#it's the same story over and over and over and over again

[vaspider]

I am begging everybody, fucking begging them, to slow the fuck down and fucking look things up. Right now, there are a lot of people who are making money off of creating headlines that are meant to make you mad, and it's going to get worse as we get closer to the election.

If someone tells you that there's a secret conspiracy to [do a thing you don't like] and that it's unique to Biden, you better fucking look that thing up, because chances are you're going to find that it's been happening under every administration for the last 50 years. Is that good? No! Should you want to change it? Probably! Is it a unique crime to Biden? Nope!

"Biden said [bad thing] [X] years ago." Well, this bad thing he said happens to be true, but it looks like it was 45 years ago, and he changed his stance 40 years ago. "Biden said [other bad thing] [Y] years ago." What's the source on that? So there's one person who says he said it? And nobody else who was there has corroborated that account? Who posted the story?

These are all random examples of things I've seen over the last couple of weeks, with the details slightly changed from the Tumblr posts and news articles I've seen, because the point isn't the details of the particular story, so I don't want to get bogged down in particulars that don't matter to the point I'm making.

The point of this post isn't the specific things I'm referencing but the fact that in each of these cases, the reality was not what was initially presented. Either the reality was wildly different, or this story can't be corroborated and was told by someone with a clear and very well-known agenda of their own, which means that at the very least, the story should be treated with extreme suspicion.

And on that note, please don't believe that because you're a leftist that you can't be radicalized in the same way that right-wingers are. You aren't immune to propaganda either. I'm not saying you have to like, or should like, any particular politician or political entity. I am saying, however, that you should view a lot of the news with a gimlet eye, and that goes double for anything that makes you real fucking mad.

You need - need - to stop and read the whole article and ask yourself if you can verify the claims and who benefits from this making you mad.

Please. For the sake of the people around you who have to patiently explain to you that you've gotten fucking bamboozled again by propaganda if for no other reason. We're all very tired of you thinking that leftists can't be propagandized.

#you are not immune to propaganda

[malewifesband]

i see it often that people do not see laios liking kabru, but in reality laios does like kabru! quite a lot for a guy that (from his perspective) he just met! laios forgetting kabrus exact name is not evidence of disinterest in any way--hes only heard it a couple of times, he struggles with small details (unless you want to argue laios also doesnt give a shit about marcille, chilchuck and senshi, he also forgets small details about them. if you do think this, i think dungeon meshi may be too advanced for you. stick to bluey.), and the man has autism. like near explicitly.

laios offers food from their limited supplies because kabru showed an interest in eating monsters, and makes him an omelette so he can have something to eat even though other food was already being prepared. he listens to kabrus criticism of his behavior and mindset in trying to protect falin even though she was straight up killing people, and tries to drag kabru to safety. he watches kabru defuse the situation between himself and toshiro masterfully, and confides in him how hurt he is that toshiro is so angry and how he mustve done something truly awful to upset him like that. when kabru tells him that meeting him was the best part of his time in the dungeon, laios agrees and says its the same for him (remember: laios doesnt do empty platitudes well--if he said it, he meant it).

when kabru leaves, we get three fucking panels in a row of laios staring after him, flexing the hand kabru was just holding, and reflecting on kabrus words ("next time..?")

when kabru shows up again deep in the dungeon, chilchuck is suspicious, but laios is so excited to see him that he throws caution to the wind and lets kabru hold his hand again despite seconds later crossing succubus off his list of shapeshifters that could be appearing as kabru--a carelessness around monsters and danger laios rarely exhibits. when kabru gives his warning about the canaries, laios is grateful. he notices how often kabru saves his skin

when lycion reveals that kabru lied about wanting to eat the omelette laios made, it breaks his heart because he made that with love! he made it for kabru, and kabru didnt like it, and now he knows kabru was just playing at friendship to use him. that breaks his heart, hes distraught, but he doesnt have time to be hurt about it when marcille needs his help urgently so he turns to run to her. he apologizes to kabru and tries to leave again. he isnt listening to what kabru is saying here because kabru was just revealed as a liar and because it doesnt really cohere (kabru is stuttering and speaking in broken sentences as he tries to explain about the dungeons power) and he needs to save marcille

he doesnt believe kabru wanted to be his friend, because who would? why would laios be special enough, loveable enough, to go through the pains kabru went through, just to be his friend? but when kabru makes the intensity of his desire known, laios promises to feed him again, at a proper restaurant --and again, food is care for laios, to feed someone is to love them. marcille is still his priority bc she is in real danger but he means what he says, he really does want to start over with kabru and be real friends with him

once we hit the resolution of the story, kabru near glues himself to laios, helping him and trying to cement himself as a right-hand man, and making known his intent to support laios no matter what. in the medieval manuscript style epilogue, kabru is one of two friends that stick by laios as he becomes king. both marcille and kabru become the people closest to him (besides falin of course), two friends who will always support him, always let him know when hes fucked up and theyre mad at him, two friends who he can rely on. laios did not have to accept kabru as an advisor, he did not have to ask him to stay with him. he did that because after everything, he trusts kabru now, and knows he can count on him

while laios doesnt give any big monologues about what he likes about kabru, its very clear he does, and we know what things laios values in other people. he appreciates kabrus social skills (very clear in the post canon comic in the adventurers bible), his intelligence, that kabru WANTS to be around him and understand him even though its difficult, his strength, and frankly he does appreciate his charm (three fucking panels straight of staring after him). laios really values people with specialized skillsets who are willing to tell him frankly what they think and advise him in areas he is weak in (something we see in his relationship with... i was gonna say namari but its everyone. he does this with everyone he likes. and in the resolution kabru does this CONSTANTLY he does not go a panel without giving laios his professional opinion on how to deal with people).

in conclusion: arent you hungry, kabru? let laios make something for you

#kabru #laios touden #dungeon meshi #kabru of utaya #labru #not explicitly for my labru girlies but it feels sometimes like we are the only ones who understand that these characters are friends

[nicksbestie]

Next Level - M. Sturniolo

Summary : the one where you just want your boyfriend to get off of his game, and he makes you a deal.

Warnings : 16+ content. i am not responsible for the media you choose to consume online. oral (fem receiving), fingering, praise kink, multiple orgasms/overstimulation, pet names (baby)

Word Count : 3017

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : idfk blame someone else for this

You were potentially the most bored that you had ever been in your entire life.

Yes, you were being incredibly dramatic, but your boyfriend had ceased giving you attention and hanging out with you in favor of playing round after round on whatever video game of the day was pulled up on his monitor. It was so frustrating, and you were a clingy person, so that just made it worse. You had come over to spend time with your boyfriend, not to just watch him focus on something else. You had tried playing with him, losing multiple games, winning a couple, before you had gotten bored and moved to relax on his bed. You’d been quiet and patient up until about now, because you didn’t want to bother him, and you did love seeing him do things that he enjoyed, but you were starting to get annoyed. 

You abandoned his room in favor of going down to the kitchen to get something to drink, finding Chris and Nick sitting on the couch, some show playing in the background, and Nick was swiping through Snapchat stories on his phone. They already knew you were there, having spent time with both of them when you had arrived a few hours prior to now. You sat down with them both, opening the lemonade you had stolen from their fridge. You didn’t speak, also on your phone for a couple of minutes before Chris looked up, nudging Nick to get his attention.

“Do you think Matt will drive us somewhere? I want to go get a slurpee.” 

You laughed, responding before Nick could.

“He’s fixated on his stupid video game, I doubt he’ll want to go anywhere.”

“Is that why you’re down here and not up there with him?” 

You nodded, continuing to scroll through social media while the two brothers decided if they wanted to ask Matt or not. Finally, Nick turned to you.

“Can you go ask? He’s more likely to say yes to you than to us, and now that Chris has mentioned it, I want to get one too.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, but got up to go upstairs to ask him anyways, knowing more than likely your boyfriend would say no. Walking back into his room, Matt glanced up at you, looking back to his screen after acknowledging who had come into the room.

“Nick and Chris want to go get slurpees, they wanted to know if you would drive them.”

Matt shook his head, eyes never leaving the monitor, fingers never pausing their movements on his controller.

“Nah, I don’t want to go. Tell them to order an Uber or something.”

You sighed, sitting back down on Matt’s bed to text those words to Chris and Nick, not feeling like walking up and down the steps again for such a short message. After reading Nick’s response of a rolling eyes emoji, you threw your body back and laid down, exhaling deeply, waiting on Matt to pay you even a sliver of attention. You were tempted to leave, go get slurpees with the two other brothers, but at the same time, you really did love and miss your boyfriend. About fifteen minutes went by, and Chris texted you to let you know that they were leaving, asking if you were both sure that you didn’t want to come, and you replied saying that no, you two would stay here.

You only let about another five minutes go by before you waved a hand in front of Matt’s face, refusing to let him ignore you any longer. He pulled his headset halfway off, to where one ear was exposed, so that he could hear you.

“What’s up, baby?” 

You sighed, slightly pouting.

“You’ve been on that game forever, and you’ve been ignoring me.” 

Matt gave you a soft smile, standing up to kiss you before sitting back down. 

“Just let me get through one more level, and I’ll turn it off for the day.” 

You rolled your eyes, turning around to go sit back down.

“Sure you will.” 

He caught your wrist as you tried to move away from his desk, turning you back towards him.

“Hey, watch the attitude.”

He kissed the back of your hand, smiling at you.

“You’ve been waiting a while, I know. Nick and Chris have already left, right?” 

You nodded, confused at what his brother’s presence, or lack thereof, had to do with your current situation.

“Okay. So let me get through this next level, and I’ll go down on you until you cry. Deal?”

You couldn’t say that the suggestion that came out of Matt’s mouth didn’t affect you. It had been a little while since you and him had done anything, conflicts with filming and work, traveling, and when you were free, people were home. So sure, maybe part of your boredom and attitude was due to pent up desire, but who could blame you? There was only so much relief you could get on your own, and nothing compared to Matt’s skills. Matt noticed how your eyes widened slightly and your cheeks flushed, and an arrogant smirk crossed his lips. One of his favorite things was to go down on you, and you couldn’t deny the fact that you felt the same about it. 

“I figured you would like that offer. Just this last level, okay?” 

You swallowed, nodding, pulling your arm from his grip and going back to laying on his bed. You picked up your phone, trying to appear unaffected, but Matt knew you better than that. He could see you in the reflection of the dark screen on the second monitor, and he could see you shifting how your legs were laying every so often, trying to ignore how the thoughts he had planted in your head were affecting you. He loved how easily he could work you up, something he had often taken advantage of, and he smiled to himself at how suddenly you had developed so much patience. 

Matt intentionally lost the level multiple times in a row, wanting to see just how far he could push your patience. He knew that you wouldn’t push him back, so he wanted to see just how needy he could get you to be. So he continued to lose, to set himself back, to find any way to make his promise take longer. He was enjoying watching you grow desperate way more than he should have, noticing you look up at him and his screen pretty much every thirty seconds to see if he had completed the level yet. The thought of what he was going to do to you was making him struggle to focus on the game, so he decided to stop intentionally losing and not make you wait for him any longer. This level wasn’t difficult, and it wasn’t long before he completed it, turning off his screens and removing the headset in favor of setting it on the desk. 

Turning around and getting out of the chair, Matt abandoned his desk, laying down with you and taking your phone out of your hand. You let him, both of you knowing that you hadn’t really been paying attention to it anyways. Excited to finally have your boyfriend’s full attention, you pulled him in for a kiss, it starting off gentle and sweet. He broke the kiss after a couple of seconds, smiling at you and used his hand on the side of your cheek and jaw to guide you into another one. There wasn’t any effort on your side to gain dominance of the kiss, Matt easily controlled it, deepening it and swallowing any sounds that left your lips, smiling against your mouth when you both paused to breathe. 

“I think I have a promise to make good on, don’t I?” 

You nodded, gasping quietly when Matt moved his kisses down to directly under your jawline, teeth gently tugging on the skin, enough to leave marks on you, but not enough for those marks to last longer than a day. The hand that had previously been on the side of your face was tangled in the back of your hair, gently pulling on it, moving your head to give him more access. It wasn’t long before he was hovering over you and had left a trail of blooming marks under your jaw and on your neck. Small whimpers were leaving your lips, and he kissed you, full of passion, enjoying the way you reacted to his movements. One of his hands gently caressed your side, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” 

You didn’t respond verbally, simply removing your hands from his hair and face to tug your shirt off, allowing him to help you. Matt’s hands immediately moved up to unclasp your bra, getting it off as quickly as possible, before moving to lay kisses down your torso. It seemed like he was somehow touching you everywhere at once, which you logically knew wasn’t true because he only had two hands, but you swore you could feel him on all parts of your skin. He moved a hand up to roll your nipple between two of his fingers, smirking at the loud whimper you let out, before moving his other hand down to the band of your sweatpants, silently asking for your permission for him to take them off. You lifted your hips, whispering your consent, sounds still leaving your lips because he hadn’t paused his ministrations, his mouth attaching to your other nipple, the attention on them both causing you to whine. 

He only stopped the movements of his hands to remove your sweatpants from your legs, but he didn’t move downwards. He moved back up to kiss you again, both of his hands holding the sides of your face. Using his leg to spread yours, he swallowed the loud moan that left your lips, as the shifting of his body had caused his knee to press directly against where you needed him most. He smiled against your lips, loving how vocal you were, increasing the pressure slowly until he felt you shift your hips downward to meet his leg. He removed his knee, hearing your whine of disappointment, moving his body down between your legs, using his hands to spread them this time, from where you had clenched your thighs around his knee. 

“Patience, baby, I’ll give you what you want.”

He left kisses and hickeys on your inner thighs, so close that you could feel his breath over your panties. When he was satisfied with the marks that he had left on your legs, he gently pulled them off of your legs, kissing even closer, smiling at the way that you pushed your hips closer to him. He took one arm and laid it over top of your hips, holding you down.

“Matt, stop fucking teasing.” 

He shook his head at the attitude in your voice, but he knew you wouldn’t be giving it to him for long. He kissed right above your clit before giving in, his tongue beginning to form small circles on it, and he could have cum on the spot when he heard the shaky breath that left you at the feeling of relief after having to wait so long. He alternated the amount of pressure he was using, before pulling off completely and moving to lick a stripe from your entrance back up to your clit, loving the way that your thighs clenched around his head. He pushed them back open before attaching his lips to your clit, gently sucking, causing your hands to tug harshly on his hair as you let out moans and whimpers. He tried to remove his face from between your legs, but you pushed him impossibly closer, and instead of fighting you, he simply formed tight figure eight motions with his tongue on your clit.

By this point you were so wet, and Matt’s mouth and chin were covered in the evidence of your arousal. He always ate you out like he was starving, and it was always messy, but you never complained. How could you, when it gave you some of the best orgasms you’d ever have? You could feel it starting to build in the pit of your stomach, and it only became more intense when Matt ran two fingers through the wetness between your legs before easily pushing them into you, expertly curling them. He knew your body like the back of his own hand, so not only did he know that you could take two at once, he knew exactly where to move and where to press to have you squirming. 

His ministrations were confident, and you were predictable, your head immediately going back the second that his fingers curled perfectly, him only being able to see the white of your eyes while his tongue and fingers caused your thighs to shake around his head, your climax building quickly, and Matt could tell, just from the noises you were making and the way you were clenching around his fingers. He pulled his mouth off, increasing the speed of his fingers, kissing you roughly before speaking.

“Doing so good for me, baby.” 

“Matt, fuck, please-” 

He placed his thumb on your clit, rubbing tight circles with a firm amount of pressure, adoring the way that your back arched now that you were no longer being held down.

“I know, baby, I know.”

He replaced his thumb with his mouth, the suction sending you off into space. He could hear your moans getting higher in pitch, and your thighs were clamping around his head. Your hips were bucking against his face, your eyes screwed shut as his free hand reached up and applied pressure to your lower stomach, and that was it. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, jaw hanging open in a loud whine, Matt not stopping any of his movements as he pleasured you through your high. He stopped when your breathing began to stagger roughly, kissing you sweetly as you panted against his lips. He kissed you until you calmed down, until your chest stopped heaving, and then he ran his hand back down and gently drew slow circles on your clit, kissing your forehead as you whined and tried to bat his hand away. 

“I can’t, too much.” 

He just gave you a pitying smile, not moving his hand. If anything, he picked up his pace, listening to you whimper against his neck.

“Oh, but I promised you’d be crying, baby. I have to make good on that, don’t I?” 

You couldn’t formulate a response, just a low whine leaving you as he added more pressure. 

“You can give me one more.” 

And with those words, he went back to having his head between your thighs, his fingers on his free hand gently tracing patterns on the inside of your thighs. You were so sensitive, not ever having been one for overstimulation, but the incredible pleasure that rolled through your body overwhelmed every small spark of pain, causing you to not want Matt to stop after all. Being so sensitive, you were so much more reactive, and when Matt pulled the same move of curling his fingers right into your sweet spot, you let out a loud sob, and you could feel another orgasm beginning to build. It was much quicker than the last one, but with Matt absolutely assaulting your clit, and his fingers roughly massaging that perfect spot inside of you, you knew you would never be able to hold it off. 

The oversensitivity caused tears to build in your eyes, and you got to the point of desperation that you were attempting to ride Matt’s face, hands tightened in his hair again, keeping him pushed up against you, chanting his name like a prayer as you tipped over the edge for a second time that night. Matt did the same thing that he did the first time, working you through your orgasm, and it was the added stimulation paired with the unbelievable high you were already on that caused tears to stream down your face, eventually pushing Matt away from you when it got to the point that you couldn’t handle it anymore. He knew when it was too much for you, and he pulled off, the fingers that had just brought you to your finish now in his own mouth, and if you could go again, you would have at just the sight. 

It didn’t take Matt long to pull you into his arms, wiping the remnants of tears off of your face. He didn’t move you too much, but he helped you drink out of the bottle of water that had been on his nightstand. You laid there, still slightly out of breath, enjoying the close company of your boyfriend and the gentle kisses he was pressing on the top of your head. It wasn’t until Matt adjusted his body slightly against you that you realized he was still hard.

“You didn’t-.”

He didn’t even humor the statement, cutting you off by just shaking his head and holding you against his chest.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve got my full attention, baby. I’m fine.” 

The soft aftercare that Matt always gave you was top tier, complete with food, a warm bath, and endless cuddles. He always spent a lot of time making sure that you were completely taken care of and felt okay before he even thought about himself. Checking Matt’s phone, you noticed a text from Chris that had come in thirty minutes ago, letting you know that they had decided to stop at another store before coming home. Neither of you replied, but you both assumed that meant you didn’t have much more alone time left. So Matt helped you back into clothes, knowing that you were tired, and you ended up dressed in an entire outfit of his.  The two of you weren’t even awake when they got back, falling asleep wrapped up in each other’s presence.

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[envy-of-the-apple]

Ruptured Amethyst; Splintered Tanzanite

Dark!Satosugu x reader - Yakuza Au

Synopsis: In hopes of paying off your debt, you start working for two dangerous men. Soon, you realize they want more from you than money.

Word count: 9.2k

(Warnings: dark content, sexual coercion, dubcon, noncon, oral sex, piv sex, threesomes, gun, blood, violence) Ageless blogs will be blocked

In this job, you quickly learned that it's better to just keep your head down. 

Do what you were called for and leave. Do nothing but sit on your computer and look at numbers. Stepping out of your makeshift boundaries led to nothing but trouble.

It worked perfectly like that for the first few weeks you were brought here. The other workers never bothered you, and it took you a moment to realize they were in the same boat as you were: owing a debt. You wouldn’t quite say things were peaceful; every so often, one of Geto’s men would hurl someone through a table, but things were manageable.

And then Gojo came back.

You hadn’t met Gojo, yet. He was overseas on a business trip when Geto brought you in. You hadn’t met him, but you’d heard enough to make you want to stay away from him. Ijichi had told you enough stories to make you want to sink into the floor altogether. You just had until the end of the year until your debt was paid. It was the beginning of September, right now. Surely, you could avoid him until then, right?

“Ah, you’re the one Suguru was talking about.”

It was your fault. It was entirely your fault. Ijichi had begged you to stay after work for a bit longer and desperate to pay the debt off, you had agreed. No one else was supposed to be in the office besides you and him.

But Gojo didn’t follow other people’s rules. It'd take you a while before you fully understand that.

You could do nothing but stand there, wobbling in your heels as Gojo loomed over you. His sunglasses were tilted, cresting over his nose as he scrutinized you. You clutched the laptop closer to your chest, as though it’d save you somehow.

Gojo didn’t look dangerous. If you had seen him on the street, you would have assumed he was a model. Tall, long hands, pretty features. Gojo doesn’t look dangerous. Gojo is dangerous. He doesn’t need the gun (casually on his side, right in your line of sight) to prove it.

You say nothing. You don’t know what to say. So far, you’ve only dealt with Geto. Geto with his fake smiles and soft words of thinly veiled threats. As intimidating as Geto was, you felt safe enough with him to answer his questions. Speak when spoken to.

Gojo was uncharted territory. Should you speak? Should you greet him? Should you get on your hands and knees? Gojo was new. You had to deal with something new, alone.

You opt to stay silent, hoping that’s the best move. It’s not. Above you, Gojo’s clicking his tongue. He leans down, stooping his head low to get a better view of your face. You stare at him until it gets too much and you’re turning away. He likes that even less, grabbing you by the chin so you’re facing him again.

“You mute or somethin’?” He asks, tilting your head like he’s assessing you.

“No,” you finally murmur. It was a question, correct? He won’t get mad if you answer his questions.

He doesn’t seem mad. But he doesn’t seem happy, either. If anything, he looks a little disappointed.

“I really don’t get it,” he’s talking, but it’s more like he’s saying his thoughts out loud, “Suguru would not shut up about you. Thought I was gonna see something more exciting. You’re so...”

He trails off as though even describing you would be a waste. The thought that Geto speaks about you to his partners scares you, but you’re wise enough not to pry. Instead, you wait. Waiting often works. You’ve been cornered by Geto’s men (before they knew he was the one who brought you), most just want to intimidate you, they get a kick out of fear. When you give them what they want, they usually leave you alone.

Gojo doesn’t leave, even when you’re sure your horror is printed on your face. Obvious to even the blind. Instead, he leans back, eyes trailing down your outfit. Despite how most of the stuff done here was off the record, Geto still prioritized a professional workplace. You were expected to put on a clean blouse and skirt every day.

You yelp when Gojo tugs on the fabric of your skirt, bunching the material on your thighs. Forgetting where you are, who you’re with, you grab his wrist.

“Don’t be like that,” Gojo chides as though you were being the unreasonable one, “I just wanna look. Seriously, what was that guy going on and on about—”

“Satoru.”

Geto’s voice stops the both of you. He’s leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a less than impressed look. You’re relieved when he’s more focused on Gojo than you.

“Sugu!” Gojo cheers, a complete 180 from his past demeanor. He lets you go and you sink against the wall in relief. “I’m home!”

“I can see that,” Geto retorts, but there’s an odd fondness laced in his tone that you’d never heard before.

The kiss they shared was violent. Tongue and teeth and messy. Gojo reached up, scrunching Geto’s hair, dragging him closer. Respectfully, you glanced away. You don’t yet leave. You know better than that, especially now that Geto is here.

“How many times have I told you to stop harassing our employees?” Geto sighs, once he’s pulled away. His tone is filled with exasperation, as though he were talking to a child.

“I didn’t do anythin’,” Gojo responds. When you finally turn back, Geto is shaking his head.

He smiles at you.

“Apologies, my dear,” he states, “you can leave. Remember to tell Ijichi you’re going.”

You eagerly nod before scurrying away. You can hear Gojo scoff, another murmur from Geto. You couldn’t care less what they’re saying, more than happy to grab your things, bid Ijichi goodbye, and leave.

Keep your head down, and don’t ever bother with what they are doing.

🗡

Technically, you weren’t in debt, your father was.

He had close ties to the underground. You weren’t sure of the details, you were so young when your mother left with you in tow. She was always stingy with the details, but she never failed to remind you that your father was a stupid man who worked with dangerous ones. She passed away right after you graduated from college. You’d mourned her.

Now, a part of you felt grateful she passed just before she saw your life fall apart.

They came in the middle of April. You remember that day purely because of the flower blossoms littering the sidewalk, the first sign of blooming spring.

There were three other men besides Geto that day, and you hadn’t known his name back then—just the man with long, pretty hair. They were all waiting for you, loitering right beside your home. When you hesitated, slowed to a stop, the man with long hair smiled at you. Geto calls your name. When you don’t respond, his smile widened.

“That is who you are, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you nervously said, “sorry, but—but who are you all?”

He introduces himself. The other three don’t bother. You don’t yet realize that they’re only henchmen, mere puppets for Geto.

“Apologies, but this is a rather sensitive subject. Can we talk someplace private?”

You don’t want to let these men into your home, but his soft words and intimidating company coax you into agreeing. You lead them up the steps, praying to God that you were wrong about this—whoever they were. When you unlock the door, only Geto follows you. The rest wait outside. You don’t know if that’s better or worse.

He seats himself right on the sofa. It’s your apartment, and yet his mere presence makes you feel like he’s the owner. You loiter next to the door, twiddling your thumbs.

“Would you like tea?”

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you a polite one?”

It was more for you than for him—scurrying to the kitchen, away from his searing purple eyes. It’s a reprieve to start the burner, pour water into the pot. You take as much time as you can, but eventually, you have to come out.

Geto says nothing when you place the cups down. He takes it, humming at the taste. You don’t touch your cup.

His tone is soft. His words aren’t.

Your father did far worse than work with dangerous men. He’d stolen from them. He was already dealt with, his punishment had sent him careening off the Earth far sooner than your mother. Still, the topic of the missing money was still there.

Something that had fallen onto you, his next of kin.

You were already crying once Geto finished. Your body is wracked with sobs. You can barely suck in a breath.

“Please—please,” you’re already saying, “he—we—I swear we never received any sort of money from him.”

He takes your hand within his own, curling his fingers around them. Coming from anyone else, it would have been a nice gesture.

“I’m aware,” Geto comforts, “we know you haven’t been in contact with your father for more than a decade.”

His fingers are warm. They trace your cheek as he gently wipes away your tears.

“But in this line of business, family matters, no matter how estranged, my Dear.”

You look at him through your tears. He’s beautiful. Long black hair. If you touched it, you bet it would feel like silk within your fingers.

It’s his eyes that truly suck you in. Purple. It’s a rare eye color, you’ve never seen someone with purple eyes until now. They resemble amethyst, unpolished, but still just as beautiful.

“My partner would have much less...humane ways of dealing with this situation,” Geto continues, “but I think you could be far more useful warm rather than cold, do you agree?” You shrivel in your spot, already having an inkling to what he’s saying. It’s not like you haven’t already figured out where this was going. You’ve heard the stories of what dangerous men do to those who’ve wronged them—to the vulnerable girls who accidentally trip and fall into their trap, forced to work in brothels and debase themselves all for the sake of keeping them rich.

He laughs right then. It’s rich, deep, startling you out of your misery.

"Come now, it's the 21st century."

Geto smiles. Fake. Unsafe. 

"Women are worth far more than just their bodies." 

It turns out that even the Yakuza had paperwork.

It was a menial deskjob, on the surface, at least. If you don’t think too hard about who you’re working for, it could be a regular office. It’s not like any of the work you are provided with is illegal, but you doubt you’d put it down on your resume.

Your education had saved you. Ironic that it was your father who instilled your desire to learn.

If you don’t think too hard about it, your new ‘job’ wasn’t horrible. As notorious as they were, your new employers weren’t downright cruel. You still got paid. You had a contract. Things could honestly be a whole lot worse.

It was still very hard to get used to, especially in the beginning.

Something you learned very quickly was that the men around here did not like it when women had an attitude. You were far too meek to have one, but the other few women who worked with you became your teachers, showing you exactly what the men would do if you didn’t stay in line. You were more than happy to listen, and even then, your eagerness to learn didn’t help. In order for the lesson to truly sink in, you needed trial and error. 

You stepped out of line exactly once. And then you never did it again.

It had been an accident. You’d forgotten that Geto had an important meeting that day. You knocked on his door, shuffling some documents in your hand. It was muscle memory to just go in because he’s never said anything but come in before.

They’d all stared at you, eyes lingering up and down your body. One of them grins. Immediately, you look at Geto. Horrified. Ready to grovel at his feet if need be.

His eyes flashed dangerously. Purple turned into sharp magenta knives. Geto tilted his head.

“Come here, dear.”

You take one step. Another. Then another. The way they look at you makes your stomach twist and sink but Geto only looks at you expectantly. When you linger at his side, his lips quirk.

His grip on your waist is gentle as he guides you into his lap. Your cheeks burn, but you don’t dare move, not even when the men start laughing at the free show. Geto only curls a hand on your waist, keeping you in place as he leans back again.

“Continue, gentlemen.”

The rest of the meeting continues with you on Geto’s lap. You don’t look at any of them, hands balled into fists at your sides. You feel naked. The air within the room is stifling. You refuse to look anywhere else but the floor.

The conversation goes back to business. Despite the compromising situation, he put you in, Geto’s hands don’t wander. He's content to keep his fingers on your waist until the room filters out and everyone leaves.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Geto.” You murmur, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He doesn’t answer, at least not to that. He just sighs, sinking into his seat. Still, Geto doesn’t let you get up. Not yet. He waits until you’re looking at him, still smiling that fake smile.

This had been a punishment. The next time you made a mistake, you doubt you’d be let off so easily.

“Learn quickly, my dear.”

You nod. You apologize again. When Geto finally lets you go, you are quick to stumble away, pushing your way out the door. Purple eyes follow you out. You don’t think they stop looking until you’re out of the room, curled into your desk, steadying your heartbeat.

You stepped out of line exactly once. You never did it again.

Despite being under Geto, technically, Ijichi is your direct superior. You thanked the Gods for it. Ijichi was the only person here you were certain didn’t have blood on his hands. He was in a similar situation as you were; stuck working off a debt that he didn’t owe. You two bonded on your shared misery. He was the one reprieve you had in your new life.

Unfortunately, now that Gojo was back, Ijichi was far busier. It gave you little time with him. You suppose you were always welcome to join them, but considering your first encounter with Gojo, you’d much rather not.

It’s not like you hadn’t had similar encounters before Gojo's arrival. In the very beginning, one of Geto’s men tried something remarkably similar. You can still remember his hand on your hip, his other hand slowly unbuttoning your shirt while other men stood to the side laughing.

It hadn’t lasted long.

You didn’t realize he was shot until he was already on the ground, twitching in pure agony. He screamed and cried louder than you had. Blood was already dripping to the floor.

Geto had already tucked away the gun, striding away as though nothing happened. He didn’t say anything, the incident was never mentioned. Even to you, his statement rang loud and clear.

