#!dark content

      grimmjow’s adjuchas form was la pantera; a slender, panther-like animal that dominated the perpetually pale white dunes of hueco mundo. so naturally, (with my brain falling into grimmjow-specific rut) i’d like to believe that grimmy has a scent kink. and he’d never know nor expect to have one before crossing paths with you, a damned human, he’d curse in his mind.  there’s just something intrinsically wild and unhinged about grimmjow, and loving the way you smell ━ even to extreme extents ━ is just one of the ways he displays his affection for you. so, this segues into grimmjow getting very possessive over you very quickly and is almost …territorial with this pretty human girl that’s close with soul reaper ichigo and his friends.

it’s when he initially acts on his own, gathers his group of lower ranking arrancar, and invades the world of the living that he discovers you and your unique but slightly impressive spiritual pressure; impressive in the sense it was enough to see at least see spiritual beings like hollows and shinigami. during all the chaos and on his search for this ichigo kurosaki he’s been hearing about, he spots you on a sidewalk, engaging in what looked like a sprint, farther and farther away from a fight between one of his men and another shinigami he didn’t recognize or care enough to know the name of. from where he stood in the air, he could see then clear look of fear in your eyes. your facial expression was showed you were deeply distressed, your body visibly trembled━ 

then his analysis came to a pause. wait.

your body.

getting a little closer to the grown, grimmjow was able to get a closer look at what pieces of fabric were hugging that...voluptuous figure of yours. while dodging fall debris, maneuvered through the streets of karakura town in a baby blue, spaghetti strapped tank top that stopped just above your pierced, pudgy navel (the blue-haired arrancar had never seen a piece of jewelry placed there before, but found himself staring at it for longer than what was necessary), black yoga pants whose hem reached past your ankles, black ugg tasman slippers, and to top it off, your long black cardigan flew wildly in the wind as you ran. all his senses were sharper now that he was a more powerful, full-fledged espada, so he could hear the faint sound of clear beads from your butt-length hair violently bouncing against each other, giving you an individual style that grimmjow couldn’t help but find remarkable. and then without warning or a distinguishable explanation, some primal notion deep within his being, felt himself immediately attracted to you. but of course, being supercilious as he was, the thick fog of pride fogging his vision, he rebuked any and all lingering thoughts, curiosity, attraction towards you. you were a human for crying out loud. what was worse, you didn’t even have any powers like that orange haired woman orihime or that other strong guy, chad. they were human too, so what was different about you. not having the patience to figure it out, his ( initial ) regard for you plummeted and ultimately decided to ignore you so and carry on with what he initially came here for: to find a worthy opponent and fight them.

and that same wind that passed through your knee length cardigan floated irregularly through the atmosphere, making a slow and aimless ascension to the clouds that hung lazily in the navy-blue sky━ inching closer to the sexta espada. the air infused with your scent entered the vicinity in which his sharp nose was able to reach. the breezed wisped across his strong face and jaw, he inhaled it unintentionally and— God his mind literally blanked. grimmjow’s train of thought was abruptly flung off the rails and momentarily lost concentration on the fight he was about to engage in. he swore the hot blood that rushed down to his crotch from his brain was instantaneous, he almost lost balance.

what was that smell? and why in the hell did it smell…so good? his mind wandered, unknowingly becoming hopelessly enraptured by your aroma and wanting to fulfill the instantaneous urge to follow the scent, like a fucking dog or something. and when he remembered you running, panting heavily to safety ━ past his general direction ━ he put two and two together and figured out it was you. the ambrosial smell was coming from you, from that plush body of yours. it had taken his olfactory senses by the horns, and grimmjow nearly lost all his wits, the urge to abandon the whole fight with carrot top just to seek you out and take you for himself was getting stronger with each passing minute. and it was obvious he’s not good with impulse control at all, so the fact he had so much self-restraint to focus on the current task at hand was a feat in itself.

he was able to spot your figure one last time before you disappeared into one of the buildings a few blocks down. while senselessly beating ichigo into the asphalt of the street, there was a lingering thought in the back of his mind that liked seeing shade of blue against your mocha skin. 

maybe because the hue was coincidentally similar to the hair on his head.

soon enough the battle was over, and when he returned to his own quarters in las noches, laid on his bed and took a moment to really process everything? he could feel himself spiraling, but this time he didn’t do anything to stop it; he let his thoughts hurl themselves off the deep end. his senses were swirling, your pleasant odor imprinting on him more deeply than he had expected or anticipated it to. he needed to see you━ no, to smell you again. little did he know these budding desires would cause him to become enamored with every aspect of your being in the very near future. with grimmy being who he is, he already began to scheme and figure out a time when to go back to the world of the living. he didn’t even know what he was going to do but he just knew that he had to satiate these relentless thoughts. 

