#yuuta x gn reader

[kyupidos]

3/27/24’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

this happened at the start!ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘how do i summarize this? ah..you, you are the tsundere. enough said.’

avg of 750~ words per bc i accidentally went a wee insane 😞

characters. special : enma yuuken , hirasaka yuuka , mito yuuta ( separate ) ;; romantic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is not yuu, reader belongs to the dorms of the books each yuu belongs to, pre-relationship, use of ‘dude’ in yuuta’s but it’s meant to be gender neutral ack, romantic fluff

📡 _a/n. we as a twst society don’t have enough tsundere mcs. pls bro someone write for tsundere mc bro pls pls

e. yuuken

— paint the roses red, paint the roses red.. keeping up with the 810 rules of heartslabyul is a chore, but you’d rather not it be ‘off with your head’, right? the sound of a ‘click’ brought you out of your focus, giving you time to notice four people, particularly those who you recognized to be the ones who broke the chandelier and nearly got expelled. “yo, cater,” you called out in complaint at the way he was pulling off his work for even a moment, “hurry it up and get back here. i’ll snitch if you keep that up.”

— “huh?! oh? rightt, no time to chat then!” he called out right back, and the last thing you saw was his apparent recruitment of the ones you hereby declared the freshmen delinquents before you figured you might as well get back to work—before you were promptly distracted once more, but this time by someone specifically; who you recalled to be the newly appointed dorm leader of ramshackle, who from cater’s chatting you recognized as well to be ‘yuuken’. “sorry for the interruption..” he began awkwardly, but for some reason you found it in yourself to not be rude about it unlike usual, “i’m trying to help out with the roses and all, so..do you know any places that still need painting?”

— well, at the very least, he seemed competent enough for the job; plus you’d have less work to deal with in the end. you nodded carefully, shrugging in the direction of an area you’d yet to paint. “mm? this sure is a lot of work,” and while you thought he was complaining, “but i’m sure we can get it done in time. you were going to do this with just yourself and cater, right? your work’s commendable.” your eye twitched, and you couldn’t help but feel a little flustered—you just couldn’t help but end up that way whenever someone complimented you, huh?

— “go ahead and get back to work,” you tried to distract as you started to think about how handsome he really was, which you didn’t even start to pay attention to before that little compliment of his, “i’m not trying to lose my magic any time soon.” you were a little worried he’d be upset with you at your unintentionally aggrieved tone, but by the looks of it he didn’t really mind. “oh, right, sorry, but thanks for helping me out!” and he waved before heading to the area of the maze you directed him to.

— you were just about done in your area, barely even realizing how you were suddenly so motivated to finish up. you just shrugged, before you noticed how yuuken seemed to be just a little behind, given he was without magic and needed to use paint instead; so..you might as well help him out, right? “ah, uhm, hey..!” you cringed a little at how nervous you made yourself out to be, especially when you weren’t usually like that, “do you—do you maybe need help?” “oh, that’d be nice, it’s a little hard to do this much with just paint.” that was that then, and you ended up losing yourselves in conversation, your ability to keep painting the roses left to just muscle memory; you did unintentionally insult and berate him at times though, and you were thankful he brushed it off. once you both finished though, you had to move onto separate areas of the maze to keep it up, but as you inevitably had to leave him alone, you left with a smile and still flustered, barely realizing that much.

— ..and that just a few moments later was when you found that they were promptly by cater. you’d give yourself time to be just a little disappointed, before you were once again faced with interruption, and while you’d be aggrieved about it.. “hey, so you’re into that yuuken guy, right?” “huh?! no way?!” ..but a part of you was upset you’d denied it like that. and how you’re back to being aggrieved that yuuken’d managed to get you so flustered like that. even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him like you usually would someone who complimented you like he did.

— you liked it, in fact.

h. yuuka

— you tried your best to restrain yourself from yawning overdramatically as you were surrounded by people, who seemed adamant about warning you about a person who was apparently targeting people ready to participate in the spell drive tournament. well, it was an ego boost to know you were a “target”, but you were starting to get fed up with the way they also seemed adamant about “protecting” you. at least yuuka gave you a good enough space. on another note, she was really pretty and you liked her voice, maybe another reason you were alright with her concern for you as a target—you wouldn’t ever admit that, though. but then, back to the topic at hand..

— “eh, no need to worry about me,” you waved off uncaringly, yuuka raising her eyebrow at the likes, and while you’re sure the others did also, you were really only paying attention to her despite the fact that your eyes were closed with how apparently over the top you were being. “i won’t be targeted. go after some others or something, i’m fine.” her friends you knew eventually got the hint, light banter as they checked for other possible apparent targets, while yuuka seemed to linger. “my bad if i’m being a bit invasive,” she began, as if knowing you may be ticked off ( and while you admit you may have appeared so outwardly you could never be ticked off at her ), “but how do you know you won’t be targeted at all?”

— alright alright, stick to savanaclaw’s plan or admit to the girl you’ve found yourself liking, stick to the plan or tell yuuka why..nope, nope nope nope, you can’t bring yourself to step away from the plot. as for yuuka though, you can’t help but keep away from disappointing her. “whoever it is, i couldn’t care less, i’ll deal with them,” and you cringed at the way you could tell why yuuka’d deem you ticked off by how you come off, “you think i’m not capable?” but yuuka, ever so resilient ( you’d found you tend to never stop finding ways to praise her ), didn’t seem too upset about your words.

— “oh no don’t worry, it’s not like that,” she noted, making her point clear with the point of her finger, “it’s just, i want to make sure nobody gets injured, right? especially you, you know.” uh, wait—uh, huh? “me? especially?” you find yourself just barely capable of getting out as you end up annoyed with yourself at the way your face began to heat up, and yuuka didn’t take back her words at all. “yeah, i mean, we’re friends, aren’t we?” she smiled while hoping to confirm, which brought you back memories; right, that. you recall completely like it was mere yesterday, how without thinking you smacked one of your dorm mates behind the head for trying to pick a fight with her, before dragging them off to help you with something random.

— you couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed by the way she referred to you as ‘friends’, but to be fair, it should technically be vice versa in that case since the action meant nothing to you, but it made her ease up around you, it seemed, and she started to become accustomed to having at least some light conversation with you every now and then. but, you had to start somewhere, right? even if you had a bit of trouble expressing your own feelings, then surely..

— “y..yeah, right! we’re friends..” you tried to wave off uncaringly as you did so easily before, and yet you were nervous by how it came off making you look more flustered than you were trying not to be, but even if yuuka did notice, she didn’t point it out. you couldn’t help but be grateful for that. “but, uh, don’t try using that for favors, ‘kay?! i won’t be helping you around savanaclaw or in your little quest for that perpetrator of yours or anything..” you slipped up with your mention of savanaclaw; you didn’t even notice actually in your embarrassed state, but yuuka just nodded at the clue in, waving to you, mentioning how she’ll be happy to see you in class later, you finding it in yourself to at least wave back.

— you can only thank your past self for that little, unimportant action.

m. yuuta

— you were simply helping out deuce and ace around now that they were to work under azul given their contracts. absolutely not to indirectly get in yuuta’s good graces because you can’t bring yourself to admit you want his affections for things like helping lighten his load. but in hindsight, you probably should’ve taken into account that the two would probably notice why you were catering to them despite how obvious it was that yuuta was the one you favored of the trio. equally not on your mind, ace’s annoyance to the way you always seemed to be on yuuta’s mind and wanting to get your mushiness over with, and deuce’s genuine want to help the both of you out in the romance depart. so in the end, they practically became your wingmen, albeit unspokenly so.

— in which case, when yuuta initially came to octavinelle to see what was up and about with his suspicions of the anemone ( an appearance ace and deuce were thankful for anyway ), they brought his attention to your aid, ace teasingly so and deuce in a more genuine tone, but tomato tomato, they got the message across. and lucky you, because just moments ago they let you in on random little tid bits to know about yuuta, like his favorite foods in particularly, and seeing as you worked in the mostro lounge, it was of course a given that’d be your go to.

— thus when he and jack were eventually seated at one of the table booths and he called out to you happily in recognition of your figure, you did your best to keep straight faced and push away the sparkles around you at the elation that he could tell it was you from just that much. jade had finished telling them about the lounge, and it seemed they were ready to order their one drink minimum. and there you were, already ready with at least a meal you knew yuuta would like, plated and everything. maybe you shouldn’t have been so hasty and waited instead for him to make an order so it wouldn’t look like you were looking to make a meal for him..

— well, you reaped what you sowed; and he was calling out to you, and you felt like if you didn’t respond then the guilt would gnaw at you so bad you’d be willing to sign a contract with azul to find a way to redo it all—and considering all that was going on at the moment because of how many people had decided to sign contracts, displayed clearly because of the anemones..well, you weren’t up for that any time soon. thus off you went to greet him at his table, passing by jade who give you a teasing glance, which you tried not to grit your teeth at as you thinly smiled his way.

— “ah, yuuta! i’ve heard you’ve been the talk of the town lately, hm? we’ve been expecting you, so i’ve prepared you a little something..” and with an internal huge sigh of relief that you managed to play it off so smoothly, you presented him the dish you put together ( thank goodness for your excellent customer service the octotrio had ingrained into you ), before remembering jack who was beside him, “oh? and an extra, my condolences! anything you’d like?” yuuta looked like he had something to say; before a certain eel interrupted the moment.

— “[y/n], giving out free meals, i see?” jade spoke, more teasing in his tone as if he wasn’t truly reprimanding you ( he found your crush on yuuta quite funny ), “not to worry, we already have staff to deal with orders, remember? they ought to pay for their meals.” so you with forced, with an unfortunate strained breath in, to go off and do the work you were supposed to do in the first place as ace and deuce were to take over, though so obviously begrudgingly. but, they stopped you midway through your pout, “don’t worry dude,” ace strained to reassure as the anemone pulled him toward where jade directed, “we know you’re head over heels for him..” deuce was quick to follow, equally resistant ( though of course it’ll always be futile ), “we’ll—hrk—we’ll try to help out!” thank goodness you’d already served him, otherwise the meal’d have fallen to the floor the way you covered your flustered face with the tray that was holding it.

— well, at least you had a sure fire way to figure out how to romance yuuta without your accidental meanness getting in the way..

#🦢 swan signed ! #kyupidos #and i ask bc #i’m not good at writing tsundere readers myself 😞😞 #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twst x gender neutral reader #twst fluff #twst hcs #twst headcanons #twst ramshackle #ramshackle #ramshackle x reader #enma yuuken #yuuken x reader #yuuken x gn reader #yuuka hirasaka #yuuka x reader #yuuka x gn reader #mito yuuta #yuuta x reader #yuuta x gn reader

[mysicklove]

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋!

DAY 18: DRY ORGASM

With: Yuuta Okkotsu

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Sub! Yuuta, gn! reader, multiple orgasm, sorta mentions of cnc? idk, "breeder balls" are used in a silly goofy way, pregnancy mentioned, yuuta cums a total of six times, unrealistic portrayal of dry orgasms.

A/N: i almost named this fic breeder balls just to mess with all you guys. kinktober is driving me crazy

“It will be fun. C’mon, just trust me!” You tease, pressing kisses along Yuuta’s neck while he sighs. You sit behind him, hands resting on his stomach while you continue to pepper kisses along his neck. One of his weaker points. 

He lets out a shaky breath and then whines gently. “I don’t know…I-It sounds kinda scary.”

“Aw, scary? C’mon, my big, strong, sorcerer boyfriend isn’t afraid of anything,” You quip, teeth grazing his pale skin when you smile into his back.

 Your hands begin to roam up and down his body, and he gulps but doesn’t stop you. He does let out a noise of complaint about your choice of words though. “Yknow that isn’t true,” He mumbles out, pouting slightly. 

You pinch his nipples, and he lets out a high-pitched squeal before turning to you with a half-hearted glare. “Sorry, they are too cute.”

He sighs, slumping against your chest and closing his eyes. “You're the worst.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that. You love me.”

He glances at you before rolling his eyes and nodding softly. Yeah, he did, even with all your teasing.

“Yuutaaaaa,” You purr, getting back to the main point. “Let’s do it.”

He hums, nodding for you to continue to try to convince him. He was still unsure and slightly nervous at the thought.

“You will look so cute. Haven’t you always wanted to cum like a girl? To have every ounce of cum milked out of you,” You bite his ear, earning a whole body shiver from the boy. “Forced out of you. Till you’re shooting blanks.”

That immmediately perks him up, and he cranes his head backward to look up at you with a sheepish grin. He already feels himself growing hard. 

“F-Forced?”

You grin.

“No more! No more! Please!” He screeches, tears and drool coating his face and falling onto the sheets below him. He was heaving, and he feels like every inch of his body was covered in cum. His thighs and stomach were so sticky, and he was unbelievably sweaty.

Shaky legs try to crawl forward, away from your tortuous hands, but he ultimately fails. You use one arm to grab him by the waist and pull him back. “Where do you think you are going?”

He lets out a pathetic “Noooo!” as his fingers drag along the sheets back toward you. His thighs shake as he tries to hold his body up, and he buries his face into a pillow. 

You hum to yourself, sitting cross-legged and fully clothed, contrasting your lover’s naked body. His knees straddle your legs, giving you a perfect sight of his ass and easier access to pull him back whenever he tries to crawl away.

His thighs, stomach, balls, and even your hand were coated with his cum, and is beginning to dry up from how long its been. But nevertheless, your hands continue to work at his cock, pulling it slightly downward so that it hangs between his open legs. 

Yuuta lets out a choking noise, a mix between a gargle and a yelp, and suddenly he is cumming again. He doesn’t say anything as his orgasm comes crashing upon him again, but you weren’t surprised – he went borderline nonverbal after the third one. 

His chest rises and falls with his rapid breathing, and you watch his whole body tense up. His tears stain the pillow, and his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. The only thing that showed that he was in pleasure was the way his nails dug into the sheets as if he wanted to tear them apart from how intense the sensation was.

You frown through it all, and watch two globs of cum slide down your finger. His legs give out, and he begins to slump on the bed, but you are quick to grab him and hold his waist up with your arm. “Am I–Did I? Are we d-done?” He stutters, his voice raw from his previous screams and cries. You hear him sniffle and watch the way a shaky arm rubs at his nose.

You lightly slap his thigh. “Nope. Almost there, Yuuta! The next one will definitely be dry. Think I got the last couple of drops,” You say, pointing to his cum staining your hand. 

He looks up at you with wide, fearful eyes and starts squirming in your hold. “No! I can’t go anymore. A-And you said that the last couple of times!” He screeches, legs kicking out like a toddler throwing a tantrum, trying desperately to run away from your hold.

Your hands remain on his waist, and you move your body aside so that he doesn’t accidentally kick you with his frantic, panicked movements. His dick was raw at this point, and every muscle was trembling. He couldn’t go again – he was exhausted, completely pushed to his limits.

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax. This time I'm really sure! How many times have you ejaculated?” 

He pauses for a moment, gulping as he thinks back to the previous events. “I think after that…Five times?”

You giggle at him, and the sound makes him tense up. Whenever he is put in these positions, and you laugh, it never is a good sign for him. “Woah, Yuuta, you really have a lot of cum stored up. I’ve heard that most men go dry after their third one…Don’t tell me your pent up?” You babble, passing time to hopefully let his body rest for a moment. Overstimulating him would probably kill the dark-haired boy. 

He sniffles again, and then furrows his eyes and turns back toward you. “Im not, though. Came two days ago, remember?”

You think back to the night and chuckle fondly. “Yeah, I guess your right. Guess my lovely boyfriend just has breeder balls.” You laugh at yourself from the ridiculous word.

His mouth hangs open at your crude words, and he turns a bright shade of pink. Immediately, he tries to scramble out of your hold again, but you just laugh at his flustered noises. “Why would you say something like that? So embarrassing…And no, I don’t,” Your boyfriend complains, shaking his head back and forth to execute his point.

You hum to yourself, content that he has finally calmed down again, at least enough to put up and actively respond to your teasing words. 

“Bet you could get any girl pregnant,” You continue to coax, mind drifting off from your words to return to your original motive. You begin to situate yourself again, hands moving back to the task at hand. 

