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shintin · 6 months

Text

Forbidden Flames

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

One-shot

Summary: Satoru Gojo receives a letter, inviting him to a secluded cottage in the forest. Is it a trap by curse users or a haunting memory trying to scratch his wounds?

Or a story about how You and Satoru Gojo fucked after years.

Word count: +11 k.

Genre: explicit smut, romance, angst (Jujutsu Kaisen au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, reader-insert, no Y/N, post-breakup, soft Satoru Gojo, curse user reader, no death, too much fluff and kissing, cunnilingus, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex (c’mon! we all want this), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, tear licking, emotional trauma, emotional sex, no manga spoilers.

Notes: Hey there! I wrote this because Gege Akutami left an emotional mark on me. So, you know...

You can read the "Disclaimers" at the end.

Song Recommendation: Forbidden Flames Playlist

You can read my fics on AO3. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK.

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As the afternoon sun cast long shadows through the dense foliage, a mysterious man with stark white hair and a black blindfold stepped into the heart of the desolate wilderness. Satoru Gojo. The air hung heavy with the earthy scent of wet soil mingling with the musty aroma of decaying leaves, a reminder of the rainstorm that had visited the night before.

Every step he took got lost between the giggles and hisses of harmless curses hiding behind the trees with fear. The ground beneath his feet was carpeted with a mosaic of fallen leaves, their vibrant red, orange, and gold colors now muted and lifeless, as if drained of all vitality. Some of them, with still a breath to take, crunched beneath his weight, the sound of a heartrending dirge that reverberated through the desolation.

Tall, gnarled trees stood sentinel on either side, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers as if yearning to trap the unwary. Their towering forms were shrouded in darkness, their essence reduced to withered remnants. They whispered mournful laments in the wind, their voices carrying tales of forgotten sorrows.

The forest, once flourishing and thriving, now seemed like a tragic tableau frozen in time. The canopy above formed a suffocating barrier that only got disturbed by the man's ethereal presence. Wild ferns brushed against his legs, leaving behind a trace of dew upon his black trousers. The moist ground yielded beneath his every step as if reluctant to release its grip from his boots' footprints.

As he pressed further into the jungle, the darkness deepened, the path twisting and turning like a labyrinth of despair. The shadows grew longer, stretching out like grasping tendrils as if eager to ensnare his soul. The silence became oppressive, broken only by the occasional painful cry of a distant creature.

The cottage he had received its address stood as a solitary figure amidst the gloomy jungle, a crumbling monument to forgotten dreams. Its dilapidated walls whispered of lost hopes and shattered promises, its windows veiled with white curtains.

With his hands casually tucked into his pockets, he watched the scene before him, a twisted smile playing upon his lips. He thought it was a perfect place, a trap waiting to spring him. But who would be foolhardy enough to challenge the strongest of all times?

But wait!

He couldn't feel any cursed energy! His six eyes were dumb. There was only one who could blind their watchful gaze.

So, when Satoru Gojo approached the house, his heart quickened after a long time, anticipation and anxiety coursing through his veins. The stage was set, the elements conspiring to test his resolve. Would he emerge from this shadowed encounter unscathed, or would the jungle claim yet another victim, lost to the depths of its sorrow-laden clutches?

Satoru's focus fixated on the doorknob, a slight gulp revealing his hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he turned and pushed open the door. The scent of something sweet enveloped his nostrils, a reminiscent embrace that momentarily distracted his senses. However, as his eyes met the sight that awaited him, an unexpected revelation struck him with a force that resurfaced long-forgotten memories.

The inside resembled an aged hideout, with wooden walls and colorful chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, casting warm, dappled patterns on the worn tatami floor. In the center of the room, a round table took its place, adorned with a vase of delicate forget-me-not flowers. Flanking the table were two chairs. And then, in the small kitchen stood the person who had left a void in his heart.

"You're late," your voice rang out in a cheerful tone, beckoning him forward. "Come inside. It's chilly out." With your back facing the door, you stood at the counter, appearing preoccupied with unwrapping something.

Caught in a maelstrom of emotions, Satoru's thoughts fragmented like scattered puzzle pieces, their intended purpose obscured by the inner turmoil. His hand held the doorknob tightly, trapped in a state of ambiguity, unable to release its grip.

Was this a mirage? How could it be that when you seemed precisely the way he had traced the outline of your body in the air while lying in bed, unable to sleep?

Yes, of course, there were nights when the desire to run his fingers through your hair filled his dreams. It was inevitable; your scent permeated everything, even riding on the breeze. There were days fatigue misled him, mistaking weariness for the embrace, he craved, only to discover the hollowness within his very bones. Your body was no longer curled around him, no comfort, and in your absence, each day left him icy, with lips turning blue and hands yearning for the warmth of your touch. He felt adrift in a blizzard, seeking the faint flicker of a fire you had extinguished.

What the fuck is wrong with you, Satoru? Think! Is this a manipulation technique?

And then, as if compelled by an unseen power, you turned your head, causing his heart to skip a beat—countless beats. You were undeniably real.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Seeing you was akin to being hit in the knee with a bullet. Satoru's legs nearly gave way, his heart raced, and his hands turned clammy, almost causing him to collapse. He had never felt this urge to tear off his blindfold before, as your departure had happened so abruptly that he didn't have a chance to see you. Although he had committed every detail of you to memory, but this…this… witnessing it in person was an entirely different experience.

He stepped back, feeling the heaviness of the past, necessitating some distance. The harsh truths loomed, threatening to engulf him as he wrestled with the profound effect of your presence. Yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, his mind struggling to comprehend the unfolding situation. The reality was so surreal, making it difficult for him to grasp that it was really occurring.

"Why are you just standing there?" you asked, holding a pack of his beloved Kikufuku mochis in your hands. A radiant smile graced your face, illuminating the damp room with its brightness.

He couldn't give two fucks about mochis when your face had that effect on him, always causing him to lose track of where he was, who he was, and what he might say or do. And that familiar smile, it killed him a little. His gaze remained there, lingering for too long, his concealed eyes giving away his thoughts. "Why do you have that look on your face?" you asked, tilting your head with curiosity and stepping closer to him.

As you stood before him, the closeness amplified the wave of emotions within him. Joy and disbelief raced through his veins. The fragrance that surrounded you, so hauntingly acquainted, sparked a rush of nostalgia.

Satoru Gojo was born with a specific purpose, a set of perfect eyes, and the weight of his lineage on his shoulders. He was reserved and calculated. When he mastered the Limitless technique, he concluded that infinite solitude was the only way to survive. Because how he could describe the experience of seeing everything, for when you see everything, you see nothing. An excess of color turns into pure black, an infinite void.

Yes, he was born with those six eyes. People never let him forget. But to you, his eyes were simply eyes. He recalled the first time you teased him about them and how his heart caught in his chest because he had never seen someone as vibrant and colorful as you.

It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but it was something like that. The first time he saw you, he felt it. An ache. Like a little electric burn. He felt his life changed.

Gradually, his loneliness began to dissipate. He found a place for himself in this chaotic world. With you, he could laugh, cry, joke around, and even be a brat. It was something no one could genuinely grasp—the feeling of finally being alive as a person. Before you, he felt he hadn't truly existed, merely scattered atoms in an indifferent universe following a predetermined path. But you changed everything. You dismantled and rebuilt him anew. You molded him, nurtured him, and despite him being the strongest, you kept him safe.

Without a noble title or material wealth, you were everything that went against the expectations of the Clan Elders. Yet, you stood faithfully by his side, precisely where he believed you belonged. Or at least, that's what he presumed.

Then, on that fateful day, the day he desperately wished was nothing more than a dreadful nightmare, reality unfolded before him. How could it be real? He stood there, confronted by the lifeless bodies of two Higher Ups and their protectors, with you covered in their blood. It was inconceivable. He couldn't accept that you were responsible for such a gruesome scene. Yet, you showed no remorse. You firmly believed it was the only solution, fed up with their destructive actions that brought ruin upon sorcerers deemed insignificant. You had accepted the notion that a problem without a remedy should be eradicated like an unwelcome weed.

On that day, he considered shaking your shoulders and demanding that you deny it all. He even contemplated going against everyone because what was the fucking point of wielding such power if he couldn't safeguard the woman he loved? The thought of quitting and escaping with you crossed his mind, too. He was willing to sacrifice everything: power, wealth, status, even his own life. However, you didn't desire any of those things.

His friend, Suguru Geto, once posed a question: Was he Satoru Gojo because he was the strongest, or was he the strongest because he was Satoru Gojo? At that time, he had no answer. A 17-year-old couldn't possibly find a response to such a profound question. However, when you entered his life, everything changed. Being the strongest lost its significance. He was just Satoru Gojo, and he was who he was because you loved him. His existence held meaning because you touched his life. He saw because he needed to gaze upon you. He spoke because he longed to hear your voice.

And then, similar to his best friend, after causing a bloodbath, you also walked out of his life. Yet, this time, it wasn't solely loneliness that engulfed him. It felt like one of his lungs had been taken away, and he heavied without you by his side through each passing moment. He became nothing once more. There was a hole in his life where you used to fit perfectly, and no matter what he did to try and fill it, nothing worked.

It was a strange anguish, a pain he never anticipated or conceived of. It consumed him from within, setting him ablaze with a profound emptiness. Then, defying the assumption that someone as formidable as him could experience sorrow, he was burdened with the task of erasing you. It was as if you were deemed nothing more than a blemish, a dishonor.

"What... what look?" he struggled to say, his voice tinged with a desperate yearning. Regret lingered in his tone as his words fell short. With a touch of vulnerability, he shut his eyes beneath the comforting confines of his blindfold, seeking refuge in the veil of darkness. Taking a deep breath, he consciously filled his lungs, using them as an anchor amidst the swirling storm of sensations enveloping him.

"That look," you remarked, your voice carrying a mischievous tone that floated in the atmosphere. "It's as if you don't trust me," you added teasingly. A few playful strands of hair escaped their intended position and delicately framed your face, casting a bewitching allure. An irresistible urge welled within him, compelling him to extend his hand and tuck those strands behind your ear—stupid muscle memory. However, he restrained himself, his hand suspended mid-air, resolute in resisting the magnetic pull of his desires.

"Why did you invite me here?" Satoru voiced, his grip on the doorknob loosening as the impact of reality settled upon him. The initial shock transformed into a lucid understanding. He wasn't oblivious. He knew that you were aware of his assignment to eliminate you. So, why? Was it because you recognized your unstoppable nature? Was it because you had realized that the blackhole existed within you, devouring everything you once held dear unless someone intervened?

"You could have refused to come, yet here you are," you whimsically remarked, a devilish glint in your eyes as you punctuated your words with a wink. You strolled over to the weathered table and set the pocket upon its aged surface.

"Cut it out!" Satoru snapped, his frustration mounting. "You know, I had no idea it was you!" His heart thumped in his chest, urging his feet to move forward, even as his mind screamed at him to flee. A sense of unease gripped him, acknowledging the futility of engaging in a battle he felt ill-prepared to win.

You turned towards him, a hint of a smile gracing your lips as your hands stayed concealed behind your back. Leaning against the chair, you arched an eyebrow, your eyes locked on him. "I have a feeling you knew it was me as soon as you arrived at the house," you declared, a jovial tone lacing your words. "After all, I'm the only one capable of concealing my cursed energy from you."

"We both know that I shouldn't be here. I—" Satoru's sentence dissolved, left unfinished, as your hand reached out, bridging the gap between you with a gentle touch. Infinity never worked with you. Even the very essence of the cursed energy recognized that you posed no threat to him. Furthermore, he would gladly provide you with any justification to touch him.