he could feel his member stiffening again when he remembered how just how you looked, with that frightened expression laced in your countenance. that paired with your sensual figure and how you smelled? without giving it a second thought, he scrambled to get his pants at his ankles so he could wrap his large palms around his girthy dick quick enough. he gave himself a few experimental pumps, precum was quick to bud from his slit when your round tits flashed in his mind’s eye. he then imagined how your aroma mixed with the scent of passionate sweaty sex as he fucked you silly would smell like, and just how much sweeter your voice could sound with his name dripping from your plump lips. with his mind racing, shame quickly evaporated from his body as he tightened his grip, his hand movements grew faster and alternating between different wrist movements. grimmjow cursed himself through deep groans for being aroused enough to even do something like this because of some human woman he saw on the street in the world of the living, but the poor baby couldn’t help it. 

grimmjow got so lost in the pleasure, in the feeling of how his heavy cock felt in his grasp and in his fantasies of bouncing you up and down his length, breasts jiggling in his face with his mouth clasped onto one nipple, like a baby desperate for milk from its mother. and he wanted all of your ‘milk’, and he desperately wanted to give you all of his; he wanted to fill you up with it. after overstimulating himself a little and having mind-blowing, sheet-gripping orgasm that left his chest rising and falling like waves against the seashore, his hips lazily thrusted into his fist on their own volition to prolong this euphoric sensation for as long as possible. usually, post-nut clarity was supposed to bring you to your senses, to a more rational and calm state of mind. 

and bring grimmjow to his senses, it did. because he stared at the unnatural amount of his solidifying seed in his palm, on his lap and near the hole in his abdomen, one thing became increasingly clear: releasing an abundant amount of cum didn’t make him want you less— it made him want you more. because grimmjow knew well enough he’d drive himself crazy with these kinds of perverse behaviors and thoughts of you had he done nothing to resolve the issue. with you on his mind, he wouldn’t be able to focus on the tasks as one of lord aizen’s elite arrancar.

eventually, around the time the fourth espada ulquiorra would coerce and kidnap orihime to come with him to hueco mundo, grimmjow decided that was the best time to. . . apprehend you as well. he didn’t even have a valid reason other than wanting to keep you for himself and utilize you as he saw fit. quite frankly he doubted anyone, including aizen himself, would care if he brought back a little something extra from the world of the living, especially if this ‘something’ was a human who was no imminent threat to aizen’s plans. if anything, this could only benefit him, since you were one of ichigo’s close friends and if needed, you could be used as leverage.

it would be at night when your fate would be sealed, the sky practically empty and starless. the lights from the many buildings and streetlights outshone any stellar body that hung up above besides the moon. and high in the atmosphere is where the garganta that came from hueco mundo pried itself open, like the mouth of a monster about to devour its prey. except the ‘predator’ in question was actually the sixth espada; and of course, you were the unsuspecting prey. his sapphire irises scanned over the vast area of the city, starting at the place where he last fought with ichigo.

memory served him correctly ━ probably because he was so determined━ and recalled the general area where your living space was. using his sonído, grimmjow already found himself hovering above the apartment complexes, and began to seek out your unique spiritual pressure. within seconds he was able to distinguish yours from the faint traces of the other humans living on this block, and he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating from excitement or not, but he was sure he could pick up your scent from all the way where he levitated in the air. he had to suppress a growl as he followed his senses, and made an abrupt appearance on your terrace, which you unfortunately left cracked open because your bedroom was much too stuffy and desperately craved circulation from the cooler, night air. 

the blue-haired espada let out a sort of derisive chuckle at your blatant ignorance. 

it’s only when you opened the door to your bathroom that led directly to your bedroom did you notice that a stranger had entered your apartment. your heart dropped when you saw grimmjow’s tall, lanky but muscular figure sitting on your bed, his elbows on his knees and his eyes trained on you. he was like a cat, with how his gaze was so fierce and consuming. a wave of an unfamiliar fear washed over your body and mind, completely drowning you. your legs instinctively moved backwards back into the bathroom, your flight response taking prominence and deciding you’d barricade yourself in there. you weren’t even a hundred percent certain it would work, but you couldn’t just stand there.

but grimmjow was much, much faster. faster than what you could comprehend. 

his movements were so high speed, you had almost thought you imagined him sitting there, because by the time you blinked out of your stupefied stare, he was gone.

but your horror was unfortunately realized. in fact, you were not hallucinating the whole ordeal, because an unpleasant, static ━almost booming noise ━ rung out in your ear, and suddenly the intruder was behind you, one hand gripping your throat with unnatural strength, cutting off vital oxygen supplies to your heart and lungs, and the other harshly gripping one of your arms to keep you still. 

