nishinoyyaa - Tumblr blog

nishinoyyaa · 1 year

Text

HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO

⊹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)

⊹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.

all sexual content present in part two.

⊹ wc ; 17.3k / 36.1k

link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.

LINK TO PART TWO

⊹ a/n ; well. its here. i wont ramble too much but i hope you enjoy and if you dont...well don't tell me. thank you to ame for your endless patience. likes and reblogs mean the world. the title is inspired by the poem linked.

⊹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.

“Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love.” - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART ONE : A CHILD BORN IN WINTER MUST NOT LONG FOR SPRING.

There’s a dog living outside of Gojo’s apartment. It’s a collarless, lonely thing. Clever, too.

Though, Gojo doesn’t know much about its life before it started hanging around the area, he gets glances on occasion. It’s not emaciated and it doesn’t look hungry, but it’s roughened up with matted fur and a healed tear in one ear.

More importantly, it doesn’t bother anybody in the neighborhood. Despite its outward appearance and hostility when approached, its aggression won’t go farther than a warning bark or growl. Most of the adults living in the building know better than to try, but some of the kids living upstairs desperately attempt to befriend it. Of course they fail, and Gojo thinks that that poor thing is growing apathetic to the touches of sticky hands.

The whole building is pretty fond of it, surprisingly. Gojo lives in a upend complex in a metropolitan part of Tokyo and the people here can be snobbish. So it comes as a shock that this dog wasn’t shooed away months ago.

Everyones sort of agreed to take care of it. There’s a food and water bowl outside of the security office - and just last week a sign was implemented of Do’s and Don’ts for what food scraps can be left. There’s a donation box to get some proper shots and paperwork - since it looks like the building's doorman has agreed to take it in if everyone chips in for the expenses.

(Gojo suspects this has something to do with those very kids, devastated by the thought of it being gone.)

Warm welcomes from the residents aside, Gojo hasn’t seen it act friendly before. He wonders about that. It seems hesitant to trust anyone and he’s sure there's a good reason. It’s just that it's clever. To be a stray in this area of Tokyo and be so calm is an impressive feat, so he thinks it probably has some grasp of his own situation. If it acted cuter, it could get a warm house and family too. Though the whole aloof and distant thing does the job just fine, Gojo can’t help but wonder what such a clever creature is doing, turning away from living lavishly.

Much like everyone else, Gojo’s contributions have come in the form of food scraps and some donation money to work towards the 5,000 yen goal. On the occasion their paths cross, Gojo sits near it. Sometimes, they share a moment of silence and Gojo talks just to see if it’ll ignore him. It seems like it’s listening. It always makes a grunt of dismissal when Gojo turns to leave and he’s started to count that as a little victory.

Gojo isn’t intrigued by anything as much as that dog. At least not lately. It’s damn near impossible to seriously pique his interest and yet that clever fellow is one of the few things he stops to ponder at.

Today, Gojo is intrigued by the dog that lives on the street of his apartment and the strange woman who’s petting it like some sort of domesticated baby.

He’s very, very intrigued by that.

The rain comes down in heavy sheets. It’s a Wednesday, and he has no classes to teach so he’s home and preparing to run errands. He’s going about his day as usual, basically. When Gojo isn’t swamped with a mission or the reformation of Jujutsu Society - he likes to play the part of the average man.

The plan for today was to take his unused car out of the lot so he could get some dry-cleaning done, go buy a new pair of sunglasses because his old ones are scratched, and go do some shopping. He needs to buy groceries again ( an uncommon occurrence) so that one's on the list too.

He’s dressed down. A black windbreaker is hanging over his shoulders, tight gray shirt and some comfortable jeans. He’s got on his errand shoes, a nice pair of sneakers and his keys are hanging from a loop in his belt. His hair is styled down and he’s got on his glasses instead of his typical mask.

He has a gameplan, a fully fleshed out expectation of how today will go, and it’s derailed by a woman he’s never seen before. He’s drawn to you so naturally it’s baffling.

You’re crouched just in front of the security office. Dressed in a loose skirt and long sleeves, looking down by the local neighborhood stray. For the first few seconds, he just lingers on in utter awe. You’re carrying a comically cute umbrella, clear with flowers and a pink edge. He kind of thinks you look like a peony.

He approaches slowly, quietly.

When he finally gets close enough to really see, he can hardly believe his eyes. That old, menacing mutt is happily getting his chin scratched by you.

“Oh, uhm. Hello?”

The sound of your voice startles him out of his trance. Snapping back to reality, he glances down to where you are and realizes he’s towering over you. In an effort to be polite, he steps back and gives you his most disarming smile.

“Hi. Sorry for the intrusion, I was just,” He glances at the dog who almost looks offended at the interruption “I noticed you were… petting this dog. Guess I was a little surprised.”

“Surprised?”

And your surprise surprises him even more. He blinks slowly.

“Yeah. He’s not aggressive or anything but uh,” Gojo chuckles, concluding you must be a little new “Well, he’s not exactly friendly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone succeed in well…petting him.”

You’re taken aback by this information. Yeah, definitely new.

“Really?” You glance at Gojo before looking back down at it “I just gave him some treats and waited a bit. He’s such a sweetie. Sure you mean this dog?”

Gojo gets a good laugh out of that. Partially at your cluelessness and partially at your disbelief. He nods, smiling a little.

“I’m very sure, actually. He must really like you,” He says, hands in his pockets. He bends down to join you, but he’s still a little bigger than you at that height “I guess I can see why. You’re pretty friendly.”

You peek over at him. You seem a little shy at the compliment. Gojo feels his interest pique a second time today alone. New record.

“Oh, uh. Thank you. I teach kindergarteners so I sort of have to be.”

He hums. Reaching his hand towards the dog, who sniffs and cuddles his palm (something it’s never done before) in order to win your favor more. It really is a clever little thing, just like he’d always suspected.

“I’m a teacher too. A highschool teacher, though. No need for me to be friendly, I guess.”

You laugh at his joke, smile reaching your eyes as you hug your knees to look at him.

“You seem plenty friendly to me.”

He pretends to think about it.

“Maybe you have a gift for making people come out of their shell,” He says with sincerity, relishing in the fact he’s finally getting to pet the dog in any capacity “I think this little guy could probably attest to that.”

“And you have a knack for flattery.” You quip.

The natural chemistry is noticeable enough for it to catch Gojo off-guard. He grins.

“Hey. I’m not all bad. And what's flattery if I’m being honest right?”

“Sounds like something a flirt would say,” You tease, airy. He laughs a little.

“You seem like you’re having fun giving me a hard-time.” He pouts. You giggle.

“A little,”

“Jeez. How rude of you…” He waits, prompting your name. You smile.

You give him your name. You say it soft and easy. He makes sure to return to the favor.

“And yours?”

“Gojo Satoru.”

You live up to your first impression in the time that Gojo gets to know you as his neighbor.

Friendly. The word he’s looking for is friendly.

There’s other words though. Sometimes meek, typically cheery, oftentimes quiet. You’re quite unassuming, and possibly too gentle when compared to everyone else in the general area. You fit in fine, no worries there. And Gojo knows that for certain because he can’t stop himself from watching over you like a hawk.

He doesn’t really understand it himself. Gojo gets along with everyone. He’s always been a people person who likes to talk and likes to get to know strangers. There’s nothing that special about your connection in that way. You live next to him, directly across the hall. You often knock on his door to give him something that you’ve made too much of or ask to borrow some sugar

And it’s not done with any romantic intent. Gojo is good at reading people. He’s never seen someone so blatantly romantically uninterested in him. You’re not even conscious of him as a man, cemented to him by the one time you came to the door dressed in paper-thin PJ’s. He hasn’t recovered from the shock. One of the many times in his life where he was grateful no one could see where he was looking.

He’s had a few months since your first meeting to get an idea of your personality and what things about you he should keep in mind. You noticed that he’s often not in his house, so you’re relatively aware of your surroundings. You’re often up late because your lights are always on well into the evening.

(He finds out later you’re usually making lesson plans or little gift bags or planning birthdays. You really love your job, something he can commend while simultaneously feeling quite jealous about.)

You favor the lovely spring colors like pink and purple because you have so much of it always on you. You dress brightly in general. And you smile, often, and stumble over yourself trying to be nice to the other tenants. The kids in the building adore you. The sheer amount of propositions you’ve received to be someone's full-time nanny could probably keep you employed for another two decades.

And you always put your best into everything, no matter what.

This is probably the aspect Gojo is most fascinated by. It’s not exactly a novel trait. He’s encountered something like it before. One of his most prized students is Maki Zenin. Her whole thing is kicking ass through sheer spite.

But unlike his students or anyone else he knows - you don’t seem to be motivated by spite or anger or frustration. Even when you are angry or upset - you always force yourself into being more understanding. Into being nice, kind, and still giving it your best if you’ve been shorted somehow. He’s tempted to call you a try-hard. It draws on the line of people pleasing sometimes but it doesn’t matter either way. This is a quality in you Gojo likes all the same.

He's always been drawn to people who are earnest. His company favors such things. He cherishes Yuuji for such a reason, and can say something similar for Nanami. It’s a refreshing perspective. He’s not a bitter person, but he’s not an earnest one either. So Gojo likes that you’re so properly, gently sincere.

For the last few months he’s made a real effort to talk to you. So he’s not just the guy next door, but at least an acquaintance and at best a distant friend. On the mornings you both have classes to teach, he walks you to your car and if he wakes up before you - he’ll bring you a cup of coffee or a pastry he knows you enjoy.

You’ll often do Gojo little favors and he’ll return them - joking to each other about being a good neighbor. An inside joke with each other that Gojo is growing increasingly fond of, all together with leftover cups of coffee and glances that linger too long. Some mornings, he takes out your trash when you’re feeling too tired and you’ll do him the favor of getting the stuff out of his clothes that he doesn’t want to dry-clean.

It’s these little exchanges that make up the bulk of your interactions.

He’s even been to your apartment (another reason he’s sure you’re not attracted to him). He went last week to help you cut out little autumn leaves to put on your classroom walls, and you rewarded him with some lemonade.

He’s still thinking about it days later, how you sit on your legs and the way your cardigan hangs off your shoulder. When you’re focused, you leave your mouth open a bit and poke your tongue through your lips. He’s endeared by it.

By you in general.

It’s all boring and mundane, but that’s what makes it. It’s a luxury he rarely affords. Craves, really, which is why he’s starting to go straight home more often than not.

It’s nice that you’re always there. That you’re usually home and when you’re not - Gojo doesn’t have to guess too hard about where you are. It’s so constant. He basks in the feeling of constancy like an expensive silk.

It’s little luxuries like that, he thinks, that make you so special to Gojo without much effort on your behalf. Being up at the top means he is always fascinated by the place closest to the ground.

What’s heaven to a man born there?

In your fourth official month of residence, the neighborhood dog finally gets adopted.

He’s not there for the big reveal. He hears it from you while he’s on a mission, through a text message and a photo. He acquired your number early on, but you’ve only started doing these text exchanges recently. Reason being Gojo’s had an unusual amount of cases that need his attention and you’ve been very aware of his absence.

(The first time you texted Gojo after 3 days on the other side of the country, he was scarily happy. After all, most times when he leaves - people are expecting his return. There’s an assurance that he will return alive, that he has to. It’s not often people worry.

It was another thing he learns about himself through you. Being fussed about is refreshing.)

Currently, he’s all the way down in Nagasaki. He’s been investigating what the local government has described as an “infestation in the water,” leading to poison and all sorts of hallucination. It’s been causing all of the local hospitals to fill up and the news is advising people to distill their water if possible when at home. Make sure to buy bottled, and double check on your children.

In other words, there’s an unidentified curse wreaking havoc in small towns and rural areas at an unusually fast rate and Gojo has been sent to figure out its origin. What’s really weird is the location. He’s in Nagasaki prefecture, specifically in Hasami - a town in the Higashisonogo district. He really didn’t have much time to do research on the area, save for a few quick google searches and probing questions to his student, the well traveled Yuta Okkutsu who is a hair more familiar with the region than he is.

But there wasn’t much for him to find. Hasami is known for the porcelain it produces. The population is a little under 15,000 and the weather is nicer in spring than it is in summer where it gets too humid. It’s considered a small town, though that number is relative in consideration, and currently the local officials are sending off reports about the water supply.

Even when doing deep research using official means, there was nothing that unusual about the place. No major criminal incidents or occult presence or some other thing that would make this occur naturally. Gojo is no stranger to small town violence or bullying and they can often produce the most volatile curses.

But he’s currently on his 3rd day here, where he’s taken up talking with the locals and he can’t find any specific attitude that would foster a special grade.

It had led him to a conclusion, but one he was deliberately avoiding. That someone planted the curse here in Nagasaki, or maybe somewhere else. Which really complicates the whole affair, because then this is an investigation and not just a situation of fate. It also means that this curse was likely harvested somewhere and that Gojo can’t be sure it’ll be easy to get rid of.

Most importantly, all that fanfare means he’ll be home late.

Given how much he’s longing to see you, it’s the thing he’s been dreading most.

It’s weird. He’s never dying to see anyone, with the exception of an old friend long gone. But Gojo has been desperate to see you for the few weeks he’s been away from home.

(He can’t tell if it’s normal to long this much for a person he truthfully doesn’t know that well.)

But, while he’s away from home, the thoughts of you play on loop in his head. Like white noise, static yet constant - there, all the same. As he walks the rainy streets of Hasami, hands in his pockets - he can’t help but wonder when the next time he gets to see you will be

It’s like some sort of miracle (aren’t you always one?) when Gojo hears his phone ring, buzzing against his abdomen.

He’s drawn back into reality when he feels it. In front of a store that sells handmade plates and glasses, he lets it go for a while. Feels it buzz against his pocket while he settles his thoughts. He examines his surroundings, notices the cars, and the mother with her daughter across the street and the gray sky - all before he picks it up. Your name flashes him on screen, and something itches deep in his chest.

The clouds open up. And it’s still raining, but there’s a ray of sunlight cutting through them. For a minute Gojo feels worldly, grinning with damp skin before he slides his thumb across the phone.

You’ve never called him before.

“Hello?” He greets, wondering if it was an accident. Then you come through the other side of the line.

“Hi ~,” You say, clearly doing something in the midst of talking “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright. Very shocked you called me, yanno?”

You laugh quietly.

“Sorry about that. I just wanted to check in. And I wanted to say thank you.”

“I mean… I’ll accept but I feel like I should know what for.” He jokes. Your tone goes sincere, marshmallow soft and twice as sweet.

“You paid the rest of the fees for the dog out of pocket, didn’t you?”

He smiles to himself.

“Ah. Busted. That was supposed to be a secret between me and Mr. Security-Man,”

“He didn’t tell me. I just…guessed. Seems like something you’d do.”

His first instinct is to disagree.

“It’s not like I did it out of the goodness of my heart, okay? It was looking a little sad sleeping during the cold seasons. It was very pitiful. So bad, so sad.”

“Why’d you do it?” You ask, probing but not too deeply “Like… really. It was really nice of you, but it was a couple thousand and that can’t be cheap.”

He relents, head leaning back on the wall behind him.

“The kids, remember?” He murmurs, eyes staring up at the gray clouds “You said they’d be sad if the dog didn’t get adopted soon.”

“The way you’re talking about it makes it seem like you’re doing this for me.”

“And if I was? Would that bother you, hm?”

You wait a minute, hesitating with your words.

“Well…no. I guess not, I just—thank you. I guess I’m just a little… embarrassed about it or whatever.”

“Shy, huh? Cute.”

“Jeez,” You huff. Gojo can practically hear your grinning from the other side; it makes his heart flutter. He wants to go home, to wherever you are “And you always say you’re no flirt.”

“I’m not a flirt. I’m just telling it how it is.”

“Yeah? Well, thanks anyway then. It made them really happy. You should’ve been there to see it. Maybe you can tell them when you get back?”

“Don’t wanna.” He states outright.

“You didn’t even think about it!” You exclaim.

“Mm, because I don’t have to. I definitely don’t want them to know.”

“Why not, though? You’d be their hero, y’know?

Maybe it’s something in the air. The damp weather out closer to the ocean, or the distance between you. There’s a tiny echo in your words, mechanical through the speakers. The word hero leaves a melancholy in his mouth, floating in the back of his throat like liquor refusing to go down. He chuckles.

“Ooo, are you into that kinda thing? Like, super charming knights in shining armor? Or superheroes, maybe?”

You giggle on the other side of the line. If you notice him avoiding answering you, you have the courtesy not to say anything.

“Isn’t everyone? I don’t know. I think if a really good-looking guy saved my life, it’d probably make my heart race a little, yeah. I’d catch feelings over that for sure.”

He takes a deep breath. Everything smells like rain.

“Is that so?” He says, chest blooming with warmth “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed.

He was out there for a long time, at least longer than usual when he’s traveling for a mission. He’s not used to hitting so many dead ends. The problem kept growing, but every trail he’d uncovered went cold in about a day. Just before he gave up hope, he was called in by Yagi. Since the issue has spread into other parts of the city, it’s no longer his solo jurisdiction.

More hands on meant more time for Gojo to be teaching. It also meant that he would finally see you after so long. You waited for him outside the day he returned to Tokyo - wearing a cream colored sweater and the prettiest smile Gojo had ever laid eyes on.

