>PHASE_01: SINK INTO ME [OVIPOSITION] FOR KINKTOBER.
âĄăcanon! rafayel x fem! reader.ă
âĄSynopsis: an eerie overlap of your ovulation and rafayel's heat cycle makes that article's haunting prophecy slip into intimate reality.
âĄWarnings: nÈfw, smĆłt with plot, dead dove! do not eat! sort of dub-con, monster-like elements (tentacles), non-human reproductive acts (oviposition), non-human biology/dual genitalia, voyeurism/eavesdropping, rough/feverish intimacy, aphrodisiac, multiple orgasms, public nudity/intimacy (secluded cove). (p.s: this was proofread in a half-dream state)
âĄWord count: 5.7k, mannn that took me so long- but hey it's here yeah? I'll be working on priest! raf the next couple of days/weeks. I'm moving at my own pace with this given that I'm crazy busy and not always in the writing mood.
âSyernaâ server recommends this track for the atmosphere of this simulation.
it should have been a peaceful, relaxing vacation for you and rafayel or so you thought. you're not exactly stressed, just haunted by a thought that refuses to stay buried, resurfacing again and again, especially now, as you stand under the shower, meant to be getting ready for a date by the docks. yet, your hand, heedless of the time, instinctively wanders down, tracing the curve between your thighs only to settle just below your navel, and between your folds, stroking lazy, unhurried circles, deepening the rhythm that pulls your eyes shut in a daze as your back surrenders to the cool kiss of the tiled wall.
âra-f.. ngh.. please i want i-â you whine, his name dissolving in a trance-like state as the firm pad of your thumb presses intentionally against your already swollen clit, making you hiss in undeniable pleasure. your left hand begins its slow journey, caressing your waist before settling to knead your tender breast as the same demanding thought festered vividly feeding more into your already corrupted lewd thoughts.
oh, how you wish he's the one touching you now.
you try desperately to superimpose his presence here, against the tiled floor. you summon him behind your closed eyes, focusing on his ethereal bicolored eyes, that you wish were fixed on your flushed face, tracing the path of the water that streams down your throat. you visualise his ever-soft lips, that you wish were right now sucking the breath from your mouth, tasting you. you feel the ghost of his moles, those perfect constellations that you wish were being pressed into your skin wherever his long boney hands decided to grip you.
it all started this morning, just before you went out with him to the art museum, sitting cross-legged on the hotel bed, half-dressed with your phone in hand, scrolling through a blur of irrelevant articles.
âthe mystery of deep sea corals: life beyond sunlight.â
âocean currents and the sound they make at midnight.â
nothing really catches your attention. you yawn before your eyes glazes over, thumb ready to swipe past another dull headline... until one title snagged your focus just long enough to make you hesitate.
ânesting phenomena in lemurian subspecies: observations and theories.â
at first glance, it seems harmless enough, an innocuous title adrift among the endless currents of oceanic research. maybe a bit of pseudoscientific curiosity, that you'd expect from someone who's spent too many nights on maritime forums, probably too obsessed with the lost city of lemuria. the author introduces themselves as a marine life enthusiast, their tone is quite even and polite as they note the familiar measures of the sea such as, depth, temperature, salinity.
you're not really sure where the facts end and the myth begins. phrases like âiridescent pearls of incubationâ and âlemurians entering the resonance phase, when the tide within their bodies mirrors the pull of the lunar sea.â start to bloom causing you to blink halfway, maybe in amusement more than disbelief.
âthe resonance then reaches its moment of oviposition, a tender convergence of rhythm and tide, where the sea breathes new life into its own reflection.â you mouth the words without meaning to, tasting the salt of them. your eyes blur as the corners of your mouth lift, it's absurd really, how something written like a field report can feel this intimate? the more you read, the more it sounds less like anthropology and more like the author was using the paper to unspool their own taboo desires.
the soft chime of a notification from your phone cuts through the sound of running water, snapping you out of your filthy thoughts and restless hand movements. you let out a sharp exhale, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around your body before stepping out of the shower. a small hitch leaves your throat as the screen lights up on the counter, the familiar app notification blinking across the lock screen: âday 1 - ovulation window begins.â
you stare at the message, blinking the water out of your eyes. the desperate craving you've been feeling, the thought that has monopolised your mind all morning, it all suddenly clarifies into a very obvious truth. oh... so, it is today then. you read the clinical, matter-of-fact statement, and the full weight of your body's behavior slams home. how did you not notice? the answer is very obvious, focusing the restless energy inside you into a singular intense knot of desire. well, that certainly explains why your body is extra needy today. even though, you are still running late, the urgency has a very specific, tempting motive now.
°⧠đ đ đ Â·ïœĄ
"she is thinking of me haa-," he clutches his chest, feeling the wild thrum beneath his ribs. he is utterly bound to you, consumed by a spiraling lust that is only eclipsed by an aching, ferocious longing for your touch, and the profound unstoppable weight of your love. all sensations collide into a single, beautiful, annihilating agony of need that drives straight through his core.
he's still pacing across the opulent suite attempting to channel the escalating, restless energy that coiled tightly in his own chest. he isn't showering, but he is certainly delayed. instead of dressing and selecting the right linen shirt that the salty evening air near the docks requires, he finds himself unable to focus.
the vow mark etched upon his chest is more than merely burning, it is a furnace of stolen feeling at that point, a vile intrusion that feeds him the private, humiliating truth of your desire. it's pure torture really... forcing him to witness and feel the slick, demanding slide of your hand, the obsessive, rhythmic friction against your own swollen peak, every small ragged cry drowned by the shower is kindling a silent, searing sound that shreds from his own lungs.
god.. this sudden, corrupting intimacy overwhelms him so completely. he can not paint, can not think straight, every thought fractures and reforms into you as fever clings to his skin, catching his body in a trembling haze, only to send him reeling toward the window overlooking the sea, where he slams his forehead against the cool glass, desperately battling the sweet venom of his own surrender.
âhe presses the heels of his hands hard against his eyes, dragging a long, shaking sigh from his lungs. the familiar dread of allowing his deepest, most primal instincts to breach the careful barrier he keeps between you both is flooding his senses.
he doesn't dare to scare you off again.
ââi've already carefully planned the trip to avoid my heat cycle.â
he spent weeks calibrating the timing, cross-referencing your casual remarks about scheduling with his own detailed biological understanding, meticulously planning to place this vacation squarely in a safe window. a little time of peace, free from the volatile, overwhelming demands of his mating season.
âsnatching his phone from the bedside table, he pulls up the precise, color-coded calendar he created weeks ago. his eyes scan the dates, the carefully marked "low risk" and "neutral" periods. he even checks the lunar cycle, the temperature predictions, the tide charts... everything.
âdid I... make a mistake somehow?â he clicks on the looming blue icon, double-checking on your simple, unassuming shared travel itinerary. the date stands out... oh, unbelievable... he must have transposed a digit, or miscounted a week. a tiny, nearly invisible human error with monumental implications.
he should cancel everything for tonight... no- he should tell you! but the deep, desperate fear of scaring you off, and exposing the untamed core of himself, keeps him rigidly pinned to the plan. he sighs shutting his phone off and quickly pulling on his chosen linen shirt, the expensive fabric already feeling too hot and suffocating against his skin. he tries to force himself to choose a neutral cologne, but all he can smell is the phantom scent of your desire.
°⧠đ đ đ Â·ïœĄ
âthe clock strikes, 9 o'clock, so far the date feels like a tightrope walk. rafayel is highly attentive, yet his usual playful snark is muted, replaced by a devastating intensity. his gaze is heavier than usual, not just focused on your face, but sweeping over the delicate curve of your throat, the swell of your breasts beneath the dress, tracing paths he desperately wants to follow with his lips. every touch is charged, every brush of his knuckles against yours as he passes the salt, every linger of his long fingers at your waist as he helps your chair, is a calculated attempt to distract you from the barely contained heat brewing beneath his own skin.
ââârafayel, â you whisper, leaning closer across the cloth-covered table. âare you alright? you feel... restless. do you want us to go- â
âbefore you can finish, his hand is moving to capture yours as he presses the backs of your fingers to his own cheek, the skin beneath burning with a surprising, dry warmth. his thumb sweeps softly over your knuckles, cutting off the question. it's a sensual distraction, meant to reassure you while also claiming your attention completely, you know it way too well.
ââperfectly fine, cutie,â he mumbles, his voice is a bit low, barely masking the tremor beneath. he gently pulls your hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss over the pulse point on your wrist. âperhaps a little... warm from the anticipation of this evening.â
âoh i- see,â you really would've believed him if his hands weren't that cold, strangely so... despite the feverish heat rolling off his body.
ââI think it's just the atmosphere ugh.. it's too static for us,â he adds, pushing back his chair, the scraping sound loud in the quiet restaurant, then his eyes finally drift past you, out toward the churning water. âthe air is just... stifling, why don't we leave this formality behind, yeah? come. let's find a quieter spot by the shore and go for a dance. the sea air will make us both feel better.â
âyou really don't object. after all the promise of the ocean, the escape from the artificial lights, and the urgent relief in his eyes is compelling. so, you get up, letting him guide you away from the remnants of the untouched meal, pulling you closer to the powerful, rhythmic sound of the waves.
âhe stops the moment the sand turns damp beneath your heels, letting go of your hand only to plant his large, trembling palm against the small of your back. he urges you a single, final step forward as your body responds instinctively to his direction.
ââthe night is still young, and you deserve a soundtrack better than clinking ice,â he murmurs, his voice a rough rumble now that the performance is over.
the lemurian turns around, dragging you into his space, his designer jacket brushing your skin like chilled silk, totally betraying the wildfire burning underneath as he begins to move in a slow, intimate sway that is merely a dance, but an essential closing of the final, agonising gap between you, allowing the insistent rhythm of the ocean to become your only music.
your head rests perfectly beneath his chin, ear pressed against his bare chest where the fabric strains over the furious heat of his heart. the collar of his shirt is open, a few buttons deliberately undone, giving you a glimpse of the hard, sculpted muscle beneath. he lets out a low, shaky sigh like he's been starving for that touch for weeks as soon as your fingers instinctively slip inside his jacket, finding the searing warmth of the skin beneath the shirt, trailing near the exposed patch of his collarbone.
in that split second of touching him, you hit the center of his spinning pulse, feel exactly where heâs been fighting himself, then tear straight through whatever last bit of control he was clinging to.
âârafayel... I need you.â the sound is barely escaping your throat as his skin immediately begins to flare hotter, rising into a fevered pulse that surges through the small space between you.
you focus your senses to feel the relentless tide drawing and peeling beneath your feet, perfectly mirroring the intense, almost painful restraint you sense in him. overhead, the moon hangs like a shattered pearl in the sky, refusing to blink away the urgency.
rafayel's hands fly to your shoulders, pushing you back slightly against a nearby stone bench. his gaze is now utterly derailed. yet, he holds himself still, fighting that ancient, bone-deep urge to claim, and lose himself in you completely. he grasps your jaw, but the touch is not harsh one bit, pulling your face forward to rest your forehead gently against the superheated skin of his chest right where the vow mark flares nonstop.
ââyou feel the burn too, don't you? this... this impossible, yet beautiful pull that leaves you aching for more,â he murmurs, his gaze shatters as he looks down at you, then past you to the dark water.
he gently pulls your chin up, his thumb tracing the slight swell of your lower lip, blue and pink shimmer in his gaze like dawn over still water as his eyes lock onto yours.
ââyou were thinking of me in the shower, just before you came down,â he whispers as you feel his warm breath caress your cupid's bow.
âhuh?!,â your brain short-circuits, what did he just say? wait... does he know everything? does he know the thought that has been festering all morning? the taboo, lewd idea of him laying his eggs inside you? heat floods your face as your gaze jerks away to the water's dark surface. you cannot help but feel laid bare, your deepest, most primal need exposed to his gaze.
âdon't dare think this was easy for me, i couldn't get anything done the whole day, i couldn't stop... thinking about you.â
ârafayel- haa-â a gasp escapes you as the feverish plume of his breath kisses the sensitive skin beneath your ear, leaving a damp, scorching warmth that that travels slowly from your jawline to the twin points of your collarbone.
âdo you have any idea how bad that made me feel?â he breathes, pulling back just enough for you to look up at him. your eyes lock onto his once again, the ethereal blue is almost completely devoured by a shadowy, blood-tinged red where the cool colour should be... oh he's far gone...
his lips crash down onto yours. it's anything but a gentle kiss of a date, it is a violent, exquisite collision that steals your breath and any pretense of control. he possesses your mouth, tongue plunging with a knowing, intimate demand that chases the air from your lungs and sends a dizzying drop to your stomach. you can vividly feel the heat of him, the desperate blend of heat and salt, as his strong hands clamp tight on your waist, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his length.
he tears his mouth away only to attack the sensitive skin of your breasts, hot lips and hungry teeth marking the flesh as he inhales your scent.
one second, your feet are on the damp, cold sand. the next, he is scooping you up with feverish urgency, and turning. he doesn't waste another second on language or clothes, ripping the bodice of your dress open, and breathing down your chest as the fabric gives way with a violent sound that is instantly swallowed by the ocean's roar.
his lips dragging yours straight toward the depths. the cool, dark pull of the ocean rushes up your exposed skin, and the world shrinks to the sound of his ragged breathing and the deep, possessive roar of the sea.
you don't realise he's changed into his merman form until you feel the powerful, unexpected coil against your legs. the shocking texture of cool, smooth scales registers just as his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to the surface.
he rests your back against a nearby rock in a dark, secluded cove, and you stare at him in awe watching the saltwater drips from his hair and down his cheekbones, catching his magnificent, powerful tail, shifting in the moonlight, its silver-purple scales glittering with pearlescent glow, beneath the rippling surface.
with one hand braced on the stone beside your head, his free hand slides down, pushing the remaining shreds of your dress aside and cupping your thigh with a possessive heat that makes you cry out. the water rushes over your bare skin, but you are barely aware of the cold. all the heat pooling within you is pulling you into a daze.
âdon't move... I need to taste you... I need to devour the warmth you hold just for me.â
with a breathtaking shift of his powerful merman tail, he ducks beneath the surface
and uses his formidable strength to lift both your legs, drawing them up and spreading your thighs wide as he hooks them securely over his broad, wet shoulders, leaving you exposed to his hungry mouth, framed by the dark sea and the shimmering musculature of his neck.
âraf- what are you-â you look down at the lemurian kneeling before you watching as the water closes over his head, his lavender locks do not tangle or clump, they float ethereally, transforming into sheer, shimmering curtains of blue-lavender shades, trailing out and away from his head like ribbons of liquid light.
the sudden shift sending a ripple of shivers up your spine, but the moment is instantly eclipsed by the slick heat of his mouth. his lips settle against you as his tongue becomes longer, stronger, and more intoxicating than you could have ever imagined. his tongue is an intoxicating force, first pressing flat against your engorged flesh, lapping up your juices with a deep, loud sound that is amplified by the water, as if this meal is the only thing tethering him to the mortal world. your moans becomes a thick, raspy cascade of pleasure, swallowed mostly by the sea but vibrating fiercely against the stone beneath your back as your hips buck at the sheer, desperate intensity of his tongue now dancing and circling your clit, pushing him away one frantic second only to drag him closer the next.
you press the back your hand on your lips, arching your back against the cold stone, as your hips thrust forward, chasing the warmth of his tongue once more and he obliges by burying his tongue deep into your wet core.
