what happens when your assigned to shadow your industry idol and ex-boyfriend's current lover?
Fashion Designer ! Suguru Geto x Intern / Student ! Reader x Ex-Boyfriend ! Model ! Satoru Gojo
word count: 1.9K
header border thing by @/saradika-graphics
art by: @/lacampanule on twt
PREVIOUS: THREE
CW: no cheating. poly. fem!reader. miscommunication. breakups, depression, anxiety, insecurity and self deprecation. a little graphic? fainting, starving, workaholicism, etc.
cw by chapter. some may consider this bordering infidelity? Improper workplace etiquette. jealousy. sorry if theres grammar mistakes its been a long few days. EVERYONE is OVERLY insecure
—————-—————-—————-—————-—————-
As Satoru and Suguru left your view, you let yourself finally drown in all the thought’s that Satoru’s tsunami of a presence dawned on you.
You remember the day he broke it off from with you vividly. It was your sophomore year of college, and you were both back at home as it was nearing winter break; you’d think that now that exams were over you would have more time together, apparently not. It was around this time, a little earlier actually, that Satoru had been growing in fame.
You chalked up his lack of dedication to your relationship to the pressure of work and school piling up on him, but when it was the third date he’d missed because of a last minute gig or appearance he had to make, your rose colored glasses could only stay pink for so long. Still, you decided you’d hold it out just for him. What was that one saying? Through health and through sickness, through the ups and the lows…however it went, it resonated with you. One day, he’d make it far enough so that time would no longer be just a luxury for him, and for you too.
Oh how wrong you had been.
As you swirled the drink in your cup, you noticed your then boyfriend’s figure walking through the restaurant doors and solemnly approaching you. Your face lit up, only to be dimmed by his own expression.
“Satoru, did it not go—”
Before you could finish, the words that came out of his mouth cut your words, and your heart off.
“Y/N, I think—no, we have to break this off.”
You didn’t say “what,” nor did you ask if he was joking; because you knew Satoru Gojo would never take your feelings as a humorous pass-time. Yet, you stared at him, confused. Your mind reeled, trying to recount any and all of the moments that could have possibly led up to this very moment. Before you could drown yourself further in your silent journey down memory lane, Satoru’s pale hands rested above yours.
“Y/N.” his voice remained gentle. Never, ever, has Satoru raised his voice at you. Not once.
“I-”
“It’s not your fault, and it’s not because of you…”
You held your breath, upset that despite all the moments you’d shared, he still fed you the cliché breakup speech any man with a beating heart could come up with.
“I just…I have a dream and…that dream just isn’t—…feasible with an active love life and—.” Oh. There it is. You were in the way. His future was so grand that a small thing like you had no place in it. You were too small to hold his grand presence that, if you tried you’d both fall and he’d crack.
You withdrew your hands, his mouth parted while his fingers instinctively curled around the air in which your hands once were.
“Satoru that’s enough.” You didn’t want to hear anymore. You wouldn’t be living a lie if you didn’t have a truth to delude yourself away from.
His eyes wavered, upset that you wouldn’t even let him hold the rest of what time you had together in his own hands., but he supposed that’s what he deserved; and what he’d have to get used to from now on.
“I…want us to still be friends. Please.”
Please don’t leave your heart in my hands and walk away with it; I won’t know what to do with it. — Toru
Don’t walk far away with mine either, please.
You finally looked him, his eyes melting after finally being graced with the presence of your own.
“Of course, ‘Ru.” you had said it with the softest smile, the warmest gaze, in such a way that made Satoru felt like he wasn’t really breaking away from you, but rather taking a stretch that would let him grow as grand as possible.
—————-
The same couldn’t be said for you.
You were not being stretched, nor were you being broken off; you were taken and strangled by the feelings you once shared with the star-kissed man; feelings that have been returned straight to your bare hands, burned by the heat of the stars.
You tried to hold true to your promise, you really did, but when you saw Satoru’s stories, filled with his ever-bright smiles: a testament to the success that really did follow your absence, you just couldn’t take it anymore. He would check in here and there, as if trying to hold together a vase he knocked over himself before it could break. Now, every time you saw his profile your mouth was filled with a bitter taste.
One day, you deactivated your account, so that hen Satoru would ask around everyone would say the same thing. He assumed it was just a social media break.
When you re-opened your account, you blocked him, and before he could figure that out, you changed your entire profile.
To Satoru Gojo, Y/N L/N was a thief, and a liar.
He tried to reach out to you, only to be blocked everywhere. Hell, he even tried Pinned Interests DMs only to be blocked there too.
There, he’d done it. He lost his girlfriend, and then he lost his best friend too. Sure, he gets it. Most breakups go this way., but most breakups don’t make promises like that either. Most breakups don’t have honeyed eyes that hold you close. Most breakups ended in screaming matches, spilled drinks, or cold walkouts. You didn’t have that. He swallowed the ball in his throat, accepting his karma.
His heart hammered in his body, panic seizing him at the thought of you disappearing form his life forever. He felt bile climb up his throat while the rest of his body stuttered.
—————-
You hadn’t fared well after the breakup. You became insecure, a social recluse. Satoru’s words rung throughout your mind. “Not feasible…”
Everyday you felt small next to everyone, a belief that each step towards them was a tug backwards towards you for them. You stopped reaching out, you spent birthdays alone. You only went out if asked to, but stopped planning those of your own unless to reciprocate.
You felt as though you were releasing a dozen beautiful birds from a cage, but now you were all alone.
Mornings were spent staring at your wall. You busied yourself with classes, deciding you may as well become someone that doesn’t hold others back. Meals were skipped, believing that the hunger was a testament to your hard work—proof that you weren’t a weight to yourself, nor to others.
Nights could get scary, as everyone slept your thoughts found refuge. So, you threw yourself into work during those hours until exhaustion. At least then you could sleep without the little voices dancing in your mind before you could rest.
It took months, to unlearn all of this. And, you weren’t fully there yet. Sometimes it came back, but not as much as before. You were proud, for making it as far as you did; you were happy about it and that’s all that mattered to you.
—————-
When Satoru had seen you again, he felt as though the heavens had given him a chance. Yet, when he saw the fear spread along your face, he countered himself with the belief that it was perhaps hell instead and was laughing in his face.
Still, an opportunity was an opportunity and he never missed the chance to take one up. After all, that’s how he rose to where he is today.
—————-
It wasn’t long before your lunch break ended and you were walking back into the studio a little earlier than your mentor himself. Before he came back, you stored the file you had carefully placed away into your bag.
As you waited on the stool next to his desk, Suguru Geto was briskly walking through the long hall of the studio. Satoru, much to his dismay, had to once again retreat to his packed schedule and parted from Suguru.
In these brief moments of solitude, Suguru was doing something that would probably tickle an HR employee’s nightmares. Carefully, he had typed your name into Instagraham as though typing it too fast would draw your non-existent attention, and there it was. Your face had popped up as one of the first few options, a small “follows you” tag next to your name above a brief list of shared mutuals.
As he clicked it, he was disappointed by the locked symbol where your posts would’ve been. He clicked his tongue and rolled his lilac eyes, shoving his phone back into his pockets before he stepped foot back into his studio.
There you were, soft cheek resting on your hand as he rested you elbow on the island in front of you, occupied by your phone.
Suguru really didn’t know what to do with you. Sometimes, he wanted to use those muscles of his to scare you off, but Grandma Geto taught him better than that. Other times, he wanted to hold you in them. Sometimes, he wanted to swap his usual loungewear that he wore to the studio for designer slacks and cashmere sweaters as if to show you how you could never compete with him. Other times, he wanted to dress you up in the designer, wondering which fabrics would look best on you.
Like that, the first two weeks of your internship had passed. One day, Suguru would ruffle your hair and pinch your cheeks; others, you’d catch him glaring at you as he made subtle comments about him and Satoru.
One particular day, his words had been the wrong ones and sent you into a doozy. A flashback of your previous episodes surging back into you. He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t know.
“For most models, I always designed with my own hand and eye in mind. But, for Satoru it was different. With him, I designed with his soul, his body, everything. Truthfully, it felt as though we’d held hands sewn our souls together.”
You could only think about how you weren’t able to do the same—how much lesser you were and probably always will be.
His words meant no harm. Any other person would see it as the average person reminiscing their lover, but his words churned in your stomach, made the weight of your bones feel heavier than they were—dragging you deeper and deeper into the ground.
You were usually stronger than this; and the words shouldn’t have meant what they did to you, but your day had already started off rough and every little thing felt like a needle pricking you—drawing your blood agonizingly.
As you walked through the studio in your daze the weight finally dragged off of you—what’s usually your favorite part of letting go can easily become your least when your not in the safety of your couch or bed. As your heart beat reached the peak of the rollercoaster before it dropped, your legs shook and there you went.
Black clouded your vision as a ring danced in your ears, bracing for impact you were caught by a pair of warm arms. Blinking through your vision you could make out widened purple eyes, furrowed sleek eyebrows, and a curtain black silky hair shielding you from the outside world.
tysm to everyone for all their patience this past week. Sorry if this chapter’s a little underwhelming, but I wanted to elaborate on their past a bit more before I continue. Might even do sugu and toru only cameos as well, what do you guys think? I love digging into character psychology. I’ll try to get chapter 5 up soon!
⟢ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 :: dark romance ・ angst ・ supernatural ・ reincarnation AU ・ obsessive love ・ psychological tension
⟢ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ::
possessive behavior . toxic love . reincarnation . violence . bloodshed . emotional obsession . jealousy . manipulation . fate . loneliness . emotional dependency . smut . corruption of love . “you belong to me” energy .
⟢ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ::
dark content ahead . toxic relationships . emotional abuse . cheating mentions . manipulation . obsessive behavior . blood & gore . violence . death . possessiveness . verbal degradation/name calling . unhealthy attachment . stalking behavior . panic/anxiety themes . explicit language . discussion of forced marriage and reproductive coercion.
✧ ── 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟎 ── ✧
Morning light spilled through the towering windows, painting soft streaks of gold across the tangled sheets.
For the first time in forever…there was no panic waiting for you when you opened your eyes. No nightmares. No racing heartbeat. His arm rested heavily across your waist, firm enough that moving would have required permission…that he had no intention of giving. It should’ve irritated you, instead it made you sleep better.
You remained curled comfortably beneath the blankets with your back resting against Sukuna’s chest. His slow, steady breathing brushed softly against the back of your neck, grounding you in a peace you’d almost forgotten existed.
Then—His phone vibrated against the nightstand. One crimson eye cracked open. “…Persistent.” Carefully, so carefully you barely stirred, Sukuna reached across you and answered the call. “What.”
Gojo’s amused voice came through the speaker almost immediately. “Morning sunshine. Are you planning on giving me my student back today?”
“No.” A quiet laugh echoed from the other end. “You know, keeping birds in cages usually doesn’t end well.” Sukuna’s eyes drifted toward you, still sleeping peacefully against him. “…She isn’t a bird.”
Another brief silence. “She still needs to train.” His jaw tightened. Then without another word, he ended the call. Silence settled over the room once more.
A few moments later, you shifted beneath the blankets, letting out the faintest sleepy sound as your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks. Instinctively, you nestled a little closer to the warmth behind you before your eyes slowly blinked open.
Sukuna watched in admiration, it had become his favorite part of the morning. A couple days ago…he would’ve traded anything just to see this again. “…Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep.
He lifted his hand, gently brushing a loose curl away from your face before his fingertips lingered briefly against your cheek. “Morning.”
You blinked sleepily up at him. “…What time is it?”
“Later than you’d like.” A dramatic groan escaped you as you buried your face deeper into the pillow. “…Five more minutes.”
“Gojo called..” One eye slowly opened. “…That’s unfortunate.”
“It is.” You frowned. Sukuna didn’t even look remotely concerned. “Unfortunately…” His gaze settled on you with quiet certainty. “…you won’t be going anywhere.” You let out an exaggerated sigh before rolling onto your back, staring at the ceiling.
“You know…” you muttered. “You can’t keep me locked in this room forever.”
“I can.” The answer came so quickly, so matter-of-factly, it almost stole your next thought. “…Sukunaaa please.” You tilted your head, putting on the most pitiful pout you could manage.
He regarded you for a long moment. Then almost lazily He tilted his own head back at you. That tiny movement alone made your stomach tighten. It was the look of someone who had already decided how this conversation would end.
“So…” You sighed dramatically.“Your solution is…what exactly? I stay here sitting pretty while everyone else gets stronger?”
His crimson eyes didn’t leave yours. Not once. The room suddenly felt much smaller beneath his stare. Heat gathered low in your stomach before you even realized you’d stopped breathing.
Without warning, he leaned over you, closing one large hand around your jaw, effortlessly catching both of your cheeks between his fingers. Your lips puckered into an deeper unwilling pout. “…Mmm, that's better.” His thumb pressed just a little harder. “You’ve become…” His voice dropped into that deep, rough register that always seemed to settle somewhere beneath your skin.
“…quite bold. Tell me sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough with amusement. “Do you remember the sounds you made last night?. you seem to have forgotten who was begging for mercy a few hours ago.”
His words sent a jolt through you, sharp and electric. Heat rushed to your face as your breath hitched at the memory of it, flooding back at once. Tears flooding down your face as you sobbed around him so desperate and needily.. you tried to answer.
He squeezed your cheeks again. “Shhhh…” It came out as a slow, gravelly hush that vibrated against your skin. Your heartbeat betrayed you immediately. Then, without releasing your face, he leaned down until his lips hovered beside your ear. “That’s better.” A pause. “Obedience suits you much better…I’ll allow it.”
He said it with the calm certainty of a man whose obsession had long since stopped pretending to be reasonable.“Enjoy your freedom.” His breath ghosted across the shell of your ear. “It expires the moment I arrive..” Another pause. “…I’ll be waiting.”
There wasn’t a hint of uncertainty in his voice..there never was. You swallowed , then found yourself nodding before you even realized you had. Satisfied enough, he pressed a lingering kiss against your forehead before suddenly shoving you backward into the mountain of pillows behind you.
You let out an offended gasp. “Hey!” A pillow immediately hit you square in the face. “You’ll survive.” He was already walking toward the bedroom door, one hand lazily holding the sheet wrapped low around his hips, broad shoulders disappearing into the morning light spilling through the doorway.
Without even looking back, he spoke. “…Get dressed.” The door clicked shut behind him. You stared at the ceiling for a long moment before peeling the pillow off your face. “…What a jerk.” despite yourself..you were grinning ear to ear.
Morning passed quietly , you decided to wear an black athletic two-piece that hugged your frame comfortably, the fitted sports bra paired with matching low-waisted shorts that allowed complete freedom of movement. Fresh nikes and thick cotton ankle socks completed the look, practical without sacrificing style. Your hair had been pulled into a sleek ponytail, with a black athletic headband keeping every loose strand away from your face.
Standing in front of the mirror, you adjusted it slightly before your thoughts wandered somewhere they hadn’t stopped returning to since yesterday.
Your dad... The way he’d smiled at you was so…odd. You frowned. “…Maybe I’m overthinking it.” You wanted to believe that. You needed to believe that. Because the alternative…You weren’t even ready to consider it.
Your phone unlocked almost instinctively.
DAD
YOU: There’s someone I’d like you to meet tonight..Dinner?.
You stared at the message for a long second before finally pressing send.
Delivered.
Just sending it made something inside your chest feel lighter. At least now he knew. You slipped your phone into your bag before heading downstairs. The black SUV waited exactly where it always did. You climbed inside without much thought, your eyes immediately drifting toward the opposite seat. Empty?.
The smallest crease formed between your brows. Before you had the chance to ask, Uraume looked up from where they sat in front of you. “My lord has other matters requiring his attention today.”
Their voice remained as calm and composed as ever. “He instructed me to escort you to the academy in his place.”
“…Oh.” The single word left your mouth much quieter than you’d intended.
The SUV pulled away from the estate. You rested your elbow against the door, your chin settling into your palm as the city slowly drifted past outside the window.
It must be important…Your thoughts wandered despite yourself. He’s barely left my side since everything happened…A small knot tightened somewhere beneath your ribs. Has he finally grown tired of me? The thought sounded ridiculous the moment it crossed your mind.
Even you knew that.
Still though…It lingered. Across from you, Uraume quietly watched your reflection in the window. “My lord does not abandon what he values.” You looked up. Uraume’s expression hadn’t changed. “He simply is attending to what requires his attention.” Silence settled again.
You glanced back toward the passing skyline. “…Maybe.” Your voice was barely above a murmur.“…Maybe a little space is healthy.” The words sounded less convincing spoken aloud than they had inside your own head.
Uraume regarded you for another moment before looking out the opposite window. “I’m certain my lord would disagree.” A quiet laugh escaped you.“…Yeah..I figured.”
The gates of Tokyo Jujutsu High came into view shortly afterward. You stepped out of the SUV, stretching your arms above your head before taking a slow breath breathing in the fresh mountain air.
Oddly enough…It almost felt normal. You expected Yuji to tackle you before you’d even reached the stairs. Expected Nobara to scream your name…expected Megumi to pretend he wasn’t relieved to see you.
Instead…there was nothing. “…Weird.” Your footsteps echoed softly along the familiar pathways. The cursed energy hanging over the campus seemed thicker today, settling against your skin like humidity before a storm.
Every instinct quietly told you that something was..different. When you finally slid open the classroom door…only one person was there. Gojo.
He sat casually across the teacher’s desk with one leg crossed over the other, lazily flipping through a magazine as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
Without even looking up, he spoke. “…Well, well, well.” The magazine lowered just enough for his cocky grin to appear. “Look who finally remembered she goes to school.”
You dropped your bag onto one of the desks with a dramatic sigh. “Sorry.” You held up one finger. “I’ve only been kidnapped . Had approximately four emotional breakdowns…and slept for three days. So I’ve been a little busy.” you said with exaggerated politeness.
Gojo nodded thoughtfully. “Fair.” a beat passed.“…That’s usually what happens when you decide to fall for a homicidal psychopath.”
You folded your arms. “I guess it takes one to know one.” Gojo slowly lowered the magazine.“…Di-..Did you just call me crazy?” You smiled sweetly. “I didn’t.” Another beat. “I implied it.”
Gojo pointed dramatically toward the ceiling. “I liked her better when she was unconscious.” You laughed. “You absolutely did not.”
“No…” He stood, dusting off his uniform. “…But Sukuna definitely did.” Your smile faded just enough for him to notice. Gojo’s own expression softened for only a fraction of a second. “…Glad you’re back.” You nodded once. “…Me too.”
Gojo clapped his hands together. “Excellent.” The smile immediately returned. “Now. I’ve been waiting days to see if getting kidnapped made you any stronger.” He pointed toward the training grounds. “Let’s find out.”
Across tokyo... Sukuna had gone somewhere else entirely. Not away from you in particular, but for you. The black SUV disappeared into the shadows across the street from the abandoned warehouse.
The engine shut off. Silence settled inside the vehicle.
Through the cracked warehouse windows, several silhouettes crossed beneath the hanging lights before disappearing inside. Sukuna never looked away once.
“…There.” His voice was quiet. One of the tiny curses clinging to the rafters twitched. A live feed appeared on his phone. Static…Then voices.“…You’re bargaining with something you don’t understand.”
A man neither Yuji nor Megumi recognized folded his arms. “If you hand her over before understanding the power she’s carrying…” He shook his head. “…we’ll all pay for it.”
The reader’s father gave a humorless laugh. “You think I haven’t seen it? I’ve seen what she’s capable of. I know exactly what she carries.” His eyes hardened… and that’s exactly why it belongs with a stronger clan.”
Another man leaned against one of the crates. “…The Zenins?” He scoffed. “You’ve seen the way they treat women.”
“They won’t protect her at all. They won’t even care about her.” A pause. “They’ll use her.” Another silence. “They’ll keep her pregnant until her body gives out.”
“They’ll pray one of those children inherits whatever power she carries.” Yuji froze. “…What?” The warehouse fell silent..and so did your dad..He didn’t argue. Didn’t deny it. Didn’t even look disturbed.
Instead…“…If that’s the price…” His voice remained cold. “So be it.”
Yuji shot forward in his seat. “What the hell?! We have to go in there!” Megumi caught his shoulder immediately. “No.” Yuji glared. “What the hell do you mean no?!”
“If we move now…” Megumi kept his voice steady. “…we lose every answer we’re about to get.” Yuji clenched his fists. “…Damn it…”
Sukuna still hadn’t spoken. Not once. Only the tightening of his jaw betrayed what was happening beneath the surface. His crimson eyes never left the screen. Not even for a second.
Then—A vibration. Everyone looked down.Your father reached into his pocket. “…Hm.” He glanced at his phone. A slow smile crossed his face. “It seems…there’s someone she’d like me to meet tonight.”
One of the men chuckled. “Perfect timing.” He reached into a small wooden box. Inside rested a plain silver bracelet etched with strange black markings. He held it out. “When the opportunity presents itself…put this on.”
Your dad accepted it without hesitation. “and then?”
“You only need to touch her once.” The man’s smile widened. “The seal will do the rest.” Yuji’s face lost every ounce of color hearing the conversation that was taking place right now. “..Touch her?..That’s it?” The man nodded.
“That’s it.” The curse feed crackled. The conversation shifted. Inside the SUV—Another vibration echoed. Another vibration broke the silence. Sukuna calmly reached into his pocket and pulled out a second phone.
Yuji blinked. “…Please tell me that’s yours.”
“It is.” Sukuna unlocked it. “…Technically.” Megumi pinched the bridge of his nose. “…That’s her phone.”
“Correction, it’s my copy.” Silence. Yuji slowly turned toward him. “…You cloned her phone?”
“I did.”
“…Without even telling her?! are you psycho or what ?!” Sukuna didn’t even bother looking up. “I fail to see your point.” Yuji stared at him for several long seconds. “…you’re way more unhinged than I thought..”
“That’s hardly news.” Normally, he’d pretend he wasn’t reading them. But today was different…you were a little too busy trying not to get pummeled in your training session with Gojo. So today he’d read them for you.
The screen illuminated.
DAD
Sukuna’s expression cooled immediately. “…Right on time.” Yuji stared. “What happened to privacy?!” Sukuna finally looked at him. His expression was completely blank and unamused. “…What happened to shutting the hell up?”
Yuji immediately leaned back. “…Fair.” Sukuna’s eyes dropped to the screen. Reading your text you sent to your dad about dinner. He agreed. His thumb rested against the screen for a moment. Then…The faintest hint of satisfaction crossed his face.
“…Good girl.” His voice was almost inaudible. “Exactly what I needed you to do.” Megumi looked over. “…Are you exposing him in front of her tonight?”
Sukuna locked the phone. “…No..Not yet.” His eyes lifted toward the warehouse. “I’m going to let him believe that everything is going according to plan.” A long silence followed. Then—“and when he reaches for her…” The temperature inside the SUV seemed to drop. “…I’ll end it.”
No one questioned him. Not Yuji. Not Megumi. Because the look in Sukuna’s eyes said everything. Someone was not leaving that dinner alive.
The training grounds were unusually quiet that afternoon.
A cool breeze drifted across the open field as dust settled beneath your shoes. You rolled your shoulders, flexing sore fingers before tightening the wraps around your hands one last time. Across from you, Gojo stood with both hands tucked lazily into his pockets, looking far too relaxed for someone who’d spent the last thirty minutes knocking you flat on your back.
“You know,” he sighed dramatically, “for someone everyone keeps whispering about…” He tilted his head. “…I expected a little more.”
You pushed yourself off the dirt with an exhausted groan, brushing the dust from your knees before shooting him an unimpressed look. You bent down, grabbed a handful of dirt, and threw it directly at him.
He laughed. “There she is.” That stupid grin. You were beginning to hate it. The two of you circled each other again. Gojo’s smile slowly disappeared, replaced by something much more focused. “Again.”
You inhaled, then moved.
He stepped aside effortlessly, your fist slicing through empty air before another strike followed immediately after. He blocked that one, ducked beneath the next, and twisted away from a kick that narrowly missed his shoulder.
“..That's a little better. again.” You frowned. “‘A little ?’”
“I said…” He pointed toward himself. “…again.” Something inside you tightened. Not your muscles, something deeper. A strange pulse spread through your chest before traveling down your arms, settling somewhere beneath your fingertips.
Your breathing slowed.
Then..the world around you became strangely quiet, that’s when you saw them. Ancient black markings. Symbols you had never seen before, yet somehow understood. They flashed beneath your feet for only an instant before disappearing again.
Your brows pulled together. “…What…” Gojo noticed it immediately. His eyes sharpened. “…Again.” This time you charged at him. Gojo barely had enough time to react. Your speed exploded. Each strike faster than the last. Wind tore across the training grounds as your fists cut through the air with enough force to leave visible distortions behind them.
Gojo’s eyes widened. “…There it is.” For the first time since training began…He wasn’t holding back. He disappeared from one position only to reappear somewhere else a split second later, narrowly avoiding another devastating punch that shattered the stone beneath his feet.
The entire field trembled. Students watching from nearby instinctively stepped backward.
Even Gojo couldn’t stop smiling. “…Yes.” His excitement echoed across the field. “Again!” You planted one foot , then twisted your hips and drove every ounce of force you had into the ground where he’d been standing.
The impact never landed. Gojo had already vanished. But the earth…collapsed. A deafening crack split across the training grounds as stone folded inward several feet, dust exploding into the air like a miniature earthquake.
When the smoke cleared…Gojo stood several yards behind you. His blindfold hid his eyes, but his snarky grin remained. “…Much better.”
You turned sharply. “‘Much better? You’ve got impossible standards.”
“I know.” A familiar voice interrupted before either of you could continue. “…Y/N.” Your head snapped toward the entrance. “…Choso?” The smile that spread across your face happened before you even realized it.
You hurried across the field without thinking. When you reached him…You wrapped your arms around him. For a second…He completely froze. Then, slowly…His arms settled around you in return. “…You’re standing.” His voice was quieter than usual. “You look better.”
You laughed softly. “I feel better.” You stepped back just enough to look at him.“…Thank you.” He shook his head. “…You don’t need to thank me. I’m just glad you’re alright.”
Gojo clapped loudly. “So…” He looked between both of you. Are we done with the reunion now? we were in the middle of something.”
Neither of you acknowledged him. Gojo sighed dramatically. “I’m feeling incredibly left out.” Choso walked past him as though he hadn’t spoken. His attention remained entirely on you. He stopped beside your shoulder before gently adjusting the position of your elbow. “Too high.”
His fingers moved to your wrist. “You lose balance every time you strike.” Then your stance. “Your feet. Plant them farther apart. You keep wasting momentum.”
You blinked. “…You noticed all that?”
“I notice everything.”
Gojo dropped onto the grass behind both of you, sitting cross-legged with his chin resting in one hand. “…Am I being replaced? This is incredibly disrespectful.”
A few minutes later, your training resumed. This time your movements felt different. more cleaner, sharper. Every correction Choso had given you settled naturally into your body, and Gojo noticed immediately. “…Now we’re getting somewhere.”
He dodged another strike..barely. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted. “You know…” His voice carried casually across the field.“…I’ve seen stronger punches from your ex.” Everything stopped.
Not physically..but emotionally. Jacob. Heather. Your dad. Mahito. Every betrayal crashed together at once. Then all of a sudden..Something snapped. The pulse returned. Only this time…It didn’t stop.
Ancient black markings spread beneath your feet in perfect circles, one after another after another until the entire training ground had become an enormous ritual carved into the earth itself.
The air became unbearably heavy. The trees bent. The ground trembled like something sleeping deep beneath the academy had just opened one eye.
Gojo’s smile disappeared. “…No…” His voice barely escaped him.“That pattern…there’s no way.” Choso’s expression changed immediately. “No.” He took one step forward. “…Y/N.” You didn’t answer. your eyes had become completely black and empty.
The shaking intensified. Windows across the academy rattled violently. Students began running outside. Gojo didn’t move. He couldn’t…because he recognized those markings.
Not from experience…from history. From records that should have remained buried forever. “…Impossible…”
Choso moved first. He appeared behind you before the next pulse erupted, wrapping one arm securely around your shoulders while the other caught your wrists before another strike could be thrown.
“Y/N.” Nothing. His grip tightened. “Look at me.” Still nothing. The cursed symbols continued spreading. “Y/N.” His voice cracked this time. “Come back.”
Slowly…Your breathing steadied. The black circles faded one by one until the earth beneath your feet looked somewhat ordinary again. The trembling stopped and silence rushed back over the academy.
You blinked once confused. “…What happened?” Choso immediately turned you toward him, both hands resting firmly on your shoulders as he searched your face.
“…Are you hurt?” You frowned. “No. I’m fine.” His eyes scanned every inch of you anyway. ”How many fingers?” You stared. “…Seriously?”
“Answer me.”
“…Three.” Only then did he finally breathe. Gojo hadn’t moved an inch. He remained standing exactly where he’d been, still staring at the ground. “…I know those markings.” Choso slowly looked toward him. “…You do.?” Gojo nodded once. “I’ve only ever seen them…in ancient records.”
A long silence settled. Finally…He looked back at you. Only this time there wasn’t excitement in his expression anymore. There was curiosity…and something far more unsettling.
“…Y/N…” He exhaled slowly. “…I don’t think anyone truly understands the power you’re carrying.” he let out a quiet breath. “If they did..” his bright blue eyes held yours intensely. “..you wouldn't be standing here.” Silence settled over the training grounds again. The wind had stopped…Even the birds hadn’t returned.
Choso still held your shoulders, searching your face as though afraid that if he looked away for even a second, whatever had just happened would happen again.
“…Are you certain you’re alright?” You blinked at him. “I…” You laughed nervously. “I think so. I just got…really pissed off.”
Choso didn’t laugh and Gojo didn’t either. For several long seconds, neither of them spoke. Then—Gojo suddenly clapped his hands together. “Welp.” He smiled far too brightly.
“I’m officially invested.” Before anyone could react, he strode across the field, grabbed your wrist, spun you effortlessly toward him, and dipped you backward with entirely too much confidence.
You stared at him already annyoed. “…Gojo.”
“No, no, y/n hear me out.” His grin somehow became even wider. “Forget Sukuna. Marry me.” You blinked. “…Excuse me?”
“I’ve made my decision.” He nodded dramatically. “We’ll be the strongest couple in history.” He pointed somewhere into the distance. “I can already picture it.”
“Our ridiculously overpowered children. They’ll probably start exorcising curses before kindergarten !! They’ll inherit your mysterious terrifying whatever-that-was…and my incredible good looks.”
Gojo laughed as he caught you around the waist, dipping you backward even more with entirely too much enthusiasm. “Gojo—”
“I’m just saying.” He leaned closer with exaggerated sincerity. “You deserve someone strong with ridiculously good looks…and preferably white hair.” A deep voice cut through the field.“…Interesting.”
Everything stopped. Gojo froze. The smile disappeared from Choso’s face. Even the wind suddenly felt quieter. You didn’t have to turn around, because you already knew that voice.
Sukuna.
He stood several yards away beside the waiting black SUV. One hand still resting inside his pocket. The other hanging loosely at his side.
His expression…Empty. Which somehow looked far more dangerous than anger. His eyes slowly traveled from Gojo’s hand, still resting against your waist…then to your face..then back to his hand again.
Without saying another word…he began walking. He moved with terrifying restraint. Gojo’s grin didn't falter but on the other hand, Choso's shoulders stiffened immediately. He recognized that walk. It was the calm that came immediately before Sukuna became unforgiving.. And when he finally reached the two of you…He didn’t acknowledge Gojo first.
He looked only at you. Then…One arm slid around your waist firmly. His hand spread across your side before pulling you completely out of Gojo’s arms and against his chest in one effortless movement.
The sudden force stole your balance. Your palm landed instinctively against his chest. His fingers squeezed your waist once. Just enough that you understood exactly what he was saying without him speaking.
Only then…did he lift his eyes toward Choso. “…Didn’t expect to find you here.” His voice was almost conversational. Choso met his stare evenly. “I happened to be nearby.” A pause. “I thought it would be wise to supervise.” His gaze shifted briefly toward Gojo. “So no one did anything reckless.” Gojo rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh yea..about that…”
Sukuna’s eyes drifted toward the field. The markings. Still carved into the dirt. The color drained ever so slightly from his face. Not from fear, but recognition.
Then…he looked back at Gojo. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them needed to, his expression said a million words already. “…Training’s over.” Your head snapped toward him. “…Excuse me?” His eyes found yours. Just a single look. One that settled over you like several tons of pressure.
It wasn’t a request. It was a decision that had already been made. You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Every instinct inside you wanted to argue. Normally you would have, but you knew better. “…” You sighed. “…Fine.”
You reached down, grabbed your duffel bag, then looked back toward Gojo and Choso. “I’ll…” A tiny pause. “…see you guys later.” Gojo gave you an awkward little wave. Choso nodded once. You walked toward the SUV. Your steps carried just enough attitude that Sukuna noticed…of course he noticed.
He watched until you disappeared inside the vehicle. Only then…did he turn back. His eyes settled on the ruined field once more. Then on Gojo. “If either of you…” His voice dropped lower. “…place any value whatsoever on your lives…” A pause. “…Whatever you witnessed today…” His gaze flicked toward the markings one last time. “…you didn’t.”
Silence.
He turned his back on both of them and walked toward the SUV. For several long moments… Neither Gojo nor Choso spoke.
Finally…Gojo adjusted his blindfold. “…So that’s it.” Choso kept watching the disappearing SUV. “…What?”
Gojo looked up with his usual carefree grin. “…looks like i had it backwards .” His eyes drifted back toward the fractured symbols carved into the earth. “He’s not afraid of what she’d become..” A pause. “…He’s afraid of what everyone else would do once they realize what she already is.”
Choso’s expression remained unreadable. “…And the worst part of it…” His eyes followed the SUV until it disappeared beyond the trees.“…is that he’d burn the entire world down before letting anyone else discover that..”
“…Gojo.” The white-haired sorcerer glanced sideways. “If you’re planning on provoking Sukuna…” Choso looked toward the academy gates where the SUV had disappeared. “…be very certain it’s worth the consequences.”
Gojo raised an eyebrow. “You think he’d kill me?” Choso looked at him without even a hint of humor. “…I think…he wouldn’t lose a second of sleep afterward.”
The SUV rolled quietly through the streets of Tokyo.
For several minutes, neither of you spoke.
The only sounds were the tires humming against the pavement and the occasional vibration of the city outside the tinted windows. Your muscles still ached from training, and every time you shifted, you could still feel where Gojo had sent you flying across the field.
You reached into your bag almost absentmindedly and pulled out your phone. The screen lit up immediately.
DAD: I’d be happy to have dinner with the both of you tonight. Seven works.