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed but it’s not entirely pointless. Upon returning - he had a somewhat shallow epiphany about the way you make him feel. About the way he’s affected by you, which is arguably more valuable than some lead.

Being away from you for so long is something that makes him so irritable. He’s had some time between then and now to come into terms with it.

Falling back into his routine, it was obvious. Suddenly there was a gap he’d never noticed before that blew wide enough for him to fall through. He actively avoids not seeing you if he can, and ever since your permissive conversation a few weeks ago - it’s harder to notice the way his desires fester.

There’s not much he wants out of his life. So when anything noteworthy pops up, Gojo is always eager to get a hold of it before it’s too late.

He usually soothes that by reminding himself of your position as a civilian, a kindergarten teacher at that. The responsible thing to do is make sure you’re safe. To play the hero from the sidelines and ensure you don’t encounter anything from his line of work. That’s his whole life's work. To create a life like that, and it helps to stay on that path when he believes you’re sheltered from that reality.

That’s why, when you tell Gojo you can see curses, he feels the entire floor collapse from underneath his feet.

He receives such devastating news over a cup of coffee at that.

It’s closing in to Fall slowly and Gojo has decided to take you out to eat as an apology for his disappearance. He intended to give you another half-truth about his job so you wouldn’t lose any sleep over him.

When it happens, it’s less that you tell him, and more that you keep glancing. Just over his shoulder, with this terrified expression that Gojo couldn’t not notice, even if he tried.

You’ve got your hands around a warm drink, in a white, ceramic mug but your gaze keeps diverting to the place behind him. When he looks over to that same place, a curse is there. Small. More insignificant than a bug, but there.

It’s risky to mention it. Because if Gojo is wrong, it’s not something he can brush off. He’d have to come up with something to excuse himself, and he isn’t sure how to lie out of that (even with his natural disposition of being a trickster.) But when you keep looking, his instinct kicks in. There’s no way you aren’t seeing it.

He doesn’t ask you directly. That’d be too incriminating, so he lowers his tone. Watches you briefly as you tremble in fear.

(A small, small part of him is only asking because he doesn’t like how distracted you are from him. Killing the curse seems like it’d relieve that annoyance too.)

“Can you see it…?”

The question makes you jump out of your skin. You reel back, eyes widened before the realization really sets in.

“....It?”

Gojo looks around the cafe for a minute, to make sure no one is listening before he turns around and points to the cursed spirit behind him.

“It,” He says, thumb pointed at the deformed curse moaning in one of the booths.

When it dawns on you that Gojo sees what you see, you cup a hand over your mouth in shock. He can’t describe the way getting that confirmation feels. It raises so many questions about who you are. More than he had before, at least.

No longer are you the innocent, clueless civilian and that changes every interaction he’s had with you since the start. Though it’s not uncommon for people who can see curses to fall through the cracks, he can feel his own curiosity dig into his skin like seeds taking root. He doesn’t think he should be excited, but he is.

He’s excited watching your fearful tremble. He’s never seen you like that.

“Yes,” You say, voice a little shaky this time “I can see… it.”

He takes the spoon out of his latte and cleans it with his mouth. Studying your expression momentarily, he takes a deep breath before standing to his feet. The terror is so subtle, the kind he can only catch because he’s so familiar.. He knows those emotions better than he knows most.

Curses aren’t phobias. Not illusions or ghosts, but tangible madness. Impactful to those who can see it, but nothing to those who can’t. Fear like that, which can’t be shared with anyone, has a specific look when it shows up in someone. Gojo hasn’t felt that fear since he was very, very little. He watches curses with the same bland expression he might watch a horror movie, but he can understand your reaction at least. He knows it like the back of his hand. All the people he’s saved, who could see them too, always wore the same one.

Still, he’s caught off guard. He feels bad that you’re scared. But the proximity between you and him which was once oceans wide has decreased significantly in no time at all. That feels good. Even better than he would’ve imagined.

“Are you scared?” He questions intently, maintaining a sense of neutrality.

You swallow a lump in your throat, eyes glued to the table in front of you.

“Yes,”

Your voice is a hoarse whisper. The corners of his lips twitch upward.

When he’s sure no one is looking, he stands up and walks over to the table behind him. Pretending to look for something so he doesn’t look out of place. It doesn’t take more than a second to destroy it. It’s tiny, something he’d never think of fighting since it’s so harmless. The curse equivalent to a fly.

He gives it a violent death and sees you look on with horror in your expression. He finds himself pleased with that, wiping his hands on his pants before returning. Maybe you recognize his strength when he sits back down. Still, instead of pulling away again, you fold your hands in your lap.

“T-Thank you,”

He grins at you.

“Of course,” He says “Can I ask you something?”

You nod your head and sip your tea.

“Do you know who I am?”

You look confused.

“...Are you a celebrity?”

He laughs hard at that. Hearing that makes him not want to tell you.

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” He reintroduces. You nod slowly “I’m a sorcerer.”

Another lie of omission. The strongest, he should say. He takes a sip of his latte, frowning at the bitterness. Through his mask, he watches as you fiddle with your hands. He stacks the empty creamer cups together before opening two more sugar packets and stirring them.

“A sorcerer…” You look perplexed. Confusion settles into the lines of your face. Sheltered, Gojo concludes. Only parents, who shelter you wouldn’t tell you what a sorcerer was despite your ability to see them “What does that… mean exactly?”

“It means I kill curses for a living” He replies simply.

“I thought you were a high school teacher.”

He smiles.

“Smart cookie. I am, but the school I teach at specializes in cursed technique and sorcery.”

“Oh.”

You look befuddled.

Gojo thinks he might be an opportunist.

“Do you really not know anything about them? It’s rare for people to be able to see them and not know anything about them.”

You shake your head, eyes peering into your drink. He watches how the image reflects in your eyes.

“Uhm. Not really. My parents told me to do my best to stay away from it. We lived in the countryside but I had to move out into the city for work so I kept… running into them. I can’t like… kill them. And I don't always see them.”

“You can’t use cursed techniques?”

“I guess that’s what that is. I don’t think I can, no.”

Vulnerable.

“Hmm. What circumstances,” He says, purposeful in weaving concern in his words.

“Is it that bad…?”

Not really. His job and the job of his peers is to make sure civilians make as little contact with curses as possible. There are more people like you, and because curses feed off of negative emotions - many dangers can be shafted by just not reacting. Even so, it’s customary for people to have some semblance of protection. A weapon if nothing else, for anyone who can see them.

“Do you carry anything with you?”

“Like a weapon? I have mace for when I take the train late at night.”

“Not that kind of weapon,” He says gracefully. He can tell you’re out of your element, and some small and twisted part of him would like to keep you in the fateful dark.

“What other kind would there be?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” He half answers. Your frown deepens. He puts his palm over the top of his coffee cup but doesn’t feel any warmth “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just teasing. You’re always so calm and collected, I was surprised to see how scared you got, you know?”

“Everybody gets scared sometimes.”

“Mm,”

His non-committal response leaves you nervous again. Fidgeting with the edge of your cup or the loose threads in the sleeves of your clothes. What a bundle of nerves you are. Gojo puts all the comfort he can in his voice, dredging up some sense of sincerity.

“Well, since it scares you and I’m such a nice guy, I’ll protect you if you get into any trouble.” He says, snapping his fingers and pointing at you.

That makes you relax. Makes your shoulders droop, a smile gracing your pretty face. Gojo can feel the floor underneath him sinking as you tease him. His eyes trace the curve of your neck. He’s glad you can’t see him or where they look.

“Oh, what? Are you gonna come running every time I need help?”

He smiles.

“I’ll be your personal Superman.” He promises, making a silly expression trying to make you laugh. It feels good when he succeeds, the weight of his words softened by it. If you feel how heavy the comment is, it doesn’t show up on your face.

You snort, taking a sip of your drink and there’s something so kind in your expression that Gojo aches over.

“That right?” You hum, smiling over the edge of your ceramic mug “You’re my hero.”

Since then, Gojo’s kept quite busy.

The last time he saw you at all was at the diner a few weeks prior and little has been different since then. You send more nervous messages than before, but aside from that things are the same.

He’s done a good job, he thinks. Partly of ensuring you, partly of instilling healthy fear. Your eyes always widen like you’re caught off guard by his comments - sometimes washed away with a laugh but other times genuine. Gojo likes to keep you on your toes. A bit of harmless fun and endlessly amusing.

Gojo would be there to protect you just like he promised before, so even scaring you isn’t something he thinks of as bad. It’s not untrue that you should be a little more vigilant, but just telling you to do so is no easy feat.

He would like to be spending time with you today just the same as he has before, but he’s home alone instead. There’s been a brief reprieve between cases so he’s on his own to unwind. There’s nothing he wants to do, so he decides on a movie.

Gojo is the only one of his friends who still has cable TV. According to Shoko it’s a luxury purchase but for him it’s one less choice he has to make when coming home to relax.

It’s an American film on now, some psycho-killer classic that he’s already seen a handful of times with Japanese subtitles.

None of the lights are turned on, so the TV illuminates the room in flashes of color. He grabs a soda from his steel-gray fridge and cracks it open, listening to the soft fizz that comes to a slow halt. Pulling it to his mouth, he travels slowly back to his couch. The leather squeaks under the weight of his body. The weight of his back creates a divet that he can be comfortable in. He rests his head, glancing back again at the screen.

A scream rips through the house, agitating his every nerve. He picks up his remote and turns it down just a tad before watching the movie with a sort of disinterest. Horror movies aren’t his favorite, admittedly. He pretends he scares easily, but the opposite is true. Gojo has seen too much for it to be entertaining, no less scary.

He likes movies based on their creative merit. He’ll watch one on its creative merit.

But to be scared? For frights? Not really. Very little gets his heart pumping hard like that. Sometimes the storytelling is good. Other times there’s something cathartic about the formulaic death. The final girl, the call from inside the house. The dependable and clean ending of tropes. Even if it’s messy or sinister, it’s fantastical. Fictitious and detached.

Gojo enjoys that. For anyone else, it’s probably a twisted way to think about it but to Gojo it only feels natural. He doesn’t examine that detachment very deeply. He’s just aware of it, lingering in the back of his head.

He takes a long sip of his drink. The sickly sweet taste slowly coats his mouth. Fizzy and smooth, it goes down easily. He sits up in his seat, making himself comfortable as he tries to pay attention to the movie. The main girl is hiding in the bathroom, and the killers' steps are echoing through the house. The broken, somber string instruments in the background, fill the white noise with apprehension and terror.

Gojo doesn’t feel a chill down his spine. His eyes are still fixed on the screen though, with slight anticipation of what's next even though he already knows. It’s nearing the end and he’s seen this movie before. She’s not going to make it, and Gojo knows that.

He watches intently in spite of that. The door bursts open and there’s a knife in her chest - and screams. It’s horrific and ugly, blood-spattered and graphic.

He doesn’t flinch until the whole way through.

It’s brief, but the thought passes his mind. Lately, the only thing that Gojo seems to react to is you.

But he doesn’t think about it too deeply. There’s no need to.

The TV goes to commercial and Gojo realizes he’s finished his soda. He stands back up, onto his feet to toss the can and grab another. This time, he grabs some snacks too. Piles them onto a plate, dried meats, and something mildly sweet for after before he returns to his living room. Sitting back down on his couch, he scrolls through his phone for anything interesting but comes up short of any results.

He sits up a little straighter as the next movie plays.

Spending time around curses is a necessary part of the learning experience.

Things you can’t learn in all the lessons and tutoring in the entire world. Even though Jujutsu Tech exists, and even given Gojo’s lineage - when he started working officially, he didn’t know everything. You can’t. No matter to what extent you study, there’s some things that you can only gauge through experience. Going through something over and over, like muscle memory.

Gojo spent a lot of his life wanting it to make sense. Wanting curses and the way they showed up to make sense. This is a lesson in truth, divine truth you can only take up in experience. Curses are human emotions, which means that they are finicky and everywhere. And the dangers of them will always look like the aftermath of destruction.

Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do to prepare for why things happen. It’s why Gojo is always grasping for light where he can find it.

Gojo Satoru stands in an empty parking lot all the way in Osaka. He examines the sight in front of him and can’t find anything he’s learned to prepare for what's next.

Fog has rolled in thick clouds over every inch, limiting his vision. The air tastes of smoke, and the earth underneath him is damp. The wet concrete squeaks under the weight of his shoes as he takes in the surroundings. The parking lot of an animal hospital, in particular - where all the staff were reported to have fallen unconscious. After being rolled out by the proper authorities and after all the animals were moved into a different location - Gojo was left to examine the remnants of the incident.

The reports are similar all across the country. Not the location. but the symptoms. People falling sick and ill. The initial reports of a water-borne illness didn’t progress far past the first city. It’s evolved since then. People get sick, pass out and hallucinate and animals lose all control.

The aftermath isn’t very messy so luckily it doesn’t attract too much attention. There’s no bodies, or blood - nothing heinous thereafter. The effects appear later in the people affected, taken over by an unnamed madness that appears to turn their internal experience to ruins. Gojo would’ve preferred the first situation. Violence like that becomes easy to digest with enough exposure.

These kinds of symptoms are always hard to stomach. Civilians get answers that placate them. The truth is that there's something bigger out there at play and they were just so unlucky to bear witness to the terror. With altered memories and the badge of trauma, what they don’t know can’t hurt them.

Gojo knows though, and sometimes he envies their ignorance.

He makes his way into the building. A set of glass doors greets him when he turns the sidewalk, with a blinking sign. Osaka Animal Hospital is written at the top in neon, accompanied by the words 24hr service. Gojo only glances at it briefly before sighing, hands on the bar to push himself through the heavy glass doors. He has to lean some of his weight to get through, and there’s just another set beyond those where he has to do the same.

Then, he’s inside.

The presence of the curse and of cursed energy ignites familiar caution within him. It’s here, in some capacity - or it was recently. The perpetrator is here too. Why that is, Gojo can’t quite understand. It seems a little backwards to linger here after everyones been evacuated and there’s no doubt someone would come to investigate.

All Gojo can think is that maybe they weren’t expecting him. But by now, they must know he’s there too. Gojo’s presence is intentionally oppressive - by nature it must be. Now it’s a waiting game, a quiet one at that.

Hospitals are always echoey and this one is no different. The squeak of his boots bounces off the walls as he takes steps towards the receptionist desk just to see if he’ll find anything.

He leans over it, to stare at the left over records - untouched by the authorities. Everything looks like it was left in a hurry. Strew pens and a corded phone just barely back in place - with computers on a blue idle screen. All the daily documents are still out sitting on the desk with no organization to indicate they’ve been filtered through. No paper clips or post-its telling the next person working about what to do.

Instead of walking behind the counter, he climbs over it with relative ease. Once he’s behind it, he takes better note of his surroundings. He doesn’t find anything completely relevant. There’s painting of animals, and some certifications for bills of health as well - but nothing that warrants his attention. He redirects through the papers in front of him, coming across a stack unexamined. Those answer sheets they give you to fill out so they can assess the situation before meeting you.

They’re split into two piles it looks like, though that could just be some coincidence. Still, he flips through them. Directing his attention to the little comment box with the prompt what are you being seen for?

It’s nothing serious. Normal things an animal owner would be upset or worried about like bowel movements and eating something that shouldn’t have been consumed. A minor injury or a worrisome behavior - but nothing that sticks out. For pages and pages, Gojo flips through the little packets trying to find anything.

It’s not what he sees, but what he doesn’t. A blank packet of papers, with no name for the owner or the pet. Only a description in the prompt box, neat handwriting in a single line.

“Showing signs of anxiety.”

Gojo smiles to himself. Interesting.

He jumps back over onto the other side once he’s seen it. It’s strange. Why would they go to the lengths of premeditating it like that? Whether it’s the curse itself or some third party, it’s an unreasonable thing to do.

“Not like people like this are usually reasonable, but,”

He saves the rest of the thought, sighing. The room has two hallways to go down. Both directions have some lingering cursed energy, but the hallway leading to the overnight area is much stronger. It’s separated by a big metal door, so Gojo braces himself to go through it.

He walks towards it slowly and through the doors even slower. It’s a long, empty hall. The ceilings are low, white fluorescent lights over his head like a falsified halo. They flicker on and off, with the ones at the very end of the hall having fizzled out completely. Gojo can hear, feel, and see everything. He can hear his own breathing and the artificial crackling of electricity. Feel the lingering presence of sickness, the sediments of a curse preparing itself to emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon.

He peeks into the different rooms of the hallway. One half of the hall is kennels, once again empty and left in the same messy state as the front desk. The other half of the rooms look like surgery rooms, with a storage closet tucked into one corner. The hall comes to an abrupt stop at the end, a painted gray wall with nothing to offer at the end.

But when Gojo is half-way through, he hears it. A heart-beat. A human one, slow and steady like it’s not worried at all. Not moving or running, just there. Thump, thump, thump.

Gojo perks his head up as he walks, leaning over to get a look at every room. Empty, empty, empty.

Then, in the very last one is a shadowy figure. The sound of the heartbeat is louder and the feeling of cursed energy is so strong it’s nauseating. Gojo pauses when he peers in, waits for there to be any response to his presence. There’s no way whoevers lurking doesn’t know he’s there, but there’s nothing that makes him react. He frowns.