âah~ hah~ rafayel- i- need more... pleaseâ desperate whines dissolves in the rush of blood to your ears. your delicate fingers clutch desperately, threading through the cool silk of his hair, fiercely guiding him to go deeper as you can feel the faint, vibrating brush of his delicate ear fins near your thighs.
rafayel's long tongue moves inside you faster now, and the sensation of the exquisite pressure is so profound that a crystalline sheen of tears forms at the corners of your eyes, pleasure pools into the pit of your stomach as he gives your ass a fond squeeze.
he doesn't stop. his sultry, deep eyes look up at you from below, reflecting the shimmering surface of the water, and the sight is enough to make your knees weak. you simply shake your head, unable to speak, only able to feel, tightening your frantic grasp, tangling your fingers deeper into the cool silk of his floating lavender hair.
âthe lemurian obliges every contradiction. he toys with the puckering hole of your need, adding the slick, foreign pressure of his tongue before withdrawing just an inch to lap it all up again. the cacophony of your squelching warmth and escalating moans grows louder, pulling you further from the shore of sanity as his arms move to anchor your thighs to his shoulders, ensuring the only focus in your world is the wet, masterful work of his mouth.
a final, annihilating shudder begins deep in your core, clawing its way up. you gasp the borrowed air, muscles locking rigid as the wave crests, eventually making your vision tunnel and darken as you shatter into your sweet release. the cold water does nothing to stem the scorching heat of your climax.
you can feel the sound of his moans vibrating against your slick flesh before he slurps deeply one last time, pulling all of the exquisite, shuddering warmth into his mouth. few seconds pass by before he lifts his head, eyes drowning with satisfaction, claiming the very essence of your release. "such a good, beautiful girl."
âi nee-d to feel you-,â you gasp for the cold, exhilarating water, your arms instinctively shooting up and wrapping around his neck as you cling to him, burying your face in the wet silk of his lavender hair, still trembling from the shockwave of your release. rafayel doesn't allow you a moment of stillness, his frantic, sucking kisses continue, trailing fire from your neck down to your collarbone, sharp intakes of breath tearing from his lungs in between.
âyou are still caught in a post-climax daze, yet the aching need is already resurfacing, deeper and more demanding than before. you want more. you need to feel every inch of him. your hips, which continue their subtle, involuntary bucking, suddenly meet something firm and rigid rubbing against your hot core. the sensation is instantly followed by another rigid heat, how? is it possible?
you barely have time to register what you've just felt, before his lips are back on yours, his voice a ragged whisper that vibrates against your mouth with druken adoration, âdon't be afraid, cutie. trust me okay? It won't hurt if you don't move.â
you nod abruptly, the promise in his feverish eyes dissolving the last remnants of your control into pure, desperate trust. your hips abandon the stone, and your legs wrap around his waist, hoisting you up slightly, offering yourself fully to the god before you
with a deep, guttural sound, rafayel lifts you higher, maneuvering your body so your back reclines against the cool, slick surface of the large rock behind you. you are partially out of the water, exposed to the chilled night air, but the essential connection remains. his massive, muscular tail trails behind him, disappearing into the dark, swirling current of the sea.
his twin lengths, already swollen and rigid with desire, press insistently against your heat. âyou try to take a glimpse, and the sight is already overwhelming, one is slightly longer, and poised for deep invasion, the other is shorter and thicker, aims relentlessly for âthe sensitive crest of your folds. the immense length of the tail, and the sheer size of the lemurian form pressing against you, makes a dizzying thought surface 'just how enormous is he?â
he doesn't plunge immediately. instead, his breathing breaks into heated whimpers that he muffles against your throat and the swell of your breasts. his hands clamp tightly on your hips, tilting you just so, and he begins to move one of his second, shorter length, rubbing it fiercely up and down your slick folds, a searing slide that generates an instant, blistering friction. his longer one is now teasing the very mouth of your core, tracing the delicate seams of your wetness before dragging back down in a slow, torturous scrape.
âânngh... haah, cutie,â he whimpers, the sound wrenched from him between sharp intakes of breath against your neck. âi need this. i've needed this since this morning... when I felt you in the shower. i-i can't wait... i just need to feel how perfectly you take me.â
then, with a single, urgent thrust, he slips one of his them deep inside. the pleasure is almost immediate, quite shocking, and very consuming. the sheer volume of his pre-cum instantly stretches and fills you to an agonising, exquisite capacity, making you scream against his shoulder. you can feel the distinct texture of his second hard length rubbing fiercely against your clit, unable to gain full purchase but relentless in its pressure.
âmy body knows yours better than you know yourself. I felt this craving build in your core. did you truly think you could hide your hunger from the artist who sees your soul?â
âp-please, fas-ter haa- raf~ay- mnghâ your gasp is lost to the sea, transformed into a sudden, shuddering intake of breath as the pleasure deepens turning into an intoxicating bliss. you realise the thick fluid he poured into you carries a subtle numbing solution mixed with a powerful aphrodisiac. the intense sensation is overwhelming, yet almost safe from pain, allowing your body to surrender fully to the shockwave of beatitude. feeling the relentless, insistent length of him driving deeply into your core, the world is reduced to the unbearable, beautiful feeling of being utterly taken and completely saturated by him.
ââlemurians live for love. for us, love and lust are inseparable, two sides of the same current. we are made to please as much as we love, to claim as deeply as we desire.â he whispers fiercely against your neck, his breath catching with every primal, urgent plunge.
âevery place his mouth touches, every delicate kiss and deliberate suck on your neck feels so incredibly hot. the coolness of the ocean is a lie, he has ignited a fever deep in your core, and the rising temperature is driving you toward the edge.
you cannot really control the gathering storm of pleasure in you. moans become more shaky with torturing thrust of his hips making you clench around him in rhythm with his groans. rafayel reads the tremor almost instantly, the inevitable countdown written in the tensing of your muscles.
rafayel draws you closer, keeping his glorious, anchoring cock deep inside as he turns your body with a surprising, devastating gentleness. your stomach meets the cool, slick granite of the rock as he pins you stomach-down, utterly exposed to the chilled night air, yet cocooned entirely in his massive, possessive heat. his wall of muscle and scaled skin pressed along your back, and his deeper length remains a molten desire driven home from behind.
one arm sweeps around your waist, locking you flush with his body, as he continues his consuming attack on your neck and now your back. his other hand glides forward, finding the crest of your folds, and settles there with an aching weight. he cradles it, pressing his palm flat against the trembling skin, then begins a slow, mesmerising rub with his thumb that has your back arching and your head falling to the side, exposing the perfect, vulnerable curve of your neck- that exact spot that he has been trying to reach for a while now.
he plunges anew, coordinating the deep, driving motion with the ruinous, hypnotic attention of his thumb.
âcutie, you~ haa- feel so good...â he breathes with a shaky voice against your wet ear, such an intimate confession that's laced with the primal edge of his need. âfeels like I'm being enveloped in a pool of water...â his voice is thick with overwhelming pride as he feels you swell around him.
the artist's hand moves to guide his second cock while the other one spears in and out of you. you take a sharp inhale feeling his blunt, thick head gently french kiss your slick, eager folds, tracing the delicate, sensitive seams you barely knew existed. he pauses there, gathering sensation, before sliding into your warmth with a muffled slosh sound.
rafayel presses his forehead against your shoulder, shuddering with the reality of his. being swallowed so completely.
ââi need all of you,â he gasps, âevery single part of you. yess- haa- just like this.â
âthe cradle of his hand tightens over your folds, his thumb accelerating into a desperate, frantic blur, pushing you over the final edge of sensation while his two cocks held you captive inside you.
the friction of the first thrusting cock catches on your deepest point, simultaneously grinding against the immovable pressure of the second as your hips rock instinctively, trying to meet and escape the dual sensation, and the overwhelming sensation forces your mind into a single focus, his pleasure becoming yours. the feeling is so sharp, so consuming, that your muscles spasm involuntarily around him, clenching and releasing in a futile, dizzying attempt to contain the exquisite overfill.
rafayel's body tenses, every muscle locking, and the thick, desperate whines he lets out is the sound of his control finally snapping. he locks his hips, driving both of his cocks deeper as his muscular contractions begin.
ââstarting to enjoy yourself, cutie? good. nngh- mnaah- that will help with what comes next,â rafayel murmurs against your ear, his usual word "cutie" now feels more intimate, sinking deep into your already ruined composure. with those ominous words, you feel a distinct movement from one of the massive shafts inside you. a surge of viscous fluid that's followed by his climax suddenly feels like it's being compacted.
sweat begins running down your face in rivulets as his whines and moans get louder, ragged sounds ripped from his throat, followed by a final, shattering cry as his orgasm hits, painting your inner walls immediately followed by a wave of something warm and unmistakably round sliding against your inner walls.
âŠeggs?
your mind barely catches on the thought before another soft, circular swell shifts inside you. the sensation hits too fast, too strange yet too intoxicating for you to fully process. your breath hitches, nails digging into his shoulders, and everything in your body clenches instinctively around overwhelming heat heâs pouring into you
ââyou're my bride- hmngh y-ou- you can take it,â he grunts into your shoulder as his hands squeeze your perky ass cheeks, lifting you just enough so his slick, overgrown tentacles coil around your thighs and waist, holding you utterly suspended at his mercy. every shift of weight is just a delicious reminder that you're completely trapped under his mercy. his lips attack your nipple, biting and sucking with a hunger that makes your chest tighten and pulse, while his tentacles press and knead, teasing and spreading your legs open.
âugh⊠so full⊠i⊠i- i can't handle it.â tears sting your eyes as you feel the overwhelming feeling of his slick eggs. not large, nor too small, just substantial enough to demand attention. your inner walls were already stretched and slicked by his thick members, and loosened up from your previous climax as gooey eggs starts sliding inward much easier than you might have imagined.
âthe feeling is so consuming and you let out a sharp cry as they travels past the intense friction of his cocks like a smooth river stone being pressed through soft, wet silk.
his hand settles firmly on your stomach, fingers pressing into the delicate curve of your womb, cradling your sanctum with a possessive weight. forcing you to become acutely aware of the internal expansion, the sheer, impossible volume that is now occupying your most intimate depths.
a guttural cry tears from your throat as a wave of devastating pleasure blooms in your core. your hips thrust back violently, arching into him, desperate to grind every inch of your overflowing heat against him, demanding the final push toward your sweet, sweet climax.
and indeed, you start feeling your own pleasure channel violently contracting around both massive cocks and the slick, heavy deposits heâs left deep inside you. the walls of your sheath are squeezing, not just his rigid flesh, but the warm, smooth eggs he just crammed deep inside.
your legs quiver violently, shaking uncontrollably against his strong, locking thighs. they feel utterly detached, useless columns of flesh that can't support the overwhelming internal reality. the tremor runs from your thighs down to your ankles, making the entire lower half of your body seize and vibrate uncontrollably.
ât-oo much-, baby- haa- raf-ayel, aah- haaâ you gasp as your orgasm blinds your vision, starting as a desperate, burning ache deep in your core, right at the gateway to your womb, where the most profound pressure point is being hit simultaneously by his deepest thrust and the weight of the settling eggs.
âthe waves hit you like physical blows. each spasm of your internal muscles makes the sensation worse and infinitely better. you are squeezing your own release, yet the effort only serves to press your sensitive walls harder against the foreign, consuming bulk inside, feeling the residual slickness of the egg deposits being pushed and pulled as he drives into your shattering core one last time.
âshhh cutie, you're okay⊠it's over,â he murmurs softly, pressing gentle, lingering kisses along your skin. his hands trace slow, soothing patterns across your back and stomach, cradling you as your breath gradually steadies. ever so slowly, your body begins to unclench, surrendering to the comfort of his arms.
the world narrows to the steady beat of his chest beneath you, the lingering warmth of his touch, and the soft whispers he keeps repeating: âyou're safe⊠I've got you⊠always.â even as tremors ripple through you, the storm inside your core eases, replaced by the dizzy, blissful haze of being held and completely cared for.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still cradling your quivering body. A slow smile tugs at his lips. âyou are shaking like a jellyfish.â he teases. âa⊠uh⊠very dramatic, jellyfish swirling in a whirlpool.â
âoh shut up!â you shove at his chest half-heartedly, still trembling, and he chuckles again, tightening his hug. âhey, I've got you. you survived the⊠uh⊠eggocalypse,â he adds, winking.
âoh my god⊠stop saying that!â you whine, shaking again, half in exasperation, half still too giddy to care.
he grins wider, squeezing you just a little more. âbut hey, at least you're still in one piece, and that's what counts.â
he slowly leans in, lips hovering just above yours. âyou knowâŠâ he murmurs, voice husky, âI could hold you like this forever.â
you blink up at him, heart fluttering at the huskiness in his voice, and without thinking, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, pulling him closer. âi've missed you...â you murmur against his chest.
âI've missed you too,â he says pressing a tender kiss to your temple. âcome on, stay put. I'm not letting you go anywhere for at least⊠ten minutes.â
every october, the simulation resets. the file can not be downloaded nor shared, it cannot even be traced. you just keep refreshing, night after night, hoping the node opens for you. day after day, you finally notice the red dot appear on your screen.
WELCOME TO #SINCITY25
people call it a neural simulation, yet it's not really VR. it certainly feels deeper, something between a dream and a blackout. the streets are saying it was built by a group obsessed with studying human desire. well.. rumours circle, but no one knows the reason behind it.
you do not know where it exists. you only receive an encrypted invitation with coordinates to a pickup point and black vans appear to take you to its designated place. once inside, it calls itself the LUSTRA network.
when you log in, you're asked to enter two inputs:
a. your taboo (the kink/desire you've never said aloud)
b. your handle (your identity inside the simulation network)
the algorithm then searches for a compatible participant and if someone else in the network entered a complementary taboo⊠et voilà , you're linked.
IMPORTANT: list contains explicit NSFW content, including hardcore kinks. It is intended for mature audiences only. Minors and anyone uncomfortable with such material, please do not interact or proceed further.
a/n: second kinktober on here phew, i know i know it's been a while :(. oh god this year has been so crazy- i literally went through too much trauma, mental and physical and i'm still in the process of healing. so sorry this list is mainly thirsts, i'm seriously trying to take it slow.
you hadnât spoken to him at all for the past few weeks. you said you cared about the grades the project fetched you, but you stopped showing up to the library since that day. had he been too much of a jerk? he was only complimenting you though! perhaps he shouldnât have annoyed you with too many compliments?
but now he had gone from a cool kid to a desperate simp. he wanted â no, needed your attention. he craved you. so when he finally saw you walk through the library doors after school, he perked up in excitement. if he had a tail, it would probably be wagging by now.
âwhat took you so long?â he was on you the moment you sat down, rubbing his cheek against your shoulder like a puppy to its owner.
âyou havenât apologized yet,â you refused to look at him, making him droop.