“Stop it, please! It’s so,” He groans into the pillow, unaware that you have begun to stand up. “I don’t know! Just sto–” Suddenly, his head is being forced into the pillow, and your hand is back onto his cock. Your movements are rough and fast, and his whole body seems to short-circuit.

Yuutas eyes widen as he feels the back of your hand pin his head into the pillow, and he feels your hands wrap around his dick again. He doesn’t even have time to react, except for a surprised yelp. By the time his brain catches up to the sensation, you have already palmed him four times now, and he is so sensitive. “W-Wait!” He begs, tears resurfacing. 

The sound of your hand wrapping around his red cock is lewd. Loud squelching sounds fill the room, and he knows that the wetness is from his previous cum. It makes your head spin, and Yuuta wants to die from embarrassment. 

Your hand finally lets go of his neck, and he pulls away immediately, gasping out for air. His back arches, and he begins his clawing at the bedsheets again. “F-Fuck,” Your lover whimpers, tears free streaming again. 

His cock feels raw by now. Five orgasms in a row was an insane amount to him. The farthest he had gone before this was three, before he was forced to call it quits, or else risking him passing out. Right now, his mind seemed to be melting from the harsh feeling. 

You have to support his body still by hoisting his hips upward. His forehead touches the sheets, and his bangs cover his face as he looks downward. It was almost disappointing that you couldn’t see his pretty expressions, but from what you could see by his sporadic movements, Yuuta was crumbling. 

It hurt. Your hands were too rough. The pace was too intense. He can’t think anymore. His mouth hangs open, and his tongue threatens to loll out. All he can hear is your hands and his cum, and honestly, although he hates to admit it, it was spurring him closer to his orgasm.

Just one more. He can do that. He can cum one more time. Everything in him pleads for it to be dry, because he may seriously die if he has to go a seventh round. 

So, with everything in him, he begins to grind into your hand, trying to coax his orgasm to come quicker. He lets out a silent scream, and he furrows his eyes shut but doesn’t stop fucking back into your hand. 

You watch with amusement at the trembling boy’s movements. He was trying his best, and it was honestly quite cute. Just for him, you pick up the pace of your hand movements. 

The reaction to it is immediate – the muscular body curls over on itself as he heaves. You bring him closer to you, now using both hands to jack him off, hoping he doesn’t collapse just for a couple more seconds.

Yuuta’s eyes roll back, and he can faintly hear your encouragements. “C’mon, love. Just one more. Cum for me one more time.” 

He bites onto the pillow and nods his head, unable to give you a reply. He can feel his orgasm approaching, and frankly, it scared him. It was going to be a strong one, he could tell, and he was unsure if his body was able to take it. He was already shaking at this point, could his muscles really constrict one more time? He could barely hold himself up.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because his orgasm hits him out of the blue. For the first time since his second orgasm, Yuuta screams into the pillow. His thighs come squeezing together, and his fingers dig into anything they can grab. Tears continue to rush down his face, and he tries his best to breathe.

His knees come forward, and accidentally, he raises his hips higher into the air, creating a pretty arch in his back. You watch, mesmerized by the show, and then glance at his cock.

Not a single drop of cum is let out. You grin, and rub his thighs, coaxing him through it all, proud of him.

He slumps against the bed and this time you let him. Then, he very slowly turns to you, eyes cloudy. “I–I?” He tries, brain not catching up with him.

“Yep, good job. Came dry. I’m so proud of you.”

He gives you a lazy, but satisfied grin, nodding slightly. You crawl over to him, sitting down next to his head. He places his near-limp hand on your knee, and you hold onto it. “Guess…Guess I–No breeder balls for me,” He mumbles in full seriousness, as if he is proud of the fact.

You have to cover your mouth to refrain from laughing too loud. You place your head over his eyes, shutting them for him. “Guess not. Sleep, Yuuta.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He falls asleep not even a minute later. You don’t blame him.

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#mello.writes #Barkforme! #Kinktober 2023 #dom! reader #dom reader #gn reader #x reader #reader insert #yuuta smut #yuta x reader #yuta smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #sub! yuuta #sub yuuta #jjk x reader smut

[hxnbi]

「 THEIR LOVE LANGUAGE 」

synopsis: the ways that they show their love

— characters: gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, okkotsu yuta, nanami kento

— contents: fluff, a lil bit of angst and comfort in nanami's, gn reader

part two | masterlist

GOJO SATORU ➽ words of affirmation & gift-giving

This man is rich. Plain as day, there is no doubt about that. There is nothing that Satoru won't do to go to the ends of the earth to get you. The number of times you would receive gifts from this man would have Ieiri, Utahime, and even Mei's eyes widen in horror. And maybe even perhaps jealousy—to see a man so high up his ass so utterly devoted to his partner.

His mornings and afternoons would often be spent teaching his young students at Jujutsu Tech, but it didn't stop him from diving into a whirlwind of activity, all stemming from his blatant infatuation with you. Whenever he had the chance, perhaps luring his students for a "trip" with the promise of going to Roppongi, he inevitably found himself scouring the markets for any trinkets that caught his eye. But who could blame him? After all, they were virtually beckoning him to buy it for you—a delicate necklace, a quaint keychain, or a colorful bouquet of wildflowers. Each item held a piece of his heart, a token of his affection waiting to be shared with you and only you.

Satoru wasn't deterred. Hell, he was hardly even fazed by the indifferent stares or the murmurs of disdain that often followed his well-meaning gestures—mostly by his colleagues, probably thinking he was processed by a cursed spirit, God forbid, but I digress. Love wasn’t just a word to be said but a sentiment to be expressed through actions, however small or grand they may appear. But if that was what Satoru really thought a relationship was, then God may as well have struck him down at that moment. It didn't matter what people thought of him or even what material possessions he bestowed upon you; you're his entire world and don't deserve any less. 

To be able to feel pampered by his kindness and love through gifts. It warmed your heart to know how special you really were to him. Satoru may be rich, but he also knows about the superficial aspects of a relationship and tries to avoid them. But in the end, if that’s what you want, he'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. All he wishes for is your happiness and nothing more. As the strongest sorcerer in the world, Satoru knows he has a lot of power, and he is willing to put that all on the line for you to flourish. The man, to the surprise of no one, had a knack for flirting, effortlessly winning hearts with his smooth talk and irresistible charm. He can even be a flirt at times, for sure, but Satoru despised that label. To him, it's his way of showing that he is all yours. He's a tease who knows how to use his words to woo you—though it can sometimes be a bit much. You know that what he's doing is just trying to cheer you up.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI ➽ acts of service & words of affirmation

From the very beginning of your relationship, moments of vulnerability and intimacy were always scarce and few in between. He would never do or say something that you were uncomfortable with. He respects your boundaries and expects the same in return. Megumi, quietly and reservedly, sometimes has trouble articulating his thoughts. His words often fall short of capturing the depth of his feelings. Yet beneath this rock-solid exterior lies a heart that yearns for your happiness above all else—even his own. His emotions are conveyed not through words but through subtle gestures and actions veiled behind his typical stoic demeanour.

As much as Yuji and Nobara would tease him for it, their jests and blatant remarks were all rooted in good faith. Because in the end, when they would see just the way that he would gaze at you and how he would constantly be attentive to your well-being during missions—contrary to popular belief, not smothering you with overprotectiveness but ensuring that he's always there to support you—they would realize how committed Megumi really was. They understand that Megumi's silence speaks volumes. Gojo, for one, would disagree and instead say he was "utterly and completely smitten" with you, his eyes seeing the world through rose-colored lenses, but if that is the case, then so be it. 

When he extends a hand to help you out, whether it's on a mission to exorcise cursed spirits or simply going through the strains of daily life, it's a gesture that speaks volumes. To you, his short and sincere words were his way of showing that he cared. He is your protector, and he will ensure you know this about him. You don't have to lift a finger; he's already on it. His presence alone makes your cheeks flush pink.

OKKOTSU YUTA ➽ quality time & physical touch

Yuta cherishes the intimacy of being close to his loved one, especially when it's with you. Throughout his life, he's often felt isolated and disconnected from the world around him. Having someone he's genuinely close to fills his heart with a sense of completeness. And to him, you are everything—his entire world.

Quality time, to Yuta, means all the time—whether you both are on a mission, training, or even just together in the classroom, you best believe that Yuta will be following you around like a dog with its owner. But he doesn't do it just because it's expected. He knows his strength and wants to protect you no matter what. And if he can't find you? Without a doubt, Yuta will be deploying all of his nerves and anxiety to the forefront of his very being to see you.

You understand that, after all the trauma that Yuta's been through in his life, that is what makes up his anxieties. The scars of his past linger and still continue to haunt him—those memories of loss and loneliness. It's a burden he carries with him always, and that hurts. But unbeknownst to you, your presence alone healed him far more than any reverse cursed technique could. It would heal physical injuries, but internal ones? That was all you—the solace in his once dark-lit life.

Yuta's love language becomes evident. Not even the most oblivious people could look at the way Yuta looked at you and assume it was anything other than pure adoration. It's in the gentle brush of your hand against his, the comforting warmth of your embrace, and the way you lean in just a little closer when you speak, just to be able to hear him a bit more clearly. His affection is expressed through subtle touches and lingering gazes. He loves you, and you love him—just the way he is.

NANAMI KENTO ➽ quality time & words of affirmation

Straight up, he's one of the more mature men out there. Nanami is stone-cold, but he is painstakingly thorough in his care in practically everything he does. He can be a workaholic at times, for sure, but he knew what would become of him if that was all that he did. Despite his dedication to his work, he always made a conscious effort to prioritize his relationships and to nurture and cherish the time he had with you. He wanted for both you and him to live a proper and healthy life. Whether you were just feeling off about yourself or going through a tough time, Nanami would be right by your side in a matter of seconds to comfort you. 

If he were at work, he would drop everything he was doing, call you directly on his cell phone regardless of the weird looks he was getting from his colleagues, and immediately put on his jacket and drive to where you were, only to see you alone in your shared home curled up on the couch, and that made him angry—more than that. But he knew that, above all else, he needed to comfort you, and perhaps, even himself…

No questions would be asked of him, as he would then lift you up in his arms and reassure you that you didn’t have to tell him now but that he was here for you and would always be. He'd then take you somewhere in hopes of taking your mind off whatever was haunting your thoughts because, in his mind, you didn't deserve that burden while he could help. Even just his words alone would soothe your troubled mind. Every action and gesture he made to guarantee your well-being demonstrated his undying dedication to you. And if those words weren't enough, Nanami would drop everything and show his love through quality time spent together. Whether it was a quiet evening at home or a leisurely stroll through the city streets, he cherished every moment shared in your company. 

You cherished having him by your side, and you wouldn't have it any other way. And it didn't matter to him if you were feeling down or struggling with something, down to the littlest thing. And it didn't matter to him if you thought it was troublesome to tell him.

Because he always knew what to say.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fanfiction #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen angst #gn reader #fluff #headcanons #angst #scenarios #comfort #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu x reader #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #nanami kento #nanami #nanami x reader

[pileofmush]

you don't know what i deserve .·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

ft. okkotsu yuuta

it’s 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. you're on your own—just you and the dead body.

info : ̗̀➛ tags: gn!reader, neighbor au, strangers to lovers, yuuta & reader are a little strange, happy ending // cw: death, light angst, vulgar language, canon-typical violence...but pretty mild imo

thoughts : ̗̀➛ helllooo. back on my bullshit. let's call this a very belated birthday present to my beloved <3 // read this on ao3

wc : ̗̀➛ 5.1k

The human body contains a shit ton of blood. 

Which is not something you think about often, but now you are forced to confront this fact in real-time. People… have a lot of blood.

And it stains. No matter how many times you wash your hands. There are still flakes of blood wedged underneath your fingernails. Part of you thinks it'll never go away.

...And then there's Sailor Moon.

“I am the pretty guardian who fights for love and justice! I am Sailor Moon! And now, in the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!”  

Cue trumpets and flashy poses; the makings of a battle. Your comfort anime blares in the background of a morbid scene, the flickering TV casting a soft glow on a sight that will inevitably haunt your nightmares. 

Because it's 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. Still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. You pace in your tiny living room, unsure of what to do, of how to proceed. The pretty Sailor Guardians won’t save you now. You’re on your own. Just you and the dead body.

How romantic.

The chill from outside has swept into your apartment thanks to that annoying fucking prick who left your window open. Honestly, people these days have no decency. The least he could’ve done was close your shutters after tumbling through your bedroom window like a deranged acrobat. Now you’re, like, moderately cold. 

“What a fucking mess,” you sigh.

Blood seeps into the earthy Persian rug that you got for half-price at a flea market a few months ago. It’s dark; puddling, like... like a knocked-over glass of chocolate milk, spilled all over the kitchen table. Or, maybe chocolate syrup would be more apt. It doesn’t matter, though. You can always get a new rug. You know, if you make it out of this situation of yours intact and not in a dingy prison cell for homicide.

Hmm. You might be sorta kinda screwed. 

The police, of course, are out of the question. No matter your side of the story, it wouldn’t hold up in trial. No, no, no. A foreigner murdering a Japanese citizen? Even if it was in self-defense, it wouldn’t matter. Forget prison—you’ll probably be hanged.

So, you could run… But you probably wouldn’t get far. Or, you could do what every naive murderer in the movie about karmic retribution does and try your darnedest to get away with it.

“Option two it is!” you quit pacing and announce to the room. Thankfully, the body doesn’t respond.

A weak knock at the door sounds off—a gunshot. Your heart stalls, your head snapping to the entrance of the apartment. Who the hell is at your door? The person at the door knocks a second time, a little bit more insistently, and you start to sweat. “Hello, is everything alright? I—I heard a scream.”

You step up to the peephole and squint. A mild-looking man shuffles his feet outside your door. It’s your next-door neighbor, bathed in the ugly yellow lighting of your apartment complex. He smiles like he knows that you can see him. 

This… isn’t ideal. You could choose to not answer him, but that probably wouldn’t work. What if he called the police? You take a breath. “Everything’s fine,” you call out.

The man’s smile freezes in place, somehow more eerie than a frown; his hands burrow deeper into his pockets. “Oh!” he says. “Are… Are you sure?”

You turn away from the peephole, a little unnerved. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard a lot more than a single scream.”

A slow, dreadful feeling starts to seep into your gut. “Pardon?” 

There’s a pause. You swallow.

“These walls are thin.” 

Fuck. He knows. Oh God, he knows. 

No—that’s impossible. You were the only one to scream. Yasuhiro… He didn’t get the chance to. So this is just a concerned neighbor checking in on you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can prove it, prove that you’re okay.

You open the door a smidge so that you can peek through, then step outside and shut the door behind you. Your neighbor, what’s his name again? Okkotsu, right? Okkotsu’s brows lift at the sight of you, then relax. He’s wearing a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweats that should probably be criminal in Japan. His eyes flicker up and down your frame. You suppress a shiver.

“Just a horror movie,” you broach, offering him a polite smile. “I’m an easy fright.”

Okkotsu pulls a hand out of his pocket to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. His gentle smile has dimmed. “I’m not sure I believe you,” he says in an apologetic tone.

You both notice the tremor that runs through your body. Nosy fucking neighbors and their lack of sense when it comes to minding their own business. You stare mulishly at the floor. His shoes are simple. Black; scuffed. His left foot taps once against the floor. Whatever. You don't have to answer to him. Gathering up your resolve, you start to speak. “Listen, Okkotsu-san,” you say but are cut off quickly.

“Is that blood?” 

That makes you freeze, eyes glued to the floor. A cold set of fingers dips under your chin and gently lifts it. Your gaze meets his: two pools of an endless, starless night. It flickers to a spot beside your ear knowingly and you reach for it. 

He’s right. Blood sticks to your fingers, not yet dry. Lurking in the crevice behind your ear. You missed a spot.

“Well spotted.” It’s fruitless to lie now. You know it, he knows it. Now it’s a matter of who’ll crack first. 

“Are you… Are you injured?”

Physically? No. Psychiatrically? Well, you just murdered a man, so.

“I’m unharmed.” 