His hand reaches for the handle of the door with a sigh, the mechanism inside clicking to let Gojo know it’s open. He takes a deep breath before opening it, stepping inside and shutting it behind him.

Even with the room as dark as it, the person inside is clear to his vision. A young girl. Probably no older than 17 with…

He furrows his brow. With a dog, from what it looks like. No ordinary dog, obviously. A curse in the form of a dog, with teeth too sharp for its mouth and fur that looks like a smear of charcoal and nothing like hair at all. It’s on a long leash, the chain wrapped around the young woman's palms.

The dog seems to tense up at the sight of Gojo. The eyes are empty and white - almost transparent. It’s a snarling thing, muzzle over the mouth and clearly on edge. Gojo looks at its owner, the perpetrator in this instance. Who looks calm, black mask tucked over face and long dark hair with bangs cut sharp.

Gojo doesn’t know what to say here. He wasn’t expecting to make contact this easily with a curse and its master. It’s been months now, the authorities chasing after this special grade from city to city. She’s obviously strong, and so is that curse that’s strained against its collar like it’s ready to rip him in half if he moves. Not stronger than him, because no such thing ever happens - but strong enough for him to be cautious.

He doesn’t step forward. He stops by the door and tilts his head. He’s sure she can’t see his eyes, but they make eye contact all the same. None of it makes any sense, but making sense of it isn’t Gojo’s job.

Instead of introducing himself, he opens the conversation with a question.

“Why’re you still here?”

“I knew I was going to get caught soon.”

An answer he couldn’t predict even if he tried. Gojo huffs.

“There was some time between the authorities coming and this investigation. You could have left before then, no?”

“Doesn’t matter. Something would’ve stopped me.”

“What a weird kid. What led you to that?”

There’s a minute where the dog (?) starts barking, but the noise is nothing like a bark. It’s cosmic and strained, and sounds more like a distorted radio than an animal noise. It’s in the shape of an animal but it isn’t one, like it couldn’t complete itself to be one. Gojo winces at the sound, intensified in the closed walls of the room. It’s piercing, and a little annoying.

When she soothes it, it calms down quickly. It’s obedient.

“Uh. A vision. Closer to a premonition. Fate.”

“Fate said you were going to get caught today. Right.”

“Aren’t you a shaman? Shouldn’t be that hard to believe.”

“Point taken. How did you know I was a shaman and not some murderer?”

She gives Gojo a pointed look.

“Look at you. Plus, I can feel that you’re a shaman.”

“Another premonition?” He asks, this time sincerely. She shakes her head.

“No. Your aura.”

Gojo stares ahead.

“...Right, yeah. It doesn’t look like you’re planning on attacking me.”

“I don’t think I’d win. I’ve never met anyone stronger than me.”

“I’m the strongest there is, so I guess not. How did you wanna go about this, then? Famous last words?”

“You go first. I’d rather talk to you than the other officials.”

“Hm. Don’t know if I have any questions, kiddo. My job is catching you, not interrogation. I guess I am a little interested in why.”

This makes her deflate a little. It’s hardly noticeable, but Gojo sees it anyway. The dog seems to react, snarling at her discomfort. He’s starting to understand the connection between them.

She thinks for a minute longer before sighing.

“Well. I guess I should start about why, right? It’s an old story. I came from a small village. I used to walk miles to school everyday and I’d get bullied a lot since my granny was a shaman. It was just us growing up. A nice old house with not a lot of modern anything,”

Gojo crosses his arms, leaning back on the wall and nodding his head. He figures she’ll tell him top to bottom, so he doesn’t give any input.

“My granny died a few years ago. I didn’t have any family so I moved on my own. Even back then, the only other thing I cared about were animals. I started working at a shelter and then I met Senbei.”

The more she talks, the worse he feels. Gojo already knows how this story will end, but he doesn’t interrupt her as she pauses between her sentences. Being 17 and bearing the burdens of loss is something he regards as a nightmare.

“Senbei was my best friend. Most loyal dog ever. And you know, I started my job with high hopes and kept him by my side. I wasn’t always angry. Working in that shelter and watching animals come in trembling every time I fed ‘em made me angry. How cruel and sick people could be.”

Her explanations are jumbled and clumsy. She sounds angry but it’s not that simple, curling in on herself the more she talks. Noticeably, she doesn’t try to justify it. She says it easily, with acceptance that it happened. He thinks that acceptance is harder to bear than delusion. Gojo can’t help but commend her silently.

“I’m sorry you went through that.” Gojo replies.

He’s being sincere.

“Should you be sympathizing with me?”

“Doesn’t matter. I just do.”

Her expression softens. She looks sad, and it’s not like Gojo doesn’t understand. She keeps going though, hands shaking in her lap. Gojo thinks she might’ve been waiting to tell someone.

“I don’t know when I stopped seeing the good in people….I always thought about—about my granny and how no one—no one came to see her. She was always taking care of everyone and no-one—“

“I know, kid,” Gojo says with a sigh “I get it.”

“Then you know,” She pauses, taking a deep breath. There’s frustrated tears pouring down her cheek this time. What a strange, sad thing she is: “That you can’t go back. Even if you forget. It just—it changes you.”

Yeah. Gojo knows something about that, too.

“I was already pretty desperate when Senbei was alive. Just trying to hold on. When he was killed, I lost it. I just fucking— I lost it. I’m sure you understand. You get it right?”

Gojo looks at her confused. She shakes her head, looking down in her lap at the curse in her hands.

“I can tell you're like me. That's why your aura is so tainted and… fucked up and malicious. It should be crystalline blue kinda like spring water—but it’s muddy. Rigid.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The fact you’re hanging on by a thread. You can feel it too, right?“

Gojo remains quiet at her observation. He doesn’t know how to react.

“When you want something so bad, it just— does something to you. Either because it won’t happen or because it needs to take your life to exist. Happened to granny, to me. It’ll happen to you, too.”

“I doubt that,” Gojo says, your face flashing in his mind. He shakes his thoughts away.

“You’re thinking about it too literally. You want something, so you chase it and lose yourself in the process. You’re dead. No longer you, all tangled and in ruins. It’s not too late, but if you keep going—that thread is gonna snap.”

“A premonition?” He says, partially sarcastic. She shakes her head.

“No, a prediction. You don’t have to consider it if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d tell you since you gave me some last minutes with this Senbei.”

Gojo shakes his head.

“I don’t have any reason to be forceful if you comply. Take your time. I don’t have anything better to do.”

Gojo glances at her as she pets it, having resigned herself to silently gazing upon it. He can’t stop himself from thinking about everything she’s said, so he averts his gaze to the ceiling and pretends otherwise.

The silent stretches, a pregnant pause before she speaks one more time. She has a look on her face Gojo can’t read.

“You know, it’s funny. Everyone thinks dogs are loyal to their masters, but that’s because we made them that way. We can’t stand being alone or unloved so we made something that can do both without ever seeing any less of us.”

“You’ve had a lot of time to think about it.” Gojo says, unsure of how to reply. She isn’t expecting anything, but remaining silent fills him with a sense of dread.

“Guess so. You should take some time to think about it too,”

She says to him, petting the curse that whines like it’s been hit in her small hands. Gojo takes a deep breath.

“…Yeah. I’ll do that.”

The case ends anti-climatically.

Gojo finds it funny. The officials came and the young girl was promptly arrested. He never even got a chance to ask her name. He learned through some probing that she only made two asks before being taken.

The first, to keep her curse dog with her, and to send her thanks to the sorcerer who had apprehended her in the first place.

On the news, much later in the week - a news report surfaces. “Danger in the Deep,” giving reasonable and logical explanations for the events that occurred in cities across Japan not even a few weeks ago. New studies show, experts say, here’s a word from your local—a barrage of fancy language to pad the publishing, add depth and realism. The public is none the wiser.

Gojo has to admire the commitment to keeping the peace. The case ends, and the girl gets arrested and put on trial. He doesn’t know if he’ll be seeing her again any time soon, though he’s sure he has the power to intervene.

He’s hesitating to do so. Why stick his neck out for her in a situation like this one? Over other situations, more dire ones at that. She’d make a good ally.

Their last conversation hasn’t left the back of Gojo’s mind. He’s conscious of it, albeit it hasn’t slowed him down. He’s not looking for another assessment of who or what ghosts are haunting him. He’d prefer to put it all behind him now

So life, in some capacity, has returned to its baseline. It’s normal. He has cases but they don’t take him more than three days. He’s able to do his usual chores without anything impeding them. He’s been teaching, no longer forced to make his students fend for themselves.

He’s been seeing you again regularly, too.

He’s getting ready now to do just that. Scheduled to get another coffee together (something of a tradition now) and pick up some conversations. You’ve been busy, though Gojo doesn’t know the details of what.

He wants to know. He’s even tried asking but as soon as he gets close to the subject, you slink into yourself like you’re trying to disappear. Besides, he doesn’t want to intimidate you into telling him.

(Though, it would be so easy to do. You’ve got a record for being a scaredy cat, and as much as it endears him - he is entirely too hung up on the potential for exploitation to admire it kindly. It’d be easy to turn the notches up, pressure you. With how easy going you are, you’d let him do it. Gojo bets you’d cave. He thinks the face you’d make would be entertaining too.

Above all, the offer is tempting.)

In spite of your refusal to discuss the specifics, Gojo does want to cheer you up in whatever capacity he can. So, he’s taking you out for a while and hoping a comfortable environment and the presence of other people will soothe your nerves a little.

He’s getting dressed for it now, rifling through his closet for decent casual attire.

He’s got his hair styled down, a pair of new sunglasses on the table and his clothes folded on his bed before he tries them on. Most of his closet is uniforms, plain black and boring. For now, he’s settled on a black crew neck and blue jeans - ripped at the knees.

He looks over his appearance in the mirror, posing in it. Arms flexed and stretched over his head before putting them out in front of his body.

He takes his time to take part in the ritual. He slips his boxers up over his legs, waist band tight around his torso and clinging to the curves of his thighs. He pulls his jeans up, low at his hips with a belt buckled through the front. Then comes his sweater over his abdomen.

He wants to look nice. Though, he could be deluding himself - lately you seem a little more aware of his appearance. It makes him happy that his good looks haven’t failed him in the instance they matter most.

As he puts on his accessories (in this case a watch and a ring) his phone buzzes atop his dresser. He stops to pick it up, a message from you on the screen. He peers over so his face can be read, then smiles.

(sent 11:15am) Ready ~

He laughs to himself.

(sent 11:16am) Almost ready. Need to look my best for such a tremendous occasion.

(sent 11:16am) For coffee?

(sent 11;17) For coffee with my favorite kindergarten teacher ofc ♡

You send back a simple reply telling him to hurry and come out. Gojo chooses to interpret your embarrassment as a sign. It puts some pep in his step, and he hurries to finish dressing up.

He steps out of his house, locking his door from the outside before shuffling down a single flight of stairs and out into the front entrance of his complex. He notices you waiting at the front gate from where he’s standing.

The neighborhood dog (officially named Pokupan) is asleep by the security office. You’re the same as always. Today's outfit is a dress with long sleeves and colored tights. It suits you. A splash of warmth in an otherwise dreary world, Gojo stands in place as he watches you for an unidentified amount of time. Minutes feel like seconds as you pace back and forth. Your phone must be in your purse because he can’t find it anywhere on you.

He’s delighted when you finally turn your head to look at him. You cup your hand and give him a kind wave which he laughs at and returns enthusiastically. His stride is long, walking towards the gate.

You have to tilt your neck up to look at him (making his chest squeeze unhelpfully) but you smile when you do so.

“Hey,”

“Hello there Miss. Waiting for a special someone?” He jokes. You flush.

“They’re an important friend,”

He tries not to let his smile falter. Friend.

“Then, is it a bother if I ask to take you out?”

This time you falter. Gojo notices it out of the corner of his eye, the briefest brush of nerves that makes it seem like you’re warming up to him after all. It’s gone as quickly as it came but it’s there and Gojo etches it into the back of his eyelids for memory. He smiles at you as you look away, flush

“Not at all,”

He grins, again, even brighter. Then he sticks his arm out for you to loop in. You hesitate again. This time Gojo can’t be sure why.

“I’m just being a gentleman, you know?” He pouts. His frown takes effect as you loop your arms together. He keeps it friendly. Too much pushing and you’ll skitter away right before his eyes. Still, even this much progress feels good. It feels whole and light and good.

It’s a pleasant sort of day.

Not that it’s warm, or even sunny. It’s cold, on the edge of Autumn that dances into Winter. Freezing but bright out, the kind of sky where everything is clear. During the day the sky has no clouds and no stars when it comes to night time.

Nonetheless it’s nice. The cold is the kind that makes you want to cozy into someone for warmth, so Gojo doesn’t mind walking in. The walk itself isn’t very long either. The cafe is near your complex, just about 15 minutes worth of walking. There’s no snow or ice to trip on, and because it’s freezing - you shiver every time you stray too far from the heat of his body so the walking is done exceptionally close together

There are kids and parents walking together on the street alongside you, dogs and their owners, street vendors with hot tea. It’s that kind of day where the cold doesn’t keep anyone indoors, in fact everyone seems to relish in the fact they can run and run and run without overheating. It feels like everything is in sync with each other, comfortable and harmonious in spite of everything else.

After 15 minutes, you’ve arrived at the store front. Not long enough for Gojo, but that’s okay. There’s next time he has to look forward too.

(He tells himself this every time. It’s never enough for him. He can never get enough of listening to you talk. He could probably mimic your cadence without having to try. It’s a sound he doesn’t get sick of―a miracle, another one, because Gojo hates so many sounds―yet there’s one he always looks out for.

There has to be a next time. If he forgets to tell himself as much, he gets so restless he can hardly stand.

The cafe is nice. It’s one of those places that you see on Instagram often with plenty of sweets for Gojo’s taste and plenty of fancy teas for yours. The outside has beige-colored brick and a brown sign decorated with cutesy drawings. You spend a good amount of time crouched beside it, taking a picture or two to later post on your story.

“You have to tag me, okay? It’s your payment for wasting our precious time together,” He jokes.

You stand to your feet and brush off your pants, the material of your coat rustling as you do.

“Yes, yes ― I promise. I’ll have to ask who drew them when we get in there.”

Gojo smiles at your enthusiasm before opening the door for you. Another one of those glass ones with a logo printed on the top half and the metal tinted brown. A little bell chimes above your head as you head in first, and Gojo heads in after you. He has to duck not to his his head on the top of it.

It’s not too crowded at this hour. A handful of people sit among the many tables and booths. Your head is turned to the menu and Gojo trails behind you like a shadow. One to compliment all your light.

It smells delightful inside. Like warm cookies and vanilla and tea. Gojo feels his sweet tooth kick in the minute you two stand in line. The barista is a doe-eyed blonde college student. There’s another employee with long dark hair and thin, narrow eyes. It reminds Gojo a lot of that girl he met a few weeks ago but he tries to put that thought out of his mind.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and eyes the menu. The special item is a yuzu cream cake, the picture of it hanging on the wall like employee of the month. There’s a glass display of all the other items and the menu matches the rest of the decor.

“This was a good choice,” Gojo says, entranced by all the desserts around him. You laugh, turning your head slightly to look at him.

“Are you complimenting yourself right now?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Your sweet tooth is so bad,” You say through giggles “Your poor dentist,”

He gasps in offense.

“I will have you know I keep my pearly whites pristine. Not a single cavity for the record.” He says back, placing emphasis on the last words. You snort a laugh.

“I’ve never had one either,” You repeat back, perhaps mindlessly before saying “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other yet.”

Yet. Yet. Gojo’s subconscious will hold onto that word for too long. It makes his heart beat too loud. He’s relieved that you’re nothing like him. If you were in this very moment, you would hear the thunder raging inside of his ribs.

Instead of saying anything, he scoffs playfully.

“I bet you were such a goody two-shoes that you never ate sweets before bed-time.”

Your eyes widen in surprise followed by embarrassment, where you tuck your chin into your sweater.

“Ugh,” You say, so weakly Gojo can’t stop himself from laughing “What’s wrong with being a goody two shoes, huh?”

Gojo feels almost feline in his self-satistication. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with it, just that you were one.”

Your frown deepens.

“I don’t care for your tone, mister.”

“Are you gonna scold me like one of your students?”

“If it gets you to be nice,” You say firmly, in that Teacher voice that Gojo has caught glimpses of over the last few months. He does a fake salute.

“Yes, ma’am!,” He proclaims, soft enough so only you hear it. You break out into another set of his giggles, melting his cold heart. It’s not the smile so much as it is yours. The line moves up just a little bit. Gojo steps in front of you before you have a chance, his figure shadowing you.

“What do you want?”

“I think I’m gonna get one of those fruit teas and some cake.” You say absentmindedly. He smiles at you playfully.

“Heard,”

Gojo turns to order for you both, laughing through your obvious protests about his paying for you. He’s able to block you from getting in the way as the cashier looks on the both of you bemusedly. When the order is placed, Gojo taps his phone against the reader before moving aside where you stomp your feet and follow him.

“I told you I would get it this time,” You whine. He hums.

“Mm, there’s always next time?”

“You say that every time!”

“So you never know? Maybe it’s next time for sure.”

You seem to realize that this is a fruitless conversation and that he’s not going to relent. With a flush on your face, you cross your arms and pout.