âiâm sorry,â he pouted.
âno. if you really are sorry,â you said snottily, crossing your arms at him, âthen youâll go get me a sandwich from the cafeteria.â
his head perked up again, and he practically leapt out of his seat and out of the library. you watched him wrench open an imaginary door, slam into the real one, and then curse loudly like a cartoon character.
you chuckled.
you loved popular!gojo, but you loved loser!gojo even more.
on every friday in february, my ask box will be open for those who want to participate and send love confessions to your (f/o). and I'll respond to your ask in-character (I'll post how it works shortly xx).
// jess' note: hello babydolls, as promised here's my valentine's masterlist <3 this event is totally sfw, so it's safe for all ages! while there might be some suggestive scenes, don't worry- nothing explicit here. it's all about that tooth-rotting fluff and those heart-fluttering intimate moments that leave you swooning without a single erotic thought in mind. i'm here to prove just how much fun you can have with these lads without crossing into naughty territory.
(comment below if you want to be tagged, reblogs are always appreciated <3)
ââ STANDING NEXT TO YOU ; dazai osamu x fem!reader
synopsis ââž â he is someone you should truly stay away from because every smile of his drips with danger, every laugh is coated with mystery and every touch has tragedy lingering yet that's the only thing you can't bring yourself to do -- staying away from him. especially when he seeks you out himself. â
warnings ; racer!zai. age gap. dazai is in late twenties while reader is in early twenties, nineteen to be exact. angst. romance. tragedy. illegal racing and illegal activities. port mafia is in here too. dazai has smoking addiction. drug addiction. toxic workplace. reader works at a club. sexual harassment. prostitution though it's mentioned lightly. uses of whore, slut etc in a derogatory way. pedophilic behaviour and pedophilia, mentions of grooming.
chapter specific warnings ; mentions of being raped, sexual assault, dissociation from reality etc.
masterlist.
it's a busy night tonight, you think to yourself as you descend down the stairs, going down to the ground floor to help at the bar. you stop for a moment to admire the moon shining brightly through the glass windows before you look down at the roads below and wonder how ironic it is for a club to be able to blend so well with it's surroundings.
how many people must pass by this lavish two floor building without even realising that they just passed by a club?
you wish you could be one of them, alas, you aren't. continuing to walk down after that short moment of peace, you initially flinch as the loud music reaches your ear. you aren't used to loud noises even yet despite working here for years.
as you walk through the many tables and couches, you have to pretend as if you don't feel the leering disgusting stares on your ass or the whispers of immature or drunk guys betting to each other how long it will take before you end up in bed with them. can't they be more quieter about their perverse nature?
you increase your pace, fortunately there was no customer who decided to stop you so you reached the bar without any intruptions or hardships, after which only do you take a breath of relief. the worst thing is you can't say no to any customer if they want you to do them some sexual favours. your boss won't listen to your reasons that this isn't your work and you are just a escort here. he will only tell you to keep quiet and keep your head low, desperate to please his disgusting customers no matter what.
you hate all of them. even your boss. you can't stand any of these disgusting men who think they are above all just because they have a little too much money to spare.
"i am surprised how packed and busy the second floor is." one of the bartenders say, leaning over the counter to talk to you since the music here is so loud.
you nod, leaning in so he can hear you speak too, "it's cause there will be a race later on."
"woah, really? just out in the open like this?" he expresses the same surprise you did when you first heard about it from one of the strippers who learnt this from her client -- the organizer of these races.
"mhm, money talks." you smile, leaning back to stand properly, slipping your feet out of the painful heels you are wearing to relieve them for a little while. you don't give them time to heal because you don't have the permission to do so. looking down at your feet, you grimace yourself at how they are covered with red markings from the heel. your soles pain alot too and even bending your toes is painful.
leaning back against the counter to look over at the bustling club, you wonder how their lives are. your eyes dart towards the entrance right in time to see a man with blue dyed hair entering and you immediately straighten up, adjusting your top.
the man moves like a snake slithering between the dancing and making out bodies on the dance floor. you squint your eyes to focus on him as he seems to blend in with the crowd.
"what are you focusing on?" the bartender from before is also leaning on the counter, eyes trained on the man.
"he's one of the event manager's of those races." you tell, not looking away even once.
"damn, he looks more like he belongs to a gang or one of those kpop idols."
"well he certainly fits the illegal part of those races." you smile, turning to look at the bartender again. "they come here often. good luck in guessing who is who."
"finally a good pass time apart from listening to horrible hook up stories." the bartender snorts sarcastically as you wave at him, turning to walk towards the direction of the blue haired man.
it's not hard to find him as he sits where he always does, at the centre on one of the u-shaped couches, observing the rest of the club.
he nods at you upon seeing you approach him and smiles a bit as you lean down to have your ear next to his mouth so he can speak without having to be loud.
"is the boss done?" he asks, you look down at your digital watch before shaking your head. "nope, there's still an hour left. he rented the room for six hours today. he's here since seven p.m."
you tell the man who groans. "what does he even do there?"
you blink. "um normally when someone books a room, it's to have se--"
"i know." the man cuts you off immediately, smiling sheepishly as he waves his hand to dismiss you yet you stay there as you want to ask him something.
you wet your bottom lip with your tongue before nervously whispering, "is he gonna come?"
the man furrows his eyebrows in thought then quickly smiles, "i am joking. of course he will, you are here after all."
you smile as you mutter a small thank you, turning as you leave because you do not want that man to see how happy you feel on hearing that since 'he' is the only one who makes it worth working in this hellhole.
cheers and howls erupted at the same time like an explosion when the familiar koenigsegg drives over the finishing line in first place. many more cheers erupted when it drifted and did it's famous donut on the road with it's tires as it stopped itself. due to the car's velocity, dust and pebbles which were on the road were now blowing around when the door of the car opened.
he steps out, his brown hair being the first thing which the spectators can see as he ruffles his hair, smirking. as the dust settles on the road again, rushed footsteps is all he hears before seeing his manager laughing joyfully.
"attaboy! " the older man cheers, laughing as he pats the taller man's shoulder. "you keep this up and you might catch the eyes of one of those suckers, my boy hafta get invited to formula one at this rate."
he smirks in amusement at the older's enthusiasm but quickly bursts his bubble of imagination, "oh my, how sad it is that despite your motivation i do not think of racing as anything more than a pass time?" he teases the older man who rolls his eyes. when the older man smirks, his gold tooth flashes as it catches the light from one of the streetlights, "if you change your mind, hit yo man up, 'kay dazai?"
dazai only rolls his eyes, "where's boss man?" he asks, not wanting to waste another second here.
"at the club.... where are you goin--"
"to the club." dazai shouts, already jogging away while the older man sighs, grumbling under his breath. "he's always at that club. what's so special that he runs there every night?"
dazai quickly jogged towards his mercedes, adjusting his hair in the rear view mirror and looking over his face incase something out of the ordinary was tainting it. he quickly looked away however, he can never tolerate seeing his own face too much. he opens the glove compartment to take out his box of cigarettes and a lighter, these two being absolutely essential for him. it's like he can't function without these now, a bad habit but he's already too addicted to give a fuck now.
he takes out one cigarette stick and holds it between his lips, using his other hand to light the lighter and brings the small flame closer towards the free end of the stick. as soon as he takes one puff he releases a loud puff as if he had only now engulfed oxygen.
tilting his head back, he closes his eyes for a while as his body feels it's almost reached a heaven like state, he feels light and he can feel the nicotine in every vein running through his body. it's been only six hours without smoking and he already feels as if he was going to loose his mind. cutting off his smoking habit seems like a distant dream now.
he sighs again as he looks at his face in the rearview mirror again, making sure he looks absolutely dashing. he has a girl to impress once again after all. ".... should i get her chocolates?"
"i am sorry, i don't drink during work hours." you politely smile to conceal your fear which the man sitting on the couch in this private room is producing in you, having no choice but to serve him because this is your job. you can't 'slack' off on your job as said by your boss the last time you tried to bring these kinds of harassment to his attention.
"mhm baby, just a bit? come on, it's gonna be worth it, i promise." he doesn't understand and continues to push you to do something you clearly don't want to. you lick your lips as you feel them go dry, a shrill stab of fear goes through your chest when you see his eyes narrow at your action as he had clearly seen this as 'seduction'. he doesn't seem to think of the sweatbeads on your forehead and your wide frantic eyes as signs of panick or fear but rather as signs of you trying to appear demure to seduce him.
"i was eighteen not long ago sir, please don't. we will both get in troub --" your voice is shaky due to fear, eyes closing as you try not to grimace when he lowers his hand to cup your cheek. his hand feels disgusting on your skin but you can't speak about it. you internally feel your stomach clench in disgust when he begins to rub his thumb up and down your cheek as he leans in, his hot breath hits the shell of your ear, "you think you can fool me? you think i don't know how long you have been working here? are you allowed to have favourites between customers, hmm? should i have a word with your boss?"
his underlying threats makes you widen your eyes, desperately shaking your head as you plead. "i-i am sorry. i was out of line, sir. i will drink it."
he smiles in victory, his hand moves down to cup your jaw as he brings your face forwards while tilting the glass towards your lips, you part your lips slowly as the drink flows down your throat. you have to pinch your thighs to not end up coughing or gagging.
"good girl. take a big sip." he orders, a shiver travels down your spine as you can guess what perverted thoughts are behind his cocky smile.
don't puke. don't puke. don't puke. hold it in. hold it in. don't puke.
you chant to yourself because you cannot manage to make a mistake. boss is a scary man. not knowing his name despite living with him for eight years is enough of a proof.
his hand travels up towards your lips as he taps it with his thumb before he leans down, licking his lips greedily as he tries to peak down the low cut neckline of your jacket. a cropped leather jacket under which you are wearing just a bra.
the man tilts the glass down to watch the alcoholic drink flow down your throat and neck, disappearing inside your jacket. he gulps in pleasure at the thought of this drink staining your cleavage, how lewd it must look if he had the chance to see them, drops of the drink would cling to your nipples and drip down your chest.
an excited huff of breath escapes his lips at the imagery in his twisted mind, he smiles to seem apologetic but all you see are the ugly curves of his lips, like a monster smiling before devouring it's prey.
"i am sorry baby." he begins to speak, grabbing a few tissues from the tissue box next to him, he curled them and began to dap it on your neck. at his movement a very violent shudder travels down your spine, you don't even have to raise your eyes to see his second hand slowly inching towards his belt. the reason he is being so discrete despite wanting to pleasure himself is simple, this despicable man gets off to the thrill of subtlety.
"you should take your jacket off, i will help you clean it." he says, hand dipping lower to press the tissues against your covered cleavage, a shuddering breath escapes his lips, eyes hungrily waiting for you to expose more of yourself, to feed into his perversion more.
"i-i can do it myself." you stutter, trying to take a step back but he grabs your forearms, his fingers digging into your skin as he shakes his head. "no, no. it's my fault so let me help."
his words aren't a request or anything. it's an order. the previous threat of complaining to boss hangs at the back of your mind as you quietly unzip your jacket and take it off.
the man ogles your breasts covered by the bra, his hand slips inside his pants as he begins to jerk. "lean forward."
and you know you have to follow what he says because trapped in the walls of this private room, he is the king and you are the slave. not only to him but to the emperor (boss) as well. whatever boss says shall happen, no?
you do not have a choice, you think, it's all your fault anyway. you made a bad choice years ago and now this is the consequence.
. . . but isn't it too much? doesn't matter. blaming yourself somehow helps you to suck it up and continue working despite your own self screaming how unfair it is.
when the man leans to unclasp your bra, you do not flinch or react. over time you learned that fighting it or resisting it is more painful than the actual process (it isn't, both are equally awful but somehow gaslighting and blaming yourself helps you function.)
the man's hands hover over your breasts, skimming the skin as he pants.
a beep emits from your phone which is by his side before he could grab your flesh, a annoyed look of almost fury spreads onto his face as he looks at the useless piece of technology, he reads who messaged you and almost sighs but he doesn't.
no king is foolish enough to deny the emperor.
"it's your boss, go. he's sending someone else for me." he informs you, voice laced in annoyance yet the relief his words fill you with is almost enough to make you tear up.
it takes you no more than five minutes to wear your bra and jacket again, grabbing your phone as you immediately twist on your heels and walk out with hurried steps.
you unlock your phone to see what boss messaged you, heart thumping in your chest as you read the text.
boss : dress nice. he is here.
a shiver filled with relief travels down your vertebral column as you can finally meet the one who makes working here a bit more bearable. he hadn't come here yesterday or the day before yesterday so you are really happy that he is here today.
of course he has a life. he is not inclined to remember you either but it still feels depressing to think he will forget you one day, you won't be more than a blur with the tag of 'a girl at a nightclub'. it just feels wrong to not be remembered by anyone so you will put this expectation on the one who treated you like a human.
perhaps because he himself is unable to feel human? ... what an odd thing to say. you shake your head to rid yourself of these thoughts, thinking much about him is like being pulled down towards the ocean in a sinking ship where gravity works against your favour. if you sink too much into him, you are afraid he might run away like he always does.
he enjoys being a enigma, a mystery to intellectuals, an illusion disgused as a puzzle waiting to be solved but when you try to touch his pieces, the illusion shatters and he disappears.
your feet stop as you stand infront of boss's room. if he sees you here, you will have to go in so you retreat hastily, walking far far away from his office because you can never walk away from the man himself.
the door is always surrounded by black shadows which make the door seem narrower and more twisted then it actually appears, two years ago you realised it's because of your fear and bad memories associated with the room that makes your vision play tricks on you whenever it falls on this door.
you walk away for hours despite only a few minutes passing before you enter the dressing rooms where many pretty yet broken women lounges, some getting ready for their shift while some relaxed and others got ready to leave this godforsaken place for good only to return tomorrow.
a few smiles greeted you but then disappeared once they noticed your drenched and sweaty state and everyone ignored you, to not humiliate you. truly it's a messed up life you guys live, isolated from the 'normal, working part of society', drained in everything intoxicating and forbidden, placed on a pedestal where some think of as a fantasy while others look at you guys with either desire or mockery.
it is a monotonous process involving only a few steps -- you entered one of the dressing rooms with a dress you grabbed from the big closets, discarding your current ones which makes you want to vomit and instead slipping into the new ones ; black shorts and a tank top of the same colour. your steps are light and almost airy when you step out and walk towards the vanity area, adjusting your makeup and combing through your hair before you are on your way out again, waving at the women who still lounged.
your hips swayed as you walked out, putting on a confident smile as you enter the people packed areas again. this is the life you live, you can't slack off for even one second no matter how much harassment or violation you go through, you have to keep on dancing on thorns so the perverts can drink your blood from your feet and throw money at you which boss greedily grabs and hides in his black hole of a heart.
from your peripheral vision you see a customer raise their hand at the sight of you, needing some kind of assistance. you shift your body to face his direction, taking two steps in his direction but not more for a slender hand wraps around your hip to pull you towards him. you look up, eyes meeting those honey brown ones which seem to always have mischief and danger dripping down them and whoever looks into it can't help but lean in to drink it greedily.
greed is very reoccurring, is it not?