You were off-limits.

Clearly, Gojo didn’t care about the unspoken rule.

So far, Ijichi hasn’t acknowledged him. If anything, your superior is hunched behind his computer, typing away, rarely taking his eyes off-screen. You admired his concentration, but it was hard for you to follow suit, considering that Gojo had taken a seat right next to you.

His stare is impossible to ignore. You can feel it even as you desperately try to focus on the screen in front of you. As if he can tell you’re intimidated by his mere presence, he leans over, shoulder pressing against your own. You could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Watcha’ workin’ on?” He asks as though he can’t already see.

Still, you falter. “Um—”

“Um’” he repeats, “that’s all you’ve been sayin’. Hey, Ijichi—” The man in question jolts up, eyes already panicked.

“Your assistant always this jumpy, or is your personality just that infectious?”

“Sir, uh—” Ijichi starts before getting cut off by a tsk.

“See? Again,” Gojo sighs, “I see why you two get along so well.”

You and Ijichi exchange glances, unsure what to do. When Gojo says nothing more, you decide it’s okay to resume work again, typing away.

Childhood friends, Ijichi told you back when you were still morbidly curious. Gojo had come from a lineage of powerful businessmen. Geto had more or less worked his way up. They became partners somewhere along that time.

It’s hard to imagine them as friends or as anything more. They’re so different. Geto is so controlled, measured with every response he takes. Gojo is more like dynamite, ready to go off at any moment.

You suppose the only similarity is how unreadable they are. To this day, you can’t tell whether Gojo dislikes you or not. Every action you take seems only to disappoint him, yet he constantly hovers around you.

It takes another minute for you to be on the keyboard before Gojo decides he doesn’t like you working peacefully. The chair creaks under his weight as he shifts closer. His head rests against your shoulder. With his new position, you can feel his breath on your collarbone as an arm casually wraps around your shoulders. You don’t dare react, but you send Ijichi a panicked look. He looks sympathetic, but he doesn’t move to help you. You can’t find it in yourself to fault him for his inactions.

“You never answered me, by the way.” He murmurs, quiet enough that only you can hear.

You respond as diligently as you can, making sure you use as few word fillers as possible. It’s clear Gojo doesn’t like that. Or rather, he doesn’t like the nervousness your voice exudes but you doubt you could fix it, especially with his presence around.

“Sounds boring.” Gojo interrupts your rambles. “You don’t do anything else more entertaining?”

“No, sir,” you reply, “I’m only in charge of paperwork.”

Despite the other co-workers you have, you are still an anomaly. Everyone here has had an experience holding a gun—even Ijichi. It’s clear Geto ‘hiring’ you was a change in pattern, something you would always be grateful for. If he hadn't, you wouldn’t want to know what was in store for you.

That’s probably why Gojo was so curious about you. However, considering how close they were, you were now wondering why Geto hadn’t explained it.

“How long have you been working here—hey,look at me when you’re talking.”

You turn, and for the first time, you willingly face Gojo Satoru. His sunglasses are tilted down, and you can see his eyes now. They are blue, so painfully blue, like an ocean, curled up tightly within his eyes. Glittering tanzanite stares back at you—beautiful gemstones that glisten beneath the fluorescent light.

Gojo tilts his head, and you remember that he asked you a question.

“Three weeks, Sir.”

He doesn’t seem all that pleased with your answer. You wonder if you should have lied instead. He’s embarrassingly close, and the position he’s forced you into doesn’t help.

“That quick, huh?” Gojo murmurs, and he sounds a little impressed, “how many times have you and Suguru fucked?”

You gape at him, horrified at even the insinuation. It takes a while for you to even find your voice. 

“I—we’ve never. Never.”

Gojo narrows his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. C’mon, I'm just curious.”

It feels even worse that Gojo's question isn't even unreasonable. Geto has always treated you differently. Softer. Kinder, if you wanted to be charitable. It isn't a stretch to assume you've been doing favors for the man, in this line of work, it must be a normal occurrence. Yet, you haven't. Apart from that one blunder weeks ago, Geto has never touched you inappropriately. 

Still, you shake your head rapidly, feeling heat flush in your cheeks. Being cornered and interrogated like this is humiliating, especially in front of everyone. Ijichi is nice enough to look away while you’re being humiliated, but you know he’s listening. You know everyone’s listening.

Thankfully, Geto intervenes.

“You.” A sigh of exasperation. “Get off.”

Gojo rolls his eyes, but you almost cry in relief when he pushes away and stands up.

“We were bonding,” Gojo argues, though, like everything he says, it sounds like a tease.

Geto’s murmuring something else, and it’s clear that this interaction between them is normal. It's almost a repetition of what happened last time. Both times, you’d been the commonality.

Gojo leaves eventually, shooed away by his partner. The office finally grows quiet when the white-haired man disappears to God knows where. You feel like you can breathe again, but Geto still has not left.

When you look, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and you’re strangely reminded of a stressed mother. Finally, he lets out a breath, opening his eyes and staring down at you.

“I apologize for his behavior, my dear,” he says. There’s a hand on your shoulder, mirroring the touch Gojo gave you.

“He’s excitable, like a dog.” You don’t think that part was for you, though you don’t think you could ever even fathom comparing the terrifying anomaly that is Gojo to a mutt. You don’t respond. Geto squeezes your shoulder.

“Come to me if Satoru goes too far. I always take care of my people, don't I?”

He doesn’t leave until you give a nod. His hand finally retracts, allowing you to sink into your seat. You watch him until his figure disappears from view.

“I’m taking a break,” you say, not even a minute later.

Ijichi gives a nod as you push yourself up away from the computer. You spend your break the way you usually do: tucked inside the bathroom, trying to wonder how your life turned out this way.

🗡

Sometimes, you accompany Geto on his trips.

You don’t want to, but it’s not like you can reject his ‘requests.’ It’s part of the job, whether or not you can refuse is up to Geto’s whims.

The trips aren’t too bad. Most of the time, it’s a meeting with other dangerous men. You mainly just sit in a corner, peering down at the ground, trying your best not to be noticed. It works, most of the time. The few perks of this new life is how seldom the people of the underground want to associate with you, especially when you're with Geto. His presence is everywhere, a blanket of protection bestowed only to you. These days, you feel safe even when walking home alone at night.  

The trips aren't too bad, but Gojo's insistence on tagging along changed even that. 

You should be sitting up front. There's a perfectly vacate passenger seat, right beside Ijichi, the least dangerous man in the vehicle. Gojo had practically dragged you into the car with him, holding you hostage. Geto slid into the seat beside you, effectively trapping you between the two men. 

Despite your attempts to keep your body to yourself, every other minute, your thighs brush against theirs. It's a miserable affair, but neither comment on your breach of personal space. They're both too invested in their own little worlds. Geto peers peacefully out the window, enjoying the city life pass by. Gojo is glued to his phone, tapping away every so often. 

It's tempting to sneak a peek at them in their natural states, relaxed, unbothered. You don't stare for too long. 

Every so often, their worlds will collide. Geto will point out a cat. Gojo would reach over you, showing Geto something funny on his phone. Unfortunately, Gojo catches your lingering eyes.

"Wanna see?" He doesn't bother to hear your response, shoving his phone in your face. 

It's a cat video, of all things. You almost wanted to laugh at how normal it is, but you're too intimidated to do anything but give a strained smile, more designed to please. You expected something darker. More blood. More screams. On the screen, the orange kitten lightly bats at a ball of yarn.

"Got a cat?" Gojo asks, tucking away his phone. 

"No, Mr. Gojo." 

He tsks, but before your blood can freeze, he says, "I told you: It's Satoru." 

He's been insistent about it these past few days: Satoru. Satoru. Call me Satoru, as though you'd even dare. Beside you, Geto rumbles out his disapproval. 

"Don't be childish, Satoru." He chides.

The car rolls to a stop eventually. The relief in your lungs expands. Ijichi gets out first, followed by Geto. Before you can move, a hand grabs you by the chin, halting your movements. 

"You're not leaving this car until you say it, pretty thing," Gojo tells you. "C'mon. Sa-to-ru." 

Behind you, Geto sighs, but he doesn't move to stop him. Right, Geto promised he'd step in only when Gojo goes too far. Clearly, this is within his bounds. 

You wilt under the hardened tanzanite. 

"Satoru." You mutter. 

Satisfied, Gojo releases his hold on you, hopping out the car, humming a happy tune. 

Geto holds his hand out to you. You'd be an idiot not to take it.

"Bear with him today, dear," he tells you when you step out in the pavement, "he's in a mood." 

Amythyst sears into you. You can only nod. 

Even then, Geto doesn't release you. He gently maneuvers your arm until your elbow is interlocked with his. He takes his time, walking into the building, mindful of your heels. Ijichi and Gojo are already ahead. Gojo takes a look behind him, spots the two of you, scoffs, but doesn't do much more. 

It's another thing you don't know how to feel about. The two have always instigated less than friendly gestures toward you. Yet, neither of the two have expressed any kind of jealousy. You know they are clearly lovers, yet the way they allow their significant other to behave with you makes you feel a bit nauseous. 

 Most likely, they see you as a pet. Not even a threat to their relationship. It makes sense. In their eyes, you're probably a scared gazelle in the middle of a lion's den. Cute. Something to play with. 

There's another theory in your head that you're pushing away.

You follow the same procedure you've always followed. You stay still and silent, like a doll, right beside Geto. Strange men come up to him, greeting him with smug smiles. They barely give you a glance. That's good. It means they know you're one of Geto's. 

Gojo being there changes the dynamic. He's more serious, in this setting. You sit right next to Geto's side, listening as Gojo talks. They both do that a lot. Talking. Negotiating. Scheming. You're a bit disappointed in yourself at how easy it is to let the words swirl around until there's nothing left to understand. It's easy to ignore them now. The horrors they partake in. The horrors you are indirectly part of. 

Are you allowed to be innocent now that you work under these people? You've never pulled the trigger yourself, but is that an excuse? Morally speaking, you're the same as the men you are terrified of. 

How laughable. You came to that conclusion right when they were discussing the price of narcotics. 

Sometime later, you find yourself alone, roaming down an unfamiliar hall. It's foolish to be out without Geto or Gojo or even Ijichi, but Geto had an errand he wanted you to run. Now that it was complete, you needed to return back to him. 

Except, you had no clue where he was. 

You were lost. You should have known this would happen. Why didn't you pay more attention to where you were going? This wasn't any old building. Dangerous men lurked around, even the weaker ones carried guns and weapons. 

It was only a matter of time before one of them caught you. 

"Hey. You." 

You were considered one of Geto's, but without him in sight, you were nothing. You knew that. It's why you cower immediately. 

"I'm busy," you speak quickly, "My boss, Mr. Geto, he's—" 

His hand is rough and scared and filthy on your skin. You are basically thrown against the wall, cornered against this stranger. He smiles. His teeth are yellowed and filled with tarter and plaque. 

"C'mon, there's no need to rush. 'Just wanna have some fun. How much?" Disgust rolls off your tongue, but you don't have the courage to reveal it. 

"I'm not like that," you mutter, "I'm not for sale." 

But, aren't you? You've sold yourself to Geto, haven't you? Underneath his thumb, his whims. What makes you so much different from a hooker?

"Sure." And then there's a shift in his eyes. His face scrunches up, like he's just tasted something sour. 

"Hold on...you're—you're that bastard's kid, aren't you?" 

He says your last name, the name your father gave you with so much spite that you nearly flinch. In that moment, you realized that your father had messed with a lot more people than just Geto. 

"Yeah yeah, you're a spitting fucking image!" He gripes you harsher. "Your daddy fucked me over while you're sitting over here nice and pretty? What the fuck?" 

He's dead. He's dead and you hadn't spoken to him in over a decade, but his ghost still wants to punish you for being his kin. And this man is his executioner. 

You're expecting something violent. Something that hurt more than his hand's squeezing your bicep. Perhaps he was, perhaps he would. Unfortunately, for him, Gojo interupted his plans. 

You didn't even know that it was him, at first, on the floor, on top of the man. Gojo, despite his hungry smile, eager eyes, was always so angelic. He isn't supposed to be using his hands. He isn't supposed to inflict violence, not by himself. 

He's punching him. The man isn't a man anymore, reduced to a mere punching back. Gojo doesn't stop until he breaks skin. He doesn't stop until you can hear a distinct crack. 

Satoru doesn't stop until Suguru tells him to. 

"Don't kill him." Geto warns. "It'd breach the agreement." 

You can feel his presence, always silent, never revealing himself until he wants to be known. So unlike Gojo, who is hungry for even a second of attention. More than happy to spill blood over it.

Gojo grits his teeth, as though he's debating to even listen. He stands up eventually, chest heaving. His knuckles are caked in blood. It's not his. His glasses are off. His eyes are blown wide open like he's just hit the greatest high of his life. Geto calmly hands him a clean towel. You don’t want to know how many times this situation has repeated.

"Who gives a shit." Gojo bites out, his eyes , trailing to you, and you flinch away. He looks like a wild animal, growling and spitting. You don’t want to be next on his plate. Geto steps in front of you, barricading you from his sight.

The man on the ground had recovered enough to pathetically crawl away. It such a stark change to how he was just a few minutes ago, when he was lording over you, drunk off of his power. 

Gojo steps on his calf. The broken thing gives a strangled scream. It only makes Gojo’s manic grin wider.

"Let him go. You made your point," Geto says, "calm down." 

Firey blue eyes. Bright and violent. You don’t know how Suguru is able to withstand the intensity. Even you’re wilting when it’s not even directed towards you.

"Calm down?” Satoru asks. “You want me to calm down? Did you see what that bastard was gonna do to our—" 

"Satoru." You've never heard Geto use this tone before. "Not here. Not now." 

A silent battle warred between them. Tanzanite bore into amethyst. Which gem would rupture first, splinter into defeat? 

Eventually, Gojo looks away, cursing. He glares down at you, as though he were blaming your weakness of all things. In a way, he’s not wrong to.

"I'll wait outside." 

And then he's gone, striding down the corridor. Geto watches him go, before glancing down at you. 

"Did he hurt you?" He asks. 

You're not supposed to lie to him. You nod. 

Geto pulls on your sleeves until he can see the imprints. Light bruising, nothing too horrible. You'll survive. Geto looks less than pleased. He glances down at the remnants of the man, the imprints of blood on the floor. You pitied the person who'd have to clean it up. 

"I apologize, dear." He sighs. "I should have kept an eye on you." 

He stares at the blood some more. Then, he smiles. 

"Perhaps, it's better if I just let things run its course, this time." 

You blink at him. He ignores your silent question. Instead, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, gently leading you outside. The car is already running. This time, Geto silently ushers you into the passenger seat. You take it immediately. Gojo hadn't taken his eyes off of you. You're grateful for any barrier. 

This time, the car ride was silent. You don't relish in it. If anything, it just feels like the calm before the storm.

🗡

Soon, what Geto was talking about became apparent. 

The man who had nearly been killed by Gojo had talked. You don't know what your father did to these men, perhaps you never will, but they didn't let you forget his crimes. If they couldn't get to him, then clearly, his kid was the next best option. You know it was them. It would be no one else. 

Someone broke into your apartment one weekend. Everything was ruined. The TV was shattered and broken. Your mattress was tossed onto the floor. Every plate, cup, and bowl was smashed onto the floor. They took nothing, but they broke everything. 

You hadn't been home that night. Ijichi needed more work from you. If you had, if you had come home that night, alone, locked the door, slept in that bed, then what would have—

Geto finds you on the stairs of your apartment, curled into a ball. You watch with bloodshot eyes as he observes the damage, clicking his tongue. He doesn't look particularly shocked.

You do nothing when you feel his hand on your shoulder, brushing against the sleeves, a feign of sympathy. You don't even care to ask how he came even though you never called him. Geto has a keen sense for you. 

"It'll get worse." His voice comes. Soft, and sure. 

Yeah, you knew that. You'd been naive, following after Geto with wide eyes. You thought that if he was untouchable, then so were you. 

He speaks about an enemy group, people with debts with your father, just as he did. Of course, he knows who did this to you. You’d be more surprised if he didn’t.

You don’t care. His words go in one ear and out the other. The reasons don’t matter. Your home is still destroyed. It’s no longer yours.

"They got my phone, too," you mention to your discarded cell phone. "My emails, messages." 

You're trapped, with nowhere else to turn. All the doors are shut and bolted, and only one remains open. 

You turn to the devil. 

"Can you...help?" 

The angler fish uses its darkened habitat to its advantage. Hundreds of miles beneath the water's surface, it produces its own light as an olfactory bulb. It's an excellent predator, swinging its bio lantern around in the dark sea, the only light around for miles. 

Geto tilts his head, a smile on perfect pink lips. 

"You want my protection? It's a steep price, darling." 

You feel like an empty well, forced to give and give until you're all dried up. Who could be so greedy? Who could be so willing to take?

"I've given you everything." It's barely a whisper. "What else do I have left to offer?" 

He doesn't say anything to that, not at first. Geto kneels in front of you, a slender hand lifting your head up by the chin. Fingers trail down to your neck. Not choking, just holding. His thumb lightly presses into your throat. 

"Not everything," Suguru says quietly. 

He's right. You hadn't given him everything. So far, you have always been one of Geto's people. You were Geto's employee. You were indebted to him, but you weren't conquered by him. 

Not yet. 

He's kneeling in front of you, holding your soul in his hands and demanding for your heart. In a way, you find it a bit funny. You just don’t have the will to laugh anymore.

He's smiling again when he can tell you're finally starting to understand. "We couldn't have been that subtle, were we? Satoru never failed to express, at the very least." 

No, they never tried to hide it. Even in the beginning, when you first met Suguru, you saw the hunger. You just tried to ignore it. You tried to keep your head in the sand, hoping it would pass. It makes you wonder if you had just agreed on that very night, led him into your bed, and bared it, would things have been different? 

"I can leave. We can pretend this never happened," he coos, "it's all up to you, sweetheart." 

He's making it seem like you had a choice. In a way, you did. You're choosing between two monsters. A known and an unknown. It takes longer than you'd like to figure out which one scares you more. 

You take the bait. The angler fish siezes its prey. 

"One night?" You're trying not to beg but it's coming out anyway. "Just—just one night?" 

Geto leans forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It’s not an answer.

🗡

Despite the many months you've worked with him, you've never been to his home before. 

It's not a house. A villa maybe. The property stretches itself stretches for miles. Filthy rich. Bleeding gold. 

Geto—

("Suguru," he corrected you in the car, "considering this isn't really business, anymore.") 

—had ushered you throw a double-door entrance. You couldn't even admire the architecture. Not when Gojo was already standing there. His eyes were hidden away, tucked underneath his glasses, but you still felt his stare. And all too wide smile stretched on his lips. He greeted Suguru with a kiss. For the first time, you looked down at their hands. 

Matching rings. 

You felt sick. 

'It's all up to you, sweetheart' Suguru's voice rings through your head all through a dinner that's really nothing but a flimsy padding for the rest of the night. Food was served, wine was poured, all in a bid to ease you into it. As of right now, it's still your 'choice'. You know, without a doubt, if you backed out now, they'd let you go without a fuss. Suguru or Satoru themselves might drive you home. You'd crawl into bed without a scratch.

But you don't. You stare at your plate, picking at it when they ask questions. Satoru's in such a good mood he offers to feed you. 

It's mostly because it doesn't feel real yet. You feel like you're watching yourself go through the movements. Eat. Speak when spoken to. Smile when prompted. Empty. 

You only come back when you're standing in their room, and the door locks with a click. 

The window blinds are drawn, but there's no light to seep in. The moon is already out. You wonder how many hours you've already spent here. 

You take another step towards the bed. Then, you turn around. 

Satoru and Suguru stare right back. You feel their heavy gazes immediately, flicking your eyes down to your feet, playing with your sleeves. 

Satoru laughs, perceiving the terror as shyness, or maybe he doesn't care. He steps forward first. 

"Don't be like that." He lightly chastises you, tucking one arm around your waist. "We'll be nice. Promise, baby. We're gonna be so so good for you." 

He finds your lips, then. Satoru kisses like the sun, all fire and passion. Sinking into you, wanting to melt. It's impossible to turn away and ignore his presence. He gropes at your chest, your waist, trying to feel all of you at once. When he finally lets go, you feel dizzy. 

Suguru's kisses ground you, makes remember where you are, who you're with. He's like the Earth you're crashing back into from your high. You hurdle through the atmosphere as his hands grasp at your throat. He never squeezes, but it's more than enough to sober you. 

"You smell so nice, baby," Satoru says from his place at your neck. You flinch when teeth sink into your sink, but you don't complain. 

"That's creepy, Satoru." Suguru chastizes him.

Serpentine eyes stare into yours. You don’t get the chance to hide before you feel his breath on your cheek. Suguru tugs at the hem of your dress.

“Take this off.” He whispers into your skin. “And get on the bed for us, sweetheart.”

This is the lesser monster. It’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you pliantly nod, hesitantly gripping the fabric of your dress. It’s horrifically easy to take it off and let it drop by your feet. You can’t bear to look at them anymore.

The soft duvet sinks under your weight. It looks expensive. Silky pillows. On either side is a nightstand covered with trinkets and personal items. You spot one of Suguru’s shirts on the floor, and it takes you a second to realize this is their room, not an impersonal guest room they use to fuck the less fortunate.

They stop paying attention to you. Satoru moans loudly into Suguru’s mouth. Suguru fiddles with the buttons on Satoru’s shirt, close to ripping it off entirely. Satoru palms at the tent in his pants as he unbuckles his pants. Suguru loosens his tie. They’re so violent with each other. Dread soaks through your palms, and you curl even further within yourself. You prayed this was all they wanted from you—someone to just watch, someone less interactive.

It’s not. When they pull away, their lips are swollen. Satoru leers at you, licking at his busted lip. You can’t seem to cry anymore.

They’re both half-naked. You can see the tattoos spread on Suguru’s hand, crawling up to his shoulder. Another peeks just behind Satoru’s neck. You only get a glimpse before he’s on top of you, eager for a continuation.

“Shit, you’re so soft.” He hisses as he squeezes your bra-covered breast. It doesn’t stay on for long. You wince when his fingers trace over your sensitive tits.

Your hands squeeze into fists, because you choose this, choose them. Satoru’s more than happy to sink into your breasts. His warm tongue swirls around a nipple before fully taking it in his mouth.

“Like a baby,” Suguru says. Satoru scoffs, tossing him an impressed look.

“Shut up.” Satoru releases your breast with a wet-sounding pop. They’ll be marks there tomorrow.

His fingers trail down your breasts, your ribs, your stomach. They linger on the band of your panties.

You can’t help it. It’s instinct.

He freezes when your fingers snap around his wrist. There’s no strength behind your grip, he pauses more out of surprise than anything.

His eyes, filled with hardened tanzanite, shoot up to yours. You think, if they’d be anyone else’s, you would have envied them.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Suguru. The silence is crushing.

“Sorry.” You feel pathetic apologizing, but it’s outweighed by the fear. “I—I’m sorry. I was just—”

“It’s okay, dear,” Suguru coos. “Satoru just scared you, hm? He’s such an idiot, isn’t he?” He violently smacks Satoru on the head. You flinch at the sound. Satoru just whines, rubbing at his temple.

“Mean.” Satoru childishly says, but he’s slower now, rolling down the hem of your panties.

Suguru is quick to distract you. He’s busy with his own bottoms before he’s taking you by the chin.

His cock is already leaking precum. He’s big, and you don’t think you’ll be able to do want he wants. Suguru smiles down at you, he doesn’t need to say anything. You’re swallowing down your self-hatred before opening your mouth.

You take him in just when Satoru buries his face between your thighs. The two of you have very different reacts. Satoru just hums, finding your clit to lick. You gasp, your legs jolting as you accidentally take Suguru even deeper.

He’s nice enough to let you go at your own pace. There’s a hand on your head, petting you, easing you through the process. Even then, your mouth is stretched uncomfortably wide. Tears prick at your eyes. Suguru’s face gets blurry. You don’t think you want to look anymore.

Below you, Satoru is enjoying his meal. He’s slobbering on your pussy, eating you out like it’s his last meal. His hot tongue finds his way into your sopping hole. You squeeze your eyes, a muffled whine comes from your mouth. The only loss of control Suguru shows was how he ever-so-slightly gripped your head.

By then, you’re unintentionally squeezing Satoru’s head in between your thighs. It’s so much. Pleasure tingles up your spine as Satoru continues to worship your pussy. His nose grinds into your clit and, for a moment, you’re wondering how he’s even breathing.

Suguru’s close. You can feel it every time his balls slap your chin. He’s speaking now, words stilted and heavy. It’s the only hint you get that he’s only holding his control by his teeth. That thought scares you. At any moment he’d snap, choking you with his cock, let you suffocate while he fills your dying mouth with his cum.

“Good,” he’s hissing out, “so good—good for me. C’mon, baby, take it.”

Satoru’s hand squeezes your ass, urging you to arch off the bed. You come like that, pressing your thighs around Satoru’s head, moaning around Suguru’s dick.

Suguru barely gives a grunt before something salty fills your mouth. You have to swallow it down. It burns your throat.

The air tastes sweet by the time Suguru’s cock leaves your mouth. You’re sucking in deep breaths, breasts heaving. Incidentally, you hadn’t suffocated Satoru. He’s kissing his way up your body. A trickle of Suguru’s cum had escaped your lips. His tongue presses against your chin before he pushes it back into your mouth. You can taste your tangy essence on his lips.

“Gotta’ swallow it all,” Satoru says with a teasing lilt, “he gets mad when it’s wasted.”

You can only nod. He gives you another wet kiss before he pulls away.

They switch places, Suguru moving over until he’s between your thighs. His large cock lays on your cunt. He’s still hard, his cock twitches when he angles his hips down, letting the head run over your leaking slit.

“The only reason he's going first is ‘cuz he’s been pining for you for months.” Satoru murmurs into your ear. Strangely enough, Suguru doesn’t comment. Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend what that means.

You hold your breath just as he presses himself inside. You’re almost grateful Satoru took the time to prepare you. His salivia, and your stretched walls make it easier for Suguru to bury his length inside you.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You hiss. Satoru feels enough sympathy to coo at you, kissing your neck, trying to distract you from the pain. It doesn't help, not even when Suguru presses light circles into your clit, easing his way through.

Suguru’s giving a harsh laugh when he’s fully seated inside, his hips meeting yours.

“Feel good, hm?” Satoru goads, reaching up to nibble on Suguru’s ear.

“Shit, so tight—fuck.”

Your hips twitch and you’re clenching down on him. Suguru doubles over, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, darling.” Scarred hands grasp your neck. “I’m going to ruin you, aren’t I?”

Your bottom lip wobbles. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat. A gazelle in the lion’s den. To them, to men like them, you suppose you’re nothing more.

“Suguru.” You whisper because your voice is failing you. “You-you promised you’d be nice.”

Silence. And he’s laughing so hard his shoulders shake. They both are.

“We did promise that, didn’t we?” Suguru glances at Satoru. “Next time, then.”

He pulls his cock out of you slowly, dragging his head through your cunt. He’s so slow and deliberate that you think it’d feel better if he just went ahead and fucked you already.

And he was, technically. His hips rolled back into you, his cock disappearing inside your wet pussy with each thrust. It’s so much that you’re willingly arching your back, trying to do anything to alleviate the intensity.

Beside you, Satoru is pulling out his cock, his eyes never leaving the lewd sight of Suguru fucking himself into you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he’s cursing under his breath, fisting his cocl in one hand, “so fuckin’ hot.”

Suguru growls, grabbing Satoru’s stiff cock, crudely pumping his hand up and down. His movement are getting more erratic losing his pace, his patience. You’re at your end too, almost crying when someone squeezes your sensitive tits.

“How does it feel, darling?” Suguru asks with a ragged breath. His eyes are blown, you don’t even think he’s looking at you, anymore.

When you don't give an answer fast enough, Suguru snaps his hips punishingly in response. You give a sharp wail.

“I said.” Suguru hisses through his teeth. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can barely suck in a breath. You’re losing oxygen too fast.

But you’ll die if he keeps doing this.

“Good.” You tell the truth. “It—it feels good, Suguru.”

He grins, serpentine. You’ve lost a game you didn’t even know you were playing. His fingers descend on your clit.

“That’s my perfect darling.”

You sob when your walls clench around his cock, milking him dry. Your orgasm triggers his own. He curses, and something is spilled into your used cunt. Out the corner of your eye, Suguru and Satoru are kissing, going together like rabid dogs. Satoru shudders, and then all three of you are a panting mess.

You take in deep breaths, barely caring when Suguru lets out an exhausted laugh, collapsing into your chest. He licks at your sweaty skin. You just sink your head further into the pillows

It was over. It was finally over.

“You got it everywhere.” Suguru suddenly says, disgusted. He wipes Satoru’s cum off your stomach.

Satoru just snorts.

“I didn’t have a hole to dump it all in.” He snarks back. “Twice, by the way. So selfish, Sugu.”

“Quit whining.” Suguru groans. “You have your chance now, don’t you?”

What? Exhaustion blinks away.

Suguru stays by your side. Gojo is the one moving, rising from the blankets. He places his hands on either side of your hips, spreading your legs.

Geto catches your panic, easily catching you before you can even do anything. He hushes you while Satoru settles himself between your thighs, his cock pressing right at your slit.

“The night’s still young, dear.” He sounds almost sympathetic. “Be good for just a bit longer.”

By the time they’re finally done with you, it’d been hours. You can’t count how many positions they put you in, how many times your holes were filled by their cocks or their fingers or their mouths. You’re barely coherent by the time Suguru is tucking you under the soft duvet.

You feel sore and used and dirty. His soft words, filled with praises, just make you feel worse. Despite how exhausted you feel, you’re just waiting until they finally get bored of seeing your body and kick you out.

You’ll call a cab home. You’ll cry yourself to sleep. You’ll be okay.

They’re taking a while to get to that part. They’re mumbling soft words too each other, it sounds too intimate to be something you should be overhearing. Satoru’s at your back, hands curling around your waist, another brushing Suguru’s mussed hair. You can feel his soft breath at the nape of your neck.

Suguru’s eyes are on you. Amethyst watches you intently.

"Satoru,” he finally says, “go uphold our end of the deal." 

Gojo groans, annoyed. He snuggles closer to you. "Why me? You go do it." 

An adoring smile crinkles on Suguru’s lips. It makes him look younger.

"Because I don't trust you alone with this one for the night. Go."

“Ass.”

He sighs, but Gojo sits up, letting the covers shift off his naked body. 

"Stay right here for me, baby, 'kay?" He leans over, pressing a delicate kiss on your hairline. Despite everything that happened tonight, this was the most intimate thing he'd done to you. It's too...loving.

