Thinking abt daughter reader (neglected or not, as you please 💕) wearing a fake pearl necklace and having it accidentally torn with the beads falling off... right in front of Bruce :) Bonus reader looking just like Martha Wayne, double bonus if it happens at night when reader is walking down an alleyway after watching a movie, triple bonus if the necklace breaks when reader is being confronted by a mugger, and quadruple bonus (shoutout to Dick Grayson 🙌) reader actually being super chill abt it. Like oh sure here's a hundred bucks oops oh no the fake pearl necklace I bought for flapper aesthetic just broke how embarrassing, oh hello there Mr Batman you look kinda unwell, everything okay?
Gotham, midnight. Rain slicked the pavement, catching neon like oil spills. The kind of night that smelled like trouble.
You weren’t scared.
You’d just seen a re-run of Chicago at one of the art house cinemas, vintage ticket stub still peeking out of your thrifted clutch. The pearls around your neck were cheap—ten bucks off Etsy, “Great Gatsby costume piece” in the description—but they glowed white against your skin like they were real. And maybe, for a little while, that made you feel real too.
The alley was a shortcut. Classic mistake. You weren’t stupid, just tired. Gotham could feel it. The kind of city that always knew when you dropped your guard.
“Hey.”
You turned.
The man was lanky, twitchy. Bad teeth. Knife in hand, eyes jittery with something chemical. “Wallet. Now.”
You blinked. Then sighed, pulling out a crisp hundred-dollar bill from your clutch and holding it out.
“Here.”
He stared. “The hell is this?”
“A hundred,” you said. “I don’t carry a wallet. Too bulky. You can buy three pizzas, get high, maybe even tip someone.”
The mugger hesitated. Then lunged for your bag anyway—fumbling, pulling, his fingers catching on your necklace.
Snap.
Pearls scattered like gunfire on the wet cement. They bounced and rolled, luminous little ghosts vanishing into storm drains.
You stared down at them, unimpressed. “Aw, man. I just bought that. Now I can’t pretend I’m Daisy Buchanan anymore.”
The mugger growled, “Are you serious?”
“I’m trying to be.”
“HEY!”
The voice hit like thunder—deep, familiar, jagged with fury.
From the shadows above, a shape descended. Not just a shape—a myth.
Batman.
Cape snapping behind him, boots hitting ground like judgment day. The mugger didn’t even get to scream before he was disarmed and flat on his back, out cold with a single blow.
You folded your arms. “Wow. He wasn’t even that good.”
Batman turned to you. Stopped.
And stared.
It wasn’t the pearls.
It wasn’t the alley.
It wasn’t even the crime.
It was you.
You looked like a ghost—Martha’s ghost.
Same eyes. Same bone structure. Same pearls—except, no, they were plastic, shattered, lost in puddles. But it didn’t matter. For one split second, Bruce Wayne was back in that alley. The one he never left.
And you—calm, perfectly dry despite the rain, blinking at him like he was the ghost—tilted your head.
“Uh… are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He didn’t speak.
“Wait,” you frowned. “...Mr. Wayne?”
That made him flinch.
“Yeah,” you said, half-laughing. “Kinda obvious. I mean, the jawline. The brooding. All that justice.” You knelt to pick up one of the fake pearls. “You okay? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”
His throat worked, words caught there.
“I—You shouldn’t have been walking alone,” he finally said, voice rough like gravel. “Gotham’s not safe.”
You pocketed the pearl. “Tell me about it. I got mugged for the first time and lost my aesthetic in the same five seconds.”
A pause.
Then you smiled, too brightly for this haunted city. “Hey. Wanna walk me home? If you’re not too busy glowering.”
Batman—Bruce—nodded, slowly, still pale.
You didn’t see the way his fingers curled slightly when he looked at your hand.
You didn’t see the way his eyes followed each broken pearl like a funeral procession.
But you noticed the silence.
“…Do I remind you of someone?” you asked softly, as you walked together out of the alley.
He didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
The rain kept falling. But he stayed by your side the whole way home.
And when he finally disappeared into the dark, you whispered behind him, “Take care of yourself, Batman.”
Later, in the Batcave…
Dick: “Bruce? You okay? You look like death warmed over.”
Bruce: “…She looked just like her.”
Dick: half-joking “Martha?”
Bruce: silence
Dick: “…You’re not serious—wait. Wait. Was she wearing pearls?!”
This was your first mission with Todo, it was going great until an unrelenting downpour occurred. It was dark and foggy, making it next to impossible to see, so you were stranded in a skeevy motel just off the main highway, and there was only one room available. You weren’t worried about him, he was weird sure, but genuinely a decent guy. Thankfully, though it was a small room, it had two beds, so it’s not like you’d be cuddling all night.
You both settle in, setting your stuff down, when Aoi offers you the first shower. The water was barely warm, cascading over your already bone cold body. When you finish you change into your warmest set of pajamas. He showers after you, mentioning how cold the water is when he comes back out shirtless. You’d thought it was just the rain, but the room is barely warmer than outside. You both lay down, bundled in your own beds, shivering, though Todo didn’t move much.
Your phone reads midnight when you finally decide to stop staring into the cigarette smelling abyss. You sit up, gathering all your blankets and going into the mini kitchenette to make some tea. You hear stirring behind you, Aoi’s footsteps soft against the hardwood.
“Couldn’t sleep.” You mumble to him over your shoulder.
He doesn’t have any blankets, standing there in all his shirtless glory, arms above his head, “I can’t sleep either. Mind if I have some?”
“Not at all.” You offer him a mug of hot water and a tea bag, “The rain is too loud and it’s too cold.”
You both stand in silence, your body two times its usual size with the blankets around your shoulders. His hand guides you to your bed, sitting with you and sipping your hot tea. Even in the dark you can see his face twist in disgust. Taking a sip of your mug you can see why. The tea tasted like dirt and salt water, an interesting combination to say the least.
“Well…” You sigh, “I guess it’s time for bed…”
Aoi takes your mug, “Join me. We will be warmer together.”