“scream, and i’ll snap your arm like a fucking twig. it won’t be hard for someone like me, y’know.” you tried very hard not focus on his rough palm on your windpipe, and how easy it would be to delude yourself into a line of thinking that, had then circumstances been different and you were already acquainted with one another, this could have led to an entirely different outcome.

but, at the moment all you could do was gasp raggedly, your mind slowly falling into delirium because you couldn’t breathe. using what little space you were allowed to turn your head back towards your assailant, your eyes widened at just how ferocious he looked. he looked human, but you knew he wasn’t; the skeletal row of sharp, saber-like fangs on his right jaw and the concerningly large hole in his stomach told you that; it was unsettling. what was even scarier about him though, was that he looked a little familiar to you. why did it seem like you’ve caught a glimpse of his face before?

“stupid woman. . . leaving your doors open like that. don’t you know that you’re inviting practically any body into your home? you’re lucky that it was me, and not some creep.” he taunted you sinisterly as his grip on your neck and arm grew tighter, and now your struggle to breath became more obvious when you started to see blotches in your vision. the balance beam tipped dangerously back and forth between arousal and the fear that ran through your brain at the thought you might actually die.

“w━wh..who a-are. . . you. . .?” you had so much to say, so many questions. but you physically didn’t have any strength to voice them and oppose him, and you certainly didn’t want a broken arm.

“doesn’t matter. all you need to know is that you’re coming with me. and no, you don’t have a choice so don’t try and make a big fuss about it.” grimmjow stated tersely, not waiting for your compliance or a response. it’s not like you could speak clearly anyway. 

given with how close grimmjow was to you, your scent violently invaded his nostrils, and he couldn’t help but lean down slightly from his height and take a deep inhale into your braided hair that was tied down with a fine, silk scarf. even a barrier such as that couldn’t stop your aroma to waft into his personal space. standing from behind you he also got a good view of your cleavage in the v-cut oversized black shirt you wore, and how your nipples reacted to the cold air from outside. he had to physically stop himself from ripping your panties off, gagging you with them, and stuffing your cunt by confining your arm into a tighter grasp. you thought it would break if you even moved an inch. he figured he’d only suffocate you, since he admittedly preferred not use force on you; you’re too pretty and fragile for that. grimmjow shook his head at the fleeting thought. he hardly even acquired you for 5 minutes, and you were already permeating and changing his ideals.

a transient thought of how sexy the man behind you was, how nice his chiseled chest felt against your back flickered through your mind before you succumbed to your unconscious.

by the time you awoke, your eyes adjusted to him leaning over your horizontal figure on the surprisingly soft bed, his nose once again in the junction between your neck and collarbone. you groggily recalled him getting a good whiff of you before you lost consciousness, but it didn’t occur to you how strange it was until you saw his handsome figure hovering over you like this. you lifted your hands to touch his taut pectorals in an attempt to put some distance in between the two of you, but of course, he was big and strong and wouldn’t move that easily.

“h-hey! . . .where am i? and what the fuck are y—“

he stopped anymore protests from flowing out of your mouth by slamming his hand over your jugular, which caused a startled yelp— one that sounded too close to a mewl— to tumble past your lips. you stared at the tendrils of baby blue hair that fell across his forehead as he lifted his face to look at you.

you couldn’t even maintain eye contact for five seconds; his acute stare quickly overwhelming you on top of the flurry of thoughts that wanted to ponder on his mean, but ruggedly beautiful and proportionate face. you felt shame heat your cheeks and throughout your body at these thoughts.

“stop. . . moving. and watch your fucking mouth when talking me, woman.”

there was something about the dangerous glimmer in his eye, the tone in his voice, and the blade strapped to his hip that you just now noticed was nudging your leg, that told you not to say anything more. the longer you processed this, the longer you stared at the gaping hole in his abdomen, the longer you eyed the arrancar taking prolonged whiffs of your skin, the more frightened you became. you reminded yourself that this — none of this was normal.

you were kidnapped. taken against your will to come to a place you could only assume was the place where all these hollow creatures came from, and the only reason you even knew that was because you were so close with ichigo. you felt your heart tremble and shake against your ribcage at the very real possibility that no one knew where you were or just who took you. you weren’t even sure if anyone was currently out looking for you.

pure terror of all the unknowns running laps in your brain caused the blood in your veins to run cold and freeze over. clenching your eyes shut as if you were trying to block out the impending dread, you tried to ignore the heat that blossomed and penetrated your thinly clothed waist when grimmjow’s fingers brushed against the fabric and fully took hold of your flesh in his possessive grip. the guttural groan he let out against your shoulder caused your body to buzz in pleasure. “i don’t know what the hell it is but you smell so. . . fucking good.”