“I’ll get you back one of these times, I swear….Anyway, thank you.” You add the last part quietly. He hums.

“It’s only fair, you know. After all, who else would come here to eat sweets with me?”

You look taken aback but Gojo doesn’t retract his statement. He’s sure there’s someone he could ask. But there’s no one who would agree to it as easily as you have. The environment wouldn’t be so welcoming, either. Someone who would do something like this with Gojo is long lost. It almost feels foreign to him now.

In order to ease the tension, you look up at him warmly.

“Then, I’m glad you asked me.”

There it is again. That warm, sort of fluttery feeling he gets in his chest being around you. He wonders if he’s allowed to be so happy.

The food arrives at the counter, the young woman calling out for Gojo. You and Gojo split the task of carrying the plates, picking a nice booth in the corner with the top covered, You slide in across from him, situating your bag.

You and Gojo go back and forth, setting up everything so it looks nice under the lights. Gojo takes on taking the photos this time, clicking from a few different angles and stopping to show you after each photo.

“I’ll send you the picture later, okay?”

“Don’t forget.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Let’s eat, okay?”

You nod enthusiastically.

You and Gojo eat and chat comfortably for a while.

He’s not sure how much time passes. He wasn’t checking because why would he? He’d like to be with you a bit longer, so he refrains from thinking about it and hopes you do the same. Just a bit more, he tells himself. Until you really, really have to go.

There’s nothing major to catch up on. You tell Gojo about your job, mostly and how you saw some friends from out of town the week before. Winter is coming and you want to do something nice for the holidays. You’re getting along well with your fellow teachers which is good. He was worried about that, but he can’t keep eyes on you at school.

(Not for not having tried. He’s thought about it, but his presence would be too noticeable and he doesn’t trust anyone else to the task)

So it’s relieving. Your only complaint has been that some of the students have the sort of parents you can’t handle. Pushy and involved in a way you can’t ignore but can’t tolerate either. Gojo jokes to take care of them, gesturing to his arm like he’s ready to knock someone's lights out.

That makes you laugh, and following it you have this melancholy look that sends alarms blaring in Gojo’s head. You don’t broach the subject at all afterwards. You talk about everything else you can. The sale on radishes at the market, thinking about getting a car just to have it, maybe visiting your parents sometime soon.

Gojo listens. He doesn’t have much to add. His work is strictly classified to people who aren’t in the field and it’s nothing fun to begin with. He does tell you what he can - usually about some antics his students have gotten into during training. He can at least talk about that.

He tells you about the movies he’s watched, how he went drinking with his co-workers last week, and how he thinks Pokupan is starting to act friendlier to him.

It’s fun because it’s you. Gojo likes feeling like he’s involved with you intimately. He likes hearing you talk. The sound of your voice is such a pleasant contrast to his own. You talk with a kind of joy Gojo could never hope to carry, all gestures and smiles and interjections - trying to make sure your point comes across. How you don’t think the kid sitting in the front is a bad kid, just needs guidance. How the material of your sweater isn’t really cashmere but more of a blend.

Time passes comfortably that way. The drinks and food have been reduced to crumbs and cold drops of tea, glasses emptied and phones abandoned.

But neither of you have made any move to leave, and Gojo is still listening to you talk with a pleased smile on his face. It was a pleasant sort of day, remember?

“So it was fine in the end, but the classroom was such a mess seriously―”

So, it throws Gojo off when you stop speaking so abruptly. How easily the atmosphere melts, and what an unpleasant film it leaves behind.

It feels like an axe hammering on a stop, a sharp and near violent thud that cuts off the end of your sentence. The air becomes tense in the blink of an eye. Gojo can feel it, the sensation of cursed energy. It’s stagnated, little like pebbles at the bottom of a creek. But it’s there, and Gojo can feel it creep over your shoulders like a sixth sense. Like someone skipped a stone over that same water. He senses it in the air like dust in the light.

He sits up straight, focusing his attention on you.

“Hey,” He calls out, softening his voice as much as he can. Trying hard to identify what's wrong exactly “You okay?”

Your hands shake as you lay them flat on the table. You’re almost completely spaced out by now. It all happens in the blink of an eye.

Gojo stares at you, calling to you a second time.

“Hey. Hey, look at me?”

When you finally hear him, you jump in your skin. Your shoulders relax when you realize it’s only Gojo. Normally that would make him happy, but not like this. Your hands are shaking. A nervous fidget in all of your movements that he’s never seen before, like you’ve been shocked with electric wire. He hates it. The taste of your fear (this fear) is different and unfamiliar.

He doesn’t like it.

You turn your head to look at him then avert your eyes again. He can’t follow your gaze as it shifts. It’s too erratic.

“No, uhm. It’s just, uhm.”

“Woah! Hey, Miss. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,”

Everything feels like it slows down as Gojo watches your eyes snap up. Your expression drops again, even lower, and if he listens close enough he can hear the sound of your heart. Your discomfort is tangible. It leaves a metallic taste in Gojo’s mouth as you suddenly curl in yourself, shoulders hunched and peeling skin off your nails.

You don’t even look to Gojo for help. Instead, your words go soft. You become helpless in front of his eyes.

“Oh. Yes, hello.” You bow your head trying to say as little as possible. Gojo stares as you shake like a leaf in the wind. Something ugly curls up inside of him, a knife twisting in his chest.

“Aw, c’mon? What’s with the unfriendly act? Is it ‘cause you’re here with your boyfriend?”

You look up at him panicked. Not because of the comment, but because of his tone. Gojo hears it too. How sinister it is. Like he’s blaming you for it somehow, like you’ve wronged him. The feeling inside of him is so ugly, it’s so wretched. His knuckles turn nearly white from how hard he’s closing his fist. You put your hands up and go to explain yourself anxiously.

It makes Gojo sick. He smiles, turning his head just a little so he can see. He opens his eyes and stares, focusing his vision on remembering every detail of the bastard's face.

“I’m not her boyfriend. We’re neighbors,” He explains, tone as cold as ice but smiling.

Gojo puts pressure in the atmosphere. His natural and suffocating aura returns to him easily. He smiles and remains unnervingly still, waits in quiet for the man to respond. He scratches the back of his head, still indignant.

“Uh. Okay. I guess that’s good. Wouldn’t be appropriate for a teacher to be out on a date like this huh?”

Again. This guy, whoever he is, turns his head like he’s trying to talk down to you. Diverts his perversion and sadism towards you that leaves Gojo wondering what his head would look like against concrete. A bitter, heinous feeling waits inside of him, nesting into his ribs as the sound of every voice in the room comes to be muffled. All Gojo can hear is his heart. How long it's been since he’s heard it.

It’s loud. A cacophony, or a hymn. Divine rage in the sound of his soul leaves has him unsure of how to proceed.

Gojo glances at you. Your eyes are rounded, full of desperation. Pleading.

Gojo hates whoever this is. Gojo wants to save you. He thinks you deserve to be saved.

He stands up. He has enough height on the guy to be intimidating, the guy just barely coming up to his shoulder. Gojo stares down wildly, pulling his glasses to the bridge of his nose to peek briefly over the edge. The bastard stops talking immediately, words coming to a stutter, It’s satisfying.

“Who are you?” He asks.

“Wh-why is that any of your concern? Can’t you see I’m talking to―”

“I didn’t ask about who you were talking to. I asked who you were,”

He hears you from behind him “He’s a parent from my school,”

“Ah, okay. Interesting. Since you’re a parent, we wouldn’t want to make this a confrontation right?” Gojo says, bemused “It’d be a real issue for everyone if it turned out that way,”

Gojo puts a hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip hard enough to hear him gasp. He’s weak, but that’s to be expected.

“So, I suggest you turn around and head home, hm? Since we wouldn’t want it to be a big fuss.”

Gojo can see it now. With a little pressure, he could turn the blade of his shoulder in sawdust and watch him fall to his knees. He’d let out a cry, a sharp pathetic wail like a hit dog. Gojo would make him say sorry to you before he lets up his hand from his skin. He’d do it infront of everyone in the store so they could hold a little fear in their hearts.

He won’t do it. Just for now. If it complicates your work then you wouldn’t be able to support yourself. What would he do if you ended up somewhere far away? Out of his sight, something like this could happen again and Gojo wouldn’t be able to take care of you.

So he doesn’t crush it. He pushes his palms into his shoulder blades and whispers quietly, just so the two of them hear. He pulls away and watches as his face goes pale, a simple stutter leaving his lips. Something about how he’ll see you later and that somethings come up before he turns around and leaves.

Gojo watches as he does. The door chimes again, and the man disappears. The patrons who might’ve glanced turn away again like it was just a simple altercation, which is good. Then finally, Gojo looks at you where you are. Your hands are trembling so hard, a shake of relief in your shoulders as you cover your face. You look like you’re getting ready to cry, so Gojo takes it into his own hands. He cleans up all the food, wipes the table, and even grabs your jacket and bag as you take a minute to collect yourself.

He taps your shoulder lightly afterwards, waiting for you to look up. Once you do he smiles, reaches a hand out to you so you don’t have to think twice.

“About time to get out of here, huh?”

You nod, so slowly. You look so relieved, even as you sniffle. Your hand is so small compared to his. He squeezes it protectively as you slide it into his own, and helps you walk out of the store together.

The air is cold, the same as before, the temperature having warmed just a bit. The bell above the door rings as the two of you finally leave, standing in the street. Unlike before though, there’s something bitter in the air. The sun has hidden itself completely in the clouds and the streets feel emptier, lifeless.

Gojo turns to you with a somber expression, trying to smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Do you want to go somewhere to talk about it, maybe?”

You chew your lower lip then sigh “...Yeah. Probably should, huh?”

You and Gojo decide on a place not too far from where you are. It’s a small park, a good place to end off an otherwise good day.

You have to take the bus to get there, but there’s not many people. Gojo eventually gives you back your things, lets you slide your jacket on and fix your face - but ultimately takes your hand and holds it on the ride there. He brings it to his lap and you don’t pull away even though you seem to fidget the whole time.

The bus finally stops in front of the park. It takes hardly any time, but Gojo finds he’s unable to let go of your hand so he doesn’t. Instead, he holds tight and lets you trail behind. You let him lead you quietly out back in the street. You give your thanks to the driver as the doors close.

He can’t let go of your hand, though he knows now would’ve been a good time to do it. His grip only grows tighter.

“Let's go find somewhere to sit,” He offers. You squeeze his hand this time and don’t look away.

“Okay,”

He tries to keep pace with you this time, instead of walking ahead. Your strides are shorter than his so he’s careful that you don’t fall behind. Your eyes still have that watery look to them but you’re no longer trembling from fear. Just the cold, if anything.

And your heartbeat no longer sounds so hazardous. Gojo is still restless, still fidgety. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin but it’s not really for you.

You find a bench, eventually - in the middle of the long walk-way just a distance away from a playground. Gojo juts his chin out towards it, before turning over to look at you.

“Let’s go sit,”

You nod as you walk together towards it. You sit first, and Gojo finally lets go of you. He sits besides you. There’s a minute where the whole world is deathly quiet. There should be something calm about it, but it isn’t. You’re no longer terrified, and a distance away. There’s no danger lurking in the dark and there’s no cars passing or children crying.

Everything is calm and silent, but Gojo couldn’t feel more unease if he tried. He thinks he hides it well. But there’s that itch again, in a place behind his ribs he can’t reach into and he finds it hard to breathe.

“So,” He starts, breaking the tension “I’m guessing it’s not a friend,”

The stupid joke makes a smile appear on your lips. It’s small, but Gojo takes some comfort in it anyway. You wipe away your lower lash gently, a wet laugh leaving your mouth.

“No, not a friend. He’s uhm… a parent from my school.”

“The one who’s been bothering you for all these weeks?” Gojo supplies. You turn your head, eyes widened in surprise. Gojo lets out a breathy laugh.

“You….knew?”

“Not about him specifically, but I could tell something was bothering you,” He admits, and then adds “I always pay attention to my favorite person, you know?”

The addition has you looking away, but Gojo doesn’t mind. You sigh, rubbing your face with your palms before leaning back against the bench with your head hanging off the edge.

“He’s the parent of one of my students. Akio, he’s a good kid. A really well-behaved one but… too well-behaved. Never raises his hand, never complains or says he won’t do something.”

“I’m guessing that sent off an alarm bell, huh?”

You nod softly.

“Yeah. I figure it was something at home, but I’d met his mom prior and she was a real angel. Then, his dad came to visit. The man we met at the store, and I knew right away.”

Gojo feels his jaw clench listening to you talk.

“But still, you know, my job as a teacher is to be as respectful as I can. I always politely declined him when he would make comments and remained professional. Eventually, his mom stopped coming altogether and—I tried, I really—but he…” You trail off, a lump in your throat. He watches as tears form in your eyes, his anger getting more and more tangible. He tries not to express it, putting a hand on your knee “He just… kept pushing. A-and once, he looked like he was gonna get violent. I made a report, you know, to the school. But you know how they are,”

“They never even bothered investigating huh,” Gojo sneers. You laugh a tired sort of laugh.

“Of course not. After that, I just tried to endure it. And I know he hasn’t done anything technically, but it doesn’t really feel like a matter of if but when,” You explain haphazardly. Gojo squeezes where his hand rests.

“I believe you. It’s okay,” He says as soothingly as he possibly can “It’s okay. I’m here,”

There’s a sense of relief that washes over your whole body and before he knows it, you’re breaking down. He feels a lot of emotions all at the same time, watching your little frame as you lose it so easily in front of him. A part of him is so furious he wants to make it everyone's problem. Another part of him is so deeply sad knowing you’ve suffered all on your own.

And the most notable part of him is the sense of protectiveness, burrowing inside of him. A sense of possession. It sinks into him like teeth, seeps into his blood like the venom of an animal so that he bleeds and breathes it. Gojo can’t shake that deep sense of urgency, a nameless and faceless desire that consumes him. He shudders.. He holds it in, all of it. Cups his hands so desperately so that it doesn’t spill over and touch you, the ink of ruining the soft white of your clothes.

In a world that you have made beautiful, desire is ugly. Hideous and infectious, it tears Gojo limb from limb. It makes Gojo feel on edge. Gojo should not desire for any more than what he was. People always die when he does.

But maybe they don’t have to. Maybe, he can protect you. He can keep you safe. He wants to keep you safe. He wants to keep you all to himself.

It’s in an effort to soothe those feelings that his arms find themselves around your form. It’s the first time you’ve hugged in such an intimate way. Where expects you to turn away - you don’t.

Instead you cling, your arms around his jacket and your face in his chest. You cry and weep and sob and you look so small like that. You look like you’ll collapse and Gojo holds you. Says it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay as you let it all out. It must feel good to finally let it all out, after everything and he doesn’t intend to stop you.

“I promise I’ll always protect you from now on,” And he says it, and means it. If you feel the weight of his statement, you don’t let it show “It’s okay. You can cry if you need too,”

You cry and cry and cry.

And Gojo thinks the call of heaven is nothing in comparison to the sound.

In the end, Gojo can’t forgive him.

It’s not without effort. He tries to do it at your request, because after all the tears he wants to help. He says he can maybe pull some strings. But that gentle heart you have declines. You don’t want it to become a big deal. You feel a little better knowing he knows. In the end, you don’t want it to affect that brats reputation.

“You know how kids can be,” You say, voice full of concern for everyone but yourself “I don’t want to make school life anymore difficult than his life at home must be,”

So, Gojo tries to listen to you. But days pass, and days turn into weeks. In the end, a month goes by and Gojo is full of terrible and divine anger.

In the end, Gojo won’t forgive him. Gojo can’t let it go. He feels so righteous in it, he starts avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. There’s something inside of them he has no desire to look at. Eyes that tell all, Gojo turns away from their gaze. Gojo is angry for you, and it’s not in his character to do nothing about it.

He decides on less of a whim that it looks. He wonders about alternatives, if there’s anything that can stop this feeling from imploding inside of him but nothing comes.

When he decides that nothing can be done, Gojo goes out of his way to start watching him.

Like any mission, he needs enough background information to map out a plan. He wants to make sure that it has virtually no pushback for you. There’s always a possibility you’ll get caught in the crossfire and that’d be the worst possible outcome. Gojo can protect you from a lot of things, but he’s not as confident about the law.

(Not that he can’t. Just not in the good, right way he’s sure you want him to protect you in. Gojo’s love is divine, not right. There’s nothing in this world Gojo can’t shield you from, because he’s the strongest.)

He also can’t make anything obvious or leave any room for interpretation. If there’s anything that feels off when the reports go live - you’ll stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. He thinks in the instance you find out (about all of it, the premeditation especially) you’d probably tuck your tail and run.

(Gojo would find you. But the chase means there’s some time you’re apart. The thought is almost nauseating.)

He likes that you’re curious about everything. In most instances anyways. But he thinks it’s better to leave you in the dark sometimes. Having you worry about it would ruin the point of this. And sometimes, it’s better not knowing every detail. Honeytraps are more ethical than nets.

He’s doing it for you in the end, like he does most things. And the kid will benefit, maybe even get some sympathy from his classmates for a while about the tragedy that befell his father. Gojo thinks it’s a good plan because no one loses. It’s a lot like killing a curse.

It only takes two weeks to learn virtually everything there is to know. A guy like that doesn’t have much he can hide.