It wasn’t a demand, but it wasn’t quite an offer. He takes your mugs and washes them quickly in the tiny sink. Todo crawls under his covers, patting the bed next to him. You hesitantly join him, pulling your blanket over his and across the two of you. The extra layers and his body heat warming you up almost immediately. There was enough room for you both to lay on your back, but your arms were touching. His heat radiates through your skin, warming your bicep then your shoulder. Slowly you scoot closer to him, his arm snaking under your side and pulling you chest to chest.
He smelled of cheap soap, rain, and cinnamon. It was warm, comforting, completely taking over the smell of smoke that hung in the air of the hotel room. You pull your head from the crook of his neck, staring at him. His eyes are closed, his fingers brushing softly over your spine. It was oddly calm and soothing, very different from his normal eccentric self.
“Good night, Todo.” You whisper to his softened face.
He doesn’t answer, just hums. And just like that you’re out like a light, breathing in the warm scent of cinnamon. In the morning you’re laying on top of Aoi’s chest, drool leaking down your cheek. You could tell he was awake, and that he knew you were too, yet neither of you moved. Something about last night stuck, and suddenly you’re questioning your feelings towards him.
Tags ۶ৎ Eventual smut, Angst, Trauma, Child abuse, Implied/referenced child abuse, Implied/referenced self harm, slow burn, childhood best friends, drug use, drinking, underage drinking, enemies to lovers, murder, gun violence, fate and destiny, Best Friends, maybe some fluff to come?
Story Synopsis ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃 Born into rival clans, you and Satoru Gojo were never meant to meet- let alone become each other's only comfort. Both heirs, both feared, both beaten into weapons by your families; you find a home in the ancient tree that separates your neighboring estates- and in each other. Two children, equal in strength. Two clans desperate to control them. But, childhood promises can't withstand policy forever. When they're ripped apart from each other; loyalty twists and the only person they ever trusted becomes the one they're forced to stand against. A friendship that is an anomaly in itself- becoming something neither of them have the freedom to name.
Bad Blood Connections | Ch. 1 | Choso x Sorcerer!Reader
Teaser!
Current WC: 5.2k
Pairing: Choso x Sorcerer!Reader
Story Setting: Jujutsu Kaisen
Timeline: Starts from the discovery of Cursed Wombs
Content Warning: Hurt no/Comfort, Choso has a brain of a newly spawned human, communication issues, themes of blood, JJK universe level g0re, smut, usual JJK universe type violence+, mature themes including smoking, cursing, familial trauma, substance abuse, to be added as the story progresses, toxic behavior, themes of past trauma including bullying and sexual assault. (MDNI)
Synopsis: The first-year Gojo Satoru students embark on a new adventure back to Megumi’s hometown in Saitama Prefecture, accompanied by you, the only third-year Tokyo Jujutsu High student not suspended, with the hope that you all crack down on the Yasohachi bridge curse, only to end up meeting some interesting curse users. The first encounter with cursed wombs unravels chains of events in your life that you would have never imagined would be possible in the Reiwa period of beautiful harmony.
Author's Note: Hey everyone, this is so awkward, but I am easing myself into the process of writing again. I wanted to get the idea out of my head of basically a curse user who uses something similar to blood manipulation, but with ink of traditional Japanese tattoos and their motifs. something like shikigami, but yet again, this is something I am in the process of developing. This fic, as I have mentioned, will be long, so buckle up. our mans hasnt appeared here yet, but I needed an introductory chapter. Hope you enjoy and be patient with me as I output the work slowly. - Victoria <3
Twenty years ago, at Saitama Urami East High in Saitama Prefecture, Megumi Fushiguro’s hometown school developed a bizarre coming-of-age ritual that involved their local bridge and bungee jumping to complete the ritual of finally “graduating” into adulthood. It was silly, really, but ever since then, the bridge had become a sort of legend: many committed suicides, many still took part in the bungee-jumping ritual secretly, and cursed themselves to oblivion. It was a popular field trip destination for many students at Jujutsu High School due to its high activity and the mystery surrounding the bridge itself. Many of the teachers had taken a liking to the bridge, at some point sending multiple groups of students to discover more about the region’s history and perhaps learn about the curse that had caused all the commotion in Saitama. For years, the activities were dormant: something out of a scary story you would share around a bonfire, something you would not even call an urban legend anymore, lay silent under the bridge. Until this summer came. This was something your group was unaware of, of course, but something you would discover soon.
“We are going to be meeting up with some of the students at Saitama Urami East High, or at least one for now, who knew all three of the students. Hopefully, we will know something more than we do now by the end of the day,” Nitta says, handing you printed documents related to the killings of three adults connected to the High School. She steadies her hands on the steering wheel, guiding the car under a tunnel. She exits onto a mountain road and turns right toward the small city. A road sign reads, “Saitama -> 10km,” as the five of you squeeze together in her car, heading toward your destination.
“Wait, how come we are going to be investigating a school if the killings did not involve current students?” Yuji asks, enthusiasm coloring his voice as he pushes himself toward the front of the car, squirming enough to bother Nobara in the back seat, along with Megumi, who solemnly looks out of the window.
“Yuji, stop squirming around!” Nobara fumed, turning to smack Yuji on the back of his head. Yuji shrieked in pain and turned, rubbing his head while smacking Nobara on her shoulder in return. The two started quarreling, moving around in their seats, as Megumi sighed. You turned in your seat and yelled at them, raising your voice to tell them to stop acting like children.
“I swear,” you muttered, twisting in your seat, “just because we’re crammed into a sedan doesn’t mean you get to scream directly into my ears. Behave.” You glare before making subtle eye contact with Megumi, who had dropped his eyes to your lips. You did not let the small gesture affect you much, as you propped yourself up again in the passenger seat, scrolling through the documents of the three students who had been killed in the span of several months.
“You will see!” Nitta exclaimed, slowing down to a red light and halting.
June — Taichi Kanada.
August — Osamu Shimada.
September — Hiroshi Yamato. (Nagoya.)
Different locations. Same circumstances.
All three had been killed in the same circumstances, with the same complaints to their house managements before their ultimate demise. All three of them had reported the locks to their apartments acting up several weeks before their murders.