Lost in his reverie, Satoru suddenly became acutely aware of your presence. The magnitude of his longing and the depth of his yearning surged within him. In that instant, he recognized the immense emptiness you had left and how much he had missed you. Emotions swirled together, blending past and present, uncertainty and desire, in a delicate dance that would shape your fates.

"Why are you here, then?" you inquired, and his eyes met yours, reflecting the same yearning that dwelled in his heart. "Tell me, did you come in to kill me?" With a deliberate movement, you folded his fingers, molding them into the shape he would use to unleash his hollow purple. Bringing his hand close to your heart, you held it there. Despite the gravity of the situation, a soft smile adorned your lips.

He couldn't do this.

Taken aback by your unexpected gesture, Satoru swiftly withdrew his hand from your grasp. Anger and heartbreak swirled within him, entwining in a tumultuous storm. The realization hit him like a relentless wave, crashing against the shores of his consciousness. How had you drifted so far apart? When had the divergence between your paths become so profound that he failed to notice? The weight of your choice, to embrace the life of a curse user, to tread a road stained with blood, bore down upon him with a heavy burden. The pain on his face mirrored the fracture within his heart, a sense of loss mingling with a flicker of betrayal.

He wished he could say something. He wished he could start yelling, expressing all the thoughts and desires he had harbored since then—whether shouting, pouring out his heart, or expressing frustration. However, he adhered to the predetermined script you anticipated because he loved you unconditionally, unable to deny you anything.

"I didn't think so," you murmured, closing the gap between you, pressing your lips against his in a way that effortlessly eroded his resistance.

You tilted his face down, your hand caught somewhere behind his neck and the base of his jaw, and you kissed him softly and slowly, heat filling his blood with dangerous speed.

One of his hands naturally found its way to the back of your waist, holding you with a gentle yet possessive grasp, while the other securely clasped your arm, pulling you closer.

He felt incredible against you, your bodies fitting perfectly. Nothing ever came easier than kissing you. Every thought and worry wicked away, replaced by the feel of his mouth against your skin, his hand claiming your body.

In that moment, his eyes, his legacy, his clan's name, and the orders given about you faded away. This was his true purpose.

As your tongues entwined, a surge of electricity coursed through his veins, his body responding to the intoxicating enchantment of your touch. Your fingers traced the outline of his blindfold while others clung to his uniform as if he were your sole fulcrum in a world spinning out of control. Your back arched, and he embraced you tighter, his grip firm yet tender, his long fingers leaving an indelible mark upon your skin.

Breathless, as if you had just completed a marathon, you reluctantly pulled back from the heated exchange. Drawing him nearer, he yielded willingly, allowing you to guide him wherever you desired because wherever you led was where he believed to be his destination.

"Take this off," you beseeched, desperation and sorrow permeating your words as your forefinger lifted his blindfold and let it fall to the floor. His tousled hair cascaded softly over his forehead, unable to hide the azure eyes that had once captivated your heart.

In his eyes, tragedy and beauty could be seen, a stoicism that wouldn't be shaken, and childlike joy that couldn't help but flow.

He swallowed, and you shifted your hand to his ear, lightly grazing his earlobe with your pinkie before tracing down his jawline. There was no rejection, yet no clear confirmation either. Your hand brushed against his undercut as you continued.

"There you are," you whispered, your voice laden with kindness. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, a solitary droplet making its way down your cheek as you gently cradled his face in your hands. He looked down at you, counting each tear on your lovely cheeks.

He clasped your hand, kissing your palm before guiding it to rest upon his heart. It was the same foolish heart, steadfastly beating for you, never having faltered. Through teary eyes, you looked at him, and he remained struck by the sheer beauty that not even your tears could diminish.

As your bottom lip quivered beneath his touch, quickly, with a light sweep of his hand, he wiped away the tears that stained your stunning eyes. You missed him too, didn't you? Was it painful for you, too? Silly girl! You couldn't maintain your carefully constructed facades for more than ten minutes when it came to him.

The realization washed over him, dispelling any remaining doubts.

Without a second thought, he effortlessly lifted you, your legs encircling his waist while your hands secured around his neck. Engrossed in a fervent kiss, both of you surrendered to the moment as he clasped your back firmly, pulling you closer to himself, relishing the flavor of your lips.

Letting go wasn't an option when every fiber of his being had missed you.

Determined and resolute, he carried you out to a room he presumed to be the bedroom, even though it didn't matter whether there was a bed or a simple mattress; what mattered was the way your touch kindled a blazing fire within him, and he had no intention of bearing that flame alone.

Keeping you securely nestled in his arms, he forcefully kicked open the door and lowered you onto the welcoming comfort of the bed. The urgency to discard his black jacket left no room for delay. At the same time, your nimble hands deftly undid the buckle of your pants, but before you could remove them entirely, his hands moved with an instinctual hunger, swiftly stripping you of the garment and casting it aside as if propelled by an untamed fervor. The passion between you burned fiercely, filling the room with an all-encompassing energy that eclipsed any other thoughts or worries.

With a quick movement, he discarded his black t-shirt, revealing the well-defined curves of his chest that shimmered with a touch of sweat. His desire was tangible, his lust unmistakable as he straddled between your parted legs, his hands grasping your nape.

The taste of his lips met yours, initiating a sequence of fervent kisses that persisted without pause, each delving deeper than the last. The world around you lost its significance as your breaths synchronized in rhythm, the heat between your bodies escalating.

In the meantime, your hands moved swiftly, deftly unbuttoning your shirt.

As his lips briefly separated from yours, he uttered a whispered confession. "I hate how bad I want you," he admitted, his voice carrying a raw sincerity. However, before you could reply, his attention shifted to your neck, where his teeth gently grazed your sensitive flesh, leaving behind tracks of tantalizing nibbles and passionate kisses.

You couldn't help but release a gasp as pleasure and a twinge of pain electrified your senses, sending delightful shivers coursing down your spine. In the throes of passion, your hand curled into a fistful of his hair, a silent request for more. Call it masochist, but he loved it when you did this. He tenderly pulled at your hair in response, tilting your head back ever so slightly, baring more of your vulnerable neck to his hungry mouth.

Then, you did what came naturally to you. With a voice brimming with longing and ecstasy, you spoke his name, "Satoru," the sound slipping from your lips like a hushed prayer.

His actions came to an abrupt pause. His lips separated from your skin, and his grasp on your hair loosened as if a sudden realization had hit him like a splash of icy water. It was ironic how you still possessed this power over him, a power that could both thrill and unsettle him.

The sound of his name on your lips had become something he treasured, and damn it, he had missed hearing it again. Just like every fucking tiny thing he had missed about you.

With a sudden movement, he withdrew his head from the crook of your neck and brought his forehead close to yours. His hands found solace in brushing back strands of your hair with comforting strokes.

He shut his eyes, and in a whisper, his voice carried a hint of fragility, a rawness that tugged at your heartstrings. "Say it again," he pleaded, his voice breaking under the pressure of unexpressed sentiments. It was as if that simple word held immense significance, a lifeline to his heart that he desperately craved.

Without hesitation, you took a steadying breath, the name forming on your lips.

"Satoru."

"S-Say it kinder."

"Satoru."

"Say it slower."

"Satoru."

"Say it gentler."

"Satoru."

"Say it louder."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you wanna tell me you miss me."

"Satoru…"

"Say it as if you're annoyed that I eat so many sweets."

"Satoru!"

"Is this why you made the trip to Sendai just to get me those mochis?"

…

"Say it."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you ever cared, spared a single thought for me."

"SATORU."

"Say it as if when you lied in bed, you remembered something I once said."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if it hurt you too when someone said my name with yours."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if every time a door opened, you too expected me to walk out of it, that every time you cooked, you hummed my favorite songs."

"S-Satoru…"

"Say it as if you need me."

"Satoru."

"Say it again."

"Satoru."

"Again."

"…Satoru."

"Say it as if you want to tell me something important."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you want me to know you won't stay."

"Toru."

"No. Not like this."

"Satoru?"

"Please."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you want me to know you're gonna run away again."

"Satoru…"

"Huh. Better. Now say it as if you wanna tell that you slept badly without me, that you only dreamed of me, and in the morning, you woke up exhausted without having any desire to live."

"Satoru."

"You don't have a line, do you? No remorse. No regret. Not even a single thought for the man you left behind like a walking ghost. And you won't ever stop."

"Satoru."

"Once you were gone, they gathered all your belongings as evidence. See this hair tie on my wrist?" He lifted his hand. "This and your sweatshirt, which no longer carries your scent, are the only things I have left. Say it as if you still have that shirt of mine."

…

"Say it!"

"Sa-to-ru."

"Did you know that I actually thought if I messed myself up, went all self-destructive, and threw a massive tantrum, you'd come back? I mean, why should I bother taking care of myself? That was supposed to be your job, right?"

"Sa…toru."

"Oh, by the way, I completely wrecked that bench on the hill where you used to sit. And then I went ahead and destroyed the whole damn place, then just sat right there amidst the wreckage. I mean, why should I even give a damn when you stopped caring about me? Say it as if you get where I'm coming from."

"Satoru…"

"Yet you know what's funny? Ask me if I still love you like the first day?"

"Satoru?"

"It can't be just me, right? You can't be done with me. Tell me you love me."

…

"Okay. It's—"

"Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru…"

Everything he thought he knew flew right out the window. He had noticed the tremor in your breath and the shake in your voice, but the desperate murmurs of his name caused his eyes to flutter open. Your face was marked with the faint traces of tears, glistening in the light.

You blinked, revealing a spectrum of sadness and beauty unlike anything he'd seen before. The ability to convey so much with just a glance caught him entirely off guard.

Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips against the curve of your cheeks, softly caressing them. Nuzzling his nose against your skin, he lovingly kissed away the salty tears, his tongue delicately brushing your face with a soothing touch. Each tender movement provided a comforting solace during your emotional moment.

As he lovingly attended to your tears, you reached behind your back and unclasped your bra. He paused, eyes widening in surprise. However, before any words could escape, you leaned in and kissed him. In that single gesture, you conveyed your desires, and he, in turn, found his answer within the depths of that passionate kiss.

As soon as his palms glided over your smooth skin, delicately capturing your erect nipple between his fingers, the bra was tossed somewhere amidst the bedding.

"Lie back," Satoru instructed. He then crawled onto you, your bare chests meeting. He supported himself with his arms on either side of your head to ensure he didn't crush you under his weight.

He positioned himself atop you, overwhelmed by the yearning that had built up in your absence. The thirst to have you beneath him had grown insurmountable. He had craved the sight of your body begging him to take you, the undeniable desire radiating from you.

He locked eyes with you, keeping you in his gaze as he absorbed every aspect of your beauty. The polished planes of your face shimmered with fresh tears, adding a new layer to the bliss. Your eyes were rimmed with redness, solely for him, and this sight rendered him speechless.

Because what if he accidentally stumbled upon the wrong words, and the magic vanished, snatching you away once more, leaving him with nothing but a pumpkin carriage and a single pair of shoes?

He didn't want his arms to be deprived of your warmth. Your touch. Your lips. God, your lips. Your mouth on his neck. Your body wrapped around his. He couldn't bear losing you again, and the realization was like a pendulum the size of the moon. It wouldn't stop slamming into him.

Blinking his white lashes, he swallowed back the fear building in his throat.

What an irony!

The strongest wasn't fearless.

With his knee between your thighs and his body pressing closer, he realized he was paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in his lungs.

"When we were together, I became you," he stated. "You became the reflection I saw in the mirror, and I liked it more. So, I stopped being myself. It was fine because I had you. But when you left, I lost myself along with you."