The name of his target, he learns, is Nobu Watanabe. Father to Akio Watanbe and ex-husband to Akiko Watanbe. He’s a recently released felon (let off on good behavior) with a battery and assault with a deadly weapon charge. He’s a college drop-out, and has been working a lot of odd-jobs since he was 16.

His personality is bad, worse is his drinking and smoking habits. He’s often found drunk in the street, and has a track record for single nights spent in a cell. His ex-wife is usually the one bailing him out. Gojo can’t help but feel sorry for her. Somehow, he doubts that he’s good to her. He’s a deadbeat father through and through. He only offers to pick up his kid to harass you. At least from what he can tell.

He isn’t as awful to his kid as everyone else. Gojo doubts that was always the case. Akio isn’t a bad kid, but it’s hard not to notice the way the light in his eyes disappears when his father comes around to pick him up. A head always looking towards the floor, hands tucked in his pockets.

It’s difficult for Gojo to feel any guilt about what he’s doing. After everything, he can’t find it in himself to feel any regret.

His target is currently working at a dock, not too far from the city. He seems to work there most days, working at a bar on the weekends. It’s a big company that handles foreign goods that he does physical labor for. Lifting and moving boxings, checking inventory - it’s not a complicated affair.

If there’s not a major shipment, he still seems to clock in so he’s definitely paid some kind of hourly wage. He smokes often on the job, but works diligently when there is something to do. An easy but physical job, he’s strong. Gojo can understand what intimidates you about him.

Gojo, though, isn’t intimidated by him at all.

He waits a week before he takes action. To shake off anyone or anything that might be trailing him, and to make sure that everything is the same as he observed. That his schedule wasn’t going to change. A week passes, and when Gojo has confirmation - he decides to do what he does best.

Gojo Satoru decides to play God on a Sunday.

Sunday is a day shipments come in and a day he often works alone. The pay is better on Sunday and Nobu is the only one on his shift who takes it. He’s not expected to finish the strenuous work because he’s alone for such a long stretch of time - just to make a dent in it. The people at the next shift are the ones who finish the job.

He starts his day as early as 6am. It’s near winter, so the world is painted in a miraculously melancholy blue. Gojo follows him that morning. He knows the route well enough to trail behind him and not attract any attention. They pass together, turning corners and taking bus rides until Nobu’s finally in at his job.

There, they part briefly. His target goes into the big white building and he goes on top. Gojo has to teleport to the roof because everything is gated with security cameras covering every inch of the property. Following him puts Gojo at risk. So he waits on top of the building, hands in his pocket and pacing until Nobu comes out the otherside to the docks. His jumpsuit put on haphazardly, only half-pulled up to his waist, with a clipboard and pen as a bunch of boxes waiting for him to check them.

After Gojo confirms that he’s alone, he lies in wait. He sits and waits - watching as the clouds pass. Watching the open sea, how it remains unchanging no matter what boats pass through to shore. He looks at his phone every now and again to check the time.

It shouldn’t be too difficult to actually do it.

You know, if Gojo turns his infinity on, there’s nothing in the world that can touch him. He can touch it, but it can’t touch him. There will always be a barrier between his hands and the world. Between him and the known universe, a bridge that started burning the minute Gojo was born into it. If Gojo turns on his infinity, there’s no way to leave traces of him behind.

Did you know? If Gojo turns on his infinity, his fingerprints don’t show up. There’s no DNA to find. Not a trace of him in the world that he hasn’t left purposefully. Even if Gojo chokes him with his hands bare hands - he wouldn’t be touching him. But Gojo can feel it. Feel his pulse, feel his breathing come down slowly.

If there’s such a thing as heaven or hell, Gojo wants to ask God about being homicidal. If it was a flaw of human design or their Lord reflected inside of them.

He lies in wait on top of the roof until 7.

When 7 hits, the world around him is still so dark. No one kills in broad daylight. The heavens are murky, sky full of black clouds like puffs of smoke. It’s freezing cold, a spine-tingling chill making its way up Gojo’s skin and hardening his hands. . Gojo waits for the doors of the garage to creak open. When the sound echoes into the air, a metal screech in the void, Gojo stands to his feet.

He jumps to the ground, landing with a dull thud. He comes out unscathed, a cat on his feet. He dusts off the front of his pants. Nobu hasn’t taken notice of him. Gojo takes a look around them. There’s no cameras in the warehouse. Gojo waits alone in the dark.

Five minutes. It’s five minutes when all of the lights go out.

“What the fuck?” Nobu mumbles, dropping his clipboard on top of a bunch of boxes, running a hand through his hair. Gojo waits in silence, watches as he turns around.

When he finally does, he jumps back in shock. Gojo feels a cold chill run through his body.

“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” Nobu asks. Gojo grins.

“Ah, you don’t remember? We met a few weeks ago! We had a nice little exchange and everything.” He says, voice going higher by an octave. The man in front of him stares, off put by Gojos’ presence. He stumbles in his thinking, his body tensing up.

“Who the…what the fuck is going on?”

“Hey, don’t be so scared,” Gojo says, then uses his teleport to phase himself closer. Nobu’s eyes widen, shocked. Scared out of his wits, with the story of heartbeat like he’s being hunted. “Tough guy like you has nothing to be scared of, does he?”

“W-w-what…how did you…”

Gojo shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it, man.” He says, voice calm and smooth and even. He’s surprised by how his emotions feel in his body. Like he’s so angry that he’s not. There’s something inside of him, the white waters that wade, that Gojo can feel. It’s strange “We’ve got about 5 minutes till the lights come back on.”

For a while, they stand at a draw. No one moves. Not him, or Nobu, or the open oceans. It’s quiet for a dock. Even quieter for a dock in Tokyo, and Gojo’s not even using his abilities. He probably won’t need too, other than infinity - there’s not any good reason for him to exert himself any more than he must.

Weeks of planning, weeks of watching, weeks of waiting. Nothing feels like it matters at the moment. He wants it to be over soon-ish.

It’s not that Gojo is particularly sadistic.

It’s just that, everything feels like it’s teetering over this very moment. He thinks it to himself quietly like someone trying to remember where they last left their keys.

Briefly, Gojo thinks “I can’t go back,” after this. In the back of his head he just knows.

He envies this aggravating strangers' ignorance, too.

“What do you want from me?” He says, stuttering - a gasping breath of fear in his lungs that snaps Gojo out of his thoughts. Gojo shrugs.

“Nothing, really. I’m not short on money, you know? I make a good living,” He says, spouting off about nothing as he closes the gap between them. Stepping closer infinitely until Gojo backs him into the garage, into the tall tower of boxers where there’s no cameras and no witnesses “Hm…is there anything you can do to fix this?”

No, Gojo answers mostly to himself, But wouldn’t that be nice?

“P-please, I have—”

“A son right? And an ex-wife, and a dead mom in Saitama. You didn’t think I came here without doing any research, did you? We’re the same in that way you know, I might be a frivolous - but hell if I’m not diligent,”

He looks like he’s going to throw up. Gojo remains indifferent.

“Who are you?” He asks, this time really wondering. With that hoarse voice of curiosity, of defeat.

Gojo hums.

“Good question. Who do you think I am?” Gojo poses and lifts his hands up. He puts them around his neck, pushing hard until his back is against the stack of boxes. It’s dark but Gojo can see everything. He keeps his open, tightening the grip of his hands slowly.

Nobu tries to spit something out but the words get sputtered, muffled by lack of oxygen.

“Do you think I’m a devil? An angel? God? I wonder,” Gojo says, staring. With his mask on, but his eyes opened wide. “Guess I’m kind of like a boogeyman,”

Gojo can feel it. His body underneath his palms, gasping and struggling for air. He can feel his hands try to pry his hands off. He can feel his body slowly start to lose its air, how he deflates like a balloon. Gojo is unmoving, unfazed, unworried. He’s near motionless except the hard grip of his hand on his neck and the pulse that slows gently under his palms.

It takes 5 minutes, maybe less, with all the strength in both his hands. Gojo isn’t counting. He holds on for maybe 2 minutes after that, just to make sure it’s not a fluke. He waits till the heart stops sounding in his ears and until the body is completely limp except for where Gojo is holding him away. He goes out sad. Useless, even.

When Gojo stops, Nobu’s body drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stares at it for a while, then sighs. It’d be nice if he could just leave it there, but he does his due diligence. Picks it up from the ground with relative ease, over his shoulders.

He walks it out towards the dock - the very edge, before tossing it in water and watching it sink. When it disappears from his sight, Gojo is left with his reflection in the deep blue. He meets his eyes for the first time in weeks, and knows he’s seeing exactly what he thought he would.

His anger has settled, just barely. Just enough to be able to see the change in his own vision. With his Six Eyes, Gojo can see that there’s no turning back.

With his mask on, he looks at himself, warped in the vision of the sea. The vision of him—crystalline and white and blue—murky and moving.

Gojo jumps to the roof and turns the light on again. The power comes back.

A dog barks distantly, over and over and over. Gojo watches the sun rise alone.

The following weeks pass without a hitch. Gojo feels like nothing has changed.

(But that’s not true. Everything is different. The same but different)

At the two week mark, winter has set in and Gojo is spending time with you in your apartment together. Currently, you’re cooking dinner (after carefully instructing Gojo to stay put in the living room.) Gojo is sitting watching T.V. He’s helping you grade papers at the coffee table, humming to himself.

It’s about 7 when the news starts to play. A local news channel and a familiar face on the T.V. Gojo is surprised when the breaking news report airs.

“Two weeks ago, a missing persons report was filed for ex-convict Nobu Watanbe. Sources say he was last seen working at a Dock in Tokyo - which experienced a power outage. It’s reported that Nobu seemed to have gone missing at the time, and hasn’t made contact with anyone since then. Could this be the work of a…”

The rest of the report Gojo tunes out. He turns his head slightly to see if you’ve noticed. Your eyes are glued to it., standing and staring silently. You place your spatula on a towel on the counter.

“We got word about a week prior to this,” You say, breaking the silence after some time without Gojo prompting. He looks at you “Akio started coming with his mom again and she gave me the story. It wasn’t unusual for him to up and disappear, but he hadn’t done so since Akio was born,”

“That so?” Gojo says, nonplussed. You nod.

“I feel guilty but,” You trail off, rubbing your arm anxiously “I can’t help but be… relieved. Just a little. I don’t want the guy to be dead or anything, but it,”

Gojo stops you in the middle of your sentence.

“You don’t have anything you need to feel guilty about,” He corrects, voice stern. You give him a sad look but he remains firm in his stance “He was harassing you for weeks. It’s only natural that you feel relieved, you know?”

You’re not entirely content with the response, but you seem to know well enough this isn’t something Gojo will compromise on. You sigh, looking down at the floor.

“Yeah. That’s true I guess, but still. I wonder what happened to him, or if he just decided to run away,”

Gojo pretends to think about it.

“Maybe. Otherwise…guess it was God’s divine punishment,” He says, continuing to grade papers. He doesn’t even look up as he says it. You let out a puff of air through your nose in amusement .

“Yeah,” You say, “Maybe. I should thank him some time,”

Gojo hums.

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea,”

2K notes · View notes

nishinoyyaa · 1 year

Photo

His uniform turned him into a god really

23K notes · View notes

nishinoyyaa · 1 year

Text

whenever I get discouraged and feel like giving up I remember that that’s not very Hinata Shoyo of me

106 notes · View notes

nishinoyyaa · 1 year

Text

sorry don’t mind me I’m going through all the stages of grief once again because I remembered we aren’t getting a haikyuu season five

23 notes · View notes

nishinoyyaa · 1 year

Text

hinata posts this on his story and bokuto reposts it

#i’m telling the truth

1 note · View note

nishinoyyaa · 1 year

Text

word count: 7.2K

paring: Bokuto x fReader

warning(s): panty stealing, male masturbation - in several locations (shower, bedroom, laundry room), scent kink (wasn't my intention but it's in there), hint of obsessive behaviour oral. Bokuto is a perv in this, so be warned.

authors note: well, it has finally arrived - this darn fic I have been spending way too long on; to put it into perspective I started this in July. But anyway, what started as self-indulgent fluff morphed into something completely different and I am pretty happy with it! Hope you all enjoy this new side to our favourite volleyball playing himbo~ 🔮

Life always had a way of making itself just a little difficult, no matter what you did; even if the answer led to the best possible solution and outcome for you; you had to make sacrifices so you could succeed in a world that was always trying to see you fail. This was one such occasion.

You just moved to a new neighborhood, one that was far away from family and friends for your career. In order to move ahead, to gain the comfortable life you always wanted for yourself, you had to move away from all that you knew. It wasn’t easy, the decision taking you weeks to accept. At least you had your move, the unpacking and organizing of your new apartment, and your work to keep you busy; to keep your mind occupied on things that didn't revolve around how alone you felt.

But that could only last for so long, a temporary solution for an abiding problem; you knew it wouldn’t last. And after all the boxes were unpacked, all your furniture was properly arranged - and rearranged, and you finally found your stride at work; you couldn’t distract your mind any longer. That getting up and ready for work became a task that grew harder and harder to do every day. After a few months of adjustments, you just couldn’t bear the loneliness you felt whenever you came home; to emptiness and silence.

It wasn’t something you were used to and you knew you would never become. It never happened before in your life, never was a constant, even if your family was away you could always hop onto chats and spend your nights laughing with your friends.

And now? Well, you were halfway across the world. When you got up, your friends were fast asleep, and when they finally sent you a message you were on your way to bed. There was no real way to quell the ache that you felt in your heart in the traditional ways you knew how; you knew you needed a different solution.

And there was really only one solution you could think of.

You got yourself a dog.

A little lapdog with a goofy, but sweet, personality from the shelter nearby. A scruffy thing who couldn’t contain the hopeful wag of his tail as you walked by his kennel; one that couldn’t help but jump on the chain link barrier that separated you both, and then onto your legs when you went to greet him. One that filled your face with almost desperate kisses when you finally bent down to say hello; to give him a chance at a new home.

And it seemed you both were made for each other. Out of all the ones you saw that day, this one looked almost as lonely as you. But now? Well, the loneliness that etched across your sweet dog’s face no longer showed, just as the heaviness that clouded and weighed your heart down started to fade away.

No longer would you come home to emptiness, instead you had a ball of fluff and fur to greet you with enthusiasm as they wagged their tail and jumped on you in excitement to see you once more. And no longer would your little friend ever have to worry about sleeping all alone on a cold cement floor, with only a thin bed to keep him from getting a chill, wondering when someone would take him home and give him a warm bed to sleep on.

A match made in heaven, you joked as you snuggled up together each night on the couch to watch your favorite TV program after enjoying a nice dinner. Though your little furry friend always broke up your cuddle session, and your show, in the middle as they whined to go to the bathroom.

You would always oblige, and soon it became a part of your schedule. You began to enjoy the fresh air and routine it gave; to where 5-minute walks would turn into 10 and then into 15. Now your evenings consisted of 30-minute walks with your best friend by your side, trotting along as you mapped out all sorts of new paths to take, new sights to see, and new parts of the city to explore.

You finally, after a few months of exploring with your enthusiastic little friend, found a route that fit both of your needs. Lots of beautiful scenery for you to enjoy with limited hills and roads to cross so your aging dog didn’t lose steam too quickly.

Every night you did this little song and dance, to the point where if you ran even a few minutes behind your little friend would start giving you attitude. You also surmised that the time you did go on your walks was perfect as you never really ran into anyone, or their own dogs, or had to worry about anything else in the world that would break your stride. For all you knew, it was just you and your dog - no one or anything else mattered.

Well, turns out there was one other person in your world, though he had yet to make it be known.

Besides, Bokuto had not meant for this to be a daily occurrence.

He noticed you a few times whenever he got home after practice, your walking figure catching his eye whenever he moved about in his apartment. He never really gave it, or you, much thought.

That was until he injured his leg and had to be on bed rest for two whole weeks. Not being able to move, not being able to practice and play volleyball - the one thing he loved most - was nearly unbearable. But that doom and gloom would be alleviated, just slightly, whenever you would walk by.

Bokuto wasn’t sure why, maybe it was the consistency? The reassurance then whenever your recognizable figure crossed through his window meant that he got through another day. Maybe it was because it gave him something to do, he did find himself casually watching other dog walkers that passed by throughout the afternoon and evening. Or maybe it was because it was specifically you. Bokuto couldn’t put his finger on why, but something drew him to you.

“Probably because she’s new around here.” That was his reasoning. Made sense to him, a new person in the neighborhood would cause some added curiosity.

But he knew that wasn’t the case. It’s not like he knew anyone in his neighborhood, let alone his apartment building.

Bokuto truly had not meant for all this to escalate out of proportion; to peer out his apartment window every day until you showed up. And now here he was, weeks after being healed, rushing to get his shoes off and throw his stuff to the side so he could watch you pass by. It was pathetic really, to be so enthralled by someone who walked across the street every day, but his heart kept pulling him closer to the window.

His friends had teased him about it, one day after practice as he rushed to get home with them by his side so they could drop their stuff off at his place before going out for the night. Watching him as he got all flustered at a person across the street.

“Dude, it’s kinda creepy, ya know!” Atsumu laughed, arms laying across the taller man's shoulder as he leaned on him - peering out the window to see you obviously unaware of their stares “Watching this girl obsessively.”