“All three died in different places at different times. How come a curse knew where and when to travel?” Megumi points out as he takes the document from your hand, skimming over the papers himself.
“The three of them all died in the same circumstances, it is true. What is also true is that all three of them were part of the same group and attended the same school for about two years. We are going to be visiting one of their friends, who has recently complained of the same issue. That is why we will be investigating the school next, Yuji.” Nitta drives on a small bridge over a little river streaming down between two parts of the same forest.
The bamboo and bright green trees blend in with the summer colors in a beautiful traditional Japanese scenery. You noticed the gloominess of the village compared to the weather, and knew the meeting you five were about to have was not going to be pleasant. It was like a premonition, something you always felt before you found out about deaths or were about to witness one. Hakari had pointed it out once to you, suggesting it could have been some form of a cursed technique, but you just called it a gut feeling. Something that would prove right once again as Nitta pulled up to the small duplex, now engulfed with a crowd of people coming in and out of someone’s house. A funeral.
The five of you had finally gotten a chance to stretch your legs, closing the car door behind you, you looked at Nitta with a perplexed look on your face.
“Is this the guy we were supposed to meet?” Megumi points out.
“All of you stay here while I find out what’s wrong. “ Nitta hurried towards one of the elders sitting outside the house, prayer beads clutched in her hands as she wiped away tears streaming down her old, wrinkled cheeks. Nitta had conversed with the old lady, taking a place right next to her on the bench as her hand came up to comfort the distressed woman.
You glanced back at the three first-year high schoolers, busy observing the scenery in front of them. Your eyes darted all around Yuji’s face, the small crevices cut out right below his eyes, his bleach-toned hair spiked up towards the sky, and his eyebrows raised in curiosity, not noticing the observing gaze that you held towards him.
Considering how tense things had become between the Jujutsu Elders and Gojo Satoru, you knew right after the school annual meeting, the elders were plotting against the vessel again, just like Noritoshi Kamo had told you about his principal’s plan to get rid of Yuji while they visited Tokyo.
“I bet the higher-ups were pissed.” You blurted out loud, thinking the words had only voiced out in your head, thinking about the small surprise Gojo Satoru had pulled on the higher-ups with the resurrection of Sukuna’s vessel.
Being a distant acquaintance of the Kamo clan, you knew the great clans and the high school principals were not just pissed at Satoru for this little charade. Truth be told, you could not stand the old geezers at Jujutsu High: the way they tried to control and divide the student body between each other, how your own classmates had come face to face with the absurdity of it, and had to be suspended as a result because of their “disruption”.
“Oh? About what?” Yuji’s eyes darted to your colored ones, finally coming face-to-face with the third-year, not having had a proper introduction from the moment you four started to share a ride.
“Did I say that out loud?” You frowned, looking at Nitta, who was slowly returning to the car after bowing to the old lady.
“Yes!” The three exclaimed in unison, their eyes fixated on the third-year student at Tokyo High, who was, up until this point, an unknown student.
“Sorry about that, I seem to think out loud sometimes. But it is amazing how both of you are just fused inside of this one singular body. Does he not get crammed inside? Maybe feels a bit suffocating, you know?” You smiled, looking into the cursed energy markings inside Yuji’s soul, feeling the king of the curses look right back at you and acknowledge your presence. You approached Yuji, standing right in front of him and looking deep into his eyes, trying to gauge what would happen next.
“I would not do that if I were you!” Megumi pointed out.
“Like hell!” A small mouth sprang out on Yuji’s left cheek, startling everyone. Yuji’s hand flew to his side, smacking himself as he apologized for the jump-scare. “He does that sometimes.” He smiled sheepishly as you stared at him wide-eyed, the two other students immediately jumping a step away from Yuji in grimace, as you laughed right into the flustered boy’s face.
“Fascinating.” You smiled at him as you watched Nitta open the car door and sit inside with a gloomy face. Megumi gave you a look-around again, observing the way your eyes twinkled at Sukuna’s little appearance and how you carried yourself like a complete adult. You were Gojo’s student after all, a spiky-haired kid(in essence, despite your long hair), a problem child who grew up to be a little too similar to her teacher. You were interesting to him: similarly to Nanami, you had mixed heritage, something the great clans despised and shunned from their own ranks. Megumi’s eyes scanned you from head to toe, looking at the bright hair that flowed in a unique hairstyle between your shoulderblades, the accessories you had adorned your ears, hands, and neck with, and he couldn’t help but peek at the small, intricate tattoos that covered your sleeves inside the long-sleeved shirts you always wore as your uniform.
Your demeanor was different from the way the other students carried themselves at school, a bit of freedom in your custom uniform, a small sense of independence that surrounded you, almost a proper adult who would graduate from the school soon enough. You were strong enough and bold enough to challenge whatever the higher-ups would dish out for you, only to bow in front of them with a shit-eating grin and quick turn on your heel to get out of their sight. Megumi was more than interested to know just why Nanami had recommended you to be a special grade in just a semester. He wanted to know just what your cursed technique was.
“I think we may have come across our first problem, kids.” Nitta frowned as she started up the engine again. The car rumbled, the AC started fanning at your neck again, and you sighed out along with the other three.
“He is dead, isn’t he?” Megumi was quick to point out, looking at the people gathered around the house, and observing Nitta’s gloomy face.
“Yeah, same case. We just hadn’t recorded this as fast before coming here. We are hot on the trail.” Nitta backed out of the neighborhood, taking the same bridge she had just crossed some time ago. She now drove towards the school, familiar places and houses splaying out in front of Megumi, old times and memories running through his head. He remembered a certain girl from his past, someone who was like family, though briefly, he had come to adore the little girl, now a teenager who shared the same last name as him, but had no ounce of the same blood.
“We will head over to the school to find out more. Perhaps they can give us some clues.” Nitta fumed silently, hoping the case would not go cold as some of them did at Jujutsu High, unless some of the semi-grade ones, or the special grades, had gotten involved. That is perhaps why Gojo Satoru himself was interested in having you tag along. Knowing you were not one to back down from a good fight and puzzle to figure out, Gojo had asked you two weeks ago to accompany the first-years when he had come across you in Ropongi. I’ll give you money!” He cooed in his crazy demeanor again, and you couldn’t say no (to money).