Your shoulders relaxed before you even realized they had. “…He finally answered.” Across from you, Sukuna didn’t react. Because he’d already known. You smiled anyway, rereading the message before locking the screen.
You laughed quietly to yourself. “…I’m actually excited.” His crimson eyes finally drifted toward you. “You are.” You nodded.“I finally get to introduce somebody I actually…”You stopped.“…nevermind.” The realization settled over you almost immediately.
You were introducing…Sukuna. “…God…” You rubbed your forehead. “I really hope this goes well.” Sukuna studied your face for another moment before speaking.
“…How was training?” You blinked. “It went fine.”
“‘Fine.’” He repeated the word like it offended him. “You smell like cursed energy.” A pause. “…Your pulse is still elevated.” Another. “…You overexerted yourself.”
You frowned. “It’s training. What did you expect?”
“I expected him…” His voice lowered. “…to remember you’re not disposable.” Silence settled between the two of you. Then you sighed. “It wasn’t that serious, it's not like anyone got hurt.”
“It is.” He answered immediately.“It became serious the moment you walked into that academy.” You rolled your eyes. “He was trying to make me stronger.”
His gaze didn’t soften. “He was fortunate I wasn't there from the beginning.” you looked away toward the window before deciding now was probably the safest time to change the subject back. “…My dad agreed to dinner.”
“I know.”
You frowned. “…Right.” Of course he knew. You almost forgot who you were talking to. “…Okay.” You turned in your seat to face him fully. “Then you already know what I’m going to ask.”
“and what is that?.”
“…Please.” You took a breath. “No threats. No intimidation. No making my dad think he’s about to die. and for one evening…” You looked directly into his eyes. “…just try to be normal.”
The silence that followed felt almost insulting. Sukuna stared at you as though you’d said something completely unreasonable. “…Normal.” He repeated the word slowly. “As opposed to what?”
“You know exactly what.”
“No. I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
He leaned back. “What part of me would you like hidden tonight? The part that is feared? The part that built everything you’ve been living in? The part willing to kill for you?”
His eyes never left yours. “…Or the part that refuses to apologize for any of it?” He had cornered you without ever raising his voice. You looked down first. “…That’s not what I meant.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. I just…” You rubbed your temple. “I don’t want this dinner turning into a bloodbath.”
“It won’t.” His answer came immediately. “…Unless someone gives me a reason.” Your stomach tightened. “…Sukuna.” He shifted toward you. His hand closed around the back of your neck, firm enough that you felt exactly how much larger he was than you, guiding you effortlessly across the seat until barely any space remained between the two of you.
You could feel the heat coming off him. “You spend an exhausting amount of time worrying about everyone else.” His voice dropped lower. “…Enough.” Your breath caught. “The dinner. The academy. Your father. The Zenins. Those pesky problems are no longer yours to carry.”
His thumb dragged once along your jaw before settling beneath your chin. “I’ve already decided they’re mine.” Heat flooded straight through your body. Your pulse betrayed you instantly. You hated that it did that everytime he got this close. Every sensible thought in your head was telling you to shove him away.
Instead…you stayed exactly where you were…oh and of course he noticed it too. A quiet scoff escaped him.“…There’s my answer.”
Before you could ask what he meant, he released you just as suddenly as he’d pulled you in. He settled back against the leather seat as though nothing had happened.
Outside…Tokyo continued passing peacefully beyond the windows. Inside…You stared out at the city, pretending to watch the buildings. Pretending you couldn’t still feel the imprint of his hand against your neck. Pretending your heart hadn’t forgotten how to beat normally the second he’d decided to invade your space.
Across from you, Sukuna watched your reflection in the glass instead of looking at you directly. He didn’t need to say another word because he'd already won that exchange.
The drive back to the estate passed beneath a sky slowly surrendering to evening.
When the SUV finally rolled beneath the towering entrance of Sukuna’s estate, servants were already waiting outside. One opened your door before you could reach for it while another quietly informed Sukuna that preparations for dinner had been completed.
Everything was ready. Which somehow made your stomach twist even tighter.
Warm water poured over your shoulders as steam slowly filled the marble shower. You rested one hand against the wall, letting the heat loosen muscles that still ached from training. “…Something’s wrong.”
The thought came quietly. Your dad had avoided every question you asked about your cursed technique. Naoya warned you…Even Gojo had looked uneasy after what happened during training. You closed your eyes. Maybe…You really were overthinking everything. He was your dad. He loved you…Didn’t he? Tonight…You’d find out for yourself.
The bedroom looked as though a department store had exploded across it. Several dresses lay discarded over the bed. Shoes covered half the floor. You stood in front of the mirror, curling a strand of hair in one hand before slowly setting it back down. Instead…You reached for the straightener.
A tiny, bitter smile crossed your face. Growing up… Your dad had always hated your straight hair. “Your natural curls suit you better y/n. Don’t flatten them. I like them the way they are.” You stared at your reflection. “…Let’s see if that’s still true.”
Slowly…You began straightening each section. When you finished, sleek strands rested neatly over your shoulders. A cream-colored blouse tucked effortlessly into a matching skirt. Nothing too extravagant.
You took one last breath.“…Here goes nothing.” as the final stair creaked beneath your heel, Sukuna looked up.
Whatever conversation he’d been having with one of the servants…stopped, completely. His crimson eyes lifted…Then slowly dragged downward to your heels. Your skirt hugging your thighs perfectly. The soft cream blouse.
Then…Your hair. He said nothing. Not one word. Instead…He started walking. Every step carried the same dangerous confidence that seemed to follow him everywhere.
Your heartbeat betrayed you again long before he reached you. “Sukuna…?” . He stopped directly in front of you.
One hand reached up first. His fingers gathered a section of your newly straightened hair before letting it slowly slip through them. His eyes never left your face. “…Hmm.” The sound rumbled low in his chest. “You changed it again.”
You tried to sound casual. “…Just felt like doing something different.” He knew better. His other hand slid around your waist firmly. Pulling you against him until there wasn’t even an inch between your bodies.
Heat immediately flooded your face. “Sukuna—” He ignored the protest completely. Instead, he lifted your hand. Turned it over then Pressed a slow kiss against your knuckles. Only then did he finally speak. “…Beautiful.”
The word came out rough, almost possessive like. His eyes searched yours for another moment before a faint smirk touched his lips. “I certainly hope…” His thumb brushed lazily across your wrist. “…you dressed this beautifully for me.”
Your heart stumbled. “…You’re unbelievable.” His hand tightened almost imperceptibly against your waist. “I know.” Before you could think of another comeback…He kissed you hungrily. Like a man who had spent the entire afternoon pretending he wasn’t counting the minutes until he could have you to himself again. His hand tightened against your waist, lifting you just enough that your heels barely bruised the polished floor.
Your fingers gripped the front of his shirt, clinging to the expensive fabric for dear life as warmth rushed through your chest and settled somewhere much deeper. When he finally pulled back, your foreheads remained only inches apart.
Your breathing had completely forgotten its rhythm. A dangerous thought crossed your mind. Forget dinner…Let’s just go back upstairs. The realization made your cheeks burn even hotter. “Stop looking at me like that.” one corner of his mouth lifted. “Make me.”
“My lord.” The servant bowed. “Your guest has arrived.”
Without looking away from you…Sukuna smiled. “…Come.” He offered you his arm. “Lets not keep him waiting.”
The massive front doors opened as your dad stepped inside. His eyes immediately wandered upward. Towering ceilings. Imported marble. Crystal chandeliers. Original artwork. The sheer scale of the penthouse left him momentarily speechless.
“…Good Lord…” His gaze continued drifting around the entrance…Until it landed on you. A smile spread across his face. “There you are.”
You walked toward him first. “Hi, Dad.” Then…His eyes moved to your hair. “…You straightened it.” You nodded. “I did.”
His smile widened. “I’ve always loved your hair like this.”…Everything inside you stopped. Your stomach dropped. No…He hadn’t…not once, not ever. If anything…He’d spent years telling you the exact opposite.
The smile on your face stayed exactly where it was. Only because you’d learned very recently how dangerous it was to let people know when they’d slipped. From the corner of your eye…You saw Sukuna. He hadn’t missed it either. Not the hesitation. Not the way your expression changed for half a heartbeat.
Then…Your father finally looked past you and straight at Sukuna. The color disappeared from his face with immediate recognition. Neither man spoke. Sukuna…Smiled. Controlled and almost amused. He stepped forward before extending one hand. “It’s a pleasure.”
Your father’s eyes dropped immediately to it. His expression shifted.“…Forgive me.” He laughed awkwardly. “I’ve been traveling all day. My hands are filthy. I should wash them before greeting anyone properly. I’ll shake your hand afterward.” Sukuna held the silence for one long second. Then withdrew his hand without the slightest hint of offense. “Of course.”
His knowing grin never faltered. “…Take your time.” You looked between them. Neither of them looked away. Neither of them believed the other, and somehow…You were beginning to realize…you might be the only person in the room who didn’t yet know why.
The dining room felt unusually quiet once everyone had taken their seats.
Crystal glasses reflected the warm glow of candlelight while servants silently placed the final dishes onto the table before bowing and disappearing through the double doors. The soft click of them shutting behind them somehow made the silence feel even heavier.
You forced a smile. “So…” You folded your hands together in your lap. “Dad… how’s Japan treating you so far?” He smiled back almost immediately. “It’s… different. A lot busier than I expected.” You nodded.
“I figured.” Across the table, Sukuna remained silent. One arm rested lazily against the armrest of his chair while the fingers of his other hand absently traced the stem of his wine glass. To anyone else, he looked relaxed.
But you knew better. His eyes hadn’t left your dad once. Trying to shake the strange feeling growing in your chest, you laughed quietly. “Do you remember when I broke my arm?” Your dad smiled. “Of course I do, when you fell off your bike.” Your smile slowly faltered. “…No.”
You shook your head. “I fell out of the old oak tree behind our house. You carried me all the way to the hospital because I wouldn’t stop crying.” His smile hesitated for the smallest fraction of a second before returning. “Right…The tree. I knew that.”
You swallowed. “…Yeah.” Maybe he was just tired. He had been traveling all day. Trying to convince yourself of exactly that, you asked another question. “What about Grandma’s favorite soup? What was it called again?” He frowned thoughtfully. “…Chicken noodle?”
Your stomach tightened. “…No. It was rosemary stew. You used to beg Grandma to make it every winter.” Again…Only the briefest pause. Of course. Rosemary. That’s what I meant.”
Your fingers slowly tightened around your fork. Across the table…Sukuna noticed. He noticed the way your smile wasn’t reaching your eyes anymore. The way your shoulders had become just a little stiffer. The way you kept searching your father’s face as though hoping the next answer would somehow fix everything.
You weren’t questioning him anymore. You were trying to reassure yourself. One more…Just one more. “Dad…” You looked down at your plate before looking back up. “What did you always call me when I was little?”
He smiled warmly. “My princess.” Your heart dropped. No…Your father had never called you that. Not once. You’d been Bug. Always Bug. Even after you graduated high-school. Even after you moved out. Always…Bug.
Your throat suddenly felt too tight to swallow. Silence settled over the table. You stared at him. Every answer had been close…But wrong. Not wrong enough for a stranger to notice.But damn sure enough for a daughter to know. Across from you, Sukuna still hadn’t spoken.
He simply watched. Watched every emotion cross your face. He wanted you to arrive at the truth yourself. Because once you did…No one would ever be able to convince you otherwise. Your father noticed the distance growing between the two of you.
He smiled again. “You’ve always worried too much.” He leaned forward. His hand reached across the table slowly. Almost affectionately, as though he intended to brush a loose strand of your newly straightened hair behind your ear.
The silver bracelet around his wrist caught the candlelight. Sukuna moved instantly. His chair slid against the floor. Before your father’s fingers could touch you…Sukuna caught his wrist. Firmly.
The room fell silent. Your dad slowly lifted his eyes. The moment their gazes met…His blood ran cold. The cursed energy pouring from Sukuna wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It was ancient and overwhelming. It felt like standing inches away from death itself.
Sukuna’s crimson eyes lowered briefly to the bracelet. Then returned to your father’s face. A slow smile spread across his lips. “I don’t believe…” He tilted his head ever so slightly. “…you asked to touch her.” No one moved.
Your dad’s lungs suddenly forgot how to breathe. For one horrifying second, he was no longer sitting inside a lavish dining room. He was back in the Heian Era. Standing beneath a blood-red sky.
Watching mountains burn. Watching the King of Curses erase entire clans without so much as blinking. He knew that look. He had seen it once before…and the last people who had…Never lived long enough to tell anyone about it.
Sukuna released his wrist slowly, without another word. Your father immediately pulled his hand back. “…Ah.” He cleared his throat. Then looked down at his watch. “…Would you look at that.” He forced a small laugh. “It’s getting rather late. I really should be going.”
Before you could respond…Sukuna stood. “He’s right.” You blinked. Sukuna adjusted the cuff of his sleeve as though nothing unusual had happened. “It is getting late. We wouldn’t want to keep your father too late.” The two men held each other’s gaze again. Neither of them smiled. Not for a second. “…Perhaps another evening.”
Your father inclined his head politely before turning toward the front entrance. The servants escorted him out. Moments later…The massive doors closed. Silence. The candles continued flickering.
Dinner sat untouched. You stared toward the doorway long after he’d disappeared. Your hands were shaking. You hadn’t even realized it until now. Slowly…You turned toward Sukuna.
Your voice barely rose above a whisper. “…Sukuna.” He looked at you. A broken laugh escaped your lips. “…He…” You swallowed hard. “…That’s not…” Your eyes filled before you could stop them. “…That’s not my dad…” You searched his face desperately. “…Is it?”
For a long moment… Sukuna didn’t answer. He had hoped his instincts were wrong. He had hoped tonight would prove him a paranoid fool. Instead…Every answer. Every hesitation. Every movement. Confirmed exactly what he’d feared. His expression softened ever so slightly. “…No.”
The single word shattered whatever hope you had left.
Miles away, the black sedan your dad arrived in disappeared into the Tokyo night. He sat in the back seat and waited until the estate was completely out of sight before finally exhaling.
His hand slowly rose to his own face. His skin rippled like disturbed water. Your dad’s features melted away. An older face stared back in the window’s reflection. One buried by history. One that should have died centuries ago.
He closed his eyes. The memories came immediately. A small village. You were a little girl no older than ten. Cursed energy exploded from your tiny body as several grown men were thrown through wooden homes as the earth cracked beneath your feet.
Ancient symbols burned themselves into the ground as people screamed in horror. The sky itself trembled like armageddon had just done an instant replay. He remembered thinking only one thing. This child should never exist.
The vehicle rolled silently through the streets of japan. For several long moments, the man wearing your father’s face said nothing. Then, slowly…his reflection shifted in the rearview mirror. Not physically per se. Only in his mind.
The years peeled away. Centuries became moments. He remembered another village in another lifetime.
Because this body…This had never been his. Long before he had worn your father’s name…He had been someone else entirely.
A sorcerer whose cursed technique had condemned him to outlive everyone he’d ever known. Whenever his body neared death, he simply abandoned it…and claimed another one with a new face. A new name…A new life.
Only one burden remained unchanged. Protect man kind. No matter the cost.
His fingers tightened as he remembered the first time he sensed your cursed energy. It hadn’t felt human at all. It had felt…limitless. Beautiful and terrifying simultaneously .
He watched from the edge of the village as your power answered your emotions without restraint, carving destruction into the earth where ordinary sorcerers would’ve managed nothing more than a spark.
That was the moment he understood, that power like yours would never be left alone. It would either be worshipped…Or weaponized. Then everything darkly took a turn.
You had looked at him with the brightest smile. “I love him.” A quiet laugh. “I am with child..Sukuna’s child.” His world had collapsed in that instant.
The King of Curses…and the only woman capable of standing beside him. He feared what the two of you represented together. Not because either of you were evil exactly…but because no one alive would ever be capable of stopping you from reducing humanity to ashes.
That night…he made a choice no man should ever have the right to make..Humanity would remember him as a murderer. So be it. Better one innocent life…than the end of every other. So…he became the monster first. Because he believed the world would never survive what came after you.
His eyes painfully opened slowly. “…and yet…” A bitter smile touched his lips. “…I failed again.”
The estate had long since fallen asleep. Moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing the bedroom in silver. The tangled sheets barely covered the two of you.
You slept soundly against his chest, one arm draped lazily across his waist, your breathing slow and even after the emotional weight of the evening.
Sukuna hadn’t moved. One arm remained firmly around your waist, keeping you securely against him as though even in sleep he refused to risk an inch of distance between you. His crimson eyes never closed. They remained fixed on the dark ceiling overhead. He could still see him.
The hesitation before the handshake. The bracelet, the smell, the fear, and then…Recognition. His jaw tightened. “…So you survived.”
The words were barely more than a breath. For centuries…Sukuna had believed that night ended exactly as it should have. He remembered flames swallowing the village entirely. He remembered bodies scattered beneath crimson skies. He remembered leaving one man buried beneath enough rubble that no one should have crawled out alive.
Apparently…He’d been wrong. His arm unconsciously tightened around you. You stirred against his chest with a sleepy little sigh before settling again.
Only then did his expression soften. For a moment. His fingertips brushed slowly through your hair. “I won’t make that mistake twice.” Silence reclaimed the room.
His eyes drifted toward the window watching the moon as it hung quietly above the forest. He had spent centuries destroying anyone foolish enough to stand between him and what he wanted.
Nothing had changed and now that he had something worth protecting again… that made him far more dangerous than he had ever been before. He lowered his head, pressing one lingering kiss against your forehead. “Have sweet dreams my little lamb..I’ll handle the rest.”
Outside…The night remained perfectly still.
It had no idea a war had already begun.
I was squirming and squealing writing this out hopefully you have the same experience as me 😝🤭.
[𝜗℘] :: finding out that true form!sukuna had indulged in another concubine while you were gone.
tags. concubine!reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive. size diff. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’. kuna’s an asshole. no part 2 :: wc. 3.3k
you’ve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved rest—a small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.
perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.
missing someone.
it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.
he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.
and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.
they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.
“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”
you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.
yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.
the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.
“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”
you freeze.
your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.
guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.
“what?”
you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.
so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?
of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.
you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.
“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face.
she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.
the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses. the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.
“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame.
she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it’s a dream come true.
though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.
the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.
you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.
“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare.
both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”
“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists.
you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.
you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.
maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.
a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.
although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.
he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.
“out of the way.”
you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.
the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.
you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.
no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.
“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out.
sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.
he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”
sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.
“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm.
there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.
on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.
one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.
he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.
that’s exactly what you’re upset about.
there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.
there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.
he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.
you cannot rule over him or his mind.
“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material.
he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.
you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.
“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh.
you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.
your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.
you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.
“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation.
you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.
the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru.
he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”
and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.
sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.
normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.
either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.
sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.
he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.
when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.
keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.
sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.
he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.
every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.
nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.
it doesn’t hit the same.
you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.
sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.
if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.
it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.
sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.
“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”
the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.
you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.
you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.
‘know your place,’
that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.
this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.
“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips.
he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.
“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”
another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.
it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.
“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence.
you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.
sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.
he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.
“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room.
your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.
you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.
unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle.
“fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.
you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.
you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.
you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.
meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?
his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.
sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.
he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.
sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.
he can’t do that now.
well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.
perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.
FEATURING: chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, former kurapika kurta x fem!reader
SUMMARY: sun and moon, dragon and phoenix, heaven and earth. in kakin tradition, a bonded pair is a union of opposites that make a perfect whole. you and chrollo lucilfer, though, feel like the exception, so ill-matched that it borders on divine irony. only the gods may know why you’re fated to one another.
GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, kakin prince!reader, soulmate au, canon divergent, enemies to lovers, abusive relationship with tserriednich/grooming (not intended to be read as sexual), character death (not chrollo or reader), dark themes (carne levare, imperialism, etc), world & character building (i took some creative liberty with what we know for Plot purposes—particularly kakin, meteor city, the mafias, and many of the characters) angst with (mostly) happy ending, wc: 210k so far, 4 more chapters to be written. additional warnings to be added in each chapter.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: hi guys! im rlly excited to share this with you all, i hope you enjoy it im very proud of it. i don’t think i’ll be online much often anymore, but i always appreciate all asks and comments and i will read them all even if i’m not able to respond. i think some other important things to note: i have taken canon and changed a bit to fit what i had planned for this fic. it's nothing too drastic. some minor things about the set up of the succession contest & the princes being free to walk around instead of being confined to rooms. i fleshed all of the princes out a bit more obviously, particularly, benjamin, tserriendich, and luzurus, as well as king nasubi. i took some liberty with the eight queens as well. i switched up a little with the guardian spirit beasts because iirc, the princes can't attack each other bc of them. it diverges from canon pretty quickly, but i think that's to be expected with an additional prince LOL. some other things that i'm sure will be made clear throughout the fic. all this to just essentially warn you again that this is canon divergent, so i'd prefer if people didn't start commenting like "oh that's not how it works" dihfsdfuhasd because i probably am aware i just changed it for plot. i also want to add that reader is very flawed and its apparent early but becomes FAR more apparent in part 2 ….... just a warning
PART ONE: DIES LACRIMOSA
VERSE ONE: KATABASIS, OR JOURNEY OF THE FOOL
VERSE TWO: MATTHEW 10:34–36
VERSE THREE: WELL FED DEVILS AND FAMISHED SAINTS
VERSE FOUR: PARABLE OF THE TWO DEBTORS
VERSE FIVE: WATER OF THE WOMB, BLOOD OF THE COVENANT
VERSE SIX: WHEEL OF FORTUNE
VERSE SEVEN: THE IRON PRICE
VERSE EIGHT: THE HANGED MAN
PART TWO: DIES IRAE
VERSE ONE: WEEP LITTLE LION MAN
VERSE TWO: THE DEVIL
VERSE THREE: THE COWHERD AND THE WEAVERGIRL
VERSE FOUR: BLESSED BE, CHILDREN OF CAIN
VERSE FIVE: JUDGMENT
VERSE SIX: A NEW HEAVEN AND A NEW EARTH
VERSE SEVEN: REVELATION 6; COME YE, HORSEMEN
VERSE EIGHT: ANABASIS, OR DEATH OF A PRINCE
REQUIEM ARANEA, a series of scenes from chrollo's point of view
SUMMARY ⡴ your best friend since college, satoru, is so sick of hearing about your dumb, dropout, fuck buddy, sukuna >:/naturally, the moment you hint you’re not seeing eachother he gets too caught up in his excitement and ends up flexing too hard about you “crawling back to him”… which ends up traveling right back to sukuna. and now sukuna has a grudge out for gojo under the assumption he stole you from him. messy messy messy.
WARNINGS (content) ⡴ fem!reader, slow updates icl, smut, messy dynamics, angst, heavy jealousy, love angle, drinking + smoking, grad student!gojo, physics major!gojo, drummer!sukuna, more to be added !!
it was a common notion that angels and devils were never meant to live amongst each other—let alone love one another. it was a verity woven into your very existence, a rule older than heaven and hell themselves. fate may bend and twist, reshaping itself to lower your guard, but it is never truly broken. because in the end, no matter how hard you fight, fate always wins.
𝜗℘ affil. devil!satoru x fem!angel!reader
𝜗℘ content. HEAVY ANGST, mention of religion, heavenly setting, reader is the daughter of an archangel judge, reader has wings, hurt/no comfort, character death, kissing, use of y/n, abusive family dynamics, corrupt political dynamics, biblical references, dystopian portrayal of heaven, mentions of sex but no explicit smut
𝜗℘ word count. 10.7k
𝜗℘ author's note. this is for my jooneh @mimuju’s 10k event, my prompt was ‘even fate will struggle to keep you apart’. this fic was also inspired by the song heaven knows by 54 ultra:)
the first time you saw him, the sky was bleeding.
not literally, though in the celestial realm, you'd witnessed stranger phenomena. this was the kind of bleeding that happened when two worlds that should never touch began to merge at their edges. sunset bled into twilight, gold into indigo, and there, standing at the precipice where heaven's light gave way to shadow, was the most beautiful creature you'd ever seen.
satoru gojo.
his mere name felt like sin on your tongue.
he stood with his hands in his pockets, white hair catching the dying light like the first november snow. but it was his eyes that enticed you—their brilliant, impossible blue that existed nowhere in creation. the sheer contrast of their purity as opposed to his devilish exterior. they held galaxies and voids simultaneously, creation and destruction, everything your father had warned you about when he spoke of the fallen.
"you're staring, birdie" he mused, his voice akin to sweet poison, it made your wings flutter involuntarily beneath your robes.
you should have left. should have returned to the crystalline spires of the celestial city where angels sang in perfect harmony and every surface reflected the divine light. you should have reported this breach in the boundary between realms. sometimes, you still wonder how differently your life would have turned out had you never engaged with the boy.
but alas, you stepped closer instead, sealing both of your fates.
"you're trespassing," you said, trying to inject authority into your voice where it doesn’t belong. "this is the threshold. demons aren't permitted—"
"demons?" he laughed, the sound nothing like the cackling malevolence you'd been taught to expect. it was almost... playful. "is that what they're calling us now? how creative. we prefer 'fallen,' thank you very much. or, if you're feeling particularly formal, 'those who chose freedom.'"
your brow furrowed. "freedom? you fell from grace. you were cast out for—"
"—for questioning?" he tilted his head, and suddenly he was closer, though you hadn't seen him move. "for refusing to be pawns in someone else's grand design? for wanting to make our own choices?" those cerulean eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "tell me, little angel, when was the last time you made a choice that was truly yours?"
the question struck a chord you didn't know existed. when had you last made a choice? your days were prescribed, your prayers scheduled, your very thoughts guided by doctrine and divine law. even your position as a guardian angel had been assigned, not chosen.
"I..." you faltered.
his smile was knowing, almost sad. "that's what I thought."
you knew you should have drawn your blade of holy light and driven him back to whatever dark hole he'd crawled from. but instead, you found yourself asking, "what's your name?"
"satoru," he said easily, "satoru gojo. and you are?"
you hesitated. names had power, after all, especially in the celestial realm. to give your name to one of the fallen was to create a connection, a thread that could be pulled, exploited, and used against you.
but his eyes held no malice, only interest and a boyish curiosity, you surrendered your name on the same platter as the Baptist’s head.
his responding smile transformed his entire face, making him look younger, less like the monster you'd been taught to fear and more like a boy who could have been your friend, in another life, another world.
he repeated your name, testing it on his tongue—it had never sounded so beautifully and intimately intonated before. "well, birdie, since we're both breaking rules just by talking, what do you say we break a few more?"
that was how it started.
--
initially, you tried to convince yourself it was all reconnaissance—that you were just gathering intelligence on the enemy, learning their ways to better protect your realm. you repeated that to yourself at each meeting of the threshold, rationalizing to yourself that this whole accord was strategic, part of some greater plan.
you told yourself many lies in those early days.
the truth was simpler and far more sinful: you were fascinated by him.
satoru was nothing like what you'd been taught. he wasn't cruel or manipulative. he didn't try to corrupt you or immediately turn you against heaven. instead, he talked to you—just talked, like you were a being with thoughts and opinions worth hearing, not just another soldier in the celestial army.
he told you about the fall, his voice losing its usual playful edge as he described the war that had torn creation apart. "they make it sound so simple in your histories, don't they? good versus evil, light versus dark. but it wasn't like that. we didn't fall because we were evil, we fell because blind obedience wasn't our highest virtue."
you sat beside him on the edge of the precipice, your pale, white robe a stark contrast to his black attire, your wings folded carefully to avoid touching him—though you weren't sure if that was from propriety or fear of what might happen if you did.
"my father says that pride was your downfall," you comment softly. "that lucifer's arrogance—"
"lucifer's crime was wanting to understand," satoru interrupted, his eyes fixed on the breadth between realms, where reality seemed to fold in on itself. "he asked 'why' when he was only supposed to say 'yes.' and for that, he and everyone who stood with him were cast down." he turned to look at you, and the intensity in his gaze made your heart race. "tell me, seraph, is it really so wrong to want to understand? to question? to choose?"
"I don't know," you admitted, frustration lacing your tone. the confession made your head pound in a self-righteous rebellion. "I've never... I've always just done what was expected of me."
"I know," he said gently. "I can see it in you. all that light, all that goodness, all that potential, wrapped up in someone else's expectations." he reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away.
you remained as still as sodom and gomorrah’s salt victims.
he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. his fingers didn't burn like you'd thought it would. instead, his touch was warm, and achingly tender. "don't you ever wonder what you could be if you chose for yourself?"
you did. God help you, you did.
--
the meetings became more frequent. what started as once a week became twice, then every other day, then daily. you began to crave his presence like a flower craves sunlight, counting the hours until you could slip away from your duties and meet him at the threshold.
he made you laugh—something you'd rarely done in the celestial realm, where joy was supposed to be serene and measured, never wild or free. satoru's humor was irreverent, sharp, often at the expense of the very authorities you'd been taught to revere without question.
"so let me get this straight," he said one evening, his eyes dancing with mirth. "you have to file a formal request, in triplicate, to change your patrol route?"
"it's not that unusual…" you defended, though you were smiling. "there are protocols—"
"protocols," he repeated, shaking his head. "birdie, you're an immortal being of cosmic power, and you need permission to take a different path during your walk. do you not see how insane that is?"
"it maintains order," you justified, but the argument fell short even to your own ears.
"it maintains control," he corrected. "there's a difference." he leaned back, looking up at the space between spaces where stars from both realms seemed to blend together. "you wanna know what I did today?"
"what?"
"absolutely nothing that I was supposed to." he grinned wickedly and wonderfully. "I was meant to be at a council meeting—some boring political nonsense about territorial disputes. instead, I went to the mortal realm and watched the sunset from seven different continents. do you know how different the sky looks from each part of the globe? how the colors change, how the light plays differently across water versus mountains versus desert?"
the wonder in his voice made your chest ache, an overwhelming sense of longing flooding your being. "that sounds… beautiful."
"it was." he turned to you, and his expression softened. "you should come with me sometime. I could show you things you've never seen, places your precious protocols would never let you go."
"oh no, I-I couldn't," you replied automatically. "it's forbidden for angels to—"
"to what? to experience creation? to see the world you're supposedly protecting?" he sat up, and there was a passion in his voice now, an intensity that made you hang on every word. "that's what I've never understood about you celestial folk.. you're meant to be guardians of humanity, but you're kept so separate from them, so isolated. how can you protect something you don't understand? how can you love something you've never truly seen?"
"we love them because we're commanded to," you replied firmly, but even as the words left your mouth, you realized just how hollow they sounded.
satoru's expression turned sad. "that's not love, birdie. that's just obedience twisted to resemble amity."
his words haunted you long after you returned to the celestial city that night. you went through your duties mechanically, your mind elsewhere, turning over everything satoru had said. around you, angels sang their perfect harmonies, but for the first time, you noticed how rehearsed they sounded, how there was no spontaneity, no individual expression—just the same songs, sung the same way, for all eternity.
was this really paradise? or was it just a gilded cage?
--
"tell me about the fall," you asked him one night, weeks into your secret meetings. "really tell me. I want to hear the devils—er, fallen version of that day."
satoru was quiet for a long moment, his expression distant. when he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you'd ever heard it.
"it was the most terrifying and most exhilarating moment of my existence," he said. "one moment, I was part of the celestial host, surrounded by light and certainty and the absolute knowledge that I was on the right side of everything. the next..." he paused, and you saw his throat work as he swallowed. "the next, I was falling. literally falling through layers of reality, feeling the grace being torn away from me, the searing pain of my wings melting off, watching the only home I'd ever known disappear above me."
"do you regret it?" you whispered.
"every day," he admitted honestly, "and not at all. I regret the pain it caused, the relationships it destroyed, the certainty I’d lost. but I don't regret the choice itself. because it was a choice, birdie. the first real choice i'd ever made." he looked at you, and in his eyes, you saw ancient sorrow and hard-won wisdom. "I'd rather fall a thousand times over than spend eternity as a puppet, no matter how beautiful the strings."
you reached out without thinking, taking his hand in yours. it was the second time you'd truly touched him—the first you’d initiated it—skin to skin, and the sensation sent a familiar shock through your entire being. it felt.. good. like freedom, like finding something you hadn't known you were missing.
satoru's eyes widened, and you realized he felt it too. this connection, this rightness that shouldn't exist between an angel and one of the fallen.
"y/n," he breathed, uttering your given name for the second time. it was a prayer and a curse all at once.
you should have pulled away. should have recognized this for what it was—a bond forming, a connection that violated every law of heaven and hell. you should have run back to your realm and never looked back.
instead, you found your fingers lacing through his and holding on tighter.
"tell me more," you murmured. "tell me everything."
and he did.
over the following weeks, satoru opened up to you in ways you suspected he'd never opened up to anyone. he told you about wars, about the terrible beauty of angels and demons clashing in battles that shook the foundations of reality.
he told you about his friends among the fallen—suguru, who had questioned the morality of heaven's absolute rule. shoko, who had wanted to use her healing powers without the restrictions placed on divine intervention. nanami, who had simply wanted to rest after millennia of service and been denied.
in turn, you told him about your life in the celestial realm. about your father, the archangel who commanded legions and whose word was law. about the pressure of being his daughter, of always having to be perfect, pure, an example to other angels. about the loneliness of living up to impossible expectations.
"he's grooming you to take over his position someday," satoru observed. "that's why he's so strict with you."
"I-I don't want it," you confessed, and saying it aloud felt like blasphemy. "I don't want to command legions or sit in judgment or spend eternity enforcing rules I'm not sure I even believe in anymore."
"then don't." he commented laxly, resting his head on his palm and tilting it in your direction.
you laughed bitterly. "it's not that simple. I can't just refuse. I'm his daughter. I have responsibilities, and duties, and—"
"you have a life," satoru interrupted. "your own life, not just an extension of his. birdie, you're not a tool to be used or a legacy to be continued. you're an angel. you deserve to want things, to choose things, to be more than what someone else decided you should be. your loving Creator gave you free will, why don't you utilize it?"
tears pricked your eyes. "you make it sound so easy."
"it's not easy," he hummed, moving closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "it's the hardest thing you'll ever do. but it's worth it. freedom is always worth it."
you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing. "I'm afraid," you whispered.
"I know," he murmured. "I'm afraid too."
your eyes opened, meeting his. "of what?"
his thumb brushed across your cheekbone, and his smile was tender and heartbreaking. "of how much you've come to mean to me. of what I'd do to keep you safe. of what I'd sacrifice to see you smile." his voice dropped to barely a whisper, a pained smile etching across his features. "of how completely I’ve fallen for you."
your breath caught. the confession hung between you, heavy the laughable impossibility that laced it. an angel and one of the fallen. it was forbidden, and happened to be a violation of the most fundamental laws of creation.
it was also the truest thing you'd ever felt.
