaps he had never been taught the meaning of personal space but after his second visit, Dazai tended to gravitate towards you in many ways. You had no choice but to accept his inclinations and gladly relished in his touch now.

"Honestly... You know, once I finish this last text, I have to go to the shrine." Dazai seemed to perk up but stayed quiet.

"Are you certain you don't want to join me?" Dazai had never liked attending your daily shrine visits. You had your own ideas as to why but who were you to pressure this odd man into going?

You took his silence to mean 'no' and continued to read in the peace of the flickering lamp. A chill went down your spine and you could feel the frigid winter air creep into the building.

"Why do you always go to that shrine?" Dazai finally spoke, thought slightly muffled due to your clothing.

You thought for a moment. He had never sounded this serious before. It was as if he were scared of something.

"I just like the deity there I suppose. I made a wish there a long time ago and ever since I've grown fond of them," you paused, picking at the last page of your texts, "I think they're lonely too. No one visits it anymore. No one cleans it nor offers them anything anymore. So I want to make sure they remember they're beloved still. Even if one day, after I leave, the shrine is no longer there."

Dazai's mind floated after that night. He no longer visited you despite your overwhelming sadness from his disappearance. He could not explain it to himself. Over and over, he had dismantled and put back together the phrases of which you spoke.

Dazai stared at the vast, white, snow-covered forest. His gaze was vacant as he came to face the worst reality: His time with you would be up so... quickly.

You would die one day. He would continue to live on that mountaintop, in that empty shrine, with no others left to worship him. He watched the nights you would return over and over again. Smile on your lips as you wished him a happy winter and an offering of his favorite crab legs. Occasionally, you would ask about him and mourn over the short-lived friendship you had.

In the midst of his thoughts, he heard the distant cry of a child. Then the thunderous footsteps of humans. The crackling roar of fire followed them and the scent of blood stained the air.

Snapping back to his present moment, he caught sight of a figure darting through the forest. Their footsteps dragged against the heavy snow. Blood dripped and flowed behind them, turning the icy white into a deep crimson red.

Your name fell from his lips when he realized a horde of men stumbled and crashed after you, barking at your feet.

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xxnghtclls · 8 months

Text

Permission

Chapter 23

(Chapter 22; Chapter 24)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

A Wish

We’re leaving…going back?

Nervousness spreads in your stomach, although you knew he would take you back to the shrine someday. Sukuna claiming you once again gave you new confidence, which seems to crumble already, just by hearing his words.

“I… don’t have any clothes.” you say quietly, while wading through the water behind him. He eyes you up and down over his shoulder, before he turns back around, climbing out of the water. You follow him and while you’re careful not to slip on some cold, wet stones, you hear fabric being ripped apart.

Looking up, you see Sukuna handing you the piece of the upper part of his kimono. His eyes jump between you and the piece of fabric. Hesitating, you take it, slipping your arms into the huge sleeves, while he puts on the remaining kimono, leaving him bare chested. Half of his robe is enough to cover you to just above your knees, but your skin and also your hair is still dripping wet. The snow is melting, but it is by no means warm. Winter still lays like a blanket upon you.

Both of you start to make your way back to the fireplace. You start to shiver, your lips are trembling, also your legs are still not in good condition after his second claim on you. Stumbling after him, almost tripping over a small rock, he catches you by your arm and keeps holding on to it, steadying you, while you climb and you could swear, that his steps slow down to match your speed. He doesn’t look at you, seems distant but close at the same time.

Arriving at the fireplace, he lights it back up with a swift move of his hand.

“Get your stuff.” he says, as he looks around to gather his dagger. You take the stags fur, wrap it around your shoulders, before you notice your ripped clothes at the tree. Going there, to see what’s left of your kimono. You notice your obi is only ripped apart in the middle, so you quickly decide to take it and you manage to wrap it around your waist with a simple knot to hold Sukuna’s robe in place on your body. The rest of the kimonos fabric, you wrap around your head, hoping it would dry your hair a little. You put on your tabi and geta sandals, as you hear Sukuna coming up.

