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She turns to look at you, eyes watery and smile brittle. Your answering expression fragile as a fossil, doomed to be buried under someone else's history.
TR x Reader vignettes
Draken, Emma, Hanma, Kakucho, Kisaki, Rindou, and varying Reader characters
features accidental pregnancy, ambiguous relationship, angst, babytrapping, dubious consent, forced marriage, friends with benefits, heavy pining, smut
there will be a second part with other characters at some point in the future
*meme from @ tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang
*dividers by @ strangergraphics
*member of @pixelcafe-network
Draken
For one horrific moment you nearly lose control of your stupid mouth. You force yourself to moan his name into his shoulder instead, to cover up the mistake you almost spoke into the world. Though in some way he might understand. Afterall he has had to hold back some words of his own as well (presumably her name). It's obvious from the guilt in his avoidant gaze.
If he felt you tense up beneath him, it did nothing to deter him from chasing his high. Draken was kinder than his reputation let on, but that consideration always disappears the second he sticks his dick in you. He maintains the same rough tempo as though you had never even opened your mouth. Draken's hips slam into yours as he pulls you into him, arms wrapping under your back to eliminate as much space as possible. It might be romantic if it was anyone else.
"What are you doing?" You practically jump out of your seat when you feel his hand on your thigh. The placement is too high to be casual, the touch more like a caress.
"I've always heard things, growing up in the brothel. Even when I play music. It didn’t use to get to me."
"Okay? And how the fuck is that my problem?" Even if you didn't like Emma, you aren't about to start something with someone who isn't available.
"This thing with Emma… it isn't good for her. Gang life is dangerous."
"It’s not like she's separate from it. Her brother is Toman's leader. I wouldn't have even met her if it wasn’t at a Toman party."
"But she can distance herself if she wants. Emma isn't built for violence."
A bitter taste builds up in the back of your throat. Your sukeban gang is loosely allied with Toman. Unlike his dream girl, you are suited to this type of chaos.
"Have you even thought about giving her a choice in this?"
"When she's older, when I'm sure it's not just a crush." The hand creeps higher, until he's running his fingers along the most sensitive part of you. "I know you know it doesn't mean anything.
In reciprocation you wrap arms around him to claw his broad shoulders, thrust your hips upward to get that extra bit of clitoral stimulation to push you over the edge. It's like the moment when a rollercoaster drops; there's no thrill like it and you can't help but scream.
"You're so fucking wet." Each word is punctuated by a heavy thrust.
Faint sounds from the too-thin walls tell you that you're not the only ones seeking transactional pleasure. Distraction and relief is what you offer one another instead of money changing hands, but it's still just as hollow once the brief escape ends.
"Can I come inside you?"
Almost every time he asks. Draken won't beg, but you suspect he's got a strong breeding kink if he's asking for something so risky. He's lucky that you have excellent willpower because you know he doesn't want to be tied down to you.
"No, stupid." You spit out, barely coming down from your climax. He huffs out a laugh, which turns to a groan.
All rhythm is lost. It's as though he is trying to mash your bodies together to create one dysfunctional being. Overstimulation is threatening to make you cry. You're relieved when he groans into your hair, filling the condom.
In the aftermath it's quiet and a little awkward, like always. Draken never seems to know how to disengage after taking time to indulge in his urges. You always do it for him, getting up and throwing your clothes on while saying a casual goodbye. Even if it's in your own room you can easily find an excuse to leave.
Draken is motionless as a statue. The only sound is the rustling of clothes. Until his phone buzzes. You both freeze. It's like an earthquake shook and severed the ground between you. While you know you shouldn't, you glance over at him anyway.
The flush on his face isn't from exertion anymore. He doesn't have to say that the message is from Emma. It’s in the way his body relaxes, how the corners of his lips almost stretch up into a smile.
"You know, you could be doing this with her." You often think it, but now seems as good a time as any to put it out there. Tear off the bandaid now before it can sting any worse.
Draken tenses before gritting his teeth and spitting out a reply. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Why? You're being stupid. Before we started fucking we were friends. So I don't see why you can't talk to me about it like before?"
"No. I don’t fucking want to talk about her."
Draken stands up, uncaring of his nudity. You may not be his size, but you don't back down when he walks up either.
"With me?"
"With you." He snarls, towering over you.
"I think I'm done, Draken. It's not fun anymore." The pressure builds behind your eyes, but you hold it in.
