#Mahito angst

[dadsbongos]

possession

6.5 k words // warnings - suicidal ideation/tendencies, gore/blood + body horror (miscarriage imagery), vomiting, implied cannibalism, geographical errors, not beta read, you wear skirt, not in canon

summary - Grief is ugly, you knew that. The hole where your husband used to be just keeps growing until you can't take it anymore.

@ghostlykeyes i finally finished the possession fic!! like months after talking about it!!

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

You’ve seen the funny things that grief does to people. Your father refused to rise from bed for five days when your mother passed. Your kitten would search the house for her mother every day when the older cat was no longer around. Your aunt bleached her hair and moved to the states when her husband served divorce papers. Your baby cousin faked ill for a whole week when his dog ran away. Your best friend admitted that when her brother died, she drove far out to the country and parked over train tracks… She admitted that she waited for an hour before driving home.

Yes, you’ve seen the bizarre and stomach-churning behaviors that grief can bring out from a person, but you’ve never seen something like this. And the most stomach-churning thing about it, is that you’re the one behind this.

It isn’t someone else you can psychoanalyze or rant about -- it’s your hands settling over the chilly doorknob. It’s your hands twisting around the knob. It’s your guest room that’s occupied by this… thing.

You release the metal as its cold exterior burns a hole in your palm. You step back, and you stay away.

…

When you were younger, you liked to draw yourself far into the future. Where your crayoned head would scratch at the sky, and you would have a car with a lumpy hood and mismatching tires. And, of course, your very own house with a grand front door: a welcoming, circular window, and a lemony handle meant to be gold, and thick mahogany wood. You used to be embarrassed by the squiggly lines and uneven shades when your mother would keep and display the dog-eared pages, but Mahito would insist. Mahito pressed the contractors how dire it was that the entryway to your shared home matched your childhood depictions.

So how strange it is that Mahito’s mission partner and close friend, Kento Nanami, stands in this grand, gaping doorway with a firm downturn of his lips. Tingling wells from the bottom of your gut, tangling with your intestines and latching onto each rung of your ribs. Thick knots lodge in your throat -- your questions choking you. You swallow them. You spit them back up.

“How…?”

Kento blinks, honey eyes dripping to the floor and sticking there, “I can’t tell you.”

Chunks replace the words in your throat, spittle wetting the inside of your mouth. You try to suck it all back, suppressing the bile, “Can I see the body…?”

Kento shakes his head, hands curling into fists at his sides, “I can’t show it to you.”

“Is there anything you can give me?”

“I have nothing,” Kento mutters it, gaze finally flicking back up to your face, “Only my word.”

You’re uncertain of how to respond to Kento. Thoughts swiped off your brain, like a dreary mother clearing her counter of kitchen scraps into the garbage. There’s a thin film of powdery flour clinging to the surface, remnants of things you wanted to ask. Information you’d beg for. Details of the mission. The dreary mother blows hot air over the counter, scattering flour up into the air.

Kento reaches into his front shirt pocket, the azure material stretching around his hand. He pulls out a thin, bleached cloth with tattered edges and extends it towards you, “Well, I do… have this.”

It was once purple. The shade of sweet raisins. It was once part of his uniform.

“It was all I could grab,” he watches your face as you focus on the cloth being pressed into your palm, “If you need company, or the house is too quiet…”

“I know, Nanami.”

You survey the cloth, it barely takes up your palm with a stretched, floss-like texture at each side. So worn the purple is churning into gray. Or is it marinated ash? Or dried curse’s blood?

“I’m here for you.”

“I know, Nanami.”

Kento sends himself on his way, stepping back from your doormat with dirt clots following after. He crunches over them again on his trek down the front steps. Your stained mahogany door clicks shut gently, golden handle nipping cold at your flesh. The sound of the lock sliding into place echoes through your home’s foyer.

Mahito’s frayed uniform strip is rough in your hand. Slim. Thin. Hardly protective at all.

Just as the door shutting, and the lock pinning it, your gasp makes rounds through the empty house. Quiet. It’s already too quiet.

You used to like that. Peace away from Mahito’s missions and cursed humans and terrible spirits and even…

Gaze falling across the vase displayed on a frail, dark wood end table, you’re suddenly overwhelmed with contempt. Every bright sunshine sheen and painted pastel flower petal aches like a knife in your back.

As you lift the ceramic vase, it’s thunking off the table fills your ears in the silent house. Too big. Too quiet. You hurl the decorative vase into the farthest wall and cringe at how overbearing the song of its shatter is. After the offending art piece is out of sight, the cloth in your free hand regains sensation. You can feel the tile under your feet again. You can hear the birds chirping outside like there’s something to hope for this spring.

Legs shaky and thighs burning from the stress, you rush towards the vase’s new graveyard and cradle the shards you’re certain won’t tear your hands apart. You feel your heart burn a hole through your chest. Its fire blares and feeds until the hole extends far into your viscera. Guilt seeps into place -- molding around your organs to keep them from collapsing into each other.

Kento’s gift vase is scattered around your knees. And you cry into the pieces you hold.

When the only surviving shred of Mahito cannot dry your face, you cry harder.

…

“I don’t know when,” you answer honestly. Shaking your head. Your nails rake into the stretch of skin over your thighs. So sharp it's as if you’re ripping right through your tights, but you don’t hear the telltale popping of fabric.

Though it’s louder in your boss’ office than at the house. That, you suppose, is one good thing here.

“I understand,” she nods slowly, hands folded calmly over her steel desk. A glass vase, tinged like precious jade, holds white lilies. You think they used to be yellow. You wonder when they changed, “Take your time. And drive safely, please.”

Wallowing eyes trail after you. Shame bleeds into that guilt pothole inside you as your coworkers watch you exit the building. For what, you couldn’t answer reasonably. Because, reasonably, there is no cause for such shame. You’re unfit to return to work. Your boss sympathizes. Yet, you feel that humiliation of eyes squinted and narrowed and curious all the same. It doesn’t sink when you’re in the parking lot, nor when you climb into the driver’s seat of your car.

You never liked taking public transport without Mahito to keep you company. And even then, he would often drive you home when he wasn’t sent away with work.

So you needed to adjust the seat upon initially settling in.

The memory of your clueless fiddling, unfamiliar with the layout of your own vehicle, makes your hands shake against the wheel. Your knuckles twinge at the stretch, and perhaps when you release your grip the leather of the steering wheel will have left indents. Your foot feels heavier than it used to, you think it drags the gas pedal down.

Surprisingly, the road is not clogged with cars. Vast asphalt paints the scene ahead, lined by inactive streetlamps and sagging telephone cables. You and the road.

You could let your foot sink. Find out how far down the pedal goes. You could ease the tension in your hands and let the steering wheel go altogether. You could turn on the radio and fall into a blissful, noisy sleep.

Slowly, you slip a hand off the wheel and reach for the radio knobs, slowly swerving the dial far right. You leave that hand off the wheel. Your foot slumps into the gas and your car jolts down the road. Waning wires transition into beams of black rod separated by blurry lamps. Tires jerk to the left and your heart bumps out of your skin, you now notice how unsteady your hand remaining on the wheel is.

But peeling that hand away seems impossible. No matter how you lift or pry, as though you’ve been suction sealed to the leather. A weight pressing your final tether firmly into the real world.

Your foot lightens on the pedal until you’re below the speed limit, and you return both hands to the wheel before gliding it over and off the side of the road. Between two street lamps, your car rests -- you keep the radio high. Better that than droning silence occasionally interrupted by birds and crickets wailing for carnal attention.

With the car immobile, you’re left to stare across the clear azure sun. As spotless as it had been days before Mahito left, and, perhaps foolishly, you’d taken that as a good omen. Now it just burns your eyes, leaving you to blink back welling tears: the tears do not stop, though.

No matter how hard you blink, they will not stop.

…

You no longer eat at the table. A shame because it was crafted by hand at Mahito’s pocket’s expense, but everytime you eat there you think of that fact. And you think of breakfasts ruined by his crude humor. And you wish you hadn’t let such minuscule words dictate those mornings. So, to avoid that chain of thought, you consume your measly meal at the kitchen island in the dark. And in the trash can immediately to your left is a crumpled sheet from your calendar -- the month of May.

(You’ve discovered your days go smoother this way.)

A collection of harsh thuds vibrate against the kitchen counter. Masamichi Yaga’s stern face igniting your screen, underneath are two buttons; one ruby and one emerald. Having never been a sorcerer yourself, the only reason Yaga ever had your phone number was for trivial matters. Occasionally, he’d use it if Mahito hadn’t answered his own phone. A sharp sting eats away even more of your insides at the thought. So, you swipe the ruby button.

You decline Yaga’s call.

Stubbornly, he redials your number. Again, you decline.

He calls again, so you decline.

He calls once more, so you decline.

When he calls for the fourth time, you blindly throw your phone through the kitchen doorway. The absence is bliss for a short-lived second before the silence is interrupted by a bang and shatter. You jerk against the counter, hesitation anchoring you there for longer than the quiet’s lifespan before you explore the living room. Finding your phone’s grim resting spot takes no effort.

It’s surrounded by ceramic that glints in the few, thin ribbons of sunlight poking through your slatted windows. Shards you should’ve picked up weeks ago, but the shame of having an unkempt home fails to inspire any cleanliness. You merely retrieve the cracked phone (screen flickering with a pale greenish glow at the bottom) and ignore the jagged pieces.

…

3:34PM

“What even happened?” Utahime cradles your extended hand between hers. Thin, cardinal lines are split into the delicate skin of your fingertips. Some are lighter in color, and some are much, much darker. She frowns and curls her fist around yours as if to melt the wounds back together with the warmth of her palm.

“My screen’s broken.”

Her deadpan stare slackens as soon as it arrives, she bites her tongue and quietly sighs through her nose, “I know that. I meant: how did your phone even break?”

Slipping your hand out from her grasp, you pick up the display phone to your right. Roughly the same size as your current one, but a cursory glance at the tag confirms it’s a (moderately) more recent model. Therefore, apparently, it must be double the price.

Before you can replace the phone on its stand, Utahime snags it without so much as a glance at the price, “I’ll get it for you. Save your money.”

“I hope that’s not pity.”

“You’re my friend,” she insists, but her words don’t make you feel any better, “So was Mahito.”

You nod slowly. Her oxblood eyes linger over your face, the attention spurs nausea gurgling through your throat. Saliva wells along the velvet walls of your mouth, throat burning, “What?”

“Are you sleeping well?”

“Yes,” you blink away the faint throbbing in your stressed eyeballs, turning your head away towards the front of the store, “Yeah, I’m fine, don’t… just buy the phone, if you’re sure you want to.”

“‘Course I am,” she hushes herself, solely to avoid frightening you off. Like you’re some abandoned kitten soaking in a cardboard box under rain, “I can always come over, too.”

“Utahime.”

“I’m sorry.”

You let it go rather than try explaining the sore, tender, exposed nerve away. You cannot fathom how you would even begin telling her that you don’t sleep in your bed anymore. And, furthermore, you don’t wish to share the couch. Can’t even consider the notion.

Utahime bites her tongue harder.

5:30AM

The digital clock sitting beneath your television has lighting like olive’s skin, making it easy to stare at even in the pitch black of your living room. Without the hum of the air control, your dismal little makeshift sleeping quarters are even more still than in the day. Silence makes it hard to sleep. Thinking about how little you’re sleeping makes it harder to sleep. Thinking about how Mahito would usually wake you in two and a half hours for breakfast before he went to work made it impossible to sleep.

Maybe, if you squeezed your eyes tight enough then you could slip into an alternate timeline where you get to rest in your own bed. And after breakfast at 8:30, there is the shopping excursion to a marketplace you two frequent at night when he gets home. He likes to carry your bag.

But, oh, you will have to go alone in this timeline, won’t you?

And, oh, everyone will ask where your Mahito is, won’t they?

Sweetly, they will tease that he’s making you carry all the groceries home. Curiously, they will titter about his whereabouts. You will be forced to answer.

Will you lie? Or would that be too pathetic?

The alternate timeline is making your head hurt. The pit inside you gnaws further on its surroundings until you’re sure that your entire stomach is swallowed and torn and burned into sickness. You open your eyes again.

5:31AM

…

With how mousy your appetite has been lately, you barely notice when the back of your pantry becomes more apparent than its contents. Utahime, you’re sure, would be giddy to run such a tedious errand simply because it would mean that you’re still alive and capable of speech. Her current location across the country in Kagoshima argues back, though.

So you found yourself on the long trek to a new store with new faces at midnight on an otherwise abandoned railway. Nothing in the store roused much inside you, except for the ever-growing rot in your gut when you’re ashamed by how you wander to the alcohol. One of few things you’re certain you can keep down now is, ironically enough, wine.

You were never much of a drinker when-

You swallow hard and make for the selection of breads.

At least now you can hopefully rest in the night, however unorthodox the methods may be.

Does it matter at all? When you really, truly think about it -- as long as you’re sleeping, does it matter what puts you there? With a full night’s rest, you could finally be motivated to look through the piling mail. Or return Yaga’s missed call. Or get more bountiful groceries.

Will it be from this new place? Or your usual?

You could be energized enough to go anywhere, you suppose.

Anywhere tomorrow. Moving forward and upward and without Mahito.

Do you want that?

Does it matter?

It’ll happen anyway. Time will move anyhow, your only real choice is whether or not to fight the flow. You can be without Mahito and struggle or be without Mahito and scrape by.

Either way, you will be without.

Until you die yourself, potentially decades from now.

And suddenly, you wonder what you will do when May comes. The thought brings you to a full stop. Your heels click their final echo in the empty train tunnel.

Nothing, you suppose.

When May comes… you’ll be at home. Maybe? Or work.

Yes, you have to go back to work eventually, right?

But you won’t have friends over.

But what if they insist?

Because they want to drink and play games and be loud, and you’re their friend and it isn’t like you have any other plans. So why wouldn’t you have friends over?

(It’s not like you’ll be getting married.)

Your shoulders go lax, the glass wine bottles rattle together like dice, the haphazardly packed bread is crushed. Your eyes refocus, the little stick figures of men and women and the arrows and the directions plastered on tall boards hit you. They don’t leave. Your gaze drifts to the tracks below.

(You could jump in.)

Why wouldn’t you have friends over? It isn’t as though anyone will have an important mission the next morning.

You blink. You can hear yourself breathe. It’s obnoxious. It’s too loud and too soft at the same time. You feel your heart pump between your ribs. You feel each fiber in your bag’s strap pull on the soft skin of your hands. Burning away at your flesh.

Mahito usually carried your bag.

Your shoulders jerk back to life, the wine bottles clink and the plastic wrap over your bread squeals for mercy. You stumble on the height of your heels. The fibers nip sharply at your tender fingers.

Your breath is too loud. You hold it. You need to breathe.

Your breath is too loud.

So you scream to cover the sound. You wretch your eyes closed, your hands tighten around the bag and it burns again.

Mahito never told you that holding the bag hurt his hands.

You double over, suddenly nauseous.

You open your eyes and stare down at where the bag peels your skin. There is no blood; you think there should be.

(You could make it so.)

You stumble back again, but this time, when you regain your balance you let the motion sweep you away. The momentum carries you in a circle and you stretch out your arms to swing the irritating bag into the wall at your side. You hear the glass clang and chip apart. You see the dark plum stains blossom along the bottom of the bag. You watch the wine pool and drool from the seams, but you cannot hear the droplets over the shuddering, ragged breaths you suck in. And each exhale rings out as more of a throaty, feral groan than human huffed dioxide.

Swirling the other way, you bang the remaining glass bottles into the wall again and when the grapes have soaked halfway up the bag, you find yourself grinning.

A groan is interrupted by a giggle.

So much for a warm buzz. Alone.

(Alone.

Home alone.)

The giggle stops suddenly.

Alone now. And alone tomorrow. And alone in a week. And alone in a month. And alone in May.

And alone after May, too.

The festering rot carving into your guts claws up and up and around until you fear that all of your meat has been shredded through. Tighter and tighter, even squishing high into the shell of your skull. Bubbling, the rot consumes until finally -- it bursts. A sharp cramping in your stomach that shoots through your hip bones and all down your thighs.

You harshly drag the bag up above your head before hurriedly slamming it back down. The scattered glass shards tink and crash, only faintly dulled by the squished loaf. The wine leaks onto the floor.

You watch it seep out and you watch how the fabric plops with a wet little splash as you release the handle. You watch it dribble out on the smooth, albeit spotty floor. It soaks into the grouts and rolls smoothly to the toe of your heels.

You watch it merge with another tinted liquid.

Red. Mulberry, almost.

Your fingers dip into the secondary substance, and you note how thick it is. Yet slippery. Tracing your fingers through the puddle, you find it leading to your ankles.

Heart thundering up into your throat, you graze your fingers up the divots of your socks and along the plain of your calf. The red liquid is pushed into your skin, smearing along the smoothness. You continue to follow the trail up to your thigh and under your skirt, your hand is enveloped by warmth as you finally make contact with the source.

Your underwear is wet.

Your fingers are shaking when you unveil them to your eyes, they are shaking and coated in that thick, yet slippery, red hue.

The puddle grows under your feet. The mulberry overtaking the grape.

You aren’t due. You don’t…

You don’t think…

No, you weren’t sick. You weren’t aching. You and Mahito

It isn’t

It isn’t, no, not at all

You aren’t due at all

Your nausea swells and the sound of your own hurried breaths is quickly overwhelmed in your ears by the sound of your blood. By the cinching, hard drum of your pulse.

Suddenly, your knees buckle and your hands lurch forward with the rest of your body -- shooting out to the ground to keep you standing. Jagged glass scratches through the material of your grocery bag, raised incisions slowly blooming red. Your mouth is hot, and wet. Too wet.

Your stomach squeezes, throat loosening uncomfortably. It stretches around nothing, and the roof of your mouth tingles unpleasantly. You belch. Your palms burn worse than your fingers now.

(This never would’ve happened if Mahito had carried the grocery bag.)

Your stomach tightens again and your jaw snaps open, throat squelching as a rush of bile gushes through. It lands in the mulberry-grape mix, tainting it with a murky, pale swirl. The scent burns your nose and sends you rocketing back onto your feet. You stumble for the third time in your heels, but this time you do not catch yourself. Floundering on uneven footing before slamming your back harshly into the wall at your side.

Another groan shreds your throat, dredging up more acidic fluid to the full of your lips. You spit onto the ground. You can hear your breathing mix with the push of your blood.

Mahito would’ve held an arm out for you. He would’ve taken the bag. He would’ve gone instead. If he knew what was bound to happen in this tunnel, he would’ve just gone instead and you would’ve insisted he didn’t go alone and he’d pretend to put up a fight before you both would have decided to stay in and he would sleep next to you through the night and he would be there again when you woke up.

The mulberry juice has trailed after you. Trail thickening as it heads for your twitching legs. Your socks are red and squishy in your heels.

Both legs now engulfed with the bloody trickle.

For a moment, you forget yourself. You bring your hands to your thighs and cup the inside softness, blood ponds in the wrinkled depths of your palms. You scoop the blood upwards, as if to shove it back; return it to its place and erase this terrible night altogether. Somehow that makes perfect sense.

All you succeed in is staining your skirt.

A sharp twinge spikes from the joints between your legs through your abdomen, it pulls a rippling scream from the base of your chest. You crumple to your knees, skidding them against the floor. The blood beneath you is cool and sticky, quickly overtaken with the fresh flush leaking from your underwear.

Your hands shake, previous cuts bubbling with crimson of their own, as you curl them into the material of your skirt. When you subconsciously twist your feet at the siege of pain, that squelch of blood filling your shoes infests your ears again. Fitfully, you kick out your legs, flinging off your heels, before tearing your hands down the sides of your legs and ripping off the bloody socks. In their wake, you sear your nails over your skin and the path continues to burn even when your hands return to your pelvis.

Briefly, you consider the possibility that you could be crushing your own bone under the hefty pressure in your hands. When another wrack of cramping wagons over your pliant insides, all concern is tossed aside.

Mulberry vines its way up your body, clinging to your skin.

And later in the night, when you’re scrubbing ruthlessly against your skin -- attempting in vain to rid yourself of this catastrophe, you will give birth in the guest bathtub. A pulpy mess of blood and muscle strands will writhe and wail for you by name. It will call to you with Mahito’s voice and you will run because the familiar warmth in your chest at his song is overwhelmingly horrifying.

Yet, when you sit against the closed bathroom door, you hear nothing. For a moment, you’re certain you hallucinated during a genuine emergency.

But you creak the door open again, just enough to get an eyeful of the cornish yellow room before slamming it shut. A malformed creature resembling the top half of a medical dummy is wrapped in lashing strips of steaming intestine and exposed muscle. You wretch and scramble out to where you’d haphazardly thrown your purse over the couch in your rush to the nearest bath.

Wisely, you call Utahime over the police.

It rings and rings and rings until it boops and beeps into voicemail. You dig for Yaga’s number, when suddenly you hear your name again. More clearly. More enunciated. More obviously him.

So, you let the phone slip from your palm and ignore how it buzzes loudly and beams with Utahime’s contact.

The golden glow seeping from under the closed bathroom door slices your home’s darkness -- it flashes over your skin and illuminates your fresh, changed socks. Sweeps over the hollow of your open palm against the golden knob. Which jiggles noisily under your unsteady hold, rattling in its socket. You can barely hear the sound of your name repeated, smoother. More careful.

Deeper. Kinder. Sweeter. Lovelier.

You squeak the door open, just barely pressing the side of your face into the crack to glimpse upon the creature in the tub.

Soft powder blue hair that stretches down to a pale, naked chest. One icy blue eye and one coppery fire. Clean face bisected both ways by silvery, glittering stitches -- otherwise unmarred. Blood splatters and hand print smears still decorated the rim of the bathtub. You’re sure there’s a draining pool of crimson at the bottom, too.

But there’s Mahito.

He grins at you. His right front tooth sits slightly over the left, just like you remember. And he has an unnerving lack of dimples, like you remember.

“Are…?” you squint your eye into the bathroom -- the old bulbs buzz vaguely overhead, “Mahito? Are you real?”

Slowly, he nods. Inoffensively blue tresses gliding like silk over his shoulders, “I’m real, honey.”

Your knees shake, bones smashed into paste. The door opens wider with how you lean into it.

“Can I touch you…?”

Again, he nods.

Creeping across the frosty tile, you kneel against the porcelain tub before crossing one leg over the other into the wide bowl. Blood soaks into the padding of your fresh socks and hem of your oversized shirt. You skim your hand over the expanse of his chest, fingertips dipping over the divots and raises of his new stitches. Soft lashes of hair tingle under your skin. His muted chuckle rumbles through his chest at your glazed over, mesmerized state as your caressing moves to his arm.

Below his chest and arm are mush and guts tethering together with peachy, pink sheets of fat and muscle forming over the innards. You pinch yourself. It stings.

Mahito chuckles again, “See, honey? I’m real.”

It’s over half an hour later that you’re finally redialing Utahime’s number.

“Sorry, I was just missing Mahito, but… I went onto the porch and got myself together. I think I’m okay now.”

Utahime inhales sharply, and she’s speaking, but your focus is solely on the guest bathroom door.

Mahito waves at you sweetly.

You don’t sleep that night, but you don’t visit the bathroom either. You sit on the couch and ignore the voice of your dead fiance singing your name until sunrise. Only then, does the Siren song lure you back.