When Satoru leaves, you wait for a few moments. Suguru had yet to tell you to go. It probably meant that he didn’t want to waste his breath dismissing you. You take the hint, rising from the bed.

His fingers snap around you wrist just as your feet touch the floor.

“Where are you going?” His voice doesn’t sound accusatory, but you flinch anyway.

A wobbly smile makes its way across your face, you hope it comes across as submissive. Weren’t you done? The deal was made, that meant you could leave now, right?

"I—I need to go home?" Suguru gives a doting smile, as though you said something adoringly naive. He barely pulls on your hand, gently leading you back under the covers.

You follow because the gun glints by the nightstand. 

“Is that the best idea right now, dear?” He asks, “Who knows if those men have come back? I’d hate to see them find their target, wouldn’t you?”

He draws you into his chest. Your head is tucked underneath his chin.

“And besides, Satoru will be disappointed if you left without saying goodbye. It’d be horrible to deal with one of his tantrums so late at night.”

He buries his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Why don’t you leave in the morning? I’ll be sure to drive you back myself. By then, I’m sure Satoru will have made the proper arrangements. Don’t tell him I told you this, but—” Suguru drops his voice as though he’s scared someone might overhear”—he tends to be more efficient when you’re in the picture.”

You don’t know what he means by that, and you don’t think you want to know. Still, you lift your head, finding the courage to stare at him.

His eyes are such a beautiful color. Glittering purple in the moonlight. You’d stare at them all night if you could.

“I can leave in the morning?”

Suguru hums, kissing your forehead.

It’s not an answer.

#yandere jjk #yandere #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #dark content #yandere gojo satoru #non con touching #yandere geto suguru #dark geto suguru #dark satosugu #yandere satosugu #tw:blood #tw:noncon/dubcon

[kaiser1ns]

𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

PLAYLIST ⏭ NEXT TRACK

NOW PLAYING "FRIENDS" BY BTS

╹synopsis :: hope still exists even if it makes you forget for your problems just for a while.

╹content :: MAP OF THE SOUL PT. 1, 0.6k words, fluff + angst, BASED ON KAISER BACKSTORY

╹notes :: i love him sm it hurts, wrote this after i saw his backstory spoilers :( making this a series , don't worry i will pay for your therapy.

╹taglist :: @chaosinanutshell

There he was again at the children's playground alone sitting on the ground, playing with the ball as he threw it at the graffiti wall making it bounce back. It was the same old story to be outside, away from his father and the smell of alcohol, even for a few hours — he just wanted the freedom and peace that every child deserved.

It was very hard, to be constantly accused and beaten for the smallest thing, because his mother that he resembles so much is no longer with his father, but instead now is a famous actress who lives in luxury and glory, and his father has become an alcoholic, an abuser — a monster.

Sighing, the boy threw the ball harder, and it went behind him, his gaze still blank, despair overpowering hope in every part of his facial features: eyes, smile, voice. He is just a kid, just a mere kid who wanted nothing but to have a normal life and family, to have a loving and caring father and to have a mother who is present in his... But sometimes dreams don't come true and we have to get used to the fact that we won't have everything we want. Lost in thought, lost in his own world without a care, he didn't feel someone tapping him on the shoulder until it started annoying him.

It was pure reflex to turn around and cross his hands infront of his face. Reflex that did nothing but to save him from the upcoming question, "Hey, is that ball yours?"

Huh? The young boy turned his head up, his heart skipping a beat as he saw a girl around his age holding the soccer ball in her hands. A genuine smile adorned her childish face, and just as he was tense, he relaxed a bit, though his guard remained up. "Yeah, it's mine," he replied, his voice cautious yet not unfriendly.

"Can I play with you?" the girl asked eagerly, her c/e eyes sparkling with excitement. He hesitated for a moment, unused to such normal interaction . "Um, sure, I guess," he replied, still keeping his distance.

The girl bounded over and sat down beside him, bouncing the ball in her hands. "I'm Y/N, by the way. What's your name?"

"Michael," he answered quietly, glancing at her briefly before returning his gaze to the ground. Y/N didn't seem to mind his reserved demeanor. "Cool! Do you go to school, Michael?"

Michael tensed slightly at the question, his grip on the ball tightening involuntarily. "No, I don't," he murmured, feeling a pang of sadness at the reminder of his isolation, "So do you like football?"

"Yeah, I do... Kind of," she hummed at his answer, the ball Michael bounced lightly on the ground made a noise in the quiet area they were sitting in "Do you want to see who can make more kicks? The loser has to do everything the winner wants!"

Standing up as she gave him a hand so he could get up too. It was very strange to him that such a thing was happening, suddenly everything was just so calm and fun. It was fun having to play with someone, it was fun having someone to talk to, it was fun finally experiencing his childhood.

Michael hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. He wasn't used to playing with others, let alone making bets. But there was something about this mysterious girl and her energy that made him loosen up. "Okay, deal," he finally agreed, a smile appeared on Y/N's face.

As they played, Michael found himself becoming more relaxed, the weight of his worries lifted from his shoulders. Their match was 'intense', each of them showing off their best moves and tricks. But in the end, it was Michael who emerged victorious, narrowly beating Y/N by a single point.

She gasped in awe, her eyes wide with admiration as she looked at Michael. "You are so good at this! One day you will be a worldwide super star like Noel Noa or Ronaldo!" she exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face. Michael shrugge trying to play off his accomplishment. "Eh, it wasn't that hard," he mumbled, but deep down, he couldn't help but feel a sense of validation at Y/N's praise.

As they sat together on the swings, catching their breath after the game, Michael found himself studying Y/N's face. There was something about her innocence, her pure-heartedness, that made him feel...calm. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he could just be himself, without any pretense or fear.

Before long, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the playground. She checked her mobile phone and sighed. "I've gotta go home. But here," she said, rummaging in her bag and pulling out a small bag of candy, "your promised reward." He blinked in surprise as she handed him the candy, a warmth spreading through his chest and rosy blush appearing on his cheeks. Right, the reward he forgot about it, but either way he couldn't ask her to bail him out of troubles. "Thanks," he managed to say, watching as she waved goodbye and went on her way.

Maybe, just maybe, not everyone in this world was like his father and the drunken men around him — maybe there was hope after all and maybe angels did exists having themselves hidden among the many devils, coming to us when we least expect it.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

#✧* 🤍 blue lock #michael kaiser x you #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #x reader #blue lock x you #kaiser x reader #blue lock kaiser #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock manga #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n

[st7rns]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓, c. sturniolo

✿ IN WHICH, chris takes his spoiled!gf on her third shopping spree of the month and she finds a way to thank him…

✿ WARNINGS, smut, oral (male!receiving), use of curse words, semi-proof read

✿ RORA SPEAKS, guys this is my first story so it might be a lil bad but i js KNOW chris would spoil his gf so i had to write this 🙏🙏

i love my man.

he’s always buying me things. if i even smile at something i see while shopping, he’s already picking it up and putting it in our cart. the amount of times he swipes his card when he’s with me is insane.

i have all the new clothes, shoes, purses, etc. but it’s not like i ask him to buy me all these things, he does it on his own!

so far this month, he’d already taken me on two shopping sprees. one at target (who knew self care items were so expensive?) and the other for an online clothing store.

but i reallyyyy want a new purse. so, of course, after he saw me eyeing it for a few weeks, he asked me something like “what brand is that purse you wanted again?” and i practically screamed in excitement, “coach!”

and that explains why we’re at the mall, four shopping bags around my dainty wrists and my new purse around the other. “have i told you how much i love you?” i say sweetly, standing on my tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. my lip gloss made a mark and i smiled at it on his fine ass face.

“not enough” he says lowly, pressing the buttons on the vending machine. at the last store we were in, he practically begged for me to hurry the fuck up so he could get a pepsi or else ‘he’d die.’

he licked his lips in concentration as he watched the soda fall from its row in the vending machine, and it made my legs weak.

“well, i can show you” i whispered seductively in his ear, my hand shaking up his chest to the side of his neck. i inhaled his dior sauvage cologne and it only made me wetter.

“we’re in public, baby” he whispers back, looking around as if someone could hear us. i raised my eyebrows in a “so?” expression which only made him smile and shake his head. “you wanna fuck in the bathroom?”

i knew he was saying it jokingly but my lips form a pout, “what about all my stuff?” i hold up all my shopping bags. he looks down at the multiple bags and groans, “let’s get the fuck home, then”

as soon as he unlocked the door, i jumped on him like a wild fucking animal. i kissed and licked on his neck, earning me a squeeze on my ass and a groan from his lips.

“can’t wait. want you so bad” i whimpered in between kisses, reaching my hand down to palm his hard dick. he broke away to yell “NICK? MATT?” after a few minutes of no reply he picked me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, and sat me on the kitchen counter.

“so needy, yeah?” he says breathlessly, pulling his pants and boxers down in one go. i slowly stroke his dick, sweetly kissing him on the lips at the same time “only for you”

he gave me a cocky grin as he slipped his hands up my shirt, groping and squeezing my boobs. i moaned and threw my head back.

after a few seconds of that, i pulled his hands away. i shook my head, my hair sticking to my lip gloss, “i wanna make you feel good, baby” i slowly got off the counter and dropped to my knees in front of him.

“gonna make me feel good?” he says teasingly. i kiss only the tip of his dick, his pre cum layering over my lip gloss, before looking up at him through my long lashes, and taking all of him in my mouth. or most of him.

he groans and grabs the back of my head, pushing him farther down my throat. “so fucking good, ma. take that shit” i bob my head up and down on his dick, tears filling the edges of my eyes.

the only sounds in the room are chris’ noises of pleasure and the wetness of my mouth around his lubricated dick. i can tell chris is close to reaching his high by the way he starts to sloppily stroke the back of my head.

“fuck- keep going, baby. i’m so close-“ before he can even finish his sentence, warm cum shoots down my throat. i swallow every last drop before popping his dick out my mouth.

“stick that tongue out, mama” he instructs and i do as i’m told, sticking my pink tongue out to show that i swallowed. “that’s my girl” he praises, cupping the side of my face and placing a gentle kiss on the top of my forehead.

“you’re gonna have to show me how much you love me way more often” he chuckles, pulling his drawers and pants up. i smile before gasping, suddenly remembering how he bought me a new purse, and sprinting to where we dropped all of my shopping bags.

i put the purse on, twirling in a circle to give chris the full picture. he licks his lips as he looks me up and down, “you’re so fucking beautiful. did you know that?”

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

[sunrizef1]

What happens in Vegas pt 12

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader

Warnings: Cursing, briefly mentioned puke (referenced), panic attacks (referenced), the NFL

Authors note: wanted to get this out before the race tomorrow, I actually quite like this chapter

Masterlist

—————————————————

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Austin, TX

liked by logansargeant charles_leclerc16 and 2,309,099 others

yourusername happy to be back in Austin, ready to recharge 🔋

Tagged: logansargeant, l/nranch

load comments…

user1 the speed with which she left china is honestly so funny

user2 the race was two days ago why’s she already in America 😭

user3 why’s she at a farm???

user4 her grandpas family got rich by owning a really successful agricultural company so both her grandparents decided to buy a ranch outside of Austin, which is where y/n grew up

user5 her dad being English always throws me off when I think about her family tbh

user6 her grandpa went to a race once and made the joke that the Americanism skipped a generation lol

user7 wait I’m new to y/n, how’s her dad English but the rest of her family’s American?

user8 her grandparents were based in England when he was born but they ended up really busy so they sent him to a boarding school from the time he was really young, hence the accent

user9 they’re so confusing 😭

user10 my favorite cowgirl

user11 she couldn’t wait till cota to go home???

logansargeant your grandma likes me more than you

yourusername no she doesn’t

user12 I didn’t know Logan went with her

user13 where’s Charles???

yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Las Vegas, NV

liked by killatrav taylorswift13 and 3,980,756 others

yourusername had a great time at the @/patrickmahomes charity golf gala this weekend! Grateful for the opportunity to show all these boys how it’s done out on the green and support charity at the same time! ⛳️

Might have to get you a different hat though 😉 @/killatrav

Tagged: logansargeant, killatrav, patrickmahomes

load comments…

user14 are those Porsche golf balls!?!?

user15 THEY EAT SO HARD

logansargeant I 100% beat you

yourusername I was 5 under par. You were 5 over. You lost.

logansargeant ☹️

user16 what a crossover

killatrav don’t hate the player, hate the game 🤷‍♂️

yourusername i dont hate the game, I just hate alpine

pierregasly ???

yourusername see you next week, Frenchie

user17 her and Pierres fake beef is genuinely so funny to me

user18 where's Charlesssss

user19 he liked the post, at least

user20 omg they're in Vegas! Remember what happened last time they were in Vegas…

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Bellagio Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas

liked by charles_leclerc16 donnakelce and 6,989,870 others

yourusername Last night out in Vegas 😵‍💫

I'm, once again, honored to have been invited to the 15 and the Mahomies Charity Gala! Got to auction off a few paddock passes and also got to spend a great night out with friends!

Thanks so much Vegas, you were a lot better this time than you were last time.

Tagged: logansargeant, taylorswift13, killatrav, patrickmahomes, charles_leclerc16

load comments…

user21 CHARLES CONTENT?!?!

user22 she seems happier than she has before

user23 Logan and Taylor swift in the same room is not something I’d ever expect tbh

patrickmahomes thanks for coming! ❤️💛

yourusername thanks for inviting us! ❤️🖤

user24 this is just so American

taylorswift13 🫶

yourusername 🫶

user25 more Logan content this week than Williams gives in a month

user26 they’ve been to like three different states already lmao

user27 I need the home field advantage from Miami for these two this weekend

logansargeant I’m so tired

yourusername at least it was fun 🤷‍♀️

logansargeant lol, it definitely was

user28 the first pic is so sibling coded

user29 “Mon ange” CHARLESSS 🥹

user30 the fact he’s tagged on the messages 😭

user31 THE LAST LINE ABOUT VEGAS?!?! IM SCREAMING!!!

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#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smau #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x fem!driver #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x fem!driver!reader #fem!driver!reader #fem!driver

[sugojosgf]

jealous nanami

highly suggestive + masochism + jealousy

🍓 i might write a second part if you guys want, let me know tho :3

nanami and you have been going out for a few months, and you don't think you've ever been as happy as you are right now. nanami is everything you can ask for, he buys you anything you look at, kisses you like his life depends on it and loves you like you are his religion.

but he also gets so jealous very easily,,,

it's not that he doesn't trust you, not that he thinks you are the kind to stray, he just hates how people look at you, like you are theirs...

it was an office event, and of course nanami invited you as his plus one. making sure he got you the prettiest red dress ever, the way it hugged your body, had him so fucking hard. it was quite modest, the only skin revealed was your legs,,, but anything on you, or nothing on you (doesn't really matter) was enough to make him rock hard in his tailored pants.

"oooh- is this nanami's pretty girlfriend?" a man sauntered up to the both of you, dressed in an expensive white suit to match his hair.

you recognised him, how could you not? this was the very same coworker that nanami would complain to you about during dinner.

"gojo," his voice comes out a little strained, "yes, this is my girlfriend, you might recognise her of course, she interned in our company a while ago,,," kento answers, hand on your waist pulling you closer.

"awww, isn't she absolutely gorgeous, can't believe nanami got his hands on you before me." he giggles, eyes glimmering with a mischievous glint.

"i'm lucky she decided to go out with me,," nanami forces a smile, his grip on your waist becoming tighter.

you gasp and giggle, "nooo,, im the lucky one, kento is so kind to me," you say looking fondly at him.

you continue, "oh and thank you so much gojo! you look really good too,,," you return the compliment.

suddenly someone calls out to nanami, a fellow coworker and he gets whisked away leaving you all alone with gojo. he smiles like a cheshire cat, the gears in his brain working harder. he looks at nanami from where he is, making steady eye contact as he begins to talk to you.

he tells you about how nanami was actually his junior in high school and how he was really into the emo subculture then, recounting stories of young nanami that made you laugh until there were tears in your eyes. he fishes his phone out to show you a picture, teen nanami brooding and scrawny, hair swept to the side.

of course to you, you were just talking to gojo about your shared love for nanami. but to him, the one way out of earshot to understand the context of your giggling, the green fire of jealousy made its way to his heart.

he slowly makes his way over to you, pulling you away from gojo and hands travelling to your hip. you were still laughing, too far gone to notice the expression on his face.

"what's got you so giggly? hm?" he asks, fingers pinching your thigh. it's not really painful , almost like an ant biting. but you are the kind to bruise easily, red blooming the minute his fingers pull apart.

you are immediately pulled out of your laughing fit, eyes blown wide looking up to nanami. it's almost like he had conditioned you, a little touch to your pretty thighs and you were ready to cum in your little thong.

"o-oh! gojo was just showing me pictures..." you mumble, embarrassed by the heated stare nanami was giving you. you felt so small under his gaze. your tongue comes out to wet your lips, to ease the way your throat has dried up.

gojo stands still in front of the both of you, smirking as he sees the tension build. he knew very well what he was doing. rolling his eyes and happy that once again he managed to piss nanami off, he walks away to the bar.

"i think it's high time we go home,, you look needy." nanami rasps out, the hand on your thigh travelling upto your ass and staying there. you nod, words unable to string themselves together.

nanami sighs, eyes darkening and his smile dropping as he guides you towards the exit.

"when we are home, i'm going to teach you to use your words."

#nanamin me 🧈 #got me so soaked 〰⋆｡˚ #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[reallyromealone]

Title: visiting grandpa

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Haitani brothers

Fic type: story

Pairings: none

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, grandpa reader, fluff

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"there's my little cabbages" an elderly man smiled as he sat on his engawa, the Haitani brothers always made a point to visit their grandpa at least once a month "we brought you that fancy coffee gramps!" Rindō said as they held gifts for the Old man, the Bonten executives always getting stuff on their trips and missions for their grandpa-- hell the house slippers the elderly man wore were 3000 dollars.

Though they didn't tell him that, the old man always fretting over them spending so much though this was the man who sacrificed everything to raise them so it was worth it.

Even moving from the country to Tokyo when their mom vanished to make sure they were cared for.

And now they cared for him.

"We got you some stuff too! I know those ladies at the market are all over your Haitani charm so we got you some cologne!" Ran said as the elderly man stood up and the three went inside, the house of every fond memory stored in one spot "I got you boys some treats, such a long trip" (name) said sweetly and on the table was the cupcakes the two would get as children after a week of school, same sprinkles and everything "you boys travelled so far, rest your bones" (name) said fondly and the two men smiled, feeling like they were children again and their grandpa was making dinner.

"So how is investing?" (Name) Asked curiously as they are his pride and joys, the elderly man even learning how to use a phone to talk to them more "ah, everything is great gramps!" They never told him their real jobs, they didn't want to break his heart so they lied.

"I'm so proud of you both, I put that wonderful photo on the wall you two sent me!" The old man pointed to a photo the two sent him while getting lunch "the sweet young woman next door helped me do that... She's single you know"

"Gramps!"

"What? You two are handsome young men and I want to see you two married!"

"In due time gramps... Rinny here has a boyfriend now and I'm looking around for a girlfriend" Rindō and Ran watched as their grandpa looked surprised and gestured to show a photo "you know, I was friends with a gay when I was younger!" The two smiled at their grandpa's gesture of showing his support "he is a handsome young man! You bring him next time"

"Of course gramps"

"Now finish your fish"

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff #male reader #bonten x reader #ran haitani #rindou haitani #haitani brothers #x male reader #grandpa reader

[agent-cupcake]

Ulterior Motives

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f! student Reader

Synopsis: Gojo becomes a little bit infatuated with his bratty new student.

Warnings: Explicit smut, noncon, teacher/student relationship (reader is 18+), possessive behavior, manipulation

Tags: Spanking, panty gag, dacryphilia, dirty talk, vibrators, bondage, orgasm torture, bratty reader, humiliation

Word Count: 24.4k

Notes: This one is for ABanonymous, I hope you didn't mind the wait and I especially hope you enjoy the story. The title IS a reference and if you know, you know.

Next requested fic I will have out next Saturday, and that's a pinky promise.

“Is this seat taken?” 

Bored, a little tired, you turned your gaze up to the interloper with a rejection at the ready. You stopped at the cafe to warm up, you weren’t in the most social of moods.

But you didn’t say anything when you saw the speaker. Your lips were parted and ready, but the words puffed out as nothing more than air. There was something wrong about him. If you hadn’t been so utterly—perhaps even willfully—detached from your surroundings, you might have noticed sooner. 

It was a trick of yours. Good for interviews, social gatherings, and first impressions. Bad for relationships, communication, and your general interest in other people. The girl with long, straight hair ordering a brown sugar bubble tea was annoyed. The man behind her was texting someone, likely his paramour, because his bad mood was being soothed with excitement and lust. The female half of the couple behind you was excited, her male partner was bored. Those were things you knew. Things you sensed as intuitively as you interpreted sounds from vibrations and visuals from light. 

The tall, white-haired man standing above you wearing a dark uniform and white bandage over his eyes was a solid, unreadable wall. The energy surrounding him wasn’t emotional, it was manifested, strong bordering on physical and, most likely, very bad news. You looked around the cafe, searching for some further clues about this utterly bizarre stranger, but nobody else seemed especially interested beyond his odd appearance. You cleared your throat. 

“Excuse me, what?” you asked, composing yourself. 

“May I sit here?” he asked again, smiling.

This could be interesting. Or bad. You shrugged as if disinterested. “If you want to.” 

He took the seat across from you, his smile fixed in place. “Thank you, I can’t stand drinking alone.” 

“Of course.”

“I’m Satoru Gojo,” he said, undeterred by your unfriendly demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  

You introduced yourself in turn, smoothing your hair and hoping you didn’t look too terrible. Could he even see you? Somehow, you got the feeling he could, but it didn’t look like the bandage was mesh. 

“Did you hear about what happened at the City Central Library?” he asked, bracing his elbow on the table to cradle his head. “Nasty business.”

The words themselves were casual, but they left you with the same feeling as when you got caught sneaking out. That little pang of surprise, a stark interruption of suspense with panic and then a mental scramble as you tried to come up with a believable story that would get you out of trouble. 

Did he know? That made the most sense, otherwise it was odd that he’d ask. But if he did know, you had no idea how he could, and had no way to guess how much he knew.  

No response was worse than a bad one, so you fell back on the easiest and usually the most effective approach. “What happened?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows with a vacuously concerned expression. The kind of look that made it seem as if any question was so hopelessly complex, like the slightest problem was simply impossible for a girl as empty-headed as you to grasp. 

“There was a gas leak of some kind,” Gojo said, his mouth set into a contemplative line. A second later, that solemn expression melted into a mischievous half-smile. “Rather, that’s what the news will report. We know better, don’t we?”

You frowned, your head tilting to the side and eyes curiously wide. “We do?” 

“A curse manifested itself there. Nobody died, but it was close.”

“A curse?” you repeated slowly. “Are you talking about ghosts or something?” 

“Something like that.” 

You laughed, the light and ditzy airheaded kind of laugh. “Oh, come on. You’re teasing me, aren’t you.” 

“When we interviewed the receptionist at the library,” Gojo said, his casual demeanor unaffected by your act, “she mentioned a young woman who stopped by and warned her that something bad was going to happen.” 

“Oh?” 

“Actually, I have three accounts of people saying that they were contacted before an incident involving a curse occurred. One of the tips was anonymous, but the third was at a construction site. The manager said that a pretty young woman approached him and warned that the conditions would be hazardous and he needed to be very careful. He’s in the hospital now.” 

“That’s terrible,” you said, frowning. It was more of a pout, really.

Gojo pulled his phone out of his pocket. He clicked a few things on the screen—so he could see from behind the bandage, how odd—before holding it out for you to look at. It was security footage, presumably from the library. Although the quality was terrible, it didn’t take a genius to recognize that it was you in the video.  

“This is from yesterday,” he said. “A curse was exorcized at this library earlier today.” He turned the screen to look at his phone, looking between you and the footage with theatrical scrutiny. “This does look a lot like you.” 

“I don’t know who that is, but it can’t be me,” you said, pouting more. “I don’t even have a library card.”

“To be clear, I’m not accusing you of causing these incidents. If I thought you were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Gojo told you. He put his phone in his pocket, picking up his drink to mess with the straw. “How long have you been able to see them?” 

“See what?”

“Curses. Evil spirits, whatever you like to call them.” 

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide if you wanted to continue playing dumb. He obviously didn’t believe it. Besides, you were starting to get very curious about this strange not-blind man and the disconcerting amount of information he had about things he shouldn’t.

“As long as I can remember,” you finally answered, dropping the act. 

“Do they scare you?” he asked, as unconcerned with your shift in demeanor as he had been with everything else.  

“They’re definitely ugly,” you said. Gojo snorted in amusement at that. You looked down to consider a real answer, pushing the chunks of ice at the bottom of your cup around with the straw. “I’m not scared of them. They’re dangerous, but more like how a wild animal is dangerous.”

“Is that why you warn people?” 

You shrugged.

“Hmm,” he hummed, stroking his chin thoughtfully, staring at you through the bandage. It really was a creepy feeling. “Something still isn’t adding up. Sorcerers are more likely to come into contact with curses, but you’re not reacting to cursed activity; you’re predicting it. Moreover, the places who reported your warnings have no other connection. It’s unlikely that you were coincidentally nearby to feel the cursed energy.”

“Sorcerers?” you asked, continuing to push your straw around your cup idly, the ice crackling. 

“People who can see curses and manipulate cursed energy. You could also call them curse users. Of course, I don’t think you’re either. At least, not yet.” He gestured to you with his drink. “You’re avoiding the question.” 

“You didn’t ask me a question.”

“Didn’t I?” he asked with a frown. “Ah, whatever,” he waved it off dismissively. “How are you finding and predicting curses?” 

“I use a map,” you told him, like it was obvious. It was obvious to you, at least. 

“A map,” he repeated bluntly. Without any aura to read, you wished you could see his eyes at least.

“That’s usually how you find things, isn’t it?” 

“You’re saying that you have a map that tells you where curses will manifest?” 

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” you said. “I don’t think I should be talking so openly to a strange and mysterious man.”

“Mysterious? I told you, I’m Satoru Gojo,” he said, placing a hand on his chest. “I’m a jujutsu sorcerer and a teacher at Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. If anything, you’re the strange one for going around cryptically warning people about evil spirits. ”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pursing your lips. The logical part of your mind rejected everything he was saying outright, it sounded made up. Then again, you knew there was some truth to what he was saying, even if the words he used were different than your own. The fact was, it seemed like he had more information than you. You didn’t like that. 

“You warn people about these curses in an attempt to protect them,” Gojo said, his tone softening a little as he tried to level with you, “but they never believe you, and so they get hurt anyway. Doesn’t that bother you?” 

You shrugged. “It does sound pretty ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Gojo said. “Nobody believes you see the things you see, or that you have a very special gift, but I do. If you tell me how you predict these curses, I’ll teach you how to take care of the problem yourself. More than that, I can teach you how to use your cursed energy to do things nobody else can.”

He had you on the line with that one, and he knew it. You didn’t have to be able to read his aura or look in his eyes to understand that smug grin. 

“I read once that mediums could perform a sort of dowsing technique with maps,” you said, giving in. “I’ve always had a knack for divination, so I tried it out. Even with my eyes closed and using different maps, I could reliably find and mark the same spot. It didn’t really turn out how I wanted it to though.” 

“How so?” 

“You’ve seen TV shows and videos about hauntings where ghost hunters dig up all kinds of scary and interesting stories, right? I was hoping it’d be like that. You know, exciting. Instead I marked a lot of schools and hospitals and that sort of thing.” 

“That makes sense,” Gojo said. “Curses tend to congregate in places like that.” 

“Well, I was disappointed. But then I started hearing news stories about people getting hurt in places that I marked on my map. I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want it on my conscience.” 

Gojo nodded thoughtfully. “This… dowsing ability, can you do it on purpose, or does it happen randomly?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If I got you a map right now, could you mark places where a curse will manifest?”

“It depends on if there’s a place on the map where a curse will manifest,” you said.

Rather than get offended by your cheeky response, Gojo carried on. “Are there any locations you’re watching out for at the moment? Other than the library, I mean.” 

You considered that question. “I’ll tell you, but if this is for a TV show, I don’t consent to being on camera,” you said. “Not wearing this, at least.” 

He laughed. “This is not for a TV show,” Gojo said. “Although, if it was, I don’t know why you would need to change your clothes. You’re cute, the messy look is endearing.” 

“Ah, I guess you are blind after all,” you said imperiously, pulling out your phone to find the website of the other place you had marked. “There’s an antique shop. I don’t think anything has happened there yet. I tried calling, but the guy got angry. I guess lots of people try to claim things there are haunted to get a discount or something.” 

“Do you have the address?” 

“Yep, right… here-” You flipped the screen towards him. He peered at it for a second before smiling again.

“Oh, lucky! I know somebody who should be just nearby.” He pulled out his own phone, dialing a number.

“You said you exorcized the curse at the library,” you said, “will you do it there too?”

“If there’s a curse there, yes.” Gojo pressed call and put his phone to his ear. After a few rings, you heard a voice on the other end. The exchange was short, he gave the address and some words of encouragement. You couldn’t hear specifics, but it didn’t sound like the person was too pleased. 

“I don’t know for sure that something is there,” you said after he lowered his phone. 

“Have you ever been wrong?” 

“I haven’t followed through on every lead,” you said. “There are potentially dozens of times that I’ve been wrong.” 

“But all of the ones you’ve tracked have been correct, yes?” 

You smiled. “Yes.”

“What an interesting ability,” he cooed. “And you possess a respectable amount of cursed energy. I knew it. You should come to study to be a jujutsu sorcerer.”

“What?” 

“I told you that I could teach you how to use your abilities, didn’t I? You’re a bit old to be scouted, but everybody starts somewhere. I think you have the potential to be a great sorcerer.”

“You’re joking.” 

“Not at all.” 

“You said you teach high school, didn’t you?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. “I’m almost through my third year. It would be strange to transfer so late, I wouldn’t want to do anything to risk my graduation.”

“Do you have plans for after you graduate? Work? University?” 

“I’m going to study business.” 

“Really? You don’t strike me as the business type.”

You gave him a very flat look. “You don’t strike me as the teacher type.” 

Gojo laughed. “You got me there. I’m only saying that you go to university so you can get a job, right? If you study at Jujutsu Tech, you will have a guaranteed job upon graduation.”

“What kind of job?” 

“Exorcizing curses, saving the world, that kind of thing,” he said, waving his hand casually. “It’s not something many people can do, you know. You have to be a special mixture of brave and crazy to face curses knowing you could get hurt—knowing that others could get hurt if you fail. It’s tiresome, scary, and you very rarely see much of a reward.”