time gradually passed—you don’t even know how long since the sky always resembled midnight and you had no watch or your phone — but your mind started to move away from your friends and lifestyle back in the world of the living and became accustomed to this life as grimmjow’s. . . .human. too accustomed, in fact. you weren’t even sure what you were to him, other than the fact he was always with you to some extent. he was always there watching over you, glaring at you and whatnot, always smelling you. had your mind become so deprived of genuine human interaction that you found this behavior endearing?

perhaps.

in a way, his clinginess made you feel safe, it made you feel protected. like— if you really wanted to let your mind fall down that rabbit hole— that no harm would ever come within 5 feet of you, so as long as the sexta espada was looming over your form from behind. 

as for grimmjow, normally, he would have harshly judged people who acted this ill-composed, depraved or obsessive, but now he was no better than them with the way he acted around you. there was just. . . some element that drew him to you, like a moth to a flickering flame, and it all started when your beguiling fragrance wafted up to his height in the sky that night. he was turning into a feral animal that needed to be kept on a leash; if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was reverting back to his pantera form.

if anybody’s gaze even so much as lingered on you for a bit too long, he would feel offended (why? he still didn’t know himself). his short temper would ultimately get the best of him, instinctively giving them a venomous “the hell you staring at? huh!?”, paired with his irritated and equally sharp glare. he’d rest a lazy hand on your hip or draped across your shoulder for good measure. 

and that’s another thing you noticed during your indefinite stay here at las noches, the name of the vast, castle-like building you’d soon discover later: grimmjow always seemed to be touching you in some shape or form. an arm across your shoulder blades, a palm on your curvy ass, a hand around your throat— usually to threaten you but you couldn’t help but be aroused and you were pretty sure he was well aware of this too— even when you slept. he quite aggressively insisted you share a bed with him, and his muscled forearm would always be perched across your torso. it wasn’t necessarily in a loving way, but more territorial. and when you’d wake up to find him closer than when you drifted off to sleep, with his nose wedged on your shoulder and a big hand encasing your breast, you couldn’t help but wish this, was a little more genuine.

and just like the animal adjuchas he was deep down, he consistently found himself to be in something of a rut, a lust-filled heat engulfing his loins whenever he looked at you, even if it was only for a second. you could be doing literally anything or just standing there, and the urge to pounce on you, to bite and lick and inhale your skin would become too strong at times. he constantly had to fight his primal temptations to shove you up against a wall or bend you over, and repeatedly piston his hips inside your tight heat — no matter who may or may not have been around. you caused his self-control and decency to deplete at alarming rates.

but, in those moments he let those impulses take over, which became increasingly intentional, it’s the most….God, you feel so many things when grimmjow has you sprawled out or spread open for him, practically in his palm and at his mercy. you could feel the possessive nature of his personality absorb you with the way his tongue danced across the canvas of your skin, and the way he gripped your hips so hard, constantly breathed your scent —like it was the only air he needed to breathe — as he drilled his hips wildly into your dripping cunt (he’d always tease you for how easily wet you get at any little, seemingly innocuous gesture he directed towards you, despite him doing it on purpose to provoke you).

out of all the positions he has, and will plan to, put you in, his favorite is most definitely back shots because he likes to watch his cock, with a scary amount of concentration and a manic smirk on his lips, impale you over and over and over again. he also loves seeing your luscious, fat ass ripple and bounce against his slender hips. “pussy so—” he’d let out a malicious chuckle and growl before roughly planting a heavy palm on your fleshy mound, the sound resonating throughout the spacious room, “—so fuckin’ good…all this time, before i even came and got you, you were keeping her tight for me, weren’t you? yeaaaah, fuck yeah you were princess. this cunt was practically made for me, just asking to be ruined.”

he’d say the filthiest words you’d ever heard when he had your back arched in the shape of a parenthesis. missionary admittedly always did it for him too, just so he can watch your face scrunch up in overwhelming pleasure and good hear you whining his name without the buffer of the blankets beneath you. and when he’d push your thighs all the way back to feast because he was hungry? you swear you lose your vision and see stars, practically ascending to the heavens when grimmy is devouring your cunt. it really shouldn’t turn you on so much when he takes a moment to unlatch from your twitching pearl of nerves, your slick sticking to his chin, just so he can smell you while he plunged his appendages in and out of your folds. he’d always edge you like this, and you hated it, but your whiny protests were dragged back down your throat and exchanged for a moan when he landed an abrasive slap on your thigh and muttered a gruff, “shut the fuck up, brat,” against your dripping sex.

he would be seconds away from cumming in his pants untouched when he treated himself to that first whiff. you’d be so embarrassed by it at first,but would soon enjoy it as much as he does; he basically corrupted you by thrusting his own lewd fantasies onto you and implanting them in your psyche. the sixth espada gets so drunk on the taste of you and the natural perfume of your pussy, he could stay down there for hours, until you passed out from the pleasure or physically couldn’t orgasm anymore. you’d have to hit him on the head to get him to come up for some air. even when you were on your period— some bloody human thing, he’d call it— didn’t stop him from effectively eating you alive.