"satoru…" you breathed. and then you were kissing him, or he was kissing you, or you were meeting in the middle—it didn't matter. all that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the way his arms wrapped around you, the way your wings unfurled and wrapped around both of you, creating a protective cocoon of white feathers and desperate longing.
the kiss was everything your first kiss should have been, and it was nothing like you'd imagined. it was soft and fierce, gentle and consuming, a question and an answer all at once. it tasted like freedom and felt like falling, you never wanted it to end.
when you finally pulled apart, both breathing hard, satoru rested his forehead against yours.
"we can't take this back," he said quietly. "once we cross this line—"
"I know," you interrupted. "I don't care."
"your father—"
"I don't care," you repeated, more firmly. "satoru, for the first time in my existence, I'm choosing something for myself. I'm choosing you."
a strangled groan left his throat, and when he kissed you again, you felt him trembling—this powerful, ancient being, shaking with the force of his emotion.
"then I choose you too," he whispered against your lips. "whatever comes, whatever the cost—I choose you."
you should have known that the universe was listening. you should have known that such declarations never go unpunished.
you should have known that happiness, for beings like you, was always temporary.
--
for a few precious weeks, you existed in a bubble of stolen moments and secret joy. you met satoru every night at the threshold, and each meeting felt like a small rebellion, a tiny victory against the forces that wanted to keep you apart.
he taught you things you'd never learned in heaven—how to laugh without restraint, how to question without guilt, how to want without shame. he showed you glimpses of the mortal world, taking you to watch sunrises and meteor showers, to listen to music and witness art, to see all the beautiful, chaotic, imperfect things that made human life so precious.
in return, you showed him that not all of heaven was rigid and cold. you shared with him the genuine beauty of the celestial realm—the gardens where flowers sang, the libraries containing every story ever told, the quiet places where you could see all of creation spread out like a tapestry.
"it really is beautiful," he admitted one night, looking out over the celestial city from your secret vantage point. "i'd forgotten. after the fall, I only remembered the pain and the rejection. but this..." he gestured to the spires of light, the flowing rivers of starlight, the angels moving like living constellations through the streets below. "this is worth remembering too."
"do you miss it?" you asked, "being part of this?"
"sometimes," he replied honestly. "I miss the certainty of it all. the sense of belonging and the feeling that I was part of something greater than just myself." he turned to you with a bittersweet smile, "but I don't miss it enough to give up what I have now. I don't miss it enough to give up you."
you kissed him then, there on the edge of heaven itself, and damn the consequences.
you should have been more careful. should have noticed the signs—the way other angels had begun looking at you strangely, the questions about where you disappeared to each night, the increasing scrutiny from your father's lieutenants.
you should have known that secrets, especially ones this big, never stay hidden forever.
--
the night everything fell apart started like any other.
you slipped away from your duties, making excuses about needing time for private prayers. you made your way to the threshold, your heart already racing with anticipation of seeing satoru, of losing yourself in his arms and forgetting, for a few hours, about the impossible situation you'd created.
you were Jonah, and anywhere but the arms of the devil was nineveh.
he was already there, waiting for you with that smile that made your heart skip. but something was different tonight—there was a hidden tension in his shoulders, a tightness around his eyes.
"what's wrong?" you asked immediately.
"we need to talk," he said, and those four words sent ice through your veins.
"hah, well that's never a good way to start a conversation," you tried to joke, but it fell flat.
satoru took your hands, his grip almost desperate. "birdie, i've been thinking. this—us—it can't continue like this. sneaking around, hiding, living in stolen moments. it's not enough. it's not fair to you."
your heart was pounding in your ears now. "what are you saying?"
"I'm saying we need to make a choice. a real one." his eyes burned with intensity. "come with me. leave heaven, leave your father, leave all of this behind. we could be together, really together, without hiding or fear or—"
"you're asking me to fall." you whispered, horrified.
"I'm asking you to choose yourself," he corrected quickly. "to choose us. to choose a life where you're free to be who you want to be, not who they've decided you should be."
"satoru, I—" you wanted to say yes. God, you wanted to say yes so badly it hurt. but the words stuck in your throat, tangled up with fear and duty and the weight of millennia of conditioning. "I need time. I need to think—"
"we don't have time," he urged. “I've heard rumors. there's talk in the lower realms about an angel who's been seen at the threshold, who's been fraternizing with our kind. it's only a matter of time before—"
"before what?" a voice responds.
not your voice.
it came from behind you, and it was like having Jonah’s fish of justice swallow your being whole. you turned slowly, already knowing what you'd see but hoping desperately that you were wrong.
you weren't, of course.
the archangel, the judge of divinity—your father—stood there, resplendent in his full warrior regalia, his wings spread wide, his face a mask of cold fury. behind him were a dozen of his most loyal warriors, their weapons drawn stiff, expressions stiffer.
"father," you breathed, and you hated how small your voice sounded. how his presence would always condition your personal minimization.
"step away from the demon," he commanded.
"he—he's not a demon," you shakily declared, slowly finding your courage. "his name is satoru, and I—"
"I know what he is," your father interrupted, his eyes never leaving satoru. "I know exactly what he is. a fallen. a corrupter. a snake who has poisoned my daughter's mind with his lies."
"he hasn't poisoned anything!" you protested, moving to stand beside satoru. "he's shown me that there's more to existence than blind obedience and—"
"enough!" your father's voice cracked like thunder, and the very air around you trembled, you looked around desperately, even his very soldiers’s faces gleamed with secret pity—an unspoken fear of divine punishment.
"I have watched you, daughter. I have seen you sneak away night after night. I have witnessed your corruption, your fall from grace, your betrayal of everything we stand for." his gaze finally shifted to you, and the disappointment in his eyes was worse than any anger. "I had such hopes for you... you were to be my successor. and you've thrown it all away for… for this."
the contempt in his voice when he looked at satoru made your blood boil.
"don't speak about him like that!" you roared, your own voice gaining strength. "you don't know him. you don't know anything about him except what your prejudice tells you!"
"I know enough!" your father said coldly. "I know that he has seduced you, he has poisioned your mind with his sinful serpent’s fruit. turned you against your own kind, and made you forget your duty and your honor."
"he's done nothing but treat me like a person instead of a weapon!" you shouted, and you felt your own power rising, your wings beginning to unfurl with a restrained rage. "he's done nothing but show me kindness and respect and—"
"love," satoru said quietly. he stood tall, unafraid despite being outnumbered and outmatched, his eyes fixed on your father. "I love her. and she loves me. that's what you can't stand, isn't it? not that she's been meeting with the enemy, but that she's found something you can't control."
your father's expression turned to stone. "you dare speak of love? you, who fell from grace? you, who chose pride over service? you know nothing of love."
"I know more than you think," satoru replied, and there was a sadness in his voice that made your heart ache. "I know that love means wanting someone to be happy, even if it costs you everything. I know that love means respecting someone's choices, even when you disagree with them. I know that love means seeing someone as they truly are, not as you wish they would be." he glanced at you, and his smile was gentle. "and I know that I love your daughter enough to let her make her own choice, even if that choice breaks my heart."
"how noble," your father sneered. "but it changes nothing. you have corrupted an angel of the Lord. you have violated the sacred boundary between our realms, darkened the heart of my Eve. for this, you will be punished."
"STOP!" you cried, stepping in front of satoru. "if you want to punish someone, punish me. i'm the one who sought him out. i'm the one who kept coming back. i'm the one who—"
"who has been manipulated and deceived," your father finished. "I know, daughter. I know you think you've made these choices freely, but you haven't. he has clouded your judgment and twisted your thoughts. this snake has made you believe that rebellion is freedom and that disobedience is love." he took a moment to compose himself, steadying his expression. "but you are my daughter, and I will not lose you to the darkness. you will be confined to your chambers until this... infection... has been purged from your system."
"infection?!" you couldn't believe what you were hearing. "father, I'm not sick! I'm not corrupted, I'm just—"
"enough," he said, and the finality in his voice was absolute. he gestured to two of his warriors. "take her."
"don't touch her," satoru snarled, and suddenly his cursed power flared, dark energy crackling around him like lightning. "if you want to punish someone, punish me. but leave her alone."
"oh, I intend to punish you," your father clarified, and his smile was terrible to behold. "but not with destruction. that would be too merciful." he raised his hand, and divine light began to gather around it, brighter and more intense than anything you'd ever seen. "no, for you, I have something far more fitting. you wanted to corrupt my daughter? you wanted to steal her from her destiny? then you will spend eternity knowing that you failed. you will be cast into the void, into the space between spaces where nothing exists, where you will have an eternity to contemplate your sins in absolute isolation until you revert to the dust you were made of."
"NO!" you screamed, struggling against the warriors who had grabbed your arms. "father, please, don't do this! I'll do anything, I'll—"
"you'll forget him," your father said calmly. "in time, with proper guidance and prayer, you'll forget this ever happened. you'll return to your duties, take your place at my side, and fulfill your destiny."
"I'll never forget him!" you seethed fiercely, tears streaming down your face. "never. you can lock me away for a thousand years, and I'll still love him. you can try to purge my memories, and I'll still carry him in my heart. you can't control this, father. you can't control who I love."
"we'll see," he muttered, and unleashed his power.
the light was blinding, overwhelming, a force of pure divine will that struck satoru like a physical blow. you screamed, fighting against your captors with a strength you didn't know you possessed, but it wasn't enough. nothing was enough.
you watched, helpless, as satoru was torn away from the threshold, his form beginning to dissolve into particles of light and shadow. but even as he was being unmade, even as he was being cast into oblivion, his eyes never left yours.
"be free," he mouthed, a silent tear slipping freely down his cheek.
and then he was gone.
your scream could be heard for lightyears. you stopped struggling. stopped fighting. something inside you had broken, shattered so completely that you weren't sure it could ever be repaired. your form ragdolled within the arms of the warriors holding you in place, relying on their support to keep you from collapsing to the ground.
your father approached you slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was almost gentle. "in time, you'll understand, my daughter. I did this for you. to protect you. to save you from a fate worse than—"
"I hate you," you seethed, a terrible veracity lacing your tone, "I will hate you for this until the end of time itself."
your father flinched as if you'd struck him. "you don't mean that. you're upset, confused—"
"I mean every word," you confirmed, and your voice was empty, hollow, all the life and warmth drained out of it. "you've taken the only thing that ever made me happy. the only person who ever saw me as more than just your daughter. and for that, I will never forgive you."
a flash briefs through his expression. "take her to her chambers," your father commanded stoically, turning away. "and seal them. she is not to leave until I say otherwise."
as the warriors dragged you away, you didn't resist. what was the point? satoru was gone. cast into a void from which there was no return. your father had won.
but as you were pulled through the streets of the celestial city, past angels who whispered and stared, past the places where you'd once felt at home, you made a silent vow.
this wasn't over. somehow, some way, you would find a way to reach satoru. you would tear apart reality itself if you had to. you would grab fate by the neck and tell it to shove its plans down its disgusting, slimy—
--
the days blurred together in your confinement.
your chambers—once a sanctuary of soft breeze and flowing starlight—became a tomb. the divine wards your father had woven didn't just lock the doors; they locked you, pressing against your skin like invisible chains, like being buried alive while still breathing. you could feel them, a constant weight, a constant reminder that you were trapped. your father had sealed the very walls with spells that prevented you from leaving, from using your powers, from doing anything but exist in this beautiful cage.
the silence was the worst part.
in heaven, there was always sound—the hum of divine energy, the distant songs of the celestial choir, the whisper of wings. but here, sealed away, there was nothing. just the sound of your own breathing, your own heartbeat, the blood rushing in your ears. it was a silence so complete it felt like drowning.
you didn't eat. food turned to ash in your mouth. you barely slept, and when you did, you dreamed of the void—that terrible, empty space where satoru had been cast. in your nightmares, you saw him there, alone in the darkness, his light slowly being consumed by nothing. you saw him forgetting who he was, piece by piece, memory by memory, until there was nothing left but an echo of an echo.
you woke up screaming.
your father visited you daily, trying to reason with you, to make you see that he'd done this out of love, out of a desire to protect you. each time, you turned away, refusing to speak, refusing to even acknowledge him.
"you'll thank me someday," he said during one visit, his voice heavy with sorrow. "when you've had time to heal, to see clearly again, you'll understand that I saved you."
you said nothing still. there was nothing to say.
you daydreamed of satoru. of his smile, his laugh, the way his eyes lit up when he saw you. of his touch and his kiss, the way he made you feel alive in a way you'd never felt before.
you had to reach him. had to find a way.
but how? the void was beyond reality and space and time. it was nowhere and nothing, a place of absolute isolation. even if you could escape your chambers, even if you could somehow evade your father's warriors, how could you possibly reach somewhere that didn't exist?
as it turned out, you wouldn't have to wait long to find your answer.
one night, as you sat by your window staring out at the celestial city, you felt a presence. not physical, but a whisper at the edge of your consciousness, faint and distant but unmistakably there.
birdie..?
your heart stopped. you knew that voice, you would recognize it anywhere.
satoru? you thought desperately, not daring to hope.
I'm here, came the response, so faint you almost missed it. can you hear me?
a choked sob escaped you as silent tears streamed down your face. how? father said you were cast into the void, that there was no return—
there isn't, satoru's voice was resigned. I'm trapped here, birdie. in the nothing. but I can still feel you. our connection—it's stronger than whatever is trying to contain my spirit.
I'll find you, you promised fiercely. I'll find a way to bring you back.
no. his voice was firm. birdie, you can't. the void is... it's beyond anything you can imagine. it's not just emptiness like everyone thinks it is—it's literally the absence of everything. of light, of warmth, of hope. if you tried to come here, you'd be lost too.
I don't care, you said. I'd rather be lost with you than safe without you.
don't say that. there was anguish in his voice now. don't throw away your existence for me. you have so much to live for, so so much—
without you, I have nothing, you interrupted. satoru, you showed me what it means to really live. to choose, to feel, to be free. how can I go back to just existing after that? how can I just pretend that any of this matters when the only thing that ever truly mattered is gone?
silence. then; I love you. God, I love you so much.
then let me come to you, you pleaded. let me find a way.
there is no way, he sighed gently. the void is sealed. your father made sure of that. the only way to reach it would be to... to fall. completely. to sever your connection to heaven entirely and cast yourself into the darkness.
then that's what i'll do.
birdie, no—
I've made my choice, you thought firmly. you asked me once to choose myself, to choose us. I'm choosing now. I'm choosing you, satoru. whatever it takes.
you'll lose everything, he communicated desperately. your wings, your grace, your immortality—
I'll lose nothing that matters, you corrected. because the only thing that matters is you.
you felt his presence waver, felt the weight of his emotion even across the unattainable distance. birdie, if you do this, there's no going back. you'll fall, and even if you reach me, we'll both be trapped in the void. we'll have nothing and become nothing.
we'll have each other, you said simply. that's everything.
for the second time in your immortal life, you made a choice. and for the second time in your immortal life, it was for his sake.
--
planning your fall was harder than you'd anticipated.
it wasn't enough to simply rebel or break rules—you'd been doing that for weeks, and while it had earned you confinement, it hadn't severed your connection to heaven. no, to truly fall, you had to commit an act so fundamentally against your nature, so completely antithetical to everything an angel was supposed to be, that heaven itself would reject you.
you spent days researching, reading forbidden texts that you'd smuggled into your chambers over the years, learning about the mechanics of the fall. what you discovered was both enlightening and terrifying.
the fall wasn't a punishment—not really. it was an aftermath. when an angel acted in a way that was so contrary to their divine nature that they could no longer sustain their connection to the celestial realm, that connection would break. the grace that powered them, that made them what they were, would be torn away, and they would plummet through the layers of reality until they landed... somewhere.
most fallen landed in the lower realms, the places of shadow and fire where they could rebuild, adapt, create new existences for themselves—”hell,” as mortal beings called it—but those who fell while already being punished, who were cast out rather than choosing to leave, often ended up in worse places.
places like the void.
the irony wasn't lost on you. your father had cast satoru into the void as punishment, never imagining that you would see it as a destination rather than a damnation.
but how to fall? what act could you commit that would be severe enough to sever your connection to heaven?
the answer, when it came to you, was both simple and terrible. you would have to reject the divine entirely. not just rebel against it, not just question it, but completely and utterly renounce it. you would have to stand before the throne of heaven itself and declare that you wanted no part of it, that you chose darkness over light, chaos over order, damnation over salvation.
it would break your father's heart. you would shame your entire lineage and demolish your honour. what you were planning would make you an outcast, a cautionary tale, a name spoken in whispers as an example of how far an angel could fall.
but you didn't care.
the night you chose to do it, you felt strangely calm. you'd already said your goodbyes to the few things in heaven you would miss—the gardens and the libraries, the quiet places where you'd once found solace. you'd written two letters—one to your father, trying to explain, knowing he would never understand but needing to try anyway. the other to satoru. though that one felt more like a diary, a keepsake due to the likely chance that you would never truly see him again.
then you broke the seals on your chamber.
it was surprisingly easier than it should have been. your father's wards were powerful, sure, but they were designed more to keep you in than keeping your power out. and you were his daughter, after all. you carried his strength in your veins, his power in your wings. when you pushed against the seals with everything you had, they shattered like glass.
alarms rang out across the celestial city. you ignored them, walking calmly through the streets as angels scattered before you, as warriors rushed to intercept you. you didn't fight them. you simply walked, your destination clear in your mind.
the judge’s courtroom of heaven was exactly how you remembered it as a fledgling—vast and beautiful, filled with light so pure it hurt to look at directly. and there, seated on the throne of judgment, was your father.
he stood as you entered, his expression a mixture of relief and anger. "daughter, thank the Lord—the seals broke, but you're safe. come, let me—"
"I renounce heaven." you declared clearly, your voice echoing through the chamber. your lack of stutter stemming from hours of rehearsal.
your father froze. "what?"
"I renounce heaven," you repeated, louder now. "I renounce the divine, the celestial realm, and everything it stands for. I reject my grace, my wings, and my place among the angels. I choose to fall."
the chamber erupted in chaos. angels gasped and a general murmur broke out, warriors drew their weapons, and your father's face went white.
"you-you don't know what you're saying," he gasped, descending from the judge’s bench. "my child, you're upset, you're not thinking clearly—"
"I've never been more clear," you said. "I don't want this life. I don't want to be your daughter, or your pawn, or your perfect little soldier. I want to be free to make my own choices. and I want to be with the person I love, even if it means falling into darkness."
"this is his influence," your father said desperately. "the demon has poisoned your mind—"
"his name is satoru!" you shouted. "and he didn't poison anything. he freed me. he may have warned me about this in the past, but all in all it is my decision and my decision alone to renounce my nature. my choice to find more to existence than following orders and maintaining the status quo.” you spread your wings wide, feeling your power building. "and I choose him. I choose him over all of this. I choose him over you."
your father's face crumpled. "please," he whispered, and you'd never heard him beg before. "please, daughter, don't do this. I can't lose you. you're all I have, you're—"
"you lost me the moment you took him from me," you said, and you felt tears streaming down your face. "goodbye, father."
and then you let go. stepping off the precipice of heaven.
it was like cutting a rope that had been holding you your entire existence. you felt your connection to heaven snap, felt the grace that had sustained you for millennia begin to tear away. it was agony—worse than any physical pain, a spiritual rending that felt like being unmade at the molecular level.
you screamed as your wings began to burn, as the holy light that had always surrounded you turned to shadow. it was exactly as satoru had described, you realized. you heard your father crying out, felt him trying to reach you, but it was too late. the fall had begun, and nothing could stop it now.
you plummeted through layers of reality, through spaces between spaces, through the very fabric of creation itself. you saw glimpses of the mortal world, of the lower realms, of places that had no names and existed only in the gaps between existence.
and then you saw it—the void.
again, it was exactly as satoru had described. not darkness, but the absence of light. not emptiness, but the absence of everything. it was nowhere and nothing, a place that shouldn't exist but did, a cosmic wound in the fabric of reality.
you fell into it, and the nothing swallowed you whole.
--
there was no up or down, no light or dark, no sense of space or time. you existed—at least you thought you existed—but you couldn't see yourself or feel your body, you couldn't sense anything except the vast, terrible emptiness that surrounded you.
satoru! you called out, not with your voice but with your mind, your very essence. satoru, I'm here!
for a long moment, there was nothing. then—
birdie?
his presence crashed into you like a wave, and suddenly you could feel him, sense him, even though you still couldn't see anything. he was here, in the nothing, and he was reaching for you.
you came, he gasped, his voice filled with relief and horror. you actually came. birdie, what have you done?
what I had to, you replied, and you couldnt tell if the feeling yourselves drifting closer together was an illusion. in the void, concepts like movement and distance were meaningless. I told you I would find you.
you fell, he said, and you could feel his anguish. you gave up everything—
I gave up nothing that mattered, remember? you corrected. satoru, where are you? I can feel you, but I can't—
I'm here, he said, and suddenly you could sense him more clearly, could almost make out a shape in the formless nothing. I'm right here.
you reached out, and your hand—did you still have a hand?—touched something solid and warm and real.
satoru.
the moment you made contact, the void changed. it was still nothing, still empty, but now there was a point of reference, a center around which existence could orient itself. you and satoru, together, created a tiny island of reality in the sea of nothing.
you could see him now, or something akin to seeing. he looked different—his devilish traits were gone, his destructive beauty dimmed, but his eyes were still that impossible blue, and his smile was still the same.
"you're insane," he said, pulling you close. "completely, utterly insane."
"I learned from the best," you replied, and then you were kissing him, right there in the nothing, and it was everything.
when you finally pulled apart, you looked around at the emptiness surrounding you. "so this is it? this is where we'll spend eternity?"
"i'm afraid so," satoru said quietly. "the void is inescapable. we're trapped here, birdie. together, but trapped."
"then we'll make the best of it," you said firmly. "we'll create our own reality here. we'll—"
"birdie," he interrupted gently. "there's something you need to know. the void... it doesn't just trap you. it consumes you. slowly, over time, it erodes everything you are until there's nothing left. I've been fighting it since I arrived, but I can feel it working on me. my memories are starting to fade, my sense of self is becoming... unclear."
your heart clenched. "how long?"
"I don't know. time doesn't work the same here. it could be days or centuries or—" he stopped, his expression pained. "the point is, we won't last forever. eventually, the void will take us both."
"then we'll face it together," you said with as much naive determination as you could muster, taking his hands. "satoru, I didn't come here expecting a happy ending. I came here because I'd rather have a short time with you than an eternity without you."
he pulled you close, burying his face in your hair. he tried to force the quiver out of his voice while muttering, "why would you do this for me? to yourself? I don't deserve you at all."
"you deserve everything," you whispered. "and I'm sorry I can't give you more than this."
"this is enough," he said. "you're enough. you've always been enough."
--
time in the void was impossible to measure, but you felt every second of your dissolution like a knife slowly carving away pieces of your soul.
at first, it was bearable. you and satoru held each other in the nothing, talking desperately, frantically, trying to memorize every detail of each other before it was too late. you traced the lines of his face with trembling fingers, committing to memory the exact shade of his eyes, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the sound of his voice when he said your name.
you joined yourselves as intimately as two living creatures possibly could, swallowing his ecstasy and his pleasure all at once.
but the void was impatient, and it was hungry.
the memories went first. small things—the name of a flower you'd loved in heaven's gardens, gone. the melody of a song you'd hummed while on duty, vanished. you reached for them and found only empty space where they should have been, like missing teeth in your mind.
"satoru," you said one time, panic creeping into your voice. "I can't remember... there was a place we went. in the mortal world. there were lights in the sky, falling lights, and you held my hand and—" you stopped, frustrated tears burning your eyes. "why can't I remember?"
"a meteor shower," he said quietly, but his voice was hollow. "we watched it from a mountain in... in..." his face crumpled. "I don't remember where. God, birdie, I don't remember where we were."
the horror of it settled over you like a shroud. these weren't just memories—they were your shared existence, the precious few moments of joy you'd stolen together. and they were being eaten away, devoured by the nothing, until soon there would be no evidence you'd ever been happy at all.
it would only get worse.
you forgot the names of angels you'd known for millennia. you forgot the layout of the celestial city, the feeling of your wings catching divine light, the taste of ambrosia. entire centuries of your existence simply... disappeared, leaving blank spaces in your mind that ached like phantom limbs.
satoru was deteriorating faster. he'd been in the void longer, and it showed. sometimes he would look at you with confusion in his eyes, like he couldn't quite place who you were. those moments lasted only seconds before recognition returned, but each time it happened, you felt a terrifying panic claw up your throat.
"I'm forgetting," he confessed one day, his voice breaking. "birdie, I'm forgetting things about you. I can't remember the first thing you ever said to me. I can't remember what your wings looked like. I keep trying to hold onto it, but it's like trying to hold water—it just slips through my fingers."
"it's okay," you lied, pulling him close even as your own panic threatened to consume you. "it's okay, we're together, that's what matters—"
"no, it's not okay!" he pulled away, and you saw tears streaming down his face. "don't you understand? I brought you here. I did this to you. you were perfect and eternal and safe, and I corrupted you, I made you fall, I dragged you into this hell where you're going to be erased from existence, and it's all my fault—"
"satoru, no—"
"you're going to die because of me," he gasped, and the anguish in his voice was unbearable. "you're going to cease to exist, and it's because you loved me, because I was selfish enough to let you love me, and I can't—I can't live with that. I can't watch you disappear knowing I'm the reason why."
you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. "listen to me. I chose this. not you—me. I chose to fall, I chose to come here, I chose you over everything else. and I would make the same choice again, do you understand? even knowing how it ends, I would choose you every single time."
he sobbed, and you held him while he broke apart, while the weight of what he'd cost you finally crushed him. you held him and pretended you weren't breaking too, weren't terrified of the nothing that was slowly devouring you both.
the worst part was when you started forgetting each other.
it happened gradually, then all at once. you would look at satoru and for a brief, horrible moment, you wouldn't know who he was. just a stranger in the darkness, someone you felt you should recognize but couldn't quite place. then the memory would slam back into you—satoru, his name is satoru, you love him, you fell for him—and you would gasp with relief.
but each time, the moment of blankness lasted a little longer.
"what's happening to us?" you whispered one day, clinging to him desperately. you couldn't remember your father’s name. you'd been trying for hours, reaching for it, but it was gone, just gone, and the terror of that absence was suffocating.
"we're losing ourselves," satoru said. his voice sounded strange, distant, like it was coming from very far away. "the void is taking everything. soon there won't be anything left. we'll just be... erased."
you felt your consciousness fragmenting, splintering into pieces that didn't quite fit together anymore. you couldn't remember what you'd been before this. an angel? maybe. the concept felt foreign, meaningless. you couldn't remember heaven, couldn't remember your father, couldn't remember anything except the person in front of you and the desperate, clawing need to hold onto them.
"I don't want to forget you," you said, and you were crying now, great heaving sobs that shook your entire body. "please, I can't forget you. you're all I have left. if I lose you, if I forget you, then what was any of this for?"
"I know," he said, and he was crying too. "I know, I'm scared too. I'm so scared, birdie. I don't want to fade away alone. I don't want to become nothing."
you held each other in the darkness, two fragmenting souls clinging to the last shreds of identity, and you felt the void pressing in from all sides, patient and inexorable, waiting to consume what little remained.
that's when satoru spoke again, his voice barely a whisper.
“y/n..” he repeated under his breath like a mantra, rocking back and forth in a fetal position, “your name is y/n, and I know you… y/n, y/n…?”
he received no response.
“y/n?”
he never would again.
“y/n..” he finally breathed. then, the final words that would ever leave his lips—
“I love you, y/n.”
--
in the celestial realm, the archangel stood at the edge of the threshold, staring into the space between spaces where his daughter had disappeared.
he'd felt it when she fell—a tearing in his very soul, a loss so profound it had brought him to his knees. he'd screamed her name into the void between realms, reached for her with every ounce of his divine power, tried desperately to pull her back. but she was already gone, plummeting through layers of reality he would never be able to reach.
he'd felt it again when she'd entered the void, when the nothing had swallowed her whole. that sensation was worse—not tangible pain but absence, a hole torn in the fabric of his existence where his daughter used to be.
and now, he felt nothing. because there was nothing left to feel.
his daughter wasn't dead. death implied an afterlife, a soul that continued, a possibility of reunion in some distant eternity. no. his daughter was erased. unmade. she had ceased to exist in any form, in any realm, in any reality. there was no heaven waiting for her, nor hell. just the absolute, complete, irreversible nothing.
the archangel fell to his knees at the threshold, and for the first time in his eternal existence, he broke down.
a sound tore from his throat. the sound of a father realizing he'd murdered his own child. because that's what he'd done, wasn't it? he'd cast satoru into the void, knowing it would destroy him. he'd locked his daughter away, knowing she'd be desperate. he'd refused to listen, refused to see her as anything but a child to be controlled, a possession to be protected.
and she'd chosen oblivion rather than live in the cage he'd built for her.
"sir?" one of his lieutenants approached cautiously, keeping his distance. "the council is asking for your report on the... incident."
the archangel didn't respond—he couldn't. he was staring at his hands—hands that had wielded divine judgment, hands that had cast satoru into damnation, hands that had sealed his daughter's chambers and driven her to this.
these hands had destroyed everything he loved.
"she's gone," he finally whispered, "my daughter is gone. there's no soul to save, no spirit to redeem. she doesn't exist anymore."
the lieutenant shifted uncomfortably. "sir, the council—"
"tell them I don't care," the archangel blurted, "tell them my daughter chose love over heaven, and I drove her to it. tell them I'm the reason she's been erased from creation. tell them—" his voice cracked completely. "tell them I killed her."
he stood on shaking legs and walked away from the threshold, away from the space where his daughter had made her final choice. each step felt like walking through water, through mud, through the weight of his own grief.
his celestial city stretched before him, beautiful and eternal and utterly hollow.
he'd walked these streets for millennia, had built this paradise with his own hands, had ruled it with absolute judgement. the crystalline spires caught divine light and scattered it into rainbows. the rivers of starlight flowed endlessly through gardens where flowers sang in perfect harmony. angels moved through the streets like living constellations, their wings catching the eternal golden glow.
it was perfect. it was paradise.
it was a tomb.
the archangel saw it now—really saw it—for the first time. the rigid order he'd enforced, the perfect obedience he'd demanded, the way every angel moved in prescribed patterns, sang prescribed songs, thought prescribed thoughts. there was no individualism here, no spontaneity.
no freedom. no choice. not even life./
his daughter had seen it. she'd felt the cage even when he'd insisted it was her paradise. and when he'd tried to force her back into it, when he'd taken away the one thing that made her feel alive, she'd chosen to stop existing entirely rather than return.
what did that say about the heaven he'd built? what did that say about him?
he walked through the city, and everywhere he looked, he saw her absence. the gardens where she used to walk. the libraries where she'd studied. the training grounds where she'd practiced with her blade. every corner held a memory, and every memory was a wound. he almost wished that he could be the one sent to the void, so as to wash away all of these godforsaken memories.
she'd never walk these streets again. never laugh, never question, never look at him with those eyes that saw too much. she was gone, and she was never coming back, and he would exist forever knowing that.
forever.
he was immortal, therefore he would exist until the end of time itself, and every single moment of that infinite existence would be spent knowing what he'd done. there would be no merciful death to release him, nor oblivion to grant him peace. just endless, eternal grief, stretching out before him like an abyss.
he'd thought the void was the cruelest punishment. he'd been wrong. this was crueler—to live forever with the knowledge that he'd destroyed his own daughter, that his need to control her had driven her to choose non-existence over his love.
he found himself standing in the throne room without remembering how he'd gotten there. the vast space stretched around him, filled with celestial grandeur. the throne itself sat on a raised dais, a seat of absolute authority from which he'd ruled for eons.
he looked at it and felt nothing but revulsion.
he'd before sat on that throne and passed judgment on the fallen. he'd declared them corrupted and damned them. he'd cast satoru into the void without hesitation, believing he was protecting his daughter.
he'd been protecting nothing. he'd been destroying everything.
your father sank to the floor in front of the throne, his wings dragging behind him. sobs tore through him, violent and uncontrolled, the grief of eternity condensed into this single moment. he cried for you, his daughter, for the future you’d never have, for the choice he'd stolen from you. he cried for himself, for the father he'd failed to be, for the love he'd twisted into control.
he cried because you were gone, truly and completely gone, and it was his fault.
hours passed, or maybe days—time meant nothing. eventually, the sobs subsided, leaving only a hollow ache that he knew would never fade.
your father stayed on the floor, unable to move, unable to rule, unable to do anything but exist in the wreckage of what he'd done. his throne loomed above him, expectant and waiting, but he couldn't bring himself to climb those steps. he'd lost that right when he'd lost you.
in the silence of the throne room, the archangel finally understood the lesson he should have learned millennia ago: that love without freedom is just another word for control, and control without trust is just another word for fear.
he'd been afraid of losing you, so he'd held on too tight. and in doing so, he'd lost you in the most complete and irreversible way possible.
alas, he would spend eternity knowing that he was the reason why.