“Let’s go.” he grumbles next to you. You look up to him, his red orbs are looking right at you. Looking back to the fireplace, you hesitate.

It’s just a dirty place, with a fallen tree and some burning sticks, yet you feel a clump in your throat, feel sad about the fact that you’re just going to leave it behind. This place witnessed a lot. It witnessed emotions, witnessed hate and sadness, love and fun. It witnessed a curse coming to life and two souls learning to live with it.

Sukuna takes your wrist and drags you along, but you can’t help to keep staring back.

Keep staring, until the light of the fireplace vanishes between the dark of the trees.

The place that tied you together once again.

Twigs and snow beneath your feet, rustle and crack, as you make your way through the forest. It’s dark and soon Sukuna puts a piece of wood on fire for you. He doesn’t seem to have troubles in wandering through the darkness, can probably see with only a small source of light, like moonlight.

“Can I ask you something?” you softly ask. No answer. His huge figure walks steadily next to you, looking forward.

”…my King?” you add.

The corners of his lips twitch, as if he has to suppress a grin.

“What is it, princess?”

“Why did we have to move so fast? Couldn’t we have waited until morning?” you look up to him “My hair is still wet, my legs are sore and it’s freezing.” you continue “I’m worried to get sick.”

His bottom eyes look down at you.

“You won’t.” he grumbles.

You sigh, dropping your sight onto the ground in front of you, as you keep walking.

“It’s time we get back soon. I was already patient enough with your behaviour.” he continues calmly.

His words somehow make you smile to yourself.

“Yes… you really were patient.” you acknowledge, as you keep looking forward. “Although you pissed me off…” you continue, making him look into your direction, feeling him almost losing said patience, but your words are faster. “You were really sweet at times.” you blush at your own words, not daring to look at his face for a response.

Silence.

After a pause, you keep going.

“How you looked at me after I hummed your melody, your ruby red eyes looking so soft into mine. Your inability to eat herbs or our dramatic snowfight. How you helped me ease my pain in the dark, how you let me fall asleep on you…” suddenly a lump in your throat. “I’m sorry, my King, I…” you pause, feeling your eyes watering up. “I’m just going to miss this place.” your voice trembling, as you keep looking downward, still feeling his stare on you. Your smile fights with tears and a pain in your heart emerges. You sniff.

He doesn’t answer and you don’t expect him to. A weight hangs in the air, as you take a step to your right, moving closer to him and you notice, that he doesn’t compensate the lost space between you.

So distant, yet so close.

You walk and walk and walk and walk and after what feels like hours of walking, you grow so tired, that you have to fight to keep your eyelids open.

You fail.

With a blind step, you trip over a twig beneath your feet, making your face meet the ground beneath you.

Ouch.

“Oy!” Sukuna’s distant voice rings into your ears, but it doesn’t have the same power, as the grip of a deep slumber. Although your body had a rough impact on the hard and freezing ground, your consciousness is gone quickly, as sleep washes over you.

Warmth and comfort lay upon you like a blanket, as you’re woken up by the chirping of the early birds. Not having your eyes opened yet, you notice that you’re still moving. Or being moved. Your cheek is pressed against something warm and you feel arms beneath your back and legs. Slowly, your eyelids blink open. You see your legs in front of you, being covered with the stags fur, feet dangling in the air. Your hands lay gently below your chin, resting on your chest, the fabric on your hair is gone and just now you notice, how that warmth your cheek is pressed against, is Sukuna‘s chest. His bottom left hand rests on your left shoulder, while your back is supported by his arm. Sukuna’s bottom right hand is resting firmly on your fur covered knee. He’s basically cradling you like a small kitten. This realisation sends a red colour to your cheeks.

“What an unusual way for you to carry me through the woods.” you whisper in a sleepy voice, before you start to trace along his chest with your fingertip. Through the crevice between his pecs, along his collarbone, following his tattoo, down to his nipple. You poke it.

