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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

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HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO

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

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

all sexual content present in part two.

⊹ wc ; 17.3k / 36.1k

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

LINK TO PART TWO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s very, very intrigued by that.

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

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

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

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

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

He approaches slowly, quietly.

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

“Oh, uhm. Hello?”

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

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

“Surprised?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You seem plenty friendly to me.”

He pretends to think about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A little,”

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

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

“And yours?”

“Gojo Satoru.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By you in general.

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

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

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

What’s heaven to a man born there?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve never called him before.

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

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

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

You laugh quietly.

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

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

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

He smiles to himself.

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

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

His first instinct is to disagree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait a minute, hesitating with your words.

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

“Shy, huh? Cute.”

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

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

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

“Don’t wanna.” He states outright.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He takes a deep breath. Everything smells like rain.

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

Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you see it…?”

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

“....It?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,”

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

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

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

“T-Thank you,”

He grins at you.

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

You nod your head and sip your tea.

“Do you know who I am?”

You look confused.

“...Are you a celebrity?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you were a high school teacher.”

He smiles.

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

“Oh.”

You look befuddled.

Gojo thinks he might be an opportunist.

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

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

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

“You can’t use cursed techniques?”

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

Vulnerable.

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

“Is it that bad…?”

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

“Do you carry anything with you?”

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

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

“What other kind would there be?”

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

“Everybody gets scared sometimes.”

“Mm,”

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

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

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

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

He smiles.

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

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

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

Since then, Gojo’s kept quite busy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t flinch until the whole way through.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo knows though, and sometimes he envies their ignorance.

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

Then, he’s inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Showing signs of anxiety.”

Gojo smiles to himself. Interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’re you still here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She gives Gojo a pointed look.

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

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

“No. Your aura.”

Gojo stares ahead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She thinks for a minute longer before sighing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s being sincere.

“Should you be sympathizing with me?”

“Doesn’t matter. I just do.”

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

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

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

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

Yeah. Gojo knows something about that, too.

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Yeah. I’ll do that.”

The case ends anti-climatically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s been seeing you again regularly, too.

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

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

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

Above all, the offer is tempting.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(sent 11:15am) Ready ~

He laughs to himself.

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

(sent 11:16am) For coffee?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,”

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

“They’re an important friend,”

He tries not to let his smile falter. Friend.

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

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

“Not at all,”

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

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

It’s a pleasant sort of day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you complimenting yourself right now?”

“Am I wrong?”

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

He gasps in offense.

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

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

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

Instead of saying anything, he scoffs playfully.

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

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

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

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

Your frown deepens.

“I don’t care for your tone, mister.”

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

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

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

“What do you want?”

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

“Heard,”

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

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

“Mm, there’s always next time?”

“You say that every time!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then, I’m glad you asked me.”

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

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

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

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

“Don’t forget.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Let’s eat, okay?”

You nod enthusiastically.

You and Gojo eat and chat comfortably for a while.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sits up straight, focusing his attention on you.

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

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

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

“Hey. Hey, look at me?”

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

He doesn’t like it.

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

“No, uhm. It’s just, uhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About time to get out of here, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,”

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

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

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

“Let’s go sit,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You….knew?”

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

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

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

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

You nod softly.

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

Gojo feels his jaw clench listening to you talk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cry and cry and cry.

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

In the end, Gojo can’t forgive him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo Satoru decides to play God on a Sunday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who the…what the fuck is going on?”

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

“W-w-what…how did you…”

Gojo shakes his head.

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

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

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

It’s not that Gojo is particularly sadistic.

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

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

He envies this aggravating strangers' ignorance, too.

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

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

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

“P-please, I have—”

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

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

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

Gojo hums.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo stops you in the middle of your sentence.

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

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

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

Gojo pretends to think about it.

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

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

Gojo hums.

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea,”

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #manipulation cw #writing tag #dark content cw #yandere cw #noncon cw #murder cw #yandere!gojo #stalking cw #i tried to add the most major tags #lmk if you need more #ok. gn #part two will be out whenever ame has read lol

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satorusugurugurl · 6 days

Note

The idea of yandere gojo and geto (both at the same time) plotting against their darling reader using geto's cursed spirits to make her on them gets my mind reeling for nights 👀 wonder if my favorite writer has any thoughts on this

Perfect Prey

Characters: Yadere!Geto Suguru, Yadere!Gojo Satoru,FAB!Reader

Warnings: yandere!Geto/Gojo, manipulation, dub! con read is unaware that the boys are manipulating her! (consent is vital for me!!) double penetration, smut, mentions of wounds, cursing

Word Count: 3,404

A/N: Ah! thank you Nonnie! This made me smile! Oooh, this, this was fun. I loved getting into this! I hope y’all enjoy it!! (I really enjoyed writing for Suguru 🥵)

“I finally got my own mission!” Geto and Gojo glanced up at you as you proudly walked into the first-year's classroom. “Took years, but I think they finally realized I’m fully capable of destroying a curse or two by myself!”

Geto gave you a warm smile, resting his chin on his fist. “Is that so? Funny, I thought we made it clear one of us was supposed to accompany you on any mission.” He shut his eyes, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Oh, that’s a good one, Suguru!” You excitedly plopped down on Gojo’s desk, kicking your feet back and forth. “All jokes aside, they did want to send one of you with me.”

“Wanted to send one of us?” Satoru questioned, dipping his chin to watch you.

The two men watched you closely as your pretty head nodded. “Yaga said,” you tilted your chin at Satoru, “You were assigned to come with me, Satoru. But seeing as you just returned from your mission, I insisted that I could handle a couple of curses on my own.” Gojo scoffed, his head turning to give Suguru a look of disbelief. “Oh, don't look at him like that!” Sure, the duo were best friends, but their silent communication between stolen glances made you feel left out.

“I don't think me coming back from a mission, which I handled easily because I’m Gojo Satoru, of course. Means I can't come with you. They assigned us this together.” The white-haired man’s time was thick with annoyance. “For a specific reason, I’m assuming.”

You cocked an eyebrow, eyes darting between the two men. “Why would the Gojo Satoru be needed to exorcise a handful of low-grade curses?” Looking at Gojo, you could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “You know what—why do they even send you both you're Special-grades?” Before you could question them, Geto chuckled, soft and rich.

“Ignore Satoru; he’s just being clingy. Congratulations on your first solo mission.” Pride swelled in your chest at his acknowledgment. You happily kicked your feet faster as Geto reached over, ruffling your hair. “Just promise to be careful, and if you need any help, please know we’re but a phone call away.”

“Thank you.” The condescending tone of your voice has Satoru clenching his jaw. “I’ll get this mission done so fast, you won't even notice I’m gone!”

Geto pulled his hand back, nodding, dark hair swaying as you slid off the seal. “Be safe; we’ll see you at home.”

“I will! See you both later!”

Geto smiled, waving until the door shut, and he could no longer hear your footsteps down the hall. The instant he was confident that you weren't around, his smile fell, eyes narrowed at the door. Gojo was fuming, pulling his blindfold down, letting it pool around his neck. Between the two men, their anger could freeze Hell over.

“This is problematic.” Geto rubbed at the pulsing sensation in his temple.

“Problematic? No, this is a disaster if she gets through this mission, which we know she will! She's going to get more solo missions. Solo missions turn into group missions, with other sorcerers, other men.”

“And we can't have that. No one is good enough to protect her, let alone breathe the same air.”

Gojo sat on the edge of the desk, watching as his best friend tapped his thumb against the center of his forehead. Between the two of them, they would find a way to fix this sticky situation. Their solution had to be clean. They couldn’t have you finding out that they were the ones responsible for your lack of solo missions. The two pulled strings to ensure you were always with them.

Some might call them possessive and obsessive. But they didn't see it like that. They just knew no one on the face of the planet would ever be good enough for you. You were their darling little princess. The keywords are theirs and theirs alone.

“We could tell Yaga to pull her off, tell a white lie like maybe she changed her mind.”

“No, no, that would look suspicious. She went through all the trouble, convincing him to let her go alone. After all that, for us to ask that, she would start asking questions. We can’t have her knowing we’re responsible for her lack of solo missions.”

“Okay, do you have any ideas?” When Geto said nothing, Gojo sighed, exasperated, feeling Geto’s eyes on him. “It would be easier if we showed her how ‘dangerous’ these solo missions can be.”

A lightbulb went off in Geto’s mind. “Satoru~” he purred, “that’s a brilliant idea.” The other man furrowed crisp white brows in confusion. “She thinks it’s just a handful of curses, right?”

“Yeah?”

“It would be a shame if there were more curses than she could handle,” Geto smirked, specks of black forming behind his shoulder, his curses coming to life, revealing his intentions.

Satoru grinned wide with a sharp laugh. “That truly would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Poor sweetheart will have to call us to help.” Geto nodded, motioning for Satoru to follow.

“Come on, we got shit to do.”

Later that night, you were scrambling off the ground, wincing as the fifteen curses chased you around the corner of the abandoned building. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You screamed, palms bleeding, knees scraped up as you stumbled back to your feet, barely avoiding the sharp teeth of the curse behind you.

This was supposed to be a simple job! One where there would be maybe two or three curses to take out! Three were okay! You were able to handle that on your own. But after you took them out, you suddenly found yourself surrounded by dozens of curses. All of them ranged from different grades, from four to two, but a couple gave off a darker presence, possibly special grades, which was not good.

How the hell did three curses turn into three dozen?! How could the intel be so off?! And how the hell were you going to get out of this?!

A low snarling snapped you out of your frantic thoughts before the curse in front of you swiped at your stomach with very long and very sharp claws. You dodged, falling back onto the ground, watching it close in on you. This was not good, not in the slightest, and it didn’t help that you were all alone!

Scrambling back, you pushed yourself off the ground, ducking into a room, slamming the door. “Goddamn, fuck me.” Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you called the two strongest men of the modern age. Sure, there was a one hundred and fifty percent chance they'd boast about how they were right, how you needed to listen to them, but that didn’t matter right now! “Pick up! Pick up, pick up!”

The phone rang and rang and rang. Just when you thought it would go to voicemail, the line clicked. Gojo yawned on the other line without a care in the world. “Hello~?” He cooed, listening to the raspy breathing.

“Satoru!” You gulped down breaths of air. “Toru, I need help!” You screamed as a curse slammed against the door.

Gojo covered the receiver, snickering as Geto eyed the building you were in. “What was that? You need our help?”

“Yes!” you cried out, “Satoru! Please help!!”

“Are you sure? I mean, I am considered a Special Grade; low-grade curses are something I shouldn’t worry about, right?”

Geto’s curse smashed through the door, dashing at you. He swore he could hear your scream through Satoru’s phone. His poor princess is getting chased around by his curses. This could have been easily avoided if you didn’t insist on taking on this mission alone. Unfortunately for you, the choices you made led to this outcome.

Your heart was hammering against your rib cage as you slipped and maneuvered around the curses slowly surrounding you. This was way out of your league, and you were beginning to regret now bringing one of the boys with you. Plus, Satoru wouldn’t drop everything and come running to your rescue, not after everything you’d said earlier.

“Toru, please.” Pleading was something you rarely did, but Satoru’s ego had been bruised, so you had to do what needed to be done. “Please, I'm begging you.”

Both Gojo and Geto exchanged a look with each other. “You beg so nicely,” Satoru commented, listening to a loud crashing sound followed by your curse. “I suppose I could come, maybe bring Suguru too.”

“Y-Yes! Yes, please!”

“On one condition.”

Despite the fact dozens of curses were chasing you, you stopped dead in your tracks. “Condition?! What fuckin’ condition?!”

“You never take a solo mission again.”

After this endeavor, he didn’t even have to ask you to do that. “Y-Yes! I agree. Just fucking hurry!” In the blink of an eye, the tall white-haired man teleported before you with Geto by his side. The curse that had been charging at you slammed hard against Gojo’s infinity before being forced back as the white-haired man stepped forward.

You fell to your knees, panting heavily as Geto peered down at you from over his shoulder. “Are you alright?” You just nodded your head, glancing down at your bleeding hands. “You don’t look alright.” You could smell the woodsy musk

as Geto knelt in front of you. “Give me.” He gently grabbed your hand, examining the scraps on the heels of your hand.

”Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Gojo chastised as he grabbed you and Geo, teleporting the three of you back to their apartment. “Guess your first solo mission didn’t quite go as well as you planned now, did it?”

There was no retort or sharp comeback because he was right. Even if the intel had been wrong, you couldn't handle this mission on your own. You had failed after you insisted that you could handle this mission without any hiccups. Now, that confidence was replaced with shame and disbelief. You had to call on your colleagues for assistance. After they warned you that this is something you wouldn’t be able to handle.

The two men who had orchestrated this scheme watched you with unreadable expressions—on the outside, their demeanor seemed unnerved, while on the inside, they were swelling with pride and excitement. Seeing you so distraught and broken had their pants tightening at the almost broken, blank look in your eyes.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” Suguru announced, lifting you and ushering you towards the bathroom. “There’s nothing to be ashamed about. You’re not the only sorcerer who isn't capable of handling three dozen cursed spirits on their own. Not everyone is as strong as Satoru and I.”

Suguru moves to the shower, turning it on as you remain still, the events of the evening replaying over in your mind. “Suguru’s right. Not everyone would have handled a situation like that. You should be grateful, though. You’re lucky enough to have us willing to come to your beck and call.” Satoru is moving in front of you, holding your hands over the sink, running hot water over the wounds. “If we hadn’t shown up when we did, you could have died.” The truth of his words had your head jerking up, meeting crystalline eyes.

“I-I could have died.” The monotone repetition of his own words had Satoru’s cock throbbing at the broken throaty words that left your mouth.

“You could have.” He agreed, pressing his lips against your neck. “But you didn’t because we saved you.”

“I-I know.” You whispered as Geto joined your side. “You saved me.”

Hands, hot and rough, ran over the mounds of your breasts, gripping your hips, manhandling you in ways they had done in the past. There had been nights when the three of you had been so bored you just decided to hook up or when they just needed a little stress relief. This time, however, felt monumentally different. Like they were holding their breath, holding themselves back. Their stoic bodies jittered with anticipation, waiting to see what happened next.