Mahito’s legs remain stumps, pulpy at the knees and sharp, jagged bones barely poking out from the mess. So, he remains in the tub -- where rot and iron are thinly masked by the sickly floral scent of cheap, generic brand air-freshener. Dried blood crusts against the bath with gushes of fresh, oozing crimson consistently re-wetting the porcelain bottom.

“Honey,” his fingers dance over the apple of your cheek, lids low over eyes that singe straight through your chest, “can you give me flesh?”

As if he can see every twinge in your heartbeat, he’s grinning at you as soon as you look into his face.

“What…?” your brows furrow, his own draw sympathetically -- grin snapping into a gentle frown, “What do you mean?”

“I want to be a full man,” he coos, “Just the way you remember. And I need flesh.”

“Okay.”

He nods sternly, “It’s exactly what you think.”

“Okay.”

,,,

You’ve seen the funny things that grief does to people. Your father refused to rise from bed for five days when your mother passed. Your kitten would search the house for her mother every day when the older cat was no longer around. Your aunt bleached her hair and moved to the states when her husband served divorce papers. Your baby cousin faked ill for a whole week when his dog ran away. Utahime admitted that when her brother died, she drove far out to the country and parked over train tracks… She admitted that she waited for an hour before driving home.

Yes, you’ve seen the bizarre and stomach-churning behaviors that grief can bring out from a person, but you’ve never seen something like this. And the most stomach-churning thing about it, is that you’re the one behind this.

It isn’t someone else you can psychoanalyze or rant about -- it’s your hands settling over the chilly doorknob. It’s your hands twisting around the knob. It’s your guest room that’s occupied by this… thing.

You release the metal as its cold exterior burns a hole in your palm. You step back, and you stay away.

Away, and nervous. So nervous it makes your limbs shake and twitch.

Kento hovers a gentle hand over your shoulder, “Are you sure you’ve been well?”

“I’ve just been… out of it.”

“I can understand why. I’m sorry,” he shakes his head, “I’m sorry,” you wonder if that’s all he can say, “I can… Is there anything more I can do? Change the lights? Clean the glass in the living room? Replace your vase?”

“Just this,” you turn away, facing the turquoise of Kento’s button up. Physically incapable of staring him in the face as you continue, “There’s something wrong… seriously wrong with the bathroom… Just checking this will be okay, Nanami.”

“Anything,” Kento whispers softly, stepping around your cemented body to grasp the golden handle. He smiles down at you, despite the way you’re still unable to look him in the eyes -- he opens up to speak, but decides against whatever additional sympathies he felt indebted to, “Anything.”

You can’t so much as squeak out a ‘thank you’ before he slithers out of your life.

…

“I’m worried. I don’t want to pretend I’m calling for any other reason, or that I don’t notice something wrong. You’re worse than ever, and I… I just don’t know…” Utahime sighs loudly over the phone, “I’m so worried.”

“I’m okay,” you’re itching to hang up, to more thoroughly monitor Mahito’s growth.

“Nobody’s seen or heard from you!” she cries, “And Nanami- we still don’t- !” she stops abruptly, “Nothing’s been the same since…” Utahime sighs again, quieter, “You have to be running low on money now.”

“I’m okay, Utahime.”

“Do you want me to stop by? I can come with more groceries…”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m coming by.”

You’re opting to refuse when two fingers poke into your side, Mahito grins brightly with a thumbs up. For a moment you’re left stammering into the phone, staring into scorching eyes. Ice and copper, like burning flame. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss into your cheek, just as he used to before leaving for work. Just as he did that morning, before you never saw him again.

Not until now.

Mahito kisses you again, skimming his hand over your temple and brushing back hair so he can soothe his lips there, too.

“Ah, okay…”

Utahime, much more excitedly, responds, “Oh! Yeah, okay! I’ll be there soon. With groceries!”

“With food,” you murmur back dumbly. Mahito nods against your face, soon after nuzzling into your neck, “Okay…”

Hours later, you will be on the other side of the house, desperately trying to scrub the sound of wet slurps and chews from your memory.

…

“Why do you stay in the bathroom?”

“It’s comfy,” he teases, stretching out his bare legs over the rim of the tub, “Why? Are there comfier places?”

“Our bed,” you should probably be more alarmed that he cannot recall that, but he tilts his head so pretty.

“Why don’t you show me then?”

Your eyes drift to the clots of blood and matted hair by the bath drain, blonde and raven black tangling together with crystals of bone flecked over the mess. You try not to look or think about it because you’re not so delusional as to think you can justify this.

Mahito tilts his head, grinning, “Hm?”

Or maybe you are.

“What’ll you think of the house…?” you murmur to yourself, “It’s different now.”

Mahito laughs and kisses your cheek, right below where tears well against your lashes, “When have I asked anything of you except yourself?”

He nuzzles into the warmth that spreads over your face and flows down your neck. When you grasp his hand and lead the man -- naked and rich with the scent of iron -- out of the guest bathroom to the dark hallway, he’s delighted. Down the hallway, are multiple gaping doorways with similarly unlit rooms. Both hands bite around one of Mahito’s as you take him into the master bedroom -- the one you used to share.

“It’s hard to see you in here,” Mahito makes no effort to lean away from your touch, though he does search for a source of light to flick on.

“Sorry…” you frown, dragging Mahito to the bed -- sheets messy and yet frozen cold to the touch. Shakily, you reach out for the drawstring of your bedside lamp. You clench your eyes as the bulb clicks to life, digging your nails into Mahito and praying, silently, that he’s still real. That the darkness hadn’t somehow fooled you so thoroughly into believing your Mahito returned.

His hand squeezes in return, you open your eyes. Mahito stares back. Ice and copper burns straight through your chest.

“Mahito…” his face creeps closer at your whisper, voice liquifying into a soft coo, “Mahito...” your eyes inch below his navel, to where any possibilities of him being a mere curse die, “You’re real? You’re back? Mahito’s back?”

“Mahito’s back,” he parrots, less affectionately than you said it, but he nods calmly nonetheless. He backs you against the mattress, your knees buckling so your back meets the springs. His eyes close and you’re tempted to claw them open again, “Don’t you want me back, honey?”

“Of course!” you cry hopelessly.

“Don’t you want to be happy, honey?” he slips both hands up your shirt and the ruthless buzzing in your heart numbs you to how cold his fingers are over your ribs. You open your mouth to question him, but he slots his lips over yours before musing into the sweltering air, “I want you to be happy.”

Beneath the raw blood, you can pick up hints of cedar wood -- how Mahito’s clothes smelt until you sucked the life from them, too.

“I want you to be happy, too,” you mumble against Mahito’s cheek. He’s so close you can’t breathe without inhaling him alongside oxygen. Your gut twists unpleasantly, and you will the knotting sensation down as Mahito nods into you.

“Of course, honey, I know you do,” he rolls his lips against the nape of your neck and sucks harshly where your shoulder begins. His teeth are sharp, you almost feel them stinging into your bone.

His teeth were never so lethal before, and yet you feel the indentation that revokes Mahito’s status as a curse. A penis.

As juvenile as it feels to have something of brainless flesh hold so much weight, you recall Mahito’s own words on the matter years ago.

“So, are curses like… naked?”

“Yeah,” he’d shrugged carelessly then, yawning soon after, “But they don’t have any,” he grinned at you, apparently eager, “Genitalia: to put it nicely.”

“None at all?”

“None at all. So it isn’t weird that they’re naked.”

(But his new stitches are so…

And, well, the teeth…)

His body itself is much colder.

The pit in your stomach returns as Mahito sears his teeth over your skin until he’s pointed over the ripe point of your pulse. Juicy and fat with hot blood. Mahito slips his hands over your sides again, as if to remind you of the softness he intends. It eases you.

“Will you -- well -- if you’re back…” you swallow, you suppose there isn’t a gentle way to ask this, “Will you ever return to sorcery?”

He shakes his head, long hair webbing over his shoulders and netting onto your chest, “I need to stay home. It’s safer at home.”

“Ah, okay,” you regret the question, momentarily fretful you may have offended him, “Will you be okay like this? Can you eat- can you eat food? I don’t think there’s anybody… else.”

His hands squeeze your sides, a soft sigh breezing over your neck, “That’s okay. As long as I stay with you, I’ll be okay.”

“Good,” sharp teeth pierce your neck shallowly, and this time Mahito’s hands do not rush to remedy the ache. But you push down the budding nerves and string your fingers through Mahito’s hair. It’s still as soft as you remember,

“Good,” he copies, with much less love than you said it with.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #mahito x reader #mahito jjk #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #mahito angst

[benkeibear]

☰ 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

⧫ Character: Mahito

⧫ Reader: female

⧫ Summary: You love Mahito but you’re nothing but a little pet to him he can experiment on

⧫ WARNINGS: dark content, manipulation, syringes, drugging, surgery reader got gaslighted into, toxic relationship, gore, bodymods I guess? (horns and extra arms)

⧫ A/n: this is inspired by a scene of starving anonymous and a dream I had with Mahito after. It’s darker than my soul. But it Mahito - what can you expect??

Mahito and you always had a rather complicated relationship - A sorcerer and a curse, you should hate each other but you just couldn't. Something about Mahitos general curiosity and urge to act upon it pulled you in and he was interested in a sorcerer like you… Well, to have you around like a pet. You were nothing more than one of his experiments and he would say everything to keep you. So if he had to tell you that he loved you, he would. Despite being unable to actually care for a human being he was a great actor and you fell for it - fell for him. You loved the curse more than your own life and would do just about everything to keep him with you and to stay on his good side.

While you were doing your hair in the morning you suddenly saw a familiar blue haired man stand behind you, smiling at him through the mirror. “My sweet love, you would look amazing with a few more arms, don’t you think so?“ he asked amused and you laughed along, it was just one of his silly little jokes after all… right?

“Would you do it?“ he asked again with a sinister grin plastered on his scarred face. “Would i do what?“ you asked confused, unsure what he would like you to do for him this time. It wouldn’t be anything new if he asked you to do something weird for him - It was Mahito after all. He suddenly pulled his arms from behind his back, holding two more pairs of cut off arms, his grin now widening when he saw you back away from him. “Let me sew these on you, silly“ he held out the pairs of arms like it’s nothing and you froze up. Was he being serious? "Mahito, i would do almost everything for you, but this? Don’t you think that’s a step too far?“ you asked, your voice cracking and exposing the fear that now spread across your face.

Seeing fear was something he loved, something you never gave him because that would mean you would have lost and in this case you did. His grin slowly turned into a mocking pout, almost childlike even. You’ve done far too much to deny him anything, knowing he would let people know, destroying your life in every was possible and even if this was just a joke of his, you showed fear and that’s where things started to turn serious for him. He wanted these on you now, he needed it, so he played his winning card. "But… if you would love me you would let me do it“ he mumbled with an emotion that sounded a lot like sadness, heartbreak written all over his features now and it broke your heart since you loved him after all. "Or don’t you love me anymore?“ he added, striking your heart where it hurt most, big crocodile tears threatening to spill over his pale face and you couldn’t stand it any longer. This emotional pressure he put you under made you crumble and give in to him while your common sense screamed and begged for you to run, your heart made you stay. Finally taking a deep breath you nodded "You’re right, i do love you `Hito. I’m all yours“ you whisper out, not even trusting your own voice anymore.

His little act of sadness was over right away, the huge grin appearing once more as he reached into the nightstand on his side of the bed to get his favorite accessory out - a beautiful collar with your name engraved alongside a tag with his name, making sure you know who you belong to. With the smallest smile you put it on, doing everything to see that beautiful smile on him and you didn’t mind this, you did belong to him after all. But the love you held for him wasn’t the same anymore, it was rather a weak attempt at holding onto what you once felt for him, holding onto how things used to be between the two of you.

To weigh you in a false sense of safety he put his silly little idea aside, claiming it was just a test to see how far you would go for him but just as you were about to forget it, you found yourself pinned under him on your shared bed, two sets of arms laying next to it. Your struggle amused him, his laughter echoing off the bedroom walls which made it sound more sinister than it already was. "You agreed to this, my love. You wanted this“ he hummed as a reminder, waving at you with one of the arms. The way you couldn’t even escape the grip he had on you with just one hand made you cry in frustration, only adding to his amusement. “You’re so pathetic, thinking you can escape, my pretty pet“ he stroked your tear stained cheek gently before kissing your lips with a kiss that was barely there. But he was right, you allowed him to do this in hopes that he can love you like he once did - or claimed to do. The later slowly became more plausible for you but it was too late, he had you right where he wanted you - scared, terrified even and in complete submission beneath him, letting him do horrendous things to you, just so he wouldn't leave. Humans are truly pathetic.

“Don’t worry about it, it will only hurt in the beginning… and if you don’t like them, I’ll remove them again“ he reassured you as he snipped against the syringe in his hand. The last thing you felt before your vision went blurry was the cold fluid of said syringe run through your veins, his beautiful smile hovering right above your face.

It felt as if you only blinked but you actually only woke up hours later, your sides burning with unbearable pain and terrible headache plagued you. When you dared to look down, there were no extra arms which made you sigh in relief, only to find four long stitches.

“I didn’t like the way they looked on you“ he hummed rather upset, the bloodied limbs laying in a corner of your home now. His smile returned quickly however when he looked at your eyes which gave you hope that his love returned. "I gave you antlers instead. They look so much cuter“ he cooed, stroking the painful connection between you and what you assumed to be the antlers, completely destroying all hopes you let come up. Eventually Mahito handed you a mirror to adore his creation on your once so beautiful face. It looked hideous, devil like horns ruining your once flawless forehead and you wanted to scream and cry. That was until you caught a glimpse of his expression through the mirror - His face was full of love and adoration for you, for his creation. How foolish of you to think these emotions counted towards you…

"Now i can hold onto them if you misbehave or when you please me, I would never have to pull on your hair again“ he hummed in amusement as he tugged on them to demonstrate what he meant. The smile seemed to never once leave his face, way too proud of your little antlers. This was the moment you finally realized that you were never more than just his precious pet. Looking back on your relationship, you found nothing that resembled love from him and you were only blinded by your own love for him, seeing what you wished for instead of the reality.

A gut wrenching scream escaped your lips when you felt your heart break and you knew there was no way he would ever let you leave now - and he knew too. Together with you he screamed but his scream turned into an evil laugh, once more echoing off your bedroom walls. "You’re such a good little pet, but you need to be quiet now… before your vocal chords are next“ he giggled before kissing your aching temple. There was no way he would let his most perfect creation escape alive.

Networks: @tokyometronetwork

#jjk x reader #jjk angst #mahito x reader #Mahito angst #mahito smut #jjk dark content #dark content #Mahito dark content #Jujutsu kaisen Mahito #jjk Mahito #jjk imagines #jjk x you #Mahito x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk curses

[candy69gurl]

MISTAKEN TRUST

PAIRING Mahito x f!reader

SYNOPNSIS The reader is a kind person who likes feeding strays. Mahito is taken aback by her charity, which makes her the target of his scheme. Mahito uses her generosity to his advantage, transforming into a dog to capture the reader's attention and earn their trust. (Mahito is a virgin and he experiments with your body)

WARNING non/con, monster fucking, use of tentacles, slight somnophilic, fingering, use of elongated tongue (in mouth and pussy), bondage, dual penetration, use of all the holes), nipple sucking playing pinching, squirting, missonary, doggy, multiple orgasms, enlargement of dick, breast slapping, choking, face fucking, degradation, use of nicknames (toy), raw sex (cumming inside mouth, creampie, ass), clit nibbling & rubbing, over stimulation, mouth fucking after passing out, lactation & breeding kink

NOTE I understand that Mahito isn't universally liked, but believe me, he possesses the ability to provide infinite pleasures beyond what a typical human can offer. This story is tailored for readers who harbor a deep fascination with tentacles.

You make your way down the deserted alleyway, just below your apartment, the sound of your footsteps reverberating. Your gaze drawn towards the neon green eyes gleaming from the shadows at the alley's bend.

Today, you decided to bring a bit more food than usual, hoping to feed every last stray dog in the area. As you scan the alleyway, searching for the furry beings hiding in the shadows, you see them drawing near, detecting your scent and seemingly exhibiting trust in your presence. But, you notice something new - a puppy curled up in a corner, its eyes fixed on you intently. Something about those heterochromia eyes, the way they seem to peer straight into your soul, unsettles you, but you dismiss it as mere coincidence.

"Hey there, little one," you say softly, offering a piece of meat to the puppy. To your surprise, the puppy approaches you cautiously, accepting the food with tentative paws. As you continue to distribute food around the alley, that puppy sticks closely by your side, as if drawn to you. It's odd, but you can't help feeling a strange connection forming between you and the creature.

You notice that the other stray dogs keeping their distance from the peculiar puppy, as if they can sense something off about it. Under the moon's glow, the puppy's dull bluish fur and mismatched eyes catch your attention. As you attempt to feed the other dogs, they scamper away with their meat, an uncommon reaction for you. Your focus shifts to the newcomer puppy.

"Hmm, why do you think the others are acting this way?" you ask the puppy, petting its head gently. "You seem new here." The puppy licks your hand affectionately, seemingly unfazed by the behavior of its fellow canines.

In an instant, the scene shifts from tranquil to chaotic. A large black dog lunges at the newcomer, its jaws clamping down on the smaller puppy's paw with a sickening snap. You jump away in reflex, the sudden aggression startles you, and you instinctively step between the dogs, trying to shield the newcomer from harm. "Stop it!" you yell, your voice trembling with fear and anger.

Your eyes scan the street, seeking out for some stick or pebble to intervene and halt the fight. But suddenly, you hear a shrill, painful wail. You look back at them, the larger dog lets out a whimper before darting away, tail tucked between its legs. Its once-menacing demeanor replaced by fear and bewilderment.

You stare at the new puppy, wide-eyed, trying to comprehend what just happened. It raises its head, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of its mouth before turning back to you, tongue hanging out in satisfaction.

With a mix of concern and admiration, you bend down and carefully inspect the puppy's injured paw. Its tiny body trembles under your gentle touch, but it doesn't whimper or try to escape. Your heart aches for the small creature that defended itself so fiercely against the much larger dog.

"Brave little one, let me take you home" you whisper, cradling the puppy in your arms. Despite its injury, the puppy snuggles closer to you, its tail thumping against your chest in gratitude. "We'll take care of that wound once we get home. You shouldn't have to fight alone, buddy," you say, your voice thick with emotion. With the newfound bond between you and the puppy growing stronger, you make your way back to your apartment, determined to give it care and protection it deserves.

Little did you know that this act of kindness would bind you even more tightly to the enigmatic spirit, whose true intentions remain shrouded in mystery.

Upon returning home, you immediately tend to the puppy's wounded paw. Cleaning the injury, you apply a sterile dressing and wrap it securely with gauze. The puppy remains still throughout the process, its trust in you evident as it allows you to tend to its wounds without struggle. Then you wash him with your own shampoo. Once you finish, you offer the puppy some water, which it drinks eagerly.

"There we go, buddy," you murmur, stroking the puppy's head tenderly. "Just stay here with me for a bit longer. If I take you back there, what if you're attacked again?"

As you sit down on the couch, the puppy nestles into your lap, content and peaceful. You can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility towards this mysterious creature.

The puppy's unusual features start to catch your attention again. The dull bluish fur, the heterochromia eyes, the way it defended itself so ferociously – it's unlike any dog you've ever encountered. You begin to wonder about its origins, feeling a growing unease in your gut. You decide to do some research, pulling out your phone to search for breeds with similar features.

As you scroll through various results, none seem to match the unique characteristics of the puppy in your lap. A nagging suspicion starts to form in the back of your mind. "You know, I can't seem to find a breed that looks quite like you," you say, looking into the puppy's eyes.

As if understanding your thoughts, the puppy tilts its head, gazing back at you with those eerily intelligent eyes. For a brief moment, you swear its expression revealed a hint of mischief and amusement. But before you can examine further, the puppy closes its eyes and drifts off to sleep, its breathing steady and slow.

Carefully, you lay the puppy down on the bed, tucking a blanket around it to keep it warm. Exhausted from the events of the night, you join the puppy on the bed, wrapping your arm protectively around it as you close your eyes. Sleep comes slowly, your mind still grappling with the peculiarities of the evening. Eventually, the warmth of the puppy and the comfort of your safe space lull you into a deep slumber.

As you drift off to sleep, the puppy's eyes flicker open. With a barely perceptible shift in its form, its body begins to change. Stitches appear on its fur, spreading across the once furry surface. The heterochromia eyes intensify, taking on a life of their own. The puppy transforms into a humanoid-curse, Mahito.

He had been observing you from afar, admiring your every move, particularly your kindness. He noticed your fondness for organims and had to take advantage of it. He wanted to experiment with your mind and body. He had heard from Kenjaku that humans are incredibly sensitive during sex, and he wants to test it out. You were the ideal toy for it, so frail, sweet, and adorable. You were lonely so you took to feeding strays, he had been witnessing you feeding the dogs every night, and yes, that's the perfect time for him to get at you, so he transformed himself as an adorable little puppy to catch your attention.

Despite the transformation happening right beside you, you remain sound asleep, utterly oblivious to the changes occurring. Unnoticed by you, Mahito continues the playful facade, gently grasping your breast through your thin nightshirt. He revels in the texture, tracing the outline of your hardening nipple with his thumb. The sensation sends a thrill through him, fueling his curiosity about you.

His hand curves like a sharp claw, ripping your top extra carefully not to hurt you, exposing your bare breast to the cool air. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, sending a shiver down your spine, unbeknownst to you. He latches onto your nipple, the unexpected sensation causing you to stir slightly in your sleep. You moan softly, your brows creasing in confusion and pleasure.

So these are female breasts.. I heard they start milking if pregnant. So what if I make her pregnant with my baby curses? his eyes gazing your hardened nipples glistening with his saliva.

Mahito sucks harder, relishing the satisfying response he receives. He finds himself entranced by the experience, both sensual and twisted. He can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation – tormenting a sleeping victim while they remain blissfully ignorant. He can't stop thinking about the ways he is going to play with your body, as he continues his assault. The thought excites him even more, and he sucks harder, his hands roaming freely over your body.

"Humans are so foolish", he whispers mockingly, his voice almost inaudible. His actions become bolder, exploring areas he knows you wouldn't allow if conscious. You squirm beneath him, your body responding to the unwanted touches. Despite your protests in your dreams, Mahito pays no heed, intent on testing the limits of your subconscious mind.

A smile plays on his lips as he observes your reaction, enjoying the control he's gained over you. Ignoring your half-hearted attempts to resist in your sleep, Mahito pulls down your panties, revealing yourself to him fully. His grin widens, fascination etched on his face as he gazes upon your naked form.

His fingers gazing your folds, your clit trying to find the way to your vagina. Found it, with lightning-fast reflexes, he inserts his fingers into you, plunging deep and eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. Your dreams fill with panic and discomfort as you struggle to escape his grasp but to no avail.

Your subconscious mind begs for release, but Mahito merely laughs, his fingers moving in a rhythm meant to tease and torment. He leans in close, whispering into your ear, "Welcome to my game, toy." Your dream self twists and turns, unable to escape his grip. Each thrust of his fingers brings a gasp, your body betraying you even as you plead in your sleep.