"hey." he breaths out, smelling like fresh mint. he smiles down at you and it feels the entire world stilled to admire the curve of his lips, you find yourself imitating him and smiling back, a giddy itch in your heart.
"hey." you breath out too. it's no fair, he seems to always steak your breath away. he applies forces on his hand on your hip to make you walk with him, away from the customer and from everyone towards one of the private rooms which is indirectly off limits to everyone else. only he uses it, it's untouchable to anyone else.
the room is nothing much worth defining because this specific room may be the treasure where you store your good memories, the other replicas of this exact room are horrifying realities tucked close till the door opens. you know these rooms better then anyone, having stared at them for hours while greedy folks had their fill of you, drank and left you all weak on the floor but alas that's the life of a prostitute.
never a human, always desired.
are you a mere escort? a prostitute? you aren't aware of your own identity in this concealed world of sins and desires. for all you know, you might be the golden hen with a eye-catching bow on her head, one which lures pigs.
oh silly you, pigs don't eat hens.
are you sure they don't? when even a human is capable of eating another, why can't a pig eat a hen? they have been eating you for years.
"thinking something?" his voice breaks you out of the never ending labyrinth of your thoughts, you smile almost from muscle memory alone.
"does dazai-san want me to think of only him?" you speak, a well reversed stream of words which dance around you as even to him you say them without meaning to. somehow you feel as if dazai knows it as well, that you only cling to him because he offers you safety.
"that's up to you but dazai-san himself has been thinking about you." his voice is airy and playful with gaps that are filled with mystery which he weaved himself, breaking pieces of himself and starving whoever is his companion before feeding them a very tiny piece, leaving them wanting for more.
you look up at him curiously, so he answers. "i wanted to buy you flowers but would you believe all chocolate shops and bakeries are closed at this time?" he whines playfully yet why is it that all the time spend together gave you an ability to look past the thick disguises to see just how tired he looks beneath them all?
how's it even possible to present oneself as filled with energy while being exhausted to the brink of fainting from the inside?
"why would you waste your money on me -- ah, i didn't mean to sound ungrateful. i am just curious dazai-san." you speak as he walks, making you walk along with him till you two approach the couch and he doesn't make you sit on the floor, he pats the space next to him once he is seated on the couch, you obey.
"too many questions, sweetie." dazai chuckles before he tilts his head back, eyes closing as if the burdens of the world is on his shoulders, "i have my reasons."
his answer is vague, hardly an answer but you nod, placing your hands between your thighs as you look down. "dazai-san?"
"hm?"
"thank you."
"hm?"
you smile as you continue to look down, shrugging. "for letting me breath and never asking me for sex."
how horrifying must it be for one to live such life that when someone doesn't immediately ask them to strip or kneel, they are grateful and feel as if they own them something, dazai thinks. he hasn't opened his eyes yet but he extends his hand to pat your knee. "don't thank me for treating you like a basic human."
and how much irony his words hold because what does he know about humans and how they live, how they feel and how they function?
but how can one think he doesn't know all this? knowing and acting on it is a very different think from naturally being born with the instinct. that's his only fault.
his words reach a part of your heart you didn't know still existed within you, which hadn't broken down due to your situation and misfortune. said part is very fragile and weak yet extremely guarded yet his words hold equal value. the parallelism of the man you were serving before him and him is too grave to not move you. you lower your head, eyes filling with tears as you nod yet you do not cry. you never cry.
crying makes you look ugly, boss always scolds you whenever he sees a tiny little tear attempting to leave the cage which are your eyes.
"i won a race today." to anyone else it might seem like a casual comment yet to you whose every move is watched like vultures watching a poor weak lamb limp as it tries to fight against it's inevitable death, this means a lot because he's really not treating you like you are an eye candy but rather as a normal person because he knows this normalcy is something you will never get.
"you are amazing dazai-san --"
"dazai." he corrects you, sitting up as he looks at you with his head tilted, a charming boyish smile on his face which makes your stomach flutter, "no need for honorific, hm? or i will use them with you too."
no, it's not only your stomach that flutters but the lining of your stomach that folds, your intestines which squeeze and your lungs which stop functioning whenever he speaks to you because his voice is so soft and gentle it feels as if everything will be better, the bad time will pass and good will come find you, that's what his voice is.
"you are not good for my health dazai-san-- dazai." you correct yourself at the last second, smiling at how better his name sounds without having to use honorific which you only use with clients to make them feel even more superior then what they already are,. you continue, "do you do this with every girl over here?"
you turn to look at him, tears still in your eyes yet none of you comment or acknowledge them. he grins, "do what?"
"make them feel special."
"nah," he quickly shakes his head, grinning as he leans closer to tap your nose, "i only do that with my special girl."
he freezes. the grin that takes over your lips and brightens your features, which makes you look much more happier and more your age and the realisation that it's because of him makes him feel funny.
he looks down, feeling shy now as he leans his head on your shoulder, making you halt as you look down at him.
"you say all that to me yet don't you know how bad you are for my health?" he mutters in a pouty tone, making your heart do flips.
"but i am only this way with you --"
"i know." he whispers.
"it's because you make me feel comfortable and i don't feel obligated to act a certain way around yo --"
"i know." he whispers again and you huff.
"what are you? a mindreader?"
"yeah, and i can even read your mind!" dazai teases, cackling as he sees the look of skepticism on your face. it's always worth it to see your reactions. "right now, you need to close your eyes and go to sleep for a while. your brain is begging you to take a small nap." he teases, once again a cackle escapes his lips when he sees your eyes widen, it's almost comical to him.
to you, however, it's astonishing because how does he know about the pounding headache on the back of your head? is he that good at reading people? must be. these are the times where you realise how much intellect this man hides behinds his tomfoolery, the times which makes a sensible part of you scream to distance yourself from this enigmatic man.
but how can you?
oh truly, how can you!
he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you towards his chest, leaning back against the couch as he tries to find a possible position which will be comfortable for you both.
truly how can you distance yourself from him when every touch leaves your skin tingling and wanting more?
greed is inevitable and you are no God.
you fall for greed too. especially when it comes in the form of a man named dazai osamu.
as the man who has your whole attention shifts the cushions behind you both to find a specific position which will make his aching muscles to sing praises for showing them mercy, your eyes do not stray away from him, a true devoted follower.
you stare intently at his bandages emerging from deep below his neck as you wonder how he got them. he doesn't really speak much about him. you do not want to risk asking and angering him too.
"if you want to ask questions, prepare to answer some yourself too." he advices, not even looking at you yet it feels as if there is a pair of invisible eyes behind his head which are devouring your walls and masks. you nod. "how do i know it's the right time to ask?"
he pauses, a look of thought on his face though it's only a act, he quickly goes back to smoothing and adjusting the cushions as he answers, "when you have the upper hand."
you purse your lips. upper hand against someone like him? yeah, as if.
your sigh is inaudible as the advice he gave can't be used against him at all.
"hm. so much sighing from someone so young. when does your shift end again?" he asks which makes you look at the clock on the wall, "in half an hour. why?"
you look at him. his eyes are closed and a lazy smirk is on his face. "in half an hour let's go on a date. who knows how many upper hands you may receive if you do?"
his words are a trap. a bait to lure you in. you shake your head, not wanting to take unnecessary risk but the thought of being alone with boss for the night is more unpleasant, you can either sit in a room with snacks or rats.
the latter doesn't seem as dangerous as snakes but truly what's more scarier â the eye catching snake or the rats which curries away from under one's nose?
that's dazai and boss respectively. the date and being alone with boss likewise.
you blame dazai for this, ever since you began to meet with him a few months ago you began to see how disgusting boss really is, he makes your skin curl in disgust after dazai opened your eyes to what you consider normal to not be anyone else's normal.
you take your bottom lip between your upper row of teeth, sinking them onto your plush lip as you ponder while dazai removes his watch and tosses it on the glass spherical coffee table made of black marble. his moves are casual but he's a pretty snake. like a mamba.
the mamba or the rat?
"where ..... will we go?" you cautiously ask to which he hums. "a secret spot."
"your racing venue?"
"no. it's too soon for that â maybe after two or three dates i might take you there too?" he grins as he talks, eyes not opening because you know he doesn't think of you as a threat. you, however, do.
you nod. it's a date so maybe you should get ready?
as if hearing your thoughts, he shakes his head. dazai sits up and let's out a few curses when his joints pop in protest, screaming at this man who doesn't show mercy to even his own self.
"i don't want you to not enjoy yourself with me because of a headache. for now, you will sleep." he orders. it's not a advice or words spoken from worry but a prophecy in a way which will be true if you do not follow him.
what a dictator.
though you do not object for you have no reason to yet. instead you curl by his side, leaning back against his open arm. with your face against his chest, you close your eyes as the drumming of his fingers against your shoulders are a lullaby.
as your eyes close you are unable to see the pair of eyes who got their pigment from the sorrow it went through. sun lights and honey and tree trunks are all romanticized but his eyes are the colours of a abandoned and dried tree trunk which always feels as if this breath is it's last breath but then somehow the roots find water and its pulled up by the thread it's hanging on which dangles between life and death.
his fingers curl against your shoulder as he pulls you closer, shutting his eyes as his other hand is on your hip and pulls you closer by it.
though an hour later in the starry and chilly night sky which has no witnesses apart from the coldness, you crouch on the ground and scream. "dazai!"
you close your eyes to not look at the white tiger which lunges at you to attack you, his body looking majestic under the night sky.
ones whoâve had more than a couple of wet dreams about you, dreams theyâd never confess to.
kissing you for the first time feels like theyâre 12 again, reliving that dizzying discovery of pleasure, like when they first learned how to touch themselves.
theyâre starving for you, slipping their tongue into your mouth as if trying to devour every bit of you, pulling you closer until your clothed front brushes against their aching hardness.
one needy moan of their name, and theyâre goneâruined without even needing a touch.
theyâll never admit it, but you're so irresistible that they can't help but cum untouched.
âĄËËË hiiii, welcome to the final installment of the fic thatâs taken over my life for the last four months ⥠ÌÌ be sure to start here if you're new ⥠moving on from this story will be emotional i canât lie, i've gotten way too invested in this but i'm very happy that i was able to see it through and hopefully do it justice. what started off as a small idea turned into something much bigger and i'm so thankful for all of the love and support you guys gave me. i love u all SO much, thanks for sticking with me on this ⥠biblically-cannon-megumi x fem!reader. slow burn. hurt / comfort. aged up characters. forced proximity. (light) enemies to lovers. eventual smut. this is what jjk could've been if fushiguro was the main character and gege wouldâve been hugged as a child. lemme know whatcha think, luv u âĄËËË
Despite absolutely everythingâ despite your better judgement, despite the sick, burning sense of anxiety that had taken over your mind and body, you'd still... covered for him. Giving Gojo vague and concise answers, fabricating lies to make Megumi's late-night disappearances seem less concerning than they actually were. Telling him that it'd just started happening instead of admitting that it'd actually been going on for nearly two months. Painting a soft, false picture that he was usually only ever gone for an hour at a time though there had been several nights he hadn't made it back until nearly 4 in the morning. Mending his worries with whatever reassuring words you could string together to make him loosen up on his questioning until he'd finally closed the door to your dorm, leaving you with a poignantâ "If anything else happens, you come find me."
You weren't sure how you'd managed to hold it together so well, but the minute it was just you alone with your thoughts again, you found your hands trembling as you rushed over to his side of the room. Reminding yourself to breathe while you rummaged through his bookshelf and nightstand for any sort of explanation.
Going through his things felt wrong, but not going through them would've somehow felt worse. If you'd learned anything from your time spent with him, it was that Megumi Fushiguro was a lot of things, but deceitful without cause wasn't one of them. He wasn't the type to lie for no reason. He held his secrets unreasonably close to his chest but never out of malice. If he was hiding something, if he was lying to you, Gojo, Nobara, and Yuujiâ arguably the only people he'd ever really let in, it wasn't because he wanted to.
His belongings were every bit as organized and well-guarded as he was though, hardly anything seeming suspicious or out of place no matter how many journals and textbooks you searched through. You were trying to be as meticulous as you could, doing your very best not to acknowledge the race against the clock you knew were up against or the ever-increasing weight that was sitting on your chest as you reached for the only book leftâ the one that you'd gifted him for his birthday.
You pushed past your body's consternation, carefully flipping through the pages when finally, a folded up loose-leaf piece of paper fell out of it, making your heart completely abandon any semblance of a steady rhythm.
It was a series of bullet-points mostly, jotted down information about reversed curse techniques and different types of healing abilities that didn't seem to go in any particular order. You were almost afraid that you'd hit another dead-end until your eyes landed on the bottom of the page. Your legs suddenly struggling to keep you upright as you trailed over his handwriting, all of the rigid pieces of the last few months gradually beginning to unravel and connect.
"Technique Name: 'Kokoro Kiri' - also known as Heart Severing," it read, "is a reversed curse technique developed to manipulate, distort, and erase memories by severing the spiritual and emotional connections tied within a person's mind. This technique utilizes cursed energy to fracture the target's emotional bonds to certain experiences and people, effectively making them unable to access specific memories."
The page nearly slipped from your grasp, your hand suddenly shaking beyond your control as you forced yourself to take a seat on the edge of his bed. Your breathing was alarmingly uneven, tears desperately trying to push their way out no matter how hard you fought to keep them at bay. As much as you wanted to lie to yourselfâ to naively choose to believe that all of this somehow wasn't directly related to you, you couldn't.
Reality had you backed into a corner with its steel grip locked firmly around your neck and there was no escaping it.
Your vision was blurry, the words almost bleeding together as you continued on to the last paragraph, "Memory Fragmentationâ typically performed by a healer, is used to destroy emotional and cognitive connections attached to selected memories or selected people in the target's mind. In some extreme cases, a skilled enough user may even have the capability to erase large portions of their target's past or sever bonds between them and a specified individual. Unlike memory manipulation or distortion, this ability creates a void in the target's mind, leaving them with a permanent sense of disconnection from who or what was once there."
The oxygen had all but vanished from the room as you stared back at his words, a devastatingly cruel fate laid out in such pretty handwriting. It was hard to fathom, that the same hands that had touched you so gentlyâ the ones that had played with your hair until you'd fallen asleep, the ones that had tangled into yours on the nights that neither one of you wanted to be alone were the same ones that had been carrying around the weight of this plan all along.
You knew him well enough to know that this wasn't something he'd just decided onâ no, nothing Megumi ever did was half-thought-out or impulsive. He was unbearably analytical. Annoyingly thorough when it came to most things, but especially research. He'd never bother to waste his time on variables or flimsy possibilities. If he was going to do something, he had to be impossibly sure that it would work, which meant that thisâŠÂ this must've been a guarantee.
All of those moments of hesitationâ both big and small. The layers of distance and formality. The harsh, venomous silence that he used to separate himself from you. They all finally made sense.
"Itadori. Kugisaki. Anyone else here that you meet, for that matter,"Â he'd said, "theyâre not your friends.â
The tears that streamed down your face were painful and completely unavoidable as you pulled your knees up to your chest, letting your head rest against your arm while his words continued to haunt you.
