this is my first kinktober. I hope I'll be able to finish it but atm I am very hyperfixated on a certain someone. I wanted something to write with reverence, worship and absolute consent.
safe, sane, consensual
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The Taste Of Worship
a gojo satoru x reader love story
She is an adult woman, old enough to have children of her own, and yet here she is in high school again learning about curses. Or at least that’s what she's supposed to focus on.
I saw people online discussing who is worse: Naoya or Sukuna?
The question is easily answered. Just ask yourself: how would Naoya act if he had Sukunas strength and power?
People often times say how bad Sukuna is because of his very first appearance asking "Where are the women and children?"
But you have to also consider that he did not have a body for 1000 years and suddenly he got whiplash, adrenaline is running through his veins, he can breath again, he has a heartbeat again, he has a body he can move in again. Anyone would be euphoric and emotional in such a situation.
Later behavior of Sukuna shows that he actually does not care at all about hurting women or children simply because he is on a mysoginistic cruel powertrip like Naoya; he is not cruel to women or children because they are women or children.
Look at it this way. Between Naoya and Sukuna as a civilian woman who would you prefer to meet in the woods? The answer, in my personal opinion, is Sukuna. With Naoya it does not matter what you say or how you act you are already beneath him and worth any violence he wants to direct at you. Naoya only see you as an object for his personal pleasures and desires.
Sukuna however... as minimal as the chance is - there is a chance to survive an encounter with him if you are a random woman running into him in the woods. Because at least Sukuna would probably just glance at you and then ignore you. Sukuna looks down on everyone to the same degree. His disregard to life has no gender. But the comparison I use with the "Men vs Bear" debate works in this case of "Sukuna Vs. Naoya" in the sense of predictability of danger.
What I mean is that with Sukuna, there is at least a tiny opening, a small chance you will get out of the encounter alive.
That is how I think he would act if you were meeting Sukuna in the woods, alone, as a civilian woman regardless of whether you know him, have heard of him, or know nothing of him:
Do not beg, because begging would disgust or bore him.
Do not posture, because false bravery would make him smile for a moment and then your throat would be slit.
Do not moralize in a shallow way, because he would shred that and laugh you into the afterlife ergo do not try to apply to his moral center.
But if you caught him at the right moment and said something interesting, strange, honest or philosophically sharp, he might pause.
Because in his core he is a very smart man (smarter than Naoya with better emotional intelligence and better at reading social cues dare I say) and philosophical. Because he is curious when something breaks the expected pattern - someone who does not try to amuse him on purpose, aggravate him, challenge him in a boring way.
But Naoya?
Naoya would be unbearable with Sukuna’s power.
Sukuna does not need women or children or someone weaker to be inferior to feel superior.
He already believes he is superior, it does not matter what someone says or does. If he is weaker than someone else he would challenge himself to overpower the other person again.
That makes Sukuna more terrifying in raw danger, but Naoya more disgusting as a person.
Naoya would not give you that same chance if you were to encounter him alone in the woods. Especially if you are a woman. If you were clever, he would hate it. If you were dignified, he would want to crush it. If you were direct, he would call it insolence. If you were weak, he would despise you. If you were strong, he would resent you. There is just no winning with this guy.
With Sukuna weakness is not automatically the issue. The issue is whether you have selfhood. Whether you amuse him. Whether your existence has flavor to him. That is still horrifying, but it is a different kind of horrifying. Nobara was constantly around him but he ignored her completely. If he were truly interested in harming women or children Nobara would be the perfect first victim; especially because it would hurt Yuuji, Megumi and Satoru, not necessarily because she is female and a teenager ergo a child (yes, teenagers are still children).
So yes: Sukuna is worse as a calamity.
Naoya is worse as a man.
Sukuna might kill you like stepping on something in his path, as if you were an ant maybe, not even worth a glance.
Naoya would want you to understand that he thinks you belong under his foot. It's what he did to Maki time and time again and what he intends to do anytime he sees her.
Or another example: Uraume.
Naoya would not ever take anyone in he would not think would give him some sort of use. If he had encountered Uraume in the snow like that he would have killed them or left them to starve.
So, yes, Naoya is worse than Sukuna.
Especially looking at it through the lense of our current political climate world wide and modern society.
Gojo x reader - She is an adult woman, old enough to have children of her own, and yet here she is in high school again learning about curses. Or at least that’s what she’s supposed to focus on.