So helpless, Mahito smirks, his fingers shifting pace and pressure, eliciting a mixture of pain and pleasure from within you. He watches as you squirm beneath him, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Just as you're about to reach your breaking point, Mahito abruptly stops his assault. Instead, he leans down and gently nibbles on your clitoris; his tongue elongating, delving into your spasming hole, triggering an electric shock of sensation that shatters your unconscious resistance. Your eyes fly open, gasping as you come back to reality. Panic courses through you as you realize what's happening, your mind struggling to comprehend the situation. Mahito raises his head, locking gaze with you, "Looks like you are awake-"

When your legs suddenly move and you kick him square in the nose, his nose immediately begins to bleed. "W-who the fuck are you?"

He gives a creepy grin, and your eyes widen as you see him recover in an instant. You attempt to push him away, but he effortlessly avoids your flailing leg, maintaining his position above you. His eyes glint with mischievous delight at your shocked face, his smile never leaving his face. "I'm Mahito," he introduces nonchalantly, "and now that you're awake, our game can truly begin."

You try to scream, but the words catch in your throat. Fear washes over you like a tidal wave. Mahito's grin widens as a mass of pale, tentacles sprouts from his body from every direction. Your struggles become frantic, but his grasp proves too strong. Tentacles snaking from his body to wrap around your legs, pinning you firmly to the bed.

One of the tentacles reaches out to shove itself into your mouth, silencing your screams and forcing you into submission. "No need to scream," Mahito teases, his voice dripping with malice. "This is just the beginning. We have so much to explore."

Despite your efforts to free yourself, the tentacles tighten around your limbs, leaving you helpless and vulnerable. Mahito's fingers returning your core, resuming their invasion, delving deeper within you with each twist.

You swallow hard, tears pooling in your eyes as you look into his eyes filled with sadism. "You'll learn to enjoy it, toy," As if in response to his words, more tentacles emerge, wrapping themselves around your breasts and nipples. They constrict, rubbing your sensitive flesh painfully.

Simultaneously, Mahito's three fingers continue their assault, thrusting into you with brutal force. Pain and pleasure collide in a cacophony of sensations, your body shaking violently under his control.

Your eyes dart around the room, searching for a way out, but Mahito keeps his grip firm, his fingers never faltering in their rhythm. "Isn't it exciting?" he asks, his voice tinged with mirth. "Everything you've been missing out on, all the thrills and desires you've ignored. Now, you'll experience them all." His words cut through the chaos in your mind, igniting a spark of curiosity amidst the fear.

With a sudden harsh pinch on your nipples, you release a loud cry as you squirt under his persistent assault. Waves of orgasm wash over you, your body convulsing beneath his touch. Surprise flickers across Mahito's face, and then morphs into admiration. His fingers pause briefly, taking in the sight of you trembling before him. "Incredible, that tightness.. was.. Incredible" he breathes, his voice thick with approval. "Human bodies are incredible," he laughs maniacally.

His tentacle inside your mouth withdraws allowing you to breath. You gasp for air, your chest heaving. You want to run, scream, anything to break free from his hold, but you're paralyzed by fear and shame. Mahito's eyes gleam with triumph as he studies you, pulling his fingers out of you with a wet pop.

"Don't worry," he purrs, leaning in close, "this is just the beginning." He removes all the tentacles except the ones holding you down, letting go of your nipples and breasts.

"W-what are you, how did you get inside?", your voice, struggled. Mahito's grin widens, and he leans down to whisper into your ear, "I am a curse, and I can be anywhere I please." His voice is cold and calculating, promising more torment to come. His body leans over yours, towering you, and you feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

"Get ready, toy," he warns, "we have a lot to discover about each other." His fingers trace the curves of your body, making you shiver with anticipation and dread. As he positions himself between your legs, you struggle weakly against the tentacles restraining you.

"N-no..", you protest. "Yes," Mahito insists, his eyes burning with determination. "Keep resisting but you cannot escape from me." His fingers dig into your hips, pinning you down as he enters you roughly.

You cry out in pain and fear, your walls protesting against the invasion. Mahito thrusts harder, relishing the sounds coming from you. His laughter echoes in the room, filling every corner with his cruelty.

Still pinned under Mahito's weight, you lie there, breathing heavily as he continues his assault. His laughter subsides, replaced by a satisfied hum. As the tentacles retract, you're left exposed, your vulnerability laid bare. Your body remains tense, every muscle strained as you wait for what comes next. Mahito's thrusts become more aggressive, burying himself deep within you with each stroke.

The sheets below you crinkle loudly as you clutch them tightly, seeking solace from the intense stimulation. Mahito's movements sync with your orgasm's buildup, hitting all the right spots with precision. Your breath hitches, and your eyes squeeze shut as the wave of pleasure intensifies. Your body arches off the bed, unable to bear the intensity longer.

"That's it, toy," Mahito murmurs, his voice low and laced with triumph. "Let go, let yourself enjoy it."

Each thrust propels you closer to the edge, the anticipation building to a fever pitch. As you near climax, Mahito increases his pace, driving you towards the brink. His hands find your hips again, guiding you in a rhythm that matches his own. Your heart races, sweat breaks out on your brow as you gasp for air, your body betraying you once more.

"Let me feel you tighten once again." Mahito demands, thrusting faster, pushing you over the edge. You cry out, your orgasm crashing over you like a tsunami. Every contraction of your muscles around him reveals your surrender, your body giving in to his control. Mahito's thrusts become fierce, his own climax approaching rapidly, "Fuck... I will breed you."

As you reach your peak, Mahito follows suit, his own release imminent. His thrusts become erratic, his body shuddering with the force of his ecstasy. He drives deeper, his seed filling your womb, his pleasure intertwining with yours. His breaths are heavy and ragged, his teeth gritted in the height of his climax. Finally, Mahito slows his pace, his breaths steadied and his body relaxed. His weight rests on you, still inside you, yet the urgency was gone.

"I never... EVER .. imagined.. sex feels this good", he speaks through his gritted teeth. The air is thick with the scent of sex, the room resonating with the sounds of your pleasure. He leans down, inserting his elongated tongue into your mouth. Your tongue fighting with his but it lengthens further hitting your uvula. He retracts, his saliva dropping on your face, he smiles sheepishly before speaking again, "Round two?"

"Y-you got to be kidding me..", your eyes widen in anticipation. Mahito chuckles, a sound that puts goosebumps on your skin. He eases out of you slowly, his lingering arousal lending a sense of satisfaction to his actions. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet, toy," he says, tracing a lazy circle on your hip.

"You are a... W-what the hell are you?", you spat at him.

He laughs his member hardening once more ,"You haven't seen 1% of it.. Let me show you, what I can do", with that, pulls you by your ankle, rolling you on your stomach.

One by one, his long gone tentacles encircle your body again, trapping you to the bed with your ass raised high. Their grip is firm but not painful, securing you in a position that leaves you completely exposed. Mahito moves behind you, his erection throbbing with renewed vigor. His hands brush over your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

"Brace yourself, toy," he whispers, the hint of a smile in his voice. "I promised you new experience, didn't I?" He lines up his erection with your entrance, positioning himself for another round.

You curl your lip in disgust, your body trembling with fear and anger. "W-what do you get out of this?" you manage to ask, your voice hoarse from previous exertion.

Mahito's eyes gleam with interest, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "Ah, I love to torment humans. Now I want to use the other hole you have."

Without warning, Mahito slams his cock already lubricated with your and his releases, into you, penetrating your ass with brutal ferocity. A cry escapes you, mingling with his harsh groan of satisfaction. With each thrust, your body jolts, the foreign invasion stretching you wide. The different angle sends shockwaves of discomfort coursing through you, your muscles protesting the violation.

Mahito's thrusts are rapid and unrestrained, each one driven by a hunger that knows no bounds. His hands roam over your body, exploring your curves with a possessive touch. "Feel the difference, toy," he taunts, his voice rough with desire. "I bet you never imagined this, did you?"

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle against the tentacles restraining you. Each thrust is a painful reminder of your captivity. "Please... stop," you whimper, your voice raw and pleading.

"Aw, look at that pussy, clamping on nothing.. I feel bad for it", as soon as Mahito speaks the words, a tentacle slides into your throbbing pussy, stretching you even further. You gasp at the added sensation, your body trembling under the dual invasion. Mahito chuckles, his thrusts becoming more forceful at your reaction. "Looks like your body wants it, toy," he teases, enjoying your reaction.

Mahito's thrusts become more aggressive, driven by a single purpose - to make you lose control. The tentacle inside your pussy mimics his movements, creating friction that builds your pleasure higher. Your body writhes beneath him, the tentacles anchoring you securely to the bed.

"Fuck! Noooo", your whimpers turn into moans as Mahito's tentacle moves in perfect harmony with his cock, sending waves of pleasure and you beg, "Please..." , your voice filled with a mix of agony and delight. "I-I can't take anymore." Mahito's laughter fills the air, his thrusts growing harsher, matching the speed of the tentacle inside you.

"Can't take it?" Mahito snarls, his voice dripping with malice. "You'll take everything I dish out, toy." He plunges deeper, his fingers digging into your hips. The tentacle inside you mirrors his actions, stroking your most sensitive spots.

Your body convulses, caught between pleasure and pain, as Mahito drives you towards the edge. Your cries fill the room, a testament to the chaos within you. Just as you reach your breaking point, Mahito's voice rings out, sharp and commanding, "Cumming again? yet you say you don't like it?"

With a sharp intake of breath, you succumb to the sensations overwhelming you. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body shaking uncontrollably.

As your orgasm peaks, Mahito thrusts harder, his own release drawing near. The tension between you becomes palpable, the air charged with your combined pleasure. Finally, he lets out a fierce growl, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. He pulses inside you, spilling his seed deep within your ass.

His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as he finishes. The tentacle inside you withdraws, leaving behind a trail of lingering sensitivity. Your eyes roll, panting heavily as the shudders subside. His eyes revel in your disheveled state, his victory complete.

"Well, wasn't that entertaining?" Mahito asks, his voice laced with satisfaction. The tentacles releasing their hold on you, letting you fall onto the bed in a heap. He steps back, his erection retreating from your ass with a lewd sound. The sudden emptiness makes you wince, your body still adjusting to the aftermath, your eyelids blinking as you start seeing all white.

"No No sweetheart, you cannot passout, not yet, I have seen humans taking more than this" Mahito lifts you effortlessly, your limbs dangling loosely. Your clothes, now torn and ruined, falling away from your body, ripped apart by his razor-sharp tentacles. Naked and vulnerable, you hang in midair, the reality of your situation settling in.

Despite your battered state, Mahito seems pleased with his work. He examines you, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. Then again, Mahito guides his still-erect penis between your legs. He positions himself at your entrance, the tip brushing against your swollen flesh. With a cruel grin, he thrusts inside you, burying himself deep in your pussy. The remnants of his seed trickle from your ass, making a messy contrast against the fresh invasion.

Your body winces at the stretch, but you offer no resistance. Your mind is numb, unable to process the brutality you've endured. Mahito's thrusts are slow and deliberate, relishing in your broken state. The sight of his seed leaking from your ass only fuels his lust further.

"I love this hole, so sensitive," Mahito coos, his breath hot against your ear.

Huddled against Mahito's chest, your body quakes with every thrust. Your face rests against him, exhausted and defeated. Tears streak down your cheeks, mixing with sweat and arousal. In this moment, you're nothing more than a toy to be played with, incapable of escape or resistance.

Mahito grins, enjoying your submission. His thrusts become more frenzied, driven by his arousal and dominance. His grip tightens, holding you firmly against him. "Why'd you stop making those sweet sounds?" he awes, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "Already got used to my cock?"

Drool trickles down your chin, evidence of your surrender. Your eyes roll back, lost in the sensations he's inflicting upon you. Mahito's thrusts become more erratic, his pleasure escalating alongside yours. "Now now, I cannot enjoy when my toy is not responding."

In a sudden burst of power, Mahito enlarges his erection. Your body screams in protest, the unexpected expansion threatening to tear you apart. Your head thumps against his chest involuntarily, your cries muffled by the contact.

"Oh, look at that!" Mahito exclaims, amused by your reaction. "Fits perfectly now!" His thrusts become faster, the new size of his cock stretching you impossibly.

"G-gonna die.. p-please stop", your hands grip his hair, pulling some of his strands, out of pain.

Mahito chuckles, his thrusts continuing relentlessly. "Not tonight, toy," he promises, his words thick with delight. "Just a little more and you'll be begging for more."

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, drowned out by his laughter. Your body betrays you, your orgasm edging closer with every brutal thrust. His hand cups your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"See? Pain and pleasure, intertwined," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "It's beautiful, isn’t it?"

Your breath hitches, your body betraying you once more. "P-please..." you whisper, the edges of your orgasm sharpening.

"What is it, toy?" Mahito asks, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Ask nicely, and maybe I'll grant your wish."

Trembling, you struggle to find your voice. "Make... make me cum again," you manage, your body trembling on the precipice of ecstasy. "Please..."

Mahito smirks, the tension in your body a clear indicator of your impending climax. He increases his pace, driving you closer to the edge. "Oh?," he purrs, your torment his entertainment.

Mahito's thrusts become frantic, your body clenching around him as you teeter on the edge of another orgasm. Your pleas grow louder, the raw desperation palpable. "Please," you whine, your nails digging into his chest. "I need it, please!"

He leans down, his lips grazing your ear. "What a change.."

Two tentacles snake around your waist, holding you securely in place. Mahito's thrusts grow even more intense, the pain from his girthy shaft bruising your insides. You cry out, unable to take all the pleasure inflicted on you.

"Such thrilling sounds," Mahito murmurs, his thrusts growing more desperate. Your body arches, desperate for relief.

One of Mahito's tentacles slithers towards your ass, entering with ease. The remnants of his earlier release drip down, mingling with your fluids. Your body convulses, the dual invasion pushing you closer to the brink.

You bite your lip hard, tears streaming down your face. Mahito's laughter fills the room, his enjoyment apparent.

"Ah, so humans enjoy pain this much?" Mahito says, his voice thick with

One of Mahito's tentacles strikes your breast, the slap leaving a faint red mark. His other tentacle wraps around your neck, cutting off your airflow. Simultaneously, another finds your clitoris, rubbing insistently.

Your body convulses, the torment pushing you to the edge. The tentacle around your neck tightens, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming you.

You gasp, struggling to breathe. Despite the suffocation, your body reacts to the stimulation. "You like that, don't you?" Mahito taunts, the tendril on your clit picking up its pace. "The perfect balance of discomfort and ecstasy."

With every thrust, you're propelled closer to the edge. Your lungs burn, the need to breathe overshadowed by your mounting orgasm, your body writhing beneath his assault

Finally, you crest the wave. Your body shudders, the simultaneous assault of pain and pleasure catapulting you into oblivion. A scream rips from your throat as you lose yourself in the rush. Mahito watches, his own release imminent.

His tentacles tighten, his thrusts growing more urgent. With a savage roar, Mahito empties himself within you, his semen flooding your core. His hold on you doesn't loosen until he's finished, your body limp in his grasp. He pulls out slowly, his dick turning to it's original size, the remnants of his seed spilling from your body. The tentacle around your neck releases you last, giving way for you to gasp for air.

"Now, wasn't that lovely?" Mahito asks, his breath ragged. He caresses your cheek, his expression a mix of satisfaction and amusement.

You stare up at him, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. Tears stream down your face, the lingering throbbing between your legs a testament to the experience.

"Don't look at me like that, I am not done experimenting your body" Mahito sets you roughly, onto the bed, before you can react.

"Open up.. Time to use this mouth," he commands, his erection aimed at your mouth. Reluctantly, you obey. Mahito slides into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him tasting the essence of sex, as he starts to thrust.

At the same time, his tentacles find their way back into your already sensitive holes, resuming their invasive dance. Your eyes widen in shock, your mind reeling from the intensity. The combination of sensations overwhelms you - Mahito's cock in your mouth, his tentacles in your most intimate places. You struggle to keep up, your mind spinning.

Mahito's thrusts grow more forceful, his grip firm on your hair. "Oh yes, so good," he praises, his movements intensifying. The tendrils in your ass and pussy follow suit, stretching your limits. Your moans mingle with his grunts, filling the room with raw emotion.

"I told you, I'm not done yet," Mahito growls, his voice thick with lust. He punctuates his words with deep thrusts, his eyes locked on yours. You writhe beneath him, unable to escape the onslaught, throat buldging with each thrust.

Your mind races, trying to process the sensations coursing through you. The dual penetrations are overwhelming. It isn't long before the onslaught becomes too much. Each movement triggers a fresh wave of pleasure, your body reaching its breaking point. Your orgasm collides with you, washing away everything else, your nails digging into the sheets. Mahito picks up on your reaction, his thrusts turning feral. The tentacles in your ass and pussy synchronize, driving you to the brink. Your eyes roll back, your mind spiraling into oblivion. Just as you reach the peak, you lose consciousness. Mahito's cock remains in your mouth, your world fading to black.

Despite your unconsciousness, Mahito continues his relentless assault. He thrusts deeper, pounding into your mouth with renewed vigor. Your lips clamp down instinctively around him, your body still writhing in response to his actions.

With a final roar, Mahito releases, his seed filling your mouth. Your body jerks involuntarily, swallowing involuntarily as he floods your mouth. The tendrils in your holes retreat, satisfied with their work. Mahito slows down, his breathing heavy. He gazes down at you, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.

"That was... quite the performance," he muses, pulling out of your mouth. "I must say, I rather enjoyed that." He leans closer, his gaze flickering on your unconscious face, ''Gonna stick around you for a while" His smirk widens into a grin, his voice low and taunting.

He steps back, leaving you sprawled on the bed, his semen still dripping from your lips. A chilling laugh echoes in the room then, everything goes silent.

You lay there, breath ragged and heart racing, even in your unconscious state. The taste of Mahito lingers on your tongue, his semen a bitter reminder of what just occurred.

The next morning dawns, casting sunlight through the window. As your eyes flutter open, remnants of fear linger in your subconscious. Glancing beside you, you see the puppy nestled in the same spot it occupied since last night. Your mind churns with the haunting remnants of the nightmares that plagued your sleep. Sensing your wakefulness, the puppy springs into action, leaping onto you with eager excitement. Its innocent gaze meets yours, tenderly licking your cheek and nuzzling its head against yours, eliciting a smile from you. In that moment, the memory of the night's unsettling experience (was it bad?) fades into the background, replaced by the warmth and affection of your furry companion.

Suddenly, you experience a sensation—the unmistakable feeling of pain spreading throughout your entire body. You pull the blankets away from your body.. There you are.. Lying naked, bruises and marks all over your body.

You look back at the puppy who's demeanor is now changed. It glances up at you, a mocking expression crossing its features. It bares its teeth in a twisted imitation of Mahito's smirk, its eyes gleaming with malice. The resemblance is uncanny, causing your stomach to turn.

For a moment, it seems as if the puppy speaks, its thoughts seeping into your mind. ''You'll never escape me,'' Panic sets in, realizing the disturbing truth. The puppy is indeed a part of Mahito, a manifestation of his twisted control over you.

''Wait! Who are you?'' you demand, scooting away from the creature. ''What... what does he want from me?''

The puppy tilts its head, its stance shifting to mimic Mahito's smug attitude. It gives you another smirk, identical to Mahito's menacing grin from the previous night.

Your heart races, and you freeze. Could it really be Mahito's doing? Or is it just your imagination playing tricks on you?

Frustration bubbles over, and you finally snap. With a sudden burst of anger, you strike the puppy, sending it tumbling off the bed. It lands on the floor with a soft thud, yelping in surprise.

''Get away from me, dog,'' you croak, pushing him away with a weak hand. ''This ain't funny anymore.''

The puppy whines softly, tilting its head as if confused. Its eyes seem almost pleading, begging you to accept its affection.

Feeling vulnerable and violated, you push yourself up. ''Go away,'' you insist, glaring at the small creature.

But the puppy persists, nuzzling against you, seeking comfort. Tears fill the puppy's eyes as it cowers, tail tucked between its legs. ''Don't... don't hurt me... please,'' it seems to beg, its pitiful whimpers echoing in the room, "please trust me."

Dividers from @/cafekitsune

IF YOU WANT A PART 2 PLEASE COMMENT

#jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #mahito #mahito x reader #mahito x you #mahito smut #mahito jjk #jjk mahito #jujutsu kaisen angst #tentacles #monsterfucker #monster lover #monster #tentacle monster #monster breeding

[imwritingforfun]

Texting the jjk men

"Do you think we're soulmates in every universe?"

Warning fluff *wink wink* 😍

Thought I'll do this since I'm leaving tomorrow

And idk if I'll get signal over there so enjoy :)

#jjk men x reader #jjk men #gojo jjk #sukuna jjk #jjk angst #jjk smau #jjk fluff #jjk boys x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x gn!reader #jjk gojo #jjk toji #jjk nanami #jjk sukuna #jjk satoru #jjk suguru #jjk geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk mahito #jjk choso #gojo x gn!reader #gojo x gender neutral reader #sukuna x gn reader #geto x gn reader #choso x gn reader #toji x gn!reader

[storiesoflilies]

Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairings - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - Descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N - What is it with these Zenin boys, huh? They’re just too beautiful hehe. All the big players are finally making their appearances, enjoy!! Ko-Fi.

Next part - interlude (ii)

-•-

Chapter 6

The twins had fussed over her far too long, and it was starting to make Y/N jittery.

“Nanako, you’ve styled her hair too flashy!” Mimiko exclaimed, giving her sister a pointed look.

Nanako dismissed her with a wave of her hand, engrossed in meticulously placing sparkling diamond clips in her hair. “Y/N is practically our queen,” she retorted. “We need to dress her properly!”

“Girls, let’s not fight,” Y/N interjected softly but firmly. “You’ve dressed me perfectly. Thank you.”

On the other hand, it was a blessing that the twins took charge of dressing her, as Y/N doubted her ability to chose something suitable herself. Nothing she could have come up with would have been appropriate for such an occasion – a gathering among the Kings of Hell; convened to strategize and pool resources for the war against Heaven. So far, it seems she would have been underdressed if left to her own devices, as the twins – Nanako – adorned her with even more of Geto’s diamonds. Y/N understood the necessity of this opulence, as did the twins. She and Geto were two pillars of strength, preserving and upholding their dignity with their own hands, against others who would surely seek to bury them in filth and squalor.

Of course, the prospect of seeing Toji again would only have added to her indecisiveness.

Several weeks had passed since her and Miguel’s bloody execution of justice against the traitors, and Y/N had hoped Toji would have paid her another secret visit to her balcony, wanting more than just fleeting whispers of him through their bond. Yet, he had remained almost silent, and her patience had dwindled like a fire burning its last embers. What was the point of a soulmate who never bothered to see her? While the rational part of her understood his need for distance, to protect their bond and keep her safe, another part of her just didn’t care. If anybody dared to come for either of them, then let them cast their own dice in the gamble of death.

The twins nodded and stepped back, allowing Y/N the space to stand and walk over to admire herself in the long mirror. They had chosen an elegant black silk kimono, its fabric elegantly draping over her body. Diamonds decorated her wrists, hair, and neck like stars in the midnight sky of Heaven. She felt luxurious, unable to resist indulging in a moment of vanity, as she savored her almost holy reflection.

“This is perfect,” she complimented, and they both beamed. “Would you girls mind seeing us off?”

They nodded eagerly and trailed behind her as she made her way from the bedroom to the throne room. Gone were the days when Y/N would get lost like a child in her brother’s palace; every corridor, doorway, and secret passageways was committed to memory, each one as familiar as treasured gold. She especially loved the courtyard she had designed with Geto, her own personal sanctuary, where she could find solace and tranquility whenever she wanted to.