“That’s textbook stalker behavior~” Kuroo would join, also laying his weight on him, poking his flushed cheeks in a teasing manner.

“N-no it’s not! I am just making sure she passes my block safely! It’s dangerous to walk at night, you know!” Bokuto would shoot back.

“Ya’live in the safest neighborhood in the whole city!”

“Yeah, and besides whatta gonna do from all the way up here?”

Bokuto just shrugged them off, mumbling more to himself some sort of excuse for his behavior - some sort of made-up plan he had in place should the need to rescue you arised. But he knew, as much as they did, that there was no plan - or excuse - he just liked knowing you walked by him every day; that you were in his life for a brief moment.

At the time, he didn’t think much of it; at how alone he really was. Thinking that when he caught your eye briefly and grew a little bashful was out of embarrassment and not because it made his heart flutter. But it happened once again when they were hanging out, a little get-together before leaving on tour, how Bokuto would keep looking out his window with worry in his eye before they would soften into a form of sweet longing, that same woman walking by.

“Just go down and ask her out!” Hinata's bright voice would encourage him.

“Not like she’ll turn you down!’ Atsumu would add with a wink

The teasing would continue, even after you passed, of how much of a love-struck chicken he was for not talking to you. About how he was a little creepy for just staring at you and your dog as you walked by without a care in the world.

“I know,” Bokuto would sigh, longingly, in agreement “I’m just waiting for the right moment is all.”

Then, months later, after the winter tour had ended and the world was in the warmer, but rainier, spring weather, Bokuto would finally get that opportunity. When you accidentally dropped your pair of gloves that were stored in your pocket; an accident you didn't notice as you were too busy getting, and opening, the doggy bag that also resided in your cute little coat. Quickly, without truly thinking, he ran out to grab them. Waiting until after you had turned the corner off his street to make his way to where they lay, his bare feet becoming frozen on the concrete as he trotted over. He didn’t want them to be stolen or swept away with the wind to be forever lost. Gloves were expensive after all! And besides, given the cute design they had, he could tell you would miss them. A small sense of victory filled his being, as he now had the perfect chance to talk to you.

But that chance never really did come.

You came by the next day, earlier than normal, making Bokuto curse as he contemplated running out of his apartment in nothing but a towel; figuring against it as it would not be the best first impression or look good on his character or reputation, and he knows Iwaizumi would kill him if he got sick doing something so idiotic.

So, he figured he would get the chance to meet you tomorrow. That he would make sure to be ready early just in case you decided to pull a stunt like that again. But as he eagerly waited by his window, gloves in hand, the next evening you never did appear; you figure never walking down his street. He waited until late that night, just in case, but you never showed. Not the next day, or the day after that.

Soon days turned into weeks and then into months, and you had never once appeared in his window, walking on that sidewalk across the street. The gloves, tan in colour and with bright pink pom poms, lay untouched as they would greet him by his door every day, waiting for you as much as him.

Bokuto wondered where you, and your little furry companion, had disappeared to. He hoped it was somewhere good. Couldn’t help but have his mind wander to where you were and to all of the things you were getting up to, and couldn’t help but dream that it involved him as well.

Maybe you were in the countryside, enjoying the vastness and peace they gave as their winds swooped over the wheat fields and across your cheeks. Or perhaps in the mountains, enjoying their trails as you hiked up and down them, your dog in tow trying to keep up with a tree branch in their mouth. Or maybe you were in some onsen, inhaling the steam with a happy sigh as you soaked in the hot, soothing, waters.

Bokuto always had to stop his brain from continuing when he thought of you at hot springs; ignoring the strain of his cock as he thought about how soft and warm your skin would be - how he wished to be bathing right next to you, to feel every curve of your body.

He had to stop, he didn’t want to defile you like that; not without even knowing your name.

Bokuto just wanted you back. Even if it was only for the mere moments, the few seconds he got when you strolled on by with your happily trotting dog; strolled on briefly through his life with that pretty smile.

You hadn’t meant for your trip back home to last as long as it did. What started as a simple voyage home early for the Easter holiday extended considerably to having you stay. With your family’s urgent needs overtaking any reason you may have had to leave. You were lucky the job you had was flexible, able to accommodate you in your time of need, and that you had your dog with you; unable to bring yourself to think of what might have happened if you left him in a kennel all those months.

Now you were just lucky everything ended well and that you could finally get back to your cozy apartment and the routine you had made for yourself and your sweet dog; the one you neglected for a long time, and were sorely wanting to get back to.

You sighed in delight when the fresh air you longed to return to, that only this city could provide, hit your face as you made you trek out on your usual route once more; the sereneness you felt was like seeing an old good friend after years apart, as your feet began their first steps on the pavement while you enjoyed the late October breeze.

It was a long and grueling practice and Bokuto truly couldn’t think of a better way to end his day than crawling into bed and forgetting it ever existed. Kicking his door open with a groan, practically throwing his bag by his coat closet with a loud thud, and placing his keys in the bowl on the little table he kept nearby. He eyed the gloves too small for him briefly, eyes and body filled with a sense of sadness as he regaled at how he let his opportunity go.

Kicking himself internally he sighed, hands rubbing his face as he groaned once more, this time in frustration, as he walked further into his home.

“Why didn’t I just go out there? Not like I was naked…” he grumbled as he began shrugging off his coat, slowly making his way to his bedroom and walking by that cursed window.

His eye caught movement, one that made his head turn slightly out of impulse. But never fully, he knew it was of someone walking by, so he ignored it at first. Assuming it was someone just doing a late job, running an errand, or stopping by to get their mail. Whatever the case was, he didn’t want to think further of it - to have those thoughts lead to you.

But something inside him told him to take another glance; compelling him to go to the window like he once had many times before and to take a proper look, his heart aching at him to try just one more time.

And there was you. Appeared at long last when all hope seemed lost, leaving him dumbstruck as he stared out at your form with his jaw slack and his eyes wide.

It didn’t take long for him to break out of his surprised stupor, rushing out of his apartment as he fumbled with his coat, falling with little grace as he tripped over his duffle bag but with no care about the poor downstairs apartment that had to endure the loud thud or his now aching knee or whether he had grabbed his keys to prevent him of being locked out. All that mattered at that moment was you, and the tan gloves that you had lost and which would grant him the opportunity to finally talk to you.

Bokuto called out to you, his voice he was sure louder than expected as you jumped in scared surprise, as he dashed across the street to where you stood in a stupor. He was out of breath, he knew, and he also knew that while he stood there panting to try and regain it was not helping his case.

This was truly the last thing you were expecting, normally your brief counters with people were a polite smile as you passed each other, briefly sharing the sidewalk. And it was so far and few in between that you never really thought much about it or the people you passed; them always being a blur in your memory.

But this? Well, you would be sure never to forget this moment. Not only was your heart racing, the loudness of the man’s shout before you startled you to the point you were sure you would keel over with a heart attack at any moment. But that he was incredibly tall and imposing and…..handsome.

You couldn’t help the way your face warmed at the sight of him, both out of bashfulness over how close he was and how his golden eyes bore into your own, and in embarrassment at how little your fight or flight response acted; just allowing you to stand there frozen with a dumb gaped look on your face.

“I- I’m really sorry for scaring you!” Bokuto apologizes, moving his open palms up to showcase he meant to harm “You just um - uh you dropped your gloves a while ago and I-I uh grabbed them, which I guess sounds bad, but I just didn’t want them stolen or anything, and I- I have been meaning to give them back to you so um…..”

Bokuto gently, but with little grace as he fumbled for a moment, pulled your gloves out of his pocket, holding them out for you to take “Yeah… here. Sorry, it took so long to give them back…”

You found his eagerness, and nervous fumbling adorable, as you timidly laughed; gingerly reaching out to take your old gloves from his grasp.

“Thank you…” You mumbled, your voice unable to break higher than that “But I suppose it wasn’t your fault. I’ve been gone for a while, family stuff ya know? But um, again, thanks. It’s really sweet of you to wait so long to give them back.”

You had a hard time meeting his gaze, embarrassed even more over the fact that you not only lost your gloves, but that you forgot all about it and that the poor man before you had kept them for months, waiting to get rid of them and back to you, and that said man was staring so intently at you - you had never been looked at in such a way and you didn’t know what to do.

“Of course, it’s only the neighborly thing to do, right?” Bokuto smiled, making your knees buckle more, “I’m Bokuto Koutaro, I live in this building here! And who is this?”

“I am so sorry!” You squeaked, trying to gently pry your dog off his legs “His name is Rufus, he’s so terrible about jumping on people, he just wants pets, I’m so so sorry!”

“Hey, don’t we all?” He laughed, crouching down to give your dog the attention he so cutely asked for. “Aren’t you a cutie! So, Rufus, are you new around here? New to the neighborhood maybe? Cause I have seen lots of cute dogs but never seen you before!”

“Kinda,” You giggled, laughing at how your dog had thrown himself on his back for belly rubs and the cute way this stranger - well not technically stranger anymore - was indirectly asking you questions “We moved here almost a year ago, but only really started walking this route for a few weeks before, well, we had to leave for a bit.”

“Yes…. I see, that’s very interesting Rufus, thank you.” Bokuto nodded, sticking his chin out further to get some of the kisses your dog was trying to give “Now tell me, what’s your pretty owner’s name, hm?”

“O-oh uh um!” You fumbled, caught off guard by the compliment, but still managed to provide him the response he was looking for; giving forth a shy smile to his more bright one.

“Well, that’s a pretty name, isn’t it Rufus?”

“T-thank you, um we-we um should get going, the sun is starting to set and stuff… don’t want to take up more of your time.” You mumbled, tugging your dog gently, and successfully, away to slowly start walking your route once more.

“H-hey, wait!” Bokuto called out, taking a few steps to close the small gap that was made between the two of you “Would… would you like to grab a coffee or something sometime?”

His request caught you off guard, your gaping mouth that you had to shut quickly (and loudly) proof of that, but not in a bad way as you nervously cleared your throat

“Y-yeah, that sounds really nice,” You smiled excitedly, almost giddy as rummaged in your pocket for a moment to pull out your phone “Give me your number and I’ll let you know when I’m next available.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, his eagerness once again making you giggle and his bright smile making your knees buckle, as he grabbed hold of your phone, waiting not a second to input his number along with a cute nickname before handing it back.

“Text me soon, okay?”

“O-okay!” You agreed, your smile almost mirroring his own as you gave him a final wave goodbye, tugging your dog gently off his legs one last time to resume your walk.

You both felt weightless as you walked back to your respective homes. You were unable to weaken the dumb, broad, smile that was glued on your face as giggled to yourself over your encounter with that handsome man, as you kept glancing down at the gloves he so kindly returned to you - whispering your thanks as you held them to your heart.

Bokuto’s legs felt like jelly as he sauntered back over to his building, fumbling with the intercom to try and gain access to the complex; his own dreamy and dumb expression never leaving his face as he almost incoherently asks to be let back in. Stumbling his way back up to his floor and through the threshold of his home, he thought of you and your cute smile; how he wants to see it again and soon. Excitedly he broke out of the trance you left him in to furiously type his text to you; the same one you receive as soon as you walked through the door

‘Please tell me I can meet you tomorrow!’

How interesting it was, how time could move so slowly and so quickly at the same time. How hours seem to fade into days, which fade into one another, and then all of a sudden a month will have passed and you never even realized it - like a blink of an eye.

It’s a combination of things, for time to move like this. For if it was just passing by quickly it would mean either life was so dull that things just blended together and time would then be wasted; or it could be the opposite, that all sorts of fun and excitement were happening at once that you could barely keep up. But if it is both, those days seem to drag on but weeks seem to end swiftly, then it’s a mixture of the two.

And really, that was the perfect explanation for it all.

During the day as you worked the hours seemed to drag on, but in the evenings whenever you had to walk your dog, or on the weekends, it was like time was doing everything it could to make the day anew again; to subjugate you to the long and drawn out hours of boredom work provided.

But whenever you weren’t at work, you found yourself crossing paths with your handsome new friend Bokuto. That was probably why time seemed to pass on by, it always seemed to move fast whenever someone was having fun. And you couldn’t lie that you were having the most fun you had in months while you were around that exuberant man, His positivity and brightness were contagious, and no matter how run down you felt, no matter how bad the day was, once you saw his smile it was like nothing bad happened at all.

Ever since you took the leap and replied to his enthusiastic text with one of your own stating a time to go out with you the next night to help you walk your dog, it has been a whirlwind of that bright fun.

Going to cafes to get coffee, trying out new restaurants that popped out of nowhere, trying out the hiking trails that you never knew existed, and exploring hidden corners of the city you had yet to explore. All while he held your hand tightly and dazzled you with his beaming smile every time you went out with him.

On top of it all, every weekday, after you finished work, Bokuto would try his best to meet where it all began. To wait out in front of his apartment building in hopes to catch you, to then continue on walking with you for the remainder of your trip home; taking hold of your dog’s lead as he happily tucked your arm underneath his instead - his excuse was always “gotta make sure you make it home safe” smiling down at you if you ever tried to complain.

Before you knew it a month had passed. A month filled with good morning texts, evening walks in the cool autumn air, and weekends filled with little dates. Your days consumed with the attentions and affections of a man you never thought you would meet, let alone be romanced by so energetically. It was all so sudden, almost overwhelming, but so welcomed all the same.

Though, with all the affection and time spent together, you couldn’t definitely say what you were; if you were his girlfriend or not. You couldn’t say there was nothing between you both, not with the small nervous gestures he gave you, like all those lingering kisses he would press to your forehead whenever he dropped you off. Never actually pressing his lips to yours, as if he was afraid of overstepping a boundary.

Due to this, you couldn’t claim to be official, that he was your boyfriend, that you were going steady. Which made butterflies form in your tummy when you asked him for a large favor; not sure if he would be okay with it all. After all, you hadn’t even kissed yet.

A work event was approaching, and it was mandatory that you go to it. Which meant you had to leave for an entire weekend. Normally, weekend trips were fine, as you could bring your furry companion with you. But you couldn’t bring your dog with you, the hotel your work arranged for you to stay at wouldn’t allow it. And you didn’t want to spend hundreds of dollars to send your dog to a service, or allow a stranger into your home to take care of them; who knows what they might look at or steal.

You decided to bite the bullet when the week of the event came up; figuring that the worst-case scenario was Bokuto would say no - but given how close you had gotten over the past month you had high hopes.

Besides, he was the perfect option. You would feel comfortable with him in your home, he had been over a few times before, and your dog adored him. And, he lived close by too, so if something were to happen or if he didn’t feel comfortable staying at your place for a few days it wouldn’t be the end of the world; he and your pet would just a few blocks.

You asked him, on a particularly warm Tuesday night for October, and he said yes without hesitation. You didn’t know why he agreed, perhaps it was in the bashful manner you asked, or maybe he could sense the quiet desperation in your tone. But, overall, it didn’t matter to you, just as long as your home and precious pet were safe.

But just as your life had started to slowly be consumed by him in all those little ways he had woven himself into your daily routine; Bokuto’s was completely taken away by you.

He couldn’t help it. Bokuto found himself thinking about you all the time, at almost every moment of the day. While grocery shopping he thought of what you might buy, and what dishes you might make yourself. At practice when he was supposed to be listening to his coach, or paying attention to the plays happening before him, all he could think about was having you sit on the bleachers cheering him on. Even late at night after you had sent your last text of the day, wishing him goodnight, he was thinking about you, almost obsessed by you, though he figured it was inevitable given how borderline obsessive he was before he even knew you; when he would just watch your figure pass by his window every day.

That was probably why he said yes to your request; not wanting to say no to your cute face or to possibly jeopardize his future chances of being with you. Besides, he loved your dog, and the chance to be in the place you called home, for longer than a moment to drop you off, was far too tempting.

“My goodness, again, thank you so much for doing this!” You gushed once more as you rushed to get the last of your things together, pushing Bokuto further into your home.

“No problem at all! Happy I could do this for you” He beamed, still holding onto the bag you had practically thrown at him when you opened the door to greet him.

“I know, I know…” You took a breath, finally taking the proper moment to actually acknowledge him “But still… figured I would let you know how appreciative I am; so, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He responded in kind, his smile was so gentle that it made your heart skip a beat.

“R-right! Um… I wrote a list of what Rufus needs. His feeding schedule, walk schedule, all that kind of stuff. It’s on the kitchen table, so take a look.” Your voice went faint, though Bokuto could still hear you, as you walked away from him into your bedroom “It, it also has the passwords to my streaming services, should you want to use them.” You let out a small huff, as you dragged your suitcase from your bedroom “You are also free to have whatever you like from the kitchen! Nothing is off-limits, so go nuts. And um… you know if you wanted to bring your girlfriend over to hang out that’s cool with me too!”

You took your bag from Bokuto’s hold, taking a moment to peer inside to double-check you had all you needed in there. As well as looking at your suitcase to take a second to recall all you put in; trying to see if you had forgotten anything; doing your best to try and play it cool over what you just said.

“Well, that won’t be necessary,” Bokuto mumbled, doing his best to look at you but not stare. a hand fiddling with one of his hoodie’s drawstrings “The girlfriend thing I mean… don’t have one so… yeah.”

His nervous chuckle made you follow suit making you pause your tireless item shuffling to glance up at him; your smile was small before growing wider alongside his and you shared a brief moment - on that you both couldn’t really put a name to, but knew it was a good one all the same.