The careful knock on his door made Gojo Satoru smile. It was a warm Monday morning and for once he had woken up in a good mood even with only four hours of sleep. His sweetheart had even stayed the night and they had arrived at the school together, with enough time for her to get ready for the day at her dorm room. And when she finally got ready for the day he could see her Cursed Energy signature with his Six Eyes coming closer. So naturally he already knew who it was on the other side of his office door. He already was in the process of pulling down his blindfold to see her fully: „Come in!“
There she was, light of his life, his sweet heart, his future wife.
Because who else would could stand by his side? They laughed about the same things, they both liked Digimon more than Pokemon, they could talk about nothing or everything. She made him laugh, cooked for him, made the best chocolate cake he had ever eaten – maybe he was a bit biased though he’d never admit it – and she was beautiful. And smart. And witty. And funny. And sexy.
God, the sex.
It was amazing. He never thought sex could feel this fulfilling and life changing. So intimate and tender. But the moment he saw the worried expression on her face and the way she tried to avoid looking at him made his smile fall. Usually she would walk up to him, maybe sit down at his desk or plop down on his lap when she felt especially courageous. Or at least give him a kiss but nothing of those things happened. Immediately he got up from his seat to walk towards her but she raised her hand: „Wait! I- Stay right there. Don’t- Don’t come closer.“
Confused he stopped, stared at her and furrowed his brows.
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
„Sweetheart?“
„Don’t… Don’t call me that either?“, for a moment she sounded worried, more anixous even if it was supposed to be a demand.
A short breathless laugh escaped him in disbelief: „What-“
She didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence.
„This is already hard enough as it is but… I-“
Dread started filling his chest and for a moment his vision blurred before he blinked and focused on her again. She wouldn’t… would she? No. No way.
„Satoru.“, she straightened her uniform, fidgeted with her sleeve and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, all actions based on nervousness, „I.. I want to… end our arrangement.“
Suddenly his mouth felt dry and he could feel something tighten around his heart and the blindfold he was still holding in his hand was squeezed in his grip. But she saw none of those things because she continued to look at the floor. And not at him. It pissed him off.
„You’re breaking up with me?“, he asked his voice strangely calm even for him. On the inside of his emotional landscape he was many things but calm was not one of them.
She froze at his question. And then, slowly and finally, she looked up at him. Shocked. Her mouth fell open and he waited for her to say something but nothing ever came before she closed her mouth again. And scoffed. She fucking scoffed.
„Breaking up?“, she then asked her voice suddenly colder than he had ever heard her, „Satoru, for me to break up with you we’d have to be in a serious relationship. And we aren’t.“
They… weren’t? What was she even talking about? And suddenly he remembered how they even started their relationship, how he had… he had never taken her out on a date, had he? They had just talked about it this past weekend and he had promised to take her out on a date. But before he could even properly take her out on one she decided to do… this. Before he could court her properly, ask her out, charm her with his wit, she was already ending things; she was already ending things before they could properly start. For whatever reason he didn’t understand.
„In the end we were just… fuckbuddies. Friends with benefits. A situationship. Take your pick.“, her words felt like watery oil slipping in through the cracks of the carefully build walls around his heart. It reached his deepest self and inflicted a cold burn of blue fire that froze him from the inside out. He didn’t show her any of this.
He had to try. To let her know. To let her see.
„You weren’t just-“
She didn’t even give him a chance and interrupted him again, angry now: „Just what Satoru? A convenient woman who would fuck you whenever you wanted to?“
„You sure as hell know that’s not all it was!“, he wasn’t screaming, not really, but the aggressiveness in his usual chipper happy voice deflated her own anger and he hated how for a moment there had been a flicker of fear in her eyes. Because he was still a man. Still the Strongest. But he misunderstood her fear. And she didn’t explain and he didn’t ask, assuming that her fear was because she feared him even if just for a second.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay calm, to reign in his Cursed Energy before he forgot himself. He thanked his carefully build self control that he wasn’t loosing himself in his emotions.
„It sure felt that way though!“, she yelled now, lashing out in the way she knew how, raising her shoulders, small fists at her sides trembling and he could see her anxiety clear as day, watery in her eyes. After spending so much time together he could read her better than anyone else. She continued: „But it’s over, I’m ending our- our arrangement and I hope from now on to keep it professional.“
And to add oil to the fire: „Goodbye, sensei.“
Sensei. She had called him sensei. Not teasingly, not to ellicit a reaction but to draw a line in the sand between him and her.