To you, it was them being pent up, maybe the adrenaline rushing through their systems. Because if you were being honest with yourself, you felt just as pent up. Almost dying had you wanting to cave into your raw human desires. While the men standing on either side of you shared one of their infamous knowing glances. They weren’t driven by the adrenaline and passion of what had happened. Not in the slightest. No, their desire was driven by pure, unfiltered joy.

They finally had you right where they wanted you. Broken. You had lost a fight you knew you could have won. Due to them, your confidence in your abilities was clouded by a fabricated series of events.

First, you’d be broken, not taking missions alone any further. The next phase would be to distance you from the school slowly. Trying to convince you that you didn’t need to worry about working, the two made more than enough money to provide for the three of you. If all went according to plan, you would be their perfect little live-in girlfriend in no time.

What made all of this ten times better was the fact that you had no idea tonight's events had left you in their web of lust and desire. They were the spiders, and you were the poor innocent fly—a fly about to be devoured in the most primal ways imagined.

“Thank you for saving me.”

”Nu-uh.”

“We did save you, so you need to thank us properly.”

The men pressed lips against you, hands trailing over your body. You melted against them, gasping as hands cupped your breasts, hard cocks rubbing against your hips as they ground against you. They did save you, didn’t they? They went above and beyond to stop what they were doing and come to your aid.

“Y-Yeah, I think I will.” You whispered, turning to kiss each man on the mouth before sinking to your knees. “Please, let me thank you.”

Two thick long cock were suddenly in your face, throbbing and leaking pre-cum from angry, flushed tips. Seeing as your hands were scrapped up and ran, you took turns sucking and licking each man's cock, while they jerked off. Your tongue flicked, swirled, and lapped the two cocks, until their cum spurted over your face coating your lips and cheeks. Your appreciation didn’t stop there. You pulled both fully clothed men into the shower with you, tugging their clothes off and discarding them over the shower door.

Satoru and Suguru both help you, lifting you, your legs wrapping around Satoru’s waist as Geto’s wet, chiseled chest pressed firmly over your back. Both cock’s teased your wet cunt’s entrance, rubbing over against each other as you whined softly, tilting your head back. Their cocks both pressed past the tight opening of your pussy, stretching your walls in a painful yet pleasurable way, leaving your cock drunk the deeper they sunk into your wet heat.

A minute was all they allowed you to take to attempt to adjust yourself to the sensation of having two cocks buried inside of you. They were bullying inside of you. Satoru’s cock kissed your cervix with each thrust, While Suguru rubbed against your g-spot in the most heavenly way. Perhaps if you had been a good girl and just left everything as it was, they would have taken it easier on you. Regretfully, in their eyes, you had almost ruined their carefully constructed ploy to make you theirs in every sense of the word. Due to that, you were going to be punished severely.

Their thrusts were hard, deep, and almost painful. Fucking into you as if you were just a sex toy rather than a human being. Satoru’s teeth dug painfully into your shoulder, leaving indentations in his wake. Suguru’s mouth trailed kissed over the nap of your neck, mouth gentler than Satoru but his hands were as cruel as the white-haired man's. He pinched and pulled at your nipples, yanking them until you cried out his name before releasing his grip. The relief never lasted long; as soon as the dull, stinging sensation subsided, Suguru returned to the painful teasing.

The kisses, touch, and thrusts weren’t the only way they were mean to you. Their words stung just as bad as the scrapes on your hands and the abrasions to your knees. If you hadn’t been crying from the mere overstimulation of pained pleasure, their words might have had your eyes watering just as much.

”Our stupid dirty slut, getting herself into such a fucked up me.”

”Yes, dragging us both out to save her.”

“Then, on top of everything we did. Going out of our way to save her after she blatantly told us she was fine, she still gets fucked good like the whore that she is.”

”Yeah, she might not be able to take on a cursed spirit, but she’s sure good at taking two dicks at the same time.”

Their words had your skin flushing in shame and need, your mouth dropping into an ‘O’ as the abdomen in your lower abdomen started to tighten. “Oooh, fuk, please, ha—ah fuuck.” You were so close, so damn close to either passing out or having the most intense orgasm of your life. If you were lucky, which didn’t seem likely after all the mishaps today, maybe, just maybe, you could experience both. “G-Gonna cum, please.”

”You hear that Satoru, our little cock slut wants to cum.”

Satoru’s hips began to jerk faster, the head of his cock slamming into your cervix thrust after thrust. “Does she even deserve it?” He continued, leaving pain over your skin, his tongue brushing over the marks.

“P-Please, oooh god, please don’t tease”

“Hm, what do you say, Suguru? Nngh fuck—“ Satoru hammered his hips into you, thrust after thrust, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. “Should our precious girl cum?”

“Aaahh yes~ let her cum, make her take both our loads, then once she catches her breath, we fuck her even more.”

Reaching between your bodies, Satoru rubbed your clit, making your walls twitch around the two monster cocks inside of you. Their pace matches the others, working in harmony to send you over the edge. A scream, one that had never left you before, echoes inside the steamy shower. “C-Cummin! Cumming!” You screamed over and over until both of you stiffened, ropes of thick hot cum filling you.

“Take it bitch, take every last drop, milk me dry.” Satoru was always more vocal, nipping and sucking at your ear as his whiny groans invaded your mind.

“P-Princess, mmmhm, fuuuck.” Unlike Satoru, who was all about talking and heaving his voice, Suguru was softer, moans deep and feral, but he didn’t feel the need to announce it to the entire apartment complex. “Fillin’ you up so good~”

They both did; their hot cum leaked out of you, running down their softening shafts. In the shower, you hummed, listening to the tittering splatter in the water washing over you. The peaceful moment lasted for but a second as both men pressed kisses on your shoulder.

“You belong to us.”

“Do you understand?”

As their wandering hand dug into your skin, you nodded. Rocking slightly against them with a helpless whine. “Yes, yeah, I belong to you both!” The two friends shared a cold, knowing smirk as you began thrusting into you harder, making your eyes roll back into your head as loud moans wrecked through you. Little did you know how serious they both were.

You belonged to them in every way, shape, and form, whether you liked it or not.

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mango-bango-bby · 10 months

Note

Ok so ik I already sent in a request but I just saw u asking for jjk ones and like 🤭 gojo feeding into y/ns praise kink. Like you can not tell me that man wouldn't fucking LOVE praising you and watching your thighs quiver as he licks ur pussy like a man starved 😩 I bet he'd like edging too, but not for too long because he also wants to make his darling cum over n over yk

He'd love u whining his name too

♡ Pretty Girl ♡

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, NSFW, teasing, heavy praise, cunnilingus, slight edging, fem!reader

Summary: Gojo loves teasing you while eating you out (Yandere!Gojo x Fem!Reader)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Satoru never missed an opportunity to tease you. He’s found that the perfect way to tease you was to praise you relentlessly, all he needed to do was call you sweet names and tell you how amazing you were and it had you melting. He especially loved it when you would get embarrassed and flustered.

“C’mon, baby” Satoru says, watching you pull down your panties before climbing onto the bed where he lays. You were incredibly flustered when he suggested that tonight he wanted you to sit on his face. You crawl onto his chest, stopping right before his face, you nervously biting your lip.

“C’mon pretty girl, aren’t you going to sit on my face?” He says, grabbing onto your hips to pull you closer. Satoru hums as you’re hovering above his face, clearly nervous to fully sit on his face. You whimper a bit at the sudden contact of Satoru gently brushing your clit.

“Such a pretty pussy, huh? Pretty and tight for me” He says, watching you squirm at his words. He teases you even more, kitten licking your cunt. “My sweet girl, so sweet for me” he says, watching you whine when he grabs you hips tightly

“Satoru, stop” you whine, using your hands to cover up your face in embarrassment. You hated when he did this, he would edge you all while praising you and making you flustered by giving you so much praise. And even more, you hated that it turned you on so much.

You clearly wanted him to stop teasing you, and who was he to deny you? Satoru chuckles a bit before diving into cunt, pushing his tongue inside you while his nose bushed against your clit.

You open your mouth as if to moan, but no sound comes out. Your hands automatically come down to Satorus fluffy head of white hair, tightly gripping onto his hair as if it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

You whine, Satoru pulling away from you for only a moment. “Hmm, you taste so good” He mumbles before attaching himself to your clit. You squeal at how he plays with it with his tongue.

“Satoru! Don’t suck on it!” You whimper, hunching your back over him moving your hands from his hair to instead hold onto the top of the headboard. Satoru just can’t get enough of you when you get like this, you’re his sweet girl and he loves seeing you so overwhelmed with pleasure that you were trembling and tearing up.

Satoru loved knowing he was the only one to ever see you like this, he was going to be the only one to ever receive your love like this. “Your legs are shaking, pretty, are you close?” He asks, beginning to slip a finger into you, his other hand holding onto your hip.

You whimper a bit, nodding your head. “I’m gonna’ cum, Satoru, ‘m gonna’ cum!” You sob, Satoru sucking on your sensitive clit and fingering you with two fingers. His fingers were long and curled in the right way to make you weak in the knees. He knew exactly how to make you fold.

“C’mon, be a good girl and cum for me” He says, his breath hitting your pussy causing you to shiver. You grip onto Satoru’s hair as your orgasam finally hits you. Satoru chuckles against your clit at how you tighten around his fingers.

Fuck, you were so beautiful. He can’t believe you’re all his, he’s never let you go. After a moment, you’ve calmed down from your high. “I- I already came you don’t have to keep going” you whisper, whining at joke Satoru begins moving his fingers again, curling them into you.

“Oh, pretty girl, I’m no where near done with you”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

(A/N: I know I was supposed to release a different fic today but I wrote this up so fast because it inspired me so so much!!! Your requests always inspire me 🥺🥺💗 I hope you like it!!)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

#yandere jjk #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo #yandere!gojo #yandere satoru x reader #yandere satoru #yandere!satoru #ns//fw #yandere

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wito-chan-bla-bla · 9 months

Text

Return and imprisonment

You thought you were freed from the shackles of Satoru Gojo when you found out he was sealed. But fate, which has been giving you signs for so long, has decided that it no longer wants to help you

Warnings: not really, only yandere!Satoru and a little-little creepy

On the day when the whole world seemed doomed, because the great Satoru Gojo was sealed, you finally found your freedom.

While people were cowering in fear, you were finally able to breathe freely. The oppressive walls of his luxury apartment, which became a golden cage for you, could be destroyed without fear that someone would come for you. It was actually quite easy to escape all this time. The only problem was that your "crazy lover" will always find you.

You can hardly remember how long you were in his loving arms, so you can hardly remember why he chose you in the first place. When you asked him that one day, Satoru gave you a big smile, as if you weren't shaking with fear at the time, hugged you gently, kissed your temple, and told you that he would never find the perfect person for him that you were.

You met him quite a long time ago, back in high school, and he seemed quite normal back then. He immediately started talking to you a lot, but for someone like Satoru, that was normal. You didn't mind either, especially since Gojo was stronger, more experienced, and could teach you how to fight curses better and thus reduce the chance that you would die by your own stupidity.

But with every month - no, week - that you knew him, something started to feel wrong, terrible. Satoru has always looked at you a lot, but since when did he stop blinking? Since when did he turn his head horribly behind you when you decided to change the trajectory a little? Since when did he run into you again and again, even though you never had the same schedule for every day?

When you first asked him about it, you should have immediately run to the other side of the world after answering. Gojo was in a trance at the time, muttering that he had never seen a creature as perfect as you. When he blinked, seeming to recover, he just smiled and, to your confusion, which should have been a horror, replied that he was telling the complete truth.

You haven't noticed the hints of fate for too long. But it couldn't have been any other way. You come from the "village", you have never interacted with other sorcerers, especially those as strong as Satoru. After talking to his friends and reasonably judging that the "strongest" ones have their own oddities, you continued to communicate with Gojo…

And then were abducted and locked up for several years.

It happened suddenly, on a day that didn't bode well. You just opened your eyes and realized that this wasn't the school dorm you were living in, since it was quite expensive to rent an apartment, but an unfamiliar room that was too richly furnished for it not to be a dream.

And you thought it was all a dream for a while, especially after Satoru showed up. Yes, the strange feeling in your stomach was still trying to warn you of the danger, but Gojo was smiling so sweetly at you while carrying your breakfast tray that you thought it was fine.

And then reality hit you.

You were wearing the same clothes as last night. You felt the weight of the fork and the hands of the sorcerer, who placed his big hands on your blanket-covered knees. You could taste the food perfectly, and you could smell the sheets and tell exactly what they had been washed with most recently.

If this was a dream, it was too real. If it was a dream, it soon turned into a nightmare.

There were strange bracelets on your hands and feet that gave off cursed energy. It only took you one attempt to use your abilities to realize that you are now completely defenseless.

A scream, a tantrum, a tray thrown at Satoru... all this caused the sorcerer, who was frozen next to the bed, only a slight smile of a man in love. When you asked him in a shaky voice what you were doing here, Gojo opened his arms as if inviting you into a hug and smiled harder, now looking like the maniac he was slowly becoming over the years.

"You're safe here, my sweetcake."

And with these words, you have lost any freedom.

At first, Satoru wouldn't let you out of the room, which was large but very limited. He kept repeating that it was all for your safety, that it was the only way he, the strongest, could protect you from "the evil of this world." He treated you as if you were a lover who responded to his feelings. He continued to act as if all your screams, all your pleas, all your curses at him were nothing. He pretended not to notice that you didn't want to be here at all.

Gradually, he allowed you to walk all over the apartment. And even though it was bigger and better than his bedroom, where you were forced to sleep in the same bed as the man who kidnapped you, you still didn't feel any better. There wasn't a single person you could talk to except Satoru, who would return from missions and continue to demand love from you as if you were his beloved wife.

You've wandered through corridors filled with paintings and expensive decor, you've explored every wall and found so many ways to escape. But every time you managed to escape, hurting yourself or not, Gojo found you, brought you back, locked you up. And it happened again and again and again.

You would never accept his tender but perverted love. But at the same time, you started to lose all hope. Your relatives didn't even know you were trapped. You asked your friends to turn their backs on you so they wouldn't get hurt. No one could help you because Satoru Gojo is "the strongest".