“You’re not exactly selling this.” 

“Really?” Gojo asked. “You look plenty interested to me. You don’t want to live the rest of your life being normal and bored, do you? You’re too special for that.”

You blew out a big breath, trying to think independently of this whole bizarre situation and the fact that his flattery was more effective than it should have been. 

“I’m still not sure I believe you,” you said. “Isn’t there some sort of saying that you should never trust somebody who hides their face? An innocent young girl like me could get hurt trusting scary men like you.” 

“Scary?” Gojo repeated. 

“You are, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

“You mean that you can sense my cursed energy?”

“Is that like an aura?” you asked. “Because I can’t read yours. That hardly ever happens.” 

“Aura?” 

You narrowed your eyes. “You know, spiritual energy and emotion and that sort of thing.”

“Ah, this might be a difference in terminology. This is cursed energy,” Gojo said, raising his hand and curling his fingers as if holding something. The intimidating energy that surrounded him pooled there, a dark shroud around his hand. All of the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, the discomfort prickling like thousands of little needles poking against your skin. “Is this what you mean?” 

“No, that’s… Bleh,” you said, exaggerating your shudder. “I’m talking about aura. People’s emotions, their mental state. I think your cursed energy is stifling yours, I don’t know. Or maybe you’re not human.” 

“Maybe,” he agreed, lowering his hand, the dark energy flowing back into him. “I think you have the potential to be a wonderful sorcerer.” 

“Really?” 

“I’ll teach you. I’m the best, you know. Aren’t you tired of knowing that there’s a problem you can’t fix? Do you think you can live a life of ignorance now that you know there are answers?” 

Before you could respond, his phone rang. 

“Yes?” Gojo asked, taking the call. Whatever the person on the other end said made him smile. “Sure, sure. You can’t leave it there, I’ll transfer you the money… Yes, of course.” 

He hung up and leaned forward, dropping the phone and cradling his cheek in his hand. 

“There was a cursed object there,” he told you. “It would have been a while before the seal unraveled enough to be noticeable, but it was only a matter of time before it began attracting curses.”

“If you take it away, that means the place will be safe?” 

“We’ll keep an eye on it to be sure, but, generally, yes. You saved innocent people from being harmed by an unseen evil. They will be allowed to continue on living their boring, mundane lives. That’s what a jujutsu sorcerer does.”

You nodded thoughtfully. It was the smartest choice to simply reject him and leave and move on with your life. 

Most likely. 

Absolutely. 

But when you mentally followed that course of action to its completion, you knew that a part of you would always exist in this little cafe sitting across from the strangest man you had ever met considering an offer that scared and excited you. You would always wonder about the answers he promised, every day you would wonder if there was something more. 

“If everything you’re saying is true-” you began.

“It is.”   

“-then I’ll consider it.” 

Gojo smiled. “I’ll have Ijichi get your transfer paperwork pushed through. We’ll have to move fast, you have a lot of missed time to make up for. You don’t mind, do you?” 

“I said that I’ll consider it,” you told him, taken aback by his presumptuousness. 

“Sure, sure,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be in contact soon, okay? Be ready.” 

Despite your attempt to retain a certain amount of resistance and control over the situation, things moved exactly as fast as Gojo said they would. He was telling the truth about all of it. There was such a place as Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School, and he was a teacher, and although being such a late transfer was weird, it was all legitimate.  

The explanations were easier than you thought too. Mom was utterly charmed by Satoru Gojo. He came to your house wearing expensive clothes and a pair of sunglasses with his white hair flipped boyishly over his brow and explained the situation with a big, charming smile and the most disarmingly blue eyes you had ever seen and she was putty in his hands. She didn’t always believe you about spirits—curses, as Gojo called them—but she believed it from him, enthusing about how she’d always known you were special, and that you could do things nobody else could. It was moments like sitting in the room seeing Mom’s aura flash and sparkle with attraction and desire that made you wish you didn’t have the ability to see them. 

Not even two weeks after the cafe conversation with Satoru Gojo, you were packing up and moving to live on the Tokyo Jujutsu High campus grounds. As you packed, you thought a lot about the first time you saw an evil spirit. You screamed and screamed. It wasn’t until your grandmother came and comforted you that you calmed down. She had that effect on people. Making them comfortable, making them feel safe. 

Throughout your life, you flirted with divination and spirits and dark energy mostly for your own gain and amusement, but she was a real deal spiritual woman. If she were alive, she wouldn’t have liked who you were. That had been true for a while. You wondered what she would think of you going to study to exorcize curses, if that would have met with her approval. You wondered what dad would think. It had always been his plan that you should go to university. He wanted you to be educated before you got married. Funny, because he abandoned his university educated career-driven wife for some ditzy young thing he met at a bar.

It was kind of funny to think that, in the end, you wouldn’t go to university and you wouldn’t get married. Spite wasn’t a good primary reason to do something, but you couldn’t deny the frantic heat of its inspiration.

“I don’t know,” Haruka said, her voice distorted through your phone’s speaker as you unpacked your things. The room you were given on the Jujutsu Tech campus was larger than you thought it would be, although it didn’t look nearly so big with your stuff strewn everywhere. Mom laughed at your materialism, but you didn’t want to be underprepared. “I like him, but I don’t think he likes me back.”

You slipped a shirt onto its hanger, rolling your eyes at her dramatics. “The only way you’ll know is if you ask him.” 

“It’s weird for him, I think. ‘Cause I’m still in school. I mean, there’s barely a year difference between us, but… I don’t know. Maybe it is weird. If my mom knew I was dating Ikki, she’d flip out.” 

“Then don’t ask him out.”  

Haruka sighed. “I wish she was like your mom. She lets you do basically whatever you want.”

That stung, although you weren’t entirely sure she meant it to. “The way I see it,” you said, sidestepping that comment, “it won’t be weird after you’re out of school. Wait a few months, it’s not like you’re going to have time with exams going on.” 

“I wish you were here. Now when I make bad decisions I don’t have anyone to blame them on.” 

You laughed. “I was thinking the same thing. I can’t copy your homework anymore, why even bother being friends?” 

“Because,” Haruka said, clearly taking offense, “I am-”

“Knock knock,” somebody called through the open door, startling you. You turned to watch Gojo come in, looking around your room while Haruka rattled off all of the many reasons she was an invaluable friend to you. Well, you assumed he was looking around your room. He had returned to the bandages covering half his face, hiding his impossibly beautiful eyes. 

“One second, Haruka… Can I help you?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow to hide the flicker of excitement you felt seeing him. 

“Oh, are you talking to someone?” Gojo asked. “I can come back later.”

“Ah, no, that’s fine,” you told him, very easily deciding that you would rather talk to him than listen to Haruka’s boy troubles. “Haru, I’ve gotta go,” you said, picking up your phone. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Is that a man’s voice?” she asked. “Why is he in your room, what kind of school is that? Is-” 

You ended the call, cutting her off. “Do you need something?” you asked. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” 

“You didn’t,” you said, returning to hanging up your clothes. “Although she’s probably going to tell everyone this whole transfer thing was an elaborate lie to cover for the fact that I got knocked up and ran away with some guy. I’m not sure why, but nobody believes I’ve dedicated myself to a strict religious lifestyle.” 

“How much do they know about your abilities?” Gojo asked, walking over to your bed and sitting down, grabbing one of the stray magazines off the floor. He flicked through the glossy pages of fashion advice and gossip with a distinct lack of interest. 

You snorted, hanging up one of your last few dresses. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“Not at all,” Gojo said, dropping the magazine to flip through another. “It can be very isolating to keep such a big secret from the people closest to you.” 

“It would be such a drag to explain,” you said. “Besides, nobody wants to know that things like curses exist. They just want to live their normal lives where things make sense.” 

Gojo hummed in amusement. “Is that really the only reason?” 

The tone of his voice set you on edge. It sounded like he was implying something. “What do you mean?” 

“It would make things more difficult for you if anybody knew you could read their mind, wouldn’t it?” 

You frowned at him, although he didn’t seem to be paying attention. “First of all,” you said, putting a hand on your hip, “I can’t read minds. Second of all, it’s not like I’m actively trying to spy on people. I can’t help it.”

“Calm down,” he said with a smile, tossing the magazine aside. “I wasn’t making any comment on your character. It was an observation.” 

“Right,” you said, forcing yourself to let it go. “By the way, where is everyone else? The rooms around me all look empty.” 

Gojo waved his hand nonchalantly, standing up. “There aren’t any other third year girls.” 

“Did something happen?” 

“No, it’s not abnormal. Jujutsu sorcerers are extremely rare.” Gojo walked towards the wall you had half covered with various posters and decorations. “I heard your admission interview went well.” 

“Of course it did,” you said, smiling.  He didn’t see it, too focused on the map. You had it set up on your wall like you had at home, ready in case the mood struck.

“That’s the library,” Gojo said, tapping a finger against the marked spot. His fingers were long. Considering his abnormal height, it was hardly surprising. It was attractive though. You shut that thought down fast. You could acknowledge it as a fact, but he was your teacher now. Besides, he probably had women throwing themselves at him from all angles, you’d rather be celebate than be reduced to one of the many.

“And right there,” you said, coming up behind him to point at another mark, “is the-”

“Antique shop,” he shot you a smile over his shoulder. “What an interesting ability.” 

“Isn’t this sort of thing normal for, um, jujutsu sorcerers?” you asked, the term coming out a little awkwardly. 

“Not at all. Sorcerers are highly individualistic. There are inherited techniques, but many of them are unique to the sorcerer. They’re innate, carved into your frontal lobe.” He tapped his forehead, turning towards you.

“But you can do the same thing,” you said. “Reading people’s auras and all of that.” You grinned, raising your eyebrows playfully. “You’ve got a third eye.” 

“Six Eyes, actually,” Gojo said. “Although it does seem like you have a related form of extrasensory perception.” He threw an arm around your shoulders, swaying you back and forth. “You’re a little mini me! Isn’t that exciting?” 

The sudden touch made you stiffen up, too surprised to react immediately. The only coherent thought you had was that he smelled really good. You shook that out of your head, pushing at his arm in a half-hearted attempt to get some space.

“What can you do then?” you asked. “Can you teach me?” 

Gojo stopped swaying you around. “Weren’t you listening to anything I said? Jujutsu techniques are-” 

“-innate and unique,” you finished for him. “But you can teach me how to get better at my own techniques if they’re like yours, right?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Gojo said, stepping away. “If you try to run before you learn to walk, you’ll fall on your face. You’re getting a late start, so you’re going to have to work hard.” He raised his pointer finger to lecture you. “You’ll start by getting control over your cursed energy.” 

“Okay,” you said, nodding. “How do I do that?” 

“First! You clean your room,” he said. “It’s a mess in here. Then come to the classroom. I’ll have to find Oyama.” 

“Who’s Oyama?” 

“The other third year. He’ll be able to help you when I’m not here.” 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Are you disappointed?” Gojo cooed, leaning forward to put himself on your level, pursing his lips in a mocking display of pity. “As much as I would love to teach my cute little student personally, I have obligations to fulfill as a sorcerer. I hope you don’t miss me too much in the meantime.”

You gave him a flat look, hiding your genuine disappointment behind your irritation at the mockery. “I’m sure I’ll live.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Gojo said, patting your head. “Okay!” He stood up straight, turning away. “Don’t take too long,” he called as he left, “I hate having to wait.” 

“I’m sure this will only take me four or five hours,” you said. “Maybe six. I hope you don’t miss me too much in the meantime.” 

Gojo didn’t respond to your taunt, shooting you a final smile over his shoulder, one that was all blinding white teeth. The covered eyes made it more menacing than playful. 

“I hate it when you ignore my calls,” Mom said. “It’s been over a week since you gave me any sort of update. There’s only so much time I have to talk to you, so when you don’t answer, I have no idea what to think.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you said in as apologetic a voice as you could fake, holding your phone between your ear and shoulder as you did your nails. It was a futile effort, there was no way you could keep your hands manicured. All you could do was fight back your cuticles and paint your nails knowing they would be chipped the next day. “I spend all my time training, studying, or exhausted from training and studying. Do you remember Gojo talking about how being a late transfer meant a lot of extra work? I want to succeed here, so I have to put in the work.”

As you hoped, the apology and mention of Gojo quelled some of her fire. “Oh, well, I still expect you to keep me informed.” 

“I know,” you said. “Really, there’s not much to say.” Other than going out on a mission with Oyama for the first time and helping him exorcize a nasty curse that you helped to find with your unique ability, but you weren’t going to tell her that. You were saving that for when Gojo came back from whatever mission he was off doing. Instead, you painted a lick of red onto your pinky nail, carefully working the color into the edges. “How are you?” you asked her. “You mentioned you were seeing that guy from the lab?” 

“Didn’t I tell you? I had to end things with him,” Mom said. “He was a real piece of work.” 

“Oh, no you didn’t. I’m sorry,” you apologized, capping the nail polish bottle and appraising your hands. Serviceable, under the circumstances. 

“You know how men are. You think they’re fine, but they turn out to be completely crazy.” She huffed, you could imagine the way she would shake her head. “Actually, I’ve been spending some time with a man from the second floor. It’s going really well.”

“Oh, that’s exciting!” you exclaimed with enthusiasm, rolling your eyes. She was almost as bad as Haruka with the boy drama. You wanted her to be happy, of course you did, but having to hear about her messy romantic life got tiresome. 

“When you get back, maybe the four of us can go out for dinner.”

“Four?” 

“He has a daughter. She’s a little younger than you, I’m sure the two of you would get along really well.” 

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” you said, really scooping deep to manage an enthusiastic tone. “I’m just not sure when I’ll be able to get some time away. Like I said, I’m very busy.” 

“It’s been two months, surely you can ask Gojo for one weekend home.” 

“I’ll ask him,” you told her, making sure she could hear your doubt. Hopefully this fling wouldn’t last long, you really couldn’t stomach the thought of feigning interest in some stranger’s daughter. 

Content that your nails were dry, you peeled your phone away from your ear. 

“But I’ve gotta go for now,” you told her. “I promised Oyama I’d study with him. You know, final exams.” 

Another lie, although one you didn’t feel as bad about. In reality, final exams at Jujutsu Tech weren’t at all like at a normal school. You would still be graduating, but not through lengthy tests. It felt a little cheap to have all of your studying go to waste, but you weren’t about to complain.

“Yes, of course,” Mom replied. “Don’t forget to keep me informed, alright?” 

“Got it,” you said. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you, bye.” 

“Love you.” 

You hung up, tossed your phone to the side, and uncapped the bottle to paint your toenails. 

Gojo returned a few days later with kitschy souvenirs from some small village you had never heard of and a big smile, eager to hear how you were progressing. For that matter, you were eager to share it with him. He hadn’t been gone too long, but you were working harder than you ever had before, and getting better accordingly. 

“Okay!” Gojo said, leaning against the edge of his desk. “Tell me everything I’ve missed. How is your training?” 

“I’m getting a lot better at controlling my cursed energy,” you said. “You can tell, can’t you?”

“I can,” Gojo said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a little smile. “What about your hand-to-hand training?” 

You frowned at how quickly he brushed over your impressive accomplishment. Even Oyama was a little impressed by how quickly you adapted to the natural movement of cursed energy. Once again, you tried to get a read on Gojo’s state of mind to know what he was thinking, but it was as impossible as before.

“I got punched in the face for the first time,” you said. 

The comment didn’t have the intended effect of eliciting amusement or confusion. Instead: “Did you deserve it?” 

“What?” you asked, indignant. “No, not like that. I was sparring with Oyama and I realized that I’d never been punched in the face, so I asked him to. It seems like the sort of thing I needed to experience.”

“And what did you learn?” 

“That Oyama enjoyed it way too much, and I needed to buy waterproof mascara. It made my eyes water like crazy.” 

Gojo laughed, but didn’t give you anything else to work with. 

“I’ve also learned that I’m really not into fistfighting,” you said, finally being serious. “I’ll definitely want to use weapons.”

“Your cursed technique is more effective the closer you are to the opponent, isn’t it?” Gojo asked. “So you’ll want something that can work at very close range.”

“But first I’ll have to learn how to reliably close the distance. I’m not fast enough. Yet.”

Gojo nodded thoughtfully. “Speed is important, but reading your opponent is more valuable in that situation,” he said. “If you ask nicely, I may be able to help.” 

“I have to ask?” 

He sighed dramatically. “My time is in high demand.”

“Some teacher you are,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes in as exaggerated of a way as possible. 

“Watch your tone,” Gojo told you, wagging a finger. “You don’t want detention, do you?” 

“I’m so sorry, sensei,” you said, batting your eyelashes. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you.” 

He didn’t immediately respond to the taunt which, when you couldn’t get a read on his mood anyway, was oddly unsettling. 

“You’re lucky I’m such a kind, patient man,” he finally said, his voice softer than before. “That cheeky tone could get you in trouble.” 

“I’ve heard that you’re way worse,” you said. “I’ve heard that all of the higher-ups think you’re a nuisance. I’m only trying to be more like you, sensei.”

“You might find you don’t enjoy where that gets you,” he said. The tenor of his voice was playful, but the tension beneath wasn’t.

“You wouldn’t do anything,” you said, hoping to laugh it off.

He smiled, but didn’t laugh. 

“I heard what happened in Shinjuku,” Gojo said before things got too awkward. “You were able to identify the type and motivation of the curses and warn Oyama. That’s impressive.” 

“Oh… Yeah, thank you,” you said. “It wasn’t that difficult once I understood what type of place it was. Officially, it was a club, but that was only a front for their prostitution scheme. Of course the curses would hate men.” 

“You know, I’ve been thinking, with proper honing, you might reach a point where you can perceive the nature of a technique before it can be used against you.” 

“Really?” you asked, excited by the idea. It sounded like an impressive trick.

“It’s possible, certainly. But,” he pointed at you, “you’re a long way off from developing a skill that complex. Don’t get distracted from working on the basics.”

“I know, I know,” you said, trying not to seem too petulant. “I know I have to practice with my cursed energy, but sensing things about people and curses, that’s intuitive.” 

“It’s hard on you, isn’t it?” Gojo asked, although it wasn’t much of a question. “Your ability is empathetic, not sympathetic. To understand what you’re facing, you have to let it in. That can be very dangerous. You have to carefully control it.”

“It’s not comfortable,” you allowed. “But I can do it.” 

“To know the nature of the curse is to be confronted with the absolute worst of humanity, and it very well could end with you cursing them in turn.”

“I won’t let it get to me.” 

“Not to mention how dangerous it is, I’ve known sorcerers who are rendered entirely catatonic just through proximity to especially strong curses, and that’s with their defenses up.” 

“I can handle it,” you insisted, frowning. 

Gojo paused, considering you with his head tilted curiously to the side. 

“You said you asked Oyama to punch you in the face,” he said. “You might be a bit of a masochist, but I assume you were looking for that experience in a controlled environment.” 

“Yeah, something like that,” you said, too caught off guard by the change of topic to properly react to the masochist comment.

“That’s smart, actually,” Gojo said. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

“Show me what?” you asked, frowning. 

“The danger of special grade cursed energy. Come here, I don’t want to cast too wide a net and catch anyone else. This is for educational purposes only, alright?” 

“Okay,” you said, hopping off your desk and approaching him.

“What do you feel?” Gojo asked, pushing away from the big desk to stand up straight. His height continuously took you by surprise. Maybe you’d find loafers with more of a heel, it was annoying to have to look up at him like this. 

“Not much. You’re as mysterious as ever,” you said, an unmistakable note of bitterness in your tone.

“Okay then. Are you ready?” Gojo asked. 

“Go ahead,” you said, bracing yourself. You knew cursed energy, you had felt it both from sorcerers and actual curses. You thought you were prepared.

You were not prepared. 

Cursed energy flared out around him in an oppressive wave, capturing you in its field. The only thing you could think was that you were going to die. There was nothing you could think to compare it to. Fear flooded your system, it was all that existed. Not the fear of pain or death or any human threat, but complete and total destruction. Cellular annihilation, the ruination of the thing that was ‘you’ until not one part remained. You couldn’t move. His cursed energy snuffed that out, squishing down everything that wasn’t animalistic terror. When your legs gave out, you barely felt it, only the weakness of your body caving in. Gojo caught you before you fell, holding you up against him. 

“The way you feel right now,” Gojo muttered, his voice soft and low, “this is what it is to be truly helpless. This is what you’re ultimately up against. Unless you’re prepared to endure the depths of hell, your arrogant curiosity will destroy you.” 

Just like that, it was over. 

You sobbed, hiding your face against his chest. It was pathetic, but you couldn’t control the entirely bodily reaction now that you were arrested with blind fear. Your body was practically vibrating from how violently you were shaking. Never in your life had you experienced such horrific, visceral fear. It was worse than you would have thought, even though you were never actually in any danger. 

“Ah, maybe that was too much,” Gojo said regretfully, patting your back. 

“Wha-aa-as that-t yo—uor te-eh-chnique?” you asked, your stammered words muffled against his chest. How embarrassing. 

“That? No. If I had used my technique, your brain would be mush right now.” Gojo ran his hand over your hair, almost affectionately stroking it. “Do you need me to carry you to your room? I wouldn’t mind.”

Your hands tightened in the front of his uniform, although you couldn’t recall when you began holding onto him. Gojo hummed, petting your hair again, his hand idly lowering to your back, and then your waist, and your hip. 

It was only a flicker, a fraction of a second, but you felt the barest whisper of glee. Lust. For blood or otherwise, you didn’t have the capacity to tell, but the impression was in such stark opposition to your own tumultuous feelings that it startled you.

You gasped, stumbling away from Gojo like he’d shocked you. Luckily, you managed to catch yourself on the edge of one of the desks rather than fall. He was, as ever, completely inscrutable. Whatever you thought you felt, it was gone as fast as it struck. 

Unable to read anything else from the man, you decided that it was your imagination, a subsequent reaction born from a panicked brain. It was difficult to hold onto the feeling of primal terror now that it wasn’t actively battering down your defenses. Without any actual danger, your brain couldn’t generate the same intensity. With shaking hands, you wiped beneath your eyes, keeping them averted. 

“That was embarrassing, I’m sorry,” you said.

“This isn’t too bad of a reaction. It’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” you agreed with breathless sarcasm, trying very hard to compose yourself. “For the record, I preferred being punched in the face.” 

“I’m sure,” Gojo said with a little laugh. “Well,” he clapped his hands together, effectively ending the report, “you look like you could use a break, let’s go see what’s for lunch.” 

“It’s so stupid,” Haruka said, her sniffling voice crinkling through your phone's speaker. 

You laid on your back while listening to her cry, staring at your dorm’s plain ceiling. Things with Ikki hadn’t gone well. Normally you could at least pretend to care about her love life, but your thoughts were elsewhere. 

“I knew he didn’t like me, I just thought since he was so nice and-” 

It pissed you off to be so consumed by thoughts of one man, but it felt like there was a whirlpool in your head. You could fight it for a while, but all too soon your thoughts would return to your enigmatic teacher. Back and forth, back and forth, you bounced between trying to convince yourself to be realistic about yourself and the creeping paranoia that there was something going on.

Gojo was a very physical sort of person. It was conceited to think he’d be interested in you when he was attractive enough to get any woman he reasonably wanted. He was only helping you. It wasn’t intimate. Even if it felt a little strange, that was normal for combat training, wasn’t it?  

He was interested in you. He was taking advantage of his role as your teacher, teasing you for his own amusement. That flash of lust was real, and it warned you of danger. The awkward nerves you felt around him were rational. 

Back and forth and back and forth and-

“Hello?” Haruka snapped.

“Ah, um, yeah, I’m really sorry, Haru,” you said, realizing after a beat of silence that you had missed your cue. 

“Whatever. I know you don’t get it.” She sniffed and then cleared her throat, composing herself. “I don’t suppose you know any hot guys, do you?”

“No dice,” you told her, although your thoughts went in a different direction. Gojo was hot, but he was also older than you and your teacher and there was no way. You rubbed your temple as if you could physically drive out the intrusive thoughts. It was pure ego. 

In any other situation, you would be able to check for sure, but not with him. That was it. You didn’t know, and so you were making assumptions. Everything was normal, you were the one acting like a fool, self-obsessed enough to think you were getting the attention of an attractive older man.  

“When you visit, we’ll have to go out looking for guys,” Haruka said. “I want to do something crazy before classes start.” 

“I’m sure I can find a way to sneak out,” you joked. Mostly joking. You weren’t confined on campus, it was a little hard to find time. 

That weekend, Gojo was gone, Oyama was busy, and you had the day to yourself. Rather than wasting it on campus, you hopped on a bus to the Tokyo station and took the train to Yokohama. You thought you would feel different returning to familiar stomping grounds after being away so long, but you didn’t. Nothing ever really changed.

That thought struck you especially when you spotted a pretty girl in a red sundress lackadaisically scrolling on her phone on a bench at the station. Haruka Inaba consistently scored top marks in every class, volunteered at hospitals in her free time, and reigned over the school’s tennis club throughout her second and third year of high school. She was the type of girl other girls wished they were.

A cursory look over your social media timeline would present picture after picture of the two of you having fun together, and she was the only person you had ever told about your dad leaving your mom for a younger woman. In short, she was your best friend.

Although, it might have been more accurate to say you had entered into an alliance. Everybody had a face they preferred other people didn’t see, when you were honest with someone that made you close, but didn’t necessarily foster a lot of affection. 

“I hope you didn’t wait too long,” you said, greeting her with a smile. 

“It was no big deal,” she told you. “The station’s on the way to the mall anyway.” 

“Well then, shall we?” you asked. 

“Of course,” Haruka said, getting to her feet and tossing her hair back to expose her perfectly smooth neck and shoulder, a very practiced gesture. “I’m surprised your mom didn’t come. You haven’t seen her since you left, have you?”

Internally, you rolled your eyes at how obvious the question was. Testing pressure points, or just looking for gossip. 

“She’s a busy woman, I wouldn’t ask her to spend her day off with me,” you lied as you shuffled into the crowd of foot traffic flowing out of the station and onto the street. Mom didn’t even know you were in town. “Besides, I hate shopping with her.”

“That’s fair. What are you looking for today?”

“Athletic wear that isn’t hideous.”

“Do you do a lot of exercise at that new school of yours?” she asked, saying ‘school’ like it was a joke. 

You shrugged. So far, you had been vague about Jujutsu Tech. It was impossible to be specific without sounding insane. Besides, Haruka only wanted to know more so she could dismiss the idea that you were special enough to be scouted for an incredibly upscale and mysterious school and she wasn’t.  

“A bit,” you said. “What time are we meeting Fumiko and Kaoru?”

“The movie starts at four-fifteen,” Haruka told you.

“Oh, Ikki’s coming too,” you said. “I hope you don’t mind, Kaoru invited him before I could ask him not to.” 

Haruka smiled tightly, her aura flashing aggressively. “Why would I mind?” 

You let that one go, knowing better than to rub it in.

After that, you and Haruka relaxed into a far more superficial, casual dynamic. Clothes were a great unifier, and she had great taste. 

The world was set right. No curses, no fighting, no second guessing people’s feelings. The other three showed up around lunch. There was still some strain with Haruka and the ever-oblivious Ikki, but you pretended you didn’t notice. The movie was boring, the dinner conversation even more-so, but you were rewarded with a milkshake out in the open air plaza.

Haruka and Fumiko were arguing with Kaoru about action versus drama movies. You wondered what type of movie Gojo preferred, if either. He was capable of stunts cooler than any action hero, but you weren’t sure he’d buy into drama either.

Was that some sort of mystical divination, your errant thoughts predicting the future? Probably not, although it was concerning that your thoughts would stray to him so easily. 

You realized someone was behind you a fraction of a second before their big hands were covering your eyes. “Guess who,” he said. He, as in, one of the few people who could easily sneak up on you, who could make you nearly jump out of your skin, your cursed energy flaring and heart racing.  

You grabbed Gojo’s wrists, pulling his hands away from your eyes and turning to face him. He wore a casual button-up, a pair of retro round lensed sunglasses, and a huge grin. 

“Who are you?” Ikki asked, his body tensed and halfway out of his seat. 

“It’s alright,” you said, putting a hand on his arm. “This is…” you said, looking at Gojo as you tried to think of an answer.

“I’m her teacher, Satoru Gojo,” he finished for you with a megawatt smile, waving to your friends. Haruka looked impressed, her eyes dragging over him without even an attempt at subtlety. The other three looked at him with a range from mild interest to outright hostility. 

“I thought you were on a mi—a business trip,” you said. 

“I finished early,” Gojo said, wedging himself between you and Ikki to wrap an arm around your shoulder. The stool was high enough that he didn’t have to lean down very much, but he still almost pulled you out of the seat. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” His face was right next to yours. You couldn’t look at him, not when he was peering over the top of his sunglasses, giving you the full weight of his beautiful eyes.

You cleared your throat, irritated that he would go out of his way to embarrass you. “This is Ikki, Haruka, Fumiko, and Kaoru,” you told him, gesturing to them in turn.  

“You’re more than welcome to join us, Gojo,” Haruka said, leaning forward with her eyes fixed directly on Gojo. “She’s spoken very highly of you.” 

“She didn’t say you were so young,” Ikki said, clearly disgruntled by the way Gojo had pushed him aside. “Are you really a teacher?”

“Ah, you flatter me!” Gojo said, laughing a little louder than appropriate. “Well, as much as I would love to stick around to hear embarrassing stories about my cute little student, it’s time for us to get going.” He released you, standing up straight. “It was nice meeting you all.”   

He couldn’t be serious. 

“Us?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes. There’s something we need to do before going back to campus. It’s time sensitive, we have to hurry.” 

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” you said. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” 

“No, it can’t. Come on.”

You played out the scenario where you continued to argue, but all of them ended with the same eventuality. He was, no matter what else, your teacher. Sighing dramatically, you slung your bags over your arm and stood up. 

“I guess I have to go,” you said. “It was fun, I’ll see you later.” Fumiko and Kaoru smiled back, but Haruka was fixated on Gojo. You could practically see the hearts swirling in her aura. Ikki was unamused on the edge of hostile, glaring at Gojo who had put his hands in his pockets, unconcerned.

“Okay,” you said, turning away from your friends. “Lead the way.”

Gojo smiled. “Don’t worry,” he told you, taking off with his long-legged strides, “it’s not far.” 

“Is there a job?” you asked, trotting behind him to catch up. The plaza was congested with the late afternoon crowd, it was a bit of a battle to make your way out until you reached the equally crowded sidewalk. 

“It’s something very important,” Gojo told you. “Time is of the essence. Can’t you walk any faster?” 

“In these shoes?” you asked incredulously, coming to a stop beside him as you waited for the crosswalk light to turn. 