Before she could even think of changing her mind, before she let him say anything more to her that could sway her decision, she had to stop herself from just falling to her knees and ask for his forgiveness; before she did any of that she did the only thing to save herself from that humiliation. She turned around and left. The door slammed shut and Satoru… Satoru was left standing there, gripping his blindfold and wishing that all of this was just a very unfunny, very aggravating nightmare.
He didn’t run after her, he didn’t chase her. All he did was stay there baffled, confused and with the urge to rip apart the whole world. And the things was: He could. He absolutely could rip apart this very school, the council, the entirety of Japan and the whole world. The Six Eyes and Infinity were not just able to exorcise curses, no, these techniques were curses themselves and he was fully aware of what he was capable of. Mei Mei, Shoko, Yaga… they all were aware of it. The council feared him and let him do whatever he wanted because they knew they could never control him for this very reason.
Oh, how he wanted to rip everything apart.
But he was not that kind of man. Strength was responsibility – and it was his responsibility not to abuse his power.
He absolutely could chase her down, grab her and hide her away and no one would ever find her if he didn’t want her to be found. He could keep her in a tower like a princess in a fairy tale. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. He… He couldn’t do it to her. She was too precious for him to be caged by him.
So he let her go. Let her run away. He would stay still and give her her freedom.
Yet, he still noticed her. Not because he followed her, not because he allowed himself to cross the distance she had demanded, but because noticing was what the Six Eyes did. Her cursed energy moved through the school like a familiar ache, and no amount of professionalism could make him blind to it.
As time passed, as he watched her, as he continued to train her himself and kept everything absurdly professional (which was its own torture) he… he watched her loose herself. He watched as she seemed to rot, watched as her Cursed Energy seemed to darken. Her control over her own Cursed Technique was still lacking and it wouldn’t be a problem… if it weren’t so obvious that she was struggling and that she was not at all taking care of herself.
Dark circles under her eyes, she forgot to eat, she had no appetite. He knew because he still watched. Because he still cared. He could accept and respect the distance but caring about her was not something he could stop doing and turn off like a machine.
Then she went on a mission and nearly killed herself in the process because she had gotten careless. She had gotten careless with her own body, her own health, her own life.
And he had tried to nudge her into taking care of herself but the moment he told her to drink some water she turned into an absolute brat, physically moved stepped away from him, glared and scowled at him. Told him to shut up.
She was still herself. But a version of herself he didn’t like. Not because he didn’t still adore her but because she was endangering herself.
Mission after mission where she had been careless and reckless even with her fears, with Yaga training her in her Cursed Energy control months passed. And she had lost weight. The dark circles under her eyes bothered him more than Shokos ever could. He did care for Shoko but the source of the dark circles came from a different place. And the kids seemed worried about her, too. Sorcerers, even if only teenagers, were annoyingly perceptive.
When she two days after a mission finally went to Shoko because she had ignored an injury that was more severe… Satoru had enough. He had heard from Shoko second hand what had happened and that his stupid stupid sweetheart had been in miserable pain for two days and refused to even entertain the idea of getting treatment; after he had heard that Yuuji had to carry her to Shoko to get healed… Satoru had enough.
He pushed open the door to the dorms, pulled down his sunglasses and looked around. The confused looks from a few of his students were completely ignored.
“Sensei?”, he heard them ask but he kept on ignoring them. He wasn’t here for them but rather for one specific stubborn student of his. He was angry. Calm. Not cracking a joke and not smiling and that is what confused them.
“What’s going on?”, he heard Nobara ask a bit too loudly, “I never saw him like that.”
“Just leave it alone.”, was Megumis answer, “If he were here for any of us we would know.”
Their voices faded as he continued walking until he entered the hallway which would lead to his sweethearts dorm room. In front of her door he stopped. At first he didn’t move, he just stayed there and focused himself, took a deep breath. He wouldn’t let her run away the way she did like last times. Or all these other times she ignored him, avoided him or ran away from him. Not anymore.
And didn’t he tell her once? That he would chase her down if she ran again? And now here he was, chasing her down.
Then he finally knocked. At first nothing happened but then he heard shuffling, could see her Cursed Energy that filled her body move. Her voice reached him before her presence did.
“I already told you I’m not in the mood for-”, her voice stopped the moment the door had opened and she saw him. She had abruptly stopped but also… she didn’t open the door fully. Something flickered in her eyes and he squinted down at her for a moment. She wasn’t opening the door fully and all he could see was her. As if she were afraid to show her space which was weird because she had never acted like that in the past. Then again it was him standing before her. Last time he had been here they had been in a different kind of dynamic.