Okkotsu blinks owlishly. “Is that so?” He murmurs curiously, tilting your head to the side to observe the blood staining your skin. 

You readjust your head and mimic him, blinking slowly. “Okkotsu—”

“Yuuta,” he interrupts. 

You blink again. For such a mild, polite-seeming boy, he really is quite rude. And confusing. And terrifying. And you kinda sort of want him to die. “Okkotsu-san” you repeat. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

Okkotsu Yuuta’s smile returns, and it’s dangerously innocuous. He breathes your name out like a question. Starless eyes wander to your front door, then go back to studying your own. “Can I come inside?” he asks, quietly. 

Everything stills, even your heart. You’re not quite certain you’re alive, when you ask, dubiously, “The apartment?” 

Okkotsu just smiles.

You let Okkotsu come inside.

Which is absolutely fucking insane, but you have a feeling that your neighbor’s worse off than you are, and that’s truly saying something. 

You hear him lock the door behind you before you start. Silently, you lead him past your living room, past Tsukino Usagi flying down the sidewalk on the way to school—the start of another episode, then—past your browning house plant hanging from the ceiling, into your quaint kitchen. 

It’s nothing special. A small green stove with two bunsen burners on top. A sink; limited counter space. A couple of peeling cabinets. Tied in together with a white backsplash, shifting colors with each flicker of the TV. To the side, a small table sits, with two mismatched chairs tucked into it. 

Oh, and there’s the dead body, too. Practically dribbling blood, painting your discounted rug muddy red and the surrounding blue tile purple. 

Okkotsu lets out a soft sigh. “What a mess.”

You consider him from the corner of your eye. “That’s what I said,” you frown.

He shrugs, still looking at poor, dead, Yasuhiro. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” 

Yeaaaah. It’s true.  

A giggle escapes you, the reality of the situation finally hitting you. “Fuck,” you whisper in between the giggles. “I’m fucked.” It’s true. Utterly and thoroughly—no condom used. 

“Not yet,” you barely hear him say over the fracturing of your composure. This is impossible. You killed a man tonight, then showed a stranger the corpse. You’re an idiot. You’re a freak. You can’t hide a dead body. You really might as well bend over and get it over with. Fuck.

Hands gripping your knees, you struggle to catch your breath. When did you lose it? Ah, who cares? Dead. You’re dead. The noose is looped around your hollowed throat, tightening by the second. Perhaps there’ll be two corpses on your kitchen floor by the time the sun is up. Perhaps you should’ve just let him kill—

“Breathe with me,” Okkotsu mutters, right in front of you, long hands gingerly clutching your shoulders. Which is strange. You had no idea he got so close. His thumbs swipe up and down, around and around, and you are flummoxed. But Okkotsu is patient, his chest compressing and expanding with each measured breath, and you are compelled to follow him. Slowly, you come down from your panicked high. You let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding back to the imposing guest in your apartment. The other imposing guest in your apartment.

The body in front of you lays eerily still, impervious to your mini breakdown. It’s not purple, or rotting, or excreting out the last remaining fluids left in its underwhelming husk. It’s just—laying there. Laying, not lying, because it is no longer a breathing thing that rests; now an object to be placed. Dehumanized, in every way. Then again, what is dehumanization if not just another word for murder? What is murder, if not just the taking away of a person’s autonomy? Dead bodies can’t rest. It will never lie again. 

The dead body lays.

And you wonder for how much longer you’ll keep your own autonomy.

When do the dead start to attract flies? Realistically, you know it can range from a day to a few days for a decomposing body to become…obscene, depending on the environmental conditions. It hasn’t even been a few hours. You doubt flies will start buzzing around any time soon. If you move to crouch down and touch it, it’ll probably still be warm.  

The swipe of a thumb over your shoulder brings your awareness back to your neighbor. 

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, wiping the tears that have beaded up in the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is steadier now, but you’re still trembling. That damn window is still open. 

The hands on your shoulders release, and you look up to gauge his thoughts. He’s frowning. His eyes cloud, then sharpen: lightning against a black sky. “You need to get rid of the body, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway. 

“Then we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. I bet we’ll be done before dawn.”

He makes to walk away but you stay rooted to your spot, trying to figure out why this strange, strange neighbor of yours who makes friends with stray cats and tends to the apartment garden is willing to become an accomplice of murder for you. 

“Okkotsu, are… Are you in love with me or something?” 

Your neighbor stops, then snorts, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns back to face you. A soft pout lies on his lips as he skillfully evades your question with a request of his own. “Hey, if you’re gonna ask me something like that, why don’t you use my name next time?”  

You don’t ask again.

You have far bigger problems than interrogating Okkotsu Yuuta, so you push it aside and stalk toward the body. Okkotsu joins you, and the two of you peer at the deceased man before you. It’s… Still. The blood has stopped its puddling; a thin line stretches the column of its throat. His throat was slit neatly, gracefully, like an act of love. It wasn’t one, but, maybe you gave Yasuhiro what he wanted, in a terrible, twisted way. How magnanimous of you. 

Yasuhiro wasn’t an attractive man. Limp brown hair framing a slightly uglier-than-average face. At least he had the decency to close his eyes before his last, dying breath. They were blood-shot and wiry, the last time you saw them open. Bouncing haphazardly in its sockets like they couldn’t discern which corner of the room you stood in.  

Okkotsu perks up at the sound of your harrumph. “What?” he questions you, and you slide your eyes over to him. Okkotsu Yuuta is distinctly pale, a trait that you’ve always noticed and have always sort of admired on him. It suits the subdued, yet haunted look he’s got going on. Black lashes feather the whites of his eyes, as well as the endless void of his irises. Yeah, he’s almost doll-like, in that gentle, haunting way of his. 

“You’re creepier than the corpse,” you tell him instead and turn away, just barely hiding your smile. The laugh that rings out from him sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard. 

Just kidding. It actually sounds kind of sweet.

Okkotsu follows you to the bathroom, where you’ve grabbed pretty much all of your cleaning supplies. You stuff them in a bucket and he hauls it out of your arms, the two of you shuffling back to the kitchen. 

“So how should we go about this?” You muse, staring at the body. The movies you’ve seen are the only reference you have for the disposal of dead bodies, but those usually end with the killer getting caught, so you’re not so sure about mimicking their methods. 

“I’m not sure,” Okkotsu says, tilting his head in thought. “Severing his limbs without the proper tools would be difficult. I guess we could carry him and bury him somewhere unassuming—unless you have a car that we could use?” A quick glance at you confirms that you don’t. He rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “Right. A garden cart will do, then. We should check to see if he has any identifiers on him, first, though. Oh, and we can’t forget about the teeth. Do you have any pliers?” He turns to you casually, eyes widening at the sight of your awe. 

Thin black brows furrow in confusion. “What?” He asks.

You blink. “Have you…ever…?” Your voice dies in your throat.

Thankfully, he gets it. “Oh. No! No, I’ve never murdered a person,” he denies, dipping his head and tugging the neckline of his plain white tee. A curious look crosses his face. “But I could,” he tacks on cautiously.

You hug your arms and give a half-assed shrug. You can almost feel the weight of a kitchen knife in your dominant hand; the quick, fluid motion of ending a life. 

“Anyone could,” you acquiesce, dismissing the conversation. Okkotsu hums mournfully in return. 

According to his ID, Yasuhiro Souta is a twenty-seven-year-old male who lives in Chiba. What he was doing tumbling through your window in the middle of the night is anyone’s guess. Well, he did tell you, sort of shakily before he made to lunge at you, that you were supposedly his Valentine for the night. How sweet!

Snip. You met him for the first time a little over two months ago. He dropped his wallet on the train, so you picked it up and handed it to him in a silly attempt to be a decent person. It resulted in the man refusing to let go of your hand for a solid five minutes. Yes, yes, what an adorable meet-cute! Snip. When you managed to pry your clammy hands out of his vice-like grip, it was your stop, and, oh, how fortuitous, it was Yasuhiro’s as well! He followed you off the train into a random coffee shop, and it was only when you got the help of the employees that he backed off, the doorbell chiming as the glass door swung behind his back. Snip.

You thought that was the end of it, and proceeded about your day, running errands for a few hours until you retreated home. It shook you up for a little, yes, but it was nothing too crazy. You doubted you’d ever see him again. 

Snip.

You slice Yasuhiro’s ID with your scissors until it’s a pile of ashes. 

Okkotsu’s on his knees, holding a pair of pliers to the light. Wedged between the metal lies a crooked tooth. He hums to himself, plopping the tooth in a ziplock bag. He wears a pair of green garden gloves he grabbed from his apartment; you’re wearing a matching set. The rubber’s a little too big for you, but you’re making it work.

It's as Okkotsu calmly adjusts the head in his lap, preparing to yank another tooth that you stare at your strange partner, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this situation. It’s been happening every so often: your acceptance of reality swinging in the opposite direction like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. 

You shouldn’t have killed him.

You don’t care for Yasuhiro Souta’s life. You don’t care for the man who intended to assault you. But there’s not a chance in hell that this won’t get traced back to you. 

You're fucked.

Why did it have to be like this? Why do bad things happen to good people?

That’s the way the cookie crumbles, darling.

And you crumble—crumbled—are crumbling when you turn to your neighbor. “Okkotsu-san,” you say, picking at your dirty nails.

“Yuuta,” the man insists. What a freak. He's a freak, and he's good, and you don't deserve it.

You take a deep breath, mulling over your doomed fate. It doesn’t have to be his, too. “You should get out of here. While you still can.”

There's an awkward pause. The strange man pulls out another tooth and plops it in the baggy. “There,” he says warmly, then draws to his full height. “Do you have a coffee maker?” You ball your fists around the plastic handle in your hands. Calm, calm, stay calm. “Did you hear what I just said?” You ask. 

“Oh, I did,” Okkotsu hums. “I chose to ignore it.”

Your hands begin to shake as you repeat his words. “Ch—Chose to—” 

Okkotsu says your name pityingly. “I thought we already had this conversation," he questions with pinched brows. “Why are we—”

“We?!” You interrupt, incensed. We. It's as if the curtains have been drawn open, allowing the rays of the illuminating, scorching sun to trickle through. It blinds you, and you have the urge to pull your eyes out and shove them down his throat. “You thought we? Who are you? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

“I think I know a few things about you,” Okkotsu smiles sweetly, gesturing to the dead body in your apartment.

“Do you, now?” You laugh and toss your hands up to the ceiling. “Great! I have an idea!" You glare, the metal edge of your scissors catching the light. "If you know what I’m capable of, then you should get the hell out." 

A pause. You pant, more worked up than have been all night and it's fucking ridiculous and you hate it. You want to choke—you want him to choke. On your blood-soaked fingers, preferably. He'd probably lick them clean. 

Unaware of your depraved thoughts, Okkotsu’s lips pull into a frown. He sighs, running a ghostly hand through his hair.

“I’m not scared of you,” he tells you, quietly.

You hold your breath. “Maybe you should be.”

Your insufferable neighbor takes a step forward, that stupid frown still on his stupid doll face. “What’s your plan?” He prompts. “Do you intend to confess? To go to prison?” You shake your head slowly and he softens. “You don’t deserve that,” he says, like he really means it.

Why did you let this man into your house? Why is he offering you hope? It’s too much. The scissors slide out of all your fingers save for one; your limbs sag with a weariness that’s settled deep in your bones. 

“You don’t know what I deserve.”

Okkotsu stops and considers you. Your chest heaves, your heart pounds, and you want out. You want out, and he can get out, and you don’t know… You don’t know why…

“If you want me to judge you, I won’t,” says Okkotsu. 

You shake your head at his dismissal, your eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t judge you,” he continues, and there goes his cold, calloused hand again, gingerly tilting your chin upwards. The pair of scissors in your clutches drops fruitlessly to the floor. When you look up, there’s something like pleading in his endless, starless eyes. “Trust me,” he begs. 

You shouldn’t. You know it with every fiber of your being that you should not trust Okkotsu Yuuta. The man who blinks like an owl and stares at you like you’re a mouse he can’t wait to swallow whole. Who blushes pink whenever you hold the elevator door for him. Who has cold fingers that cradle you so gingerly—who touches you like he knows you—who doesn’t cringe at the sight of dead bodies but gives a damn about a bit of blood staining the outside of your ear. 

You shouldn’t. Trust him. But you—you feel as if he’s reached inside your chest and plucked out your pulsing, blackened heart. 

“Do you love me?” You ask Okkotsu Yuuta again, heart throbbing in his hand.

His eyes don’t stray from yours. “Ask me again with my name,” he says quietly. 

…You don’t know if you want to. 

Releasing a breath, you push past him, snatch the ziplock bag from the floor, and stride towards the stove. “I’ll make coffee,” you say, already fiddling with the grinder.

Okkotsu lets you depart with a sigh.

“So what do you like to do when you’re not helping random people bury bodies?” You ask Okkotsu a couple of hours later. You stumble over a root in the dark, and Okkotsu’s quick to grab you by the waist and steady you. You continue, a bag full of your keys, water, pepper spray, freshly-bleached gloves, a burner phone that Okkotsu already had, for some reason, and two sets of clean clothes swinging against your back. You fidget with the shovel in your hands mindlessly, trying to get it to spin. A garden cart with a tarp draped over it creaks along the grass floor. The two of you have walked for who knows how long, but, according to him, you’re getting close. 

The man beside you hums, surprisingly chipper for the nefarious activities afoot. “When I’m not busy, I like to garden and crochet. I also like making food for my friends from time to time,” he says in a simple, humble manner. The last part doesn’t surprise you. He’s brought you helpings of food on the most random occasions, showing up at your doorstep with self-proclaimed “leftovers” and shoving full plates into your arms with a velvety smile. That does beg the question, though…

“Have you considered us friends this whole time?” You squint at him in the dark, only the moonlight carving out the contours of his subtle, delicate features. You’re kind of surprised. You two made decent neighbors but only ever talked in short bursts outside your rooms. Your conversations rarely ever broke past polite mumblings about the weather.  

Okkotsu pouts. “You mean, we’re not friends yet?” He asks, before breaking into a twinkling laugh. 

“Shut up,” you bite, but you laugh too, lightly shoving at his arm. Okkotsu, bless him, pretends to stumble. It takes you a moment to suppress the heat burning the tips of your ears, but you do get it under control, eventually. “I meant… Before?”

His expression smoothens out before he gives a soft shake of his head. “No, not quite. But, I wanted us to be."  

It’s quiet for a moment, nothing but the rustling under your feet and the ever-present, cacophonous sounds of nature. You spot a nest of sleeping birds tucked in between the branches of a tree and smile.

“Well,” you try to keep your cool, eyes sweeping over the forest's shadows, “Better late than never.”

It strikes you halfway to the burial grounds that Yasuhiro didn’t bring his phone with him to your apartment in his depraved, intoxicated state. He crawled up a tree, through your cracked-open bedroom window—conveniently avoiding cameras. So, once you’re done with this, you very may well be free.

It’s a terrifying notion, freedom.

“What about you?” Okkotsu asks you, something like ten minutes later. “What do you like to do for fun? Besides watch Sailor Moon, I mean.”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. “Well,” you wonder aloud. “This is pretty fun, wouldn’t you say?” 

Okkotsu lets out a little breath before he softly admits his agreement. 

It rained earlier today, you forgot. The ground crumbles like clay when you swing the shovel into the ground. You and Okkotsu take turns making a grave, taking water breaks in between. There is hope alive in you, you realize, as the two of you work in tandem.

Yasuhiro Souta is lowered into the ground with all the dignity a dead man could possess. He lays atop a tarp and your old Persian rug. A stream rushes somewhere nearby, bubbling like blood, and you pray that the body will make good fertilizer. When your hand shakes, Yuuta grabs it. 

You bury your clothes on the way back, a mile out. The sun peaks over the horizon.

When you return to your room with Yuuta in tow, your emotions overwhelm you: you are terrified and gleeful and sorry for all you’ve done. 

It is mournfully quiet as you mop the purple tiles blue, bleach burning your nostrils and freshly scrubbed gloves. Yuuta’s left to clean the garden cart in the gardens. He returns shortly, though, offers you a small smile, and helps you scrub every inch of your apartment. 