As the five of you finally came close to the building of Saitama Urami High, you felt the connection of the death somehow permeate the whole of the campus, certain signs and left over cursed energy flowing right in the crevices of the school, a certain type of dread came over you as you looked at the others conversing with the local school students and an old man who seemed to be a teacher. You wouldn’t know. But you knew there was something more than just some stupid paranormal activity as you overheard the students talking about some bungee-jumping ritual that the older generation would take part in on the Yasohachi bridge.
You listened further into the conversations of the students, finding out how Megumi had a sister, Tsumiki, who gave you that familiar gut feeling in you that would require you to dig deeper later.
You decide it was time to investigate the bridge instead of roaming around the campus aimlessly, you quickly get to the car, not waiting for the others to jump into the car before you, as you make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat, fishing out your phone to check on Noritoshi if he had texted you anything new.
“Well, we now have some form of a lead; we will be going to the bridge at once.” You sighed out, finally feeling the day getting more fun.
By the time you had arrived at the bridge, you had lost all the fun that had crept up on you from before. The bridge felt eerie, that was for sure, but there were no markings or residual cursed energy left behind by a “curse”. You thought that if the bridge were somehow to curse students who would jump from it, you would have to give it a chance by jumping.
Before you could even volunteer to fling yourself off the high bridge, the first-years had pulled out a rope.
“Yuji!” Nobara exclaimed as the other two wrapped up Yuji like a Christmas gift, ready to pop. It took him two jumps just to realise it was all futile, and nothing was going to happen from simply jumping off the bridge, during the day at that.
“Is he always acting like he hates his life, or is this a rare occurrence?” You asked as Yuji made it up the bridge again for the second time after jumping, not feeling any form of change in the cursed energy surrounding him.
“He does not hate his life,” Megumi answered monotonously.
“He is just a complete idiot who will do anything at least once.” Nobara chuckled as she threw the robes back inside Nitta’s car.
You chuckled to yourself, observing how the first-years bickered between each other, and realised you missed having a team of your own by your side during your missions.
The Jujutsu Tokyo High had a total of three third-year high schoolers, but Hakari had gotten in trouble and was expelled after failing to fix his issues with a brief suspension. There followed his girlfriend Kirara Hoshi, who had dropped out of school herself, just to follow her boyfriend into the world of illegal gambling and sparring. You did visit them from time to time, but it was no fun exorcising curses all alone when you could have done it like the old times. You missed bickering with them while Ichiji drove you three around missions, fighting over who would sit in the front and who would drive you all back after the mission was completed. Though Principal Yaga hated it when you drove, he could not go against you when he had observed how good a driver you were.
Since the bungee-jumping hadn’t affected Yuji much, and there was no residual cursed energy around you, you had declared that the problem was not the jumping part itself, but the landing: the curse must have been bound to a place under the bridge or right by the riverbank, where it would have created a simple domain with its curse technique imbued.
You were deep in your thoughts, looking out on the flowing water and the setting sun, as Megumi interrupted you.
“I know what you are thinking.”
“Yeah, we need to go down,” Nobara said as the four of you exchanged glances. Nitta was against it at first, bickering to you about how dangerous it was and how the group should retreat and call for back-up when resources became available.
“Nitta, we have a semi-special grade with us; we will be fine.” You smirked, looking at the three other students who exclaim in unison.
“Wait, what-?” While Yuji tried to ask you some more questions, a couple had approached your group, specifically a brother and sister who had let Megumi know the familiar pattern of a broken door lock had caught up with her from her old school days, and that the day she had done the silly ritual was together with Megumi’s sister, Tsumiki.
Aha, Megumi’s sister had also been cursed that day, considering the girl who had accompanied Tsumiki was now being actively hunted by the curse, so there was no way Tsumiki would be safe, either. You watched Megumi’s face turn pale as he quickly dialed Ichiji to ask for backup and check up on his sister. While Ichiji would have someone look over Tsumiki, the school was unable to dispatch more resources to the group and advised them to return if the threat was too much to bear.
“We cannot spare another minute while the curse is actively hunting the next jumpers. We need to go down.” You commanded, but Megumi had refused.
“The mission is far more dangerous than we thought. We should go back, but I will be going back to the school to investigate something further. You all need to go back now.” You saw right through Megumi’s fear and scheming, nodding once and following Nitta along with the other two to go back to Jujutsu High, but as soon as Nitta had closed the door behind her, you instructed her to wait around the entrance of the city and that you would give her a ring before midnight. She shrieked, threatening to contact Gojo if the mission got out of hand, but you knew that with Megumi beside you, a semi-special grade, you would handle the mission without higher involvement.
“Nitta-san, since when do you not trust me?” You cooed and gave her a mischievous smile, one that told her she would have to bullshit through most of the report by the end of the week. You were a known trouble-maker along with the other suspended students, but despite the others, you had never come out of a mission defeated. “B-but!” Nitta tried to protest, but you waved your hand goodbye as you nodded at Yuji and Nobara to follow you back, where you knew a certain idiot was trying to face the curse alone under the Yasohachi bridge.
The sun was slowly setting, the water getting louder as the three of you approached Megumi from behind, his demeanor now looking defeated, hunched shoulders in the front as he felt your presence approach him.
“You are not a good liar, Megumi,” Nobara smirked, patting the distressed boy over his shoulder blades. Yuji had followed in unison, putting his arm around his shoulders and slowly skipping down the trail that led to the underbelly of the bridge.
“Like one hell of a liar.” You smirked as you walked past the trio, wanting to be in the forefront of the group to make sure whatever would jump out would meet you before it met them.
The sun was setting quickly behind the mountains, the chirping of birds had died down some time ago, and the familiar clicking of crickets was not heard despite the proximity to water. It was weird: the space around the underbelly of the bridge was quiet, too quiet. You knew the nature had felt the same way about curses the humans did; somehow, it made sense, everything was still, as if listening to what would happen next.