--
epilogue
in the mortal world, there's a legend that lovers sometimes tell each other, though no one quite remembers where it came from or why it persists.
they say that if you stand at the edge of twilight, you might feel something. not a presence—not at all, actually—more like an absence, if anything. a cold spot in the air. a sense of something that should be there but isn't, like a word on the tip of your tongue that you can never quite remember.
the story has been told so many times, passed through so many mouths, that the details have worn smooth like river stones. no one knows the names anymore. no one remembers the specifics. no one remembers the angel who fell for love, or the fallen who waited in the void, or the choice they made to cease to exist together.
some versions say it was two angels who defied heaven. others claim it was a demon and a saint. still others insist it was simply two souls who loved each other so much that the universe itself couldn't contain them.
all the versions agree on one thing though: they're gone now. completely, utterly, irreversibly gone.
the romantics—the ones who still believe in happy endings—like to say that the lovers transcended, that they became something greater. perhaps that their love was so pure it transformed them into eternal guardians watching over other star-cross’d pairs.
the truth, however, buried beneath centuries of retelling and romanticization, is far more terrible. two people loved each other so desperately that when faced with separation, they chose mutual annihilation. they didn't transcend. they didn't transform into something beautiful at all. they simply... stopped existing. erased themselves from reality so completely that even the memory of their names was swallowed by the void.
what remains isn't love. it's the scar tissue where love used to be.
that feeling at twilight—that cold, unsettling sense of absence—isn't benevolent souls watching over creation. it's the echo of something that was destroyed so thoroughly that reality itself still bears the wound. the ghost of a choice so final, so absolute, that it left a hole in the fabric of existence that never quite healed.
the legend persists, distorted and softened by time, transformed into something almost beautiful. lovers invoke it when they want to believe that love conquers all, that devotion can overcome any obstacle, or that choosing each other is always the right answer.
yet they don't realize they're celebrating a double suicide. they don't understand that the story they're telling is about two people who were so broken by the world's cruelty that they saw erasure as mercy.
and perhaps that's for the best. perhaps it's kinder to let the legend remain beautiful, to let people believe in transcendence rather than erasure, to let them think that somewhere, somehow, those two souls are still together and happy.
because the truth—that they're simply gone, that they chose non-existence over a life apart, that their love was so consuming it destroyed them both completely—is too terrible to bear.
soon, even the legend will be forgotten. the story will be told one last time, and then never again. the cold spot at twilight will fade, and then there will be nothing left at all—no memory or echo or trace that they ever existed or ever loved or ever made the terrible choice to unmake themselves.
because even fate had struggled to keep them apart.
but in the end, fate always prevails.
a/n: fanfic or not, this work means a lot to me because it reflects a lot of the doubts i’m currently feeling within my faith. topics such as as predestination, free will, the falling, and the rapture have always plagued my belief.
i’m open to any suggestions or edits especially as this contains sensitive topics such as religion. i’d written this in a Christian perspective, with some apparent Biblical references or symbolism. if any part of this negatively portrays the religion at its core, or you feel that i’ve written something immoral, please feel free to reach out to me and i’d be more than happy to revise and edit whatever parts need editing:)
Vampire-Cowboy!Sukuna x preacher's daughter reader
Synopsis: In a town built on faith, the arrival of three strangers brings whispers of blood, disappearance, and something far worse lurking beneath the surface. Drawn to a man she cannot understand, the preacher’s daughter finds herself caught between light and darkness, until the truth reveals itself, and everything begins to fall apart.
Cw: Vampire-Wild West Au, gothic horror, religious themes, blood, violence
Next Chapter (soon)
Chapter 1: A Town Without Morning
The man’s boot struck the earth with a dull, certain thud as he swung down from his jet-black shire horse, the animal’s breath ghosting pale in the cooling air. He tied the reins to a weathered post, fingers steady, practiced. Behind him, the other two dismounted in silence, shadows peeling themselves from the saddle like something half-formed and patient.
The wind had turned strange.
It carried something stronger than before, threading through the town with a low, uneasy whisper. The air felt cooler against his skin, damp and heavy, smelling of earth, rain, and something faintly rotten beneath it all. A storm was coming—he could feel it in his bones, in the way the night held its breath.
He walked towards the church.
An elderly woman stepped out just as he reached the steps, her small frame hunched, her cane tapping against the wood. She noticed him immediately, offering a soft, welcoming smile as if nothing in this world could possibly be wrong.
“Well hello there, darling,” she said warmly. “Came to pay your respects to our Lord and Savior? Come in, come in—but do hurry now, the priest will be closing the doors soon. It’s getting quite late.”
The man stared at her for a moment.
“That so?” he replied, voice smooth, unreadable. Then, quieter, almost thoughtful. “You should head home. It’s going to start pouring soon.”
“Huh?” The woman glanced up at the sky, confused by the absence of any sign of rain. No stars. No moon. Just a thick, suffocating dark pressing down on the town.
“Oh… well, you’re right, I suppose,” she murmured. “I should get going. Thank you, darling.”
She adjusted her cane and made her way back down the path, unaware of how close she had come to something that did not belong in God’s world.
The man watched her go, then he stepped inside.
The church greeted him with decay.
It was dark, the rows of pews barely visible, their shapes swallowed by shadow. Only the faint glow of a candelabra near the altar kept the place from being consumed entirely. The air was thick with dust and dampness, the wooden planks beneath his boots soft in places, warped with rot. Mold crept along the corners of the walls like a slow confession, spreading unchecked.
Neglected. Forgotten. Or perhaps… willfully ignored.
At the altar stood the priest, a Bible clutched tightly in his hands, his figure stiff beneath the flickering light.
“May I help you?” he called, raising an eyebrow, unable to make out the figure lingering near the entrance.
The man let the silence stretch, then he spoke.
“Just wondering if you had any food to spare,” he said, stepping forward slowly. “Me and my friends… we’ve been traveling for a while now. Haven’t eaten in days.”
The priest hesitated. Not out of compassion, but out of calculation.
“Are you a resident of Sourwater?” he asked.
The man already knew where this was going. “No… just passing through.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, then,” the priest replied, voice firm. “Perhaps the general store—or the saloon—if you have coin.”
“We don’t, Father…” the man answered.
“That’s not my concern. This is not a charity.” The words settled, sharp and final.
“I see,” the man murmured. He began to walk forward. Step by step, the candlelight climbed him—his boots, his coat, his hands—until it reached his face. Pale, too pale. His features were sharp, almost carved, unnatural in their precision. And his eyes… they crimson. Not shadow or trickery, crimson blood.
The priest’s breath caught in his throat. Sweat beaded along his forehead as his grip on the Bible tightened, knuckles paling. And when the man spoke again, the priest saw them.
Fangs.
“What… what are you?” he stammered, voice breaking under the weight of something ancient and wrong pressing against his chest.
The man tilted his head, almost amused. “Me?” he echoed softly. “I’m just a man, Father.”
Behind him, two other figures stepped into the light, silent, closing in.
“You’re not supposed to be here…” the priest said quickly, backing up a step. “This is the house of God.”
The man didn’t stop. “God is not here,” he replied. The words felt colder than the air. “Your god’s love is not unconditional,” he continued, voice quiet but cutting. “And he does not love you.”
“My life’s work is in His name!” the priest snapped, anger rising to mask the fear clawing at his throat.
“Is it?” the man asked. Another step. “Because I recall asking for food.” His voice lowered. “For mercy. And you turned me away.”
“I am the priest of Sourwater!” he shouted. “I have done nothing but the Lord’s work!”
“Lies?” the man murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “In your house of god?” He moved closer. “You starve the needy. You take from those who have nothing and call it devotion. You use his name like a leash.” His voice dipped, almost gentle. “No wonder he abandoned you.”
The priest’s back hit the altar.
“But us…” the man continued, the other two now at his sides, closing the space completely, “we don’t pretend. We love you exactly as you are.”
Then they moved, fast.
Teeth sank into flesh before the priest could even scream, hands gripping him in place as his body jerked and twisted. The Bible slipped from his grasp, hitting the floor with a hollow sound that echoed far too loudly in the empty church.
Blood spilled, warm, thick, and wrong. The man drank first, then pulled back, his expression tightening slightly.
“Rotten,” he muttered under his breath.
The others followed, less eager now, but still feeding, still tearing, still taking.
Tainted blood never satisfied. It never did.
The priest collapsed at the base of the altar, his body crumpling like something hollowed out, something already gone long before they arrived.
The man wiped his mouth slowly, glancing towards the open doors where the wind had begun to howl, louder now, carrying with it the distant creak of wood, the restless stirring of a town that did not yet know what had come for it.
He exhaled. He was content, but not full. “Well…” he murmured, voice almost thoughtful, “the night’s still young.”
Behind him, the other two shifted, hunger still gnawing, still sharp.
In a few more hours the sun would rise… but not for Sourwater.
Inside the small office, two men spoke in hushed voices, wary of being overheard. If what they were discussing ever left the room, it wouldn’t just stir whispers—it would send panic ripping through the town of Whiskey Falls, then beyond it, into the state of North Clementine… and eventually the entire country.
And that would be very bad for everyone.
“Are you certain of what you’re telling me, Father Clarke?” the sheriff asked, brows drawn tight with disbelief. His teeth worried at the nail of his thumb, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to stop.
“Positive,” the priest replied, voice low, strained. “There’s nothing natural about a whole town simply… vanishing overnight. No bodies. No signs of struggle.” He paused, swallowing. “I sent two of my boys out three days ago with supplies Father Bell requested. When they came back…”
He exhaled slowly.
“They were shaken. Pale. Sweating like they’d seen the devil himself.”
The sheriff leaned forward. “And?”
“They refused to speak at first. Wouldn’t say a word to the other deacons. I had to pull them aside, calm them down.” His grip tightened slightly against the desk. “When they finally spoke… they said the town was empty. Completely empty. Not a soul left.”
A beat of silence stretched between them.
“Well…?” the sheriff pressed.
The priest hesitated.
“The only thing left behind,” he said carefully, “was blood.”
The word seemed to settle into the room like something alive.
“Everywhere,” he continued. “Walls. Floors. Ceilings. Doors. Windows. Rooms soaked in it—as if something tore through the place and left nothing but what was inside the people.”
The sheriff went still.
“This isn’t normal,” the priest added, quieter now. “But I’ve heard stories before. A group of Native travelers once passed through town—spoke of something like this. Said if it ever came to pass…” He trailed off, jaw tightening. “If my suspicions are right, they might know what we’re dealing with.”
“And what exactly do you think that is?” the sheriff asked.
The priest didn’t answer right away.
“I’m going to Sourwater tomorrow,” he said. “I need to see it for myself before we involve anyone else.”
The sheriff straightened. “Then I’m going with you. Just in case things turn… sour.”
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, slowly stepping away from the door before either man could catch you listening.
Blood? An entire town gone overnight? Your stomach twisted. Better not to think too much about it. Thoughts like those had a way of growing teeth in the dark, turning into things that kept you awake long after the candles burned out.
Still… The unease lingered.
You stepped outside, boots crunching softly against the dirt as you made your way towards the town center to meet your friends.
Whiskey Falls was beautiful, it had always been enough.
There was the farmers’ market, bursting with fresh produce and the smell of baked bread. The general store stocked nearly everything anyone could need. The tailor shop where Manami worked, her hands crafting gowns so fine they looked almost too delicate to wear. The small doctor’s office where Shoko spent her days tending to patients, learning everything she could in hopes of becoming one herself.
There were smaller establishments too, each owned by someone who knew your name.
The sheriff’s office stood at the entrance of town, right across from the church. Stables lined the outskirts. A train station waited on the far end, bringing in letters and strangers alike. And at the heart of it all was the saloon.
Loud. Warm. Alive.
Your favorite place.
A place where laughter came easy, and secrets even easier.
Inside, Yuki sat at the bar, already waiting, her presence as bright as ever.
“Glad you’re finally here,” she said, grinning. You couldn’t help but smile back. Yuki had a way of doing that—lifting the mood without even trying.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” you said, lowering your voice slightly. “But wait until Utahime gets back.”
“I’m here,” Utahime announced, stepping behind the counter with a tray in hand. She set it down with a soft clatter before glancing between the two of you. “What’s going on?”
You leaned in. “Promise me you won’t repeat this.”
They both straightened slightly, your tone enough to tell them this wasn’t gossip. “I promise,” they said in unison.
You nodded.
“I overheard the sheriff and Father Clarke talking,” you began. “Something happened in Sourwater. A whole town—gone overnight. No bodies. Just… blood. Everywhere.”
Nobody said anything for a second. Utahime’s fingers stilled against the counter.
“Satoru’s leaving town?” she asked, almost to herself, her hand instinctively clutching the fabric of her dress. Her feelings for him had always been complicated—something unspoken, lingering in the spaces between her words. One minute she was fine with him and the next she wanted to carve out his guts.
“I think so,” you said. “He offered to go investigate. I just… I don’t know. What if whatever happened there—”
“Hey,” Yuki cut in gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t go thinking like that. Even if he leaves, we’re not helpless.”
She flexed her arm with a grin. “I can handle just about anything.” It wasn’t an empty claim. Years of ranch work had built her strength into something real, something reliable.
“And I’ve still got this,” Utahime added quietly, opening a drawer just enough to reveal the grip of a revolver. A gift from Satoru. Protection, in a world that didn’t always care for women’s safety.
You nodded.
Once, you would’ve thought it improper. Unladylike. Unholy, even.
But you had grown. You had seen enough to understand that sometimes survival mattered more than purity.
“Alright,” Utahime said after a moment, forcing a smirk. “Enough of that. Let’s talk about something better.” She leaned in slightly. “I overheard Mr. Smith earlier—turns out that hair tonic Mr. Matthews sold him?” she snorted. “Did the opposite.”
Yuki blinked. “No way.”
“Oh yes. Looks like we’ll be seeing that ridiculous hat of his a lot more often.”
Laughter broke the tension.
There had been rumors for weeks about Mr. Smith developing a small bald spot—one he tried so hard to hide beneath his perfectly combed, honey-blond hair. The kind people used to compliment. The kind he took pride in. Not so stunning anymore.
Served him right.
A month ago, he had laughed—loud and careless—at Ms. Arizona’s greying hair, calling it a sign of “giving up.”
Funny how things had a way of turning.
You glanced up at the clock, it was midday, and chores still waited back at home.
“I’ll see you both later,” you said, standing from your seat. “I’ll come back tonight after I’m done.”
Tonight was special.
The town would be celebrating Yuta—Satoru’s younger cousin—passing his qualifications to become a deputy.
A night full of music, drinks, and laughter. A night like any other.
You had spent the rest of the day tending to your duties.
Helping your father at the church, preparing his lunch, attending to anyone who walked through those front doors in whatever way you could. Offering kind words, small comforts, quiet guidance. Then, when the sun had begun its slow descent and you returned home, your work did not end.
You washed clothes until your hands smelled faintly of soap and worn fabric. You prepared dinner, the scent of it filling the house in a soft, familiar warmth. You swept every corner, pushing away dust that always seemed to return no matter how often you chased it out. And finally, you fed Gabriel and Mary.
Gabriel and Mary, your pets, your heart.
Gabriel was an American shorthair cat your father had rescued one stormy night years ago, soaked to the bone, trembling beneath the church steps as thunder cracked overhead. He had been so small then, barely more than a bundle of fur and fear. Now he moved through the house like he owned it, quiet and watchful.
Mary was different.
A beautiful beagle who had wandered into the church one afternoon while your father was in the middle of a sermon. You remembered it clearly—the way your father had been speaking about Jesus’s teachings, voice steady and full of conviction… and there she was, sitting right in the center aisle, ears perked, eyes fixed on him as if she were truly listening.
It had been funny. Sacred, in a strange way.
She never left after that.
They were both your treasure. Your babies. You didn’t know what you would do without them.
By the time everything was done, the house had settled into a quiet stillness.
So, while you waited for your father, you stepped into the bathroom, where the wooden tub rested against the wall. Filling it bucket after bucket with warm water, the soft sound of it pouring into the tub echoing gently in the small space. Steam began to rise, curling faintly in the air.
You undressed and stepped in.
The warmth wrapped around you instantly, sinking into your skin, easing the day’s exhaustion from your bones. You reached for the soap, lathering it between your hands before using the sponge to scrub away the dust and sweat clinging to you. Watching the bubbles gather across, thin and glistening.
Tonight mattered. It was important for Yuta.
He had been officially appointed by Satoru as a deputy. A title he had wanted for years, following closely in his older cousin’s footsteps. Training every day—horse riding until his legs ached, practicing how to tie and throw a lasso with precision, learning how to shoot until his aim became something near perfect.
He was a good kid.
Though… not a kid anymore.
He had turned nineteen just three months ago. A man now, by all accounts. But to you he would always be that little boy knocking on your door, asking if you wanted to play.
You weren’t much older than him. Just recently turned twenty-four.
Back then, when time had been kinder, you would run through the fields together, wade into the river, disappear into the forest and pretend you were cowboys, living wild and free, untouched by responsibility.
But time changed things. It always did. There were no more games now. No more long afternoons without purpose.
Still… being there tonight mattered.
To show him that even if life had pulled you in different directions, you hadn’t forgotten him. That you were still there.
You stepped out of the tub, water dripping softly from your skin, and reached for the oil bottle resting on the top shelf. Keeping yourself clean was one thing. But neglecting your skin afterward felt almost careless.
You poured a small amount into your palms, the scent of jasmine blooming instantly in the air. Soft. Sweet. Comforting. You smoothed it over your arms, your shoulders, your collarbone, watching as your skin caught the light with a faint, subtle shimmer.
There were no downsides to moisturizing the skin, none at all.
You dressed simply, a plain white blouse, soft and modest. A long, full skirt in a deep midnight blue that brushed gently against your legs. Long stockings beneath, paired with simple black boots.
It looked nice, casual. Nothing too captivating or that it would draw the wrong kind of attention.
When you stepped into the hallway, your father was already there, still dressed in his priest’s robes.
“Daughter…” he said, his voice softening as he approached you. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, warm and familiar, before he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You look wonderful.”
“Thank you, father,” you replied, smiling up at him.
“I know you’re going out tonight,” he continued, “to celebrate your friend’s big day. But… please, be careful.”
There was something in his voice. A weight.
“I will, father.”
“I know you will,” he said, offering a small smile. “You’re a good girl.” He reached into his robes. “Here… I got you something. Wear this tonight.” He placed a silver rosary around your neck, his fingers adjusting it gently so it rested just right.
You looked down at it.
“Thank you, father… it’s lovely.”
He nodded once, satisfied. “I’m glad you like it.” His tone shifted. “But there’s something else I need to speak to you about, my child.”
Your chest tightened.
“I know you were listening earlier. Outside the office. When I was speaking with Gojo.”
Your heart sank, not really expecting for anyone to have noticed you earlier.
“I’m disappointed,” he said—not harsh, but firm. “But that is not why I bring it up.”
You stayed quiet, waiting.
“I’m sure you heard what we discussed about Sourwater,” he continued. “I will be leaving tomorrow with Gojo and a few of the men to investigate. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone… hopefully less than a week. I’ve left Junpei in charge of the church in my absence.”
“Junpei?” you repeated. “Isn’t he a bit too young for that kind of responsibility, father?”
“He may be young,” your father replied, “but he is capable. More than he lets on. I’ve seen him studying late into the night, practicing the Lord’s teachings in silence. He believes no one notices…” A faint, knowing smile touched his lips. “But I do.”
You considered that.
“I’ve had a good feeling about that boy for some time now. If he continues on this path… he may very well follow in my footsteps.”
You nodded slowly. “If you believe in him, then I will too. I’ll help however I can.”
“I knew you would,” he said gently. “Thank you, daughter.” He hesitated, just for a moment. “As I said… I’ll be leaving early in the morning. I wanted you to know before I go.”
Then, softer he said. “Now go. Enjoy your night with your friends. Don’t stay out too late… and keep yourself out of trouble, my sweet child.” He took your hands in his, pressing a kiss into your palms.
You pulled him into a tight embrace in return, holding him just a minute longer than usual before stepping away, out into the night.
The saloon was full of life.
People were drinking, singing, couples swaying to the music, and somehow—despite all the noise—the older men still managed to sit at their table and play poker as if nothing around them mattered.
Utahime had her hands full, pouring drink after drink, barely getting a moment to breathe. Riko played the piano, her melody lively and bright as a small crowd gathered around her, clapping, singing along.
The place was loud, messy and alive.
You spotted Yuta upstairs on the second floor, standing beside Satoru and Suguru, all three with beer bottles in hand.
“Congratulations, kid,” Suguru said, raising his drink before taking a long sip.
“Yuta!” you called, offering Satoru and Suguru a small nod of acknowledgment as you approached.
“You’re here!” he said, his face lighting up.
“Of course I am,” you smiled. “I wouldn’t miss your special day. Congratulations.”
“Thanks…” he muttered, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks as he scratched the back of his head.
“So… how does it feel?” you asked. “Getting the job?”
“Exciting,” he said. “Nerve-wracking too, but mostly exciting. I can’t wait to catch some outlaws.”
You laughed softly. “Of course that’s the first thing you’d want to do.”
“It’s the best part,” he grinned. “The action. The thrill of it all.”
You noticed Satoru and Suguru exchanging a glance behind him.
A silent cue.
“Alright, Yuta, I’ll catch you later.” You said gently, already making your way back down the stairs, scanning the room for Utahime.
She was behind the bar now, finally catching a break, her eyes still alert as she watched the crowd. Ready to step in if anyone got too rowdy, or if someone needed another drink.
“Utahim—”
“What. Is. That?!” A voice cut you off. It was Manani.
“Manami, long time no see,” you said, smiling. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad to see you too, sugarplum,” she replied, her tone sweet. Then her eyes narrowed. “But what is that you’re wearing?”
You blinked, glancing down at your outfit. “My clothes… what? Is there something wrong with them?”
“They’re hideous, sugarplum,” she said bluntly. “You look like you’re about to attend one of your father’s sermons.”
Before you could protest, she opened the bag she always carried with her. “This is why you always listen to your gut.” Manami handed you a corset. “Now go change. Immediately.”
“Manami… I can’t wear this,” you hesitated. “What would father say?”
“Mm-hm,” she waved it off. “In case you haven’t noticed, your father isn’t here.”
“But the people… they’ll talk. If he finds out—”
“The people are too drunk to remember their own names tomorrow,” she cut in. “And it’s a celebration. It’s not a sin to have a sense of fashion.” She pushed you into an empty back room, bracing herself against the door. “I don’t want to see you until you’ve changed.”
You sighed, defeated. Slowly, you removed your blouse and slipped into the new clothes, fitting the corset carefully. When you turned to face the vanity mirror you froze.
You looked… different, more striking, more noticeable.
Your shoulders bare, your figure shaped in a way you weren’t used to seeing. It felt foreign—yet strangely freeing.
And that alone made it feel wrong… Didn’t it?
You swallowed, quietly hoping Manami was right, that no one would remember. “Manami… I’m done.”
The door swung open instantly.
“Well look at you, sugarplum,” she beamed. “Gorgeous. I knew that was the one. It matches your skirt perfectly.” She handed you lace gloves, then placed her cowgirl hat on your head. “There,” she said, satisfied. “Magnificent. How do you feel?”
You hesitated. “I feel… different.”
She smiled. “That’s good. Different is good. You can’t stay in your comfort bubble forever.”
Manami guided you back into the saloon. The moment you stepped out, a few heads turned. Eyes lingered, some curious, some indifferent, some… didn’t care. Maybe she was right.
When your friends saw you, they reacted instantly.
Shoko let out a playful whistle. “Well, look at you.”
“You look different…” Yuki said, then quickly waved her hands. “But in a good way! A really good way!”
“You look good,” Utahime added, pouring whiskey into five small cups.
“She looks perfect,” Manami chimed in proudly. “Another masterpiece.” She grabbed a glass and handed one to each of you. “To us.”
“To us,” your voices echoed, blending as the glasses clinked softly together.
You drank, and the night carried on.
Yuki ended up beside Riko, drunkenly singing along to the piano, a beer bottle loosely in her grip. Manami disappeared upstairs, no doubt entertaining herself with whoever caught her interest. Utahime leaned against the bar, barely awake, while Satoru talked endlessly beside her, oblivious to her slumbering form.
Shoko stayed close to you. Her hand resting in yours as the two of you caught up. It had been a while. You rarely saw her these days, always busy at the doctor’s office.
At some point during the conversation with Shoko, you noticed a woman with short black hair and glasses leaving, accompanied by a man with spiky hair and thick eyebrows.
Then the saloon shook.
The doors burst open.
Three men stepped inside.
The piano faltered for only a second before continuing. Conversations quieted, eyes turning towards the entrance. People stared—just for a moment—before pretending not to.
But the noise didn’t return the same. It dropped. Lower and uneasy.
You turned abruptly, Shoko’s grip tightening around your hand.
The men lingered by the door, taking in the room—watching, measuring—before making their way towards the bar.
One of them sat beside you.
Shoko’s hold on your hand hardened, protective.
Utahime straightened, Satoru’s attention snapping to them instantly.
“What can I get you, fellas?” she asked, forcing calm into her voice.
“Give us the strongest liquor you’ve got,” the man besides you said. His voice was low and sharp.
“Coming right up.” Utahime moved quickly, grabbing a bottle, pouring into three glasses before retreating back to Satoru who was still watching them.
You tried to continue your conversation with Shoko, keeping your voice low, but then a hand touched your shoulder.
“Excuse me, miss.”
You stiffened.
“Y-yes…?” you replied, your voice quieter now.
Up close, he was worse.
Dark jeans, worn thin at the knees. Black boots fitted with spurs. A holster at his waist, the gun gleaming faintly—its leather looking like snakeskin. A black shirt, a bandolier across his chest. A coat lined with fur. A hat pulled low.
Danger. Every part of him screamed it.
“Is there somewhere we can stay the night?”
You hesitated.
“…There’s a hotel across the saloon,” you said slowly. “Near the bank. With a bathhouse… but…”
“But?”
“…You shouldn’t be here tonight,” you murmured. “We’re celebrating someone… something important.”
He chuckled softly, lifting his drink.
You caught a better look at him. Pale-tan skin. Sharp, defined features. Hair a strange pinkish-salmon shade. And his eyes, red. Watching. Measuring. Hungry.
“Why not?” he said. “Some folks outside invited us in.”
You didn’t respond to that, instead asked, “…Do you need anything else?”
His gaze dropped to your chest, to your rosary. His tongue clicked. “Nothing else for now, sweetheart.” He turned away.
You exhaled quietly, turning back to Shoko. Utahime watched you from behind the bar, worry clear in her eyes. Satoru hadn’t looked away from the men once.
“I think I’m going home,” you whispered. “It’s late.” You glanced at the clock. It was past midnight. Later than your usual sleeping hour.
“You should,” Shoko said softly. “I’ll see you soon again.”
“Goodnight,” you said, offering a small nod to the others before stepping outside. Leaving them behind with the strangers.
You didn’t sleep well that night. Not even close.
Your mind refused to quiet, thoughts tangling and twisting into darker shapes the longer you lay there. Every time you closed your eyes, your chest tightened. As if something was waiting for you in that darkness, just beyond reach.
So you didn’t let the dark take you.
You kept a candle lit beside your bed, its flame trembling softly, casting long, shifting shadows across the walls. You watched it for what felt like hours, afraid that the moment you blew it out something would come.
Gabriel had not settled either.
The cat sat perched near the window, body stiff, tail flicking slowly, his eyes fixed on the glass. Not blinking. Not moving. Just… watching.
Mary had been worse.
She paced. Back and forth. Back and forth. A low, uneasy whine slipping past her throat every now and then, her ears twitching at sounds you couldn’t hear.
“Mary…” you whispered, your voice barely there.
She didn’t come to you, she stayed near the door. As if she didn’t want to turn her back on something.
At some point you swore you heard it. A soft sound outside your window. A faint disturbance in the grass.
Step.
Pause.
Step.
Too slow to be the wind. Too deliberate to be an animal.
Your breath caught in your throat. You stayed still in bed, listening, waiting, but nothing came after, only silence.
Eventually.
But not gently.
You hadn’t slept. Not truly. Your body ached with exhaustion, your eyes heavy, dark circles settled beneath them like bruises. The candle had burned low, its wax pooled and hardened on the metal tray you placed on your nightstand.
Gabriel was no longer at the window and Mary had finally laid down near the door.
But neither of them looked at ease.
The day didn’t wait, never did. There was work to be done, Junpei to assist, a church to tend to, and a prayer to give, one you suddenly felt desperate to be heard.
Outside your window, the grass slowly rose from where something had been. Beyond the reach of your candlelight, something had waited in the dark, watching you all night long.
( 18+ mdni ) frat!sukuna breaks the only rule he cared about: don’t catch feelings.
fratboy!sukuna who notoriously doesn’t give a damn about anyone but himself. everyone knows he’s trouble— tattoos crawling up his arms, that sharp tongue dripping with sarcasm and filth. everyone adores him just as much as they loathe him. it’s sukuna, for fuck’s sake. the unpredictable, sharp-edged party boy who lives in constant chaos. girls rotate through his bedroom like clockwork, only for him to discard them the moment he’s done. he doesn’t text back, doesn’t offer breakfast the morning after, and never promises shit, but that’s fine, because everyone knows where they stand with him. sukuna doesn’t do strings. he doesn’t do relationships. but he definitely does dares.
fratboy!sukuna who sits sprawled out on the dingy leather couch in the middle of another friday night dorm party, ignoring the blaring music and cheap vodka in someone’s hand. the conversation has turned into a game, one of his frat brothers leaning back with a shit-eating grin and that look that screams, it's your turn. “i’ve got one for you, sukuna,” one of the others slurs, leaning close and pointing across the room. “see that girl? nerdy little thing, y/n. bet you couldn’t pull her.”
sukuna’s eyes flick lazily to you, tucked in the corner. you’re chatting it up with one of your friends, wearing those little wire-rimmed glasses that make you look harmless, a sweatshirt pulled snug over your frame like you're hiding yourself from the party. you don’t belong here. and that’s exactly why the dare piques his interest.
“i could pull anyone,” sukuna scoffs, grinning slow, sharp, and smug. “but, sure. why not?” he doesn’t even think twice about it. it’s just a game. always has been. he strides over to you like he owns the room, all confidence and heat, sliding himself into your conversation without hesitation. that cocky smile is burned into your memory by the time the night is over.
fratboy!sukuna who wasn’t expecting you to be so fucking pretty up close. when you finally tilt your head up to look at him, his world stutters for half a second. you’re biting your lip nervously, adjusting your glasses, and your voice is sweeter than he expected when you mutter, “do you... uh, need something?” pretty. soft. so completely opposite everything he’s ever gone for before. something about it makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t like or understand, but still, sukuna pushes deeper— complimenting your smile, teasing you subtly until you flush, and offering to walk you out when the party dies down. you let him, much to his surprise.
but at first? it’s just harmless fun. he wasn’t expecting to fuck you right away— thought you’d be one of those ‘pure’ types, the ones that get all flustered if someone stares too long at their lips. but you surprise him almost immediately. when he leans in closer and murmurs, “you seem tense, sweetheart. never had a guy flirt with you before?” you blink up at him, smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, and say, “not like you.” it’s enough to make his cock twitch in his jeans before you excuse yourself with a cute little “goodnight,” leaving sukuna more frustrated than he’s been in a loooong time.
fratboy!sukuna who starts bumping into you more often after that night. in class. at the library. in the quad. it shouldn’t mean anything, but everytime he runs into you, there you are— dressed modestly but with this soft, natural kind of beauty that drives him insane. your hair always smells sweet, and when you look up from your books and push your glasses up the bridge of your nose, it fucking wrecks him. he turns it into a game; teasing you relentlessly, taking the empty seat next to you in lectures just to mutter filthy things under his breath that make your cheeks heat up, watching out of the corner of his eye as your thighs subtly clench. sukuna can tell you don’t play games like this, and that’s why it’s so fun for him.
fratboy!sukuna who decides to make a move during yet another party. you don’t go often, but this time sukuna had a hand in convincing you to show up. tossing careless words your way all week, like, “i don’t get why you hide all the time. bet they’ve never seen you in a dress,” followed by a wink. to his surprise, you actually show up— looking fucking gorgeous, no less. your usual baggy sweatshirt gone in favor of a tight little dress that hugs your curves. he wasn’t supposed to react to this, wasn’t supposed to notice how good you look, but fuck, now his mouth is dry, and he wants you bad.
it starts with small talk, heated glances, subtle touches— his fingers brushing the back of your thigh when no one’s watching, the deep rasp in his voice when he leans in close and murmurs, “you’re gonna ruin me tonight.” you giggle nervously, but he sees the way your eyes light up. like you can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him.
fratboy!sukuna who ends up with you pinned against the wall of his room an hour later, tearing that tight little dress straight off your body. the whole night had led to this— him pushing boundaries, you not stopping him— and now, sukuna admits, you’re better than any fuck he’s imagined. he’s fucking obsessed already. you’re shaking, clinging to his shoulders, your soft moans muffled against his neck as he whispers filthy shit into your ear, voice dipping low like gravel. “knew you’d be fucking sweet, baby. that tight little pussy just begging for me to ruin it.” he lifts you easily, shameless about the way he palms your ass roughly, swirling his thick cock around your entrance before thrusting in completely.
you cry out as he stretches you, and sukuna loses his mind with how tight and wet you feel. he rams into you relentlessly, sweat dripping from his forehead as he fists the back of your hair, tilting your head to force you to look at him. “see that, sweetheart? look at yourself. cockdrunk already, yeah? can’t take your eyes off me, huh?” his grin spreads wider as the tears stream down your cheeks, overwhelmed sobs escaping your lips as your body trembles with every brutal thrust. he knows it’s nasty. he knows he’s going too far, sucking marks into your neck, positioning you how he wants, legs thrown high over his shoulders so he can jackhammer into you, then face down on the mattress so he can admire the pretty way you arch your back for him.
fratboy!sukuna who falls harder than he ever thought he could. it’s not just about fucking anymore— the way you unravel under his touch, the soft, nervous laugh you make when he teases you about being a little nerd, the way you whisper “missed you” everytime he leave— it leaves an ache in his chest, one that spreads further every time he sees you. he wasn’t supposed to like you. you were a fucking dare. but now, you giggle and ramble about some book you love after he’s fucked you raw, completely naked in his lap as you tuck your face under his chin, and sukuna realizes he doesn’t want anyone else in the room except you.
fratboy!sukuna who’s falling, and you notice. you see the change in how he touches you— his hands lingering longer on the curve of your back, the soft way he tucks your hair behind your ear. it terrifies you because for as much as he looks at you like you’re the only girl in the room, you know what he is. you know every girl he’s fucked, every name he’s probably forgotten. men like sukuna don’t fall. they don’t change. he can’t love you— not someone like him.
but then he fucks up. after sneaking you out of his room following another sleepover, one of his frat brothers makes a comment when you pass. “finally bagged her, huh, sukuna?” his friend grins, smug as ever, not noticing the storm brewing in sukuna’s sharp glare. “always knew you’d win the da—” the word doesn’t finish before sukuna slams him against the wall, snarling something about shutting the fuck up and staying in his lane. you freeze. the dare. you weren’t stupid— you put it all together as all the pieces fell into place, and the betrayal sinks deep into your chest.