Gradually, you stopped trying to run away, to resist, just drowning in the arms of Satoru, who naively believed that you loved him in return. You might have loved him back if he hadn't kidnapped you, held you hostage, prevented you from communicating with other people, and threatened your loved ones and random strangers by telling that he would kill them if you tried to leave him.

"We are made for each other, that's what my heart says, that's what my mind says, that's what my eyes say. So why do you want to leave me?"

You have almost lost your identity, becoming the plaything of the caring but crazy Satoru Gojo, as fate seems to have decided to take pity on you.

On the day when the whole world lost hope, you found it.

As already mentioned, it was quite easy to escape from his home. He pretended to trust you. And even though he could always find you and teach you a lesson, he wanted to see if you really agreed to play by his rules and never, ever leave him. Once Gojo was out of this world, there was nothing to keep you in his apartment.

Grabbing the numerous jewels that the sorcerer gave you, you ran as far as you could until you felt a pain in your stomach. All the subsequent events were a blur, you wanted to cry and scream, tear your hair out on your head and thank the world that you can finally go outside, see other people's faces, breathe in fresh air, without being afraid that your loved ones will be brutally killed, and their corpses will be brought to you on the silver expensive dishes.

You were in such a hurry that you even forgot who you were asking for help. All you can remember is how you were able to start breathing again as soon as the restraints on your power were removed. You had a lot of money after selling your jewelry, and if something was missing, you could go back to Satoru`s apartment. And even if you hoped that he was robbed a hundred times, it is unlikely that all the most valuable things could be taken away at once.

After a few days of sitting at home and just enjoying the freedom, you were able to more or less leave the creepy apartment behind. You tried to erase from your memories the big bed where Gojo slept with you, hugging your body as if you were his cute little pet that can't resist. You tried to forget the big room where the walls were decorated with your photos, and the shelves were filled with things that were dear to you and suddenly disappeared for several months. You have tried to permanently erase from your mind those moments like Satoru would come home, give you a gentle hug and stretch out his cheerful voice: "I'm home, my sweet roll!"

If only he was normal, if only he didn't kidnap you, if only he didn't say that he would kill anyone who tried to take you away from him, even if you wanted to escape... it would be a perfect, rich and happy life. But that wasn't the case.

But that's all in the past. Now you are completely free and are in another city. The war of sorcerers and curses is over, you are not going to help those who were afraid of Satoru Gojo and did not even try to help you. (And even if you wouldn't cross his path yourself, some invisible anger at the entire sorcerer society still lingers deep inside you.)

You planned to leave the country soon and start a new life somewhere far, far away, perhaps even stop being a sorcerer and become someone else. You felt lonely and insecure, but there was nothing you could do about it.

You couldn't go to the sorcerers because they would never help you and so have too many problems. You couldn't go to the police because they would just get killed, which is exactly what you were trying to avoid by staying peacefully in your prison and trying not to annoy Gojo. You could not go to a psychologist, because then you will also be asked to contact the police, assuring them that you are now safe, but this will be a lie that "ordinary people" will consider true.

So you were forced to deal with everything that was happening on your own, but at least not in the four walls that you can't leave.

You walked slowly out of the store, enjoying the freedom and the streets full of people rushing to their homes. You were planning to leave Japan in the near future, you just need to make documents and fly to wherever your heart wants. While you were gradually healing, cooking your favorite food and finally logging on to social media, watching and listening to what you like, rather than dying of boredom in front of the TV and radio that Satoru deigned to give you as "entertainment" while he was away.

So you went up to your floor, enjoying the weight of the bags in your hands, because Gojo didn't let you carry anything heavy, even if you were trying to forget yourself. You entered your small, poor rented apartment and felt that you were finally at home. Kicking off your comfortable, cheap shoes, you went to change into your own clothes, not the ones that belonged to the sorcerer, and began to prepare dinner, enjoying every second of what was happening, because Satoru forbade you to pick up anything sharp, for fear that you would harm yourself.

You calmly sliced vegetables, listening to the TV on out of the corner of your ear. It looks like it was some kind of romantic movie. You continued to cook, gradually immersing yourself in the plot, until it dawned on you that the main male character kidnapped the main female character and said that she should fall in love with him in a certain period of time. You opened your eyes in horror, remembering Gojo's beautiful face, which you wanted to slash with a knife, turned around, rushed to the console... and froze, noticing a familiar tall figure on the couch.

Your kidnapper always seemed big, but that was a little overshadowed by the fact that all the furniture in his apartment was designed to match his height and build. Now, sitting on a small, faded sofa, he looked like a giant. You almost dropped the knife from your hands in shock, but you clung to it just in time, even though you knew it was a normal weapon – even if it was filled with cursed energy! – it won't help you.

You staggered backwards until you hit the kitchen cabinet. A loud sound cut the room in two, and you almost lost consciousness. Your entire body was frozen, you wouldn't be able to move even if you were attacked.

You hoped, prayed, that this was all just a dream, a nightmare, one of the ones you saw every night after you left the sorcerer's apartment. You raised your hand to pinch yourself, but your trembling fingers couldn't catch your own skin. There were tears in your eyes, and you wanted to wake up screaming right now, right at this particular moment.

But it wasn't a dream, it wasn't a nightmare. No, no, no, no...

Gojo reached for the remote and turned off the TV. He stood up and slowly turned to you with a big smile. He didn't look as angry or enraged as you thought. He looked like the same loving young man he always was.

–Hi… my little cinnamon roll.

You still dropped the knife, and Satoru hurried over to catch it. He picked up the sharp object and tossed it aside, shaking his head. Looking at you with loving blue eyes, he chuckled and said:

–Be careful, my cupcake! The knife is very sharp. What if it had fallen on your foot? I can't let you get hurt!

He opened his arms and wrapped them around you, pinning you to the kitchen counter. Tears came to your eyes, but not from happiness. You were disgusted by the smell of him, by his movements, by his breath on your neck. Gojo laughed deeply and pressed his lips to your neck. He pulled away, looked at your tear-stained face, shook his head, and started kissing your cheeks.

–Now you don't have to be afraid, – he murmured between kisses. – I will always be with you now, I will always protect you, my darling. You must have been so shocked that you ran out of my apartment here, afraid that someone would find you and try to kill you, right?

It would have been better if you had just died outside. You would die in fear, shock, but never, ever see Satoru Gojo again.

His embrace grew stronger, and you could hear that familiar mad laugh that sometimes came out of his chest when you tried unsuccessfully to escape and got stuck right in front of the sorcerer's feet.

–You're with me now, you're with me again. You're safe again, – you felt something being put on your finger. Ring. – I know you deserve so much more, but this is the ring I prepared for you as soon as I saw you the day you arrived at school, – he pressed his nose to yours, and you saw his eyes darken with emotion. His big hands grabbed yours. You are trapped in a trap from which there is absolutely no way to get out. – Will you marry me, my only ray of light?

Your answer was unimportant. Your answer was never important to him. He just wanted you to be forever in his arms, forever touching his body, forever smiling at him and swearing that you would never leave him. You were the only person he ever wanted to see around him... even if you didn't want to. But who are you compared to the one who is called "the strongest"?

If before you were a bird sitting in a golden cage, now you are a bird that has its wings broken forever.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #yandere!gojo #fem!reader

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ryukatters · 8 months

Note

Ok so imagine:

Gojo is pretty emotionally disconnected from most, refuses to let himself get attached most of the time after everything thats happened to him.

And then you show up

He doesn’t want to slip up. He doesnt want to form another bond like that. But its like he can’t stop it. Maybe you just remind him of what he’s lost, maybe it’s the way you see him as him rather than “the strongest,” an annoyance, or something shallow. It happens slow, so slow he barely even picks it up, but the feelings bloom. You just enrapture him. And he remembers everything that happened last time he got so close to another person, and he’s terrified to accept it but terrified to turn it away and loose the last chance he might have at a relationship like that.

so he takes it, tries to claim you in every sense of the word. You’re weaker than him, possibly even an underling, so there’s definitely a power dynamic that makes it easier for him to keep control. Maybe he tries to keep you hidden, but maybe he likes to drag you around like a dog, only loaning you off to somebody else when it gets too dangerous. Either way, it’s not like you can run because he’d definitely find you. He is absolutely NOT going to lose something so important to him, not again. He’d do whatever it takes, even if it meant making himself look like the bad guy in your eyes because you understand him so well, so he’s sure he can turn your relationship back to the positive side with just a little explanation and coercion

(idk if this may be a bit ooc but… its been rotting in my brain ty for letting me dump it here)

trigger warnings/content: yandere, stalking, power dynamics, obsession, Gojo is a few years older than reader, no smut, just word vomit

It starts off small. You’re a budding sorcerer, a few years Gojo’s junior, and also a new teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High, trying to adjust to your new job. Gojo takes it upon himself to mentor you. You don’t think anything of it, other than the fact that it’s a little intimidating to have the strongest sorcerer of the era to serve as your guide.

You’re strong, he can see. You’re hardened by a few rough years of working in the field, but even despite barely meeting you, your facade cracks and he can see the goodness underneath.

Gojo’s impenetrable most days. To a lot of people, he might be a loud, annoying nuisance, but to you, you see a broken man who tries to keep everyone at arm’s length at the expense of his pride and reputation as a formidable sorcerer.

Gojo’s extremely intelligent, and uses it to play his cards wisely. It took him years to build a persona that’ll prevent outsiders from ever looking in. You manage to unravel him day by day, and it almost frustrates him.

Almost.

Until he realizes there’s no point in fighting the inevitable— he’ll have to let you in eventually.

There’s a fear in Gojo’s eyes when he sees you. It’s like all tomorrows appear in a blink. Your entire essence, so good, so innocent about the cruelty of the world. It reminds him of innocence he once had in his youth. Something about you is so magnetizing, and no matter how much Gojo wants to fight it, he can’t help but be pulled in.

He wants you. And he wants you to want him. Need him. Desire him carnally in the way he does you.

Slowly, he lets you see parts of him that no one else has ever seen. His love is so overwhelming, and because it’s Satoru— with his sweet words and seemingly good intentions— he manages to have you fall for him too. And when he finally, officially has you (because let’s face it, he decided you were his long before that point), he manages to keep you under lock and key.

For your safety, he reasons.

After all— is he really the strongest if he doesn’t do what he can to keep you safe?

The rose colored glasses seem to wear off over time, and you start to see Gojo for the monster he really is.

It takes a few months of garnering courage to even attempt to begin planning your escape from him. You do it slowly, but carefully, calculating every step to make sure you don’t leave a trail behind.

You get one of the auxiliary managers to buy you a back up phone, set up a whole new bank account overseas, and eventually *secretly* book a ticket to a whole different country— one far from the grasp of Satoru Gojo.

Fate, by some miracle, seems to be on your side. Yaga calls both of you in for an emergency meeting. Gojo is being sent away on a week long mission abroad to snuff out a new curse user group that has connections to one here in Japan. You— a local mission to check out disappearances in a nearby town.

You can feel the hostility radiating from the man standing next to you. You dare to take a peek, and you see nothing but an airy smile. “Yaga, I’ll take care of their mission. It should be quick for me—“

“No, Satoru. They haven’t been on a mission in months, thanks to you being greedy and taking on everything. Being a good mentor means letting them take calculated risks.”

With that, both of you sign off on paperwork and begin to prepare for your respective missions. The atmosphere is tense in Gojo’s home— the same one he made you move into just a few months prior (“So you don’t have to worry about commuting so far. ‘Sides, there’s a lot of creeps lurking around out there, and I’m not talking about curses.”)

Gojo refuses to leave you until he makes sure that you’ll be safe. Borderline threatens Ijichi to keep a close eye on you, and the poor man is nothing short of pissing his pants.

He pulls you aside before Ijichi starts preparing the veil. One hand rests on your waist, squeezing almost a little bit too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go, while the other tilts your chin up so you can meet his gaze.

He has his blindfold on, but you know all of his attention is on you. “I know you won’t have service inside the veil, but the second it gets lifted you’re going to call me.”

You nod, and listen like the good girl he likes you to be. With that, he gives you a kiss on the forehead before he leaves.

You manage to locate the missing victims and exorcise the curse in less than 48 hours. You do as you’re told and call Gojo. He picks up after the first ring, and you think you can hear a shuddered sigh of relief on the other line upon hearing your voice. He tells you he has to go, only because duty calls, and that he’ll talk to you soon. Be good. Update him. Don’t leave without permission.

As usual, you appease him.

You make it back home in record time, tell Ijichi to wait outside because you need him to take you somewhere.

You leave your phone behind— the one that Gojo has the location of— and shut the door with nothing but a small suitcase in tow.

Ijichi stammers, you want to go where? Alone? Does Gojo know about this?

You tell him there’s no time for questions and to start driving.

He drops you off at Narita, in the international terminal. He’s visibly sweating, no doubt fearing for both his life and yours once a certain white haired sorcerer gets back from his mission. You give him an easy smile and thank him, and he speeds off, probably to go into hiding as well.

Your hands are shaky as you hand the boarding pass to the flight crew, and the tremors don’t stop even as you take a seat inside the plane. Even when you arrive at your destination, lay down in your bed in what’s going to be your temporary home for who knows how long, does your anxiety fail to cease.

Gojo knows something is off. He’s blown up your phone with endless calls and texts, called Ijichi countless times, and even asked Yaga about your whereabouts. Nothing. Your radio silence confirms his intuition. He finishes up his mission quickly, before the one week allotment is up. The first thing he does when he steps foot in Japan is immediately teleport back home.

He’s met with silence, and hardly any trace of your cursed energy residuals to be seen. You’ve been gone for a few days, he deduces.

Anxiety starts to prickle the back of his neck, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever felt this much concern for anyone. Are you hurt? He tries calling you again, until he hears it. The slight buzzing sound emanating from your shared bedroom.

He picks up the device and sees the log of notifications. You really were gone.

Satoru looks through your phone— messages, emails, camera roll, bank statements— anything, anything to give him a hint as to what you were up to. Nothing. That’s okay, onto the next plan, which is honestly what he should’ve done first.

Being the strongest sorcerer had its perks, but none of them were greater than his privilege to investigate into people’s background history.