"Wait." He sounds resigned as he takes a little step back. Draken drags a large hand down his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
You resume yanking on your pants. A little faster and rougher than before. By the time Draken decides to say something else, you're fully dressed.
"I'm just not sure how to handle things. I'm in love with Emma, but you—" You reach up to throw a hand over his mouth.
"Stop it. Stop right there. You're in love with Emma." And she loves you too, idiot.
Draken nods his head in agreement, shoulders gravitating downward. It's a surprise when he leans down enough to touch his forehead against your own. So this is it then?
"Bye, Draken."
You kiss your hand where his lips are and then leave his place for what you're sure is the last time. The place where his lips reciprocated on your palm tingles for hours afterward.
Emma
"Fuck off Mikey! We're studying!"
Hearing Emma scream and swear jolts you almost as much as the banging on her bedroom door. If you gasp you don't really notice; her hand covers your mouth to contain your panting to your throat.
The knocking stops. Unintelligible grumbling makes it's way through the crack under the door before you hear footsteps leading away. Her shoulders lower as some of the tension leaves her body. Uncovering your mouth, she lets her hand fall down to your calf. Emma gives it absentminded strokes as she stares at the door.
"If you’re trying to be subtle, I don't think you're succeeding." You comb your fingers through her hair. It got tangled in your fists, it's only fair that you fix it now.
It's been two months since you started 'practicing'. Unnecessary really, since the way Draken pined after her made it obvious that there was nobody else. But she was convinced that growing up in a brothel meant he had to be knowledgeable at the very least. You don't exactly understand how learning to eat pussy will help her in a relationship with Draken, but you aren't about to turn her down either. Especially not now when you're starting to feel like you can't breathe without her.
"Do you… do you think he knows?" Her eyes flick down to your bare breasts. Emma licks her lips before meeting your gaze once more.
"I mean, he's your brother. You would know better than me."
"You're one of his best friends. You know him in a way I never will." Full of surprises today. Emma has never struck you as the most observant person.
"Well…" You consider the way he's been looking at you lately. A bit less like his childhood friend from karate and more like a mystery he's just beginning to comprehend. "Yeah, he might. Or he suspects something."
"Do you think he'll tell Draken?"
"No." This you're confident in. "Draken is his brother by choice, but you're his sister by blood. He would never do something to hurt you."
"Good."
She turns to look at you, eyes watery and smile brittle. Your answering expression fragile as a fossil, doomed to be buried under someone else's history.
"Good."
Hanma
Satisfying. That's the word on the edge of your lips. It's so satisfying seeing your ex (if you could even call him that) caught off-guard.
"Fuck. Say that again." He steadies himself against your kitchen counter.
At the best of times Hanma was restless. It's part of why your fling was so short-lived. There was always some thrill to chase, someone else to eye up. If it hadn't been for your accidental pregnancy you probably wouldn't have ever crossed paths again. It didn't help that he initially wanted you to get an abortion.
"I know you heard me. Mizuki's two now. I want her to have a sibling close in age. And I want that sibling to have the same dad."
"Really?" He sounds so hopeful it almost melts your resolve.
Once Hanma came around to the idea of being a parent, he wanted to be all in. As a father and a partner. But by then he had missed eighth months of your pregnancy; Hanma had spent nearly three full trimesters panicking and sleeping his way through Tokyo. Since then he had never given you any reason to doubt his dedication to fatherhood, but you would never consider him a romantic prospect again.
"Strictly procreation and co-parenting. Once I'm pregnant I don't want to see your dick ever again." You fold your arms across your chest and raise a brow, daring him to challenge you.
Instead Hanma just swallows and gives a resigned nod. His eyes are glassy and it makes you want to throw up all of your organs (especially your heart).
"You're never going to forgive me, are you?"
"Hanma, there's nothing to forgive because we were never really together. I only told you about the pregnancy out of obligation, I never expected you to stick around." Each word is a serrated knife gouging out your chest. If you blink too much you'll cry too.
"I wish you would stop calling me Hanma. I'm Shuji to you. Only you." The tip of his nose is the most adorable shade of red. The same shade your daughter's gets when tears are running down her chubby little cheeks.
"I think it's better if you're not."
"I love you. I fucking love you. There hasn't been a single other person since I came back."
You sigh and let the old, familiar anger crawl it's way back up your throat. "If you can't handle this, I'll find someone else."