"Satoru," you called, your voice soft, so soft. He wasn't unfamiliar with the touch of women, but yours were gentler, yet deadlier than them all. "I'm sorry for bringing us to this point." You drew his form closer. The resonating beats of your heart were audible, pulsing deeply within your chest. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Your words unleashed a tumult of feelings within him. Goddammit. He wasn't lost before he met you, but he found himself after having you, only to get lost more after losing you.

Satoru's tears stung as they fell backward down his throat, burning as they went. "Kiss me, and I'll forget everything," he uttered.

And you complied. You kissed him as if swimming through rivers of honey, as if being dipped in pure gold, like diving into an ocean of bliss, and he didn't realize you two were drowning because he was too caught up in the current to notice. Nothing held significance anymore—neither rules, nor the room, nor even the entire fucking Jujutsu society.

All that mattered was this.

This.

This very moment. These lips. This delicate body pressed against his, and these warm hands always discovering new ways to hold his heart.

Oh, My!

He wanted so much more of you. He wanted every part of you. And he kissed you back. Like a mild breeze. Like cherry blossoms. Like a blue spring.

Again.

Satoru drew away. It remained a secret, but piecing himself back together hurt just as much as falling apart. It felt like an ache that needed to be soothed.

You were the cure, so his finger lightly grazed the corner of your mouth, tracing its shape, curves, and subtle crevices. As he kissed the corner of your eyebrow, he whispered your name. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, causing a slight squirm in your body. He planted a kiss on your neck, just beneath your earlobe, and you tilted your head, inviting him in. Perhaps you resisted the urge to plead for more, for a faster pace.

You used to love this, remember?

His lips moved down the expanse of your neck, delicately tracing the sensitive skin of your collarbones. Not content to be passive, your hands ran down his back, roaming over his broad shoulders, pressing into his back dimples, and clutching his hips. With a handful of his hair, you pulled him closer, leaving small kisses on his neck, arms, and chest.

It was incredible. Being with you, touching you, having you like this. The adrenaline rush was so powerful and euphoric that it made everything feel within reach.

He muttered your name, his lips mouthing the letters, barely speaking.

He pressed his lips against your upper lip.

He ran his tongue along your lower lip.

He planted kisses beneath your chin, on the tip of your nose, along your forehead, temples, and cheeks across your jawline. Then he moved to your neck, behind your ears, and the space between your breasts. Delicately, he nibbled on your sensitive nipples, leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your belly button until his entire form moved down your figure, disappearing as he shifted downward, and suddenly, his chest was hovering above your hips.

As his lips descended towards the hem of your underwear, he lifted his head right before crossing that boundary, locking eyes with you. His gaze carried a mix of intense reverence and a silent question.

You met his gaze, the unspoken understanding passing between you. Your nod conveyed an affirmation, a wordless permission to continue. With your approval, he lowered his head once again. Before you knew it, he skillfully used his teeth to remove that small piece of fabric while the captivating scent drove him wild with desire.

Having removed your panties, his lips continued exploring, leaving heated kisses and lingering caresses from your toes to your thighs. Firmly holding your calves, he parted your legs, creating just enough space for his head to fit between them.

Your thighs were lifted, obscuring him from your sight. All you could see was the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Eventually, even that view vanished as his lips closed around your clit, causing your head to fall back and muffled moans to escape your lips.

Satoru's large hands trailed down and up your exposed upper thighs and ribs, tightly gripping your hips to keep you in place. He delighted in how you squirmed each time his hair brushed against your groin, until his tongue slipped into your hole, and the taste of you made fireworks explode in the back of his head.

With his right hand pressed against your stomach, his tongue danced and teased, evoking ecstatic cries from your lips. His mouth explored the known territories you had never witnessed, yet he remembered them intimately.

While fully engrossed in eating you, he suddenly and intentionally slipped his middle finger inside, and his mouth fervently sought to suck the soul out of your essence as if seeking retribution for all the times he had jerked off thinking about you creaming around his shaft. That's why he left you on the precipice of climax, working his way up your body. Satoru was never cruel enough to deny you the release you craved, so his fingers remained ready.

With an eagerness to witness the pleasure etched across your face, he slowly ascended your body, his touch kindling a burning anticipation within you. Continuing his exploration, his adept fingers navigated their way to your most intimate region, gently pressing against the delicate entrance.

"Let me know if it hurts, alright?" he whispered, his nose caressing the skin of your stomach, placing sporadic kisses around your breasts and collarbones to alleviate any tension. His disheveled hair and moist lips were evidence of the indulgence in your sweet taste.

"Take it easy— ahhh!"

He wore a satisfied smile as two of his large fingers effortlessly slid into your slit. Your nails dug into the sheets, whimpers escaping your lips as his hand rhythmically moved up and down within your tight walls.

Your mouth opened in a soundless moan, and he peppered you with kisses all around. Tears glistened in your eyes, and tiny strands of hair clung to your sweaty forehead. When his thumb rubbed, and the fingers hit all the right spots, your throat wailed in frustration.

You firmly grasped his free arm and tugged him towards you, bringing him closer until he was on top of you. You might have turned into a cold-blooded curse user, left dead bodies behind, or broken his heart apart, but you were still the same girl beneath him. The girl who would laugh with joy and steal his treats. The girl who would fiercely fight by his side and protect him. The girl who would easily surrender and moan in his ear.

He pressed his lips against yours, a reminder of the residual sweetness on his tongue. Just like in the old days, a soft moan escaped your lips as soon as you felt your own taste. If this gesture could convince you to stay with him, why not revel in it? He willingly opened his lips, inviting you to delve deeper, your tongues intertwining and brushing against his teeth.

The stinging bitterness of the past was long gone. He had forgotten everything. Although there was something he knew he shouldn't forget, he couldn't recall why or what it was. With his hard length suffering in his boxers and his digits thrusting backward and forward, paying attention to anything else was hard.

Seeing your desperation for his touch proved to be his downfall. He could die from this, he decided. From wanting you, from the pleasure of being with you.

He wore a smile as you locked eyes and reciprocated with your smile. He pressed his forehead against yours, his skin flushed with heat. With his other hand, he held your head steady while your hands clutched his neck, your palms gliding over the area just above his neckline, and your fingertips tenaciously pressing against his undercut.

"Sato..." you managed to utter, your voice quivering with pleasure as the orgasm washed over you, consuming your senses. Waves of euphoria rippled across your body, inducing uncontrollable tremors. Amidst your release, a single tear broke free, tracing a glistening path down your cheek, much like the cascade of emotions that flowed within you.

While he remained atop you, his voice reached your ears, his lips near your earlobe. "Can you sit up?" he whispered, burying his face in the curve of your neck, allowing your ragged breaths to brush against his shoulder.

Still struggling to catch your breath, you managed to mumble, "Yeah, but..." However, before you could complete your sentence, the bedding beneath you shifted as Satoru pulled you into his arms, clutching you tight.

He exhaled and looked at you, but this time, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts, whispers, and feelings of things he had never told you. He looked like he was hanging on his sanity by a fraying thread—you.

He touched your flushed cheeks as if uncertain of your tangible presence. His four fingers caressed the side of your face with tenderness before sliding behind your neck, caught in that in-between spot below your ear, and his thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, then grazing your bottom lip.

He pondered the countless things your lips had done. They had touched, kissed, and pressed against sensitive areas of his skin. They had spoken lies and made promises, and the words they had formed, the shapes and sounds they had shaped, he yearned for them all.

Satoru inched closer, cradling you like you were made of precious crystals. Holding you and looking at his own hands as if he couldn't believe you were real and truly there.

"I'm right here, baby. Look at me," you whispered, grasping his hands and kissing them.

All six of his eyes obeyed and stared at you. Gone was the curse user targeting Higher Ups. This woman before him had never done anything wrong. You were perfect and kind, untouched by the horrors of death.

He took hold of your hands and pressed your palms against his face, reclaiming the tears you had bestowed upon him. With an eternity of love, he whispered your name in the softest of whispers.

What if this was a dream?

He shook, shuddered, splintered into teardrops, and you embraced him like no one had before. Overwhelmed by the intensity, he struggled to contain himself, but seeing you cling to him as you might never let go stirred something within him. It was a heady sensation, knowing that you were there, caring for him, desiring him, needing him in this way. It made him believe that this was indeed real.

Gently, you stroked his silvery locks of hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. Gradually, your arms became the arms around his neck; your lips became the lips pressed against his, your body the warmth he felt. Funny how the moment he felt your touch, it burned a hole right through his head and pulled all his thoughts out.

He wasn't even breathing, but he was alive, and he was kissing you. Deeply, desperately. His hands fervently caressed the small of your back as he lifted you onto his lap, and instinctively, your legs wrapped around his hips.

Then, it was your turn to reciprocate. You planted kisses all over him—his cheeks, eyelids, chin, the tip of his nose, and the space between his eyebrows. You trailed along his forehead and traced his jawline, covering every inch of his face. These kisses conveyed more than words ever could.

And you took your time.

As your mouth moved down his neck, he let out a gasp. It was a moment to relish. Your tongue continued to worship the hills and valleys of his well-defined arms, tracing the graceful curves of his collarbones. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin, you savored his taste. Your hands explored his abs, tracing along his navel and the delicate trails of hair beneath.

He broke apart with your small licks here and there, breathing hard, and stared at you dumbfounded. His mind remained hazy, unable to fully comprehend how your fingers toyed with the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Tilting your head to a side, you pressed your lips against his again, seeking him with a burning need, a new kind of desperation. Your other hand threaded in his hair, your lips so soft, so urgent against his, like fire and cinnamon exploding in his mouth.

Satoru nibbled your bottom lip in a flash before pulling back slightly. You were flooding his body with so much heat and desire. You parted your lips to sigh in his mouth, and that slight sound of pleasure drove him to the edge of madness.

Just as he was about to bring his mouth to your nipples, your hand suddenly slipped into his underwear and encircled his erectness pressing against your groin.

Oh.

Well.

He clenched his teeth, suppressing a groan. Oh God! He had fucking missed you holding his member in your palm. But you didn't stop at that. He gasped as you began to rub the tip with your thumb. His body ached everywhere as he tasted the colors and sounds that existed nowhere else. Your forehead rested against his chin as you continued to stroke his hardness up and down beneath his boxers. You were untamed, cruel, yet remarkably gentle.

"Take it off, Satoru," you whispered in his ear, your breath ragged. "I want you in me. Deep. Right. Now. Please."

He was beyond the reach of rational thoughts. Beyond words, beyond comprehension. The world was beyond understanding because nothing could ever compare with this. Nothing could ever capture the way he was feeling right now. He was left with only this very moment: You on his lap, your warmth against his hands, and your lustful eyes fixed upon him, making him absolutely insane.

Satoru held onto your waist with a firm grip, lifting you slightly, and in the blink of an eye, his briefs glided down his long legs until their whereabouts became irrelevant in the heat of the moment.

The wetness between your thighs was no longer a hidden secret, just as his hardness was revealed when you surrounded each other everywhere.

He watched as you reached down and guided his erection against your slippery entrance, making a few strokes to ensure the perfect alignment. His racing pulse could probably be felt in your palm and soon inside you.

Using both hands, he gripped your hips and pulled you downward, drawing you closer to him. A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you, always surprised about his size. He intended to allow you time to adjust, but you fervently clung to his neck, hitching your legs around his waist, urging him to penetrate you completely. A scream escaped your lips as you bit into his shoulder blade, but he remained composed, relishing the sensation of stretching you. He cherished the feeling of your inner walls squeezing him and the weight of your body against his balls. To be honest, he would stay like this forever.