grimmjow would soon come to the realization one night when he was balanced on his forearms on top of you, languidly rolling his pelvis in and out—with that slight upward motion that made your eyes roll to the back of your skull—that this, that you, were all he needed. nothing, not fighting any of his ‘comrades’ or enemies, not devouring other unfortunate souls, not the thought of getting stronger, could measure up to the way your palms grasped at his brawny, taut back, the way your voice got all high-pitched and soft, crying about how you “need more, i-i need you, love yo—oooh, fuck, yes!!”, and how your intangible essence surrounded and swallowed up his very soul.

as his thrusts grew deeper, faster and more mind-numbing, he decided that ‘yeah, this is it’. being inside you and taking pleasure in invading your mind, body and heart was it for him, he couldn’t ask for more. he knew he’d do just about anything for you if you just asked or bat those long, dramatic lashes at him. he hesitantly admitted himself that you were more powerful than he originally thought you were, because only you were able to make him come undone to such a staggering degree and reshape his disposition, even if it was only a little bit, and only for you to witness.

maybe humans weren’t that weak.

    “HEY IRIS, CAN YOU do me a favor and check his pupils for any kind of movement? they could be dilating, contracting, any kind of response.” the brown haired doctor shoko ieiri asked her medical assistant, iris. despite only working under shoko for about a month, she had gotten quite comfortable in her daily routine, treating wounding sorcerers the best she could, and shoko seemed to put a lot of trust in her.

iris grabbed a small, handheld flashlight and walked over to where the ‘patient’ laid, unmoving, causing iris to frown at the boy’s unfortunate predicament. the boy in question, pink-haired yuuji itadori, lost in a battle dealing with the special grade curse ryomen sukuna, the alleged ‘king of curses’.

she continued to peer at the boy with sad eyes, feeling bad for him because he was just so young, too young getting involved in such dangerous affairs. it were moments like these that she felt grateful for leaving the precarious world of an assassin and certain aspects of the jujutsu world. after a while, the feeling of constantly looking over her shoulder, having to make difficult choices where one path could lead to life or death― all of it became too much. although there wasn’t any way to completely escape from this lifestyle, working with shoko was the better alternative in comparison.

iris hovered over the boy’s rather muscled body and used her gloved fingers to pry his right eye open. shining the ray of light directly in its line of vision, she waved it around a bit and watched closely for the subtlest of responses. they didn’t react at all. checking his other eye gathered her the same result.

with a heavy exhale she stepped back from the yuuji’s lifeless body. the boy was dead. 

sure, she had seen many dead people, her own hands being the reason for some of their demise, but this... for some reason this was affecting her more than she expected.

“nothing,” she finally breathed out after a moment of silence, loud enough for shoko to hear. “he’s…he’s dead. i don’t even feel a pulse.”

shoko stared at her and then back at yuuji with a solemn expression painting her tired features.

slipping on a pair of sterile medical gloves, she walked towards iris, “i see…right. for now, we can continue to clean him up and patch his wounds un—“

the door to the examination room slammed open, cutting shoko’s sentence off short. two men came into view, one of them white haired and a teasing smile on his lips, the other looked stiff and nervously gripped a clipboard in their arms.

the man that looked like he was about to throw up was ichiji. iris vaguely remembered him from the first she visited the school grounds. he’d helped her get settled into her room and showed her around the general area. iris waved at him shyly and responded with a head nod and soft smile.

the tall, white haired man next to him— he had to be at least six feet in height— iris hadn’t seen before. a moment later is when it registered in her brain just who this man was. that blindfold was a tell-tale sign. 

he was the strongest sorcerer there was, satoru gojo. 

the small grin he had on his lips faltered slightly when he turned his head to look in the dead boy laying on the table, like an animal, ready to be dissected and examined. there was a visible crease in his brow, but all signs of any remotely negative emotion evaporated from his countenance within an instant.

iris saw through him though. 

“hey shoko, what’s up?” he drawled out a greeting as he bent down slightly to her shorter stature. 

iris caught her gaze lingering on gojo for longer than she intended. her eyes subconsciously scanned every noticeable change in his facial expressions in an attempt to try to read and decipher just what type of person he was. but she didn’t gain much information; half of his face was concealed and his voice never fluctuated whenever he responded to whatever her coworker told him. 

and then he turned his head to look at her. 