"Don’t you fucking dare." He snarls, attitude completely changed. "If another man touches you I'll break all his fingers."
You step forward and pat his cheek, relieved that the heavy moment has passed. He attempts to bite your fingers but you pull them back too quickly for him to catch up. "There's that mercurial fool I've come to expect."
It's so much easier this way, when you fit into your assigned roles without too much complexity. Hanma pines from afar while acting like a toxic asshole up close, and you live inside the armor of coping mechanisms you've constructed for yourself. Grey areas have never been your strength.
"Get yourself tested if you're in, Shuji."
Kakucho
"Pick one." That’s what the leader of Bonten, who you now know is Mikey, said to you.
"What?" You didn't understand what he wanted. Sniffling, you rubbed your nose with the back of a bloody hand. "What do you— what—"
"I don't really want to kill you. I don’t like killing women, and you have some value. But I can't let you go. So pick one of these idiots to marry."
"Yo Mikey what the fuck?" A man with long purple hair yelled.
"I'm not really the settling down type." Said another as he rubbed his chin in thought. He had a long scar going down his face and oozed sleaze.
"I might be." This from a man with the most hideous goatee you had ever seen. Absolutely fucking not.
"Is this really necessary?" A tall man with a jagged scar bisecting his forehead spoke next. He sounded gentler than the rest, almost as if the possibility of hurting a woman in one way or another was painful itself.
The choice, if it could even be called that, was obvious. You pointed at the man who would become your husband. "Him. I choose him."
&&&
Two quiet, distant years. Given this fact, you shouldn't be surprised that he didn't show up for the anniversary dinner you spent hours putting together. In retrospect it was painfully naive to assume that one night together six months would mean as much to him as it does to you. If he doesn't show up to your ultrasounds, why would he make an appearance now? If you were anyone else other than yourself, you wouldn't blame him for wanting to be anywhere other than a babyproofed apartment with a wife he didn't ask for. Instead you decide to spend no more than ten minutes crying in your bedroom before cleaning up the meal he didn't eat.
By the time you emerge your eyes are puffy, your nose swollen and runny, and your resolve as strong as steel. Soon enough your daughter will be here and you won't be able to waste time being sad over a gangster who doesn't care. Putting away the food is quick work, too quick in fact. Same with dealing with the dishes and any remaining mess. All that's left is to put the gift you bought him in his room. You contemplate hiding it in the bottom of your closet, but cowardice isn't what you want your child raised around. So when the kitchen and dining area look untouched, you grab the gift bag from the table and make your way to his bedroom.
It's dark when you open the door. There's not even moonlight to penetrative the shadows, since he left his curtains closed. Even without the light, you have a vague idea of your way around the large bedroom. It's not as though you haven't never been in there, it's just that occasions are few and far between. The most time you've spent in there was when he got shot in the thigh and you helped him recover. You even slept in there with him once, on the night of your daughter's conception.
You pass the dresser, ignoring that the sole photo in his room doesn't have you in it. The gift goes directly on his bed so he doesn't miss it. You should leave, but you can't quite bring yourself to yet. Instead you stroke the soft bedding, taking in the crisp masculine scent that coats his room. Everything in Kakucho's room is orderly and clean. Just like the man himself. Nonetheless you fluff his pillows, just to feel like you're contributing something to his life. You can't help but dwell on the last time you felt this bed underneath your fingers.
You're still laying over top of him, filled with his softening cock, when he clears his throat and begins to shift underneath you.
"We shouldn't do this again."
You stiffen and force yourself to sit up, still straddling him. "What do you mean?"
"I don't want to put you at risk even more than you already are just by being married to me. I don’t want to die in a shootout and have you mourn my loss."
"Is that why you never bring me to any Bonten events?" Every time you see him leaving the apartment dressed in one of his finer suits, you choke up a little knowing you aren't invited to this part of his life.
"It’s for the best." His gaze is steel beneath you, unyielding. Kakucho effortlessly lifts you off of him and places you gently on the bed. "It’s bad enough that you are forced to be here at all."
Feeling both self-conscious and indignant, you cover your breasts with one arm. "The best for who? For your foolish wife who can't seem to help herself? Or for you? Our marriage isn't exactly the secret you seem to think it is, so it can't be me you're trying to protect!"