“Are you done?” he grumbles.

“No.” you sigh, your eyes still laying on your fingertip resting on his nipple, before you turn your head slightly, gently biting into the muscle your cheek was pressed against. Sukuna slows down and without letting go, your eyes look up, only to see him staring back at you and your actions. A serious gaze, the line between bloodlust and arousal very thin. A soft, almost not noticeable twitch of his lip betrays him.

Arousal it is.

You let the soft flesh glide through your teeth, before you let go, licking your lips after, averting your gaze from his.

“You taste so good.” you mouth against his skin, before placing a kiss on the same spot. Fingers move up, until your hand wraps around his neck, to pull yourself up, nose nudging against the jewellery of his stretched earlobe.

“Fucked me so good, you need to carry me like you do.” you whisper, before placing gentle kisses and licks below his ear, earning a purr from him.

“You should watch your pretty little mouth and stop talking like that or do you want me to stop right here and fuck you against the next best tree?” he growls quietly, his grip on your shoulder and knee tightens.

“Do you really want me to shut up? I know you enjoy my praise as much as I enjoy yours.” another kiss on his neck “Let me be as sweet to you as you are to me right now.” you whisper.

“Right now? I didn‘t say anything.”

“No, but you‘re carrying me like a husband carries his wife.”

A pause. Sukuna stops walking. You look up to him, his gaze still boring into yours.

“Considering the way you talk lets me assume I also fucked you like a husband fucks his wife.” he hisses.

“No you didn‘t.” you respond. He cocks a questioning eyebrow at you.

“A husband kisses his wife, holds her dearly...” you continue. “Tells her how much he missed her touch and her embrace. When you fucked me, you acted like the King you are supposed to be.”

He smirks, pushes you up, closer to his face.

“Well… who was I acting like behind the waterfall?” he whispers. You pause, noticing you still get nervous when he’s close like this.

“I guess we were both acting like fools.”

He huffs at your words, almost chuckling, while lowering you back down. The impact of your feet on the ground rather rough.

“Time to walk by yourself, princess.” he says, while moving past you, gesturing with his finger to come with him. Sighing, you gather the fur off the ground, wrapping it around your shoulders and start to walk after him. Taking the first step, you notice that walking feels so much easier for you now. The extreme soreness feels gone.

Did he heal me?

You start to toddle after him, notice his dagger being buried into his obi.

Maybe he can still show me…

You wonder what will happen when you’re back in the shrine. How will the others behave? The bitch? He’s been gone for days just to get you back. Just days? It almost feels like weeks, months, years. All of that for just another subordinate. At least that’s what you are to them. You can’t deny that you’re scared. He said that you have to earn the respect for yourself. He won’t be there to rescue you if something happens. At least that’s what you should expect.

You gather some speed, walking as silent as possible and fetch the dagger from his waist with your left hand.

Yes!

Sukuna keeps walking, unfazed by your actions. You feel disappointed, because your silent win probably wasn’t one. He let you fetch the dagger on purpose.

“Don’t cut yourself.” he mumbles.

You walk in silence next to him, lowering your walking speed, before you quickly reach out in a try to cut one of his arms. Before you have the chance to even hit him, he turns to you, slaps your dagger holding hand away and flicks his finger against your forehead in a swift motion, an inhumane energy shooting through you, making you stumble back. You lose control over your hand, the dagger slipping out of your fingers and while you’re stumbling, you try to catch the blade, cutting your right hand in the process. A shallow cut right along your palm. The dagger lands in the snow and you fall on your butt, groaning in disappointment and pain.

“I said to not cut yourself.” he grumbles. You feel dizzy from his finger flick, but you manage to get up fast, licking the blood of your palm. Luckily, the cut is not deep and you figure it should stop bleeding soon. Sukuna watches you with a raised eyebrow. You sigh, looking at your palm.