Feeling your readiness, his hold tightened, and he started moving your body up and down. You cried out as you nestled your cheek into the curve of his neck, and he felt like dying and somehow being brought back to life in the exact moment, in the same breath.

Fuck! You were full of him.

He raised your thighs, stifling a groan that threatened to rip his throat as your lips met his. It left him bewildered, pondering why he hadn't perished, burst into flames, or snapped in half.

The room was consumed by silence, punctuated only by the sound of your heavy breaths. Your chests pressed against each other, colliding with the rhythm of your pulses.

As he sensed your arms tightening around him, he reciprocated with heightened strength, lifting and thrusting you with an intensity that transcended the bounds of restraint. Each movement struck the place he knew too well.

His teeth captured your bottom lip, eliciting a momentary jolt of pleasure. Your nails pressed into his shoulder as his fingers ran through your hair, pulling you nearer, immersing you in the fervent abyss of his mouth. The taste of you was a captivating fusion of sweetness and passion, an intoxicating blend that left both of you craving for more.

He kept trying to say your name, but he found himself unable even to catch his breath, let alone speak a single word.

The pace increased slightly; each thrust was hard, deliberate, wringing gasps, whimpers, and long, rolling moans from you.

Your eyes tingled with tears, falling fast down and traveling quietly down your cheeks. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses in your mouth, touching your tongue and the saliva within. It was as if he had discovered an oasis in the vast expanse of a desert, gazing at you with eyes ablaze like fire reflected in water.

"I love you," he whispered over and over, his voice fragile and uneven. His lips covered yours in a tender kiss. He kissed you and tasted your tears, the lasting essence of pleasure in your mouth. He kissed you and kissed you until time toppled over, and your heads spun into a blissful oblivion.

Your head rested against his, and as you delicately nipped at his earlobe, he felt stripped down to his very core, just as he had unraveled you from within. Your sweet little tongue was frantic when you whispered, "I'm yours to love."

Something inside him melted. Hearing your words, he held still for moments, sucking in the air because he felt almost dizzy with satisfaction, running his hands over your thighs.

You. You belonged to him. You didn't erase the pain you had caused. You didn't fix everything you'd broken, but that wasn't what he needed anyway. All he needed was you, and with you, everything would be alright.

He firmly grasped your buttocks, burying his face against your shoulder as he sped up. He was shattered to pieces, but with you, he got put back together differently, better, and more himself than he ever could have been. Gritting his teeth, he succumbed to the impending climax. His hands glided along your back as you shuddered, your inner walls pulsating around him so hard that he couldn't hold back his release. With a growl, he thrust wildly, once, twice, until everything around you both turned to a world of vibrant colors and radiant light, where the sun shone, oceans sparkled, and Sakura trees bloomed.

Both of you were lying on a pillow, breathless and sweaty. Satoru's face was buried in the crook of your neck.

Your hand had delicately weaved its way into his hair, fingers stroking the silky strands as you both sought to ground yourself in the aftermath of your orgasms.

You rested your cheek against his head, your voice carrying a hint of breathlessness as you began to speak. "How is Shoko doing?

"She's probably smoking even more now," he murmured, his lips grazing against your shoulder as he pulled you closer. Despite the physical closeness, a deep ache echoed within him, yearning for an even deeper connection that felt just beyond his grasp. The desire to merge both body and soul, to be completely intertwined with you, was tangible in his touch.

His arms tightened around you as if attempting to bridge an unseen gap that couldn't be seen, but he could feel it. Each hug and touch was an attempt to mend the distance that pained him. The depth of his need reverberated through his being. It was visible in the depths of his eyes. It sucked to be this close yet feel so far from someone. But he didn't want to worry. As long as you were together, he believed nothing terrible could happen.

"Why probably so?" you asked, your curiosity piqued as you turned your head towards him. Your lips touched his soft, silky white hair. "Is it because of the numerous missions you're taking?"

"You seem to know every detail of my life," he remarked, turning his head towards you, the closeness so intimate that your noses nearly touched. His hand found its way to your arm, his finger tracing a path down its length, lost in contemplation.

"I've always kept tabs on you. I'm not even ashamed of it," you declared, your attention fixed on his ocean-blue eyes.

He let out a shaky sigh. "There's no longer a reason for me to stay in Tokyo like I used to," he whispered, his voice hinting at wistfulness. The words floated in the air, pregnant with unspoken meanings. As he locked eyes with you, his gaze transformed into a sea of emotions, reflecting a profound depth of feelings that transcended mere words.

"What about your students?"

"They're doing well even without me," Satoru said, his voice filled with fondness and melancholy. As his hand gracefully slid into your hair, he tucked back the strands that obscured your face, revealing the beauty of your features.

His thumb stroked your cheek in a soothing gesture. "Megumi came close to expanding his domain," Satoru continued, his voice filled with a hint of excitement. "Yuji would be thrilled to—"

"No, Satoru!" you interjected, your voice resolute. Your firm interruption halted his sentence as your face displayed a frown, your eyebrows furrowing with determination. "The answer is no!"

Satoru's hand dropped weakly onto the sheets, his fingers losing their previous touch. When his gaze met yours, a deep sadness flooded his eyes, turning the serene ocean within them into a turbulent storm.

He struggled to find the right words to make his case but couldn't resist trying to reason with you. "Come back with me. I have enough power and privilege to protect you—"

"I don't want your protection!" you exclaimed, your voice carrying a sharp edge that cut through his being. The words resounded with a harshness reminiscent of the day you decided to leave, which had left an indelible mark on both of you. It was a day that Satoru had always blamed himself for, haunted by the belief that he had failed to notice you drifting away.

His eyes, filled with sorrow, locked onto yours, silently begging for understanding as he summoned the bravery to express his deepest desires. "Don't you want a life with me?" he questioned, his voice brimming with the dreams and aspirations he had envisioned for both of you. "What about living in a house with blue shutters, windows overlooking the ocean, and—"

"How are you still such a wide-eyed, dreamy little boy, Satoru?" you remarked, your voice tinged with tenderness and sadness. As you spoke, your hand extended, interlocking your fingers with his. "Stop living in a fantasy world," you urged. The words pleaded for him to accept reality and let go of dreams no longer aligned with his chosen path. "Even if I had the chance to go back, I wouldn't want to," you continued. "The Jujutsu society is a broken bone that won't set right, and no matter how much you try to mend it, it won't work. I started hunting Higher Ups because I have a purpose. I can't be by your side."

As you raised your head, a glimmer of compassion and understanding shimmered in your eyes. The pain etched on Satoru's face was evident to you. In a gentle tone, you encouraged him, saying, "We've made different choices. Don't judge me because I never questioned why you didn't follow me. Our approaches may differ, but we share the same dream of creating a better world. So, I don't regret leaving, but if there's anything I regret, it's not cherishing every moment I had with you. But I'm doing it right this time. I'm memorizing every detail, so I have something to hold onto."

Your words bounced around in the fog of his head, blurring his senses, misting his eyes, and muddling his logic. In his bones, there was just ice. His entire being wanted to vomit. Reality slapped him in the face, punched him in the jaw, and dumped him into the ocean.

Until today, he thought he had fully come to terms with everything. He believed he had adapted to living with your absence, like a disabled person learning to avoid putting weight on his injured leg. However, deep down, he knew he was living on eggshells, always wondering when something would break, when everything would crumble.

But with your answer, stacks of sorrow grew inside him, settling on his bones as if a cable had twisted around his neck, a worm crawling across his stomach. It was the night, midnight, and the twilight of indecision. Too many pains to bear.

He realized how foolish he had been to believe he could simply blend in and lead an ordinary life.

Satoru.

Satoru Gojo.

Satoru Gojo, The Strongest.

The mere thought of it filled him with mortification.

He shook his head, coughing as his lungs were tormented, heaving strange, horrible gasps until his whole body spasmed into submission. His head was spinning, thoughts knocking into one another. With clenched fists, he fought against the misery, forcing it back down. Not again. Not again. Not again.

"Satoru?" you called out to him, and a thousand pieces of feeling stabbed you in the heart. Realizing how deeply he loved you kept hitting him in the face, the skull, and the spine. He ran a hand across his face and through his hair, displaying signs of wanting to scream, to break something, as if he was on the verge of losing his sanity.

You hugged him, bridging the gap between your bodies and leaning your cheek against his rock-hard chest. Your hands caressed his stomach as your lips left random pecks here and there.

"It's not just your shirt that I have," you expressed. "I also have our shared blanket from our room and a collection of photographs I'm too afraid to look at. I fear that if I see them, I'll go right back to you and beg your forgiveness."

You dropped a kiss on his chin. Then, on the curve of his shoulder and his shoulder blades. Five kisses down his throat, each softer than the last. You kissed his cheeks, hands, and eyelids for every moment of loneliness he had ever endured.

You continued, "My body hasn't realized we are no longer together. It calls out for you at night, unaccustomed to not having you tightly enveloping me like a second layer of skin."

He closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to gain control of himself. "Why are you putting me through this?" he asked, his hand caught in his hair. "Why are you scratching my wounds?"

"Because I want to remake you again, Satoru. You should get broken apart and rebuild in a way that won't cause you pain anymore." You kissed the hand covering his mouth, not holding back. Keeping your head there, you leaned against his heart.

"It's not as straightforward as a simple yes or no," you said, your voice cracking as you spoke. "Let's just enjoy this moment together..."

A sudden searing heat flashed behind his eyes, and his heart leaped at your response. His hand trembled, and his eyes were willing and wanting but filled with sadness.

He shifted his gaze towards you, his eyes open, jaw clenched tightly, and muscles tense. Breathing heavily, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. The ache in his chest had grown more assertive, more painful.

You lifted your head and reached up to stroke his cheek. "Love is the most twisted curse," you murmured as you tilted his chin toward your mouth. He blinked rapidly. Words were whispered upon his lips that no one had ever spelled out for him. "And we are the most cursed of all, aren't we?" you told him, watching the movement in his throat and his effort to keep it together. It didn't take you long to kiss him again. Tenderly.

Unable to find the right words, he relied on the language of touch, pressing his lips against yours. A sigh escaped into your shared kiss, and you responded by kissing him even more passionately, almost desperately, as if trying to pass over your breaths to him. The taste of salt lingered on your tongues. The wet drops falling on your cheeks made his flesh burn. Unsure of whose tears they were, he continued to cling to you, even if it was almost for the final time.

The saddest world in this whole wide world was "almost." You almost came back to him. He almost had you. You two almost made it.

You woke up with a smile, feeling a pleasant warmth enveloping your skin, remnants of the memories from the previous night. The room was filled with a fresh ambiance, hinted at by the open window that welcomed a gentle breeze. The scent of damp earth filled the air, evidence of the rain that had visited during the night.

Letting out a sigh, you brushed your face against the pillow. Your hand instinctively reached out to where Satoru was supposed to be, but a pang of emptiness washed over you. He wasn't there, and your eyes flew open, a sourness clouding their once-serene gaze. Something felt wrong.

Suddenly, sitting up, a sense of panic pulsed through your veins. The realization dawned upon you—Satoru had left the bed, and his absence spoke volumes. Your glance darted around the room, searching for any signs of his presence, but his clothes were nowhere to be seen.

An agonizing grip took hold of your heart. Conflicting emotions wrestled inside you. You had voiced your decision to part ways, to not be by his side, yet the depth of your desire for him remained steadfast. The pain and the desperate desire for his warmth was a stark reminder that not wanting to be with him didn't mean you were prepared to let go of him completely.

The bitter yet undeniable truth surfaced: as much as you and Satoru were meant to be, fate had not deemed you to last.

You could still feel the lasting presence of Satoru's cursed energy, an invisible thread you could identify even blind. Simply by scent, you would recognize it. It was a power that transcends physical senses, one that would recognize it in death, at the end of the world.