"You don't know what I've lost!" Kakucho screams at you. He's never so much as raised his voice around you before this moment. It jolts you out of your anger. Your sinuses burn as you hold back the tears. In the moonlight you think you can see tears building up along his waterline too.
"A life of crime is a life perpetually on the verge of death."
"All life is lived right next door to death! People die slipping in the shower. There's no guarantee that a moral life will be a long one. If you’re going to be a gangster the least you can do is not be a coward."
He doesn't dispute you as you storm out and slams the door.
Lost in recollection, you don't realize that you're sitting on his bed until you hear knocking on the door. You welcome the unexpected intrusion. It's hard to suppress your affection when you're caressing his pillow.
The security staff for your building was vetted by Kakucho, so you're not worried about who it might be. Nonetheless you look through the peephole to check. You're met with purple hair and fidgety hands tapping out some rhythm on your doorframe.
"Rindou!" You open the door to see one of your only friends in the whole Bonten organization.
He gives you a half smirk before he drops it, resuming his usual dour expression. You have been told he used to smile a lot when he was younger, but the pleasure faded from his face over his years in Bonten.
"Hey. Wanted to check up on you."
"Why? Is everything okay with Kakucho?" While you do spend time together every so often, the only time he ever showed up this late was when your husband got shot.
"Yeah, yeah. He's just working late with Mikey and Sanzu."
"Did he send you?" Smother the hope in your heart.
"Nah. I just know he's been working a lot of late nights these days, and you're here on your own." He shrugs, looking somewhere over your shoulder. "I hate thinking of you being all by yourself. What if something happened?"
"Oh." There's a new feeling sizzling through your nerves. Something unfamiliar, never before considered, but not unpleasant. "Thank you, Rin. I can call you Rin, right?"
A red flush begins to bloom across his face. "Of course."
It occurs to you that you're on the precipice of change. A fork in the road. You take a step closer to Rindou and consider your options. Your swollen belly sits between you two, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Do you ever wonder what life would be like if I chose you instead?"
"What? Why are you asking me this?" He glances over his own shoulders now, gently pushing you back into your apartment. He scans your face for some kind of confirmation before stepping over the threshold hinself. "You trying to get me in trouble?"
"You're the one who showed up here in the middle of the night."
"Ah fuck. Fine. Yes, I do. I mean I think all of the guys who aren't involved with someone think about it too."
"Really?" Why it hadn't crossed your mind before, you don't know. Of course they think of the time their boss almost commanded them to get married. "I mean, I guess it isn't everyday your boss forces a bride on you."
"I mean, yeah. But that isn't it."
"Hmm?" You want him to continue, daring to imagine whatever he says will soothe your aching soul.
"I'm just saying. If it were me in Kakucho's shoes, I would never work late. Not unless Mikey held a gun to my head."
Earlier tonight it felt like happiness would never shine its light on you again, but here you are grinning. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."
"Hey, hey. It's okay."
Before you ask him what he means, his hands cup your face as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. It's been so long since a man has touched you. Rindou's hands smell metallic and his calluses are rough but somehow it's still perfect. Now that you're aware, the tears really begin to flow.
"I… I didn't know. Didn't mean to." Embarrassment threatens to pull you away from the sweetness of the moment like a vicious tide. You sink your teeth into your lower lip to keep from sobbing.
"It’s okay, baby." Rindou leans down and presses his forehead to yours.
Human contact has never felt so divine, so necessary. It's just dawning on you how much Kakucho has left you wanting in the most vulnerable time of your life.
You're both so distracted that you don't hear the little ding of the elevator.
Kisaki
It had been a mistake going home with him that first night. You knew it then. The subsequent nights were no less foolish. You knew that too. So you should have known better than to trust someone you barely knew with your health and wellbeing, should have insisted he used a condom and not trusted his word when he said he couldn't get you pregnant.
It wasn't so long ago that you found yourself in a club after a messy breakup, looking for a distraction. Maybe that's why you went home with a stranger. You just happened to glance up from the bar to the VIP area on the second floor. He was up there, leaning over the railing and swirling his drink while he talked to another man. Your first thought was "Who wears a suit to a club in July?". If he hadn't happen to look in your direction at that moment, you probably would never have ended up in Kisaki Tetta's bed.
"Why?"
"Why what?" He clenches his jaw, a tell you've come to realize means he's holding himself back. "Say what you mean."
"Why did you lie and say you couldn't get me pregnant?"
"Why did you you trust me? You know who I am."