“I’ve never understood that,” Gojo said, looking at your feet. “Why wear something that you can’t move around in? I’d hate that.” 

“Because these shoes are adorable and they make my legs look great,” you said, once again rushing to keep up with him as he crossed the road. 

“Oho?” Gojo asked, slowing his stride to look at you with a smile. “Are you trying to impress somebody?” 

“I want to impress everyone,” you said.   

“It was that guy you were sitting next to, wasn’t it?” he asked knowingly. “Are you dating?”

“Ikki?” you asked. Your nose scrunched up at the idea, you could only imagine Haruka’s reaction. “No, we’re not.” 

“Really? He was very protective of you.”

You shrugged, not really interested in that particular topic. 

“How was your trip?” you asked, prompting him to tell you about England. When you thought about the city of London, you imagined big stone castles crawling with translucent ghosts in huge gowns, but he said it was just a regular city with regular boring curses.  

You weren’t as disappointed by that as you might have been otherwise, too busy trying to keep up. Apparently, not far meant something completely different to Gojo than to you, although part of that was that he refused to slow down for your sake. It was almost like he was amused by forcing you to scramble behind him, but you didn’t want to think he would be that rude just for his own entertainment.

It was a huge relief when he stopped in front of a collection of businesses. “Wait here,” Gojo said, grabbing your shoulders and pressing down as if to plant you in place. 

“Yes, sir.” 

He went into the store and you waited dutifully, looking around at the people passing by. You felt out the area curiously, but there wasn’t much. People’s auras that projected regular, boring emotions and some vague, stale residuals, the tumultuous swirl of rotten energy that swarmed the city like a foul stench. Nothing out of the ordinary.

It was difficult not to replay his questions in your head, it really only added to the confusing mess of nerves and doubt you felt when you thought about Gojo. Why would it matter if you were dating Ikki or not? It wasn’t his business whatsoever. But really, not that you would ever openly acknowledge it, the idea that Satoru Gojo would give you attention in that way was thrilling. Not good, not bad, just thrilling. It was because of who he was, you knew that rationally, and you knew that was a weird and childish way to think. There was no way he had any inappropriate sentiments towards you, no more than you did him. 

When you thought about it like that, you just got irritated. With him and with yourself. 

“Okay!” Gojo called, easily catching your attention as he left the store and came to stand by you. He held a little box from the bakery, although you couldn’t see what was in it. “Close your eyes and say ‘ahh’.”

“What?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“Come on, do it,” he insisted. 

You did as he said, making no attempts to hide your exasperation. Gojo pushed a pastry puff into your mouth, leaving a smear of cream over your bottom lip. 

Chewing the pastry, you opened your eyes to Gojo’s eager smile. “Well? Delicious, right?” he asked, licking off the extra cream from the fingers that had just been in your mouth. 

You nodded as you swallowed, more distracted by the way his tongue ran along his long fingers than the flavor. Which was ridiculous. “Are we waiting for someone?” you asked, forcing yourself to focus on that instead.

“No, we’re going back to campus. These are the best profiteroles I’ve ever tasted. We had to hurry—they make a fresh batch for the evening crowd.”

“So… there’s no job?” you asked. 

“I never said it was,” he told you, popping another pastry in his mouth. 

“This was the thing that was so important that I couldn’t spend time with my friends that I never see?” you pushed. “You’re not serious.”

“Are you mad?” Gojo asked. “I got some just for you.”

“I haven’t seen them in a long time,” you said. “And you were acting weird.” 

“You are mad,” Gojo said, frowning. “I only wanted to share something nice with you. After all, you’ve been working so hard. I’m proud of you.” 

“Is that it?” you asked. “Really?” 

“What else?” he asked. 

“Hello?” you asked after picking up the call. You were waiting for your laundry, half-heartedly leafing through a book about historical cursed objects. 

“Did you make it back alright?” Haruka asked from the other end. 

“I did,” you said. “I’m sorry about earlier. Gojo is a little… eccentric.” 

“He’s gorgeous,” Haruka said. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me your teacher was so hot.” 

“He’s my teacher,” you said, surprised by the flare of irritation you felt at having her point it out. Of course he was hot, but you couldn’t acknowledge that. You wouldn’t want to anyway, not when you were still feeling so conflicted. 

“Yeah but he’s young. What do you think, twenty-five? Twenty-six?” 

“He’s my teacher,” you repeated.

“He’s not my teacher. Do you think he’s single? I didn’t see a ring.” 

“No,” you said bluntly, closing the book with a snap. 

“No, he’s not single?” 

“I mean no, I’m not having this conversation with you,” you said. “It’s weird and disrespectful.” 

“You’re kidding,” Haruka asked. “Since when do you care about that?”

That caught you off guard; you didn’t have an answer. Any response you could think of led to increasingly disquieting explanations. “I don’t think Gojo’s the dating type,” you told her, deciding to side-step that question completely. “He’s out of the city about as often as he’s here, so I doubt he’s got much time for that sort of thing.” 

She hummed. “Maybe I can come visit you on campus. It’s just outside of Tokyo, right?” 

“It’s a religious school,” you told her. “No visitors on campus.” 

“That’s so lame. You should give me his number then.”  

“Why would I do that?” 

“For me,” Haruka said. “To mend my broken heart.” 

“You can’t date my teacher.” 

“I’m not looking to date him,”  Haruka said. “Come on, you owe me. Please?” 

“Look, Haru-” you began, ready to try to explain to her why it was a bad idea that wouldn’t go anywhere, but she cut you off. 

“Unless you really are saving him for yourself,” Haruka said. “I guess I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

You closed your mouth, swallowing your warning. For that, she could deal with another rejection. “Okay, I’ll ask.”

“Thank you!” Haruka said. “Okay, I gotta hurry to take a shower, text me. Don’t forget, okay?”

“I won’t,” you said, truly meaning it. “Goodnight.”  

The next day, the sun was high and hot as you dropped down to sit next to Gojo on the field-side benches. 

“Your form is looking much better,” Gojo said. “I like that outfit too. Is it new?” 

You smiled, preening a little bit at the compliment. “Thank you, it is,” you said, smoothing your hair back. “You know, men don’t usually notice clothes.” 

“I notice everything you do,” he said. “It’s the best way to keep track of your progress.” 

“Right,” you said, smiling and accepting that with a nod, aggressively rejecting the fluttery nerves the comment inspired. “Sensei, may I ask you something personal?”

“Oh? What is it?

“Are you seeing anyone? Romantically, I mean.” 

“That’s hardly an appropriate question to ask your teacher.” 

“You asked me if I was dating someone,” you pointed out. “I’m only asking for a—a friend.” 

“A friend?” Gojo repeated dubiously. “Well, you can tell your friend that I’m not seeing anyone. Not exclusively, at least.”

That confirmed that, at least. “And you’re okay with younger women?” you asked, acting more flustered than you felt. “My age, I mean. Or, you know, around my age. Not me, obviously.”

“It depends on the woman,” he said slowly, leaning forward with a little smile curling his lips. “What’s she like?”

“I guess you could say she’s kind of like me,” you said. “Some people think she’s difficult, but maybe you don’t mind that?”  

“Is she secretly very shy?” he asked. “Perhaps because she’s afraid of her true feelings?” 

“She is a little shy,” you allowed. “You’re intimidating sometimes, sensei. And it’s scandalous because you’re my teacher.” 

“I won’t be your teacher forever.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“But I would hate for anyone to think I’m playing favorites.” 

“It’s not like I’m asking for special treatment.”

“Aren’t you?”  

“Not at all. I’d rather you keep the entire thing between you two,” you said, your tone reverting to its normal timbre.

“What?” Gojo asked, his voice flat with confusion. 

“My friend Haruka. You met her yesterday. She asked me to give her your number and see if you were interested,” you said. “It’s the only way to make up for having to bail out on the plans we had last night. That’s okay, right? It was your fault.”  

“Are you still mad at me for that?” Gojo asked.

“I’m not mad,” you pretended to consider his nonplussed expression for a moment. “You seemed interested before.”

“You were misleading me on purpose, weren’t you? How cruel. I thought you were a nice girl.” 

“Misleading you? I don’t know what you mean, sensei. I told you I was asking for a friend.” 

If you could see his eyes, you had a feeling they would be narrowed. “In that case, I’m  afraid I’ll have to pass.”

You shrugged. “Your loss.” Taking a drink, you pumped yourself up and got to your feet. “Okay! I’m gonna win this next match for sure.” 

You jumped off the benches. You did not win the next match. You did, however, feel as if you had scored some sort of petty victory with Gojo’s obvious confusion. You wondered if he truly thought you were making a pass at him and was willing to play along, or if it was just as much a game to him as you. If you could read him, you’d know. And it wouldn’t be a source of many late nights spent looking up at your ceiling wondering if you were reading too far into innocuous interactions. 

But you couldn’t.

You shouldn’t have played into it. That was the conclusion you quickly drew as March rolled out into April and your training reached a feverish intensity. The more you trained, the stronger your Divination became, the more you realized how utterly outmatched you were, how unprepared. Not only with Jujutsu sorcery, but with your enigmatic teacher.

The interactions seemed so banal at face value, but they became the only thing you could think about. It was always something. 

“Oh, look at you!” Gojo said, startling you as you were leaving campus one Saturday morning. “That’s very cute. Did you get all dressed up just for me? I’m flattered.” 

“No, I was going to go out.”

“It’s for a boy, then. I see.” 

You rolled your eyes impatiently. “If I was dressing up for you, I’d be dressing up for a guy. But I'm not.”

“Oh, but I just remembered,” Gojo said, snapping his fingers. “I’m taking you along on a job. You need more experience, don’t you?”   

And he was always so close. Maddeningly close, finding any excuse to touch you.

“Oop, there’s an eyelash on your cheek,” Gojo said, leaning in close with his lips pursed as he pinched it off. “Okay! Make a wish!” 

You resisted the urge to shrink back, looking at the bandage covering his eyes as impassively as you could. “I wish-”

“No, don’t tell me!” he said, waving his hands. “Otherwise it won’t come true.”

The two of you would be walking somewhere and he’d grabbed your hand. “No, no, we’re going this way,” he'd say, acting like it was the most casual thing in the world to entwine his fingers with your own to guide you. 

And the other things, a friendly arm thrown over your shoulder, his hands physically adjusting your stance when practicing fighting, his relentless proximity, it added up. Added up to what? You didn’t know. Whenever you expressed discomfort, Gojo seemed so confused. 

You thought that at least when he was away on missions, you would have space to breathe, but even then you felt his domineering influence. 

“Where are you going?” Oyama asked.

“It’s not your business.” 

“Is it an emergency?” 

“No. I’m-”

“Then you need to be training, your hand to hand is still way too sloppy.” 

And then it was:

“You marked a spot on your map, we should go check it out.” 

“And it can only be done today,” you said flatly. “On the day I had off. When I specifically mentioned I wanted to go out.” 

Oyama shrugged as if helpless. And, honestly, he probably was. You had a feeling you knew exactly where the orders were coming from.

When Gojo came back and you asked him about it, demanding some explanation, he looked utterly baffled by your confrontational tone. 

“You need to focus,” Gojo said, frowning with concern, his aura as impenetrable as ever. “You’re still so far behind your fellow sorcerers.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to comfort you, his voice lowering intimately. “I know it’s difficult right now, but when you’re strong, you can do whatever you want.”

The string of cancellations as well as the thing with Gojo not working out was the breaking point for Haruka. She stopped inviting you places. More than once, you considered telling her the truth, coming clean about everything regarding Gojo’s strange behavior, but you didn’t. 

Even if you told her the truth, that you weren’t necessarily trying to invite Gojo’s attention, it would validate the thing she first assumed when asking you to get his number for her. That was an old wound, an uncomfortable situation in high school with the tennis instructor. Besides, when you presented the case to yourself, it sounded insane. A handful of interactions with a man who was a bit eccentric, being restricted because you were so far behind other sorcerers.

Sometimes you felt insane, like you were missing something vital, drawing the wrong conclusions from inferred motivations because you couldn’t read Gojo like you could everyone else. You asked for a transfer to the Kyoto campus, and you clung to that. They said they would consider it, but you weren’t sure if they took it seriously. You couldn’t provide any details as to why you wanted to move, not even to yourself. 

All you could do was lay in bed listening to white noise TV overthinking every comment he made and interactions you had, your thoughts caught in the endless back and forth of confusion.  

“You weren’t there to greet me,” Gojo said, calling into the empty gym where you were stretching. He had been gone for three days and, unlike when you first began at Jujutsu Tech, you weren’t excitedly looking forward to his arrival. Or maybe you were? At least it was something other than the oppressive isolation and relentless training, but it only really upset you. “I got you a souvenir.”

“I’m good, thanks. Did you have a fun trip?” you asked in an icy tone, refusing to turn around to address him with respect.

“I wouldn’t call it fun, it’s work.” 

“Still,” you insisted, rolling your shoulders, “it must be nice to have a little freedom.” 

An awkward silence followed your comment.

“You’re not mad or something, are you?” Gojo finally asked. 

“I’m not mad.”

“I haven’t done anything to deserve this attitude,” Gojo clearly wasn’t convinced, you could hear the theatrical dismay in his tone. “What’s got you so grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy.” 

“So why are you pouting then?” 

Finally fed up with the badgering, you whirled around to face him, resolved to be upfront, to not give him a way to get out of the question. But then you looked him up and down and felt an odd jab of disgust and guilt twist in your stomach. It was so much easier to think the worst of somebody when they weren’t there to provide any sort of counternarrative. Seeing Gojo, it was hard to believe that he was the person you sometimes feared him to be. He was too attractive, powerful, and intelligent. It didn’t make sense that he would resort to underhanded means to manipulate you.

“Is there a reason I’m not allowed to leave?” you asked, staring at his covered eyes. 

“What do you mean?” Gojo asked, the picture of innocent confusion. “Nobody’s stopping you.” 

“Really? Because when you’re here, you stop me and, when you’re not, Oyama finds a reason that I can’t. It’s almost uncanny that so many jobs coincide with the days that I make plans.”

“Have you tried asking Oyama?” Gojo asked. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“He detests me,” you told him flatly. “I don’t blame him.”

“Oh? Do you want me to talk to him about that? I hate to think that my students aren’t getting along.” 

“I want to know what’s going on,” you said, trying to keep calm.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Gojo said, his act of innocence perfectly maintained. Unless it wasn’t a mask. You couldn’t tell. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe you’ve been working too hard.” He frowned, thinking about it for a second. “I know! Let’s go out together. I’ve been dying to try this new sushi restaurant in town. I’ll invite Oyama and we can all get to the bottom of whatever it is you think you’re feeling.” 

The moon hung high in the sky as you did training exercises in the field near your dorm, trying to shut your brain off. Nothing was solved over dinner. Of course not. Both men acted like there was nothing strange going on.

No, of course you were allowed to do whatever you wanted. Of course they weren’t stopping you. But if they were, they had good reason to. If they were, the problem was that you were just so weak. Sure you were making progress, but you weren’t even close to catching up with other sorcerers your age.

When you got back to your room, you broke down and called your mom, intending to tell her everything. The isolation, the suffocation, the worries you had about your teacher’s behavior. But all she could talk about was how well things were going with her new boyfriend. They were considering moving in together. And it was fine if she gave his daughter your old bedroom, wasn’t it? You didn’t need it anymore. You texted Haruka, but she didn’t reply, posting on her social media story to ensure you knew she was ignoring you on purpose.

So you decided you needed to hit something. It helped you calm down, at least. It was easier to believe the world had a semblance of peace in the dark of the night. 

“Looking good!” a familiar voice called from behind you. You were trained enough to not be startled, taking a defensive stance as you considered how you were going to handle this. “I am curious as to why you’re out here though. I thought you were tired.” 

That was the reason you gave after you got back to campus, the reason you immediately excused yourself from his company. Gojo knew it was a lie then, and said it like a joke now. 

“I can’t sleep,” you said, shrugging as you turned around. 

“I see. You’re not still angry with me, are you? Even though I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No.”

“Then I can’t help but wonder what face you’re imagining on that training dummy.” 

“Are you that hopeful that I’m thinking about you, sensei?” 

He laughed. “If anything, I’m worried,” he said. “You know what they say about a woman scorned.” 

“You told me I needed to train more,” you pointed out. “Do you have any tips? I prefer fighting with knives, but I can’t trust that I’ll always have weapons, and I still need to get in close if I’m going to use my Divination.” 

“I’m not sure there’s much to read from your current opponent,” Gojo said.  

“I’m being serious,” you said. “If you don’t want to help, that’s fine too.” 

“No, I do. Okay, get into a defensive position,” he instructed, which you did. 

Gojo walked around to stand close behind you, you could feel the warm thrum of his body, the energy coursing through it, the power. 

“Your posture is fine, the problem is your mindset,” he said, his voice lower. He reached around to brush his fingers over your flushed neck and over, across your shoulder and down your arm. “You can’t think of it in terms of only using your cursed energy or only your body. Jujutsu sorcery is more than the sum of its parts. You fight with your whole self.” His hands settled on your hips, repositioning them slightly to the side. Then his palm laid flat over your pelvis, dragging up your stomach. Your skin crackled with little sparks of electricity, crawling and thrumming and alive and nervous.  

“Sensei, I’m, uh…” Tongue-tied. A shiver snaked down your spine and you resisted the urge to move and put distance between you. You cleared your throat. “I understand that part, it’s just…”

“You don’t feel it yet. The harmony,” Gojo said. “Most people aren’t actively aware of their bodies, but a sorcerer has to be.” 

“I am,” you said softly.

“Are you really?” Gojo asked, his lips brushing your temple. “Do you feel how your cursed energy flows through your body? It has its own circulatory system, you just have to find its pulse, synchronize it with your own.” He raised his hand up to press against your neck, lightly pressing against the place where your blood erratically thrummed beneath the skin. 

“I get it,” you told him, you turned around, grabbing his hand from your neck, pressing your palms flat together. 

Gojo looked taken aback, but didn’t withdraw. You saw nothing from within him. Felt no flicker of emotion. 

“You know, I… I realized,” you said, looking up at his half-covered face, imagining a pair of sparkling blue eyes, knowing he was staring at you. “When we’re close like this, I can feel your… Infinity. The endless expanse that separates you and me.” 

“Really?” he asked, sliding his hand to the side. It dwarfed your own. “I heard that you’re getting even better at reading people. It’s very impressive how fast you’re progressing, I’m so proud.”

“I thought that would help me figure you out, but it’s not your cursed energy keeping me out. It’s your infinity.” You looked at where your hands met. You felt his skin, his warmth, and yet you knew the connection wasn’t quite there. It was impossible to truly connect with him. “Trying to read you is like trying to find a flame in an endless abyss. Even the few times I thought I’ve seen something, I can’t be sure that it wasn’t just an illusion in the dark.” 

Gojo’s head tilted curiously. “What was it that you thought you felt?” 

“I’m getting stronger,” you told him rather than answer, pressing your hand ever more firmly against his. “If you give me a chance, I’ll show you. That’s why you’re keeping me from going out, right? Because you think I’m weak.” 

“I’m not keeping you from doing anything,” Gojo told you. “I don’t know where you got this idea that I am.” 

You dropped your hand, stepping away from him. The words were a knife twisted in your chest. He made you sound crazy. Made you feel crazy. 

“Right. I’m going to bed,” you told him flatly. “Goodnight.” 

“Hello?” Haruka answered, her voice groggy from just waking up. She probably wouldn’t have taken your call if she was fully awake. 

“I’m too sick to train or study today,” you told her, holding up a potential outfit for the day. Gojo was gone, and you were done asking for permission to leave. “I’m going to be laid out in bed all day today and tomorrow.”

“What?” 

“Do you think Ikki and Kaoru would be interested in hanging out? I could use a drink.” While you were still a little over a year out from buying liquor, both Ikki and Kaoru were of age and they didn’t mind hosting little parties at their shared apartment. 

“It’s eight in the morning,” Haruka said. 

“Not now, I mean later. I’m gonna catch the twelve-twenty train. Let’s get lunch, or go shopping. Honestly, I don’t care, I just need to get out of here.” 

“Um. Yeah, I think we could do that.” 

“Great. See you then.” You hung up before she could change her mind. 

They waited until you were more than a little drunk to ask. You should have expected that, although you also didn’t expect to get so drunk. Ikki kept handing you drinks, urging you to relax and enjoy yourself. The world was warm and sweaty and spinning and comfortable and lovely and frightening. 

“Okay,” Ikki said, catching your attention. A cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth like he was some kind of cowboy. He only smoked when he got drunk, it was kind of cute, not that you would ever tell him that. He already knew it anyway. “What’s up with you lately?” 

“What?” you asked, blinking fast.

“Kaoru thinks you got knocked up,” Fumiko said, speaking up from her position leaning against Kaoru’s chest.  

Kaoru frowned down at her.

“What?” you asked, trying to force your drunk brain to think sober thoughts. “It’s not anything like that… It’s a… It’s nothing.” 

“You’ve been blowing us off every time we asked you to come out without any explanation,” Haruka said. “It has to be a boy.” 

“No, it’s not.”

“Come ooooooon,” Fumiko pushed. “It’s a guy. He’s keeping you all to yourself.” 

“That’s not it,” you insisted.

“Is it something illegal?” Ikki asked with a puff of smoke. 

“No, nothing like that,” you said. Then you broke out laughing, looking at your nearly empty beer. “It’s not like I have a boyfriend or anything. It-it, okay it is a guy. We’re not dating. It used to just be a weird vibe but now it’s like, weirder. He stops me from leaving and if he’s not there then he gets Oyama to keep me from going and there’s always a reason, but it’s still… That’s weird, right? I had to sneak out to come tonight, and even then that’s only because he’s out of the country.” 

“There’s no way,” Haruka said, her voice flat with genuine disbelief. You could tell she was already prepared to call you a liar. “You’re saying you’re some kind of hostage?” 

“Wait so, what, there’s somebody at your school who’s obsessed with you?” Kaoru asked. “What even is that place?”

“It’s that teacher, isn’t it,” Ikki said, pointing his half burned cigarette at you “The creepy guy with the glasses.” 

“He’s not, like… creepy,” you said. “I don’t know, it’s just weird.”

Haruka scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Why would a guy that looks like Gojo go through all the trouble for you?”

“Tell him you’re dating me and I’ll beat him up if he keeps you all to himself,” Ikki said with a lopsided grin, butting his cigarette and throwing an arm around your shoulders. 

“How would that help?” Haruka snapped, glaring at the two of you, her aura sparking with anger. That was very not good. 

You shrugged off Ikki’s arm, scowling and trying to snap back to sobriety. “I knew you would do this if I told you,” you said. “That’s why I didn’t say anything before.”

“Why would I believe you? I know how you are. This is just like that one time in our second year with the tennis coach.” 

You frowned. Of course she would bring that up. “That wasn’t-”

“You thought he was cute, but he didn’t reciprocate so you told everyone he was a perv.” 

“Wasn’t that guy fired for trying to get with his students?” Kaoru asked. 

“Yeah, but he wasn’t into her,” Haruka argued. 

“It’s weird that you’re jealous about sexual harassment,” you told her bluntly.  

“Okay! I think we should take a breather,” Ikki said, trying to smooth things over. “You girls might’ve overdone it a little.” You pushed him off, your own temper flaring to meet Haruka’s fiery aura. 

“I bet Gojo turned you down and that’s why you’re making this up,” she said, her voice raising. “Or, no, you just want to outdo me. Brag about how you’re so much better just like always.”

“The only reason you’re saying this is because you’re mad he didn’t wanna sleep with you and you think it’s my fault,” you told her, working hard to keep the drunken slur out of your voice. “It’s not like I enjoy having somebody breathing down my neck all the time, although I’m sure you’d love the attention. You beg for it often enough.” 

“You do too!” she said, getting shrill. “You just act like you don’t. Being a prude doesn’t make you superior.” 

“That’s true, I don’t need self-respect to be better than you,” you snapped. In the ensuing silence, everybody in the room was just staring at you. Like you were the one out of line. Like they hadn’t ganged up on you to force you to tell them what was going on. 

Angry at them and angry at yourself for losing it so spectacularly, you stumbled drunkenly to your feet. Ikki got up too, although you pushed off his help as you went to the bathroom. Haruka shouted insults after you, which you ignored. 

Instead you went into their bathroom, marveled at the disgusting state of a place shared by two guys, and threw up. 

The knocking woke you up. It took a minute of looking at the sunshine peering in through the blinds to realize you were on Ikki’s and Kaoru’s couch, your back cramping from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. A glass of water and two painkillers sat ready for you on the messy coffee table alongside empty beer bottles and snack wrappers. You groaned, sitting up and taking the medication with a wince. 

Whoever was at the door continued to knock. You grunted, standing up. Bad idea. You nearly fell right back down, but you managed to stay on your feet. You were about to answer the door before you realized that could be a bad idea, turning around to find Ikki.

The door to Kaoru’s room was closed, but the other door yawned open. You peeked in. Haruka was passed out on the bed. You could hear the shower running from the bathroom.

“Ikki?” you called through the door. “Someone’s knocking.”

“What?”

“Someone’s at the door,” you said. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“No,” he said. “Will you get it? I’ll be out in a second.”

Perhaps hearing voices inside, the person at the door only got louder. You sighed, annoyed by their insistence. 

You returned to the living room to open the door, squinting at how bright the morning was in comparison to the dark apartment.

“Good morning!” Gojo enthused. 

You blinked hard three or four times, willing reality to bend to make what you were seeing stop being true.

“Woah, you look like shit. Did you have a fun night?”  

“What?” you asked, baffled beyond comprehension.

“Who is it?” Ikki asked, coming out of the bathroom with billows of steam and only a towel around his waist, drying his hair absently. 

“I’ve come to retrieve my wayward student,” Gojo said. 

You stared at him, hungover and confused and wanting nothing more than to lay back down on that horribly uncomfortable couch and never get up. 

“Are you ready to go?” Gojo asked you when he got no answer. 

You let out an unsteady breath, closing your eyes for a second to try and gain some clarity or zen. Nope. That was a lost cause. 

“Give me a second, I have to use the bathroom,” you said, turning away from him towards the bedroom to get your bag. 

Haruka was still passed out, a fact you were very grateful for. You weren’t completely clear on the details of last night, but the broad strokes were all there. You slung your bag over your shoulder and went into the steamy bathroom. Clearing the mirror in squeaky finger-streaks proved Gojo right. You looked like shit.

After dry heaving a little as you brushed your teeth, you put on clean clothes and sorted out the mess that was your hair. It wasn’t perfect, but you didn’t look as awful as you felt. When you returned to the main room, Ikki was dressed. The room was heavy with awkward tension, although Gojo didn’t look at all uncomfortable. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what words were exchanged. 

“Ready to go?” Gojo asked. You sighed, throwing your bag over your shoulder. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” you told Ikki, smiling apologetically. 

And Ikki, in his endless wisdom, did the last thing you expected and grabbed you around the waist, pulling you in for a kiss. He stared at Gojo the whole time, aggression swirling around him thicker than any desire or affection. Using you to prove a point. That was unlike him. Gojo might’ve just had a way of pulling out the worst in people. 

“Call me later,” he said when he released you, winking.

“Bye,” you said, forcing a smile. 

“It was nice to see you again,” Gojo said, smiling and waving in a too-cheerful way. You walked out into the sunlight, wincing at how bright it was, going for the stairs without waiting for him to follow. 

“Did you have fun last night?” Gojo asked as you took the stairs down to ground level. 

“Yeah,” you said, too tired and irritable to play along. 

“You know, as your teacher, it’s my responsibility to look after your wellbeing,” Gojo said, hopping the last few steps to stay next to you. “Underage drinking can have very dire consequences. Especially when you’re spending the night at a man’s home. I would hate to think that you’d be taken advantage of.” 

“Why are you here?” you asked, turning to face him. “How did you know where to find me?” 

“I got back last night. I was worried when you weren’t on campus,” you could feel his gaze as he looked you up and down. “I’m glad to see you’re just fine.”

“Right,” you said. That didn’t answer your question, but you doubted you would get anything better. “Can we stop to get breakfast?” 

“Can you wait until we get to the station? We have to hurry to catch the train.” 

“Hurry for what?” 

“Didn’t you read my messages? You have a job,” he told you. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“You begged me for a chance to prove yourself, well here it is. If you do well on this mission, I’ll consider you for a promotion of sorts. Isn’t that exciting?” 

Through a series of increasingly unfortunate circumstances, the thread you were following led to a realization that the curse was based on the time of day. That is, exactly before sunrise. By the time you figured that out, you had about nine hours to kill.  

Gojo said he’d rent a room for you to rest, but it had to be close enough that you could be at the lot exactly on time. On short notice and in such a small area to select from, the choices of accommodations were slim. 

One room, one bed. If the embarrassment didn’t kill you, the cliche would. 

Gojo showering gave you some time alone to prepare yourself, at least. It wasn’t like you were afraid he would do anything, but you couldn’t say you were exactly comfortable with the arrangement. The whole day, you had been standoffish, but now you were just tired and nervous. Of course you wanted to prove yourself to him, but you also got angry every time you thought about him springing this on you when he knew you weren’t operating at your best. It felt calculated, but you knew that he would easily deny that if you accused him of anything.

The worst of everything was how meticulously he avoided any conversation about your behavior, or Ikki, or his own motivations for doing this. The more stormy your mood got, the bigger he smiled, and the more he acted the role of the caring teacher.  

Just like always, you felt like you were a little crazy. Drowning in delusions of self importance. 

You sat crossed legged on the foot of the bed and put on a ghost hunting show. If only being a sorcerer was like on TV. Dramatics, theatrics, silly devices, and easy answers. That had been your original hope when you started playing with Divination. You wanted something exciting, the cheap thrills weren't doing it anymore.

Well, you got what you wanted. You certainly weren't bored.

“What are we watching?” Gojo asked as he came out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam, drying his wet hair. You cleared your throat and averted your eyes from his partial nudity.

“Ghost Adventures,” you said, staring straight ahead at the screen.

“What’s that?” he asked as he got onto the bed, laying on top of the comforter. The robe mostly covered his bare torso.

“A ghost hunting show,” you answered. “It’s American.”

“Is it any good?” 

You snorted out a short laugh. “No. We don’t have to keep it on.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

You stared at the TV for a minute before checking your phone again. Haruka hadn’t texted you all day. At first, you were resolute that you would only accept an apology, but the longer you thought about it, the more you reasoned yourself to accept anything. 

“Isn’t it uncomfortable to sit like that?” Gojo asked, startling you. You turned off your phone screen, setting it on the bedside table. 

“I’m fine.” 

“I heard that if you sit with your back hunched like that you’ll get stuck that way.”