“...Sensei?”, she collected her thoughts and straightened her shoulders, “What is it? Do you need anything?”
Satoru could see her confidence was faked. He didn’t call her out on it. Instead he crossed his arms: “I am here to scold my student. Let me in.”
“...we can talk in the hallway.”
He raised his brow, suspicious: “Are you sure? I wouldn’t put it past Nobara to listen in to our conversation and I don’t believe for a second that you would prefer that.”
“It isn’t clean,” looking defiantly up at him her voice stern. Too stern. As if such a miniscule thing could scare him off.
But it was the kind of stern that tried to make itself bigger than the trembling hand still gripping the door. The kind of stern that wanted to be a wall and failed at being anything more than paper. If she could she would have already crumpled the wood.
Satoru looked at her. Then past her. Or rather from over the top of her head. He couldn’t see much from that angle but enough. He could see the bed, a pile of laundry by it. Several cups and glasses on the window shelf with a wrapper beside a half finished glass of water. A blanket half on the floor, half tangled where she must have slept badly or not slept at all.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the door when she realised what he was doing.
“I said it isn’t clean.”, she tried again.
“I heard you.”
“Then don’t come in.”
His expression changed.
Not softer, exactly. Not less angry. But the anger shifted, turned away from her and toward everything that had let her get like this. Toward the missions. Toward the school. Toward himself. If he had cared more about Suguru and seen the changes he could now see clearly in her maybe he could have stopped him. It remained one of his greatest regrets. But he wouldn’t let a second person that was important to him deteriorate.
“I don’t care about the mess.”, Satoru calmly told her using a voice he rarely used.
For a moment she pressed her lips together and looked up at him. Her eyes were glassy with tears. He acted like he didn’t see it.
“What if you do?”, she suddenly asked.
He nearly let out a breathless laugh and stopped himself just in time: “Something trivial like this wouldn’t change my opinion of you.”
The moment he saw the look in her eyes and the tears she was barely able to hold back, something in his chest twisted.
That was shame.
“Satoru—”
“No.”, his voice was quiet now, “I need to talk to you.”
She shifted her weight on to one foot: “About what?”
“Let me in and I will tell you.”
A sound of dissatisfaction left her. She looked away too quickly calculating what he wanted to talk to her about, wondering why he was here, what so important that he needed to talk to her in the privacy of her own four walls. But no matter how defiant she was he stayed exactly where he was. He did not push the door. Did not touch her. Did not force the space open, even though he could have. Especially because he could have.
“I’m angry,” he finally explained, “I am very angry with you.”
Her shoulders rose, ready to defend herself or to maybe remind him that their relationship was now simply professional.
“...why?”, she asked wary, “I didn’t do anything to you.”
No. She did nothing to him. That was the problem. He could forgive her if she had hurt him. But she was hurting herself. Why he didn’t know but he knew part of the reason why she was getting careless was their not-break up.
“It’s really bad.”, she relented half way and the line of his mouth softened enough to be a memory of a smile. It was subtle but it softened his whole face.
“I fought a curse that looked like internal organs emptying itself constantly. It can’t be worse than that.”, he continued to keep his gaze focused on her and didn’t allow his eyes to wander off again to look into her room.
“Wow.”, she said deadpan but he just let out a breathy chuckle. And he didn’t see the way her heart soared at the sound, “Comparing my room to this kind of curse.”
“No, no. This is exactly it. I am not comparing the two. I am saying your room is not at all like the curse.”, he waved his hand in front of him but even if he acted more relaxed now his anger was still there. But he would get his chance to show her exactly the depth of his anger and why.
Then she sighed, followed by scratching her neck and she finally stepped aside and let him in. The curtains were half drawn and he saw how bad it really looked. Two plates stacked on top of each other on her desk. Another cup on her nightstand. A few clothes on her desk chair. Her uniform crumpled on the floor in front of her wardrobe. Behind him she closed the door finally allowing them the privacy they needed. He could have simply grabbed her and teleported her away into his own apartment or office but he hadn’t. He wanted her trust.
When he turned around to look back at her she hadn’t moved away from the door arms crossed, eyes still shiny. She looked so small like this, her shoulders slightly rounded, her hair not brushed and there was nothing more he wanted to do than to wrap his arms around her and hold her. And scold her. But lovingly.
“So?”, she asked him again, “Why are you here?”
He wanted to sight or take a deep breath but he just put away his sunglasses. He didn’t even acknowledge the mess: “I told you, I’m angry with you.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
What a brat. And this time he did take a breath and finally explained: “I’m angry because you were in pain and injured for two days without getting treatment and decided that was acceptable.”