It was obvious before you even made it to his penthouse. Kisaki hadn't tried to be inconspicuous when he dismissed his employees, when he opened his full wallet to pay for your drinks, when he called his driver to take you home. His forearms may have been bare of the tattoos you had come to expect from criminals, but he was no less dangerous.
"Fuck you." You threw the positive test at his face. He may not be as physically fit or imposing as someone like Hanma, but it was easy enough for him to catch it anyway.
Suddenly his office is too small and you feel like there are invisible hands squeezing your throat. You shoot up and stumble away from the chair.
"Where are you going?"
"I did what I set out to do. You would have found out even if I didn't tell you."
You wrap your arms around yourself. The December chill isn't apparent from the warmth of his office, but his grey glare is just as biting. Kisaki stands up and makes confident strides to where you're backing up.
"So I ask again, where are you going?"
"Answer my question first."
"I've been chasing after someone, for over a decade at this point. She's always escaped my grasp, no matter what I do. You won't."
"What the fuck? So I'm just a way to pass the time?"
"Isn't that what I am to you?" He gives you that sardonic grin that never fails to make your blood boil.
"Then why? If we don't mean anything to each other, why go so far?"
Your back hits the door and there's no further to go. Kisaki stands in front of you placing his hands on your shoulders and a light kiss on your forehead.
"Let's go to the see that new exhibit at the museum you mentioned last week. They don't need me here for the rest of the day."
His placating tone tells you that he's never going to answer your question.
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"You know I remember you. I remember seeing you around Kyoto with that cute little spacey look on your face. You probably didn't even notice me half the time from how zoned-out you were."
You have a vision of the one and only Gojo Satoru and you know you have to warn him about what you saw.
features mild smut
A/N: I do, in fact, still write for JJK. Just a little surprise oneshot I out together in two days.
*meme not mine
*dividers by @ diviniyae
*member of @maplewood-valley
You had to ask around to get his number. Sure, you had seen him in passing and even exchanged hellos. But with you being a few years younger and based in Kyoto, there was no real opportunity or motivation to get to know one another.
"I hear you've been trying to find me."
You can hear his smile through the phone. It's more likely a smirk, something entirely too pleased. You think it probably looks good on him, just like everything else does. (You aren't immune to his charm, even if he doesn't often cross your mind.)
"I'm sorry to bother you, Gojo-san. But it's incredibly important."
"Sure." You can't tell whether or not this is dismissive; you just don't know him well enough to figure out what his specific phrasing and tone means.
"I don't know how aware you are of my technique, Future Flash, but—"
"I hear people whispering. It's not great for actual fighting, but it's a coveted technique. If you were from a clan you would probably be fielding marriage proposals by now."
"Oh, um, I guess." It catches you off-guard. You had a vague notion that people are interested in seeing the future, but you didn't your technique would be valued so highly. "Nobody has ever said anything like that to me."
"Like I said. You're not from a clan, so nobody is trying the traditional arranged marriage route. But I wouldn't be surprised if someone from the Zen'in or Kamo clans takes a casual interest in you."
"Thanks for the heads up, I guess." It takes a moment for your brain to recalibrate. "Right. So you know I get glimpses of the near future, though they aren't set in stone."
You take a deep breath of the humidity summer air before launching in. "I saw you in a train station. I don't know which one. You were surrounded by humans and curses all frozen in place. A couple of the curses were unlike anything I have ever seen. They're humanoid, radiating energy beyond any special grade I have ever heard of. A little bit of what I imagine Sukuna to be like."
You take a calculated risk and decide to reveal a little bit more about your technique. "Sometimes it's more than just a look at upcoming events. Sometimes I hear my own voice telling me important details that I'm not seeing in this limited picture."
"Really? I've never heard that part before."
"That’s because I've never told anyone. I've always had the feeling that it would be dangerous to share just how much of the future I can see." You feel nauseous over sharing your secret, but this one time it's truly necessary.
"Smart."
"Thanks." I guess. "In this vision I'm screaming at myself. I've never done that before, I've never been so panicked. The voice is telling me two things. The first is that you have to kill the special grade curses before anything else. If you don't, you'll have more blood on your hands than ever before. The exception is that you have to leave the curse with the buns and the black line on his face. He's important, but I don't know why."
On the other end Gojo is silent. You hope he's taking you seriously. There is no hope for you otherwise.