You know deep down there really was no escape from Satoru Gojo. That no matter the distance, he’d find a way back to you.

So when you see Gojo sitting on your bed in your hotel room, a part of you isn’t that surprised. The rest of you is paralyzed with anxiety of what comes next. You want to run, but you can’t. Your eyes begin to shift towards the still open door, trying to assess your options, but you’re hardly given a chance to finish your thought before Gojo is in front of you, closing the door. Effectively shut away from the outside world.

He’s not wearing his blindfold, you noticed. Which means he’s probably been tracking the flow of your cursed energy the moment you stepped foot into the lobby.

His stormy gaze meets yours, and he smiles. Your stomach drops.

“So…” he starts, voice sinfully low, “thought you could get away, hm?” He’s backed you up against the door, his strong frame pressed against yours.

Words bubble up your throat but die as they reach the tip of your tongue. You don’t want to set him off. You’ve only been given small glimpses into Gojo’s more sadistic, domineering side, which he does on purpose to serve as warning. You’re not like anyone else, so I’ll be good to you. In return, you must be good for me.

You start to tremble, legs beginning to fail you— but Satoru’s there to hold you steady. He uses one hand to grip your face, squishing both of your cheeks until your lips are pursed. He watches with deep adoration and fascination at how pliant the flesh is between his fingers. It’s like you were made for him.

“I’m willing to forget that you did this,” he hums, placing a quick peck to the tip of your nose before he presses his forehead against yours. “If you promise to get in that bed with me until I’ve decided you’re forgiven.”

Work belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not repost, recommend, or translate my writing on TikTok or Twitter.

#kat’s writing #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #yandere!gojo #yandere!gojo x reader #cw.yandere #tw.yandere #cw.stalking #tw.stalking #cw.obsession #tw.obsession #cw.power dynamics #tw.power dynamics #kat’s demon time

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harunovella · 2 years

Text

but baby i've already got your heart ; s.g.

synopsis: professor gojo was loved by all, a well rounded man with a bright smile and a personality students and staff swooned over... however, he holds a dark secret that comes out in the late hours of the night—or sometimes, in the shadows during the day—the feared ghost face. his next victim? his most beloved student: you.

cw: fem!reader, professor!gojo/ghost face!gojo, student!reader/victim!reader, yandere!gojo, obsession/manipulation, mentions of blood/murder (nothing too detailed, stalker!gojo, oblivious!reader (but... is she, really?), fingering (public indecency), unprotected sex, creampie/squirting, cock warming, possessiveness, dub con!, stealing/breaking and entering, non con photos (?), panty snatching/sniffing, threats, mentions of somnophilia but nothing happens, gojo is a straight up perv and has major red flags but the ladies love him anyway!, plot twist, MDNI 18+ PLEASE! (sorry if I miss any)

wc: 7k+

an: this was sm fun to write, I love ghost face and i love gojo... it's october so why not put them together?! anyway, here's to my first ever gojo fic! i love this man sm, I hope you all enjoy! title inspo...

Satoru Gojo was obsessed. At least, obsessed felt like an understatement. What he felt for you, deep within his damned soul, was a sensation unlike any other. Sure, he's had his fair share of pretty things to fawn over in an unhealthy manner... but you, you were something else. Something ethereal. A being unlike any other. He didn't know why, nor did he know how or when it struck him... maybe it was the moment he met eyes with you for the very first time, but the urge to keep you was overwhelming.

His cute, little assistant. His beloved (and favorite) student. He knew every little detail about you. The amount of classes you took, your extracurricular activities. Where you graduated from high school. Your grades, your GPA, the people you were friends with. Your favorite color, the shampoo and conditioner you used. Every bit of information, even where you lived. After all, an obsession with a new target wasn't uncommon for a man who hid behind a Ghost Face mask while committing mass murder.

Professor Satoru Gojo, the highly demanded teacher who used his good looks to his advantage, lived a double life. He was well known amongst the university folks. Professors and staff alike either envied or loved him. Students fawned over him, doing everything and anything in their power to get his attention. No matter what it took: playing dumb, dressing skimpy, batting their eyelashes... Of course Satoru knew what power he held, it was one of his many great tools to help him become the best at what he did. No one suspected him—the handsome man with snow white hair and crystal blue eyes—to be a psycho serial killer. Of course not, he was just so sweet and social. Much too loved for anyone to point fingers at him.

And like everyone before you—his victims—you fell into his trap. You fell for his kind words and suave actions. His gentle praises and soft touches. From the moment you first stepped foot into his classroom, with your baby blue tank top tucked into your white, tennis skirt... the matching cardigan and bright white sneakers, you truly were a rabbit in a wolf's den. It was impossible for him not to set his target on you, making you his next casualty. From the second you sat down at your desk to the moment he found out you were going to be his T.A., he knew he had to have you.

Satoru didn't spare a second in scheming. Plotting how to sugar you up, get you to drop your guard and to fall so easily into his knife—literally and metaphorically. It wasn't like he wanted to kill you, not yet, he just wanted to have fun. And you really looked like a good time with that lip gloss you wore and that sweet perfume you always sprayed on your neck and wrists—a scent that heightened his obsession.

His first week around you was getting to know you in the most subtle ways, casually asking you about your major and your schedule—for T.A. purposes, of course. That's how he learned your favorite study spot was under a specific tree in the open courtyard near the campus forest. How you hung out at the local cafe in the mornings with your best friends. He managed to learn your schedule so easily. You were such an open book to him, it must have been his pretty eyes that had you in a trance.

And that's how he spent his free time, lurking in the shadows in his beloved Ghost Face attire. His white mask, black hoodie and jeans, tied up boots and gloves. His lanky figure so easily hid behind the mass amount of towering trees on the campus.

Like how he was now, lurking behind the bushes and shrubbery, watching as you stood with your best friend—Nobara Kugisaki. As you were studying psychology, she was studying fashion but the two of you met in your shared photography class freshman year. (Yes, he knew every little detail even about how you made friends.)

The two of you were laughing, standing before one another as you held onto your notebook while Nobara was showing you something on her phone. The sound was music to his ears, a grin grew on his lips from behind his howling mask. Sure, he should have been grading mid-term exams, but how could he when his little assistant wasn't there to help? He knew you had a set schedule in which you followed, but that didn't mean you couldn't offer him some help on your free time. Instead of giggling over dumb videos, you should've been sat with him in his office, close enough for him to smell your intoxicating scent. Close enough for him to see the way your breasts pressed together when you were bent forward to review some of the papers you were helping grade. Close enough for him to feel your breath fanning his cheek.

Close enough for him to yank you down to your knees, unbuckle his belt and undo his pants so he could reach in and pull out his—

Loud laughter caused him to slip past the trees and away from the spot where he stalked. It was foolish of him to get dressed up and hide just to watch you in the middle of the day while the sun was out... but he couldn't help himself! Every second away from you was agonizing. He needed you there beside or even before him. There, so he knew no one else was getting in his way.

After all, he may have something to do with the disappearances of a few frat boys and other psychology majors... But no one needed to know that Ghost Face was behind that. Sure, the entity loved the attention—that's what everyone claimed whenever a corpse was found with a polaroid photo of Ghost Face and said victim was on the scene—but not when it could possibly lead back to him. He was very careful. Clean and cautious. Even with his brutal attacks and stabs, he never allowed himself to get carried away.

"So how's it been working alongside professor Gojo?" Nobara asked you as the two of you walked along one another. "You've made a lot of enemies out of that, y'know," she teased with a small snicker. "So many people want to be in your shoes. Everyone has a crush on him. Makes me wonder if you think he's hot?"

Bitting your inner cheek as you smiled, you then shook your head, "he's my supervisor and professor. But... I mean, I'm not blind. He's a very good looking man."

"Very good looking?" Nobara tilted her head.

"Okay, hot!" You laughed. "I mean, I work so close to him, I see and smell it all. Like, he dresses and smells so expensive... for a professor, even."

"Well, he is from the Gojo clan. One of the wealthiest families in all of Japan. Couldn't expect any less from a man like him. He, himself, looks pricey. As if he wasn't birthed but carefully crafted by all of the world's greatest fashion designers," Nobara waved a hand, earning another laugh from you.

For a bit longer you continued to talk, giggling about Gojo and then moving onto gossip Nobara had learned about within the few hours you've been on campus. After a while, you called it a day as you had to meet up with Gojo, telling Nobara you'd see her later, gaining the response of if you fuck him, Yuji owes me $100. This earned a gasp from you, but before you could even get a word out, Nobara rushed off.

"My favorite student!" Gojo exclaimed as you had walked into his office, greeting him with a kind smile and a small brown bag in your grip that you dangled. "Always feeding my sweet tooth," he beamed, taking the bag from you as you took your usual seat across from him, settling your bag down on the chair beside you. "Mochi from my beloved mochi," he happily sighed as he nearly swallowed the treats whole.

"Do I have to lecture you again about chewing your food?" You shook your head as you took the paper work from him that he had yet to touch. You knew the man very well, always keeping assignments stacked, whining about how he'd eventually get them done, only for you to complete them. "I swear, it's like your a child, Mr. Gojo."

"My little mochi cares about me," he batted his lashes from behind his silver rimmed glasses. You were used to the man wearing sunglasses indoors just as you were used to him calling you by treat names rather than your actual one. At one point you assumed he had forgotten your real name, but he easily proved you wrong... then proceeded to call you his little dango. "I won't die on you. Not by choking, that's for sure. How embarrassing," he scoffed before lifting his insanely long legs on his desk, crossing them at the ankle as he watched you work.

Moments like these where you were so focused and immersed in your grading, he took the opportunity to stare at you. You, being the oh so oblivious beauty you were, never called it out. Maybe you were used to it, maybe it was his sunglasses, but he was so obvious with the way he undressed you with his eyes. He wasn't even trying to hide it. The way he spotted your cleavage from your blouse, how your collarbones were just as exposed. The expanse of your neck... He found himself licking his lips then biting his tongue. Oh, how he'd love to sink his teeth into your body... just as much as he'd love to plunge a knife in you.

Well, maybe not that... maybe not yet... You were so youthful, so full of life. So dedicated to your schooling and friends. So loyal to him. Though, he tsked at your taste in men and may have paid a few a nice visit in the middle of the night... after all you belonged to him and only him.

"So I graded your midterm," he sang as you hummed back in response, eyes still glued on the assignments before you. "I am very proud of you, my little jelly bean."

"Is that so?" You smiled, still keeping your attention low, earning an annoyed eye roll from Gojo that you were unaware of.

"Yes," he breathed before lowering his feet and sitting properly at his desk. "I want to treat you," Gojo smirked. That got your attention.

"Oh, no. You shouldn't," you shook your head as you now eyed the frosted haired man before you.

"Oh... I should," he grinned. His pearly whites on display as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, exposing his sky blue eyes. "C'mon. I'm inviting you to dinner tonight to celebrate! You can't turn down you favorite, good looking, professor: Satoru Gojo!"

Smiling, you let out a small chuckle, "okay, fine! Let's go to dinner."

And that you did. Gojo had made you hurry up grading, giving you a time frame as he walked around his office and rearranged his shelves impatiently. You couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes at him, beyond used to his antics at this point after weeks of working so close to him. Once you were finished, Gojo so easily dragged you out of his space, away from the building it was situated in, and over to where his car was parked. He hadn't told you exactly where he had in mind, but when you arrived, you felt so underdressed. Of course, he reassured you with the good ol' no one denies a Gojo.

Dinner went smoothly, you had gone out a few times with him but strictly for lunch. You tried not seeing it any differently... even if the blue skies were replaced by endless stars.

"See? Wasn't so bad," Gojo smiled as the two of you stood in front of your apartment door. "I paid for the greatest dinner—and wine—you've ever had in your lifetime and I gave you a free ride home!" He gestured to your door as you shook your head.

"Mind you, you invited me and then insisted to take me home," you reminded as Gojo shrugged. "Thank you for dinner and the ride, get home safe, Mr. Gojo. I know you can take care of yourself, but, I wouldn't want to lose someone like you with what's going on."

Those words really did him wonders. The pang in his chest? How his heart fluttered? The way his face dropped for a split second just to pick back up that sneaky grin... You truly were worth keeping around for a bit. With those sweet words and that gorgeous face of yours... he couldn't dispose of you. Not yet. He needed you badly. And, luckily, you just lead the big bad wolf to your front door. "Good night, my sweet cinnamon bun."

"Good night, professor," you chuckled before unlocking your door, walking in, and shutting it behind you.

Standing there with his hands deep in his pockets, he eyed his surroundings before squatting. Lifting your welcome mat, searching the twin pots that sat parallel to your front door, he then found your spare key hidden within the soil. "Oh, sweetheart... you're too easy..."

After a nice shower, changing into your cozy pajamas and drinking a nice cup of sleepy-time tea, you found yourself deep into your slumber. You were quite exhausted from the school day, Gojo also knew how to drain the energy from you with his excitement and never ending flow of words that spilled out of his mouth. But, you didn't mind, he was a kind man and he kept you entertained.

Grateful for his light footsteps for such a lanky body, Gojo pulled your door shut behind him as he eyed his surroundings. Like the genius murder he was, he made a copy of your spare care before placing the original back. Then, snatched his hidden items, pulled on his all black ensemble and mask, and made his way back to your home. He had hoped you would've invited him in earlier, but maybe you had enough of him for the day... or you were being cautious since he was your supervisor and it wouldn't be wise to have him in your personal living space.

Whatever, he thought. He used the moonlight to help guide him around your home. Eyeing the set up, remembering all the windows and the balcony. Keeping track of where he could and couldn't slip through by checking weak locks. He then eyed your belongings. The photos and art you kept around. Wasn't a whole lot, but they were there.

Quietly checking doors, finding a closet and bathroom, he then spotted your bedroom. The door was closed, much to his dismay. He had hoped you were asleep, not wanting to make his presence known just yet. Sighing, he slowly, and quietly twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Perfect, he grinned from behind his mask. You were dead asleep, resting on your side as you were curled up into a ball. Cute. Taking out his phone, he snapped a few shots of you sleeping. Up close and from afar, getting sight of your bedroom, too.