You swiftly snatched your robe and hastened out of the room. And there he was, Satoru, fully dressed, his blindfold tightly secured, sitting still in a chair, facing the untouched mochis. The hair tie was also on the table, indicating that he had removed it from his wrist. You couldn't determine whether it hurt you deeply to see him letting go of a part of you or noticing that he had left his beloved treats untouched.

He wasn't looking at you, so you had time to observe things you hadn't noticed yesterday. He had visibly lost weight. His hair showed signs of splitting and thinning, probably due to stress. Nightmares didn't let him sleep. His uniform appeared wrinkled, and his breaths were unsteady. You knew it wasn't your place to worry about him anymore, but you couldn't help it. Taking care of him had become a habit. He appeared weary, displaying the same profound exhaustion you experienced, filling you with fear.

His shoulders quivered up and down, and you could tell he was crying even though he was silent as a corpse. Your heart quickened as you approached him. With trembling hands, you reached for his blindfold, a desperate attempt because, goddammit, you fucking loved his eyes.

"What are you—" you started to inquire, your voice fading as you recognized that your touch couldn't reach him. He had activated his Infinity. Manually. Deliberately. A wave of profound sadness washed over you, tears welling up in your eyes, yet you swallowed them back, resolved to keep your composure. Your hand hung suspended, mere inches away from him, a symbol of the unbridgeable gap that had grown between you.

Then, in a sudden movement, Satoru stood before you, donning a black jacket that draped his figure. His voice emerged raspy, filled with a raw intensity that conveyed the turmoil within his heart.

"I can't handle this anymore. I can't continue being whatever I am to you," he admitted, his words heavy with a sense of resignation. The understanding that the current situation was no longer viable had taken hold of him. "If you want things to remain this way, I can't ignore the fact that we are enemies at the end of the day." He subtly avoided meeting your gaze, averting his eyes from your messy hair and the persistent sadness in your eyes.

"Can you honestly believe that?" you questioned, your voice brimming with incredulity. You took a step forward, narrowing the physical gap between you. It was essential for him to grasp the magnitude of your anguish and directly witness the toll your choice inflicted upon your heart.

Satoru took a step back, his brows furrowing beneath the blindfold that veiled his eyes. "It doesn't matter what I believe," he declared.

Despite the barrier that prevented physical touch, you closed your eyes, driven by the overwhelming desire to bridge the divide. Ignoring the protective shield of his Infinity, you leaned in, your lips seeking his in a desperate act of defiance. Tears streamed down your closed eyes as he relinquished the barrier that kept you apart. You pressed your lush mouth against his. It never took him long to respond, to part his lips. He kissed you back, holding your head steady with his hand while his other embraced you tightly. He had your heart, and you loved him quite horribly, too. This fact always smacked you over the head so hard you felt dizzy.

You held each other tightly, his arms enveloping you as his fingers intertwined with your hair. In that stolen moment, you caught a glimpse of the life you longed for—a life filled with love. Having this every day was within reach, but the harsh reality of the jujutsu world loomed, casting a shadow over your fragile dreams. The awareness that he would be exploited until his final breath burdened you deeply. Unable to witness his suffering, you knew you couldn't change your decisions. You had to reset this Jujutsu World. For him. For his students. For the happiness you owed yourself.

As your lips reluctantly separated, a bittersweet trace of saliva remained between you. Satoru gripped your shoulders, and as you glanced up, you noticed his blindfold was damp, indicating the tears he had shed.

You lowered your head. "I wish you had never crossed paths with me," you murmured, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground until he reached out and lifted your chin.

"I wouldn't take that chance. Not in a million infinities. Because there was love, even if it didn't change anything, even if it made the pain worse, love was there," he said, staring at your mouth. "I'll love you in this life. I'll love you in death and in whatever lies after. And likely even beyond that," he whispered. The words did something to you. They burned something inside of you. You swallowed hard. A fire consumed your mind. "No matter what, I'll always love you," he declared, and pain filled your veins. You could feel it in your blood.

"Satoru," you whispered. Your eyes fogged up, but you blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears away. You couldn't let a second of this be blurry. You couldn't afford to allow any of this to slip away. His absence felt like a missing limb, and his longing for you was a bullet in the head. How could he still love you? How could he find relief in your touch?

"But if we meet again," he said, his thumb brushing against your earlobe. "Just kill me. Because I'll be forced to kill you, and it's the same thing." As if the longer he held you, the more he would want you, he let go of you.

The enormity of his duty and the unyielding constraints of the jujutsu world, forcing him to make an unbearable choice, hit you like a cold gust of wind, leaving you feeling isolated and abandoned. The chill of that moment seeped into your bones, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had felt this same frigid loneliness when you had left him behind.

Satoru walked towards the door, each step carrying the finality of his decision that settled upon the room. Pausing at the threshold, a silent plea lingered in his words. "So, please, I beg you to stay away from me." With those words, he severed the last thread that had linked you, leaving you with a deep sense of loss.

The door closed behind him, leaving you in an empty and heavy space with unspoken regret. You were alone again, bereft without him, half dead without him. You opened your mouth and screamed. You screamed and screamed until your voice cracked beneath the pressure. Until you feared your throat would shred from the force. You wanted to crawl outside of your body so desperately so that you could escape this feeling.

No one ever warned you how men with such pretty eyes, who smelled like vanilla, tasted like rain, and talked like silver, were the reason behind tear-soaked pillows, half-finished poems, and so many sad dreams.

One last shout ripped out of your throat, this one so full of pain that brought you to your knees. You crumbled. The raw sound tapered off, fading into a hoarse, staccato cry. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with oxygen you didn't want, but you were too lost in your grief to scream like you wanted to.

It seemed like Satoru Gojo's story had peaked, and anything that followed wouldn't hold the same significance to him. Because for him, there was before you, and there was during you. For some reason, he never thought there would be an after you. But there was, and he was in it. He would be in it forever.

Moving forward, he silently implored his bones to remain firm, to support him for the remainder of the day and beyond. He ventured through the forest, his steps disturbing the mud and leaves as his footprints gradually faded away until there was nothing but the empty silence of a long, lonely dusk.

Tag list: @istanuwow @anime-lover1234 @rentaldarling @enchantedforest-network

Disclaimers:

This creation draws significant inspiration from the incredible artistry of @animaybi (TikTok) and features quotes from the captivating writings of @starlightonthewaves (TikTok). Both of these talented artists deserve immense praise for their remarkable contributions.

Art is created by me.

Are you cursing me for writing this? :D

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chiharukihara · 2 years

Text

貓 2022

oil on canvas 727×606㎜/F20

Chiharu KIHARA

#chiharukihara #japanese art #木原千春 #contemporaryart #art #artists on tumblr #japanese #cat #roidworksgallery #浮世絵 #vitalism #猫 #ネコ #貓 #red #tableau #赤猫 #cats #kitty

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many-shades-of-violence · 9 months

Text

fireworks

✢ pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x Reader

✢ characters: Trafalgar D. Law, Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku , Bepo, Jean Bart

✢ word count: 4.500

✢ genre: romance, slice-off life, nsfw

✢ contents: NSFW, kimono-sex, switch-dynamics, body-worship, tattoos, mention of infertility due to amber-lead poisoning

The vibrant streets of the Flower Capital burst forth with a kaleidoscope of colors, an intricate tapestry woven from the threads of life, sound, and movement. As you meandered through the bustling streets, a symphony of scents enveloped you – the intoxicating perfume of exotic spices mingling with the vivacious banter of vendors. It was a sensory masterpiece, a feast for the senses that you savored as you immersed yourself in the rich fabric of the country's capital.

It had been a mere few days since your arrival in Wano Kuni alongside the rest of the Heart Pirates, united in your mission to challenge the reign of Kaido in alliance with the Straw Hats. The details of Law's intricate plan had initially left you uncertain, the memory of his harrowing experiences in Dressrosa still sending shivers down your spine to this day. The lingering scar on his left arm, was a testament to the battles he had fought and the risks he had taken, knowing that it could have been his last.

However, amidst the colorful chaos that was Wano Kuni, your crew thrived more than ever. Especially Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin embraced the country´s vibrant culture with an infectious enthusiasm, but even the more reserved members, like Jean Bart and Ikkaku, had found themselves swept up in the festivities. And as much as you longed to fully immerse yourself in the island's otherworldly charm, the shadow of the Straw Hat Pirates and their unpredictable influence constantly loomed over your enjoyment.

This evening, however, you had finally temporarily relinquished your role as a spy. A customer's passing mention of the upcoming fireworks had piqued your curiosity, and with a sense of adventure, you decided to seize the opportunity, since they weren´t a thing in your hometown. Dressed in a borrowed summer kimono, its lightweight cotton fabric adorned with a subtle plum pattern, you ventured into the festivities, silently hoping to catch a glimpse of your crew amidst the crowd.

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm golden glow over Wano's bustling streets, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation. The town had transformed into a vibrant tableau of color and light, adorned with fluttering banners and lanterns that painted a vivid contrast against the deepening dusk. The tantalizing aroma of street food wafted through the air, a call that beckoned your senses.

Stalls had sprung up, each offering an enticing array of culinary delights – skewers of yakitori sizzling on open grills, mounds of freshly rolled sushi that seemed almost too beautiful to eat, and steaming bowls of fragrant ramen that whispered promises of comfort. Amidst the culinary treasures, you thought you caught a glimpse of Sanji, the Straw Hat Cook, bustling at one of the stalls. Yet your attention was quickly diverted by a striking and familiar figure – no other than your captain, Trafalgar Law.

Law stood by the sidewalk, his gaze fixed on a group of children engrossed in a lively goldfish-catching game. His appearance was a curious sight, dressed in a black kimono with a red haori, the vivid reds and gold accents creating a captivating contrast against the traditional backdrop. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you noted that despite his best efforts to blend in, Law couldn't part with his signature hat.

With a stealthy approach, you reached his side, your touch light as you tapped his shoulder to announce your presence. His attention shifted, and the sight of you in the borrowed kimono seemed to elicit a reaction – a slow, lazy half-smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. His voice was laced with amusement as he spoke, his words playfully teasing. "And who do I have the pleasure with?"

Caught off guard by his question, a flush crept up your cheeks, quickly stifled by a cough as you composed yourself. "Don´t tease me and speak for yourselves, captain." you replied.

Law's grin stiffled as he gripped the black fabric of his kimono between two fingers, apparently a bit self-concious. “Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo set me up on this. Had a whole ass speech about “embracing Wano culture” and what not.”

Your gaze traveled over Law's kimono-clad form, the sight of him in the traditional attire an unexpected yet fitting sight, trying your best to not oggle his tattoo lingered chest too much. "Well good for them, they´ve finally developed something a kin to taste. Looks good on you, especially with Kikoku" you said, pointing to the long sword leaning on his right shoulder. You couldn´t help but muster a chuckle as your captain blushed faintly at his ears, his slight discomfort at your back-handed compliment endearing in its own way.

You patted his shoulder playfully before steering the conversation to a more neutral topic. "So, what brings you here?" Law's gaze returned to the lively crowd, his tone thoughtful as he responded. "I'm actually keeping an eye out for another Supernova.” Surprised by his mention of the Supernovas, your curiosity piqued. "Do you need assistance?" you offered, ready to lend a hand if needed.

Law waved off your offer with a casual gesture. "Nah, with how crowded it´s getting, I think my plan went down the drain anyway. And the last thing I want is to cause a commotion." Your thoughts briefly drifted to the Straw Hat Pirates, the very embodiment of chaos and commotion, before returning to Law's presence. "Guess so." you quipped.