You had slowly approached one of the banks at the river, feeling out the place. The sun was almost gone, the dark was slowly engulfing the city, and the street lights were starting to shine brighter each minute. It was time. The small glow from the bridge’s lights cast a very faint light over the water, but this was not the scene that you would have to face.
You felt a familiar gut feeling inside you, the premonition that something was about to happen, but that something had to be triggered. You looked at the other three and tried to remember how the legend went about the Yasohachi bridge curse - bungee jumping, and then what? Just get cursed, that’s all?
“There must be a certain ritual we must go through, or some form of action to trigger the domain,” Megumi spoke up first after a brief silence. Nobara nodded, “Maybe we should cross the river, perhaps it will trigger something.” Yuji exclaimed, and you grimaced at the idea. You could pardon everything, just not having to buy a new pair of Doc Martens again because you ruined the adhesive on them by going on a mission and waltzing into a body of water. (This was your third pair this year alone, and it was barely the end of it.)
“Welp, here goes nothing!” You put your hands on Nobara, pushing her slightly into the water despite her small protests, but she did not fight back, as the four of you crossed over under the bridge, praying for something to happen.
The domain simply spawned in a matter of seconds before you had reached the end of the river's width, feeling the atmosphere pregnant with cursed energy come down upon you like gravity, you graced yourself for the moment, an ugly, cursed spirit would pounce on you. The domain was simple, yet its shell, obvious in every other domain, was hard to crack from the inside. The domain was permeated with cursed rods flying all around the four of you, the cursed spirits coming out from all the little pores of the walls, springing up in their little song.
“Straw Doll Technique: Resonance!” Nobara readied her nails and hammer, looking at the smaller curses that sprang out of the pores of the domain. She slammed some of them down like whack-a-moles, but the curse kept springing out of other locations, confusing the four of you as you tried to look for the creator of the domain. The body of the domain had no single entity, meaning the curse had been manifested to cover a large area, the whack-a-mole curses sprouting up from time to time.
Megumi had called on his shikigami dog now, the one who had combined his two divine dogs into one, a werewolf-sized husky-looking hound which chewed on every new baby curse that would spring out and sing aloud of their presence. Yuji tried whacking some of them away. Your technique was too complicated to summon on a domain this weak, but you knew this was not the main problem the four of you would come across.
“There has got to be something-” You did not even get to finish your sentence before a much larger, cursed spirit appeared in front of you, with a large mouth on its stomach and a green hue to its skin. It spoke to all four of you like a human. Can they do that? The curse dashed right between you, almost attacking Megumi, and then stood off in front of you, like a dog ready to pounce.
This was new! A cursed spirit that spoke and deliberately challenged you all to fight with him, his mouth and supposed eyes leaked blood, the smell was very familiar to you, almost mixed in with something inside of it, like poison mixed in with sweet honey. Sour to smell.
You did not give the cursed spirit time to act, as you quickly dashed between the first-year high schoolers, touching them on their napes as you activated your own technique, Irezumi: Shell Mark. A binding tattoo seal on an ally’s skin lets them dodge one fatal blow to their core or soul. The tattoo would resonate with your cursed energy and let you know if the ally had survived the hit. The drawback was that if the cursed technique used on your ally was something that took time and killed the person over some period of time instead of immediately, your cursed energy output would be affected to make up for the protection of the ally. A risky technique that you had developed in middle school, but something you had now controlled through your ample cursed energy output.
“Yuji, I presume you got this!” You snarled at the cursed spirit, who had started mimicking a child, asking if any of you would want to play with him. You snorted at the smell permeating the domain, knowing that the curse smelled suspiciously of dried, rotting blood.
“Hai!” Yuji exclaimed as he and the curse got dragged outside of the domain, leaving the three of you to continue your haste assault on the Yasohachi domain, trying to dismantle the curse to make sure it did not take anyone further.
“We just have to whack them all, as soon as they are all dead, we should see the domain lift. We can help Yuji once this is over.” You nodded at Megumi, who was hoping to lift the curse soon enough before it got to his sister. The truth was, one of the staff from the Jujutsu High had been dispatched to look over her condition, but you all knew a mere assistant would be able to do nothing against a powerful curse, brewing over two decades.
For a moment, everything had stilled inside the domain, all the monsters had been exorcised, and the domain remained unbroken. In the moment before another spirit could make itself known, a mysterious, bulky hand latched itself on Nobara’s shoulders and started dragging her out of the domain.
“You do not worry about me! Keep smacking the moles, lift the domain! I’ll be fine!” Nobara pointed at Megumi before she disappeared outside the domain. You took a glance at Megumi, who was now stressed beyond belief, thinking he was all alone, before he glanced at your calm demeanor and calmed himself.
“The domain seems not to be lifting. We are missing something.” You pointed out, fingers fixed on your chin as you thought further about the domain’s structure. The smaller curses had been exorcised, the domain structure unchanged, the other curse would not have been the domain’s user, considering you felt Yuji still fighting him, along with Nobara fighting another cursed spirit, something was missing-
“Senpai, look!” Megumi pointed towards the ceiling of the domain, an unopened flower-like contraption hung low from the domain’s wall, leaking something like amniotic fluid as the flower slowly started to breathe and open up. Megumi’s eyes widened as he observed the now fully realized curse that had jumped out of its womb.
It can’t be! Sukuna exorcised you before!
“Isn’t this the same curse you and Yuji came across before?” You exclaimed to Megumi as the curse now jumped out of his contraption, emerging to dash right in front of you and Megumi, dodging his attack as both of you landed on opposite sides of his domain.
“I thought we had killed him!” Megumi retorted, dodging another of the curse’s attack. You readied your curse technique, taking out a bamboo stick with needle endings, infusing it with cursed energy, and pointing it towards the curse.
“This is not a curse you would simply kill. It’s housing another finger.” You noticed the small hole protruding in the middle of the curse’s chest. As if understanding what revelation you had just made, it clutched its face in his hands and started smiling eerily.
“Irezumi: Ryu.” You exclaimed as you took off the outer layer of your uniform, discarding the thicker suit to the ground, as you bared your backless shirt to the world. The traditional dragon tattooed on your skin was coiling around your back, darting from your shoulder blades to your waist, down to your buttocks, letting out a shriek as it felt the need to jump out of your skin.