Taking a step back, he eyed his surroundings before gently pulling drawers open and pushing them closed. A section for pajamas, folded t-shirts, gym wear... your panties... His grin grew bigger as he rustled through it, spotting your lace numbers and thongs. It made him wonder what you had worn that night. Quietly closing the drawer and turning on his heel, he went over to your hamper and pushed pieces of clothing to a side, only to find a little black number.

Sniffing it before stuffing it into his pocket, he decided to call it a night.

That one would be the first of many.

Days of breaking in turned into weeks. Gojo was strategic about it, coming in at the late hours he knew you were asleep. And if you were out? He was hurt. However, it didn't stop him from stealing more of your items and rearranging others. He wanted to test you, see if you would pick up on the changes. You may be a bit oblivious, but you were a smart girl. He was too good at what he did, maybe that's why you never noticed... or maybe you had? He wouldn't know. It wasn't like you'd confide in your beloved professor about little things like that, would you?

Maybe it was time he made his presence known. After all, he had enough of playing with his food.

The sound of something toppling over made you jolt in your sleep. Usually, you were a heavy sleeper, but after noticing little things around your home being moved—like your jewelry or your framed photos—you had been a bit on edge lately. You had told Nobara about it, but she said it probably was a ghost that's haunting your place. You weren't really a believer, but you also weren't a non-believer.

However, you hated how Nobara wasn't wrong. It wasn't an actual, supernatural being. Not a legit ghost that was of an entity lurking... no, more like, a living being hiding behind a ghost mask.

You had gone to check on what had fallen, searching your little apartment to see nothing was out of place. A sense of relief had washed over you, more than ready to go back to bed... but the ghost thought otherwise.

An arm wrapped around your waist as a hand covered your mouth and more. It was large, just enough to block your nose, too, if they wanted. You instantly panicked, thrashed around and tried to free yourself, but the person before you was much too strong and instead pushed you onto your bed before aiming a hunting knife at your throat. "Now, now, I wouldn't cause a ruckus if I were you, sweetheart."

Gulping at the towering figure before you dressed in all black, a howling mask covering their face, you clutched onto your bedsheets as you tried to stay still. Your heart was racing and tears filled your eyes. You could kick him, maybe try and use something you learned in self defense classes... but the knife at your neck and the mask before you had you too stunned.

"You're so pretty, I couldn't kill ya..." he sighed through the voice modulator. "But a little prick..." piercing your skin lightly as a dribble of blood pooled up, the intruder watched you wince with a chuckle. "Hmm... that should do it for me for now..."

"I— I don't have much but you— you can take my money or— or my jewelry—"

"Nah, I don't want any of that shit," he waved a hand nonchalantly before he swiftly leaned into you, causing you to gasp at the sudden action. "I'm not superficial. I have my eyes on something else instead..."

Watching as he leaned his face into your neck as he took in a rather loud inhale, sniffing your scent, you shivered once again as you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. "Take whatever, please, just leave... leave me alone..."

Snickering as he pulled his head away, Ghost Face sighed as he was pressing one knee in between your legs. "Can't do that... don't wanna disturb the peace too much, y'know?"

Opening your eyes, you furrowed your brows. "Wh— What?"

"Well, I can't take what I want because, well... you live here and I don't wanna kidnap you or anything. That's no fun," he shook his head as you blinked, gulping at his words. He wanted... you? But why?!

"Me? No— Why? Why do you want me?" You shook your head, crawling back, only for him to catch your ankle and drag you back, mask nearly pressing into your face as you flinched.

"You're just so... perfect," he grinned—you knew he did from within the mask. "I'll see you around, cutie." Patting your cheek a bit too roughly with his leather glove covered hand, the intruder slipped away, deep into the shadows and disappeared from your sight.

It was a nightmare. It wasn't real. It was a dream. It was something your mind conjured. That's what you told yourself the days that followed that night. You were shaken up but told no one. You weren't sure if it had been true or not. It could've been some sort of sleep paralysis. A vivid dream? In reality, you couldn't even remember much... it was far too blurry, it was late into the night, maybe you hallucinated.

You carried on with life, not letting whatever that was stop you. You'd have to do some research. You were a psych major, there had to be something out there. Being a good student and an assistant was your top priority, whatever the hell that was, you would put it in the back seat. You didn't need to ponder too much on it... even if... you felt like you were constantly being watched.

"Hey, KitKat, you've been out of it lately. You're not all there during my lectures or, well... now," Gojo frowned as he leaned over you from behind.

You were seated at his desk, aimlessly staring as you weren't even bothering with the assignments before you. You felt his presence behind you as he had bent at the hip, head coming into view beside you. "Sorry... it's just..." sighing, you rubbed your face. "I don't know, I feel like I'm being watched. Maybe I'm paranoid... Maybe I watch too many scary movies before bed," you awkwardly chuckled as you turned your head to look at him.

"Let me take you out to dinner to get your mind off of things," he said, standing up straight with his hands buried in his slacks. "Food is always a good pick me up. I can also take us out to get ice cream!" He beamed as you softly smiled.

"I appreciate it—"

"No buts!" He lifted a finger. "Dinner, dessert... and a movie! Yes, I know there's a new movie I've been dying to see," Gojo said with a nod, already planning the evening. "I won't be taking a no for an answer, biscuit."

Sighing, you settled your work down. "Okay..."

"It'll be so worth it, trust me," he winked before pushing his sunglasses back. "You'll have the best night ever."

Gojo wasn't lying when he uttered those words to you with such promise and excitement. Yet again, he took you to a restaurant where the food made your taste buds explode from the feast. Everything was delicious and more, almost enough to keep your mind busy. Almost. You were still a bit on edge, your little sporadic smiles fading away every time your mind wandered off and looked blankly out the window.

However, being at the movie theater was different. There really wasn't anywhere to look out at and think so deeply, nor was there time to ponder over was it real or not when you were alone with your supervisor. When you were alone with the Satoru Gojo.

He knew what he was doing. He started off with gentle caresses to your exposed knee. Comforting touches to keep your mind at ease—or, probably not. Not with what he had in mind. He knew he was the cause of your paranoia, but boy if it wasn't fun toying with your emotions. Being the one to break you down and build you up. It made his blood rush straight to his now semi-hard cock.

You didn't stop the feather-like touches from their movements up your thigh. A part of you knew it was wrong, but a bigger part of you was begging for anything to keep your mind busy. The movie wasn't enough, though it was quite the comedy, you still needed more to keep your mind... well, empty. If that was what was going to help you.

Placing your hand on his as you inched it closer to your heat, you felt his eyes on you within the darkness of the theater before you turned your focus. Meeting his, you leaned over and closed the gap separating you two. You weren't so sure what possessed you, what made you so bold, but you were desperate. Needy for anything. Anything to help you forget.

Your subtle kiss of gentle pecks turned into tongues meeting and breaths fanning. You guided his fingers higher before you removed your hand to let him do the rest. Reaching over to clutch the back of his neck as you felt his long fingers slip under you panties, you scooted closer and parted your knees further.

He couldn't stop smiling. God, this was what he was aching for for so long. To finally taste your lips, to feel your drenched pussy against his fingertips. All because you needed to forget about his alter ego. He wondered, would you have done this with another man if he wasn't around? He didn't like the thought. All you needed was him and only him. No other man could satisfy you like he could. After all, he was the one who lead you to this point and he was going to go all the way. Fuck with your mind just like he knew he was going to fuck your tight pussy.

Your breathing quickened as you felt his long fingers tease you, his middle pushing into your hole as you hooked your leg over his to feel more. Gojo used his free hand to hold your jaw as his tongue licked into your mouth. Every chance he got to pull away, your saliva would keep you two connected before snapping and staining your chin. And every time he pulled away, he was always so quick to push his tongue back in—just like his fingers. Two of them now fucking in and out of you.

There was no point in watching the movie anymore, your entertainment was Gojo's tongue and skilled fingers. Maybe it was working, after all, your brain was slowly turning into mush as you felt yourself climaxing.

It didn't take long for you to move it to your bedroom. You left the movie before it ended, rushing to his car as he brought you home. You tugged him in by the collar of his shirt as you brought his lips to yours once again. A trail of clothes lead to your bed as Gojo found himself fully naked before your own nude body. He so eagerly ate your pussy like it was his last meal, lapping up your juices and fucking your hole with his tongue, explicit moans leaving both of you. Your thighs were covered up in bites and bruises, and your hips would soon be covered in his fingertips aftermath.

"I told you you'd have the best night ever," Gojo breathed as he thrusted deeply into you, his tip kissing your cervix with every languid movement of his hips. He smiled down at you, white locks hanging over his eyes as his cheshire cat grin was all you could see. A hint of his hungry, lustful eyes peeking through his bangs as he held onto the back of your knees. "Aren't I the best professor? I truly care for my favorite student, hmm? I give her the best one-on-one session..." he breathed.

Clutching onto your bed sheets as sweat clung to your body while moans left your parted lips, you couldn't form coherent sentences. "Mmh... Best... Best— Oh, Mr. Gojo—"

"Please," he shook his head before leaning in, lips hovering yours as he continued to fuck into you deeply, "call me Satoru."

"Satoru," you cried as your eyes squeezed shut the moment you felt his finger rubbing your sensitive clit. "Please— I'm gonna— Oh— There!" You whined as he continued his ministrations, grinning at the sight of you coming undone for a third time before him. You were practically drooling, hair in disarray, skirt flipped over your stomach, panties shoved in the back pocket of his slacks, blouse and bra long gone to leave your bouncing breasts on display—one of his many canvases covered in his bites.

He should've been gentle with you, sure, but he did promise you the best night... and what was love making going to do for you when raw fucking was going to make you go completely brainless?

You had never come like that in your life. You stained your sheets and your essence was all over Satoru's skin. He had never been prouder to fuck you so good you soaked him, too. He just wished it was all over his face instead... He'll get there eventually. Maybe a certain homicidal maniac should pay you a visit soon for some fun?

"'m gonna fill you up so good, 'kay? Make you my very own sweet treat with my seed spilling out of you, mhm? God, the most exquisite little thing ever," he breathed as he felt his abdomen tighten, his grip on you tightening to the point you whimpered as he came. It was almost endless, he fucked you slowly, ropes and ropes filling you up before Gojo let go of your legs and nearly collapsed on top of you. He stayed inside of you, even when he went soft. He couldn't seem to pull out, the feeling of being buried within you was much too wonderful to remove himself from. "You feeling better?" He breathed against your ear before biting on the soft skin below it.

"Mhm..." you hummed with a weak nod and hooded eyes, unable to keep them open. "So... so much... better..." you breathed, eyes falling closed as Gojo sat up enough to eye you, giving your lips a small kiss before sucking on your bottom lip, then pulling away.

"My pretty, little, peach," he smiled, kissing your chin and neck, slowly pulling out as a small whimper left you. Leaning back to watch his fill leak out of you, Gojo swiped up and pushed in as much as he could before pressing the rest on your tongue—in which you lazily lapped up with closed eyes.

You were exhausted, completely spent and full of him. He was filled with a sense of pride. His favorite muse all covered in him. His kisses, his bites, his saliva and anything in between. You were all his. Finally.

Eyeing your now resting figure as you so easily passed out, Gojo quietly stood up and cleaned himself up before he so kindly wiped you up—not after snapping a few photos of your leaking hole, bruised skin, and swollen lips (featuring your tear stained cheeks!) with his phone. Proud of his work, he fixed himself, zipped up his pants and readjusted his shirt. Staring at you for a bit, a sigh of defeat left him as he pulled off your skirt and tossed it to a side before slipping under your bedsheets with you.

He could go for a round two and fuck your sleeping body—he was sure you wouldn't mind—but he had exhausted you as it was. He was feeling generous. So, he stayed rested with you for a bit as you curled into him. He watched you sleep for what felt like hours before he left a few kisses on your lips and slipped away.

Leaving a note on your nightstand, caressing your face and stealing one last kiss, Gojo left your apartment satisfied and satiated.

For now.

The two of you acted like nothing happened. At least, out in the open. When you were attending his lectures or greeting one another in public, you kept things civil—like how they were before. To say you were nervous or embarrassed at first was an understatement. You were worried. Afraid you crossed the line... however... the very next day when you were back on campus said otherwise. And every day after that when you found yourself with your legs spread, pussy bare and getting absolutely devoured by Gojo at his desk in his office. Of course, it was a two way street. You made sure his aching length got equal attention from your small mouth and tight throat, letting him fuck your face and come all over it.

There were plenty of instances where his seed dripped down your cheeks or leaked out of your mouth. Just like there were many times where Gojo's lips glistened with your juices.

It had been so long. At least it felt like it. Maybe Gojo and your classes really kept your mind busy you had nearly forgotten about him. Your unfriendly, neighborhood, stalker. Murderer. Homicidal maniac. You name it.

You didn't dream it. You didn't hallucinate it. He was very much real and he was very much standing before you in your tiny living room. "Little kitten has claws," Ghost Face said as you stood your ground, clutching a kitchen knife. "Oh, baby... I missed you."

"I didn't miss you," you nearly whispered, trembling in your spot.

"But... didn't you? I'm sure you thought about me every single day. The big bad man who breaks into your home, lurks in the shadows... steals your panties," those words instantly made you flustered as your eyes widened. He took a mental note of that. "Oh, yeah, your missing panties? All belong to me know. You know, you've got a lovely scent. I can only imagine how that pussy tastes—"

"Stay back!" You exclaimed, lifting the knife, but the masked murderer laughed.

"Oh, Bambi, I know you have a very creative mind. Haven't you been curious about me? Haven't you imagined what it's like to get fucked by a murderer? Plenty of women fantasize about it. It's a common role play," he said with a nod as you bit your tongue. "Here, we can act it out! I promise, if you go along, you won't die tonight," he said as he lifted a gloved hand, lifting his index finger as he inched closer to you.

"You're— You're insane," you shook your head.

"I'm very well aware of that," he shrugged. "But, is it insane to want to stay alive? C'mon, that tight, little pussy wants to get wrecked by my fat cock. Just say the words," he sung as you shook your head. "Don't be such a fucking brat." Lunging forward as you gasped, he knocked the knife out of your grip before tugging your head back by your hair. Lifting his mask just enough, his lips crashed onto yours. A hint of mint lingering as his tongue dove into your mouth, feeling your walls and tasting you. You squirmed, tried to put up a fight and push him away, but he was much too strong.