It was eerily beautiful; trees with ebony bark and velvety-black blossoms lined the perimeter of the stone pathway, their gnarled branches adorned with swinging lanterns. Nearly trimmed bushes with blood-red blossoms were dotted throughout the courtyard, particularly around the gazebo standing at its center. There were ponds of stagnant opaque water, where koi fish lazily swam, yet these were no ordinary fish – they were Curses, created by Geto himself to dwell there for purely aesthetic purposes.

Her brother was already waiting for her, seated on his throne with legs crossed over. It struck Y/N just how perfectly he belonged here, to be a King of Hell and ruthlessly pursue his ideal world.

And now, she was a part of that ideal too.

Suguru raised an eyebrow at her, amusement twinkling in his warm eyes as he judged her appearance. “Took you long enough,” he teased. “Should I expect a wedding by the end of the day?”

Y/N barked a laugh and snorted, “Surely not. He hasn’t seen me for so long.”

Geto’s eyes darkened ever so slightly, his gaze flitting over to the twins. “Thank you, girls. You may leave us now.”

They nodded, and Y/N smiled softly at them as they left. Her brother’s eyes remained fixed on her with an unreadable expression, but Y/N knew Suguru was analyzing her, contemplating every scenario and outcomes of the impending meeting. She shifted on her feet, mentally preparing herself for the inevitable warnings he was about to impart to her like age old wisdom.

“I trust I don’t need to tell you to keep your emotions in check with Fushiguro around,” Geto said lowly, almost threateningly, as if he was the one she really needed to be wary of.

She almost rolled her eyes at that and muttered, “I won’t even look at him.”

“Good,” Geto said, voice raising an octave. “We have no allies to fall back on, not even him. No matter what the others say or do, you do not react to anything. Because of who we are, the others will look for any excuse to pounce on us. So stay quiet, and try to avoid drawing attention to yourself.”

He sighed. “Although, I’m sure Naoya will have something to say, given the way you look.”

Y/N stuck her chin up, and declared defiantly. “I’m not changing.”

Geto’s gaze softened considerably, and within a second, he stood beside her, looping their arms together. “And why should you, sweet sister? We’re both beautiful, and there’s no shame in that.”

A portal sprung to life in front of them, revealing a dimly lit, oppressive corridor beyond. Without waiting another moment, her brother strode through it, and Y/N almost stumbled as he pulled her with him.

Choso’s palace served as the standard meeting place between all the Kings – a neutral ground, as the half-Curse chose no sides in the wars within Hell. It was nowhere near as grand as Geto’s, exuding an air of shabbiness with walls once vibrant now dulled with time and neglect. There was a distinct lack of refinement or class; the sparse decoration left the place stark and devoid of life. It certainly wasn’t what Y/N had expected for a gathering of the Kings of Hell, simply because it lacked the grandeur she would have associated with such an important meeting. She would have thought that the Kings of Hell would demand only the finest and most grand of places to gather. However, she supposed it served its purpose well enough.

Y/N couldn’t deny her growing curiosity about Choso. Geto had told her that the lowly King was born while his mother was still an Angel, and Y/N wondered how she hadn’t been immediately turned into a Curse following her sin. She guessed that Choso’s conception wasn’t in accordance with the Holy Principles, and the resilience his mother must have possessed to avoid turning against God, given her circumstances, astounded Y/N more than anything. She hoped that perhaps she might have the chance to speak with him, although Geto had warned her the half-Curse was elusive and prone to melancholic moods.

Geto led her down the corridor, their footsteps softly thudding against the faded carpet. He stepped forward to open the twin doors of a chamber lit by orange-flamed torches; a pit of vipers they had willingly walked straight into.

In the center stood a large round stone table in the center of the room, where three Curses were already seated. One, a handsome blonde, had his head leaning casually on his hand, smirking at them as if he was privy to all their secrets. To his right sat Jogo himself, his unmistakable volcano head towering over them like a domineering crown. Almost directly across them sat a dark-haired Curse with his hair scraped into two messy high-ponytails, a curious black line across the bridge of his nose extending to both sides of his face – Choso Kamo himself.

“Ah, the Fallen is finally here,” sneered the blonde Curse. “I thought you seraphim were supposed to be punctual.”

“I see you’re early, Zenin,” Geto retorted smoothly, taking a seat beside Choso, and motioned for Y/N to sit beside him.

She couldn’t help but notice the segregation already taking shape. Jogo and Naoya were seated together, scrutinizing Geto with a mixture of disdain and haughtiness. Choso sat with a hauntingly empty look, his purple orbs fixated on the table as if lost in thought. Y/N ignored the unease settling in her stomach as he met her gaze, exhaustion evident deep within his eyes, and focused on maintaining her composure as she took her seat.

Naoya grinned at her, and purred with words dipped in honey and sugar, “And who might you be?”

“My sister,” Geto stated firmly, his tone protective.

Naoya’s interest seemed to dissipate as quickly as it had appeared, and his lip curled slightly in disgust, while steam started to hiss out of Jogo’s head.

“Oh, another Fallen at this table,” the Zenin sighed, observing her with a bored expression. “How… quaint.”

Y/N didn’t know whether to feel relieved or offended, but remained passive, as Geto remained unaffected by his comment. Choso also remained quiet beside them; he must be so used to their insults and remarks over the centuries.

“Where is the rest of your retinue, Jogo?” Geto asked, swiftly changing the subject, and redirecting their attention from Y/N to him instead.

“On their way. You needn’t worry, little King,” the mountain hissed, his voice as sharp and painful like a spitting fire, his charcoal-black teeth flashing as he smiled darkly.

Her brother’s lips fell into a thin line, refraining from biting back at the insult. As if on cue, a portal appeared, and from it stepped a tiny figure with snow-like hair, which instantly reminded Y/N of Gojo until she saw the red strip of hair running through the back of their head. An uncomfortable chill settled in the room as the Curse raised their head to observe them, moving into the corner of the chamber and blending into the shadows as if it were their natural home.

This had to be Uraume – the only direct connection anybody had to the King of Hell and all Curses. Was it wrong to be so twistedly fascinated by them? Y/N struggled to tear her gaze away, captivated by the mystery and legend that they were attached to. None of the other Kings seemed outwardly perturbed by their presence, as if being watched over by Uraume was the most normal thing in the world, and perhaps it was.

And then, the doors swung open with enough force to command attention. A giant Curse strode into the room, with long thick branches in place where its eyes should have been, and a blooming red rose growing from its left shoulder – decidedly feminine, and grotesquely beautiful. It reminded Y/N of how beautiful the gardens in Heaven were.

And emerging from the shadow of the colossal Curse was Mahito, his face lit up with a delightful expression.

Y/N’s heart dropped.

Dread crashed over her like an avalanche.

How?

Geto stiffened beside her, his hands flexing beneath the table.

Mahito locked eyes with her, his grin stretching wider and eyes gleaming madly. Jogo smirked at them both, clearly relishing in their discomfort and the fact he had the upper hand over them. He stared Geto down, daring him to buckle and show weakness.

He knows… they all know.

Her heart raced so fast she feared it might burst from her chest. Desperation clawed at her like a trapped animal, and Y/N’s fought the urge to reach over the table and slice them all into shreds before they had the chance to hurt her or Suguru.

The two Curses took their seats next to Jogo, who cleared his throat before speaking. “Some interesting information has recently been shared with me, Zenin.”

Naoya stopped inspecting his nails, and raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Oh?”

“This little Fallen King has been hiding a secret from all of us. Mahito here has been imprisoned for having knowledge of it,” Jogo said, tapping his fingers against each other, tilting his head towards the silver haired Curse.

Mahito sighed wistfully, feigning a look of pain on his face. “Yes, it was a horrible situation to be in,” he said, his tone dripping with insincerity.

“I don’t care what happened to you,” snapped Naoya, narrowing his eyes at Mahito. “Spit it out.”

“Y/N here…,” Mahito whispered, ignoring Naoya as his eyes sparkled with the thrill of holding everyone’s attention. “Is Fushiguro’s mate.”

It was silent, and then Naoya started to howl with laughter. Y/N shrank into herself, despising her helplessness in this situation. Geto remained silent beside her, likely questioning how Mahito had managed to escape and just how many of the secrets within his kingdom’s secrets were now public knowledge to their enemies. Meanwhile, Uraume stood like a statue in the shadows, unmoved by the events unfolding before them.

Toji… where are you?

“I said you were special,” Mahito murmured to her, his eyes dulled and sad as his mood shifted like the wind. “Why didn’t you save me like I saved you?”

“And so you betrayed us?” Y/N whispered, barely audible amidst the booming of voices, but he heard her words falling from her lips like it was his salvation.

“Not you,” he answered, just as quiet, and it almost felt like they were the only two people in the room. “But your brother just isn’t like us.”

Naoya stopped laughing, wiping away an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. “Now, Geto, how could you keep such a secret from us? Are we not all allies here?” he asked with mock innocence.

Absolutely not.

“Fushiguro and I decided it was best to keep it between ourselves,” Geto stated lowly, his voice dangerously thin. “My sister had just Fallen, and was still vulnerable.”

“Hmm, she still seems ripe for the taking to me,” Naoya smirked, his interest in her renewed as he gazed at her with hunger. “My cousin obviously hasn’t claimed her if she isn’t with him.”

“Why would Fushiguro taint himself with the likes of her?” Jogo sneered, venom lacing his words, reducing her to nothing.

“They are mates; they are one and the same. But, she is just as pure as me,” Mahito whispered, as if he had a say in the matter, his eyes still locked on Y/N as he defended her in his own way. Naoya looked at him sharply, a strange glint in his piercing eyes.

“So you say,” Jogo said dismissively, as if the notion of soulmates was something foul and he didn’t believe in. “My question to you, Geto, is how do I know you won’t exploit Fushiguro’s power to invade my kingdom?”

“You needn’t worry about that, Jogo, as long as you refrain from stealing from me again,” Geto replied, eyes flashing. “I have no need for his strength.”

“Tch, it’s not my fault if my soldiers happen across an opportunity. You should have better control over your own people,” he hissed, flames spurring from his head.

Y/N tuned out as the both of them went back and forth in a heated exchange, choosing to avoid Mahito and Naoya’s heavy stares by staring at her lap instead. She was disgusted with how much fear had gripped her, but with their secret out, she was no longer safe. Her and Geto needed to get out of here and fortify their defenses, and time seemed to be stretching out agonizingly slow.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Naoya started, sickly sweet sugar words returning, and she reluctantly looked up at him. “What does Toji feel like?”

She wouldn’t answer; she refused. Any form of a reply would be a betrayal to herself and to Toji.

His smile faltered, replaced by a dangerous glint of annoyance. “Did Geto not teach you that you cannot refuse to answer a King?”

“He taught me I always have a choice,” she finally spoke, against her better judgment, her voice as cold as ice.

Naoya hummed thoughtfully, but she knew he was really toying with her. “It seems my old cousin shares the same sentiment. If I was him, I would have taken you with me by force.”

“It’s a good thing you can never be me then, cousin.”

Toji.

He stood beside her as if he had been there the whole time. How had she not felt his approach? Was it his unnatural speed? It didn’t matter, she could feel his emotions clearly now – pure white-hot rage emanating from him like the rays of the sun burning against the Earth. And yet, his demeanor remained level-headed, calm, and almost bored. Naoya pulled back in surprise, and the rest of the room fell silent as they all registered his presence.

“Good, we can begin now,” Geto said, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere as Toji took his seat beside Y/N.

Her arm closest to him tingled with anticipation at their proximity, and Y/N craved his skin to brush against hers just a little. She could feel his warmth radiating from him in a delicious caress, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos of writhing snakes, and his nearness stirred a potent cocktail of restraint and desire within her. She couldn’t look at him – she mustn’t look at him.

A chair scraped beside him, and Y/N glanced over him to look at a female Curse who had taken a seat beside Toji. She had ice-blue hair braided in two intricate twists, with one long braid cascading over her face like a veil. Y/N didn’t need to see her face to know she was beautiful. The way she sat with her legs elegantly crossed, her skin-tight black dress accentuating her slim build, and the rhythmic drumming of her long red nails against the table all added to her allure. Yet, her beauty was unsettling, for it seemed to mask something as equally dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

Who is she? How come she’s with Toji?

Y/N’s mind began to race, an unfamiliar sting of jealousy prickling at her senses, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her chair.

“You think we’re finished with this conversation?” snapped Jogo, glaring daggers at her brother. “Fushiguro, tell me that I don’t need to worry about you turning on us for these Fallen.”

He said it so disgustingly, as if the word itself left a bitter taste in his mouth, and Y/N clenched her jaw.

“You don’t,” Toji agreed simply, his green eyes narrowed.

Both Naoya and Jogo looked at him with just a hint of surprise, as if they were expecting a completely different response. Y/N would be lying to herself if she didn’t think the same – Toji’s unexpected stance felt like abandonment, leaving her and Geto to completely fend for themselves in this precarious situation.

Naoya cleared his throat, resuming his air of arrogance. “Of course not. Now, let us discuss how we exterminate these seraphim once and for all,” he declared with bone-chilling casualness.

-•-

Y/N trailed her fingers back and forth through the water, watching the black and white fish swimming curiously towards the ripples she created. Even as she sat in front of the pond, she couldnt shake the sensation of Toji’s rage pulsating through their bond. He was in Geto’s throne room, presumably letting out his grievances, and she felt a pang of sympathy for her brother, knowing he was Toji’s prime target.

“King Fushiguro expects you to be ready for him,” the ethereal woman had announced without a care in the world, as she strolled through Geto’s court like they were all beneath her.

Y/N bristled at her presence, feeling a surge of tension ripple through Miguel and the others as they seemed to instantly become defensive. Geto sat atop his throne, his anger simmering quietly and deadly; like a volcano on the verge of eruption. He had been unnervingly quiet on their way back from the meeting, and she knew he was ready to blow and unleash his fury at the slightest inconvenience.

“Careful, Mei-Mei,” Geto hissed. “Even crows need to show respect, especially when showing up unannounced.”

Mei-Mei, that was her name, Toji’s second-in-command. Was she considered his queen the way Y/N was Suguru’s? Y/N didn’t bother to ask anyone, instead opting to ignore and walk straight past her on the way outside towards the courtyard. Y/N didn’t want to be in her presence, or anybody else’s – not even Toji’s for that matter. Being in quiet solitude was safe; nobody could hurt her if she ensured she alone. Besides, her soulmate had made it clear that her and Geto were alone in the coming war against their enemies.

Did he really think just a little bit less of Geto and her – because they were Fallen?

Y/N felt so very stupid and naive, realizing how cocky she had been just that morning, about not caring if the others discovered their bond. Reality proved starkly different to fantasies, but it was always be a shock to discover that notion. She’d been too caught up in her newfound power as Geto’s second and her ability to command and rule – a mistake she wouldn’t be repeating again.

A crow cawed loudly from a tree in front of her, and Y/N almost jumped out of her skin. She didn’t know why, maybe it was Geto’s comment echoing in her mind, but she was certain that the crow had everything to do with Mei-Mei, and she resented its presence. Y/N struggled to articulate why she already harbored such a strong dislike towards Mei-Mei, and she didn’t really care to explain it either. The bird continued to watch her closely with its beady eyes, and she glowered darkly in response. It had shattered her sense of solitary safety.

Footsteps tapped against the stone pathway behind her, prompting Y/N to instinctively grab the hilt of her katanas and leap to her feet.

Toji stood there, his usual attire abandoned for a dark blue haori instead. His expression was inscrutable as he regarded her, not saying a word. The crow flitted about in the tree, and his sharp gaze locked onto it. A faint twitch played at the corner of his lip.

“Nosy bitch,” Toji muttered, and within a flash, he flung a small, deadly knife at the bird. It made no sound as it landed lifelessly on the ground.

Y/N said nothing, unfazed by the bird’s death, and ignored Toji as she resumed her previous sitting position, gazing at the koi. She heard him sigh, and a shiver trickled down her spine like water running down a tree. His robes rustled as moved and crouched beside her, his warmth palpable as their shoulders almost touched.

How could he be so dangerous and so intoxicating at the same time?

“Your brother make these?” Toji grumbled, his words still tinged with anger like flint sparking against steel, nodding his head towards the koi.

She nodded wordlessly, and Toji grunted in response. They fell into an uneasy silence, and Y/N felt the urge to break it, even if she didn’t really know what to say to him. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t risk angering him further? And yet, she deserved an answer to the question nagging at the forefront of her mind; would he would ever see them as equals? After all, it was his fault that she had become a Fallen – a fake Curse in the eyes of many.

She just didn’t think his eyes were among those.

“Are you… alright?” Toji asked suddenly, uncertainty lacing his words, and Y/N frowned in response. Her resolve slightly softened when she glanced at the genuine look of concern on his face.

“Not really,” she whispered, her head hanging low.

Toji shifted, as he settled into a reclined position, leaning his weight against his hand. Their fingertips hovered near each other, almost touching, a tantalizing and forbidden electric charge crackling between them.

Y/N swallowed nervously.

“They’re going to come for you, you know?” he said, his voice deep and solemn. “You’re the only thing that could unify me and Geto, so they’ll do anything to stop that.”

A flash of annoyance coursed through her, and she sighed exasperatedly, “I know that.”

Toji exhaled heavily, head thrown back to look at the dark sky as he huffed, “I can’t stop a war that’s inevitable.”

Frustration… at himself?

“I never asked you to,” Y/N murmured, adding perhaps somewhat childishly. “You made it very clear that you wouldn’t stoop so low and help the likes of us.”

“I’m not putting my people at risk for someone else’s war. I’ve said that from the very beginning – me and your brother are not united. I’ve only agreed to leave his kingdom alone, but it has nothing to do with you both being Fallen.”

Someone else.

So she was just someone else then, even if she was the root of all the ensuing violence and death.

Y/N suddenly felt quite foolish.

“I see,” was all she could manage to say, as her face flushed with the heat of embarrassment.

He grunted, “I don’t give a shit about all that you know?”

“You seemed to before,” Y/N snapped, her anger surprising even herself.

Toji rolled his eyes, and droned, “Have you ever heard of lying, little angel?”

“Don’t call me that.”

She felt such crippling shame for being a massive burden on her brother, and for being the cause of the war creeping menacingly closer towards them. Why had he even come if he was just going to be an ass?

A flash of hurt…

A small part of her felt guilty, but it paled in comparison to what she was already feeling, and to how he had added to her turmoil. They sat beside each other in uncomfortable silence, but Toji’s hand remained stubbornly where it was beside hers. Y/N felt only slightly more at ease, finding solace in his silence, until she was abruptly reminded of the crow lying beneath the tree. A gnawing question clawed its way out of her throat, disrupting the fragile peace between them.

“What do the crows have to do with Mei-Mei?” she blurted out, torn between wanting to know nothing about the sly Curse and her insatiable curiosity.

Toji’s brow furrowed as he replied slowly, “She controls them; they’re her eyes and ears.”

“Her spies, then.”

“Hers, mine, same thing. Why do you ask?”

“I just… want to know who she is to you.”

“She’s my second in command, just like you are to Geto. Her crows go anywhere I tell her to send them, and in return, I pay her in gold, diamonds, whatever else she wants.”

“Whatever she wants?”

“Intelligence is everything. I keep her in my pocket so she’s not in anyone else’s. What are you trying to imply?”

Y/N knew Toji was fully aware of what she was really asking, yet she still asked anyways. “Is she anything more?”

Toji gave her a sharp and pointed look as he growled, “Are you sure you want to know if I’ve fucked her or not?”

Y/N blushed furiously at his brash language, feeling so exposed by how easily he was able to pick her apart and read her like a book.

Toji smirked, but it was cruel and cold, and snorted dismissively, “I didn’t think so. Don’t ask questions you’re not ready to hear the answers to. My past is no-one’s business, and don’t think for a second I owe it to you.”

Oh.

She moved her hand away from him as his words stung her deeply as if he’d actually bitten her. Y/N realized Toji’s anger never truly dissipated; it lingered beneath the surface, always ready to strike and unleash itself like a viper in the shadows. He was a stormy sea, untamable and unpredictable, and she realized he had absolutely no desire to be anything other than exactly that.

This is who I nearly died for.

Nanami died for me to have him.

Gojo died because of him.

“What’s the point of this, then?” Y/N said softly, almost to herself, her voice barely above a whisper as the waves of loneliness and shame washed over and completely drowned her. “I think you should go.”

Toji’s expression turned inscrutable, and his eyes dulled from their usual intensity. Wordlessly, he rose from her side, the loss of his heat causing prickling goosebumps to appear on her arm. Without so much as any sort of a goodbye, he disappeared straight into a portal, leaving Y/N alone once more.

He never even looked at her.

Her solitary haven didn’t feel so safe anymore.

-•-

Geto came to visit her later that night.

He had immediately noticed her glossy and tired eyes, and his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I should have checked on you first.”

“It’s ok Suguru,” Y/N assured, as convincingly as she could manage. “There are things that need to be done.”

“May I come in?” he asked politely, offering her a small, yet tight, smile. Y/N moved over to to the side to let him in.

Geto took a seat in the padded chair in front of the crackling blue fire, and sighed deeply. “He came to see you then?”

She took a seat in the chair beside him, and nodded. “Yes, not for very long though.”

“I assume it wasn’t a very pleasant conversation.”

Y/N shook her head, and Geto seemed genuinely saddened by this. “I’m sorry to hear that, I thought perhaps I’d bore the brunt of his anger before he met with you.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. What did he discuss with you?”

“Well, that I should have been more careful with ensuring Mahito could never escape, and he was right.”

“We all underestimated him.”

“So it seems, and we’re paying a heavy price for that now. I should also mention that he demanded I convince you to stay with him.”

“What, really?”

“Oh? He didn’t ask you himself?”

“He… well, no.”

“How interesting, so what happened then?”

“I asked questions I shouldn’t have, let’s just leave it at that.”

Suguru leaned forward in his seat, his eyes comforting and warm, urging her to continue. “Tell me anyways, sweet sister.”

“It’s not worth it Suguru, none of it is anymore,” Y/N huffed, tears prickling her eyes, embarrassed at repeating the incident out loud. “But, I… I did ask him if he and Mei-Mei ever…”

“Oh, Y/N. Why would you ask that?”

“I don’t know, Suguru. I just… I don’t know what I was looking for exactly.”

“I don’t know either. But I do know that Fushiguro is definitely not still a virgin after eight-hundred years of living in Hell.”

Y/N’s face burned, and she looked away from Geto, who softly chuckled. “I’m not that naive, brother,” she snapped.

“Good. I’d be worried if you were,” he said, still chuckling.

As her brothers laughter faded away, the atmosphere turned serious, and Y/N tensed as Geto asked gravely. “Do you need me to stay here while you sleep?”

“What? No, Suguru.”

“I’d understand. I’m not going to be sleeping much for the foreseeable future.”

“Neither am I, so there’s no need for you to hover.”

“As you wish.”

Geto stood up from his chair and leaned over to softly kiss her hair. “I’m sorry for not protecting you better,” he whispered, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

“There’s no need, because I wouldn’t have gone with him even if he’d asked me to,” Y/N said firmly, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Geto appeared visibly gladdened at this and bade her goodnight as he gently closed her door. Y/N wasted no time in moving to quickly to lock it and then ensuring the balcony doors were also secured. She checked to see if her katanas were within reach beside the bed, placing a hand over her hip to make sure the hidden dagger buried beneath her robe was still there. The paranoia threatened to consume her alive, like maggots buried deep within her bones, burrowing out from within to devour her flesh, and she felt powerless to stop it.