Surprised she blinked at him before her expression grew wary again: “Shoko told you?”
“Shoko told me because it is her duty as the doctor responsible for sorcerers to report about students to their teachers. And you are my student. And thus my responsibility. A good sorcerer knows when treatment and help is necessary.”
This time no come back from her. She just stood there and looked at him and the anxiety that was rising inside her chest like an overgrown balloon with too little space was palpable in the air – and her Cursed Energy.
Then finally: “It was fine.”
“It was not.”
“You don’t know that.”
But he knew. Shoko had reported to him as her doctor, not as her friend. And Shoko, too, knew what it meant to notice too late. They had both learned that lesson with Suguru.
He could also explain to her again just because she was older than him, it did not mean she was exempt from being his student or his responsibility. He received all his students mission reports too. Instead what he said was this:
“I know you.”
It took the breath out of her lungs. Different than the anxiety did, different than the shame did. Worse was that she felt her heart skip a beat, felt the tiny hopelessly lovesick parts of her perk up like a dog to a treat. It felt humiliating. It also made her angry.
But before she could say something it was him who continued: “You endangered your own life. The injury could have worsened and left you disabled. It could have lead to death, infections can have serious consequences.”
“I’m vaccinated.”, she told him and felt like a petulant child. Then she added: “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
“People have died from less.”, Satoru simply said, “And yes, maybe I am. But it’s because I care about you. And you know damn well you aren’t just a student to me.”
Immediately blood rushed through her cheeks the blush feeling hot inside her. And she was aware that he could see it. Which was worse; it was also worse because his honesty surprised her. He was directly telling her he cared about her, and yes, actions spoke louder than words and she knew he had cared. The evidence was the amount of trust she had for him during the duration of their affair.
Then he told her: “You also lost weight. You don’t look like yourself anymore. Which I don’t like.”
A surprised laugh escaped her: “What?”
“You heard me.”, he put on his sunglasses, “I like you well fed. So, I am giving you half an hour to get ready. I’ll be waiting outside.”
“What?”, she blinked at him.
“I am going to feed you.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care if you feel like eating. You’re going to eat something.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I am warning you. I respect you. But you stopped respecting yourself and I know you, and know what works for you, and so I will use force if I have to.”
“Satoru-”
“I thought it was Sensei?”
The stunned look on her face showed how surprised she was. He never crossed boundaries, never had disrespected her in any way, shape or form. And now he was doing this? And then she got stubborn again: “What if I won’t get ready?”
“If you aren’t outside after half an hour I am going to come in, throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of the building.”
At the image he was painting in her head she blushed. Because they both knew he could simply grab her and teleport her, even in the scenario he described. But it was about carrying her out in front of the students. It was about the humiliation of it, about the way it would make her feel shame. But not because he was shaming her, he would never do that, it was because she had put herself in that situation and forced him to act on her behalf. Because if she were truly happy with how things were she would not feel ashamed of the way she was perceived by the students as she was now.
“What if I won’t eat?”, however, she was really being a brat and they both knew it.
“Then I am going to put you in my lap and force feed you if I have to.”, a cold laugh left her, sharp and hollow in the small dorm room that had become her home and her own cage. He stepped closer, not enough to touch her, but enough that the room suddenly felt smaller. His reached her first the closer he got and her chest tightened at the familiar scent that pulled feelings of intimacy and needs up to the surface. He then leaned down towards her, his face closer to hers than before, “And we both know I actually wouldn’t have to force you because you’d enjoy it too much. You’re just being a brat.”
All the memories of him feeding her suddenly flooded her mind and the blush spread to her ears and down her neck and she didn’t know how to get out of this one. Her mouth opened to give him a rebuttal but no words came out. She was speechless.
“And don’t act like you don’t know what a brat you can be, doing things on purpose to gain my attention.”, his voice had lowered dangerously, “Congrats. You now have my attention.”
Things just seemed to spiral even more. Because he was right. God, he was so right. There had been moments in the past where she had acted bratty, not often but often enough. When she had wanted his attention, when she had annoyed him in purpose because he was gone on missions or work too much. He still had the photos saved on his phone she had send to him in a particularly bratty moment.