You rolled your eyes, although you did swing your legs around to lay against the headboard. As much as you wanted to pretend it wasn’t true, you were still tired from the previous night. Since he made no move to do it, you got under the stiff sheets, trying to fluff the lumpy pillow into comfortable submission. 

“Are you dissatisfied?” Gojo asked suddenly.  

“What?”

“Are you dissatisfied with your life as a sorcerer? When you first started at Jujutsu Tech I thought you were over your rebellious delinquent phase, but now you’re falling back into the same habits. I can only assume it’s because you’re dissatisfied.” 

“It was one night,” you argued. Chewing on the words and your lip for a second, you cast a sideways glare towards him. “If there weren’t such strict restrictions about when and how I can leave campus, I wouldn't have had to lie.”

“You’re still technically a student, of course there are restrictions. Do you think that’s unfair?” 

“Oyama doesn’t have the same restrictions.” 

“Oyama is nearly a Grade Two sorcerer, and he’s never had any behavioral issues.”

“Right,” you said, your voice flat. At least that was a different answer than you had gotten previously, some acknowledgement that you were getting unfair treatment. 

“If you’re this unhappy, why haven’t you said anything?” Gojo asked. 

You wondered how much he already knew or assumed. He wasn’t stupid, he was painfully perceptive. Unless it was all in your head, and he truly did not understand why you were reacting like this because he had no reason to think you would second guess his behavior and motivations.

“You already have a lot to worry about,” you told him. 

“I always have time for my cute little student. It’s my responsibility to see that you’re satisfied. I have noticed that you seem a little more tense. Is the stress starting to get to you? It’s important to talk about these things, you know. Otherwise they can spiral into a much larger problem. We have to rely on each other as sorcerers.”

“I’m fine.”

Gojo hummed. You pretended to be very interested in a case about some old haunted asylum where they tortured patients or whatever.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Gojo said when the show cut to commercial. “Your abilities can be considered dangerous to yourself and those around you.”  

“What do you mean?” 

“Sorcerers and curse users go to great lengths to keep their techniques secret. The mere idea of your Divination puts them at risk. While it’s not fully refined yet, there is a non-zero chance that you will be able to read techniques in their entirety. I’m sure there are already conversations being had about taking you out. Nobody’s stupid enough to try anything when you’re under my protection, but if they saw a chance, they would jump at it.” 

“So I can’t leave,” you said, staring hard at the TV as a commercial for foot cream played out.

“You can!” Gojo said quickly, his voice energetically trying to placate you. “Neither myself or any other sorcerer will hold you against your will. You’re an adult, you can do what you please. I’m only telling you of the risks you face now.”

“How would they know about my technique?” you asked.

Gojo shrugged glibly, his expression just as unreadable without sunglasses or that bandage. “These things have a way of getting around.” 

In the very deepest part of your brain, you wondered if he didn’t have a hand in that. If he wouldn’t be willing to put you at risk if it meant you needed his protection. That was ridiculous. Truly. No matter what else Gojo had done, he hadn’t done anything you could call evil. The jujutsu world was just dangerous, and you already knew that. 

“I understand,” you said, trying to sound unaffected.

Neither of you spoke for a while, although you didn’t think he was watching the TV any more than you were. It was a ridiculous story and they were so deadly serious about their silly spirit boxes. 

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Gojo asked. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I should. Do you want to turn it off?” 

“I don’t mind. You usually sleep with the TV or something on anyway, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, but…” You frowned, your assurance trailing off. How did he know that? 

“I’ve always wondered why,” Gojo said. “Are you afraid of the dark? That seems inconvenient for a sorcerer.”

“I have bad dreams,” you said.

“Will I have to worry about you waking up kicking and screaming?” 

“Bad, not scary,” you corrected him, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible. “Isn’t it wonderful that no matter how hard you repress things when you’re awake, your brain can just shove it in your face when you’re defenseless?” 

“I understand that,” he told you with a wry smile.  

“So even the strongest has to deal with that?” you asked, stifling a yawn into your palm. “I guess there really is no hope for the rest of us.” 

“I’ve read that nightmares offer insights into our psyches,” Gojo said as you stared at the ceiling. “Things that we fear the most… and things we want the most.”

“I dream about my dad coming back,” you said softly, without thinking. You scrubbed your palms into your eyes, laughing humorlessly. “It’s pathetic. Sometimes I wish I’d dream about curses or whatever. The happy dreams are so much worse.”

“I truly believe that love is the worst curse of them all,” Gojo said softly.  

“You’re probably right.” After a moment, you added, ”I’m sorry. For whoever you dream about, I’m sorry.”

“Who said I dream of anything?’

You huffed. “Fine. I take back my sorry.” 

“You can’t, I’ve already accepted it. It warms my heart to think of my cute little student worrying about her sensei. What would you do to help me, I wonder?”

Your face scrunched up in disgust. “Nothing. Forget it.” 

“I’d be more than happy to return the favor, you know. If you’re lonely,” Gojo said, turning onto his side with his head propped up on his arm, “I can help you.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Liar,” Gojo said. “I’ve noticed how sad you are, how you refuse to reach out to anybody for support. I know what that's like."

“I don’t need anyone's support,” you said, avoiding his eyes. “I can either get over this, or I can’t. That’s on me.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Gojo said, even softer. “Even the strongest need help sometimes, and you’re hardly the strongest. I’m worried about you.” 

You sighed, even more annoyed. “Don’t be.”

Gojo groaned dramatically. “You make it so difficult to be a good teacher and mentor. I want to help you, but then you act like this. It’s like you’re trying to rile me up.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, a cold flush running through your stomach.

“I’m telling you that you should be more careful,” Gojo said. “I’m not entirely sure you realize that you could very well face consequences for your behavior.”

“Is that a threat or something?” you asked. 

“No, of course not,” he told you with a smile. “Now go to sleep, you’ll need it if you’re going to perform well tomorrow. Remember what’s at stake.” 

The next afternoon, after getting your wounds treated and taking a long nap to make up for two nights of barely any sleep, you stood in the classroom facing Gojo. You had been expecting bad news, but not quite to the gleefully dismissive extent that he saw fit to deliver it. 

“Suffice it to say, you did not meet my expectations. I guess you’re stuck with me for a while yet,” Gojo said, smiling like it was great news despite the attempted apologetic tone.

You grit your teeth. “Is this what you meant about consequences for my misbehavior?” 

“What do you mean?” Gojo asked, tilting his head curiously.

“I don’t know what you want, if you expect something from me or if you’re mad I’m dating or whatever, but I did a good job,” you said. “You know I did, so-” 

“You didn’t,” Gojo said, cutting you off. “I carefully evaluated every part of your performance, and I don’t think you’re ready to take on more complicated jobs. This isn’t a game. There are lives at stake. Your life, the lives of your fellow sorcerers, and the lives of the civilians we’re trying to protect. If you want to accuse me of trading favors or having an unfavorable bias, you’re more than welcome to take your case to the higher ups. I’m sure they would be delighted to hear of any perceived misconduct. Otherwise, I recommend you focus on your training.” 

You nodded stiffly, biting your tongue. “Yes, sir.”

“I know you’re upset, but it’s important that you don’t rush something you’re not ready for. You could get hurt.”  

“I understand. If you’ll excuse me then.” You turned to leave his office, your shoulders high and tense. 

“Oh, right! I was told this morning that you asked for a transfer,” Gojo said, snapping loud enough to make you wince. “It was denied.” 

You looked over your shoulder, a cold bit of dread sinking into your gut. 

“Kyoto doesn’t need any more sorcerers at the moment, especially when you're still such a low level sorcerer,” he told you, returning to that innocent tone. “Why was it that you wanted to transfer anyway?” 

“No reason,” you said, hiding your expression and leaving quickly.

The disappointment was bad, but what you hated more than anything with the humiliation. If Gojo were honest, then you could understand your failure, but not in the way he presented it to you. He was going out of his way to embarrass you. Hot bouts of sticky red fury filled your stomach and your head whenever you thought about it, a feeling so mean and aggressive that it hurt.

You couldn’t call your mom, you wouldn’t know what to tell her. Haruka still hadn’t texted you. Ikki had asked if you were alright, but there wasn’t anything you could think of to say to him. You knew what he wanted, what he expected from you by offering what he saw as help, but you couldn’t do that. Even if it pissed Gojo off, it wasn’t satisfying. He would view that sort of behavior as petty. It was petty.

If you were going to do something, it had to be big. Something that you weren’t supposed to do, something that would make a point, something that would soothe your embarrassment. When you felt yourself drawn to the map on your wall, pencil in hand, it was like a golden opportunity had fallen into your lap, gifted directly to you by fate.

“Oyama! We have a job,” you told him, acting like you were unhappy with the arrangement. 

“What are you talking about?” Oyama asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s a spot on my map.” You could see his hesitation so you feigned annoyance. “If you want to go alone, that’s fine, but Gojo told me I had to as a part of my evaluation.”

He believed it, not even checking to make sure you were telling the truth. 

As soon as you were conscious, a ragged gasp ripped up the inside of your dry throat, panic shooting through your veins like ice water. You groped your chest and stomach, searching for wounds that weren’t there. A little yelp of fear left your mouth and you wrenched your body upright. The sheet fell from your chest, making you realize that you were not dressed, and you were not alone. 

Ieiri shot you a concerned look, blowing a final puff of smoke out of the window into the dark night before butting the cigarette. “Careful,” she warned, “your wounds are healed, but you’re going to be weak.” 

Tugging the sheet up to cover your chest, you realized you were in the clinic, and then your memories crashed through the gauze of groggy ignorance. The curse, the fight, the terror, and then the stupidest plan you had ever concocted. Although you weren’t wounded anymore, you coughed weakly, your body reacting to the mere memory of suffocating on your own blood.

“How do you feel?” she asked. 

You groaned, falling flat onto your back. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.” 

“How much do you remember?” Ieriri asked, closing the window.  

“Everything.” Unfortunately. Your face scrunched up as you tried to put the horrific memories of your mutilated body out of your mind. “Is Oyama okay?” 

“He has a few bruises, nothing major.”

You nodded, relieved for that. If he got hurt after you forced him to take you along, you’d never live it down. After a second, you threw an arm over your face, something like a raspy laugh crackling its way out of your sore chest. “I think I did something extraordinarily stupid.” 

“Like using yourself as bait so your fellow sorcerer could exorcize a curse?” Ieiri asked dryly.  

You opened one eye to look at her. “Did it work?” 

“It did, although you very nearly died for it. The broken ribs were the worst. You’re lucky they didn’t puncture anything vital.” 

Hiking up the sheet over your healed chest, you sat up again. Your head spun, but the only pain you felt was phantom, like your brain was unable to reconcile the severe physical trauma with your perfectly healed body. 

“It was the strangest thing,” you said. “The curse was smart enough to know to attack the stronger sorcerer, but I… I forced it to focus on me.” You winced, a shiver of soul-deep revulsion slithering down your throat all the way to the pit of your stomach as you remembered what happened after that. Remembering pain after the fact was difficult enough, let alone thinking of the right words to describe the experience. 

“You need water,” Ieiri said, pressing a bottle of water into your hand. You eagerly accepted it, uncapping the bottle and chugging the whole thing. She was calm as ever, if tired. 

Capping the bottle, you cleared your throat again. “I don’t suppose I can borrow some clothes?” 

She patted a pile of folded clothes on the bedside table with a tired smile. “They won’t fit, but it’s better than streaking across campus.” 

“Thank you,” you said, wrapping yourself in the sheet to fully sit up. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Ieiri said, turning to leave the room. She paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at you. “Oh, before I forget, Satoru wants to see you as soon as possible. I doubt he expected you to wake up so quickly, I’m sure it can wait until morning.” 

You frowned, your stomach twisting up at the thought. “Where do you think he’ll be?” 

“He’s probably in his apartment. I doubt he’s asleep, if you wanted to talk to him now.” She snorted, shaking her head. “That man sleeps less than I do.”

“Got it,” you said. “Thanks.” 

She hesitated in the doorway, thinking about what she was going to say. “Satoru was very upset when he heard what happened. I know he worries about his students, but this is different.”

“How so?” you asked, tensing up at the faint insinuation.  

Ieiri sighed. “I’m not trying to involve myself, you’re free to do what you want. But, speaking as someone who has known Satoru for a while, be careful. I care for him, but his nature doesn’t always lend itself to respectable behavior.” 

“Okay,” you said flatly, narrowing your eyes at her. You didn’t get the sense of any malice or disgust, but the words were obviously pointed. 

“That’s all,” Ieiri said with a light shrug, leaving the room and closing the door. You squeezed your eyes shut, wondering what to think about that. You didn’t know if you wanted to believe her or not. It was the first time anybody confirmed some of the strange things you felt about the man, but you didn’t know if that made it any better. 

Besides, you hadn’t so purposefully baited a reaction just to shy away now. 

At twelve-twenty-five, you left the clinic. Considering you almost died earlier that day, you didn't feel too terrible. Every muscle in your body was sore and shaky, like you had been training too hard, but you had just slept for nine hours. Even if you laid down, you wouldn’t sleep. If Gojo wanted to talk, you would talk. The reasoning behind it was, on the surface, because you wanted to get it over with. 

There might have been more to your compulsion, but you were too irritable to interrogate your motivation.  

Before going over, you stopped by your room to exchange Ieiri’s borrowed clothes for a clean shirt, oversized hoodie, fresh panties, and a pair of shorts. While you were there, you took the time to wipe the mascara rings out from under your eyes, swipe on some lip balm, and pull your hair back to mitigate the mess. What you really needed was a full coat of foundation and some dry shampoo, but the idea that you were so desperate to impress him pissed you off even more.

On your way to the faculty apartments on the edge of campus, you thought about the best way to handle this. Gojo would know why you lied and disobeyed him, he wasn’t stupid. There wasn’t any way you could think of to reframe the narrative either. You did it because you wanted to, and because you were angry about his ruling, and because you thought you could get away with it, and because you felt the need to act out against his authority. 

You still weren’t sure what you were going to say when you stopped in front of his door, knocking before you lost your nerve. Footsteps sounded almost immediately from the other side, and then the door slid open. Gojo stood on the other side. He was dressed down for the night, wearing a casual t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was messy and eyes uncovered, sparkling in the faint light from the lamps along the path. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.” 

“Yep, I’m all fixed up,” you said, throwing your arms out as if to present yourself. “Ieiri said you wanted to see me.”

“I can wait until you’re better rested,” Gojo said, putting on a dramatic frown.

You sighed, feeling awkward of all things. The whole time, you had been geared up for some sort of confrontation, but he was so calm, behaving just like he always did. Maybe Ieiri had misunderstood his mood. 

“I don’t think I could sleep with this hanging over my head,” you told him. “Unless this is a bad time.” 

“No, it’s fine. Come in,” Gojo said, opening the door wider to usher you through. 

Despite the traditional exterior, his apartment was decorated in a plain yet clearly expensive style, a marble coffee table and velvet upholstery and understated lighting. What struck you the most was how good it smelled inside. The TV was on, but muted, splashing color and light into the dim room. 

“Do you want tea?” Gojo offered, shutting the door. “Water? Strawberry milk?” 

“I’m okay, thanks,” you said. “I’d rather get this over with.”  

“Get what over with?” Gojo asked as he walked around you. He wasn’t wearing shoes, so you toed yours off, setting them next to his.

“You’re going to yell at me, aren’t you?” you said, maintaining a casual demeanor despite your anxiety.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said, dropping onto the couch. Those were unmistakably Fendi Pequin stripes on the armrests, the thing must have cost a small fortune and yet he was lounging on it. “Do you want me to?” 

“Not especially.”  

“How about you sit down,” Gojo offered, patting the spot on the couch beside him. You shuffled from foot to foot, rethinking your decision to come to his place so late at night. It was so far down from all of the other buildings. Even if you screamed, nobody would hear you. But that was stupid. He could have done anything he wanted to do to you in the hotel, and he didn’t. You were making things up to justify your discomfort.

You sat down stiffly, more than aware that you were sitting on a piece of furniture that cost as much as your mom’s car. 

Gojo shut off the TV, leaving the two of you in the intimate near dark. It had been muted, but somehow the room felt even more quiet. His attitude was horribly off-putting. Ieiri said he seemed upset, but you weren’t getting that at all. If anything, he seemed more relaxed than the last time you saw him. 

The silence dragged on and on, you had no idea what to do or say. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, not when they were uncovered and you were alone. 

Finally, he sighed theatrically. “This is my own fault,” Gojo said. “I’ve always known you had behavioral problems. I thought—I hoped that it wouldn’t come to this. You could have died.”

“But I didn’t,” you pointed out, keeping your voice steady. “Nobody died, the curse got exorcized, and everything’s fine.” 

“Is that your defense for disregarding my authority, lying, and putting yourself and Oyama at risk?” 

“It’s not a defense,” you said. “It’s a statement of fact.” 

Gojo laughed, a sound that made you flinch away. It wasn’t forced, he sounded genuinely amused. “You are such a pain in the ass,” he said, smiling as if he was endeared by it. “I can’t tell if you’re unafraid of the consequences or if you really don’t believe you’ll face any.” 

“I did face consequences,” you argued. “Didn’t Ieiri tell you how badly I was injured?”  

“That’s not enough, is it? If you have the chance, you'll definitely do something like this again. The danger is a part of the thrill for a girl like you.” He hummed thoughtfully. “No, I need to take care of the underlying issue.”

“The underlying issue?” you repeated.

“You have no respect for authority—mine or otherwise.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sensei. I have the deepest respect for you,” you said, looking up at him with innocently wide eyes. It didn’t get the rise you wanted, his expression didn’t change. The unrelenting calm and friendly demeanor he maintained was beginning to creep you out.   

“Normally, I don’t mind. I understand; I can’t stand people ordering me around. With you, though, it really irritates me. Maybe I should try a little more discipline.”

“What are you going to do, spank me?” you asked, raising a brow. You could hear how desperate your sarcasm sounded, an attempt to regain control over the situation.

Gojo’s head titled as he considered your taunt. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.” 

You rolled your eyes, your hands curling into fists to hide your increasing anxiety. If you could read his feelings, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but you couldn’t tell how serious he was. “You’re funny.” 

“Oh? But that wasn’t a joke. I think that might help fix your attitude.” 

“So breaking my ribs wasn’t good enough, but that is?” you asked, disguising your fear and dread with more desperate scorn. “Come on, don’t be gross.”

“It was your suggestion.” 

“I was joking! I didn’t actually… I mean, you can’t just…” You shook your head rather than try to finish that statement, kicking yourself for getting so flustered. 

“You were never punished as a child,” Gojo said. “You said your dad left? I bet that, after that, your mom grew distant. She yelled at you, but you never faced any serious consequences for your misbehavior. You only got better at hiding your indiscretions. Is that it?” 

“That’s not your business,” you said, every muscle in your body drawing up tight in response to that accusation. 

“Children who aren’t taught boundaries and respect grow up to be rotten adults,” Gojo said. “Spoiled, rude, self-important adults.” With every word he moved closer.

“You would know, right?” you said, clinging onto the strength of attempted wit.

Gojo smiled. “Oh yes, I know very well. I’m rotten too. Shoko told you, didn’t she? That’s why you look so scared right now.”

“I’m not scared,” you said, clenching your jaw.

“There's been something I've been meaning to tell you for a while,” Gojo said. He put a finger beneath your chin to lift it, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re not as complicated of a woman as you think you are. I know you think you’re better, but in reality you’re playing the same games, just with different rules. All of the posturing to get my attention, the misbehaving, the petty tricks to make me jealous–you're so obvious.” He let out a relieved breath, smiling. “Whew, I’m glad I finally got that out.”

“What are you even saying?” You asked, pulling away from him, shaking your head fast. “This is a joke, right?”

“I almost pity you. It isn’t entirely your fault. You’re young, ignorant, and weak, you couldn’t possibly have known where this would go. It’s not in your nature to leave well enough alone.”

“Stop it,” you said, your voice harsh. 

“I’m the same,” Gojo continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “It’s not in my nature to spare the weak or ignorant just because I feel bad for them. I’m not nearly that nice.” 

“I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked. “You showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night begging me to punish you. I am a man. Even I have my limits. You've been testing them from the beginning.”

“You have to stop,” you said, your demand taking on the edge of a whine. “This is insane.”

“I’ll give you one last chance, okay? Prove me wrong. Leave,” Gojo said, backing off and gesturing to the door. “This is it, this is the last time you’ll get away without facing any consequences.” 

“Gojo, why are you-” 

“Three.”

“Nnn-no, wait, I-”

“Two.”

You stood up, swaying on your feet, but you didn’t run. You took one step back from him, afraid, but you didn’t run.

“One,” Gojo said, grunting the word as he got to his feet and picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“No!” you shouted, struggling to escape his grasp as he carried you further into the apartment. “Stop it, put me-put me down! Stop, I want to go! I’ll leave! Put me down!”

“I warned you what would happen, it’s not my fault you never listen,” Gojo said, dumping you onto his bed. You bounced once, scrambling to get up and away. “No, don’t move,” he ordered, his voice low and authoritative, freezing you in place. His eyes sparkled inhumanly in the dim light. 

“I want to go,” you said, softly, your heart racing, pounding harder because you couldn’t move. “I’m leaving, I’m going and-” 

“No, you’re not,” he said, rolling his eyes as he opened a drawer on the nightstand, looking inside with a thoughtful expression. “By all means, keep up the act. The whole brat thing is pretty hot. There’s no point in punishing a girl who’s well-behaved.”

“What are you going to do?” you asked.

“I’m going to spank you for being such a naughty student,” Gojo said. “I don’t want to be too cruel, I know you’re sensitive. That’s fine. I can be nice too.” He looked up at you. “Do you think you can stay still on your own, or…?” He smirked. “Of course you can't.”

“You’re scaring me,” you said, hoping the words would break his act. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Gojo told you, rolling his eyes like you were being unreasonable. “I won’t hurt you that much.” 

You were going to be sick. “You can’t-”

“Of course I can,” Gojo said, pulling what you recognized as a vibrating wand and a pair of handcuffs from the drawer. “What you mean to say is that I shouldn't. You’re right about that. I'm well aware that this is a bad idea, and I might regret it, but it's too late to let that stop me. You know the feeling, don't you?” 

“No, no. You,” you shook your head, unable to form the words in your shock and disbelief at this situation, “you can’t.” 

“You already said that,” Gojo said, putting the toys on the bed to kneel on the very edge. You flinched away, but you didn’t dare run. He would definitely catch you, you could feel the thrill in his cursed energy. It was all a game. 

“I know,” you said, trying to think of the words to reason with him and coming up short, “but… You can’t.”

“The way you’re looking at me is too good,” he said with a boyish grin. “You genuinely can’t believe that somebody finally called your bluff.”

You shook your head. 

“I think this will be good for you,” he said. “You need to learn this lesson. It’s better to learn it here, in a controlled environment.” 

Gojo grabbed your legs before you could scramble away. You yelped, slapping his hands when he grabbed your hips. That did nothing to deter him from flipping you onto your belly and wrestling your hoodie and shirt off before collecting your arms and pulling them behind your back. Even though you were fighting him so hard that it hurt, he was barely trying, as if the process of overpowering you was as inconsequential as putting the leash on a small dog. You cried out as he secured your wrists in the handcuffs, giving them a solid tug to test their hold. They were lined with soft material, but they obviously weren’t the fuzzy bachelorette party kind that could be easily escaped. There was no way you could get out of them on your own. You tried to use your cursed energy to break free, but it did nothing. Had he reinforced them somehow? Was that possible? 

“Gojo, stop,” you demanded. “You can’t do this, you can’t!”

“It’s humiliating, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling your panties and shorts off in one go, getting them over your legs no matter how hard you tried to kick him off. “Being at the mercy of another person. Next time you think about misbehaving, think about this feeling.”

“Stop it!” you yelled, truly thrashing now. He grunted, sitting with his legs aside your torso, threatening to crush you. “Stop, get off. You’re hurting me!” 

“It’s okay if you fight,” Gojo said. “But you know it doesn’t matter, don’t you? You’re so weak.”

“Stop it! Just—ngh-” He shoved your panties into your mouth before you could finish that thought, muffling the words. You just yelled in disgust, in despair, in anger. And it didn’t matter.

Gojo leaned over you, brushing your hair away from your ear to speak directly into it.

“I’m sure you’re having a difficult time thinking clearly, but it’s important you remember what I’m about to tell you,” he said. “The next time I allow you to speak, I expect you to address me properly. I really don’t think that’s too unfair. I am your teacher, I deserve some respect, don't you agree?”

You shouted through the gag, shaking your head back and forth. 

Gojo hummed, dropping his shirt on the bed next to you. He lifted his weight from your back and turned around to sit on the edge of the bed. You used the opportunity to roll onto your side, trying to get away from him, but Gojo had no problem collecting you, letting you flop on the bed across his lap while you writhed helplessly. The first touch of his hand against the back of your bare thighs made you jump, tears of humiliation already pressing against the corners of your eyes.

“How many, do you think?” he asked.

No.

There was no way. You shouted in panic, kicking your legs. There was still a part of you that simply rejected this all, that couldn’t believe this would happen. Things like this didn’t happen to you. Not you.  

Gojo’s palm landed loudly against your ass, the smack striking your skin with a burst of stinging pain and the sickening flush of humiliation.  

“I knew you were going to be a problem from the first time we met,” he told you, rubbing his palm over the sore spot. “You think you’re better than everyone else. I can’t stand undeserved self-importance.”

He spanked you five times in quick succession, spreading them out across your ass and upper thighs. You struggled and yelled and kicked, but his other hand easily kept you in place. 

“You’re not fighting very hard. I really thought it would be harder. Are you sure you weren’t secretly hoping I’d do this? You can admit it, I won’t tell anyone.”

You shouted, pooling up all over your cursed energy to fight him off. Gojo rewarded you by spanking you more, focusing on your upper thighs, slapping the same spots over and over until your shouting became sobbing and the skin buzzed, burning red hot. 

“I know, that wasn’t very nice,” he said, rubbing the sore flesh, coaxing it out of becoming too numb to his touch. “You’re not very nice either, are you? Wearing all those cute little outfits to tempt me, flaunting that guy to make me jealous.” You yelled in fear when he raised his hand, but he only playfully tapped your ass, digging his long fingers in to knead it, just playing with you. “And then using your friend to taunt me… I think you deserve to be punished for that, don’t you?” 

You shook your head frantically, squirming and writhing and kicking to escape. But he spanked you again, and again, and all you could do was endure the pain. Gojo mixed in the playful swats with genuine strikes, keeping you crying, always on the edge, unsure if he was going to hurt you or not, not when he was going to stop or where this would go. 

You weren’t counting, and you weren’t sure if he was either, but eventually he let up.

“Mmm, that looks like it hurts,” he said, tracing the tender flesh with his fingertips. You cried, glad he couldn’t see your face. “Poor little thing. Okay, let’s-” Gojo flipped you around, pulling you up onto his lap. 

Putting any amount of pressure on your stinging ass made you yelp, your back arching. He didn’t care. He grabbed the vibrator and flicked it on, pushing the head past your pussy’s outer lips to buzz against your entrance before dragging up, drawing slick circles around your clit. You thrashed against him, but your kicking legs couldn’t do anything and there was nowhere to go. Gojo moved with your struggling in an indulgent way, like he was wrangling a disobedient animal, letting you tire yourself out as he tilted the wand this way and that to really grind it against your clit.

“It’s a little intense, I know,” he said. “If you just relax and let yourself enjoy it, you’ll feel so much better.”

You pressed your face against his shoulder, telling him to stop. The words were all mush, muffled by your own panties. Every part of your body was alive and awake and agonizingly sensitive, covered in a thin film of sweat and goose-flesh and anticipation. When he casually toyed with one of your nipples, you felt it like a jolt of electric heat straight down between your legs. The vibrator’s steady hum bypassed any reasonable objection your body would have to pleasure, a reaction as invasive and involuntary as pain. 

When you realized you were going to come—going to come like this—you shouted, straining your shoulders in an attempt to escape the cuffs. Gojo laughed, holding you tight as you spasmed and jerked around in his lap. Your hips bucked and the vibrator pressed against your clit just right and you almost blacked out.

“Aha, that’s it, isn’t it?” Gojo asked happily, grinding the vibrator there. 

Toomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch—it hurt. You tried to tell him that, you tried to fight your way out of his grasp, you tried to do anything you could to escape but it didn’t matter as your body shuddered with the orgasmic flash of pleasure, a feeling so intense it felt like nausea. 

You came with a helpless cry, hiding your face against his shoulder as you jerked with each wave of stifling, intoxicating, sickening heat.

Gojo didn’t stop. You reared back to meet his eye and he just grinned, looking down between your legs to make sure he was keeping the vibrator in exactly the right place to make you spasm and kick and choke, panicked and overwhelmed. 

You didn’t know if you were coming again or if it was just one long string of overstimulation tricking your mind into pleasure, but you felt it draw out like soda fizz all the way to your fingertips and toes.

“Okay, what have you learned so far?” Gojo asked, shutting the vibrator off and setting it aside. You mumbled something into the gag, tossing your head back and forth. “Oh, right.” He laughed, pulling your panties out of your mouth. “What have you learned?”  

“Stop!” you told him in a wrecked voice, glaring at him with watery eyes. “It doesn’t matter how many times you spank me, or-or… I’m not playing along with your-your sick games, I’m not…” You closed your eyes, struggling to get out of his lap, sobbing and panting and angry and humiliated and- 

“Wrong.” Gojo shoved your panties back into your mouth. “You know what? I’m glad you’re a difficult student. Really,” he said. “It’ll be so much more rewarding when you finally learn your lesson.”

You ignored him, squeezing your eyes shut and turning your face away. 

“It doesn’t matter what I do to you,” he mused. “That’s what you said, right?” 

Without warning, Gojo’s hand landed directly between your legs with a sharp smack. You screamed, really screamed, squeezing your thighs together until the muscles trembled. 

“Oi, open your legs,” Gojo told you, his voice low and serious, more than you had ever heard.

You kept your eyes shut, shaking your head fast. 

“You’re saying you won’t?” he asked, his fingers tracing along the seam between your legs. 

You shook your head again, trying to squirm out of his lap. 

“Oh my, what a brave girl,” Gojo cooed mockingly, grabbing one of your legs to pry them apart, catching it with his own leg and pinning it against the bed. He spanked your pussy two, three, four more times, each one making your body jolt violently, another cry gurgling out of your throat. 

When his hand landed with a sickening smack for the fifth time, it stayed there, his fingers curling to find your entrance. You bucked against him, shouting for him to stop. Asking him to stop. The words were muffled, there was nothing you could do other than cry and toss your head to the side as he pushed his fingers into you, you couldn’t even close your legs.