But now wasn’t the time for weakness; she had to steel herself for battle, as she had done a thousand times before. Despite the comforting inner mantra that she repeated to herself, reminding her of past fights and the resilience she knew she had within her, Y/N couldn’t shake the jarring thought that she had at least gone to bed knowing that she was safe. Nothing could have harmed her in Heaven, under God’s protection, and Y/N was so acutely aware of how vulnerable one was when they were dreaming.

God…

Would it be… wrong?

And yet, there couldn’t be anything that felt more right. Despite the paradoxical nature of it, Y/N knelt at the foot of her bed and clasped her hands together.

And prayed to God.

-•-

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[gothicminxx]

Part 1 here

Part 2 is finally here! It took me forever to write, there’s a happy ending in this one I promise!

Satosugu x Fem! Reader

CW: Angst, mentions of death, mentions of blood, pet names (baby and angel), established relationship with Gojo, mentions of sex if you squint. A slight razzle dazzle of the Shibuya arc.

WC: 5.2k

Also do y’all like love and deadspace? Thinking of posting a Zayne one shot soon.

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Late hours of the night brought the city to life, lights glittered brightly and it hid the beauty of the stars in the dark sky. Any attraction given to the charm of nature was only given to the full moon, bright and massive with a tint of blood orange to it tonight— a fitting color for Halloween night. The streets of Shibuya littered with college students and foreigners from different countries that had come down to experience a party of a lifetime. Common and unique costumes alike wandered drunkenly on the pavement, stumbling not only over their feet but words as well.

Halloween night in Shibuya was known for its array of bars, genres of music that boomed loudly in the city, and the small community of party goers that it created— a splendid environment for extroverts. It set the perfect trap for those with intentions that were the least bit pure to bait and capture the great Satoru Gojo, the man that had dampened the lives of curses the moment he was born.

The night had begun like any other, Satoru stood in the rather large kitchen with a gray towelette resting on his shoulder. He wore an apron that wrapped tightly around his slender waist as he concentrated on perfecting his tonkatsu chicken for dinner. Quietly he hummed along to a random playlist on his phone, tongue sticking out slightly from the corner of his mouth. His back muscles flexed the moment he began cutting up vegetables for dinner.

You stood in the kitchen with your husband, preparing a sweet cream that would accompany the matcha swiss rolls you were working hard on. Satoru, being a greedy man, adored having sweet pastries after dinner made by his lovely wife. He constantly begged you for a delicious confection, coaxing you with a much needed massage, or even a bath for two which always ended in a moment of tangled moans. You never complained when it came to indulging his addiction to sugar, it was a mere excuse to spend time together in the kitchen for a couple of hours, even if you already spent a lot of time with him.

Satoru grabbed plates from the cupboard to assemble your dinner as you popped your tasty dessert in the oven. Sauntering over to the small dining table you began to set everything up, allowing Satoru to pull a chair out for you before setting your dinner in front of you. Together you savored the flavors of each item of food, sharing in conversation about mundane things that held no importance at the time.

As dessert cooled down from the oven both of you sat on the cozy sectional couch in your living room, sitting on his lap to feed him dessert. Giggling as he threw compliments your way like a love sick puppy dog after each bite. Even if you had been married to Satoru for three years now the two of you acted like teenagers in love.

You laid snuggled up in his side with his arms wrapped tightly around you, watching a movie, slowly dozing off. Before a perfect night could conclude, Satoru’s phone rang loudly, begging for attention obnoxiously snapping you out of a sleepy haze. Groaning loudly he reached for his phone, pressing the green accept button with a roll of his eyes, “What is it now, Nanami?”

The deep gentle voice of Nanami flowed through his phone as he pressed it to his ear, furrowing his brows as he listened along. Being the nosy person you were, you tried your hardest to listen to the conversation but his voice was muffled. Whatever Nanami was telling Satoru it appeared to be serious, his body stiffened underneath you, “Uh huh, be there soon.” Satoru’s slender finger clicked the red decline button before he tossed the mobile device to the side.

A loud groan escaped his lips, rubbing the length of his face with his hand. A sense of worry washed over you as you quickly sat up, “I'm sorry baby, but we gotta get going.” He stated, standing from the couch as he extended his hand down to help you up.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, a perplexed expression falling on your beautiful face.

“It seems a veil has been casted down in Shibuya. Non-sorcerers are trapped inside without a way out, sorcerers may move freely in certain areas, while others are blocked off.” The situation sounded grave, it was concerning to be left in the dark, nobody had any idea of who could possibly be behind it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Leaning back against a metal pole you let out a loud heaving breath, clutching your cursed tool tightly that the white of your knuckles were visible. The head of a deformed human was held in your hand, blood spilling against the tile before you discarded it on the floor. Your lungs felt as if they were on fire after the relentless pace of bolting through the crowded subway station, slicing each deformed human that came near you. Mahito had an endless supply of these things, spitting more out from his mouth in globs that it seemed nearly impossible to kill them all.

Satoru had been separated from you for a mere second which was absolutely devastating for the powerful sorcerer, his main goal as it always has been, was to keep you safe in the confinements of his limitless technique. But Hanami and Jogo had different plans, separating him from you the moment an opportunity presented itself. You were ultimately the biggest thing he cared about, the cursed spirits had an understanding that as long as you were near Satoru, he would be reckless in his movements. Without hesitation he would hurt those that stood near as he used infinite void to destroy the cursed spirits if it meant keeping you safe. A technique that without fail would earn him victory.

Mahito had been put in charge of tiring you out, to exhaust all of your cursed energy, he doubted your abilities believing that you were a mere weakling. But as soon as his doubt came, it quickly deteriorated, the blade of your Katana burned bright red and pink resembling a wildfire. It terrified yet intrigued the patch face curse to witness first hand, he had only been warned that you were a reversed curse technique user with the special ability of bringing back the dead. The power of your cursed energy, the way you transferred it to the blade burning it, causing it to turn a lovely shade of glowing orange-- excited him, “I never knew you’d be this much fun!” Mahito giggled, twirling with his arms extended like a child.

Wiping sweat from your brow a smirk etched itself on your face, “I didn’t expect you to be this annoying.” You hissed, gripping the handle of the katana, digging your heel into the ground preparing to race towards him.

The cursed spirit had become a nuisance rather quickly that it had gotten under your skin. Your main focus was to run downstairs towards Satoru to be by his side, where you belonged. You knew better than to be worried about him, he was the strongest after all but you couldn’t help it— something was off. Digging the ball of your foot on the tile ground you lunged forward, the fiery blade coming in contact with the cursed spirit. Mahito’s eyes widened as your movements caught him off guard, piercing through his abdomen causing a choked cough to escape him. You twist the blade, listening to the squelch of his organs before pulling the Katana away, “I’m getting sick of your shit.” Your words are dripping with venom.

Another cackle stems from his lips that it only manages to enrage you more. The moment you had arrived with Satoru to Shibuya, warning bells rang in your head, the thick layers of the veil were enough to give you a clear sign. “Awe, you don’t mean that.” Mahito cooed, jutting his lips in a pout.

Igniting the katana with more cursed energy, your legs lept into another sprint, quick to dodge a blow from Mahito’s fist that stretched out like a rubber band. The fiery blade makes contact with his abdomen once more earning a groan of pain from his lips, crimson blood decorating the blade of your katana as it’s ripped away from Mahitos stomach. You could feel the familiar burn in your lungs and the ache in your muscles from exhaustion, constantly running circles around him for the last thirty minutes was draining.

Annoyingly enough for the patch face curse, exerting your physical stamina would never be enough to exhaust the cursed energy stored in your body. You were far too calculating, too aware of how much energy you needed to exude from yourself in order to take an opponent down; it was infuriating. If Mahito hadn’t been instructed to keep you alive, he would have touched the essence of your soul and morphed you into a doll he could play with.

Mahito tilted his head, clutching his fists tightly almost as if he was preparing to send another attack your way. Instead, he snickered as his gaze drifted to the stairs that led to the lower level of the subway station, “Come play some more, doll.” he licked his lips almost predatory as he sprinted toward the stairs, listening to your feet not far behind him-- it was all according to plan.

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Cerulean eyes held a barbaric gaze, wild grin plastered on his face as his long legs took strides toward the volcano head curse, that coward in fear from the mere sight of him. His pale cheeks stained with crimson blood and his breath was frantic from eradicating deformed humans. The plan of separating him from you failed, ultimately he had released his infinite void domain for a tenth of a second to rid of the nuisances that were Mahito’s doing.

“You crying?” Satoru snickered as he stepped closer to Jogo, rage and adrenaline coursing through his veins; he felt like a god. His head tilted to the side in a mocking manner, dusting his blue blazer with a displeased look on his face, “I don’t take too kindly to being separated from my wife, you understand that… right, Jogo?”

Satoru had become fed up with the constant battle, the pathetic back and forth with curses that believed they could defeat him; he was a force to be reckoned with. As he stared at the trepidation in Jogo’s eyes; though it brought him satisfaction, he simply wanted to be at your side again to protect you. Reaching his large hand out, Saturo took a hold of Jogo’s arm, ripping the appendage off his body, a giggle escaping his lips. The curse let out a panicked yelp, trying his best to create distance between him and the six eyed sorcerer; he had to keep him busy for a few more minutes but it was starting to feel like an eternity to him. Being put against Satoru was pure misery for the volcano head.

He pushed through the crowd of frozen bodies that had been affected by his infinite void domain, finding joy in the chase. Jogo was quick on his feet but Satoru wasn’t too far behind, in his panic he found himself throwing balls of fire at the white haired man; bouncing off his limitless. Jogo knew it was a desperate attempt, that he would never be able to hit Gojo, his limitless too powerful.

Racing footsteps echoed throughout the lower level of the subway station, laughter bouncing off the walls; it sounded all too familiar to Jogo. His footsteps slowed down as the shadow of a figure danced along the wall, long blue hair flowing in the wind— Mahito appeared down the stairs, giggling like a maniac. The new presence halted Satoru the moment he laid eyes on you chasing after the patch face curse, your katana blazing an angry red.

His heart fluttered as relief washed over him; you were okay. His focus soon shifts towards you, the chase soon dispersing from his mind as Satoru’s feet quickly move in your direction; planning to shield you in the confinements of his limitless technique. It felt as though he had gone a lifetime separated from you, the worry had been gnawing at him. Yet he knew better, knew that you were capable of defending yourself in the face of danger, but it never made him worry any less.

Mahito raced toward Jogo, a smirk evident on his face, “Jogo, it’s time!” He exclaimed.

Milky hair came into your view, hand grasping your shoulder, pulling you into his side. His hold was firm as if to shield you from the world, hearing Mahito’s words was enough for the six eyes to sense a threat approaching. “Stay close to me.” Satoru instructed his jaw clenched tightly, you could only nod in response.

It was a late reaction as your eyes widened, feeling his firm body against yours; wanting to feel you close to him. Since the events that had perspired with Suguru a few years ago, Satoru kept you under lock and key like a guard dog protecting its home. It was rare for you to be out of his sight, never too far as the fear of losing you too stayed with him, sticking like gum. He requested the higher ups to keep you at Jujutsu High where you spent most of your days training the students and helping in the infirmary. While most of the teacher’s received missions often that required their attention, to keep you safe, he made sure you stayed busy at school. It was never that Satoru didn’t believe you to be capable of defending yourself or even that he doubted your abilities, he knew you were strong. But you were also the most precious thing in his life and he would be damned if even a tiny scratch scathed your pretty skin.

Jogo followed Mahito, a loud whistle erupting from his lips as if he were signaling something or someone. Satoru’s arms tightened around your waist as a figure appeared in the distance, responding to Jogo. Your throat felt tight as the silence was deafening, the footsteps rang loudly in your ears, the air impossibly thick. Instinctually your hand reached Satoru’s blazer to grasp it tightly, afraid to be separated from him once more.

“Satoru and Name, been awhile.” The voice was gentle, a silky melody that made your hearts drop to your stomachs. You knew that voice anywhere.

As the figure approached from the shadows of the subway tunnel, long raven hair entered your peripheral vision. Your grip on Satoru tightened, a lump forming in your throat that it felt as though it was closing up your esophagus. The face of the lover you lost to the grim reaper a few years ago now stood in front of you. Memories of his limp body falling in your arms that nearly crushed you, your wails and screams filling every crevice of your mind. Suguru’s bloody face flashed before your eyes, bringing you back to the field of the school-- begging Satoru that it didn’t have to end this way. You blinked a few times as he approached, how was a dead man walking? You looked up at Satoru as if asking for reassurance that he too was seeing the same thing as you. His jaw was clenched, his face drained of any color, and his lip quivered slightly-- he saw him too. “You’re the one behind this?” You blurted, unable to halt the words from escaping.

Suguru smirked, he appeared to be looking around him with admiration at the chaos that the curses caused. His coffee eyes soon focused on the two of you, “I guess so,” he chuckled, he took a step closer, “Didn’t you miss me?”

Satoru dug his nails inside of his palm the longer he stared at Suguru. His features were the same as if he had never died, as if he never left his lovers. He gritted his teeth preparing his red technique, to muster the courage to do it all over again-- to end it, but he couldn’t, “My six eyes keep telling me it’s Suguru Geto, but my heart and soul know otherwise!” He hissed, the agony he felt evident in his voice.

“So observant.” He cooed. Suguru tossed a metal cube in front of you, using the shock of the situation to his advantage. The cube opened, quick to entrap your wrists and Satoru’s tightly like cuffs.

The raven haired man reached up and pulled at the stitches engraved in his forehead, pulling up his scalp to reveal Kenjaku, a curse that has the ability to use the victim's body as his own. “Someone was kind enough to leave this body for me.”

Kenjaku’s words confused you. Satoru had taken you to the crematorium after Suguru’s death, a place where they laid sorcerer's to rest. It was a small place just outside Kyoto, surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Satoru had picked this crematorium for this reason. Suguru admired the pink color, the sweet aroma the flowers brought each season. At the time he picked an apartment with a cherry blossom tree in the backyard. Every spring he would pick the flowers to make mochi, sitting outside to delight in the sweet confection with the two of you. The cherry blossom tree held a special meaning for the both of you, it was Suguru.

The white haired man had taken you by the hand, leading you to a small koi pond. A marble tombstone with Suguru’s name had come into view, a few flowers already scattered on his grave. You reached out your fingertips to trace his name, tears rolling down your face as the reality had finally set in that he was gone. You remember setting down his favorite tea and Cherry blossom mochi that you and Satoru had stayed up all night to make that wasn’t nearly as good as his. It never made sense to you as to why your husband never allowed you to have an urn with Suguru’s ashes. You had begged him, pleaded with him to let you have that last piece of him but Satoru insisted he’d be better off somewhere lovely. His ashes were placed in the ground that would one day make a cherry blossom tree.

As he stood here now, you realized Satoru had never gotten rid of Suguru’s body. That when he had instructed Shoko to take him to get cremated it had never happened. The grave you had spent hours at, talking to him, dropping him gifts-- it was empty. “What?” You choked, your eyes immediately falling on your snowy haired lover.

Satoru avoided your gaze, dropping his head to the ground ashamed that a secret he had held onto for so long had finally come to light. He had planned to tell you one day, but as time passed and visits to Suguru’s ‘grave’ became more frequent-- he couldn’t. Kenjaku tsked, “What a pity, it was quite simple to retrieve this body. Surprised you would be so weak to not tell her.”

You winced at his mocking tone, each word stung deeper than a knife. Satoru had lied to you, kept you away from resurrecting the man you each had spent decades loving. You understood Suguru’s values would never match up to your own, that his existence alone was a threat to human society, and yet, none of it mattered. The love you held in your heart for him was much greater than the mistakes he had made, than the lives he had taken. You could never see him as a monster, Suguru had always been misunderstood. “Sato-”

He shook his head, cutting you off, “How much longer are you going to let it control you, Suguru?!” Satoru called out.

Suguru’s hand began to twitch, his hand lunging forward at his own throat causing Kenjaku to laugh in amusement, “I’ve never had a body fight back before. How entertaining.”

“You’re one of the strongest, don’t let it consume you, Sugu.” You added, his hand doing anything it can to choke the curse living inside of him.

Kenjaku laughed, peeling each finger off his neck with brute force, “Times up.” The cube that had surrounded you and Satoru slowly began to close, muffling the sounds of the outside world as it entrapped you inside its prison-- each surrounding going black.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The prison realm was compact, reeking of death from the various skeletons from past prisoners that surrounded you. The bones made for an uncomfortable mattress, Satoru had laid you on top of his body to provide you some form of cushion. It was silent in the metal box that imprisoned you compared to the noisy outside world that continued with or without you, it was a bleak thought. You laid your head on your husband’s chest, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to suppress your tears, the last thing you wanted was to be near him. Your heart felt heavy in your chest almost like a fifty pound weight rested there, it ached an agonizing pain that you could barely ignore it.

Satoru’s heart steadily beat against your ear, the only other sound that could be heard besides his breaths. He held you tightly, his arm around your waist and the other moved from your hair to infront of your eyes, obscuring your vision to total darkness, “Don’t think.” He murmured.

Your lips quivered, his words setting off each emotion you felt deeply, a choked sob raking your body. A few of your tears touched the palm of his hand, Satoru’s heart stung the more you gripped his hand, whimpering like an injured puppy. It pained him to see the damage his actions had caused, he swore to himself that he would tell you the truth on Suguru’s birthday. The day you had tirelessly baked a chocolate cake for hours in the kitchen, trying to perfect it just for him. Dolling yourself up in the mirror, that day you made sure to wear Suguru’s favorite dress that he had bought for you, a white one that made you appear like an angel sent from above. When you sat at his tombstone with balloons, cake, and sunflowers, lighting up candles on the cake as you and Satoru sang him happy birthday. He promised then that he would tell you, but he never did.

He kissed the top of your head, holding his hand still over your teary eyes, providing the only darkness he knew would calm you down. It was his form of silencing the world around you, allowing you to focus on the atmosphere around you-- acknowledging each emotion you felt that you often failed to discern. “Don’t think, just focus.” Satoru instructed once more.

Another wail left your lips that caused him to wince, holding you tighter as he buried his face in your hair. A tear slid down his face as he listened to you cry, he hated himself for the agony he had caused you. Holding his wrist tighter to keep his hand as a blind fold you listened to the quiet atmosphere around you, that stench of death that made your stomach churn reminding you of the prison you were in. Trying to grasp at the emotions that overwhelmed you, “How could you do this to me?” You choked out.

Nuzzling his cheek against your hair, you could feel the wetness-- he was crying. Satoru held onto you as his life depended on it, petrified that if he let go that you would disappear and leave him alone in this cruel world. The person he loved with his entire being, the one he would sacrifice his own life for in a heartbeat because you were absolutely everything to him. He felt like an idiot for lying to you, the truth always came out, he was a fool for believing otherwise, “Baby, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Satoru croaked, “I wanted to tell you, I was going to tell you but I…”

“Decided to be selfish and lie to me instead?”

“Name-”

“No, you thought I’d be reckless and bring him back,” You shoved his hand away, sitting up on him, “Didn’t you?”

Your face was flushed, sticky with tears that persisted on falling from your eyes. Your chest heaving up and down, a clear indication that you were furious at him. Satoru sat up, averting his gaze from those pretty sad eyes of yours-- he felt sick. “Look at me!” You pleaded, taking a hold of his chin to force him to look at the hurt he caused.

He placed his hands on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze as he found the strength to muster words, “I did.”

You dropped your hand from his chin, dropping your gaze to his abdomen as you frantically wiped at your tears. He doubted you, but was he wrong? His death had affected you gravely that it took months to cope, even now you still struggled on certain days. Suguru’s birthday was the hardest date to get by, alongside the day he passed, those days you wore his clothes that had already lost his scent. You drank his favorite tea even if you preferred coffee, you just wanted to feel close to him again. Satoru clung onto you those days, he sought after your comfort-- as you did his. It was silent around your home for long periods of time, embracing each other tightly to communicate how much you missed him, to remind one another that you were still here.

Suguru’s spot in bed remained untouched, a cold spot that reminded you of the once warm body that lay there. His things never left your house, not even after you and Satoru moved to a new home, there was always a piece of him there. Thinking now, if Satoru had told you that Shoko stored his body somewhere safe you would have spent days, even months searching for it-- you’d bring him back. You had been blessed with the ability to bring those back from the dead, it didn't matter how long they were gone, if the body was well preserved you could bring them back. Playing with death would have its consequences someday, but you would have risked it for Suguru. Your husband wasn’t wrong to hide the truth from you, you couldn’t let Suguru go.

“I would have.” You chuckled bitterly, resting your forehead against Satoru’s, “I still would.”

His hand cupped your cheek, gently wiping away the fat tears that cascaded down your face, “I know.”

“I miss him, Toru.”

“Me too, baby.”

You stared up at the black sky, Kenjaku now had Suguru’s body. It was a harsh reality. While he created chaos as your deceased lover, you were locked away in a box, hoping to be rescued by the other sorcerers. The time of when you’d be free from this hell wasn’t certain nor was it definite, you relied on those outside to save you; you had faith. Once freed, it was inevitable that Satoru would fight against Kenjaku, face the reality of hurting Suguru’s body once more-- something he hadn’t forgiven himself for. “I can bring him back, once we get out… I can bring Sugu back.” You blurted.

Satoru sucked in a breath at your words, it had never left your mind to bring him back. He knew you still thought of the days where it was just the three of you, he did too. The six eyes craved to have his old life back where the raven haired man was in the picture, his gentle smile, his soft voice-- he missed it all. It sounded like a dream come true to have that life back, perhaps the old Suguru would return, at least that’s what he told himself.

His silence was deafening, “Please,” You choked, more tears fell from your eyes, “Please let me bring him back, Toru. We can eat mochi under cherry blossom trees again, just like we used to. You can drag us out of bed on snow days and I won’t complain, I promise. Then he’ll scold you for eating too many sweets and for buying candy behind his back. Please… I-” Your head fell against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck, pleading with him over and over again.

He buried his face in your hair once more, holding the back of your head with his hand, gently rocking your bodies together. Satoru wanted that fantasy life more than anything, your promises sounded like honey. It was a life that had once been reality before Suguru disappeared to pursue his own ideals, a life that remained cherished. Satoru cried with you, biting his lip to suppress his whimpers; he knew better. Suguru had changed, too stuck in his ways, his values so engraved in his brain that it was impossible to persuade him differently. His own lovers couldn’t stray him from the society he saw fit, Suguru would return to his old ways-- Satoru would let him, neither of you would deny him that anymore and that terrified him. “We can’t.” His voice weak, the words struggled to come out almost as if he didn’t believe what he was telling you.

Your body shook with each sob that left your lips, each tear staining his navy blazer. Your husband held you tighter, silence loomed overhead as you both cried. In the end the both of you knew that your love for Suguru remained, neither of you have stopped grieving him. “I can’t let him go.” You rasped.

It was Satoru’s turn to sob, cradling your head in his hand. The rocking of your bodies pacified the emotions from causing anxiety, his body was warm— a big protective blanket that you found yourself sinking into further. A sharp pang spread through his heart as he reminisced on the past. It would be selfish to bring him back, to turn the world upside down as Satoru and you finally stood by him. He couldn’t let him go either.