Law's attention shifted to you, an interested glint in his eyes. "And what about you?"

"Well, as you can see the tea house owner practically insisted, I take the evening off and put me into this thing here. The lady’s been obsessed with dolling me up since she saw me in my boiler suit.”

You sighed raising the hem of your kimono.

Law's lips curved into a small smile. "I can see why.” Surprised at his flirtatious retort you looked up to your captain, who looked briefly at you, before returning his gaze back to the crowds.

“Aw, that´s sweet of you, captain." You retorted giving him a faint slap on his shoulder. He seemed to stiffen up at that, making you retreat your hand and quickly changing topics so things wouldn´t get too awkward. “Anyhow, I was just on the way to look around the festival stalls. Wanna join?” You offered politely, not thinking he would partake your offer. To your surprise he answered very quickly, letting himself be guided by you deeper into the festivities. “Lead the way.”

Amidst the lively streets of the Flower Capital, you and Law continued to explore, the festival together. As you walked side by side, the captain's reserved demeanor seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of ease. The elusive surgeon of death had momentarily laid down his mantle, revealing a side of him that only a few including his crew were privileged to see.

Time seemed to blur as you lost yourselves in the vibrant spectacle around you. The lanterns cast a warm, inviting glow, while the distant strains of traditional music filled the air. Your conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything from local customs to the challenges you had each faced on your respective missions.

As the night deepened, the festival's vibrant energy seemed to surge, an electric current that pulsed through the heart of the Flower Capital. The lanterns lining the streets emitted a soft, golden glow, weaving an enchanting spell that enveloped the surroundings. After enjoying a mesmerizing traditional dance performance and marveling at the dexterity of street performers, you indulged in the sweet delight of a candied apple. It was in the midst of this delightful moment that your attention was drawn to a spectacle that transcended the ordinary – people launching paper lanterns into the night sky.

"Look over there, Captain!" you exclaimed, directing Law's gaze toward the ascending lanterns, a scene that painted the backdrop of the moonlit landscape. Just as he was about to utter a question, a playful smile curved his lips. Your curiosity was piqued, your eyebrow quirking in response. "What?"

With a gentle gesture, Law used your own finger to point at his cheek, the mischievous smile refusing to fade. "Got a bit of caramel there."

You felt a blush warm your cheeks as you instinctively lifted the hem of your kimono to rectify the sugary mishap. However, a practical hesitation stilled your hand in mid-air. The tea house would surely reprimand any stain on their attire. Almost as if sensing your dilemma, Law stepped in with characteristic grace for a doctor like him. "Here, let me do it."

You nodded, a tad taken aback by his swift assistance. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he wiped away the caramel with his finger, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake. Though you flinched slightly from the unexpected contact, Law seemed unperturbed, his focus solely on the task at hand, like the pro he was. The proximity allowed you to catch a faint, intriguing blend of his distinctive scent, a musky and herbal aroma that stirred a comforting familiarity. You nearly cringed when you felt how giddy it made you feel. A feeling that definitely transcended the boundaries of your roles as captain and crewmate.

"There, all done," Law murmured, his voice a soothing undertone that seemed to reverberate through the air. As he was just on the way to restore the distance between you, your gazes met for a fleeting second, a silent exchange where his unwavering yellow gaze met your own. With your best effort your tried to control your urges to look at his strong features, including his full lustrous lips. Just when you failed miserably, your eyes hungrily flashing down, a sudden burst of sound forced your attention skyward, ignorant of his gaze definitely not missing your reaction.

The night erupted into a dazzling spectacle of color and light, fireworks painting the heavens with vivid strokes of red, blue, and gold. The crowd around you gasped and cheered in unison, their collective awe echoing through the air as they started looking for a better spot to view the firework.

Caught in the radiant shower of lights, you felt a sense of enchantment take hold, not able to move a tad, for this was your first time experiencing a firework. The colors reflected in your eyes, mirroring the effervescent spirit of the festival itself. Beside you, Law's gaze wasn´t drawn skyward however, his usually impassive demeanor softened by the sheer wonder of the display on your face, alight by the kindling flames in the sky.

"Say, y/n-ya, is this your first firework?" Law's voice broke through your reverie, drawing your attention momentarily as you nodded, still entranced by the display at hand. He smiled faintly, before grabbing you carefully around your shoulder, to port you away from the masses,

“Room!”

You let out a surprised noise, as Law´s Room switched you out with a few stones of the close-by riverbed you were standing in front of now. You usually wouldn´t have missed the lingering hesitation of your captain, a fraction of a moment too long, before he withdrew his arm, but you were way to mesmerized with the many fireworks ablaze in the night sky.

"You know, Captain, you´re very kind." you remarked, your words carried on the wind, still entranced by the luminous spectacle. A quick, soft reply escaped his lips, laced with an unspoken gratitude. "Don't mention it." His words were followed by a muttered addendum, revealing a hint of vulnerability. "Besides, I wouldn't do this for just anyone." Your laughter bubbled forth, a grin painting your features as Law's cheeks tinged a deeper shade of pink in response. Leaning slightly against him, your shoulders brushed.

"And here I thought our captain was always this chivalrous" you joked, catching Law off-guard, his embarrassment evident. Chuckling softly, you reassured him, your attention drifting back to the night sky. "I'm only teasing. I really don´t mind. Truth be told, I'm thoroughly enjoying this. My only regret is that it's passing by so quickly." With a contemplative look, you glanced downward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the gentle night breeze weaving through your locks.

Your heart soared triumphantly as Law's resonant baritone voice echoed your unspoken desire, his words falling like a melody upon your ears. “It doesn´t have to, y/n-ya.” As you looked back up to him, you met his serene gaze, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Are you sure, captain?”

He sighed defeated, before crossing the last of distance between you two, cupping your cheecks with his hands. “Here, let me show you.” Carefully he planted his lips on yours. You were quick to answer his call, hands rested atop his haori, you met his lips in a slow rhythm, while the display of fireworks reached its climax.

Up close to your captain, you could once again smell his cologne, blending beautifully with the warmth rising between the two of you. You felt Law's hands slowly starting to explore your body, tracing its contours with his fingertips, sending shivers down your spine.

Breaking your kiss only to catch a breath, Law whispered softly to you, "Perhaps we should continue this elsewhere." You agreed with a mischievous raise of your eyebrows. "Polar Tang?" Law gave you a horrified expression, already envisioning the worst-case scenario of Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo stumbling upon the two of you mid-coitus. "Are you out of your mind?!" You playfully stuck your tongue out at him. "Just kidding. Let's go to my place at the tea shop."

"Are you sure? We wouldn't want to compromise your cover," Law raised an eyebrow. "There's always outside..." "The tea shop it is."

You gestured for Law to approach the bedding, your back turned to his tall frame. "Would you mind assisting me with this?" you asked, referring to the complex Wano clothing that was proving difficult to remove without some help. "As much as Wano's attire is beautiful, it’s a pain in the ass to get out of without an extra hand. Really nothing compared to our boiler suits.”

Law couldn't help but smirk at your remark. He swiftly discarded his haori, hat and sword, his skilled hands moving to unfasten the sash's ribbon. "Think you got me convinced" he quipped, a playful tone in his voice. "Feels like unwrapping a present." You gave Law a look over shoulder, watching as he expertly unraveled the intricate bindings of the kimono. With his task completed, the fabric now hung loosely around your shoulders, its long hem cascading. Law met your gaze and shared a tender kiss, his scrawny goatee tingling your chin, before gently sliding the fabric down your shoulder.

Softly peppering kisses along your shoulder blade, his slender tattooed fingers pulling the cotton fabric away from your body with a tantalizing slowness. You turned to face him, clad only in your underwear, playfully nibbling on your lower lip as a silent request for entrance to his mouth. He willingly granted you permission, his submission deepening as your hands slid into the opening of his kimono, trailing along his chest. The loose white sash around his waist unraveled in a single swift motion, unveiling your captain's tanned skin adorned with intricate tattoos. As you traced your fingertips over the dark lines, a shiver of anticipation coursed through Law's body, a reaction he couldn't suppress.

Taking advantage of the moment, you slipped your tongue into his mouth, engaging in a languid and passionate dance. Your lead was embraced wholeheartedly by Law as your tongues intertwined. It was surprising to witness how effortlessly Law, the famed Surgeon of Death and former Samurai of the Sea, surrendered to the sensations, heightening your attraction to him even more.

Straddling your raven-haired captain, his partially undone kimono cascading around his slender, muscular physique, exposing his nearly bare form, you momentarily parted from the kiss. Your lips and tongue embarked on a tantalizing exploration of his body, leaving a trail of fervent kisses in their wake. Starting from his neck, your journey traced a path down toward his nipples, lavishing each one with devoted attention, coaxing them into hardness. The sensations prompted a groan to escape Law's lips, his fingers clutching the bedding beneath him as he fought to muffle the rising tide of moans. Simultaneously, one hand sought refuge above his mouth to stifle his own sounds of pleasure. Your keen perception didn't overlook the telltale twitch of his cock between his legs, a testament to the effect your actions were having on him. "God damn, y/n-ya, slow down, will ya? I'm not gonna dissolve into thin air anytime soon." You looked up at him with a teasing grin, saluting him with a wink. "Ay, ay, captain."

And call me Law, will ya? It makes me feel weird hearing it in a setting like this," you chuckled, giving him a peck on the lips. "Alright, alright. Though, I can always call you 'Doctor' if you're more into that?" You grinned when he averted your gaze, clearly embarrassed by your dirty talk. “M-Maybe another time.” He stifled, his hands searching again for more contact with your skin. “Cute. But if this shouldn´t be a one-time thing, you got some convincing to do.” you winked. On your call Law claimed your lips in a heated kiss, his hands ghosting over every curve of your body, pressing his hips against your own to create more friction between you. A moan escaped your lips, when he slid his hand around your back, releasing you of your bra and starting to knead the subtle flesh of one of your breasts with his calloused hand.

As you pressed yourselves harder onto Laws clothed cock, he let out another groan, his lips meeting you once more, before he finally wetted his long fingers with his mouth and dipped them inside your panties. A low stifle erupted his tattooed chest when he found the wet spot that formed there. “Guess I´m not the only one excited.” he proclaimed, wetting his lips in the process. As he entered you with two fingers, you cried out in pleasure. You had guessed it with Ikkaku one way to drunk evening, but now you finally had hand on prove that his fine motor skills definitely translated outside of the op.

“Fuck, Law.” You cried out as he slowly scissored you open, his thumb dragging menacingly above your swollen clit. The feeling of being filled by his long fingers was ravishing, and the fact that they were tattooed, only turned you on more. Additionally, Law hungrily sucking at your tits like a starved man, didn´t help the whole ordeal.

You bitt your thumb, to suppress a loud cry from the pleasure that build with rapid speed in your core. When you had teased your captain, that he needed to do some convincing first, you wouldn´t have thought he took it so seriously, but maybe you had calculated his enchantment with you on a wrong scale from the beginning. With each calculated stroke from Law, the sensation inside you grew stronger until finally, you screamed out in ecstasy, your first release of the night crashing down on you. Dazed out from your orgasm, you were too late to realize Law cleaning your release from his fingers sloppily with his tongue.

“What are you doing?!” you cried out exhausted, trying to swipe his hand from his face. “Relax. Just savoring my treat. You´re as sweet as I´d imagined.” He grinned at you, flashing you his pearly white teeth. “You´re a nasty one Trafalgar. How long have you been imagining this anyway?” you mewled, discarding of your soaked panties before tending to his own confinement.