You scrub, and scrub. 

And scrub.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuta says to you when you’re in the middle of wiping your brow. You’re sitting cross-legged on your rugless kitchen floor, where a dead body once lay. Sweat clings to your skin in uncomfortable places and you reek of bleach. “Shut the fuck up and scrub, Yuuta,” you command. 

Yuuta’s serene smile is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen before.

You could probably fall in love with him, you contemplate as you watch your neighbor make fluffy pancakes in the comforts of his own kitchen. If you haven’t fallen in love with him, already, that is. You doubt you’ll ever have a connection with someone as profound as the bond you share with the soft-spoken man who helped you bury a dead body. 

Love, you marvel, in the span of a few hours.

It’s disquieting. 

After multiple showers, and after Yuuta’s stuffed you with more pancakes than you can chew, the pair of you are lounging on his tatami mat, a much-needed change in scenery. You have like, three hours before you need to go to work, which, Yuuta agrees, is crucial to maintaining a veneer of normalcy. Which means this impromptu nightmare date will have to come to an end—as all good things do.

“I should probably get to bed,” you say after a lull in conversation.

Yuuta nods, reasonably. “That makes sense, yeah.” 

“Got work in the morning and all that,” you continue in a nonchalant tone.

“Make sure your window’s locked.”

Fine. “Walk me out, will you?” You request. Okkotsu Yuuta, ever the gentleman, agrees, even though the front door is only a handful of feet away. He pushes himself off his knees and stands at full height, though his starless eyes are, as always, trained on you. You would probably find Yuuta’s full attention a little unsettling if you had not just slit a man’s throat that night. 

You avoid his gaze all the same—stopping at his doorstep with your hands twisting at your sides. Yuuta stops beside you and waits patiently for you to string your words together. 

You clear your throat. “Hey, um—”

“Hi,” Yuuta interrupts, and you smile, filled with the courage to go on. 

“So, the thing is… Well, I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere far without you. I acted quite amateur back there, you’d think this was my first dead body I was trying to hide, or something, ha. Um, so yeah, thank you—from the most sincere and vulnerable depths of my heart. I guess I’ll see you around? Okay, bye.”

A hand wraps around your wrist before you can run home with your tail tucked between your legs. Yuuta murmurs your name in a soft, dulcet tone, and you’re not certain you’re prepared to hear whatever he has to say. You turn to face him anyway, because, well, you owe him that much.

“Yes?” 

“Don’t you have something to ask me?” He chides.

The pit in your stomach swoops. “Not that I recall,” you lie with a straight face.

“Try again,” Yuuta smiles sweetly, like a haunted little doll.

“It’s been a long day, you know—” 

“Cold, I’m afraid.”

“My brain isn’t functioning at its peak—” 

“Hmm, getting colder!”

“I don’t think I can.”

A pause. You avert your gaze and allow yourself to get analyzed by Yuuta’s doleful, starless eyes. “Hey,” he calls your name, asks you to look at him. 

You look at him.  

“Good," he hums.

You roll your eyes, loop an arm around his long neck, and drag him to you. 

Okkotsu Yuuta tastes like the earth. From dust to dust, you are at the end and beginning when you capture his lips between yours. He responds quickly, hands digging firmly into your waist as he knocks you into his door frame, and you quickly learn what it means to be savored. You intended the kiss to be a quick, rash, thing, but he slows you down, melds into you languidly like you have all the time in the world. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you both moan, breaking apart for air. Yuuta slips his hands underneath your shirt, and for once, his cold hands burn, lighting the fire for something you’re not certain you’ll be able to finish. 

“Go ahead and ask me already, love,” Yuuta murmurs into your ear. And, well, fuck. You melt. “Yuuta,” you whisper as he nips at your neck. “You love me, yes?” 

At that, he bites down at the hollow of your neck. You gasp, then sigh when he instantly cools the wound with his tongue. “Obviously,” he replies, quite simply, thumb swiping delicately at your stomach. 

“Great,” you gasp, and Yuuta looks at you and beams. 

And, there goes your heart again, pulsing in his cold, calloused hands. Cradle it gently, Yuuta, won’t you?

fin. if u made it this far, ily

#mushy writes .𖥔 ݁ ˖ #yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuta x you #yuta x you #jjk x gn!reader #tw: blood #tw: death #m.jjk #m.yuuta #battle scarred; #yuuta my beloved <3

[luvring]

UNCONVENTIONAL DATES

gn!reader | gojo, geto, yuta, nobara, itadori

“satoru gojo if you don’t get your ass to figuring out a puzzle i’ll kill you.”

your boyfriend stares at you from the velvet armchair, leg hanging over the side and cheek resting against his knuckles. “aw, baby, relax. we still have so much time.”

“i knew i shouldn’t have trusted you to pick our date.” you huff and turn away from him.

it wasn’t that satoru couldn’t think of a good date idea. he’s brought you to countless places across the city—a roof to stargaze (he crossed his heart and hoped to die if he got you in trouble for it), a hole in the wall cafe with some of the best desserts you’ve ever tried, a vintage store that smelled of old books and sweet coffee, and had a fluffy balinese cat who would lay on its back and stare at customers, waiting to be pet.

but this time, in an escape room where he’s barely grazed the row of evidently suspicious paintings on the wall, and answered “hm, that’s a good question,” or something like it to three of your guesses, you wonder if you should signal the employees through the security cameras to let you, and only you, out of here.

“y’aren’t having fun?” he teases.

you roll your eyes, hard, hoping he could sense it even with your back turned to him. “i have to figure out some curse by a guy named frederick, alone. what do you think?”

and then you hear him stand up, hear the sound of him tapping, shuffling?—you’re not really sure, something, before coming closer.

his steps are slow, purposely louder than usual so that you can hear him travel all the way until he’s right behind you. then satoru, in typical satoru fashion, holds the key to the vault you’ve been trying to get into for five minutes in front of your face, before leaning over your shoulder with a grin. “how about now?”

“top 10 people i’d break up with my boyfriend for?” geto reads out the title of the slideshow before you can.

“hear me out.”

“you know i’m your boyfriend, right?”

“no way, really?” you ask in faux shock before giving him a look. “be quiet and listen, i’m presenting.”

“who you’d break up with me for?”

“number one.” you ignore him and switch slides. suguru doesn’t miss how your lips twitch, wanting to smile at your own cube slide transition you apparently took the time to apply.

“no one,” you say easily. “i love my boyfriend despite how annoying he is, and i would never ever think of breaking up with him. also, if he tried to break up with me, i’d throw up and cry to make him feel guilty and remember all the good times we’ve had and why he’s dating me in the first place.”

your boyfriend in question leans further back into the couch and lets his chin rest in his palm as he hums thoughtfully. “happy to know you’re willing to throw up and cry and beg, but—”

“i didn’t say beg.”

suguru says your name—quietly, smoothly, with an amused lilt at the end despite your slideshow and what he’s about to ask next. “you know i can see there’s 12 more slides, right?”

a beat passes.

he’s still watching you intently as you finally smile.

“of course. so for the real number one—”

“can you just fall over once so i can feel better about myself?” you huff with slightly bent knees, and fingers intertwined with yuta’s while he slowly skates in front of you despite, apparently, never having had the chance to try ice skating before this.

the sun keeps you warm despite the chill as a few other couples skate around the rink—some mirroring you, others faring better.

yuta blinks, and then he lifts his head just enough so you can see how the corner of his mouth twitches past his scarf. “would it really make you feel better?”

“i dunno, maybe. try eating some ice first.”

“okay.”

and before you can say anything, his hands leave yours as he falls onto the ice with an ‘oof!’

“yuta!” his name leaves your lips in panic. the sudden disappearance of support makes your legs wobble, and your skates dig into the ice before you make your way toward him.

your boyfriend groans, his cheeks flushed, though whether from the cold or embarrassment, you’re not sure. you feel guilty for laughing a little when you speak, “i was joking, oh my god, are you okay?”

his hands move instinctively as he goes to push himself up, before he quickly realizes how cold ice is against bare skin. “yeah, ouch—ah, cold, cold! i know—i just thought i’d be better at fake falling.”

he winces as you awkwardly help him up, standing still as you give him a once over and rewrap his scarf around his neck. you joke softly, “you know what? seeing my boyfriend hurt himself didn’t make me feel better. sorry for asking.”

despite the slight ache in his tailbone, yuta manages to laugh. “you know what would make me feel better?”

“what?”

his face, already tinted red, flushes more as he realizes what he’s asked. but it’s too late now, and he probably deserves it—”...a kiss?”

an ad for a vintage market had popped up a few days ago, and nobara had excitedly agreed to go when you sent it to her. (she was slightly less excited at the thought of waking up early to get there first, but the competition, fashion, and “getting to buy rich people’s things” were enough to motivate her.)

you’re pulling at the sleeves of the coat you’ve found when she pops up beside you, flaunting a grin and pair of shades on her face. “do you think i look cool or super pretentious?”

you smile back. “depends on if you think i look cool or super pretentious.”

she taps her chin and hums before looking you up and down, exaggerating the head movement so you can tell despite not being able to really see her eyes.

“want me to spin?” you ask. but before she can even answer, you turn 180° and lift your arms, letting her soak it in. she watches as you walk around the stall, careful not to go too far so it didn’t seem like you were stealing.

“maybe if you were older and lived in a house with four cars or you were gojo, super pretentious.”

the mention of gojo makes you snicker. “...but?”

nobara’s smiling at you when you turn to face her with eyebrows raised. she lifts her hand to shoot you a thumbs up. “you’re not, so i say you look super cool.”

her face suddenly gets serious. “but seriously, what do you think about these shades? cool? pretentious? gojo?”

“what would you do if i said gojo?”

“break up with you.”

“i never took you as a cat person.”

“neither did i, i don’t think i am? but look how cute he is. his name is waffle,” itadori says without looking at you, focused on the fluffy grey cat in his arms.

waffle purrs and rubs his head against yuuji’s chin, who lets out a noise between a whimper and coo in response.

you huff. “coming here with you was a bad idea.”

he gasps. “don’t say that in front of waffle.”

“because now i want to adopt a cat,” you continue, laughing a little at yuuji’s tightened grip around waffle.

he makes a noise of agreement and pouts. “but if we didn’t come, we’d have never met waffle.”

“and porridge?”

“and russell.”

you snicker at the thought of russell—an orange cat in one of the other rooms who was one of those cats that really looked like he didn’t have a thought in his head. maybe because he was orange. “yeah, you know what, fair enough.”

yuuji decides to put waffle back in his kennel, but keeps playing by pulling the pipe cleaner tied to one of the cage bars up and down, getting him to jump up and grab it. “ahh, hi waffle, you’re so cute. i hope whoever adopts you is the best person ever.”

the sight of them playing makes you smile and pull out your phone. turning on your camera and pointing it toward yuuji who tilts his head and laughs, eyes lighting up as his new friend flops onto his back, you think it’s as good a time as any to get a new lockscreen.

surprise.! Get jujutsu kaisen'ed. i've never done this format i had no idea how to divide them so i just. used dividers. hm. i'll figure out if i like that or not later. no i didn't have anyone in mind for geto's slideshow. didn't know who wouldn't be... weird.

@danyisapingu @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist @libbyistired @milkbreadforlife @sirimirihiro @aria-chikage

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #geto x reader #yuuta x reader #nobara x reader #itadori x reader #jujutsu kaisen x gn reader #.. cant tell if theyre ooc. choosing to not think too hard about it. or at all. amen

[kairiscorner]

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ holiday headcanons event !!

day 2.1: ice skating with yuuta ⛸️

🍰 genre: fluff !! ✒️ word count: 548 💭 summary: learning how to ice skate with yuuta ⛸️ 📣 thanks for requesting @flowerjun ! if you'd like to request any other prompt for any other character, please refer to my holiday headcanons event and send me an ask!

"y'okay, yuu?" you asked him, concerned as you tied your skates' laces, watching your hesitant boyfriend wobble on the ice, trying to keep himself upright and balanced. he winced and nodded, he would've said it himself, "yeah, i'm okay," if he just wasn't so petrified at the prospect of falling face first on the ice and skidding across the frozen surface.

you smiled softly at him, slowly getting up yourself and struggling to find your balance and momentum on the ice. "this... is pretty hard, huh..." yuuta voiced out, a little shy, smiling a little despite the gnawing fear of him greeting the icy ground through an unceremonious fall.

you nodded and chuckled, a bit anxious yourself. you were trying to maintain your balance and glide along the ice, though your knees were buckling. "woah, gotcha," yuuta whispered in a hushed tone, wrapping his arm around you taking your arm in his hand, trying to help keep you stable as you both wobbled on the ice.

you chuckled and looked up at him with a smile. "guess this is pretty hard," you muttered, chuckling. a warmth rushed down yuuta's shoulders as he saw your smile, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, making him grin back at you.

you two tried to glide on the ice, not even trying to act skilled or graceful like figure skaters, you two were both content to just make it out there on the ice without falling. you had better luck than yuuta, with him falling on his bottom and chest every time he tried to glide, with you rushing to help him up, but stumbling down and and landing on your bottom and chest, just like him.

yuuta always felt horrible whenever you'd stumble because of him, trying to help you up with staggering movements as he struggled to get himself standing up on the ice. "sorry, maybe i should just... sit this one out," he offered, looking down at the frozen ground in shame. you cupped his face with your hands that warmed him up, looking into his charcoal black irises with a soft smile. "if you wanna stop, we can... but don't feel bad about messing up, yuu. i've messed up time and time again trying to get my gliding right, and i know you'll be able to make it, too. i believe in you."

and it was those very words that melted yuuta's heart, his face heated up and his cheeks reddened, with his hands on top of yours that rested on either sides of his face. "thank you, love..."

you two stayed until sunset, gliding and falling; with yuuta gradually getting better as you both slid on the ice together, hand in hand, and with yuuta learning on his own as he tried to glide without you. whenever you cheered for him, yuuta could feel his knees stop shaking, and his body getting used to the cold and slipperiness of the ice. he did usually fall over whenever he'd glance at you and smile whenever you cheered for him, but that was only because you got his full attention whenever you cheered, it was okay to fall on the ice again, it was a sign that yuuta kept falling for you, over and over again.

#okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta x reader #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu fluff #yuuta fluff #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuta fluff #yuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x gn reader #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x gn!reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines

[nkogneatho]

Percy Yuuta who is so sweet and gentle at first until you tell him you want to try something and the flood gates open and you realize just how much he’s been holding back on you.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐘!𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐆𝐘

#mlist #commissions #liawot #taglist

—cw: gn!reader, perv yuuta agenda, doggy, unprotected, nickname (c*cksleeve), rough yuuta.

—a/n: I will never (/lh) write that man in softcore because I know he is a closet pervert and stari dear you fueled my imagination.

Pervy!Yuuta who had always made love to you in such a soft way that you can feel all his love and care for you with each thrust. He was never rough with you. He is just a man who can't imagine hurting you even if it's unintentional.

But...

Pervy!Yuuta who goes all out when you ask him to fuck you in doggy. For the first time, he is not making love, he is fucking your brains out, making you cry in pleasure.

Pervy!Yuuta whose fingers would always intertwine in yours as he pushes his dick in missionary, the same fingers are now tugging at your hair while he hits it from the back, ass slapping hard against his crotch.

Pervy!Yuuta who always made sure to wipe your tears, is now actually liking it when you're whimpering, moaning his name. In fact, he pushes your head down on the pillow because he is a nasty lil perv who enjoys muffled moans.

Pervy!Yuuta who has so much pent up sexual frustration he never realized, and is now releasing it on you with your confirmation. He is smiling, at how much he is enjoying. At how much you are enjoying because you've came three times on his cock and still pushing your ass up if he stops even for a second.

It's not gentle anymore. It's animalistic. It's hard. You feel like you'd break apart the way his cock is rutting in and out. But you don't want him to stop. You want him like this forever if possible. It feels weird in a good way. It's going so much deeper this way.

Pervy!Yuuta who has big balls filled with his cum, just waiting to be released in you, layer you translucent. He has no intention of stopping until both your insides and the flesh of your ass in covered with his creamy semen.