Pulling back from the hug, Satoru cupped his hands on both of your cheeks, he was a selfish man. Two selfish lovers disregarding the pain of the innocent for a love unforgotten.

He had lived for others, sacrificed himself for the greater good. Satoru constantly fought tooth and nail to protect the weak, constantly worrying about you because the weak could not control their cursed energy— curses would continue to be born. But they were only human. The guilt was gnawing at him, his thoughts spiraled out of control the more he looked at his precious wife. Suguru was right, it was your turn to be happy.

“Okay, once we get out of here… let’s get our Sugu back, angel.”

Maybe it was selfish, but neither of you cared anymore. The decision had been made. When the prison realm freed you, and the battle became a gruesome bloody mess. With Kenjaku ripped from Suguru’s body, you did the only thing you knew— resurrect the man that held onto your hearts after all these years.

As he wrapped his arms around you both, holding you close. The smell of cedar wood and jasmine enveloped you like he never left, he held your dizzying body tightly that felt exhausted after using up your cursed energy for the day. Perhaps it wasn’t selfish, the long lost lover had returned, never to be separated from either of you again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

#angst #geto suguru #geto x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #love #polyamory #satosugu #satosugu x reader #suguru geto #satorugojo #happy ending #multi #multiple #shibuya #prison realm #mahito #jogo jjk #hanami jjk #jjk gojo #jjk geto

[a-tiny-teez]

I see no difference 💀

#jjk #angst #jjk x reader #jjk fanart #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #anime au #funny shit #i see no difference #wth #lmaooo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere mahito #mahito #mahito x reader

[undermine-the-instinct]

Stop looking at me with those eyes!! JJK Pt l | Pt ll | Pt lll

Characters: Sukuna, Mahito, Kenjaku, Choso.

Warnings: YANDERE. Minors DNI. Due to the nature of said characters I will classify this as yandere/ darkfic. Soft(?) Gore mentions.

(A.N:I don't know what you did to get these men's attention, but good fucking luck, lol)

Love is what they this, this lesser thing beings pursue for some semblance of worth, importance. A liability, and a weakness that {Sukuna} doesn't have. But he supposes that is love by human standards. Curses fare no better. He will not debate whether curses can love or not, he does not exist to either, and he will hold himself to no standards but his own.

You are soft and sweet in his arms, and he enjoys that. Your sounds please him, whether in pleasure or pain. He savors the taste of your blood on his tongue. He wants to rip you to shreds, but he holds himself back. It will be too troublesome to find someone good enough to replace you.

So he supposes that he loves you, in his own way. The only way that matters.

He admits that he greatly enjoys the way you look at him. Your eyes shine, and while mortal means of wealth never enticed him, these are the only jewels he wants to hold in his hands.

"Stop looking at me with those eyes."

You're held up against his side, cradled in one pair of arms, bloody and tired and limp. He is not quite sated after his latest binge, and so he holds you; the remains are scattered around you both, twitching and shivering in the open air. Much like you are, you have to stop that–Predator instincts demand he sinks his teeth into you. Your flesh is a delicacy that he knows well.

But your sweet eyes– so wide and tinged with horror, are alive and bright, like lanterns cutting through the dark mist of night. So pretty. What would he do without them?

"Stop looking at me like that pet, or I'll pluck your eyes out again, like the pretty jewels they are." They were soft and veiny in his mouth, popping like gushers. Reverse cursed technique keeps you in one piece.

As if to taunt him, your eyes gleam brighter with your tears, and his hands twitch around you.

He must always catch himself. Sometimes he doesn't. He wants to keep going, keep going further and further till you're nothing more than viscera, blood in his mouth. Until the pain turns you into a curse, held above them all, just like he is. It would be better for you. It would be better for him.

But, no, not yet. He enjoys your human softness. He deserves it.

"Oh dearest." Your tears fall out unbidden, and he sighs, brings you up to his face, and licks the tracks they run down your face. Sweet, just like the rest of you.

You will stay here forevermore. You will never belong to anyone else, much less yourself.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

{Mahito} is a creature born from every nasty thing humanity has ever felt or thought or done. A maelstrom, a calamity. Not a catastrophy. He is still happening after all.

Love is twisted for him, it's a thing of malcontent for him. In fact, it's one of the main things that made him up. A lover's anger at a cheating partner, vicious joy at their pain, the satisfaction of a lover's vengeance. The soft vindictiveness that comes after, when you pick up the pieces and put them back together again. It twists and quivers up in the light, and Mahito offers it all to you with a smile and horrid gleam in his dual colored eyes.

"Stop….stop looking at me with those eyes." You can barely whisper. There is a weight in your chest. Mahito quirks his head, a mockery of innocence, and doesn't even pout to make light of the situation, like he usually does.

Maybe its because he's never gone this far before. His pupils are blown out, leaving hardly any color, and they don't leave you. It scares you. He is smiling, he has been smiling this entire time, and you hate that smile. It has never been a good thing.

"Do I scare you?"

You keep quiet. Because you can't think, and you know better to blurt out the first thing in your head.

Yes, yes, you do. You know you do. And I know you like that.

"Your soul is finally trembling back into place." He hums, trailing his hands along your prone form, and you can't help the little whimper that slips past your clenched teeth. You can't handle it again. But Mahito grins, and squeezes, hard. Like a child with a fresh new toy. You're sure he's leaving bruises. The kindest touch he's given you so far.

"I worried for a moment that I'd have to mish-mash you back together, but you're fine. We're fine."

You are not fine. You are absolutely not fine.

"I tried to be gentle, like you asked me to. I tried to be considerate. But, just, look at you." The shaky exhale of his breath sends your heart racing, and your hands rush over to clamp over his wrists. He lets you.

Your skin is broken and bruised and bleeding. Your head is fuzzy, but panic keeps you alert. Your heart lugs in your chest, heavy and thumping and you feel the blood pound in your ears, it makes you want to tear yourself out open in order to stop the sick rhythm. You are sore, and you can't tell what exactly is broken, or bent out of place, but you're not dead, not this time.

You don't know how many next times you have.

Mahito softly shakes his head, looks down at all your broken and bloody bits. A breathless smile spreads across his face, while his brows furrow in question.

"How am I ever going to replace you?"

You whimper.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

{Kenjaku} has means of helping you 'reincarnate'. He says helping, but really, you don't have a choice in the matter.

He has done this dozens of times, every time he obtains a new body. You are always the first thing he attends to after, your resurrection is priority. He wants your opinion, he says, and your attention, he doesn't. Your love. You're the only one worthy, and interesting, enough of standing by his side. You will remain there.

He smiles at you in this new meat suit, long black hair and smooth skin, a monks ensemble. He sits cross-legged, chin in hand.

"Stop looking at me with those eyes dearest."

"Or what? You'll pluck them out again?" You join him at the low table, if only to glare at him closer. He smiles, almost blissful.

"Not this time, I think this form suits you more than the last. I'd hate to blind you once more."

"I'll kill you one day, Kenjaku." He nods, mockingly.

"They say love is the greatest curse."

"You don't love me." You don't hiss, you don't growl or grit the words out through clenched teeth. Your hatred and malice is a dark, cold thing, settled in the pits of your belly like sediment at the bottom of the deepest ocean. It slips from your lips like the oldest poison.

"We've done this song and dance for centuries. Your morbid curiosity and lust for power is what keeps me here. I'm a pet."

"No love," he reaches over and boops your nose. He has gotten more playful in this body, and it makes you see red. It makes you afraid.

"You're an experiment."

"Like your cursed wombs?"

"No, something more personal." You roll your eyes, and move to serve your own tea. Fuck him.

"And what experiment am I an unwilling participant in, hm? How long it takes to break me?"

"How long it takes for you to love me," he corrects. The lines of the body's scar are shiny pink in the light. You want to tear it bloody.

"Which is one and the same, I suppose."

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

{Choso} exists for his brothers, and that is all. That is all he wants and all he feels he was truly made for, and there is no room for anything else.

Anyone else.

Much less you.

"Stop looking at me with…those eyes." He doesn't understand adoration, only duty, and he is unused to the soft rapture in your eyes. It is wasted on a being like him, anyways.

"What eyes?" You droll out, still clearly lost wherever your mind went. He tries not to think where.

"You know what eyes you're making. Stop it." He hates how the softness leaves you, brow tugging down.

"Oh, sorry. I don't want to make you uncomfortable with all the, um, staring."

"It's not the staring. It's the reason behind it. Your feelings are wasted on me. Place them elsewhere." You don't flinch but your shoulders hunch, and he does not take back his words. They are true and they need to be said. Your feelings are wasted on him.

He just wishes he didn't return them.

"...I can't help the fact that I love you."

"You don't." You can't. You can't.

"Even if you did, it doesn't matter."

"Don't say that. Of course it matters."

"If love ever mattered my brothers and I wouldn't exist. You would understand the situation, and what this means for all of us. Your love is shallow, because you only see that which is in front of you." He sighs, and does not meet your gaze. He doesn't know what you see.

"There is no future for us." And no future that he can secure you.

His…father created him and his brothers on a vicious whim. He will not let you be dragged into that same cruelty.

There's no need to weep. He lets you leave to compose yourself, and doesn't let you take his heart with you.

A half curse, half human thing such as he– half wretched and half tainted blood, all sharp edges and harsh things.

He was not made for love. He was not made for soft things. He was born for tragedy and he will end that way too, and he will comply with his duties as an older brother.

He can not offer you soft things. Even if he dreams of your smiles.

So, please. Stop…looking at him with those eyes.

#my stuff #my writing #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #sukuna ryoumen #mahito #kenjaku #choso kamo #jjk #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x poc!reader #sukuna x reader #mahito x reader #kenjaku x reader #choso x reader #poc reader #gn reader #headcanon #Yandere #dark fic #minors dni #yandere kenjaku #yandere mahito #yandere sukuna #yandere choso #just in case #angst #gore #dark content #yandere x reader

[sunoorintarou]

Catharsis: Cantarella

Phos!reader x (Platonic) Mahito

Warnings: Mahito being Mahito and everything that entails, funnily enough, this is one of, if not, the fluffiest parts, Mahito calls reader his 'test rabbit', reader somewhat enjoys Mahito's company, Mahito licks reader's hand

Notes: Mahito haters beware 💀🙏

"I know you can see me. Hey, stop ignoring me."

Your eye twitched as you walked, attempting to ignore the rather annoying humanoid curse as he followed you around.

You had simply snuck out to the convenience store, craving ice cream that particular night. On your way out, you had noticed an odd looking man on the street, realisation kicking in when you felt a large amount of cursed energy.

Your eyes widened when you made eye contact, immediately turning away and walking slightly faster. His face fit the description of a curse your team had faced while you were in a coma months before perfectly.

You knew you were in no condition to fight, especially with how tired you were, so your only option was to pretend you couldn't see him. You hadn't expected him to start following you, though, walking a couple feet behind you as he spoke to you.

You couldn't go back to Jujutsu Tech, not with him following you, but you weren't quite sure where to go. So, instead, you found yourself walking the familiar path back to your family home.

"Hey." Your eyes widened when you felt a cold hard grab your wrist, pausing in your footsteps.

"That's strange. I can't see your soul. Are you a Jujutsu Sorceror?" The curse asked, an unsettling smile spreading across his face.

"What do you want?" You asked, not a hint of fear or worry in your body.

"I'm intrigued. You don't seem scared, and my cursed technique doesn't work on you. Let's be friends."

You narrow your eyes in disgust, grimacing as you look the curse in the eye.

"Friends?" You say, as if the word is better on your tongue, shaking your head as you weigh your options. You feel his grip on your wrist tighten, the soft 'crack' of your wrist startling you.

"Sure, whatever." You agree, hoping he'd let go of your hand. You sigh in relief when he does, turning around and pulling up your sleeve ever so slightly. You pause as you watch the crack repair itself.

"Is that your cursed technique?"

You hear a voice next to your ear, the feeling of warm breath of your neck making you jolt.

"Don't do that." You say, looking around and realising several people were looking at you. You sighed, shaking your head as you began walking away.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Don't talk to me. People will think I'm insane."

You ignored him until you got to your house, attempting to close the door only for him to invite himself in.

You kept the lights off, putting the plastic bag on the table before sitting on the couch.

"Is this your house? Do you live alone?"

"Stop asking such creepy questions." You said, grabbing your ice cream out of your bag. It was peach flavoured and covered in white chocolate, your favourite.

You lifted the ice cream to your lips, about to take a bite when you noticed him staring at you intently. You beckoned him closer, not even looking at him as you shoved it into his mouth.

You then turned to him expectantly, hand still holding the stick. "It's good, right?"

The curse smiled, nodding. He was beginning to figure you out, little by little. Your unpredictability was your best quality to him, though.

You took the ice cream out of his mouth, shrugging as you took a bite.

"That was an indirect kiss." The curse's exclaimed loudly.

"What?" Your brows furrowed.

"I read about it in a book! You just indirectly kissed me." He giggled like a school girl. You were seriously considering punching him.

"My first indirect kiss." He sighed almost wistfully, looking at you to take in your reaction. You rolled your eyes, staring at the ceiling as you ate the ice cream, ignoring his incessant talking once again.

He grabbed your hand, now sitting on the couch next to you as he leaned toward you.

"Don't ignore me." Although his tone was playful, his eyes were sharp, you sighed, finally looking at him.

"You're kind of, what is the words human use? Pretty, you know." He began, staring at you intently. He let go of your hand, brushing your hair out of your face. He didn't know why, but he was willing to do anything to get a rise out of you.

Mahito leaned closer to your, smirking as you flinched back, eyes widening ever so slightly. He couldn't help but laugh.

"Humans are so intriguing. I've decided. You'll be my little guinea pig-"

"I don't like guinea pigs."

"My test rabbit then. You looked just like one just now. You're gonna teach me everything there is to know about humans."

You paused, looking at him in confusion. It was then that something in you clicked.

You couldn't remember the last time you were so off guard, so calm, you weren't even this relaxed around Gojo - Sensei. Yet here you were, with a dangerous curse in the house your parents were killed in. And weirdly enough, you didn't mind his company.

"Yeah, sure."

"Really?" Mahito smiled, eyes lighting up as he grabbed your hand once again.

"Yeah, yeah." You said nonchalantly. You were confused, however, when Mahito didn't let go of your hand, instead raising it. You expected him to take another bite, turning back to stare at the ceiling.

Your froze, heart dropping when you felt something wet and warm against your hand, eyes going wide as you turned rigidly to look at Mahito.

You watched, completely shocked as he licked a trail of melted ice cream off your hand.

"That tastes good." He grinned, waiting for your reaction.

You raised your hand, disgust evident on your face as you karate chopped the top of his head.

"Don't do that, that's so gross!"

You ended up spending the next few hours with Mahito, talking about everything and nothing until it grew to the early morning, and you both had to leave. Unbeknownst to you, however, Mahito watched you, a wide grin on his face.

"She'd be a perfect fit." He commented, turning to the dark-haired man that had appeared beside him.

"It shouldn't take much convincing for her to join us. Next time, we'll visit her together."

#houseki no kuni #jjk angst #jjk x hnk crossover #land of the lustrous #phos!reader #catharsis #hnk x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #platonic mahito #mahito x reader #mahito #mahito fluff

[specialgrades]

BRO,,,,, THE TRAILER FOR SHIBUYA ARC I,,,,, NANAMI'S BIG, VEINY HANDS,,,,,, I NEED HIM TO CHOKE ME OUT

HIS HANDS LOOK BIG ENOUGH THAT HE COULD LIKE GRAB ME AND PICK ME UP BY MY FACE WITH A SINGLE HAND OH MY GOD I NEED HIS FINGERS IN MY HOLES OH MY GOD

so nice of mappa to give us such pretty necklaces right??? cause got DAMN man puts thoughts in my head...

hate fuck with nanami. he finds you so annoying and so fucking pretty, it scrambles his brain every time he sees you. worst part? feeling's mutual. you fuck with him constantly, and half the time you're flirting with him which he acts like it annoys him. it doesn't. it riles him up and he has to bite back with a slight hitch in his voice.

it's one particular argument that it all boils over with. neither of you remember what it was about, now when nanami has you pinned to a wall by your throat. to anyone passing by he looks pissed, but they can't see the way his pupils are blown and how they can't stop flicking to your lips.

those big hands gripping yours behind your back while he absolutely ruins you from behind, calling you the most obscene names and calling you his. "my little slut, yeah? no comeback, hm? did i fuck the words right out of your filthy mouth?"

#💌 ; asks. #❤️‍🔥 ; fwends #he gags you with his tie OUGH #also choso looks SO good in the trailer... god damn. fuck. #kenjaku i hate you but god... geto... #mahito... god fuck. i've been neck deep in satosugu angst i completely forgot abt everyone else #i need all of them. at once? maybe. will i die? probably. die happy #anyway i'm not ready for this arc at all emotionally! but still YIPEE MORE JJK #kento nanami x male reader #🧋 ; thirsts. #❤️‍🔥 ; fwends : teyvat-writer.

[mikani]

꒰  𝘀𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸 ── magenta shots ꒱

── ❝ y'know your one hella annoying bitch, and i know how to shut your filthy mouth... ❞

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘, Y/N L/N. she sure knows how to crack a case closed, i mean that was her whole purpose for the case that she was given. all she had to do was stop a criminal running lose, in Tokyo. nothing hard, right?

but the police department claimed that the case is dangerous, and she needs some help. so they forced her to work with the annoying, lord of smugness, Ryomen Sukuna. Now the loner girl is stuck, working side-by-side with him.

Having some company can't be bad, right? Definitely no built up, love under the scenes. Nothing bad is gunna happen!

what do you think, should i write a whole fanfic about this 🫣

#𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍.com #𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 #blue; 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 #fanfic #jjk #jjk x reader #maybe angst #dark theme #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #ryomen x reader #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #MY WHOLE ENTIRE BODY IS THINKING ABOUT THIS #SAVE ME PLEASE I LOVE THIS IDEA #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #police au #au jjk #jjk au #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #jujutsu nanami #mahito #jjk sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna ryomen

[cirtusmistress]

He Follows - Fixation

Mahito is met with someone who is his true opposite, and a mutual curiosity blooms.

Mahito x Reader

Tags: Angst and Feels, Tragedy, Slow Burn, Tragic Romance, Mahito Being an Asshole, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Eventual Romance, Not Beta Read, Mahito POV, Verbal Abuse

AO3 Crosspost

Word Count: 1.7k

You were endlessly fascinating to him. Though he had little interest in humans outside of his experiments, he couldn’t help but be enamored by your every move. You had cursed energy, so no doubt you were aware of his presence everywhere you went. And yet you never looked at him. Never spoke to him. You merely kept pressing on. Why? Was he not interesting enough for you? Surely someone such as himself was far more intriguing than any other human you came across day after day. He stood out, he could tell you that for free. Blue hair and covered in patchwork skin? What human looked like that! 

Mahito had only existed for a short few months. Though he held incredible intellect he was still much like a child. Still growing, learning. Everyday was something new, something fascinating. Learning how to use his cursed technique, interact, manipulate. All things that would aid him in his end goal of creating a world without humans. 

So one day when he was simply people watching - looking for a new playmate to experiment on no doubt, he couldn’t remember - he saw you. Helpless, innocent you. Walking along with your bag of convenience store goods in hand, and with a small gaggle of low level curses parading behind you. Though they weren’t stalking you. No.. They were following you willingly. Mahito watched from his perch up high on a residential building. How when you walked, they followed. How when you stopped at a crosswalk a flyhead landed on your shoulder. And you smiled at it! You weren’t a sorcerer, he could tell from where he sat. Your energy level was far too low. And yet, you somehow commanded those curses. How could it be so?

He had followed you home that day. Thanks to the quick mastery of his own technique, he was able to contort and morph himself into a Fly Head. Well, as close as he could manage. He joined your little parade and followed all the way to your small single bedroom apartment. You paid no mind to the extra curse in your home, simply going about your chores. Mahito watched with the other curses. Had you perhaps used some kind of technique to bribe them? Maybe some kind of cursed spirit manipulation? Finally you sat at your little coffee table and pulled out something from your convenience store bag. Ice cream. Those ones that came in cones, prepackaged and ready to go. You had four, and laid three of them out in front of you and the curses. 

“Go ahead,” You said with a gentle smile, “These ones are for you guys.” Once they had your go ahead, the spirits began eating your offering. Mahito was.. Shocked. Low levels like these couldn’t think for themselves like this. Let alone eat! And yet he buzzed there as the curses who looked like bugs and mutants and grotesque little things nibbled away. Making happy little sounds all the while. You ate your own treat with this.. Stupidly sweet genuine smile on your face. Then you saw him. The odd Fly Head who hadn’t moved. Your head tilted, so did Mahito’s. Then the other way, and he followed. And then you smiled at him, as sweet and genuine as it had been to the others. And something rippled inside him.

“Haven’t seen you before! I didn’t know you all came in different colours!” You laughed, holding out your own ice cream in his direction, “Well welcome. You’re safe here with me. Do you want some? C’mon!” You jiggled your hand in his direction as if you tempt him like a cat you found on the street. Mahito didn’t quite know what he was feeling. Why were you.. Being so kind? To this trash? These low level curses that hardly had brains! Were you stupid? Not knowing these creatures around you could suck you dry, weigh you down, make you miserable? It was overwhelming for Mahito. So he simply gave in and played along. He sampled the treat you offered. It was sweet. And he liked it.

Ever since that encounter Mahito had followed you everywhere you went. To work, the shops, out on excursions. Sometimes in the form of another creature, sometimes lagging behind as just himself. Having studied you up close he’d confirmed none of the lower grades were under your control in some way. Everything they did they were doing willingly. Why? Why did they do it? What did you offer these things that they could not obtain from just being curses? What did you have that he just couldn’t understand? What had you made him feel that day, and every day since?

He was pondering these thoughts at a park on his lonesome one day. He had tired of waiting for you to come out for your lunch break so he’d wandered off. He lazily swung back and forth on a swing, mind putting along as your methods all but tortured him. And then he heard your voice. 

“Hello.” He leaned back in his swing, looking at you upside down. You took a few steps back to make room for him, though you did not run away. “You’re the one who keeps following me right?” You asked, folding your hands in front of you. So you had noticed him! And here he thought himself invisible! Mahito rose his feet as he began to swing again. 

“Perhaps,” He mused, “Who’s asking?” Despite being curious, Mahito was still in many ways a childish being. Straight-forward answers were not in his wheelhouse. 

He heard you step around him and take a seat in the swing to his left, “The person you’ve been following for four weeks.” Your tone was still soft and your voice was like honey on his ears. Why had he waited for you to make contact? “I wasn’t sure if you were human or one of my little friends. You’re not like them.”

“You mean those curses?” Mahito asked, pointing past you. You glanced to see your ‘friends,’ all huddled together underneath a jungle gym. Smart enough to hide from Mahito. His energy was enough to scare them. He had grown that much in a mere four weeks.. 

“Curses?” Your brows quirked up, “I wouldn’t call them curses. They’re harmless once you get to know them.” You looked back at him. Mahito felt his own innocence being reflected in your eyes. You truly had no clue what kind of company you kept. Those sweet little things you so cherished were the bane of many peoples' existences. And yet you looked at them like puppies and kittens. What did you see him as then? What was he in the eyes of someone uninformed on the world of curses?  What was he?