“hmmm? and who are you? were you always standing there?”

the young woman felt her heart thump rapidly in her chest as embarrassment crashed over her in waves, completely caught off guard with his sudden interest in her presence. her discomfort soon gave way to irritation, because how could someone like him of all people, not notice her standing just feet away? it had to be a joke. a cruel joke.

gojo’s crystal blue eyes twinkled in mischief from behind his blindfold at iris’ sudden abashed body language. of course he knew she was there; he noticed as soon as he stepped foot in the room by analyzing the amount of cursed energy that circulated through the atmosphere. her cursed energy residue was foreign to him, and so... subdued, there might as well have not been any at all. 

the white-haired sorcerer also couldn’t help but think the annoyed furrow in her eyebrows was the cutest thing in the world. gojo had to bite his inner cheek to prevent a humming coo from tumbling past his lips.

thanks to his long legs, he took a singular step forward, until about a foot of space was the only thing separating their two bodies, the brown skinned woman instinctively flinched backwards. gojo found himself fighting the abrupt and unfamiliar urge to close the space even more. just to mess with her a little, was the rationale he decided to go with. bending slightly to her height, he briefly turned off his infinity and patted her smooth cheek in a condescending manner, as if he were addressing a toddler.

satoru didn’t want to admit to himself that he just wanted an excuse to touch her. his palm was burning with the urge to do so ever since he saw her. and her skin, like ice, cooled that burning desire.

“relax, i’m only kidding!! just a harmless little joke, alright? so just chill out,” letting out an airy chuckle. gojo didn’t move right away, he let his finger graze iris’s jaw for a second more, carefully watching her facial expressions. he found himself smirking when iris did nothing but stare at him intensely, as if she was stuck in some kind of stupor.

she was not expecting him to come up and touch her in such a….familiar manner. her face tingled with his surprisingly gentle touch, not remembering a time where she had been caressed like that. 

gojo plopped down on one of the benches, mumbling something under his breath, but iris chose to ignore it. shoko and ichiji briefly exchanged puzzled gazes with one another, apparently wondering the same thing. only a moment of deafening quiet passed before gojo opened his mouth again. “you didn’t answer my question though. what’s your name?” 

iris internally scoffed at his voice, already not being very fond of ‘the world’s strongest sorcerer’. her impression that he was immature and never took anything serious would stick in her mind for a long time.

despite this, she replied in a soft voice, “...it’s iris. iris kumiko. i just started here not too long ago and i work with shoko. it’s a pleasure to meet you.” iris bowed her head slightly as a form of greeting. she did the same to ichiji, who has since relaxed his tense posture a bit. “hi ichiji, it’s nice to see you again.”

the spectacled man nodded his head in return, a small smile pulling on his lips, “hello to you too, miss kumiko, and likewise.”

gojo hummed to himself at her introduction, and nodded his head absentmindedly. his covered eyes were on her figure, watching her retrieve papers from her desk to hand to shoko.

it genuinely puzzled gojo on why his gaze insisted on following her every movement, or why he turned off his infinity just to touch her. he found himself wanting to commit every brush of her plush skin, every facial expression, every curve and dip of her body to memory and engrave it in his brain forever. but why? it wasn’t like she was anything special.

right? right, she was weak. it was blatantly obvious. iris shouldn’t have any significance to satoru gojo. but...

a loud, exasperated sigh pulled the sorcerer out of his own head. shoko leaned on the table next to wear yuuji laid, curling her hair around her finger. “are you even listening to me, satoru?

gojo wolfish grin tugged at his lips, knowing damn well he barely heard a word his friend said, “’course i was! you were talking about what to do with the body.”  throwing his arm on the back of the chair,  his tall figure sat slouched in his seat, unintentionally spreading his legs wider while the other hand rested on his lap. iris didn’t miss the way his pink tongue ran over his bottom lip, making them even shinier than they were before. she quickly averted her eyes away from him and back to the papers sitting in front of her, squeezing her legs tightly under her desk in an attempt to retain her composure. 

dammit, she cursed in her mind at nothing in particular, why’d he have to go and sit like that?

no one would know that gojo was eyeing iris once more from behind his mask. he watched how her glossy, dark-lined lips got sucked between her teeth in apprehension, how her manicured index finger drummed on her desk, how that little crease formed between her eyebrows again― he knew she was watching him and was finding her reaction to every minuscule thing he did very entertaining.

he sighed dramatically, as if this conversation about his now dead student was annoying him. “you can cut him up or something, i don’t know. i’m sure the higher ups are satisfied enough with him being dead.” all three adults were slightly taken aback by gojo’s blasé tone and response about what to do with yuuji’s corpse.

the hand that laid limply across his lap clenched into a tight fist, the veins against his pale skin becoming prominent. “fucking old geezers. they knew this would happen by sending him out on that mission. this is the reason why i decided to pursue a career in education: to try and reform this broken world of jujutsu sorcery by teaching the next generation of sorcerers how to be strong and insightful to combat its stupid ideals. to create a better world.”