Suddenly, a hiss left you as the tip of his knife made contact with your cheek. A small slice followed by his wet tongue licking away your droplets of blood made you shiver.

"Mmm," he hummed as he lowered his mask and let go of your hair before slumping forward. "Your mouth and blood, wow!" He nodded before lifting his index and thumb to form an okay with them. "So, what's your answer? Gonna let me fuck you raw? Gonna live for another day? I think it's an easy yes, hmm? Nothin' like a good ol' dickin' down to get you through the night. So easy."

"I am not... going to die... by your filthy hands," you breathed with the cutest mean face you could muster.

God, you were a keeper. "Then... I guess fucking it is!" He cheered as you winced.

That's how you found yourself underneath a masked man with his dick drilling into your poor pussy. You reminded yourself why you were there, why you would... agree? to this. He fucked into you like a jack hammer, fully clothed and enjoying the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so.

You kept your eyes focused elsewhere, trying to imagine it as anyone else, as someone you actually wanted. Like Gojo. But... you'd be lying if you said... it didn't feel good. The way his hips gyrated and rocked. How his cock pounded into you in an unholy manner. How the mystery of the man behind the mask somehow enticed you.

It was wrong, so wrong. You hated this. You did. You didn't want this. You didn't want this. But why... why did it feel so good?

Before you could reach your climax, the mystery man slotted his face in between your legs, lifting his mask enough to lick and fuck your pussy. His teeth making you shiver, his tongue thrusting and tasting your wetness. How he nearly bit your clit as you shrieked. He shifted between his fingers and tongue, overstimulating you and your sensitive nub as you clung onto your pillow. He chased your orgasm with a menacing snicker against your slick folds, enticing your release, fucking your hole so hard that you'd squirt all over him—just as he wanted.

The pants that left your body, the heavy breaths and the discomfort—yet relief—you felt were all consuming as the man stayed between your thighs. He was in the midst of licking his lips and lapping up whatever else he could from your orgasm, too focused on being drunk off of your pussy to even realize you were reaching towards him.

Reaching for his mask and just about to snatch it off, Ghost Face was quick to catch on. Moving away from you and reaching for the knife he had sheathed while fixing his mask, he gripped the hilt and aimed it at your heart as his voice boomed, "don't you fucking try that again or I'll fucking gut you like a fish, got that, whore?!"

Nodding profusely as tears so easily streamed down your face, the man stood from your bed and fixed his pants before sheathing his knife once again, watching you tremble and cry as you cowered away.

He was livid, beyond furious. He let his guard down and you almost revealed him? You were asking to get your throat slit.

He had to be careful around you.

He didn't want to kill you, not you, you were too fun. He was growing attached. So he slipped out of your home like a ghost once again and left you there to sob. The kill count for that evening would be the highest, the news would spread in the morning and you'd feel the guilt of the innocent lives taken on your shoulders.

"Can you stay the night...?" You shyly asked Gojo as he had come over on one of the sporadic nights you two would meet in secret. "I know you shouldn't but with a serial killer on the loose and going on a rampage as of late—"

"No need to explain," he said as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head as he did so. "I know it hasn't been easy for everyone. I wouldn't let anything happen to you, doughnut."

Giving him a weak smile, you nuzzled his chest. Your empty takeout containers sat at your coffee table as an old movie from a few decades back played on your TV. "Thank you, Satoru."

"Anything for you," he sweetly spoke as you looked up at him. Those mesmerizing eyes and those dazzling teeth... He was so handsome it truly hurt.

Leaning up to kiss him, you moved a leg over his lap to straddle him. The blanket you two shared fell over as you wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. Your tongue meeting his as his large hands gripped your ass and massaged the weight in his palms.

Running your fingers through his hair before sliding them down his neck, you unbuttoned his dress shirt further than it already was, slipping your hands beneath the cotton fabric. Feeling his toned chest and warm skin, you brought your lips down his throat, leaving a trail of red blotches along the way to his pecks, hearing his breathing increase.

Your hands found their way to the bulge protruding from his black slacks, massaging his trapped length with your palm as Gojo slid his own hand between your thighs. He could feel the wetness the pooled on your panties, teasing your aching cunt through the thin material as you began to rock your hips against him.

Quiet pleads left either of you as you undid his belt and zipper, pulling out his length as you began to pump his leaking cock with your tiny fist. Gojo pulled your panties down before letting them snap into place as you yelped. Dipping his hand into the thong you wore, he slid his fingers along your wetness, moaning at both your touch and the slick between his fingers.

Pulling his hand out as he sucked on his index and middle, you watched him with hungry eyes, whining and begging him to fuck you with them. Without hesitation, he slid his hand back in, fucking your pussy with little resistance as you jerked him off.

Pumping each other as you both moaned and hissed at the sensation at an incoming orgasm, the two of you pressed your foreheads together as you chased your mutual releases, coming into each others palms with heavy breaths. You watched as he licked his fingers clean once again, groaning at your taste before you leaned down to give his head kitten licks, teasing him before standing to your feet and tugging him with you to your bed.

"I've got an idea..." you said in a rather sultry voice, giving Gojo a wink before you pushed him onto your bed. Tugging off his pants and removing his shirt, you got him down to nothing but bare skin as you then reached into your nightstand and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Oh?" Gojo arched an eyebrow as you bit your bottom lip. "What do you have in mind?"

"I just... wanna try something with you..." you batted your lashes, playing innocent. "I wanna cuff you to my bed and fuck you... please?"

Eyeing you as his heart raced and cock twitched, he grinned, "I can't deny my sweet girl..."

Smiling happily, you straddled him and cuffed his wrists, then leaned in to whisper in his ear, "maybe I'll let you eat my pussy, too."

"Fuck, I'd love nothing more for you to ride my face," he breathed, watching you giggle as you pulled away from him.

"Okay, I've got another surprise," you nodded. "Close your eyes for me, 'toru."

Closing his eyes with an eager grin, excited for what else you had in store, Gojo felt his insides twist from anticipation. "You've got me feeling like I'm about to get the greatest treat."

"Oh, you will... You'll get your just desserts."

Furrowing his eyebrows, he opened his eyebrows, "huh?"

"Look familiar?" You tilted your head, holding up a mask in one and and a knife in the other. Not just any mask and knife—a Ghost Face mask and a hunting knife. His mask. His knife. "Oh, it does, doesn't it?"

"What— What the fuck—"

Seeing the look of pure shock on Gojo's face, you shook your head. "Don't play dumb," leaning in, you aimed his knife at his throat. "Didn't think I'd know? You always think you're ten steps ahead. Smarter than everyone. But, even you, the worlds smartest serial killer, have your own slip ups."

"Baby, angel, sweetheart— I— I have no idea what you're talking about!" He panicked, shaking his head and tugging at the cuffs that kept him tied down. "Please! What— What're you—"

Pricking the skin on his neck—just like he did to you—you then brought the knife to his cheek and pressed against the skin before sliding down. "How does it feel to be on the other side?"

"I— I don't know what the hell you're talking about?! You're freaking me—"

"Great," you sighed. "I guess I'll have to paint the picture for you."

It was 6 months ago. You remembered it so easily. You were working on your final assignment for your Intro to Photography class—one you shared with your best friend, Nobara, as to get some electives out of the way. You loved nighttime photos, always finding them to be your best. At the park, the beach, abandoned malls and late nights at supermarkets. Then you tried your campus, knowing the university grounds had some nice landscapes and views.

You didn't expect to see much action. Students had late classes but not that late. You had showed up ten till midnight, wanting some good photos of the moon and pretty reflections off of surfaces. Truly, you were just going to snap some photos and call it a night. Security was around, you weren't too scared of being alone.

However, you weren't really alone.

It must've been the wrong place at the wrong time. You had seen it, the lanky man in the distance. He didn't notice you as you were crouched behind bushes, getting photos of the courtyard. Your camera had zoomed in on him. The tall figure dressed in all black, almost in a rush. He carried something in his grip, you weren't sure.

So you followed.

You quietly kept your distance when you realized who it was. Professor Gojo. Why had he been there so late? What was he doing? Stopping behind a tree as you watched him enter the building, you spotted the light of an office space turn on as you zoomed in again. You watched as he shut his door behind him, the crack in his blinds giving you enough to see. He unlocked a drawer and slid it open before lifting a mask and a... bloody knife?

Your heart skipped a beat.

He settled both in the drawer before removing the gloves he had on. Black and leather. Your mind was racing, thoughts being assumed. You quickly hid yourself again before slipping away and rushing as fast as possible before he or anyone could spot you.

"It all made sense," you said as you recited that night. "It was no coincidence. You grew obsessed with me not too long after. I wondered if you knew, but I guess not. Maybe you're the oblivious one here and I just acted the part..." you shrugged, eyeing his knife as you lifted it from his neck. "You know... you may have a voice modulator to cover you... but, you think I wouldn't notice other things? The way you fucked me? The way you ate my pussy? Crazy, I know, it's the little things. But I noticed..." looking down at his hip bone and pointing at a scar, you nodded, "yeah... I noticed the scar and I spotted it when a sliver of your skin appeared from your Ghost Face attire...

"Then, of course, the way you kissed me. When you lifted your mask just enough, I noticed the little wisps of white. You really aren't that smart, now, huh?" You chuckled as the horrified man before you bit down roughly and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" He seethed as you smiled.

"Oh, a psych major like me is really lucky, I guess. Getting into the world of criminology and having the feared Ghost Face killer right before me? Maybe I'm lucky. Maybe I'm a bit insane. I mean, I got to pull this off for half a year..." you trailed as Gojo squinted his eyes. "What I want to know is..." you leaned in before tapping his forehead with the hilt of his knife, "what goes on in this twisted, psychotic mind of yours, Satoru Gojo," you smiled. "Or, really, should I say... Ghost Face?"

an: I didn't really mention it but I guess I should say it in case y'all are wondering... reader managed to snatch his mask and knife bc she knew where he kept them hidden and being his TA, she more than likely studied him like he studied her and figured where the key to the drawer was! anyway, this was sm fun to write, I wanted to write some "horror" au's for this month so here's my first! no part two, sorry, but... I personally like to think these two psychos team up and go absolutely feral on the world? I mean... we got the murderer and the brains, what a power couple— anyway, what do you all think? How do you think things would go? would one of them die? would he get caught? idk it's really a free for all kinda ending

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sweetielilie · 3 months

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Yan!Satoru and Yan!Suguru!! (>ω<)

A/N: reqs are open!!

CW: Overbearingness, stalking, lying, gn!reader, murder

Word count: 450

Yan!Satoru who is overbearing towards you all the time, sorcerer or not, you're his (not really responsible for) responsibility! He's the strongest, not the wisest, and the most handsome! Why do you want to listen to someone that isn't him?? Satoru is always sticking his nose where it isn't supposed to be! Your house is going to be inspected by the inch (to know your interests and more about you), your wardrobe is going to be judged thoroughly, just in case you need an entire new one.

Yan!Suguru who, though not as overbearing as Satoru, still seems to be everywhere. You're going to the grocery shop to help your mom? No worries, he can help you carry everything, no need to hurt your precious fingers with those heavy plastic bags. You're planning to travel to [insert random place in japan], that place is crawling with cursed spirits (no, it isn't)! Let him go with you! But like Satoru, Geto will be inspecting everything you like or not, even keeping a prized list for events he can give you a gift on.

Yan!SatoSugu who have some kind of love rivalry, it's not one where they hate each other, just an one upping competition or a 'who can find more stuff about Y/N than the other' competition. (it was a tie, they're both stalkers.) They also both spoil you to no end, their jobs as sorcerers pay them well, and who else to be their reason to blow money off their wallets? Clothes, expensive dinners, gifts, anything you could imagine.

Yan!SatoSugu who intimidates anyone who even tries to start any relationship with you. Who wouldn't be intimidated by a sorcerer who is quite literally the honored one, and the other who can somewhat par with said honored one? With non-sorcerers, though, it'd be a little more difficult. No worries! Even if they continue because they aren't intimidated by some teens in weird uniforms, Satoru's and Suguru's powers aren't for show! Though, they won't deal with them if you're there, no need for you to see the grotesque form as what Satoru calls them; 'unwanted attention seeker' took!

Yan!SatoSugu who met you at their favorite cafe, seeing your warm smile greet them when the doorbell rang. Honestly they felt like they were in a J-Drama Romance! And how you recognized them when they visited again (who wouldn't with Satoru's blue eyes that stare into your soul are…beautiful?), they never felt butterflies in their chest like this. Satoru finally got the courage to ask for your number after 10 minutes of processing with Suguru, which you happily gave. And that's practically how the friendship (on your end) started.

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akaneisnothere · 2 years

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special kinktober link + jjk - tr .

JUJUTSU KAISEN:

Gojo :

1. Sensei gojo x student = link

2. Boss gojo x newbie = link

3.Best friend gojo x reader (public sex ) = link

Megumi :

1. Afterschool sex = link

2. Dumb.. = link

Itadori / sukuna :

1. soft sex (itadori) = link

2.shhh! = link

Tokyo revenger

Mikey :

1. Baby traps) bonten mikey = link

2. Stop the tease!) Past mikey = link

3. Just put it in!) Past mikey = link

Sanzu :

1. Suck it bitch! = Link

2.Shut up slut. = Link

3.Who's your daddy huh? = Link

Rin and ran :

1. Step!sister reader = link

2.best friend Rindou = link

3. Ran showing rindou how to fuck a slut = link

Geshin impact (Bonus)

Childe : link , link , link

Zhongli : link , link, link

#geshin impact #bonten headcanons #tokyo revengers haitani brothers #yandere!gojo #childe x reader #toman mikey #ran smut #rindou smut #gojo smut #sukuna

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asirensrage · 5 months

Text

Not His Fault - Gojo Satoru Oneshot

Title: Not His Fault

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Unnamed/Undescribed Female OC

Word Count: ~2100

Warnings: Sex. Possessive!Obsessed!Gojo. Edging. Overstimulation. Unprotected sex. Mention of OC taking drugs for seeing curses.