“what dare?” you ask quietly when sukuna catches up to you afterward, his favorite cocky mask faltering. “tell me, sukuna. was i just some bet to you?”
and the thing is— he wants to deny it. to explain that he didn’t think you’d matter to him, to admit you were supposed to be nothing... but then somehow became everything. but he can’t form the words, and you’re already pulling away.
fratboy!sukuna who doesn’t know how to fix it. he doesn’t know how to look you in the eyes and admit, i fucked up. i fucked up, but i’m in love with you. and now you're gone, just like that, leaving him empty in a way he’s never felt before. of all the shit he’s landed himself in, none of it compares to the ache of knowing he lost you, the one girl he never intended to care about in the first place. you were supposed to be a game. why does it feel like his whole world just shattered?
fratboy!sukuna who hates himself, realizing too late that he never gave a fuck about the dare— that the first time you smiled at him, he was already yours. but now? now he’s sitting alone on that same couch with his cock in his hand, scrolling through blurry photos of you, drunk and desperate because no matter who he tries to touch now, nothing feels like you. maybe he fucking deserves it…
Toji Fushiguro is your neighbor, and you're the sweet girl next door, you help tutor his son Megumi for him after school until he gets home and help out for extra cash. What you don't know, is Toji has become obsessed with you - the pretty babysitter - so much so he is in your place when you're not, and things start to come up missing. When you try to hook up, he's is knocking on your door for sugar, when you shower, the hot water somehow shuts off. But can Toji have you all to himself when you have a stupid crush on his best friend Shiu across the street!
pairings - yandere! toji x babysitter! reader x dilf! shiu
warnings - age gap - reader is 22, Toji is 39, Shiu is 40 - Toji and reader are the main but boy does Shiu have fun w/us hehe- this chap - hints of somno, Toji is depraved, stalking, videoing w/o consent, masturbation, Toji failing at yandere completely.
So this already has eight chaps, they will be released weekly on every thursday! <3 This was a patreon fic but I wanted to share one of them with you all here, so you can see the pure freak over there hehe - tags open!
beautiful art creds here!
chapter one
Toji can't help but let his eyes linger as you're crashed out on his couch. Megumi is playing video games with his little friend Yuji in their room, and you have your college text book dropped on the floor.
Fuck you're pretty.
Toji bends down to grab it, eyeing your pretty tit that's nearly falling out of your top. Well, he can't have that, can he?
He eases it down just a bit, thumbing your nipple and exhaling, leaking pre against his sweats. He should feel like a sick fuck for fondling his babysitter like this, but he can't find a hint of guilt.
No, he wants to do more, especially when your lips part, and you shift just a bit. He laps a filthy ring around your areola before sucking it into his mouth, pulling back with a pop and exhaling, murmuring your name softly and covering you back up.
He could do more, but the first time with you. He wants you to fucking beg for it.
"Pretty little doll," he practically cooes those words, making you stir as he caresses your cheek, you come to just a bit, blinking - but he's already standing up, pretending to be busy. "Get tired?"
"Mr. Fushiguro!" You stand up quickly, body still numb from your sleep, cheeks heating up. "I'm so sorry, ugh... studying for the finals are killing me."
"No worries, the kids are fine," he gives you a smirk, mossy green eyes drifting down your body briefly, feeling like he's touching you. "You good, doll?"
"I'm... um..." you look down to see your nipples pressing against the thin material of your tank top, the remnants of your dream flashing in your mind.
Dreams of the man you babysit for bending you over.
You feel awful, you have a whole boyfriend - you can't think this way!? Especially about a much older man with a kid like seven years younger than you. You shake yourself out of it, chalking it up to the fact that this man wears black thin gym shirts and slutty ass gray sweats and blaming it on that.
His fault, really.
"I'm just embarassed, I don't want you to think I'm irresponsible..." He brushes his hand across your head affectionately.
"Don't be, you're more than welcome to rest up before you head home."
"Oh no, I'm all good, I have a date later." Toji frowns then, eyes narrowing just a bit, before he plasters back on a smile.
"Oh yeah? Lucky kid."
You blush more, gathering your books and stuffing them in your bag then, Toji's home was right across the street from you literally, so you just walked over here.
"Want me to walk you over, it's night time."
"You don't have to Mr. Fushiguro, really."
"It'd make me feel better if I did," you smile gratefully, most days he did walk you back to your door, you think he wanted to just make sure you were safe which was sweet. Despite being tall, buff and appearing gruff, Toji was always sweet to you.
"Let me say bye to Gumi first," you walk over to the room, and Megumi and Yuji smile up at you. "I'm headed home, sorry i crashed!"
"You looked tired," Megumi shrugs his shoulder. "Don't worry about it."
"All right, I'll see you two tomorrow!" You walk out with Toji, stepping out into the cool night air and shivering a bit. "When did it get so cold?"
"Here," Toji steps back in and snatches up one of his leather jackets, putting the heavy cool material over your shoulders. "Swallows you huh?"
"You're huge," you blink then, earning his smirk. "Oh dear god, I didn't mean... I mean!?"
"It's true..." His words are husky, his scar moving just a bit, he runs a tongue along it, somehow making it fucking sexier to you. "C'mon, kiddo."
Kiddo.
You don't need to be around Toji Fushiguro alone with your fucking daddy issues, really you don't, you decide to shove them down and just smile, walking next to him toward your house, you go to step into the road and he shoves you back with a strong arm, a car speeding and whooshing by.
"Fuck..." You're in his arms suddenly, he can feel your heart racing under those lush breasts, as your eyes meet his. "Thank you, Mr. Fushiguro."
"Of course, be careful huh?" You're a little shaken up, he caught you like an instinct really. He keeps his hand on the small of your back under the jacket, the rough palm burning against your skin through your thin cotton top.
It feels so good, having you near him, God Toji has waited months to have you this close, aside from a few caresses and brushes of his skin he's not touched you until tonight. it takes far too much control not to slam you against his chest, hands on your hips, pick you up and fuck you like he bets no other man could, especially those little boys in college.
He'll show you one day soon.
"There you are," you slip off the coat, handing it to him with a grateful smile. "Oh, let me pay you..."
"Thank you, oh that's too much! Especially for sleeping," he chuckles and ruffles your hair, handing you far more than he should really. "This is so sweet."
Sweet, Toji had never been called sweet really.
"Yeah no problem, be safe on your little..." he almost throws up at the thought of the next words. "On your little date."
"I will, I'll see you tomorrow!" You put a hand on his shoulder and smile, before stepping inside your little house, he notices you live there all by yourself.
You'd had some roommate but they were gone now, which works perfect for Toji, because he'd get annoyed when he had to see her on cam walk around, he only wanted to observe you after all. Watching you was one of his favorite things to do, like a nightly routine, whether it was you humming, dancing in a towel, or playing with your pretty pussy.
You really weren't any good at getting yourself off, but he'll show you how.
He lingers for just a moment, inhaling your scent, before going back home, he'll make sure to watch you tonight, and he better not see you with some dumb ass boy.
*****
Your date was sweet, he was cute and a good kisser, you're on your fifth date though so you finally invite him in, you have a firm five date rule from some movie that formed your childhood (that was most of your personality, truly) so currently he's on your couch, your thighs straddling his lap, his hands pressing into your hips.
"Mnh," you're grinding against his length over his jeans as his tongue slips in your mouth, it's been months since you've had any action, and he feels far too good against your cunt right now. You're kissing across his neck as he slips his fingers underneath your skirt, running them along your soppy panties.
"You're so wet," he murmurs, you cry out as he hits a spot that feels so good, spreading more and leaning up, your breasts right in his face. You're still horned up from that damn embarrassing wet dream you had, but you try not to admit that to yourself. "Feel good?"
"Mmhmm!"
"Mmhmm..." Toji mimics, glaring at his phone in his room, normally this was the time he spent devoted to you, but instead you wanna be a whole fucking brat and grind on some dumb young boy.
Toji knows you wouldn't sound like that if he touched you, no way anything coherent would come out, it'd be fucking nonsense, just begging for his cum, for him to put babies inside you. He'd love to do that too, Megumi needs siblings, really, and who better as a step mom than his baby sitter?
He watches as that boys hands are all over you, laying you down on the couch now, he's kissing all sloppy and you're seemingly into it. Toji forgives you, you're young and have never been fucked properly, he supposes he can understand, even if he's waiting for you so patiently that he hasn't fucked anyone in months.
How could he really?
He looks away and rolls his eyes at the really sad attempt at dirty talk, itching to go over there and stop it, drag your little cute ass off him and carry you over, it's a cave man mentality really but it's all Toji can think of when you're near. He'd take such good care of you after, he'd make sure you ate, got hydrated, just to cum all over his cock again, and give you so much cum you'd be nice and full.
His cock twitches when he hears your moans, he can almost imagine they're for him until he hears the other name you're spilling from your lips, he throws the phone on the floor then, pacing his room. He is supposed to tease you, edge you, not lose total control over the situation because he's jealous.
You're about to cum despite your date's very messy fingering, he's not hitting what you need but he's trying and he's hitting enough you can grind on his hand, pinning his wrist so you can arch your hips.
"You're so pretty, are you close?" He asks then, you nod with a little smile, earning another kiss as you struggle to keep his fingers deep.
"I'm so close... I... mnh!"
knock knock knock.
"Shit..." You damn near groan, you're soaking wet and aching from even the most awkward ministrations, you really need to get off, and your five date rule is about to become six depending on who's at the door. "Let me get it."
"Of course," he swipes your slick onto your thigh, glistening as you stand and adjust your panties. "Need me to go with? It's late."
"You're sweet, but this neighborhood is safe," you pat his shoulder, taking a shaky breath and peeking through the little eye hole out front, seeing big ass Toji in what can only be called a slutty ass wifebeater and those slutty gray sweats.
He must not own much else clothing wise.
"Toji!" You open the door with a curious smile, his green eyes darken when they slip down your body, and you quickly realize you must be disheveled, looking down and adjusting your top quickly, clearing your throat.
"Sorry to come so late, doll," he murmurs, leaning against your door frame now, his dark hair falling over his forehead. "I'm baking cookies for..."
Shit, he hadn't thought this far.
"You're baking?"
Is it that shocking!? Well he's never baked... but...
"Yeah, for the kid's school thing, some bake sale or some shit."
"Toji that's sweet!" You light up then, all fucking pretty, so much so he can ignore the fact that you only have an outline of lipstick and that the dude walking up behind you has it across his neck. "Why didn't you tell me? I'd have helped."
Fuck you're perfect.
"I uh," he rubs the back of his neck, for a moment looking a little boyish and grinning, his buff ass arms flexing with the motion. "I forgot I guess, work got me."
"It happens, don't be hard on yourself."
"Ahem."
You turn back to look at your date, who Toji gives a fucking death glare to behind your back, quickly replacing it with a smile when you look at him again. "This is my..."
"Boyfriend."
"Ah, the boyfriend," he grabs his hand then, chuckling as he squeezes it so tight the boy damn near crumbles. "Hey there boyfriend."
"Ya know it's late..." You curse internally, your cunt is hurting from the amount of times his fingers slipped, and now he's disappearing. "Can I call you tomorrow?"
"Oh, sure," he plants a kiss on your cheek and damn near rushes out, Toji grins when he watches him dart to his car. "So weird."
"Bad date, doll?" You sigh now, shaking your head.
"No, he's sweet, I think it's been too long and I aggressively jumped his- oh dear god!?" You cover your mouth quickly.
"What," Toji leans low now, body half in your house, towering over you. "He not get you off?"
"Mr. Fushiguro I can't talk sex with you," you flush furiously, he just chuckles in that way he does, licking his lips.
His lips are slutty too.
How would that scar feel against-
"How long you been dating?"
"Well, we're at five dates so I think we're boyfriend and girlfriend? I don't know, he started calling himself that on the third."
Toji snorts then, shaking his head. "Sorry if I killed the vibe there."
"No, no, come in, you needed what, sugar?"
"Yeah, sugar, something sweet, y'know?" He walks in and shuts the door, you just smile a little nervous, heading toward the kitchen. He watches you bake in here sometimes while he's at work and Megumi is at school, he just likes seeing everything you do.
"I have some..." You bend down now, and he catches sight of slick against your thigh, your puffy cunt sucking your panties against it, a dark spot making him almost audibly moan.
It takes far too much willpower not to bend you over, but he wants that first time to be worth it, to have you asking so sweet over and over.
Daddy please.
That's what he'll hear, he already knows when you turn and walk over with a little tupperware of sugar - teddy bear shaped, so cute he thinks, just like the pair of panties you're wearing.
"How much do you need?"
"Just a cup," he walks over, leaning against your counter, you inhale that cologne and some sweaty, musky scent of his that fucks your ovaries up then, you pause, eyes shutting, trying not to attack your employer. "Somethin' wrong?"
"No, no, sorry," you feign an ease you don't have, finding another little container and pouring two cups in. "Here, in case you need more! If you need help baking or anything tomorrow, let me know, I love to."
He already knows, he knows so much about you.
"Thanks doll, sorry again for..."
"Cockblocking me?"
He chuckles now, as you giggle a little nervous. "That, I know you're Megumi's babysitter, but we're also close, don't you think?"
"We are for sure," you agree, shutting the container now, it's quiet with him in the kitchen, taking it over damn near. "Do you need anything else?"
Your pussy on his face.
"Nah," he takes the container, fingers that are so rough brushing against the back of your hand, heading to the door now. "G'night, doll."
"Night Mr. Fushiguro..." He shuts that door, leaning against it and fucking grinning.
He sure did cockblock you.
He sets the honestly useless sugar on the counter, as Megumi walks in and yawns, he's fifteen now and honestly has a bad crush on you, Toji already knows it the way he fawns over you once you leave. "What're you doing up kid?"
"Just getting a drink, where were you?" Megumi grabs a soda, cracking it open.
"Hand me a beer," he rolls his eyes and does just that, Toji twists the top open, drinking the cool liquid down his throat. "I was borrowing sugar from the sitter."
"Sugar, for what?"
"Baking... cookies."
Megumi snorts in laughter, earning Toji's glare. "You're really trying to pick her up with your old ass?"
"Old, fuck off I'm forty."
"Old."
"Well you're not even legal, kid," he ruffles Megumi's spiky hair now. "So keep dreaming."
"Got as much chance as you - which is none."
"Go to bed."
"Enjoy baking," Megumi smirks and Toji almost thrashes his son's ass, maybe he should have whipped him more as a child, bratty little thing that he is. If Toji's honest Megumi doesn't need a sitter, he just enjoys you at his house.
That's literally it.
"That kid," he grumbles, sipping his beer and going to sit on the couch, pulling up your bedroom cam on his phone and grinning.
You're playing with your pretty pussy, god you really suck at it, all frustrated and whiny, desperate gasps that make him throb.
"C'mon doll, say it," he wants to hear his name, surely that's what you're whispering, right? As you roll your fingers on your clit, and his cock throbs, the coolness of the bottle of beer between his thighs pressing against it.
But you don't moan Toji.
You moan a whole other name, not even your little boyfriend's name, making his jaw lock as he recognizes it.
"Shiu! Mnh!"
"Shiu fucking Kong!?" He glares now, looking out the window at the neighbor right between the both of you, sitting out front and smoking a cigarette.
What sort of slutty little thing even are you!?
patreon for more freaky fics like this - this is the only one I'm gonna throw on here so Toji is SPECIAL hehe, keep your eyes out for the scheduled posts!!!
a selection of my gojo fics for your enjoyment! art from left to right is by @/to00fu @/aransmind @/thatsallitchief
CHOOSE YOUR ACTOR!
✰ only ones who know starring...SUPERVILLAIN!GOJO
✰ no. one party anthem starring...ROCKSTAR!GOJO
✰ snapshots starring...BEST FRIEND!GOJO
✰ pick your player starring...CHRONICALLY ONLINE LOSER!GOJO
✰ snowed in starring...YETI!GOJO
✰ unnamed extra starring...PRINCE!GOJO
✰ true love waits starring...NERD!JO
✰ say you don't starring...ENTITY!GOJO
✰ the king's crown starring...EMPEROR!GOJO
✰ gender swapped + eating out starring...FEM!GOJO
✰ slimed starring...SLIME!GOJO
✰ prince charming starring...YANDERE!GOJO
✰ what's mine is yours (and what's yours is mine) starring...BODY SWAPPED!GOJO
✰ god complex starring...CULT LEADER!GOJO
✰ the aliens are cumming starring...ALIEN!GOJO
✰ dorky guys finish first starring...NERD!JO
✰ cut your heart in half starring...MAGICIAN!GOJO
✰ national anthem starring...PRESIDENT!GOJO
✰ divine dicking starring...PRIEST!GOJO
✰ sperm donor of the year starring...BEST FRIEND!GOJO
✰ call me anything you want + two princes starring...NERD!JO + FRAT!JO
✰ lost and found starring...SPIDER!GOJO
✰ who's your whore? starring...FRAT!JO
✰ cat-fished! starring...SNOW LEOPARD HYBRID!GOJO
a/n: the way this isn't even half my gojo masterlist is lowk so funny to me it took everything in me not to add spider gojo on here lmfao. anywhoooo reblogs + comments are always appreciated adore you all :3
pirate!gojo who is feared across the seas, or revered, or both. rumours spread, glasses clink, tongues loosen; for all the mugginess of the air inside this seaside tavern, words travel quick and light.
pirate!gojo who defeated the king of curses with a blindfold tied around his eyes—no, it’s the same blindfold he never takes off—no, he only takes it off at his final strike; if you see the eyes of the pirate gojo, know it will be the last thing you ever do.
pirate!gojo who has scars slicing thinly over his body as if he walked through a rain of glass, but they’re actually from a surprise encounter with a dragon, or an ambush by sirens in the violent dusk as the ocean beat his shipwreck against an island shore, or was it a pirate who had turned to black magic to defeat him, yet could only imprison him for two days and three nights?—for no one can hold him down; he is the wind, a song, the sun; he burns forever.
pirate!gojo is elusive as a creature of myth. to pin him down is to take him from his pedestal; to speak of him is a prayer; to meet him is inevitable as Death, and equally dreaded.
pirate!gojo revels in mercy and bloodshed alike. when he passes through a port or a town they hail him as a hero, and dance and drink and kill in his name; and when he recedes in the distance like a stormfront blown over, their stomachs turn cold and they whisper of the murder in his gait, the ruthless melody of his voice, the sharp edge of his long, wicked blade glinting in the winter sun.
they whisper, too, of the one by his side, for whom wars have been fought and ballads have been sung; yet no one knows who she is or where she came from: except wherever one goes the other follows like a shadow, and none can spare your life except a single word falling from her lips, and when she lays her hand on his arm he becomes pliable in her grasp—her weapon she has forged for herself, and she wields him with acuity, and he surges forward where she points—yet no one dare speak her name for, like a vengeful spirit, he will appear at your most joyous hour to collect his due; for she belongs to him, and he to her, and anything else is sacrilege.
pirate!gojo who kisses down your neck when he dresses it with stolen jewels, and whispers that he will tear down the mountains if they blight your view and bring to heel the ocean if it so pleases you; but you desire nothing of this world, only him—the weight of his gaze and his trust, and the rhythm of his breathing in the deep night as he curls against your shoulder, and the attentive lean of his body always gravitated towards you, caught in your orbit—and the seven seas may be his, but he belongs to you.
masterlist ✲ join a taglist
@lizbix @alcyneus @stars4you777 @kissunday @1-800reki @riniaras @evesfairytale @livteracts @vorfreudevortex @adoresia @callme-naomi @little-hell-and-co @sgtsnowie @Staygoldsquatchling02 @veilofsixeyes @residenteval — sorry friends i forgot to check my taglist form but you're here now !!!
Definition: The Eiffel Tower is classic threesome geometry: you on all fours (hands and knees), one pounding you from behind, the other kneeling/standing in front getting deepthroated.
The restaurant in Ginza is the kind of place Hiromi picks when he’s trying and, mostly failing, to pretend he’s not exhausted from another 14-hour day. You’re halfway through dessert, laughing at the way he’s dramatically narrating the latest courtroom disaster like it’s a true-crime podcast, when you feel someone stop at your table.
You look up. Nanami Kento. Blond hair still perfectly parted, suit still immaculate even at 10 p.m. Your stomach drops. Hiromi glances up too, then does a visible double-take. His tired eyes widen behind his glasses. “Kento?” “Hiromi?” Nanami’s voice is surprised. “I didn’t know you were in Ginza tonight.”
Hiromi stands immediately—old habit from college days, apparently and claps Nanami on the shoulder “It’s been—what, six years? Seven? Sit, sit. You remember—” He gestures to you, beaming like he’s just won the lottery.
Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out. Your goddamn ex-boyfriend who Hiromi had no idea you’d dated. Nanami’s gaze slides to you. Politely nodding, “Of course.”
“Well,” he says, clapping his hands once, “this is fantastic. Small world. Kento, you’re not busy, right? Come back to our place. Catch up properly.” You stare at him like he’s lost his mind. Nanami hesitates then nods once. “If it’s no trouble.” Hiromi reassures him, already signaling for the check. “Anything to catch up with an old friend, right? No trouble at all.”
You’re going to fkning murder him.
Arriving home, the apartment door clicks shut behind the three of you. Hiromi immediately heads for the kitchen, shedding his jacket over the back of a chair, “Whiskey orrr whiskey?” he calls without turning around. You drop your bag on the entry table with more force than necessary. Nanami stays near the door for a second longer than he needs to, loosening his tie with the same deliberate calm he used to use when he was about to end a long day by ending things with you.
“Whiskey’s fine,” Nanami says. Hiromi pours three glasses without asking if anyone wants ice. He hands one to Nanami first then you. You all sit. You take the couch. Nanami takes the armchair across from you. Hiromi perches on the arm of the couch next to you, close enough that his thigh presses against your shoulder.
“So.” He swirls the glass lazily. “Kento. Still doing the corporate bullshit. “Or did you finally tell them to fuck off like we talked about senior year?” Nanami smiles, “Still employed. Still billing hours. You?”
“Still losing cases I should win and winning ones I shouldn’t.” Hiromi shrugs. “Same shit. You remember that class I had to retake four damn times?” “Oh—yeah,” he says, motioning toward you with a small lift of his chin. “You were in it. Same section. Same professor. You used to finish the hypotheticals before Ikeda even finished reading the facts. I sat behind you every Tuesday and Thursday.”
“Ikeda’s class. The one with the curved grading and the weekly hypotheticals that made half the section cry.” Hiromi clarifies. Nanami nods once. “That one.” Hiromi’s gaze snaps to you disbelieving, “You were in Ikeda’s morning section?”
You swallow. “Yeah.” staring into your whiskey like it might grow a mouth and save you.
Nanami continues, “We dated for a little over a year. Then I graduated early. Corporate offer came in. Timing didn’t work.” ‘GODFCKN DAMNIT KENTO why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut.’
Hiromi goes still. The room is so quiet you can hear the refrigerator hum. Hiromi takes a sip slowly. “You dated,” he repeats. Hiromi looks at you then sets his glass down with a soft clink. “So,” he says casually, “you two have history.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Hiromi—”
Hiromi lets out a short, incredulous laugh that has no humor in it. “I was in the afternoon section. Same professor. Same material. Same fucking hell. And you—” He points at you, then at Nanami, then back at you. “—were in the same goddamn classroom as him. Every Tuesday and Thursday. For a whole semester.” You open your mouth. Nothing helpful comes out. Nanami exhales through his nose—the same sound Hiromi makes. It’s uncanny. Hiromi’s eyes flick to you. “And then you met me.”
You glare. “You’re making this weird.” “I’m making it honest.” He leans back, arms crossed. “I mean, come on. My old college friend—who I haven’t seen in years—happens to be your ex. And neither of you thought to mention it until we’re all three sitting here.”
Nanami looks at you. “I thought you would have told him.” “I thought it was ancient history,” you mutter. Hiromi snorts. “Ancient history, sure. So, which one of us fucks you better?” Kento chokes on his drink, as you shoot your boyfriend a glare, “What has gotten into you?!”
“What’s gotten into me?” he echoes, “I don’t know—maybe the fact that my girlfriend’s ex is sitting in my living room, drinking my whiskey, and apparently sat behind her in the same goddamn Contracts class I used to come home and bitch about every single week. Maybe it’s the part where neither of you thought that was worth mentioning. Ever. Or maybe—” he tilts his head, eyes flicking between you and Nanami, “—it’s the part where I’m sitting here realizing the guy who used to steal my ramen and proofread my briefs is the same guy who used to fuck my girlfriend.”
Nanami sets his glass down carefully. “Hiromi,” he says gently, “That’s enough.” Hiromi’s laugh is bitter, “Is it? Because I’m just getting started.”
You stand up so fast the couch creaks. “Hiromi, stop.” He looks up at you angrily, “I’m not mad at you,” he says, “I am mad that you lied. For pulling this shit tonight. I’m mad that I invited him here like an idiot because I was happy to see an old friend. And I’m mad that—” He gestures vaguely at the three of you. “—this is happening. All of it.”
Nanami stands slowly. “I can go.” Hiromi’s head snaps toward him. “Sit the fuck down, Kento.”
Nanami doesn’t sit. He just stays standing, hands loose at his sides, waiting. Hiromi exhales, “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “That was out of line. The question. All of it.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I just… I don’t know how to process this without sounding like a jealous asshole.”
You soften despite yourself. “You’re not an asshole. You’re just… processing. Loudly.” He huffs a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah. That tracks.”
Nanami goes to turn and leave, “I didn’t come here to cause problems,” he says. “And I’m not here to compete. If you want me to leave, I will. No hard feelings.” Hiromi studies him for a long beat. Then he looks at you again. “I don’t want either of you to leave.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his already wrecked hair. “You’re really gonna say that right now.”
You shrug, helpless. “It’s the truth.” He looks between you and Nanami like he’s weighing between jealousy, curiosity, maybe both and then his mouth curves into a smirk. “Alright then,” he says, sliding off the arm of the couch, settling properly beside you, one arm draping behind your shoulders, fingers brushing the nape of your neck as his eyes stay locked on Nanami.
“You still think about her?” Hiromi asks bluntly. Kento takes a sip before answering. “I don’t lie to myself about the past,” he says evenly. “Yes. Sometimes.”
Hiromi’s thumb strokes once against you, “And you?” He turns to you, voice dropping. “You still think about him?”
“Sometimes,” you admit softly, “Not like before. But… yeah.” Hiromi nods once, like that’s the permission he needed. He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “Then go ahead and fuck him.” Your cough turns into a startled laugh. “Go on, baby. I know you want to.” He urges you again. You hesitate before softly saying, “Ken… come here.”
Hiromi shifts, pulling you back against his chest so you’re half in his lap, legs parting instinctively as Nanami sinks to one knee between them. Kento’s hands settle on your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress up inch by inch while Hiromi mouths along the side of your neck, “Look at her,” Hiromi murmurs against your skin, “Isn’t she so pretty.”
Nanami’s thumbs trace slow circles higher, higher, until they brush the damp lace between your legs. You arch without meaning to, a soft moan slipping out. Hiromi hums approvingly, one hand sliding down to cup your breast through the dress, thumb flicking over the nipple until it pebbles.
Kento hooks his hand through your wet panties, shoving them aside. The first swipe of his tongue is slow, like he’s relearning every inch. You gasp, hips jerking, but Hiromi bands an arm around your waist, holding you still. “Easy, baby,” he soothes, even as his other hand works the zipper of your dress down. “Let him taste what he’s been missing.”
Nanami groans against you, his tongue circles your clit once, twice, then dips lower, lapping at your pussy. Hiromi’s already hard against your ass through his slacks. His arm tightens around you, holding you open, “Tell him how much you missed this,” Hiromi whispers, “Tell him, baby. He’s listening.”
You start trembling and whimpering, “I—I missed your mouth, Ken. The way you… fuck, the way you always knew exactly—” Nanami doesn’t let you finish—just doubles down, sucking gently on your clit until your thighs tremble. Hiromi finally gets your dress off your shoulders, baring your breasts to the cool air of the apartment. He rolls one nipple between his fingers, pinching just hard enough to make you whine.
“Look at him,” Hiromi orders, “Look at how much he wants this.” You do. Nanami’s eyes are half-lidded and focused, blond hair falling forward as he works you over with devastating patience. When he slides two fingers inside making you whimper, back bowing. Hiromi laughs softly, “There it is. That sound I love.”
He shifts behind you, freeing himself from his pants with one hand while the other keeps you pinned. His cock presses hot and heavy against your lower back as he strokes himself lazily, watching Nanami devour you. “Think you can take both of us?” Hiromi asks, lips at your ear. “Like we talked about that one night. Remember my pretty girl?” Your brain short-circuits. “Yes—fuck, yes.” Nanami pulls back just enough to speak, lips shiny. “Hell yes.”
Hiromi nods in agreenment, before pressing a kiss beneath your ear. “You heard him, sweetheart. He’s in.”
Nanami rises smoothly to his feet, shedding his jacket, The metallic clink is obscenely loud in the quiet room. Hiromi helps you turn, maneuvering you until you’re facing the back of the couch, knees sinking into the cushions, ass presented. “Hands here,” Hiromi murmurs, guiding your palms to the backrest. “Keep them there unless one of us says otherwise.” You nod, breath hitching.
He walks around behind you, slapping your ass as Kento appears in front of you. “Hi, pretty girl.” He tips your chin up with two fingers. “Open.” You do, tongue flat, and he slides in slow—filling your mouth inch by inch until your lips stretch around him. The weight of him on your tongue makes you moan around the shaft; he exhales sharply through his nose, hand sliding into your hair to guide the rhythm.
Behind you, Hiromi lines up, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave prints, the other spreading you open. He pushes in with one long, steady thrust, your back arching with a muffled cry vibrating around Kento's cock.
“Fuck,” Higuruma rasps, “So tight after all that arguing earlier. You were waiting for this, weren’t you?” You can’t answer—mouth full—but you push back against him, clenching deliberately. He groans, hips snapping forward harder, setting a brutal pace that rocks you onto Nanami’s length.
His control slips a fraction. Hiromi’s thrusts drive you forward forcing more of Nanami’s cock past your lips until the head bumps the back of your throat. You gag softly, eyes watering, swirling your tongue under the ridge just the way you remember he liked. The two of them find rhythm without speaking: one pulls out as the other pushes in, seesawing you between them until your whole body is shaking.
“Goddamn,” Hiromi growls, fingers digging deeper into your hips as he watches the way your throat works around Nanami. “Look at that. Taking him like you never forgot how.” He begins thrusting deeper, balls slapping against you with every snap. You whine around Nanami’s cock—drool slipping down your chin—as Higuruma angles just right. Kento tightens his grip in your hair, fucking your mouth while Higuruma rails you. Nanami pulls out just enough to let you gasp, strings of spit connecting your lips to his tip. “Words,” he says calmly. “Tell us how it feels, baby.”
You manage a whimpered, “F-fuck—full—don’t stop—” Higuruma’s rhythm stutters at your voice. They sync up—Higuruma slamming deep from behind, Nanami sliding back into your mouth. The position holds: you bridged between them, body rocking with every thrust, throat and cunt stuffed. Nanami’s thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that slipped free when you took him especially deep. “Still so good at this. Always were.”
Hiromi laughs possessively, “Yeah? Tell me something I don’t know, Kento.”
Nanami’s eyes flick to Hiromi over the top of your head, “She used to come untouched just from sucking me off,” he says, “First time it happened she cried—thought something was wrong with her. Took me half an hour of coaxing to get her to admit how close she was.”
Hiromi’s thrusts turned punishing, that comment clearly hit a nerve. “Is that right?” Hiromi rasps, one hand sliding up your spine to fist lightly in your hair, tilting your head back so Nanami can sink even deeper. “You never told me that, baby. Keeping secrets from me now?”
You can’t answer—mouth too full, throat working frantically—but your body does: a fresh gush of wetness before you come first shaking hard, muffled screams around Kento as your walls flutter and clamp down on Hiromi as his pace turns erratic. “Fuck—fuck, that’s it—squeeze me just like that—”
Nanami pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop, hand stroking himself fast, eyes locked on your wrecked expression. “Where do you want it?” he asks, voice strained. You don’t even have to think. “On me,” you rasp, voice hoarse. “Both of you.”
Hiromi swears viciously as he pulls out at the last second, flips you onto your back so fast the room spins, then straddles your hips. They stroke themselves in tandem—Hiromi’s hand flying over his cock, Nanami’s slower but no less desperate—until they both come.
Hiromi comes first, hot stripes painting your stomach, your breasts, one pulse landing across your nipple. Nanami follows seconds later, spilling over your chest, your collarbone, a few drops catching your chin when you tilt your head back for him. Hiromi exhales roughly, dropping down beside you, pulling you half into his lap before reaches for the throw blanket on the back of the couch and drapes it gently over your lower half.
Hiromi snorts softly. “Ever the gentleman even when he’s fucked my girlfriend. Classic Kento.” Nanami’s mouth quirks—just the tiniest hint of a smile. “Someone has to be.”
You laugh, weak and shaky, head lolling against Hiromi’s shoulder. “You two are ridiculous.”
Nanami disappears into the hallway without a word, returning a minute later with a damp washcloth and a glass of water. Classic fuckin’ Kento, what a sweetie. He hands you the glass first. You take it with trembling fingers, sip slowly, grateful for the cool slide down your raw throat. Then he kneels again between your spread thighs and gently wipes the mess from your stomach, your breasts, your collarbones with slow careful strokes.
Hiromi watches the whole thing with half-lidded eyes, one arm still slung around your shoulders. “You always this sweet after you come on someone else’s girl, Kento?” Nanami doesn’t look up from his task. “Only when she asks nicely.”
You choke on a laugh that turns into a soft groan when the cloth brushes a particularly sensitive spot. “Stop. Both of you.” Hiromi smirks, reaches over to take the washcloth from Kento’s hand, and finishes the job himself dragging the damp fabric across your nipple until it pebbles again under the attention.
You look back up at Kento, about to ask him not to leave before Hiromi beats you to it. “You should stay,” he says, “Since it’s already so late y’know.”
Kento looks up, eyes flicking from Hiromi to you. You reach out before you can overthink it, fingers curling loosely around Nanami’s wrist. “Please,” you add softly. “Stay.” He brushes your hair to the side of your face, “Alright, of course. I’ll stay.”
Hiromi smirks lazily, already reaching for the half-empty whiskey glasses on the table. “Good. Because we’re not done catching up.” You bury your face in Hiromi’s neck to hide your blushing.
Whatta small world, indeed.
a/n: several pussy pleasure breaks were taken during the writing of this and I j wanted to share that ALSO credits to @owwllly for this masterpiece of art
your oaf of a lover, toji fushiguro, lays with his weight all-but crushing you into the couch. what was meant to be a relaxed movie night has somehow ended up with your panties pulled to the side, toji's cock reaching inhuman depths inside of you, and your face wet with his spit.
he won't stop fucking licking you.
"hell you mean 'gross?'" toji squishes your cheeks together, forcing your lips to stick out like you wanna kiss him. "you're the one with my cum all on these pretty lips."
okay, so what if you let him cum in your mouth before sticking his dick in you. and so what if you practically made out with the head of his cock after said blowjob? he was a mess and you're oddly addicted to the taste of his release. it's all that good food you've been bulking him up on. that good food is also why he's so fucking heavy on top of you, and why he's got that extra bit of meat on his bones for you to grab onto while he leans down and licks your lips clean. you ignore the way your pussy tightens around him at the act.