“I-I wasn’t doing anything to gain your attention!”, she still sounded bratty she knew that but she also felt cornered, her face burning and her gaze lowering so she wouldn’t look directly into his eyes. She felt stuck unable to move from her spot. It wasn’t that he was scaring her, not directly, it was that the conversation pulled a chaotic hurricane of emotions to the surface that she had tried to work through quietly, in the dark and alone the past weeks like a ferret hiding in its burrow. She missed his apartment.
And Satoru simply smiled. It softened everything. His attention on her, his warning, his words.
“Sweetheart…”, he told her the nickname feeling like Cupid’s arrow right through the heart, “You are harming yourself. If you really thought that wouldn’t get my attention then you don’t know me as much as we think you do.”
He was unfair. He was being so so unfair. Her eyes burned again with her earlier unshed tears and this time she wasn’t so sure she could stop them even if she tried. She still tried though.
“What-What do you mean?”, she asked nervously, “I know you cared about me but… but we had just… like an affair. It was an affair. That was all it was.”
His laugh that followed was just as soft as his nickname for her, as his smile, as his care for her even if the softness was wrapped around harshness.
“No. No, sweetheart, it was not just an affair, not just a fuckbuddy or fwb situation for me.”, this time he reached for her, slow to not care her off knowing that his height alone could feel intimidating, his hand taking hold of her fingers gently between his, “You know how busy I am. I am not perfect. And yes, I forgot to really take you out on a date. But I wanted to. I really did. And before I could ask you properly you came to my office and… ended things.”
“W-What?”, she asked dumbly her tears shimmering in her eyes; “What are you trying to say?”
“I am saying that I care about you. In a way that is deeply inconvenient for me and everyone involved in Jujutsu society.”, he raised her hand to his face and kissed her fingers gently. She wanted to melt right this instant and evaporate. This man would be the death of her and the emotional whiplash he caused her to feel made her dizzy.
“But I rather enjoy the inconvenience you are in my life.”
“That’s rude.”
He laughed quietly: “It’s true. You are…” He drifted off trying to think of the words to say: “You are the person I want to talk to every day. You are the person I want to feed. I want to keep you safe and happy in a way that has nothing to do with me being a teacher and everything with me being a man wanting a woman.”
And before she could counter that or be bratty again or say anything that would not actually remove any feelings or attraction he felt towards her he said: “And if you worry about the mess in your room, about not having showered… a mess can be cleaned up. You can take a shower. You are still you, messy, not messy, sad or angry or happy.”
“Stop.”, she weakly complained.
“I told you.”, a grin flashed over his face, “I know you.”
A whiny sound left her throat and she wanted to move, wanted to touch him, hug him and hide against his chest she had done so many times during their unofficial relationship. And then he paused, looked her over carefully, his gaze shifting for a moment into seriousness although his tone still sounded more lighthearted than it should be in this situation and said: “But now I need your words, sweetheart. Because here I am pouring my heart out and you are just standing there, all cute and impossible, and I have no idea what you are thinking or feeling.”
“You know.”, she whispered her voice quiet and even weaker than earlier.
“No. I assume. I can read clues and body language. But that is not knowing.”
Again. Unfair.
“So.”, he let go of her hand and pushed his hands in his pockets, “Are you going to break my heart again or are we going to do this? Be in a relationship I mean.”
Her face felt incredibly hot before she relented, and looked down: “I… I don’t want to break your heart. I want… to be with you.”
She did not see the broad smile that grew across his mouth: “Now, was that so hard?”
“Yes.”, she sounded miserable but he laughed, “It’s embarrassing.”
When she looked up at him she played with her fingers, hands in front of her stomach: “I… I felt a lot. Feel a lot. For you.”
“Hate and contempt?”, he teased still grinning.
“No!”, if she could blush even more she would, “I… I mean… affection. And romance stuff. I just… I stopped it because I thought you didn’t feel the same.”
He shook his head at that: “Oh, sweetheart…” What followed was him pulling out his hands from his pockets and opening his arms: “Come here.”
She looked up at him, hesitated for one fragile moment, and then stepped into the circle of his arms surrounding herself in his scent and his warmth. Her hands found his shoulder blades and his own arms wrapped fully around her. Finally she felt like she could breathe.
For a while they just stood there, holding each other and she felt his cheek against the top of her head. Her breath was fanning against his chest while her fingers curled into his shirt.
“I am still going to feed you.”, his words finally caused her to laugh, this time more light rather than cold, and his arms tightened for a moment. But they stayed like that for far longer than she felt she had any right to. She didn’t want this to end and she still felt shame for how she had lost control of herself and over her own life. Then finally it was him who released her and reluctantly she removed herself from him and looked up at him when his hand found the back of her neck as he leaned down and kissed her brow.