iris was entranced at how gojo’s tone shifted from indifference to one full of conviction so effortlessly. not even knowing what was so bad about these ‘higher ups’, she found gojo’s reason for doing what he does admirable. he had morals, despite him being a provocative little shit.

suddenly, a gasp bounced off the walls of the morgue-like room, and yuuji itadori shot up from his horizontal position on the metal table, eyes wide and glossed over with confusion.

everyone stared at the pink-haired boy in awe. ichiji looked like he was about pass out; gojo’s expression seemed to brighten considerably, unable to contain a pearly toothed smile; shoko stood next to him, completely stunned with an unreadable expression on her face, and iris let the pen she was holding drop onto the ground.

gojo was the first to cut through the thick silence. “yuuji!” he exclaimed excitedly in a child-like voice. “look who’s back from the dead,” the sorcerer stood up from his seated position and strode over to the boy, dapping him up in a friendly handshake. iris could tell from that interaction alone just how much yuuji and his resurrection meant to him. 

“how’re you feelin’?”

the pink haired boy practically beamed at him, “i feel great, actually! freezing cold, but great! it’s nice to be back.” 

turning to shoko, yuuji bowed his head as a thank you for taking care of him until now and for the dark towel to wrap around his exposed body. then, his brown eyes met with that of iris’s, and she felt herself stiffen in her chair, once again startled by the unexpected attention.

like a curious puppy, yuuji tilted his head to the side, his expression glazed in confusion. “who’re you? have you always worked here?”

it was almost the exact same question that the white-haired sorcerer had asked her, except this time there wasn’t a teasing or knowing lilt in his voice that left any room to question his sincerity. unlike his sensei, he was genuinely confused.

“my name—

“this,” gojo took the liberty in answering for her, “is iris kumiko.” a feeling that iris couldn’t quite articulate shot up her spine and whizzed around in her frontal lobe when she heard her full name roll off his tongue. it sounded so smoothe or, dare she say, so natural. no, iris quickly clenched her eyes shut, that was just wishful thinking. 

still, it managed to give her goosebumps under her sweater. 

“she just started working here as shoko’s assistant,” gojo paused to look at her, grinning to show off his blinding white canines. in the short time she’s known him, iris now knew that him smirking in such a manner could never mean anything good. “isn’t that right, angel?”

and then, there was a pause. 

honestly, it just....slipped out. he didn’t mean to call her that. at least, not at first. and not so soon. he had half a mind to deflect the tension in the air and play it off with a joke or something until he really scanned the look on her face. immediately, he decided against it; iris liked it. 

iris felt her breath hitch in her throat at his sudden use of the pet name; it certainly caught her off guard. her? an angel? a heavenly and beautiful being? such words have never been used to describe her before, so she had a hard time processing his ‘compliment’, if she could even call it that. iris could feel her face grow uncomfortably hot and her heart was doing a marathon in her chest. 

and so, her mind couldn’t help but indulge in the delusions of being referred to so affectionately. what if she didn’t bother correcting him? what would happen then? she found it so shameful that she didn’t want to refute his sweet words. she found it embarrassing to admit that she absorbed this kind of attention from him,  certainly not the patronizing teasing from before.

but still, she couldn’t just let him say that.

“yes, i do work here with ms. shoko. and please, don’t call me that. it’s...unprofessional.” iris glared at the fists clenched on her lap. she thought for a moment before opening her mouth again, her voice getting even quieter than before, “i only just met you.”

by now, it was safe to assume that a smug or impish expression was a permanent feature on gojo’s face. “hmmmm. so you’re implying that when i do get to know you better i can call you that?”

any response she would have had quickly evaporated at his assumption, “we— n-no! that’s not.. y-you can’t just—”

yuuji, who was slipping on a large white t-shirt and black sweatpants, was next to shoko, watching the interaction before him unfold in wonder. leaning over, he whispered to the doctor, “are they like...flirting with each other? i didn’t know gojo-sensei had a girlfriend.”

of course, yuuji wasn’t being all that quiet, because iris whipped her head around in astonishment. if her skin were pale, she probably would have looked like a tomato. “NO, we’re not!!” iris denied vehemently. the level of her voice increased, and guilt immediately washed over her figure.

calm down. there wasn’t any real reason to raise her voice or let her emotions take control. honestly, it was hard for iris to believe that this man she just met was getting her all worked up over something so trivial.

gojo had since returned back to his seat, thoroughly enjoying iris’ calm and collected exterior begin to crack a little.

after clearing her throat and taking a deep breath, she spoke again, this time in her normal, gentle tone. “we’re not. clearly gojo just... likes to mess with people.” she glanced at him briefly before speaking again. “anyway, enough about him, how are you feeling right now? any abnormal pains?” iris promptly turned her attention away from gojo and onto his student instead, asking the necessary follow up questions about his physical health, considering the fact he just came back from the dead. she focused immensely on yuuji as a means to distract her thoughts from drifting off to the white haired sorcerer sitting mere feet away from her.