âYou canât avoid it forever."Â The way he'd said it had felt so cold and unwarranted at the time. "Youâre gonna have to get used to loss and to keeping everyone you meet at a distance."Â But it'd never occurred to you until now just how necessary that conversation actually was.
It had been a warning, not for you, but for himself.
Your body was numb, mind completely overrun with questions that you weren't sure you even wanted answers to, and they just kept multiplying the longer you sat with it all.
You allowed yourself another minute to breathe before slowly unfolding your legs and using the sleeve of your hoodie to dry your cheeks. Letting your eyes drift over the page one last time as you carefully tucked it into his book again and got to your feet, wedging it back into the spot you'd taken it from.
Would he have told you? Or would you have woken up one day with a void in the place that he should've been, not even realizing that something was missing? How far did this go, exactly? If there were different degrees of memory fragmentation, where did his interest in using it begin and where did it end?
The only real thing that made sense to you was that this must've been some sort of loophole to negate his contract with Yaga. To either free you from Jujutsu Society as a whole or to break his tie to you. It was too late at this point thoughâ after everything that had happened, you didn't want to go down either of those paths and the fact that he did, the fact that he had somehow come to terms with the entirety of this... it made you realize that maybe you'd never actually known him at all.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, abruptly pulling you back to reality as his name flashed across the screen: "No project tonight," it read, "it'll finally just be us."
You stared at the text, unable to even write back a simple reply with how hard it was to keep yourself standing upright and steady. Your thumbs hovered above the keys, almost typing, but never actually letting a full thought form before another blue bubble popped up from him: "I wish it could always just be us."
Tears were instantly pricking at the corners of your eyes again, your insides burning as your chest constricted. Precarious but determined fingertips spelling out the last bit of honesty that seemed to exist between the two of youâ
He was frozen in place, the cold chill of the abandoned church that they'd been assigned to suddenly feeling like the very least haunting thing he was up against as he stashed his phone back into his pocket. Nothing had gone right since you'd dropped the three of them off. They'd been stuck in the same cathedral for hours and still hadn't found so much as a trace of cursed energy despite how small the area was.
Everyone was getting worn down and frustrated, but they didn't have the luxury of coming back empty-handed. His concern should've been on finding a solution, on checking the place over again to see if there was a hidden door or passageway that they'd somehow missedâ something, anything that might lead them to the cursed object they were supposed to find. But instead, the only thought occupying his scattered, sleep-deprived mind was your use of the word "could've". The concise, intentional past-tense bite it had to it.
You were more similar to him than he'd care to admit, clumsy with your words at times and prone to rambling when nervous, but just like him, you never spoke out of turn. You were tactful. Soft-spoken, yet very deliberate when it came to expressing your feelings.
"Could've been" felt like a serrated knife because it was meant to. "Could've been" held the weight of a threat because it was one. "Could've been" implied that you knew something becauseâ
"God, this is a pain in the ass," Kugisaki huffed, rolling a piece of rubble under her shoe as Fushiguro found himself actually pacing the longer he mulled over it. "We've looked damn near everywhere, there's nothing here!"
"Maybe Gojo gave us the wrong coordinates." Itadori shrugged, plopping himself down on one of the concrete pews as he stretched his arms behind his head.
Gojo.
Why did everything in his god-forsaken life have to lead back to Gojo?
You were the only two people at Jujutsu High with everyone else being out on missionsâ of course he'd tried to talk to you to see how things had been going. Gojo was constantly keeping tabs on him, always poking around to see how he was doing even when it was none of his concern. And you, being youâ you'd probably been honest with him, not understanding how consequential your answers were.
The picture had become excruciatingly clear to him, what must've led up to that one single text from you. There was no wishful thinking left, no maybes or what-ifs that could possibly free him from this hell that you were both aware of now. Reality had him in the same chokehold it had you in, its grip just as merciless around his throat tooâ you knew and the only thing he could do was accept it.
He drew in a sharp breath, running a staggered hand over his face as his footsteps finally came to a pause. "We're withdrawing for now."
Kugisaki's eyes snapped up towards his, a blend of relief and confusion sweeping over her as she blinked back at him. "You sure?"
Fushiguro had never backed down from an assignment. Never tapped out no matter how long or grueling a mission was, but this was different. He could barely focus on anything, could barely keep himself present and coherent let alone concentrate on piecing together the layout of this abandoned building.
He needed to talk to you. Needed to get back to his room as soon as he could. It was the first time in his life that his emotions had managed to overrule his logic. Whatever was here clearly wasn't as threatening as it was thought to beâ it could wait, you couldn't.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, shooting you a text to let you know that they were ready as he motioned for Itadori and Kugisaki to follow him.
"We'll come back tomorrow," he reasoned, trying to sound more sure of himself than he actually was, "we can talk to Gojo about it in the morning and reconvene when we have more information, but there's no sense in staying here all night."
He knew neither of them would fight him on the decision, they'd both been practically half-way out the door before he'd even said anything anyway.
He stuffed his hands into his jacket, a sobering gust of late-winter air swirling around him as they stepped outside and started heading towards the cafe that you'd dropped them off at earlier.
Nervousness wasn't a feeling he knew well, but it had become a deep, painful pit in the center of his stomach the closer they got to you. There was so much he had to explain, so many agonizing words that he had to somehow make seem acceptable even though they were anything but.
He hesitated as he reached for the car door, his eyes meeting yours with all the caution in the world before he finally settled into the passenger's seat and gently reached over to rest the palm of his hand on your thigh, almost flinching at the idea of you pushing him away. It was hard to process that you'd somehow become both the cause and the remedy to his distress.
Your voice was even, your composure seemingly in-tact, but the way you looked at him... your glossy, defeated stare told a completely different story than the nonchalant facade you were putting on for your friends.
The ride back was unnervingly calmâ you, Itadori, and Kugisaki all chatting back and forth, the volume of the radio getting turned up and down every few minutes depending on the song, Kugisaki's laughter echoing from the backseat at something Itadori had said. He found his grip tightening around your leg in a feeble attempt to stop his racing thoughts while his head rested against the window when the warmth of your hand landed on top of his. Your eyes subtly drifting over to him with more reassurance than he deserved.
His heart was lodged in his throat by the time you pulled into the parking lot, each step feeling more damning than the last as you made your way to the dorms until you'd finally reached the end of the hall. You both waved and said your goodnights to Itadori and Kugisaki before you dug your key out of your hoodie and opened the door, leaving him alone with you and the truths he couldn't possibly say.
It was quiet, the tension in the room absolutely suffocating as you stripped out of your coats and put your uniforms away, dodging glances from each other while changing into your usual sleepwear. He took a seat on the side of his bed, his pulse ringing through his ears as he watched you put your hair up in the mirror.
He could see your apprehensionâ the internal debate of whether to say something or stay silent. The indecision of retreating back to your bed or his. It was in every movement you made, every small detail of your mannerisms plagued with a sense of uncertainty that made him ache.
He swallowed hard as he reached his hand out to you, "Can youâ" He cleared his throat, watching you slowly turn to face him. "Can you come here?"
The same hurt he was feeling was reflected in your gaze, your breathing coming to a visible stop as you struggled to look back at him.
"Please?"
His voice was barely a whisper, wavering and broken but still strong enough to pull you in.
You turned off the light before taking his hand, letting his arms wrap around you as you burrowed yourself into his chest. The familiar scent of him settling your nerves while his lips pressed against the top of your head and his fingertips began drawing soft, hazy patterns along your shoulder. The two of you welcoming the calm silence that followed as you sank further into the safety of one another.
Growing up, you'd never really known if home was supposed to be a place or a feeling. You'd lost it so many years ago, you figured there wasn't much sense in giving significance to a word that didn't belong in your vocabulary anymore anyway, but finally being with him after the day that you'd both had... You quickly realized that maybe it still did exist after allâ not as a place or a feeling, but as both. It was here, right inside the small space between you. It was this, the sound of his heart beating steadily against your temple.
It was him and there was going to come a day where you'd wake up without the privilege of even being able to remember the beauty of what you'd lost.
Your chest heaved against your will, tears soaking his shirt as they spilled down your cheeks, the weight of it all becoming far too crippling to bear. Your arms locked around his waist desperately. Hopeless, childlike thoughts suddenly soaring through your mind likeâ maybe if you held onto him tight enough, you could somehow stay here forever, maybe if you could find the right things to say then time wouldn't have to carry on.
His grasp mirrored yours, holding you as steady as he could while letting out soft little nothings that all bled together, âShh, it's okay. I've got you." and "Please breathe, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
He was dangerously close to his own breaking point too though, the only thing holding him together was the need to be strong for you. His resolve was crumbling, every wall he'd ever built absolutely annihilated by the feeling of your nails digging into his sides as you clung onto him like he was the most important thing in the world.
"I don'tâwantâ" you shook your head at the thought, your words choppy and almost impossible to get out. "I don't... want toâ leave you."
He let out a semblance of an exhale, fighting to keep his hands from shaking as he guided you down onto the bed with him so that you were both laying down with his arms still wrapped around you and your head back on his chest.
The way you trembled against him as he ran his fingers through your hair was the exact reason why he'd kept all of this hidden in the first placeâ the same reason why he'd tried so hard to keep his distance from you. This pain would've always been inevitable for him, but it shouldn't have been for you.
He continued to brush away your tears, more reassuring whispers spilling out every so often until your body finally started to relax. Your breathing gradually coming back down to a normal pace while his thumb traced along your neck.
"If it were up to me," he swallowed, forcing his vision to stay pointed up at the ceiling. "Things would be different."
You lifted your head slightly, your eyes roaming over his face as your fingers absentmindedly tangled into the collar of his shirt.
"You'd stay here with me. We'd graduate together." He rested a hand over his forehead to keep himself distracted from the weight of your stare, knowing it was the only way he could the next part out. "But, that's not how this place worksâ things are rarely good and when they are, they don't last long. There's... a lotâ so much you don't know about the contract that's keeping you here."
Your lips parted, but no words came out, your shoulders suddenly stiff again as you watched him.
"I havenât been protecting you because Yaga told me to or because Gojo told me to or even because it was my assignment to... Iâve been protecting you because it's what I promised myself I would do."
It was like looking into a storm over the ocean when his eyes met yours again, graveness mixed guilt. "I need you to listen to me, okay? Really listen to me. This doesn't leave this room. This doesn't leave us."
You gave him a slow nod, chills splintering down your spine as he cupped your face with his hand.
"Yaga's original plan to have you executed didn't necessarily end just because I intervened. All I was able to do was postpone it and have the responsibility of who would carry it out be... transferred."
The air had officially been stolen from your lungs.
"My job? My actual mission when it comes to you? Is to monitor you. To watch you. To see if you'll have any lingering effects after coming into contact with Sukuna's finger as a non-sorcerer. You might as well be a science experiment to Yaga and the other higher-ups.â The disgust in his voice was thick, heavy. âI'm supposed to be the one to make sure nothing goes wrong while you're here. I'm contracted to keep close tabs on you to ensure that if Sukuna takes over Yuuji's body to try and coax information out of you, you aren't able to give it to him..."
It was the first time you'd seen his emotions evolve past his usual irritability or stoicism. He'd finally reached the core of it. The root of all of the negativity that he had bottled up inside of him for so long. It wasn't something as simple as anger or resentmentâ no, it was... grief that heâd been facing.
"The agreement was never for me to keep you safe, it was for me... to kill you if you became too much of a liability." He could barely look at you, his jaw clenched, the room blurred by tears he wasn't prepared to shed.
"That's whyâ I leave every night... I got Shoko to tip me off to a healer on the outskirts of Tokyo and we've been... going over different techniques... I've been burying myself in research, trying to figure outâ" He paused, more violent waves of shame crashing over him as his thumb continued to lightly trace your jawline. "Trying to figure out the least invasive way to go about this because Iâ don't want it to... hurt. I want you to be able to keep as many memories as you can. I... want it to be... quick and painless. Iâ just want you to be... safe. Safe and out of here. That's all I care about."
You were crying again, but this time for both of you, for every single dismal decision that had been made and led to this.
You almost felt selfish for your own feelings, finally seeing the full scope of his. He'd saved youâ again and again. And even after managing to find a way to do it one last time, he was still on the losing side of it. He would always be bound to the knowledge of what he'd done to you no matter how much time passed. You'd go on to not remember him, but oh god, would he remember you.
He'd been mourning you since the day you arrived and it'd only been getting worse with each day that he woke up with your body pressed against his. Even when he fought to find solutions, they still came with such a steep price that they ended up feeling like losses in disguise.
Neither side of this was fair. You'd be a late-night what-if that haunted him for the rest of his life and he'd be that place between sleep and awake for you. That confusing, gut-wrenching feeling of waking up and missing someone so immensely only to question if they'd ever really existed or not.
Both of your fates were equally cruel in vastly different ways, but realizing the selflessness behind his plan made something inside of you break. Everything he'd done, all of it, had always been for... you.
His hands were firm and secure against the sides of your face as he guided you up to him, looking back at you with all of the strength he had left.
"You've gotta trust me, okay?" Even through your own tears, you could still seehis too. Just barely pricking at the corners of his eyes as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear like he'd done so many times before only none of it felt the way it should've. "I'll get you out of here. I won't let anything happen to you. But I need you to promise you won't fight me on this because.... it's the only way... we have to be in this together. Please."
Your breathing was staggered, your mind completely overwhelmed by promises you couldn't possibly make but had to. Feelings you absolutely couldn't lose but had to.
"What happens to you?" You faltered. "After all of this is said and doneâ where will it leave you?"
You couldn't help but think that the somber smile that cut across his face was one of the prettiest and most devasting things you'd ever get to see in your life.
"Doesn't really matter..." he whispered, featherlight touches still trailing across your skin. "I get to know that you're okay and that's enough."
His grip tightened around you, delicately pulling you closer to him until his mouth was grazing yours. "Promise me."
You wouldn'tâ you wouldn't do this for anyone else in the entire fucking world, and yet, you'd do it... for him. Your voice was shattered, barely audible as you finally agreed.
"Promise."
He rested his forehead rested against yours, taking a moment to soak you in. To share the same space as you. To hold you and know that he didn't have to let go just yet.
"You know, I used to watch you too." he said, lips softly pressing into yours as more tears spilled down your cheeks. "Across from the courtyardâ you sat in the very back corner with a book in your hand. I always liked that about you."
You shook your head in disbelief with a half-hearted smile as he kissed you, again and again, more easy little confessions from him slipping out between breaths. Quietly reminiscing while he played with your hair, easing the room back into its usual calm state before he reached for the comforter and wrapped it around the two of you, letting your head nuzzle into the crook of his neck.
He watched you intently as you slowly began to drift off, your words tapering down to incoherent little hums while your body tangled further into his. Exhaustion finally stealing you away. He laid as still as he could, memorizing the ceiling pattern while the sound of your breathing mixed with the snow tapping against the window. The warmth of your skin perfectly contrasting the frigid temperatures outside.
Maybe Gojo had been right after allâ because from where he was laying, he really couldnât imagine any curse or nightmare or hell that was scarier than what he was feeling right now.