"The second message is cut short." You struggle to maintain your composure. It probably wouldn't help your case for him to know how rattled you are. "All I get out is 'He is coming' before I hear myself gurgling. I think it's the sound of myself choking on my own blood."
Again you're met with silence. You take a couple deep, but quiet, breaths while you wait.
"Shit. That sounds scary." Gojo laughs and you feel like crying.
"Scary doesn't cover it." You feel your jaw clenching.
"Listen, I appreciate the heads up. But you don't have to worry."
"I think I do, otherwise I wouldn't have had that vision.
"Well thanks. Try not to make yourself throw up or something." Gojo is still laughing as he hangs up.
You think about hopping on a train to Tokyo just to try to hit him, but you know his technique wouldn't let you anyway.
&&&
You don't control when your future flash comes to you, or what it shows you. Today this is to your great detriment.
You're in the back of a car on your way to a funeral home for a mission. The tingly cold you associated with visions washes over you and your body goes limp. You're no longer in the car, in the present time. Instead you're floating upward toward the future.
There's panting above you, heavy breathing and the most delicious friction between your legs. You're hot enough to sweat as you cling to the searing body thrusting over top of your own. Pressing your breasts into his body, you cry out his name.
"Satoru! Don't— don't stop."
"Oh fuck I love when you say my name. You're never allowed to call me Gojo again."
You look up to see the most entrancing blue eyes you've ever witnessed gazing back down at you. They're filled with adoration, glassy with lust. The moment passes as plants his face into the pillow to pound even harder into your body.
His cock is made for you, fitting perfectly into the tight space created for him. You're symbiotic beings, meant to thrive together. How could you not have realized this before?
"Can I cum inside you?"
You come back to your body in the present before you can hear your answer, but you already know what you're going to say. You try to hold onto the anger you felt after that phone call, and then you try to forgive yourself for feeling enamoured with such an asshole.
&&&
The next time you speak he's calling you. After losing half of your left arm to the post-Shibuya Japan landscape, you are fighting an uphill battle against the bleak ocean that is depression. It is only your vision, that vision, that has keeps you going. When you aren't helping treat injured sorcerers to the best of your ability, you are staring at your phone in anxious anticipation. It is a cold November evening, just past midnight, when your patience finally pays off.
"Hello my all-knowing mochi. Have you been waiting for me."
"Mochi?" You can feel a hot blush spreading across your cheeks. You've had relationships in the past, but no pet name ever affected you like this.
"No 'Oh Gojo! I thought you died or went insane or blah blah blah'?"
"I knew I would hear from you again." You confess what you suspect he already knows. "I knew you wouldn't have lost your mind in there, even if it was really awful or boring."
"Ha! I knew it!" Gojo sounds delighted.
"Is that what you called to tell me?" It's not what you meant to say, but you are eager to know. It's hard to be patient when you can finally see the light at the end of the darkest tunnel.
"Why are you still in Kyoto?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" If you were talking to anyone else, you might get annoyed with how all over the place this conversation is. Your social battery has plummeted since you lost your arm.
"Because I'm here. Don't you want to see your muse in one piece?"
"You're not my muse! I don't control what I see. Please don't make it sound like I'm obsessed with you." You try to reason with him. On the other side of the call you can hear Gojo snickering. Now you really are getting frustrated, future love life be damned. "Did you call in the middle of the night just to bother me?"
"Well I wouldn't have to call if you were in Tokyo!"
You sigh. You'd rather not be the one to initiate any further contact because then it really will sound like you're fixated on him. (You are, but he doesn't need to know that.)
"You know I remember you. I remember seeing you around Kyoto with that cute little spacey look on your face. You probably didn't even notice me half the time from how zoned-out you were."
"I'm not that spacey!" You are; you've got a reputation for having your head in the clouds. It's easier to refute that than address the 'cute' comment anyway.
"If you're not going to come to Tokyo, I'll just have to come see you in Kyoto." His voice drops. "I owe you. Really. That night could have gone very differently if I hadn't gotten your warning."
"I thought you weren't taking it seriously." You were a complete asshole about it.
"I didn't want to, but I've mistakes in the past that I don't want to repeat."
You don't ask him about it. Everyone already knows. Instead you change the subject. "I should probably come to Tokyo. Don't you have a big battle to prepare for?"
On the other end of the call Gojo laughs and then gives you his address. "Tokyo's a wreck, but there's plenty of space on the Gojo compound for you to stay."