You clapped your hands in front of you, aiming the bamboo stick in the curse’s direction as the tattoo dragon finally emerged from your shoulders through your forearms and fingertips, coiling around the cursed womb, squeezing it till it felt like it would pop.
Megumi’s eyes widen as he watches you pop out another cursed shikigami off of your hands and direct it right in his direction, a small spider liy floated right into Megumi’s palms, snaking up his forearms as you instructed him to strike the curse with the dragon. He directed it as you said, but the moment he was about to touch the curse, you felt a pang inside your stomach, knowing that both Nobara and Yuji were caught up in a timed cursed technique. You felt the cursed energy deplete from your reserves, but you did not fret, as you dodged another combustion straight from the domain master.
“Senpai!” Your back crashed into one of the walls of the domain, a gust of air leaving your lungs as your dragon tattoo returned onto your skin, coiling itself around your waist and back again.
Whenever you get a chance to fight with any special grade or grade 1 cursed spirits, I want you to observe Fushiguro and give him a chance to really shine his way through the battle. He is a closed-off kid; he has a hard time realising how talented he is. Guide him for me, why don’t you? Gojo had smirked at you before assigning you to the kids during this mission. You knew you still had immense amounts of cursed energy, despite Yuji wasting it away, landing black flashes on his opponents. You felt yourself slowly regain composure, at which your eyes darted to Megumi, his forehead bloody, almost unconscious as he tried his best to fight off the finger bearer. Before you could summon another of your techniques and imbue your weapon to realize it in a different form, he stood up and looked at you, before he let out a smile and clasped his hands together.
“Domain Expansion: Chimera Shadow Garden. “ A goo-like substance finally emerged from him, engulfing the domain the cursed womb had created and covering the whole floor of it with small shikigamis of Megumi. It was incomplete, and to your standards, ass even, but for a kid who had just been a first-year student at Jujutsu High, he had finally unleashed his full potential: you watched this solemn, depressed teenager finally unleash his true character, opening up to the possibilities that his bloodline bestowed upon him, you watched him finally set himself loose. You truly thought perhaps in the future, there could ever be a time when you could mentor someone yourself, perhaps train them, and teach them something that would unleash them like Megumi was being unleashed this moment from a simple realization of his potential.
The cursed spirit tried fighting away whatever animals had latched onto it, finally succumbing to the domain and your previous onslaught on him and evaporating into cursed residual. The domain had finally lifted as soon as the Garden was recalled. You watched the finger lie there in the residuals and picked it up, wrapping it in some of your uniform and tucking it away in your pockets.
“Good job, Megumi-!” You tried to cheer up the kid, but before you could even hear him say anything, he smiled and sank to the ground, exhausted from his immense power output.
Poor thing fell asleep. Must have been depleted. You felt the Shell markings evaporate in your cursed signature and slither their way back on your nape. Yuji and Nobara had exorcised their own opponents. Time to give Nitta a call.
☆ pairing: heian!ryomen sukuna x male!sorcerer!reader
His servants all wonder why he keeps you around. A food tester who happens to be a powerful sorcerer with complete dominion over poison. It's common knowledge that the Lord Sukuna is immune to all toxins, so why would he need you?
Not that he has to explain himself to anyone, let alone his own servants, but Sukuna thinks it's obvious – he desired you as his new lover. The previous lord you belonged to was unworthy of having you in Sukuna's eyes. A ravishing beauty such as yourself, with such intoxicating cursed energy wafting from you, needed a master like himself.
You didn't seem too perturbed when the King of Curses unceremoniously slaughtered your old employer and informed you that you would now be servicing him, practically and intimately.
He may be immune to all toxins, but Sukuna loves the way the ones produced by your cursed energy taste, especially when they secrete from your skin or mouth. The delicious sounds you make as he holds you over the second mouth on his stomach so that the large tongue can delve between your legs and soft cheeks is music to his ears.
Hello! If you are still doing requests (if you aren’t then totally just ignore this) would you do another Azog x reader? He doesn’t get enough content anywhere lol 😭😭
They were open at the time! Sorry this was so long ago 😅😭 I was completely stuck on ideas for this forEVER and then listening to one (1) whole song completely dislodged my brain so HELL YEAH AZOG CONTENT BABEY
Beneath the Curtain of Night- Azog the Defiler x Human Sorcerer!Reader
Warnings: Canon typical fighting/violence, blood, injury, a bit suggestive
Looming before you only a hair's breadth in the eyes of the woods were the jagged teeth of Dol Guldur. Ruins festering in the shadows of a wood once green and blessed, now sick with fog and crawling with fell beasts of elven and orcish bane alike. Dark magic twisted and curled into the air like an invisible, oppressive smoke.
It was that very darkness you were soon to melt into. While the magic in your veins was long diluted, this house of sorcery was to be your final test.
Fortress, more like. The stone that towered over your head and beyond your line of vision bore you no welcome, clear as the path in was. Shaking your head, your eyes turned just as hard. Something massive slammed into an interior wall as you stepped onto the cobbled bridge, something with ribs that cracked and surely lungs beneath that lost their wind. One of the multitudes within getting unlucky in a fight, or worse, simply being in the wrong location in the wrong moment. A sign? Perhaps, but you were not one to let things go untested. It was never in your nature, not even when it meant casting yourself onto hard ground or cutting again and again to retrieve relics, even after you'd slipped twice and stabbed your palm and sliced your wrist, blood oozing along the straight reddening line.
Your boots had left a trail down half the bridge when a shout rang out, deep and primal and far more thrilling than you cared to admit. A towering figure emerged from one of countless shadowed doorways, striding slowly and carefully at first. When your speed increased, though, steps gaining a new determination, so did theirs, and soon four boots thudded against stone, ripped toward each other like magnets. The same deep voice called out to you in the black speech, a tongue you still worked to gain mastery of. Some words escaped you, but one thing was clear: your presence was being challenged. You were being challenged.
"I hear of dark magic in this place," you attempted to reply, voice hoarse and halting as you called out the unfamiliar words, "Let me learn it!"