“Alright, I think I’m good to go!” You bit your lip, taking hold of your suitcase; extending the handle for easier use.

“Safe travels, okay? Text me when you get there!” Bokuto asked, opening the door for you to avoid any further struggles

“Don’t worry, I will!” You leaned up, placing a quick peck on his lips before walking through your threshold “Thanks, again! I’ll see you in a few days!”

Bokuto watched you leave, down the hall, and into the elevator with a dumbstruck look on his face; if you weren’t in such a hurry you might have laughed at that. But as soon as you were out of sight that shocked look turned into one of dumbstruck love as a goofy smile crossed his face as he closed your door with a goofy-sounding chuckle.

‘Our first kiss’ was all he could think about as he wandered over to your couch, plopping down on it as he absent-mindedly pet your dog as he relived the way your lips felt over and over again. Hoping that when you came back, he would be graced with another one.

The first night went without a hitch. Due to your late afternoon departure, all Bokuto had to do was put Rufus out for the last time, and then enjoy the night in. Ordering food and choosing a movie to play in the background as he absent-mindedly scrolled his phone - sending a good night text your way once you confirmed you made it to your hotel safely. And given that Iwazumi was so hard on him, and his team members, in training earlier that day, he didn’t think twice about hitting the hay once he got back from that final walk with your furry friend.

However, the next morning would prove to be his downfall.

Though it wasn’t like it was his fault really. It was just, sleeping in your bed, being surrounded by the smell of you - the whisper of floral from the shampoo that you use lingered on your pillows, the faint smell of your laundry detergent that comforted him as he snuggled deeper in your blanket, and the scent of your faded sweat the clung the deeper he sunk into your sheets - all of it was so uniquely, perfectly, utterly you that his body acted without thinking.

And maybe it was because he was laying in your bed, surrounded by the same sheets that clung to your body in ways he could only imagine, could only dream about. That such an innocent act was something far more intimate than he, and more than likely yourself, thought it could be. It was something that got to him more than it should.

No matter how much he tossed and turned, tried to think of anything else, his body betrayed him. And as the sun’s rays hit his eyes, signaling a new day, his stiffened cock stood proud, barely contained by the fabric of his boxers, just as it did when he first crawled into your bed.

“A cold shower would do the trick,” Bokuto whispered to himself as he dragged his body into an upright position, keeping an eye on your dog to make sure he was still asleep. “Always works before a game….”

And it did. Well… whenever he was about to play a game, or away on tour and needed to get rid of his morning wood before meeting his teammates. This was proving to be a different case all entirely. And he was only a man.

A weak, weak, man too easily trumped by temptation.

He would apologize, and beg to whatever god that was above, for your forgiveness and understanding but he couldn’t help but stroke his cock to the thought of you. How your skin would look all lathered in bubbles from the body wash he was currently inhaling; never once thinking the smell of hibiscus would make his eyes roll to the back of his skull. Imagining how he would bend you over, pressing you against the cheap tile wall, and fuck you so hard that your neighbors could hear the sound of your moans over the water; how pretty your pussy would look after he came so deep inside, how his cum would slowly seep out and down your pretty legs before being washed away down the drain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Bokuto hissed, as his hipped jerked into his hand, his release overtaking him making a mess of his hand, chest, and your shower wall; silently, and shamefully watching it go down your drain - disappointed over the reality of it all.

The rest of the day went decently enough. Bokuto avoided your room and everything in it, even your bathroom for most of the day in fear of having to take another hour-long shower. Instead, he occupied his time by taking your dog out on a nearby, local, hiking trail; one that traversed close to and alongside a river. Your dog loved it, and Bokuto made sure to keep a mental note to take you out here soon before the weather got too cold and the river would freeze over.

He also spent his time, the majority of his evening, catching up on the latest TV drama Hinata was begging him to watch; keeping the younger man updated on which episode he was on, and taking small breaks to feed your dog or to take him on his needed walks for bathroom relief.

But Bokuto knew he couldn’t avoid it forever; that when night fell, he would crack once more. He knew he should have slept on the couch, to deal with the aches in his joints, the soreness in his muscles, and whatever back pain he would inevitably have by huddling and sleeping in such a still position on your too-small couch. But the allure of sleeping in your sheets - to be surrounded by the same comfort you allowed yourself to enjoy every night - was too enticing.

It was a sleepless night, once again.

Though this time it was not spent like the night before, where he was tossing and turning to try and settle down to get a proper night's rest. Bokuto knew that it would be pointless to try. Instead, fueled by the faded smell of your shampoo that lingered on your pillowcase, he took hold of your fluffiest pillow, and slotted it between his legs; against his weeping and aching cock. No longer able to help, or ignore the heat that coursed through his veins.

His whimpers, though muffled, echoed within your empty bedroom as the sound of your headboard softly hitting the wall behind accompanied the sinful symphony as his body crushed your favourite pillow; hips desperately trying to keep that wonderful friction it gave to get him over the edge. Bokuto thought about how you would look folded into a mating press as he pinned you in place with nothing but his weight; how sweet you would look with tears in your eyes as you babbled on about how much you loved his cock.

“Yeah, just like that…. fuck, you’re such a good girl….nngh!.... You like taking my cock, huh? You like how my fat cock stretches you out? Come on… come on say it, please?”

It went on all night long, and when the morning sun finally hit his tired eyes did Bokuto finally feel spent; finally felt like he got all his pent-up frustrations out of him. Though his body screamed at him to not move, to lay down and rest, he had to ignore it. Had to take your soiled bedding - pillows, sheets, and blankets - off your bed so they could be washed. If he had more energy he would wince in shame over how much cum he managed to spill out onto it all; but right now he couldn’t give a damn. It was more than worth it to him.

Bokuto blessed the gods above that you had a washer and dryer within your cute apartment; how thankful he was not to have to take them all the way down flights of stairs and possibly run into one of your neighbors. He quickly went to put a load on, knowing he had to take care of a few last things around the house, for your little dog, and place some new sheets on your bed to dissuade any suspicion before you got home.

And oh what a blessing your little laundry room was.

There, sat atop your dirty laundry within the hamper you kept so neatly tucked away, sat a pair of pretty pink lace panties. He knew you had worn them, knew that they were meant to be washed, knew you had not left them there to tease him but instead discarded them like anyone would with used clothing, and he knew he should have just walked away from them. But they were so pretty, Bokuto couldn’t help but grab them for a closer look.

Couldn’t help but enjoy the way the soft fabric felt against his calloused fingertips. Couldn’t help but bring them up to his face, couldn’t help the way his mouth watered from the musky smell that greeted him, and certainly couldn’t help what he was about to do.

He knew it was wrong; he only has a few hours before you came home for Christ's sake. But this whole weekend was a perfect example of how little control he had when it came to you. That despite how wrong it all was, how he was violating your privacy and taking advantage of this situation, he couldn’t quell his lust as he took another deep inhale of your scent that stayed on that flimsy piece of fabric; his loose athletic shorts slipping past his hips as his angry-red cock sprung free once again.

“Gotta be quick…. gotta be quick - fuck!” He kept muttering to himself as he furiously pumped his hand up and down the length of his cock; doing his best to finish quickly and move on to what he was supposed to be doing.

He thought of you on top of the washer; sitting like the good girl you were as he knelt before you and ate you out like his last meal - your moans and mewls shaking in rhythm to the vibrations of the machine below you. The whole image being brought to him in a clearer focus in his mind due to the constant inhale of your fragrance.

Bokuto came with an unexpected groan, finishing much faster than he anticipated; not realizing just how effective those pretty panties of yours were. He collapsed against your wall with a deep and satisfied sigh; doing his best to calm his heart and breathing down. He could hear his phone go off from the other room, the specific chime meant it was you - clearly texting him that you were almost home. Bokuto sighed one last time, knowing he was not in an even bigger hurry to clean things up; starting with the panties he had balled in his fist.

Maybe… maybe you won’t notice if they are gone….

or perhaps maybe you will

5K notes · View notes

nishinoyyaa · 2 years

Text

Hi Hi !

I'm Fi-Fi and I'll slowly be moving my art from twitter to here. I mainly draw HQ fanart but I enjoy other series also and hope to make fan art for those too.

My work is both sfw and nsfw so please, be warned !

572 notes · View notes

nishinoyyaa · 2 years

Text

blood money, red velvet

Part of the Yakuza!JJK Collab with @cursedmoonchild

All characters depicted are over 18 years of age. Please do not copy, use, or repost this content without explicit permission of the creator.

Pairing: Choso x Fem! Reader x Yuki Warnings: NSFW, smut, threesomes, wlw, face sitting, oral, mutual masturbation, cum eating, choking, brief descriptions blood, brief description of death (murder), brief description of gang violence, mention of drugs (maybe), pet names: Yuki calls reader “darlin, “sweet thing” “princess” “doll”, Choso calls her “pretty thing” “little one” “love”, reader do be kinda freaky because she really just goes for it Synopsis: You need help, desperately. And Yuki is your last chance. But what if Yuki’s compensation is different from what you expected? Length: 5k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“No deal.” She was golden, her hair dripping sweet sunlight as she leaned back in the chair across from you. Burnt umber eyes giggled at you over the rim of her drink and she left scarlet lipstick stains on her glass. You sighed, deflating into the lush upholstery of the luxurious velvet couch. You knew that tonight’s endeavour was a long shot, one chance in a million. And you had lost. Tsukumo Yuki had been your last hope, but she had refused, and now, all you had left was blood on your hands.

“Yuki…” the voice behind you melted like dark chocolate over your tongue, bittersweet as you tasted the sympathy in its tones. Kamo Choso, the mediator for tonight’s negotiations, loomed over your shoulder to retrieve his drink, his dark eyes never leaving the crackling space between you and his long-term partner. He was well known for his professionalism during negotiations with Yuki, never showing any bias between involved parties and never dropping the soft “Tsukumo-san” he addressed her with throughout the meeting. Except for now, when her name fell in powdered sugar over your shoulders. Yuki looked up briefly into her lover’s eyes before her hot honeyed gaze met yours once again. “I'm sorry, sweet thing,” she cooed, “as much as I’d love to make a deal with you, I’ve made a vow to myself that I won’t break, not even for a pretty darling like you.” You nodded, already gathering up what little was left of your dignity to depart and rose from your seat. A pity, you thought, as you gave the pair one last longing glance. They were beautiful, unearthly, unreal. Choso with his pristine porcelain skin, his inky locks and storm-swept eyes, Yuki with her gold-spun strands and sun-kissed skin. They were gods, and you were a mere mortal, forced into prostration before their altar as you laid out your meagre offerings. Offerings that you yourself would refuse.

You looked to Yuki. “It’s my family, isn’t it?” you asked, the answer already on your lips, “the deal is damn good, my family’s the problem.” Yuki scrunched her nose. “Your father’s a misogynistic asshole and your brother’s a sadistic fuck.” “Yuki!” panic coloured Choso’s words, but your carmine giggle cut him off. “That’s for sure,” you sighed, “alright, well I appreciate you meeting,” you looked to Choso, “and mediating with me anyway.” You turned to leave, your last dregs of hope and humanity left behind on the plush red velvet of Yuki’s couch. Your hand was on the doorknob when you were stopped dead, the deep purr of Yuki’s voice reverberating around the room before vibrating through your ribs. “I might just break my vow for you, princess, but only once those fuckers have left your family,” Yuki offered, taking your previous place on the couch, reaching up to cup the back of Choso’s neck and bring him down behind her. You half-turned, mouth parted, but the dark-haired man spoke before you, his lips brushing his lover’s skin as he smiled, “What she means to say, little one, is that if you, and only you, come to us for a deal, we’d be more than happy to do business with you, beloved.”

...

Two months later and you’re lost, losing yourself in the primal thump of the dancefloor in a club you can’t even name. You think it’s the White Lotus, one of the many establishments operating under the Gojo Family’s name. This one was a gift to one of their main members, although you’d be damned if you could remember his name. Deto? Geto? You didn’t care. You weren’t here for business. Business, business, business, then blood and guts and bones, and then business once again. Blood saturated every second of your life, dripping from your fingertips across the floor, staining your flaws, your failings. You had won the war, won the fight for successorship, won the fight that took the lives of your family. The new Family Head, welcomed with wary eyes and loud whispers of “why was a woman allowed to go so far?”. The other Families had been outright hostile, bar the Gojo clan, who were too powerful to care about who succeeded a minor clan amongst their cornucopia of wealth.

You had won, and now blood dripped down your fingertips onto the dancefloor, a construction of your now corrupted mind, constantly casting crimson across your life. You shook your head, shaking the sin and the nightmare from your head. You had come here for fun, freedom, for the fantasy of a normal life as you lost yourself in the music.

With the next song, you’re at the bar, barking for a shot of vodka and cranberry chaser, baring your teeth in a frightening attempt at a smile at the other patrons. Of course, they were just normal people, living normal lives, letting loose in their otherwise normal, monotonous, peaceful lives. Part of you hated them, hated their harmonious existences, free from the constant havoc and conflict of your own world. But, luckily, the clan tattoo across your neck had its perks, and your drinks slid across the counter to your waiting hands. You relished the burn of the shot down your throat, baring yourself to the shiver that ran through your body. You drank your juice a bit slower, scanning the crowd for any possible prey, any possible pure soul for you to lose yourself in for a night. You smouldered, the tension in your lower stomach tight enough for you to seek out some release, some relief from the relentless blood on your hands. Nothing. No-one. Too normal.

So you resigned yourself to music as your refuge. You slipped enough notes across to the surprised bartender, before dissolving back into the seething throng of bodies.

The bass reverberated through your bones, the bump of your hips, the curve of your spine. You weren’t drunk, it would take a lot more than a shot to intoxicate you, but the taught muscles of your shoulders relaxed, leaving you loose to dance.

You swung your head back, letting that blood-red light slide across your skin as you soaked yourself in the smoky air and sultry beat. Your hands stretched to the sky, bathing your arms in blood, bare, reaching, reaching, your dancing fingers desperately trying to find something, anyone, to hold onto.

Ivory spilt over your skin, long pale fingers adorned with silver rings spinning over your hands to twirl your body toward a solid chest of wine-dark silk. “And what do we have here, my dear?” Choso murmured over your shoulder, blood-dark lips just inches from yours, the scarlet glitter below his eyes catching in the simmering light of the club. “A little bit of fun, don’t you think, darlin’?” a woman’s voice bled across you, dripping gold and glamour, brightened by the bright scarlet painted across Yuki’s mouth. You were stuck between them, Choso’s firm chest to yours, silver-spun hands heavy on your hips. Yuki had draped herself over your shoulders, her hair falling in shimmering cascade over your skin, causing you to shiver. “Tsukumo-san, Kamo-san, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” you willed your voice not to waver, to stay still despite the soft tickle of their hands on your skin. “Ah – ah – ah – does it look like we’re working?” Yuki tutted, you glanced at her over your shoulder, eyes widening at the ebony lace tracing over her skin, barely covering her breasts. “N-no,” your gaze flickered back to Choso, whose pale chest glimmered between the unbuttoned wine dark silk of his shirt. You chose to look at the floor instead. “Exactly,” Yuki leaned in, purring past your ear, “so there’s no need to be so formal with us, right Choso?” Her partner nodded; his painted lips pulled into a gentle smirk. His soft grip over your hips grew heavier and you could feel his thumbs hook through your belt loops, tugging you tighter to his body.

“Would you dance with us, little one?” he cooed, and before you could think, you were nodding, swept up in the flurry of hands and hips and music that carried you deeper into the crowd. Their hands never left you, constantly brushing over your clothes, leaving lightning bolts rippling across your skin. Choso turned you to press his chest to your back, his hips flush to your backside, his lips a whisper away from your neck. Yuki dropped to a crouch in front of you, running her hands up over your body as she rose from her squat, her golden eyes glimmering in the flashing lights. As she rose to her feet, she leaned in, close enough that you could taste the cherry liquor on her breath, her mouth a mere gasp away. Her hands wound around your waist before she spun you back to face Choso.

Choso’s eyes glowed darkly, his pupils lost to his shadowed gaze. He pushed your hair back from your face before his hand settled around your neck. His rings felt cold against your throat, and as he pressed his fingers into your flesh, you shuddered.

“Will you kiss me, pretty thing?” Choso asked. You glanced over your shoulder, drinking in the soft scent of cherries and strawberries that sang from Yuki’s gold-spun hair. Dark eyes glittered at you, greedy and gold. “Go ahead, darlin’,” Yuki cooed, “but only if you want to,” she reached up to rub her thumb along your bottom lip, tracing the plump flesh and letting it pop back into place after she pulled it down.

Choso was whiskey-warm, bittersweet on your tongue as he brought his mouth to yours in an open-mouthed kiss. You gasped, feeling Yuki’s hands begin to wander up your sides, slipping beneath your shirt to tickle your skin with seductive shivers. Choso used your surprise, sliding his tongue into your mouth with a groan. You sighed into the kiss, letting the cold rings on his fingers wind up into your hair, the other hand hard and firm on your hip. Choso let you go with a gasp before leaning over your shoulder to kiss his girlfriend.