Summary: The only thing he can do is convince her that she needs him. So he does.

Notes: Unbeta-d. Written within two days and barely edited if I'm honest. This started with me talking about obsessed!Gojo to @renhoeku and I started writing out the idea I was playing with. Then I started writing smut because of that post about having ppl read it and keeping a straight face around family during Thanksgiving. In the end, I tried to connect them. I hope it worked. Please tell me if you enjoy it. Thanks!

It’s not his fault.

Satoru will freely admit when he’s done something he wasn’t supposed to, when he steps out of line. Why wouldn’t he? He has nothing to fear. There’s nothing anyone could do to him. But this? This isn’t his fault. It’s hers.

She doesn’t react like the rest. She never has since the day he stumbled upon her. Even when she finally learned the truth of the things that she saw, that she was able to destroy them with a flick of her fingers and the right determined thought, she still never changed. They told her he was the strongest and yet she looked at him like he was just another person she saw on the street. She answered with a shrug, referenced an anime when she saw him floating and continued on as if it was no different than usual. He doesn’t know if it’s the drugs she used to take when her family thought she was crazy but nothing seems to phase her.

It’s refreshing.

It’s addicting and he can’t help but want to surround her, to see if he can get her to react in a different way.

So it’s not his fault. If she reacted like everyone else, he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be trying to manipulate her into staying with him, at least close to him, so that he could protect her.

Because he needs to protect her. He needs to keep her from falling headfirst into the fate that awaits every sorcerer but him. He needs her…to want him.

---

It didn’t start like that.

He was intrigued when he came across her. He didn’t recognize her and she did her best to ignore him, to avoid talking to him or even looking at him. At first, he suspected she knew who he was and was warned by a clan, but it wasn’t that. She had slipped through the cracks, unaware that the curses she could see and destroy actually existed in reality. She had been convinced that she was hallucinating them all…until he persuaded her that they were real. That he was real.

He expected things to change, but they didn’t. She reacted to him the same way she always did and he just…he wanted to keep that. So he didn’t tell anyone. She was safer that way, he thought. Safer on her own, with no one the wiser that she existed.

Until she wasn’t.

---

Nearly dying does wonders to draw her closer. He saved her and she was easily swayed to follow with the understanding that it was safer under his protection. Well, the school’s security. Until that proved to not be enough in his eyes.

It was simple to bring her into the fold, but as she charmed his students the same way she enthralled him, something became clear to him. He didn’t want to share her and he refused to lose her the way he lost…others. The only thing he could do was convince her that she needs him.

So he does.

---

He digs his fingers into the flesh of her hips, appreciating the way he can see how he’s imprinting himself onto her. He wants everyone to know, to see her and know that she’s his. That she’ll always be his…and he wants to know that his mark is there, even when no one else but him can see it.

Satoru pulls her towards him, lifting her slightly so that she slides faster. He’s been teased long enough, has waited long enough that he buries his face between her legs, eager to taste her. He groans at the sweetness, that slight tang that somehow makes it more irresistible. He feels the way she digs her hand into his hair, how her hips rise to meet his mouth. He’ll devour her like this. He could die between her legs and it will have been worth it. He’s tasted heaven and it only tastes of her.

She tries to pull away as he does his best to break her, to make her cum across his tongue. Her legs squeeze against his ear before she tries to move from the pleasure he knows he’s bringing her. She says it’s too much. It’s not enough.

He hooks his hands around her legs, keeping her still and open. He wants everything from her, even if he has to take it before she realizes she’s willing to offer it to him. Only to him.

He grinds his hips against the mattress, already so fucking hard just from her taste. His spine tingles as he groans against her. He's trying to hold on, but the taste of her on his tongue and the lewd sounds she's making as he attempts to feast on her are pushing his limits. She probably doesn't even realize how much she's affecting him. She never does. It just makes him want her more.

Her orgasm hits her hard and she shudders against him, keening when he doesn’t stop. How can he? She’s given him this much, she can give another. He wants her begging. He wants to ruin her, to burn the knowledge into her that he’s the only one who can take care of her like this. He’s the only one worthy to.

When he finally pulls away, moving to rest between her thighs as he licks his lips and wipes his mouth, he looks at her. Being above her gives him the best view, especially of the tears in her eyes that have built up from the overstimulation.

He grins at her before leaning down and swiping at one that falls with his tongue. She reaches up, pressing a hand against his chest. He pulls back enough to meet her eyes again.

She’s trembling, still trying to catch her breath from his attempts to steal it. She looks almost hesitant to meet his eyes but he kisses her softly. Again and again. Until he pulls back and brushes away another one of her tears with his thumb.

“Shhh,” he murmurs. “I got you, sweet thing.” He kisses her again, relishing the way she kisses back. “Told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for her response. “Let me feel you.”

“Please, ‘toru.”

He groans at the sound of his name on her lips. “Anything,” he murmurs back. He means it too. He’ll give her whatever she asks for if it means she’ll stay by his side. It doesn’t take much to slip into her. She’s wet and warm, moaning and digging her nails into his skin as if she’s trying to mark him the way that he’s marked her. He’d let her leave scars if she could.

Satoru buries his face in her neck, breathing her in as he tries to maintain control. Despite how long he spent getting her ready, she’s still so fucking tight.

She brings one of her legs around his waist, as though she’s trying to get him closer. He swears to himself before he finds a position. She's so good to him. Even when she was so unsure in the beginning. He'll be just as good back. He swears it.

He holds himself above her, eyes on her face so he can see every expression she makes. He tries to burn the memory of the way her eyes close and her mouth falls open into his mind. He wants to be able to remember every sound she makes as he thrusts into her.

He leaves open-mouthed kisses on any bit of her skin that he can reach and hooks one of her legs over his arm, pressing it higher so he can get in deeper.

“Come on,” he tells her. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please–” She begs him for more.

He kisses her hard, pleased at the way she pleads. He tells her how good she is for him. “Made just for me, aren’t you?”

She cries out in response as he shifts the angle slightly. He wants to make her scream. He murmurs promises until they fade because all he can focus on is how good she feels around him and how much more he wants.

But then she says, voice broken as she clings to him, “‘toru, don’t...don't stop.”

Well, how could he resist?

“Tell me you’re mine.” He demands but it almost sounds like he’s begging her this time. He just wants to hear it. He wants to brand himself into her the same way he feels she’s burned into him. “Tell me.” He quickens his pace, fingers digging bruises into her skin as he holds her in position, bringing her back to him over and over.

It doesn’t take long for her to reach her peak and he nearly gives in when he feels the way she clenches around him as she cums. “Fuck...” he groans, trying to breathe so he doesn’t break like this. It’s too soon. He wants this to last, wants to show how much he can make this worth her while.

She’s coming down from her high and he’s trying to hold on to his when he hears her. “Promise?”

He pauses, catching his breath before looking down at her. “Promise what?” He grins as he asks, trying not to show how desperate he feels to know what she wants.

She looks away and he can’t help but think how fucking cute she looks like this. Sweaty and dishevelled, her eyes glossy with pleasure. He might have to kill anyone who’s ever seen her like this. He knows no one else will. Not anymore. He kisses her softly, before placing quick kisses against her cheek. “Come on, princess,” he teases. His breath nearly stops in his chest at the way she looks up at him.

“Promise you’ll take care of me?”

He kisses her hard. “I swear. Any way you want.”

“You better pull out.”

He laughs at that because she looks as unimpressed as usual when she says it. He won’t tell her that he wasn’t planning to, that he wants to keep her close however he can. He needs her stronger first before that, even if he knows he could protect them both. “I will.”

He kisses her, enjoying the way she returns it before he starts to move again. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm that has her clutching his shoulders, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck. The room fills with the sounds of their movement, with his grunts as he builds up the tension again, her moans as he moves her leg closer to her chest so he can get deeper.

He feels the way she shudders against him, crying out as he tries to bring her to another orgasm. Tears are building up in her eyes again.

“I can’t!”

“One more, baby. One more.”

She pushes at his chest with one of her hands. A feeble attempt to get him to slow down, but he knows she can take it. He grabs her hand and pins it above her head, pressing closer. Sparks shoot down his spine and he takes the moment to grind his hips into hers. He couldn’t be closer if he tried but it almost feels like it’s not enough.

She rakes her nails down his back, mouth falling open as she keens at the feeling. He breaks.

He’s almost not fast enough to pull out, but he swore he would. With a rush of heat, he cums across her stomach and while she looks beautiful marked like that, there’s a part of him that knows it would have felt better inside. It’s fine. It’s not like this is going to be the only time. They’ve already promised each other, whether or not she realizes it.

Her eyes are clenched tight and despite the fact he’s spent, he knows she’s still clutching at nothing and so fucking close. He kisses her, lowering her leg carefully before using the hand of the arm that was holding her leg to press against her clit. He wants to see her expression when she cums. Wants to hear her again.

She looks surprised when she feels his fingers but it quickly fades as he builds her back up. She clutches at his hand and he moves to take one of her breasts into his mouth. She’s beautiful and soft and fucking perfect. Especially when she arches up into him as she reaches her peak.

He takes his hand away, licks it clean of her, and moves until he’s lying next to her. He could stare at her all day but he pulls her into his chest. She’s still coming down from her release and they’re both covered in sweat and cum, but he wants her close. He wants to feel her pressed against him, where she belongs.

She curls up into him, head resting on his chest. He can feel her breath against his skin. If he wasn’t so hot, he’d shiver at the sensation. He feels scrubbed raw, bare in the best way with her.

Her breathing evens out as she falls asleep on him. He grins to himself. He wore her down, just like he promised he would. He brushes his fingers against her cheek. He hasn’t allowed himself to get this close with anyone since…but now? Now that he’s let her in, that he’s claimed her, he can’t regret it. He won’t let her either. The two of them belong to each other. If he has to remind her of that when she wakes up, he will. She’ll learn.

---

taglist: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores @endless-oc-creations @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares

also tagging a couple who may be interested: @nejires-hado @saidbysae @sxrvivc and @emerald-valkyrie

#gojo satoru x oc #gojo x oc #jjk fic #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #my writing #dark!gojo #yandere!gojo

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empyreanwritings · 1 year

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i wish i had more time to really flesh this idea out and soon i will but for now -

demon!gojo who sets his sights on you and decides he wants to be your only source of happiness

demon!gojo who sends small misfortunes your way in hopes it will make you desperate enough to make a deal with him

demon!gojo who hates how nothing seems to work bc you refuse to make a deal

demon!gojo who realizes he needs to romance you the old-fashioned way - the old-fashioned way being kidnapping

#demon!gojo #yandere!gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk imagines #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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mango-bango-bby · 6 months

Note

Ghost Gojo. Reader is send to investigate

And or exercise an building and discovers Gojo. Reader try’s to exercise him but because he’s Gojo it doesn’t work. So not wanting to be alone anymore he takes reader to be with him the for the rest of his afterlife.

♡ Ghost Hunting ♡

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, paranormal stuff, ghost au, mentions of sacrifices, kidnapping

Halloween Prompt: 👻 Ghost 👻

Summary: Your sent to exercise a ghost from a home but the ghost wants you (Yan!Gojo x GN!reader)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Being a ghost-hunter wasn’t exactly the most respected job, many thought it was ridiculous and that you were a scammer. But you believed it, you knew it. You were helping people, exercising their homes of spirits so that they could live in peace.

You stand up off of the floor of the empty house, the wind outside making the old home’s wood creak.

You had been called to this home to exercise a ghost. But after hours of trying to communicate, nothing works.

The owners of the home reported the ghost of a man with white hair, often wearing a blindfold but sometimes not. It was your average haunting, doors slamming, whispers in the darkness, things moving around when they’re not in the room… it was average for you, really.

Except nothing had happened. You tried everything to summon this ghost so that you could exercise it.

You tried a spirit box, you tried offerings, you tried an ouija board. But this ghost would not show himself, he wouldn’t even make a noise.

You look around the room, looking at the dusty furniture and cobwebs. You couldn’t even get a simple knock or slam from the ghost.

It was a lost cause, you would have to tell the family that you couldn’t get the creature out.

You sigh, walking across the creaky wooden floor. You reach out for the doorknob, but it doesn’t budge. You have got to be kidding me, you think, trying and trying to open the door. You pull and jiggle the doorknob but it won’t budge.

“Hey!” You yell out, banging your hand on the door to hopefully make some noise. You know that the home is in the middle of nowhere, you know no one will probably hear you… but it’s worth a try.

You yell once again, staying silent after. The only noises you hear is an owl in the nearby woods and the rustle of the curtains on the old windows. The creak of the old wood.

You let out a small scream when an arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against a cold body. You turn immediately, trying to push off a tall man with white hair and vibrant blue eyes.

“Shh, shh, shh, shh…” He man smiles softly at you, but it’s almost a smirk. “Mmm… usually when I’m given a sacrifice, they’re not so cute…” He hums, putting his hand over your mouth. His touch is ice cold.

“I might have to keep you”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Thank you for reading, darling!!

(A/N: I’m gonna be honest, this one didn’t turn out great 😭😭 But I’m going to post it anyways for you all because I’m trying to stay on schedule 😭)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

Prompt List ➸ ♡

#yandere jjk #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo #yandere!gojo #yandere!gojo x reader #yandere satoru x reader #yandere satoru #yandere satoru gojo

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wito-chan-bla-bla · 2 years

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The Red Thread of Fate

Inspired by this art. (Artist: https://www.pixiv.net/users/57905513).

You are meant for another person, completely another. And Satoru Gojo knew it, saw it perfectly every time you talked to him. But who is fate to argue with the most powerful sorcerer?

Au, where 30% of people are connected to each other by the red thread of fate, which can only be seen when approaching soulmate

Warnings: a little yandere!gojo and light themes of violence

For the first time Satoru found out about the existence of such a thing as soulmate when the groom came to one of the maids of the estate. Gojo then walked down the corridor and almost tripped over a red thread, which was now not hidden from his sight. The boy grabbed the thread and followed it until he found that it connects people happily chatting with each other.

Satoru asked his mother why the maid and some guy are connected by a red thread. The elder Gojo explained that they are soulmates.