Three harsh, grating barks of laughter as your counterpart broke into a wide grin. You caught pale, glistening skin rippling with muscle and slashed by deep, wicked scars. Rows of teeth like knives, pointed ears, and a hastily impaled set of rusty hooked claws piercing through the stump of an arm. This was an orc, the Pale Orc if tales you'd heard in your journeys over the hills served anything.
Before another thought could contend with that, Azog the Defiler launched himself at you, sailing through the air as he drew a long jagged scimitar and swung. You barely had time to free your sword from your hip and fling it blindly upward, narrowly catching one of the notches with your blade; gritting your teeth, you dug your left boot harder into the stone, pushing with all your might to force his single hand back. The orc stumbled, strips of leather about his face swaying and flashing faces of suffering in the moonlight before you, but regained his footing with a deep crease of his brow. His second onslaught was merciless, one swing after another with the speed and ferocity of lightning strikes. At your back, wargs bayed and black speech rang out as another back struck stone. At times he toyed with you, pinning your body against his with a grin and drawing his blade slowly closer, heat pooling beneath you…
Inhaling sharply, you focused all your energy down your arm, feeling power ripple through its overlapping bones and bursting forth as a shock wave of shadow that had Azog staggering this time. His cold blue eyes burned with a mix of rage and respect, his brow alternately rising and falling back to a stare of deadly fortitude complete with a wicked smile.
"You play with power. Cute, but you will never truly understand it," the orc taunted, his voice like velvet upon rock.
“Not unless I break you first,” you taunted back, fingers winding around the relic tied to your sword. The power you drew was cold, pulsating haltingly like a heart caught before its beat and drifting down your hands.
Azog positively grinned at that, charging back over with another swing; this time, you dove out of the way, bodies almost tangling. Palms striking cold, damp ground, you pushed up hard and rose back to your feet in time for a fist to crack against your jaw. Blood bloomed beneath the harsh, cutting slam of your teeth to your lip. Spitting the salty tang, you felt a bit of the thick warmth dribble down your chin. Glowering, you unleashed another pulse, this one so strong it ripped a scream from your heaving chest and blew the Pale Orc the remaining distance your fight had not yet crossed. This time, the bruising slam and crack of stone and bone was on your side of the wall.
Striding over to his crumpling form, you took your turn to extend your blade along his throat, pulse pounding beneath muscle as you grabbed his one flesh wrist. His skin was surprisingly cool to the touch, far more so than the blaze in his eyes.
“Again,” you commanded in your halting black speech, voice lowering, “I have reason to believe I bear the blood of this necromancer you conceal. Bring me to him or whatever he has promised you is forfeit.” For emphasis, you pushed a little harder, just enough to return Azog’s favor and draw a long bead of onyx blood down his neck and shoulder blade.
~
Oh, the powers that be had quite the sense of humor. Within the walls of Dol Guldur you were to fight in the stead of he whom you had descended from; a necromancer like many in your host, he had precious little time to devote to you and thus you were to train for his ranks. Who, then, to train you but the master’s right hand?
That first bloody dance you’d shared on the bridge was by no means your final step. Day after day you were dragged out, rain or snow, to an open ring of cracked, vine-crept stone, and beneath dangling cages of victims long past you clashed, filling the frigid air with more iron echoes. That proud smirk of victory, those sharp teeth glinting down upon your crumpled form, poured resolve into you like molten steel, melting and hardening you all at once. Nothing got you back on your feet faster.
One such afternoon—or so it appeared beneath the veil of perpetual cloud and shadow your eyes had grown accustomed to, no longer needing to squint in torchlight— you had been challenged to toss your relic aside, leave your powers behind and fight with the strength born in you. In that, your sword had become an extension of your very body, an extension reserved for Azog and he alone. His hand had fallen upon you how many times those days, and yet when another struck you down and smiled over your body they met a quick end.
“You think the master’s best are toys? Worm.” The words should not have coursed through your veins the way they did, but as you’d watched his hand tighten about the throat of the other orc a heat quite opposite to your power flowed.
As it was, not a soul stood in your way. You twisted wildly about each other’s forms, returning any contact you received harder. Azog had chosen not to dual-wield, leaving his usual claw in place, but that hardly stopped him from parrying with it, catching your blade between its rusty grip and trying with all his might to wrench it from your hand. A smirk spread across your lips as you remembered your first fight—far was it from him to have a completely clean spar. Darting your legs out succeeded in throwing his center off and you used it, kicking again and again until you managed to grab your sword back and strike him with the hilt.
He’d won the past few days and you couldn’t let him get too comfortable, now could you? Twitches at your peripheries warned you that Azog was making to rise to his feet. Couldn’t have that either. Lowering your sword from his throat, you faced your opponent and dropped upon him in a tight straddle. The Pale Orc growled beneath your thighs but said nothing, only tilted his head slightly. Questioning? Daring?
You leaned down closer. “Does it bother you to lose your touch? Know that I could make good on my word of breaking you?” Hearing next to nothing but the black speech had increased your comfort in the forbidden tongue and the flicker of recognition in Azog’s eyes confirmed it was noticeable. Good. You wanted him to understand beyond a shadow of a doubt.
From beneath you, he shook his head, flesh hand falling idly to your thigh with a jolt of warmth and pressure. Five points digging faintly in as he grinned wider. “I prefer it. With every day comes the new joy of wondering who will draw first blood, who will end up on top. Delicious anticipation… You have proven yourself: worthy of the master, of this army. Of being mine.”
“Or is it I who has made you mine?” You teased, tightening your legs around his shoulders.
Not another word, only another growl as harsh, grating lips struck yours, moving with ferocity you hastened to mirror. As in battle, so was it there in this new ring, shins upon stone and hand now around your jaw, every push you received returned harder. No one would win this battle: not for the master’s right hand, not for assured dominance there beneath moonlight and hollow, dangling spectators, but you could be equals in destruction and protection alike. Stone sharpening its fellow beneath the cover of night, beautiful in its deadly overwhelm. The marks you left on each other proud scars of a new ceaseless victory.