“What’s this?” Gojo asked, pulling his fingers out of you. They glistened with evidence of your arousal, of your shame. “It really makes me question which one of us is sick.”

“You!” you shouted, trying to make yourself heard over the gag. 

“Me?” Gojo asked, his eyes wide with innocence. “You’re the one who’s getting wet for your teacher. That’s pretty twisted.” 

He pushed his fingers back into your pussy, driving them deep and curling them on the way out. For the first time, his breathing was getting unsteady. He kept rolling his hips up to grind against your ass, letting you feel his erection. 

“Aaah, you’re really wet. And tight.” He thrust his fingers back into you with a wet squish, scissoring and curling them to make you spasm and shake. “Hey, hey, I’m gonna give you an out right now, okay?” Gojo said, his voice quick with excitement. “If you ask me nicely, we can suspend your punishment and get on to the fun stuff instead.”

He pulled his fingers out to take your panties out of your mouth, dropping them onto the bed. 

“Come on,” Gojo said. “Ask me. I know you want it.” 

You set your jaw, glaring at him through teary eyes. It was weak, pathetic, and petty, but silence was the only thing you could think to do that wasn’t giving him what he wanted. 

He frowned, put out with your response. 

“Jeez, you’re such an insufferable brat!” Gojo complained, flipping you onto your stomach. The sudden slap of skin meeting skin followed by the pain when he spanked you again made you scream, your legs pathetically kicking, your shoulders straining to free your hands.

“Stop!” you yelled, your voice shrill.

“Oh? But I thought you were being brave?” He said mockingly, spanking you again, and again. 

You sobbed, pressing your face into the bed to muffle yourself as his hand came down again. Even though you fought him, there was nothing you could do to make him stop. True helplessness. It hurt, and there was no escape from it. Not when he took the time to brush his fingers across the tortured skin in between bursts, soothing you with a gentle touch. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being such a baby about this,” Gojo said. He grabbed one of your stinging ass cheeks, pulling it to get a good look at your pussy. You knew you were wet. It wasn’t your fault, but you felt the same shame. “It can’t hurt that bad. If I used a cane or a belt or something I’d get it, but I think you’re just making a big deal to try and make me feel bad. It’s not working. You deserve this and, between you and me, it’s kind of sexy to see you so pathetic.”

Without warning, Gojo tossed you onto the bed face up, your arms pinned uncomfortably beneath your back. Your back arched and you dug your heels into the mattress, pushing yourself up the bed until you were curled against the headboard, your legs up to try and hide as much of your body as possible. 

“By the way, are you a virgin?” Gojo asked, shoving his pants and underwear off in one go before looking for something on the floor. He found it quickly, returning to the bed. He didn’t care about his nudity. Why should he? He was beautiful and he knew it. Of course Satoru Gojo wouldn’t stop at being the strongest, or the most handsome, or whatever, of course he would have the perfect cock too. “I don’t care either way, I’m just curious.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, averting your eyes from his body to meet his as you pushed yourself into the headboard. They glittered in the dim light, wide and excited.  

“No, you’re not a virgin?” Gojo asked. You realized what he had grabbed from the floor when he caught your ankle, forcing your foot through a loop he’d made with his belt. 

“No! No, no, stop!” You shouted, trying to keep him from getting your other foot. He frowned when you kicked at him, desperate to keep him away. The resistance of his cursed energy kept you from actually kicking him, and you were rewarded with a hard, mean slap against your inner thigh. You squealed, giving him the chance to get your other foot in the belt cuffs before securing them.

“I was gonna be nice about this, but I guess not,” he said. You whined, sobbing. “You probably like it rough anyway, right? Girls like you always do.” 

He pushed your knees up to make space between your legs, letting your bound ankles fall onto his back. You watched him stroking his cock. This was going to happen. He truly intended to fuck you. It didn’t set in until right in that moment how utterly powerless you were to this violation. His fingers had been one thing, but his cock was big enough to hurt if he wasn’t gentle.

“Don’t do this,” you whispered, your voice weak and pathetic. “Satoru, I’m begging you not to. I’m sorry, okay? That’s what you want me to say, right? I’m sorry, so don’t-”

“It’s too late for that,” Gojo said, separating your pussy’s outer lips, his tongue peeking out as he lined up his cock. You made a helpless sound of upset, trying to buck him off, but there was nowhere for you to go. “If you were really sorry, you should have apologized when I gave you the chance.” He pushed his hips forward, just a little, testing the resistance. 

“Sensei!” you said, your panicked thoughts finding something to cling onto to make him stop. “Sensei, please stop. Please.” 

Gojo smiled, his lips parting when he forced the head of his cock past the initial resistance of your pussy with a jarring pop. He groaned, both of his hands holding onto your waist while he shallowly rocked his hips. 

Your mouth fell open, a sensation like shock striking against the viscerally real weight of his dick inside of you. That fell away to panic when he began to move, pushing a little deeper with a pinching ache. 

“Ah—fff-take it out!” you squealed.

“Ah, and you were being so good for me,” he said, jolting your body with a hard, mean thrust. You whimpered, and writhed, and your pussy clamped down around him to try and force him out, but it didn’t matter. He was bigger and stronger and you were drenched from the vibrator. “Look at me.” 

As soon as you met his eye, he pushed a little deeper, clearly reveling in the way it made your expression twist in pain and betrayal, more tears forming in your eyes and streaking down your temples. He licked his lips, rolling his hips shallowly to let you adjust to the size and weight of his cock. Like he was being nice. 

“How can I feel bad when you look at me like that?” he asked, his voice lower and breathy. He pushed deeper again, your body jolting and a helpless sound punched out of your chest. 

“It hurts,” you ground out through your teeth, more tears falling into your hair. The desire to be brave faded in direct relation to how much of his cock was inside of you. Being spanked was one thing, but the internal pain of violation wasn’t something you could handle. It was too intimate, too profound, too cruel.  

“Yeah, you’re way too tight. That guy clearly hasn’t been fucking you properly. Do you want your sensei to make it better? I’ll help you, all you have to do is ask.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, weighing your options. Option. “Please, sensei,” you said, hating yourself a little more.

“Look at me when you’re begging,” Gojo said. 

You winced, but the sudden snap of his hips made you relent. You met his dangerous, beautiful eyes. “Please, Gojo-sensei. It hurts, please make it better.” 

“Aw, you’re such a good girl,” he cooed, grabbing your cheeks. “Of course I’ll help you.” His hand lowered to pin you down by the neck while he fumbled in the sheets beside you with the other. You heard the vibrator turn on a second before it was against your clit. There wasn’t anywhere for your body to go when you seized up, your back snapping into a nearly painful arch. 

“No!” you yelped, but it was hard to get anything out from the obstruction of his hand on your neck. 

It didn’t matter that his cock was big enough to hurt as he continued to push it into you. It didn’t matter that your shoulders burned or that your hands were numb. 

“Go ahead and come,” Gojo told you sweetly. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? It’ll make this easier.”

You grit your teeth, breathing out hard through your nose, trembling as that little bubble burst, your pussy spasming around his cock as he began to set a steady pace. When his hips met your ass, slapping against the raw skin, you cried and yelled, but it all got lost in the confused haze of pleasure and pain and confusion and disgust and so much, too much.  

Gojo was laughing. Fucking you too fast and too hard, focusing the vibrator right against your clit to keep you moving with him, your body writhing beneath his like you wanted it, soaking his cock until the room was filled with the profane sound of skin slapping and wet squelching.

“Mmm, it feels good, right?” Gojo asked. “I know you think I’m mean, but I really only want to take care of you.”

You came again, babbling the words ‘no’ and ‘can’t’ and ‘stop’ as if they had any meaning anymore, as if you weren’t well on your way to coming again despite how torturous the excess of stimulation had become. 

“Sometimes, that means I have to be a little hard on you.” He fucked you hard enough to knock your head into the headboard, the entire thing pounding against the wall with each solid thrust. It hurt, it felt like he was splitting you apart, slamming against your cervix without even an attempt at kindness. But, at the same time, he turned the vibrator up a setting, rubbing little circles onto your clit. 

Gojo put a hand on your mouth to stifle your scream, it was that loud and shrill, borderline feral with the terrifying intensity of your orgasm. You didn’t want to come anymore. You really didn’t, you felt like you were going to die if you did. And he laughed, giving up on the hard pace to fuck you fast, his breathing becoming increasingly unsteady and his laugh shivering out into moans.

Sobbing into his hand, you came again, unable to understand anything beyond the cock pounding into you and the vibrator torturing your clit. 

Gojo dropped the vibrator suddenly, pulling out of you with a helpless sound. For a second, you heard the lewd schlick schlick schlick of his hand desperately fisting his cock and then you felt hot spurts of cum on your chest and your stomach. He finally took his hand off of your mouth, turning the vibrator off. All you could hear was your breathing and his breathing and the frantic pounding of blood in your ears. 

“Whew, okay,” Gojo said, lifting your legs to get out from under them. “Where were we with the lesson? I think… I was spanking you and you were being a brat about it. Have you had a change of heart?” 

You sobbed brokenly, squeezing your eyes shut. Trying to adjust to the shift of tone while you were still reeling from getting fucked, your torso covered in sweat and cum, felt like one of the most cruel things he had done so far. 

“Please, sensei, please no more,” you begged, your voice breathy and cracking at the end. “Gojo-sensei please, I-I do, I respect you. I’ll—anything, please just…” 

“Ahh, there’s a good girl. Finally,” Gojo said gently. “Okay, three more, and then I’ll forgive you.”

“No!” you cried hoarsely. “Please, no more.” You strained against the cuffs, thrashing as much as you were able. “Please, I’ll do… Please.”

“I need to make sure the lesson sticks,” Gojo said sweetly. “You’ve been so unreceptive. Three more, and then I’ll let you come again.”

“No!” you squealed, even more upset by that. The idea of feeling the vibrator again physically hurt, it was almost worse than the idea of him spanking you again. 

“I want you to count them, okay?” Gojo asked pitilessly.  

You sobbed, shaking your head, but you couldn’t do anything when he rolled you onto your belly. 

“Don’t be so dramatic about it,” he scolded, getting behind you and pulling your hips up so you were on your knees, your back arching. He spanked you and you yelped, burying your face in the pillows. Gojo waited before sighing. “Count them, otherwise I’ll lose track. You wouldn’t want that, would you? We’d be here all night.” 

You sniffled, peeling your face out of the pillows to turn your head.  “One,” you whispered.

His hand landed again, right over the first. You cried out a word that mostly sounded like, “Two!” 

And again, one of the hardest so far. “Thre-EE-”

“There, wasn’t that easy?” Gojo cooed, flipping you around and grabbing your ankles by the belt cuffs, pushing your knees up to your chest. When you heard the vibrator turn on, you tried to get away, squealing out your objections, sobbing and desperate and flinching away from the mere idea of more. It was like being presented with a bottle of liquor after a bout of alcohol poisoning. 

“No, please no more, I can’t, please.”

“I told you, one more,” Gojo said. “You can do one more, can’t you? I think you can.” 

You wailed when he pushed the vibrator against your swollen, oversensitive pussy, grinding it in little circles right over your clit while you spasmed and shook and tried desperately to escape the inevitable.

Coming when you were so overstimulated wasn’t pleasant, it was just more and more and too much, all of it piled onto your overloaded nervous system and making you shake as the pitiless heat flared up to bursting, pulling your body taut, and then it snapped, leaving you even more helplessly, hopelessly overstimulated than before. 

Gojo didn’t pull it away, continuing to grind the vibrator against your clit, cruelly drawing out your feverish torment. 

You wailed, your head tossing back into the pillows, your hips wildly trying to twist out of his reach. “Yo—ou said-”

“One more,” Gojo finished for you. “Come on, don’t be such a baby about it.” 

Your nostrils flared and you sobbed pathetically and your pussy felt like it was burning just as desperately as your sore ass, but Gojo was going to wring one more orgasm out of you. It wasn’t hard, even if it hurt. Even if you cried and shook and felt the world darken around the edges when you felt the surge of pleasure fizzle out through you before it left you pained and panting and miserable. 

But he finally shut the toy off, letting it fall to the side.  

“What do we say?” Gojo asked, dropping your legs and falling onto his side next to you, propping his head up with one hand. 

You groaned, your chest hitching with every breath. “I don’t…” 

“Thank you, sensei,” he prompted sweetly, “for teaching me manners.” 

“Thank you, sensei,” you repeated dumbly, keeping your eyes closed rather than acknowledge his heavy stare. “Thank you for teaching me manners.” 

He laughed. “Wow, that’s really embarrassing. Earlier you were bragging about how it didn’t matter what I did to you, weren’t you? I was almost impressed with your resolve, it’s a shame to see it cave in so easily. What happened?”

You sobbed, shaking your head. “Shut up, you’re… It wasn’t my fault, it was you who… who…”

Gojo hissed, pulling a breath in through his teeth. It was a bad sound. A dangerous sound. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you said, your eyes snapping open with fear. “I’m sorry, I’m…”

He frowned. “Maybe you haven’t learned your lesson after all,” he heaved out a big breath, sitting up. “That’s fine, I’m ready to go again. Anything for my favorite student, hm?” 

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #not sfw #tw. noncon #my writing #EVERYONE KNOWS IT

[doublel27]

Oh no! Kang, my beloved acts of service/feelings what feelings man also has never been in a real relationship before and has so many reasons why he shouldn’t be in one now, but the biggest one is coming out to his mom…

Friends, I have collected another one.

#only boo #only boo the series #kang I will put you on the pile with the rest of my blorbos #who have either never had a relationship #or who have had exactly one comphet relationship #for many of the exact same reasons #don’t worry #kang will win you over #this story has been told before and will be told again

[ramblingoak]

The Cardinal's Bride, Chapter 13: And You Can Hold Me

~~ Please visit The Outlaw Brides Masterpost to catch up and read more stories from this world ~~

Thank you to @tasty-ribz for the wanted poster, @ghuleh-recs for the collage, @gothdaddyissues for the dividers and @foxybouquet for the Italian help!  For some more amazing fanart check out: @missygoesmeow (1 / 2), @snail-shell2335  here, @vahvco here, @ghulehgwen here, @rabidghoul here, @nocterish here, @enjoy-my-swearing​ ( 1 / 2 ), @blacktie-whitenoise (1 /2), @z-xmyers (1/2/3/4), @foxybouquet ( 1 / 2 ), @delulluart here, _simpera_ on instagram and valkyrieinpink on twitter.  Also thank you to @kissingghouls for all her help and emotional support.

Cardinal Copia x Female Reader: A night of bliss, some Italian lessons and lots of love.

Warnings: descriptions of drowning during a nightmare but then it's very sappy and smutty, nsfw, 18+ only mdni, 3,800 words

He wasn’t here.

You had been glancing around the church almost constantly, each look becoming slightly more desperate than the last.  The only people you saw though were the guests in attendance.  Each face turned to look directly at you.  As you kept your eyes on one of Saltarian’s business partners his face seemed to contort and morph before you.  His smile grew wider and wider, his eyes darker and more menacing.  When you were able to finally look away you could see the same thing happening to every other person there.

He wasn’t coming.

The priest continued to drone on although none of his words were making sense.  It suddenly felt like you were under water, your movements slow as if you were drowning.  The only thing keeping you in place was the harsh grip of Saltarian’s hands.  His fingers felt like claws, the tips of his nails digging into your wrists.  He must have known that if he let go you would drift away, your dress billowing around you in the water as you sank and sank and sank.

He didn’t care.

They were yelling at you, their faces contorted now like the others.  You tried to yell back, to scream at them that you couldn’t hear what they were saying.  That you weren’t supposed to be here, that Copia and his Ghouls should have been here by now.  They should have swooped in and saved you and burned this place down.  Cruel words from Saltarian began to echo in your head.  He was telling you that you belonged to him now.  That Copia had changed his mind, that he wasn’t coming.

He changed his mind.

You opened your mouth, using all your strength to try and scream at him that he was wrong.  Still no sounds came out.  Your mouth just filled with water, your lungs burned for air.  He’d be here, he promised he’d be here.  When you looked at Saltarian again his eyes were red and black wings jutted out from his back.  He was laughing, they were all laughing and clapping and cheering.  

He didn’t love you.

Finally you were able to scream, bubbles erupting from your mouth as you shoved Saltarian away.  With desperate movements you tried clawing yourself to the surface.  The priest tried to grab you next, his hands tearing at your dress to keep you underwater but you kicked at him viciously.  More hands were on you then.  Hands taking hold of your feet and pulling you back down again.  The light above you, above the water was dimming.  You couldn’t scream any more but you still tried...  

“No!  No no no n–”

“Principessa!”  Copia’s voice had you jerking awake and gasping for air.  You panicked when you didn’t recognize anything around you, the darkness of the room reminding you of your nightmare immediately.  “Hey now, you’re safe.”

You clung to him, still trying to catch your breath.  He was holding you close, his hands soothing over your hair and back while he continued to reassure you.  Soft kisses were pressed along your cheeks and then onto your shoulder, each touch of his lips helping to pull you from the nightmare.  You pressed your face against his chest, right over his tattoo.  His chest hair tickled your skin but you didn’t move, you never wanted to move from this spot.

When your breathing finally slowed and your heart calmed down you were able to focus more on Copia.  Memories of the day before, of the night before, came rushing back and you could feel your cheeks heating up.  You became aware of your nakedness, of his nakedness, and you were suddenly afraid to move.  It wasn’t until you started to focus on the soft words he was murmuring into your hair that you finally got the courage to pull away.

“What are you saying?”

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room so you could see his smile and his fond gaze.  He cupped your cheek, sweeping his thumb across the skin before he answered.

“I am praying.”  He leaned close, gently kissing your forehead and your nose before whispering for a moment in Italian.  When he was done he pulled away, a somewhat shy smile on his face.  “Asking Lucifer to watch over you.”

“Isn’t that your job?”  

He chuckled while rolling onto his back.  Copia’s arms were still wrapped around you so you ended up being pulled along, your body now pressed against his side.  He was warm, his skin surprisingly soft against yours.  His fingers started trailing up and down your arm, goosebumps appearing in their wake.

“I need all the help I can get.  You get into lots of trouble Principessa.”

“Excuse me?”  You stared up at him accusingly, annoyed to see that damn smirk on his face.  “In case you’ve forgotten all of this is your fault.” 

“All of it, eh?”  In a flash he was moving, tumbling you onto your back and hovering over you.  “Even this?”

He didn’t let you answer, instead dropping his head down to kiss you.  His mouth was demanding and persistent but you matched his movements.  Would you ever get tired of kissing him?  Of him holding you close and making you feel safe?  And after last night would you ever get tired of this?

His mustache tickled your neck when he trailed kisses down to your shoulder.  You buried your fingers in his hair and wrapped a leg around his waist.  The both of you moaned when his cock rubbed against you, the tip already wet.  

“Copia, I–oh.”  He had reached back to grasp your knee, pulling your leg away from his waist and then pressing it down onto the bed.  You whimpered when he moved away but the wild look on his face had you instantly silent, your breath panting as you waited for what he would do next.  “I want you.”

You didn’t really want to wait.

He gave you a bright grin before straightening up, his eyes slowly trailing down your body.  His hands were quick to follow, the rough calluses catching at the skin of your breasts.  Your nipples hardened when he rolled them between his fingers.  With an impatient noise you hooked a leg around his waist again, desperate for him to take you.

“Patience, Diavolessa.”  One hand continued to cup your breast while the other slid down your belly before moving to your side.  “Let me savor you.”

“Savor me later.”  

It was his turn to pant when you took his cock in hand, the both of you watching as it jumped under your touch.  He let out a string of Italian, you had no idea what the words meant but they sounded just as desperate as you felt.  With a whine he pulled away, his hands finding the inside of your thighs and parting them.  Copia’s eyes caught yours when he moved a hand up to your cunt, his fingers rubbing through the wet flesh there.  

“Così bisognoso, così bagnato.”  

You reached up behind you and grasped the metal of his headboard, your hips lifting off the bed when he pushed a finger inside.  He didn’t look away as he started pumping it in and out of you, soon adding a second and a third.  The wet sounds of them moving added to your panting, all of it echoing around you until the sensations crescendoed and you came around his fingers.  You couldn’t keep your eyes open, squeezing them shut as your breathing slowed.

He was still watching you when you finally opened them, his hand wet with your release moving up and down his cock.  A sudden flash of shyness moved through you but you didn’t look away, the tendrils of worry from your nightmare still there.  The fear that maybe this was all you would have, all you could have.  And that soon everything would come crashing down around you and you’d be alone.

“Hey now, come back to me.”  You took a trembling breath, furiously wiping at the few tears that had broken loose.  “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere I wanted to be.”  

Copia smiled and he looked so beautiful right then you wanted to cry some more.  The moonlight that snuck past his curtains caught on his eyes, on his smile and on the various scars that littered his chest and arms.  You looked lower and saw the knife wound from the story he had told you before.  A moment that felt like ages ago now.  

“Bene, because you only need to be here.  With me.”  As he spoke he shifted so he could run the tip of his cock over you, making both of you groan.  It caught at your entrance and your hips moved on their own accord to try to get him to move deeper.  “Forever, sÌ?” 

All you could do was nod because he chose that moment to start entering you, his thick length stretching you like his fingers never could.  You wrapped your legs around his waist trying to pull him closer and he obliged, pushing into you as far as he could go.  He flexed his hips, grinding against you and making you cry out.  It felt so good, so wonderful you knew you would never tire of it.  Of him.

“Copia…”  He looked up from where you were joined, his smile still firmly in place.  You reached up to smooth his hair back before tracing a finger down his forehead and to the tip of his nose.  His eyes crossed briefly as he followed it and when it went lower to trace across his mustache he moved quickly to nip at it, making you laugh.  “I love you.”

“What’s not to love?”  He chuckled when you scoffed and rolled your eyes but before you could retort he rested your foreheads together and whispered the words you would never tire of hearing, “I love you too.”

You kissed then, your tongues tangling briefly before he started to move his hips.  The slow drag of him pulling out was just as good as you remembered.  Copia was pressing back in soon enough, building up to a rhythm that had you both hanging on to each other.  Your hands slipped on his sweaty skin until you finally gripped one hand in his hair.  That had him letting out a desperate sound and he began to move faster, Italian falling from his lips onto your skin.

Each time he pulled out you flexed your legs to bring him back and he obliged with a snap of his hips.  It was so different from earlier but exactly what you both needed now.  You knew there would be more tender moments in the future, hopefully an endless amount of them.  But right now you just needed him to take you, to make you his again and again.

“F-fuck me, oh please Copia I–”

He let out a delirious laugh at your words, starting to move faster and bringing you closer to your peak once more.  One of his hands wandered down to where you were joined and you started seeing stars when he rubbed at you.  

“If you start talking like that I’ll never let you out of this bed.”  His movements became a little less coordinated and you were so close all he had to do was circle your clit with his thumb and you were gone, whimpering his name over and over as you came.  Copia followed soon after, his cock kicking inside of you, emptying inside of you.  With a wild sounding moan he dropped down, burying his face in the crook of your neck.  “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

You’d agree with him if you could speak so instead you just held onto him, cataloging how he felt inside and around you and falling more in love every moment.

“Capo.”  

Copia moved your finger out of the way and kissed the spot where you had pointed to on your forehead.  Your nose scrunched up like it usually did at the feel of his mustache tickling you.  

“Capo.”  He smiled when you repeated it, pulling your hand close to your mouth and nipping at your fingertip.  “Hey!”

“So bossy.”  His tongue peeked out to soothe the sting left by his teeth and then he let go, grinning when he saw you glaring at him.  “What’s next?”

“Here.”

He kissed where your finger had been, right at the tip of your nose.

“Naso.”  Another kiss before his eyes glanced lower to your lips and he was soon kissing you there, sucking your bottom lip between his and pulling away.  “Labbra.”

“Again.”

“Labb–”

“No, kiss me again.”  He tutted at you, leaning back quickly when you tried to initiate the kiss.  “Copia.”

“Ask me nicely.  In Italiano.”

“Per favore.”

Your reward was instant, his warm mouth moving against yours once more.  You nipped at his tongue when he slid it between your lips, smiling when he pulled back with a growl.

“Diavolessa.”  He raised an eyebrow when you just smiled smugly at him, sighing before moving to hover his lips over your cheek.  “Guancia.”  You obediently replied, smiling when he stopped to kiss your mouth again.  Copia moved lower then, dropping a series of kisses down the column of your throat.  “Collo.”

“Collo.”

He had already started moving again when you began to repeat him, open mouthed kisses lower and lower until he was between your breasts.  His hands came up to cup them and you sighed at the feeling, throwing your arms up behind your head to grip the pillow.

“Tetta.”  He nipped gently at the side of one, his teeth barely grazing the skin.  While he mouthed at the sides his thumbs started to rub your nipples, getting them to harden quickly.  His mouth moved up to cover one, sucking the tip into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it roughly before pulling off with a pop.  “Capezzolo.”

“C-capezz–oh yes, like that.”  

Copia was lapping at your nipple, lathing across it with his tongue and then just barely touching it with his teeth.  You dropped a hand to grip his head, scratching your nails across his scalp as he worshipped your flesh.  Too soon, far too soon he pulled away, his lips swollen and his hair wild from your fingers.

“Shall we keep going?”  

All you could do was nod and he smiled as he trailed kisses down your stomach.  He was murmuring as he went but you couldn’t catch any of the words.  Not until he flicked his tongue across your belly button causing you to shriek.

“Copia!”

“Ombelico.”  You glared at him, refusing to give in to a smile when he laughed.  With a shake of his head he moved lower, his eyes not leaving yours.  His smile grew when he skipped over your cunt, his breath barely tickling you there before he placed a sucking kiss to the inside of one of your thighs.  “Coscia.”

“Coscia.”  

He kept going, quickly touching your knee down to your ankle with his lips. 

“Ginocchio, caviglia…”

“You missed a spot.”  

Copia raised his head up from the top of your foot, giving you a questioning look.

“Did I?”  When you nodded he frowned, trying and failing to appear innocent.  “I don’t think I did.  I’ve been very thorough Principessa.”

“Quit kidding around.”  You yanked your foot away, prodding him in the shoulder with your toes when he didn’t move.  “Finish.”

When he stayed still you pushed him a little harder, laughing when he clutched at his shoulder and feigned being hurt.  He took a hold of your ankle again, kissing it once before sighing and shaking his head.

“You are so cruel to me.  Here I am, trying to impart knowledge on you and you kick me.”

“I barely touched you.  Besides, you're the cruel one!  Skipping over that.”

“Hmm, this?”  He was kissing his way up your leg, pausing at your knee with a raised eyebrow.  When you shook your head he frowned and looked your leg up and down.  “I’m not sure what I missed.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Un idiota?  Me?”  You nodded, refusing to laugh at him when he laid his head against your thigh and gave you a pathetic look.  “Show me what I missed and I’ll make it right.”

Your cheeks immediately flamed, which seemed silly considering you had been laying naked in his bed for hours now.  After taking a fortifying breath you widened your legs further, opening yourself up to him.  His eyes quickly went between your legs while his nostrils flared and his tongue snuck out to lick his lips.  Slowly, far too slowly, he ran his hand up your thigh until his fingers grazed your cunt.

“There.”

“Here?  Is this what I missed?”  Speech was impossible so you gave him a quick nod, gripping the sheets when he brought his face closer to you.  His tongue was warm against your clit when he circled it, flicking it just like he had done with your nipple.  “Clitoride.”

His lips closed around it and he sucked, his cheeks hollowing as he drew it into his mouth.  While he gave it attention the fingers of one hand brushed over your entrance and you cried out, gasping please, please, please over and over.  He pulled off your clit, shushing you while he kept tracing around your wet opening.

“C-Copia.  P-per favore…”

He didn’t say anything before his mouth closed over you and his tongue began to lap at your entrance roughly.  You threw a leg over his shoulder trying to open yourself up for him as much as you could.  His tongue was quickly inside of you, rubbing the inside of your walls and making you cry out as loudly as you dared.  While he licked inside of you his nose rubbed against your clit, the dual sensations working you to orgasm faster than you expected.  Right when you were on the edge Copia pulled away, his smile smug and infuriating.

“Fica.”

With that he lowered his head, his tongue finding its way back inside of you and your orgasm finding you not long after.

“What will we do in the morning?”  Your voice was barely over a whisper, like you were afraid to speak too loudly and break the spell you’d both been under since last night.  “Do we have to leave?”

“No.  Not yet at least.”  Copia’s voice was just as quiet, his eyes even closed as he spoke.  “But I’ll need to talk to Secondo.  See where we stand.”

“Do you think more men will be coming?”

“I don’t doubt it, Principessa.”  One hand rubbed soothingly up and down your back while the other cupped your chin.  “But we’re safe here for the moment.”

“Where would we even go?  If we left.”

“Hmm.  Probably Primo’s.”  

You hummed, laying your head on his chest when he let go of your chin.  He had barely spoken about his eldest brother at all so you had no idea what to expect.  You still weren’t sure what to expect from the other two brothers, especially after their actions to try and send you away.  

“And after that?”  Copia tensed beside you and you immediately regretted asking but the shadow of your nightmare was still fresh.  “Will I…will I still have to go to Saltarian?”

“I don’t know.”  You squeezed your eyes shut at his answer, hating how scared it made you.  Copia murmured your name but you stayed still and quiet, not trusting yourself to speak.  With a grunt he turned onto his side making it impossible to avoid meeting his eyes.  “I’m not sure I’ll be able to let you out of my sight again.”

“Then don’t.”

“Don’t think about it, just think about this.”  

He kissed you then and you could feel the emotion he was pouring into it.  They were emotions you returned, eagerly kissing him back and sighing into his mouth when one of his legs slipped between yours.  Copia kept moving it higher until it was pressed against you and it was impossible not to start moving your hips.  You broke away from the kiss with a gasp when the fingers of one of his hands found your clit, knowing exactly how to touch you to make you wet.

“Copia…”

“That’s it, Principessa.  Come for me, I want to watch.”

It didn’t take long with his sweet words continuing next to you.  He lowered his head to suckle at your breasts and it was enough to have you coming once more, a broken whimper leaving you as you ground against his fingers and his thigh, coming all over both.  You watched as he started to touch himself, his hand moving quickly and you covered his hand with your own when you realized how close he was.

“No, in me.  Take me, please.”  

He grinned, tangling his fingers with yours for a moment.  The muscles in his arm were fascinating to watch as they flexed when he moved.  Copia was going a lot slower than he had been, trying to savor the feel of your fingers on his flesh.  You couldn’t help but start to move against his thigh again, his skin still wet from your release.  With a curse he released your hand, rolling onto his back and tugging you with him.

“Come here.”  You let him maneuver you until you were sitting up and straddling him.  His cock hard in front of you, wet and ready.  He smirked as he gently patted your thighs, encouraging you to raise up as he took his cock in hand again.  “Like this.”