“So, go take a shower, get dressed, and then dinner. Okay?”
She simply nodded.
Not everything was resolved yet and things were not as they were when their relationship had started but for the first time she felt as if she could finally breathe. With that she gathered a few things and went to the bathroom without saying anything anymore. She felt too shy, too embarrassed by the emotional roller-coaster she had experienced in the past hour. But while she was gone to shower and clean herself up Satoru looked around. He had rarely had to clean up after himself. He had grown up with maids and servants and looking at this made him… sad in a way. She must have felt worse than he had assumed if she had let things go to turn into what it was now. And without her asking him to he simply started cleaning up. For a moment he went to the kitchen and grabbed a trash bag ignoring the students. They didn’t ask. They just watched him curious, whispering to each other. It made his mouth twitch.
Back in her room he started to collect the trash and grabbed anything he found. Underwear he simply put into the washing basket that stood by the wall. He was many things and efficient was one of them. He didn’t open drawers. Didn’t look through papers. Didn’t touch anything that looked deliberately hidden. He only cleared what had been left out in plain sight: the trash, the dishes, the laundry she had been too exhausted to face.
And when she returned, hair dripping wet and saw that the worst of the mess was gone she stopped in her tracks, wearing a shirt and a skirt because she had very little clean clothes to chose from. Gratitude came first. Shame followed so quickly it nearly swallowed it.
“You-”
He just grinned at her and asked: “Ready?”
“M-My hair.”, she stuttered and went to her desk grab her hair dryer. But then he was there by her side and he gently took it from her hand: “Let me.” For a moment she just looked at him before she nodded.
And just like that Satoru was drying and brushing her hair.
And she loved it. She loved being taken care of. Especially when she felt like she was unable to care for herself. It felt… relieving. Maybe a bit humiliating but at the same time… this was Satoru. The man she had fallen in love with. She felt ashamed for the things he had witnessed; things she had never wanted him to see; seeing her messy, the worst version of herself, felt embarrassing and humiliating. And yet this felt more intimate than anything they had done together before.
Narrative framing is often mistaken for objective truth. Narrators can be unreliable. Authors can be forgetful. Not everything a character does has to carry deep meaning.
Sometimes the curtains are just blue.
Our interpretations are shaped by bias, wishful thinking, desires and personal experiences.
Not everything in JJK is about love. Not every connection was loving. Like Satoru and Megumi.
Megumi specifically says Satoru is his benefactor. We never see them interact as father and son. Did they care for each other? Yes. But it was not as deep of a bond as people read into it.
Satoru is simply protective of everyone especially his students as he is their teacher. He is protective of future generations.
If it was that deep of a connection we simply dont see enough of their relationship. And Satoru would have interacted with Tsumiki at least once but he never does.
She has never seen curses. Not once in her life. She used to picture monsters because monsters are simple—horror with edges you can name—but she’s never seen these things.
She sees them now.
They bloom in the doorway — out of the corners — out of the dark — and they do not look at her. They don’t see prey in her or anger or snack. They move like fish in slow water, drawn by a current she can’t feel and yet can: a soft pull toward her that relents only at her skin. They curl around her without touching. One leans down, a long smooth head like a polished pebble, and she can see her warped reflection in its slick surface.
The men see them too.
The men scream.
The first curse moves without hurry. It opens without a mouth; it opens with a seam that wasn’t there a moment ago, and the seam becomes a blade becomes a nothing — bright and absolute — and the nearest man is simply less than he was. There’s no clean line to it. He is opened like paper. He drops like a curtain. It sounds like a butcher working.
Red is everywhere.
The second man stumbles backward, slips, tries to crab-walk toward the wall, and the floor catches his heel just so and he goes down hard. A pale, jelly-soft thing slides out from beneath the mattress like a peeled tongue and wraps his throat. He digs his nails in and rakes and rakes, and the thing doesn’t care because it is not made of anything that feels like skin should feel. It squeezes once, twice. The sound he makes is small and ugly and gone.
The third bolts for the door. The door doesn’t open. Not because it’s locked, not because there’s anything physical in the way. It just… isn’t a door anymore. He pounds at it, and his palms slap wood, and the wood is only wood when he stops looking. He turns and in turning runs straight into a shape that wasn’t there, a shape with antlers that branch and branch and branch until they are a forest with no path. The antlers lower covered in guts and darkness dripping down. When they lift again, he slumps down the wall like a coat. He too sounds like a butcher working.