“You said I have to earn the respect of others by myself. But what if I can’t?” you start. “What if they are stronger than me… and I will perish?” you lick across your palm again, biting your lip after. “I’m scared my King.” you whisper in a shivering voice, barely audible.

Silence.

He walks up to you and takes the dagger from the ground. You look up to him and without him taking his eyes off of you, he swings the blade around in his hand in a quick motion, grabbing the sharp and pointy end between his fingertips, before he reaches back and throws it forward. With a loud sting it buries itself into the tree he aimed it at.

“Now you do it.” he grumbles as he walks to a nearby tree and leans against it, crossing his arms in front of his torso.

“But I -” you mumble.

“Do it! I give you five minutes.”

Adrenaline and some form of happiness push your feet, as you throw the fur off of your shoulders, before you run to the dagger. It sits high, above your head, but low enough for you to grip it. You pull, hard. It’s buried tight into the bark and you can’t move it.

Fuck!

You pull and pull and pull and pull. It won’t move. You grow desperate, kick against the tree.

Anger isn’t the way to go, princess, his words ring through your ear. Taking a deep breath, you try to concentrate your strength and instead of pulling over and over again, you pull at it constantly, with constant strength, even pushing your feet against the tree to get more strength into your grip.

Suddenly Sukuna appears right next to you.

“Two minutes.” he says calmly.

Fuck off.

“You think you can even get it out?” he sneers at you. You don’t answer. He wants to provoke you but you can’t let it happen.

Sukuna places two fingers at your sternum and gently pushes against it. The dagger loosens a bit.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” you hiss, having it almost pulled out. He chuckles, before he leans at your ear.

“No fuck and no touch? What a shame.” he whispers. You breathe deeply, still trying to concentrate, before pushing your feet against the tree another time. This time the blade loosens completely from the bark and you fall back to the ground. Gripping the dagger tightly, you manage to fall and not cut yourself this time. You get up quickly and run back to your previous spot, coughing from the impact. While you run, you remember something.

Sukuna watches you with a smug grin on his face, pitying you, while he leans his side against the tree you just pulled the dagger out of.

“30 seconds.” he grins.

You breathe deeply, trying to focus, positioning yourself. Taking the blade between your left index finger and thumb, you reach out, aiming for the tree, right next to Sukunas face.

I did it once.

“5 seconds…”

“Shut up!” you growl, before turning around and throwing the dagger into the opposite direction. With another sting it buries itself into a tree right behind you. You breathe relieved, smiling to yourself for that little win. Turning around you see Sukuna cocking his eyebrow at you, his gaze slightly impressed.

“HAH HAAAA!” you celebrate, swinging your arms around.

“Did you aim for that?” he scratches his head.

“I chose this tree when I ran back to my spot. The only time I landed my shot when I threw something, was when I threw the snowball at your face.” you point your finger at him, making him sneer his lips at you. “I did the same movements now and it worked!” you cheer while you run to get the dagger. This time its easier for you to get it out, since it was not thrown with the force of the King of Curses.

You run back to Sukuna, picking up the fur on the way, a smile plastered on your face. Panting, you arrive in front of him, while he looks at you seriously, but can’t help to snort at your sight.

“What?” you ask confused, your smile fading.

“You look like a dog trying to play fetch with me.” he chuckles while turning around, continuing on his way back to the shrine. His behaviour makes you pout.

Asshole.

You stumble after him.

I still need to practice, but throwing isn’t enough.

“What about close combat?” you ask after some minutes passed, earning a sigh from Sukuna.

“What about it?” he asks annoyed.

“My defense sucks. You said it yourself before you made a fool out of me while trying to stab you.”

He smacks his lips, before he stops, turning on his heels, leaning down to your eye level, making you stop abruptly in front of his face.

“You truly are annoying sometimes, princess.” he hisses, his eyes glowing. He pokes his index and middle finger into your forehead. “The concentration I saw in you earlier, let it flow through your arms and hands.” he continues, letting his fingers follow his words, scraping his nails across the skin of your wrist and hand, giving you goosebumps. “Merge with your weapon, don’t think and never let your opponent be faster than you. Be calm! Breathe!” he finishes with a rough flick of his fingers between your tits.