"oh god you're like a dog," you try to turn your head, which turns out to be a mistake when toji licks a stripe up your cheek instead. "down boy. git' off."
"mmm, careful," toji nips at your earlobe. "this dog bites."
you roll your eyes, "this dog begs," you correct him. "and drools."
"you wanna put a collar on me or somethin'?" toji laughs when you clench down around him again. "now shut up and let me taste you."
he catches your lips in this awful sloppy kiss that you're ashamed of enjoying. his tongue rolling over your lips and tracing the row of teeth behind, just to push onwards and try to map every crevice of your mouth in the name of explorative innovation. his hips roll forward into you and, not for the first time since your movie started, toji brings you to a leg-shaking orgasm.
he stills his cock inside of you as he follows you through and cums as well, deep inside of you where he insists it belong, before giving you only a second to catch your breath before meeting your gaze in something that makes you pull a face.
"ew, toji, don't you dare—"
"i'm gonna lick you clean," toji grins, pressing his first gentle kiss of the night to the corner of your lips, before pulling out and trailing his tongue down your neck, chest, stomach... "like a good boy."
"i'm gonna start telling your friends you call yourself a good boy in bed."
toji nips at your thigh, and then delves his practiced tongue between your legs to lick you clean of himself.
"go ahead," he says, mewling like a fucking cat at the taste of your releases mixed together. "no one will believe you anyway."
a/n: this is my own work from a deactivated blog that i am reposting. i did not steal this and if you accuse me of stealing this i'll steal YOU from your home and do nasty nasty things with ya auheuhehh
tw + tags // nsfw. minors dni. fem! reader. vaginal, fingering, vibrator, dildo, squirting, anal plug, male masterbation, camgirling & a bit of voyeurism.
the blanket is thrown lazily over his lower half, while his torso is slumped against his headboard as he absent-mindedly scrolls through his twitter feed. which, by now, mostly consisted of amateur porn and thirst traps.
but on this occasion, that's exactly what he's looking for. he's just been so pent-up all day, and he's truthfully not the type to immediately resort to jacking off — when he woke up with an agonising case of morning wood, his first instinct was to just go on with this day and ignore it. but that didn't work, so he tried going to the gym to work it off. but that didn't work either.
in fact, when he came home and took a nice hot shower, that only seemed to make the problem worse. so now he's on his last resort, lazing in his bed with his cock free from his sweats, palming it with one hand while the other holds his phone.
the room is dark; the only source of light being his phone screen and his dim bedside lamp. he groans lowly from the blunt satisfaction of his hand against his crotch. usually such lacklustre touch wouldn't do it for him, but since he's been repressing his urges all day, perhaps he's extra sensitive. regardless, any pleasure he's experienced must purely be from his own touch, as the videos on his feed aren't doing it for him at all.
it's all the same shit, really. girl with unfathomably big tits. mirror selfie. amateur 69ing. streamer fingering herself and giving the most obviously exaggerated moans. another girl with unfathomably big tits. male streamer thrist trap with corny caption. amateaur doggy style that is so blurry it looks like it was filmed on a microwave. more tits—
so repetitive.
that is, until he stumbles across a new account. at first, he processes it as 'just another girl fingering herself' video and almost automatically scrolls away. but he falters for a moment and lingers on the video for a bit longer. and thank god he does. once she starts to pick up the speed, it's like nothing he's ever seen before. gojo is immediately engulfed in the video, eyes glued to her pussy, watching intently as her gorgeous, creamy hole swallows her fingers over and over.
in theory, it's nothing special. yeah, she sounds cute and has got a nice body, but she's not even showing her face — the money-maker — hence why the video has barely over a thousand views.
but to gojo, everything about it is hypnotic. the way her breath hitches as she whines and muffles her moans; he loves a girl whose cute and timid — he has a fantasy where he makes a shy girl open up and scream on his girth. he also likes how the video is a bit grainy and low exposure, looks like it was filmed in the dark. it makes him think that she hid away in her room because there's other people around, and she had to stay quiet so nobody would hear her. but the moans that do slip out are just so sweet and needy, it's like she's crying out for him in particular.
overall, she's got this air of familiarity and intimacy about her that's just so sexy to him. he's fisting his cock at the same pace she's working her fingers into her pussy, and he ends up cumming as soon as witnesses her shaking and squirting all over the camera.
in a lustful haze, he doesn't bother to question why he feels so attracted to his content creator specifically. instead, he's guided by his raging hormones and need for another orgasm to click on her profile and search for more useful videos.
xxangel is her username. befitting.
strangely, she's not got an OF link in her bio, so despite the fact he was fully willing to fork out some cash to see more of her, gojo instead has to manually scour through her profile.
there's lots of replies to comments and retweets of other girls' content. with the occasional cute tit pic taken with the front camera. gojo idly rubs himself while he searches for something more substantial to get off too. however, he eventually stumbles across an image that sends shockwaves down his spine and he instantly realises why he's so attracted to her.
it's an image of you knelt in front of a full-length mirror, wearing bunny-themed lingerie, with the phone covering your face. a very typical photo for a nsfw twitter account. however, gojo recognises the background. in fact, he recognises everything. the mirror frame, the walls, the wardrobe behind the mirror, the plushes on your bed caught in the mirror's reflection.
that's your room.
a rollercoaster of emotions overcome him. at first, he felt embarrassed and a bit guilty that he wasn't able to immediately clock that the account was yours, just based off your body and voice alone. what kind of best friend is he? but he quickly brushes that off, since admittedly his brain was clouded with libido.
but his guilt only shifts. now he feels bad that he's discovered your nsfw without your knowledge. this seems like an invasion of privacy; should he tell you that he found this or pretend he never even saw it? either way, there's no way he can continue watching porn made by his best friend. that's.. so wrong.
he taps out of the image so he can exit your profile, but unfortunately his finger somehow slips and he ends up scrolling down slightly. it's then he finds a long video of you doggy-style on bed with a vibrator in your pussy, and he accidentally clicks on it and watches the whole thing. the camera is positioned behind you, so he still can't see your face, but he can only imagine the adorable ways your face is contorting to cope with the immense pleasure of that vibrator ruining your sensitive cunt.
after he's done watching you squirt all over your bed and soak your duvet (he's slept in those sheets, by the way. now that he knows that they've previously been covered in your juices, that causes his erection to throb in his hand), he intends to leave your profile but then it autoplays the next video and he's sucked in again. this one is short-form, and it's just you sat on the ground with your legs spread, toying with your clit and releasing the most precious, soft moans. your glistening pussy on display the whole time, teasing the camera.
and by now, he's so close. he wants to stop, he really does. he wants to be a good friend and respect your privacy, but it's gotten to the point where he needs to finish, and he knows that you're the only one who can help him.
he opens another video, but it's also way too short to lead him to his climax. still, he watches you spread your cheeks and — if the caption is true — insert a plug into your ass for the first time. it's small but still way too big for your tight hole, hence you writhe and struggle as you push it in. your thighs are damp and he can see a sliver of pink peeking out from between your pussy lips. a couple minutes later, you manage to fit it inside you and simultaneously end up cumming from the vibrator, gushing all over your floor. (he never realised you are such a squirter; he makes a mental note to tease you about that later.)
anyway, that video wasn't nearly long enough to help him climax, so he continues to look through your profile until he finds the holy grail — a video of you riding a six inch dildo on your bed. your face towards the camera, but the frame cuts off around your neck. still, he can see your tits jumping wildly with each bounce and his cock pulses in his hand upon hearing your lewd, pornographic moans. he didn't know you were capable of making such indecent noises, but now he's addicted to the sound. his eyes are fixated on the point where your pussy greedily consumes the dildo, leaving semi-translucent streaks on it every time you pull up.
gojo finds himself tugging his cock at the same rate you're hopping on the dildo, pretending that it's him you're riding. his eyelids feel heavy when his orgasm approaches, however he fights to keep them open so he doesn't miss a second of your video. he wants to see you and keep imagining what that tight pussy would feel like around his cock.
his chest heaves from the rapid motion of his hand and eventually he ends up spurting strings of his cum over his hand and sheets, hushed groans and whimpers rumbling in his mouth as his eyes roll back. meanwhile, as he's coming down from his sticky high, he can hear you finishing in the video too, squirting on the silicone toy and your bedsheets — no surprise there.
gojo frowns. it's really over. there's a heavy sensation in his chest, and he's unsure whether it is satisfaction from his orgasm, or guilt. either way, he pants, and the air feels different now.
gojo: hi princess
gojo: how was your day?
y/n: why are you calling me princess 😭😨
y/n: gojo what did you do
y/n: ur guilty of something, i know it!!!
gojo: hahaha no i'm just horny
y/n: LOL oh okay makes sense
gojo: can i show you a twt video i found??
y/n: EW no i don't want to see twt porn GROSS
y/n: (yes please show me)
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students — with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds — that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else. [ fratboy!sukuna fwb series ]
[ TAGS ] — MDNI. 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. angst. friends with benefits. toxic frat culture. hazing. fraternity/sororities. hurt/comfort. hurt/no comfort. SLOW BURN. fluff. spit. ráw. rough. heavy spanking. degradation. dacryphilia. slight exhibitionisim. pda. soft sukuna. choso + yuuji r his younger brothers. every position. heavy creampies. violence. depression/anxiety. anger issues. squirting. cockwarming. alcohol. family death. family trauma. reader slightly oc. sukuna is a football (soccer) player too. HAPPY ENDING. tags will be updated as series continues.
✮ ch 1 || how it all started ✮ ch 2 || miss me already?
✮ ch 3 || call me ✮ ch 4 || two worlds
✮ ch 5 || conditions ✮ ch 6 || tbd
✮ ch 7 || tbd ✮ ch 8 || tbd
✮ ch 9 || tbd ✮ ch 10 || tbd
✮ ch 11 || tbd ✮ ch 12 || tbd
✮ pt 1 — sukuna is starting to toe the line
✮ pt 2 — you’re desperate to prove this is just sex
✮ pt 3 — cockwarming him for the first time
✮ pt 4 — sukuna’s brothers visit unexpectedly
✮ pt 5 — pregnancy scare with sukuna
✮ pt 6 — sukuna has a stash of naked polaroids of you
✮ pt 7 — halloween special: scare actor!sukuna
✮ pt 8 — sukuna’s noticeable bulge at the gym
✮ pt 9 — high stakes no nut november edition
✮ pt 10 — holiday special: grinch!kuna naughty or nice
✮ pt 11 — sukuna leaves his door open when you’re over
✮ pt 12 — tbd
✮ visuals ✮ bts lore ✮ playlist ♪ ✮ tiktok tag ✮
✮ pinterest board ✮ ask tag ✮ main masterlist ✮ ao3 ✮
[ INFO ] : the chapters are the actual series. it begins mid-spring semester JUNIOR year. the parts exist in the same story, but as stand alone oneshots and will not be mentioned in the chapters. they take place between sept-nov fall semester of their SENIOR year [parts and chps can be read separately]
there is NO SERIES TAGLIST ✦ age should be visible on your blog — (art: @/xhealer_ tiktok, dividers: @/lariesographic )
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓟.𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𓂃 ⭒ is your toxic ex who's now making your student life hell.
⤿ ꒰ satoru knew that his sweet girl couldn't last without him. he just had to make you realise that :: college au :: smut :: age gap ( 40s / 20s ) :: toxic dynamics :: kinda yandere behaviour :: dumbification :: p in v :: m.masturbation :: phone sex :: thigh riding :: rough sex :: degradation :: praise :: creampie :: overstimulation :: financial disparity :: mean!toru ꒱
♡ ₊˚‧ beta read by my pookie baby @aves1018 <3
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ was your scandalous little secret. all heaven smiles and devil eyes. blue. bright and brutal in the same way he carried himself. he was as charming as he was cunning. the right mix of taboo and terror that made your little heart flutter whenever he cast you a glance over his rimless glasses as he set your perfect-score down in your table. muttered a “that's my girl” to your ear when brushed by him to leave the class. spanked your thigh under that skimpy little skirt when no one was looking— but anyone could see.
being professor gojo's favourite was something dangerous. something fun, something frightening, and the infinity in between.
he took care of you. showered in you in spoils. took you back to his apartment after stressful hours and fucked you into his leather couch until you left pretty red scratches down his back. with the same nails that he paid to manicure. you were always seen. always praised. you lacked nothing when it came to being in his arms.
but you couldn't do it any longer.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ was twice your age. in his forties with silvers slipping between his white strands. creases setting in the corners of his eyes. his tongue tasted like aged wine. his hands laced with experience you could only dream of. but with all the pros of dating an older man— came the deep, dreary insecurity.
insecurity that you wouldn't be enough. that you weren't permanent. that you were just a little taste but not the one that'll quench his thirst. really, what did a man with his qualification and achievements need from you other than something to pass the time?
and to top it all off? his possessiveness knew no bounds. it was quiet, not violent, but sharp. the kind of thing that left you paranoid whether you were toeing a line or not. he didn't approve of your friends. couldn't handle your classmates. hell— he failed the boy that sat next to you all semester just because you flashed him a smile.
so with all facts considered? you were gonna leave him. it was for the best rather than drag you both down a love that was doomed.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't too bothered when you told him it was over. it was in the car. he saw it coming. knew you were reaching a limit. he still snapped at the waiter who dared to laugh at your little joke that was meant for him.
but sure. you wanna break away just because he loved you so much? not an issue. he could see the tears in your eyes. the tremble in your fingers as you took the bag that he bought you as he dropped you off at your dorm building.
no. he wasn't too bothered. why would he be? you'd always be his. and little miss daddy-issues-and-academic-insecurity needed his validation to function.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ started in class. a week after you left him. your assignment was handed in with shaky hands rather than confidence. and he was more than happy to mark you down. why should he glance over your little mishaps anymore? you didn't need his special treatment. so, yeah, he didn't bat an eye as his hand sharply pressed your assignment sheet your desk as he passed. not even casting you a glance. looking on ahead as you crumbled at your B-.
“try harder next time. you're better than this.”
he said it so easily. as if he was always capable of seeing you as nothing in those cutting blues eyes.
it seemed to be a trend. he'd hand you back your assignments. they weren't what you expected. and when you slipped the spot of top ranked student in his quantum physics class?
well, he didn't bother looking up at you as you stood before his desk. hands gripping your newest assignment. almost hesitant to hand it in.
“how's that even possible?” you asked, soft.
“awww baby.” he only tilted his head. pinched his brows at the centre. looked at you with that soft look that was oh, so condescending now. “people change. you know that better than anyone, huh?”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew that his validation meant everything to you. now you weren't his top student, weren't the object of his praise. no more mouthed “atta girl”s or treating you to your favourite restaurant after another stellar score.
you were struggling to get by. scraping to get back to your straight a's. to achieve even a hint of his favour.
you never did. it was a downhill spiral. and everyone knew what an asshole professor gojo could be. so of course no one batted an eye when he belittled you in class.
“guess I expected too much,” he'd sigh after calling out your marks for the last test. he didn't have to. but you knew what he did.
as he leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head. cutting that stare that you'd grown to flinch at over.
“so much for star student, huh? try better next time. know you can do it.”
he knew you could.
but knew you wouldn't. not now that you were spiralling.
not when you weren't his favourite girl anymore.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ caught you outside at the steps that day. night time. you probably spent all afternoon in the library studying to make up for the embarrassment. for your sin of slipping in your grades. he knew you would. knew how you operated.
knew you'd be all teary as you walked down the steps with your hand tight on your book bag. trying to ignore him.
“awww baby. what's wrong? you crying?”
you didn't flinch when satoru caught up to you. when he cradled your face in that way he knew you loved to be comforted. bit back a grin as you resisted the urge to press your head into his palm and fall into his arms.
“oh c'mon. you crying over me? didn't say anything bad. you know how I operate.”
all low and gentle. in that voice he used when he used to tutor you and you just couldn't grasp what he was saying. like you were his silly girl. his sweet girl.
long fingers slipped around your jaw. gripped on your cheeks and squished them as he tilted your head up. towering over you but leaning over so that his white strands tickled your tears.
“don't look like that, princess.” he muttered. pressing a firm kiss into your lips and smearing your gloss. not tender, but taunting. not comforting, but still charming enough to have you whimpering and clinging to his shirt.
and as he pulled back, a grin split his lips still hovered over yours. half-hung lashes batting at your falling tears.
“just try harder next time, yeah?”
before he patted your cheek and you left you stranded on the stairs.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew that you needed him in more ways than one. not only did he soothe that insecurity in your heart but he also sealed the hole in your wallet. and now? he knew you were struggling. you didn't order out as much. didn't have the luxury to. you walked back to the dorm. lifts must be costly. you sure as hell didn't have your nails done every other week. he missed the acrylics and blue you'd insist on. but hey— you made your bed.
didn't mean that he didn't feel sorry for you when he spotted you at your favourite cafe. probably ordering a tea like you did now. not your favourite sweet treat and hot chocolate.
yeah. it was pity. definitely not the need to remind you what you were missing— as he called to the barista from behind you. “get the lady a hot chocolate and a strawberry crepe, please?”
as he leaned over your stiffening form, arm grazing yours as he slid his black card over. murmuring a soft, “I've got you, sweetheart,” to your ear when the barista turned.
you let him sit with you that day. spoke to him properly for the first time in months. even if you couldn't hold his eye contact. even if you thanked him a hundred times and over.
while he gave you a gentle look, inwardly? he was grinning.
bingo.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew he had you slowly wrapping around his finger again. that's why he had no shame when he leaned back in his couch that day. remembering your weight in his lap. swiping through his folder that he refused to delete. full of your pretty body, your slutty expressions and your messy thighs.
that's why he didn't feel bad as his hand wrapped around his hard dick that slapped back on his tummy, smearing some pre on his abs.
why he groaned your name without care as he squeezed in his angry tip. remembered the way you'd whine as he rubbed it on your little clit. how you'd cry out as he kissed it in your cervix.
fuck. he remembered how your thighs would quiver for him. how that smart mouth of yours would reduce to a babbling, stuttering, slutty whimper of his name as he ragdolled you on his cock.
his hand sped. his other swiping to your contact. you hadn't blocked him. it's your fault for the voice note you'd receive. of his harsh grunts and his rasped gasps accompanying that wet shlick shlick shlick.
of his voice, groaning your name low like it was both his sin and salvation.
“sweetheart, fuck. look at what you do to me— fuck. still work me up so fuckin' much even when you aren't mine. miss your pretty pussy. miss my sweet girl so soooo bad."
he'd whine. he remembered how much you like that. liked hearing him lose himself as he slammed all the way in and rutted as he frothed you up.
now? it was all over his hand. and he made sure the voice note heard just how much he wished it was in your sweet little cunt instead.
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ expected you to not answer him. but you still didn't block him. still didn't report him. you wouldn't. you loved him too much. loved the thought of him. did you think that while you touched yourself to his voice note?
he knew you did. knew you didn't get yourself that. knew you probably sat there playing with your cute clit and whining his name all pitifully as you tried so desperately to cum the way he'd make you squirt back then. back when you were his.
you know what else he expected? you to storm into his office and accuse him of marking you down purposefully. your mid term marks were sent out that morning. he made sure of it. made sure you'd have to face the man, your ex, who sent you a five minute long voice note of him fisting his big cock to you.
“such accusations, sweet girl.” satoru drawled, lazy, as he leaned his head on his hand and his elbow on the desk.
“if you think so, I'm not opposed to you sitting with me while I mark your next assignment. I've got the next stack set for this afternoon. wanna come confirm your claims?”
his brow arched. his diamond eyes invited you. his velvet voice dared you.
and you did. of course you did. he expected that too.
his fourth expectation? that you'd find your way in his lap. with that skirt he loved so much. with your thighs slotted over his knee and his hand cradling your ass while his other graded papers.
you were soaking through his pants. he could feel it. the same way he felt you tremble as he flipped to your assignment. squeezed your ass and bounced his knee to grind up on your cunt.
“those poor panties must be so drenched, huh pretty?” he crooned to your ear, squishing you down onto his bounces and grinds. enjoying your whimpers. your whines as your hands fisted on his shirt.
“look at that,” he pouted, dragging the edge aside of your panties aside so that your clit ground perfectly on the fabric of his pants. “such a slutty student. think this is gonna get you extra credit?”
swat! his fingertips came down in your clit. his leg bounced again to force your needier grinds.
he grinned. cruel and cold on your ear as the sharp strokes of his red pen sliced through the air.
“mm. you're gonna need it. my sweet girl's become a stupid girl in my absence.”
he laughed as you whipped around. as you looked over. saw your assignment littered in red.
and the worst thing is? as he unbuckled his belt and manhandled you over his thighs so your back faced his chest to give you a better look— as his cock slapped on your cunt and dwarfed your folds as he slid between them. as his tip rubbed on your clit in that same way that had you trembling—
you saw it.
saw that he wasn't marking you down in any way that you didn't deserve.
and as his cock plunged in and your back through in an arch. as he snatched your waist and bounced your little cunt on his cock that split you open and had you creaming in seconds. . .
he taunted you. squishing your thighs and biting on your ear. “poor girl. poor, stupid girl.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't even surprised when he got a call the next week. an internship at that institution you'd always prattle so excitedly about. poor you. you probably thought just because he had you in his lap and called you his sweet girl— just because you were his once upon a time, that he wouldn't give you a bad reference to the job of your dreams, huh?
poor, sweet, stupid girl.
he was beginning to like your tears. your eyes looked pretty when they were glossed and your lashes were all damp. as you blinked up at him after you burst into his office again. face blotched and hands clenched.
“how could you?” you croaked. “I— you know how important that is to me—”
“you were important to me too.”
“that's not the point! so what you sabotaged me because I broke up with you? what don't you get satoru? we can't do this! what kind of person would—”
you trembled so prettily when he stood. when shook his head with a sigh and slipped his glasses into his hair.
“sweetheart, sweetheart," he tutted, circling his desk and backing you into it once he got in front of you.
“you don't get it, do you?” there's that condescending tone again. the one he used because to him, you were just his dumb, naïve girl.
big hands came down on the edge of the desk that you pressed into. trapping you against the wood and his wickedness as he leaned over. towering you as always. face pressing closer. brows pinched and knitted upwards. face that mockery of sympathy.
“baby, sweetheart, my sweetest girl. here's the thing.” his lips brushed yours. you tensed. teary eyes wide and staring into his.
“I realised. I'm not a good person when it comes to you.”
velvet and diamond. smooth and cutting. like it was simple fact. a set fate.
his head crooked. glasses slipping down his nose and brutal blues pinning you from over the rim.
“y'know. if you come back to me, you wouldn't have to worry about all this. . .”
his sly fingers brushed your hair back. a kiss pressed to your temple.
“I'd take care of you.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ knew you were on the brink. knew it wouldn't take long before you were in his arms again. he just had to wait. even when his fingers ached for your skin. when his lips burned for yours. when his palms itched to just grab you by the waist and drag you back to him cause you were such a stubborn girl.
but he'd wait. wait for you to make the decision. wait for you to realise that you were always his and he was the best you ever had.
so you could imagine his grin when you stayed back after class. when you stood in front of his desk with your eyes batting at him. hesitant. shaky. when you asked him for extra credit in his class that you were now borderline failing. but most of all, when you offered your pretty body to him without him even uttering a word.
this is what he meant. what he waiting for. for you to make the moves. to miss him. to want him.
he fucked you into your dorm bed that night. with your face shoved down and your fingers clinging to your pillow. ass clapping and brushing with his brutal thrusts that smacked his heavy balls on your folds. cock splitting you open and spilling your creamy mess all over the wrinkled sheets.
his hand in your hair. his voice rough in your ear.
“like that, sweetheart? want it like that?” he grinned, feral and cruel as you mewled when he angled right. shoved into a sweetspot and ground so filthily until your eyes rolled back as you drooled his name into the pillow.
“missed how I fucked you— right here?”
“r-right there! please!”
“uhuh? righhhttt here?”
he drawled. hand smacking down on your ass and leaving a sting, before he reached around. pinching and pulling on your spasming clit. as he slammed! all the way in. jamming his hips with yours and rutting on your messy, creaming folds. so a lewd, clickclickclick muffled from your overly-stuffed cunt.
“fuck—” satoru rasped. eyes wild and dilated as his fingers bunched your hair tighter. shoved your face further into the pillow. “take it. take this cock like you were born to. like this slutty cunt missed it.”
he missed your squirts. missed your sobs. missed the way your hand tried to scramble back and grip on his hair as he pummelled your pussy all raw and rough into the ruined sheets.
his eyes fluttered back as you squeezed him again. as you struggled on his name and squirmed beneath him.
“s-sato— sat— hngh.”
“say it, sweetheart.” he grit, twisting your head up. slamming his hips faster. bouncing your body on the bed and slamming the headboard into the wall. making your cunt all puffy and his cock all creamy in your cum.
“say my name. say you missed you. tell me whose pussy this is.”
“satoru— toru! toru torruuuu.”
“and don't you ever—” he whined, cock plunging deep as the knot within him snapped. as he frothed him up the way he's been missing. lashes fluttering and eyes rolling back. a filthy, wet, thrust smacked on your bruising ass emphasised every word.
“— ever. fucking. forget it.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ thought you would have came back to him after that, but he guessed you were more stubborn than he gave you credit for. that's fine. you just needed one more push. one more and then you'd be back where you finally belonged: in his arms.
so, yeah. he was responsibly fucking pissed when he saw you chatting up the campus fuckboy. hell— when he heard rumours that you two were a thing.
but he calmed himself down. enough to not snatch you by the wrist in the hallway and shove you into a wall. kiss you until your knees trembled. shoved his tongue into your mouth for all to see until he lost his job. that what you wanted? wanted him to be ruined for you?
calmed himself down enough to wait until the day ended. so he could back you into an empty corridor's corner. his hand on your jaw. tilting your face up. so that you could stare into the eyes of the man who had you squirting all over his cock just a few weeks ago. the man who was always yours no matter how much you tried to admit otherwise.
“you know he's not me, right?” he spoke, that nonchalance breaking for the first time in these wretched months you've been apart from him.
he leaned close. didn't kiss you. not your lips, but your temple. as he stared you down. cold. calloused. a warning cracked in those brutal blues.
“he'll never treat you like me. never know how to handle a sweetheart like you.”
his voice shook. breath thinned.
and for the first time since you left him, satoru shattered.
not pitifully, not pathetically, not violently nor catastrophically—
but sharp. and soft. and the kind of breathlessly that made you think his lungs were giving out— as he slumped over you. free hand trembling on the wall right beside your head. still holding your face. cradling it now.
“guys your age won't treat you like I do baby. not like you deserve.”
his thumb brushed your lower lip. he whispered. raw and wrecked.
“won't love you like I do. I love you sweetheart. I fucking love you. don't leave me here.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ really underestimated your stubbornness. your resolve. he was almost proud when you shoved him off and he let you go. when you walked away from him.
fine. he just had to wait a little longer. a little longer and you'd come back to him.
next week. a friday night. a phone call.
he didn't blink when he saw your name. when he answered. when he heard your soft, choked sob.
his voice melted into tenderness. soothed your cries. asked you where you were. came and picked you up, because he always would. you'd always be his sweet girl, after all.
satoru warned you about that guy. so he wasn't surprised when he pulled up to the street that you were dropped off on. in the middle of the night. cold and alone. all teary eyes and trembling knees. wasn't surprised when you scrambled into his car and clung to the jacket he gave you.
he listened. as he always did. listened as you cried and ranted and raved about how that guy broke your heart several times tonight. then kicked you out of his car and left you stranded. like you were nothing.
he took you into his arms. as he always did. took you into his arms after he cradled you into his apartment. held you close as you clung to him. hiccuping into his chest and sobbing into his shirt. apologising, crying, apologising, sobbing.
apologising.
begging.
“ssshhh I've got you sweet girl.” strong arms looped you closer. cradled you in that protective warmth with one hand cupping the back of your head and the other one your hip. as he hushed your cries. assured you. squeezed your hip and whispered so tenderly.
“I've got you no sweetheart. not gonna let you go again, okay? I promise baby.”
˖ ࣪꒰ PROFESSOR SATORU ꒱ ˙˖ who cradled your head closer and pressed his lips to the top of your head.
who held your close. who promised to never let you go.
who slipped his phone out of his pocket and held it up behind your head. still cradled by his other, big hand. with his soft kiss still on your hair.
his thumb slid across the screen.
transaction completed.
the final half paid to that bum of a guy you insisted on. who broke your heart for some cash. funny how a little bit of money was all you needed to have your way.
and as satoru held your close. with his arms snuggling you to his chest, and his eyes finally fluttering shut. he relished.
because yeah. you're finally back into his arms. just needed a little nudge.
Synopsis. Research on the Herwi clan of Pandora is both sparse and sacred. Current reports claim the existence of an icebound Na’vi residing in the bitter sub-zero mountains of Pandora: snow-white and unforgiving, as elusive as the fleeting snowflakes. Though physical evidence of these people are so far non-existent, and so are the eyewitnesses alive to tell the tale.
As a scientist on Pandora, you have only one goal: to prove the existence of the Herwi clan. As olo’eyktan of the Herwi clan, Gojo Satoru has only one goal: to make you his mate.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!scientist!reader, Na’vi!Gojo, Avatar AU, based on James Cameron’s movies, snow Na’vi, hidden tribes, snowy setting, scientific research, Shoko cameo, plot, culture, Na’vi language (translations at the end), Eywa, YEARNING Gojo, fated mates, size differences (he’s 11 feet), oraI (f + m rec.), standing oraI, pússydrúnk Gojo, fìngering, bíting, spìtting, cervìx kìssin’, trying to fit, he’s BIG big, feraI Gojo, tummy buIges, pressing down on it, MANHANDLlNG, matíng presses, monsterf-ing (Na’vi), rough s, stopping you from running, p sIapping, p talking, dúmbifícation, chokíng, cIit pinching, he’s slightly lNSANE, slight bréeding, mentions of kids, overstím, creampíes, cúmfIation, cúmpIay, bonding, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 15.2k
A/N. This one’s to all the lovely babygirls who’ve been begging for this heheh, I lob you all <33
“Satoru of the snow—once the ice disappears so shall your name.” One amongst the elder members of the Hunt sighs.
Gojo Satoru was a phantom figure before them. He led the way—towering and lithe. Long ivory hair dancing in the flurry. Bioluminescent freckles upon skin such a pale blue that it was practically white. Even amongst the Herwi, Gojo stood out.
Their olo’eyktan. Their leader.
He cuts a pathway through the wind and snow, carrying the carcasses of several snow beasts that he’d hunted himself. They rested upon his strong shoulders - the group’s largest catch, as always - and Gojo was unyielding to the howl of Pandora’s highest peaks. These mountains were a crown upon the young Na’vi’s head.
The elder clicks his tongue, “Do you not believe it is time for this clan to see our olo’eyktan mated-”
“So let the snow melt.” Had it been anyone but Gojo Satoru, then these words would be lost to the snowstorm. “But I shall forever remain waiting for my mate.”
“But the absence of a tsahìk-”
“Mawey- do slow down.” For not the first time since their trek started, Gojo is turning his head behind him. He might have been a firm leader, but he wasn’t unfair. He watches the Herwi hunters that extend from his feet to far beyond hills of ice and frost - some middle-aged and weathered by the snow already, some fresh-faced and cold with the eagerness to prove themselves. Following them were six-legged canines they called txeylan—powerful hinds pulling sleds piled high with hunt. “The younger ones are having trouble keeping up.”
Gaping, the elder looks between his leader and the younger members near the middle of their group. Flanked by older Na’vi. “But- but olo’eyktan-”
He’s looking up at the irritated sky, “I will see no further talking.”
Though there is an easy smile across his face, the elders know not to cross him. Senior in age—only age.
They bowed their heads and looked away above all because he is their leader, but below that - deep, deeeeeep below what their prides would allow them to ever admit - because they knew he was stronger. The strongest.
The heir born of a blizzard, Satoru of the snow.
It was said he opened his eyes during the coldest night of that year. Ice-blue. Bitter blue. Like the pools of crystallized water that the Herwi people would dance their celebrations upon - and that night they held the longest celebrations to date. Arms in arms and singing songs. And giving thanks and giving the young his first taste of snow.
And though the position of olo’eyktan had an aspect of inheritance to it either way, it was undeniable that the world had just borne their future leader.
He’d grown up taller than other Na’vi his age. Stronger. Stormy flurries wherever he stepped, and a blizzard himself.
There almost seemed to be a gap between him and everyone else.
Gojo had been sixteen when he was officially granted the mantle of ‘The Strongest’ by the clan. It was only about time, and only because of the elders’ reluctance that it’d taken this long.
And now it was impossible to say whether he was more loved or respected as a leader: the more boisterous of the younger Na’vi certainly loved him, the elders couldn’t stand him, the ones of mating age just couldn’t get enough of him. Though it was all for naught.
In all the twenty-eight years that he’d sifted through these snows - in all the ten years since he’d come of age - Gojo hadn’t so much as looked at another with a degree of infatuation.
Not for a lack of propositions- in fact, if you asked his attendants then they’d tell you that Gojo had a surplus of propositions. At least five Na’vi would stroll up the familiar pathway to his underground hut, calling out sing-song wishes to braid his hair, to walk amongst the ice glaciers together, to mend his fur clothes.
Hopefuls.
His attendants were ordered to send them all away with a gift from the olo’eyktan and a firm rejection (though, Gojo finds that that certainly didn’t deter them…)
They just didn’t seem to understand why such a suitable young Na’vi seemed to be waiting…watching…for something even he himself didn’t seem to understand. Always turning his blue eyes to the skies, ever since he was a child, always, always-
Gojo stops in his tracks.
One of his arms raises to halt the procession behind him.
The Na’vi hunters freeze.
The Na’vi hunters let their tails swish.
The txeylan sniff the air.
Gojo’s long pointed ears twitch in every direction before resting in a single direction up ahead - where the belly of the snow seemed to swell with something. Something that the recent snowstorm had swallowed.
“Olo’eyktan…” One of the younger Herwi behind him whispers. “What is it?”
“Mawey. It might be a dead snow beast.” He hisses, though he knew that wasn’t right. It wasn’t uncommon for even the creatures of these terrains to be bested by nature. But something about the figure in the snow was…different from the hounding things they hunted. Much more delicate, much more scrunched in on itself.
Gojo keeps his hand held high in the air and passes on his hunt to the nearby clansmen. Still holding onto his bow and arrows, he edges closer. “Ì’awn- the clan stays here while I investigate.” Leaving no room for a word edgewise.
The wind whips his long hair and kuru as the Na’vi steps closer. And some maddened part of him almost feels that it was as though Eywa, their goddess, herself was trying to get him to stay away.
But an even madder part of him wanted to get closer—needed to get closer.