You were banished for the danger you posed — not to Asgard, but to him. Before Loki’s fall, you were everything he wasn’t meant to have: powerful, unafraid, and bound to him by something deeper than magic. Now, years later, you're summoned home… and find him alive, unchanged, and burning in your veins like he never left. You knew his magic by touch. And the moment you feel it again — you remember everything.
Loki x powerful fem!sorcerer!reader
You hadn’t stepped foot in Asgard in over three years.
Not since the battle that nearly burned your hands to ash. Not since Odin’s command stripped you of your title and sent you to exile in the outer realms — too wild, too unpredictable, too close to the second son.
Not since Loki "died."
But now you were back. Summoned in silence. The High Council needed your knowledge of ancient magic — dark magic — the kind that moved in riddles and bled through veils.
You should have refused.
You didn’t.
And now, walking through the golden halls again — older, sharper, still half-haunted by your past — you felt it.
Not the palace. Not the court.
Him.
His magic slid over your skin before you reached the library doors. Cold, calculated. Familiar like a scar.
You paused in the archway. He was already waiting. Leaning against the far window, backlit in fading sunlight, dressed in black and green as if time had never moved.
But it had.
And so had you.
“I thought you were dead,” you said.
Loki didn’t turn. “A popular belief.”
“You let me grieve.”
“I let you live.”
That made you flinch. Because it was true.
Back then — before the chaos, before his fall — you’d been more than aligned. He had shown you magic without boundaries. You had shown him how it could be shaped by something other than pain. Together, you were devastating.
And dangerous.
Odin saw it. He separated you first. Banished you after.
And Loki? He let it happen.
Until he vanished. Until the stars whispered he was gone.
You moved further into the library. He watched you now — silent, unreadable.
“I thought of you,” he said. “In the dark places.”
You swallowed. “I didn’t think you could.”
He stepped closer. The air around you shifted. Your magic responded before you could stop it — rising like heat, reaching for his.
“I never stopped,” he said, quieter now. “I tried. I tried to forget how your power felt.”
You shook your head. “You never knew how to feel it. You only ever took.”
“No,” Loki said, voice raw. “Not you. I let you see it.”
He was in front of you now. The energy between your bodies sang — old magic, threaded with memory.
“You knew my magic by touch,” he whispered. “You always did.”
Your throat tightened. “And I felt it leave me the night they dragged me away.”
His hand lifted — slow, uncertain. But you didn’t pull back. Not this time.
Fingers brushed your jaw.
The connection struck instantly.
The threads of your magic tangled with his in the space between breaths — hot and cold, memory and grief, power and want. You saw flashes behind your eyes: the night you first touched, your hands pressed together over a spell too old to be named; his voice in your mind during your exile, calling your name like prayer.
Tears stung your eyes. You hadn’t meant to let them.
“I would’ve destroyed them for you,” he said, shaking now. “If you’d asked.”
“I didn’t want destruction,” you whispered. “I wanted you.”
His lips hovered close, breath shallow.
“Then take me now. Not as I was. As I am.”
You kissed him.
And gods — it wasn’t careful.
It was raw. Desperate. Years of absence unraveling in seconds. His hands tangled in your robes, your fingers gripping his collar like he might vanish again. Magic flared around you — runes glowing in the walls, scrolls rattling on shelves.
It wasn’t just love. It was recognition.
When you pulled back, your foreheads touched, breath mingling.
“I never stopped being yours,” you whispered.
“I knew that,” he said. “I felt it. Every time I reached for magic, I felt you.”
And he kissed you again, like you were the only spell he couldn’t undo.
“Do you think I could pay the devs to release Noli right now?”
Currently, you were sat in your high-rise apartment alongside your two beloved husbands. Suguru is in-front of you with a slight twitch to his hands, watching his snowy counterpart on the other side of the bed. “Satoru. Its a roblox game. Please settle down” he sighed while massaging his temple.
You sat behind him, braiding his hair as you peeked over his shoulder to watch your phone battery go down the more Satoru used it.
“Toru, dearest, dont you think its time to get off forsaken? You have 248.89k and Noli wont come any sooner.”
“And quit draining her phone battery you dork.”
Oh.
Suguru only resorted to name calling when Satoru was starting to get to him. Which, he probably was to be fair. The nonsensical rambling about Noli was probably getting to him.
“Im your dork suguboo, and to be fair? Im kinda fighting this guest right now. I gotta show him how superior I am and make him cry behind the screen with my amazing hitbox.”
“You are behind the agony of many players” you retorted with another sigh, recalling how he once had you stressed while rushing a generator as he played 1x
“And I gladly am sweetheart” he said, continuing to allow his fingers expertly dance across your phone screen. Suguru hugged the pillow while scrolling through apps on your firefox TV.
“Satoru.” He stated sternly
“Yeah?” He hastily replied, continuing to click away.
“Win 10 matches without getting hit or dying, and we can stay in bed for the rest of the day.”
He paused, breath hitching and tense eyes interlocking with your own before looking back to Suguru. Your own widened. “Hey! We have stuff to do today we cant be-“
“Double dog dare?”
“Triple dog dare.”
You finished the last braid before handing Suguru his phone. You knew staying in bed meant countless of possibilities for Satoru, who wanted nothing more but to laze around and play games
“Huh? Whatre you guys doing?” He side eyes you both with a suspicious look. “It wouldnt be fun if we didnt give you a challenge toru”
“WAIT WHAT??? Its not fair if Suguru is playing?!” He pointed at you both with an incredulous look as if you were plotting on him this entire time
“Did you really think we’d make it that easy? Join my server..or..is it that you’re trying to wuss out?” Suguru raised a brow tauntingly.
“Surely the great Gojo can best anyone in forsaken?”
Ohhh. That’s what you two are getting at. Provoking him so he’ll go along, right? He grinned before tightening his grip on your phone. “Alright, bet, you’re on”
You stared at them with a deadpanned expression “too easy..” you mumbled under your breath. Perhaps you’ll get started on dinner now.
(My best friends have been on forsaken with me for days and them chanting for noli gave me this idea caus now im addicted to forsaken)