Pervy!Yuuta who calls you nasty nicknames when all you've heard from that mouth are poetic words. Pervy!Yuuta now calls you a "cocksleeve." His cocksleeve. There is still so much love in that part.

Pervy!Yuuta who now bends you over anywhere he desires, and makes your wall stretch with his girth.

He, who now has a taste of something he refused to consume before, will now devour it.

#yuuta x reader #yuuta smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta x you #yuuta drabble #jjk x y/n #jjk x gn!reader #yuuta x gn!reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #okkotsu yuuta x reader

[selfindulgentpixies]

What would guys rather have me work on? I'm gonna try really hard to work on stuff tonight.

nothing will be finished tonight most likely but again I do want to work on stuff. So i'll check back on this poll in a couple hours.

#satoru gojo x reader #gn!reader #suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #gojo x geto x reader

[tanizakigf]

Hi there! I hope you're having a wonderful day Today's actually my birthday hehe, can I request a birthday fluff with Yuta hihii

Thankies and hope ur doing great :DDD

hey sweetheart!! my day has been wonderful and i hope yours have been amazing and you were able to enjoy it as well! happy birthday, i hope you get so many good things in your life and that you're happy! yuuta loves you very much and is wishing you a happy birthday :)

i usually don't take requests, but of course i'll make an exception for you! :D sorry if it's too short, it's the best i could think of at the moment, but i hope you enjoy it! also, i did it with a gn!reader bc i wasn't sure which pronouns you'd prefer so i just went with the safest option, hope that's okay!! thanks for requesting tho <33

warnings: none, just pure fluff and a few grammar mistakes :)

masterlist !!

                                                  ~ ♡ ~

a soft knock on your door made you put your phone aside and get up, curious to see who was knocking on it so late in the night. opening the wooden door, you couldn't help but smile as you saw the black haired boy.

"hey" yuuta greeted, smiling brightly as he held something behind his back.

he was wearing a baby blue pajama pants, a white hoodie and his hair was pulled away from his eyes. he looks so comfortable and squeezable, all you wanted to do was cuddle him until someone had to physically separate you.

"hey, baby" you answered, smiling back at him before you opened the door wider, allowing him to enter the cozy dorm "it's almost 12p.m, you do know that, right?"

he chuckled, nodding excitedly as he gave you a big smile, briefly pointing at the clock next to your bed. it was reading exatcly 12am, and he handed you the flowers he was hiding as he wrapped his strong arms tightly around you, pushing your body closer to his in a tender hug.

"i wanted to be the first one to wish you a happy birthday, sweetheart" he whispered, pulling you even closer and placing a little kiss on your cheek. "happy birthday, i love you"

you couldn't help but let a few happy tears scape your eyes as his sweet words reached your eyes. god, how could you ever get so lucky and get a boyfriend so sweet and amazing like him?!

"thanks, yuu" you thanked quietly, wrapping your arms even tighter around his neck.

"well, now you should get some rest! i won't tell you exactly what we'll do now, but today will be a long day for us!" he spoke again after a few minutes, gently pulling away from your hold so he could return to his dorm.

when he was a few steps away from the door you tugged at his sleeve, shyly asking him to stay over for the rest of the night so you can cuddle. and who was he to deny such a cute birthday wish and cuddles for his amazing partner?!

it's already been one of your best birthdays ever and the day had barely even started. you couldn't wait to see what yuuta has planned for you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk scenarios #jjk x gn!reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta imagines #okkotsu yuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x reader #jujutsu okkotsu #yuuta fluff #yuta fluff #yuta okkotsu #jjk headcanons #jjk fanfic #yuta x you

[portfolio-of-dreams]

robin hood. || yuta okkotsu x gn! reader

warnings: kinda angsty. mentions of a funeral.

w/c: 1.2k

a/n: is this…. is this my come back?

The first few steps off the plane are surreal, never did you think you’d come back here, to this. It takes a few moments to regain your legs, and stop the tingling sensations in your toes as you walk through the airport to the cab ramp. The late autumn sky hovers above you in pieces reflected by the dark clouds and last remnants of evening light. It’s right in between the seasons, just barely the autumn and right before winter peaks. It’s cold, cold enough to see your breath in the morning but warms up in the afternoon sun enough to shed your layers of clothing and be comfortable. The crisp outside air comes in waves and flutters against your cheeks as you find an empty cab down the road. When the sun touches your skin- or more accurately, your eyes- it's a stinging sort of freshness that you welcome as it brings back those memories. The ones you thought you’d lost to the depths of your mind and boxed up in the crevices of your heart.

Your figure was cloaked in black as you rode under the tunnels and down the winding roads to the large plot of land. There was already a large number of people gathered around in the dismal atmosphere. Funerals were never your thing but when he calls you out of the blue to accompany him, your mouth says yes faster than your brain can say no. You step out of the cab and make your way towards the gravesite. Everything looked the same as shadows covered the crowd, except the one thing that stood out, him.

Your footsteps were light as your feet closed the distance between the two of you- only if your heart felt the same. You took delicate inhales as you breathed the same air as him again, like you always used to. You took a good look at his face before speaking, the way silent yet screaming tears rolled over the apple of his cheeks. His eyes, once a vast ocean blue that swallowed galaxies of stars, seemed to have lost their shine and now just devoured any light in their intensity; deep pools of ink that rippled as you dipped your quill. They were glossed over, rippling underneath a sadness you knew he’d experienced too many times.

“Yuta..” his name rolled off your tongue languid, like it was the easiest thing to say, like it was the only word you knew.

He turned his head and offered you a small smile, his chapped lips barely curving up like they used to. “Hey. Sorry for calling you out for this. I just- needed someone..” his voice faltered towards the end, a feeling he didn’t want to admit out loud. 

It wasn’t that funerals were particularly hard- the act of allowing yourself to be free under the safety of the ground. To lie in the soft ground, resilient against any sounds as the grass waves above your head. Down below, you don’t have to worry about time- no yesterdays nor tomorrows, just being at peace in the dark silence. You ponder the thought for a moment- death must be so beautiful. For once, you get to forgive and forget the life you had as you dream eternally. 

But the act of dying? Awful. Scary. The thoughts that must run through your head as you feel yourself take that last inhale of oxygen, the sights and memories you see that flash to the forefront of your mind and the love in your heart- what happens to all the unused love? Does it fester into something ugly? Does it take on a form of hatred after it goes forgotten? Your breaths become staggered at the thoughts that cloud your mind, then everything stops. The world around you is frozen in time when his hand envelops your own. It’s clammy, wet from wiping unseen tears but you can feel every callous and scar that decorate his skin as his fingers find their home between yours again. 

Home.

What an odd idiom. But those few months ago, falling in love with Yuta Okkotsu, was like finding a home you never had to make a key for. The door was always open and welcomed you with a fresh baked pastry smell that wafted through his veins and intoxicated you from the lips to your insides. And here he was again, pulling you in like a grain of sand underneath high tide. It was easy and simple, but it eroded your thoughts to nothingness. 

He was your Robin Hood- stealing away everything you gave him. Your skin, your heart, your soul: and he kept it when you parted. You felt rich from his love, bathed in gold that turned out to be nothing but pyrite. The numbness you felt soon faded as you gave in to the feeling of being poor. Every reservation you had melted in his touch though, and you couldn’t let go. 

After the crowds had dispersed, the two of you were left under the weeping moss of an old oak tree. The service was a blur, though a beautiful obsidian blur, with the soundtrack being the soft hum of the crows and the grieving people that stood near the headstone. His back was leaning against the trunk as the last of the leaves fell in a whirlwind from the barren branches. His thumb runs over your knuckles as he watches the way your skin flinches. 

“I’m a different person now, because of you.” The words felt like hot iron on your tongue as you said them, only being deflated by the icy air that swallowed the steam.

“I know… we were never supposed to let each other go.”  His eyes finally met yours, his somber tone ringing through your ears. All you can do is shake your head as you try to pull your hand out of his grasp, but his hold is tight and unwavering. 

“Please… One more chance?” And that's when you see it- a small glisten of hope in his eyes as he says those words, colored in the ocean blue you remember. The same soft, but deep, blue that you fell in love with. 

Any words you try to speak fail every time you open your mouth. Fumbling around the endzone like a rookie learning to play a new sport. In your moment of weakness and parted lips, he leans down and kisses you. Kisses you like he always used to, and it’s muscle memory when your lips tilt and curve against his. You feel that familiar feeling, being bathed in the finest jewels- but it doesn’t feel wrong or like fool’s gold anymore. It's real. 

And when your hand reaches up to cup his cheek, new tears fall into your cuticles and roll over your knuckles, down to your wrist. In that moment, the world paused again, and everything you thought he’d stolen away, he was returning to you- in better condition. He kept it safe; he kept you safe without you even realizing it. Somber tears finally fall from your own eyes and you know you’re once again on your knees for the boy that is Yuta Okkotsu.

tags: @httphaitani @momoewn @blueparadis @tokyometronetwork @tokyo-ballroom @the-cosmos-network @planetonet

#portfolio of dreams #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu x gn reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu angst #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x gn reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuta jjk #jjk yuta x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader

[willows-peak]

*･ﾟ✧ JJK Character's Fav Positions

tags: multi character x reader, gn! reader, fluff, acute descriptions of cuddling, sfw and nsfw below the cut, the students aren't included in the nsfw portion dw

word count: expected 2.2k

a/n: im struggling with a geto wip so have this for tonight :3c i wonder if u can tell whos my fav to write

⋆｡˚ ♡ spooning: reserved for the clingiest of people, those who wanna feel your warmth no matter what, snuggled tight holding your back to their chest under a blanket and falling asleep to the slow breaths you make in your slumber

nobara: she's a girl with a very busy life, socially and academically, so when she finally gets to come home and relax into you, her back being embraced by you and held snugly to your chest as she sighs in content, she's as happy as can be. especially after a nice warm shower to wash the day's work away, curling up in bed in her jammies and taking a well deserved nap is all she needs. she gets very irritable if (god forbid) she cant be with you for a while

yuuta: he's a very sweet boy, even when sleeping. if u two end up cuddling, you'll somehow always end up being spooned, no matter how you two fell asleep. yuuta claims he has no idea how this happens, but youre starting to doubt him when you fell asleep at the foot of the bed and woke up with a snoring yuuta behind you. though, you dont have it in you to push him away, considering the way he grumbles and reaches out for you until youre back in his arms

getou: while he wasn't the one to initiate being the little spoon, that seems to be the role you gave him when you first started sleeping in the same bed. even while he was relaxed, his back muscles seemed to entrance you enough to want to stare at them while he slept. he wasn't surprised or offended at your reasoning of course, quite the opposite. you were fueling his already huge ego so how could he deny you? now, he'll rest with the feeling of your deft fingers combing through his hair, while your other hand was running across the bumps and crevices of his back.

⋆｡˚ ♡ hugging: for the cuddling enjoyer who also wants to smoosh your face with their chest. legs tangled together, the comforting scent of your shampoo in their nose and their hand gently cupping the back of your head

gojo: speaking of the clingiest man alive. he treats you like a stuffie half the time while you two sleep, hugging you tight to his chest and having your face buried in the crook of his neck while he snoozes away. much like yuuji, the pressure of you against his body helps relax him, but unfortunately for you, that means this 6'3 man squeezing you as tight as possible and stacking on blankets on top of your combined bodies. let's hope you two live somewhere cold

inumaki: he always slept in fetal position before you two started dating, so this was just naturally how you two began cuddling. inumaki either slept at 8 pm sharp or he'd still be awake when you got up in the morning, so who was cuddling who was never consistent. sometimes, inumaki slept with his arm thrown across your hip and his face squished against your side, and others he'd hook his arm around the small of your back and hold you while you slept

⋆｡˚ ♡ head on lap: sometimes you don't wanna go all out with cuddling your partner, and for those occasions look no further than the thigh pillow ™ for when you or your partner are too tired to move from the couch to the bed

maki: few words are ever spoken when you two do this. you could be catching up on your schoolwork, or talking with maki, or watching the tv, but often times you'll simply stop and roll over to lay on her lap, neither of you questioning or even batting an eye to it anymore. even when you first did it, there was only a moment of confusion in maki's face before she shrugged and continued talking to you

choso: when you asked him how he liked to cuddle one day, he shrugged his shoulders and answered with "whatever makes you happy." and while he meant it, you couldnt deny the pattern you noticed when you were lounging in bed, or sitting down, where choso would inevitably end up cozied between your thighs, his head resting on your tummy with his hand around your back. pro tip, he makes happy hums if you put your hand on his head

⋆｡˚ ♡ head on chest: who needs blankets when you have a whole other person? the classic and well loved position that lets them hold u as close as they can, arm snagging around your waist and holding you tight as you drift into dream land

megumi: you may have thought this meant youre laying on his chest. nope. it took a while for him to open up with what he wanted with you, physically, but it very quickly turned into routine how he'd wordlessly crawl into your arms and flop down against your chest, grumbling incoherently when you asked him what was the matter. you'd sigh and resume whatever you were doing, combing through his messy hair until the soft sound of snores filled the room minutes later.

nanami: this man does not play around about two things, children and his sleep. he's very particular with how he rests, as in you *will* be with him while he sleeps, and you *will* be placed on his chest, held tight as he snored away. youre his wonderful break from monotony, a shining ray of sunshine in his cold and unwelcoming world, so forgive him for being clingy while he rests. though, this does come with the downside of him becoming restless if you're ever away. dont worry! he has a pillow with your scent sprayed onto it for this very occasion, just in case

toji: he wasnt huge on cuddling at first, both not used to it and finding it inconvenient to deal with if he needed to do anything at night. he didnt sleep well before you, and even if that hasnt changed, you snuggling up to him like a huge teddy bear at least gave him something to focus on in those sleepless fits he often has. on the rare occasion he sleeps before you awaken, youre extra careful to press a kiss to his chest as he silently rested underneath you

⋆｡˚ ♡ in their lap: cuddling doesn't always have to mean sleeping, of course. sometimes its just a really really long hug with your partner. for times like this, curling up in someone's lap while you laze your time away sounds like a paradise

yuuji: at first, scooting you into his lap was just an easy way to keep you close while he had nothing else to do, arm secured around your waist while you either scrolled through your phone or talked to him about your day, the mundane things he loved about you. but, as he soon found, you on his lap added the extra bonus of pressure! a sturdy weight and warmth on his body, allowing him to relax and melt into you in those moments of silence shared between you two.

sukuna: lets just say you're lucky he's touchy at all with you. he'll tolerate surprise hugs or pecks on his shoulder, but the only physical touch he seems to ever enjoy is when you're slotted in his lap, free to touch and poke at whenever he pleases. you'd whine if he pinched your cheek, squawk if he pressed his nails into the meat of your thighs, glare at him if he groped your ass. all those lovely reactions are a fair trade for you scooting yourself into his lap and using his chest as a pillow, he deems

NSFW UNDER CUT!!! MDNI

⋆｡˚ ♡ cowgirl: save a horse, ride a cowboy seeing you take control is unbearably sexy. pivoting your hips up and down on their dick while your hands grip at their shoulders, or having their hands grab at your ass while you slowly grind down against them. either way theyre yours for the taking

ino: a loveable, yet irritating trait of your boyfriend, is that he struggled to fuck you again after a round. you couldnt blame him, with how fast and hard he pounded into you and how he'd always make sure to hit your sweet spots until you were spasming and cumming around his cock. but when you werent satisfied just yet, he spared no time lifting you up into his lap, eagerly offering his cock for you to use as you pleased. and really, how could you pass up an offer like that?

getou: why should he have to do the work when you look this good riding him? his eyes never leave yours while you're bouncing in his lap, the slap of your skin against his backing up your huffs and whines of pleasure, looking at him so pitifully when he backs his hips down out of you. "you want more? come on honey, work for it. thaaat's right, move your hips just like that f' me" he'd egg you on so sweetly, smiling at your pout while you spread your legs and angled your hips to take him deeper inside