Your mouth fell open as you hovered over him, your body eager to take him in.  The muscles in his arms strained as he helped slowly lower you down, your legs shaking until you were seated fully.  You could tell he was holding himself back, his body trembling a bit while he waited for you to get used to the position.  He sighed when you placed your hands on the soft flesh of his belly and moved your hips slightly.

“Like this?”  He nodded, grabbing your hips and helping you move in a way that had you both moaning.  Copia had started to talk in Italian while his hands began to wander from your hips to your ass.  “N-no more Italian lessons Copia I c-can’t, ah!” 

With a grunt he stilled and you looked forward again to watch him, instantly becoming suspicious when you saw him clearly trying to hold a laugh in.

“No more Italian lessons, Principessa.”  His hands moved back to your hips, holding you tight as he bent his legs and planted his feet on the bed.  “Time for a different lesson.”

“What kind of lesson?”

He grinned, covering your hands with his once more and giving them a squeeze.

“Hang on and I’ll show you.” 

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#the cardinal's bride #copia x female reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #cowboy copia #oakie's writing #copia fanfiction

[cc--2224]

older hunter x reader pregnant in pabu

Next Steps

Pairing: Hunter x F! Reader

Summary: Following the events on Mount Tantiss, Hunter and the rest of the Bad Batch are finally able to relax and enjoy the time they have, you and Hunter decide that means planning next steps together.

Warnings: All fluff, slight anxiety mentions, obviously pregnancy mentions as that was the request, maybe slight S3 Finale spoilers?

Word Count: 1.3k

Notes: Thank you so much for sending a request, anon!! I really hope you enjoy it!! As a reminder, my requests are going to be open for a bit so send me some if you'd like! :)

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added

Masterlist

Ever since they had landed on Pabu for the last time, they had all finally begun to relax, to plant roots, to get to know the villagers. Even Crosshair had seemed more open to socializing with the locals, to learning their trades.

Hunter had always had trepidations about getting too comfortable. 

Back when you had first met, a few years ago now, he expressed that he wanted to get adjusted, to finally sit down and relax but he always felt as if he was looking over his shoulder.

When the island had been attacked by the Empire, you understood what he meant. But everyone was still determined to keep each other, and their mercenary friends, safe.

Part of you feared that when they left to go get Omega back that it was the last time you would ever see them, whether that meant that they wouldn't put Pabu in danger and kept themselves away, or worse. You didn't want that, not only because you liked having them around, liked hearing their stories, sharing meals, but because you knew that you had developed feelings for Hunter in the short time you knew each other. 

You couldn't recall a time where you were more worried for someone's safety than you were after they had left Pabu to find Omega.

You wanted to protect him, to make him feel safe on the island, but you also knew that with everything they had experienced, that was easier said than done.

It only became more difficult once you began to fear you'd lose him for good.

So when they finally returned, you decided to throw caution to the wind. You didn't want anymore missed opportunities, he had to know how you felt about him.

You waited for them to leave the Imperial shuttle, and as soon as he emerged on the gangplank, you ran to him, wrapping your arms around him and crashing your lips into his.

He was rightfully surprised, but after the initial shock wore off, you felt his arms on your back, pulling you into him and feeling like they were going to crush you. He kissed back with desperation and relief washing over him.

When you finally broke apart, you held his face in your hands while his hands stayed firmly on your waist. You felt your eyes water, and you saw the same in him. 

"I'm home." He finally said. "And I'm never leaving you again."

It had been years since then, and true to his word, he never left you. He eventually moved his belongings into your house, and the two of you settled into the next stages of your domestic life together. You got to watch as your lives seemed to fall into place. The island changed around you, improvements, infrastructure, villagers’ families growing. Hunter began growing out his beard, no longer concerned about hating the feeling of facial hair against the helmet that he rarely ever put on. 

Things became simple, time slowed, your lives could finally begin.

You still remembered the conversation you had one afternoon, sitting on the front porch with him, watching Omega play with Lyana, Batcher, and the other three clone children. 

"Do you want one of our own?" He had asked, looking at you earnestly.

You raised an eyebrow, "Want one what?"

"A kid."

You smiled at him and glanced over to the kids playing.

"We have Omega," you reminded him and he chuckled.

"I know, and she'll always be our kid, but she's growing up. Won't be long until she starts living her own life." He looked down at his lap and you reached over to hold his hand, you knew how much the thought of Omega leaving upset him.

"I don't think she'd mind having a little brother or sister." He said when he looked back at you.

"No, I don't either." You drew him close and kissed him on his lips, showing him your agreement to his idea. 

— — —

"Hunter? Are you home?" You called out from the entryway to your house. You were met with silence and shrugged.

Must have gone out.

You had gone to the doctor that morning on Hunter's insistence. He had been hovering around you for a few weeks, as if he had been waiting for a shoe to drop. He didn't know what it was about you that was different, something in your scent, or a change in your pulse, something that he could sense but couldn't pinpoint the source.

You knew better than to argue with his keen senses, but you couldn't help but get a little annoyed with his overprotection.

The doctor had confirmed that you were pregnant, only a few weeks along, and you nearly cried at the news. You couldn't wait to tell Hunter, even if you knew he'd tell you he knew you should have gone to the doctor earlier. 

You decided to wait for him at home. You put on some tea and grabbed your datapad before sitting on the couch.

He finally walked through the door with some produce from the market, smiling at you when he saw you. He walked past you, but not before kissing the top of your head, and left the groceries in the kitchen.

"I went to the doctor's this morning." You did your best to keep your tone level, ambiguous.

It worked, seeing as how his cheerful demeanor had vanished completely when he poked his head out.

"...And?"

You stood up and looked at him. "Hunter, I–" your voice wavered, partially due to excitement, but partially due to nerves.

"I'm pregnant." 

His eyes widened as he looked into yours, then down to your stomach, then back up to your face. "You– What?"

Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes. "We're going to have a baby!"

He crossed the room before you could even register that he had moved. His arms circled your waist and you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and spun.

When he placed you back down, he pulled you to him and kissed you. Tears began rolling down your face as you laughed into the kiss. 

He looked at you and swept his thumbs across your cheeks, wiping away the tears even though his own nearly betrayed him.

You didn't hear the door open, but you heard Omega's voice ring out behind you.

"Is everything okay?"

You both looked at her, you smiled and nodded before opening your arm for her to join your hug. 

She did without hesitation.

"Omega," Hunter began. "Remember how I asked if you'd be alright if there was another kid running around?"

She looked at him and nodded, but then her eyes widened in realization and she looked at you, then Hunter, and then back to you.

"You're not–"

"I am." More tears fell as she wrapped her arms around you. 

"Congratulations!" Her smile widened as she looked at both of you. "I have to go tell Crosshair and Wrecker! They owe me ten credits each!"

She ran out the door before you could stop her and you looked at Hunter and shook your head.

"The whole island will know before long." You sighed.

"Yeah." He nodded.

"Are you ready?" You asked him cautiously.

He looked at you, thinking for a moment. "Honestly, I don't know. I mean, it's been a while since we've settled in here, but sometimes it still feels like the peace isn't going to last. I know that's just my own anxieties, but it's hard to shake the feeling, you know?"

You nodded and looked down. He put his arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple.

"But, we have each other through this. I won't let anything happen to you, or our kid. So I think I am. It helps knowing how much support they'll have when they get here. And how wonderful of a mother they're going to have." 

You leaned into his chest. "And father." 

You felt a laugh rumble from him. This was the next step for both of you, and it was a scary step to take, but despite Hunter's worries, you knew you were both ready to face this together. 

#the bad batch #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fanfic #star wars #tbb hunter #hunter bad batch #hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #tbb hunter x reader #hunter fluff #hunter x reader fluff #hunter fanfic #tbb hunter fanfic

[straylightdream]

what am I missing

act fourteen: “You better think of me.”

feat: bang chan x f.reader, seo changbin x f.reader, han jisung x f.reader

↳ in your mid to late twenties you’re left wondering if you missed your sexual awakening. With a the help of friends you start to really find yourself.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: for the story as a whole angst, a little fluff, body image issues, and self doubt, cussing all smut warnings listed below for what is in this story.

series masterlist

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Thursday night rolls around and Changbin makes a big deal about taking you out for a fancy date. You probably took too long deciding on what you should wear out. You decided on a dark dress and even wore a small pair of chunky heels.

When Changbin knocked on your door and you found him wearing a dress shirt that hug his muscular arms with a tie and pair of tight dress pants you knew you were fucked in the best way possibly. He looked absolutely mouth watering.

The moment his eyes traveled up and down your curvy body he told you how beautiful he thought you looked.

Arriving at the restaurant he held your hand leading the way to the table. He picked an upscale restaurant downtown.

Sipping on the glass of wine he ordered you both you can’t help but feel happy. He’s been asking you questions about your week and is now telling you about his week at the studio. He lights up when he’s talking about music and you can’t help but be happy for him.

He reaches across the table to take your hand in his. He drags his thumb across the delicate skin on your hand.

This date with Changbin feels like a natural night out for you. Maybe that’s because things with Changbin have always been easy. He’s always made you feel comfortable.

The whole entire dinner Changbin tells you how beautiful he thinks you are and any chance he gets he reaches across the table to grab your hand.

The moment the check arrives he pulls out his credit card before you even have a chance to think. When it’s time to leave he pulls out your chair and takes your hand leading you out of the beautiful restaurant.

Getting into the car you buckle up and fix your dress as Changbin starts the car.

Reaching over the glove compartment you grab his hand. You just want to be able to touch him. One thing that you love about the arrangement that has started with the boys is you’re happy you’re finally able to touch and admire Changbin the way you always wished you could.

“Should I take you home?” He asked.

“To your house or mine?” You don’t want this night to end. “I would prefer to take you to my house.”

“Okay.” He smiles.

The whole drive back to your place his hand rests on your thigh. The moment you arrive at your house Changbin gets out of his car quickly so he can open your door. He takes your hand leading your apartment.

Opening the front door you step inside and remove your shoes. You watch Changbin do the same. He pauses for a moment before he presses you against the front door. He kisses you like he’s been dying to get you alone.

He holds your face with both of his hands as he kisses you over and over again.

“I’m going to worship you,” he murmurs against your lips. Pulling away from you he stares at you with an intense look. All the oxygen feels like it’s been sucked out of the room. Reaching up you touch your lips. You feel drunk on Changbin's presence.

Silently he grabs your hand and leads you off to your. He moves you so you’re standing in front of your bed. His hand rests on your neck and he drags his thumb slowly across your delicate skin. Biting your bottom lip you try not to moan at his actions.

He pulls the thin straps down from your dress. “Take your bra off baby.” You follow his command. Your dress is pushed down leaving you bare from the waist up. He grips your hips pulling you close to him. He crashes his lips into yours for a searing kiss. His lips move across your jaw down the base of your neck.

His strong hands roam your soft body. He takes your breast in his hand gripping it roughly earning a gasp from you.

“How do you want to do it?” He asked.

“I thought you wanted to play with my vibrator?” You want to play along and show him you can be confident.

“Let's get you naked.” He wastes no time stripping away the rest of your clothes and his own.

“Are you sure you’re not using a condom?”

“I trust you.”

With your legs spread wide he sits between your legs. The pink vibrator in his hand has you excited for what to come. He runs his length through your wet folds. “Keep this leg on my shoulder.” He pats your thigh.

His first slow thrust into you leaves you gasping. Your hand grips the sheet below while he stays still.

He rolls his hips a few times slowly before he holds your pink vibrator against your clit. The feeling against your sensitive clit while he slowly stretches you out with each thrust leaves you feeling fuzzy from the inside out.

You can’t help but moan loudly. Your hands grip the sheets below you. You lift your hips meeting each of his thrust.

“Binnie,” you moan.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good,” he moans. He’s moving at a steady yet hard pace.

“Bin-,” your brain feels like mush. The only words you can seem to form is a mixture of swears and his name.

“Every time you play with this you better think of me.”

Your body feels alive as he’s pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

The look on his face as he pushes you over the edge is intoxicating. Your walls pull on his still hard cock as he continues to thrust into you.

He removes the pink vibrator and quickly pulls out. He pumps his length over you. You watch him with a blissed out expression as he paints your mount and stomach with his release. He sits back on his hunches taking slow deep breaths as he comes down from his high.

“I need to clean you up.”

Without saying another word he quickly gets off the bed and walks off into the bathroom. He returns holding a warm rag. He gently removes his release before walking off toward the bathroom still naked.

Silently you watch him as he comes back into the room.

He crawls back into your bed and moves closer to you. He kisses you gently and pulls away smiling.

“You are so special,” he whispers as he lays on his back staring at the ceiling.

Laying in bed you stare at Changbin. You can’t help the feeling in your chest. No matter how badly you wished it wasn’t true you were falling for him.

AN: sorry it’s been so long since I have updated. Life has been hard and I’ve been struggling with writers block.

Please let me know what you guys think is gonna happen and which boy are you rooting for?

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan smut #changbin smut #bang chan x reader #Seo Changbin x reader #seo Changbin smut #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #3racha x reader #3racha smut #stray kids imagine #what am I missing #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #Changbin x reader #Changbin imagine #changbin fanfic #Han jisung fan fictions #han jisung fan fic #han jisung x you #bang chan x you #Changbin x you

[ahgasegotarmy116]

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Eight

Summary: Jungkook shows you how you deserve to be loved but you're still doubting yourself Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 3.1k~ Warnings: Smuuuuutttt and explicit language lol a/n: Sorry I edged ya'll for so long but I wrote all day just to get this out! That you for the people who sent me asks about the story because I definitely took a lot longer to update than I thought I had (I swear I either update too soon or wait wayyy too long) p.s. Barely edited so please have mercy on me lol Start from the beginning

"Lift your hips for me love" he says while caressing the outside of my thigh and I do as he says. He places a pillow under me, angling my hips just how he wants them, giving him a better angle this time. 

He takes time to study my body, almost as if he was committing it all to memory. 

"Stop doing that" I whine, getting embarrassed by his heated gaze and he chuckles dryly as I use one of my feet to push him away by his shoulder. "I'm sorry I can't help it, you're just so beautiful" he mumbles and I have to choke back a sound I would be embarrassed to let out as a reaction to his word alone. Not wanting to let him how much control he has over me and my body. 

"I want you" I say, sitting up and grabbing him by the neck to pull him down on top of me  to stop this waiting game. He responds with kisses laced with almost a sense of desperation, him now showing physical responses based off of my words. 

"You have no fucking idea how long I've been waiting for you to say that to me" he says against my lips and that same fluttering feeling stirs up inside me. I open my eyes as he's just resting his lips against mine and see that he's looking at me and I turn my face to the side but he pulls me back towards him and caresses my cheek.

"How long have you known I wanted you?" he asks and the air in my lungs disappears, not knowing how I'm supposed to respond to it. "A while" I choke out and he nods his head resting it against mine. "Thank you for not leading me on" he says and he doesn't give me a chance to respond as he's pressing his lips against mine and driving me crazy as his fingers start to toy with me again. 

"You sure you want to do this?" he says, pumping two fingers in and out of me before adding another one making me tense up at the stretch but soon I'm putty in his hands again. "Yes please fuck Jungkook please I want this I want you" I say, emphasizing the last part since I know it drove him crazy just moments ago. 

I hear him curse under his breath before he get off of me and takes off his shirt, flashing those jaw dropping abs I was sure he had. Nothing insane but just enough to show me how well he takes care of himself leaving me wracking my brain trying to figure out what I did to deserve a man like him. 

Once he takes off his jeans and boxers I know I'm done for, leaving me gulping at his size. 

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you" he says, taking note of my apprehension as he gets on top of me again. "But what if I want you to hurt me?" I question, testing the waters and seeing how far he would push me. "No none of that. At least not tonight. I don't want any of this to be brought back to him" he growls out, hating the fact that he's even mentioned him. 

"I want to show you what you actually deserve and I want you to know that I will never treat you like that" he says and goes back to playing with my entrance, drawing figure eights around my clit to help me loosen up for him. 

I whine and he laughs, knowing exactly how impatient I'm getting, "I know pretty, I know. I just don't wanna hurt you" he says and drags his middle finger against that spot I've been dying for him to get to all night. "Fuck right there" I groan, back arching off the mattress and he does it again making my breath hitch, knowing this is only the beginning. 

"So greedy. Just trying to get you ready for me and you can't even appreciate what I've already given you. Noona I thought you knew better than that" he taunts and I moan when he hits that spot again. "Does my Noona like being talked down to?" he asks and I let out a breathy yes, not being able to comprehend everything completely but knowing I'll love anything he'll give me. 

"Noted" he says under his breath, tucking that bit of information in the back of his mind to use later but knows he wants to treat me differently tonight. 

He rubs his cock head up and down my fold and I can't help but purr at the feeling, so addicted to him already and knowing that I'll never want anyone else but him. 

I watch him with his brows pinched together, concentrating and also getting lost in the feeling. The vision of his cock running through my folds is a mesmerizing scene that he hardly wants to stop but once I start to wiggle my hips in frustration he knows that he's toyed with me enough.

"You sure you want this?" he asks again, once last confirmation of my consent and although I'm glad that he's being careful I just need him inside me already. "Fuck yes Jungkook please" are the words that fall from my lips, accompanied by a moan as he's started to press himself into me right when they've left my mouth. 

My eyes squeeze shut as he inches inside of me and once his head is all the way in I let out a breath and he stops, resting his forehead against mine and waits for me to relax. "Can I keep going?" he groans out, holding back being so hard for him with the way I've been wrapped around him. 

"Yes just go slow" I breath out and he does as I say, something about this moment almost makes me feel like a virgin again. The sounds, the sensations, the way he touches me, it all feels too pure and so new, as if he was scared I might break. 

My breath hitches a few times as he continues to push in but once he's bottomed out and has hit that spot I let out a moan, feeling close to cumming already.

He gives me a few more seconds to adjust, his breathing even shakier than mine making me feel the need to check on him. 

"Jungkook what's wrong?" I ask, surprised as to how I can even speak with him buried this deep inside me but my want to take care of him stronger than any high I might be seeking. "N-nothing it's just been a while" he chuckles, muscles in his back contracting and I can tell how much he's been holding himself back.

"You can move" I breathe out, happy knowing that he hasn't been with someone in a while and also that he's putting my needs before his own.

"Shit Noona you feel so good" he says as he rocks back and forth into me. A deep and sensual rhythm rivaled to Tae's harsh and sharp one, making sure I enjoy it rather than hurrying to simply chase that high. 

"You're so perfect for me" he say, mumbling every little thought that comes to his head, praising  me and making me drunk off his words, bringing me closer and closer to release with every thrust. 

"Kiss me" I say, my moans and breathy gasps getting too embarrassing for me to listen to anymore. He obliges but only for a moment, kissing me breathless but pulling back again so he can watch as my face contorts with pleasure. 

"Fuck you're so pretty" he says, thrusting harder now, driving me up the wall and knocking the wind out of me as he picks up his pace. His eyes darken when I open mine and look at him, drunken lust written all over my face and with the pace he's drilling into me at I can't even pretend to hold back. 

I wrap my legs around his waist to tell him to keep going, my nails no doubt leaving red scratch marks on his back, in an unintentional response to the purple marks he had sucked into my skin. My neck, breasts and torso, covered in proof of the time and effort he put into worshiping every part of me. 

He rocks into me over and over again, the sound of him getting more and more vocal showing me that he's getting close as well, letting myself relax from trying to hold off my high as every little thing he's done has dragged me closer and closer to that edge. 

"S-so close" I choke out and he chuckles, kissing me before telling me to let go. "Go ahead, show me how pretty you look when you cum" he taunts and at that I'm soaring, moaning his name over and over, unintelligible words accompanying it making him drill into me harder, the knowledge of him fucking me dumb driving him wild. 

"Can't even remember your name can you Noona? Only thing in that pretty little head of yours is mine now" he growls and his hips stutter, leaving him biting onto my neck to muffle his voice as he cums inside me. 

He fucks himself though his high leaving me whining in overstimulation and he soon pulls out and looks at the mess we've made.

"So swollen" he says, playing with me and pushing his cum back inside. "Jungkook stop it hurts" I say pushing his hand away from me and he stops immediately and lays down on his back, pulling me on top of him as we catch our breaths. The only sounds in the room besides us being the clock that sits on the wall, time passing by and reminding me that if I don't play my cards right this could be the last time this happens. 

"Are you okay?" he asks after our breathing has calmed and we've been stuck in silence for what I'm sure might've been a little too long for him.

I hum in response, not really knowing how to feel. "Did I hurt you?" he asks, his heart rate picking up audible to me with how he has me rested on his chest, letting me know he's scared he's done something wrong. "No Jungkook I'm fine I just..." I trail off and he sits up making me do the same  and I sit there with my head down, not knowing how to voice my emotions. 

"Do you regret it?" he asks, tilting my chin up so I can look him in the eye but once I do I can see vulnerability written all over his face, praying that I'll say no but knowing that even if I do there's a small part of me that might be saying yes. 

"No I don't regret it I just don't know how to feel. I never thought that I would be the kind of person who would cheat on my husband" I voice and he hums in response, making moves to get off the bed but I grip onto his wrist. 

"Where are you going?" I ask and he gives me a sad smile, "I was going to get you a towel so you can clean up. I thought you might want a second to think before we actually talked about this since I can already tell that you might feel like this wasn't the best decision" he says but when I open my mouth to say something I can't come up with anything to combat what he's said. 

He nods his head and guides my hand off of him, kissing the back of it before letting it go, my arm falling limp onto the bed while the thoughts of me hurting him plaguing me with even more guilt than the fact that I cheated. 

I don't know what I'm supposed to say to make this right.

He comes out of the bathroom that we had been in at the start of all of this with a warm towel that he uses on me after he guides me to lay back down, apologizing when he's pressed a little too hard, forgetting for a second how swollen I had gotten. 

He throws the towel in the laundry basket in the bathroom and comes back to the bed and sits next to me, running his fingers through my hair, no doubt trying to help me relax instead of stressing about all of the emotions I'm feeling flooding though my mind. 

"Should I go home?" he asks and my eyes widen, knowing for a fact now that I really have hurt him enough for him to want to leave. "No, please stay with me. I'm sorry I just don't know what's going on" I say truthfully and he nods, leaning down to kiss me but instead of on my lips this time he places one on my forehead, withholding a sense of intimacy that I might not want to continue to have with him. 

He asks me where some fresh sheets are and tells me to go to the bathroom and he'll have the bed ready again once I get back, giving me another opportunity to think things through. 

I cheated on my husband, a man that for as far as I know has been cheating on me for years and now I cheated on him. What I did though wasn't out of spite but the need to be with someone who truly cares about me. Someone I desire and desires me but not just my body. Someone who wants me mind, body and soul. Or at least I think he does. 

Do I really deserves someone like him? Someone so pure and kind and selfless when all I've caused him is pain and heartbreak. I knew that he was falling for me and I entertained him anyways because he was kind and young and handsome but I never intended for things to go this far. 

Am I happy that things turned out the way the they did? I don't know. Do I want to be with him? Yes. But I don't think he deserves to take on someone with so much baggage. He's still young and already has so much on his plate and I don't want to be the person who adds more onto it. 

Would it be wrong to be selfish for once? Would it be wrong to fall for a man that's fallen for me even with all my doubts and flaws and hesitations? I don't know the answer to that but I want to. God I want him more than I ever thought I could want someone. 

He's shown me what it feels like to be loved. Does he love me? I don't know but his actions have shown me he cares about me more than someone should care about a friend. More than a man should care about a woman who he hardly knows. 

"Noona" I hear accompanied by a soft knock on the other side of the bathroom door. "Is everything okay?" he asks, concern truly laced through his tone and I rush to finish up, needing to be with him. I answer with a hurried 'yes' and then once I leave the bathroom I make certain to show him that he's done nothing wrong. 

"I'm fine, I promise" I say, and chance a kiss to which he melts into, the tension he had once felt dissipating. "I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to feel after everything that happened between Tae and I before you showed up and then after he saw you and then with everything that happened between us it just hit me all at once" I say and he nods his head, grabbing my hand and leading me back towards the bed where we both sit down. 

"Are you okay?" I finally ask, remembering the fact that I have yet to check up on him but already knowing the answer since his body language betrays him whenever he's with me. "I'm just worried that you might not want to see me again after this" he says his eyes turned down, not being able to meet my gaze but I rush to deny his claims. 

"I would never say that. I'm sorry I worried you but I want you, not just physically but I want you to stay with me. Stay by my side" I say and his shoulders slump. "But you don't want to be with me" he says and I shake my head. "I want to be with you Jungkook I really do but I can't put a label on this..." I says and motion between the two of us, "until I figure out things with Taehyung" I finish and he lifts his head, needing to know exactly what I mean by that. 

"You're still gonna leave him right?" he asks and I give him a sad smile before nodding again, reassuring him that I meant what I said to him back there. "Yes I promise, I just have to see what my options are in terms of divorce and the possible need for a restraining order since I know what type of man Taehyung is. I'm just afraid that you might regret trying to be with someone like me" I trail off and his brows pinch together in confusion. 

"What do you mean someone like you?" he asks, clearly not seeing the bigger picture here. "Someone who has drama and is literally trying to get out of an abusive marriage and about to have a psycho ex husband that I know will be hanging around for God know's how long. I just don't want you to bite off more than you can chew" I say and he nods his head, understanding now that my hesitation hasn't been just regret or doubt but also concern for him. 

"Contrary to what you'd like to think Noona I know what I'm doing. I knew from the start what getting involved with a married woman might entail but I was up for it anyway because it was you. Call me young and dumb but I knew that I wanted to be with you from the first moment I saw you" he says, looking at me with the biggest, brightest eyes full of the purest form of puppy love that I truly hope will never fade.

"Okay" I say and grab his hand while he brings his other one up to cup my face and pulls me closer into a soft kiss. One that started off as a mere peck but has slowly turned into more, a fire being lit between us and as we inch closer and closer to the flame all I can do is pray that we won't turn to ashes once everything is said and done. 

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[ben-talks-art]

Okay... This episode of Digital Circus almost made me cry... almost!

When I saw the first episode of this show I knew I was going to really like it, but I wasn't prepared for how much I was going to love it. This reminds me of when X-Men 97 premiered and even though we were only two episodes in I could already tell this was going to be something special.

I know it's super, super early to say this, but this might become one of my favorite shows. The way they handled this episode really worked for me in a way I haven't felt in a while.

From the very first scene things already start on a really strong note, with our main lead, Pomni, having nightmares about the worst-case scenario from the new situation she's in where she imagines herself being affected by the circus glitch and being abandoned by the rest of the cast.

This does a great job setting up her sense of isolation and how she thinks she's on her own even though they all should be on the same boat together.

This gets highlighted even more as another member of the circus, Ragatha, is seen constantly trying to show her support and getting Pomni to cheer up despite the dreadful situation they're in while Pomni herself just acts indifferent as if she had already given up on everything and everyone.

I found this characterization of hers so relatable because I also used to think for a while that my problems were mine and mine alone and that everyone trying to help me were doing that just out of obligation and not because they really cared.

For some reason it felt "safer" to just assume I couldn't count on anyone because then I wouldn't have to worry about being disappointed in anyone, after all, you can't get disappointed if you don't get your hopes up.

So imagine how hyped I got when I saw that they indirectly made Pomni realize why it's important to rely on people when they switched the roles and placed her on the position where she needed to be there for someone.

I wanted to jump and slam my desk while shouting "Perfect! Perfect! This is just perfect!!"

Everything that needed to be said was being said just in the right way, just at the right time, and with the right amount of emotion, just the right amount of seriousness and levity.

Cause here's the thing, the media often has this obnoxious tendency of portraying antisocial characters as people that need to just "Get over it."

A lot of writers enjoy lumping grumpy characters, and reserved characters, depressed characters, angry characters and all these stuff as people who just need someone to cheer them up and have them forget about their problems, as if they were babies that just need to grow up and learn to be less grumpy so they can join in with the fun alongside everyone else.

You notice that it's always a person in a bad mood + someone who's always cheerful, happy, and with a child-like joyful attitude to be their contrast or someone to call them out on their "grumpyness."

And that always bothers me because it makes it seem like they're downplaying someone's struggle or inner turmoil as if they were minor things that they latch onto to just because nobody has told them to let it go yet.

I like when stories showcase why people struggle so much to let go of this mindset, why they struggle to open up to others and find themselves cheering to their day-to-day lives again.

But I'm also aware that this is not an easy task cause it's basically asking to show someone being depressed for a good portion of your story, and if that goes on for too long or it starts diving into a too heavy of a territory, it can make it a challenge just to watch.

So yeah, I get it, it's hard to find the right balance.

To show why someone needs to overcome their personal demons, while also making it an enjoyable experience to go through.

You don't want a case like Legend Of Korra where Lin Beifong's issues were pretty much treated as a joke, but you also don't want something like the Beast Boy segments from Young Justice where every scene with him just felt the same thing for 5 or 6 episodes, even though they were realistic scenes depicting someone going through what he was dealing with and they all built up to an amazing conclusion with Black Canary... But it was still draining to go through that.

You need to find the right balance and I felt like this episode really succeeded in that. You get why Pomni feels the way she does and you get why Ragatha tries so hard to help her out and why it's important that she keeps trying even when it seems like there is no point.

I really like how Ragtha isn't just "Cheer up, Pomni! Let me show you the secret to enjoying life!", she's actually trying to be sensitive of her situation, giving her the space and time she needs, and being there for her but not forcing herself on her.

She validates Pomni's pain but also knows it's a pain that she needs to learn how to deal with, otherwise, she's just gonna miss out on her own life.

The final scene was the thing that really got me.

When Pomni finally realized that the same way she tried to help out that NPC when they were stuck, she also needs to let others help her out.

It took me so long to realize in life that I don't need to deal with everything on my own, that I had people there for me, that I'm allowed to be vulnerable and make mistakes and that the people around me who love and care about me would still be there for me.

It took way, way too long for me to realize all that, so to see that final shot of Pomni imagining herself falling just like in her dream, but this time she had trust that her friends would be there to catch her, it really hit me good.

I'm not sure how to explain it but for some reason I was really proud of her for learning such an important lesson so quickly that it took me so long to learn myself. Like, I know she's not real, she's a fictional character, but I felt an immense relief while thinking people would watch this, and learn from this, and not make the same mistakes I did.

I have no idea where this show is going, but I feel like I'm in safe hands and can't wait to see what else they're going to do and where they're going to go.

I'm very very hyped for this series!

Also, I know this makes me a monster, but this scene made me laugh. :)

#the amazing digital circus #digital circus #tadc pomni #pomni #tadc ragatha #pomni x ragatha #Youtube