He gave you a shrug before pulling you in for another kiss, his tongue searching longingly for your own. You grimaced, tasting yourselves on his lips. “Honestly, y´a don´t wanna know.”

And honestly, it should´ve give you the ick to hear that from your supervisor and captain but at the same time, but at the moment you couldn´t think of anything hotter.

When you first joined the Heart Pirates, after Ikkaku had found you in cold blood nearly offing two burglars with a shorty after they tried to rob an elderly couple, her promises of a warm bed, delicious food, a bear as a navigator, and the captain being a bombshell weren't exaggerated at all. But with all professionalism, you wouldn't agree to that out in the open. Except maybe if you had one or two shots too many.

Back in the present, you smiled inwardly at the chance you took and everything it had led up to, this shared moment of intimacy with none other than your captain included.

As you released Law cocks out of his imprisonment you couldn´t help but tease his stiff rod with a quick swipe of your thumb, earning yourselves a deep groan from the man in question. The tan cock sprang free with much vigor, a bit of pre-cum having already assembled at the dark pink slit. Experimentally you gave him a few lazy strokes, before Law signaled you to hoist yourself above him, so he could enter you. You cocked an eyebrow, a bit surprised that a doctor like him didn´t seem to care much for protection. He seemed to know exactly what you were thinking about, as he gave your hip a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, I'm infertile," he said, looking at you with a casual expression, causing your eyes to widen in surprise at how nonchalantly he addressed the topic. "What? It's no big deal. Just a result of a hereditary disease."

You gulped, feeling a bit unsure of how to react to this fact, but then decided to drop the topic for now. After all, Law was the doctor and likely had more knowledge of his own insides than anyone would ever want – well, except for the Surgeon of Death himself, that is.Formularbeginn

Holding yourselves steady with your hand on his broad shoulders, you slowly sank yourselves down on his cock, a shiver running down your spine as you felt him protrude your wet insides. Groans escaped you both as sheeted himself inside you, the skin-on-skin contact making your core starting to coil once more.

When you had finally accommodated to Law´s grith you started to move, lazily dragging your hips up and down, fingers digging into his tan muscles. Your captain reacted with much enthusiasm, his grip on your hands not only steading you in your motion but giving him the needed point of gravity to meet your motions with his own hip thrusts. No sooner than later the room was filled with the rhythmical slapping of sweaty skin and a salve of both of your moans, relishing in each other’s ecstasy.

Just when you had sunken down once more on Laws length he suddenly snaked his hands firmly around you, locating you on your back and him atop of you, the last fabric of his black kimono falling down onto the ground, revealing the full glory of his tattooed body. You racked your nails over his back from the pleasure the newly found angle brought you, while Law pounded your weeping cunt. Spurred on, you hooked your legs around his hips nearly drilling the poor man to the hilt inside you.

“y/n-ya, don´t do that or….” Law groaned out stopping mid-sentence. “Or what?” you asked teasingly, giving one of his nipples a slow pull. “Fuck.” You had your answer, when you felt Law rot one last time against you, painting your insides with his cum as he emptied himself inside you. Feeling the sudden hot splashes of his seed inside you made you contract like crazy, milking him dry of his last drop.

As he slid out of you, he kissed you on the forehead, slowly draping your bedding over both of you and nestled himself into the comfy covers of your futon with you in his arms. As you came down from your own high you suddenly registered that despite his affirmation, Law had cum inside you.

“Say didn´t you-“ .” Law muffled in your hair, clearly tired from your escapade. “I said I´m infertile, not that I can´t cum y/n-ya. Read a book for once”.

"I think I'll pass," you retorted, rolling your eyes in a playful manner before snuggling into Law's embrace. He slowly ran his fingers through your hair as he asked in a low baritone voice, "Are you alright? Need anything?" You shook your head wearily, stifling a yawn with your hand. "Just a good night's sleep. Rest can wait till t´morrow."

"Same here," he replied, his grasp tightening around you.

Just before sleep embraced both of you, you whispered gently into his ear, "Oh, and by the way, you passed with flying colors." Instantly, a subtle smile adorned Law's usually impassive countenance as slumber claimed him. As you drifted off into a tranquil sleep, a final utterance lingered in your ears.

"Glad to hear that."

#writing #my stuff #one piece #op #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #shachi #penguin #bepo #ikakku #jean bart #heart pirates #one piece x reader

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annesophieburatto · 1 year

Photo

Lune de sang

Huile sur toile

46x55

#Art #Painting #Fantastic #nature #Animal #Forest #Moon #Red Moon #Buratto #Anne-Sophie Buratto #tableau #fantastique

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thefireintheshadow · 2 months

Text

He’d done it. He’d gotten his mending book.

[authors note: this seems like a cute little fic about grian and his mending book but it is in fact a dark mafia fic jsyk…]

Grian couldn’t believe it had finally happened. It was so surreal that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

He went through the motions of cleaning himself up. It felt good to shave, see some color on his cheeks. Even his eyes were brighter.

When he returned to the dock to clean up all of his fishing gear, there was a silhouette in the setting sun. He couldn’t make out who it was, a broad frame almost haloed in glittering red.

“Hello, Grian.”

He squinted. “Beef?” As he grew closer, he could make out the source of the glittering, a suit that appeared to be crafted from salmon scales. “Wow.”

“Been doing a lot of fishing lately?” Beef asked, running a hand up one of the pillars of the little hut.

Something felt off in Grian’s gut. Something in his friend’s tone felt…predatory. It couldn’t be. This was Beef. He was one of the sweetest guys around. “You could say that,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “But I’m all good now, got my mending book.”

“Is that so?” Beef cocked a brow, and stuck both hands in his pockets, as if on a casual stroll. Something in his gait screamed danger, though, and was this just too much time spent in death games? Was this overflow from Secret Life and Demise and—

Beef stopped on the block over Grian’s storage room. No.

“Why don’t you come on downstairs?” Beef asked, but it was hardly a request. “Because somehow I don’t think you’re all good.”

He pulled out a handful of seeds and composted them, disappearing through the floor.

Grian’s pulse thundered in his ears. What the hell was going on? How did Beef find out about his secret area? And what the hell was up with that suit? His head spun.

On the surface this would look like a fun prank. A bit.

But it didn’t feel like a bit. It didn’t feel fun.

He didn’t want to go down there.

But something told him he needed to, some instinct buried deep. Though surely Beef just wanted to make a deal for something in the chests down there, right?

Heart hammering, he composted and dropped down.

But there was nobody there. His guts twisted. Beef meant down downstairs. This was getting weirder and weirder, and that sense of danger felt sharper and heavier.

He dropped down into the cave and his heart ceased to work.

He couldn’t quite register at first the tableau in front of him. His gaze zeroed in on Mumbo’s face, beautiful skin marred by blood and tears.

“Grian! They’ve gone-” Mumbo cried, but his words choked off on a scream as a sickening snap echoed and suddenly time seemed to stop.

Grian’s ears buzzed, as if no other senses other than his sight were capable of working at a time. Mumbo was on his knees, hands behind his back, face twisted in pain. Skizz stood behind him, muscled arms gleaming as he took the kneeling man’s disheveled hair in one of his fists.

Skizz didn’t look quite right, though. His eyes were too big, almost bulbous, and too far apart. His face shone with what Grian had at first thought was sweat, but no, it was as if his skin were made of…scales? And nowhere was that soft, sweet, fun-loving Skizz energy. He looked maniacal. A maniacal, half-mutated fish man.

And Beef. Beef in his salmon-scaled suit, still cool as a cucumber, hands in his pockets, watching the scene with detachment.

Grian sucked in a deep, ragged breath as his lungs screamed for air, and time seemed to start again, his brain somehow catching up with the fact that he couldn’t just watch the scene forever.

“Walk with me, Grian,” Beef said, strolling towards the redstone door.

“No!” Grian cried, his entire body quivering. “What are you doing to Mumbo? Skizz!” He took a step forward, but in a flash, Skizz jerked Mumbo’s head back, exposing the tender flesh of his throat, and pressed a glittering diamond sword against it.

“I already broke his wrist, want another lesson?” he warned, and something was wrong with his voice, it sounded so distorted.

“My associate here will take good care of Mumbo,” Beef said as the door opened. “I’d like you to show me this room.”

Grian swallowed hard, staring at Mumbo with desperate eyes, the man he cared about most in this world, the man he’d do anything for. Somehow, somehow he’d fucked up and now Mumbo was in pain and there was fucking nothing he could do. Why hadn’t he brought any weapons down here? Why hadn’t he acted on his instincts up there…god.

A drop of crimson beaded on Mumbo’s throat, and he hissed in pain.

“You’d better go, your little friend has thin skin,” Skizz warned gleefully.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Grian said, forcing his feet to move, one in front of the other, towards Beef, towards the door…away from Mumbo. “Please stop hurting him.” The words came out so disgustingly weak sounding, and he hated it. He wanted to press his thumbs into Skizz’s mutant eyes until they popped out of his fucking head, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything.

Skizz lowered the sword at least, and Grian scurried after Beef into the manifest room.

“Tell me about this,” Beef said once the door closed behind them, spreading his arms.

“It’s my…my manifesting mending room,” Grian said, and it sounded so stupid now. He had to admit he’d gone a little batshit with all of that fishing, with his obsession. What did this have to do with Beef and Skizz, though?

Beef pursed his lips, shaking his head. “It looks to me like a cod-worshipping room,” he said.

Grian’s blood rushed through his ears. Was this what this was all about? Types of fish? “No, they were just, easier to build statues of,” he insisted. “The color palette-”

“I don’t believe you,” Beef snarled, and his blazing anger was so jarring after being calm for the entire exchange. “Big Cod is trying to get a foothold here and my employer is not going to let that happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Grian asked, head spinning. “This is literally just for me, you can see my painting at the other end-”

“I saw the painting,” Beef interrupted, turning his back, clasping his hands there, walking down the platform to look at the painting in question. “Quite an expensive piece, for a fisherman.”

Grian scrubbed his hands down his face. “Well I’m not just a fisherman-”

“No, you’re not,” Beef said, whirling on his heel. “You know, my original thought when I was tasked with eliminating the cod threat was just to blow this whole thing to hell with you inside it.” He raised a finger. “But I thought, no need to make such a mess. I think I can bring you to heel with the right motivation.”

As if in cue, the redstone door opened, and Skizz dragged Mumbo in, shoving him back to his knees. His nose was freshly bleeding, and he looked about to collapse completely.

“Beef, please, whatever you think this is, it’s not,” Grian begged, whirling back towards him. “I swear I don’t know anything about…big cod-I just-”

There was a thump and Mumbo groaned.

Grian whirled again as Skizz pressed his boot against the man’s back, shoving him into the floor.

“Stop hurting him!” Grian cried, turning back to Beef. “Please, what do you need me to do? Just stop hurting him!”

Beef reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar – since when did he smoke? – and flicked a zippo, taking his time lighting it evenly. He puffed, then tossed the zippo over his shoulder, landing it neatly at the bottom of the painting.

It went up quickly. Grian watched the flames, swallowing hard. He was happy to trade the painting for Mumbo’s safety, but it was still hard to watch it go up like that.

“Since you have your mending book, you won’t be needing that anymore,” Beef said, smoke trailing as he strolled up the walkway, free hand back in his pocket. “And since you’re certainly not working for Big Cod, you won’t need this room anymore. Dismantle it. Destroy it.” He pointed at Grian, cigar smoldering between his fingers. “I will be checking. And you don’t want to have this meeting again, do you? Who could I motivate you with next? Gem? Or how about Scar?”

Grian shook his head vigorously. “No, you don’t have to motivate me, I’ll do it.” He took a step back. “Please, just let Mumbo go and I’ll do it right now.”