You were pressed tight between them, Choso’s thigh pushed between your legs, Yuki’s hands beneath your breasts. You could hear the soft suckle and moan of their mouths in the crook of your neck and involuntarily bucked your hips against Choso. “oh~?” Yuki smiled into Choso’s open mouth, “you like that, princess?” You tucked your head away, already feeling your cheeks burning in abashment. “Not so fast, little one,’ Choso caught your jaw in his hand, gently cupping your chin and guiding your gaze back to Yuki, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “What? You gonna let Choso taste but not me?” she leaned in closer, her lips barely a breath away. You shook your head. Yuki cocked your head, “Then use your words, sweet thing. Else you’ll never get what you want,” you frowned, your idle arms looped around Choso’s neck suddenly loose to lace your fingers into Yuki’s long, lustrous hair. “Kiss me, Yuki,” you commanded, your words wobbling across on drunken legs to her giggling golden eyes. “With pleasure, princess,” and she kissed you, smearing sticky scarlet across your soul with the smack of her lips. She was intoxicating, invigorating, sweet and bright and sour in your mouth as she brushed her fingers underneath your bra. You arched your back into her touch, accidentally shifting your hips along Choso’s thick thigh. The pair of you groaned, the heat between your legs growing greater as your male partner pressed his flesh tighter to yours. “That’s it, little one,” he rumbled, just above the bass, “fuck yourself on me”

You shivered, wanting to stop, but Yuki bit down on your bottom lip, her hands leaving your breasts to land on your hips. She rocked her hips against yours, guiding your hips onto Choso’s thigh so that your clit hit the rough ridges of your pants, causing you to gasp softly into her kiss. “Good girl,” Yuki hummed, “there’s our pretty princess.” Choso picked up her trailing kiss, capturing your lips in a sultry sweet kiss, sucking your tongue into his red wine mouth and biting down gently. You yelp and Choso curses, “Fuck, love, I can’t,” he looks past you, to his partner in crime, “not when she makes noises like that” “Then why don’t you make her make more of those noises for us,” Yuki peered around at you, “You would like that, right, sweet thing?”

…

You’re coloured crimson by them, each touch and tease pushing you deeper and deeper into a dark maroon pool of pleasure. You’re plush, plump red velvet spilling from the seams as Yuki presses her chest to yours. You’re caught between them, captured in the sweet scarlet siren call that their voices lace through the air. “I thought,” you panted between lipsticked kisses, “I thought we were conducting negotiations?” you pleaded, only to be ignored as they further intoxicated you with every touch. Choso’s hands scattered up the bare skin of your stomach, causing you to shiver and clench, a sigh filling Yuki’s lips with your secrets. “Oh? Our little one is so sensitive, hmm?” she cooed at Choso, who chased the ripple of your stomach with his touch, his painted fingers skimming the high hem of your pants. “I wonder what pretty panties she has on for us,” his dark eyes never left you, dripping from the bare skin of your shoulders to where his fingers fiddled with the buttons of your pants. “What if she isn’t wearing any?” Yuki pondered, as if the pads of her fingers weren’t sidling beneath the bottom of your shirt, her blunt nails barely scratching as she traced the skin below your bra. “I,” your chest heaved, “I am.” “hmm, so you didn’t plan on seducing us tonight?” Choso hummed in your ear, doubt tainting his tone. “Of course – hah,” you flinched as he finally undid your jeans, “of course not –“ you whined, the overwhelming warmth of his hand over your clothed cunt enough to drive all thoughts from your mind. A single, thick, finger trailed between your folds, dragging the drenched lace of your underwear between your swollen pussy lips, caressing your clit. “Really now, princess? Do you expect us to believe you?” Yuki sneered, sharply pinching at your nipple through the fabric of your bra. “What do you mean?” you managed, fighting to keep your forehead from falling forward onto Yuki as Choso carefully circled your clit. “Dancing like that, dressed like this,” Yuki tugged your shirt over your shoulders, “it’s like you were looking for a fuck.”

Whilst you huffed and puffed at his girlfriend, Choso took the chance to slide your panties aside and pressed past your tense, wet walls. “Ah!” you immediately melted around him, his finger filling your tight cunt until you trembled. Your legs shook, clenching at the hand at the crux of your thighs, but you straightened yourself up. “And what if I was? I wasn’t looking to fuck you two in particular, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting a little fun,” you bristled, despite Choso’s enchanting touch, despite the dizzying scent of Yuki’s perfume. The man behind you rumbled, resting his great weight on your shoulder as he peered at his partner. “There’s nothing wrong at all, little one,” Choso pecked your cheek, too sweetly, softly, sinking his finger deeper into your silken cunt. You gasped and nearly didn’t hear his following growl. “But the thought of someone else’s hands on our pretty doll…” the threat was lost to his patterned throat. You were about to answer when his thumb brushed over your clit, causing you to buckle around him, thighs clamping and clenching around him. “but you’re here with us, now,” Yuki added, reaching around your back to undo your bra. You shivered as the cold air hit your newly exposed skin. “And you’re so tight and wet for us, love,” Choso murmured into your ear, leaving a litany of maroon marks and lipstick kisses across your now bare shoulders. He curled his finger deeper into your cunt, and you threw your head back onto his shoulder. “Gorgeous,” Yuki murmured, taking each breast in her hands, pinching your nipples and sucking one into her soft warm mouth. Your cheeks heated, but the sensation of embarrassment was lost to the sensation of Yuki’s lips and fingers. Choso began shucking your pants down your legs, letting you step out of the fallen garment and immediately snaking his arms back around your waist, trailing your soft sweet slick over your stomach.

“Do you want to make her cum for me?” Choso asked Yuki, who smiled around you. She released your breast with a pop, breaking away to lay a hot kiss over Choso's mouth, once again kissing him over your shoulder. She walked you through the house, stepping backwards through doors as she led you to their bedroom, a sumptuous feast of red and gold. Your mouth dropped open, unused to the myriad of textures and colours that swarmed you, letting Yuki spin you around and plop you on her scarlet satin sheets.

Choso came and stood behind her, putting his slick-soaked fingers into her vermillion mouth. She moaned obscenely around his digit, choking out slightly as he fucked his hand into her mouth. You watched on in awe, splayed beneath them, as Choso pulled Yuki’s shirt over her head to expose her reams of smooth tanned skin. You sighed, content to just watch Choso touch his girlfriend, his painted fingers fondling and groping her with a roughness he barely used with you. He grabbed at her breasts, cupping her bra as he shoved his fingers deep down her throat.

You whined, pressing your legs together at the sight, alerting the pair to your neglected state. “Oh poor thing,” Yuki slipped out of Choso’s arms, “did you miss us?” she kneeled in front of you, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your thighs as she leaned in to kiss you. Choso took off his shirt, revealing the planes painted over his back in red ink, the piercing eyes of a crane staring back at you as his spine rippled. He sat in a chair opposite the bed, unbuckling his pants and settling his hand over the throbbing bulge in his underwear. Yuki stood up, and swung her leg behind you, tugging you so that you were seated on her lap, your thighs hooked over the wide silk legs of her black pants. You looked up, surprised to be manhandled into such a spread position, wide open for Choso’s viewing. “Look at my girls,” he hissed, palming himself through his boxers, gripping his thick length through the fabric. Yuki slithered her rough hands around your waist, her red-painted nails snapping at the elastic of your underwear.

“Do you like this pair of panties in particular?” she asked, and before you could respond, the fabric tore with a sharp sting, her strong fingers ripping the flimsy lace apart to fully expose your puffy pussy to Choso. “Yuki?” you yelped, already melting into the warm rubbing of her palms over your stinging flesh. “Ssh, princess, I’ll buy you more,” she pressed the warmth of her palms into the flesh of your inner thighs, spreading your shy legs open so that you were fully exposed to Choso. “Isn’t our doll stunning?” Yuki asked Choso, squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to look at the man seated before you. “Beautiful, both of you,” Choso crooned, his breath catching as you gasped, Yuki’s fingers finding your clit and circling the nerves, She pressed a single finger into your cunt, your cheeks heating at the sweet squelch that echoed through the room.

“So wet,” Yuki cooed, splitting your slit with two fingers, curling her fingers deep into your cunt. Your back arched against her, but she held you still, her fingers still filling you with slow pumps. Her other hand cupped your breasts, grabbing and groping, her fingers spidering along your skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their soft wake. She kept a slow, steady pace, stretching you out on her fingers, each pass brushing up against the point that had your tummy tightening. Choso shifted, shucking his pants to his ankles and pulling his cock fully out of his boxers. Your jaw dropped, and Yuki noticed, grabbing your cheeks and forcing you to look at Choso’s throbbing length “He’s gonna fill you so good, darlin’” Yuki purred, spreading her fingers in your cunt for emphasis, “Won’t you, love?” Choso nodded, his tongue coming out to wet his lips, his thumb swiping over his cockhead, smearing sticky salty precum down his cock. Yuki slipped a third finger into your silken cunt, spreading you further and pushing you closer to your climax. You groaned, fucking your hips forward onto her perfectly positioned hand, her other hand coming down to rub tight circled over your clit. You immediately seized, curling around Yuki’s tempting touch as you grew close to climax. “Do you want to cum, pretty thing?” Yuki cooed, curling her fingers just right so that your spine shuddered. You looked up at her, tears beginning to prick your salt-lined lashes. Her gold eyes giggled at you, so soft, pliant and wet in her hands. “Please, you panted, “please let me cum, Yuki,” you begged, but she shook her head. ”I’m not the one you should be askin’, princess,” she looked at her partner, “tell Choso how much you wanna cum, and maybe he’ll let you cum on my fingers.”

Choso’s face fell into a sly grin, "you’re cruel, Yuki,” he grunted, “you want her to beg just as much as I want to hear those pretty noises,” he stroked his cock, keeping time with Yuki’s slow and steady plunge into your plush cunt. Yuki was about to respond, but you cut her off, straining against the iron grip she had you in. “Please, Choso, “ you keened, “please let me cum, please please please,” a single tear broke free from your lash line, trickling until Yuki caught it, liking it off her slick soaked fingers. “Please, Yuki,” you looked up and then at Choso, “Please Choso,” your voice broke a bit, “please let me cum, I wanna cum so badly," more tears fell from your closed eyes, spurred on by the relentless twist and flick of Yuki’s wrist as she fucked you to your high. You were barely holding on, your fists twined in the bedsheets as your knuckles clenched. You could feel your climax coming, just simmering beneath Choso’s heady stare as he jerked himself off in front of you. “Cum, little one,” Choso’s voice rippled through you, your body responding almost automatically, your muscles twitching and straining against Yuki. Red bursts behind your eyes, filling you up and spilling over into fizzing sunbursts that blazed through your body. You shivered and felt a hot, thick warmth cover your cunt, looked down to see that Choso had cum all over your pulsing pussy, his warm white seed sliding between your folds and over Yuki’s hand. She pulled free of you, letting you lie heavily against her shoulder, panting and huffing. She brought up her hand to your mouth, covered in a sticky mixture of your and Choso’s cum. You dropped your jaw, letting her walk her fingers over your tongue and down your throat, choking you slightly and the white liquid spilt down your throat.

“Good girl,” Yuki cooed, “suck my fingers clean, darlin’,” she hummed, her other hand tracing patterning over your heaving stomach. Choso approached you, shedding his boxers and leaning over your spent body to kiss his woman. You could hear Yuki groan into the kiss, warm and inviting, her hand leaving your mouth to stroke Choso’s half-hard cock between you. A slight whine left Choso’s throat, his hips bucking toward you. He broke away from Yuki with a slurp and easily found your waiting mouth, tasting the potion of your releases on your lapping tongue. He held your jaw as he kissed you, careful and sweet, despite the way his lips dominated yours. Eventually, he broke away and laid back on the bed, gesturing the pair of you to come towards him. He was hard again, the thick head of his cock slapping against his stomach as Yuki led you to where he lay.

“Do you wanna ride his cock, princess?” she tucked hair behind your ear, “ do you think you can do that for me?” she traced your lips with her fingertips. You nodded, sucking the tips of her fingers as she spoke. Choso lay beneath you as Yuki guided you over him, flinching as she spat on his dick and stroked it through your folds. “You ready, love?” she asked Choso, who nodded almost immediately, “you ready, pretty thing?” she asked you and you nodded, taking Choso’s cock into your hand and slowly easing yourself down on his tip.

You moan at the sensation, at the searing split of your lips over his large cockhead, spreading your folds until they were tight around his length. You got about halfway down when you stopped, both you and Choso breathing heavily. “You feel so good, little one,” Choso breathed, “so fucking tight,” his hands came to settle on your hips, gripping the already bruised flesh and helping you sink down another inch. Yuki began to trace small circles over your clit, causing you to yelp and eventually let Choso bottom out into your warm tight cunt. The pair of you groaned, your head coming down to rest on Choso’s chest. “That’s it, beloved,” he reassured, spidering spirals across your back, “There’s a good girl.” Eventually, eventually, you shakily raised yourself off Choso’s cock, falling back onto it with a hushed whimper of his name. Yuki helped you, lifting your hips up and down, grinding your clit into Choso’s pubic bone. “C’mere,” Choso said, gesturing to Yuki. She leaned down and gave him a kiss before he mumbled into her mouth. "Sit on my face, dove,” he instructed, and Yuki was quick to comply. She shed her pants and underwear in a flash, revealing long legs covered in tattoos. She slung her leg over Choso’s face, looking you right in the eye as she sunk down to his waiting mouth. “Fuck, Yuki, you’re so wet,” Choso cursed, his long red tongue coming up to lap at the sweet slick spilling from between Yuki’s thighs. Yuki grabbed your face with one hand and tugged you into a kiss, pushing you down deeper onto Choso’s cock as she began to ride his face. There, deep in the taste of Choso, Yuki, cherry liquor, and yourself, you lost your control, mindlessly rising and sinking on Choso’s cock, your breath stolen by Yuki’s dominating kiss. Tears pricked your lash line, brought on by the intense way Choso seemed to split you apart. Your whole body buzzed, fizzing with a bright hum of lust and pleasure. The room spun with the sound of squelching and sucking, Choso humming deep into Yuki’s cunt as he lapped at her clit.

You were close already, wound up by the intense stretch of Choso within you, driven dizzy by Yuki’s tongue and hand in your hair. You began to rut your hips onto Choso’s cock, your thighs losing energy but your cunt needy and pulsing. Choso Pulled Yuki from his mouth for a second. “She’s gonna cum,” he warned, “help her, Yuki.” Yuki’s hands found your hips immediately, lifting you and dropping you onto Choso’s cock with alarming speed and strength. You could feel Choso rearrange his feet behind you, putting his soles flat against the mattress to bounce you on his cock. Between the two of them, Choso pistoning into you from below, and Yuki lifting you from above, you bounced on Choso's cock until you saw stars, your eyes scrunching shut and tears spilling from your lashes. You cried as you came, a garbled mixture of Choso and Yuki’s names, your whole body shaking and spilling over their bodies. Choso came with a groan just after your whole body shook and spilt over their bodies. Choso came with a groan just after you, prolonging your orgasm with the sheer flood of thick syrupy cum that filled you. You lay half in Yuki’s arms as she came, breathing out Choso’s name and riding his face like an animal in heat. After that was a blur, Yuki’s golden hands leading you to their bathroom, Choso’s strong ivory arms holding you up in the shower as Yuki washed you. All the time they whispered your praises, cooing and kissing you until you were a boneless puddle of warmth and affection. Choso carried you back to their bed, laying you down in the middle as the pair of them flanked you in the bed. Choso pulled you into his chest, smelling like incense and sandalwood, and Yuki snuggled herself up behind you, her soft washed hair smelling of cherries and sunshine. And you, in between them, bare and vulnerable, covered by Yuki’s splayed hair and Choso’s ringed hands, slipping into a slumber filled with silver, gold and scarlet.

…

“What did Tengen say?” Choso whispered, sitting up in the bed. He pulled softly at a clove cigarette, letting the smoke spiral out in a trickle of languid clouds. Yuki came back into the bedroom, dressed only in Choso’s dress shirt. “He was fine with it, although a little shocked that I should break my vow,” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, “I thought I told you not to smoke in the room anymore,” she grumbled, but Choso pointed to you. You lay curled up behind him, your arm slung around his waist and your legs tangled with his. “She didn’t want to let me go,” was his explanation, and Yuki smiled. “That’s good. We don’t want to let her go either.”

@red-letter-imagines / @ranilingus / @twochainsandrollies / @atenisis / @reinrein / @cursedmoonchild / @aathenax / @heichouswife / @eroscastle / @halite-writes / @carrobrumbrum / @httpsdolly / @chaotic-fangirl-blog / @opwolfe / @10rackz / @vampirec0w / @wish42 / @delicatedahlias / @mind-over-meagan / @citrusteaaa / @wiserebelpartypie / @ireneswlrd / @vintage-teddyxo / @violetdrkside / @drakensdarling/@wisteria-aa / @ingenii-supra-modum / @sukunasdirtylaughh / @abba-simp /

Join my taglist

I do not own Jujutsu Kaisen, or any of the related characters. Jujutsu Kaisen is created and owned by Gege Akutami. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of Jujutsu Kaisen belong to Gege Akutami. Please do not copy, re-use, or distribute this work as your own

reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated

all images and gifs used are either from popular media or from stock photos. I do not own or take credit for any of the images, only edits

267 notes · View notes