satoru gojo couldn’t lie to himself and say that iris dismissing him so easily, so simply, didn’t leave his heart twisting and panging uncomfortably in his chest. a small pout formed on his plump, pink lips. why was he so bothered by it? 

once again, gojo found himself staring at iris’s figure. she quickly plagued his mind like an infection, with the way he just couldn’t push her out of his thoughts. as cliche as it sounded, there was just something about her...

slightly squinting his eyes, he scrutinized her cursed energy levels a second time, only finding minimal traces of it like before. but then, his eyebrow piqued in curiosity when he noticed a particular...oddity.

“ichiji, hand me that pocketknife in your waistcoat.” gojo calmly demanded his associate. the spectacled men whipped his head around to stare at gojo and his expecting hand incredulously. “w-what? but...but how did you even―” he cut himself off with a small groan, knowing that trying to make sense of gojo’s random request would get him nowhere.

with a sigh, he dug into the inner pockets of his waistcoat and dropped the object in gojo’s large palms. twirling the pocketknife in between his long fingers, he flicked the blade open and positioned it in his hand as if he were about to throw it at somebody. that somebody was iris’s back. 

quickly catching on to what he was about to do, ichiji placed a firm hand on his broad shoulder, and hissed a quiet plea in his ear. “gojo....whatever it is you’re about to do, don’t do it. there’s no reason to attack miss―

“oh relax, i’m not ‘attacking’ her. i just want to...test something out.” gojo interrupted ichiji whilst shrugging his hand off of his shoulder. ichiji cursed in his mind. as much as he hated being confrontational in any way, especially against his superiors (and of course, because he could never catch a break, this time it just had to be gojo), it would haunt his conscience forever if he just stood by and let him behave recklessly. if his assumptions were correct, then gojo’s 'test of theory’ could very well kill iris.

the dark haired man took hold of gojo’s strong arm. “satoru, please, think about th―”

“ichiji,” gojo uttered in a low, deep voice, his eyebrow twitching in irritation. it was almost as if he were warning him not to say another word. ichiji froze, immediately releasing gojo’s arm from his grip and scooted in the opposite direction. there was something about the way gojo spoke his colleague’s name that made ichiji’s blood run cold. he had never heard gojo sound like this before in all his years of knowing him. it was definitely enough to shut him up. 

with his dark mood disappearing as quickly as it came, gojo poured a generous amount of his own cursed energy into the blade, causing it to elongate and twist and bend, deforming its overall shape. flicking his wrist backwards only a little, he launched the now cursed object in iris’s general direction, with tremendous force and great speed.

in the middle of yuuji’s check up with shoko, iris could immediately sense the pocket knife’s presence as soon as it left gojo’s fingertips. it was an incredible amount of cursed energy, even in just one little piece of plastic and metal. it gave iris a taste of just how powerful gojo really was. 

as instinctively as breathing, within half a second iris’s countenance went blank and she turned her body around, catching the small weapon in between her index and middle finger, only millimeters away from her face. stopping the blade so abruptly at such high speeds caused a gust of wind to flow through hers hair, as well as shoko & yuuji’s.

just as gojo expected, iris’s cursed energy levels skyrocketed, and was now even more menacing than before. it had become so intense that both yuuji and shoko leaned away from her uneasily. iris’s cursed energy was suffocating, nearly on par with a special grade sorcerer.

gojo’s eyebrows raised in epiphany. she was suppressing it, he had concluded. only the most skilled sorcerers, some cursed spirits or even unregistered special grades had the ability to mask their cursed energy presence. but, iris wasn’t a sorcerer...was she? if she was, he figured she would have said so when she introduced herself, so that couldn’t have been it.

one question led to two more, which only left gojo even more invested in the specimen that was iris kumiko.

if looks could kill, with the way iris scowled at him, gojo would have been a dead man.

“wow,” he commented breathlessly. if one didn’t know any better, you could have mistaken gojo’s expression for being lovestruck or having hearts in his eyes.

that mischievous grin had returned to his luscious, pink lips. everyone was shocked at what gojo just attempted to do, shoko looking more miffed than anyone. leaning forward on his knees, gojo asked in a suggestive tone, “tell me, iris, who are you really? because any normal person wouldn’t even have enough time to dodge, let alone catch it with their bare hands. you’re not exactly normal, aren’t’cha, angel?”

the current ambiance, as well as the way iris’s body slightly trembled, confirmed what gojo already knew as soon as he walked in here: he was going to have a lot of fun getting to know iris. he was going to enjoy breaking her in.

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