⋆｡˚ ♡ doggy style: nasty mfs who live for seeing your ass jiggle with every thrust or slap they give you. the way your tiny waist arches down and your chest is pressed flat against the sheets while they're pounding away at you is unbeatable to them

yuki: behind every woman with a big ass is an even bigger strap, and yuki is the prime example of that. she loves to fuck you in front of a mirror in this position too, cooing at you for being so good at taking her dick while fucking you with aimed precision, making you look at yourself while shes thrusting deep inside you. its enough to make you melt into the sheets and wail at the onslaught of pleasure going through your body, but dont worry, she still has so much more to give you

⋆｡˚ ♡ against the wall: can you say desperate? they love this position so much, sloppy makeouts that lead to pinning you against the nearest surface because they feel like they'll die if their lips leave yours for even a second

gojo: call him a showoff, because its true. in this position, he can show you just how small you are compared to him, size and strength wise. bouncing you up and down on his cock until your pretty head doesnt work anymore, seeing your eyes oggle his flexed arms and the space where he was fucking up into you. this paired with fucking you inside his office? his dick has never been harder. the thought of someone hearing how good youre getting fucked, coupled with your horrible attempt at muffling your cries and moans makes him so fucking turned on

shoko: shes a true switch, which means its a toss up for whos gonna be on the wall in this position. it all depends on her mood, and who shes had to deal with today. if it was a slow day at work, she'll happily make out with you and grind her knee into your crotch against the door of your apartment for as long as she pleases. though, if her day was more hectic, shes not so subtly grinding herself onto your lap and pressing her fingers into your mouth, sighing woefully about how stressed she is until she expectedly pulls out her fingers, waiting for you to offer yourself to help her

⋆｡˚ ♡ 69: they love the competitive-ness of this position. being able to grab your hips and shove them down onto their flat tongue, getting harder when they can feel how much you're struggling to focus from their mouth. but when you grind down into their mouth while bobbing your head on their cock? hooh

toji: hes so mean when he has you like this.. ruthlessly bucking his hips up into your tight and wet throat, sloppily licking and sucking at you and twitching at the feeling of you gagging when he hits the back of your throat. you can barely move your head, your brain getting fucked out by toji's tongue and lips expertly taking you apart piece by piece. you never lasted long when he had you like this either, much to his delight. eagerly lapping up your cum while you moaned and hopelessly squirmed in his grip felt better than any orgasm hes ever gotten, though your throat comes at a very close second

nanami: nanami can at times forget this position is for the both of you, with how into it he can get. hes good about it at first, groaning into you from the way your tongue licks and swirls around his thick cock. but the more he tastes you, the more ravenous he gets with his sucks against you, licking up any stray wetness that threatens to fall down your thighs as the pace of your sucking slows and breaks. you can try to lift your hips away from his tongue, but good luck with that. the grip he keeps on your thighs is near impossible to break, even if your an orgasm or two deep into the session

⋆｡˚ ♡ mating press: whispers of them others name falling right into their lips as their hips rock into you, thighs pressed tightly against your chests and your legs shaking on top of their shoulders. the closeness of this position never fails to rile them up, allowing them to see every little face you make, and hear all those noises they fuck out of you

sukuna: youre helpless underneath him, and thats the way he likes it. you can barely move around when his large, muscular frame is pinning you plush against the sheets of your bed, arms forced to clumsily hold onto his shoulders as he fucks you so deep, so harshly that you choke on your own breath from the power behind his thrusts. "sssuku-na, please, too mm-! is' toomuch, oh" your pleads fall on deaf ears, his thrusts never faltering nor easing up with their intensity.

choso: he honestly thinks he'll die if he isnt pressed up against you while hes fucking you. it all feels so intimate when hes got you with your legs bound to your torso from his chest, his thighs holding your body steady while hes all up in your guts. he feels so wonderfully deep inside you like this, hardly able to get out a full sentence from the way you squeeze and milk his long cock, crashing his lips into yours as tears start to well up in his eyes from how good it all feels

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk fanfiction #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #ino x reader #sukuna x reader #geto x reader #yuuji x reader #megumi x reader #nobara x reader #shoko x reader #toji x reader #maki x reader #inumaki x reader #yuki x reader #yuuta x reader

[24hlevi]

— ethereal

okkotsu yuuta (jujutsu kaisen) x gn!afab!reader

genre: smut

summary: virgin!yuuta having his first time with you

warnings: language, nsfw, sub!yuuta, dom!reader, riding, creampie

minors do not interact

yuuta felt like he was about to pass out. not in a bad way. just because he could feel his heart beating out of his chest as you pulled his boxers down, sitting on the bed with you on your knees in front of him. he couldn't believe this was finally happening. out of the countless times he had jerked off alone to the thought of you, he was finally getting you.

"are you okay?" you asked him, gazing up at him with genuine concern after seeing and hearing his breathing pick up.

"y-yeah," yuuta stuttered, nodding his head. "i-i just don't know what you want me to do."

"you don't have to do anything," you replied. "just sit back and relax."

"okay," he nodded again.

you sent him a small smile as your hand gently wrapped around his cock, giving a few slow pumps and watching the precum drip through the tip. "awh, baby, are you this needy for me?"

all yuuta was able to do is nod his head, his eyes closing as soon as he felt your hand touch him, a small groan leaving his lips.

"don't worry, i'll make you feel great."

his eyes opened when he felt your free hand grab his shoulder, and his eyes went wide to see you suddenly straddling him. his eyes trailed downward to where your other hand was still holding his cock, and he let out a gasp when he felt his tip make contact with your wet folds. he opened his mouth to speak but fell short and instead was replaced by a soft moan when you slowly started to lower yourself onto him.

"o-oh my g-god," he whimpered, his eyes threatening to close again.

"look at me, yuuta."

yuuta immediately looked up at you when you said so, and he was worried you could feel his heart beating incredibly fast being this close to him. his jaw slacked open when he was fully sheathed inside of you, and his hands found your waist, gripping you tightly. your arms wrapped around his neck, playing with his hair in an attempt to calm him down.

"breathe, yuuta. we don't want you passing out in the middle of this, do we?" you cocked your head to the side.

"n-no," he shook his head. "please do something."

"okay," you nodded.

you slowly started to rock your hips against him, seeing how his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he let out a moan. his nails dug into your skin, but you didn't care much when he looked so pretty with the sweat shining off his skin and his hair sticking to his forehead.

you picked up your pace, pants leaving your mouth and whines leaving yuuta's, watching him fall apart under you. he thrusted up into you, resulting in you letting out a louder moan and pulling on his hair.

"ho-holy- oh my g-god," he leaned his head back and hit the wall behind him. "kee-keep going- god."

you were fully riding him now, his hands surely leaving bruises on your skin as he occasionally thrusted into you only to let out a whine and slouch again. you felt him twitch inside of you, and you looked down at him.

"are you close?"

"mhm," yuuta hummed, nodding his head feverishly. "i- where do you want me to-" he was cut off by a loud moan when you clenched around him.

"cum in me," you whispered into his ear.

"what?" he questioned with wide eyes. "a-are you sure?"

"yes," you panted. "cum in me, yuuta, please."

yuuta wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him as he thrusted up into you with a newfound need. his face was in your neck moaning into your skin before he cursed loudly, thrusting up into you one more time and cumming inside of you.

he stayed buried deep inside of you for a few minutes, catching his breath before pulling away from your neck and looking at you.

"i love you," he mumbled.

"i love you too, yuuta."

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #okkotsu yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta imagines #okkotsu yuta #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta x reader #yuuta imagines #yuuta scenarios #yuuta smut

[faeryarchives]

Stay with me (Leona Kingscholar x GN!Reader)

Summary: You know how your lover, Leona couldn't care less if he lost his belongings - jewelries, clothes or money because he could just replace them all. But one thing he will selfishly keep to himself is you. note: there will be a prequel to this work 👩🏻‍⚖️ + in this imagine all yuu's up to chap 3 are mentioned !! recent fics: more than words & heartslabyul with a furina-like female reader!

It was a known fact to most people that Leona didn't really care for any material value. And you, of all people, couldn't care less if he lost one of his belongings - jewelry, clothes, or even his money because he could replace them all. Living life as the second prince of Sunset Savanna has its perks, but honestly? Leona wouldn't even bat an eye at it because he longed to be recognized and prove that even if he was only the second prince, he was a worthy leader regardless of his method.

Deep down, Leona also loved and craved something - the one he would fight tooth and nail to reach, even if it was out of bounds or everyone saying how it was impossible. That one happened to be you, the standing older siblings to the students living in Ramshackle Dorm, despite having opposite views from each other. 

"Leona, come on. I told Yuuka that I am not staying over Savanaclaw today!" Leona lay down on his side, your back pressed against his chest. Hands gently pried the clingy lion with arms around your waist and his head nuzzling your shoulder. As if his arms weren't enough, his tail wrapped itself around your leg comfortably as the two of you stayed in the comfort of his bed. 

"And Yuuta asked me to taste some of his food later. It's not like I would be gone for a week."

"Denied. He has Herbivore #1 & #2 with him, plus their idiot friends. Stay with me instead."

"What did I deserve to end up with a clingy boyfriend like you?" You grab hold of his cheek and playfully pinched it and instead of getting angry - seeing your brows knitted tightly together and lips puckered in a pout made the lion laugh.

"Didn't you say something else when you confessed to me?" You could feel his chuckle rumbling on your back despite you wearing one of his thick hoodies, and hearing him right next to your ear sent shivers down your spine. "Would you like to remember what you said?"

"... that's embarrassing already." Leaning back into the warmth of his arms, you covered your eyes with his arm from the light of the sunset and sighed. "This isn't fair. You are still holding it against me!"

'it's because I want to hold on to your promise.' While you keep trying to get out of his grasp, your words go in from one ear to another as Leona looks at you, lost in his own world. You two were opposites when you first met, but an invisible magnet pulled you together, and Leona isn't a firm believer of fate.

"... you like me?"

"Ah, if you don't like it. Just pretend this didn't happen."

"No, wait! It's just that ... I know I am less rich or smart than most people here. I can't even use magic, for goodness sake! You are so out of my league. How can I stand next to you?"

"It doesn't matter because I like you because you are you."

"Leo, are you going to let me go now?" By the time he was brought back to reality, you were facing him with a worried expression as you held his cheeks in your hands. Leona felt drawn into your gaze, an irresistible force pulling him closer to the love he'd been seeking all his life.

"Is this okay?"

"It's more than okay. I don't need anything - I just need you, and you can have all of me."

"... don't hesitate to take me away."

"Why are you making me look like an obssessive crush?"

With one swoop, the lion covered both of you under his covers and held you closer to his chest, his chin resting above your head. 

"Nah, the herbivores can take care of themselves. Just stay with me." Everything fell silent after that, and Leona couldn't help but smirk in victory when he felt you relax in his hold - accepting your defeat.

"I hate you."

"I love you too, (Name)."

Leona doesn't care about anything of material value, but he will always care for you, the one who taught him how to love.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst imagines #twst scenarios #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #faeryarchives #twst leona #twisted wonderland reader #twst x reader #twst fluff

[banjjakz]

convection currents ; yuuta x GN!reader

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?” God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you. “Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.” 

word count: 7.6k

warnings: horizontal hanky panky, obsession, possessive tendencies, unhealthy relationships, codependency, semi graphic descriptions of violence, major character death

‪♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

likes + reblogs appreciated!

Yuuta wants to like you. 

And he does – like you, that is. He really, really does.

But there have been some moments that give him pause.

Don’t get him wrong! You’re sweet, kind, doting, attentive, and very clearly an anxious bundle of painful self-awareness. He finds comfort in the kindred connection between your loner spirits. Training is made infinitely easier when he steals a glance at the gentle flash of your sweet smile, the soft flutter of your hair in the breeze, the twinkle of your laugh, floating through the air as a windchime’s ephemeral melody serenades the breeze. Everything about you seems to be perfectly enveloped and embedded within his daily reality at Tokyo Tech; natural, easy, right. That is what it feels like, to be at your side. 

The budding affection between the two of you kicks his foolish, stuttering heart into overdrive. How long has it been, since the blood pumping through his veins was motivated by a sensation other than mortal terror? 

You make him want to envision a reality wherein he’s embedded into the fabric of the living, breathing world, rather than continue to occupy his perch as a pariah, perennially scapegoated to the periphery. 

Each sidelong glance thrown your way is accompanied by the erratic twitch of his clammy hands, as he tries and fails to pay attention during one of Gojo’s rambling, nonsensical lectures. The light in his eyes revives when you call his name. Innards undulating in and out of place, he tracks your body’s every movement, your muscles contorting fast as quicksilver during scrimmages, lethal and alluring all at once. 

These are some of the objectively positive aspects of his attraction to you; the things that pull him from his bed in the morning, calling to him like the abyss compels a creature of the night to rise from its coffin.

And then, there are the more…er, complex moments.

“Did you just come back from a mission, Okkotsu-san?”

Like today, for example. Yuuta had just arrived back on campus after a fun afternoon spent with Toge traversing around Tokyo, patronizing various cafes and konbinis. You were lingering at the entrance of the dormitory, back to the front door, effectively coming between him and his bed.

“Ah, no. I was with Inumaki. We were hanging out for a bit.”

“Where?”

“Just in the city…”

“What did you do?”

He stills, uncertain. “Um…that’s…”

“I’m sorry.” Your head ducks in shame, hiding your face from his quizzical glance. “It’s been hard adjusting to student life as a mid-year transfer. I keep up well enough in classes, and on missions, but I don’t think any of the other students like me all that much. Forgive me, Okkotsu-san. To be honest, I’m jealous of how easily you get along with Inumaki-san and Maki-san.” 

Of course. How could he assume anything different?

As a non-lineage sorcerer, you were haphazardly discovered by one of the senior sorcerers on a mission gone south and roped into the jujutsu world without prior knowledge of its existence. From a firsthand perspective, he of all people should be able to understand how isolating that must be.

Kicking himself for his judgemental first reaction, Yuuta forces his skeleton to release the tension it harbors. “No, don’t worry. Have you been sleeping well? Did you eat dinner?”

Sheepishly, you shake your head.

This is how he finds himself alone, with you, in a secluded alcove on the outskirts of campus. The afternoon has matured into a thick, syrupy evening, the sky bruised with a smattering of warm hues. You sit on the grassy bank as a pair, shoulder-to-shoulder, your union celebrated by the rhythmic thrum of the cicadas’ song. 

“Here, take it.” He offers you the last flavored onigiri leftover from his spoils of konbini adventures. 

You protest, waving your hands in front of you. “No, no, no. I’m fine with just a plain one. Please. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“Plain is my favorite,” he lies. “I don’t even like yaki.”

“...Then why did you have one in your bag?”

“Haha! That’s a great question! I don’t know!” Beet red, Yuuta scratches the back of his head. 

Out of mercy, and perhaps pity, you graciously accept the yaki onigiri. Munching in companionable quietude ensues for several minutes, as you both watch the sun impale itself on the dark horizon, bleeding out across the sky in dark, inky tones. 

Without sitting face-to-face, it’s easier to speak to you, somehow. The insistent pressure on his chest lifts long enough for some words of actual substance to slip forth. “It’s hard, the first year.”

You remain silent.

“My first year was hell, too. Although that’s probably because I was being haunted.” 

“By who?”

He blinks, your question knocking him off balance. Not by “what,” but by “who” had he been haunted? You’ve always been observant. This is why you’ve survived for so long. 

“Um, it’s a long story… I’ll tell you in full one day. For now, I’ll just say that there was someone very special to me when I was a child… and it was hard for her to let go of me, when push came to shove.” 

“Ah. I see.” 

Although August has yet to conclude, the air around him is significantly chillier than what is characteristic of Tokyo’s late-summer hazy heat. Yuuta shivers, pulling his knees up to his chin. 

“Yeah. But, um, anyways. If you need someone to talk to…to be by your side… I would like to be that person for you.” He utters your name like a prayer, too concentrated on not stuttering to be embarrassed at the earnest tremble in his voice. “I wish I had a confidante when I first got here. It would have saved me a lot of trouble.” 

“A confidante? But didn’t you have your friend?”

Your reply jolts him into looking at you. The expression on your face tells him that you truly mean it as a genuine inquiry. 