He was being drawn in.
Making not even a single noise with his padded feet, he’s crouching down before the unmoving figure and using his long skeletal fingers to wipe away those dredges of snow.
Away from a face—
He gasps.
The rest of the Herwi startles behind him, “What is it- what is it, olo’eyktan?”
“Is it a snow beast? Must we commence the rituals-”
“Cease! Are those fingers it has-”
“Five?”
But Gojo doesn’t answer their queries, instead he’s silently pressing his ear to the swell of the body’s chest and—ba-dump!
Listening to that faint heartbeat.
He’s not sure how this little human was still alive, and he pulls back to look at them- the first he’s ever seen. Gojo has already heard the whispers from other Na’vi clans, of these aliens named mankind whom had settled upon Pandora a few years ago.
He’s heard about humanity’s wits, their machinery, their greed.
He’s heard of the way they’ve hurt his people.
But he’s never seen one up so…close. Were they all this small? How could something so small be so destructive?
Gojo tilts his head down at you and runs one of his cold indexes down the side of your masked face, did they all look so hurt by the cold? He can’t imagine that it didn’t hurt- after all, the only reason that the Herwi had managed to reside in these mountains for hundreds of years was because of its harsh environment. Not human nor animal nor Na’vi wanted to be here—but Gojo always loved this place, as did his people.
He wondered whether it was such passionate love or hate that drew the little human in his arms to climb such peaks. To come this far.
He can’t help but lean down and scoop the human up into his arms.
“O-olo’eyktan what is the meaning of this-”
“Fnu- shhhh.” Gojo responds in his native language, “She’s resting.”
The olo’eyktan carries the human all the way back the treacherous path to his clan huts.
And every time he looked down, he could see the way that smaller body fell and rose with each faint breath. He could see the flying of human-made coats that did nothing to fight off the cold of Pandora. He could see the pen and notebook stuffed inside it as if they were the most precious treasure of all.
He can see you.
.
.
.
Day #1 in the Herwi village:
Woke up in what seems to be the healer’s hut, a wide insulated space that is more or less steeped into the underground with a berth of the entrance AS (above snow). Capped dome on top. Walls are composed of wooden planks on the interior flanked by compact ice from the outside, decorated in the thick furs of what appears to be snow beasts. Long book shelves. Kindling lantern of something bioluminescent and emitting heat. Shockingly warm inside. Vents are present but small to prevent an excess of thin air. Separate storage spaces and areas for examination, implications of advanced surgery and medical procedures taking place far beyond what we humans can understand.
Though Herwi healing techniques seem to be similar to that of other Na’vi clans (particularly the Omaticaya) in terms of relation to Eywa and natural resources, it must be noted that Herwi healing makes prominent use of ice for anti-inflammatory and vessel constricting methods.
Sparse presence of herbs and more emphasis on pressure points (for a copy of the Herwi circulatory system diagram see Page 8…), though the olo’eyktan reassures that there are a multitude of flora endemic to the Pandoran heights.
The olo’eyktan seems particularly eager to give a tour?
With your eyes blinking open…you think you’ve died and gone onto whatever there was afterwards.
It would’ve been just like you to meet your demise during the pursuit of your research- the higher-ups at your laboratory predicted the same thing. The last thing you remember before blacking out was feeling faint - weeks of hiking up this arduous peak and you’d run out of your provisions a few days ago, surviving on only melted ice to fill your belly. At least, until the sudden threat of a snowslide had resulted in you abandoning your tent and bags behind for escape.
From then on it had only been: you, your pen, your notebook with your research, your translator, and your burning passion to find the Herwi.
It was no surprise that you didn’t last long.
But you suppose you just didn’t expect the ‘afterwards’ to be a blue, blue summer sky.
Oh—how you missed the cloud-frothed ocean of blue down on Earth. It was never quite the same on Pandora, and you’re just beginning to wonder whether heaven was really home-
“Yawne, txen?”
Before your muddled mind realizes that this really wasn’t your sky after all.
What you were looking up into were the eyes of a Na’vi warrior.
He’s leaning his overlarge body above yours, and you’re pressing yourself flatly against a mattress—one that was made of copious amounts of furs and the softest spun wool to make you feel as though you were floating up on the clouds.
But the farther you’re getting, the more he dwarfs you with his curious peering.
Closer.
And the only thing you can do is look up into his handsome blue face- the lightest of blues you’ve ever seen.
Now, you have to start this off by saying that every single Na’vi you’ve seen was beautiful—every single one of them.
But you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone like him before: long white hair, blue eyes almost like a Metkayina, and glowing spots scattered like snowflakes across his cheeks. Heavy eyelids. Taller than your average Omaticaya. Perhaps a bit bulkier, as well.
If you tilted your head just past his looming figure then you could take in the tufted fur clothing he wore, slightly more coverage than of Na’vi from the more tropical areas; with patterns of rosettes peaking out wherever his skin was exposed and dotted like a fainter version of a snow leopard’s. From your own planet.
But you were not on your own planet.
Far from it.
You’re realizing with a jolt that he was one of the Herwi clan-
“Are you…” And though you’d dreamed and wished and hoped for this day for so long—right now you find yourself absolutely speechless. “Are you- fuck.”
To which he only beams- “Nga lu rusey- oh, nga lu rusey.” His pearly white teeth are on full display, one little dimple crinkling at the edge of his smile. He just looks so handsome like this that you almost lose your breath- no. It must be the hypothermia that’s getting to you. It must be. And if you didn’t know any better then you’d have said that he almost sounds utterly relieved—“Oe'm lefpom. Txen? Lu nga txen? Tsal pung?”
Before he can say anything more, you’re digging in your coats- or at least attempting to. It doesn’t take long for you to shuffle behind the thick blankets and realize that you weren’t wearing those humanly thin layers you did when climbing up the mountain. Well-fitted for the Earth’s cold, but not for the harsh ever-winters of Pandora.
Instead you were wearing…a thick woolen coat?
Much too large on you- almost comically so. It had sleeves that reached a few feet past your fingertips, draped down to your toes, and enough space that you could hide at least five of you inside it.
No translator.
No pen. No notebook-
He sees this smaller figure fluttering about worriedly and tilts his head curiously, “‘Upe lu nga fwew?” Before handing you your notebook and pen from a table behind him.
“Pardon? Ah- thank you so much—!” You beam at him, and he beams back. But looking into his blue eyes once more, you feel a sudden sense of helplessness wash over you. “But I’m sorry, I still can’t understand you.”
At this the Na’vi furrows his pale brows - you’re not quite sure whether he knew what you were saying, but he seemed to have picked up on your emotions. Nudging his large face against yours with a purring sound, “Yawne? Oe'd tìng aynga.”
And a part of you somewhat melts- “I said I really can’t- hahah.” You half-heartedly try to push his incessant face away with a laugh, taking particular delight in noting how happily his tail was swishing. Fluffier with more fur than you’ve observed on other types of Na’vi, also covered in pretty rosettes that swayed to and fro.
It’s right now that you wished you had the patience to stay behind and immerse yourself more in the Na’vi language lessons your laboratory had provided. Most scientists didn’t even go out into the field until they were experts - but you were too antsy, too greedy to know. Something seemed to have called you here whether it cost you your life.
Given you’d picked up on some phrases here and there, but it seems that the Herwi had a different accent from the clips played in those listening tests. Slightly softer, slightly more of a whisper.
Like the breath of winter, his words cooled your mask and heated up something entirely different inside of you. “Oe pey ngim krr.”
Before you know it, the Na’vi clasps both your hands in his—and you’re startled by just how large they are, just how cold. You’re analyzing the way his pale fingers hold your own as if it was all that was tender in the world.
Intertwining.
“Ngim krr.” He looks at you with those azure eyes seriously, opening up the palm of your right hand and touching his to yours. Palm against palm. Breath against breath. “Nìt'iluke.”
You get the feeling that you were missing something very important- “I’m sorry I really wish…I’m so sorry to ask any more of you- I really am. But have you happened to see my translator anywhere?”
“Tìnga’prrnen?” He cocks his head in confusion, trying to mouth the word.
“Erm- yes?” Hoping that he understood you, “My translator—” You emphasize the syllables- “It’s a little device to understand you-”
You’re gesturing between the two of you- and you swear you see the light blue Na’vi pale. “Tìnga’prrnen? Oe?”
“Yes?” You knew that ‘oe’ referred to oneself.
He balks- maybe you were getting through to him? “Nga new ne kanom oe tìnga’prrnen-”
“Skxawng.”
Before he’s suddenly cut off by a hard smack to the back of his head- and you’re looking up just in time to see another Herwi Na’vi enter the hut. The dimorphism between this particular strand of Na’vi wasn’t anything too prominent, you find - both were tall, both were pale, both had long tails and rosettes scattered across their agile bodies.
The only real difference was that the one at your bedside was more rugged, with even more pure-white beads woven into his hair. Though that you could chalk up to their separate duties within the clan.
She walked inside as though she owned the place, throwing her long loose hair behind her shoulder. She doesn’t even flinch as she shuts the other man up—as she brings out a black earpiece from behind her and hands it to you. “I believe this is yours. It was dropped in the rush outside.”
“O-oh!” You’re surprised to find that it was none other than your translating device. Taking it gratefully, “Thank you so so much.”
“Don’t mention it.”
At your baffled expression - as far as you knew, the Herwi were the last remaining uncontacted clan of Na’vi, with no knowledge of humankind nor their many languages. “I learned your language from my books-” Gesturing around her - you were right to assume that this was her hut, filled to the brim with ointments and books. Mostly of Na’vi origin, but you could spy a few in English and Japanese. “-sent by friends in the Omaticaya. I find your human stories are…quite amusing.”
“I see.” You breathe.
She gestures at herself, “Ieri Shoko of the heart.” Then at the male Na’vi member, “Gojo Satoru of the snow. I apologize for him, he is our olo’eyktan- also the one that found you.”
“So you’re my saviour.” You’re looking towards him- Gojo once more. He catches your eyes and looks away with a pale blue hue dusting his face. “Irayo nga.” Giving your thanks (one of the few phrases you could speak with complete confidence).
You’re looking towards him- He shudders, “Oe ke ronsem tsonta lu tìnga’prrnen.”
As soon as he’s saying it, Shoko smacks her hand on her forehead- and you wonder what exactly he means.
So without further ado, you’re fixing the earpiece onto yourself.
“Idiot.” Shoko’s turning back to Gojo, “You know that’s not what she meant?”
Gojo crosses his arms and huffs- “I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind if it’s for her-”
“Not even Eywa could make that happen.”
“Getting preg-”
“Hello?” Testing—and if the way both Na’vi jerk their heads to you in slight surprise is anything to go by, then you’d say that the translator was working rather well. It was less an earpiece that translated and more a device to target that part of your brain that communicated and understood foreign languages.
Allowing you to both understand and speak in the dialect of the Na’vi - an invention by yours truly, of course. You’d (as close as) perfected it just last year for this expedition. “Can you understand me?”
Gojo stares at you with wide blue eyes.
With his pretty lips parted.
With his tail swishing back and forth.
“I see y-”
“We understand you.” Shoko nudges him roughly in the ribs, “I apologize if we’re a bit startled- it’s the first time we’re seeing a human in person.”
“I could’ve guessed that.” You giggle, flickering your eyes over to the starstrack Na’vi. Though you were equally as such. Somehow you speaking in his language just seemed to make him…“But I want to emphasize that I come in peace- I just want to learn as a scientist, not even my laboratory knows exactly where I am. And I intend to keep it that way.”
Shoko crosses her arms and looks gravely at you, “What do you want?”
“To learn. To research you and your people.” You look between them both, “To confirm the existence of the Herwi clan has been a dream of mine for a long time- not for the papers or the accolades, but because I just wanted to know you.”
“And how can we trust you?” Shoko says, getting nudged by Gojo afterwards.
“I won’t reveal anything you don’t want me to.” Determination dripping in your tone, “Not even if they kill me for it.”
They appraise you, and it’s silent for a beat before Shoko looks at Gojo.
And Gojo nods.
Shoko shoots you a barely-there smile, “Well…human, what do you want to know?”
.
.
.
After you woke up, it was after a long talk and almost three or so hours later that you’d gotten up- Shoko and Gojo had both rushed to your side. Waving them off, you’d attempted to shrug off the coat and hand it back to Gojo - long since realizing that it was his - but he’d almost been offended by the gesture.
Refusing.
He’d kept a hand behind on the small of your back to steady you with every step climbed towards the entrance. And once you were out- you could practically feel the storm freeze around you.
Colder than cold.
The Herwi looked at you with fear.
They stopped in their tracks and didn’t even look to breathe until Gojo had followed right after. And standing beside him like that, you’d been made too aware of the drastic height difference between you two. The average Na’vi was about nine to ten feet tall, though by the look of it the Herwi of the snow were much larger than their oceanic counterparts—slightly thicker, with limbs that were long and covered in sparse fur to protect them from the cold.
The Herwi average was about ten feet, you’re finding.
Though Gojo stood at a proud eleven feet (11’1 as you come to interrogate out of him more precisely later on) and rested his hand gently upon your shoulder. They had faint scars on them that marked him as a warrior, and you could feel the slight callouses send shivers across your coat-swathed body. His tail curled around your thigh.
You don’t think you even came up to his stomach-
“My people…” He announced in booming Na’vi. “-as some of you may know from the hunt today, we have a guest.”
You shift at the stares.
“More importantly, my guest. And we will make her feel welcome like family.”
“Family?” The whispers came.
“But she is one of the sky people…”
“Part of the family is…but if the olo’eyktan says so…”
“I’ve never seen him so casually touchy with someone before-”
“Shhhhhhh!”
“I understand if you are scared, and to those who wish it- you are free to leave and never interact with her while she is here.” Though none of them do move. Fixated. “But to those who aren’t, I urge you to share the beauty of our culture.”
To which you’d gulped before introducing yourself as you had to Shoko and Gojo.
.
.
.
Day #2 in the Herwi village:
The governing system of the Herwi is quite reminiscent to that of other clans - made up by a singular olo’eyktan or olo'eykte, accompanied by a tsahìk (though Gojo assures proudly that he is not mated as of writing this), and a council of clan elders that act as an advisory board.
Most decisions are made solely by the wisdom of Gojo himself, though large choices require a vote from the council as well as his people. Such requisites are rare, however, as it seems the olo’eyktan’s impact extends to the non-council people in such a way that they trust him with everything. (For more on the lovely reception and the sheer popularity of Gojo Satoru see Page 11…)
Governing seems to be harmonious if a little quietly tense in regards to certain elders that disagree yet are ultimately obeisant to their olo’eyktan.
This scientist in particular caused a little stir in the Herwi leadership once a research visit was proposed by the olo’eyktan to the rest of the elders. Though initial reactions had been reluctant, after a terse discussion, ultimately six moons had been granted to collect all appropriate research (due to be checked by the elders prior to leaving). No more. No less.
Six moons should be more than enough!
Shoko might have let it slip that it was Gojo who used his privilege as olo’eyktan to convince the council…and he wasn’t too happy that they’d granted you merely six moons (five days if you’re counting the first night there) to stay here. He wanted to gawk at this new human more, you supposed.
But you were so very grateful to each and every one of them either way - even those wizened elders who scowled at you suspiciously wherever you passed. Though even glares seemed sweet when you were living your dream, hm? And it best be believed that you were taking advantage of every single second you had with the clan - every single second.
Because this was exactly what those cigar-smoking higher-ups had laughed at you for.
They thought you were chasing a myth.
The Herwi people had been so gracious as to offer you an empty hut, despite Gojo’s fervent insisting that you take his and he can simply tough it out in the cold outside-
And the next day you were up early- perhaps a little too early for the olo’eyktan who’d apparently tracked your trail and followed you around for an hour. Before he finally managed to stop you in the middle of your field study - helping out a young Herwi mother take care of her crying toddler, whilst learning about Herwi childcare techniques - and raised his bag full of food.
Breakfast.
You’re smacking your hand against your forehead as you’d completely forgotten - not quite out of the ordinary for when you got too immersed in your work. But it was different when you had someone seeking you out to take care of you…
And so after sharing the abundance of breads and berries and soups (far too much for but the two of you) with the Herwi mother and child, the two of you sit outside her hut and admired the view of the village. The soft half-sun that melted across the capped peaks, a buttery layer of light that was not even half as bright as on Earth.
But somehow gentler.
Gojo’s raising one berry to his lips before- “Ah…” His mouth drops when he takes a glance at you- more accurately, at your masked self. And he’s stopping in his movements, “Excuse me for just a second, beloved.”
“Oh? Of course.”
You watch as he’s standing up and sprinting light-fast towards the edge of a great steaming lake in the horizon. His figure’s crouching down and cupping his hands in the sparkling water, bubbling with fury. Gojo brings it up to his face and whispers a mantra that you couldn’t quite determine. Not from where you were sitting.
Before carefully bringing it right up to you- “Drink, beloved.”
He gently leans down to let his fingertips meet your mask.
And you’d had no option—you consider it for science, though a part of you knew you didn’t have to linger your lips so much on his cold skin- but you lift your mask up and drink it.
Once the water floods your throat, you knew something was different.
Your lungs quiver.
Once.
Twice.
And you’d found yourself able to breathe—
Breathing on Pandora.
“How did you…” As you gasp, Gojo reaches out and removes the mask off of you completely. He’d let the earpiece stay on, of course, but lightly grazed his cold digits against the shell of your ear and made you shiver. “I don’t even know what to say- thank you. I didn’t even know this was possible—no other Na’vi clan let alone a mere human has discovered a way to let us breathe normally on Pandora.”
“For you. Lake Yapay.” Gojo says, large hand still cupping your face. “It steams great billowing heat in the day, and freezes by night. Here in Herwi, we use its water to expand our lungs during snowstorms.”
And you want to write it down- you know you should, but the pen in your fingers won’t move. Or more accurately, your fingers won’t move.
He continues, “This land is alive and works in mysterious ways. It has worked for you, beloved, as I knew it would.”
“Thank you again, olo’eyktan.”
“Satoru.” He interjects.
“Satoru.”
He smiles as if it meant the world.
And so your feast commences.
“You have to remember to eat.” Gojo says to you as he scoffs down a sweet paste made of ice-blue berries, “How will you brave the winter storms otherwise? Of course, I will protect you—and yet still.”
“Well, I sure hope I survive six more nights for my research then, hm?” You joke.
But you hadn’t expected Gojo’s face to darken, for him to shake his head. “It’s not fair.”
“Pardon?”
“Six more nights…” And you hadn’t exactly expected him to be so…invested in your research - you admit that you would benefit more from a longer period of studying the Herwi, but you were ready to take what was given. He looks down at the glaring snow and whispers—more to himself. “It’s not fair. I will correct it.”
“Correct?”
“Oh?” And you look from him to the village straight ahead, “Well, I’d be happy either way, Satoru.”
Just then that little Na’vi you’d been helping to watch over before comes waddling and giggling out of the hut to hold onto you- and you pick her up readily.
Gojo took one look at the two of you and shivered.
Shivered.
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Day #3 in the Herwi village:
Hunts are an imperative part of the Herwi lifestyle—not only is it how the people are nourished, but it’s a social activity, it’s a coming-of-age activity.
As aforementioned, hunts are commenced and led by none other than the olo’eyktan. A large group of Herwi warriors shall trek across the icelands in one unit, and it was quite interesting to note that most of the younger hunters are positioned in the middle where they are less likely to get injured during such a trip.
It is in the middle of their hike that Gojo will alert when the group is to split up: Snow beast hunters and snow marine stilts. Divide and conquer seems to be the only strategy that somehow tames such an unforgiving environment, and Herwi marine-hunters seem to be picked from the most patient of warriors. They carve out a hole in the middle of frozen bodies of water (never Lake Yapay, this divine body is never harmed) and each positions themself atop a tall icicle beside it to escape prowling beasts and currents. Crouched and ledged atop one, the sheer core strength and balance is divine once they cast their lines and wait.
On the other side of things, we have the Herwi beast-hunters. Using a large variety of weapons, the most popular is noted to be the bow and arrow - used by the olo’eyktan himself. They stalk in the cold white billows of snow with not even a single shiver, they lay in wait for hours, they tire their prey out.
And nevertheless this scientist found today’s hunt rather interesting…
The third and fourth days had passed by in much the same fashion - except for the slight tweak in your routine that included opening your hut door and finding the olo’eyktan standing there every single morning.
Always with food, always with a smile, always with some interesting niveous flower for you to press into your notebook. Then afterwards the two of you would set out to help you interview the Herwi people of all ages and backgrounds, to take samples, to explore the natural fauna, to even join Gojo on one of his Hunts on the third day.
They admitted that they didn’t focus on hunting as much as they normally did on that trek, too enamored with this strange little human that had showed up one day and had their olo’eyktan glued to her side.
You interviewed hunters and elders (well, the ones that didn’t ignore you completely or were on the verge of cursing you out until they caught their leader’s eye) until your mouth hurt. And Gojo had taken you into the best spot with natural Pandoran fauna, making you jot down notes until your fingers cramped.
Once the sun was beginning to set and the Na’vi were getting ready to head back to their village for the night, you’re taking the opportunity to interview some of the young hunters. Gojo was off in the distance making up for the slightly lowered hunt by ice-spearing more snow beasts. And you were more than happy not to distract him while he took care of his olo’eyktan duties- after all, the other hunters were nice. Never having seen a human before, they’d been more than happy to answer your questions.
Ribbing each other, guffawing as they answered, placing their hands down on you and ruffling your head from above.
Almost as if you were a plaything- and you admit it was in the name of science, you didn’t mind it too much until a particularly boisterous hunter about Gojo’s age had kept swatting at you no matter how many times you politely moved away. Until he’d caught you on the scruff of your coat and tried to lift you up—
You hear the sound of bones breaking before you realize what it is.
Whipping your head behind you in an instant to see that Gojo was behind the other hunter and pulling his hand hard enough that you hear other Na’vi cry out.
He lets go of you, of course, and you watch with widened eyes as Gojo then bandages his fellow Na’vi’s arm himself. Though you note that he doesn’t apologize.
Gojo didn’t leave your side for a single second after that.
That night after the dinner by the lake, Gojo walks you to your hut and sleeps outside in the bitter cold- no matter how much you tried to get him to take up the bed inside. He’d insisted.
After mating, he’d said.
You wonder whether your translating device was malfunctioning…
(See Page 26 on Herwi possessiveness…).
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Day #4 in the Herwi village:
Beads.
A well-known part of Na’vi culture, one of the most recognizable, perhaps. The scientific community has written long and extensively on the importance of bead-sharing in the Omaticaya clan, however, this scientist shall be the first to detail the beauty of how this tradition extends to the Herwi clan.
According to the artisans of this village, beads aren’t fashioned through molten stone or seeds or clay—given the availability of such in this environment. Rather, they’re made with snow.
Never-melting snow.
Yes, the design of hona beads from snow is a practice unique to the Herwi clan. Broken off from the hardest icicles growing at a peak of Mt. Hoet said to touch the sky, not only is it a treacherous passage to get to those specialized bits of ice, but the process of making the beads finds itself just as arduous. These icicles are then welded into delicate beads and dipped into the waters of Lake Yapay at night, letting them soak and then carried to freeze at the highest peak once more.
This process is repeated until the beads are as hard as diamonds on Earth- perhaps even harder. Never-melting. Never-breaking. Never-forgetting. Though not too hard so that the Herwi will be unable to carve unique patterns and symbols special to themself. Rinse. Repeat.
Though the clear meaning of such is ambiguous, it is most certainly a way of showing appreciation - as one would have to love someone very much to do this, no?
It was on your fourth day amongst the Herwi clan that Gojo didn’t show up with a beautiful flower or trinket from the terrain- instead, he’s bounding up to you with a string of beads and knotting it against the side of your face.
Pushing it back and taking you in with it.
Without a question.
“Satoru, did you…” You’re holding the line of beads up to the sunlight and watching the little patterns glimmer. They were slightly frosted and flurried like the smallest of snowglobes, “Did you make this for me?”
And you swear they had the most intricate design of clouds on them, swirling and tumbling.
“Of course.” He smiles proudly. “Us Herwi are taught how to design our very own hona beads ever since we were children, and as Na’vi coming of age we walk up the path to make the first one for ourselves…as adults we make one for our family or…” Mates.
“And this- god, I need to…write about this but I can’t even imagine how long this would’ve taken.”
“Four days.” Gojo cocks his head and looks down at you- and that brilliantly confident grin of his plasters across his face once more. “For most it takes four years, but for you I did it in four days.”
“Oh, they’re just amazing.” You run a hand down the ice-cold globules, “Thank you, Satoru.”
He holds your hand as he leads you out into the village.
Gojo tells you that night to wear those very beads to the clan dinner - once a week (at the very least) after a particularly successful Hunt, the Herwi people will get together for a massive feast. You’d heard excited whispers about it from the public you surveyed, and it seems that the olo’eyktan had chosen tonight.
Night had begun to fall, and you were dragged playfully by some younger girls straight to the edge of this vast frozen lake. Past snow-capped huts that stuck out of an even more snow-capped ground like eager heads, and ice-jeweled trees and frozen rivers and pathways lit with bioluminescent algae trapped in lanterns of ice.
It was a world in frost.
Where Na’vi had gathered with their families, their friends, their food—all in an array of tables that circled the crystallized body of water like a wedding ring.
Under the snowy night sky they communed.
“You are wearing my- I mean your hona beads.” Gojo had beamed as he eventually caught up with you and guided you himself. He led you by hand again - even though you weren’t exactly quite sure why…at least it kept you from being toppled over by the other tall Herwi rushing to snag their own seats. “You look beautiful with them, beloved.”
And you weren’t quite sure what to say- though the bubbling pit at your stomach certainly wanted you to tell him something. Instead you divert the topic, “You hunted today as well, yes? Is there anything here that you hunted?”
To which he looks at you with a rather cocky smile, “Beloved, I have hunted more than half of the feast tonight. Trust that you will enjoy it.”
And you might have joked about him being presumptuous- but you really did enjoy the feast.
Under a star-studded sky and glimmering lanterns that twinkled like the freckles upon Gojo’s face, he led you to the very head table that no other Na’vi dared touch. It was rather obvious that this one was meant for the olo’eyktan himself, but what was curious was when your seat had been placed right next to his.
Perks of being a special guest, you suppose?
Shoko was beside you and shot you an amused smile, before preening for another Herwi next to her with a scar that ran across her face and half-braided hair.
“Utahime.” Gojo had whispers in your ear, “Shoko’s mate.”
“Ah- I see!” Pen quivering in your hand, you’re jotting down your observations in your notebook under the table. “Perfect. I’m quite curious about the mating rituals of the Herwi, you see. Do you suppose I’d be able to ask them some questions later on in the night?”
“Don’t ask them questions- ask me.” Gojo huffs. Brows furrowing. Lower lip jutting into a pout.
He leans over and wraps his arm around the back of your chair. Squirming, “O-oh…but you’re not mated yet, are you, Satoru?”
“Nope!”
“Right…” But then how could you ask him about mating if he wasn’t—nevermind.
Because just then the group in charge of cooking for the clan had rounded the tables and begun placing their most savored delicacies on top of them. Meats upon vegetables upon berries that you’d seen growing naturally across the mountainside they lived on. It was steaming hot and everything that you could dream of.
Whether you didn’t like meat, whether you didn’t like vegetables- there was always something there for you.
Most of the richest dishes were allocated around the olo’eyktan and your single table, stuffing the surface to the brim until you had to squeeze next to Gojo for space. Of course, he didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps too busy piling his place with the sweetest treacly milks and frozen desserts that he could reach.
After dinner came the dances.
It happened every night after the community dinner when everyone - full and satisfied by then - would start humming and chanting their ancient hymns. Echoing into the sleepy snow and the ever-young night, someone would pull out two snow beast-skin drums by then. Thumping away to the songs of the snow.
Children ran off and made snow-prints and snow-fights in the mountains of powder. Family members would begin drowsily feeding each other and insisting they eat more. Others traced their own hona beads and promised they’d make ones for the one they love.
More would punch small holes through the frozen lake and bring the water up to their mouths, of which a sudden blow would make the water freeze and scatter out into the air in twinkling snowflakes. Emulating the stars themselves.
Snow-breathers.
They’d sing, they’d sound, they’d show off and then…the first mated couple would walk onto the middle of the frozen ice.
Then the second.
The third.
The fourth and the fifth and the sixth-
What a way to end the night, love warming the cold air and couples twirling around each other with their tails intertwined. Usually, you’d be content to clap and attempt to sing along—
But then Gojo stands up- and you almost believe he was ready to leave the table altogether…until he’s reaching his hand out to you.
You.
And you look around in slight surprise- almost as if expecting someone to materialize right beside you and take Gojo’s hand instead. But the only thing you’re getting is Shoko’s approving nod from next to you, before she lets herself be dragged by Utahime onto the frozen lake.
And so you’d danced.
Rather an interesting sight considering the height difference, you admit—but it was beautiful. Gojo scoops you up into his arms with one steadied underneath you, the other holds one of your hands in his.
So much larger. So much more powerful.
And yet so gentle.
He twirls you around to the music and you laugh at the wind stinging your face.
“Satoru, you’re going to drop me—”
“I should rather die than drop you.”
“But- but what of the other Herwi that will be mistaken?” You ask then, already sensing the envious looks that were thrown your way.
“There goes my dream of being tsahìk, I’m almost sure of it now-”
“But I haven’t been able to try my luck with the olo’eyktan yet-”
“Oh shush, girl! You seriously think any of us had a chance?”
You look into his handsome face, eyes trained on you despite all the whispers and disturbance amongst his people. Only you. “You won’t be able to find a mate this way.”
Something unreadable in his blue eyes, flickering with fire from the tables and something else entirely. “Perhaps I don’t want one.”
“Well that would be entirely your decision.” You place your hands on his broad shoulders, flexing as they move you around with ease. “But it seems in Herwi tradition, the olo’eyktan is wont to take a mate.”
He raises a white brow, “And who should you believe must be my mate then?”
You didn’t quite know how to answer that.
Averting his eyes- and those of the Na’vi staring at you two. “W-well, Herwi has many fine women and men. Reykol is the best singer.”
“I do not want Reykol.”
“Tìtaron is a good hunter.”
He pulls you closer, “Yes, she is a good hunter. But I am better, and I do not care for Tìtaron.” Reaching up one hand to brush away the snowflakes that had begun dusting your face, “I believe I have already been fated to. Even before I was born, I have already chosen.”
You swallow, “Who, Satoru?”
He only smiles.
“Who?”
But he does not answer, you’re twirled around once more and the moonlight catches your dangling beads.
“Is that…”
“Surely our leader isn’t saying what we think he is saying-”
“But look at him, he looks so…happy.”
You turn your head to catch the fact that most of the Herwi were looking at you, whispering behind their hands. In hindsight, you think that perhaps it was not a coincidence that they ogled you - and particularly the hona beads that you’d been gifted. Not a coincidence at all.
You wore his signature because you were his.
And they all knew you were his.
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Day #5 in the Herwi village (the last day):
Leaving tomorrow, a perceptive scientist may notice that there is only one thing missing from this comprehensive research into the Herwi clan.
The source of Eywa.
As a deity to all Na’vi people, her influence seeps into the songs and prayers of even the highest terrains on Pandora. Into the healing. Into the well wishes. Into the belief system of a people so accepting and harmonious that their tree of Eywa does not need to be visibly present for her will to be carried out.
But as for where she resides here…
Your fifth and final day was less research and more saying your goodbyes to all the friends you’d made in the Herwi clan. You’d be leaving first thing tomorrow, before the sun even rose, according to the sternest of the elders.
Gojo hadn’t met you outside your hut that morning, and you’d idled away the time packing and repacking your bag of samples and books. Thrice, before you started to believe that he might not come after all.
But that was alright, ultimately believing that he’d show up later on in the day, you visited all the healers, the hunters, the dancers, and the chefs. The mother and toddler you’d grown close to on your first day here, and even a stray elder that had sought you out to bow goodbye.
All the young Na’vi and the old Na’vi.
All the Na’vi that had come to not fear you and the Na’vi that had found you endearing at first sight.
They’d warmed up to you since you first came here. They gave you gifts, each of them, and your heart ached as you thought of leaving.
Goodbyes were always painful - but perhaps one most of all. Gojo.
He still hadn’t met you by the end of your route, and you’d circled the village about twice by the time you were done. He was nowhere to be seen.
It was almost as if he’d disappeared into thin air.
It was with a heavy pit in your stomach that you started to head back to your hut—your last dinner with the Herwi people would be in a few hours. Afterwards, Gojo had previously arranged for you to be accompanied by some of the clan’s best warriors on your trek down.
You just thought that’d include him.
Perhaps you could sleep it off until the final dinner- and you were shutting the door just behind you…
Before sounds a hurried, hasty knock—
You open the door to see the olo’eyktan of the Herwi tribe.
Panting. Covered in snow.
“My apologies, I have spent the day clearing the pathway for us.” Gojo huffs out, leaning against your door frame with one hand. The other reaching out to you—“Come with me, beloved?”
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The Herwi source of Eywa was inside an ice cave.
One that would get blocked when the goddess herself did not wish to be seen, one that Gojo had torn through layers of packed ice to burrow a pathway for the both of you. He’d carried you all the way to the gaping mouth of blue ice and ghost snow.
Closing in on you like arms of rime beckoning you to the tree of Eywa. The Tree of Winter.
The cold embrace of a mother.
One you were still not quite sure whether you were allowed to see—but Gojo knew he wanted you to see. He saw you.
At the end of the cave was an ice column about eighty feet tall and naturally formulated to look like the winding branches of a tree. Dripping to the ground in phantom white snow, each one delicate and graduating from white to blue. There almost seemed to be a glowing aura about it.
Clear mirrors making up the tree’s vines. Honed tips of the icicles rising from Pandora and stabbing down towards it. The top of the tree reached where the cave roof was hollow, beaming a circle of light from the skies that donned Eywa in innocent pink.
You gasped at the white snowsprites that bounced off of the tree and onto your two bodies.
Where Gojo stand with his back straight, his meaty thighs spread—pearly white teeth biting down to stop himself from fucking moaning at the feeling of your mouth sliding up n’ down his hot cock.
While you were standing.
You didn’t even have to get on your knees.
His eleven foot figure loomed above you, one hand on the back of your head and the other pumpin’ his furious erection. Your maw slips down his puckered tip and he shivers- bucking ever-so-slightly and hitting the back of your throat dead-on—
And yet he wasn’t even fully bottomed out.
He wasn’t even fully bottomed out.
The sudden realization makes you claw at the sides of his blue skin with a whine- direct vibrations that make the puckered tip lodged inside your mouth twitch. He’s sploshing out even more syrupy pre like he couldn’t stop it.