The door makes sounds like a mouth, loud and smacking with wooden teeth. It crunches and crunches with out breath and the thing made of a forest shrinks and shrinks until all thats left are bones that look like a deers skull with antlers that move and blur and don't make sene.
I honestly love Satoru so much. No, really. Because of him I found out about fictosexuality. I have never felt attraction irl towards someome and was never in love. Until Satoru.
No day goes by I do not think of him.
If I could I would give everything in my life up to live with him and be by his side.
Did you also know the brain cannot distinguish between memory and fantasy? The brain watches movies and your emotional reactions basically mean your brain perceives them as real.
So, I'm doomed.
I just want to be his wife, wait for him, cook for him, offer him my lap for his head. I want to wash his hair, sit in the bathtub as he leans his back against my chest.
It doesnt help that during therapy sessions with Ketamin I saw him in my visions, talked to him and even married him in one scene.
In another it seemed we had a daughter?
So, yeah, if soulbonds exist etc. then I can say we are soulbonded although I have never heard of the term until now.
Sleep didn’t come easy to her. The last few days had been stressful and full of chaos, not because of one event, but because many small things had happened that had just put her under a lot of, well, stress. As a part of the Whitebeard pirates she held an important position, having helped them in many different ways, although she wasn’t very battle prone. No, she wasn’t a fighter, not at all. But she was good with words, and knew everything she needed to know about politics. As Whitebeard himself didn’t care much about such things she had taken over some of the paper work he couldn’t care less about. But she wasn’t a commander. She was a part of the second division, the one under Fire Fist Ace, who was the commander of this particular division. After the horrendous war at Marineford paper work only had seemed to pile itself up, Big Mom now wanting to meet up with Whitebeard to talk about a possible alliance. Whitebeard would decline, of that she was sure. But all of this stress wasn’t really why she couldn’t sleep. No, it was simply freezing. They were currently residing at a winter island and the chilly air creeped into the room, under her bed covers, to her skin and she shivered. She felt her teeth chattering and she tried to hide more under the covers, tried to make herself as small as possible to get away from the cold.
Why was she so cold?
Maybe she should get some more clothes. But for that she would need to leave the covers and the bed, and she simply wasn’t ready for that. Her naked feet would touch the cold floor, and no, thank you very much, she would not do that. A quiet whine escaped her as she wondered when her boyfriend would finally arrive. She knew, with his narcolepsy he usually couldn’t sleep through the night, but she still hoped he would quickly come, because he was literally made of fire. Sighing she fell into a fantasy of cuddling into his warm body, his heat enveloping her and-
A movement behind her made her drop the fantasy and she turned on her back. Ace has finally arrived and he with his back to her, hat already on the bed side table. By the sounds he was making he was currently foregoing his boots.
“Ace.”, she softly whined and he turned to her, surprise on his face: “I thought you were already sleeping.”
At that she shook her head: “Too cold.”
“Aw, poor girl.”, he grinned down at her and knew instantly what she wanted from him. A pout formed on her lips and she raised her foot, letting the bed cover fall away from her leg and she touched his naked side with the sole of her foot: “Look how cold it is!”
She felt the shiver that ran down his spine.
“Oh yeah, that IS cold.”, he agreed and turned more to take her foot into his hands. Instant warmth engulfed it and she sighed content with the feel of his skin on her own. But then, without a warning, he let go of her foot and he let it fall on the mattress: “Ace.” She whined again, because he got up and with him he took the wonderful heat she so desperately craved.
“Give me a moment.”, he walked over to the cupboard were their clothing was stored and opened one of the drawers. For a moment he rummaged through it, most of the things her own, and she squinted her eyes at him, her foot back under the covers again. With a triumphant grin on his face he returned something in his hand. A pair of thick fuzzy socks.
“This should help.”, he promised smiling and knelt down on the bed to crawl towards her feet. He grabbed her feet from under the covers and she let him, biting her lip while she observed him as he put on the socks on her ice cold feet. Then he took them, one by one, into his hands to warm them up for a moment, an orange glow on his skin. A few minutes later he was finished with warming her feet up before he crawled under the covers, wrapping his arms around her.
“Thanks.”, she breathed in his scent of fire and sweat.
“No problem.”, he kissed the top of her forehead and she smiled into his skin, wrapping her arms around him, too. His heated body slowly but surely chased away the cold and soon she could only feel warmth, comfort and affection.
“I love you.”, a last whisper, his answer a soft hum, her eyes dropping and soon she was asleep, no longer freezing.