“Well, um. I was being haunted…and Rika – er, she didn’t really listen to me. She actually got a little overprotective, I think.” 

“Do you think she was evil?”

“No!” The denial explodes from his mouth before Yuuta can even fully process the nuance of the question posed. “No,” he repeats, at an appropriate volume, this time. “She was clingy, and protective, and possessive, and honestly violent, but she wasn’t evil. I loved her. I think a part of me always will.” 

Love? What is he doing talking to you, alone, at night, about love? How embarrassing. He hadn’t meant to say all that! 

Quickly, he stuffs his mouth with the remainder of his onigiri. No more talking. Just chewing. 

If you are perturbed by his sentimental ramblings, you show no sign of it. If anything, your face remains impassive, serene, undisturbed like the surface of a tranquil pond. 

“You loved her for that, then. Was she haunting you if you were in love?”

After he finishes choking down the final, sticky remnants of his dinner, Yuuta frowns, mulling over your words which are heavy by the virtue of their implication, yet hang and sway in the air as an empty noose dangles from the gallows. 

“...I don’t know.” Yuuta says, at length. “That’s what I was diagnosed with when I came here. And it was hard for me to function, back when Rika was still here. I didn’t have any friends. And people close to me got hurt a lot.” 

“It sounds like she was always trying to protect you… even when you were apart. I only wish one day, I find someone who would have the capacity to care for me like that…”

“You want that?”

“I do.” Not an ounce of hesitation in your firm, forthcoming reply. “I’ve spent my whole life as something worth less than notice or acknowledgement. Always feeling invisible, never having anyone – not even one person – who cared about me. Up until this point, I’ve lived life wanting to die every day.” 

For lack of a better reply, Yuuta simply asks: “What changed?”

“...I met you, Okkotsu-san.”

Oh, wow. 

It’s kind of funny – where other people describe feeling hot, Yuuta has always been chronically, terminally cold. Your words induce a rapidly onsetting deep-freeze which permeates every layer of his skin, every molecule of his bones, every wretched atom of marrow lying dormant inside of him, all of it, every fiber of being rooted to the spot in an indescribable emotion. 

“I–I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.” 

That’s wrong. “No, you didn’t! You didn’t, I swear. Just… um, I’m also a person who is lonely, like you described. So I’m not used to, err, being, ah, important. To people? I guess?”

“Oh… I see.”

Clearly, the higher function of critical thought has abandoned him; this is the only explanation for how he reaches to grab your hands, sending the half-eaten yaki onigiri tumbling down to the dark earth beneath your anxiously shifting feet. He squeezes you, tightly, and is delighted in a morose sort of way to find your digits even colder than his. 

“Let’s teach each other. How to be important to someone else.”

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?”

God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you. 

“Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.” 

;

Field missions have been a part of his daily life as a sorcerer since the day he arrived at Tokyo Tech. Battle has always been challenging for all the obvious reasons, but never before has Yuuta had to deal with the added hardship of fighting alongside you.

This, of course, is not meant to imply that you aren’t able to hold your own; on the contrary, your physical and cursed prowess has granted you the rank of semi-special grade despite this being your first year enrolled in any kind of formal jujutsu schooling. Your cursed technique is innate to your personality and sensibilities, which helps. But even if that weren’t the case, you would still be one of Tokyo’s top-performing students.

Missions are difficult because, despite all of this being true, Yuuta is powerless to curb the instinct to protect you during fights.

It manifests in small ways, at first: insisting to be paired up with you for assignments, always volunteering to partner up when splitting from the larger group during an investigation– things like this. 

His behavior starts to stray into problematic territory the longer he is allowed to get away with it, unchecked.

“After Ijichi casts the veil, we’ll sweep the building. Inumaki and Yuuta, you two take the upper levels. We’ll do the bottom half,” orders Maki, gesturing between you and herself.

Immediately, Yuuta objects. “No. I’ll do the bottom half. You and Inumaki should go up together.”

“What?”

“I have a phobia of heights,” lies Yuuta, shamelessly. “It will impact my performance.” 

“I have literally never heard you talk about being afraid of heights before.”

“Shake sushi,” agrees Inumaki. 

You remain silent, pupils trembling, bottom lip severed between your teeth in a display of bashfulness reserved only for Yuuta’s blatant favoritism, which he wields frequently, in hopes to catch a even a single glimpse of you just as you appear now. 

“I’m self-conscious about it,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Thank you both for understanding.”

“Wait! Okkotsu, we didn’t–”

And with that, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you away with him, sprinting into the abandoned love hotel before Maki or Inumaki can prevent you from absconding. 

The two of you are laughing, tickled as usual at the effects of pissing Maki the hell off. Consequences will rain down in due time, no doubt, but for now, it feels best to bask in each other’s presence. 

Once through the front door, Yuuta halts to an easy jog, guiding you past the cobweb-covered front desk, around the decrepit scraps of the once-ostentatiously decorated lobby, all the way to the far back corner, where a solid, heavy metal door obfuscates the emergency stairway. 

“Oh, it looks jammed… Should we–”

Your stumped musing is cut off by the ricocheting cacophony of Yuuta’s boot violating the door. The metal itself bends and warps, caving in on itself in a hurry to make way for the unstoppable force of the sorcerer’s impassioned blow. He didn’t have to activate any cursed energy.

“Let’s go!” Chirps Yuuta, cheerfully. 

In another context, maybe, it would be appropriate for his pulse to spike, for his hands to clam, for his breath to quicken, at the prospect of being alone with you. However, the reality of the current situation is that Yuuta is dragging you down into some dark, unknown depth, where neither of you will be disturbed. As you descend the concrete flights, visibility is increasingly hard to come by, and this, too, excites Yuuta. He is now forced to rely more heavily upon his other senses, which naturally prioritizes the scent of your sweat; the sound of your rabbit-paced heartbeat; the feeling of the paper-thin skin of your inner wrist; the taste of his own desire. 

The cursed spirit they’re looking for has been wreaking havoc on the surrounding commercial strip, to the point where several businesses have had to draw their shutters in the wake of the love hotel’s primary foreclosure. Evidently, recurring, unresolved muder-suicides did not bode well for business. 

“Um…if we’re supposed to be searching for the curse behind all of the couples’ deaths, shouldn’t we be looking in the bedrooms?”

Your voice echoes, tinny, in the thick, humid air of the emergency stairwell. They haven’t hit the bottom yet. 

“Eh, maybe. This doesn’t feel like that kind of case, though.” 

“Huh? How do you figure?”

Although moving swiftly, at the speed of light, your footfalls make barely a whisper against the aged concrete steps. Still, it’s enough for Yuuta’s hypersensitive ears to pick up on. Deprived of the sight of you, he drinks in the intimation of your existence, greedily. 

“Heat rises,” he says, slowing pace as they approach what can only be the door to the boiler room, which has been left ominously ajar. “Cold sinks.” 

“...Um, I’m not sure I follow.”

Stealthily, he slithers inside the slender crack between frame and the door itself. The angle of its opening doesn’t even waver. He pulls you along with him, replying as he moves, “Crimes of passion carry a kind of hot, frenetic energy. Panic, impulse, instinct – all of those things have lots of, hmm, friction? Like an explosion. Really hot at first, dangerously hot, and then it fizzles out into nothing.”

Unfamiliar pieces of enormous machinery tower in the dark. As much as you are able to while crouching so low to the floor, you take care not to trip over any errant pipes.

“So this isn’t a hot curse?”

“No,” Yuuta confirms. “The curse–” murder-suicides in a love hotel, how on-the-nose could it be? “–is premeditated by nature. Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice.” 

He stops short. You would’ve crashed straight into his shoulder blades if he weren’t painfully cognizant of your whereabouts at all times. He preemptively steadies you on your feet before you can even begin to stumble.

“At some point in this building, someone,” says Yuuta, quietly, as he cautiously eyes the opaque blackness before them, “spent a lot of time thinking about their beloved.” 

“How can you tell?”

“Cold sinks,” Yuuta repeats. 

Violence explodes, seemingly, out of nowhere. The curse attacks all at once, aiming perfectly towards you as though it had been lying in wait, stalking your every move. Yuuta always takes point whenever you pair up together, because he always insists on taking the first hit. It is this presupposition that leaves you wide open, vulnerable for attack from behind. 

“Yuuta!!” You shriek, desperately dodging the grotesque appendages reaching out to you. Your body hits the floor just seconds shy of what would have been a gory fatality. 

When you lift your head to identify the exact form of the curse, you still in uncomprehending terror. 

“...Yuuta?” 

How can this be?

Not even seconds prior, Yuuta had been a whole, living, breathing, intact person, guiding you as solidly as your own personal anchor. Why, then, does he appear to you now as a corpse, brain matter spilling down his temples, bloated limbs belying days of decay, flesh pale and tender and loose around the bone. 

No, no, no. Had you been too late? Had the curse gotten to him first? Are you next?

Despair fills you, overflowing your sensibilities with the intrusive desire to rid the world of your miserable existence. How could you have let him slip through your fingers? How could you be expected to return to any semblance of a life, with Yuuta gone? You don’t deserve a future without Yuuta – you don’t even want to imagine one.

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

Cursed energy welling within you, threatening to tear you apart at the very seams, you are about to implode with all the conviction of an abandoned lover– but a familiar, desperate cry of your name halts your ministrations.

That was Yuuta’s voice calling out to you.

But there he is, lying before you as nothing more than a desecrated body.

Unless…?

Yuuta calls your name again, sharply, this time in a tone adjacent to something scolding. The fear of disappointing Yuuta outweighs all else. It’s enough to snap you back to reality, to clear your clouded faculties and reveal to you the real Yuuta, who stands on guard just a few paces away, living, breathing, sweating, crouching, preparing for action.

“The curse,” he calls, eyes never leaving the thing in front of you. “It’s the curse. Don’t worry, it’s not real. You’re alive.”

“I’m alive?” You parrot incredulously. “That’s your corpse over there!”

“...Huh? My corpse? But I see yours–” He cuts himself off, face going eerily blank. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Close your eyes. Don’t flinch.”

In your defense, you try your best.

Remaining sightless and motionless is difficult as the rest of your senses are inundated with the disgustingly explicit soundtrack of slaughter. The sound of flesh forcibly sliding apart on the edge of Yuuta’s cursed katana is familiar, at this point, but no less gut-wrenching to bear witness to. When he deals the final blow, the evidence sprays all over the front of you, drenching you from head to toe in what should be the curse’s blood.

And yet, the liquid is frigid. Like you’ve been assaulted by the waves of the cruel, immortal sea. 

“You can look now.”

Hesitantly, your eyes flutter open. You’re met with the sight of Yuuta, also covered head to toe in the viscous liquid produced by the corpse’s demise. Now that the exorcism has been completed, the preternatural heaviness is lifted from the building. But still, you struggle to breathe.

“Why didn’t you let me fight?” Something horrible announces itself, crowing from an ugly, dark corner of your mind best kept away from public view. “Was I going to slow you down?”

He sheathes in katana without sparing the gory weapon another glance. The space between your bodies is quickly extinguished, as Yuuta crosses the space in a matter of heartbeats. Blood roars in your ears, drowning out all which does not consist of Yuuta’s fixed gaze, Yuuta’s shaky breath, Yuuta’s pallid, sweaty skin, Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta.

“No.” 

A large, wet palm meets your cheek. The soft squelch should be repulsive. Your stomach flips for entirely unrelated reasons.

“Why do you think all those murder-suicides happened?”

The question catches you off guard, but you answer, nonetheless. “The curse.”

“What do you think the curse made people see, for them to do something like that?”

You want to ask what the hell this line of questioning has to do with anything, with the mounting intensity in his stare, with the firm hand on your face, calloused thumb rubbing miniscule half-crescents into the crux of your jaw where the bone and flesh is pliant and breakable, could crack open like the shell of a creature already cooked alive, prepared to be split open for gluttonous consumption–

And then, rudely, the memory of mere moments prior hits you:

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

“Oh,” you whimper, pathetically. “They see– the curse makes them see, um, someone special to them.”

“Not just ‘special,’” Yuuta corrects. From this close you can see the faint trail of blue-green veins spiderwebbing their way from his eyebags, metastasizing every which-way, just underneath his skin. “What is a curse?”

“The coalescence of negative energy secreted by human non-sorcerers.” You rattle off the elementary answer without second thought. 

“What kind of curse was this?”

The moisture evaporates from your mouth. “A cold one.”

“Why?”

“‘Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice,’” you mimic back. 

Although, your tone doesn’t quite replicate the self-assured way by which Yuuta had originally imparted the information. No, your voice shakes apart, just as disjointed as the rest of your body feels at this moment. 

“What did you see when you looked at the curse?”

He already knows. He wants you to say it. You want to plead for mercy, if only to savor the eroticism of begging for something you know will not be spared for you. 

“I saw you, Yuuta.”

The curse’s blood is bitter and cold, like soured juice, when it is thrust upon your tongue. Yuuta is uncaring of the gore coating the both of you, the time-sensitive nature of this mission assignment, the way your knees sway and buckle as the adrenaline begins to leak from your body, replaced by a new, even more exhilarating sensation.

Opaque darkness still shrouds the boiler room; and yet, it isn’t enough to prevent your souls from recognizing one another. Hands wrestle with buttons, fingers grapple with zippers, teeth gnash into flesh, and the two of you take each other apart not with the reckless abandon of lovers under the duress of a transient liaison; no, you are methodological, thorough, all-consumed by the well-marinated desire that has been fertilizing from the moment you first came into contact with one another. 

Yuuta throws you down to the floor and moves his body at a preternatural speed so that he beats you there, his hand cradling the back of your skull before it can strike the concrete. 

“I saw you too,” he huffs into your mouth. 

“You were d-dead…” The way you struggle to say the word is cute. You’re so fucking cute. God, he’s no better than a fucking curse. 

It’s impossible to curb the temptation to sink his teeth into your neck, eagerly feeding off of the intoxicating effects of your pained, thrilled squeal. “You weren’t,” he murmurs into the abused flesh, pressing a kiss where he’d just gnawed. “You looked close, but you weren’t dead.”

“...Huh…?”

Can you even think right now? Do you understand what he’s saying to you? How could you possibly grasp the implications of what is transpiring, right now, when you’re laid out on the floor, snow-angeling in the blood and guts and gore of a murdered curse, delirious off of a heady combination of lust and adrenaline and fear?

“You were just barely alive. On the edge.” He moans, rocking the hard line of his body into your own. “Do you know what you said to me?”

“Tell me.”

“You asked me to finish the job.” 

Back arching off of the grimy, gritty ground, every fiber of your being reaches out for the fingers that tear at the cloth of your uniform as though it is nothing more than some cheap costuming. “You know what? I knew it wasn’t the real you, when it said that. ‘S not like you.” 

He’s monologuing to himself, it seems. You are far beyond the hope of verbally communicating in anything other than your strained, hoarse whines. 

“You’d never ask me to do that. You’d stay with me until the very end, wouldn’t you?”

Desperately, hopelessly, you nod, your fingernails carving your intentions into the meat of his shoulders. When had his shirt come off? Did you do that? 

Are you the one tearing away the last bits of offending clothing, or is that him? Do you growl in stoked desire as he breaches your entrance, or does that inhuman noise come from the both of you?

When Yuuta is buried inside of you, he feels like he’s finally been laid to rest. There is the warm, comforting embrace often described as death – but instead of an eternal bliss found at the conclusion of his life, Yuuta is able to access this euphoria by burying himself inside of you. You are his headstone, his tomb, his coffin: all of you exists to house the death of all of him, and without him inside of you, you would live on in aimless unfulfillment, anxiously awaiting the day a beautiful boy will come to die under your care and linger with you in eternity. 

You are–warm, hot, burning up, self-immolating beneath his fingers. Every thrust forward threatens to scald his hips on your molten flesh. 

“Fu-fu-fu-fu-fu–” you stutter, body shuddering to life, rising from the ground, seizing and contorting in strange shapes as you struggle and fail to cope with the insurgence of pleasure coursing through you. “Yuu–ta–”

“Promise me.” 