His annoyed voice in contrast to his teaching words and touch impress you, arouse you. Your mouth falls open to help you breathe, as your heart starts to beat faster. He eyes you up and down, sniffs once, before his lip twitches. Sukuna huffs at you, before turning back around and continuing his way.

“Thank you, my King. I will keep your words in mind.” you say politely.

You figure, he won’t teach you anything more than that, but what he told you is enough. For now. You’re used to taking and implementing orders, his words already should help you a lot.

While you walk through the woods, you let the dagger in your hand flow through the air, move like milk moves in tea, like seaweed moves in water, like fog moves between trees, never letting go of the hilt of the blade.

Dancing.

You twirl your body, taking steps backwards, forwards, sideways.

Step. Step. Step.

Breathe.

Sometimes you cut along a tree, let the blade roughly run against the bark to feel the vibrations in your hand.

Calm.

Become one with your weapon.

Sometimes you catch Sukuna watching you with his bottom pair of eyes, but you ignore him.

Darkness falls upon you once again, as you finally arrive at the clearing where Sukuna saved you from the curses. The moonlight shines bright, although it isn’t a late hour.

You’re close.

While dancing and walking in the middle of the clearing, something sparkles in the corner of your eye. You look up, only to see a shooting star run across the night sky.

“Quick! Look!” you reach your finger up into the sky. Sukuna looks at you first in confusion, before his eyes follow your finger, looking up in the sky, too. He stops and watches light of the shooting star fading away. You close your eyes and raise your right hand to your heart.

Please don’t let anyone or anything take him away from me.

“What are you doing?” he asks you in a grumpy tone.

“Nothing.” you lie. “Do you ever watch the night sky?”

He eyes you suspiciously, before looking up again.

“Sometimes.”

You walk up to him until you’re standing right next to him. Close. Looking up into the sky, you remember the time you spent with him. Your heart stings and you grow nervous. Feeling his being, his warmth and body standing right next to you, it gives you so much comfort, makes you feel safe. He did a lot to break you, but also a lot to mend you. Forgiveness crawled into your heart already a while ago. Your breathing increases, as your heart starts racing in your throat. Your gaze falls to your right hand, before you let your fingers crawl into his upper left hand. Feeling your touch, his gaze shoots back down to you, his eyes alert, his hand tensing up.

“I… ” you start, feeling the skin of his hand with your fingertips.

Your mind is screaming. Screaming at you to say it and to not say it at the same time. You ponder, while his gaze is boring into your head. You look up to him.

“I…” you start again. His brow tightens in confusion, as your eyes scream into his, searching for words.

He won’t understand!, you tell yourself another time, but some part of you wants him to know, in the hope that he will just leave with you, leave that shrine behind.

Your mind short circuits.

I love you.

“I’m yours.” you whisper instead. He squints his eyes at you, almost as if he knows you wanted to say something different.

How different is this truth from the other, though?

You throw him a sad smile, before you kiss his hand and let it go. He doesn’t say anything, only watches you move forward into the direction of the shrine, before he starts to follow you.

Gigantic, curved spikes protrude on the roof. The form of a huge opened mouth sitting under the ceiling of the shrine, big teeth standing out. In the middle of it, a big, heavy wooden door. Bones and skulls of cattle and bulls laying around in bulk at the corner pillars of the shrine.

Nothing changed. It’s still as scary as the first time you’ve seen it months ago. Both of you stand next to each other in front of the door, waiting. Your heart is racing from nervousness, hoping that nobody in the shrine will see you like this, half naked, wearing nothing but his kimono and a fur.

Suddenly the door opens, making you tightening the grip on the dagger.

Uraume pokes their head out, being illuminated by a candle.

“I’ve been waiting for your return, Master Sukuna.” they politely say, while bowing their head.

“and y/n.”

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