"Stay? With you?" You're surprised. Invitations to a clan's central base are not given out lightly.
"Like I said. I owe you."
Once again he hangs up the phone without a proper goodbye. You decide you'll scold him over his rude behaviour in person as you pack a bag for Tokyo.
He's a piece of shit, but somehow he ended up being your piece of shit. Maybe because you are the only one of your classmates who will speak to him. Maybe because you don't come from a clan, don't have to deal with the politics of it all. Most likely because you are a woman who refuses to humour him and his bullshit. So it's how you end up with him at the piercer, giggling while he pretends he doesn't feel the needles slip through his earlobe. It's why he ends up sitting on the floor between your legs while you work the bleach into his hair, placing a tender kiss against your knee that he would later deny. This is the reason why you often wake up laying against his bare chest, hoping nobody comes looking for either of you before class.
"Don’t be a bitch about it."
"Don’t be an insecure little baby-man about it." You snap back, used to the misogynistic armor he cloaks himself in. As if he hasn't spent nights whispering his insecurities in your hair. "Clan business isn't my business."
"How am I supposed to pick a wife if you're not there with me?"
At this your drop your water bottle. "Excuse me?"
He grins. "You're excused."
"No seriously Naoya. What the fuck?" You glare at him with your arms crossed. He rolls his eyes and picks up your bottle like you expected.
"We've graduated. It's expected of the next clan leader to start producing heirs. You know that." He mimics your pose, smug smile still plastered on his annoying face.
"I…" The red heat of your anger falters. You do know. It's not as though you haven't heard about your other classmates from clans doing the same thing. Bodies have always been currency and tools in the jujutsu world. "But you— you never brought it up before now."
Naoya waves an arm dismissively as he turns away to get one of the towels hanging behind his door.
"You stink like sex." He laughs and tosses you the other towel. "Come on. We have to be there in an hour."
60 minutes to process the ending of one of the most significant chapters of your life. 60 short minutes where Naoya is still yours.
&&&
His father is late, but it's fine because it gives you extra time to contemplate the fact that you never said 'I love you' to him and now you never will. Whether or not you want to is another question, one you would prefer not to answer now.
"Annoying fucking old man." Naoya sips sake while complaining about his father. You've never met him, but you've heard enough over the years to know you won't enjoy his company. "Always has to be the most important asshole in the room."
"Sounds familiar." You poke his shoulder while ignoring your own glass. Nausea is already threatening to ruin your evening, you don't need to add alcohol to the mix.
"You can fuck right off too." He replies without any real bite. Since you earned Naoya's begrudging respect years ago you have found you can say almost anything to him without actually upsetting him.
Before you can needle him anymore, the shoji door slides open and three unfamiliar men enter the room. They all have similar faces to Naoya's, so it's a safe assumption that they're all Zenin. You sit up straighter and smooth your kimono. Naoya stands and bows and you rush to follow his lead. All these formalities are unfamiliar to you.
Unsurprisingly Naoya doesn't introduce you, and the men begin to talk as though you aren't there. For the first time you feel a stab of pity for his future wife. Life in the Zenin clan will not be easy for her.
Enough time passes that you begin to wonder where the woman of the hour is. The afternoon has officially crossed over into fashionably late territory and you're beginning to get bored. You lean over to whisper into Naoya's ear, regardless of tact. "I thought you brought me here to meet your marriage candidate. Where is she?"
"Did I say that? I meant that I wanted my father to meet my choice in fiance." He whispers back. The man across from him raises an eyebrow in displeasure.
"Okay, and?" Even if the jealousy burned you from the inside out, the thought of someone standing Naoya up sears your chest too.
"Well you're here, aren't you?" He speaks louder now, laughing.
"Zenin Naoya! You asshole!" You stop caring about appearances and manners altogether.
His hand finds yours under the table. It has never felt so warm.
YUKI
It's akin to being struck by lightning. You have never believed in love at first sight, but something about seeing Yuki pop her hip and ask you what your type is shakes you to your very core.
"You."
She laughs, blonde hair bouncing against her shaking shoulders. "Oh you're cute kid."
"I'm not a kid. I just graduated." Two decades of life surely means you're no longer a child.
"Still a kid to me." She shrugs, grin never leaving her face.