“Wha–”

“Promise me,” he hisses, hands coming to your throat. “Promise you’ll stay. You’re too important to me, I c-can’t lose you too, hnnnnn–”

Promise you, I’ll never leave you, is what you are able to only mouth, breath and voice held captive in his unrelenting grasp. Because you cannot voice it entirely, you pour all the contents of your heart and soul into the sentiment. Fingers rising weakly to clasp onto his, you tighten his grip on your windpipe and take comfort in the drowsy haziness that cradles your consciousness. 

When he comes, he holds you to him like he’s afraid you’re going to crawl off and die somewhere else if he doesn’t keep you right where you are, crushed against, his shivering frame, so tightly bound to him that he can hear your diaphragm contract and expand, over and over and over again, each breath cut short by a wheeze or a sob. 

Through it all, he cradles you. Naked, bruised, and forever scarred from the sight of not-Yuuta’s rotting corpse, you cling to him and release your sorrows into the dark, empty abyss of the boiler room. 

Back and forth, he rocks your body, soothing your nervous system into an illusion of safety. There is no such thing as “safety,” not for jujutsu sorcerers – but together, with limbs intertwined as one, this is the closest you can come to fooling yourselves into hoping, one day, for a safe place. A safe person, even.

“Shhh,” he simpers, thumb swiping your cheek, which is damp from an unholy mixture of cursed blood, sweat, spit, and tears. “We’re together. It’s all okay.”

“T-together…”

“Yeah. Just you and me.” 

;

“You don’t think that’s an issue?”

“I’m not saying there isn’t an issue. But we should tread lightly, here. We don’t know what could happen if we interfere.” 

“If we don’t interfere, the newbie might die.”

“It won’t get to that point. I won’t let it happen. Oi, don’t blow smoke in my face. That’s unladylike.”

“Don’t lecture me on what’s ‘ladylike,’ cocksucker.” 

“Wow! That burns!” 

“Come here, I’ll show you what else burns.”

Lingering outside the door to the infirmary, you shift your weight from foot to foot, unsure of the appropriate course of action to take. Clearly, Gojo and Ieiri are in the middle of a conversation that is not meant to be heard by prying ears – not that you can make heads or tails of what they’re talking about, anyways. 

All you wanted to do was come see Ieri for your weekly check-up, as was customary following the love hotel mission. The adrenaline must have numbed your pain receptors in the moment, because as soon as you’d arrived back on campus, your entire body felt like you’d been through a grinder. 

You were kinda confused, at first, because you didn’t even engage the curse in combat. In due time, of course, you remembered what–or who–had actually bruised your ribs, broken your skin, sprained your joints, left you carrying the contours of his wanting.

Why were they talking about you dying, anyways? Yuuta saved your life. Nothing was going to happen to you as long as he was by your side.

“Hey.”

Jumping out of your skin has started to feel good, kind of. You look forward to Yuuta’s unceremonious greetings as he creeps up on you in silence, futilely waiting for you to detect his concealed presence. 

“H-hi,” you demure. Why are you shy? He’s been so far inside of you he practically fused into your skeleton. Blushing because he caught you unawares is ridiculous. 

“Aren’t you going to go in?”

Wondering how he knows what you’re here for is pointless. Equally as useless is trying to deduce how he was able to figure out your recurring appointment time. He’s Yuuta – it’s natural for him to acquire knowledge about you, as easily as one picks low-hanging fruit from a tree. 

“Umm, I think they’re talking about something.”

He frowns. “About what?”

You hesitate. Should you tell him what you heard? “Ah, I don’t know...”

“Are you sure?”

You remain silent, unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wants to bare your innards at all times, whenever Yuuta is around. It feels natural, like a rabbit’s cowering. On the other hand…

Somehow, the thought of telling Yuuta the truth–yeah, Gojo-sensei and Ieiri-sensei think there’s a chance I might die soon–would not end well for anyone involved. If there was something you truly needed to know, you’re sure your senseis would tell you. 

Right?

“Please trust me,” you whisper, only feeling a little guilty. You’re doing it to protect him. If something dangerous is going to happen to you, Yuuta shouldn’t be involved at all. He must live. You must make sure of it. 

Reluctantly, he acquiesces, although he insists on accompanying you to your check-up that week. Strangely, neither Gojo nor Ieiri seem surprised that he is here with you, and make no effort to question why. Yuuta is allowed to linger at your sides as Ieiri takes your vitals, reviews the status of your various injuries, and even holds your hand when she scans your cursed energy levels. Thankfully, you are on track to make a perfect recovery. 

In fact, not only are you replenishing the strength and ability that had been impaired during the love hotel mission–you are regenerating cursed energy at rates which exceed your natural capacities. 

When Ieiri relays this to you, Gojo, who has been lingering in the infirmary for some unknown reason (you suspect it’s simply to annoy Ieiri with his very presence) speaks up: “Do you know what that means, kid?”

“Um…” You start, nervous. Everyone’s eyes are on you. It feels like you’re under a microscope. “I’m moving up a rank?”

Gojo bursts into a fit of giggles, doubling over at the waist. “Wow, what an opportunist! Haha, maybe in the future, if your cursed energy continues to compound exponentially. I’m asking you about the cause. Any idea why you’re suddenly overflowing with power?”

“No.” Your answer is as truthful as it is anxious. 

“Typically, a dramatic increase in output like this only occurs after a Binding Vow. Make any life-or-death promises, recently?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, the way Gojo says it. You can tell because his crow’s feet dip down just far enough away from underneath his blindfold that you can tell whenever he smiles with his eyes. And he is smiling, after he cracks the joke. You’re also able to intuit when he stops smiling, as the depressions on his face smooth out into a careful blankness. You are thirty seconds too late to the punchline. Instead of laughing along, you remain damningly silent, and Yuuta shifts uncomfortably at your side. 

“Okay,” says Gojo, clapping his hands. “Alright.” 

Although you’re fully clothed in your school uniform, it makes you feel chillingly exposed when what feels like all Six of his Eyes bore into the collection of dark marks ringing your neck in a brutal, makeshift collar. Those were not, in fact, the work of a curse. 

Yuuta fidgets with the flimsy paper lining the examination bed. You kick your feet like a child in time out.

“You owe me seven thousand yen,” Shoko deadpans. 

“Hey! Didn’t we say forty-five?”

“Don’t kid around.”

Am I in trouble? The terrified plea swells to the front of your mouth, begging to escape. You force the words to sit, stay, and curdle on your tongue. 

“Can we go now?” Asks Yuuta, uncharacteristically direct. 

Given the odd gravity in the room, you don’t expect Gojo’s easy wave of his hand, dismissing the two of you with a flippant hum. Not having to be told twice, you hightail it out of the infirmary, grateful to be released from the constant invasion of privacy and security that is a prolonged existence within the reach of Gojo’s Six Eyes. 

Finally alone once more, the training grounds are a welcome reprieve for you and Yuuta, who crash into the grass clearing hand-in-hand, heartbeats synced. 

“Did we make a Binding Vow? When we…you know…”

Yuuta’s voice trails off, lamely. 

“What if we did? Would you regret it?”

“Huh? No, of course not! It’s just…well–”

“Well, what?” 

“That’s kind of permanent,” Yuuta whispers, dark pools of obsidian sorrow holding your gaze in its cruel, captivating clutches. “And we don’t know what will happen if it breaks.”

For one second, the rawness of it hits you. Fear washes down your back, prickling your flesh, raising goosebumps, locking your spine rigidly into place. The two of you had certainly made a life-or-death promise, infused with cursed energy and blood and…other…bodily fluids. To inadvertently perform a Binding Vow meant that the sheer intensity behind both of your wills was purely, wholly devoted to the promise. 

Which is why you take a step closer to him, voice steady. “I didn’t make that promise with the intention to break it. Ever.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Don’t…you can’t be sure of that.”

“I am.”

“You won’t be able to guarantee it.”

“I will.” 

Familiarly calloused hands grab your shoulders, jostling you with charged intention. “You don’t get it! My favorite person in the whole world already left me once. If that happens again, I can’t… I don’t know…”

“Yuuta.” You don’t have to lay a finger on him for his entire body to stand at attention, drawing tall and taught, when you call his name. “I will never leave you, even if I die.” 

The ensuing kiss tastes like metal. 

Despite the passionate fervor with which he devours you, his mouth his cold, and his digits even more so as they dig into your cheeks, your throat, your waist, your chest, groping and pulling and kneading your flesh to loosen the rigor mortis that has arrested your willingness. 

“D-don’t, ah, make any m-more marks…” 

Your protest is, at best, unconvincing, the person least of all convinced being yourself, as Yuuta’s teeth and tongue on the tender flesh of your neck make you feel like you’re about to leave your body. “Hnng–Gojos-sensei already knows, I think.”

“Good.” He’s crazed, nipping and slurping at your sensitive soft bits like a man starved. “Let him know. Everyone should know. I shouldn’t even–” he kisses “–have–” he bites “–to say it–” he licks you in between speaking, as though it goes against the grain of his being to part ways with you for more than just a few jagged inhalations. 

The ground hits you hard, reprimanding you for your clumsiness with a firm impact on your backside. Yuuta pursues with haste, hands slamming down on either side of your head, ripping the grass in retribution. 

“Yuuta,” you hiss, hands flying to his dark mop of hair, trying to reel him back – in vain, of course. “We are outside. In the middle of the day. Anyone could walk by!”

“Don’t care.”

His eyes are glazed, half-lidded, pupils blown wide and deeply dark as a gunshot wound, uncaring of your anxiety as he attempts to dive back into you.

“Wait! What if someone sees me?” Now, he rears back. “I don’t want anyone else to see, Yuuta… only you get to see me like this.” 

Even the ants traipsing across the clearing stop dead in their tracks, rendered motionless, silent, at the abrupt onslaught of highly charged cursed energy that washes through every living and non-living thing within a five-mile radius. 

“Okay.”

Wordlessly, your world upends as you are thrown over a wide shoulder clad in spotless, wrinkled white. You’ve always thought it was funny – how Yuuta’s uniform never managed to permanently stain itself with any of the gore he frequently encountered, and yet, there was always a noticeable depression in the seams, ever-lurking, complicating the otherwise flawless expanse, evoking a sense of pity. 

Even when the shirt flies off, abandoned to crumple sadly in the corner of his bedroom, you can’t get its image out of your head. That spotless white. Those gleaming gold buttons dripping in iridescent rivulets down the front of the garment. Only within the intricate designs etched into their surface is one able to glean the barest hint of blood, staining the metal a pale crimson. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t notice it.

But you have always sought out his ugly, twisted parts. Even when he tries to hide. Even when he might duck from them himself. 

That’s okay. 

That’s why he has you. 

When he bites you so hard that the wound draws blood; when his palms squeeze around your windpipe so deftly that you lose vision; when pins down your bruised hips, ignoring their wriggling avoidance; when his unquiet nature makes itself known, eclipsing the carefully bashful performance he puts on for his peers so that he might be liked, or loved, even–that is when you feel most connected to him. That is when your affections burn brightest. 

And during the comedown, as he holds you close and rocks your brutalized body back and forth and back again, you are well aware that it is he himself who he seeks to soothe.

He doesn’t know, you realize, broken out of your post-coital mental haze with a pointed moment of clarity. 

Yuuta has no clue what lurks inside the haunted catacombs of his soul. 

What does it say about you, then, that his naivete only serves to further incense your want, smoldering like an inferno brewing at the base of a pyre, threatening to engulf your sorry corpse in entirety? 

;

As third year trudges on, instruction takes less time in the classroom, or on campus. More frequently, you find yourself out on missions from sun-up to sundown, running around Tokyo-to and even surrounding prefectures. The grades of the curses you go up against only increase with time, and so, to, does your proximity to mortal danger.

Through it all, Yuuta is present. Indignantly so. Despite your rank as a semi-special grade sorcerer, you have yet to embark solo on an assignment. The pair of you are one combative unit, at this point so intertwined in sentiment and instinct that rarely is it necessary to reach for verbal exchange while engaged in battle. It is as though the reserve of cursed energy you draw from is a pool shared between you, a combination of your innate abilities plus an additional overflow, supplied by the Binding Vow you had consummated all those months ago. 

So close are you, now, that Yuuta grows comfortable – confident, even – with your hold on his proverbial leash. These days, he is less neurotic when you inquire as to his whereabouts. Your prying questions provoke within him nothing other than a deep-seated sense of reassurance. He no longer doubts where he stands with you, as he once did when you were still a fresh-faced, mid-year transfer adjusting to life at Tokyo Tech. 

In retrospect, he recognizes that he should never have let his guard down.

It’s his fault, really. Entirely his fault. The extra strength provided by the powerful effects of the Binding Vow deluded him into a false sense of security. 

He shouldn’t have been so careless with your life. He shouldn’t have strayed so far from your side. He shouldn’t have let you out of his sight. He shouldn’t have left you alone, even if it was only for a split second–not even. 

Once again, he has failed to save the most important person in his life. Somehow, losing you is worse than losing Rika. He is no longer a child. He possessed both the skill and ability to save you. 

And yet, he had been absent in your time of need. 

The one time you’d been off on a mission without him. The one and only time. Principle Yaga’s sorry excuse was that the higher-ups found it strange that you, as a semi-special grade, had never completed a solo assignment. Apparently, your rank was being threatened if you refused any longer to display independent capability. 

Well. Now there’s no rank for you to claim, anymore. 

After news of your death reaches him, he roams campus like an aimless specter, as though he is the one who has been robbed of life. 

In a way, he has. Half of his being has perished. He limps, lopsided, dragging the phantom weight of your body with him wherever he goes. 

It takes a while to get used to the absence of your physical, living, breathing manifestation. As a fellow sorcerer, you have been wholly eradicated from the fabric of his reality. 

But as a spirit…?

Death is not enough to break a Binding Vow – this, Yuuta knows better than anyone. He retains his augmented cursed abilities, along with your presence. The two of you join once more in battle, as he summons you to protect and guard him in life as he failed to do for you. Your selfless nature has never been more clearly evident. Not a single call goes unanswered, not a single need of his unmet. 

Is this a haunting?

No, he doesn’t think so.

When the two of you had still been skittish and shy around one another, nothing more than a pair of innocently covetous children, you’d dared him to reflect on his relationship with Rika. What had been translated to him as a haunting, you reimagined as something more corporeal, something genuine, something worthy of gratitude, and love.

This is how he chooses to think of you – the both of you, together, still joined in perfect union. No matter the fact that you will watch him age, change, develop, and eventually die, one day, should he be so lucky. You do not haunt his waking hours. You do not terrorize his dreams.

You love him in a way that transcends the bounds of space and time.

He has not been cursed. Rather, he has been blessed with your unconditional love.

To earn true forgiveness, he must show you his, as well. You must occupy his every waking thought. You will invade his every intention. You are at the forefront of his mind when he rises with the dawn, and the memory of your breath against the shell of his ear whispers to him good night. You dress him. You urge him to sustenance. You machinate his combat. You heal his wounds. You wipe his tears when he sobs, alone, terribly alone, sobbing into his knees after each time the life of a friend meets a senseless, violent conclusion. 

You are still there when he wraps a rough, harried palm around his throbbing arousal, thrusting up into an elusive, now long-gone pleasure. You guide his hands’ journey across the hazardous dips and valleys of his rib cage, the grotesque concave of his stomach, the sharp blades of his hip bones. His skeleton threatens to crawl outside of his flesh. It yearns for something beyond this senseless cycle of bloodshed, grief, and rage.

 Never does he feel closer to salvation than when he is on the precipice of ecstasy, dehydrated, underfed, delirious, heart beating so fast that it limits his vision, his lung capacity. When he occupies this liminal space, it is not the brink of orgasm which he straddles. As he approaches climax, he yearns not for an explosion of wet heat, but for the euphoric embrace of a final ending: your arms around him once more, real, tangible, warm. 

Until then, he will trudge onwards. Miserably alive. Cold inside and out. Numb to physical pain, constantly inundated with the wounds inflicted on his spirit, his sentiments, his soul. 

Solace finds him in the fact that you committed to remain by his side, forever. How could he wallow in total despair when this remains true?

You chose this, after all.

You chose him.

You did. 

Didn’t you?

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