“If you knew I was there why didn’t you talk to me?” Mahito asked. You for once let your smile drop. You looked contemplative. Did you yourself not understand your odd mutual fixation? Perhaps two strangers forever caught in one anothers orbit?

“Because,” You spoke but stopped. Your tongue dragged over your lips and Mahito watched so closely. Every movement, every blink, every twitch. The breaths you took, the pulse of your heart, the vibration of your very atoms. “Because I didn’t want to scare you. You looked so.. Lonely.” That word. Lonely. Mahito knew of loneliness. It often came with the very emotion that birthed him. And he had never once thought he was lonely. He was content wasn’t he? Doing his experiments on his own, finding other intelligent spirits to aid in his end goal. He was not lonely, he was never alone. So why did your eyes hurt him? Why did he once again feel compelled to run? Why was your kindness so terrifying?

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black huh?” Mahito jabbed back, dragging his feet until his swing stopped. “All these weeks I haven’t seen you interact with a single person outside of work! All you do is hang around with weak inferior spirits!” He stood as the words erupted from him. Once again, unequipped to handle these sudden emotions. So he did what children did in these situations. He threw a misdirected tantrum. 

“I am not lonely. Why would I ever be lonely? I have friends! People to talk to, play with, show my work to! You’re the lonely one! Too scared to talk to me for weeks on end! God you’re- You’re so pathetic!” Hate was something Mahito knew. He knew how to hurt people. And the look on your face said it all. Never had your unending kindness been met with such aggression. And part of Mahito loved that look on you. But another part of him wept for you. Love was his opposite. Something Mahito knew he could never comprehend. Not truly. He could pretend. Replicate it. Make copy after copy. But never could he match your wavering, unending love. 

He left before you could reply. He could have killed you. Make you into something cruel and grotesque. But the last shred of curiosity he had for you prevented him. Old sentiment. The first bout of it in his short existence. You were left in that park. And though you had just been verbally abused, your heart cried for the blue haired man. How could he not see how badly he was hurting? You could. You saw it in everyone. Everything. Every past failure, every hurt feeling, you could see it. Feel it. Even in those spirits you loved so much. Even in him. He radiated it. And right now all you could do was hope maybe one day, you could speak to him again. And maybe he wouldn’t be so cruel. 

Mahito couldn’t forget you though. Despite how he tried to bury his feelings. He knew you two were polar opposites. One born from hate, and one born to love. You were his foil. And he couldn’t move on. Not until he learned what it felt like. He was in his nature. He needed to know, to feel, to experiment. So after a few days of respite, he began following you again. Farther away this time, but he was there. Watching. And you kept walking. Waiting.

#jjk #mahito x reader #mahito x you #mahito jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk angst #slow burn #tw: verbal abuse #mahito is mahito man #not beta read #fuck it we ball

[benkeibear]

☰ 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐩

⧫ Characters: various jjk characters

꒰ ͜͡➸ Breaking up with them

⧫ Reader: genderneutral

⧫ Summary: what happens after the breakup? Will you get back together or are they a part of your past?

⧫ WARNINGS: Mentions of breaking up, sadness

⧫ A/n: don’t want to miss a post? Sign up for my Taglist in my Navi! | Request by Anon | Based on various songs

They were missing you terribly, not having thought that silence could be this deafening. Every time they wanted to reach out they stopped themselves, trying to convince themselves that you’re better off without them but never in their wildest dreams did they think you would be dating someone new already - until they saw you in someone else’s arms - happy.

„I saw you in another's arms, only a month we've been apart - You look happier. Saw you walk inside a bar, He said somethin' to make you laugh. I saw that both your smiles were twice as wide as ours- Yeah, you look happier, you do“

➸ Nobara Kugisaki, Maki Zenin, Toge Inumaki, Hiromi Higuruma, Momo Nishimiya

Breaking up was a huge mistake, no matter the reason. You and them… it has always been like that, you two against the rest of the world. You were their partner in crime and they were hell bent on fixing things with you, no matter what it costs them. The only issue was convincing you that they have changed and that they’re truly sorry, hoping on a second chance with you.

„Come on let me hold you, touch you, feel you, always. Kiss you, taste you all night, always. And I'll miss your laugh, your smile. I'll admit I'm wrong if you'd tell me. I'm so sick of fights, I hate them. Let's start this again, for real - So here I am, I'm trying. So here I am, are you ready?“

➸ Aoi Todo, Yuji Itadori, Yuta Okkotsu, Mai Zenin

As much as the initial break up hurt, you were better off without them. Crying yourself to sleep became less over the weeks and months you didn’t see them, not even wasting a single thought on them anymore. You dyed your hair, changed yourself to someone you always wanted to be and went out again, having the time of your life. They knew how happy you were and it killed them on the inside because by the time you were over them and happy, they started to doubt if leaving was a good idea.

„This is a shout out to my ex, you're really quite the man - You made my heart break and that made me who I am. Here's to my ex, hey, look at me now. Well, I, I'm all the way up, I swear you'll never bring me down“

➸ Megumi Fushiguro, Toji Fushiguro, Noritoshi Kamo, Sukuna, Mahito

No matter how short or long your relationship was, they made you feel like no one else managed to. The time spent with them was too short and it was over in the blink of an eye - or at least that’s what it felt like. Even months later you found yourself mourning what you had with them, unable to get over them. Nights were spent hugging the plushie they gifted to you at one point, wishing you could hold them one more night.

„I could follow you to the beginning, just to relive the start. And maybe then we'll remember to slow down at all of our favorite parts - cause all I wanted was you“

➸ Kento Nanami, Kasumi Miwa, Choso, Suguru Geto, Satoru Gojo

Networks: @tokyometronetwork

#jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #yuji x reader #yuta x reader #megumi x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #sukuna x reader #mahito x reader #maki x reader #Yuji angst #Megumi angst #gojo angst #Toji angst #Nanami angst #Geto angst #Sukuna angst

[k-martins]

I hate what JJK did to me. I WAS PERFECTLY FINE EVERY WEDNESDAY/THURSDAY WITHOUT WORRYING IF MY FAVORITE CHARACTER, MY BABY, MY LOVED ONE, WAS GOING TO DIE!!!!! NOW I HAVE TO WATCH MY ADORABLE STRAWBERRY POCKY EVERY THURSDAY HAVE THE WORST HALLOWEEN NIGHT OF HIS LIFE!!!!! I HAVE TO WATCH MY SEA URCHIN FIGHT AGAINST HIS DEADLEAD FATHER!!!!! GEGE, WHEN I CATCH YOU, GEGE!!!!! That said, I'm really nervous to watch today's episode. Seriously, every time I remember what's going to happen I feel a pain in my stomach. I know shit today is going to be rough (and it's just the beginning!)

#jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #jjk spoilers #gojo satoru #itadori yuji #toji fushiguro #suguru geto #nobara kugisaki #nanami kento #maki zenin #naobito zenin #nanako #mimiko #kenjaku #jogo #dagon #mahito #gege akutami #jujutsu kaisen manga #jujutsu sorcerer

[kyskaisen]

reflections; maki x reader

:pretty when you cry

:master list

You were distraught.

You'd reached out to another special grade sorcerer—one that never went on any missions and traveled around the world. A woman—Yuki Tsukumo. She was pretty, with comical blonde hair and pretty brown eyes. She had an athletic build—Maki had a little more muscle than she did—though she was much taller, probably around 5'10. Yeah, she was pretty (but Maki was prettier).

Her apartment in Shibuya was always cold because she was never paying her bills, so you had to huddle up in a blanket she'd pulled from her closet the night you reached out. You were lucky—she was just landing in Tokyo. When you told her your story—with much disdain and even melancholy in your voice—she was suspicious at first, but she knew you were just a child.

Yuki sat down on the couch parallel to the one you're huddled up on, crossing her legs and one arm around the back. "You gonna get up and get a life or stay depressed in my apartment forever?"

You hugged your knees to your chest as you stayed frozen under the blanket—it was keeping you warm, you weren't cold; you were frozen in a daydream, playing memories in your head like a movie. Memories of your friends, memories of Maki, back when you didn't have the weight of the world over your shoulders.

Yuki sighed, running a hand through her long hair, "Girl problems can't be what halts you as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, kid. I get that you're in love, but...maybe you two weren't meant to be."

And that's what makes your heart ache in your chest—reaching sensitive pinpoints of you that only beforehand Maki could reach. It's not pleasant—it's not warm, it's not giddy, it's not like how Maki reached you—it's cold, it's sharp, it's not like Maki.

Knowing you might not—will not, because this is the Jujutsu world, where untimely deaths and heartbreak are inevitable—ever end up being with Maki, in a far away fairytale land where neither of you have to worry about a single curse ever again. Spending the rest of your happy days in a cabin in a forest—filled with positively flowing rivers, healthy trees, prospering wildlife—being with each other instead of against each other.

She sighs again and leans forward, her elbows on her knees. The dim light from the Blue Hour barely shown into the room, you were barely visible, but your cursed energy level was enough to make out your body lying on her couch.

"Do you think she's worth sulking on my couch for?" She asked again, more quietly this time and with more sympathetic eyes. Your brain chemistry fired in your brain when you looked at her—your eyes were practically empty, not even a little bit of light seen in them.

"She's so beautiful," you finally let out—your voice scratchy from silently crying when her presence wasn't around. "She's like a warm sun on a cold winter day. She's one of those girls you'd see at the gas station while you're in an outfit you didn't care about. She's rough at first— she's a little mean with her light banter—but she's nicer after a while. But she was never mean to me. She was just as stubborn with me as she was with everyone else, but she was always her nicest to me. She has this little dimple on her left cheek that always comes out whenever she's getting a good laugh at something. Her smile—it was handcrafted by God, I tell you—"

"Now I'm startin' to miss her," Yuki giggles, grinning cheekily as she pops her thumb and lets out a soft sigh. "I met a guy who was in your shoes, about 10 years ago and some change. He had the face of a hopeless man, and maybe he was. I heard about him killing a big fat handful of people, even his own parents."

You watched and listened with a flat expression—that sure sucked for the victims and his parents, though you didn't have the heart to care. You shuffled in the blanket, adjusting it and pushing your head further on the pillow.

"Well that sucks."

"What I'm saying is, Y/n," she sighs. "Don't let yourself fall down that same path. It got him killed because of his beliefs. Don't get yourself in trouble and killed just because things are dark for you."

But that's your whole idea. The whole point was to make yourself be as bad as everyone else back home hears— getting in trouble, causing all sorts of problems, maybe going as far as killing people.

"I...I can't," you frown. "She already hates me. She told me herself to leave. I can't go against her wishes."

"Do you really think she means that, or was she just angry?" Yuki lifts an exaggerated eyebrow at you. Your eyes dramatically flit over to meet hers, almost glaring at her—at the fact that you know she was angry, but you listened anyways simply because you wanted to look as heartless as Nobara or Naoya or Megumi or Panda did.

"I still can't go back," you finally say—deflecting her question off to something different. "Not after how things went down, everyone else will see me as some sort of heartless piece of shit."

"But if ya don't go back, then you might actually be what you think you are. Who cares if they see you as an asshole? Everyone sees me as an asshole, I don't give a damn."

"Does that go without saying you're also a bit of a loser?" You look up at her once again, earning a lovely middle finger from her. "You don't even pay your bills."

Yuki rolls her eyes and flips you off again, stepping up from her couch and looking down at the lump of blankets. "How do you plan to get her back if you can't even peel yourself off my couch?"

"I'm going to," you grumble, pulling the blanket over your shoulder again and shutting your eyes. Yuki scoffs, rolling her eyes once again and walking towards the door with heavy steps.

"Just do somethin' today. Don't rot on my couch forever."

She opened the door, stepping out and shutting it with a strong slam, leaving you wrapped up in a blanket of your own despair.

———

The air was cold—unbelievably cold from your spinning ceiling fan going a million miles an hour, adding wind to the cold like insult to injury. Blankets did nothing to soothe her—they still smelled like you, even when the fabric was stained with warm droplets of salty tears and her shivering breath.

Your bedroom walls were still that same old faded manilla color—Maki couldn't even identify it from the first time she walked in. Your fan has been running nonstop since you first arrived last year—she fret that it might fall off in this frigid weather. She wondered if the blades were sharp enough to pierce any part of her, if it meant she would get even a glimpse of the pain she's imagining you're going through right now—or if the blades were too dull and she would never get a peek of you, even emotionally from a distance.

Your rubix cube—the shining white, the dark red on the side— remained untouched, she'd been staring at it for hours wondering if you actually did solve it or if it was given to you like it came straight from the box from how straight the cube looked. Surely it was cold, like the wind, the air, the blankets she was laying on. The white color—still fresh and even reflecting the minuscule amount of moonlight and shining in her eyes a light so dim to her she couldn't see even with her glasses on.

Everything was dark— literally and figuratively. The lights were out, as were probably everyone else's. The only source of light was from the full moon that shone through spaces in trees and reaching your window—if it even was yours anymore.

Maki's usually soft cheeks were stained with tear streaks, her eyes were glossy and red and swollen—she looks as if she'd smoked a pound of weed (maybe that's what she needs). Her head was on your pillow, careful not to rest or move in the wrong spot lest she ruin the dent of where your head always lay at night when life wasn't giving her heart (and yours) a rough toe poked kick. Her fingers clenched the blanket, holding on so desperately to your scent that was keeping her sane in a world of many emotions she was too young to feel all at once and all alone.

Her hiccups had filled the room for hours, even in her power naps she would take simply because her head was spinning from all those tears. Not a single gap left in her mind was big enough for her to worry about whether anyone heard her helpless cries or not. It was the least of her worries—her sobs were cries for help, not just from Panda or Nobara or Yuta; cries for your help, your comfort, your love—or if this was what your love felt like then she was crying so desperately to break free.

When the morning sun rose to welcome to pitiful world with its open arms, her eyes became glossy again—it meant it was another day without you. Her body withered every second the sun lit up the now orange sky, shining in her tear-stained glasses that she'd effortlessly taken off, letting them rest on your blanket. She was the one closing her eyes and finally tucking under your sheets, the warmth encased her body but not her heart.

"Zenin-senpai! Let's go for a run!"

Of course it was Yuji—who else would be up and peppy at the ass crack of dawn like him? Maki glared at your door as she listened to the heavy pitter patter of his footsteps clacking against the wooden floors, echoing around the hallway of the girls dorms. She frowned, feeling completely drained of herself after crying the whole night and staring at little parts of your room because that's how much she paid attention.

She idly sat there in your bed, looking back at her glasses before groggily picking them up with weak fingers. Your sheets wiped off her lenses, removing her tears and cleansing them in hopes of seeing her own life through another pair instead of the ones she watched you leave in.

"Coming," she grumbled, reluctantly sitting up in your warm bed, staring at the wall with hooded, swollen eyes. She put her glasses on, squinting at the sensitivity of her temples and rubbed her forehead gently with her fingers.

She slipped up from your bed, strolling over to your closet and opening up the closed doors, immediately taking out your hoodie that you got for your birthday last year when everyone was handing out presents—Gojo was the one who got it, because no one had the kind of money to afford a hoodie comfortable enough aside from him. Maki was simply the messenger.

She slipped on your hoodie, squaring her shoulders and opening your door to find Yuji skipping around the hallway with a giddy grin on his face.

"Good morning, senpai!" He beamed at her as she stood there in your doorway (which he had no idea was yours). He couldn't see the redness in her eyes so he couldn't question it when Maki squinted at the sight of him.

"Morning," she muttered, closing your door and gripping your doorknob extra tightly as if giving you one last kiss before going away for the day to come back bearing gifts.

"How'd you sleep, senpai?" Yuji asked as the two of them started walking down the hall. Maki blinked the tiredness out of her eyes, "Fine," she lied so very obviously.

Yuji looked at her pointedly and noticed a redness around her eyes, "Your eyes are tinted...have you been crying, senpai?"

"No," she frowned again. "It's none of your concern."

"Ok," Yuji pouted as they both turned the corner to find Nobara and Megumi at the exit of the building. Maki lifted a brow as if to openly question what they're both doing up.

"I asked those two if they wanted to come yesterday," he chirps, unknowingly answering her lingering question and glancing at Maki shuffling on the wooden floor with her hands in her pockets. "You guys ready?"

"Barely."

"Yup," Nobara answered bluntly, turning away as Yuji approached the other two. Down the hall was Panda and Toge shuffling along, waddling in their own direction as they face Maki with grins on their faces.

"Yo, Maki!"

"It's too early for that, Panda," she turns away with narrowed eyes and a frown, earning a sigh from the animal, his shoulders slumping slightly. He speeds towards her, resting his furry arm on her shoulder.

"You gonna train today?" He cheekily grins as he lowers his head to her height, earning a sharp glare from her. "No."

"Salmon," Toge comments, lifting his eyebrows. "Mustard leaf?"

"No," she answers again, this time more aggressively, with gritted teeth and furrowed eyebrows and sharp eyes. "It's none of your business."

"We're your friends, Maki. We need to know what's going on with you, too."

"Nothing is going on! Everything is fine, Panda! I can't get annoyed because of everyone asking and repeating the same bullshit question every damn day?!"

Everyone pauses at her sudden outburst, turning their heads unanimously to glance at her with curious eyes and blank faces, staring at her like she had 2 heads. Maki looks around at everyone with knives in her eyes, her hands balled up into fists as her nails dig into her palms and leaving behind welts in the shapes of crescents on her skin.

She clenches her jaw when she sees everyone's faces, her heart dropping, the look in their eyes making her chest tighten. It's almost suffocating, the look that everyone gives her, like her very existence is lighter fluid for judging, even if they say they're not she would never believe them. She doesn't know what to believe anymore— if one person lied to her then how many others did?

"Let's just drop it. Nothing's going on, end of discussion." She speeds past them with a furious look on her face, stomping through the hallway with heavy feet, leaving the atmosphere a dreadful mess of suffocation and anger.

—��—

The sun wasn't shining very much, with clouds rolling in. Every now and then you would feel a single drop touch your skin or your hair while you were outside. It tickled for the split second that it fell out of the sky, but then it dried almost as fast as it landed.

You went inside eventually. You sat in a bar stool—not the same bar you went to when you spilled the secret to Mai—you couldn't do that, the kind bartender there could be working his shift. You forgot his name, but you knew it was close to Maki's. Maybe that's what made you choose another bar—the similar names that would keep you at least a little closer to Maki.

Your heart was racing—you were about to do something irreversible, something you couldn't repent from even if Maki was a goddess. Your palms were clammy, sweat was running down your neck and damping your hair. Your leg anxiously bounced whilst your foot rested on the footrest down the middle of the stool.

Any minute now—if you could get your act together and just play it cool—your cursed technique would go off. The whole room would be covered in a smoke—a cursed spike would release from the dark mist and shoot through one of the glasses sitting in the bar. The alcohol would ignite the smoke, starting a black fire which would leave you just 3 seconds to escape before it would get to you, too, sneaking down your windpipe and plaguing your lungs with cursed energy, replacing the oxygen. Shoko wouldn't even be able to get it out, all the oxygen would've already been squeezed out and you'd be suffocating the whole way up the mountain.

Harajuku was busy—tons of people were walking about. The police and the fire department would be there in minutes, people wouldn't see you if there's a building on fire. You figured since water won't dowse it that you'd put the fire out yourself once you got out, using your own cursed energy to fan it out until it's gone. That alone would stir up conspiracy theories and get other sorcerers' attention.

Another person walked in—you know because the bell hung over the door jingled loudly. Your heart sped up even more, it made you feel lightheaded. Your hand drifted down to your lap, a ball of cursed smoke swirling in your hand from thin air. No one was looking—you know they weren't, everyone was too drunk to notice the weirdo in the corner with their hand in their lap.

A bartender looked at you with a lifted brow as he slowly approached you, his rag slung over his shoulder. Your brain processed his blond hair too late before the smog filled the bar, the cursed spike shooting through a glass of beer and igniting the smoke. You only sat there for another second before dashing out, your body losing balance and hitting the sidewalk with a grunt. You immediately rolled around to play it off as doing the basic procedure, snapping your fingers in your lap and putting it out immediately.

Like you guessed, people weren't looking at you, they were looking at the fire. The black fire that ignited the entire building and lit it in flames that were toxic to a humans lungs. The sirens were wailing from just a few blocks away, you only had some time to flee from the crowd, so you dashed behind the ally next to it and watched the cop cars and the fire trucks stop in front of it.

You watched as paramedics rushed in there with masks on, watching them rush back out just as quickly with their masks down and fire spewing from their mouths. Your heart throbbed uncontrollably at the sight, watching their bodies fall to the ground and watching the ashes blow in the wind.

Your body shook—nerves were speeding through your body at a hundred miles an hour, filling your every vein and cell with fear as your heart drummed in the cage of your chest. Your breath became ragged, the color was completely drained from your face as you watched body after body tumble out from the building and onto the awaiting ground, where their spirits may stay for the rest of an eternity.

Your head began spinning, pounding, your mind was screaming at you to run away but the image of those bodies—tainted ones with flames that’d licked away at their lives with salted tongues and hungry mouths—you were frozen in your spot. Your throat was dry, going through its own little drought as your mouth hung open. Your eyes were as big as saucers, more white than your irises. Your pupils dilated, turning to pinpoints as the realization finally hit you:

You were a murderer.

You killed people—innocent people, who knew nothing about you.

You’re officially as evil as everyone else thinks you are—if not worse.

With a weak, cracked voice and trembling lips, your throat shaking and your breath hitching, the air almost getting knocked out of your lungs every time you struggled for air, you muttered, “I’m sorry.”

#jujutsu kaisen #maki zenin x reader #maki x reader #maki zenin #gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #itadori yuuji #nobara kugisaki #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk spoilers #jjk manga spoilers #jjk manga #jujutsu kaisen manga #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #naoya zenin #mai zenin #mahito #ryomen sukuna #kenjaku #jjk angst #jjk fanfic #maki jujutsu kaisen

[storiesoflilies]

Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairings - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - Descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N: I actually quite enjoyed writing this chapter, so much to the point that I’m prioritizing this over my uni work. Oopsie!! Oh well, enjoy everyone! You may need some tissues :) Ko-Fi.

Next part — interlude (i)

-•-

Chapter 3

Time was no longer relevant to Y/N anymore.

Why bother counting down the days? She’d been stuck in this cell – this dreary, hopeless, and unbelievably hot cell – for what seemed like an eternity. Though it couldn’t have been that long, for Nanami’s blood still coated her skin like a bridal veil, providing a false sense of security as if he still watched over her even in death. Y/N knew his protection would run dry when she walked down the end of the aisle that was her life’s story – where there could be no happy ending waiting for her. Still, she coveted his blood, the lingering remnants of her golden guardian, as if memories of him were the last pages of holy text ablaze in this condemned world.

In the depths of Hell, Y/N wasted away like a rotting corpse not quite dead yet.

She knew she was in Hell because there could be nowhere else so oppressive: searing heat that dared her to cause even a slight offense, just so it had an excuse to burn her deeply and settle into the very marrow of her bones like a parasite. Still, she fought against it, curled like a pathetic fetus in a pitch-black womb, locked in a silent battle of sheer will. The same Curse who stole her golden guardian had somehow stopped the fatal wound on her stomach from ending her life, yet it had neglected to heal her other injuries – as if it wanted her to die a slow death.