–Approximately thirty percent of people on earth have soulmate. They are connected by the red thread of fate, which is visible only when people destined for each other by fate approach each other close enough. You probably see them because of your Six Eyes, Satoru.

–Why don't I have soulmate? Am I not the chosen one?

–In fact, not having a soulmate is not so bad. You are not attached to anyone and you can choose with whom to spend your life.

–What if I fall in love with someone who already has a soulmate?

–Oh, that will never happen, Satoru. The red thread of fate is too strong. Even if you fall in love with someone who already has a soulmate, sooner or later fate will bring people destined for each other together. I'm sorry, but even you can't ignore it.

For a long time, little Gojo was unhappy and sulked, often kicking red threads when he saw them on the street. However, then he realized that not having a soulmate is quite convenient. And let the elders put pressure on his brain, he is free from the need to forcibly meet with someone! How wonderful it is!

Satoru thought so, enjoying his free life, until... he met you.

You were just the child of a sorcerer who was part of a small clan. The man didn't even belong to the main branch, and therefore you were an innocent child who didn't know anything about the games of the "strongest" and just tried to arrange his life.

At first, Gojo didn't pay attention to you. You were just his kohai, an unremarkable sorcerer, why should he be interested in you? Yes, you could make him laugh almost every time you talked to him or went on missions together, but no more. You were just a person who deserves his attention fleetingly, once every few days. No more than that.

The sorcerer began to walk in parks and cafes, looking at couples who have already found their destiny. He saw how happy they were to the point of disgust. Gojo wanted to believe that people without soulmate also live well, but statistics from the Internet showed that those who did not get into the main thirty percent are more likely to be disappointed in life, love, are more susceptible to various mental illnesses and more likely to commit suicide. The lucky ones with soulmate, of course, also had problems, but there were much fewer of them than those who were given a choice.

But then he saw you with shining eyes telling Shoko about how you see your first meeting with your soulmate. You showed her the little finger of your left hand, from which a short and abruptly ending red thread protruded, visible only to your eyes. Ieiri, who did not have a person assigned to her, only nodded and rejoiced that her kohai could rejoice and continue to be a child in this cruel world.

Something hit Satoru.

–Maybe I can't control my fate, but I know for sure that somewhere out there there is a person who will love me anyway! The thought that under any circumstances I will have a person next to me who will take care of me and support me inspires confidence! And I am also so warmed by the idea that fate will send me the most romantic meeting with my soulmate!..

Sometimes the right to manage their own lives did not bring only advantages.

Satoru watched your happiness and did not understand whether it was caused by the presence of a half existing somewhere there or just by your character. When Gojo asked about this, you answered with a smile that made his heart jump:

You continued to chatter without paying attention to Satoru. The sorcerer carefully watched the happiness on your face and realized that he hated it. Why is it so easy for you, a weak sorcerer, to be happy? He, Satoru Gojo, has or will have everything. Is he really missing some half sent by "fate" now?

Satoru left that day without telling you anything. You worriedly asked Shoko to ask if the white-haired sorcerer was offended. The girl brought you good news: the strongest did not hold a grudge against you.

(But you bought him a cake the next day anyway).

Satoru has been watching you for a long time. I watched the power with which you could barely expel the second rank. I watched how you still continue to smile happily and take care of people who were "strangers" to you. He watched and did not understand.

–Hey, Gojo-senpai, I heard you like sweets. I decided to make a chocolate cake with cherries… It turned out to be pretty good, so I want to share it with you!

Satoru looked from dessert to you and back to dessert. He held out his hand, and you put a plate on it, touching someone else's palm with your fingers. Gojo didn't understand why his heart jumped when your cold fingers touched his skin. But he would like it to happen again.

And it happened. He stuffed the whole piece of cake into himself at a time and took your hands with his own, starting to warm them. At first you didn't understand what was going on, and then you smiled gratefully. You didn't even blush. There was only one person for you, and that was your yet-to-be-discovered soulmate.

You were so kind and sweet that Satoru began to get annoyed and envious that fate had not destined such a person for his great one. And if all this kindness is given to a disgusting person whom you will trust, whom you will love only because he is your soulmate? For the sake of the safety of his kohai Gojo, he must find out who fate has bound you to!

He teased you, but there was not only playfulness in his voice, but also... tenderness? Of course, it was tenderness towards kohai. (No).

Well, or he tried to convince himself that he was doing it only for your safety.

By that time, you were his good friend, even if you continued to be an average sorcerer. You kept Satoru company on difficult missions, not understanding why he takes you with him every time, technically a burden, but still trying to absorb all possible experience. Gojo smiled, seeing that you are afraid of another curse.

Satoru easily picked up your thread stretching from your room where you were reading some book. Gojo went ahead, putting headphones in his ears and turning on the music to the maximum, just not to hear his own thoughts saying that the person who is trying to take away your kindness without making any effort should be destroyed.

Satoru had to walk to another city on foot, but for the strongest sorcerer, such a walk was actually not particularly difficult. (Besides, he wanted to be as far away from his sensei as possible with his serious look and shouts: "SATORU, QUICKLY GOT UP AND HANDED ME AN ESSAY, WHY WON'T YOU BREAK THROUGH WALLS FOR A JOKE IN PUBLIC PLACES FULL OF ORDINARY PEOPLE ANYMORE!")

So, Gojo has found your soulmate.

This person turned out to be an ordinary high school student who was sitting and calmly drinking soda with his friends in some park. The guys didn't look like truants, many of them had textbooks sticking out of their bags, as if they had hastily shoved them there to join the conversation. The people sitting on and around the bench looked like a mix of athletes and school nerds, and your soulmate was clearly the most uninteresting mix of the two groups.

Satoru clenched his hands into fists, watching the group of friends from behind the bushes. Your soulmate looked pretty cute and nice, the perfect match for you! And from this thought, Gojo's eye twitched.

He returned towards nightfall, forcing Yaga to strain his throat again. Satoru just brushed it off by walking to your room.

–Hey, (Y/N), – you almost shouted at the whole dorm when the sorcerer suddenly appeared next to you, – how do you imagine your soulmate?

You blinked a couple of times in surprise, not understanding why Gojo is asking this. Usually only Shoko was genuinely interested in your fantasies and maybe even Nanami, who found your enthusiastic voice an island of energetic calm in the ocean of house life.

But in the end, you don't think that Satoru will do anything bad with this information - especially since almost all the students of the school knew that you want to find your soulmate – and start telling your expectations.

Gojo sits and listens attentively, feeling his head start to hurt. That guy was almost the same as you described him! (At least at first glance).

By this point, Satoru cared a lot about you, without knowing the reason himself. At the end of your explanation, he just nodded and patted you on the head like a younger sister. You gave him another sweet smile, and Gojo's heart beat faster.

He left without saying anything.

And Satoru couldn't put up with it.

Satoru started following your soulmate, hoping to find some disgusting trait that would allow Satoru to dissuade you from looking for your soulmate in your free time. But the high school student didn't have anything that you might not like. The only thing you might not like was that the guy wasn't wearing glasses!

Everything else is fine. Your soulmate really was the perfect match for you, sent by fate.

He felt that you deserved better. Yes, that high school student was an ideal option for you, but he himself was not perfect. And who is perfect in this world? Just him, Satoru Gojo.

These feelings... grew so slowly. But with every smile you gave him, with every sweet grape juice and homemade cake, with every friendly hug, with every cry of fright and a request for help, Satoru fell deeper and deeper into the abyss of love madness.

And he didn't mind at all.

When he decided to go against fate, you were finishing school, and he was already working as a professional sorcerer. Satoru continued to communicate with you, protecting you more than before. And everything would be fine if one of the days when you were baking cookies for him, you didn't decide to say:

–Do you think, Satoru-senpai, I will be allowed to take a little vacation after graduation from school?

–M? Do you want to go somewhere to relax? If anything, I can keep you company!

–Oh, thank you, but I have to refuse! I was planning to go in search of my soulmate after the graduation ceremony.

You raised the little finger of your left hand and pointed at the red thread with your eyes. You still didn't know that Gojo could see the threads of fate, so you giggled when Satoru almost dropped his juice.

–I know, I know, senpai. Now you will say that I am too weak to travel all over Japan alone in search of who knows who. But don't worry! I have become stronger over the years!

You snorted contentedly, getting into a fighting stance. Gojo felt that fate was mocking him. He wanted to strangle the person responsible for the red threads right now.

But instead of all the words, the sorcerer just smiled at you and laughed merrily.

–I'm sure you will succeed. By the way, did you know that sometimes the threads of fate do not appear immediately?

–What are you talking about, senpai?

–There are many books about soulmates in the library of my clan. And one of them says that sometimes a red thread can suddenly appear in a person.

–Really? And what is the reason for this?

–Usually with the death of another soulmate, – you shuddered, and Gojo hurried to pat you on the head to calm you down. – But it can also be related to "decisions of fate". It may happen that your ideal partner is actually another person. But don't worry, as long as you have the tip of the thread, you will find your love!

–Thank you, senpai. I didn't know about this, – you pressed your left palm to your heart and smiled broadly. – I will definitely tell my soulmate that I have a very good friend whom he must meet!

Satoru smiled at you, pleased that you easily believed his lies. In fact, the thread of fate could really disappear in the event of soulmate's death. But it cannot be changed.

Gojo patted you on the head one more time before telling you it's time for him and disappearing from the kitchen.

You were left standing in the middle of the room and saying into the void: "What about cookies?.."

Meanwhile, Satoru moved to another city, easily finding your soulmate. He calmly walked home, humming under his breath. Gojo called out to him and the guy turned around to get a punch in the nose.

The high school student clutched his nose, from which blood began to flow. His eyes widened, he tried to ask what was going on, but Satoru continued the fight. Your soulmate had to start fighting back, but he was weaker than Gojo, even if the sorcerer did not use the cursed energy.

Sitting on a beaten high school student, the white-haired man realized that he had finally gone crazy. The phrase about how pathetic your soulmate is flew off his lips automatically. Soon, Gojo got up, kicking the beaten one before heading off.

The books about soulmates in his clan's library were almost completely useless, except for one "but". The old volumes talked about special scissors with which you can separate other people's destinies. And Satoru planned to find them.

It turned out that the scissors were an ancient artifact used by the heads of clans so that their children and strong family members would not even begin to meet with their "weak" soulmates and not "spoil the blood". Gojo spent a huge amount of money, nerves and time to get them by buying them from a collector of similar pieces. But now the artifact was in his hands.

Satoru quietly made his way into your room, as he did all the days before, admiring your sleeping figure. He slowly raised your left hand, running his fingers along the red thread. After rewinding a few meters, he cut off a thread that has no end or beginning, and you winced painfully in your sleep. Gojo had only a minute to tie the thread around the little finger of his left hand, but he managed.

The beautiful bow was now visible to the sorcerer. He smiled madly and happily, which was actually the same thing, looking around at his work. He giggled softly, but immediately covered his mouth with his hand as soon as you moaned in your sleep.

The white-haired man began to slowly move backwards, checking whether the red thread was following him. It kept stretching like you were his real soulmate. Satoru chuckled contentedly once more before teleporting away to his room.

Sitting on the bed, the sorcerer looked at the bow, which should disappear in a few weeks, turning into just a ring tightly enveloping his finger closer to the knuckles.

This was the worst part of the scissors method. A knowledgeable person will immediately understand that Satoru destroyed the happy future of two people… But Gojo didn't care. Because he believed and always will believe that you will be happy only with him.

Now you will be with him and only with him... forever.

He appeared before you only at the graduation ceremony. You raised your pure and innocent eyes to him in surprise, slowly lowering your gaze to your red thread. It led straight to Satoru, who was smiling with one hand in his pocket.

You couldn't see, but his eyes were filled with happy madness. He opened his cage-like arms wide as you ran to hug him.

#gojo x reader #yandere!gojo x reader #yandere!gojo #satoru x reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #yandere!satoru x reader #x reader #soulmate #soulmate au

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gojorgeous · 4 months

Text

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off.

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all.

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it.

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married.

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags.

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding.

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times.

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying.

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance.

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income.

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me?

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of.

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.”

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before.

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.”

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you.

“Yes, my lady?”

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?”

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps.

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you?

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness.

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing.

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home.

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come.

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly.

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning.

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags.

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle.

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and-

“Do you like them?”

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie.

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him.

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained?

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.”

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.”

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.”

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling.

“Of course… Satoru.”

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet.

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies.

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.”

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever…

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.”

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming?

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.”

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?”

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks.

“Not tonight.”

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch.

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence.

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone.

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened.

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed?

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense.

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person.

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all.

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking.

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?”

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver.

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.”

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.”

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains.

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in.

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you.

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again.

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse.

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas.

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume.

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.”

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.”

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.”

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?”

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.”

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room.

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough.

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue.

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.”

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.”

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?”

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?”

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

He chuckles. “My pleasure.”

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight?

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you?

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse.

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone.

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon.

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare.

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge.

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he?

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you.

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right?

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there.

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”.

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye.

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.”

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further.

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages.

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.”

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph.

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe?

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.”

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second.

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.”

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening.

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.”

No, no, no.

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible.

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru.

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows.

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense.

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting.

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine.

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?”

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.”

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you.

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further.

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…”

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you.

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does.

“About the estate?” he asks.

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?”

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.”

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.”

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-”

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why.

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him.

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…”

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch.

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine?

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?”

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real.

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point.

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in.

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.”

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him.

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?”

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.”

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.”

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight.

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago.

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?”

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?”

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be.

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?”

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe.

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.”

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?”

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone.

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin.

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt.

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.”

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has.

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less.

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning.

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long.

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked.

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity-

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re–

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature.

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.”

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper.

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust.

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb.

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.”

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?”

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer.

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?”

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch.

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.”

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod.

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth–

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing?

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire.

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.”

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is.

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move.

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop.

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake.

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision.

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer.

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done.

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation.

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.”

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp.

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts.

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–”

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin.

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants.

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do.

“Yes,” you whisper.

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath.

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments.

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…”

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come.

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull.

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens.

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like.

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago.

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave.

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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