He’s not even trying and it’s already so much, cascading like a waterfall down the front of your chin.
“Now- hah, now.” One of Gojo’s prolonged fingertips reaches out to smear away the slippery sheen across your face- at least, that’s what you think he’s doing.
But instead you’re feeling him curve his rude digits between your lips and push those dewy droplets inside. Shovelling his cock just a little bit deeper, “S’not good to waste it, beloved. Open your mouth and take it all like a good girl, yes?”
“Mmmpf-” A damn miracle that you could get out that much sound in the first place. You’re pulling off to answer, and Gojo jerks his hips a lil’ to chase your damp mouth. “You’re saying you want me to take it all—?”
He shivers, leopard-like tail twitching. “Yes.”
And right before your very eyes, you can see his shaft throb even bigger.
Harder.
The prettiest bluish-pink on his tip, one with a divot that leaks out a line of precum. You’re following it with your dazed eyes- before the next thing you’re seeing is a close-up of it.
Gojo has his massive hand plastered to the back of your scalp and is pushin’ your head in, digging his dripping wet tip against the back of your throat. With a groan, the Na’vi pins you to him and hammers out a few sloppy thrusts of his cock.
Again and again.
Slurp after slurp—
“Gonna take it all- hah- my entire cock inside that pretty mouth, yes?” He’s cocking his head to the side and asking down at you sweetly. And he might look all in control, but Gojo’s voice fucking breaks at the very end of his sentence.
Right in synchronization with the way you were draggin’ your sizzling tastebuds down the veiny sides of his erection. Just the cutest tongue that was eagerly lapping up everything he was giving—“Doesn’t matter if you’re a lil’ human, you’re gonna take the leader’s biiiiig cock, aren’t you?”
Removing yourself from his thickened tip with a wet pwah! “Y-you’re really serious about the-”
“Yes.”
And he’d apologize for cutting you off later- hell, he’d grovel at your feet if he has to. But right now all Gojo can think of doing is holding onto the back of your head and strollin’ his thumb down the column of your throat. The olo’eyktan can feel that fat cylindrical intrusion where his cock was pumping in and out- and he’s sliding his fingertip dooooooown that bulge. “Aren’t you a scientist, beloved?”
“Y-yes?”
“Then aren’t you curious about just how far a human can take Na’vi cock?”
“Well…” You blubber out, “I guess so-”
“Then consider it for your research.” With each syllable he’s cutting your breath off by thudding his cockhead against the roof of your mouth. “Then just fucking- haaaaah—” And you’re finding that the pre Na’vi cock exuded was actually rather sweet- almost like honeydew flooding up your mouth n’ being slid all round by the intrusion of his shaft. “-take it.”
“Mmmpf—ngh.” Tears were streaming down your face by now, wetting your cheeks and making the Na’vi wipe them away with his thumb.
“Don’t cryyyyy—” He’s airily calling out, almost nothing like the level-headed Na’vi you’d met before. “Big girls don’t cry. Don’t worry- m’gonna give you all of my cock, beloved.”
“S-Satoru-”
But each of your broken yowls were being bullied back in with his bludgeoning wet tip, bruisin’ away its splitted end anywhere and everywhere.
He swabs into the tiniest nooks and crannies inside your mouth with his sheer size, leaving your knees utterly weak where you were still standing. He’s holding your head up to his cock- “C’mon- feel.”
You peer up at him in confusion.
“Feel for your research.” Fluttering his long pale lashes down at you, a sultry smile spreads across his lips. “How many loooong thick inches you’re being given. How many veins are filling ya up. How many times I hit the back of yer throat like this-”
A shuddering slam right where you were most tender. “Please-”
“M’helping you with your- fuck, research.” He chuckles down lecherously, “By shutting that smart human mouth of yours up.”
“Fuck-”
“Feel it- just feel.”
He thrusts so hard that his heavy ballsack smacks! against your chin, “Feel the way that lil’ mouth of yours can barely even take me. Feel how fat my balls are with cum just for you. Count them? Wanna calculate the girth?” Until it was stinging a permanent girth on your skin, rubbed raw with impact. “Feel the way I- ngh, bruuuise your throat n’ those sensual lips until anyone that talks to you knows I’ve been here.” He’s babbling on stupidly by now, eyes falling more n’ more half-lidded by the minute. He’s holding on tightly to your restless head and shoves- “Feel the way I fuck my mate—”
Gojo trails off as if shocking himself, and you’re snapping your teary eyes up to him with a muffled- “What?”
But you don’t know whether it’s on cue, you don’t know whether it’s the startle of being caught- but Gojo’s slamming his cocktip way past the back of your throat and cumming.
Oozing out hot dollops of cum that take over your pretty mouth.
Shaft throbbing furiously. Balls twitching like no other. He throws his head back and squelches straight down your throat, and you can feel the thickness of it plug up your voicebox.
So sweet.
So much.
And you’re not sure whether it’s a Na’vi thing or it’s a Gojo thing that he’s cumming so much in one go.
Loooooong miry stripes that trickle down the sides of your mouth- he leans down and pushes them back between your lips with one of his thumbs. Ivory sap constantly leaking down onto your tastebuds, he feels the heady slip n’ slide of his cock against those wads of cum. “Fuh-fuck…”
And then he’s not moving, merely clasping the back of your head and bringing you firmly up against his slender pelvis.
Your nose rubs against the tufts of white on his abs before you realize that he’d just bottomed-out—just once, like he’d promised.
And it was enough to send you reeling, feeling the pushback of his swabbin’ tip. Pouring out even more heady liquid every time he was draaaaging down your velvety tongue.
The tip of your tastebuds flicks his sensitive slit just right and you can feel him pulse deep inside. “Feel me in there?” Gojo’s groaning from above. “Feel how much I ache for you. Feel the volume of my cum- are you counting it?”
“I-I—”
But evidently your half-sob wasn’t enough.
And the Na’vi is reaching down and pinching your nostrils together with his free hand. “Ah ah- focus on your research, beloved.”
And you’re struggling uselessly against his mean action, to which Gojo watches with a predatory gaze at the way you huff n’ sputter. And he has the audacity to snicker-
“I really can throw you around like a ragdoll, huh?”
It’s as if the realization had just struck him and he’s shuddering.
It almost feels like ages before he’s finally pulling away with a loud plop!
An excess of your cum was leaking out of your maw and threatening to drip onto the floor- “Tch, this is a sacred place, my human.” He’s rasping out—swipin’ up the frothed white cum as if he wasn’t absolutely desecrating you. Pushing those clingy wads between your maw.
He then guides his honed tip to glide across your lips, gluing your lips shut with all his seed.
And Gojo can’t help but admire you- peering up at him with his towering height. All covered in his syrupy slick and speechless, unable to talk even if your voicebox had been left intact.
He smiles, tail swishing happily to and fro. “My human.” Gojo leans all the distance down to kiss you upon your sopping wet lips. “My m- pretty human. My pretty human…”
But you don’t have enough sense at the moment to ponder too long on his little slip-up before he’s bending down close with his hoarse mouth against the shell of your ear.
Making you feel so sensitive.
“-did ya get enough research yet?”
And then he’s good on his other promise: throwing you around like a ragdoll.
Before you know it, Gojo’s thundering down onto his knees upon the frozen floor - taking you right along with him. He grabs his fur coat from a little ways away and makes you rest down on top of it. With ease.
Back flat on the coat. Legs spread high in the air.
Twisted around the back of Gojo’s neck and locked in place-
“Satoru-” You look around the Tree of Winter that only seems to glow even brighter, the snowsprites buzzing. “-are you sure we should be doing this h—oh.”
Gojo doesn’t say anything - he doesn’t have to.
He’s merely unhinging his jaw and letting his loooong pinkish tongue drip out. It was glossy with ravenous saliva, thick at the base, and curved at the tip. The end of it dripped tantalizingly with spittle- almost torturously.
Achingly needy.
There was an almost feline quality to it that made your thighs clench.
“N-nevermind.”
The only thing you’re managing to get out before Gojo had his tongue stuffed against your wet core and swabbin’ away until you saw white—“M-mmmpf.” His mouth was just so large that he could engulf your pussylips with a single bite, honed canines grazing the outer edge of your cunt while he kisses inwards. “My pretty mate- my tasty mate.”
It’s almost as if he was pussydrunk already.
With just a single slurp of his curvaceous tongue glidin’ up and down your slit, Gojo has his blue eyes rolling to the back of his head and his hips bucking. Wildly. “Why didn’t Eywa tell me that you’d taste so good-”
“Oh my—” Your back arches while his thickened fingertips come between your legs to pinch your puckered pussy into his mouth. Pushing you against him even more - greedy. “Shit, it just feels so-”
Smack!
And without a single warning, Gojo has his roverin’ fingertips slamming down on your pussy. Straight on top of your slit where your clit was hidden, it sends shockwaves of both pain and pleasure up your spine.
You’re gasping and staring down at him-
“Now now, no cursing- be good before Eywa, hm?” That damn hypocrite - and you could see it in that sultry smile of it. Gojo was getting off on the way you’d squirm your cunt restlessly against his face, sighing into the way he starts fucking your pussy once more. “Or else m’not gonna eat this pretty pussy of yours out, ya hear?”
You gape, “That’s not fucking fair-”
Smack!
“What was that, beloved?”
“I said—”
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
Until Gojo’s leaving your pussy raw and needy, and even then he wasn’t done with you- he has the audacity to purse his plump lips and spit. Spit. Letting the sharp strike of saliva make you shiver—
“What was that?” He asks you in such a breathy tone, such a ruined tone. Gojo spoke like if you told him you needed him right now then he would simply shatter.
And you can only gulp at the state that he was in - you’ve researched Na’vi during times of high pressure, during battles, during their coming-of-age ceremonies. But never had you met one that simply seemed so…feral. “I-I’ll be good, Satoru.”
He smiles like he’s been wanting to hear those exact words for years.
Fingertips jittering with excitement, he then reaches for your intertwined ankles with his tail.
Locking them in place, Gojo murmurs. “Good…” Before he’s getting ready to dive straight back into your sweetened cunt once more, “Because you better not run-”
And you don’t get to ask just what might constitute you running from his mouth. His tongue.
You don’t get to ask just what it meant when he looked at you with that dark inkling of something carnal, as if he was about to devour you whole.
You don’t get to ask anything, in fact, and whatever questions were already in your throat burst into a zillion pieces at the feeling of him pushing his tongue inside your hole. Properly.
Not lapping away coquettishly on your outer cunt, not slurpin’ up all your treacly juices.
Gojo had his tastebuds stuffed inside your entrance and was draaaaagging them all across every orifice inside of you. Thrusting his entire length in and out at a rapid pace, you could feel the edge of his chin hitting your base with every movement.
Inside and out.
Inside and out.
But the sheer speed of him wasn’t even the bit makin’ you the most dizzy- see Gojo’s Na’vi tongue was something amazing. Something incredible.
Just so large and lavish that it was stretching your walls out like never before.
“P-please-” You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything like this- the way that Gojo’s textured tongue would mold against your walls, the way he’d pinpoint even the tiniest orifices with his flexible tip, the way he’d expand and contract his tongue purposefully. Until you saw white. Bucking—“Please it just feels so-”
“Where’d ya think you’re going?”
And the slur in his voice makes you pause- “Wh-what…?”
The last thing you’re managing to get out before Gojo tightens the rude grip of his fingertips on your pussylips. And the other one of his hands holds onto your waist to haul you back down onto his mouth- you hadn’t even realized that you’d been edging away in sensitivity.
“Didn’t I tell you not to run?” Spankin’ those rugged fingertips of his down on your clit once more. You get the feeling that Gojo’s meanly choosing your clit because he knew that’d make you clench ‘round his tongue even more. “Don’t run. Don’t even move.”
“You’re just so fucking- ngh, big and you expect me not to move?” You wail out in indignity.
“Well, who told you to fuck a Na’vi warrior?” He’s countering, those half-lidded eyes of his twinkling with humor. “Better yet- who told you to fuck the olo’eyktan-”
And you suppose you had no explanation for that.
Especially not even Gojo was pumping his thickened tongue into you so fast that any and all explanations in your throat start to dissolve. Instead being replaced by the most pathetic whines and groans as he keeps fucking your pussy greedily.
As though Gojo was a man parched.
Because your wettened pussy was more refreshing to him than the waters of the lake- and if he could, he’d have his head stuffed between your legs every second of the day. Simply slurpin’ up every dewy droplet that escaped out of you, Gojo catches even those tiniest of wads.
Slipping his looooong tongue inside—you’re driven damn near mad once he slithers his length in and grazes your g-spot.
Hips bucking, eyes snapping open. “H-how did you even manage-”
“Ah ah—” His familiar tut, and soon enough you’re glued back down onto his pretty mouth again. Gojo doesn’t even need to try to ease you pliably back onto his face no matter how much you try to run- but oh, it was just so fun to watch your sultry surprise. The way you only got wetter when he manhandled you. “So this is that cute lil’ g-spot human have, hm? I thought it was just something in Shoko’s anatomy textbooks.”
“You- you read her textbooks…” You ask.
“All day and all night.” Gojo replies with a smirk, his ears twitching as he hears the quickening of your heartbeat. “Only Eywa knows how much I’ve touched myself imagining this.”
“Oh—”
It hits you like a flash of lightning- and so do the sudden swipes of Gojo’s tongue reaching your sweetest spots. Thud-thud-thud-thud he’s ricocheting against your bundle of nerves rapidly, making it echo like your own heartbeat in your ears. Thud-thud-thud-thud—
“Shit-” And suddenly you understand- you thought you understood before? But no, now you understand why Gojo had been telling you not to run away initially.
“Don’t run.” He warns.
Because all you’re feeling are the large stripes he’s licking up your slick walls, and the only thing you can think of doing is bucking. Rutting. Reaching for his lips wildly- though your body moves torturously as if you didn’t know whether you wanted more or to run away—“Shit.”
“Don’t run.”
But how could you not run from it? How could you not even move when Gojo had your body teased n’ toyed with till absolutely no end?
He was hammerin’ his tongue against your g-spot furiously—and you were sure by now that he has the exact pattern of his tastebuds bruised right on that area. Shapin’ your velvety walls to his tongue, Gojo dives in just so animalistically.
And you can’t help but buck. You can’t help but arch your back. You can’t help but reach your hand out and attempt to grab onto something- anything for dear life.
Again and again. “Shiiiiit is it even allowed to feel this good-”
But the Na’vi leader merely stops your hands with his own, folding them neatly into his hair. Holding onto his clammy scalp- “As Eywa wills it.” He smiles and your cunt’s just so sensitive by this point that you can feel the exact degree of curvature of his grin. “Which reminds me…”
And for your profanity you’re getting three more direct spanks, “Shit-”
One more.
Before you feel him then twist his fingertips on your throbbing clit and pinch- “Ya reeeeally can’t be a good girl f’me, huh?” Gojo asks you with a smile, though there was a hint of something in his voice that reminded you why exactly he was the olo’eyktan of such a large clan. “Look at you—”
“Sh-shit, that feels so-” But he isn’t listening, and you’re fighting the heels of your feet against his broad back.
“Look at you.” He’s tightening his tail on your ankles and dragging you back down. He’s spitting down through clenched canines, every single word sending sparks up to your hazy brain. Barely even working by this point, surely. “Swearing. Squirming. Moaning like a slut and trying to escape- as your leader, I should punish you, beloved.”
“No more pussy spanking—” You whine, “Just makes me so sensitive…”
“I’m not talking about pussy spanking, beloved.” To emphasize his point he gives just a light tap on your sensitive nub once more.
It leaves you shaking to wonder just what else he has in store for you- though you don’t have to let your mind grapple in the dark for too long. Because in absolutely no time - just a few more vulgar thrusts of his tongue - you’re feeling the sudden plump intrusion of something slender at your hole.
It certainly couldn’t have been his tongue, because you knew what that ridged texture felt like.
It certainly couldn’t have been Gojo’s cock, because you’d tasted that and you knew he had a much larger circumference.
So that left only one option—Gojo had your pussylips spread apart and your entrance gulping up every inch of his fingers. They just looked so stark with their blue color disappearin’ into your hole, and Gojo’s increeeeedible length making you feel so full.
Two of them were all that were shovelled inside- and yet he was already stretching for your very cervix on his first thrust inside. He scours the spongy end of your pussy then slides back out—in and out, in and out, in and out.
Each time his knobbly joints push against your g-spot and left you crying-
“Feel my fingers inside you?” Gojo rasps ruthlessly, his mouth wrapped around your throbbing clit. Groaning at the way you grow even wetter- Na’vi senses were strong, and he could smell the impending orgasm on you. “Feel the way I reach for your- hah, womb all inside? Feel the way I can fuck a baby in you so easily?”
“Yes-” You answer to them all, “Yes yes yes yes—”
And before you can say anything more, his powerful tail hauls you down. Bashin’ in even deeper with his plush fingertips. “Feel the way I’ve found eeeevery cute spot of yours? Feel the way I know your pussy inside and out?”
“Yes- fuck.” And you don’t even care if you’re ‘punished’ any more for breaking Gojo’s stern rules. Gojo himself was slamming his knuckles red and raw against your cunt, fucking his human’s tight pussy. “Fuck, I’m gonna-”
“Feel the way m’making you mine—?”
“Satoru, m’gonna cum-”
“Note it down in your research.”
And then you’re exploding straight into your high - and you know it’s the best you’ve ever had.
Your eyes fall shut and the only thing you’re seeing behind them is pure black with stars of white, pulsing against your bleary vision in time with the furious throbbing at your cunt. Little zaps of pleasure shoot all the way down to the tips of your toes every time he’s moving his maw across your core. Sharp. Sensitive. He’s wedged between your legs and lappin’ up each pulse.
Sluuuuurp—!
Long, aching drags of his tongue. They’re roverin’ over the most sensitive spot of your clit, meanwhile his fingers were glazed in slick n’ fucking you stupid already.
Gojo thrusts you through your high as if he was angry at you. As if he can’t get enough. As if he’s losing his damn mind and you n’ your pussy are the only reasons why-
It takes you only a minute more for your wave of bliss to taper out, fully riding through it.
And then only another minute more for you go from fucked straight to overstimulated by a few more of his rovering thrusts. He swabs your g-spot once more and you think you’re bawling- “S-Satoru, I’m already done-”
But he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even seem to hear you.
In fact, you couldn’t sworn that he was grabbing onto your right thigh with his free hand and keeping himself plastered even more into your cunt-
“Satoru—!” You’re calling out helplessly, “Satoru, I’m already- ngh, done-”
“Mhmmmm?” Muttering something wet underneath his breath, and you have to strain your ears to actually hear him. Breathy. Panting. “Research- fuck! More…”
“I can’t even- oh.” It was almost dangerous just how potent he was with his mouth and fingers, and before long your thighs were starting to shake with sensitivity. Causing you to grab onto his scalp even tighter and-
“O-oh.”
And accidentally tug on the long braid of white hair thrown over his shoulder—his kuru.
Did that manage to…
Your breath hitches, and you’re reaching out to graze your fingers down his kuru once more-
“Fuh—fuuuuck.” Gojo throws his head back in a voice that almost sounded like a whimper, his slick lips quivering. His skin covering in goosebumps. His erection throbbing from where you could spy him. His entire large body shakes with the zaps of hypersensitivity going down his spine, “D-don’t think you know what you’re getting into, beloved…” His murky breath clouds out in front of him.
“You sure?” You challenge - what a privilege it was to see him break.
The olo’eyktan grits his teeth—-“I’m warning you…”
But when were you ever one to listen to warnings?
Without thinking much of it, you tighten your hand ‘round his kuru and tug—
And then he’s on you in a split-second.
He’s not even moving- he’s grabbing onto your hips and bodily puuuulling you right back down till your cunt lips kiss his cock. He’s pushing your legs up until your kneecaps hit your tits. He’s hunching his entire body forwards and-
“Sh-shit.” Your eyes widen, “Satoru, did you just-”
“Yes.”
Just you teasing his kuru is enough to make Gojo spuuuurt out in creamy wads of cum once more, coating the outer part of your pussy in a thick layer. It feels hot and wet on top of you, streaming down to drench the coating. Before he’s swervin’ his swollen tip inside and fucking you-
No hesitation. No preparation.
You’re getting what you deserved, and that was to be fucked like an absolute anima by the Na’vi.
“You don’t know what you’ve done.” He’s spitting- straight into your hotly opened mouth. Those sharp canines of Gojo’s nipping at your bottom lip, “You don’t know what you’ve done- you don’t know what you’ve done-”
“Shit, shiiiit—Satoru.” Moaning out his name like a broken record player. He’s bullying out harsh semi-thrusts against your cunt that leave you scrambling for breath- just shovin’ his puckered tip inside, just tasting the inside of your pussy with his cockhead, just trying to fucking fit.
“Sayin’ my name like that and you don’t even fucking—” Before Gojo feels your soppy walls clench tightly ‘round him, and his lips part a little before racing down and spitting on your cunt. “Fucking fit.”
“You say that like it’s so easy-” You sob out.
He was pistoning his hips into you ferally.
The only thing he was doing was stretchin’ out your cute hole a few times, just so big that you’re being push-push-pushed up the fur coat you were splayed out on-
A hand at your throat.
“Don’t. Fucking. Run.”
And you don’t have the chance to tell him that you weren’t actually running and in fact it was just his roverin’ hips forcing you upwards- but before you could do that, Gojo’s already rendering you speechless with his cock.
He’s grabbing an even tighter restraint of your neck.
He’s manhandling your entire body down like he’s crazed.
He’s juuuuuust barely managing to squeeze in a sultry inch of two of his massive length- the mere sensation of that in itself enough to send your mind bursting into a heap of stars. It was almost numbing on your lower half, to have this much of him fitted inside you.
Stuffed inside you.
Throbbing inside you.
And it seems that the only one more affected by that fact wasn’t you - it was Gojo Satoru himself. Head falling into the crook of your neck. Tail flinching as it now wraps around your right thigh. Mouth parting with an agonized groan.
“F—fuck.” He’s echoing out hollowly into your ear, “Fuck, you’re so fucking…tight.”
Gojo spits out the word as if it was the very reason the olo’eyktan was shattering right about now. And almost on cue, those sopping wet walls of yours clench ‘round his tip and makes the Na’vi yelp—
“Fuck, don’t do that.” He’s shuddering through his sloppy strokes, his split-ended tip filling you up with dewy precum. “Fuck, don’t do that unless you want to be taught what happens when you pull on the kuru of a Herwi like me, little scientist.”
“What happens?” You ask innocently.
“S’why I’m telling you to fucking—oh.”
Just a few more pulsating clenches of your cunt, and Gojo shivers as though he’s being held hostage by your wet walls.
He bears his canines and snarls at you in the way you’d seen Na’vi do when they want to signal, to intimidate, to mate.
But you stare up at the olo’eyktan of the Herwi clan with determination.
And he’s giving you one final probe-
“I’m going to get you fucking pregnant.”
He breathes out against the shell of your ear, almost like the last whisper of his sanity before Gojo stares into your wide heart-eyes—and he’s reeling his hips back to plunge.
Uncaring how unready your poor entrance was.
Uncaring how your tiny human body shakes underneath his larger one.
His fat cock swipes between your glittery folds and puuuuushes against the instinctual restraint of your hole, all the way until you start to tremble- and he knows he can’t push any more. He knows he can’t break you.
He’s fighting back every sudden primal urge in him that just wants to fuck you all the way inside- and furiously pumps his solid inches back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Keeping a hand always on the top of your stomach for when he’s feeling his hard globular tip push upwards.
Gojo was just so big that he could feel himself sinking in from the outside-
“And that’s not a promise, beloved.” Gojo’s pale brows furrow as his cockhead starts swabbin’ even deeper after each thrust, “That’s not a promise- that’s not even a challenge-”
“Th-then—?” He’s pushing doooown on your overstuffed core and you find it hard to breathe, both pressures from between your legs and from Gojo pushing on your cylindrical tummy bulge was just…
The olo’eyktan grins when he watches his cute lil’ human struggle to take his entire cock, the bluish hue of it spreading apart your thighs. He reels his slender hips back in quite the long drag—before ultimately hammering- “It’s an oath. Before Eywa.”
A divine oath.
Added to the fact that Gojo was slamming his ruddied tip into you with each syllable- and you could never forget about the sheer size difference. The way that it helped him bend over you and fold you in half as though nothing but a lawnchair—your ass was cleanly dangling off the floor with how much Gojo was bending you.
A mating press. The meanest one you’ve ever seen.
You’re hit with the sudden inclination that you weren’t about to walk out of here any time soon.
And Gojo seems to be doing well on that fact- he hadn’t completely bottomed-out yet, but he was still drilling into you with such fervour. Streaking his cum from before across every inch of you, a layer of white that you feel from the inside.
Feverish cocktip swabbin’ all the way at the back of your cervix, full balls smacking your cunt.
Every time he was hurtling his hips forwards, it almost felt as if the ground beneath you was trembling.
It almost felt as if he was hitting each of your geysering spots without even needing to try. Just so big that the veiny sides of his cock rubbed n’ dubbed up against those orifices unfairly.
It almost felt as if you were losing it-
“So I think you’ll have a loooot of fuckin’ research, beloved.” Gojo snickers, his tail flicking you playfully. And at this point you’re not even sure what the conversation was about, just knowing that it was the background music to the lecherous thwacking of his hips on yours.
So hard that you could feel the wads of his high from before glazing your insides. Dripping all the way near the rim of your cunt before being pumped back inside.
He pushes down on top of that bulge once more and watches you whine, “I almost don’t want to, mmm, ask what it’ll be about…”
“Ohhh, y’know—” Gojo trails off airily, something shaky in the back of his tone that sends shivers up your spine. It makes you almost content to know that you’ve gotten him so pussydrunken- but then again you weren’t too far behind. He tilts his head to the side and looks at you through partially closed eyes, smiling. “-human-Na’vi babies.”
And it’s with that that Gojo finally - finally - drills his cock all the way to the hilt.
Bottoming out.
His breath catches at the realization.
Blue eyes widening. Mouth watering.
It feels so different to have your hot innards surrounding him entirely- and fuck, Gojo wasn’t even sure whether a human like you would be able to take all of him. But it seems that you really were made for him, yes? Every curve and edge of you. Every bit of your cunt that he gives an experimental buck into, before pumping inside like a madman-
Pounding you into the smooth ground of the celestial temple.
It feels like you’re being thrust into heaven itself because of the way he was so big, big, big—all the way from the purple-ish tip that was zig-zagging your walls, to the oversized tummy bulge he was fucking into you, to the way he had you folded. Manhandled.
Gojo’s only lasting a few strokes before he’s crushing you to him so hard that it almost hurts- “Right here—right here.” The hand atop your stomach pushes down where his ruby-red tip was kissin’ and kissing at your womb. “You’re gonna have a lot ta research about fucking- ngh, getting bred by the fucking olo’eyktan. A lot to research about carrying my next heir, yeah?”
“Yes…” Arching your back into him.
“And then here—” That very hand now drifts down to the in-betweens of your pussylips and rubs his thumb over your clit. He’s drawing little circles and hearts on top of your sensitive nub that makes you wrack with pleasure, “Yer gonna have to research giving birth to such a biiiig baby, beloved.”
You shiver at the thought, mostly excitement.
And he purrs as he rubs his cheek against the sweaty crown of your head, “But s’okaaaaay- I’ll help you through every step of it, beloved. My mate.” The Na’vi’s staring down at you lovingly, fucking you filthily. “M’gonna breed you all full, okay? You might just have to research more about Na’vi phenotypes- heh.”
You can only nod. “Please…”
And before you can dwell too long on that last particular word—mate—he’s continuing. “And then you don’t have to worry ‘bout a thing- I can take care of eeeeverything. I’ll wash our kid. I’ll dress our kid. I’ll feed our kid. I’ll do everything and anything just please-”
“Y-yes?” Your voice cracks.
And he winks down at you almost mischievously, “Let’s do some research together on when I’ll be able to breed you all full of my cum next, hm?”
And with only a few more vicious thrusts, you’re feeling your second wave of pleasure tonight take over. You knew it’d been bubbling inside your veins for some time now- and right now it almost felt as if that euphoria was overflowing.
Overspilling.
Just like the gushing wads of slick that drivel over the front slit of your cunt and leave you so wet that you feel like a waterpark. Just rhythmic bursts of your high that leave your body loose and limp, shaking a bit every time that Gojo’s cockhead plummets inwards.
Head muddled.
Eyes rolling to the very back of your head.
This might just be the best orgasm of your entire life, and your wave of pleasure is looooong and drawn-out with how many times Gojo thrusts his cock in to fuck you through it. “Shit, Toru—”
Again and again and again.
Each time hitting the target of your g-spot dead-on and watching as you gush around him even more.
You were at Gojo’s complete mercy…almost.
Shaking. Your hands find themselves in his hair once more- or more precisely grazing the long length of his kuru. “Satoru.” You’re breathing out as he shivers carnally, “Satoru, I want it- ngh, inside.”
His eyes widen, “Demanding something of the olo’eyktan, are you?”
“Inside, Toru.” Desperate now.
To emphasize, you’re lightly tugging on his kuru and watching as it makes the Na’vi above you shudder. His cock pouring out heaps of precum that only act as a warning for something…more. “F-fuck, better keep this all in until tomorrow-”
At the very least.
You’re honestly not sure if you can keep it all in even now—because then Gojo’s throwing his head back and cumming long and hard. Harder than he ever thinks he has before- his seed dribbles out of him like a gooey waterfall, taking place inside every nook and cranny you have.
Heavy balls clenching almost aggressively as they empty out inside you.
He’s swervin’ each ounce of it inside by dragging his globular tip, that reddened cockhead making you swear you taste Gojo all the way at your throat.
Flooding.
Your toes curl, it almost feels as though he’s fucking you into a third and fourth high altogether-
“Until tomorrow-” Gojo barks out through his smoky tone, “Until always-” After reaching his high so many times in one night, his sparks of euphoria just rip through him. And you can feel the sheer intensity of it by the way his slippery slick thwacks! against the back of your pussy, hot and heavy. It seems to inflate you from the inside, “Until we have our…fuck.”
And it’s not like Gojo to let up a sentence. Especially one that wavered with emotion.
“Until I have…” He starts again, blue eyes twinkling. “…you.”
Right now he was cupping the side of your face with his left hand- accidentally…or perhaps not…dslodging the translating device from your ear.
And then the Na’vi olo’eyktan leans with his forehead pressing down on top of yours.
Dragging his hand down the side of your head, where his beads for you twinkled in the glow of Eywa’s tree. Breathing out the words—“Oel ngati kameie, muntxa si.”
He looks at you with a slightly sad smile as if he was almost bitterly glad you didn’t understand. Though little did he know…“Oel ngati kameie, Satoru.”
And the look on his face was worth all the time you’d spent poring over Na’vi language books with Shoko these past few days. At least you understood this.
You grin, “I did a bit of research myself.”
He holds you tight, he holds you as if he wanted you two to become one.
More so.
Eventually—after about four or so more rounds, and once you were thoroughly shattered and kept on begging for it, Gojo had swiped his long kuru into his hand and raised it up to you. You yourself didn’t have one, but if there was anything you learned from being with the Herwi people—it’s that love comes in all forms and differences.
You press your lips to his flower-like nerves at the very end of his braid. Immediately, a rush of something between you two and you understand what he meant about being mates.
You feel what Gojo sees.
You feel what Gojo smells.
You feel what Gojo hears.
You feel what Gojo tastes.
You feel what Gojo feels.
You feel complete.
.
.
.
Day #6 in the Herwi village (day after the mating):
The ancient of the Herwi clan were one of the only believers in fated mates, of one who had been destined to walk beside you upon this good planet through Eywa’s will. It was said that life does not flower until one meets one’s fate, not even the skies shall migrate, not even the ice shall melt.
Two souls bound to meet.
And until then one can only look up, up, up…
This scientist was found in quite the curious position as mate to the olo’eyktan on the morning after.
Re-entering the village, hand-in-hand, it was inevitable that the Herwi people would stare. Not only was it quite past the deadline of six moons given, but each bore resemblance of a mating session that could’ve been spotted a smile away.
Bite marks. Bruises. Slight falter in walking.
Not to mention that it seems word had spread about the…inoccupancy of the Tree of Winter just the night prior. (Additionally for more on Herwi stamina read Page 69…)
Circling back, the stares were rather unabashed. Some gasping. Some ribbing. Some tuts by elders of the clan who then again turned around with a smile.
It was obvious that they had been praying for the olo’eyktan’s happiness for a long, long time.
It must be noted that congratulations were doled out heavily at the communal dinner that night. Food. Dances. Parades.
It must be noted even further that preparations for coronation at the Herwi tsahìk shall be taking place in a week’s time. Who would have thought, a human being a tsahìk? Who would have thought that humans had fated mates as well?
For this scientist’s final note, preparations are already being planned meticulously for the arrival of a new heir to the Gojo name.
And that leaves the scientific community with one last thing, now that fluency in the Na’vi language is on the path to be attained: the glossary.
Tsahìk - Head shaman, high priest, interpreter..
Olo’eyktan - Male clan leader.
Mawey - Calm.
Txeylan - Best friend.
Ì’awn - Stay.
Fnu - Be quiet.
Txen - Awake.
Nga lu rusey- oh, nga lu rusey. - You’re alive- oh, you’re alive.
Oe'm lefpom. Txen? Lu nga txen? Tsal pung? - I’m happy. Awake? You’re awake? Are you injured?
‘Upe lu nga fwew? - What are you looking for?
Yawne? Oe'd tìng aynga. - Beloved? I’d give you anything.
Oe pey ngim krr. - I’ve been waiting a long time.
Tìnga’prrnen - Pregnant.
Tìnga’prrnen? Oe? - Pregnant? Me?
Nga new ne kanom oe tìnga’prrnen. - You want to get me pregnant?
Fì'u - This.
Irayo nga - Thank you.
Oe ke ronsem tsonta lu tìnga’prrnen. - I wouldn’t mind being pregnant.
Lake Yapay - Lake Steam.
Hona beads - Endearing.beads.
Mt. Hoet - Vast.
Kuru - Neural queue.
Oel ngati kameie, muntxa si. - I see you, my mate.
Oel ngati kameie, Satoru. - I see you, Satoru.
A/N. It must be acknowledged that Herwi culture was influenced by some aspects of Inuit culture, as well as some aspects of my own Sinhalese culture! Both such beautiful cultures that I was honored to research more in-depth on. Also this Na'vi vocabulary bank was used, and for longer Na’vi sentences this translator was used and might not be fully accurate ahhh-