“You don’t know, do you?” it had whispered in the deep dark depths, fascination falling from it like a waterfall. Y/N hadn’t answered, but still, the Curse continued on like a child that just wanted to be heard by someone, anyone. “Just how special you are.”

It called itself Mahito, decidedly masculine and manipulative, and he spoke with a whimsical tone unbefitting of the atrocities and sins he had surely committed; his words coated in sickly sweet sugar in attempt to lull her into a false sense of security. Nonetheless, he had saved her for reasons Y/N could never begin to guess; the scar on her midriff was testament to that fact. The wound had been sealed well enough; the scar was still fleshy and smooth to the touch, but she dared not look at it – it was all she had left of him and Gojo. Her body forever stained by her first, and perhaps only, encounter with him. She thought of him often, a focal point of imaginary light in the darkness, and dreamt of him whenever she slept; walking together among the cosmos of another universe, withstanding the test of time and fire. It was her only remaining comfort because Y/N couldn’t tell if her green eyed Curse was dead. She didn’t know how the soulmate bond worked really, or if it was strong enough to feel his essence if he wasn’t nearby, but she still clung to a fools hope that he wasn’t dead; that he had somehow grappled lightning and storms with his bare hands and won.

If he was alive, he would come for her; that much Y/N knew was true. She had felt his desperation when she and Nanami fought against Mahito, as if Gojo were an obstacle he couldn’t overcome quickly enough to get to her in time. And so, she could only lie there and wait for someone who may never arrive – a prisoner awaiting her sentence that bled black blood and slaughtered Angels.

The rough stone floor scraped her cheek as Y/N shifted into a tighter ball, her wing bones twisted unnaturally underneath her. Her feathers had suddenly fallen some time ago, like dead leaves from a shriveled bush, and she knew in her heart that they would never grow back again. The bones hung like useless appendages, unable to move no matter how much she willed them to, and started to reek of rotten flesh. It was only a matter of time before infection and fever set in, and Y/N wished she had the strength to reach over and pull them from their sockets, but her aching body had no such strength anymore; if she dared to move too much, she would surely die. She couldn’t die, not yet; she was still holding on to him, and to Nanami’s ghost telling her that she could persevere.

She heard a familiar clink and creaking of metal; the silver Curse had come to visit again.

Mahito sat in front of her; she could feel his breath wafting onto her face, a sliver of his teeth visible through the darkness, and mismatched grey and blue eyes glowing brightly. These visits from him were routine, like they were old childhood friends come to play a tea party with each other every day.

“Well, don’t you look positively wretched?” He remarked, as if he was praising her instead of insulting her. Y/N maintained her vow of silence; she would not speak a single word to her guardians bane.

Mahito didn’t seem offended by her silence at all, as he chirped away about bodies and souls and nonsense. Y/N nearly groaned at the absurdity of it all – here she was at deaths door, listening to a child preaching philosophy it mistook for age-old wisdom.

“…but they don’t know I have you here, and they might never. Is it so selfish of me wanting to keep you with me, just for a little while?”

She focused her gaze on him, and he gasped with delight, “Oh, so you are still in there! I was beginning to doubt you were listening to me at all.”

Her eyes flashed, begging him to continue, to explain what he meant.

“I suppose I haven’t really told you anything since I brought you here. You see… I wasn’t supposed to be there that day. I’m just a newborn to all of them; they don’t respect me at all because I still need to grow my strength. But they don’t see just how special I already am.”

Mahito started to rock back and forth; Y/N could hear him.

“And so I went up to Earth to help me grow stronger, to speed up the process of my evolution. I know I couldn’t possibly defeat your most special Angel, the one with the white hair… Satoru Gojo. By the way, you know he really actually loved you? His soul told me so; I could see it, but he just didn’t know how to love a soul like yours. I just thought you should know that.”

… what? Surely not.

“Anyways… I had really hoped that he wasn’t alone so that I could maybe grow from the fight. And oh my, your Nanami was a strong one. It was a glorious fight, he helped me so much more than you can imagine. But finding you? That was almost too perfect. I’ve never found out what effects my cursed energy has on a soul that has found its mate, but I’m so very interested in seeing what happens.”

Mahito sighed, a long deep sigh, like someone who was already tired of living. “I really hope they don’t find you. I don’t think anyone knows it was me who stole you away, and I want to keep you here with me. You’ll surely help me grow even more.”

Stole?

Y/N’s energy rapidly drew back like the sea from the shore in preparation for a tsunami; such was the state of her, random bouts of wakefulness with the constant threat of falling back into an unconsciousness state. She felt herself slipping back into the abyss, Mahito’s words miles away from her now, breaking away like dried mud.

-•-

The fever manifested soon after, but it was the ensuing delirium that was going to be the end of her. Her once pristine wings were burdened by disease, sickly pus droplets clinging to them; infecting and instigating a malevolent transformation within her mind.

Prancing around gardens, you silly wicked thing.

Y/N’s cell was no longer black, but a bright red hue, akin to the color she saw when she closed her eyelids and looked directly at the sun. She saw the faces of everyone she had ever known and lost, and each time she glanced over her shoulder, Nanami lingered behind her; silent and stoic, never saying a word as he stared at her with a single eye – looking just as he did the day he died. Overwhelmed with emotion, Y/N couldn’t restrain her tears from falling. If this was to be her ascension into Paradise, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to go traverse this path of misery and delusions.

Don’t you know that’s how you get scratched into pieces?

She saw Gojo suspended high above them, a distant expression clouding his blue eyes. Y/N didn’t think he was upset; instead, he seemed as if he was finally understanding the very meaning of their existence in the world. It was as if he was being cradled in the invisible hands of God, completely ecstatic in his trance. His face was covered in blood, hair and armor unkept and dirtied, and a fatal wound to the neck oozed fresh blood. It was a stark contrast to the well put together and suave Satoru she had known before. It unnerved Y/N as she decided she didn’t like this transformation, and looked away.

But then maybe you deserve to be cut by all these thorns?

The visions shifted to Y/N in her bedroom, reclined on her bed, bathed in that familiar red hue streaming in through the windows. Everything was as she remembered leaving it; ripe figs on her nightstand, perfect bluebell flowers from Gojo in a crystal vase filled with clear water beside it. Oh how she would give anything to be there now, instead of whatever illusion she was stuck in now; a tantalizing, teasing vision of comfort and familiarity. Y/N doubted she would ever get it back again, and tried her hardest to savor it.

Wicked things deserve to be punished you know?

Nanami laid beside her, his hand covering the empty eye socket, and Y/N looked at him, willing him to say anything, just anything. Was the presence of his soul a symbol of something vital within her mind, silently communicating to her through the fever? Perhaps it was his ghost haunting her, unable to move on, expressing his anger at how he gave his life so violently for hers; maybe he was the real fever.

And you’re the worst of them all, the very worst I’ve ever seen…

Nanami turned to look at her, and her heart jumped. He looked pained, as if his words yearned to escape, but were bound by a vow of silence. She reached out to him, gently brushing a stray lock of golden hair from his forehead, and breathed in his calming scent. No, he would never punish her like this or subject her to delusions and pain; he was too kind and good, the very best of the Angels.

A flicker of sanity.

The red hue pulled back ever so slightly, and Y/N knew she was still in her cell. But there was someone coming; she heard distant footsteps approaching – perhaps Mahito? Would he put her out of her misery? No, the footsteps were too soft, familiar. She’d heard them before, knew to whom they belonged to without having to see anything at all.

You cut me in two, and now you think you’re free?

She was enveloped in red once again, Nanami’s presence returned, but he gripped her hand with a sense of urgency and fear. Y/N couldn’t bear to see him in such a state, and she promptly squeezed his hand back in a silent pledge of unified strength. Amidst the crimson haze and orchestrated delusions, it all became clear to her now – the visions he’d been showing her. He’d been patiently waiting for her all this time so they could move on together; the stunning saga of their lives now entwined for a final chapter.

“We can both go now…” she mumbled, neither here nor there.

You will never be free, not from me.

And suddenly, they both materialized in the meadows of the training grounds of Heaven, sullied by a red sky, hands tightly clasped together. Geto stood before them, a vision of benevolence and mercy, his katanas gleaming in the light of Heaven’s morning. Y/N wanted to drop to the floor and weep with joy as her inner turmoil melted away – her brother’s presence providing a welcome solace she didn’t know she needed so desperately. She would be at peace, as Geto would lead them both to Paradise, to bask in God’s light, and heal them from all they had endured.

“Oh, dear sister, where are you now?” he asked, featherlight fingers tenderly stroking her jaw, long black hair flowing like a dark river over his shoulders.

Y/N was confused by his words. Where? Why she was everywhere all at once, and Nanami was here too. Couldn’t he see her golden guardian?

“Hmm… this won’t do at all. Come with me; you’ll be alright now, that’s it,” Geto declared in that same soft tone she knew so well. The overwhelming surged relief through her, both astounding and crippling, as if the weight of the world had been lifted in that moment.

Her axis shifted as Geto carried her battered body in his arms, traversing through the meadow; through the deep dark prison.

It’s after dark, you know? But this garden still grows.

Through the cool green grass, amidst dim corridors and oppressive shadows, Y/N watched her world go by her from the familiar embrace of Geto’s arms. His dark robes swished purposefully with each step, as Nanami walked alongside him – a steadfast presence as always. She absorbed every moment, feeling the inevitable conclusion of her life approaching, and reveled in the crescendo of it all. She hadn’t sinned; God was pleased with her, and being granted a slice of Heaven was the greatest honor of her life.

Soothing warm water enveloped her, yet Y/N shivered, as she found herself in the bathing pool in Gojo’s tower; her body bare and naked as God intended. She felt divine, holy, the epitome of blessings. Geto’s hands washed her gently, almost hesitating, as if he feared her skin would melt from her bones. Y/N felt like it was, and by God, all she wanted to do was merge seamlessly with the water. Nanami stood silently behind Geto, regal and proud, observing her being cleaned.

“We’re going soon, you’ll see…” Y/N said to Nanami, trying to reassure him as her eyes rolled back into her head.

Geto rubbed her thighs, scrubbing away the world’s impurities from her, and said softly, “No, you’re not.”

“But, aren’t you here to guide us both?”

“No sister, I’m here to make you better.”

Y/N grew silent, awareness creeping back into her bones like an old friend. Nanami’s form became translucent, a haunting ghost barely visible. They were not in the bathing pool; instead, she was in a large bronze bathtub Geto washing her, and Nanami’s ghost still lingering. Her guardian looked down at her with regret as realization dawned on his fair features, yet Y/N still didn’t understand a thing.

“Geto… I’m supposed to be going with Nanami. Look, he’s waiting for me; he’s standing behind you.”

Geto stopped his ministrations, his head tilting curiously to the side as if he was earnestly trying to sense what she could see. His warm brown eyes swept over her body, pity casting a somber shadow over him, and rested on her wings, a disapproving tut escaping his lips.

“Forgive me sister, but you need to let them go. They’re killing you now.”

Nanami looked away sharply, as if he couldn’t bear to look at them anymore, and Y/N frowned.

And then, Geto reached over and gripped both her wings at the base of their sockets in her shoulder blades. Before she could utter another word, he pulled sharply, a sickening slicking and popping noise resonating as her wings brutally detached from her body. Y/N gasped in shock and pain, convulsing violently in the bath, murky water sloshing over the sides. Geto hushed her gently, holding her arms as firmly as he could in an attempt to calm her.

The hours are passing, don’t you feel lonely?

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I know it hurts,” Geto whispered, his tender touch returning to the task of washing her.

Y/N whimpered, her gaze shifting between him and Nanami, finally comprehending the meaning behind her delusions as his blood was washed from her skin. The veil was lifting, but it wasn’t to be the end for her, and they both knew it. Geto smiled kindly at her, warmth radiating from his eyes.

“It’s ok,” she said to Nanami. “You’re right, I can take it from here… I know I can do this now.”

Geto hummed, or perhaps it was Nanami, and cupped his hands together, pouring water over her head. “And what is it you can do?”

Y/N didn’t answer, her head rolling backwards weakly. Geto quickly held the back of her head, preventing it from dipping back into the water. Nanami took steps backwards from them, hesitating, looking up at the sky with a profound sense of longing. Her golden guardian wasn’t meant for her anymore; he was destined to soar through the skies and stars high up above. Nanami Kento was born from light, and to light he would return – not condemned to remain in this blazing prison of sinners.

“You’re not meant to be here. Go on,” Y/N urged, trying to be encouraging, as gentle as Geto’s hands on her bare chest; the last traces of Nanami’s blood washed away from her.

Of course you’re lonely, you always have been. You think I didn’t know?

Her guardian turned to face her one more time, a smile curving his lips – the same one just before his body turned into a rainfall of blood. This time, she smiled back at him, an understanding exchanged in the face of their final farewell.

“Be at peace,” Geto murmured, but whether he was addressing Nanami or her, Y/N didn’t know.

And then, Nanami stretched his arms over his head in pure bliss, his body engulfed in an ethereal light, ascending towards the red hued sky, disappearing in a blaze of hope and gold. It was cathartic and pure; she couldn’t help but start to weep with joy. Geto stroked her hair, whispering gently in an attempt to soothe her, as he started to lift her from the water; wrapping her in soft satin robes, and carrying her once more.

Y/N slipped back into the darkness.

-•-

She awoke to the feel of fresh linen sheets covering her body, and contentedly moved her legs, however a dull pain in her back immediately stopped her movements. Y/N winced, her memory gradually returning as she became more awake. Her wings were gone; she knew it to be true, yet she still felt their phantom presence. She tentatively reached behind her, almost hopefully, as if they might miraculously still be there – but all she felt were rough bumps of stitches woven into her skin. The overwhelming heat she felt when she first descended into Hell was now gone, and Y/N found that she was pleasantly warm. The room she was in was dimly lit by torches of blue flames, with lavish dark purple curtains drawn partly closed, revealing a dark and lifeless sky. The furniture, crafted from bronze and dark wood, was rich and deep, meticulously arranged in beautiful display.

The door behind her creaked open, and she turned around.

Geto.

Her heart leaped with adoration as he graced her with that familiar smile she cherished so much. Her brother was here, in the deep, dark depths, and it felt as if nothing had changed between them, and he stood before her just as he once had.

“How are you feeling, dear sister?” he asked, sitting down in front of her against the edge of the bed, hands clasped together politely.

Y/N whispered, “Like I’ve been dragged through Hell.”

Geto laughed, and she couldn’t help but smile along with him. He seemed guiniely happy, joyous even; what had even changed to begin with?

“You have been, that much is true,” he agreed, shaking his head and chuckling lowly.

“Thank you… for helping me.”

“Of course, although I do apologize for your scars, because those I cannot fix.”

He rose from the bed, pulling aside the curtains, and silently gazed out the window, “You’ve been asleep for seven days and nights, you know? Did you dream at all?”

Y/N attempted to recall anything at all, but there was nothing – only darkness and that red color behind her eyelids. “No… no I didn’t. Suguru, tell me what happened.”

The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, and in that moment, as she gazed at Geto’s side profile, the stark transformation in her brother became glaringly apparent. There was a harsh, foreign look in his brown eyes, as cruel and unforgiving as steel, and his jaw clenched with ominous resolve.

“I’m sure you know that Curse who took you, Mahito,” he began, tearing his eyes away from the window to fixate on her with that angry look. “That stupid fucking thing has no idea what he’s been playing at.”

Y/N was taken aback as the curse word fell from Geto’s lips as naturally as breathing, but she said nothing as he continued, “Of course, it wasn’t until he started babbling about how he had seen Gojo with two other Angels the day of the attack; one of them a fair haired one and the other a female. It was obviously Nanami when he described the way he fought, and then I knew that it must have been you there too. I deduced he must have been the one to take you, hiding you almost perfectly if he hadn’t decided to talk too much.”

Geto sighed heavily, a regretful look passing over him.

“You weren’t supposed to be there, it wasn’t apart of the plan. I knew that we might have crossed paths once again as enemies on the battlefield, but I honestly hoped that we never would see each other again…”

He looked at her once more with suspicion in his eyes. “But that does beg the question, Y/N,what exactly were you doing there?”

“Nanami said he had said he had noticed traces of a strange Curse, and he wanted me to go with him and track it. Gojo found out and came along with us.”

“And why exactly? Satoru wouldn’t waste his time on something so menial, it’s beneath him.”

“He… he proposed to me the day after you fell. I’ve never descended to Earth without him since.”

Geto looked at her sharply, quizzically. Y/N looked down, almost in shame, as if she were to be punished for telling him the truth.

“Were you married then?”

“No, the wedding was still being planned.”

“Good, so then you aren’t a widow. That makes this a bit easier.”

A widow?

Satoru Gojo is dead?

Geto stared at her, as if trying to decipher exactly what was going through her head; like he was trying to see if she was going to break down and shatter with grief and sorrow. Of course, Y/N was shocked – the greatest seraph that ever was and would be was dead. Someone she had known her whole life, gone and faded to ash. In that moment, she saw all the lives Geto had taken; the Sky Sentries and Gojo’s followers. Here was a cold blooded Curse that stood before her, calculating and aware.

“You’re not struggling as much as I thought you would,” Geto remarked, his head tilted curiously at her. “You mustn’t have loved him.”

“I-, I did,” Y/N started, sitting up as she struggled to find the right words to say. “But not in the way I wanted to love my future husband.”

“Of course not, and he must have known that. What a selfish prick, he knew you couldn’t say no to him. He must have proposed in front of the masses, oh what a great declaration of his love and strength to protect you. Some job he did.”

Geto was seething, snapping like a dog protecting a bone, crazed and cold-hearted at the memory of his once closest friend. It was silent for a long time before he came and sat at the edge of the bed, grasping her hand in his.

“He picked you because of me, and for that, I am even more sorry,” he said, head bowed low, anger gone in a flash as his long hair brushed against her hand.

“I did care about him, Suguru. I think, given time, I would have eventually learned to love him. He… he was changing, after you left. With me, Gojo was different, but maybe he was like that with you anyways, so I’m not sure.”

“Well then, I am sorry you lost him too as well as Nanami. It must have been the blackest of days for you.”

They were silent again, and Y/N breathed heavily as the weight of their conversation and the ache in her back bore down on her like a whip.

“May I?” Geto politely inquired, his fingers at the top button of her nightdress. Y/N nodded, and he deftly unbuttoned the dress, parting it to look at her wounds.

He produced an amber tub from his robes, opening it quickly and smeared a thick, herb-scented ointment over her stitches. She shivered at its coolness.

“Does it hurt?” Geto asked worriedly, his hands lifting from her skin.

“No, I’m okay,” she whispered, eyes closing, allowing her brother to soothe her aches and pains.

But there were still truths Y/N had to uncover shrouded in the shadows. She was owed knowledge, and Geto had to give her the courtesy of an honest answer. She hoped it would be honest, at least; he was a Curse now, and honesty was no longer in his nature.

“Why did you choose to fall?”

A dark look passed over Geto’s face, a haunted memory of oppressive demons surfacing, and she almost regretted asking in the first place.

“Because I want things in the world to change.”

Just like Gojo said not so long ago, only he had wanted to change himself and not the ways of the world.

“You see, there reached a certain point for me, and it was when Haibara died. I thought, what is the point of continuing to fight a war that has already been fought for a thousand years? More of us continue to die, and it will never ever end if it continues as it does now. I asked myself, what can I do myself to change things?”

He rubbed the last of the ointment into her back, and buttoned her dress up again.

“The way things stand, there are two outcomes – either the Angels win or Curses. But if Angels won, vanquishing Sukuna and all the Curses that dwell now, it wouldn’t really matter. The Heavenly Principles are still in place, and free will is still a blessing upon us all, therefore sin is inevitable. More curses would be born again, Angels will still fall, cast out from a home that they have fought for and defended. And why should it be so? Because Heaven deems them sinners, regardless of their good deeds?”

He sighed heavily, continuing, “And if Curses win and Heaven is burnt to ash, there would be never be another Angel born into the world again. Sure, there may be war and discontent within the Hells, that is a given, but it would never be as eternal or as wasteful as the war we fight now.”

“And so you’ve decided to decimate Heaven and every soul that resides there.”

“Yes.”

It was the way he said that, so simply, like it was as natural as a rain falling to the ground. Suguru Geto had a plan, he had the spark to his fire, and all he had to do was get to the place he needed to reach. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat; as she put together the pieces of everything he had told her. How Geto must have suffered in silence, his closest friend and sister never noticing a thing as he questioned everything he believed in. And still, he had chosen to embrace the fire and condemn them both to his ideals.

“If we had met earlier, I would have tried to convince you to turn too, to fight alongside me and reshape the world according to our vision. I attempted to persuade Gojo the last time we spoke together, but he refused to listen, as he chooses to ignore that his strength could achieve all our goals if he so wished.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say, almost reluctant to acknowledge his confession. How could she be certain he wouldn’t have tried to kill her? However, there was something else more pressing on her mind than Geto’s ambitions.

“Suguru… why did you say Mahito took me away?”

Geto froze momentarily, and fear flashed across his face as swiftly as a lightning strike. Y/N’s heart raced even faster, the fear bubbling up within her; the scar on her stomach suddenly burning wildly.

“Like I said,” Geto began uneasily, clearing his throat. “Mahito has no idea what he’s been playing at. He can see souls within the body like a living, breathing thing inside us all. He knew the consequences if he was found out, and yet he did it anyway.”

“Suguru, what did he do? What does it have to do with me or you?”

“I hope you do not think less of me when I tell you this… I’m the King of the Third Layer of Hell, and Mahito is one of my strongest, albeit one of the youngest, denizens to reside in my court. He has stolen and knowingly hidden you, despite the bounty for your location within the Hells, and by doing so, he has put my Layer at risk for war.”

Her mind reeled at this information; at the power her brother now held in the palm of his hands.

A bounty on me?

“Who’s after me Suguru?”

“I think you know, sweet sister.”

Her green eyed Curse, the champion of storms; he had lived after all.

“His name is Toji Fushiguro, and he is the King of the Second Layer of Hell.”

Geto looked painfully guilty, his head turned from her shamefully.

“He has been looking for you ever since he killed Satoru, and… I have already dispatched a messenger to say that you are resting and healing in my home.”

He’s coming for me.

“Yes,” Geto replied, and Y/N realized she had said it aloud.

“Am I doomed?”

“I don’t know.”

Another stop in time, as she considered another revelation; something that may have already meant she was condemned to her soul burning in Hell. It would explain why the searing heat she fought so hard against didn’t bother her anymore, why her blood ran warm and true, and why she could no longer smell the sulphur in the air anymore.

“If it’s not what you want, then I can help you to escape him.”

“How?”

“I can help you ascend back to Earth, but only there. After that, you would be on your own to find your way back to your people, but I cannot stop him from finding you before you get there. I will also assume that you have chosen never to side with me, and if I came across you again, then we may very well kill the other.”

None of that might matter if she was already condemned; there would be no way back to Heaven.

“Suguru, please get me a knife.”

He frowned, “Y/N, don’t cause yourself more harm. I won’t let you die on my watch, and neither will he.”

“Suguru please, I need to see something.”

Geto relented, handing her a clean dagger hidden beneath his obsidian robes. She took it from him, and pricked her thumb with the blade and squeezed hard. A trickle of red blood escaped from the pierced flesh, and Y/N breathed a sigh of relief as the nausea dissipated from her stomach.

Until red turned black as ink; flowing down her hands like a river of sin and despair.

-•-

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