Ijichi returned back to classâ but you didn't, refusing to leave the comfort of Megumi's bed. As much as you both needed to keep up appearances to avoid any more suspicion being tossed his way from the higher-ups, he still didn't fight you when you told him you weren't going. "I just..." you'd hesitated, your body not at all ready to untangle itself from the faux safety of his sheets. "I think I need a day to..."
"I get it." His eyes were just as exhausted and heavy as yours, but he'd still tucked you in anyway, gently wrapping his blanket around your shoulders as his stare lingered over you for a moment. "Don't worry about Ijichi," he said, "I'll tell him you're not coming. Shouldn't be a big deal. Just... try and get some rest."
You'd nodded, a seed of guilt settling into the pit of your stomach for not being able to pull yourself together when you knew he didn't have any other choice. He didn't fault you for it thoughâ instead, he'd kissed the side of your cheek, whispering a soft but impossible, "It's gonna be alright." before smoothing down the collar of his uniform and heading out the door.
All of the progress that you'd made over the last six monthsâ all of the painfully naĂŻve optimism that you'd been clinging onto about finding purpose and normalcy suddenly felt so hollow, cruel almost. If Megumi's plan played out the way it was supposed to, it meant that you had approximately 9 days left until your mind would be permanently altered in ways that you couldn't even begin to let yourself try and comprehend.
You'd decided that you'd return back to class tomorrowâ you'd take your meaningless little quizzes on probability and ratios and listen to Ijichi's lectures and do your very best to pretend that it didn't feel like your insides were catching fire with each passing minute. You'd put your best fake smile forward and go through the motions no matter how much of a slow death it felt like, because that's what you promised Megumi you'd do. But until tomorrow came, you weren't leaving his bed for anything.
You drew in a sharp breath, willing to time to stop, even if just for a second as you attempted to declutter your thoughts. Maybe it was a coping mechanism or maybe it was because you were all too aware of the fact that soon, they'd no longer be there, but you couldn't stop yourself from sifting through old memories. Digging through the recesses of your mind like it was an old attic, letting nostalgia crash over you so hard you were almost afraid you wouldn't be able to find your way back to the present.
It started off slow, little snippets and fragments of mid-July air and the sound of your childhood best friend's laughter. Easy things like swing sets and waking up to the smell of fresh-baked bread at your grandma's house, but then you really started to remember the details. The duality and nuances of that house...
You rolled over as you rested your head in your hand, a painful static rippling through your mind.
You'd had to start over so many times in lifeâ from the unexpected death of your parents when you were a kid, to moving into your grandma's house the summer before middle school after she'd gained full custody of you... She'd always been so kind and gentle but also feeble with a slew of health issues surrounding her. You'd been terrified when you'd lost her freshmen year, completely unsure of what your fate would be. You'd managed to avoid foster care though, quietly living in her house alone since it was already paid off. Keeping the utilities and yourself afloat with the small bank account she'd left you with.
"Come by my place after school,"Â you'd never forget how relieved you were when he'd offered his house for that project instead of asking about yours.
Your life had been uprooted more times than you could count, everyone you'd ever loved ended up being torn away from you in the most unexpected and unfair ways imaginable... But even with everything that you'd faced, there was still nothing that could've prepared you for what happened at that party.
Your best friend who went with you... the way she held your hand while the two of you browsed through thrift stores and laughed together. She was the only one back then who really knew your situation...
"Fifteen fatalities have been reported so far, but we're still keeping an eye on it." She was your immediate first thought, yet another part of yourself that you'd lost only this time, it had been your fault. "Usually when something like this happens, the numbers climb more often than they fall."
Your fingers tangled into Megumi's blanket, the smell of him swirling around you as tears streamed down your face. While he may have carried the weight of it differently than you did, he wasn't the only one who had been forced to deal with loss. It'd been a haunting and viciously persistent theme in your life too, one that you were painfully tired of having to accept.
Your head was throbbing, your eyes closing to try and block out the rest of it when a knock at the door forced you back into the room.
"It's me!" Yuuji called out, his voice just as familiar and comforting as it always had been. "Promise I'll be in and out, I just wanted to drop off some curry for you."
You swallowed hard before rubbing a hand over your face to steady yourself. You didn't need a mirror to tell you that you looked like hell, but you still stole a quick glance at yourself anyway as you made your way to the door, cringing at the distraught reflection that stared back at you.
"Sorry to drag you out of bed when you're sick but Fushiguro said that..." The way his face fell as his eyes trailed over you made your stomach drop. "What happened...?"
You shook your head, offering him the most sincere smile you could manage. "Just... a really bad migraine." You shrugged, taking the bag of food from him. "I've been trying to sleep it off, I'll be alright."
You knew he didn't believe you.
âA migraine?â
"Yeah, they come out of nowhere sometimes." You nodded, a tidal wave of guilt washing over you for so blatantly lying to him. âI should be okay by tomorrow. It's really not a big deal."
"Right..." He hesitated, doing his best to map out his words. âWell, you know that if youâre not okay tomorrow⊠or the day after that⊠you can talk to me, right?â
The only thing you could do was nod again, the lump in your throat threatening to break as you fought the overwhelming urge to grab his wrist and ask him to sit with you. To tell him how much you were going to miss him. To tell him how much he and Nobara meant to you. To tell him that even if you didn't remember them, they'd always be a part of your heart... But you couldn't, you couldn't say hardly anything between the weight of his concern and Megumi's secret. Â
He waited another few seconds, his apprehension to leave you alone palpable. But when you didn't say anything else, he finally took a step back. âJust... get to feeling better, okay?"
You nodded again, your voice catching as you said, âI will."
He shot you a faint smile and you did your best to return it before he disappeared back down the hall towards the sound of Nobara's voice. "She okay?" You heard her ask as you closed the door.
Everything in your life had always been fleeting and temporary but knowing that they were too was a level of a pain that you weren't ready to face. Your hands shook as you set the bag of curry down on the nightstand and fell back into Megumi's bed, curling into yourself as a sob racked through your body without warning.
You'd experienced more grief than you could ever put into words, and still, nothing had ever hurt quite like this.
Megumi's footsteps were light when he returned, his movements cautious as he approached you, glancing over at the untouched food by his bed.
He ran a gentle hand along your back, trying his best to keep you comfortable despite the selfish part of him that wanted to wake you up and bury his head into your chest after a long day.
You shifted, your hand instinctively reaching out for his as your eyes started to open, your surroundings still a blur. It was later than you'd anticipated it being, the moon just barely lighting up his side of the room.Â
"You should eat," he said quietly, his thumb rubbing patterns into the inside of your palm.
"I know." You winced, your stomach burning at the thought. "I just... can't right now."
A blend of understanding and worry flickered through his stare as he pressed a light kiss onto the top of your hand. It wasn't like he'd necessarily been taking the best care of himself either the last few weeks.
He kicked off his shoes, stripping down into a t-shirt and boxers before laying down with you, the warmth of your body settling over him in a way he didn't realize he needed until he had it again.
A small smile crept across your face as he nestled into you, his tired arms wrapping around your waist while your fingers threaded through his hair, your nails just barely grazing his scalp. His legs were cold against yours, the sobering smell of winter air and pine filling the space between you.
You stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the sound of his breathing as it gradually began to sync with yours. It was rare that he clung to you like this, but it never failed to make you feel safe, like the rest of the world couldn't touch you as long as he was near you.Â
The thought was soft when it first entered your mind, deceptively dreamy and trancelike with the way it had flowed in so easily. It was warmth, comfort, and... panic.
Your pulse quickened as the sentence echoed through your mind again, louder this time. Three words that you couldnât possibly let yourself hold onto. Three words that represented everything you were losing. The feeling shifted from something gentle and manageable to sharp and serrated as it started to press against your ribs, demanding space you couldnât afford to give it. Your fingers stilled in his hair, another rush of static and tears suddenly clouding your vision.
âHey.â
His voice was low and steady as it cut through the haze, his hand brushing against your side. He propped himself up, tentatively hovering above you while his eyes searched yours. He could feel your heart racing, the way it was practically trying to beat through your chest.
"Breathe for me, okay?"Â He reached for your hand, but you could barely register it, a haze of anxiety replacing reality as your surroundings began to blur together.
You grabbed the side of your head, desperately closing your eyes to try and escape it, but the static in your mind only continued to spread. The room faded in and out, the edges of his face blurring together as the panic attack swept over you with vengeance. All of the things you wanted to say but couldn't. All of the feelings that you'd tried to bury but couldn'tâ they were all right there, right at the forefront of the storm.
Your fingers tangled into the fabric of Megumi's shirt, his face just inches apart from yours. He was still talking, still trying to keep you steady, but it wasn't working. There was a deafening ringing in your ears. A sea of scattered thoughts and displaced emotions crashing down around you. And thenâ
Nothing.
The static had somehow lifted, the suffocating wave of fear dying down. Your panic gradually replaced by what felt like an impossible stillness as he continued to hold you.
"Hey," the franticness in his voice was something you'd never heard before. "Look at me. Please, justâ"
Your eyes fluttered open slowly, your vision clearing as you let the hand that you had pressed to your forehead fall back down to your side.Â
The relief he felt was fleeting, quickly replaced by something else entirely as you froze again, your gaze locking onto something over his shoulder.Â
You thought they were shadows at firstâ the type of looming figures that you'd see out of the corner of your eye when you'd been up for too long. The ones that would disappear with a simple blink, but the two sets of glowing eyes staring back at you were only becoming more and more visible the longer you looked at them.
Your head tilted slightly, taking in the mix of black and white fur, the matching red markings that decorated their foreheads before the smaller one took a step towards you, its movements gentle but seemingly protective as it laid beside you at the edge of the bed.
Megumi shifted, his shoulders visibly stiffening as he watched your reactionâ the way your eyes carefully drifted over the Shikigami next to you. He drew in a sharp breath, keeping his tone as even as he could despite his own fears rising, realizing what this meant.
The sun had just started to creep in through the blinds, but Megumi hadn't slept at all. He laid with his eyes closed and his mind racing for the better part of the night, tracing delicate patterns along your skin any time you'd start to stir.
"It's more common than you'd think," Gojo said as they walked across the training field, the August sun beating down on both of them. "Negativity takes on all kinds of different forms, it's not always as black and white as we make it out to be."
Megumi had shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes pointed down at the track as they made their way past two first-years struggling to land a hit on each other. "But if curses only become visible when someone's on the brink of death, then why â"
"That's not the only time it happens." Gojo interjected, "There are exceptions, just like anything else. All it takes is for enough grief and despair to hit someone at just the right frequency and..." He snapped his fingers, pulling Megumi's attention towards him again. "A non-sorcerer would be able to start seeing things they shouldn'tâ curses, residuals, it would all become visible to them."
Megumi's pace slowed, his brows furrowing the longer he thought about it. "And you think that's what happened to him?" He finally asked, "You think he just... spiraled so hard that he stumbled into this world by accident?"
"More or less." Gojo rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "Look, Junpei was a perfect example of what can happen when all the wrongs things line up exactly at the right time. All that bullying, that isolation, losing his momâ his entire life was one long string of pain and anger. That much negativity? It doesnât usually just sit quietly. It festers. And in his case, it built up to the point where it broke through the usual barriers."
Megumi paused, trying but failing to block out how hard Yuuji had taken his death over the last month. "And cases like himâ exceptions like Junpei are... common?"
Gojo's smirk faltered, his hand resting easily on Megumi's shoulder as he bent slightly to meet his gaze. "All I'm saying is that they're not unheard of. Even the strongest people have their limits."
The memory had replayed itself so many times he could barely distinguish the present from nostalgia by the time you woke up next to him. He'd known that he was on borrowed time from the moment you'd arrived, but now... even that was gone.
His grip on you was light but firm as you started to stretch your legs, your eyes barely having the chance to open before your own thoughts began to spiral. No matter how much he tried to keep you calm, the demon dogs staring back at you were a solid reminder of where the two of you stood.
"We have to go... tonight, don't we?"
The silence that followed made your chest tighten, your hand shaking as your fingertips dug into the side of his arm. You drew in a breath before nodding in defeat, sparing him from having to be the one to say it.
You knew the second it had happened that this was what was coming, but there was still something so unexplainably damning about how it felt settling over the two of you. This was the last morning youâd wake up beside him. The last time youâd get to see him like thisâ soft and unguarded in ways no one else would ever know.
Your lips parted with those three words still desperately clinging to the tip of your tongue, but you managed to swallow them down, refusing to make things worse than they already were. It was the second time in only a few short minutes that you'd been the one to spare him.
His hand caught yours, your quiet acceptance hitting you both in steady but unrelenting waves as you laid together, your feelings embedded into every touch and every movement you made. It was tangible, absolutely everywhere in the space between you, and maybe⊠that was enough.
The hours went by like minutes, a heavy sense of finality and dread clinging onto even the most mundane thingsâ from the way it felt to help Megumi with the buttons on his uniform while the two of you got ready together to the car ride where you'd had to take him, Yuuji, and Nobara back to the same church that they'd failed their previous mission at. It was all painfully familiar and foreign at once.
You were digging mental graves for friends that were still very much alive. Glancing over at Yuuji with a small smile as he leaned up to the front of the car to make sure you were actually feeling better. Knowing that this was your last day with him and having to push down the grief of not being able to give him or Nobara a proper goodbye. Kissing Megumiâ really kissing him before you left and trying not to break down at the way his eyes lingered on you as you drove off. Every interaction you had was somehow more futile than the last and yet, you had no choice but to endure it.
By the time you reached Ijichi, you were more than ready to take a seat and tune out the rest of the world with one of his infamously dry lectures, but even his monotone voice and horrible puns were finding ways to tug at your heartstrings. Your mind wandered back to your first week with himâ how welcome he'd made you feel without even meaning to. His classroom had always felt like more of a reprieve than a punishment, a quiet comfort amongst the chaos.
You shook your head, fighting past the tears that were threatening to spill over as you busied yourself with one of the ratio equations he had on the whiteboard when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You swallowed hard, watching his name flash across screen before getting up and promptly making your way out into the hall.
He'd never called on you while on a mission.
"Hey," you exhaled, "is everythingâ"
"We found a special grade curse." He said breathlessly, "Nobaraâ she's alright, but I need you to come get her and take her back to Shoko."
The phone nearly slipped from your hand, the loud, piercing background noise coupled with Yuuji's panicked, 'Fushiguro!' made your heart feel like it was going to stop altogether.
You looked back at Ijichi from over your shoulder as Megumi continued talking, giving you instructions on what to do when you got there, but your focus was suddenly everywhere else.
"Gojo..." You hesitated, "Do you want me to bring him? Just in caseâ"
"No," his voice was sharp, leaving little room for protest. "No, Itadori and I can handle it, I just need you to come get her, okay?"
You hated the knot that had formed in your stomach, the nervousness that danced through your veins as you reluctantly agreed, telling him you'd be there as soon as you could.
When working as an assistant, sorcerers are always to take top priority regardless of the situation, it was one of the first lessons he'd gone over with you, though neither one of you had any way of knowing at the time that you'd one day be using it against him...
You zipped up your coat, shaking away the thought as you headed down the faculty stairs and dug your set of keys out of your pocket. You didn't have time for remorseâ not now, and not when the lies youâd told would be forgotten by the end of the night anyway.