"Take me on. As an apprentice, or an assistant, or anything you have room for." You plead. It doesn't matter how sudden this is. There's no way you'll just let this feeling, just let her slip through your fingers.
"Why should I?" Any attitude in her voice is softened by the way the corners of her lips still curl upward.
"I don't want to die here." You confess. The words leap from your mouth of their own accord. Part of you wishes you could take it back, but it's also a relief to have the truth exist outside of your own mind.
Yuki steps forward and places a hand on your shoulder. Her thumb soothes the tension you always carry in your back.
"I travel a lot. I'm in Japan less than half the year." She shakes her head, but you can already hear yes in between the words she's said. It's not a 'no'.
"I've always wanted to see the world outside of Japan." You gesture around you with a wide sweep of your arm.
"I can't promise you whatever it is you think you see in me."
She's divine. A sunbeam in the dark halls of jujutsu. There's never been anyone like her in your path before.
"I don't need you to."
You've never been like this, don't know where the words come from, but they ring so true.
"I can love you enough for the both of us."
YUTA
"It’s like all of you guys are in heat or something." Panda is chuckling as you all watch Yuta spar with Yuji.
You sit on the grass with him, Maki, and Inumaki. Kugisaki and Fushiguro are nearby, giving the first and second years pointers since Gojo no longer has the cursed energy to demonstrate. Sometimes it feels pointless to spar after surviving something as intense as the Shibuya and the Culling Games. But Tengen's barrier is getting weaker everyday, and nobody is sure what will happen once it's gone completely.
"In heat? What are you on about?" Maki scowls, but a slight blush across her scarred face betrays her.
"You know." Panda coos at her. "Remember in first year when you used to pine after Yuta?"
"I wouldn't bring it up too much, Nobara loves her hammer almost as much as she loves Maki." You join in on the teasing. "I think her aim is even better since she lost her eye."
"You're no better." Panda pokes your face and then points at Inumaki. "It’s like you're in a competition to see who can pine harder. At least she moved on."
Inumaki makes an 'x' with his arms and shakes his head vigorously.
Before you can think of a witty reply, Yuji hits the ground with a laugh and concedes. With the match over, Overpowered Yuta becomes Awkward Yuta once more. He pulls Yuji up with one hand and then steps back into the unsure version of himself you met four years ago. His confidence has grown, but he's not a fundamentally different person than before. You can't hear what he says as he rubs the back of his neck and grimaces.
Yuji returns to his friends while Yuta comes to stand in front of you. He says your name in a soft voice.
"Can we talk?"
It always surprises you a bit when Yuta speaks to you first. His bonds with Maki and Toge always seem stronger than yours. When you first met you were too cocky and dismissive, and ever since you haven't been able to find your footing. It doesn't help that meeting his eyes always makes your heart beat extra hard in your humbled chest.
"Of course." You reply without hesitation. Anything he asks for you'll give him.
Yuta pulls you up just like he did with Yuji, only he doesn't let go of your hand as he leads you away. It's odd, but maybe he's feeling nostalgic and emotional since graduation is nearly upon you.
Yuta pulls you behind a small copse of trees, where anyone's vision of you two will be partially obscured. His hand finds your side. Yuta's grip is warm and firm at your waist. Your relationship has never been touched by physical affection like this before.
"You're mine, right?"
You must have misheard him. "What?"
"Well," His confidence wavers. "You feel it too, don't you?"
"Feel—" You cut yourself off, heat scorching your cheeks.
"Don’t you think about it too? How I belong beside you? Inside you?" He's closer now, whispering but tilting your chin upward.
"Am I dreaming?" Never in a million years would you have assumed that you would be the lucky one to hear Yuta's dirty talk.
"If you are, close your eyes and see if you can wake yourself up."
Before your eyelids even flutter shut he's leaning down into you. When his lips press against yours everything else falls away. Rika's strange voice, Panda cheering you on, and everything else anyone says. Yuta's tongue lightly asks your lips for permission, before finding your own.
When you pull away for air you gaze into his tired eyes. The dark circles never leave and the anxiety lingers, even if he's grown into the role his abilities forced him into. The vulnerability alongside his strength is just one of the many things that pulls you to him like a magnet.
"I think I'm awake." The corner of your mouth tugs upward and your cheeks are hot.
"Can't be sure. Better come to my bed to test it out."
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
making every conversation into being about The Character with the same reliability and conviction of a youth pastor going “you know who else partied? our lord and savior”