Beef patted him on the cheek, chuckling as the sickly-sweet smoke made him cringe. “Yes you will,” he said, and stalked past him, snapping his fingers on his way by Skizz. “Kill him.”

Grian screamed, launching himself towards them, but he was too late, Skizz stabbed Mumbo through the back of the skull and Grian landed on the hard floor, next to the bundle of bloodied ropes left behind.

“I don’t want to see your face on the surface until it’s done,” Beef said as Skizz crossed the threshold. “Or else.”

The door closed, leaving Grian alone and sobbing on the floor.

[read on ao3]

#I couldn’t help it #hermitshipping #grumbo #hermitblr #hermitcraft #brainrot #fanfic #hermitcraft fanfic #grumbo fanfic #big salmon #big salmon fanfic #ao3 #dark fanfic #dark salmon #salmon mafia #what are these tags idk

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 1 year

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Could you write something with dom-sub dynamics (Loki as a Dom) and Loki receiving oral and maybe a little bit of degradation?

“Know Your Place”

Summary: As the Younger Prince of Asgard’s mistress, you can’t help but tease your lover at dinner. Loki, however, isn’t having any of it tonight, and he has no choice left but to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.

PAIRING: Asgardian!Loki x Mistress!Reader CONTENT WARNING (18+ ONLY): smut, public teasing, Dom!Loki x Sub!Reader, oral M!Receiving, MASSIVE degradation, collars, magic bondage, mentions of humiliation WORD COUNT: 2.1k

The great dining hall of Odin’s palace was abuzz this evening in celebration of yet another Asgardian victory on the front against the Dark Elves. Odin’s troops had been led by the Princes Thor and Loki, who proved to be an unstoppable pair of generals, and they were the guests of honor at the feast.

Every warrior wanted to pay respects. Every lady wanted to flirt.

This left you sitting alone at the end of the Head Table, where even Odin was no longer sitting and supping. Bitterly, you looked about the hall, just trying to keep a firm eye on your lover. Thankfully, most of the sexual attention he received went unanswered, and instead, he seemed to be enjoying regaling tales of his heroism to the men of the room, chortling with his old friends between tankards of beer.

Still…

You smiled slyly, deciding to make a game of the evening if you were going to otherwise be ignored.

Careful not to give yourself away, you made a small circling maneuver under the tablecloth with your fingers, and red sparks momentarily appeared at your fingertips. Your red seidr was perfect for the occasion. Loki knew what your magic looked like, but even if he didn’t immediately suspect the truth, it would make for an amusing tableau. He would get the hint either way.

You couldn’t see your handiwork take shape from the distance you were standing (halfway across the damn hall from your lover!), but it only took a few moments before one of the dwarves must’ve said something.

A chuckle from the small clutter of men Loki was standing in the center of, regaling tales of heroic feats and battles won, began to rise and wave outward, until you finally saw Loki look down, after which, he rolled his eyes while the rest of his audience erupted into laughing fits.

Loki’s codpiece was twitching of its own accord, moving about in erratic, unnatural directions. It gave the illusion of one who may have been in the middle of a crowded room, but whose mind fell to more intimate needs.

“Thinking of other things already!” one of the burly dwarves laughed. “What a soldier!”

“Where is the Lady?” asked Thor, his boisterous voice rising and calling for you. “You’re the one who hand-selected her to serve you, brother!”

Loki pressed his lips together, keeping as much dignity intact as he could while familiar red stars fluttered in and out of his eyesight. He turned in the general direction of the head table, where you’d propped yourself along the edge, leaning over in a casual, cool pose, feigning innocence with a tiny wave as you made eye contact with your Lord at last.

You could see Loki mouth one word, one word that claimed the rest of your evening the instant it was uttered:

“Brat.”

You were in for it now. Your pussy trembled from playful fear, wondering how he was going to do it this time. Bondage? Humiliation? Wearing a collar and being led around the halls for an entire day completely naked?

Loki was a god who allowed his sexual desires to fly on the wind. Whim by whim, he explored kink and fentish play with you over the months, until you very quickly became Loki’s favorite pastime. As open-minded as you were, you certainly had your favorite ‘moments’ in the God of Mischief’s bedroom, and most of them involved you kneeling desperately at his feet, arms bound behind you, his long, massive cock dangling in front of your face.

Loki turned to his comrades. “It seems the Lady is calling for me,” he said, bidding adieu to his brother and friends.

You quickly saw his face evolve the minute he turned to saunter over toward you. It melted from one of cordial contentment to feral anger barely contained within a body about to burst apart. You squeezed your thighs together under your gossamer green gown, but it did little to steady you. You would’ve allowed him to fuck you over the table with no shame.

For his clearly growing need to punish you, Loki did a surprisingly effective job at hiding his feelings under a glimmer of decorum while the pair of you were still at the feast. He grabbed your wrist, harshly yanking you off the edge of the table.

“Isn’t it a little early in the evening to begin acting like such a whore?” he hissed, winking at you and leaning down a little too closely. “Must I have to chain you to my side everywhere we go?”

You bowed your head with a coy smile. “I’m sure I don't know what you’re--”

Loki grabbed your face and pulled it within inches of his. You could almost feel his eyelashes flutter against your forehead. He ran a finger over your puckered lips and subconsciously licked his own. “Norns! ! In this moment of glory, I should be basking under my rightful spotlight, and all you want is to spread your legs and keep me sheathed inside you all night. No shame from you tonight, I see.”

You fluttered your eyelids coquettishly. “My Lord, I can’t help it…”

Loki growled feral, leaning over so that his raspy, hard voice was for your ear only. “No, you can’t. Truly, all you think of is filling that wet, aching cunt of yours! Do you know why you can’t help yourself?”

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly, the game already claiming your higher senses.

“And why is that?” he commanded your answer.

“Because I’m a slut.”

Loki groaned in satisfaction at hearing you say the words for yourself. “Yes, my stupid little plaything,” he affirmed. “You live for nothing more than my body to pull pleasure from you. You are a poor, pathetic, needy princess seeking attention from her prince.”

“Yes, my Lord,” you hanged your head, moaning softly. “I am weak.”

“I should bring everyone’s attention to this table as I bend you over it, and show the entire country what happens to bad little sluts who don't behave themselves in public!”

Still keeping up the bratty behavior, you bit your lip and giggled as the image of Loki taking your ass in front of every noble in Asgard made you begin to grow wet. “Please do,” you dared to reply, making Loki’s own skin shudder.

“Believe me, the only thing keeping me from fucking your desperate cunt in front of every man in this room is the fact that my mother is here,” Loki replied. “But I know for a fact we won’t make it back to my chambers…”

Looking around, Loki quickly yanked you around a corner and off to a side room, away from the rest of the party, behind a flimsy, gossamer red curtain.

“Can they see us?” you asked, your voice high and trembling, which pleased your ravenous master.

“I hope so, but that’s none of your concern. You should, instead, be quaking in fear of me,” he narrated, advancing on you, towering, purposefully extending his posture to his full height, making you feel small and helpless. His eyes narrowed, and for a second you thought he just intended to stand there, forcing your anticipation to grow until it was making your head burst.

He looked at you, planning his next sinful move. “I feel as though I cannot take you anywhere after tonight,” he muttered. “Perhaps I should just lock you in my chambers and toss the key off the Bifrost?”

You gasped. “No, sire! I know I’ve misbehaved, I’m sorry!”

Falling to your knees, you hung your head in feigned contrition, wondering if you were going to feel his fingers massage your scalp as he prepared to tug on your hair, or if he was going to make you work for any kind of touch.

You became aware of the sensation of cool air hitting your skin as a flick of Loki’s wrist took away your splendid green and gold gown, as well as all of your gold jewelry. Raising his palm, his seidr took a hold of your limbs, arching your back and thrusting your chest forward without your command (not that you minded, Loki knew your signal for when he truly went too far).

Using his hands to mold your pert, naked body into his favorite position, he manipulated your arms tightly behind your back, so that your shoulder blades were pressed to one another, stretching your shoulders. You then felt the sensation of a cloth scarf winding itself down your arms, binding them together, keeping your face tilted upward and your chest out.

Loki stepped forward until the toes of his boots were tapping at your knees. As you looked up at him, he waved his fingers once more, and your hair looped in on itself, making one long braid down the back of your head and neck.

“Now, kitten, are we going to learn our lesson?” he said, the sinister purr in his voice making every nerve under your skin vibrate.

You nodded. “Yes, sire.”

“And that lesson is?”

You swallowed, squirming anxiously before your Lord, needing only to make him happy with you again. “Whores always get what they deserve when they’re bad.”

“And?”

“I am a whore, Loki! A bad girl who needs to be gagged,” you moaned, your jaw falling open as Loki replied by bringing his long fingers down to his leggings, pulling them down over his package, his thick erection springing free from his codpiece.

“Good. Now open up, princess. Take your punishment.”

Obeying, you accepted the tip of Loki’s cock past your lips, savoring the taste of his flesh as you received his shaft next, your mouth stretching wider and wider to accommodate him. He hissed with pleasure as you went for the hilt, taking his entire dick into your mouth and gently sucking it until you could feel the tip against the back of your throat. His flavor was rich, salty, and delicious.

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnornnnnnnnnnnnsssssssss,” Loki managed to groan as you went about your work, continuing to suck away greedily at his cock, bobbing your head back and forth. As if giving yourself a moment of power, you purposefully refused to settle into a rhythm: sometimes you only let him go for an inch, sometimes you nearly took all of him out. You always kept him guessing. You knew that was how he liked it, even when he was meant to tell you what to do.

You began picking up the pace, nursing Loki’s erection like the desperate slut you were tonight, completely at his mercy. You wanted so badly for him to finish in your mouth, but would he consider you worthy after behaving with such terrible manners at a royal feast?

“Pathetic whore…” he growled, looking down at you. You were dribbling all over yourself, disgusting, lowly, and messy. Such was the power the Prince of Asgard had over you. “I can’t finish until I hear you gag--”

Without warning, Loki reached behind you, grabbed your braid, and tugged on it. This forced your head back, and Loki’s dick hit the back of your throat, forcing a quick cough out of you as you reacted to the tickle.

You’d hoped this would send Loki over the edge and force him to cum down your throat, but instead, he remained composed when he let go of your braid, gave one more tantalizing thrust into your mouth, and slowly pulled himself out, wagging a scolding finger.

“Ah, ah! No, no, sweetheart,” Loki said, his voice returning to a mocking tone. “Bad girls don't get to swallow. Perhaps if we returned to the party, and I saw that you were behaving yourself a bit better, we might discuss letting you have a little something at the end of the night.”

He knelt down beside you, cupping your face in his hands, bringing your forehead gently to his lips. “I love you, Y/N. You know that?”

“Yes, Loki, I always do,” you answered, as you always did when your games were over.

With a wave of his green seidr, a leather studded collar wrapped itself around your throat, pulling itself just tight enough that it wasn’t completely comfortable. A chain looped itself into your Master’s waiting palm, and he gave it a gentle tug, pulling at your neck and forcing you to rise to your feet and join him at his side, his eyes never breaking contact with yours.

“Now,” he said darkly, “let’s return to the feast, shall we?”

“What of my…my clothes?” you asked quietly, the taste of Loki’s essence still in your mouth.

Loki chuckled and ran a soft hand over your hot, damp cheek. “Oh kitten, I thought you knew better now. Your punishment isn’t over just yet, Princess. You didn’t think you would be wearing clothes as I paraded you around the hall, did you?”

Sorry this took a hot sec, Nons. Inspiration has been varied as of late! I hope this is to your liking! I also, err, went a little bit above "a little bit" of degredation. Hope that's ok.

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