The cold air nipped at your face, snow still blowing haphazardly across the parking lot as you climbed into the driver's seat, overwhelmed and completely unaware of the set of eyes that had been following you since you'd left Ijichi's classroom.
The drive there was a blur, your mind flooding with nothing but worse-case scenarios and scattered images of Nobara laughing and holding your hand as the two of you walked down the hallway together.
Knowing that she was hurt... knowing that she needed a healer while also not knowing the extent of her injuries amidst the stress of everything else you were already facing had your foot heavy on the gas pedal, your car slightly shaking from the gravel road you were on.
The city lights had vanished a few miles back, the grey overcast not helping your case as you struggled to make out buildings in the late January haze of snow and poorly marked country roads. You weren't sure if it was relief or more dread that swirled through your stomach when your GPS started to chime, but it was too late to let yourself indulge in either.
Your throat tightened when you finally spotted itâ an old worn-down cathedral in the middle of a seemingly empty field, surrounded by fresh debris and rubble that only made your anxiety swell. It was the first time you'd ever been to actual pick-up spot. The first time you'd been exposed to the things that Megumi had tried so hard to keep you sheltered from.
You peered through the icy windshield, searching but failing to find any sign of her. "She'll be out front waiting for you when you get here so just stay in the car." He'd said, "She'll come to you, okay?" Even after you'd agreed though, he still repeated it back with an unnerving amount of conviction laced into his words. "Promise meâ you won't get out of the car."
Your hands trembled as you pulled out your phone and began dialing his number, squeezing your eyes shut to try and block out just how wrong all of this felt. Each unanswered ring seemed to drag by slower than the last, your pulse thrumming through your ears by the time his voicemail echoed through the receiver.
You'd done everything that he'd asked and so much more. You'd kept his secrets. You'd protected him. You'd lied for him. You'd cared for him in more ways than you could ever bring yourself to say aloud. But this was one promise you were quickly realizing you wouldn't be able to keep as you watched a familiar thick, black smog seep out through the cracks in the boarded-up windows of the church. Another powerful thud reverberating with such intensity that it shook the ground beneath you.
"I'm sorry." You whispered, though you weren't sure if you were saying it to him or yourself as you reached for the door handle.
Your breathing came to a halt the moment that your feet hit the ground. The air was impossibly dense, contaminated with a thick layer of smoke that seemed to tangle around your limbs the closer you got to the entrance.
You could practically hear Megumi's voice screaming at you to turn around, but you forced yourself to push past it as you approached the edge of the broken stone staircase, redirecting your focus on where and where not to step.
The entryway was completely shattered, the heavy wooden doors splintered and hanging off of their hinges. You held your breath as you squeezed your way through a small opening, doing everything you could to keep yourself steady despite the trail of fog that seemed to follow you.
Your pace was meticulous, each movement calculated while you navigated your way through the wreckage. It wasn't until you saw the faint waves of light flashing through the darkness that you froze. Your eyes snapped towards the back of the church, watching in quiet horror as the unmistakable hum of cursed energy exploded across the room in bursts.
You were stuck somewhere between fight or flightâ your legs carrying you with agility you didn't even know you had as you broke into a sprint. You ducked, taking cover behind one of the destroyed pillars, just narrowly dodging a support beam that came crashing down when a hand suddenly reached out for you.
"'The hell were you thinkingâ" she coughed, her voice still maintaining its usual firmness despite how feeble it was. "You know you shouldn't be here."
"Nobara," you breathed, your hand cupped her face to wipe away the red rolling down her cheek. Her body was lax, slumped against the remains of a wooden pew with blood dripping from her hairline down to her chin.
Your insides felt like they were on fire, adrenaline flooding your system quicker than you could keep up with as you scanned the area for the most manageable way out before looking back at her. "I'm not leaving you here." You promised, your body acting faster than your brain as you reached for her arm and slung it over your shoulder.
"Are you insane? You can't justâ"
"You'd do it for me, wouldn't you?" The question was sharp enough to slice through the tension, time seeming to stop even if only for a second when her eyes met yours.
"Of course I would." She conceded, slowly lifting herself up as she leaned on you for support. "Megumi's gonna... kill you though."
It was one of the first time you'd really smiled in the last three days. "I think I'll be alright."
The calm was momentary though, another amethyst-colored beam tearing through the air. "Hold onto me." You said, tightening your grip around her waist.
Shattered stone cascaded around the two of you, your breath catching in your throat as the cursed energy spiked again, sharper and heavier than before. It almost felt alive with way it twisted around your legsâ that same fear, that same dread from the night Megumi had saved you creeping over you once more. The burning sensation seeped into your pores the higher up it climbed, rooting itself into your chest.
Your movements were strained, each step forward nearly knocking the wind out of you as you shielded Nobara from more falling debris, both of you crouching behind an abandoned altar.
The entrance was just within your reach if you could manage to keep yourself upright and steady, the light from the outside barely grazing the edge of the corridor. Right as you shifted your weight to stand thoughâ a low, guttural growl reverberated across the floor sending another wave what felt like rogue electricity beneath your skin.
"Fuck," you hissed, your vision becoming blurry as you fought to keep your focus.
"Leave me here," Nobara insisted, trying but failing to shake you off of her. "Look, Yuuji's right over there, he can grab me when heâ"
But her demands came to an abrupt end as the two of you became frozen in place, the curse emerging from the shadows to reveal a series of vine-like limbs and skin that resembled ancient bark. The size of it alone was enough to make your heart forget how to beat, but the second its eyes landed on you, the earth seemed to still entirely.
"What theâ" Megumi's voice broke through the chaos, the weight of his stare crippling when he spotted you from across the room, his frustration and concern palpable even from where he was standing.
"Go!" He shouted, another Shikigami already forming in front of him.
The figure tilted its head as if it were studying you, the pressure of its gaze pinning you to the floor. It wasnât just fear this timeâ it was something deeper, almost primal that wrapped around your spine and pulled tight as the taunting hum of its cursed energy crackled into the space between you. Its floral patterns glowing faintly in the dim light with its vines curling and writhing carefully towards you.
âWhy do you fight so hard to protect something so fleeting?â
âKugisaki!â Megumi stiffened, his hands stretched out in front of him like weapon as Nuu lunged toward the curse, but he wasn't even able make it halfway to you before a branch-like limb sprawled out and slammed the demon dog into the ground with a force that shook the foundation of the already crumbling building.
Your head felt like it was going to explode, your thoughts and emotions bleeding into each other all at once as its question repeated on an unwanted loop.
Fleeting.
âListen to me!â Nobaraâs voice suddenly felt distant, blurred by an odd sense of clarity that had started to wash over you. âLeave me here. You have to go!â
It was rightâ your life had been made up of nothing more than fleeting contentment and memories that weren't made to last. The things that you were trying so hard to fight for would be gone by tomorrow, just like everything else, but they were here now and so were you. If this had to be your last day with themâ if losing Megumi, Yuuji, and Nobara was truly inevitable no matter what choice you made, then you'd do everything you could to protect them.
âNo,â you said, the word falling from your lips before you even realized it. âI told you Iâm not leaving you.â
The curse moved again, swift but intentional, closing the distance between you while its vines began to thrash, leaving more broken concrete beneath its force. Megumi yelled your name, his expression dropping as he watched the somber smile that cut across your face when your eyes met his.
"Don't!" He warned, his hands cast backout in front of him, but your mind was already made up.
You secured your grip on Nobara, forcing her to lean more heavily on you while you dragged her a few steps closer to the fragmented remains of the entrance. You were so closeâ just a few more feet and you could hand her off to Yuuji, who was locked in a struggle of his own ahead of you.
But close wasnât enough.
The energy in the room surged again, its presence suddenly suffocating and absolutely everywhere as thick, sharp tendrils snared around your legs. Your body felt like it had caught fire, the white-hot heat of its touch making your vision flicker in and out as it started to pull you backward, Nobara's weight shifting dangerously against you.
Your jaw clenched, your ears ringing as you fought to garner up every ounce of strength you had left to push forward. You were desperate, every step seeming to tear something essential out of you, but still, you moved.
Another blinding wave of pain hit youâ the curseâs vines snapping again, just barely missing your head as they shattered another fixture above you. It was a storm of debris and splintered wood, making it hard to tell where its limbs began and the church's destruction ended.
âYuuji!â you screamed, your voice raw as your stare caught his. âTake her!"
He was stunned, too worn-down and short on time to argue with you.
Your adrenaline was exhausted, every part of your body ready and willing to collapse, but with one final push, you managed to shove Nobara toward the faint light spilling out through the ruined entryway.
She staggered, her legs barely holding her as Yuuji lunged forward, catching her in his arms right before she fell. It was the first time you had allowed yourself to really breathe since you'd found her, a warm sense of relief cutting through the pain.
But it didn't take long for it to vanish, the crushing reality of the curse now looming over you suddenly outweighing any amount of comfort you'd once had.
Its grip coiled tighter around your legs, your body going limp as it dragged you back once more. There was static in your veins, an overwhelming pressure pushing down on your ribs, the taste of copper filling your mouth.
This was it.
The background commotion slowly tapered down, your senses gradually disconnecting from your body as the chappel started to drift further and further away. A surreal sense of acceptance wrapped around you like a warm hug. No more fighting, no more flailingâ it was just you and the comfortable abyss that you were sinking into. Just you and the memories that you were able to keep until the very end. If you had to die in one way or another tonight, at least you were able to do it knowing that you had spared him one last time.
There was a distorted fluttering feeling in your chest. A dizziness in your brain. A hazy montage of impossibly blue eyes and all the things you should've said.
Megumi's head was throbbing when his eyes finally opened again, his stomach still in knots as he blinked back tears, trying to piece together where heâd ended up. He was sprawled out on a familiar grey leather couch with a knit blanket carefully tucked over him. The rigid winter air only amplifying his headache as it knocked against the window of his office.
â'Bout time you woke up."
His mind was overrun with the fractured pieces of what had happened, sensations and memories coming back in painful waves: The leveled church. The sound of glass shattering as he channeled his domain expansion. The feeling of your body pressed against his before everything vanishedâŠ
âWhereâs..." The panic he felt was all-consuming, time coming to a grinding halt when he realized that he was the only one recovering. âWhere is she...?"
Gojo's smirk was nowhere to be found, his stare softening a bit as he took a step towards him. "I talked to Shoko,"
"â And?" Megumi demanded.
"She told me about your sudden interest in Kokoro Kiri," his tone was light despite how pointed his words were, "Usually used for memory manipulation and soul severing, right? Causes the victim to forget specific people and events?"
"You know that's not what I meantâ" Megumi snapped, "Is she...?" His face was flushed, his nerves completely shot as he struggled to swallow down the rest of his question. "Look, I don't care what happens to me after this, I'll take whatever punishment the higher-ups decide on, but I need to know what happened to her. Please, just..."
Gojo's demeanor was eerily calm, his hand resting easily on Megumi's shoulder as he bent down to become eye-level with him.
"If I had to guess," he paused, "She's probably still asleep."
Megumi's lips parted but the only thing that came out was a jagged exhale, his breathing coming out in short, choppy intervals. "So she's..." His head was spinning, relief and fear both clinging onto him at once. "She's okay, then? I mean, she's not...?"
"She's got some pretty deep cuts on her legsâ probably gonna end up with a scar or two once she's fully healed, but other than that," A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched the life slowly return back to Megumi's eyes. "She's alright."
The tone of the room shifted into something more manageable despite the multitude of other unanswered questions that still sat between them. Megumi's hands shook slightly as he ran them over his face, images of the ruins he'd left behind coming back in flashes.
"You took down a special grade curse by yourself before I got there," Gojo said, almost sounding proud as he took a seat next to him. "I still had to clean up the aftermath of course, but..."
His stare lingered on him for a moment, the amusement in his tone fading, "She must be pretty important to you, huh? Making you tap into your full potential like that?"
Megumi hesitated, his gaze drifting to the floor as he nodded, remembering a brief conversation they'd had last year during a training session. "Yeah," he admitted quietly, "she is."
"You could've asked me for help, you know." Gojo shifted in his seat, letting out his own sigh while he rested his chin in his hands. "You should've asked me for help. You've gotta quit thinking that you can handle everything by yourself."
Megumi's jaw tightened, his words hanging heavily between them.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Gojo pressed, tilting his head at him as their eyes met again. "About the details of your contract? About the healer you've been seeing? Do you have any idea how bad that could've ended for you? For both of you, if you would've gone through with it?"
"I thought you already knew," Megumi bit back, exasperated by the fact that he was even asking in the first place. "You were there the night that I brought her backâ you met me in Yaga's office after the negotiation was finalized."
Gojo looked back at him incredulously, "You honestly thought that I'd let you take on that kind of burden? From the higher-ups no less?"
His head was pounding, his thoughts clouded by an unnerving mix of exhaustion and guilt. "Yaga's never done anything in regard to me without running it by you first, even some of my missions get sent to you for approval, so why the hell would this have been any different?"
"Because you're an adult now." Gojo said simply, the gravity of his sentiment strong enough to break down Megumi's defense. "I didn't ask Yaga anything about your contract because I wanted it to be something that you handled on your own. I just figured you'd be smart enough to let me know if something went wrong."
The walls of his office felt like they were closing in on him as all of the resentment and pain that he'd been grappling with for the last five months suddenly came circling back to the true source of their existenceâ him. It was never you or Gojo or anyone else that had complicated his life this much, it was his own stubbornness. His refusal to accept help and admit defeat.
"I..." He faltered, his brows furrowing as he fought to keep his emotions at bay. "I'm sorry. You're right, I should've told you. I should've known when it was too much to take on alone..."
Gojo's expression softened slightly, his shoulder gently nudging his.
"Hey," He soothed, knowing better than anyone that getting an apology from Megumiâ a sincere one, at that, meant something. "Growing pains are a part of lifeâ this isn't your first and it won't be your last, but it's what makes us human. Sometimes lessons have to be hard to be remembered."Â
Megumi was quiet as he took in his words, letting the familiar sense of solace have its moment. Â
"Don't beat yourself up over it too much though, alright?" Gojo mused as he leaned back, lazily stretching his hands behind his head. "Your face is rough enough as is and I hear there's a cute girl waiting for you down in Shoko's office."
A small smile crept across Megumi's face as he nodded before getting to his feet.
"Oh andâ and Megumi? One last thing."
He paused, his hand resting on the door handle as he looked back at him from over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"We can go over the details later when you're not so," he gestured vaguely towards his tattered appearance, "Half-dead," he said flippantly, "But she's staying just so you know. No strings attached other than her maintaining her cover story while she's here, but aside from that, the contract is null and voidâ for both of you."
He froze, his pupils doubling in size as he stared back at him in disbelief. "How did you...?"
"10 million yen and a few offhanded threats tend to go a long way in the sorcerer world." He shrugged. "That, and the fact that we'll have her as an assistant once she graduates. Continuing to room with her is optional, butâ" His smirk returned with playful ease. "I figured you wouldn't be in a hurry to kick her out just yet."
There was a part of him that was afraid if he blinked for too long, he'd wake up slumped against a rutted pillar with nothing but debris and ash surrounding him again. His throat tightened, trying his best to ground himself as he hesitated at the doorway.
"Thank you, Gojo." He finally managed. "For everything."
The next few days were a blur of pain medication, sleep, and holding Megumi's hand as he dozed off in the armchair next to you. He would end up in what looked like the most uncomfortable pretzel-like positions, but he still refused to leave your side no matter how many times you tried to tell him that it was okay if he wanted to go back to the dorm instead.
Aside from the occasional injured first-year that would wander in every so often, the medical ward was strangely peaceful. Your mornings were spent listening to Shoko explain various healing techniques while redressing the bandages on your legs. Checking to make sure that your body was responding to treatment the way it was supposed to while Megumi watched intently, taking mental notes for himself just in case he'd need them later.
Your afternoons were filled with visitors after word got out about how you'd sacrificed yourself to save Nobara against âwhat you'd later learned from Gojoâ was a curse named Hanami. She was still recovering too, but her healing process had been a lot more sped-up than yours with her body being more acclimated to the effects of cursed energy. Yuuji brought you fresh flowers every dayâ big, well-thought arrangements with all of your favorite colors. "You'll tell her that these are from me, right?" He'd tease Megumi. "Don't want you takin' credit for my hard work."
While you knew that Gojo had managed to revoke the terms of your contract, the weight of it still hadn't fully left you. There were nights that you'd wake up in cold sweats, tears streaming down your face as you'd find yourself frantically reaching out for Megumi's hand. "I'm here," he'd whisper, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."
It wasn't until you'd been released and the two of you were finally back in your room that things actually started to feel somewhat solidified. There wasn't the same looming sense of dread that used to follow you. There wasn't the constant weight of abandonment clawing at your chest.
There was just him and the way his hands felt grazing your jawline as he kissed you. The way that he tried so hard to be so delicate with you despite the pent-up fire behind his stare every time he touched you.
"Megumi," you breathed, pulling him closer as the morning sun began to seep in from the window. "I'm not made of glass." You reminded him, your fingers tangling into his hair.
HIs hands were still lingering on your waist, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he looked back at you through heavy lashes. "You'll tell me if it's too much?"
There was something about the care in his eyes, the way he always put you first, even when his own restraint was clearly hanging on by a thread. You cupped his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek as you nodded. "Promise."
His grip on you tightened, the palm of his hand warm against the side of your neck before his tongue parted your lips again.
You could feel the shift of him starting to let go, the way his hand roamed from your neck to your lower back with his movements becoming more and more fervent. Breathy little noises filling the space between you while he helped you out of your shorts and tossed them to the side of his bed.
His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes tentatively trailing over you as he lined himself up with your entrance. It was the very last wall he had left, one that he never thought he'd be able to fully tear down until now.
He couldn't stop the low moan that escaped him as he slid into you, watching how your pupils dilated as you looked back at him with trust that he still wasn't sure he deserved. The words were right there, right where they'd always been, steady and terrifyingly honest.
He drew in a breath, letting himself sink into you, noting the way your body held him tighter the further he went. It had always been you. His hand shook slightly, using his thumb to tilt your head up towards his while his hips met yours with the same deep, consuming pace. It would always be you.
His lips parted, his mind slipping as he finally let go completely and buried everything he had in you,
"I love you."
It was soft but impossibly sure as it brushed across your skin, leaving a trail of warmth you didn't even know existed in its wake. There was suddenly no such thing as holding backâ not the tears that were pricking at the corners of your eyes or the feelings that you'd tried so hard to control for the last six months. He was everywhere, embedded into every single part of you.
It settled over your chest, opening up like a floodgate once it beganâ "I love you." you breathed, your nails digging into his neck."I love you." you whimpered again as your back arched beneath him. "I love you." he panted, his hands firm against your hips as your walls began to unravel around him. "I love you." you cried, letting yourself fall apart for him entirely.
Bonus Level: âSwoon Over Youâ [Gravity Suspension x Body worshipping] for Kinktober.
âĄsoft dom! chuuya x afab curvy! reader.
Synopsis: your thoughts have been clouded by quiet insecurities lately, but of course your boyfriend knows every inch of you better than you do, showing just how much he craves every part of you, even the ones you doubt.
Warnings: Ćsfw, mdni, smĆłt, soft dom! chuu, lovesick! chuu, car sex, mention of insecurities, reader has a female body, alice in wonderland syndrome, titty job, suspension, marking up, body worshipping, unprotected sex.
W/C: 2.3k, this bonus fic is for my bbg hattie <3 @writingandmusing thank you for always supporting me bb and so sorry for being late :( xoxo.
you slump against the cool, supple leather of the car seat, eyes half-lidded from the exhaustion that's pressing on every bone of your body, and the rhythmic sound of tires against the asphalt only makes things worse, lulling you into a dazed state as your thoughts race, faster than the carâs smooth glide over the road.
the mission had drained you, both physically and mentally, but that wasnât what had you on edge now. no, itâs the way youâre trying to sink into the seat, making yourself as small as possible, but the longer youâre still, the more your mind drifts to everything that makes you feel too much. too wide, too thick, too everything.
you try not to shift, not to make it obvious how your thighs seem to take up all the space in the seat, how your hips feel a little more prominent when you sit, thighs not as thin as the other girls around the mafia. and to make it worse, the soft pressure against the fabric of your skirt feels suffocating, but you wonât pull it down now. you just can't. even though you really want to. instead, you bite your lip and force your gaze to the window, watching the city blur past you as you try your best to be calm, pretending like none of it matters, but the redhead executive sitting next to you knows better. he always does.
a soft sigh slips from his lips, your boyfriend of two years knows your tactics just too well, âyer tryin' not to adjust yer skirt, huh? bet that's makin' ya uncomfortable.â he says as a quiet observation. and you can not help but feel the weight of it in your chest. you know for sure that itâs not just a simple comment.
âi donât know what youâre talking about,â you canât admit it, canât tell him what youâre thinking, how every little motion feels like itâs screaming at you.
âyouâre lying,â his voice is barely louder than the hum of the engine. âand you know i hate that.â
âiâm notââ your voice cracks, seriously? now?
âbabe, iâve noticed. every time, itâs like yer trynna disappear or somethinâ.â he drawls, voice dropping an octave, âi love it, yâknow. i love how you fill out that skirt. how your hips look when youâre sittinâ all tense like that. makes me wannaââ
the executive's gaze flickers, almost instinctively, to your thighs â those full, plush curves you canât seem to hide, âmakes me wanna rip that skirt off, pull ya right into my lap and fuck you dumb.â
his voice is a velvet storm, the kind you canât resist, every syllable crashing into you like a wave of heat, sweeping you beneath its pull, making your thighs tighten, instinctively pressing together.
his hand shifts from the armrest, moving slowly, until itâs at the edge of your seat. you donât have to look to know where his fingers are heading, breath catching in your throat as his eyes flick up to meet yours briefly, with a well-known smirk blooming at the corner of his lips just the moment his fingers press lightly against the thick, rounded softness of your thighs.
âyer thighs... hmph~ fuckin' delicious.â he leans in, soft pink lips pressing against your neck as his hand pushes further, gloved thumb traces slow circles on your skin, yet you canât stop the way your body reacts, âwant me to show you how flawless you are, baby?â
âchuuya! weâre in a car, for godâs sake... a fucking mafia chauffeur is literally driving us right now.â you hiss, trying to shove his hand away, but the movement is like the ebb and flow of the tide, pulling back only to crash against what it desires.
â tsk tsk.. babe, you worry too much,â the redhead mutters, fingers digging into your thigh, the heat from your skin almost making him drunk on it. âwe got a soundproof glass for a reason, sweetheart. he wonât hear a damn thing.â
âbut..chuuââ you bite your lip, trying to force down the heat rising in your chest.
âainât no one stopping me but you.â his voice is so smooth, almost tender, but his body says otherwise, pressing against you, and you can definitely feel the telltale strain of his dress pants â heâs too locked in now, âtell me to stop, babe and i will...but we both know you donât really want me to.â
the weight of his hands changes, pressing harder, pinning you in place like iron shackles â not just hands anymore but something more insidious. his gravity manipulation seeps in, the red hue force tightening around your limbs just enough to leave you breathless. you can't move. can't struggle. and honestly... do you even want to?
âfuck baby... look at you,â the executive's voice cuts through your haze as he leans back to drink you in. the seatbelt suddenly comes alive under his touch, snapping against your wrists, jerking your arms above your head with a sharp tug. did he plan this? or was it 'a heat of the moment impulse?â not that it matters cause youâre already wincing as the straps bite into your skin, securing you against the cold window.
âdoes it hurt?â he purrs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk thatâs more taunt than his question. you shake your head, lips parting slightly as the same pressure that paralyzed your arms works its way lower, pulling your body closer until you're forced against him, feeling your back digs into the window and your right leg dangles helplessly off the seat as the rest of you is stretched taut in his grip.
he hasnât touched you â not really â but it doesnât matter. cause you can feel him everywhere already. the car feels smaller, claustrophobic, the air pressing against your chest as his fingers twitch, moving toward your legs like they have a mind of their own. slowly, more like agonizingly, they hover just above your skin, undeniable foretaste humming in your veins more and more feeling him leer over you, cataloguing every reaction, every involuntary twitch of your muscles.
âevery damn inch of you gets me harder than you can imagine.â his hands finally land on your thigh, tearing the sheer fabric with ease, fingers pressing down to trace your folds through your undies before sliding up and down your inner thighs with adoration. âand yet... here ya are, hidinâ from me. thinkinâ thereâs parts of you i wouldnât worship.â
your breathing quickens, a shallow staccato, and you hate the way youâre shaking under him â not with fear, not exactly, but with something far more compromising. the seatbelt strains against you as you instinctively jerk your arms, testing the hold, but itâs useless. youâre caught, bound, and his ability doesnât just control your body. it strips away your autonomy, leaving you suspended in his web. and he knows it.
his fingers find the buttons of your shirt, popping them open with maddening ease. âwanna know whatâs so damn unique about your body, dollface?â his palm slides over your lace bra, fingers curling possessively as he squeezes softly. you gasp sharply, feeling his hot mouth against your skin, trailing open kisses down your collarbone, sharp teeth nipping before his tongue soothes the sting. you canât move, canât think â only feel him, feel his possessive grip on you tightening as he groans low in his chest, âfuhh-kk â those fat titties get me off harder than youâd ever imagine.â
âch-chuuâ stop teasing please.â you whimper with a trembling breath as you arch into him, desperate for more. more of his touch, more of his kisses, as if each fleeting moment only leaves you craving the next. he growls low in his throat, oh- that sound that makes your heart race, pumping blood faster as he deftly undoes the buttons of his vest and dress shirt. your hands ache to roam, to trace the hard lines of his body, to feel the muscles beneath your palms that have haunted your dreams during your time apart. honestly, you can't deny it â not even for a second â how much youâve missed him, how every inch of him feels like a need too urgent to ignore.
âlemme show you, doll. lemme use every fuckinâ piece of you until you see what i see.â chuuya rasps unbuttoning his belt urgently, he couldnât stop the way his cock twitched the second it's freed it from his uniform slacks. hard enough now that the foreskin slowly began peeling back on itâs own. he moves closer already palming it. you swallow down the lump in your throat, instinctively parting your lips lewdly, thinking heâd claim your mouth, but he had other plans.
his index finger curls around your bra gore pushing your tits together, cerulean eyes rolling back lost in a wave of pleasure as his cock slides between your breasts, squeezing them tighter with each thrust. grumbling above you, strands of fiery hair hanging in his face as he continued to fuck your tits over and over again.
âjesus fu-hkinâ, yer tellinâ me nghâ you hate âem? look at âem getting me offâfuckk.â he's too riddled with lust head to toe to even move at this point. he wanted to say something but you fogged his mind so completely that chuuya is now reduced to a moaning mess. a few beads of pre-cum roll down his shaft, soaking your tits and making it even easier as he continues thrusting as his gravity ability still holds your wrists pinned above your head.
chuuya leans down to kiss you, hot mouth crashing feverishly against yours, tongue poking in and swirling around yours as he sucks a bit harsher than usual before aligning himself perfectly with your slit. it feels like a fever dream â you donât even recall how he changed positions so quickly, wrapping your legs around his slim waist and securing them tightly with his ability. and then you catch it, that half-lidded look of his, the one he always gives you before he pushes in. so full of love and adoration, like heâs already on cloud nine. his jaw goes completely slack as he sinks into you, as if the sheer feeling of your tight walls around him is enough to undo him entirely.
âfuck! chuuâ ba-byyyâ mmffuchâ your desperate pleas are swallowed as he kisses you again, this time far messier.
teeth, tongue, spit â he just adores how you taste. your wet cupid's bow quivers into a pout as he ups his pace, a rarity for him. usually, heâs slow and sweet, savouring every moment, never rushing, always ensuring youâre not hurt. after all, heâs pretty thick, and no matter how many times youâve done this, it always takes a few moments for you to adjust to his size.
he breaks the kiss, teeth sinking into your collarbone, your breasts, your shoulders, marking you with a trail of bruises that will soon bloom into a tapestry of stormy violet, soft grey, and deep green.
âshit umph..every inch of you â is ugh â etheral..â one hand grips your thighs firmly, while the other latches into your nipple tongue flicking away to make your back arch in response. â âm so fuckinâ gone for you baby.â
ây-yes â fuck don't stop chuuâ i-i need you... i need more please-â
ây-yeah? want me to show you how much i love you, hmm? fuck you like â oh shit âyouâre mine, baby? âcause you are â every inch of you â oh fuck â âcan feel your pussy swallowinâ me. so tight. so perfect.â both your minds are completely overtaken by the intense pleasure and the love you have for each other, oblivious to the car rattling as his cock repeatedly hits your g-spot over and over again, never slowing, never faltering for a second. he's lost in the pleasure, consumed by his love for you.
âthis pussyâs mine, yeah? jusâ mine â no one else fucks you like this only me. âs gonna â âs gonna make me â fuhh-ckkâ
erotic breaths and moans fill the car as you bodies rock together, riding out your release in perfect rhythm, the heat between you both building, bodies pressed close, pressure intensifying with every thrust. and just for a few seconds his gravity ability wavers enough for your wrists to slip free and wrap tightly around him, pulling him closer as 'i love yous' spill from his lips, each word nourishing your orgasm, making it smolder like fire as you both melt into each other.
chuuya presses his forehead to yours as you both try to catch your breath.
"i love you so much chuuâŠ" you murmur softly, feeling his hot breaths fanning across your neck.
his lips hover over yours, kissing you gently, over and over, drinking you up like his favourite wine. âsay it again, baby,â he whispers between kisses, âi need to hear it.â
you smile, rolling your eyes playfully as you feel your heart swell with adoration, âi love you, chuuya.â
the so-called-ruthless executive chuckles, gloved hands tenderly cupping your face. âoh yeah? say it one more time baby, please?â he says playfully now, but still adorned with a sweet vulnerability, as you both melt into laughter and sweet kisses, whispering sweet nothings, oblivious to the fact that you'll be arriving at headquarters in just five minutes.
